#reality are two different things. and he. pushes her in. and he saves her but first he shoves her in

[hawnks]

one thing about this story is that im struggling to find the edge of how deeply fucked up a character can be before a reader starts to hate them

[imaginesbymonika]

Red lights.

Plot: If guilt had a name it would be Dean Winchester.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

Warnings: mention of violence, mention of Demon!Dean, needles, blood, fluff in the end but only a bit

Everything happened so fast. So very fast.

The red lightning, which emerges from the lamps above you turns the bunker into a place you're unable to recognize. This whole situation has been feeling like a never-ending nightmare for a while and now it was also looking like one. Dean has always reassured you, that while the world around you was filled with ghosts and demons he would always look out for you. And you never questioned him. However, right now, you were hiding from him as if he turned into one of those monsters he swore to protect you from. You look up you can notice it in Sam's eyes. You're not the only one terrified of your oldest brother.

"Smart, Sam. Looking the place down. Doors won't open. I get it." His deep voice is echoing through the empty and cold hallways. "But here's the thing. I don't wanna leave. Not till I find you two."

Your relationship with Dean has always been different from the one you have with Sam. While the younger brother actually feels like a brother to you, Dean has always meant more to you. After all, he practically raised you since you were a little child. However, at this moment, while his hammer was destroying the door, you tried your best to still see him in all of this. He may be a demon, but underneath all of that hatred your brother had to remain… right? But it becomes much more difficult with every second that passes. You take a deep breath.

"Y/N.", Dean suddenly says and Sam instantly pushes you behind his bigger body. "Oh, come on.", you can see how a fake pout emerges on his face:" I just want to talk to my sweet little baby girl." For a moment he lowers his weapon as he stares you down through the shattered wood:" Don't think, that I won't also kill you. I can still sense my love for you, however, it is not enough for me to save you. But if you help me kill Sammy, I might make it quick for you." There's a ringing in your ears. "Don't listen to him.", Sam whispers but his voice is muffled and feels unbelievably far away.

Dean has never ever threatened you. Even when you were much younger and he had earned a beating from John, because of something that you did on his watch… he never ever threatened you before. It was something that seemed impossible to you. But now it had happened and it filled you with an unknown emotion.

"Come on.", Sam speaks and clutches your hand, bringing you back into reality. You two rush through the red hallways and after a minute or two you stop. Sam takes a deep breath and when he turns around to face you, his eyes widen in fear. You don't even have time to properly react before he pushes you to the cold ground. And when you look up, you make eye contact with Dean. His hammer sticking to the wall. It was hurled with such an immense force that it makes your jaw drop.

"Oh man, looks like I missed.", he says softly:" Can I try again?" There is a sincerity in his voice that makes your skin crawl. You nearly throw up. Meanwhile, Sam's knife is close to his throat. So close, it's almost making him bleed.

"Do it!", the oldest brother angrily hisses, his spit dripping down his chin. But Sam's arm just drops after a few seconds. You shut your eyes, not knowing what is about to happen next before you unexpectedly hear Castiel's voice. "It's over!"

You sit on the floor next to the door, your back is leaning against one of the shelves while you observe how Sam pushes yet another needle into your oldest brother's forearm. A weird emptiness has been filling you up for a while now, and while you should be happy that Dean is back at the bunker… you can't help but feel drained. "Are you okay, Y/N?", Castiel asks, and when you eventually tear your eyes off Dean's unconscious body you only nod.

Sam sighs:" He almost killed her." Castiel's eyes widen in shock, as his head snaps towards him. "He did what?" You want to defend Dean, but before you can answer someone groans. Castiel notices how you quickly get up from your spot, and softly nudges you to stand behind him. His grip on his knife tightens to the point where his knuckles are white. Meanwhile, Sam was slowly opening up the bottle with the holy water.

Dean lifts his head and when you notice his black eyes you can't help but feel sick. You quickly turn around and throw up into the corner. Sam and Castiel exchange a quick but worried look. The blackness quickly fades and when his normal eyes scan the room he takes one final deep breath. "You look worried, fellas.", he jokes, but no one laughs. You turn around at the sound of his voice, before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Without waiting a second longer, you snatch the bottle out of Sam's hand and toss the liquid into Dean's face. A pleased sigh escapes your lips when you acknowledge that there is no smoke. "Welcome back, Dean!"

"How is he holding up?"

Sam, who is entering the room looks over at the angel. "Well, he is still a bit out of it, nevertheless, he is doing better." You look up from your book. "The whole thing really took a turn on him- he… he just feels really guilty." The last word leaves Castiels lips as a whisper as if he was hoping you wouldn't hear it. But you did.

A knock on the door catches Dean's attention and he shifts on his bed before sitting up straight:" Yeah?" He expected to see either his brother or Castiel, however when he makes eye contact with you his jaw clenches. "Hey.", you say and slowly walk into his room. You sit down on the edge of the bed. A soft but tired smile emerges on your lips and Dean mirrors it. "Hey."

"I just- I just wanted to check in with you.", you explain and your brother nods. A silence falls over the two of you and you clear your throat:" Remember- Remember when we were younger… you came back from a hunt and you were hurt and John was… god knows where. We didn't have anything in the fridge except for some eggs and cheese."

At that Dean laughs:" And you made me that god-awful omelet? Of course, how could I ever forget about that? My arm was broken and I had the worst stomach pains on top of that." Once again you both sit in silence before Dean runs a hand down his face:" I am so sorry, Y/N." The sound of his voice breaks your heart and you move closer to him:" It's okay, Dee." He just chuckles dry. You know that he won't ever believe you.

[three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat]

Memory in Stardew Valley is kinda fucked

So, memory in Stardew Valley is almost like a tangible thing, and I wanna talk about it. I mean technically speaking, you can sell it, trade it, swap it, bop it, twist it and so on and so forth. Why do I wanna talk about it? Because I have no social life and the only thing I can feel is the rage of my ancestors as I harvest yet another batch of ancient fruit wine.

Most people know about the Dark Shrine of Memory, the fun statue that wipes your ex's memories for a quick buck. Now that's pretty neat and all, but I think this leads to further interpretation I'm sure Concerned Ape wouldn't think is relevant but I'm gonna push it.

Someone had to put that statue there. I don't think it's the witch, because she has to shell up 30 big ones every time another thirsty wizard comes along. Also, Rasmodius still has his memories of them, and if I were her I wouldn't want a guy like Razzle-Dazzle thinking about her. And it's probably vice-versa, as the witch still curses the town from time to time to spite the purple-haired goblin.

Mr Qi would be a reasonable guess, especially since you have to pay to use it, and he is known to have several marketing schemes around the place, but this one doesn't feel like him. I think there's another powerful creature out and about, they've stumbled across a way to erase memories and are using it for profit. The witch is just a tool behind the mastermind.

On top of the memory shrine, the Dark Shrine of Selfishness also contains a portion of memory magic. No one remembers the children that disappeared. No one except the farmer. Perhaps some immunity comes with being a fallen god, or perhaps it's simply because they're the ones that paid, so they are cursed to forever remember their sin. Either way, considering the fact that two of the statues directly erase memories, there's something interesting going on.

Another aspect of memories that people don't often think about is resetting days. Now this does reach a fair bit into undertale, but I think it applies pretty well here too. Days can loop over and over again, and no one will remember any of them, except for the Farmer. With the knowledge and foresight of what's happening, the Farmer can escape danger and the villagers know no better. There is perhaps only two other people in Stardew who might have an idea of what's going on. The Witch, and Mr Qi.

The witch is obvious, she has the shrines in her house, but from Mr Qi's dialogue, we can gleam an idea of what he may know.

I got to where I am through the force of pure willpower, kid. You see... The mind is a very powerful tool. In fact, it's the most powerful tool in all of reality... and beyond

“Some things transcend time and space, kid. It's a unique feeling in the heart... a whisper of things beyond.”

Now it could be pretty easy to interpret this a hundred different ways, but I want to link it to memory right now. The specific wording states that Mr Qi might be aware of resetting save files and that memories can be erased. I don't think he can alter other people's memories (though we don't know enough about him to be sure), but he may have found a way to keep his own memories safe.

Perhaps it's even how he found the Farmer. One day, he wakes up again, and he knows it's the same day. This happens sometimes, and he's forced to live the same day twice, three times or even more sometimes. He seeks out the source of the issue and stumbles across the farmer. On the surface, they seem like a regular person, until one day, the day resets again and the Farmer acts like they've done it a thousand times, taking every right move in the mines and getting everything they failed to do in the last attempt.

I think Mr Qi would want to keep an eye on someone like that.

From all of this, I have come to a conclusion. The statues present the idea of memory, but they also show that memory magic can be used to accomplish very specific tasks. We've only seen a few examples, but it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say that memory could be distorted a thousand different ways in Stardew. Perhaps none of the memories you have of your neighbour are real, and they never existed before yesterday. Or your parents actually died when you were three and you were raised by the spirits of hell. You actually have the memories of your best friend who died last week. Who knows?

Nothing is real, reality is an illusion.

[peachhcs]

feelings confessed

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will and samy confess the feelings they’ve been dancing around for months at will’s draft party

2.3k words

here’s part 2 to samy and will in nashville confessing their feelings! comment or request what else you wanna see while i continue posting some blurbs and imagines from their timeline :))

au masterlist | part 1

so many people packed themselves into one of the many hotel conference rooms congratulating ryan, will, and gabe for going in the first round. large smiles sat on each of their faces with every person they talked to and thanked for flying into nashville for such a special occasion. samy and will lost one another when things started getting more crowded and people pulled the blonde away to talk. the brunette didn't mind, though. she knew will had to make his rounds and she'd eventually find him by the end of the night. the two always found one another later on at every party they were at together.

the youngest hughes stuck close to ryan's girlfriend most of the night knowing she was very knew to all of this and samy's done it three times already. the two perched themselves in one of the quieter corners just talking when ryan pushed his way through. he plopped down beside julianne, tugging his arm around her shoulder while samy sent the taller boy a smile.

"finally escape the questions?" the girl laughed making ryan chuckle.

"for a few minutes at least. there's an insane amount of people here. i don't think i even know everyone," ryan huffed out.

samy's eyes flickered across the large room, not even seeing will or gabe because they were lost in the crowd somewhere. "tell me about it. maybe it was a bad idea having a joint draft party?" the girl giggled and so did julianne.

ryan shrugged. "maybe, but we're saving money and we're killing three birds with one stone here," the brunette clicked his tongue along with a small wink.

samy rolled her eyes at the boy, shaking her head slightly. ryan and julianne began having their own conversation, so samy allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts for a bit. she couldn't stop thinking about the way will looked at her earlier. his eyes sparkled in a way she'd never seen before. something about the entire draft was different and she knew will knew it too.

"oh yeah, he's definitely down bad," ryan's voice pulled samy back into reality.

she glanced at him and julianne who snickered with one another. the girl raised her eyebrow, waiting for one of them to explain.

"will. he's so got a thing for you and you do too," ryan elaborated when he caught samy's expression.

her already rosy cheeks flushed some more. "i-i don't know," samy stuttered out nervously. believing it herself was one thing, but hearing someone else say it was completely different. it made it more real.

"oh come on, hughes. everyone's seen. we all know," ryan continued with a laugh.

julianne found samy's expression and the blonde knew exactly what she was thinking. "come on, don't be annoying ry."

"i'm not, i'm just saying," the brunette shrugged. samy just rolled her eyes and stopped entertaining ryan. she knew if she let him keep going he wouldn't stop.

"i'm gonna get another drink. you guys want anything?" samy stood, looking at ryan and julianne still cuddled up next to one another.

"i'm okay, thanks though," julianne smiled while ryan briefly shook his head.

samy began the journey back through the still tight crowd. she wasn't even sure where her brothers wandered off to or even her parents for that matter. all samy knew was that they were somewhere in the mass of people still talking and catching up with one another. she found her way to the massive drinks table, going for another lemonade and sprite mix.

will stood about five people down from where samy was talking with some of his old high school friends that flew down. as soon as the brunette got to the table, will's eyes glued to her. he'd been trying to find her all night, but anytime he got further into the room, someone else stopped him to talk for an hour. this time will was not letting samy get away.

"hey, sorry, mind if just..catch up with you guys in a second?" will didn't even really wait for an answer as he started pushing his way towards samy.

the blonde's eyes were locked in on the girl just a few feet away. samy didn't even see will until a tall presence came up beside her and her gaze quickly flicked to her right.

"oh, hey will," samy immediately giggled.

"hi. feels like i've hardly seen you," the boy smiled some, loving her little giggle.

"i know, you've been caught up with everyone," the girl motioned back to everyone mingling.

will's gaze scanned over the crowded room while samy's fell back on him. her eyes were glued to his slightly unbuttoned white undershirt where his tie and suit jacket got lost along the way when they got in. he looked good and what was once tamed curls were now going everywhere over his forehead and ears.

"it's kind of crazy, isn't it? all the people here," will muttered in disbelief still that all these people showed up for him and his friends.

"i mean..who wouldn't wanna be here for you, ryan, and gabe?" samy giggled a little and will finally tore his gaze back to her.

a little smile appeared on his lips with his flustered cheeks suddenly realizing how close they stood and the conversation that lingered between them. samy quickly got self-conscious under his longing stare, so her eyes darted away, looking at anything but will.

"would you wanna..maybe go somewhere quieter?" will got a little shy asking.

he searched samy's gaze that returned to his own, anxiously awaiting her response. her smile caused his heart to swell as it had been since october. "lead the way," the brunette said.

with will being taller than her, he easily surveyed the area trying to find the best escape path where they (hopefully) wouldn't get stopped by someone wanting to talk will up for an hour again. his search found a small path towards one of the doors that led into the hallways, so carefully, will reached his hand out for samy to take it so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. the girl flushed as his fingers squeezed around her own and he began pushing his way through the adults.

the blonde's gentle touch had samy's insides doing somersaults. she's dreamed of things like this if her and will ever became something more than friends which was very likely by the end of the night.

finally, samy and will made it into the hallway without anyone stopping them. the two visibly breathed out in relief that they weren't stuck in the stuffy and crowded room anymore. samy's gaze found will's and a small laugh escaped both of their lips like reality just sunk in and will was officially a member of the nhl.

"feels like yesterday when we were kids and you talked with my brothers about getting drafted one day," samy drifted towards the large window at the end of the hallway.

they could see the entire city from where they stood on the fifth floor. will joined her a moment later, leaning against the windowsill. "tell me about it. i can't believe it's actually real now," the blonde mumbled.

samy's eyes were on him again, admiring his sharp jawline and gleaming eyes on the city skyline. "me neither. i can't believe we're not kids anymore," the brunette's smiled turned into a sad one.

the idea of their childhoods being far behind them now was a scary thought. how did they go from playing tag at the lake house to adults trying to find their way in the world? more importantly, when did those platonic feelings turn into romantic ones?

"come visit me at boston this fall?" will changed the subject after a quick silence.

"you know i will. i can't not see ryan and gabe for months on end," samy teased him a little, smirking.

will shook his head. she knew he hated when she made jokes like that. it became more obvious the past few months as samy slowly realized she had feelings for her best friend and his face hardened whenever she'd start talking about their other two friends whenever they were on call together.

"i'm kidding. i'll try to get out as much as i can with what my schedule allowed with soccer," samy answered more truthfully this time.

a grin spread across will's lips. "i except you out there every weekend," will joked this time.

"you know i would if i could," the brunette met the boy's wandering gaze.

the two held one another's gazes and a hundred thoughts ran through each of their minds. will's eyes flicked between samy's while her own glance did the same. the entire reason they stepped away from everyone was on the tips of their tongues, swirling around them. will opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again like he was looking for the right words. he broke their gazing, eyes back on the city below them.

"remember when ryan, gabe, and i drove out to see you at your senior homecoming?" will began almost nervously.

"mhm. it meant a lot that you guys came out," samy nodded.

will nervously pulled a hand through his messy curls. "for some reason, i hated seeing that guy have his hand wrapped around your waist. i didn't really understand why i was feeling that way, but all i knew was that i never wanted to see any other guy with his hand on your waist again like that," will admitted sheepishly. he probably sounded incredibly jealous and possessive, but he knew if he didn't say it now he'd never get it out.

a blush rose on samy's cheeks hearing will say that. she had a small inkling that something was up back in october, but back then, she couldn't believe will liked her like that, so she pushed every single one of those thoughts away. at least until senior prom rolled around and she was forced to acknowledge those feelings again.

"i had a feeling," the girl admitted softly.

will's head snapped her way so fast she swore he was going to get whiplash. "you did?"

"i mean..yeah. ryan also..he was talking to me about it like really vaguely..i kind of brushed him off at the time," samy shrugged lightly.

the blonde studied her for a few seconds before looking away again. "lean's always ratting me out," he shook his head with a small chuckle.

"yeah, he's got a bit of a loud mouth," samy giggled as well remembering how the brunette literally brought up will's feelings earlier.

"i never said anything because i just..i thought you'd never like me back," will continued, his voice falling quiet.

"well for the record, i do like you back. i think my feelings started at senior prom," the two began reminiscing on that night.

that night was probably will's favorite aside from this one now. he finally got his wish of taking samy to a dance and being her date. he got to have a small piece of a regular high school experience since all of his focus was put into hockey his last two years.

"i think i've been waiting for months for you to say that to me," will chuckled and met samy's gaze again.

"i just..i don't know. i was afraid to say something in fear that we'd ruin our friendship. i mean i'm still scared we'll ruin our friendship if things don't work out," the brunette admitted.

she knew if she lost her will as her best friend, she'd never forgive herself. he was the one person she knew she could always go to and if they lost that over some relationship, nothing would ever be the same and she knew will knew that too.

"what makes you think things won't work out?" will raised his eyebrow.

"i mean, i'm not saying things won't, but i don't know. you never know. i value our friendship above a relationship, you know that. i just don't want things to get ruined between us if things go south," samy shrugged. she was trying to speak realistically because if her and will tried dating and it didn't work for some reason, the dynamic between their families would get ruined. gatherings would become awkward and no one would enjoy the tension.

will understood. he knew he also couldn't lose samy as a friend because above everything, she was his best friend. his fingers drummed against his glass, mind racing, desperately searching for a solution to what was the hard parts about being best friends and having feelings for one another.

"what about a grace period? we go on some dates and see how it goes. if it's completely shit, we can go back to normal like nothing happened and nothing will be weird," will offered his idea.

even though it was quick, will caught the hesitation in samy's eyes. he knew her too well for her to hide anything from him, even if it was just a split second. "how can we know if we don't try, right?" because will desperately wanted things to work out between them.

he'd never felt such immense feelings for someone before and with samy, everything felt easier. the girl flushed under his stare, turning away before her entire face turned red.

"promise nothing will be weird if it goes to shit? best friends over anything?" samy held her pinky out. will quickly hooked his pinky around her own, nodding.

"i promise."

thus began samy and will's grace period as the blonde pulled her a tiny bit closer to silently request permission to kiss her. when she caught his eyes flicking between her own and her lips she nodded for a yes, he could kiss her.

the feeling of will's lips against her own was a feeling she'll never forget.

[milequaritchsslut]

Aged Up Yandere Neteyam x Fem Reader Part 1

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, reader being very naive, teasing, mentions of death, possessiveness, fluff, manhandling, kissing, heavy manipulation, mentions of alcohol, marking, crying, tainted reality, abuse, reader being poisoned, worrying, yandere, name calling, fighting, violence,

Word count: 7.2k

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

…

Anything you did was perfect in his eyes. His attraction towards you grew more and more everyday. Every interaction he shared with you, he cherished. He saw you as otherworldly. You were the only thing he thought of, everything he did reminded him of you. His interest in you was never ending, he wanted you with him at all times. But he didn’t want to frighten you, in fact he didn’t want you to know at all. He was smart about it, never talking about you to his family or friends. Always denying his interest in you whenever his friends asked. You were his only hobby, the only thing on this planet that Interested him.

The women of his clan seemed to also have an interest in this young man. He was very attractive and this easily attracted attention. No matter what he did, some girl would compliment him on it. It was nice at first, but he soon became more and more annoyed by these basic women. He couldn’t believe the nerve they had, thinking they were good enough for him? Nobody was good enough for him, only you. You were his one true love, the only woman who was more than worthy of his attention.

Though you never thought of it that way, you hadn’t noticed his lingering stares or how he always made excuses to see you. You kept to yourself most of the time, you weren’t shy or anything. You just didn’t like sharing yourself with others. Except for him, Neteyam Sully never judged you. He was so trustworthy in your eyes, you two had become very close over the last year. You considered him your best friend, though you wished he could be more than that. You were delusional at this point, he was so obviously in love with you.

Even your friends had made you aware of it. When you’d talk to them about him. Sitting in your hut while you weaved your bracelets and necklaces with beautiful pearls and crystals found around the forest. Your friend Kimpi sitting next to you, weaving a pearl bracelet for her mothers birthday had butted into the coversation between you and your close friend Zurka. “So y/n when are you and Neteyam getting mated” she teased, a smile spreading on her dark blue skin. “Kimpi he does not like me like that! We are just close friends” you stated, still so convinced he didn’t share feelings with you. “Y/n he’s always looking at you!” Zurka pushed, grabbing a Pearl from Kimpi’s pile.

Your skin soon turned dark getting flustered at the thought of him staring you down. His eyes were deeper then the heat of the sun, and his lashes thicker than any you’d ever seen. “I’m too scared to say anything anyways” you confessed, changing your position from being hunched over for so long. You were planning on giving this necklace to Neteyam as a gift.

You were always giving him things to remind him of you. Hand woven bracelets, a new knife holster he could use on trips, or just simple rocks you had found on the forest ground while adventuring. They were innocent little gifts you gave, you didn’t mean for them to be anything more. Though Neteyam had a different idea in mind, he cherished your gifts. He saved them all in his hut, always wearing them no matter how ridiculous they looked. If they came from you then they were perfect is how he saw it. His friends would tease him for wearing those girly bracelets saying things like “strong men don’t wear bracelets!” or “those look ridiculous Neteyam”. He scolded them each time, and they soon learned to never mention them. Whenever it came to you, he defended you with his life. He didn’t care if you were in the wrong, because in his mind you were right.

Today was your clans yearly celebration to welcome in growth and prosperity. The clan would feast before eclipse, and party till the sun came up. You had never went to it, scared you’d get too drunk. You had planned on staying home again this year but those plans would soon be forgotten. You and neteyam planned on going to the watering hole with a few of his and your friends for the day. Walking next to neteyam, he had his arm around your shoulder as you walked together. Neteyam was very touchy with you ever since you two had become close. You weren’t bothered by it, in fact you enjoyed having a strong guy like him having his hands on you. Though you did get flustered by his touch, you never stopped him. He loved having his hands on you, even just moving a strand of your hair out of the way made him happy. Any excuse to touch you he took it, but he was respectful about it. Making sure to never wander too low, scared to make you uncomfortable.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re almost there” Rawpi one of Neteyams friends announced, looking back at you two as he walked next to Zurka. With Kimpi and Kilun giggling in front of them. You averted your gaze to the mossy ground, from Rawpis comment.

“Hey don’t listen to him, he’s a skxwang” squeezing your shoulder, smiling down at your flustered state.

“Thanks Teyam” appreciative of his lightheartedness, you eased up and let the sun hit your dark blue skin once again. Today was especially hot, with no clouds covering the sky. Everyone had sweat beading down their faces, fanning themselves with whatever they could bring with them.

…

Laying on the sandy ground with a rock supporting your head, you rested your eyes. You planned on sunbathing today, allowing its rays to burn into your skin seemed like a perfect day to you. Neteyam hesitating to join his friends, soon abandoned the idea and came over to you. He’d rather watch you lay in the sun, than not be in your welcoming presence. Walking over to your spread out figure, and ignoring his friends asking him to join them. He stood over you like a beast about to devour their prey, his eyes devoured your position. Wishing it could just be you and him, splayed on the sand holding each other letting the sun burn you both. Sitting down next to you he inhaled your scent, soon finding himself hovering over your body to engulf your scent.

”hey y/n” smiling down at you, now trapping you under him. He had dreamed of this, having you under him so many times, it was basically a memory indented into his mind. You were the only person on his mind, from sunrise to sunset. He was dedicated to you, he only wanted to make you happy. His obsession consumed him and every fiber of his being. He lived to please you and only you.

Opening your eyes, you stared up at the strange position he had you in. “N-neteyam why are you so close?” Flustered, your skin darkened again. Noticing this Neteyam giggled at your embarrassment, you got flustered so easily. “I wanted to lay with you y/n” brushing his finger past your warm cheek. You nodded, letting him shift his weight on your body. Laying his head onto your chest, he nuzzled into your embrace. Getting comfortable he began to purr as he held your frame in his hands. Closing his eyes, you did the same, brushing his soft braids with your hands. Smiling at his cuteness, he seemed so sweet, so innocent just wanting to lay with you.

As you rested neteyam couldn’t help but inhale your scent once again. Your scent distracted his concentration, you smelled so sweet to him. He wanted to attached himself to you, keeping you safe from the worlds dangers. He was possessive of you, always holding you close in public places, eyeing down any man who dared lay their eyes on you. He had to stop himself every time a man talked to you, imagining their dead body under him as he plunged his dagger deeper and deeper each time. He wished he could make you stay away from the outside world, wishing he was the only person you’d talk to, scared that you’d get hurt. In his eyes, he was the only person who could protect you, the only one you needed. He wished you would see that, that all you needed was him and nobody else. He wanted to control you, control every interaction you had with anyone who wasn’t him. You were so fragile, so innocent, anyone could corrupt your sweet little mind.

That was why he would claim you as his tonight, asking to be yours. No not asking, demanding you to submit to him. He had done everything to win you over, he never put you down, always complimenting your appearance, always taking you places you’d never been to, always standing up for you, never putting his responsibilities over you. He had created this image of himself that you saw that you could never stay away from. A man who would never hurt a fly, who would go out of his way to help his people. You entrusted him with all your secrets, which he always kept to himself. You had let your walls down for him, you had been hurt so many times by so many people. He was a breathe of fresh air to you, he loved you for who you really were.

The day went by fast, opening your eyes you had realized you had spent the day laying with neteyam. Looking down at neteyams position you noticed how tightly he was holding you, like you were his stuffed animal he slept with at night. The realization caused a smile to grow, looking up you saw your friends getting out of the water and heading towards you. “Ooo y/n and Neteyam are in looove” Kimpi teased, getting the other kids to laugh. Rolling your eyes, you softly shook neteyam out of his sleep to stop the embarrassment. Lifting his head up, his eyes were half awake looking up at your warm smile. “You are so comfortable to lay on y/n” he admitted, rubbing his head against your neck, trying to warm himself even more then he already was. “Neteyam we have to go it is almost eclipse” you warned, now even more embarrassed by his sudden actions. Lifting himself off of you he scanned your body for any sunburn. “Are you ok y/n? You are very warm” checking behind him, he noticed the group drawing closer.

Quickly removing himself from you, he lent out a hand. Neteyam had always been a ladies man. Always helping you out, even when you didn’t need it. But in his eyes you were a fragile piece of art that needed to be kept safe at all times. Not looking into his eyes as you replied “Thank you Teyam”. On the walk back you and neteyam talked about a handful of things. Mostly about the party later that night, Neteyam had told you he had to go to it as the chiefs son and invited you to join him.

“Idk Teyam, I don’t wanna get too drunk” the thought causing a laugh to erupt from your dry throat.

“I’ll make sure you don’t.” He suggested, he’d rather have you with him than with your friends. He didn’t like them much, he saw them as bad influences on you. They would be getting drunk with you, and he didn’t need them getting you into any trouble. “I’ll keep you by my side the whole time” Glancing back to your friends, you agreed hoping being with him would make it fun. You loved partying, it was one of your hobbies in fact. You were always out with your friends, getting invited to parties almost every night. You enjoyed it, it was how you let out your frustrations. Dancing the night away was your way of letting everything out.

By the time everyone had gotten back, the feast had already begun. You felt bad because you had made Neteyam late. But he reassured you his father wouldn’t be mad. Sitting next to him around the fire, you talked with him about his duties and how it was hard for him. “I’m sorry your father makes you do those things Teyam that’s not fair” offering him your drink. As he took a sip, you noticed Kimpi walking towards you and waving as she came closer. Kneeling down behind you “Hey some kids our age are having their own party. You and neteyam should come” glancing between the both of as she waited for you response. “No we’re gonna stay here but thanks” annoyed that she was even talking to him. “Cmon neteyam it’ll be fun” hoping he’d join you, you stood up waiting for him.

“Y/n that is not a good idea” his expression changed to one you had never seen. It kind of scared you, he seemed to be mad at you for suggesting it. “Yeah neteyam it’ll be fun” Kimpi joined in. His gaze darkened at her budding in “I wasn’t talking to you Kimpi” his voice stern as he talked. “Please neteyam, I promise I won’t drink” placing your hand on his shoulder, you rubbed it hoping it would calm him down. To your surprise it did, getting up he took your hand and nodded giving you a smile.

Kimpi had led you to a small bonfire with kids your age dancing and being loud. There was loud music coming from a radio left behind by the humans, that everyone was dancing to. You didn’t understand the words, but it was still catchy. Looking at neteyam you smiled as you ran to the mob of loud teens. Neteyam annoyed, went to get a drink, never taking his eyes off you. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t need any guys hitting on his future mate. Or even worse trying to take advantage of you.

As you danced, you hadn’t noticed the attention you had drawn to yourself. Someone in particular was eyeing your swaying frame, Kilun one of Neteyams friends. Who was already highly intoxicated from the booze walked towards you. Taking your hand in his he began to dance with you, looking up at him you immediately smiled. He was a mutual friend, who you enjoyed the company of. You innocently jumped with him, his hands moving to your waist. He drunkenly admired your hips shimmering in sweat. Moving his gaze to your face, he unapologetically winked playfully. You giggled at him, as he twirled you around and dipped you in his arms. As you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, Kilun quickly backed away leaving you standing by yourself. “Kilun where are you going?” Walking towards him, frantically wanting your dancing partner back. “S-stop y/n don’t come any closer” he warned, frightened he put his hand out to stop you from touching him, and turning around to leave you by yourself.

Unbeknownst to you neteyam had been watching you and Kilun the whole time. Rage engulfing his vision, he had decided to break you two apart, walking behind you. A dark aura surrounded him, causing people to back away from him in the crowd. His breathe had become hot and hitched, his hands balling into fists from the way Kilun handled you. As you stood there a large hand pulled you back. Their grip almost leaving a bruise on your arm. As you were pulled you turned to face them, stumbling on your feet as they dragged you out of crowd. “H-hey that hurts!” You protested, realizing it was Neteyam you studied his body language as he led you outside of the crowd.

Standing over you his chest heaved in vexation, anger seeped through his pores as he looked at you through his darkened eyelids. Your hands immediately went behind your back, scared by his body language you averted eye contact. Letting out a long breathe he spoke “I told you this wasn’t a good idea y/n, he had his hands all over you. Imagine what would have happened if I didn’t step in Hm?” He talked to you as if you were a child who just disobeyed their parents. “I-I’m sorry Neteyam” scared, your eyes started getting teary. You sniffled trying to keep them in, wiping your eyes as you looked down. Watching you, a wave of guilt moved through him. He shouldn’t have been so stern, now he had hurt you. “Hey, hey it’s ok y/n. I-I shouldn’t have been so mean I’m sorry” Pulling your small frame into him, as he wrapped his strong arms around you. The sudden contact caused your tears to finally come out. You cried into his chest, feeling the salty drops cover his chest. “I-I-It hurt when you pulled me Teyam” stuttering over your own words, as you held him close. Tears clouding your vision as your sobs filled his senses.

“Y/n I’m so sorry. I just- I don’t want other men touching you like that. Because I- Idk how to say this y/n.” Holding you closer with every word. It broke his heart seeing you like this, and it being caused by his own actions. “Neteyam wh-what are you trying to say?” Pulling away to look into his eyes. Your sobs instantly stopped, awaiting his next words. Speaking first “I- I like you” you blurted out, caught up in the feeling that rode through your body. “I like you too y/n” he replied, slowly entangling his lips with your puffy ones. Your eyes closed shut, taking in the moment. You wrapped your hands into his braids, gripping them as he relentlessly indulged into your taste. You began kissing back, sliding your tongue through his soft lips. He tasted like sweet honey, made from the depths of heaven itself. Finally needing air you tried to pull back, but he only deepened the kiss holding you closer into his grip. Not letting you out of his comfort, you tasted too sweet to let go of. He had waited so long to taste you, just for you to pull back so quick.

As you finally freed yourself of his grip, you gasped for air. Letting the oxygen fill your lungs. Making eye contact with him, a sly smirk grew on his soft features from your heightened state. Smiling back, you rolled your eyes and you licked your lips letting yourself fall onto his muscular chest. “Am I a good kisser?” He asked, rubbing his hands on your head. A hint of sarcasm added at the end of his question. His chest still heaving from just seconds ago. Tightening your grip you nodded into his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “Let’s take you home” he suggested as he took your hand leading you back to the village. Agreeing you followed him, the air seemed to change as you walked. It felt new and refreshing, maybe you were just tried? A smirk began to grow on his face once again. You were his now, he owned you, you were all for him to have, and he loved it. All his desires were falling into place, he loved you so much.

You were too beautiful for this world to see, he thought. You had looked so beautiful when you pulled away, your out of breathe state was embroidered into his mind. Your tears glazing your vision, the way your chest had heaved from one simple kiss ignited something in him. He needed you with him at all times, he was scared someone else would be able to see you in that state. That was for him and only him to see, he needed everyone to know that you were his. He needed to mark you, here and now. Without another thought, his lust entranced him. Pinning you against the first tree in his line of sight, he made room for his canines by moving your head out of the way for his. Startled by his actions your breathe stammered “Neteyam what are yo-“ being cut off by his fangs sinking deep into your neck.

You cried out in pain, tears coming down your face once again. Coming up to your face he quickly comforted you, peppering kisses from your cheek down to your neck. “I’m sorry baby- but I had to” placing one last kiss on your quivering lips. Your eyes filled with fear from the image in front of you. His pupils had dilated, frightened you stumbled on your words “T-Teyam your eyes-“ wiping your tears with his scruff hands he quieted you down “shh shh y/n it’s ok” placing another kiss on your temple. “Teyam you’re scaring me” you begged still shook from his past actions. “Baby you’re not thinking straight- everything's ok I got you” holding you in his arms. The way he comforted you, calmed you down. Made you think about your actions, maybe you weren’t thinking straight, now that you had thought about it you were really tired. He would never hurt you intentionally right? He’s a sweet guy, he’d never lie to you about something like that. Convinced you nodded, letting him wipe the tears from your rosy face.

“I-I’m sorry I overreacted Teyam” changing your gaze to the soft soil under you, embarrassed by your overreaction. His gaze softened at your innocent apology “Oh its ok baby, you’re just tired let’s get you home yeah?” Letting you stand up he reached for your hand again, leading you back to the village. That seemed like it was just yesterday now, you and neteyam have been a couple for a few months. You were always by his side, no matter where you two were the other was never far behind. Ever since you two got together it seemed almost like he never let you go out. It was always some excuse “But you hung out with them last week” or “It’s almost eclipse you shouldn’t be out” or “If you care about me you’ll listen to what I asked” . But he was just being kind, he didn’t want you to get hurt. Today you finally planned a day out with Kimpi and Zurka, you were having a picnic in the forest.

Excited, you got up early in the morning to get ready. As you got your basket ready, neteyam had walked in. Surprised you looked at him in confusion, it was still early in the morning and he wasn’t one to loose sleep so easily. “Neteyam why are you up so early?” You asked still filling up your basket. “I could ask you the same thing” annoyed he didn’t avert his gaze, waiting for you to pay attention to him. The room seemed to get hot with his presence, but you’ve gotten used to it. “Remember Teyam? I’m going out with Kimpi and Zurka!” Reminding him of your conversation you had about a week ago. Jogging his memory he sighed “You know I don’t like them y/n, they aren’t good for you”. You noticed how he had an agenda against them, but you just couldn’t understand why. They had never been mean to him in any way that you were aware of. Standing up to meet him you walked up, cupping his cheek in your hand before giving him a peck on his temple “I promise I’ll be safe” before walking past him. His hand quickly gripped onto your wrist causing you to stop in your tracks and look up at him. “This conversation is not done y/n” gaze darkening, as he looked at you through hooded eyes. “Neteyam that hurts” you pleaded, trying to rid of his grip. “why don’t you listen to me baby Hm? I don’t ask that much of you, why can’t you fucking listen to me?” Annoyed he let go of your wrist and walked out mumbling to himself as he did. Leaving you with your thoughts, why was he so cold to you sometimes? What had you done that was so wrong?

Walking out of your hut still a bit frizzled by what just happened, you went looking for Kimpi and Zurka, to find them waiting at the edge of the village. Waving to them, you watched their expressions change into smiles. “Hey guys!” You exchanged smiles as you began to walk with them. “Hey y/n! We haven’t hung out in forever it feels like!” Zurka suggested, as you drew closer to the picnic spot. “Oh yeah, neteyam has been so needy lately” you confessed, tired of him for now. “Well that’s actually one of the reasons we planned this picnic y/n” Kimpi added. Confused you shared looks at both of them. Coming to the spot, you set down the food. Zurka splayed out the blanket, as Kimpi got out the drinks. Once you all got settled , you spoke first. “So what did you guys want to talk about?” Sitting across from them both, as you plopped a berry in your mouth and took a sip of water.

“we don’t think neteyam is good for you y/n” Kimpi let out, she worried for you and your health. “It seems hes very controlling of everything you do, we don’t want you to be with someone like that”. Her position soon changed as she stiffed up, hoping you’d listen to them. “You’re always canceling plans because of him, and he’s very touchy with you when he’s mad y/n” Zurka added, they were wrong you thought. Neteyam would never ever hurt you, he loves you too much. He always tells you how he would never hurt, and he’s a man of his word. Maybe he was right, were they really jealous of your relationship? “Neteyam would never hurt me, he loves me too much. Stop worrying about me I promise you guys I’m ok” It seemed as if the air had gotten heavy, because your eyelids felt heavy. Blinking continuously, you tried to stay awake. Your friends noticing your sleepy state, Zurka confused came closer laying her hand on your shoulder trying to keep you awake “Y/n snap out of it” snapping in front of your face. Your vision blurry, you fell back closing your eyes.

Opening your eyes, your felt a hand underneath you. Looking up you blinked trying to make out the face hovering over you. It was Neteyams, “neteyam where’s Kimpi and Zurka?” Sitting up from his lap. Your hands coming to hold you up as you looked around. “They left you with me when you passed out” running his hands through your hair. “I was feeling fine though, I don’t know why I passed out” you added, still confused. “How long have I been here Teyam?” Turning to face him, you wrapped yourself around him with your face in the crook of his neck. “Oh about a few hours, I was worried for you y/n” planting a kiss on your neck as he talked.

“I don’t mean to worry you Teyam” saddened that your boyfriend would worry for you like that. He asked “Can I tell you something baby?” Moving your face to look at him, he looked into your eyes for approval. Nodding you let him speak “I think your friends might have poisoned your food”. “Teyam what are you saying?” “I’ve told you they aren’t good for you baby, and now look what happened when you hung out with them” taking in his words, you thought about what he said, “Teyam they would never do that to me!” Your thought process was wrecked a the thought they would really poison you, they were your best friends. But maybe he was right, they did say they didn’t want you to be with Neteyam. So maybe this was how they tried to break you apart. “Baby I would never lie to you about something like this, I don’t want you getting hurt” bringing you back into the hug he planted more kisses down your face as he rocked you in his arms.

“I-I know Teyam, they did tell me something though” all of a sudden he stopped, his movements came to a halt at your words. “What did they tell you baby?” Still holding you.“They don’t want you to be with me, they think you’re toxic and we shouldn’t be together” you confessed, tracing small circles on his back. A loud sigh came out of him, as if a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. “My love I told you they were jealous of us, now this shows that I was right” rubbing the base of your spine as he spoke. His embrace was warm, and subtle. You felt safe within him, so warm and inviting. You loved it when he held you, you would lay with each other for hours on end. Just laying in the sun, as he held you tight. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you Teyam” “I forgive you baby, you were just blinded by their jealousy“. After your conversation, you spent the rest of the day with neteyam in his hut. Kiri had come in to weave a knew hunting socket. Sitting criss crossed a few feet away from you and neteyam “so how was your picnic y/n?” Too focused on her weaving to look up. Looking at neteyam, he nodded as you explained.

…

“I don’t think Kimpi would do that to you y/n, maybe you were just tired” Kiri said trying to give you a voice of reason.

Neteyam suddenly got stiff as he held you in his arms, your back flush to his chest. “Are you saying I’m wrong sister?” He asked, his breath coming out hard as he spoke. “No- I just think you need to rethink your decisions brother” finally looking up, only to be met with an angry figure making eye contact with her. “Neteyam are you-“ quickly being cut off “I knew it! You are jealous of me and y/n kiri, you are my sister you should be happy for me!” His voice loud, as the room ran cold. Astonished Kiri sat there for a long while, surprised by her brothers words. She’s been nothing but supportive of you and Neteyam’s relationship since the start. Always saying how cute you two looked together, never snitching on him when he snuck out to see you after eclipse. She was the last person on pandora who would ever want to break you two apart. She soon shook her head, as disgust washed over her face. Her brother’s accusations turning her demeanor cold.

Your ears twitched from the tension that had flooded the room. You didn’t understand what neteyam was talking about, you saw nothing but support from Kiri ever since you had got together. “Is that really what you think of me neteyam?” She asked, her current distraction now put to the side. “It’s the truth” gritting his teeth as he spoke. “You are ridiculous Neteyam!” Taking her hunting socket, and leaving the room she left you and Neteyam alone again. You were embarrassed by his actions, accusing his own sister of trying to break him up? Was he crazy or something? You moved yourself out of his grasp to sit in front of him. You had a worried look on your face as you sat looking at his uneasy state. “Teyam what has gotten into you? Kiri would never be jealous of us” Squinting at him, still confused you waited for his answer.

Neteyam still visibly angry, huffed at your response to his comment. “Have you never seen her eyes lingering on us before? She’s always looking at us, I can see the jealousy in her eyes. How have you never noticed it?” His ears lowering down, as he spoke. Worry soon replaced your confusion, as the words came out of him. “Teyam please don’t act this way towards your sister, she just wants what’s best for both of us” rubbing your hands up and down his thigh, hoping he’d calm down. He was annoyed with you, how could you not see what he saw? It was so blatantly obvious to him. You were one of a kind, and everyone wanted you. Everyone envied him for it, he was so lucky to have you and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it for him. Not Kiri, not your stupid friends, nobody would get in his way when it came to you. You deserved every gem that this beautiful planet could offer, every desire you ever had he would provide to you. Though you never asked him for much but his love, he never fell short from astonishing in your eyes.

But sometimes you couldn’t help but become disappointed in him when he got like this. You were disappointed in him, he was the next Olo’eyktan and he was making accusations left and right. He didn’t mean any harm right? He just wanted what was best for you both, and you needed to obey. He was more detailed than you when it came to these kinds of things, maybe you just weren’t aware. He was wise for his age, he must be right then. Neteyam noticing your discomforting state, he reached for your hand. Rubbing it a few times, and softening his body before he spoke “Y/n I know what I saw, and I need you to be on my side for this-Please?” Cupping your cheek in his hands, rubbing it softly as he waited. Looking down at your bracelet “ok” came out. Moving your gaze to his soft expression, as you obeyed him.

You hadn’t seen Kiri in weeks, after the incident with neteyam. You weren’t looking forward to the interaction anyways. Today you were working with Neytiri for Tshaik training. Since you and neteyam were almost of age to mate, Neytiri had been training you day in and day out. Inside of the nursing hut, you were hunched over a bowl as you crushed herbs to help an injured warrior. “Yes yes just like that y/n” Neytiri said encouraging your actions, as she bandaged up the warriors bloody arm. Hearing the curtain move, you turned your attention behind you watching Kiri walk in with her arm bleeding. Neytiri noticing she quickly asked you “Go and help Kiri” pointing to the injured girl across the room.

Nodding you got up and greeted her “Come sit Kiri” bringing her to the closest mat. Her expression changing into a small smile, she had expected you to be cold from your last interaction “Thank you y/n”. Sitting down in front of you, you quickly grabbed the supplies next to you and got to work. Grinding the herbs into your small bowl, you could feel Kiri’s eyes burning into your scalp. Clearing your throat you looked up meeting her gaze “So how have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks” you spoke, out of pure curiosity. Excited to answer she replied quickly “Well I finished bonding with my ikran, she’s beautiful! Her name is Aruka” A happy Kiri was displayed in front of you, her smile was contagious. Causing her energy to spread to you, you smiled back “Oh Kiri that is great! I am so happy for you!” Your eyes full of happiness with your ears perked. Her wound coming back into your line of sight you asked “So what brought you here today?” Moving her hand out of the way, for a better look. It was a deep cut, it seemed to be made by a knife. “Oh uhm- I just cut myself” shying away from your gaze, you became curious as to why she was acting so strange. “Is that what really happened Kiri? You can tell me the truth” rubbing your hand on her knee, searching for her eye contact once again. Before speaking she let out a heavy breathe “It was neteyam, he attacked me”. Your heart dropped from her words. Worried you brought her into a hug before apologizing profusely. “Kiri I am sorry, he should have never done that. I’m going to talk to him about this, I am so sorry he did this to you. You didn’t deserve this” tears welled in your eyes, at the thought of neteyam being so cruel to his own sister. Kiri reassured you she was going to be ok, as you got back to patching her up.

The second you got done fulfilling your duties with Neytiri, you made a beeline to Neteyams hut. As you pulled the curtain back, you were met with a horrible smell. Looking around the hut you found him hunched over, cleaning off his hunting knife. Noticing your presence he quickly got up “My love I missed you!” Walking over, you quickly pushed him back. Too disgusted to hug him, “What is wrong with you!” Infuriated with your mate, you looked for an answer in his eyes.

“What are you talking about mate?” Also searching for an answer in your amber eyes. “Why would you do that to Kiri?” Eyes starting to tear at the image of Kiri’s injured arm. A smile crept onto his face, as if he was proud of his horrible actions. “Oh it’s just a little cut, she’ll be fine” as if that was reassuring to you. “No Neteyam you should have never done that!” you yelled back. Were you seriously yelling at him? Who did you think you were? Your yelling got him riled up. Mad he responded “She deserved it y/n!” He yelled back. He had never yelled at you before, you two had never fought like this. Backing away from his angered frame, he was scaring you. He had just pulled a knife on his own sister, and he was proud? “You are not the same person that you were when I met you” you confessed. Where was that beautiful boy you once knew? The boy who would hold you close, the boy who loved and cared for his siblings, the boy who you loved. All of this was too much for you, too much for your heart to handle.

So you did what came to mind first “I think we should take a break Neteyam” your voice low, as was your gaze. Too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. His heart dropped immediately, were you really going to believe his dumb sister over your own boyfriend? He wouldn’t let this happen, he was nothing without you. He might as well be taken back to Ewya if he couldn’t hold you in his arms. “Y/n your really going to take her side? She was jealous of us! She-She was talking bad about you to Lo’ak and I wouldn’t let that happen. I did it for you, she was the one who pulled the knife on me first!” His lies filled your senses, though you knew he was lying. You couldn’t help but believe him somewhat. Pulling you in for a hug not leaving time for you to respond, he kissed your temple. “Neteyam stop-“ but you were soon interrupted. “I love you y/n pl- please don’t leave me” surprisingly you felt a soft liquid dripping onto your face. To your surprise you looked up to find him crying, holding onto you tight.

Your heart instantly softened at his affection, did you really make this mighty warrior cry? God you were an idiot, why were you so mean to him? He just made a simple mistake right? Feeling bad you hugged him back right away. Letting him feel your tightness surround him and his senses. Feeling horrible about your actions you replied “I’m so sorry Neteyam, I’m not going to leave you- I love you” confessing to your mate. His grip tightened at your loving words, he loved hearing you say it. It was just something about the way you said I love you. It made his senses tingle, and his feet twitch. He loved you so much, he would practically move every mountain for you if you’d let him. He was the one, and you were his to have. But you still had a handful of questions for him “Just don’t ever do anything like that again” you begged, into the comfort of his chest.

I Hope you guys liked this! I’ll be making a part 2 to this if you guys enjoyed it! I would love feedback on this because I’m not too confident for this one so lmk!

Taglist: @ihatethridperiod @neteyam4life

[saint-siren]

A World For Her Alone | Ptolemaea

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy, childbirth, dubcon, death, the aftermath of severe abuse, slavery, derealization (?), the general ennui of noble marriage

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Men! Don't they always think of "the one that got away"?

author's note: Girlfail Barbie and Catholic guilt ken or whatever the kids are saying idk.

When he returned to life again, he was haunted by a fervor to change things. He was a desperate animal caught in a trap, biting his own limb in a bid to escape. He’d languished too long in the inevitable misery that befell him again and again and again. This time, he told himself again, it would be different. He considered readying a horse to come and warn you about this thing that had overtaken him but there were obvious flaws in the plan such as; what if he saw Diana and was besotted again before he had the chance to tell you everything? Even if he succeeded what was he to say to you? What would you be able to do that you had not already attempted? How could you break this hold? What would your knowledge of his predicament mean against something that felt so primordial, something that compelled him to kill you?

What measure could be taken to change this? The last few minutes before he would have to bring himself to truly live this life, he spent at his desk, resigned to writing a missive.

For some reason, this life’s distinctions were more prominent. Firstly, it felt like reality was itself melting, sliding off its center to be remolded around him in the blink of an eye like candle wax. There were times where he forgot that his body wasn’t his own, that he identified with that darkness that puppeteered his body with grotesque ease. Things in that life had an unreal quality to them as if a fever dream he’d soon wake from. The horror of this life was softer, it was brighter, sweeter. He no longer begged for mercy, he only phased into the void that had become him deeper and deeper until he could no longer claim the pain he experienced as his own. He fell in love with Diana again, everything was wrong but he gave himself to the faltering, glitching reality that provided his distraction.

Had he only imagined it or had you become close with your sister in this life? It was unthinkable to him that you would, remembering all the pain she had caused you, still seem to love and look after her. It was a gesture that horrified him, the depths of your magnanimity, your forgiveness were hard for him to handle. Where was the rage you were due? Where was the lady he’d known before? Where had that livid and mournful glint in your eyes, like the silver pommel of the kitchen knife he’d nearly stabbed you with, that had appeared the life after your daughter had been born? Its sudden disappearance was an omen, he was convinced. Now, your eyes were soft as a saint’s, it was a sweet look of righteous suffering. Yours was the look of a martyr.

He was too late to save you, that look told him as much. You were a woman going to into the flame, worn and deprived of her fight; of the vicious urge for retribution. You were the dregs of a woman, bent to the shape of the realities you’d inhabited. Bent partial to Diana. This peace between sisters had come at a cost he would only live to know in your next life. 

You tutored Diana, persistently, pushing her to learn more always. You two spent a great deal at each other’s sides and Claude was aware that even though in previous lives, you’d suffered criticism for not being close enough with your sister; now you were seen as an overbearing older sister pushing her poor, helpless little sister to always do more. He could not really grasp at reality strong enough to muster more outrage at the world which now seemed to be a mindless chorus, for their hypocrisy. Curiously, though, his greater self was pleased at your conduct and ignored the slanderous chatter. The darkness was sated by your concern for your sister and it thanked you by not making efforts to exclude you, he was still flirting with Diana quite openly, to be sure, but it was much less careless. It felt more as if the two of them were not hiding, not rebelliously defying, but expressing themselves easily before you, knowing that your bite had gone soft, your eyes like that of the rest of their world; understanding how important Diana was.

As the date of your wedding approached, something bad was going to happen. He felt it or perhaps he heard it whispered in the static of a reality which was falling down on top of him all the time. It sat in the pit of his stomach, an anxious ache that never soothed, a wound he could feel festering even when the rush of love for Diana flooded his careworn mind. 

Days before your wedding, he was informed that you’d run away. A strange sort of grief did come over him by way of his false heart, his greater self almost seemed to mourn you. To him, and the distinction between his two selves in that moment had never been clearer, it felt as though you’d betrayed him. You’d made him care for you, if only in the slightest and most shallow way possible and then you vanished. You promised to marry him, to make a good wife to him, marchioness to his people and mother to his children. You smiled in his face each time you met and spoke to him with clear affection but you abandoned the future the two of you had painstakingly prepared with years of effort. Like he was nothing. Like the unspoken understanding, the ease that had been built was nothing at all. It disoriented this vast, arrogant creature, it felt to this monstrous part of him like trickery, like deprivation. 

His true self knew that this was not the bad thing he’d anticipated. If it were, the seed of anxiety planted in his mind would have finally given way to the deeper misery he knew was to follow and set him free of his fearful, agonizing waiting. But he was still wound tightly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You running away from him was not the bad thing; what fate would make you pay for it, was. He had seen this part before, he knew it ended in blood. So he hoped, at least, you got to run quite far before it did. Before reality closed around its status quo again.

Out of obligation and the longtime investment made from his family to yours, he needed to marry a lady of your house. Since you were gone, it fell to Diana to fulfill this duty. This life, Diana had been educated suitably enough to be a marchioness, for theirs not to be an ill-fated marriage for the territory. Claude realized that this must have been by design, it was your insistent effort that led to her being educated so efficiently. He’d heard talk of you seeming to bully her with how much you pushed her to learn. This was your design. You had always planned to run and leave the two of them to what the fates clearly wanted to happen. Although it was an ache in his chest that you were gone, the more pressing feeling was a forlorn emptiness at the fact that he knew how it would end and he could do nothing to stop it.

On the day he married Diana, it was bright and cloudless, surely indicative of the sort of marriage he was to have with her. Her cheeks were flushed with the enduring surprise of being able to marry him but also with surpassing happiness. But did he only hallucinate a crow flying swiftly across the pale morning sky, casting a shadow on them briefly? He could not know. He retained little of his wedding to Diana. After all, it was a frightening thing, this end. This thing he’d been fighting for so long had caught up to him, it had won, or it would in time. It felt like he was further trapped in a labyrinth where before he could at least the see the sky above, now he was completely hidden in the belly of the beast with no end in sight. Everything was Diana. Everything always would be. 

The defiling of his will and dignity would be ritual, it would dutiful and nightly. It would loving and soft. It would give him the very precious heirs his people counted on him to provide. It would make a mother of Diana, something she had so desperately wanted as he recalled. In time, he was sure to soften to the ordeal, his despair would only be monotonous, dull, unable to rip open any wounds due to the scar tissue of all his lives prior. This was marriage, he kept telling himself. This was marriage. 

Even so, a peculiar thing did happen: Claude had a group of his knights search for you for as long as fiscally reasonable. For two years, he had his knights span out following possible traces of your existence. It was not his own will, his own words that left his mouth but it was so different from everything this thing that puppeteered him had done before. It had showed you sparse concern even when it was in regards to his heir, the thing that should have come before anything. But now, he found that he demanded his knights search for your whereabouts with ease long after your family gave up the pretense. He did so not out of a fervent desire for revenge, the fury of one who had been robbed of something, it was done out of a sort of grief. A sort of desperation to hold to a woman who disappeared into thin air, to reach through the distance and claim the answers you denied.

Claude’s marriage to Diana in the meantime, was not as he imagined the fates would have it be. Of course there was love and affection, of course there was even a constructed desire within him and of course he suffered it inwardly. But there was something that haunted both of them too, a ghost slipped between them always. A ghost who functioned like a scary story for children, whose name being spoken accidentally was just enough to breathe life back into her, just enough to allow her to haunt them. At first, Diana told him that perhaps you had someone you ran away to be with and even his body in the cold hands of his greater self, rejected the notion. He wondered what could ever have given her such an idea, that a woman so meek and truly devoted would have been having an affair. Even that time you left with your knight he didn’t truly believe there was anything between you, it was a desperate measure to escape just like this time. He almost seemed to recoil from her when she spoke of it, it was nothing more than a subtle shift in the air, in his expression but for the first time, Diana seemed to have noticed it even if she did not acknowledge it with words. The message was clear from his expression, the change in tone and the sudden tepidness between them; your escape was to be a sore subject.

It changed the dynamic between them a bit but being married had also done that well enough. Diana was a marchioness who had a certain countenance to keep up, work to do and places to go. She was no longer the vulnerable, tender, helplessly ill girl who begged him to be her reason for continuing on. She now had purpose of her own. None of this displeased his greater self too severely but it did change things between them. No longer were they truly knight and princess. They lived in the real world now as Marquis and Marchioness. It was not like it was with you but it was…changed. A sense of duty settled within her, he got the feeling. She walked with her head higher, her emotions that were once vibrant and expressive on her face were dimmed to a polite mask of a half smile. It was bizarre to see her so grown up.

The ritual degrading practice of lovingly bedding the wife who shouldn’t have been his, seemed to have an odd effect on him this time around. Where before he was able to separate himself, he felt this time he fell deeper into the reality of his situation the longer he was married to Diana. Each time he lay back onto the bed, skin tacky with both their sweat, he was able to physically feel the horror that came with the long line of years that would stretch out between them. Each time he returned to reality enough to feel the result of having just been inside her, he was hit with dread as if time could never dull it. Where before he could only consider the implications of the freshly committed betrayal of you and of his own mind, now he could see a greater picture being painted. This was to be his life from then on, laying back onto his side of the bed with a relieved sigh and cuddling her close speaking of children to be born. While inside, he ceaselessly clawed at the walls, a mad prisoner no longer considering freedom an option, desiring death.

And in those moments, he also thought of you. He thought of where you’d gone. A long time had passed and a long time would pass before you’d see him again. He wondered whether you were living happily somewhere, could it be? Could it really not be that you were somewhere happily living even if just until the blade swinging deftly above your head finally fell? He was the most desperate of men and he imagined it as if a fairytale, a lullaby to take him into a fitful sleep before he would wake and live a life circling around the very tarnishment of both your souls. 

At some point he had slipped somewhere. His manner with Diana, although loving to be sure, was whetted to a slight sharpness. It was a strange nuance that he had only realized after years of marriage passed by with him gone inward to your memory. A chill had come to the marquisate that no fire would warm. It started in a small way, in your name slipping out every so often when he spoke of Diana whilst she was not in his presence. It was forgivable, no one spoke ill. But…it progressed to thoughts of you that were shared with his greater mind. A peculiar thing that shook him free of the derealization that came with this sort of monotony in misery. He realized that his thoughts came in one stream, instead of parallel and distinctive. He realized that above his own heart aching, the one that beat for Diana stung for…for something he had once and now could have no more.

Diana seemed to know. Your ghost was no longer benign, you were an active member of the household. Everyday, at some point as he and Diana spoke, he got the sense that she wanted to broach a topic but couldn’t, out of some fear that even speaking of it would harden it to truth. Some insecurity she desperately wanted him to soothe was instead locked away, tamed in fear that it could only be confirmed. It was as if mentioning you at all was a taboo. Claude parsed the difference between this Diana and the ones who came before when he was about the enter the library but heard voices.

“Madame, is it really okay to leave things like this?,” sounded the voice of one of Diana’s servants. The woman had a habit of forming such inappropriate bonds, the two became friends when Diana entered the marquisate as its new mistress. She would have known such a friendship would be unseemly but even so, it was hard for a woman such as Diana to live as a marchioness, beneath a mask as all noblewomen did, without someone she needn’t bother using it with. Claude had not been able to deny her that much. 

Claude had paused in the hall when he heard the voice of Diana. He knew why he’d done so, for once, his minds were in tentative agreement. He had come there to think, to be alone with your memory. That day was the anniversary of your disappearance and he wanted to ask the definitive question again and again, until he could put it to rest for the next time. Diana could not be there for his mourning, he did not want her there, more than that. His still heart did love Diana very much, such had not changed, but this time, you were not so easily forgotten. A stain on his heart that should not be there…he knew his wife would see it in his demeanor, his brooding expression and no matter how many times she’d tried to ignore the poignance of the date, it always revealed itself to be stark and imposing.

Diana replied to the servant in a rather genuine tone, “He is a wonderful husband. He has done nothing worthy of reproach.”

Something kept him listening, he could not parse what because his greater self was too busy considering the words that had been, were being and would be spoken between the two women. 

“It is…unseemly, for a married man to cling so much to a memory.” The maid sounded as if she wanted to use a word more derogatory than just “unseemly,”

“It cannot be helped,” Diana sighed. “She was his fiancee for much of his life, of course he is still devastated, compared to how long they’ve known each other, the wound is still fresh.”

“Even so, he has you, Madame. Why does he sulk and think of a woman who left him, ran out on him days before their wedding when he has a woman who has loved him faithfully?”

“Don’t ever speak that way, Maude. She is my sister, she is not some random noble you can insult carelessly,” Diana said, with as much sharpness as her voice could carry. “In any case…it is not so simple.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn but I fail to understand why it is not simple.”

“It cannot be simple. He is grieving. He and I wed so soon after, before he was able to gather his bearings, even. He may love me more than he ever loved my sister but it is still a loss of something I cannot replace. Who I am as his wife is entwined with that grief as a matter of course, it is simply the star our marriage fell under.”

“Have you ever considered confronting the lord, Madame? Forgive me again for saying so, but I just…after what you found, I don’t believe this is as it seems.”

He could hear the weak smile in Diana’s voice, the suddenly infused lightheartedness. “Oh, I could never do that. Then he’d known I was poking my nose where I shouldn’t have been and even so, I still don’t completely understand what it could mean. Whether a confession or something else, I don’t understand what his intentions were. I…I’m comfortable with never understanding if it means I never have the chance of finding a more unsettling thought beneath.”

“Madame…,” The maid’s voice sounded helpless and full of pity which struck an odd chord within him. A hatefulness unearned, small and weak to be sure but definitely present. At the same time, his heart sunk. He knew all at once exactly what she’d found, what gave her this wariness aside from his small actions. A fractured piece of reality appeared again as if it had never been missing, with the seamlessness of a dream. The letter…it seemed worlds away, it genuinely shocked him to hear what he thought was a reference to it. It hit him as if he’d heard her casually mention she’d been killed a few times over. And there was that pinprick of anger toward her for even knowing about such a thing, from both parts of him for different reasons. For telling her maid and garnering pity that should by rights go to the lost sister whose family had not even looked for her for longer than a month. In his greater self’s mind, for tainting the relief he was capable of feeling when he looked to her even more than it already had been with this. He could not even remember what he’d said but he knew it was something she should not know, it felt so viscerally wrong for her to have read words meant for your eyes. And undoubtedly, though he knew not what words he wrote, he cursed his love her in some manner. 

But he took a deep breath and walked away before she could find him eavesdropping and bring it up to him. Something had….changed, he felt. Irreparably so. There was a certain synchrony between his two selves in a way there had never been before and something between he and Diana had shifted because of it. More noticeably this time, there was distance. 

Diana found that she was pregnant with their first child soon after and there was as much apprehension in him as there was joy. Reality glitched all the time for him during the pregnancy, memories of you, of her, of previous lives intruded on his senses. Something about her being with child frightened him. His vision was often intercut with visions of the past, of your body, slowly seeping blood and still warm while the wails of your daughter fell on deaf ears. He heard Diana’s anguished crying, giving birth to a son who wasn’t certain to live. This foreboding and regret did not extend to his greater self who found other reasons to feel a note of fear at the thought of having a child with Diana. There was a desperation in that part of him, to make things right again, to make them what they’d been before when they were only illicit, courtly lovers. And even still, he knew it would not be. He could pray as much as he liked, he knew that for however loved and wanting this child would be, he would still be reminded of a future he’d lost with you.

Why was he still so concerned about you when you were not the woman he loved? He could not shut the door on your memory not matter how much he wanted to. Was it as Diana said? Was it because he’d known you so longer? He couldn’t think so. It was not like him to be sentimental because of time. Perhaps, he thought, it could be because of how you behaved in the year before you ran away. You treated Diana with a special kindness, you turned a blind eye to the obvious love between them and you ran away just short of your own wedding knowing that she’d…she’d had to marry him in your stead…You had done it on purpose. You had primed her to wed him, you knew what they had and you made it possible by abandoning your whole life. That revelation filled him with some unknown mixture of feelings that he could not stand. It was always to be a thorn in his heart, he would always remember who he owed this life to. And how could he be happy with that as he should be? How could he be happy not knowing why you allowed it to be and where you had gone now? How could you grant such an act of selflessness and disappear? You clearly didn’t want to be found. Why?

The more he thought of you, the more ennui he felt with his life with Diana. Their marriage was haunted by the shadow of your sacrifice. The day his child was born, a daughter, it was a night just like the one where your parents informed him you’d run away. Again his apprehension surpassed his joy when Diana went into labor, he’d paced anxiously outside in the hall listening to her sounds of pain while he looked out the window at the moon which hung in the sky like a being in its own right, watching him apathetically. He tried to get your memory out of his system before his daughter came into the world. He just…he just wished for that moment to be theirs alone. When their daughter was born, healthy and crying loudly from the terrible newness of the world, Diana held her to her chest, crying soft tears of her own at the newness of motherhood. Although his happiness was great, it was edged in something that could not be ignored, something which he felt tainted the moment in some way. He thought again on the night you disappeared and again asked himself where you could be, what you could be doing, did you have children of your own now? Somehow, he hoped you did. It would hurt him badly to know you had children with another man, love or no love between he and you, but he still wanted you to have that much. But that wasn’t the thought that truly cemented the fact that he and Diana would never have a moment that belonged to them again. It was actually the fact that when he first set eyes on his daughter, he looked for your face in hers.

He was glad Diana had been looking down at their daughter at that moment, perhaps if she’d looked up just then, she’d have caught a glimpse of that yearning in his eyes. He cried and thanked her for giving him a child, making him a father and it was genuine gratitude but the tears, the tears were for what was lost and what was left of you which endured. And inside, he dwelled in anguish because what remained of his true self was further broken, disillusioned by the fact that this child that he so pitifully wanted to avoid, had been born. She would live, her name written in his family registry, raised with careful hands and more love than most. She would live well and your child, he one who knew she’d lost you and had the only sensible reaction to it, her name was yet unknown. 

As the years passed, Claude and Diana settled into life as parents. He realized that what Diana expected of him as a father simply didn’t come naturally, he was not an overtly affectionate person in general for anyone but Diana. This did not compute to her, and of course it didn’t, with her having your parents excessive favor and then with the underlying hair thin cracks in their marriage. She required his gestures to be grander, she required more assurance of his love. So, he got more comfortable with it for her sake, he made his affection more theatrical for her, though it felt more like wearing a different mask more than it felt like actually changing who he was. He didn’t exactly know how to be a father, his own wasn’t much of an example, he felt awkward and clumsy with it on his own but he knew how to emulate with the best of them. As was necessary for life as an aristocrat. This had the inadvertent effect of raising his daughter feeling less personal, less of a bond. It felt more like everything else in his life as a nobleman did, false and procedural. And there was the fact that both his selves were reminded of you when they looked at her, inevitably, even if only for a split second each time. One side reminded of what once was and one side reminded of what could have been. 

Luckily, the child was much like her mother and did not comprehend the difference. She was young yet, and still he feared she would not go to him, that she’d cry and fuss in his arms, rejecting him instinctively. Sometimes, Claude felt worried that one day when she was older, she’d look to him for comfort, so he would put forth his best image but she’d see something in him that would tell her how false he was. But it never happened, the child slept easy in his arms and though Diana pouted a bit, she was amused her daughter was a daddy’s girl just as she was. Everything was alright, especially compared to some very frigid noble marriages he’d hear gossip about before. It seemed that the two of them had reached a mutual, unspoken agreement. They’d never talk about what they lacked, they’d take consolation in what they had managed to keep even if it wasn’t what it used to be. 

They went on like that. The time passed quickly, reality seemed to melt, not with hard glitches but the lines blurred together. It got to the point where he felt that the date of your disappearance was not years past but minutes ago. He felt as though he were in the night trailing after you, shouting your name just as much as he felt like an ordinary father with the wife he coveted for so long. His body vibrated with a dull hum and at night when he laid beside Diana to sleep, lights flashed beneath his eyelids as if a candle were lit before him. He would come home and hold his daughter in his arms and still feel as though his breath would come out in a puff from the cold, feel as though something had only just been taken. Every so often the child he held felt foreign to him. He could not even recognize which side of him the feeling belonged to, he was not sure it mattered now. Perhaps this was the real end. Maybe you’d gotten away happily and it was his punishment this time to never feel what he should even when he had what he wanted. He could accept that much, he thought with more peace than he deserved in the delusion. 

Of course it was when he accepted the idea of living without you that he came back. A messenger was sent, hesitant to relay the information that Felix and a few of his comrades had been tracking your whereabouts independently from the orders of your parents. You’d been found, barely alive, trapped in an establishment of very ill repute, worked as a slave. 

This news was enough to devastate and selfishly relieve him. You were alive. You had been worked nearly to death. You were supposed to have lived well enough, perhaps a simple, rustic life as a merchant’s wife with children born of love always at your skirts. “Will she live?” His voice broke. 

The messenger shook his head. “We don’t know, my lord. We only know that the count and countess are receiving her soon.”

Claude almost didn’t bother telling Diana, rushing to find a servant to have a horse prepared so that he could ride there and see you for himself. Until he was met with Diana who entered the room, seeing her family’s sigil on the sleeve of the messenger and he had to tell her. Yes, that was right…It was Diana who’d lost more than he had when you left. Of course it was necessary to tell her first. Somehow, it disappointed him to not be able to see you alone. To know that inevitably, Diana would want to see you and she’d bring along their daughter whom she couldn’t be without. All manner of frenzied feelings were passing through his greater self but prominently, there was a distinct, selfish desire to see you again. A thought that perhaps it would fix everything that has been wrong with him since you ran away. And concurrently ran the sharp anguish of his inner self which had awakened from its comfortable misery. Again in this life, you had suffered for his sake. He could not seem to stop stealing your life again and again and again. What had been done to you? What had you suffered while he raised a child that wasn’t yours? Deprived of your status and kept as a slave; oh, the image his mind had painted from what he knew of such things from his knighthood was a grotesque one. You, who had already been stripped of everything several times over, deprived even of the safety in your noble status. The only thing that made being born to such a family as yours, tied to such a fate as his more bearable, that you’d not be subject to all the cruelties of the world, only the ones he could inflict. 

Diana’s eyes grew large and clouded over as he told her what news had arrived. He stiffened at this, hypocritically suspicious of her concern. He felt a pinprick of annoyance at her, remembering now, the time she’d suggested you’d have been the type to run away with a lover. He felt the briefest urge to shame her, he hoped for a second that she’d remember it too as he had and be ashamed. It faded quickly and it stung but he couldn’t be bothered to scold himself for it. The more important issue at hand was your life. Diana spluttered, “My sister has been found? Where is she now?” She, perhaps not the most dutiful sister, did show at least this much love for you. In her eyes, he could see the resolve to see you again despite a slight troubled look in them. She was ready to go wherever you had. Claude’s careworn, lovesick heart softened some and instead of answering her, he simply called out to a passing servant to ready the carriage, for they were going to the manor of his in-laws right away.

Diana woke up their daughter from her nap and the three of them made their way your parents’ manor where they awaited your return after so many years. Your parents tried to take pains to greet him formally, to reach for their grandchild but he waved them off rudely. “Where is she?”

Your mother flinched, pulling away, embarrassed to have been snubbed so brashly by him. “She’s being brought here by the knights, they’ve not yet arrived but they should return shortly.”

Diana’s brow furrowed at her mother’s disposition. Something about the situation had apparently unsettled her but she said nothing in regards to it. Claude had the urge to tell her, “Look closely at the woman you know to be your mother, does she look worried at all about your sister? Look at your father, too. Does he seem as you imagine we would if we located the dying body of our daughter after she’d been missing nearly a decade?” He wanted her to see them as they were even if it were too late for it to matter. He wanted her to see who favored her, what sort of people loved her, a wretched murderer, a philanderer, a careless woman. He wanted her to wonder what it said about her that she’d be loved by them.

You arrived shortly as your parents probably prayed so that they’d not have to deal with more questions and the suspicious look in their only true daughter’s eyes, the disillusionment. Felix brought you up your old bedroom, he’d gone up to have the servants ready it for your arrival, overseeing their work anxiously to make sure it was made comfortable enough for a woman of an unknown level of severe illness and injury. Diana had wanted to follow him up to help but he’d, gently as he was capable of in such a situation, had her wait downstairs under some thin guise in relation to their daughter. He’d not wanted to be around them then, as the time grew nearer to seeing you again. 

When Felix brought you upstairs, he stood at attention from the corner where he sat anxiously looking about your room. You had large bruises up and down your body, you were filthy with blood caked under your nails and on the side of your head clinging to brittle hair, you were bandaged here and there in haste. He made a small sound of anguish and surprise, for it was one thing to be told you were near death, another thing to see it, smell it, feel it radiate off of your body. You were decaying even as you drew breath. Felix’s gaze lifted to Claude unabashedly hateful for a moment as he realized he was in the room but quickly flickered back down to you. Claude pulled back the covers on the bed for Felix to set you down and called for the doctor in a voice that betrayed a stifled sob. 

The doctor did as he could for you under the somber watch of Claude but even so, you remained unconscious. He didn’t leave your side, praying for you to open your eyes at least, even if just briefly. Even if just to damn him. Even if you were doomed as the doctor seemed to believe. He’d said you were almost certain to die, that it was a matter of making you comfortable, an offense which had gotten him a verbal lashing from Claude even though he knew it was most likely the truth. Diana hesitated to bring their daughter up the room, knowing your body’s fragile condition and the very apparent air of death that surrounded had already frightened her, she came to see you later when she put their daughter down. 

She loomed over your body, trying to find somewhere to touch you, to let you know she was here with you but everywhere was marred and she drew her hand back with a horrified look from seeing you up close, teary eyed. A strange marriage of anger, pity and love did come over him when he saw that. He wanted her to leave him be with you, he wanted to condemn her for even wanting to see you when the reason you were dying was because you made a sacrifice for your sake. But how could he? They were both guilty of the same sin, same measure. Their union was only made possible through their selfish brandishing of their love so how could he turn his back on her so belatedly? How could he deny her for this when he’d been the one to gain the most from their union? For shame or for pride, she was his wife. They were too closely entwined for him to become a hypocrite just now. Though, that hardly meant he wanted to see her healthy, well and with their child while the woman who was deprived of everything lay dying. 

He sent Diana from the room, again under the guise of their daughter, “assuring” her that he’d stay at your side all night. Diana’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a hint of the girl she used to be, unpolished and genuine, unable to help showing all her emotions on her face. She looked…wounded but he must have looked very devastated because when he turned to face her fully, her expression slackened slightly and she did not argue. She only sighed and said, “I hope you won’t make yourself ill doing that. I’ll be in my old room, send for me straight away if you feel tired or unwell at all. I love you.” She said her ‘I love you’ like a plea, like she was near begging for his reassurance again. But Claude was simply not in the frame of mind to be declaring his love her even as it still ruled him. He simply nodded at her and looked back at you. Diana stayed still for a few seconds, he felt her eyes on him, felt that he’d hurt her in his denial. Then, she left the room swiftly.

A day later, his whole body hurt, he had not slept and his mind had gone numb. He could no longer consider very much of the future, he waded through the past. “I wonder…” he began in a tone loud enough to hear through the door. “Are you still out there?”

Felix entered the room. He’d been guarding your door since you returned home. He had not left or giving up the task to another knight for long enough to sleep. He had stood there obstinately without saying a word as if he’d never stopped being your knight. “You called for me, My Lord?” His voice was flat and very hardly concealing a certain amount of disdain.

“You searched for my- for the lady independently, if I understand correctly.”

“Indeed,” Felix answered simply.

“Diana and I owe you our gratitude for doing so, for not giving up on her so easily.”

“Oh, I could not abide you being in debt to me, Lord Claude. All that I did, I did for the lady’s sake alone.” A clear message in that, Claude’s lips almost curled into a bitter smile.

“Very good. You may rest now, the lady is in no further danger.”

“I’m afraid I would hardly be a knight if I were only devoted to looking after her when I felt there were further dangers imminent, My Lord.”

“What is it that you’re concerned about? I am at her side, a knight in my own right. I will not leave her.”

Felix only smiled, a hateful, spiteful smile. “Nor will I, My Lord. I hope you understand.”

Oh, Claude understood. Both the voices inside did, in their own manner. An odd similarity had struck between them, as close as they ever had been to being as one. “Very well,” He sighed, unduly frustrated. “You may return.” He did not even know why he’d desired for Felix to leave so much. Was it that he wanted, even if only once, to be the man who put himself aside for you? Was it that Felix’s very existence condemned his own, with his above dutiful knightly devotion to you contrasting the easy manner in which Claude had been willing to trade you for Diana? He felt guilt when he heard that it was Felix who’d found you, who’d never stopped looking and then an ounce of envy. He knew it was arrogant but if there was nothing else he could do to make up for what had been done, he wanted to be the one who rescued you.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing there was no grand redemption for what had been done just as there was nothing that could ever fill the hole of your absence. He had left you to die as he wed the love of his life and made a very beloved child with her. He had taken your sacrifice into his hands easily and enjoyed a peaceful life because of it without even being able to imagine that you’d never get the same. His obliviousness to how you must have been seeing he and Diana, pushed you into thinking you needed to sacrifice for their sakes or else simply needed to escape a marriage to a man who loved your little sister. You were responsible for all that he had now. And what would he do if you never again opened your eyes? What would he do if you went to your grave thinking you meant so little to him that he’d not even done the smallest thing for you? 

Fortunately, your condition had gotten slightly better by the next evening. You had brief bouts of consciousness after a long stretch of unresponsiveness. You had a fever and the doctor was doing all he could with his remedies to break it but it didn’t seem to be working. There was only so much that could be done with your body in such a condition. There was hardly anything that could be administered to you to rid you of any pain though the doctor mentioned there was a chance you weren’t feeling anything at all for you did not attempt to speak when you woke and slipped quite easily back out of consciousness. A prospect which was morbidly comforting. If you were to die, all the better for you to do so peacefully. But because the chance that you were indeed suffering from the high fever wreaking havoc on your body, he gently laid a cool cloth against your forehead.

Seconds later, your eyes opened, slowly blinking as your lips parted in an attempt to take air into your lungs more easily. He pulled his hand away as soon as he saw your eyes open, as if he’d been caught doing something unseemly. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you returned to consciousness, your eyes bleary and hollow. You gazed at him as if seeing past him, as if seeing the figments of him that had failed you before. The cowardly part of him that lay hidden behind worthless flesh wanted simply to tell you that…well, he didn’t actually know what he should say if he were given the chance. At one time, he imagined he’d tell you he loved you but what use was his love to you anymore? In every life he had loved and in every life someone bled for it. What comfort could it possibly bring? As much comfort as a curse which grows into you with time. The constance of misfortune and the certainty that it would become both of you, that was his love. 

It hardly mattered what he wanted to say anyway. His was not the voice that left his lips, it was mimicry from a force that had grown oddly similar to him in this life. “I remember the day they told me you’d run away…all this time, I have thought of that day.” He did not flinch at the words that came from his lips, for once; the fever had probably made you too delirious to understand him.

“Every moment I had to myself, I asked why you left. Diana told me you probably had somebody. But somehow I didn’t believe that, to my perspective, you really weren’t like that. So why? Why did you leave and why did I look for you even after…” He paused, finding himself so overly emotional talking to a woman that couldn’t even hear him, who was probably in a waking dream more than in her old bedroom with her old fiancé. He must be a stranger to her now. So why was he pouring out the things he would not even confess to his wife as if you were responsible? As if you could answer to the melancholy he already knew very well the source of. His two selves still had the obvious rift between them even as his greater self morphed more into a pale approximation of what his true self used to be. They were two jagged shards of a vase knocked from your dining table. This unearthly force that had taken him over, which had control over him still, was a creature yet unknown to him. He would do well to remember that much.

“Even now I am denied the reason why.” Even so, he had spent too many lives with the greater voice inside that ran thousands of thoughts through his very being not to feel as though he understood something about it when it spoke through him then. “When I should have rejoiced, when I should have been glad, always, always, it was you, like an ghost in my periphery.”

“Now you’re back and it feels like the end,” He spoke the words prophetically, it was the end. You were dipping back into unconsciousness again.  “This isn’t the way I’m supposed to feel,” He said, tucking your blanket up to your chin, sending you off for what he felt would be the final time. He felt it, he knew it. His chest welled up with that feeling again, the dread he felt the day you’d run away. This time, he wondered what would happen if he stayed here in the version of reality he’d grown accustomed to. Would it free you if he stayed in the version of the world which had what the greater self sought to carry out? If he gave in to a will greater than his own? 

At some point during the night, your fever broke and when it did, he found himself freed. His body delivered back to him at a very strange point this time. Never had there been a moment where you’d been alive that he’d also been able to speak freely. It felt like an anomaly, a shared fever dream or the view of earth from his first life the day before he met Diana. In any case, he didn’t feel very much about his own autonomy being returned to him, time enough to consider it later and the rest of his life to mourn. That morning, all he wanted to do was stay at your side, as himself through and through. He knew you were not on the same earthly plane as he was anymore even if you were not yet dead. You would not hear what he’d say, nor see what he’d do or feel his presence. Even so, he took your hand in his and he spoke.

“I have loved you for each and every one of our lives. I am sorry,” He drew in a breath. “Don’t forgive me. I will always be sorry. I am sorry for whatever this is, this part of myself so sharply cleaved out of me every time that I cannot stop killing you. I know it means nothing but I have never spoken it and I must. If this is not the real end, in our next life, kill me yourself. It must end. It must end with my blood, how long can we– how long can we suffer this way? There must be something, there must be something…” His speech, intended to be cathartic in some way, broke off and descended into inarticulate blubbering, his tears dripping onto your hand. He could speak no more then. Could stand the sound of his voice begging the empty air no longer. 

He stayed at your side until the very end. Until he could no longer feel your pulse, the beats of your heart slow and faint. He could swear he felt the moment of your death as deeply as he felt the reach of this primordial thing that seemed to take more of him than he could have imagined there was with each life.

Next

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @gwyneveire

[givemea-dam-break]

May I request a fem reader x Anthony lockwood where reader is a super talented fittes agent who constantly trades barbs with lockwood but he soon realises that she fancies him so he ends up teasing her during missions by doing small stuff like pulling her close and calling here babe when no-one is around

a/n: ahhhhhh this is such a cute idea, yes of course!!! i hope you like it <3 buckle in because this is a long one - which could constitute for a part 2 if anyone wants one lol

warnings: language fem reader (few pronouns used)

part 2

"Don't you get tired of me saving your ass? This is the third time I've done it this week alone."

Anthony Lockwood leans against the partially splintered doorframe of the house he and his team were working on a case in, arms crossed over his chest and smiling proudly as if he wasn't on his back in ghost-lock mere minutes ago. His hair is slightly ruffled, cheeks flushed, but that cocky grin is there despite it all.

"Sometimes I just need reminding that there are scarier things than ghosts," he says.

Bristling a little, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that why I see you looking in mirrors so often? I'd chalked it up to narcissism, but, hey, if it's for a reality check instead, who am I to judge?"

His eyes roll, and he makes a sound that's half-scoff and half-laugh. "We would've been fine without your help, just so you know."

"Mm-hmm." You look around the salt-covered kitchen and the tiles that were pried off the wall - by you - that uncovered a hole in the wall containing the source. "So George was looking for the source in the bathroom just because? And Lucy was fighting the second ghost that she herself told me you guys didn't know about? Not to mention you being ghost-locked. To each their own, I suppose."

"At least I looked good doing it. Your uniform is the most boring thing I've ever seen."

"Oh, so you're a fashion expert now?" you ask, placing a hand on your hip. "No offence, Lockwood, but I'd stick to ghost-hunting. You're at least half-decent at that."

Kipps appears down the hallway, pointing to the front door before disappearing, followed by the rest of your team. He's slowly slid out of the role of being the one to provoke Anthony Lockwood, leaving the pleasure solely to you. Not that you're complaining. There's something so enjoyable about riling him up.

Plastering on a too-sweet smile, you say, "It was great seeing you, Lockwood. I'll have fun saving your life again soon."

You push past him through the doorway, stopping just past.

"And, before you comment on my 'boring' uniform, at least try to get your socks and tie to match. Those are two wildly different shades of blue."

--

You glare at the house towering before you, pissed that you've been sent off on messenger duty not by Fittes, but by DEPRAC. They've got vans and cars and dozens of employees to do their bidding, but old Inspector Barnes has sent you off instead. Maybe as some kind of torture.

Annoyed, you ring the doorbell and wait.

When the door swings open, you're at least grateful that it's Lucy Carlyle that opens it. While she can be quick to anger and is prone to making snide remarks - although you're no better - she's the preferable option. George has a hatred for all Fittes employees and Lockwood... You scowl at the thought of him.

"Oh, (name)," she says, frowning in confusion. "Why are you here?"

You hold the papers out. "DEPRAC lapdog, apparently. I've been sent to give all three of you these NDA letters. They need signing and sent back to DEPRAC."

Lucy takes them gingerly, eyes skirting over the writing. "This is about that case the three of us did in Greenwich?"

"The owner of the National Maritime Museum doesn't want potential customers finding out there were ghosts there, or something," you explain. "I don't know. Barnes caught me on a run earlier and asked me to deliver these."

"Deliver what?"

Scowling, you look over Lucy's shoulder where Lockwood's face has just appeared. Lucy shows him the papers, passing them over and crossing her arms as she explains what you've just said.

Lockwood frowns, looking at you as if it's your fault.

"Barnes has got you on a lead, huh?"

"You calling me a dog, Lockwood? I don't think you want to see how you'll end up after that."

He raises his hands in mock surrender. "I would never do that. You know me. Besides, you're not wearing your signature grey today, so you don't even look like a staffy."

It's at that moment that Lucy slips away, taking the papers with her.

"I'm in no mood for you today," you say. "I've not even been back to my place, so I'm all sweaty from my run and in need of a shower. Barnes has sent me here because he and his lackeys can't get off their arses. And, to top it off, my favourite café ran out of the coffee I like. So, I advise you to pack it in, or I'll be arrested for trespassing and assault."

"There will be no need for that," he promises. "Do you want to come in for that coffee you so desperately want? George is quite adept at making good coffee."

"Even if I wanted to step foot in your house, which I don't, George would probably poison my drink, so no, thanks."

For a moment, he's quiet, as if trying to think of some way to insult you. Then, he says, "I admit, I thought Barnes would've sent Kipps. Maybe even Kat. But not you."

You cross your arms, the cold air nipping your bare arms. You hadn't thought to bring a jumper with you. "Like I said to Lucy, Barnes caught me while I was on my run. I think he was going to head here himself, but decided he liked seeing your faces even less than I do and sent me on my way. Pig."

Lockwood breathes a laugh like he's hesitant to really laugh in front of you. He leans against the doorframe. "Are you sure you don't want to come in for a moment? You're shivering, and it's cold out."

"I'm more than sure." You peek past him, eyeing the clutter and the hint of a collapsed pile of clothes in one of the rooms with disdain. "I need to get back anyways. The sight of you is making me feel violently ill."

"All right, all right, there's no need for that. We were having a civil conversation for a moment. At least take this." He reaches behind the door, pulling out a large grey hoodie. "It's cold, and it's a long walk back to Fittes."

With a bit of hesitation, you take the hoodie from his hands. It's warm like it's been over a radiator. "Thanks. I'll get this back to you."

"Hey, at least it matches your uniform."

"Oh, shut up. You're just proving you've got no sense of style - it's not even the same shade. And, I'm just noticing, you're still not able to match your socks and tie. You need to do some homework."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Get gone. You're making the street look untidy."

You flip him off before turning and trudging down the steps, then make your way home.

--

"That's not your jumper."

You look up from your mug of coffee tiredly. The case you'd been on the night before has left you completely drained, and having a nine am start didn't make it any better. Even the coffee hasn't perked you up.

"What?"

Kat's icy gaze studies the hoodie you wear. "Did you not hear me? I said -"

"I know what you said. But why?"

"Whose is it?"

You rub your eyes. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It's Anthony Lockwood's, isn't it?" she says, practically spitting the name. "I thought you hated him."

"Like I said, none of your business."

You pull the grey jumper tighter around you. The whole morning, you've been so cold that you've resorted to wearing it. And, despite your - now, somewhat mixed - feeling for Lockwood, you find comfort in the scent of tea and toast it carries. You've not seen him in the last few days since he gave it to you, so you've not had the opportunity to return it. Might as well take advantage of it, seeing as all of your jumpers are dirty.

Kat scowls. "Give it back. Burn it. Just get rid of it."

"I'll do what I want with it," you say, shocking yourself with your defensiveness. "Just lay off. I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm hungry. I'm not in the mood for this."

"You're never in the mood for anything," Kat says.

"I wonder why," you mutter quietly before taking a sip of your coffee.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just saying how much I appreciate your constant input."

--

"Saving you again. Who'd have thought?"

Lockwood rolls his eyes, rapier held out in front of him. "I think you enjoy it. That, or you enjoy seeing me. I'd prefer the latter because I love the attention, but either way."

You scoff, throwing a salt bomb at the ghost that has cornered you both. "I most certainly do not like seeing you. It's the worst part of my week."

"Oh, sure, love."

The nickname causes you to choke, but you keep your guard up. This ghost is relentless, and you won't let some arrogant boy cause you to falter. You're one of the best agents Fittes has, a professional in your field. You know better than to let him distract you.

In front of you, the ghost makes a faint wailing sound, though your Listening isn't strong enough to make out what it's saying. Judging from the glowing blood that pours from its neck and spills over its dress, you judge that it's a Wraith, and not a very happy one at that.

"What's our plan, then?" you ask. "We're trapped in a hallway with nothing but a basement door behind us. Lucy and George are looking for the source, I take it?"

"Lucy and George didn't take this case with me. They're on a separate one."

Scowling, you say, "Oh, well, just as well that I happened to pass by when I did then, huh? You'd be dead right now if it weren't for me."

You're about to keep talking, but Lockwood shouts, "Duck!" before tackling you to the ground. Your head narrowly misses the wall but bangs against the floor instead, and you're overtaken by a horrible chill as the ghost darts over top of you both.

All of a sudden, you're acutely aware of Lockwood on top of you, shielding you from what could've been potential ghost touch. His breath is warm on your face, and you can feel his heart racing above your own, which feels like it's going a million miles an hour. Your cheeks, despite the chill, feel awfully hot. He looks down at you, grinning and about to say something.

"Watch out!" you interrupt, kicking him off of you and grabbing his rapier. You slash it through the air, temporarily dissolving the ghost.

You push yourself off the ground, throwing another salt bomb at the Wraith. Lockwood is on his feet shortly after, and you both hurry to his iron circle by the living room door, panting and gasping for breath. The lamp in the centre flickers slightly, and the floorboards creak.

"Hell of a house you've got here," you grumble. "Who is this miserable git anyways?"

Lockwood eyes the ghost before grinning at you once more. "Lady called Angela, was killed in a burglary back in, oh, what did George say? Nineteen-forty-nine, I think. As you can see, she's very unhappy."

The Wraith wails and a liquidy choking sound becomes more apparent, which makes you squirm. Your Sight is about as good as your Listening, but it's still hard to make out the glowing features of the woman besides all of the blood and her spotty dress.

"Your Touch is good, right?"

"Best of the best."

Lockwood scoffs. "All right, no need to get cocky."

"You're one to talk."

"I was just going to ask if you could search for the source with your Touch while I cover you! You make everything so difficult."

You brush hair out of your eyes. "Yeah, me. Okay, whatever. I'll go find this source then. Which room is my best bet?"

"Living room."

Glancing into the room just beside you, you nod, waiting for your cue to go. For a brief second, Lockwood touches your arm, telling you to stay safe, and then he's launched himself at the ghost. You don't stick around to see what kind of pretentious rapier moves he's doing.

The living room is pretty empty, compared to others you've seen. The walls are plain and beige, with very few photos hung up in boring old frames. There's a two-seater sofa with the ugliest floral pattern you've ever seen and an armchair that doesn't match in the slightest. The fireplace has no wood, no ash, no nothing as if it hasn't been used for years.

You're instantly drawn to the fireplace. Crouching down to the ground, you place your hand on the bricks that make it up, closing your eyes and falling into your senses.

The room has changed. It's brighter, more colourful, happier. Sunlight streams through the window, and a woman hums as she dusts the ornaments on the wall. She's pretty, wearing a spotty blue dress, and her voice is soothing. When she passes over to the fireplace, it's almost as if she is really there next to you, replacing the burnt wood with fresh. But her fingers graze a brick inlaid in the ground, lingering for a moment too long before she moves away to replace the flowers in a vase.

Colours blur as the vision fades away and the sounds of Lockwood's fight resume. Immediately, you begin clawing at the brick you saw in the vision, grateful to find it loose already. A horrible wail indicates that you're right.

A spider crawls out of the hollow gap beneath the brick, and you reach your hand into the gap, which is filled with cobwebs. Your fingers latch onto something, but you don't stop to look at what it is before you wrap it up in the silver net you always keep in a pouch on your belt.

Seconds later, Lockwood appears in the doorway, panting and smiling. "Thanks for the help, love. You're very handy. What's the source?"

You scowl. "Don't call me that."

"What? Love? Thought you'd like it. I mean, you've still got my jumper, and Lucy says that's got to mean something."

"Be quiet. I've not had the chance to give it back. Here's the source. Look for yourself. I'm heading home, as far away from you as I can get."

"Oh, come on. Let me walk you home at least."

For a moment, you consider it, and you hate yourself for it. But part of you, a treacherous little piece of your heart, yearns for it. When was the last time someone walked you home? When was the last time someone offered to bring you in for a coffee or gave you their jumper to keep you warm? Though you hate to admit it, Anthony Lockwood is not the worst out of all the people in London.

"Fine," you mutter. "Just this once."

--

"So, tell me about yourself, love. What makes you tick?"

You look at Lockwood incredulously. "This isn't the time, you twat! There's a pack of Phantasms following us."

Lockwood glances back at the ghosts trailing you. He waves a hand nonchalantly. "Oh, they're fine. We're covered in iron and silver protection."

"I can hear them calling for us, and they're getting closer."

"Well, good thing you've got me to walk you home. Who better to keep you safe?"

You curse under your breath, wondering why you'd ever agreed more than once to let him walk you home. The first time was bearable, the second time less so. Now, the eighth, you're at your wit's end. Having the company, especially when walking in the dark so late at night, made you feel a little better, but things would definitely be splendid if he'd shut his mouth for once.

"What did I say about you calling me 'love'?"

"If I remember correctly, you said, and I quote, If you call me that again, I'm going to tear out your tongue and feed it to Kipps for breakfast. Did I get that right?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, if it annoys you, more the reason to say it, right, love?"

You shove him, and he stumbles, laughing, as you trudge along the park's path, glancing back at the phantasms following behind.

"So...?" Lockwood says, drawing near once more.

You raise your eyebrows. "So?"

"What makes you so prickly? Kat Godwin is bad, but she's quiet most of the time. You, on the other hand, spark a debate the minute you walk into a room. What is it? An incessant hatred for the world? Never had any friends growing up? Oh, I know, you had a pet that got run over when you were a child, and now you hate everyone in return?"

Glaring at him, you say, "No. To all of them."

"So what is it then?"

"I don't know." You shrug. You don't know why you feel the urge to tell him a real answer. "I've never seen anything different, I suppose. My parents didn't really... parent, when I was a kid, so now I don't know how to talk to people any other way than how I do. It's how they spoke to me, or so I've been told. Kipps put me in therapy for a while, but my therapist was a thick-skulled -"

Lockwood's laugh cuts you off, and you glance at him sidelong. There's something about the way the moonlight hits his skin; how the cold midnight air makes his cheeks rosy; how his smile seems to light up his face. It makes everything feel a little less bad.

"I don't know how to word things without sounding mean," you say, "because that's all anyone has ever been to me. Even at Fittes."

"So you don't mean to hurl verbal abuse at me every chance you get?"

"Oh, no, I absolutely do. You're the biggest idiot I've ever met, and you could really work on that narcissism of yours. It's a killer. Real no-go for a girl."

"So now you're saying you're interested in me, but my confidence is putting you off?"

The arrogance in his eyes makes you want to strangle him. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all."

But, is it? You're not sure. There's a funny feeling in your chest, but you're half convinced it's just heartburn and not something people tend to call 'crushing' or 'loving'. You're not entirely sure what either of those things feels like.

He makes to speak again, but he glances back at the group of phantasms following you and grins. "Fancy another ghost fight tonight?"

You sigh. "You really know how to get a girl excited."

--

"Love, pass me a salt bomb or five."

You glance into the hallway for any of the other agents scouting the mansion, scowling. "Don't call me that!"

"Whatever you say, love. Now, the salt bombs?"

Resisting the urge to throw them at his face, you pass Lockwood a few salt bombs begrudgingly.

Your Fittes team and Lockwood's agency have been teamed up on a case by DEPRAC, and Lockwood being the pompous ass he is paired you both together and has been teasing you incessantly. Nothing new there, except for the feeling it incites in your chest.

It can't really be described as heartburn, anymore, because it only ever happens whenever you see him or hear his name. You've found yourself growing bored and - you hate to say this - lonely without his company and quips, and find yourself to be your happiest when throwing insults at each other, though they feel a little more light-hearted now than they once did. Well, you feel as happy as you believe you can be, with as little experience of it as you've had.

You try to ignore the way your skin tingles and cheeks flush when his fingers brush yours and try even harder to pretend you don't see the shit-eating grin on his face from your reaction.

"You're insufferable, you know that right?" you ask as you pull iron chains from your bag.

"Only because you tell me every chance you get," Lockwood says. "I live to give you that privilege."

You roll your eyes. "I can stab you with my rapier, so you'd do well to remember that."

The weight of his arm rests on your shoulders, and he pulls you close to his side. You grow tense at the sudden movement and the close proximity, and hope he can't feel your racing heartbeat. It'll only give him one more thing to pick at you about. You're just unused to being held, you tell yourself.

"But you wouldn't do that, love. You've grown quite fond of me these past few months."

"Have not."

"Care to return my jumper, then? I'm in dire need of it."

Once more, your face flushes. "You told me to keep it a little longer while my morning runs are still cold."

"As a formality. You were meant to say something smart like, Like hell I will, asshat, take it back before I become infected by the bacteria you carry. Your insults are becoming boring."

"Is that so?" You narrow your eyes at him. "Well, you are an asshat, for one. For two, I'd advise you let go of me, or I fear my skin will burn off from the way your brain is overheating trying to keep a conversation with me. So, love, how about you take your arm back?"

He grins, drawing you closer until your cheeks are almost touching. "If I die from overheating, you're going down with me."

You shove him away, scowling once more, but part of you wants to laugh. This kind of banter with him has grown familiar, comforting. And, well, though you might protest it much of the time, being called 'love' gives your heart a little flutter, like it's glad it's finally getting some attention after a lifetime of being as hard and cold as stone.

Bit by bit, Lockwood has softened it up, but you'll never tell him that. He would only grow too smug.

"You know," Lockwood says, "I think you're bribing DEPRAC so that you can get put on cases with us. This is the second one in two weeks."

"Why on earth would I ever bribe DEPRAC for that? If anything, I'd bribe them to get me out of it." You lay the chains out in a neat circle and place all your things inside. "If anyone's doing it, it's you, because you're obsessed with me."

"And so what if I am, love? You're very fun to poke fun at."

Your hands falter, and you hope he hasn't noticed. "Whatever."

He grins, watching your every move. "You can admit you feel the same, you know? You're not going to face a horrible death for admitting you enjoy spending time with me."

You don't know what to say to that. Because, yes, you do enjoy spending time with him, in your little confusing way. Being around him has opened you up to new feelings you've never had the chance to really feel before, and you're grateful for it, but admitting it? It's like giving him the key to a locked door and granting him 24/7 access. It terrifies you and makes you feel vulnerable.

"Be quiet so we can get on with our surveys," you murmur. "I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Scared? Don't worry, I can hold your hand."

And he does. His hand wraps around yours, enveloping it in warmth, and you find yourself staring at it, unwilling to pull away from his touch. It seems to shock Lockwood, too, judging from his parted lips and slightly-too-wide eyes, but his hand squeezes yours gently and you feel a little piece of your heart soften.

There's a creak in the hallway, and you jerk your hand away, standing straight, face hot. But there's nothing, no one. Just you, Lockwood, and a barrage of feelings you're not sure what to do with.

[yibocheeks]

War of Faith Translated excerpts from the livestream where the cast watches ep 28-29 (spoilers under the cut)

Director Yao says that Wang Yang added this gesture of straightening Wei Ruolai's clothes in this scene (unscripted)

They get to the part where Wei Ruolai is being taken to the execution grounds. The MC asks Yibo: At that time was Wei Ruolai preparing to meet his death or did he think that he was going to be saved? Yibo: Who would think that there would be someone that would save him?

They watch Wei Ruolai run away from Lin Qiaosong Director Yao says about Yibo: He could join the Olympics sprint! He performed so well here.

Wang Yang (on when Shen Tunan realizes that Shen Jinzhen is the sniper who saved Wei Ruolai): [Tunan] is very conflicted, because on one hand, Wei Ruolai still lives, on the other hand, the person who saved him is Shen Jinzhen. So this was really difficult for him. Director Yao: He was always guessing that maybe his sister was a communist, a part of him had already prepared for this, but he didn't want to face the reality.

They watch Ruolai, after he has escaped from Lin Qiaosong and is alone with Niu Chunmiao. MC: At this time, director, do you think that Wei Ruolai is in a perplexed state of mind? Director Yao: Yes, because right now he is at a dead end. He has already given up his previous set of beliefs, but he has not yet found a new set of beliefs. He followed what his parents believed in, but he was unfamiliar with the communist set of values, which were different from what he knew. He had never met a communist, the only one he knew was his brother, but his brother passed away. So he didn't know the theories behind it. He wouldn't easily accept a new worldview that he was completely unfamiliar with. At this point, the two female characters helped to push him in that direction. The MC then asks Yibo to share what his thoughts are on Wei Ruolai's state of mind at this time. Yibo: I think the director's analysis is very well said. (gives a thumbs up)

Director Yao: Yibo is very good, he will immerse himself in his own imagined scenario, a certain atmosphere, in which he will then think about how the character will respond.

On Wei Ruolai's character development Director Yao: I think [the way Wei Ruolai's character develops] is more of a realistic take. A person will not think, I want to join the communists and immediately convert to that side. It's not realistic. We want the audience to believe in this process. His change happens one step at a time. Even when he arrives in Soviet Jiangxi, he didn't immediately join the Red Army. He wanted to see a bit more. Then after another incident happens, in his heart he holds a lot of resentment and hatred, there were things that he felt were unresolved in Shanghai; he met a group of lousy people and this made him angry, but there was nowhere to direct this anger. Then when he went to Soviet Jiangxi, he found the same thing that happened, but that the Red Army really seemed to treat those who are poor well. He thought, this is what I want, what he couldn't get where his shifu was, so this excited him.

Director Yao says that the little motorcycle that Yibo rode was vintage, and that it broke after Yibo rode it once.

They talk about the scene where Shen Tunan slaps Shen Jinzhen Director Yao: That day, Wang Yang's biggest dilemma was whether he should really slap her, while Li Qin was thinking about how she should respond to the slap. Wang Yang is quite softhearted. He had quite good control, he didn't actually hit her and his tears also came out. This is very difficult to control. That day Li Qin also said to him, "Ge, just go for it." But he never actually hit her. He's too softhearted. (jokingly) Once we got the scene I yelled cut right away. It was a difficult scene to film. The mentioned scene starts to play. The MC asks Yibo a question about Wei Ruolai but Yibo points to the screen and says (with a gremlin smirk): Let's continue to watch this scene Li Qin: The audience has already seen this. Yibo: Oh I haven't seen it yet Director Yao and Li Qin: Oh then watch!

The MC brings up that netizens discovered that Wei Ruolai, Shen Jinzhen, and Niu Chunmiao used the same red swallow cup, and that this was an easter egg that showed that they were all on the same side. The director clarifies that this was a coincidence.

The MC then asks: Did the actors themselves notice this detail? Yibo: I also only realized after it was pointed out.

[famwhy]

Saviour Complex

Yandere! Tangerine X Reader

Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3

Synopsis: One night, you're pushed straight into an incoming train, causing everything to go black. When your eyes open up once more, you find yourself in a completely different country and face-to-face with your favourite character whose demise was right around the corner. Too attached to the man, you find yourself hatching a plan to save him - unaware of the consequences.

Word Count: 7,556

Act 1 - Regrets, Regrets, Sinking in Regrets

The rough, bumpy texture of a fruit grazed the nerves of your skin briefly before it disappeared immediately - spinning through the air and landing back in your palm with yet another small burst of gravity.

"Stop throwing and catching that dumb orange of yours, you don't look cool."

The biting words of the person next to you could be perceived as venomous by any passerby who decided to eavesdrop in that split second; to anyone who didn't know her personally. You knew her though - you spent your whole life with her, how could you not know her? 

Your beloved sister.

"Tangerine, you mean." Your lips split open into a smirk as you corrected her.

Your words caused her brows to furrow in deep irritation on the surface, but, underneath it all, you could tell she wasn't actually mad with you.

"Same thing." She scoffed.

"It really isn't."

She gave you a look, one you were familiar with; a look which told you that she found what you just said utterly ridiculous.

"They literally look the exact same."

"But they aren't."

"Oh shut up." She huffed, one arm crossing over the other in a display of irritation. "You were never so picky about their difference until we watched that stupid movie."

You were torn between lighting up at the mention of your newly-crowned favourite movie, or showcasing your offense towards her critique of said movie.

In the end, you chose to do both.

"Okay, one, that movie isn't stupid-" she rolled her eyes as you spoke, "-and two, I can't go butchering the alias of my favourite character, now can I?"

"I don't get what you see in that guy." 

Being sure to exaggerate it as much as possible, you let out a loud gasp.

"How could you say such a thing?!" You proclaimed. "He is so cool and I love his accent."

"You literally have the same accent." She deadpanned.

"Yeah but I don't sound as good as he does." 

"You don't sound good in general."

You exhibited yet another over-exaggerated gasp.

"My own sister," the palm of your dominant hand pressed against your chest, fingers curling around the soft fabric beneath them, "treating me in such a way..."

"Oh, get over yourself." Another scoff left her lips, "I don't see how you're still such a carefree person despite what we used to do for a living."

For a moment, the grin on your face faltered and a flicker obscured your vision of reality. But that was all it was, a flicker - and it was only just for a moment. It was gone the next, you swore it was! No crimson substance stained against your mind or hands; no cold steel felt against the heat of your palm as your index finger wrapped tightly around that little lever; no screams that echoed through the confines of your head over and over and over-

-no, none of that. Not anymore, at least.

You were over that.

It was done and dusted.

It was thrown under the rug, ready to compile dust and slowly wither away through the teeth of the critters that lived alongside it.

It was never to be seen again.

At least, not by your hands.

"-ey! Hey!" 

Your eyelids met several times in rapid succession as you blinked away the sudden blur that kept you from seeing the concave of your sister's lips.

Ah, see? She did care for you.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was light, barely there, with a sense of gentleness she wouldn't be caught dead exhibiting towards anyone that wasn't you. "I didn't mean to, I was just... I didn't mean it."

"Nah," a small huff left your lips as they curved up into that familiar, carefree grin, "it's fine, I don't care anymore."

The way her expression didn't shift in the slightest was enough to tell you that she didn't believe you. However, even if she had her doubts towards your words, she chose not to speak more on the matter.

After a few beats of silence, a large red vehicle slowly approached from the horizon - emerging as though it was Harley Quinn pulling herself out of the toxic substance the Joker decided to drown her in.

There it was, your bus.

"Listen," your sister's voice was quieter than normal, tender and soft around the edges - still speaking as though what she brought up had bothered you, "I just want you to know that... I find it hard too. You're not alone in this. I was there with you too."

You paused for a moment, standing right outside the open doors that led inside the vehicle. 

Then, you took one step on, your hand reaching for the pole inside. Not too long after, you tilted your head towards your sister - towards Lena - and smiled, "I know."

With that, you thrusted the rest of your body onto the vehicle and sent her a wave as it started up - the screeching sound of its wheels being drowned out by the sound of the engine starting back up.

And then, you were off.

.

.

.

The glow of the night sky shined through the see-through walls of the office, lighting up several seats as it bounced off the monitors resting on each desk.

It was quiet, the only sound being the clicks of your heels against the solid ground, approaching the switches on the wall to turn off the one light that remained on. The one hovering over your desk.

With a flick of your finger, the only yellow glow in the room faded away to allow for the moon's blue rays to completely take over.

You didn't mind night shifts, they were comforting - some might even argue - relaxing. 

They had this feel to them.

One where you could remain unbothered, trapped within the confines of your mind forever to wonder what exactly life had in store for you next.

There was once a time where you hated being left to your thoughts; nay, you loathed it. 

Being left with your thoughts meant being left with your memories; being left with your memories meant being left with the haunting actions of your past; being left with said past actions meant being left with that same voice that berated your existence.

It was frightening.

It was terrifying.

So you ran from it.

You ran until it affected you no longer, you ran until your legs started to ache from the pain; until your lungs shrivelled up from the lack of air that it was so gluttonous for. 

You ran until you had left it all behind.

But even then, it still came back to haunt you.

Even then, you couldn't help but catch little glimpses of hair that would disappear past the sharpest corners - hair that seemed to belong to one of them.

But that was impossible.

After all, you-

Your head shook from side-to-side, eyes finally returning to reality and finding yourself right by the lights of your office, finger still hovering over the switch.

You sighed.

It was time to go home.

Your hand instinctively rose up, gripping the disk that surrounded the hat on your head and pulling it down slightly to ensure it stayed there. 

Then, your fingers curled tighter around the handle of the gray briefcase and you set off, footsteps swift as they echoed down the empty corridor.

With a 'ding!', the doors to the rectangular space parted to allow you to fill the vacant spot inside.

You stepped in, curling your other hand around the handle of the briefcase as you held it in front of you and leaned against the cold, metal railing. 

The glass at the back of the elevator provided for a good scenery that overlooked the night sky twinkling over the busy streets of the city; still ever-so-alive despite the time.

One particular puff of air that left your mouth fogged up the glass in front of you, the sight filling you with a familiar childish sense of delight and, before you even knew it, one of your fingers rose up to draw two lines and an upturned curve underneath before it returned to the briefcase once more.

A small smile drew out your lips as your eyes fell half-lidded.

The moment was then interrupted by the 'ding!' of the elevator once more.

You turned around, stepping outside before tipping your sunhat at the male stood with a phased-out look in his eyes, adorning a black hat of his own with the word 'Security' printed onto it.

Luckily, he wasn't phased-out enough to not notice your greeting, to which he returned with a small, nervous smile of his own.

One of the cuter security guards of your building.

A particular strong breeze had your hand clutching tighter onto your hat and your eyes squinting, trying to avoid any dust from getting inside.

The street lamps illuminated the road as many individuals rushed by, ranging from stressed business men to childish couples wishing to play a game of tag with one another.

You didn't stay too long to observe though; no, you couldn't. Didn't have the time. Your sister was probably awaiting your arrival with anxious, clattering teeth - wondering what was taking you so long while not daring to admit that she was worried for you.

Your eyes travelled over to the stairs in the middle of the street, leading downwards into the network of tunnels connected underground to allow for easy access to many different places in the country. 

Soon, your heels were clicking against those stairs, traversing down them to get to the tracks you would need to wait by to be able to set course home.

You stood at a queue, waiting to scan your card. It wasn't a long wait. It never was. At least, not at this time of night. Many people preferred snuggling under a blanket at home and watching a movie with a few snacks rather than having to work a late night shift where who-knows-what could go wrong.

Once you scanned in, you swiftly made your way to your platform, not needing to take the smallest glance at the signs to be able to know where to go. By now, it was all muscle memory anyway.

As you approached the rails, your heels made contact with a prominent bump on the ground - causing you to stumble the slightest amount before you were able to regain your footing just like that.

Now, it was just the waiting game.

You were a professional at waiting. Patience was practically your middle name; it had to be if you wanted to get your previous job done quickly-

-or... the job you had currently. Right, this normal, little office job. You had to be patient when waiting for the printer to be done with your papers, or awaiting an email from a co-worker of yours. Patience was key.

Patience was also risky.

In the time that you were patient, so many things could happen. You could wind up with your hands tied up in a basement because you decided to be patient and wait for your friend; or you could wind up with a gun to your-

"Enjoy hell, you murderer!"

Now, your reflexes were normally stupendous. Out of this world, really. When someone wished to deliver a rapid left jab to your face, you would twirl your body to the side to avoid it. Or when they went in for an uppercut aimed to take out your jaw, you would take one step back too quickly for them to react.

You wished you could claim your reflexes were good in this instance too- but it had all happened so fast.

The flashing lights of the incoming train; the harsh shove against your back that sent you tumbling over the platform; and the searing, white, hot pain that exploded against your side like a highly reactive chemical would with water.

So quick. So sudden.

So painful...

For a split second, everything went black.

Then, your eyes opened back up again.

The first thing you noticed was that you were stood upright, exactly as you were before being pushed - waiting in almost the exact same position. The railways right in front of your vision would have been enough to trick you into thinking that was all a daydream; some cruel concoction your mind conjured up to punish you for your sins.

You would've believed that whole heartedly had it not been for the fact that you were no longer underground.

The light of the moon was barely prevalent with the harsh illumination that was emitted from the lamps of the train station. There were a lot more people at this platform than the one you were previously at, the chatter was also louder than before; lively and sporadic, as though nothing just happened. As though you didn't just die.

You blinked slowly, brain struggling to process what, exactly, had just happened.

You died... didn't you?

No way you went through that pain and didn't die.

Someone pushed you into the tracks as a train was incoming.

How could you have possibly survived that?

Your head glanced from side-to-side as you noticed the people around you - specifically, their features. It differed from the Western features you were used to seeing in your day-to-day life. Instead, they looked to be East Asian, Japanese if your geography skills were doing you justice.

Another thing you noticed were the signs.

They weren't in English, instead filled with the symbols your mind automatically associated with the Japanese language.

You were in Japan somehow.

Was this some sort of final dream?

No way you imagined all that pain- that abrupt slam against your side that caused you to wince just thinking about it. 

Before you could further indulge yourself in the expanding, vast sea of your thoughts - a sudden pick-up in the breeze sent your hat flying straight off your head and towards your left.

A small gasp left your lips as your hand reached out, fingers stretching and just barely grazing the ridge before it picked-up speed once more and narrowly escaped your grasp.

It was then that you decided to rush after it, careful to steady yourself lest you stumble over your heels.

Luckily, you didn't have to move much for, soon, the ridge of the hat was caught by a set of fingers that grasped onto it before holding it out towards you.

Your own hand reached out, grasping the other end of your sunhat as you lightly pulled it down - ready to meet the eyes of the one who saved your beloved hat and thank them.

"'ere you go, love."

Your mouth fell open, agape in pure astonishment and disbelief.

The way this person didn't pronounce his 'h'; the way he gave you that specific nickname; those familiar incredibly handsome facial features that belonged to ATJ himself.

This person was-

"Tangerine..." You whispered lightly under your breath, voice practically inaudible as it was drowned out by your pure amazement.

"Sorry?" Your favourite character rose one of his eyebrows, cockney accent as prevalent as ever.

Was this guy really Tangerine? There was no way, right?

"Oh, uhm, I said thank you." 

He nodded briskly, about to turn and board the train when a voice called out to him.

"Oi! You coming?"

Another cockney accent paired with the broader figure and unique, silver-dyed hair that belonged to the brother of your favourite character.

That was Lemon, there was no doubt about it.

And if that was Lemon, this was definitely Tangerine.

You watched as Tangerine's facial features shifted, brows furrowing and lips tugging down as he turned towards his brother's direction. "Yeah, I'm coming! Hold your fuckin' horses, mate!"

He then immediately turned back towards you, eyes slightly wider than before. "Beg your pardon, love. Sorry, I forgot there was a lady present for a moment."

His chivalry was cute, and his looks just made him all the more attractive in your eyes.

Before you could even realise it, your lips curved upwards into a huge smile and a small, amused giggle left them as your eyes shone with mirth.

Once again, you seemed to have caught him off guard, causing his eyes to widen a little more as he paused for a moment. But that was all it was, just a moment. The next, he was shaking his head and heading off towards his brother without another word.

Holy shit, you just met the Tangerine!

The same Tangerine that you gushed to your sister about, complimenting his strength and looks and amazing accent.

But if you just met Tangerine... and you just saw Lemon with him... did that mean..?

"Holy shit! I'm in Bullet Train!"

One of your hands rose up to your mouth, pure excitement coursing through your veins as you refrained from letting out a high-pitched squeal.

Although, it wasn't long before that excitement of yours shifted into pure, unadulterated horror. 

"Holy shit. I'm in Bullet Train."

Somehow, some way, you had died and got transported into the world of a movie. 

And of all the movies you could have been transported to, it just had to be Bullet Train - the movie that ends in this very train flying off the rails and crashing straight into the ground underneath. 

How the fuck were you supposed to survive a train crash from a vehicle going two hundred miles per hour?! You weren't Ladybug, you didn't have insane levels of luck!

Okay, okay, everything should be fine so long as you didn't board the train, right?

Dear lord, was this all really happening right now? Were you seriously in your favourite movie?

The setting and two of the characters matched exactly so you must be in the movie.

But then, what the hell happened to you? Who pushed you into that train? If you died, what would happen to Lena? 

If you seemed to recall correctly, that person referred to you as a 'murderer'. They must've known, right? And if they knew... then that meant they would go after Lena too. 

She would be fine though. You were caught off guard, a moment of weakness - Lena never had one of those. She was always on guard; had been since you both first agreed to stop. She could handle herself.

Yeah, she'd be fine.

Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Perhaps if you never boarded the train, you could go about your life as normal? Maybe start a new life here, completely fresh? You knew enough Japanese to get by.

Maybe you could start a nice, little bakery and get cute regulars that always asked for the same order. You could hire sweet people to work as waiters or waitresses and create treats for those around you to enjoy. Maybe you could even find the man of your dreams and start a family?

Oh, who were you kidding?

How on Earth could you find another man when you were literally in the same world as Tangerine? 

No other man could scale up to the handsome assassin with anger issues.

That's right, he was an assassin. Both him and his brother.

If you recalled correctly, their current mission was to keep the White Death's son safe and retrieve his briefcase of money.

The White Death was a very dangerous individual. The head of a very dangerous criminal organisation. 

He was powerful. Too powerful.

Did you really want to get yourself wrapped up in that?

A light bump against your side snapped you right out of your thoughts, causing you to look straight at the cause of the interruption. 

"Sorry, that was my bad."

Your eyes widened by a fraction, gaze landing on the face of Brad Pitt himself. 

The main character had just bumped into you. Ladybug, himself, had just bumped into you.

Ladybug was yet another assassin who had almost no affiliation with Lemon and Tangerine except for one time where he was shot twice by Lemon on one of his missions. Ladybug used to be brash and temperamental but you believed that, during the events of this movie, he was trying to turn over a new leaf and get his job done as peacefully as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he was both extremely unlucky and extremely lucky. 

And he would also later find out that this mission of his wouldn't turn out as peacefully as he hoped.

"Miss, you good?"

You blinked twice, suddenly capable of seeing the furrowed brows of the laid-back male in front of you. He was probably concerned considering the fact that you phased out right as he bumped into you and apologised.

"Uh, yeah." You smiled, nodding your head very slightly. "Thank you for your concern."

He reciprocated your smile with one of his own, eyes twinkling a little in what you deduced was delight. "It was no problem. Y'know I admire your capability of putting that little interaction behind you and moving on. You go, lady."

Lena always found his little bursts of, what you liked to call, 'spiritual awareness' extremely irritating - although, you begged to differ. You found it cute how hard he tried to turn over a new leaf and gain a new attitude towards life. It was nice to see him try.

"Thank you." You bowed your head again, lips still stretched into that smile.

He then excused himself, putting the phone in his hand back up to his ear and walking over to the lockers behind you.

Well, now was probably your queue to leave.

So long as you never entered the Bullet Train, you should be completely fine, right?

With that thought in mind, you turned around, taking one step towards the exit of the station...

...and then a face flashed through your mind.

The handsome features belonging to your favourite character, drowning and choking in his own crimson substance, desperately trying to warn the main character; to let him know of the danger he was with; the danger he was right next to. 

That's right... Tangerine died in the movie, didn't he?

Could you really sit back and relax, in the same universe as your favourite character, and not do anything to save him? 

You paused mid-step as your chest heaved outwards, a large sigh escaping your mouth before, ultimately, you twirled around; gaze set straight onto the bullet train in front of you.

Curse your favouritism for ATJ.

Alright, well, if you were doing this, you might as well do it with some sort of preparation. Entering a train with several highly-trained assassins and surviving it was no easy feat, after all.

If you recalled correctly, which you almost a hundred percent did due to how many times you had watched the movie, Ladybug retrieved all the aids for his mission from that locker he just went to. In that locker should be a gun which he never bothered picking up.

If you could get your hands on that, you would be able to hold your own pretty well.

It should be fine, you were over your past anyway. It was no longer a bother so you would definitely be able to pick it up again.

Besides, you weren't gonna use it lethally. You swore off of that ages ago.

Now, your only problem was how to keep Ladybug from closing the locker after he was done taking out what he needed from it.

How did one stop another from closing a locker?

It's practically done from muscle memory; an action not given much thought but done as habitually as breathing was - something which was not easy to keep someone from doing without physically harming them.

And you would prefer not to harm Ladybug for the contents inside his locker.

Maybe if you...

No, that wouldn't work.

What if you-?

Nah, that definitely wouldn't do it.

Perhaps you could-

Before you could even think about the third thing, a familiar grey hat passed you - the same hat Ladybug wore throughout the start of the movie.

Did he just pass you?

In panic, your head frantically did a full one-eighty, eyes landing on the blue rectangular spaces lined up in a shelf behind you, one of which was very slightly open - Ladybug's to be specific.

Well, that was convenient.

With a confident strut, you made your way straight towards the locker - eyes trained on the prize. You stopped just a centimetre away from the shelf before your dominant hand rose up and pulled it open, gaze landing straight on the dark object to the side; completely untouched and fully-loaded.

Your lips turned upwards in a sense of accomplishment, despite the fact that you hadn't done much to acquire this object in the first place. Still, you reached for the pistol with that sense of pride - although, it slowly started to ebb away the closer your fingers got to the handle, nerves causing them to start to shake as they drew nearer and nearer; almost like you were about to touch something you suspected was poisonous. But it wasn't poisonous, it was just a gun. You could pick it up. 

Yeah, you could pick it up.

Your fingers lightly grazed the familiar cold metal, flinching back after only two seconds of contact, eyes squinting shut as though it was going to explode merely from your touch; as though it would kill you to hold it.

But it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

It couldn't harm you without anyone touching it.

You were fine.

With a small breath of air leaving your lips, you curled your fingers back around the weapon, picking it up and immediately hiding it behind your hat. You waited a few moments; as if to really ensure you would be okay; as if to instil in your mind that it wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't hurt anyone else using your hands.

Then you turned around - eyes widening way more than usual as you witnessed the train start to move and the doors start to close. Quickly, you rushed towards it stumbling a little on your heels before your foot almost got caught on a wedge in the ground. It was at that point, you decided 'fuck it' and lunged towards the door, just barely falling inside the capsule between carriages as you rushed to pull your knees up, narrowly avoiding the doors almost cutting them off.

You let out a sigh of relief before getting up and dusting yourself off, using both your hands to place your hat firmly back onto your head, pushing down on the ridge to do so. 

When your hands lowered once more, however, you caught sight of that wretched thing in them once again.

Your breath hitched in your throat; refusing to leave it as the drum of your heartbeat echoed through your ears, growing louder and louder and louder. You could feel it in your ears, as though it traversed your veins from your chest all the way up to the caverns you used to be able to hear, blocking out every other sound so that it was the only thing you could listen to because of how selfish it was for your attention. 

As if that wasn't enough, you could even feel it slamming against your chest over and over and over-

-and then it all just stopped.

Just like that, gone.

Your shrunk pupils enlarged once again, eyes landing on the now-empty gun in your hand - the cartridge loaded with bullets having fallen to the ground underneath you. 

Without even thinking, you threw the cartridge straight out the open window.

After heaving a few breaths, you realised what you had just done.

"Ah, shit."

What use was an unloaded gun to you now?

"Woah, what are you doing, lady?"

A sudden voice broke you away from your thoughts and caused your eyes to trail up, meeting a certain pair of mesmerising blue ones that belonged to the main character of the movie. You then slowly trailed your eyes back towards the empty gun in your hand before meeting the blonde's eyes once more and slowly, ever so slowly, raising both of your hands up.

"This isn't what it looks like."

He rose an eyebrow, eyeing the gun in your hand and then looking at your face once more.

"Awh, man, lady - I really thought you were better than this. A gun? Seriously?"

"No, no!" You quickly denied, shaking your head from side-to-side. "Seriously, I- I wasn't going to use it maliciously, I swear!"

"Look, we can talk this through, yeah?" He rose one of his arms to the back of his head, scratching it rather awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" You agreed. "I'd love that!"

"Okay, so how about we put the gun down first, yeah?"

You took off your hat, placing the gun inside before fitting it right back around your scalp and saying, "there. Out of sight, out of mind."

He gave you that same skeptical look you had seen in the movie and, now, had seen twice in real life. Then he decided to leave it be.

"Do you mind if we have this chat after this call I have to take? Sorry, I don't wanna be rude or anything but I did kinda leave someone on hold."

Ah yes, he was speaking to his Handler, wasn't he? The woman who gave him the job as opposed to his sick co-worker Carver, who was actually played by your favourite actor, Ryan Reynolds. 

"Oh, yeah, go right ahead. I don't wish to interrupt." You added a little, nervous giggle to the end of that sentence; if only to further push the harmless citizen act you put on.

Act? Sorry, no - it wasn't an act. It was the truth. You were a harmless citizen. All you wanted to do was save your favourite character's life; nothing more, nothing less. 

"Could you, uhh, follow after me? Just, keep a little behind though. Y'know 'cause... it would be kinda rude if you listened in on my conversation." He looked to the side awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah, I could do that."

It wasn't like you didn't already know his exact conversation like the back of your hand anyway. But he didn't know that and neither did he need to know that. 

You then watched as he entered the next carriage, being stopped by the staff member who asked for tickets as he proceeded to give the receipt for his ticket but not the actual ticket itself - just one of the many instances where his bad luck kicked in.

Soon enough, it was your turn to follow after, walking down the carriage a little nervously as you were stopped by the exact same guy. 

"Ticket please."

"Ah, right." You let out a little, nervous giggle similar to the one you did earlier. "Lemme just..."

You pretended to look for the tickets on your person, fully knowing that you didn't have any considering the fact that you were... well- not really part of this world until you opened your eyes straight after dying.

Your nervous smile grew even further as his gaze grew more stern. 

"One stop."

"I know." You sighed, giving up on the act.

You then moved past the man, not wanting to stay any longer under his scrutinising gaze. It wasn't your fault you didn't have a ticket! This world didn't even exist!

Or- well, it shouldn't exist. But somehow, it did.

The door to the capsule in between carriages slowly opened as you approached, allowing you to step through and see Ladybug scouring through the shelves, looking for the briefcase he was assigned to retrieve.

"Oh, uh," as soon as he noticed you, he stopped his search; hand pausing where it was as his head faced you. "So, lady, wanna explain to me what was going on back there?"

"Oh, well... I was just making sure it wouldn't get into anyone else's hands, y'know?" You looked off to the side, wondering how you were going to get away with sneaking a gun on a train right in front of the main character, loaded or not.

"Uh huh..." he sounded skeptical - rightfully so, you would be too if this happened to you. "Why don't you let me hold onto it for ya?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

He gave you another skeptical look and you found yourself recalling The Prince's line in the movie, what was it again..? Ah, yes, 'the innocent girl act doesn't get you far when you have a gun in your hands' or something along those lines.

"Look, lemme just-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you started to spin on your heel and swiftly turned around, making you way back to the carriage you just passed - the carriage housing both Lemon and Tangerine if you recalled correctly.

"Wait! Lady!"

You chose to ignore his calls, continuing to walk until you reached the movement-sensitive doors that opened up for you once more.

Before you completely left, though, you gave one more glance over your shoulder, so sure that he would follow straight after you. You were proved wrong, however, after seeing him pause and reach one hand up to his earpiece, eyes immediately averting from your form over to the shelf once again.

The Handler must've-

Just then, your chain of thoughts was abruptly halted by a collision against your front side. The surface you collided with was rather hard, if you did say so yourself - so hard, in fact, that it caused you to lose balance on your heels - body beginning to stumble before a strong pair of arms caught your form.

"Fuckin' 'ell. Do you mind-?" An irritated voice paused mid-sentence. "Woah, you alright there, love?"

The familiar cockney accent had your heart beating right out of your chest and your head tilting up to peer through the ring of your sunhat and meet eyes with your favourite character himself.

Holy shit, Tangerine just caught you.

The Tangerine.

You could die (again) happy.

Dear lord. This was like all those scenes in those romance movies you would watch with Lena; the ones where the female lead would get caught in the male lead's arms and they would get lost in the endless pools of one another's eyes, drowning in the moment as time seemed to stop around them. 

Just the thought that you were having that moment with Tangerine, your favourite character ever, was enough to fluster you beyond belief as a small, bashful smile stretched over your lips.

"'ang on..." he rose a brow, staring into your eyes with such intensity, you almost fainted then and there. "You're the girl whose 'at I caught."

"Yep, that's me." You let out a small, nervous giggle. "Sorry about bumping into you, I wasn't quite looking ahead of me."

At your words, his eyes trailed behind your form, furrowed with that irritated expression that seemed to never leave his face. "What? Is some fuckin' creep following you or something? You look worried."

"Oh no, not at all!" You quickly drew his attention away from Ladybug, not wanting to interfere too much with the movie's plot. "I'm just really clumsy. It's really hard to walk around in heels, haha."

"That so?" He rose a brow at your words but chose to press no further.

Instead, he slowly helped you back up onto your feet and you were so sure he would've left the interaction at that but you didn't want it to end so quickly. Call you selfish but, was it really too much to ask for your favourite character to stick around a little more with you.

So, in hopes of keeping him around for just a little longer, you winced and he immediately took notice.

In all his gentlemanly glory, he clutched your arms tighter and helped lead you over to the set of seats that were completely empty, aiding you in sitting down by helping to gradually lower your body.

Meanwhile, Lemon and the White Death's son both stared at you incredulously.

"Just... sit 'ere, yeah? 'Think those things may have twisted your ankle or something."

He was referring to your heels.

"Thank you, mister..?"

"Tangerine." He introduced himself before jabbing his thumb out towards his brother. "'E's Lemon."

You nodded, parting your lips before hesitating for a second. Should you give your real name? Everyone in the movie went by aliases, not a single real name was disclosed - other than Kimura, of course. 

Then again, the reason they went with aliases in the first place was so that they couldn't have their personal information disclosed in the crime world. You literally had no personal information to your name.

Ah, fuck it.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Tangerine, Lemon." 

The Brit then turned towards the Russian seated at the other window.

"See? She knows not to question it."

After that, he gave you a brisk nod and resumed taking his seat on the opposite end of his brother and the mob boss' son once more.

"Right, your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble what you got yourself into, didn't you, naugh'y boy?" Tangerine smirked as he taunted the boy.

His words damn near drew out a chuckle from your lips had you not restrained yourself enough. One slip of the tongue and you could be regarded as a threat by the 'twins' (a debatable title), and you did not want to be seen as a threat to the people who ended up sawing the limbs off a dozen of the White Death's men in Bolivia.

So, to fully ensure that no suspicion was instilled your way, you turned your head to the side, facing the window that sped by the land of Japan at high speeds, providing a vivid yet beautiful view of the country. 

But that didn't matter to you, all you cared about was the reflection of the three men in the glass - looking exactly like they did in the movie. This way, if their comments brought about a smile on your lips - they wouldn't be able to tell you were eavesdropping.

It was such a shame that you missed out on Lemon's tangent about Thomas the Tank Engine though.

"Why, uh, why Tangerine though?" The Son asked, bringing you straight out of your thoughts.

"Oh it's a sophisticated name." Lemon answered.

"Oh, fuckin' 'ell. It's not impor'ant, is it?" Your favourite cut in, looking as annoyed as ever. "What is impor'ant are the seven'een dead bodies we left getting you back from the triad that kidnapped you with plans to ransome you to your extremely psychotic, fucked-up father."

"Actually, it's sixteen." His brother corrected him. Although, he himself wasn't correct since he wasn't counting that one innocent person they killed.

"What's that now?"

"Sixteen kills, mate."

"Oh no, it was seventeen."

"Iiiit's sixteen." Lemon drawled out.

"Lemon, you're starting to get on my fucking tits." Tangerine scowled and you almost let out a giggle as you watched them bicker back and forth.

"It's sixteen."

"I'll smash my fuckin' 'ead through a brick wall."

"Well maybe that'd help your memory 'cause it was sixteen."

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?! It was seventeen goddammit," Tangerine slammed his hand against the table before continuing, "I wanna fuckin' strangle you-"

"Do you mind if we do this right now?" Lemon turned to the Russian male sat beside him.

"Don't worry about him-"

If you remembered correctly, now would be the time where they showed a montage of what happened with Lemon and Tangerine before they entered the train with the White Death's Son.

The montage was funny to watch but Lena begged to differ, scowling at each and every thing they did on screen; loathing the corpses they left behind and the way they carelessly killed other people as if she didn't-

-ah, what were the characters saying again?

"Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransome money inside." You heard the character with the face of ATJ say as he looked off to the side, eyes seeming to search for something and growing more frantic the longer he couldn't find it. "And I plan on completing my job and keeping-

"Lemon." He interrupted himself as he called to his brother, pupils stopping their wandering around to land on the other man.

"Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh I stashed it."

A pause.

And then, Tangerine placed both of his hands on the table, fingers intertwined with one another. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

The broader male got up to do just that, leaving the two other males on the table alone. You could practically feel the stress seeping from the male with a cockney accent.

"You're a liability, you know?" The Son spoke up again. "To my father."

"Hm?" The Brit left at the table perked his head up.

The Son leaned in, facial expression hard to decipher through the glass - but it wasn't like you needed to, after all, you watched the movie a dozen times before. "He doesn't need a reason to kill people like you, he needs a reason not to. Does he have one?"

The assassin paused for a minute, giving the other male a weird look before opening his mouth as if to respond. Before he could though, his phone went off and he reached for it - though, not without uttering one last sentence. "That's fucking confusin'."

He then picked up the phone and gave his greeting before the male on the other side asked him for The Son, if you recalled correctly.

"What? You mean this dickhead with the silly face tattoos? Yeah, he's sat right here."

Ah, so you were right. Of course you were.

"Yes, of course..." the male continued after a pause, leaning backwards and peering to the side to see Lemon's form stressing over the fact that, unbeknownst to him, Ladybug had stolen the briefcase. Once Tangerine saw, however, the confidence in his tone fell and his voice wavered as he continued, "...I've got the case..."

He kept the phone up to his ear for only a few seconds after as his eyes furrowed and a flicker of realisation crossed over them before the phone in his hand slowly lowered to his side.

After ending the call with one of the White Death's men, he strutted over to the capsule his brother entered - the way he walked almost made a squeal pass out of your mouth - the straight line across his lips, the furrow of his brows, the way he fixed his collar; it was all so smooth, you couldn't help but want to swoon. 

Once he left though, your rose-coloured lenses slowly paved way for you to finally see the bigger picture; to understand fully what sort of a predicament you got yourself into.

Your life could be in great peril (once again) because of one specific character that was on her way to this very carriage to kill the White Death's son himself...

...The Hornet.

I just love that Tangerine apologises for swearing in front of a lady before going ahead and doing it again haha

Next Act

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I just can't get the idea of Lorcan with a soft wife. Like she gardens and bakes and nobody understands how the dynamic works so well but it just does

Sweet peas

Well, don't they say that opposites attract? Sounds cliché but in all reality, it's just how it is. It's so obvious looking at the two of you that nature requires balance.

Lorcan is the embodiment of dark, lethal power. He's someone who people don't even dare to take a second glance at. Lowering their heads. Moving further away from the streets. Praying to the gods they believe in hopes that they would save them if Lorcan appeared on their doorstep. Especially when he's the god of death himself.

So to say that people gasped with fear when they saw you standing so close to him the first couple of times would be an understatement. "What a poor beautiful girl, hope the death is quick", "What could have she possibly done to upset him", and "What a cruel way to go, for such a delicate creature".

Just the funny thing is that it's quite the opposite. It's Lorcan who has been captivated by you. Trailing by you like a true dark shadow. And it's as if he finally understood what it's like to feel the warmth that radiates from the sky. How pleasant the summer breeze can be. That chirping bird wasn't all that annoying. And all of that is because of you.

The first time you met he was rushing back home. Annoyed over the fact that the whole day was shit. Cutting corners so that he would return to the comfort of his home as soon as possible. In all of his anger, he didn't notice the patch of only springing flowers, his big boots stomping on them. The gasp that echoed behind him made him jerk back.

And there you were. Two braids falling over your chest, a light green dress with puffy sleeves, and a dirty airport that you without a doubt used to wipe your hands at. At first, he thought that the gasp was the usual reaction to you simply seeing him. That's how everyone always reacted. But no.

You weren't looking at him. Eyes fixed on the crushed stems beneath Lorcan's feet. His own eyes darted down. "My sweet peas...", you stepped closer, pushing at Lorcan's chest as if he wasn't the biggest predator in town. "No, no...", you muttered, kneeling, gently trying to pull any of the potential survivors up. And it felt as if that dead flower was exactly how Lorcan's heartfelt now watching you. The way your soft fingers touched the still-closed petals that will never get to bloom.

"I...", Lorcan starts but you're shaking your head, picking up your watering jug as you pierce him with what Lorcan assumed was your angry face but he could tell that it wasn't a usual emotion you portrayed.

But he can't stop thinking about those sweet peas. All evening. All night. All morning. And he's so grumpy. So unimaginably grumpy because why the hell is he thinking about some flowers? And the teasing from the boys doesn't help because when he finally snaps and says, "I don't know where to get sweet peas that are in bloom, okay?!", the whole room dies down. Fenrys throws Gavriel a look and the older male silently forbids the pup from commenting. Rowan has one eyebrow raised. It's Aelin who clocks onto what's going on. She knows you. Had seen you last evening, and listened to how upset you were that your favorite flowers got stomped on by some sulking brood. "I know where to and plenty of them", she says softly and Lorcan's hopeful eyes meet hers.

It's not long after that he's knocking on your cottage door. Hands firmly holding six pots with sweet peas in different colors. The sugary smell twirls all around Lorcan and it hits him that they almost smell like you. The door cracks open and here you are. Once again right in front of him and he's so starstruck that he forgets how to speak for a moment. Then he just pushes the pots closer to you, "Bought you what I destroyed". You tried to scold him with your eyes but Lorcan could see the happy softness there. "Want to help me replant them?", you asked softly and that was his last undoing. Shrugging off his jacket, Lorcan pushed the sleeves of his shirt over his elbows. Getting ready for the best day of his life that opened the door to happily ever after.

[kerizaret]

Hello everyone and welcome once again to my brain! Today I want to ramble a bit about

✨️ Tsukasa and Rakunosuke (Emu's grandpa) parallels ✨️

Because I feel like we don't talk about them much. Or at all actually

Now, I'm not pulling this out of nowhere. It's quite literally stated at least once, outright, in the game, that Tsukasa is really similar to Emu's grandpa (or even twice – but the other time I'm unsure 100% whether its about Tsukasa specifically, which I'll get to later). That's not to mention the other little things throughout the stories that I think similar between the two

So here's just some thoughts I've had on the topic after rewatching some events, more or less cohesive

1) Tsukasa's PXL auditon & WMS speech

Starting at the very beginning, we've known ever since the wxs main story that there's something in Tsukasa that has drawn Emu in to him already the first time she's ever saw him, at his audition for PXL, which made her hire him herself. She says "found you" at that moment, as if she's been searching for someone exactly like him. Out of all the possible candidates who applied who she might've seen, why Tsukasa specifically?

It could be just about him boasting about making fantastic shows, which of course is a part of it. But I feel like this isn't all, that there was something else that she noticed, that maybe she didn't fully realise at that moment

Then later, in Wonder Magical Showtime, after Tsukasa's motivational speech, Emu specifically thinks back to that audition and how she felt something special there. And, most importantly, she thinks it as if she's talking to her grandpa – like he's somehow tied to it, to her realisation that Tsukasa is the one

Putting aside the fact they were fighting for Rakunosuke's park, which obviously makes Emu think back to him, there's something more. Emu doesn't think anything of the sort about Rui, even though he was the one who came up with the night show, or about Nene. Nor did she mention any kind of this strong feeling/conviction about having them on the Wonder Stage in the main story

She's focused on Tsukasa, because he's the one that brought all these people together and gave them the last push they needed to fight for PXL. He's the one they listen to, he who understands what this park was all about and why they need to save it. He's standing on the stage her grandpa built, looking at all those people working here, and he's leading them, telling them this dream CAN be made a reality and it's more important than anything else

And I feel like she could have looked at that and been reminded of her grandpa a bit, with how much he loved the park he built and brought people together with the same ideals and love and made dreams come true

2) Miles

Speaking of WMS, I'm sure we all remember Miles, the sorcerer Tsukasa played in the night show in WMS, and how he was a character very clearly based on Rakunosuke. It's not very surprising it's Tsks who got this role, but it's still interesting to me. It feels like no-one else would've been able to get this character right and neither would Emu as Shao with someone else playing Miles

I won't get into what "Miles" Tsukasa says in the play, because that's just the script and not a representation of Tsukasa himself, but I do want to draw attention to the specific scene where Emu's father is watching the night show and looks at Tsukasa, then says this:

This is the first time that – i suspect – Tsukasa is outright "stated" to be like Rakunosuke. Here I say "suspected" since I'm not 100% sure of it for two reasons. One of them being that as we know, the ensekai translation is sometimes often bad. For that I looked up the original text as well as an old translation of the event on YT to check for differences

The line ends up being similar in meaning, more or less, but a bit more vague. That also ties to my second doubt though, which is that Emu's father might be referring not to Tsukasa himself, per se, but rather to the character of Miles he's playing

I feel like both can make sense, in their own way (and the event is a Tsukasa focus for a reason, too), but for here I'm throwing it more as a hint than any kind of outright proof. Food for thought

3) Tsukasa and Rakunosuke's deams

Then, as we reach Popping in my Heart! and learn more of Rakunosuke from Riley's pov, there's another interesting thing that pops up. That is, the fact that Tsukasa and Rakunosuke share the same dream

And then, that's when Emu confirms what I've talked about before – that this whole time, she's felt something about Tsukasa being so reminding of her Grandpa

So Tsukasa has all this time "carried the same spirit" as Rakunosuke – which is possibly the reason why Emu has been feeling strangely drawn to him from the beginning

4) The Wonderland SEKAI

Hey. Hey. Remember this line?

(tl by tsukasa's #3 fan on YT)

Yeah, this one. The same reason why wxs even has "Wonderlands" in their troupe name

You know what else has Wonderland in its name?

That's right! Tsukasa's SEKAI!

Tsukasa's SEKAI. A different world that's created from his feelings, that's a place born from his desire to make everyone smile with his shows. A world that just recently expanded to include plushies representing all those different shows – different worlds – wxs created as a troupe. It's a world that Tsukasa, in a way, made by himself (albeit unconsciously)

Oh did I mention the Wonderland SEKAI is also, primarily, pre-wl, a theme park? With a big ass ferris wheel and several stages and a castle and a train and a merry-go-round, a rollercoaster and more? You know, kind of just like Phoenix Wonderland? Which was built by Emu's grandpa?

Do you ever think about that? That both Tsukasa and Rakunosuke "made" their own "Wonderlands"? That the SEKAI is so similar to PXL? Because I do

Anyway. Those were the main similarities or references I noticed, but I still have some few other miscellaneous thoughts i had aside from that that I'll sum up a bit quicker

Tsukasa and Emu's grandpa both care more about the shows (& pxl) themselves and the effect they have on people to make them smile than any kind of fame or recognition

A reminder, too, that despite the movie's popularity, nobody really knew that Rakunosuke worked on "Smiley" (or that it was even a Riley Entertainment movie at all)

There's also the fact that both tsks and rknsk get stuck more on the excitement they want their audiences to feel rather than on the technical sides or worries about how it would be possible – as seen with Rakunosuke convincing Riley to include all his dreams and ideas in "Smiley" without focusing as much on the budget and all to install that wonder in the viewers, and Tsukasa doing anything to perfect his acting, and also agreeing to most of Rui's stunts and experiments and production ideas as long as it gets the audience to become more immersed

I noticed as well that they're both people who wear their hearts on their sleeves, who easily get emotional and enthusiastic, who empathise a lot with the others' emotions and struggles, becoming happy when something good happens to them

^ he cried here. And later at the fan festa seeing nene sing confidently and happily he teared up again

And also just *gestures vaguely at pandemonium event and Rui's "tsukasa's friends' happiness is his own happiness" line*. Yeah

Most importantly, Tsks and Rknsk both care so, so much about shows ending with smiles and not tears

And overall about everyone smiling and being happy. Like Tsukasa telling Emu in the main story, on the ferris wheel, that when her grandpa meant making EVERYONE smile, it included Emu, too, and he wanted to make sure she's happy as well

There's also everything with Emu, too. The way she's very clingy with Tsukasa, always throwing herself at him (not that she isn't with everyone, but she does seem to jump at him the most often)

She's also implied to open up a bit more around him – in Smile of a Dreamer, when wxs expressed their worries about emu hiding her problems, KAITO implies that its unusual she "hasn't told EVEN Tsukasa"

And it's Tsukasa who first understood that, despite how it may seem that "she always is so optimistic and says whatever's on her mind", in the end "the bigger the problem, the less likely she is to talk" (paraphrased quotes from smile of a dreamer). And also underdstood what's the most important to her and how to give her a push to voice her worries to them

It's Tsukasa who Emu first got so scared of leaving their troupe and her behind

I simply feel like Emu is aware of the similarities her grandpa and Tsukasa share and, subconsciously, trusts him a lot and gets attached to him easily

Anyway. This is just a bunch of thoughts that came to mind that I wanted to share and hear your thoughts on maybe too. I love emukasa so much they have such a great dynamic, and I feel the implied similarities between Rakunosuke and Tsukasa add a lot to that too. I'm really curious if it'll be something they'll explore more in future events. Because I feel these parallels are there for some reason

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part one (Eris x reader Rhys's sister)

Warnings: Injuries and murder and mentions of trauma

I'm so excited this one won the vote! So as Y/n returns to the world of the living, she has to decide whether to save the male who caused her, and her mother's murders, or save him.

Part two

Tag list: open

I screamed as I fell to the ground, my head fuzzy and my stomach churning.

What had happened?  I had been walking along, trying to form a plan for…

I take a deep breath, the crisp air and smell of roses pushing into my nostrils.  I look at the small grass clearing that makes me tense, memories of terror flitting through my head.

This was the Spring court.  Somehow- somehow I was back among the living.  Landing right back where my and my mother’s lives had been taken from us.

“Please!  Please spare my darling girl!” My mother cries as she’s shoved to the ground, the little lords or spring preparing their weapons, the high lord of spring holding a giant ax as he watches.

I look to Tamlin with tears in my eyes, pleading with him, “Tam, please.  Please don’t let them hurt us.”

He looks away, ashamed.

It wasn’t him who was about to lose his life though.

I snap back into reality, hearing voices in the distance.  My first instinct is to climb into a tree, wait for them to pass.

But I can hear the angry tones, and I force myself to be silent as I slip through the trees to see where the commotion is coming from.

“Look at this, the High Lord of Spring, on his knees before us.”  A cruel male voice said, and I peeked through the foliage to see Tamlin on his knees before a bunch of men, snarling with an arrow in his leg and shoulder.

They looked as if they were laced with faebane.

I wasn’t breathing.  He was kneeling there, just as my mother and I had before him and his family.

I could just leave him there, to his fate.  Let him die the way he had let us die.

But… my feet wouldn’t move.

I had only just been brought back to life, and I was already about to get myself killed again.

The only thing was that I wasn’t the same weak girl who had died here before.

I searched about, quickly finding a large, heavy rock.

And threw it right at the leader of the group, striking him right in the temple.

“Leave him alone.”  I said, lowering my voice in an attempt to hide my identity.  I could have used my magic, but that would have been even more telling than my voice.

The males unsheathed their sword, looking for where my voice had come from, and Tamlin stilled.

Please, please don’t recognise me.

“Show yourself you wretch!”  The male whom I had hit with the rock snarled, spinning around.

I shifted so I was better hidden.  I had no weapons, and against three males who each had at least two weapons…

I should have come up with a better plan.

“How about you show your face you coward!”  He continued to shout, but I just smiled as I saw the red haired male who appeared behind him.

Watching as Lucian killed the leader, Tamlin throwing off the two males that were holding him down, I couldn’t help but notice how much they had changed, how different they were then I had seen them last.  Lucian had a metal eye now, his face holding more trauma than it had when I knew him.

Tamlin… Even as he killed the last of the males, looked tired and broken.  He looked as if he was already half dead.

I watch as they look at the dead males, with coats of bone white, the color of Hybren.

But the king of Hybren is dead.

So who were they following?

I hold my breath, all thoughts on pause as Lucian eyes land on my hiding spot, his metal eye whirring.

Mother above, could he see me?

“Would you like to come join us, or were you planning to wait until we were distracted?”  Lucian asked, the words cautious and sharp.

I tense up as Tamlin looks my way too.

I bit my lip, I could run away, and I could surely outrun Tamlin.

But maybe not Lucian.

Taking a calming breath, I step out into the small clearing, were both males stood there, shock keeping them both silent.

“Hi?”

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins | Chapter: Six

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Six: It’s Awful, Do It Again.

The daylight drapes across the horizon like a turned curtain, folding across the contours of your eyelids in a sweet, murmured hello. As you lay there, hunched over your desk, the sounds of cackling birds echo through your idle body, nipping at the well-crafted frame of your dreams until it all fades away… subsequently plunging you into reality.

Suddenly, you jolt up. The familiar summer breeze hits your bare arms as you look at your desk, taking in the sight of the vials loosely clutched in your palms. Typical, you think in disgruntlement, pushing your sooty arms against the bench. Sleeping on the job…

You don’t register the existing company that lingers in the corners of your vision; a blur of different colours whizz around in the background as quiet as they can be – which, if Luffy and Usopp are ever involved, that’s just them talking in their outside voices. That is, until your brain jumpstarts itself to come around.

Zoro, seated about six seats away from you, is the first to notice your awakening. He glances at you, a faint trace of annoyance evident in his gaze as if your sleep disrupted the natural order of things. With his arms crossed, he grumbles in his usual gruff tone, “Finally decided to join the land of living?”

You stretch lazily, letting out a low, exaggerated yawn. "Well, well, good morning, Sunshine. Did someone forget to leave their attitude back at their ship?"

He snorts, unimpressed. "You wish I cared that much."

"You're right; I must’ve confused you with someone who has a personality," you say, genuinely yawning this time. "My bad."

"Save your witty remarks for someone who has the time," he mutters.

"Oh, Zoro, I'll treasure your indifference forever," you gasp, mockingly.

He shoots you a deadpan look. "You're exhausting."

You eye him up and down, displeasure colouring your face. “Trust me, it’s intentional.”

Pushing yourself away from your wooden stool, your back bluntly pulses as a reminder of last night’s gruelling work. You give yourself a long-deserved twist and stretch, feeling sporadic parts of your body crack in misery as you take in the chaos that’s unfolding in your studio.

With your lips parted open, you gape at Luffy who’s spinning one of your swords like a frisbee, narrowly missing a blunt forced chop to Usopp’s nose. Usopp yelps out loud before his terror transmutes into rage, indeed a deadly turn of events, as he immediately wrestles Luffy to the ground.

“What did I wake up to?” You laugh.

“Raya, you’re awake!” Chopper exclaims, firmly holding a tiny dagger he’s found himself somewhere. Deep down, you know that what he’s so lovingly caressing in his hand isn’t an awesome miniature dagger, but actually a mere old box cutter– but, come on, he doesn’t need to know that.

Everyone turns to your direction, their eyes lighting up when they see you awake and blinking. It seems like they were trying their best to let you sleep, aware that you probably had a long night of purifying disturbed metal.

“Oh no…Did they wake you up?” Nami’s furious eyes frantically divert from you to the two wrestling boys. “I told them to be quiet, for fuck’s sake.”

“Nah, let them have fun,” you smile, placing a comforting hand on Nami’s shoulder. “It’s not every day you find an underground workshop ran by runaway swordsmiths.”

Gramps Suki, who enters at his usual hour with a cup of tea, raises an eyebrow at the commotion. An approving smile twitches on his mouth as his eyes meet the familiar band of pirates. “Well, good morning…What brings you all here?”

“We stick to our promises, Hitetsu-san,” Brook says, coolly lounging across a worktable as his skeletal fingers strum melodies across his guitar. “We’re here to make amends for Zoro’s cruel mess…

"Ohhh, the marimooo,

From what we knoooww,

With a demonic smileeee,

Attacks in his three sword styleee~”

The swordsman's brow furrows in a mix of irritation and mild disbelief at the timing of the skeletal musician's impromptu performance. Brook, with his bony fingers strumming the guitar, continues to belt out his tune with an energy that seemed to rattle the very bones that composed him.

As the rhythmic melody fills the air, Zoro's expression remains stoic, but there was an undeniable edge to his demeanour. He shot a piercing look in Brook's direction, one that carried a silent message of, “Are you serious right now?"

“We were?” Luffy frowns in response to Brook, scratching his head. “I just came to talk to Swords and Gramps…”

“Do you ever listen to what I say?” Nami barks, snarling against Luffy’s neck.

“No - seriously, Zoro. Why did you do this?” Franky frowns, admiring the work that limply hangs in his robotic palms.

“I told you - she started it first.” Zoro bursts out with a scowl, unable to brush off his pestering crewmates any further. It's like they were all competing in the 'Blame Zoro for Everything' championship, and he was determined to win... or lose, depending on how you looked at it.

“Just swallow your humongous pride and help us clean, moss-head,” Sanji loudly retorts. “Besides…:

With a hopeful drag of his cigarette, Sanji turns to Gramps Suki, his eyes holding a little glimmer of excitement.

"When are you gonna show me those knives, old man?" The cook raises an eyebrow.

You faintly remember the conversation Gramps had with Sanji from last night; they were both chatting so animatedly - so passionately - on the importance of culinary knives, of each make and consequent use for specific ingredients – and, most importantly, on how truly important they are to a cook’s honour.

“One’s blades reflect what type of cook someone is…It’s similar to a marimo and the relationship with their sword,” Gramps had described to Sanji. “Are they sharpened properly? Are they well-kept, polished, and stored? Do your blades feel like an extension of your hand, or does it feel like what you’re holding is heavy, dull – almost like a corpse?”

Sanji vigorously nodded his head, deeply attentive to the old man’s words.

“Absolutely agree. That’s what distinguishes a good cook from a great one,” he had said, developing a newfound respect for Gramps Suki.

Gramps was so impressed by this blond cook and how palpable his passion for his cuisine was, that he’d offered to show him something he’d never mention in conversation to anyone else – his own artisanal culinary knives.

Gramps Suki smirks at him, taking a long sip of his tea. "You can use them when we make dinner later."

An authoritative decree thunders through the air as Nami, with a raised eyebrow, sticks her finger at the cook. “Hey, you’re not getting out of this. Start cleaning.”

Suddenly, Sanji, like a lovestruck marionette, succumbs to her authority. He stumbles toward her, a cigarette hanging precariously from his lips, his movements resembling a gleeful dance of compliance.

“Nami wields authority like a sorceress,” Sanji sighs dreamily, a sweet smile gracing his lips.

Quite blatantly ignoring him, Nami turns to you with a smile. “Leave the battlefield to us! We’ll make this place spotless.”

Your forehead creases. “I’m cleaning too, right?”

“You have more important things to do!”

You give her another confused look. Besides crafting Zoro’s swords, what else is there that you need to do?

Leaning in with a theatrical flair, she drops this gem in your ear, “Oh, you haven't noticed? Zoro's just been a beacon of patience lately. Losing his swords is clearly putting him in a state of enlightenment, don't you think?'"

Raising an eyebrow, you pivot to glance at Zoro, who conveniently nods off the moment 'cleaning' slips from Nami's lips. You didn't realize he was so emotionally attached to his swords – I mean, who could've guessed, especially considering the sorry state his blades were in?

As everyone's battling the clutter in the studio — no thanks to Zoro — you notice Usopp stumbling upon some wild contraption in the middle of the cleanup.

"Hey, what's this gizmo?" Usopp shouts, giving a crank a good twist.

Franky barrels over, suddenly hyped by the crank action. "Whoa! What do we got here? Move aside, Usopp! Lemme look at it!"

Smiling at their curiosity, you decide to gravitate towards the two gadget-loving-nerds. "Oh, that’s my cannon. It's not quite perfected yet," you explain, unveiling the inner workings. “See? I’ve added a better scope…here… and used a lighter alloy…there…to increase its efficiency. The form’ll be slimmed more like this…”

You excitedly point at the sketches pinned on the wall, clearly passionate about the work that you’ve devoted your life to. As you continue explaining your design with evident love in your voice, a peculiar sensation washes over you—an instinct that you're being discreetly observed. A pair of eyes lingers in the distance, silently drinking in every detail of your explanation.

Caught in this enigmatic gaze, you spin around, anticipating a mischievous culprit - only to find Zoro, still sound asleep...

Franky’s eyes are glistening as he whispers to himself, breaking you out of your little bubble. “I think…I think I’ve finally found my work-soulmate…”

You grin at him, crossing your arms. “I’d like to see some of your stuff, actually. You’re the shipwright they keep talking about, right?”

Franky nods wildly, unable to contain his excitement – finally, he’s able to nerd out to someone about his designs and they’ll be able to actually understand them.

After making promises to work with each other in the near future, you decide to excuse yourself from distracting the crew with their little self-appointed mission.

Gently, your hands fumble over the apron slung gracefully over your neck and the goggles adorning your head. A soft exhale precedes the enchantment – once, then twice – each fingertip and thumb gradually igniting into a decadent, sizzling red.

In a subtle movement, your eyes dart to your side, catching the marimo's watchful gaze.

“You don’t have to pretend to sleep if you want to watch me work, you know,” you smirk as you stretch your fingers out, letting the blood run through your most important tools.

Zoro grumbles, trying to maintain his usual stoic demeanour, but the red hue on his cheeks deepens. "I ain't watchin' or pretendin' anything," he mutters, avoiding eye contact. “Just making sure you don’t burn down the whole place.”

In a graceful swoop, your hand clasps over the first glass tube, the glinting Enma serenely solidified in its throat. After a few minutes, the purified alloy begins to release its tension, swimming in its own silver sea. You close your eyes, reaching out with your Haki, searching for her.

Yes, I’m still here, she whispers, her metallic hum reverberating through your bones.

Your eyes open in shock. That’s the same voice of his old Enma.

She’s still alive, you think, and you beam widely at your revelation.

Hello, you think to the metal. You’ll be back in his hands very soon.

As Luffy throws out his arms parallel to his body, he stretches out across the studio, stuffing your hammers and screwdrivers back into random open drawers. But then, just like rubber, they furiously sling back to its owner like a boomerang, completely wiping out anything and everything that’s standing in between his body and arms.

He strings his hands all around the studio, making more of a mess than being of help. Nami’s having a heart attack as she trails behind Luffy’s wriggling arms, trying to minimise the wreckage he’s manifesting.

This time, Chopper falls victim to Luffy’s antics.

In an instant, Luffy inadvertently threads his arm through the reindeer’s legs, who's precariously balancing a tower of ores. Chopper yelps as the ground beneath him vanishes, desperately clawing at the air to maintain balance.

Swiftly, Robin leaps into action. Delicate hands sprout like blossoming flowers around the reindeer in a perfect circle, deftly capturing each airborne tool and, most importantly, keeping Chopper up before he crashes to the floor.

“Thanks, Robin,” Chopper pants, his eyes as wide as cannonballs.

“You know what Luffy?” Nami pants, wiping sweat from her face. She points at the naughty corner wedged between where you and Zoro are seated. “Just sit down there. We got it from here.”

“Okay!” Luffy shrugs, happily skipping over to you. He assumes his seat like a picture-perfect student.

But as a few seconds elapse, Luffy's initial obedience wanes, and he starts groaning, incapable of staying in one spot for more than a moment. Gradually, his head nudges against yours as he watches your meticulous hands at work, releasing random ‘ooooh’s’ and ‘ahhhh’s’ at various intervals. You can't help but grin at his antics, finding yourself more entertained than annoyed by his intervention.

“Sooooo, Swords!” Luffy pipes out. “When did you start making swords?”

“When I was eight, I think?” You start smiling, relishing in the memory of your first ever sword-making experience.

“Tell me the story!” he demands, his hands propped on both cheeks, eyes wide with anticipation.

Gramps suddenly guffaws from his usual seat in the back of the shop. “She was such a brat!”

Lowering the book that he was reading, you notice a smile very much like yours resting across his face. No doubt, he's savouring the same memory that you're thinking of.

You nod sheepishly, while flipping through hundreds of blueprints for the right make. “He wouldn’t let me make swords at first, which I thought was totally ridiculous.”

“You were eight!” Gramps exclaims. “What kind of responsible adult lets a child run around with murderous weapons?”

 You stick your tongue out at him cheekily.

“I had to learn by watching. Back in our homeland, I’d sneak into Gramps’s studio in the evening, and I’d watch him work in the shadows. And when he’d go back upstairs, I’d push my sleeves up and get started…

“I remember the first time looking at all these terrifying, massive tools and wondering if I was going to get into trouble. ‘Using your hands other than for serving tea or playing instruments is unwomanly,’ they’d drill into me. ‘Women must keep their hands soft, slender and clean.’”

“That’s awful,” Nami frowns as she and the rest of the crew gather on a bench behind you. Sanji lights another cigarette, deeply inhaling his first puff.

“I never understood stuff like that,” Franky mutters, making Chopper fiercely hum in agreement.

“I can’t tell you how many times I hurt myself on my first try. I burnt myself - millions of times, actually – melted metal on my fingers, hammered my own hands—”

“Hit your head on the anvil…” Gramps lists while reading his book.

Everyone immediately bursts out in laughter, especially Luffy, and even Zoro - who’s supposed to be asleep - has a faint smile twitching on his lips.

“You did what?!” Luffy shouts, grinning.

“Thanks for that,” you hiss, glaring at your old man; this time, he sticks his tongue out at you. You turn back around, continuing to recount the story.

“I didn’t go to sleep that night. I worked until dawn, put my whole soul into it. So when Gramps came climbing downstairs—"

“It was AWFUL!” Gramps exclaims, chucking his book on the table. “Her sword looked like a massive sausage! Wobbly and wriggly and chunky!”

“You know what he said to me?” You grin, remembering the moment like it was yesterday. “He took my sword, silently inspected it…And I swear I thought he was going to shout at me because little girls shouldn’t be doing men’s work… but instead, he looked down at me, sausage sword in hand, and said –

“’It’s awful. Do it again.’” You and Gramps quote together.

The crew erupts into laughter, and even Zoro's eyes open slightly as a tiny smile crosses his face. Luffy slaps his knee, thoroughly entertained.

“Gramps, you’re mean!” Luffy accuses between laughs.

“I was just being honest,” Gramps defends himself with a big grin.

Nami, with a smirk, interjects, “Well, it looks like that didn’t discourage you.”

You shake your head, “Nope. If anything, what he said pissed me off so much that I worked ten times harder. I kept at it. And eventually, Gramps couldn’t deny that I had a talent for it.”

“More like stubbornness,” Gramps adds, but there's a fondness in his eyes.

“Maybe a bit of both,” you concede with a grin. “But it was the start of my journey as a swordsmith. And now, here we are.”

Luffy, still chuckling, claps you on the back. “That’s awesome, Swords! I like you!”

“Speaking of swords,” Usopp interjects, smugly smiling to himself, “I think that we’re missing a huge opportunity here – something that won’t ever be allowed again in different circumstances.”

“What? What?” Chopper and Luffy bounce together, both completely captivated by his words.

Usopp grins, closing one eye. Dramatically, he shoots his finger into the air before slowly cocking it downwards.

He points at the marimo like a sniper rifle. Everyone turns to stare at him.

“Zoro, would you say you are a swordsman?” Usopp demands in a fake dramatic voice.

Zoro, clearly unimpressed by Usopp's theatrics, narrows his eyes and sighs.

“Are you stupid?”

“And would you say you like swords?” Usopp continues, intentionally ignoring his comment.

Zoro’s eyebrow twitches a little. This time, he doesn’t even grace him with an answer.

“’Why yes, I love swords, Usopp - my fearless crewmate!’” Usopp impersonates Zoro, quickly scrawling a fake scar on his eye with your marker pen. “Well, Zoro, my friend, since you're a swordsman, I've got a ground-breaking idea that will shake the very foundations of the ground you stand on!”

Luffy cackles, smacking his hand on his knee. “What is it? Tell us!”

“Yes, do tell us!” Gramps claps.

Usopp grins at the positive reception that he’s receiving– even Gramps is now captivated by this oddly stellar performance.

 “We are here, with the best swordsmiths of the land, with unlimited swords at our disposal, with a swordsman who loves swords….” Usopp looks at each and every one of you with meaning. He leans in, a mischievous glint in his eye.

 “In honour to show our appreciation for our sword-loving friend… I think it’s time for a Zoro-impersonation performance.”

[mvltisstuff]

Hi, i hope you’re doing well! 🫶

I was wondering if you could write a fic with Evan Buckley x reader where she gets caught up in the car accident of 4x09 (blindsided) like Albert was and is in a wheelchair due to it and buck helps her with her physical therapy recovery etc. Lots of angst, anger, heartbreak but also fluff pls. (If possible) 🫶🤍

thank you!! ❤️‍🩹

medicine - e.b

summary: request :)

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i got this request too, so i decided to combine the two, hope that’s ok 🩶

the accident had severely limited y/n’s mobility. a spinal injury left her ridden to a wheelchair, unsure if she’d be able to ever move the way she was before. the constant back and forth to doctors appointments and several surgeries after the collision had completely blew out the flame in her mind, leaving only ash and a lack of hope.

buck tries to be there, but it brings him back to his own accident. the fire engine laying on top of him, not being able to move without feeling excruciating pain. he was intolerable afterwards. he went as far as suing the city to get back to his job. he could imagine how y/n was feeling, but he couldn’t fully understand. pushing herself would only make it worse, but she couldn’t stop. every single day was an active fight against her own body, the body she felt was betraying her.

she relives the moment the cars clashed together the whole day. a lot of people might force it out of their mind, but she made sure she remembered all the small details of it. the pain, the thoughts, the sirens, the broken car pieces. the worst part about it was having zero answers to her end result. it was bad, there was no denying that. she couldn’t walk on her own, let alone stand up by herself and successfully hold herself. so, she relied on buck.

he helped her move, wheeled her around, took her to her appointments, and told her not to worry about work. she was born to be a first responder. she’s been dreaming about it since she hit middle school, knowing exactly what she wants to do. she felt like she was drowning in a pit of people who needed to be saved. alas, she couldn’t do a single thing about it.

“y/n, c’mon, you have to eat,” buck tries to coerce her into a few bites, but she just pushes them around in the food box. he wanted to help her so bad, to give her the world, but she couldn’t accept it in the state she was in. she saw the pity looks from everyone, knowing that it wasn’t her fault this happened to her. “listen, i get it-“

“you do, buck? you think you understand but it’s completely different.”

“honey, just hear me out for a minute. you saw me at my worst. blood clots and surgeries and all.”

“i cannot stand up on my own. i cannot drive my car. i cannot shower. i cannot leave my apartment without someone pushing me out of it. i cannot use the fucking bathroom. this is not at all the same.”

“i’m not going to let you ruin yourself the way i almost did,” he looks her dead in the eye, trying to give her a slice of reality through the grief and panic she’s feeling.

“yeah, you just abandoned everyone you love so you could go back to work,” her words sting in bucks chest, mentioning his worst regrets. the way he acted during that time was nothing but sadness for himself. buck excused himself, y/n wishing she could do the same but she was confined on the first floor. he shut the bathroom door lightly behind him. his hands were pressed against his face, pushing the tears in his eyes back so y/n didn’t see him cry.

maybe it’s just a bad day, he thought. he prayed it was just a bad day. and he prayed that the rest of their days wouldn’t be bad ones as well.

it was weeks after weeks that y/n had been fighting this battle toward improvement. it felt like everything she did was one step forward and two steps back. was it really worth it?

losing the movement of your legs was almost equal to losing someone. you rely on someone forever, for them to just vanish in the blink of an eye. before you can even think and certainly before you can say goodbye. nothing can prepare you for the grief of either of these situations.

even on days that buck had to return to work, carla had come over. she was driving y/n places, taking her out and picking up her prescriptions. physical therapy had been paying off, the exercises and treatments they’d done had been regaining her strength quickly.

“when can i get back to work?”

“y/n, we spoke about this,” her doctor said. they’d talked about how she wouldn’t be back for a long time, needing to completely heal before she returned. if she returned. she shook her head and looked down. “you have to give your body time.”

“it’s had time. it’s been months and months of waiting and i’m finally starting to make some advances.”

“you are, but healing from an injury this severe is going to take a long time. spinal injuries are insanely serious and you have to treat it like that.”

the drive home was silent. she made no attempts to speak to the kind-hearted woman in the drivers seat. helping her in and out of her chair, she sat on the couch and sat there, looking at the walls of her apartment with buck. when he finally arrived home after his shift, he spotted her on the couch.

“hey,” he says, placing his stuff down on the counter. “how was your day?” she doesn’t reply, so he waits a few seconds.

“i cant go back to work for a long time.”

“i know.”

“i cannot do this, buck. i need my job,” buck moves over to crouch in front of her, sitting on the table in front of the couch.

“y/n, you have so much stuff in your life that will give you a meaning. you will never be defined by your physical abilities. this is not your fault.”

“it is completely my fault!” her eyes water. “i build my strength up every day for nothing in return! i haven’t pushed myself but it’s not getting me any further and i am worth nothing if i can’t handle this.”

bucks heart breaks at each word escaping from her lips. her beautiful soul had been picked at and teased by her own body, and it felt like the world was laughing at her. everyone looked at her the same. if not in a better light. he wanted her to know that she still shines, even if she’s in a wheelchair.

“i’ve been trying so hard and it will never be enough, will it?”

“look at me, right now,” buck forces. “you will forever be enough. i know they say time heals all wounds but forget that shit, ok? you will always be healing from this. it’s a matter of what stage your healing in. you’re not taking too long. you have your whole life waiting for you, and you are enough.”

“no,” she peeps out, shaking her head in his hands. he nods in response.

“yes. yes, baby, you are enough.”

“buck, stop,” she tries to pick his hands away from her.

“you are enough,” he replies. “and i’m not stopping until you believe it.”

her wet eyes physically cannot pull them away from his own, seeing nothing but pure love and admiration for her reflecting in them. she leans forward, not being able to help herself from the urge she feels to kiss him.

“i’m so sorry, buck. i’m so, so sorry, i put you through hell, and oh my god,” she’s hyperventilating her words out, worrying buck as he tries anything to calm her down. “oh my god, this fucking sucks.”

“i know, just breathe,” he sits next to her, pulling her in and swinging her legs over his. “honey, you have to breathe for me, ok?”

she staples her eyes on his, locking them and not moving until she calms down. her heartbeat begins to slow again, and her choppy inhales start to fall back into a normal rhythm.

“i love you so much,” she speaks out softly to him while playing with his fingers.

“i love you no matter what, y/n,” he replies. “and my heart will never stop beating for you.”

the night sky had rolled in, and the noise outside had quieted to a few cars on the highway now and then. for the first time since before her accident, y/n felt safe, and finally was feeling enough.

[lets-try-some-writing]

What about TFP meeting IDW OP and Megs? I feel like everyone would get whiplash

They would.

Meeting IDW

TFP wasn't quite sure what to expect when it came to meeting IDW. Most were thinking the leaders of the alternate universe would be akin to their own, which they were correct to a degree. Others were prepared to meet either a mad psychopath or leaders far too young for their own good. None save for Optimus expected to see a set of leaders who were both just so... tired.

When Optimus met his IDW counterpart they didn't need to even speak to understand. They were both tired, only pushed on by duty and both weighed down by their sins and weakness. IDW Optimus was exhausted with everything after millions of years of conflict that seemed to only push them further to extinction. TFP Optimus in comparison was more hopeful, largely because he had the touch of Primus and relics of the age of old to aid him. However both were exhausted and wished for rest, both had tried and largely failed to pass the burden on only for it to return. There was no escape, not until their shared duty was done.

This was their reality, and they took solace in the fact that they suffered through it together.

Team Prime looked at their alternate Prime and found him to be akin but oh so very different from their own. He had the same stoicism, but he was damaged in a slightly different way. Where their Prime kept things hidden away behind the Matrix, this Prime showed visible frustration, anger, and confliction. He seemed to not know who he was, what his purpose really was, and what the point of it all happened to be. In short, to the team he was a masterful leader, commander, and soldier... but a damaged mech so worn down by war that seeing their Bumblebee and Smokescreen was akin to watching an actual angel of Primus descend. Such innocence was near unheard of and it was a blessing to IDW Optimus.

Ratchet got along with the alternate Prime just fine, but he only grew more worried for IDW Optimus with every passing moment. The Prime was grim but dutiful, uncaring of himself but oh so attentive to others, and wanting nothing more than to rest but forcing himself to continue on. There was little Ratchet could do for this Prime, but it did help somewhat to show IDW Optimus the hope their universe had in their relics and the Allspark. That seemed to bring the alternate Prime joy.

The Wreckers were largely conflicted when it cane to the alternate Prime. IDW Optimus thought similarly. Bulkhead was not a bot IDW Optimus knew personally and had only heard the designation a grand total of two to three times during his work. The Wheeljack he knew was far different than the one before him and it more often than not left the alternate Prime unsure how to act. Ultra Magnus was similar but not the same to his counterpart, there was something about him to IDW Optimus that set him apart, a spark of hope that seemed to be present in all of the TFP bots. It was something most of IDW Optimus's people lacked after so long of nothing but endless war.

Arcee was quite a different bot from her counterpart. She was still tortured, but she hadn't met the wrath of the council like IDW Optimus's version of her. She was angry, but she had youth and the ability to move past it. She was pained and weighed down by loss, but she had a family to keep her up. It was something IDW Optimus wished for his Arcee, if only to ease her pain.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen were unsure how to act around IDW Optimus. To them he was almost like the logical conclusion of their own Prime if the war dragged on. He was the end that awaited their Optimus should nothing change, and that frightened them. IDW Optimus was wise, strong, and well meaning, but he was not the same. He did not show the same joy, the same life that theirs did. On IDW Optimus's end, he saw the two young bots before him as a strange but wonderful gift. Two little lights amid the darkness of war, young bots who were eager, hopeful, and awaiting a future where their home was restored.

IDW Optimus was strange to the team in a rather unexplainable way. He was their Prime if there was no hope in Primus, and watching that possibility stand before them brought the team a degree of discomfort.

Their reality was built on the truth of mythology and science blending together in every work and action. But IDW Optimus lived in a reality where mythos was a thing of the past and science was a convoluted and painful thing. It was not a world the team wished to live in and pitied the alternate Prime for having to endure.

As for IDW Megatron? His interaction with his TFP counterpart was... poor to say the least. The alternate Megatron had seen the worst of reality, he had committed enough crimes and heresies to beat the many sins of whole worlds. He was tainted, haunted, and had long seen how far he had fallen and taken a step back to rethink his ways. His TFP counterpart was in comparison the embodiment of his darker days when he was still lost in his desire for vengeance. The alternate Megatron saw his counterpart as a lost spark consumed by rage like he was so long ago. As such he saw it as his duty to try and drag TFP Megatron back toward the truth, something that was far more difficult than he would have liked.

His counterpart was intelligent, increadible so and very well spoken. TFP Megatron was far from stupid, but he was lost, and for that reason IDW Megatron tread lightly around his counterpart. Much of his interaction with his counterpart was composed of debate and trying to remain free of conflict. He wanted his alternate self to see all the hurt he had caused, he wanted to help him before it was too late. TFP Megatron's Optimus was just as merciful as IDW's. If he would only repent and work to fix things...

It was a slow and very uphill battle.

TFP Starscream was more than terrified of Megatron's alternate self. The mech was a monster, huge and towering yet somehow soft in his steps and haunted in a way that TFP Megatron was not. He didn't even try to kill the other Megatron, instead hiding behind his own in terror. IDW Megatron for his part found his counterpart's second in command a pitiful thing that was just similar enough to his Starscream to be familiar but odd enough to be strange. He didn't bother trying to focus much on Starscream aside from keeping him out of harms way.

TFP Soundwave looked to the alternate Megatron in confliction. This Megatron was scarred and wore the Autobot badge, yet he fought for the values and freedoms the Decepticons wanted. He was a threat, one that Soundwave would have preferred to eliminate... but he was also a hope. IDW Megatron was living proof that Megatron could get back on the right track and lead them to victory, a true victory. IDW Megatron for his part found the spymaster to be... concerning. He was not like IDW Megatron's Soundwave, he didn't have the same spark of loyalty or the same disposition. All in all, he was someone IDW Megatron tended to avoid.

Knockout and Breakdown were not mecha IDW Megatron was directly familiar with and as such after the initial panic on their parts, he got along with them well enough. He could still be snappy, but he was a welcome relief from his counterpart and upon sharing his numerous frame changes, gained Knockout's interest. It certainly helped that Breakdown being respectful was a welcome change from the constant irritation that was Rodimus.

TFP Shockwave was concerning simply because IDW Megatron had exactly zero sway over him. The scientist saw the alternate Megatron as a fascinating specimen and IDW Megatron wanted nothing to do with him. He had dealt with enough scrap with his own Shockwave to know to leave the mech alone. His Shockwave was bad enough with just science, but this one had access to old magic as well. IDW Megatron had no desire to get involved in that.

When it came to Arachnid, IDW Megatron's first instinct was "Burn it with fire". He hated her on instinct and thus stayed as clear of her as possible. It wasn't his place to kill anyone in the alternate universe he found himself in, but Primus he wanted to punt her into a wall after hearing of some of her war crimes. He wasn't much better but she did it for fun, and that enraged him.

As for the Vehicons? IDW Megatron quickly found himself protective of them. They were clones that didn't ask to be forged and were treated as disposable despite serving such a vital function. With that said IDW Megatron devoted a good chunk of the time he wasn't spending trying to get his alternate self back on the right path with them. They were a good bunch who served because they knew no other path. They reminded him of his fellows in the mines, they deserved better.

[marvelstars]

The fact fandom sees Obi-Wan as an uwu baby at 25 years old while also considering that Anakin should have got his feelings over his mother together at 9 show how bad it can get when we infantilize the characters to suit our vision of them imo.

At 25 Obi-Wan was a grown young adult when he started taking care of Anakin, in fact many people in real life marry and have children at that age, in light of that his hurt feelings and jealousy over Qui-Gon asking him to be knighted, which is supposed to be a good thing, a recognition of his skills, so he could take care of Anakin, show Qui-Gon was right in that Obi-Wan still had some maduration to go but that he was ready to be a Jedi Knight.

ObiWan defeating Maul sealed the deal for the council but it also presents a very problematic precedent, it wasn´t his emotional maturity and wiseness the thing that made Obi-Wan a knight but his dueling skills in his combat with Maul after his master was killed.

In Anakin´s case at 9 he was old to be introduced to the Jedi because he isn´t 4 or 5 but he is very young to be made a padawan, they usually start at 13 or 14 like Ahsoka did. So given Obi-Wan wish to train him to make a reality Qui-Gon´s dying wish, Anakin was made a padawan sooner than when he was supposed to be one, not because he was a kind child who worried about others and wanted to make a lasting change in the galaxy for the slaves, he was made a padawan because of his power potential and the Jedi Order didn´t try to make adecuations to the fact he was old enough to remember seeing slaves being blow up by their masters and the fact his mother was still a slave and in constant danger of this happening to her as well. Nothing of this was addressed with Anakin, he was told in no uncertain terms that his responsibility and compromise with the Jedi Order, which he made at 9, didn´t involve him thinking about his mother or seeing her ever again. Anakin obeyed this dictate until his mother was tortured killed and he had his first fall to the dark side by taking revenge on the tuskens for the murder of his mother.

Later at 19 he is made a Knight not because he had shown a grown in his control over the force or his own feelings but because he was an able soldier with leadership skills which served him well to survive a war in which the majority of the padawans of his generation were killed , at 20 he was made a Jedi master for Ahsoka during war time, he was responsible of teaching her how to be a Jedi while also making sure she didn´t die while also taking care of his troops and giving victories to the Republic all of which he did, even when his padawan was expelled, even when his men were killed for knowing too much like in Fives case and at 23 he was a general and one of the leading Jedi in the war, married to Padme with a child on the way, so Anakin was two years younger than Obi-Wan was when he was still a padawan and meet Anakin for the first time. Anakin fell to the darkside and became Vader when he was 23 years old, two years younger than padawan Obi-Wan.

So If I use the age argument it wasn´t Obi-Wan the one who got pushed into a situation he could not have managed on his own for his age but Anakin definitely was, because of his particular power and skills even if the popular take is that Obi-Wan was a baby at 25 taking care of an ungrateful, unstable almost teenager Anakin as a 9 year old, for many fans Anakin never was a child but he was, the fact he didn´t had an actual childhood is another thing.

But well if we take this in consideration then it makes all the sense in the world Yoda choose to let Anakin´s twins grow up with their families, train Luke when he was an adult and not make him a Knight at 23 if he didn´t deal with his inner conflict over his father but it was Luke´s choice of not wanting to fight or kill his father but rather ask him to come back to him, to the person he used to be, the thing that made the difference. Anakin came back to save his child from his master, himself and the Empire, he gave up his life to give Luke and Luke´s dreams a chance.

So while age certainly is a factor it isn´t everything when it´s about a character grow and choices imo.