#to be the protector your past self wished he had

[violet-catsarelife]

Inspired by DC's new horror story design.

Because I kiiiinda don't vibe with trauma being made into something hideous and terrifying. It's one thing for Jason to take those symbols of trauma for himself, and another thing for other people to look and go "Bad Wrong Scary"

tl;dr GIVE HIM A HUG INSTEAD

(Of course, I have no idea how the actual story would go lol. This is based on that one(1) pic of character design alone.)

[natlovesls2]

Why Me?

Lando x Latina!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+, brief mentions of razors (in a hair removal way and self harm way), mentions of blood once or twice, bullying, swearing (maybe), angst to fluff, no use of y/n

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You don't feel good enough or your past experiences haunt you

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly rubbing at the brown skin of your arms, pinching at the hair that was beginning to grow back— the prickly feeling, a reminder of the extra steps you had to take to feel slightly attractive. Shaving every bit of body hair has been your dirty secret since your mom allowed you near a razor. The pink plastic always tucked away in some corner of your bathroom, ready to save you from humiliation. You refused to ever let another person see you like that— refused yourself from being bullied or ridiculed ever again.

The memories of those elementary and early middle school days haunted you, taunting you at every moment those memories slipped into your mind. The awful names the children your age had called you stuck like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe in a busy street— the most pesky type of sticking. It clung and clung, refusing to leave the shoe and its place, leaving behind a tacky feeling that made walking uncomfortable. Those names left that same tacky feeling in your brain that made it impossible to feel comfortable in your skin.

You could still remember the day the boy you liked called you a man. The way he laughed and caused everyone at your table to laugh at you plagued you every day. It crawled into your brain on days when you least wanted it to, reminding you of the innocent childhood love you were denied. The constant whispers and laughter made around you reminded you that you weren’t loved or desired by the people you so desperately wanted to be approved by.

So, as you stood in front of your mirror looking at your sun-deprived, brown, and prickly skin-- you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You hated being the opposite of what everyone wanted. You hated that you were the Latina men wanted when they said they “love Latina women.” You despised the role in the media that women who looked like you had acquired— the maid. It tired you beyond belief to see other brown Latinas be portrayed as such as if you had no other value to society. It felt as if your skin was anything other than the protector it was meant to be. It felt more like a target— a target that yelled: berate me and make me feel like shit. And if your own ethnicity saw your skin as less than others, then what was there to expect from others? But of course, you hadn't always felt like that-- in fact, you had once loved the way you looked.

You sighed, turning the knobs of the shower on, letting it warm a bit before getting into it. You let the warm water hit your body, relaxing your thoughts for a while. The self-hatred and unpleasant memories wash away with the soap. The untouched razor in the corner of the shower finally caught your attention, bringing back everything that had just passed. And as you shakily picked up the razor, you wished you had been “blessed” with lighter skin that came with that hard-to-see body hair. You swiped the razor up and down your arms, cutting away your arm hair and, with it, washing away your shame.

The sudden knock at the door startles you back to reality, though you were sure you were out of it to begin with. “You okay in there? You’ve been in there for quite a while; I’m starting to worry,” your boyfriend yelled through the locked wooden door of the bathroom. The relationship had started two years ago and was everything your younger self had idolized and wished for. 

“I’m fine,” you yelled back, quickly finishing your shower, wrapping a towel around your body, and opening the door.

He smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying you around. “You look beautiful,” he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours. He was the beautiful one in the relationship that was everyone’s opinion— including your own. Everyone online made it clear that Lando was out of your league, and you believed every word. It didn’t matter how much he told you that he loved you and that he thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

“What’s wrong, love?” He whispers, rubbing his nose against your own, giving you another quick kiss before pulling away completely. He looked at you attentively, analyzing your facial and body expression.

“Why me?” You asked, voice cracking as you attempted to hold back the tears that had snuck up on you. “Why would you want to be with me?”

Lando reached out to gently caress your cheek, wiping away the tears that managed to escape you, “Why not? Why wouldn’t I choose you?”

“Look at me! I’m nothing like the ideal woman, at least not one that someone like you would want!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed, shaking his head and pulling you closer. 

“It means that you deserve someone who looks like they just walked off a runway show! Stop laughing, Lando, I’m being serious right now,” you push him away, smacking his shoulder out of frustration, stepping back as he outstretched his arms to, once again, wrap them around your body. 

“Come on, there’s no way you’re actually being serious. You know why I love you.”

“It’s hard to know when no one else understands it.”

“It’s not for them to understand! We’ve talked about this, and what did you tell me? You promised that you wouldn’t pay attention to what people say,” he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his face. 

Of course, you remembered the promise and the million other similar promises. It was easy to make those promises but incredibly hard to keep them– especially when his fans constantly reminded you of your flaws and misfortunes. 

“Sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. Just get dressed; I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he leaned forward slightly to give you another kiss but hesitated and decided against it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, closing the bedroom door as he walked out, once again leaving you with your thoughts. 

A feeling of nausea settles in the twisting pit of your stomach as you dress into the outfit you had chosen before your shower: a green dress that stops a few inches above your knees with a thin white cardigan. Slowly, you walked out of your shared bedroom, watching as Lando's eyes lit up as soon as he saw you– giving you that toothy smile he always gave you when he was especially happy. The type of smile that always made you feel special and eased your worries, even if it was just temporary. You couldn't help but smile back at him, giving him the same wide smile. "Stop it, you're giving me butterflies," you laugh at the situation; it was strange that he could make you feel so loved with something as simple as a smile.

"Maybe that was the plan... you look beautiful– you always do." He always knew the right things to say and when to say them. You always liked that about him; Lando was confident, and that made him reliable. He knew what he wanted; sure, he didn't have his whole life figured out, but when things went wrong, his confidence made it seem as if plan B was always meant to be plan A. You suppose this is why you had fallen for him so quickly. His ability to fix things that were broken and had gone wrong.

"I love you," You quickly said, wrapping your arms around him– hugging him as tight and close as you possibly could. 

He pushed against you, holding your shoulders with his hands and smiling, "You love me?"

"Yes, so much. More than I could have ever imagined loving someone."

"I love you too. You're so perfect for me in every way– I mean it. You're so kind to people, even when they aren't kind to you. You care so much about everything, and you're so passionate about it. That's why, that's why I love you," he pulled you back into the hug, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You knew you would continue to feel uncomfortable in your own skin, and that feeling wouldn't go away for a long time. However, as long as you had Lando by your side, it would be a little less painful. "I'm going to remind you that you are beautiful and that what you see as flaws are the things I love most about you for as long as the universe lets me be by your side," he promised, and you knew he would stay true to that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Note: this is loosely based on my personal experience so if this isn’t your experience as a Latina, I understand. That being said, everyone deserves love regardless of their skin color, race, or ethnic background. I am extremely sorry if anyone has been told over wise or has been made to feel unloveable. -`♡´-

[darkserenity24]

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂

Soft Dark! Steve Rogers x Reader

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 6.5𝘬

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙣𝙤𝙣-𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙙𝙪𝙗-𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙩, 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙚𝙭 𝘼𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘢 ;) 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨!

Your smile grew wide as you felt a familiar pair of brawny arms wrap around your waist, enveloping you in a warm embrace. The hug was tight but not too tight, as your husband was highly aware of his strength and would never want to cause you harm.

Setting down the large wooden spoon you were using to stir the pot of vegetables, you turned away from the stove and settled into the embrace of your loving partner.

You tilted your head up for a kiss which he eagerly granted you, and when you pulled away you were met with radiant crystal blue eyes that held so much love for you. You reached up to run your fingers through his short dirty blonde locks as he rubbed a sizable hand down your back.

“Smells good in here, honey.” He complimented with a sweet smile. “How long do we have?”

You hummed, “I’d say about ten more minutes but realistically it could be more like five if you let me finish cooking this time without any distractions.”

His eyes darkened and a smirk appeared on his smooth pink lips. “Now how can I do that when you look just as delicious as the meal you’re making?” His hands slowly trailed down the back of your dress and toyed with the strings of your apron.

“Steve,” You sent him a playful yet cautionary look. “Give me just five more minutes. We’ll eat dinner and then I promise I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

He sighed dramatically before reluctantly letting you go and slowly backing away. “If you must.”

You gave him a teasing smile and waved him off with the wooden spoon before returning to your culinary task.

Your husband was always this way, loving you and wanting to be with you at any moment of the day. There have been way too many times in the past when you fell for his sweet charm and suggestive touches, letting him sweep you off your feet and take you away from your cooking. This resulted in many burnt dishes and ordering takeout for the night.

It’s not like you didn’t like it, in fact, you loved how much he wanted you. You just wished he had a bit more self-control so you could function more properly.

Steve was your world. He made you complete. He cared for you, doted on you, and protected you. He always made sure you were comfortable, well-fed, and hydrated. You never had a need for anything. Whenever you’d start having those rare moments of fear and anxiety, he would brew a cup of your favorite tea, give you a massage, and run a warm bath for you. It always did the trick in calming you down and allowing you to gain your more rational thoughts back.

Your relationship wasn’t out of the ordinary but it wasn’t very common nowadays. It was special. You were the one taking care of things in the house while Steve was the protector and breadwinner, and both of you were perfectly fine with that. 

You didn’t go out very much, preferring to stay at home with your various plants, books, and attentive husband, but when you did venture out into the world it was sort of strange. Most people seemed to look down on your traditional relationship, asking you very personal questions that confused you, and in turn, caused Steve to be upset. 

He never seemed to like when people spoke to you like they were familiar with you. He would quickly remove you from the situation and take you back home. You and Steve rarely ever argued, but when you did it was always about those situations. You’d tell him that he didn’t have to whisk you away from people at the first sign of discomfort. You could take care of yourself and you thought it was a bit much. He on the other hand thought it was perfectly reasonable.

Steve Rogers wasn't just your husband, but he was also Captain America. America’s golden boy and the first-ever Avenger. He’s experienced the world more than you ever have which was both a blessing and a curse. Steve was a hero but he also had been traumatized, and he didn’t want you to get caught up in anything that could potentially harm you. Even if it was just your feelings being hurt.

He treated you like you were the most precious thing on Earth. You were the most precious thing to him and so was he to you. Though, he was a bit more extreme when it came to protecting you. Anytime you left the house he would be right at your side. At the grocery store, the doctor’s office, picking up packages, wherever. He was basically your second shadow. Your guardian angel. 

Luckily for him, you were a homebody, so most of the time you stayed in your comfortable cute little house while he left for work every day. Though you liked to think of it like that, your house was anything but little. It was quite expansive and was at least three stories high including a basement and a four-car garage.

You had no idea why it was so large as it was only the two of you living there, but Steve loved the place and so you did too. You had more space for your various projects and paintings to lounge about, but you knew that would not be for very long. It was no secret that Steve wanted to have children, and the five extra rooms in the house told you that he wanted more than just one or two.

You both were trying to get pregnant for a while but it still hadn’t happened. This was something that haunted you. Steve gave you everything and you weren’t able to even produce one child for him. He pretended to be okay with it but you could see through his earnest facade, he was disappointed. Not in you of course, but that didn’t make it any less heartbreaking.

It wasn’t from lack of trying, that’s for sure. Almost every single night your husband made it his life’s mission to be deep inside of you, making sure you came around him several times before spilling his hot seed inside of you with intense determination. 

How you were not pregnant yet was a mystery to both of you. Your first thought was that your own body was rejecting him. Something was wrong with you and it was unfixable. Then you thought it was the super serum running through his veins that was the problem. It wasn’t heard of for a super soldier and a normal human to be able to produce offspring. However, Dr. Helen Cho had ruled out both possibilities, saying that there was no apparent reason for you and Steve not to be able to conceive.

Regardless, both of you continued to try, and no matter how sore you were or how many bruises and marks he left on your sensitive body, you were just as eager to lay underneath his strong, muscled frame and wrap your legs tightly around him.

And that’s exactly what you did after dinner.

You allowed your husband to push his length inside of you slowly, hearing him groan as your head fell back onto the pillow in complete bliss.

It was game night and Steve invited some of the team over.

You thought it was quite funny to see the world's most powerful heroes lounging around on your couch and eating nachos while animatedly yelling at the flat-screen TV. It was something you’d never get used to and something you also admired about them. How cool it must be to be an Avenger.

While Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Thor watched the Brooklyn Dodgers in the living room, you were preparing snacks in the kitchen with Natasha. She was leaning against the island watching as you fluttered around the kitchen in your pretty flowy dress and apron, heels clicking along the tiles as you went. You had pinned your hair up out of your face since you knew how hot you could get while trying to make several dishes at once.

“I would offer to help you, but we both know how that would end up. Everyone would go home with either an empty stomach or food poisoning.” She snickered.

You smiled at her, waving off her comment. “You know I don’t mind at all, Nat. It may not look very fun, but I actually enjoy cooking. Plus, I love the way it makes Steve’s eyes light up whenever I make something new for him.”

She crossed her arms with a slight frown. “I remember the days when you absolutely hated cooking.” She muttered under her breath, but you heard it, turning to her with a confused look.

“What?” 

You never remember a time when you didn’t enjoy cooking. Steve said it was always something you loved to do for him, even when you were just friends.  

She looked at you with wide eyes as if she herself was surprised at what she was saying. She quickly shook her head and cleared her throat. “Uh, nothing really.”

Her eyes flitted over to the countertop where jars of herbs sat. “Hey, are you still drinking that weird tea that Thor gave you?”

You nodded, continuing to move about the kitchen. “Yep, all the time. In fact, I’m drinking a cup now.” You pointed over to the lavender mug that held the hot beverage. “It was such a great gift and I’m obsessed with it. Steve makes sure to remind me to have a cup every day if I happen to forget. He knows it relaxes me and makes me happy. He’s sweet like that.” You shrugged with a smile.

“I bet he is,” was her reply. Something about her tone felt off but you didn’t mention it. “You do know where that tea was created, right?”

You shook your head lightly, focusing on the hot dish you were pulling out of the oven.  

She continued. “It’s some foreign concoction Thor brought back from Asgard. I’ve never heard of it before but one day, after Steve took you home from your… accident, Thor came back from his realm with a ton of it.”

Your mouth dropped as you glanced at her. “Wait, so you’re telling me I’m drinking tea from another realm? Asgardian tea? Space tea? That’s so exciting!”

You always wondered how you never seemed to run out of the floral and robust tea, the jar of herbs and leaves somehow magically replenishing itself anytime it was getting low. 

Natasha looked like she wanted to say more, but simply sighed, looking like she was contemplating something before digging into her pants pocket. She fished out a small bottle that looked to be filled with pills before walking towards you.

You raised an oven-mitted hand, stopping her in her tracks before swallowing hard. “Natasha…”

“Just hear me out, okay?” She whispered, quickly glancing near the kitchen doorway before bringing her attention back to you. “I know you don’t like when I give these to you but–.”

“No, I don’t.” You interrupted with a frown, sliding off your mitts. “They… they make me feel weird. Strange and not like myself. Plus, you’ve told me to hide them from Steve which is not okay. He’s my husband and I don’t like keeping secrets from him.”

“But they’re good for you, and you know that. That’s why you’re still taking them, right?” 

You said nothing, only avoiding her eyes. She was right. Anytime you took one of the mystery pills you felt... different. It was neither bad nor good, you just felt more aware of things and it frightened you. The first time she gave you the pills you started having nightmares and unusual dreams. 

She told you they weren’t dreams, that they were memories. 

Natasha was a cryptic woman, and she never flat-out told you why she was giving you these pills. She only said that they were to protect you, but protect you from what?

In a split second, you snatched the small bottle out of Nat’s hand and stuffed it into the pocket of your apron.

“You ladies doing alright?”

You nearly jumped when Steve’s familiar timbre cut through the kitchen. You turned your head to see his hefty body leaning against the doorframe as he eyed you both with a raised brow. 

His intense cerulean orbs were planted on Nat for a few seconds longer before sliding over to you.

Nat spoke first. “Yeah, I was just telling your wife here that she needs to get out more. She’s always with you or stuck in this house. She needs a break.”

Steve continued to stare at her, brows furrowed with something akin to annoyance before he straightened to his full height, making his way over to you.

“My baby loves being at home, don’t you?” 

He grabbed your waist and pulled you into a searing kiss, one a bit too inappropriate to do while Nat was observing.

Releasing you from the kiss, he slyly looked over at Nat who stared back at him unimpressed. 

“But you have nothing to worry about. I take care of her very well. She’s happy and safe, just like I said she’d be.” 

There was a slight edge to his voice which made you a bit uncomfortable. You had no clue what was going on between Steve and Natasha but they never really seemed to get along outside of work.

Nat hummed while backing away. “Like I said, she needs a break.” She looked over at you before heading out of the door. “I’m gonna go. Call me soon and we can figure out our next hang.”

You nodded, and once she was gone Steve released his tight hold on you. 

“Everything okay?” you question, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner. 

“Yeah, everything’s good. I just… don’t want to lose you.” He admitted. “You mean everything to me, you know that?”

“You won’t lose me, Steve. There’s no reason why that would ever happen.”

He nodded, embracing you in a hug as he rested his chin on top of your head. “I’ll do anything to protect you, anything to have you here with me.”

When the game was over, you found yourself back in the kitchen cleaning up your mess. You were making your way towards the living room to collect the leftover dirty dishes but slowed as you heard voices mentioning your name.

“Jeez, Cap, what did you do?” This voice sounded like Sam’s. “She’s like a complete one-eighty of the girl I used to know. She went from badass to housewife in a matter of days after that mission.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion and slight offense.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You brainwash her or something?” Bucky joked halfheartedly. “You took no time in marrying her after she was released.”

“Tea is the way to a woman’s heart.” Thor chimed in with a chuckle. “and Rogers here has lots of it.”

You didn’t hear Steve’s reply, only backing away and returning to the kitchen in complete mystification.

When you and Steve went to bed that night, you waited for hours to make sure he was in a deep sleep. Hearing his slow, heavy breathing, you carefully peeled his solid arms from around your body, leaving the bed and taking quiet steps to the bathroom down the hall.

Opening the small hidden compartment inside of the bathroom mirror, you shakily removed the bottle of pills before opening it and popping one into your mouth.

You chased it down with a tall glass of water and left the bathroom, returning to bed and falling into a deep sleep.

You woke up with a start, Steve’s worried blue gaze the first thing that greeted you.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He asked and you frowned in confusion.

You looked down at your sweat-covered body, noticing how fast your heart was beating and how heavy your breaths were.

“I-I don’t know. Um, just another nightmare I guess.” You answered shakily.

Steve frowned in concern. “Alright… let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carried you to the bathroom, filling the tub with warm soapy water before settling you inside.

As Steve gently washed your hair while you sat in the water, he questioned you more about your dream. He wanted to know what had you waking up in a panic.

“It was strange.” You began softly, closing your eyes at the soothing feeling of his fingers on your scalp. “I was at some sort of base, trying to sneak around the place before I was caught. T-they attacked me viciously. There was blood everywhere, and I was blindfolded before I suddenly couldn’t breathe. They had submerged me in some sort of water tank and I was drowning…” you trailed off when you felt Steve’s hands pause in your hair.

You turned around to look at him and he was staring at you with a faraway look in his gaze. 

“Steve?” you called out to him.

His gaze focused back in on you as he looked at you with a serious expression, firmly grabbing your chin.

“Those are just dreams,” He said to you, voice heavy with conviction. “Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t think too hard about them, okay?”

You gave a slow, unsure nod, causing the softness to return to his eyes.

“Now, how about we get your mind off those silly dreams and onto something much more interesting…”

He stood up to strip off his clothes, and before you knew it, he was also in the water with you, lying on his back while his massive hands tightly gripped your hips as you rode him straight to heaven.

Steve’s behavior was getting odd.

He had been acting weird for the past week or so, stalking around the house in silence as if he were looking for something. Whenever you asked him about it, he’d say nothing and simply changed the subject. 

You had been having sex much more frequently, several times a day now and you were getting tired but Steve had unending stamina. You slept later than you used to, only waking up to the sound of him calling your name. You also started feeling more nauseous, and not liking the sound of any of these symptoms, you called Natasha, asking her to pick up a few items from the store and drop them off to you.

You were unable to go yourself because Steve was currently out on a long mission, meaning he couldn’t drive you to the store. You thought about leaving your house and walking but you knew that would just make him upset. Plus, you didn’t want to get his hopes up if you were wrong about what you were dealing with.

Once Nat arrived with the small bag you let her into the house. 

“You don’t think your…” She looked down at your stomach before meeting your eyes with an apprehensive look. 

You shrugged. “I have no idea, that’s why I asked you to buy these tests. If I am that would be great. Steve wants us to have a baby.” You said with a small smile.

She raised a dark red brow at you. “Do you even want kids? Because you sure don’t sound like you do.”

You pursed your lips. “I think so. I don’t know why I wouldn’t want them. It’ll make Steve happy, which in turn will make me happy.”

Nat said nothing at that, eyeing you as you left for the bathroom. 

Closing the door, you took a deep breath before opening the box. You did your business and sat the small stick down on the bathroom counter before washing your hands.

Taking a seat on the side of the tub, you stared at the floor for what seemed like forever. You waited five more minutes for the completed results.

Picking up the test, you took a closer look at it, breathing out a surprising amount of relief when you realized there was only one line that appeared on the pink and white stick.

You hurriedly wrapped the small stick in toilet paper before throwing it in the trash. You exited the bathroom, meeting Nat’s curious gaze. 

“I’m not pregnant.” You breathed. Pushing aside the small pang of guilt you felt, you allowed yourself to smile at the comforting news.

“Nat, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You glanced around the club full of people as the bass of the music vibrated through your body. 

“Relax,” She said before winking at a passing guy who was eyeing her up and down. The club lights were shining off of her jet-black wig, and you were glad that she was in disguise. You weren’t in the mood to take a whole crowd of people gathering around you to get the Black Widow’s autograph.

“Not being pregnant means you have a ton of liberties you can take that you wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. You’re young and you need to have some fun around other people, not alone in your big empty house. Besides,” She shrugged lightly with a smirk. “your warden’s on a mission for another day or two so you don’t have to be so uptight.”

“Steve’s not my warden, he’s my husband who would probably lose his shit if he knew I was at a club right now.” You defended, giving her an unimpressed look.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause anything between you and Steve, I just want you to have fun. I don’t care if I have to threaten every guy that walks up to you for you to stay.”

As soon as she said that, a random guy walked passed while whistling. “Hey, that chick looks familiar, doesn’t she?” He said to his friend while pointing at you.

Natasha gave them a harsh glare. “Beat it dirt bag, before I rearrange your organs.” 

The guy and his friend swiftly did as they were told and you stared back at her for a moment before your shoulders dropped in defeat. She was right. You needed to learn how to be around other people and unwind. 

“Fine, but we have to get home before Steve finds out.”

“He’s never gonna know.” She granted you a devious smile before waving to the bartender.

“You know what else is great about not being pregnant, besides the having to grow a whole human part?”

You raised your brows at her and she smirked. “Being able to have a nice drink.”

You shook your head at her. “I think I’m gonna start with a couple of mocktails first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your funeral.”

You both sat at the bar for what seemed like hours. The night was getting late and there were more drunk people dancing all over the club. Lights flashed and the music blared even louder. 

You were surprised that you were still able to hear Nat’s voice over all the commotion. 

“...so that’s when I jumped from the plane and landed on the tarmac. I took those hydra agents all by surprise and shot them down one by one.” She took a sip of what was her fourth drink since you’ve both been here. “But don’t worry, I didn’t kill them. Just injured them enough for them not to be in our way. We captured them right after.”

“Wow,” you said, truly mesmerized by her story. It was so vivid as if you could picture being there with her. “That’s insane! It must be so damn cool to be an Avenger. I mean, you get to travel the world while kicking bad guys' asses, and you get to work with people like Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Name a cooler job than that.” You shook your head in awe. “Sometimes I find myself being jealous that Steve has such a cool job and I’m just stuck at home all the time. I love him, but I just find myself wanting more sometimes, you know?”

Nat’s expression turned sad as she stared at you before setting her drink down on the bar top. “You used to… you used to have that too.”

You blinked, not understanding her. “Have what?”

She looked into the crowd of bodies, expression sobering up before her eyes met yours again. 

“You used to be one of us. An Avenger.”

You stared back at her for a moment before laughter bubbled up in your chest. However, it died down once you realized she was being completely serious.

“You were one of the best. We all admired you. Steve admired you.”

“Nat…”

“He used to love going on missions with you. Back then, you two were the best of friends. But then one day, things changed. Every single time you came back from a mission injured, Steve was right there helping you. He was the one carrying you, the one that got more and more angry as time passed.” Her jaw clenched. “It’s part of the job, right? You go out to save the world knowing that you’ll probably get hurt. Knowing that there’s a small chance that you may not return the way you left. Knowing that you may not return at all. And Steve couldn’t handle that. Not when it came to you. You both had a big fight the day you left for Siberia. That’s when you’re accident happened.”

She searched your eyes with a frown. “He’s attempted to rewrite your whole life after that. I don’t know what he’s told you but you got really hurt that day. You tried to prove a point to him by leaving before the rest of us. By the time we caught up to you at the base, you almost drowned which resulted in a substantial amount of memory loss.” She let out a humorless laugh, picking up her drink again. “And that’s all it took for Steve to take advantage of the situation, whisking you away to brainwash you. Molding you into the perfect little wife you are now.”

Your hands shook as your hard gaze focused on the drink in her hand. “Nat… you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but I’m not a liar.” She retorted. 

You shook your head, facing contorting into a look of disgust. “If Steve is taking advantage of me like you say he is, why did you just allow that? Why did anyone allow that? The team is over our house all the time and no one’s said a word.”

Guilt appeared in her green eyes as she looked down at her lap. “Steve… convinced us. Most of us, at least. He said he would take care of you and we believed him. We almost lost you. We were scared for you and let him take you away, trusting that he wouldn’t cause you any harm. We all knew he cared for you, we all knew he loved you. Though, we didn’t think he’d go to this extreme.”

You swallowed hard. “And the pills?”

“They counteract the effects from that Asgardian tea Thor’s been sending you to keep you in a pliant state of amnesia. The pills have a formula that helps your brain form more memories, and they are also a form of birth control that doesn’t show up in your system. Medical professionals can’t see it.” She looked at you sadly. “You didn’t want children and from what I can tell, you still don’t.”

You felt like you were going to throw up as you tried to comprehend what she was saying. “Steve’s been giving me the tea to keep my memories away?”

She nodded. “Yes, Steve convinced Thor that it would be good for you. No one wanted to see the traumatic state you’d be in when you eventually remembered everything. We all cared for you and we still do.”

Your jaw clenched. “If you cared for me as you say you do, you wouldn’t have let him just… just take me!” You exclaimed. “If everything you’re saying is true, then you’re just as bad as Steve. Don’t try and pretend like you’re saving me just because you slipped me a bunch of pills.”

She slowly nodded her head. “I know, I’m not a good person, but I’m trying to fix that. I really am. I wanted you to gain your memories back yourself. If I had told you without showing you any proof, you wouldn’t have believed me. Steve has his claws stuck so deep within you that I had to do something drastic.”

You shut your eyes, turning your head away from her. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She gazed at you long and hard before looking away. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be telling you this anyway.”

She pushed her drink towards you, gesturing down to it. “Here, you’ve had enough mocktails for the night. Have a real drink,” She patted your arm before hopping out of her seat. “I think you need it more than I do.”

She strolled off in the direction of the ladies' restrooms, leaving you alone at the bar with just your thoughts and a glass of alcohol. You warily glanced down at the drink before slowly picking it up. 

It was barely a centimeter away from your mouth before a strong hand harshly snatched it away from your grasp. You gasped as it was thrown onto the hard floor, shattering into a million pieces. The few people around who noticed were staring at you, but they quickly left to mind their own business.

You slowly looked up from the floor, meeting a familiar pair of furious blue eyes. 

“S-steve?”

He glared at you intensely, dark brows deeply furrowed and lips pressed in a tight thin line.

“I-I can explain-”

“How do you think I felt when I arrived home early to surprise my wife and to be met with an empty house,” His voice was deep, anger carrying in his words. “only to find her dressed like a slut at a fucking bar out of all places.”

You swallowed, never having witnessed Steve be this upset with you. He never cursed at you no matter how mad he was.

You shook your head. “It’s not what you think,”

“Oh, I know exactly what this is,” he said, slowly nodding his head. “You’re coming home with me. Now.” 

He reached out to grab you but you backed away. “No, I-I don’t want to.” Everything Nat had drunkenly confessed to you was finally setting in.

He said nothing at that, simply taking hold of your arm and dragging you out of the club so fast that you stumbled in your high heels. 

Annoyed by your slowness, he tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to his car. He quickly buckled you in before getting into the driver's seat and driving off.

The car ride was filled with a deafening silence but once you got home, you stomped into the house with Steve right on your heels. He grabbed you, spinning you around to face him.

“What the hell was that back there?” He asked gruffly. “Why are you throwing a tantrum? Is this your way of saying you want to get out more? All you had to do was say so.”

“Yeah, what would you say, Steve? Tell me that it’s too dangerous for me to be out in the world and that I’m safer at home? I’ve already heard that excuse a million times.”

He took a slow, deep breath, eyeing your tired face. “This is Natasha’s doing, isn’t it?”

You scoffed, throwing a hand in the air. “No, it’s your doing! You basically kidnapped me Steve!” you yelled at him and his eyes widened. He looked to be taken aback. 

“You lied to me about how we met and what I was doing before my accident, brainwashed me into thinking that we’re this perfect loving couple.” Hot angry tears built up in your eyes. “Y-you tried to get me pregnant even though you knew that I never wanted kids.”

He shook his head, inching closer to you. “I didn’t try to get you pregnant,” He stated before pulling out a small object from his pants pocket. You blinked away your tears, getting a better look at what was in his hand. 

The small object was a pregnancy test. Your pregnancy test that now showed two prominent lines instead of one. “I did.”

You were at a loss for words, gaping at Steve as he looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes. “And there you were at the bar, trying to poison yourself, trying to harm your body, trying to kill our child.”

More tears spilled down your face as you started backing away from him. This was it. He got what he wanted.

“You didn’t think I’d notice your little happy pills in the bathroom cabinet? I took the liberty of switching them to placebos weeks ago. You were consuming sugar pills, baby, ” He sneered.

“You’re mistaken if you think you can ever hide anything from me. I knew that Nat was snooping around, telling you things that she had no business telling you. I knew those nightmares you were having were memories of your last mission. Do you remember now? The one where you stupidly ran off without me and almost got yourself killed?”

“No..”

“And guess who saved you? Who got to you first? It was me! I’m the one who had to hold your cold, lifeless body as I tried to breathe air back into your lungs. I’m the one who wrapped your wounds and carried you back to the compound.”  He sniffled, tears building up in his beautiful crystal blue eyes as he pointed to his chest. “I’m the one who was there when you first opened your eyes and didn’t recognize who I was. You didn’t remember me, and that was the second worst day of my life.”

You shook your head at him. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, but I’m not the woman you’re trying your hardest to turn me into. If I didn’t want to be with you then, then I shouldn’t be with you now.”

His face sobered up at that and a strange glint appeared in his gaze. “I did all of this to protect you, to keep you safe. You almost died. Do you know how badly that affected me?” He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “You’re insane if you think you’re just going to walk away from me. You’re my wife. I have you and now our child to care for, and I’d happily die before I’d ever let you go.”

You let out a shaky breath, nearing the stairs. “You're crazy, Steve.”

He let out a humorless laugh and shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s all for you.”

You bolted up the stairs, Steve hot on your tail. You barely reached the bedroom before he caught you. 

You thrashed around in his firm hold. “Let me go!” 

He ignored your constant pleas, only pushing you further into the room before closing the door and locking it. With one arm around you and the other on the doorknob, he crushed it with just a squeeze of his hand, deforming the lock.

He was doing everything in his power to make sure you didn’t escape.

He placed you onto the bed and you were flat on your back as he sat atop you. Letting your arms go, he held your face in his hands, searching your eyes as if he were looking for something that wasn’t there. 

“Baby, you have to calm down. Let me show you how much I love you. Let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”

“No!” Your palm sharply met his cheek, the sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberating in the room.

Steve’s head was slightly tilted to the side as he blinked, his mouth forming into a thin line. He no longer looked like the happy, caring husband he was pretending to be before. He looked unfamiliar. Darker. 

You warily watched him as he turned his dark gaze towards you, pupils larger than you’ve ever seen them before. “That didn’t hurt me, and you know it, but it’s about the principle of it.”

You let out a shaky breath as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. “I tried to go the easy route, tried to make things better for you, but you didn’t want that, did you?”

“Steve, no…”

“It’s too late, baby. You’re in our bed and pregnant with our child, and I couldn’t be happier.” His voice was husky, sounding anything but happy. He leaned down towards you, lips lightly brushing against your trembling ones. “Let me show you.” He whispered.

Before you knew it, your dress was being torn off of your body, Steve clawing at you like a wild animal. You whimpered as he stripped off his dark henley and jeans.

“Steve, stop! I don’t want this!” His hands were all over your body, groping and caressing you. You closed your eyes as calloused fingers grazed over your clit.

“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, not if you were planning to leave me.”

Those were the last words you heard before he slid his cock into your embarrassingly wet core. You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, keeping a steady but mind-bending pace. You didn’t know if he was being gentle because of the baby inside of you, or if it was because he knew you liked it that way. The answer was probably both.

You wanted to claw at his back, but he held your wrists down above your head. You renewed your struggle and he gained his pace, hips slapping into yours while he buried his face in your neck, moaning your name.

“There’s no one better than me. No one can do what I do for you. No one else can take care of you like I do,” He whispered harshly. “Or fuck you like I do, and you know it.”

It was hard to deny his claim as he pounded into your g spot over and over again, causing you to mewl out his name.

He lifted his head, gazing down at you. “I’m going to continue to show you how much you need me. Every single night, until it's branded in your mind. You won’t ever try to leave me again, right?”

He pinched your nipple, causing you to let out a satisfying gasp, back arching as your body rocked with every slam of his hips against yours.

“Right?” He repeated more firmly, bass in his strong voice.

As you looked into his dark and determined gaze, you had no choice but to nod your head, walls squeezing around his cock like a vice.

“Y-yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.” He purred. “After I fuck some sense back into you, I’m gonna give you a nice hot mug of your favorite tea so you can calm down.”

He nodded as if he was trying to convince himself, “but for now you’re gonna take my cock like the good little obedient wife you are.”

DarkSerenity's Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘒𝘰-𝘧𝘪 ✨: 𝘩𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘴://𝘬𝘰-𝘧𝘪.𝘤𝘰𝘮/𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺24

[cinnbar-bun]

Ruler of the Heart (Crocodile x Reader)

Summary: Crocodile is not a man who gives up easily. He’s not someone who just submits to others. He has to be in control.

That is, except, when it involves you, in which he is a helpless victim to you.

AKA: Crocodile is a big softie for his wifey.

Notes: Female pronouns for reader, MENA! Crocodile, MENA! Reader

Rating: G

A/n: YEAH THIS ONE IS FOR ME <333 VERY SELF INDULGENT!!

Read on my AO3 here!

It doesn’t take much to make his eyes linger on you. Despite his stoic outer appearance, the ex-Warlord is hopelessly obsessed with you. All it takes is a snap of your finger and he immediately turns to you.

You are his oasis in the desert, the water that flows past his lips to save him from the overwhelming thirst he has. And to you, he is your king, your protector and provider who grants every wish of yours like a mythical genie.

His power, both physically and politically, is overwhelming and dominating. He doesn’t need to do much to make others comply. A simple command, a flick of his hand, and all issues crumble into dust.

But when it comes to matters concerning you, Crocodile can’t help but fall victim to you every time. From the dark, smokey eye makeup you wear, a bat of your lashes, or the pouting of your lips that are colored with the lipstick he purchased for you. From perfectly manicured nails, to gorgeous skin that glows from the oils you wanted, to the scent of oud in your hair from the bakhoor. You enchant him with your beauty, your voice, and your attitude.

Crocodile can’t help but think your attitude is the most beautiful part of you.

You walk like you’re a million dollars. Wherever you walk, everyone is immediately struck by you and your confidence. Your heels click against the floor as he stands beside you to purchase you another gold necklace for no reason other than he felt like. The grin on your lips is worth far more than the necklace he just bought you, he thinks.

You are so naturally charismatic and social, that others can’t help but be taken in with you. Crocodile, who wasn’t too fond of socializing, was taken aback by how you managed to make even Mihawk talk more during a meeting. But that’s just who you were. A laugh here, a silly anecdote there, and all were listening to you.

Crocodile also adored your loyalty. You’d go through hell if it meant saving him, and the thought warmed his heart in a way few things ever could. When other men tried to approach you, you blew them off with a snarky response and a show of your ring. When his colleagues or subordinates were pushing their luck, you stepped in to take control.

You were a true Warlord’s wife, in every sense of the word. You were the wife men could not even dare to dream of or even hope existed. You were his number one supporter, his partner, and closest, most trusted confidant.

But much like the ocean, while you were beautiful and strong, you also had your moments of devastation. Ah, you were passionate- but so, so jealous.

“Habibi, eyes over here,” you’d warn with that sickly saccharine tone of yours that meant he was pushing his luck. “Perhaps I should take those eyes of yours so they never wander again.”

Whether that was an empty threat or a promise didn’t matter- Crocodile loved it. “Ah… you know my eyes are only ever on you, my love. You already take my eyes,” he’d say the last part in his native tongue.

You were stubborn and didn’t take any disrespect- not even from him. Even when he was getting snappy, you never looked at him in fear or shrank back.

“I said-“ He snarled, raising his voice at you after a long day at work.

“No, no, no. Don’t raise your voice at me,” you cut him off with a wag of your finger.

“Don’t tell me what-“

“No. I’m not one of your men,” you placed your hands on your hips. “I did not marry you to be treated like your men. I’m your wife, not some servant.”

Well, he was angry at the time but he wondered if you knew how pretty you looked when you lectured him. He nodded, and then enveloped your smaller hand in his large, functional hand.

“I’m sorry, habibti,” he remorsefully said, kissing every knuckle on your hand. “I’m sorry. I was stressed.”

You kissed his nose back and ran a hand through his gelled, slick-back hair.

“We can talk about it over dinner.”

“Hm? What is for dinner?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Kafta bil-sanieh. It needs a few more minutes to bake,” you say then kiss him back.

“Gods, I love you,” he sighed happily, before lifting you in his arms. You smirk.

“Then you’ll love what is for dessert.”

“Which is?”

“Basbousa~!”

His smile widens as he peppers your face with kisses.

“Your words are honey on my heart,” he chuckles, showering you in more affection.

“You’ll bury my heart,” you reply back, and he twirls you around like a lovesick teenager.

It is times like these where he can’t help but let his boyish feelings of love and affection come out. No matter how hard the day is, no matter how shitty his attitude, he was always ready to hold, spoil, and adore you. He loved and worshiped you on his knees as his queen. His beautiful, radiant queen who managed to reinvigorate his dried-up heart full of life.

His heart beat only for you, only knowing what love was because of you.

How you could so easily tug at his heartstrings like an oud. How you could make this invincible, stone-cold man melt with a simple touch or a smile. How you held his life in your hands, and how he happily let you do so. Only you were the one who could make him so weak and mushy as if he were a young man again.

But his favorite part of when you were together was at night.

At night, the scent of your perfume lingered in the air and on the sheets. He could only sit and marvel at you as you removed your jewelry and makeup from your face while in your nightgown. While to you, it was just a nightly routine, to him, it was like seeing a masterpiece being made. Your makeup was wiped off with a touch of rose water, and you made sure your hair was taken care of. You noticed his stare from the mirror.

“Yes, habibi?” You curiously asked.

“Nothing. I’m just looking at a treasure,” he responded, tapping his cigar on the ashtray on his bedside. He hears your satisfied chuckle.

“You flatter me too much.”

“I don’t think I flatter you enough,” he exhales a puff of smoke. “Words cannot do you justice. Even if I give you the world, it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Your smile is contagious, obviously enjoying his dramatic proclamations of his love for you. You finish with your routine and settle into bed, and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

You rest your head against his broad and muscular chest, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. You’re careful to not irritate his left arm as you listen to the pounding of his heartbeat.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

The sounds that entered your bedroom from the window varied night by night. You’d commonly hear the winds blowing, with the leaves of the date palm tree rustling gently from it. Sometimes the chatter of people would make its way to you. But he could ignore those, in exchange for hearing your soft breaths as you slept. You looked so peaceful and happy when you fell asleep. You’d nuzzle closer to him, and he’d keep his arm tightly wrapped around you. He’d think to himself how he never thought he’d be here. You were never something he imagined would exist. But after you entered his life, you were his dream- his every fantasy made physical. From the best of times to the worst of times, you were there.

There would never be anyone else he’d rather serve as “husband” or “lover” to, than you. There would never be another who he could happily give his heart to and bow for. Only you. Because only you could ever be the ruler of his heart.

[purple-writer8]

Long Story Short - ACOTAR

“And he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home, if the shoe fits walk in it everywhere you go.”

warnings: war, war injuries, past relationship tension, new mating bond, self doubt, angst (but like not a lot), allusions to sex

1.9k words

Part 2 to Closure

Masterlist :)

You fought in the Winter Court battle along with Thesan and the Dawn Court’s Peregryn legion. You were a skilled warrior, trained by Rhysand himself— you used to love training, now you despised those memories. 

Looking into the mirror in your bathchamber, you flinched as your fingers grazed over the purple bruises forming on the side of your face. It wasn’t pretty, it was horribly gnarly looking. A Hybern warrior had given you a hard blow to the face, beating you to the ground. If it wasn’t for one of the Peregryn warriors, Thesan would have probably needed to plan a funeral for you. 

It was all a blur. One day you were mourning Rhysand and your failed romance, the next you were fighting in a war alongside him and all of the other courts. You had told Azriel that you did not care to make amends, and you meant it. But this was for a greater good. 

A soft knock came upon the bathchamber, making you snap out of your haze and exit to find your brother standing there. Thesan looked miserable. Your brother was a protector, ever since you knew reason, and this war— the casualties— took a steep toll on his mental health. “Why are you here?” 

He was supposed to be back in the war camp with everyone else. You only left because you did not wish to heal and sleep amongst Feyre and Rhysand. The wounds in your heart still needed time to heal.

“Azriel is hurt.” Thesan looked distraught. You could not explain the way that your heart plummeted at those three simple words. For some reason, it made your heart ache— the thought of Azriel hurt. “It’s his wings. I could not heal them… they are not the same as Callan’s. Will you try?” Thesan asked, and instantly you nodded. Your healing abilities were good, almost as good as his. You could try. 

Your brother grabbed you and in a blink of an eye, you were winnowed away. 

-

A chill ran down your spine when you winnowed into Azriel’s tent. He was screaming, Rhysand holding him down as he writhed in the bed— his wings shredded in a horrible manner. You felt yourself freeze, eyes wide— it was like you could feel his pain— and you would do anything to stop it. You would rather take on his pain than let him feel it. 

Rhysand was there too, but for the first time ever, you didn’t even glance at him. No, instead you rushed to Azriel, kneeling besides him. There was something in your heart, something that made you strain, that broke you— all because you saw him in pain. 

He stopped his thrashing when your hand reached for his face, his hazel eyes widening by the bruise that overtook your own face. “What happened?” He asked, as if he weren’t the one with shredded wings. 

“Nothing. I am fine,” you assured him, feeling like he was truly gravely worried for your wellbeing. His eyes remained on you, searching all over your body for more injuries. “I am not the problem, please sit so I can heal you. Please,” you begged him, feeling like you couldn’t breathe the longer you stared at his wings. 

He sat up, and you got to work.

-

You spent all night working on his wings, and by dawn they already looked much better than when you had come in. Azriel had fallen asleep, and he had slept peacefully for many hours all while you watched over him. You did not sleep at all, you were sick with worry. 

“Thanks for coming, I know that you took a harsh beating in Winter,” that velvety voice you had once worshipped whispered from the doorway. To turn and see Rhysand there, in Azriel’s tent, made you angry.

You almost wanted to tell him to leave, but you were in no place to make commands. This was still his camp. “I came for Azriel. He doesn’t deserve this,” you responded bitterly and you meant it. 

Ever since that talk the two of you had in your balcony, you had become obssesed with the shadowsinger. For some reason, you could not get him out of your head, even in the battle, while killing and fighting— you thought of him. “Well, I thank you. Thesan was drained after the battle and struggled to heal him… when he said you would do it… I doubted,” Rhys confessed, his violet eyes drifting to his sleeping brother. 

“You think I am so selfish that I wouldn’t heal him just because he is your friend?” You asked, and you truly tried to reel in your emotions, but they were too strong for you to control. It wasn’t even about Rhys, you realized, it was about him thinking you wouldn’t help Azriel. 

“You can sometimes be selfish, yes.” Rhysand shrugged, and you wanted to lunge foward and strangle him for suggesting you were selfish. He was the epitome of selfishness, and here he stood— accusing you after you came and healed his brother. 

You had tried avoiding him ever since Thesan told you the Dawn Court would fight alongside him against Hybern. You tried picking your battles, and decided Rhysand was not a battle worth fighting, yet here the battle stood, picking you. 

You decided to ignore the dig, your gaze drifting to the still asleep shadowsinger and asking, “how did he get so hurt?” 

“He went to save Feyre’s sister from the Hybern camp,” he replied, and you could not explain the jealousy that surged within you at the mention of Azriel saving that girl. 

Those freaks of nature bring more harm to Prythian than good, you wanted to tell Rhysand about his mate and sisters, but once more figured it wasn’t a battle worth picking. 

A groan escaped the shadowsinger, and instantly you ran to his side, helping him sit up in bed. His facial expression was one of pain, and you knew taht he was trying his best to mask it. But you knew... you felt his pain. 

“How are you?” Azriel croaked, his voice more hoarse than usual due to all of the pain filled screams he let out the night before. You scoffed in disbelief, “me?! I am not the one whose wings were torn apart.” 

He winced at the reminder, but still his hazel eyes did not leave yours. “You healed me…” he said in the gentlest of tones, making your heart skip a beat. You frowned, wondering why in all of Prythian your heart was thundering inside your chest. 

“Will he heal fine?” Rhysan’s icy tone snapped you out of the trance Azriel has you in. You turned to him and nodded, scowling at the High Lord. “He will heal completely but he will not be able to fly for a while.”

Azriel protested, saying how he felt fine. Though one cold glare from you made him sink back down unto the bed. Rhysand noticed this, how you were able to tame down Azriel with just a look. “For how long?” The High Lord asked. 

“For a few weeks, at least. For the health of his wings, he can not fight anymore battles…” you trailed, looking at Azriel with a solemn expression. You somehow knew he wanted to fight, to protect his family and Prythian.

“How is Elain?” Azriel asked Rhysand, and you snarled. You had always been a jealous female, but always over Rhys, never over anyone else. 

“Fine. Shaken up but fine, everyone is fine… we will be meeting up later today to discuss some things. Join us, Az…” Rhys’ violet eyes shifted to you, “you may as well.”

“Thanks for the permission,” you mumbled sarcastically. 

Rhysand stared at you. A cold, unforgiving glare, then soon after you felt those talons you had once adored caressing your mind. He wasn’t looking for a way in, no, he was reminding you who he was— what he could do. You didn’t say anything, only glared at him as he left Azriel’s tent. 

A beat passed and you turned to the shadowsinger, “I’ll get you some food.” You were quick to your feet, and before Azriel could protest, out the tent you went.

You didn’t understand your new and— quite blinding— feelings regarding the Night Court’s shadowsinger. You’d known Azriel for almost a century, and you had never cared for him further than for friendship. And now, suddenly, you felt as if you had been stabbed when Rhysand said he had been hurt because he went to save another female. 

Was this your mind’s sick way to get over Rhysand? You stood over a pot of rice that boiled on top of a bonfire, filling a ceremic pot you had found with rice and chicken for Azriel. 

Azriel. While you swooned over Azriel, some Ilyrian warrior snatched the plate from your hands and walked off. You shouted an obscenity, but the male’s glare made you shrink back into yourself. 

Fuck your life. You looked back to the pot that had been cooking and realized that plate contained the very last of the rice and chicken. You couldn’t let Azriel starve. 

You groaned and got some more rice from a nearby sack, throwing it in the boiling pot and letting it cook. A yawn escaped your lips as you watched the rice cook, then a few minutes later— it was ready for him. You served him a big bowl and went back to his tent. 

You went inside, only to find Azriel squirming in bed, his large wings twitching uncontrollably. You gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to him. “What happened?!” You shrieked as you tended to him. 

“It’s nothing, really. I just stood up too fast,” he tried keeping it cool, but you knew well that he was hurting. You looked up at his face, and you gasped when you felt it. 

A mating bond snapping inside your soul. So strong it almost sent you flying to the floor. 

“What the fuck?!” You asked in shock, your chest rising and falling in a heratic manner as you stared up at the Ilyrian male. He looked devastated, solemn as he looked at you. “Im sorry…” he whispered, and you frowned. 

“Why would you apologize?” You asked, still reeling from the knowledge of who your mate was. “It is disappointing, I know. To be mated to me instead of who you always wanted. If you wish to reject me…” 

“Why would I reject you?” You asked in shock, your mind running an entire marathon as you thought about everything that this meant. Azriel was your mate… Rhysand’s brother was your mate. You had known him for ninety years and you never felt the bond, no… because you were in love with someone else before ever meeting him.

“Why would you accept me?” You reeled from his words, and your heart— you could feel it— begged you to accept him. 

Because you thought back to the years you lived in Velaris, to your interactions with Azriel and the Inner Circle. 

One Winter Solstice, before Under the Mountain, you and Rhysand got into it— and it was bad— one of the biggest fights you had ever had. You had left the townhouse in a hurry, not even putting on your shoes and coat. Rhysand demanded you to come back, his voice thundering in your mind over and over again. You didn’t. You were so mad, you sat in a small Velaris coffee shop— freezing to death— until Azriel appeared. 

He held your shoes and a coat. You wondered if Rhysand had sent him, though he hadn’t— because Rhysand was still ordering you back in your mind. 

As you recalled the many times Azriel only ever showed you kindness and gentleness, you took the bowl of rice you had made, handing it to him. 

His hazel eyes widened in shock. He looked at the bowl, as if it was the most grandiose thing in the world. “You are serious?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. 

“Please eat, Azriel.” 

-

Two Years Later 

Losing Rhysand felt like falling off a precipice. Loving Azriel was like climbing right back up that hill. It was absolutely everything. Your mate was… perfection reincarnated. He swooped in. Just when your life could not get worse— he came in and turned it all around. 

You never thought in a million years that Azriel would be, could be your mate. You had pined for Rhysand for ninety years for cauldron’s sake. But now… now you only ever thought of your doting mate, of the male that taught you that love could be something beautiful, something that you didn’t have to beg for or ask for. It was given freely, willingly. 

You were currently sitting on your bed, preparing the final touches for Azriel’s winter solstice gift. It was already noon, and he had spent the day with his family in the Night Court as you had asked him to. He had wanted to skip his family’s celebration, but you didn’t let him. 

Your relationship with the IC was still difficult, you and Rhysand were not yet completely healed from your ninety year tryst— but regardless of that, you never wanted Azriel to push his family away. Even though Rhysand and him had definitely grown apart. 

Rhysand didn’t care about the bond, that was what he claimed. But then he grew hostile, and always sent Azriel on long missions— away from the Dawn Court where you resided, or he didn’t let Azriel visit you. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. He had a mate and now a son. Rhysand just did not think you were enough for Azriel. 

You hummed a solstice tune as you fixed up the little gift box, and just as you finished it, your beautiful mate winnowed into your room. You squealed, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, eagerly kissinng him. 

Azriel chuckled, “my angel seems happy to see me.” He hugged you back, despite the flowers he held in his beautiful hands. You nuzzled your face into his chest, warmth and love engulfing your senses instantly. Azriel was your home. 

He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. “How was it?” You asked him, watching as he moved to his dresser, carefully discarding all of his leathers. “Good, but would have been better if my angel mate was there,” he groaned the last part, still upset he didn’t spend winter solstice morning with you.

“Your angel mate was preparing your gift and spending the day with Thesan in the village,” you answered in a chirpy manner. You did not care that he hadn’t been there in the morning. All you cared was seeing him, period. 

You watched as he changed his leathers into more comfortable clothing, salivating as you ogled the way his muscles flexed with any sort of movement. After he was done, he turned to you, a smirk adorning his handsome face, “ready for your gift?” 

“Are you my gift?” You asked excitedly, making him laugh as he grabbed a tiny box from his discarded coat pocket and strided across the room towards you. Cauldron forgive you, but this male was your religion.  “No… well… later.” He said, his voice gentle and soothing as always. 

His loving arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you closer into his figure. You looked up at him, smiling as he leaned down to engulf you in a passionate kiss.  “I go first,” he whispers as he pulls away and hands you the velvety sapphire blue box. 

You squealed and opened it to reveal two sets of keys. You smiled, eyeing the pieces of metal before looking up at Azriel with inquiring eyes. “I bought us a house in Velaris… near the hills…” He trailed off. 

He eyed you for your reaction and then his wings twitched in excitement, “and a home here, in the city.” At that statement you gasped. 

“What?!” You shrieked, eyeing the keys in sheer shock. He had bought two houses?! For you?! 

“We can never agree on a place to live. You don’t want me away from my family, and I don’t want you away from your brother. So I figured… we split our time as we wish… I’ve spoken to both Rhysand and Thesan and they have agreed, we can go and come as we please. We get to live together without sacrificing our lives in our home courts.” Azriel explained, and the way he spoke made your insides flutter beyond remedy. 

“You are serious?” You asked in shock, not expecting such a thoughtful and frankly, expensive gift. Azriel nodded, “all I want is to be near you. I will buy a home wherever you want as long as I have you. I know you don’t want me to leave my family… and I would hate for you to have to compromise for me…”

“I… fuck, my gift is so bad.” You cursed, rubbing your temple as happy tears swelled your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your mate. Thoughtfulness a partner had never given you in the three centuries you had lived. 

“Angel, you are the only gift I will ever need. You know that. This bond… is everything I ever wanted, and more.” Azriel kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You rested your head on his chest until he asked, “is my gift the leather cuffs I wanted for my armor?” 

“Yes.” You groaned. 

“Fuck yeah, angel. Cassian will be so jealous when he sees what Nuan came up with.” You giggled at his words and handed him the box. 

You watched as your mate eagerly opened and then put on the brand new mechanical cuffs. They were black and blue, and had some features that apparently would make him a more unbeatable opponent. “I feel like this is so bad compared to the TWO houses you just gave me.” 

“Sweetheart,” he frowned, “you think I kid when I say my mate is my most exquisite, excellent gift?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, only for him to tackle you to the bed, his wings flaring wide as he peppered your face with sweet kisses all over. “You are all I have ever wanted.” 

You laughed gleefully and gave in to your loving mate. 

Long story short, you survived. 

-

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @wallacewillow0773638 @lilah-asteria

[momentomori24]

Shadow, despite hating Nine with a passion, is the only person in this entire show that actually sees and understands him in any meaningful way. Sonic's attachment to Nine is based off his friendship with Tails and his inability to cope with the fact that his best friend is gone. In his eyes, Nine is just a gloomy, edgy version of Tails, not his own person with his own motives and desires. He's so used to him and Tails being on the same page, always having each other's back, that he didn't even bother to consider the fact that Nine and him would be any different, and his lapse in judgement is what lead to Ghost Hill being destroyed in the aftermath of Nine's betrayal.

Shadow repeats the sentiment ''they're not your real friends'' over and over in the show. Not only does he offer Sonic a mental out, a way to compartmentalize and stick to their priorities without any regrets weighing him down, it also rings very true to every character Sonic has met thus far. Rebel isn't Rouge, Renegade isn't Knuckles, Thorn isn't Amy and Nine isn't Tails. They're only pieces of their original's personality formed and twisted into their own people with their own lives and their own names. They're similar, but distinctly different, complete strangers in all but appearance. Sonic undoubtably cares about Nine and the others, but that care is built on an illusion, and Shadow recognized that immediately. And for me that's the most ironic and sensible part of it all. That it's Shadow of all people recognizing that so quickly. Shadow, the guy with a history of identity issues plagueing his legacy. Shadow, the guy who cares the least about these other people and made Sonic eat dirt for an entire episode just to sacrifice them one season ago.

And it makes sense. Because he knows first hand how difficult it is to seperate the past from the present, walking the line between being a protector and being a destroyer, his own person or just a weapon and existing as an entity for others to project on until he finally figured himself out on his own, he's able to sniff out Nine's confusion and resentment of Tails from his line ''This is the friend Sonic thought was like me? We're nothing alike'' when they encountered his ghost form before Sonic ever did. And because he doesn't care for him, he never associates him with Tails, giving him the ability to see Nine for who he really is. And Nine's troubled, selfish and volatile, and not to be trusted because his goals never aligned with theirs. He's everything Tails isn't, and that's why Sonic never acknowledged those traits. But Shadow sees Nine, and that's why he was so quick to distrust him.

It's also why he could easily deduce what the motive behind his actions were. Power. It's a motive he can certainly relate to. Something he can understand, but Sonic cannot (bless his heart). It was his driving force for the entirety of SA2. What he was after was the power of the Chaos Emeralds to inact Professor Gerald's revenge on the planet and was he believed to be Maria's dying wish, just like how Nine searches for power to create a paradise where he can live the life he always wanted surrounded by ''friends'' he never had. Both of them didn't think about the damage they caused or those they betrayed in that pursuit because they never factored into the equation in the first place. It's about power to achieve self-fulfilment, and what a broken, lonely, destructive and misguided guy seen by nobody and isolated by everybody will do to see it all through to the end.

Nine and Shadow can relate to each other. They can understand each other. They're can be on the same page when it comes to figuring out what the other person is plotting from eye contact alone (like Shadow immediately realising that Nine was going to use Sonic as his energy source). What Shadow wants from Sonic is to be heard, and what Nine wanted from Sonic was to be seen, and what they can't recieve from him they can give to each other. They're similar, they're compatible, they're both attached to Sonic despite acting otherwise and their mindsets are identical-- and that's exactly why they will never be friends.

[devilevlls]

Hi! Ignore this if maybe this isn't your cup of tea. But maybe no MC for this one? Can i request "I'm not afraid of the dark" with Simeon and Lucifer? Hurt/Comfort? thanks!

First I need to apologize because I wanted to give some comfort to the prompt, but it turned out a complete angst ＞﹏＜

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 💙

This drabble takes place in the recent end of the celestial war.

I'm not afraid of the dark ⋆.˚

After Lucifer's fall, Simeon found himself drowning in regret, consumed by the desire to re-approach him. He longed to stand by his brother's side, to offer support and companionship in a time of darkness. But despite his best efforts to reach out, every invitation to spend time together was met with rejection from Lucifer. 

Confusion and hurt gnawed at Simeon's heart. Why was Lucifer pushing him away? Was it out of a desire to shield him from the corrupting influence of the demon world, or was there something deeper at play?

Simeon desperately wanted to believe that Lucifer's reluctance to engage with him stemmed from a desire to protect him. Perhaps he feared that associating too closely with a fallen angel would stain Simeon's reputation among their celestial siblings, leading to isolation? But the uncertainty gnawed at his soul, leaving him yearning for answers.

“Please, I'm not afraid of the dark, It’s not the same without you. I wish we could be brothers again…” He typed on his phone, noticing that Lucifer haven’t answered his messages. 

Lucifer was his light, a presence that filled his heart with warmth and purpose. But at this moment, it felt like a void had opened within him, leaving a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn't ignore.

With a heavy sigh, the angel reluctantly set aside the DDD, the device a mere distraction from the overwhelming longing that consumed him. Rising from his bed, he moved toward the window, seeking solace in the familiar view beyond the glass.

—

Lucifer’s pride would never allow him to admit it, but there wasn’t a day he didn’t thought about his past decisions. Look at where it led him. He, once a celestial being, now found himself shackled to the eternal service of the infernal prince... Did he condemn his brothers? Was it the right decision asking for their help? These questions haunted him relentlessly, casting shadows upon his conscience.

As he glanced once more at his DDD, his gaze fell upon Simeon's persistent messages. Why did the angel persist in his pursuit? Why did he seek closeness with one so steeped in darkness?

Ignoring Simeon seemed the path of least resistance, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the shame that gnawed at his soul. Despite his pride, a part of him yearned for the purity of his former existence in the Celestial Realm.

Yet, indulging in such musings proved a luxury he could ill afford. He is the only thing keeping those boys together. He needed to be their older bother, to be their salvation, the safe spot. There was no room for self-pity or regret. Lucifer steeled himself against the tide of nostalgia, resolute in his duty to protect and guide his siblings. He was their pillar of strength, their unwavering protector, even as he grappled with his own inner turmoil.

“Please, stay where you are

Don't come any closer

Don't try to change my mind

I'm being cruel to be kind

I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

Everything changed me”

“You have given me something that I can't live without

You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt

But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine

The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight

Please, don't fall apart

I can't face your breaking heart

I'm trying to be brave

Stop asking me to stay“ ── ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵇʸ ᵃᵈᵉˡᵉ

Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!

[yume-yuurei]

Books are but a fantasy

A quick historical fantasy kinda scenario, based on yet another (old and silly) dream of mine.

One-sided (or not...?) King!Malleus × Criminal!Reader, MC is gn and not a very good person (because why do all yuus have to be nice??), written without any serious intentions and simply out of boredom. Will proofread tomorrow.

You were dragged into a small carriage in cuffs. Thick metal bars on windows and heavy magic-induced locks, as well as a pair of royal guards that had caught you, were separating you from freedom. You were ambushed a while after departing from another small forgotten village you had found refuge in. Briar Valley knights have always been diligent - a bother to escape from. Having built yourself a reputation of a self-proclaimed protector of  by committing crimes against nobility. Bitter and full of resentment, many of your victims filed piles complains, all sent to the royal Court, some even to the High Judge and king himself. In a short time your presence in a local town was reported to guards, which resulted in a long and tiring chase halfway across the country. There's not much one magicless human could do against a line of armed warriors - eventually, you were caught.

After a long while of shaking, stumbling and tripping over rocks, the carriage enters Royal grounds through massive gothic gates, rising high into the darkening sky, bringing the hour of judgment closer.

"I know it's not the first time I say that, Your Highness, but, for the Sevens, isn't it time for you to at least consider starting a family? The whole kingdom is waiting for you to secure your kind and produce an heir."

"I am considering it. But the right person has yet to come into my life."

"Royals and nobles from both our and other countries have-"

"I wish to have nothing with them."

"You can't just wait for a 'right person' to run into you like in your books, Draconia!... Stop sulking, and don't you look at me with those eyes - I am a warrior, a general, not a nanny to wipe at your tears."

The young king was just as stubborn as his mother used to be. Lilia, the king's advisor, used-to-be war general, adored him like his own son, having raised him after the past king and queen's unexpected passing. Mind young like that of a fresh teenage boy, Malleus dreamt of love straight out of a fairytale: requited love, long passionate talks under the moon, walks in the garden hand in hand. Nothing short of it - that's what he desired. But, after over a century of waiting, after dozens and possibly hundreds of rejected proposals (each time for different reasons), all hope was lost on him. Now, the fae have lowered their expectations, ready to accept any outcome, only if that meant they'll live long enough to see and celebrate birth of a new Draconia.

...if any regular person walked in right now, they would not recognize a royal in this pouting heap, covered by two heavy blankets and surrounded by silk pillows. Sounds coming from the pile were also more of a wounded dog than a fearsome ruler. With a deep sigh, Lilia walked out the king's chambers to ask a maid to fetch three servings of 'ice cream' - a treat he knew Malleus has come to love and indulge in during times of bad mood.

Still bound at hands, but now led along the cold castle walls with two tall guards at both sides, you reach another set of doors, these being, surprisingly, even more majestic and rich than the ones you saw a dozen steps before. They open by themselves, enveloping the hallway in an angelic blinding light, seeping through the gap and crawling closer to your feet. The guards urge you to step inside.

A trial is... going to start. Very soon. Any moment now. Definitely in the meantime.

Stood on dark emerald carpet with silver embroidery, you steal glances at your surroundings: noble faes and other residents of the Briar Valley have come to witness the judgment that the king will bestow upon you... but he hasn't present. His two loyal retainers stand still as stone near a throne, but even their faces are not void of confusion and anxiety.

Hushed whispers get interrupted by a short man with a ridiculous haircut barging in, quickly regaining composure while dragging an annoyed man - you recognize him as The Malleus Draconia - by a sleeve. Nobody seems to pay this scene much mind, welcoming their lord with a round of applause.

Reciting all your crimes has taken up a great while, to the point where a silver-haired knight, placed at the left of Draconia, has dozed off. What's interesting is that the king cared enough to hear you out, despite many nobles voicing out their protests and outright demanding an undelayed public execution.

"Tell me, child of man, do you find yourself guilty? Have you got any remorse?"

"I do not. What I've done was nothing short of just, as all I did was punish the greedy and save life of those in need. I have got no respect for ones that only have money and titles to be proud of."

All is said with determination burning in your eyes, stance strong, but not aggressive. The view sparkles a sense of admiration (and a hint of familiarity...) in the king's heart.

"So, being but a fragile human, you are ready to face any dangers, if only it means you could right all the world's wrongs and stay true to yourself?"

"Absolutely."

Fearless, bold, righteous- just what he wanted to see.

"Unchain them. Lilia, order the maids and butlers to prepare a guestroom. I hereby dismiss all charges against this child of man."

Seemingly proud of his decision and ignorant to the rampage he left behind, not limited to bewildered and outright condemning looks on his retainers' faces, Draconia departs from the Court Hall.

In no time, you were housed, bathed and dressed in a fancy attire with choking-tight corset. Before the maids could cake your face in heavy powder, you usher them out, sliding down the door and breathing out in relief. Though you are given no break, with how soon the door gets broken down by a swift kick from a menacing mint-haired knight. He insists (to say it gently) on accompanying you to dining hall, as "Lord Malleus is requesting your presence! It is my duty to make sure a filthy criminal like yourself will not run away and cause more trouble than you already have!"

The knight, Sebek, pushes you into the dining hall, locking doors shut right after. In this big room, it's only the two of you now.... And general Lilia.

During the whole dinner Lilia stares you down, taking apart your words, gestures and overall behavior, trying to come to some conclusion of his own. At one point you swear you hear him bend down to Draconia's ear and whisper 'THIS is who you want to choose?? And here I was sure sophisticated tastes run in your family...' But the man only swats at his advisor, leaning forward, head supported by palms, to have a better look at you.

"I must admit, I find your courage quite... admirable. Not a single soul has ever been so bold with me - not without being turned to ash right after, at least. You seem to be... different, in a way."

"...thank you?"

The next hour or so is dedicated to Draconia- ("Call me Malleus", he insisted) passionately rambling about his obsessive love for gargoyles and ancient architecture, and you having to listen, nodding along and adding a rare "Ooh" and "I see" as you pick food in your plate. Nevertheless, Malleus seems content, biding you farewell with a pleased smile and softened eyes.

.

.

.

Few days have passed in entertaining Malleus with strolls, talks and privste tea parties. Now is a good opportunity to set the next part of plan in motion. Having gathered gossip from local residents, you found a passage, leading to the secret royal library, holding valuablr books and powerful artifacts. Among them is a book you're looking for. The room is located on one of the highest floors, which forces you to walk various sets of steps in an uncomfortable outfit - but all is worth getting that book in your disposal. You find it among many other books, secured by magical seals. Good thing such spells are useless against magicless humans.

.

.

.

A week was all you needed to bring the plan to its climax. Dressed in Sunset Savanna's military uniform, epaulets speaking of one of the highest of ranks, you watch the remainders of Briar Valley warriors scatter, left in little numbers. As the scene of burned grass and collapsed stone walls quietens down, Lord Kingscholar, exhausted from the long battle but still standing, followed by a few of his knights, healers and servants, makes his appearance. You kneel before your King, head lowered in respect.

"Rise".

Straightforward and bold, just how he always is.

"Are you pleased with my work, your Highness? Now there's space for a castle of your own, and as the Capital has fallen, the rest of the country will soon follow."

He amuses you with a short chat, faint hints of pride for placing trust in you. Any and all concern about his state is brushed off with a scoff.

As the King later walks off to plan on what to make of his new land, you make your way back to the partly destroyed throne room. There, on the rough charred floor, in a pathetic heap laid Malleus. No longer will anyone fear the fallen king, rendered to a pitiful state, worn out from being forced into an unfair battle. Your shadow falls over his shaking form.

"How curious. Just yesterday, I remember seeing you on the throne, so high and mighty. Now, I believe you'll make a fine souvenir - my Lord allowed me to take one back home, as an extra reward for a flawless execution of his will. You've manage to captivate me quite a bit, you know?"

[inana-mm]

Red Sun of Dorne

Part 1: I Choose Family

<- 1 1.5 ->

Warning: not proof read (truthfully it was written in one go on phone- XD) and English is not my first language.

Note (?): self indulgent ~? I just got bored and was thinking about how itd feel to be held in the crossfire of the shitshow that is Rhaenyra’s and Alicent’s relation. I put “Y/N” but she’s Aemyra Targaryen. She’s Princess Consort of Dorne, wife of Qoren Martell and Rhaenyra’s younger twin sister. She doesn’t really like Daemon if it ain’t Obvious since his war is the reason she married in the first place and he’s a power hungry wolf.

Oh and yn is pregnant with her fifth child in this work😃

“ENOUGH !” The thunderous pain and anger propelled in the hall slowly sinking into its occupent. “Why must you pull and tug and prey on each other ?” She continued, almost spitting the question.

The last of old Valerya was assembled into the room, sharing blood, name and home yet hurting one another carelessly. The seven above could testify of it, Alicent’s maddening pain or Rhaenyra’s seemingly collected attitude, thought it was all but a facade, while Lucerys was coddled in her side : it all made sense but what led up to it did not. Y/n loved her sister dearly, they used to do everything together. They’re were girls together alongside with Alicent but she couldn’t recognize any of them in this situation.

It had been such a long day, it had been such long Years leading to this day. Yet as time went by everything seemed to get worse when Yn prayed daily for the opposite . The stranger took so much and so fast : her mother Aemma, her friend Ser Harwin Strong and then their cousin Laenna whom they gave to the sea this morning only, lost to the tragedy that plagues every woman’s heart though the Velaryon Princess chose a most brave end.

Laenna was gone and Daemon left his daughter’s side the moment the coffin hit the water, leaving the twins to their thoughts and if Rhaenyra did send her son to consol them : it was not his place to do so. Their father should’ve but lamentably failed that duty too.

So Y/n spent the remaining on the day by the girls side, consoling the young princesses as the sun rose and fell from the skies. She loved her cousin with whom she sometimes seemed to share more similarities then her own twin sister. The sweet girls were truly without a mother on this day and y/n’s heart couldn’t help but ache thinking that they also lacked a father. Daemon had never been up to the task in her opinion, her uncle was many things but his lust for power and ambitions made it impossible to ever consider him suited for family.

How harsh was the world to let this happen ? Truly, it had been unfair to such a strong soul to leave this early, only to be remembered by the few who actually cared as it was painfully clear that not everyone in attendance grieved her dear cousin.

After dark, princess Y/n retreated to her appartements after wishing a good night to Baela and Rhaena before leaving her own children, Viseryon Visenya, Aliandra and Coryanne, to their sworn protector’s care. Ser Carmin Gargalen kindly nodded at her exhausted form as he stood guard in front of their appartements after he watched as she laid soft kisses each their foreheads. “Are you sure your needn’t me to walk you to your apartments, Princess ?” He asked in carful worry but Yn insisted that walking alone would do her some good.

As the handmaidens helpd her out of her dress and into a nightgown, Yn exhaled in relief, pressure exerted on her swollen abdomen proved harder then she expected after three relatively easy pregnancies. This one surely was different and different worried her.

The girls chatted away about the events of the day, and slowly her mind drifted away. Far into her past, recalling events that still held tremendous weight over her despite what y/n liked to think. She laid in bed, now trying to recall her mother. Oh how Aemma was sweet, always welcoming her into a hug when she’d complain about a prank Rhaenyra played on her. Finding the right words to convince her to forgive the mischievousness of her twin sister. How both girls would ride their dragons with their mom in sight, races though prohibited were somehow overlooked in this blissful instants above the clouds.

Their Queen Mother was her greatest support at court when people viewed her every move with scorn. She was the second princess after all, a waste opportunity of a boy. And even if he never voiced it aloud, King Viserys had a certain way in which he looked at her sometimes making the girl she was shamefully advert her eyes. But Aemma lover her anyways “I’ll give you a brother soon anyway sweet girl, you needn’t worry about court. You’re of me, and nothing will ever change that fact.” She reassured her then that even if that wasn’t ment to be, she would still be free and accepted, loved. Her dear daughter.

The smile slyly crawling on her face fell at the remembrance of how it all went wrong. Their mom died while birthing their promised brother who shortly followed her on the pyre and the Keep became solemn and silent safe for prayers, during that time Rhaenyra showed to be her biggest support. Mutually clinging onto , and solely to, each other if not to their friends Alicent whom was brought to court by the Hand.

Shortly after that however, Alicent became queen and Y/n could only watch as their tight trio imploded with both parties forcing her to pick a side. Sure Rhaenyra was forced into this world before she did but many at court knew Y/n to be much more mature then the Heiress. They were not girls anymore and at that time she did wonder how was it that Rhaenyra thought of their friend’s marriage with their father any of her own doing.

Women never had a choice at the Keep and whispers she heard across the halls supported the theory that indeed it was the same all across westeros.

Y/n kept her friendship with Alicent as intact as the new power imbalance allowed it and cherished her new siblings like she did Rhaenyra. Though the fondness she held for the babes, for the adorable Aegon and the ever so sweet Helaena, was maybe a tad sweeter. And in turn she saw how her twin distanced herself from their growing family. Their father silently watching as it all got worse did nothing but allow her every wishes in hope of appeasing her.

Then Aemond came, he became yet another disappointment to Rhaenyra and another reason for lords to contest her claim to the iron throne . Seing her sister being pushed and pulled across court by silent whispers over her succession had proven to be hard enough for the calmer twin to verbally intercede. In the same year, their uncle reportedly won the Stepstones and by doing so inadvertently signed Yn’s own doom.

She was betrothed to do the donnish prince, Qoren, quickly after to strike a peace. The mad man refused Rhaenyra when presented the idea but asked for Y/n’s instead as she was the next best thing without having to bring his realm under Targaryen dominion. Politic, in which she became most proefissent later, was at its finest and where it belonged : at the center of her life. The princess didn’t want to leave, she’d never seen Sun spear before. And leaving her twin felt wrong when court was slowly turning on her.

But Yn went. She had no choice, and oh, how it felt lonely at first though ravens were of help and y/n could meet with Rhaenyra on their respective dragons halfway : it was never long enough, never as good as sneaking onto her twin’s bed when a certain matter troubled her or to sit in the silence of Maegor’s Holdfast to spend time together away from the bustling of the castle. Not like home. But home was wherever Rhae was anyways.

The births of their respective children made the sister’s bond tighter. Motherhood did to them what it broke for Rhaenyra and Alicent and for that Yn was ever grateful. Rhae flew to her at the new of the twins birth, and she did the same for Jace’s a year later celebrating her sister’s joy despite the leeching eyes of Westerosi nobility attached to the boy’s hair. It was then that y/n grasped the true extent of the situation. Then that she first tasted Alicent’s resentment and bitterness.

From then the drift in her family grow deeper and larger slowly changing into a high cliff. And now it has come to this.

Still in her thoughts, it took an urgent call of her name through the doors to get her to jolt out of bed. Covering her form with a golden shawl, gift from her lord husband, Yn hurried to the door with some minor inconvenience revealing a maid, agitated “Something happened to the princes” said the girl without looking into her princess’s eyes and fearing the worse : Yn took off, to the children.

She got there just before her sister did, giving her enough time to asses the situation after making sure that non of her three children were hurt, finding that the eldest,Visenya, and youngest Corryanne were still in bed. There has been a fight between Rhaenyra’s boys, Daemon’s girls and her little brother : Aemond. Whilst they all tried to defend their innocence, yn silently checked Luke’s nose before taking in the state of Aemond.

Aliandra came with Baela and Rhaena, roping her older brother in with them and he claimed having followed to insure his younger sister wouldn’t cause trouble without waking his twin or baby sister up. It took some convincing for Ser Carmin to let them go in favor of n looking over the eldest princess.

When the fight broke out her son tried to separate theirs cousins and uncle while Aliandra held on Rhaena. Both were fine, a bit ruffled up but infinitely better than Aemond.

Alicent was at her son’s side too, understandably inconsolable, and offered her a painful look that yn couldn’t decipher when her sister finally graced them with her presence shortly followed by their uncle sporting a triumphing smirk that made the Dornish Princess Consort’s insides turn.

He did not even make an attempt at looking at his daughters. He did not care, much too absorbed by basking in the afterglows whatever disgusting affairs he and her sister were engaging into before hand.

And it all became a blur off accusations, shouting and an hostility so thick you could almost taste it in the air. Her father obviously siding with her sister on the matter, the heiress demanding explications and the queen reparations. Each word, each second made her sicker. And when Alicent launched at Rhaenyra, she screamed, startling the children she was standing next to.

Their Children got hurt for the seven’s sake ! And yet they were bickering. The sole sight of it proving enough to prompt the most out of character reaction from her.

The remains of the loud “ENOUGH!” echoed in the room as eyes slowly rested on her and her family. The silent princess. The accepting one. The sent away. Thrown Princess, sold to a peace crafted by her own blood. She’d been it all, and silence showed it self to be unnefficient. “Why must you pull and tug and prey on each other ?” she finally croaked making her way to the women in the center of the room.

Defiance evident in her eyes and anger burning in her heart, “Won’t you answer ?” She looked at Rhaenyra then Alicent who looked as they just saw the stranger’s shadow somewhere on her. But before her sister could ask her whatever she ment by those words yn made in clear. “I am asking why you must take offense in a truth muttered in you presence for years when it is spoken by a child when every kid and lady of the keep as proudly making it a subject to discuss over tea? Why did make an enemy out of a friend when you knew she had no part in the fault you hold against her ?” Yn pressed while slowly worming her hand over the dagger in a manner Alicent mistook for reassurance.

The questions did enough to startle her twin, maybe hearing such words from an otherwise silent observator came to a surprise. But the princess of DragonStone was quick to regain her composure despite the hesitation in her eyes when they met Y/n « Whatever do you mean, Idaña (twin)? » she whispered under her breath. « I did not know you blind, Yn » she continued hurt having replaced the hesitation.

“I am everything but, haēdar(sister). Merely stating the truth.” Yn’s words held some of the sadness evident in the eyes mirroring her sister’s. “It used to be so much simpler, it could’ve stayed that way if you only saw that she wanted non of it.” She whispered in a broken tone only to be heard by the two other woman. Alicent, privy to this exchange, was still as a stone. Now sobered of her mad anger, her grip on the dagger lessened and her eyes swelled of tears she though she did not have left after crying over her son’s maimed state. Rhaenyra on the other hand wanted no part of this, feeling her twin, the other part of herself siding with her declared enemy, but that same sister’s hand, now firmly around the blade made quick work of it, successfully disarming her friend-stepmother to the assembly’s surprise. When the loud sound of metal colliding with the ground signaled that she’d threw the weapon far from the three of them . It somehow eased Rhaenyra’s feelings as she threw a content look at Alicent.

With both hands free now, Yn held the two opponent’s hands in each of hers, drawing in a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I know that what we had is long gone.” She started in a whisper, slightly squeezing their hands. “But let’s not draw the children into this, please. None of them asked for this climate, they are entitled to a family too. Like you and I were sweet sister.” Yn finally looked at Rhaenyra in search of something, of her sister. Not the princess, not the heir. Her sister. Her twin.

Yet Rhaenyra’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers, fixedly staring at their hands. Yn’s words found their target in her heart yet Rhaenyra slept her hand out of her sister’s, bringing it to her sides to hold on her dress. A movement known by sun and Alicent as one of uneasiness.

“Why must you side against me dearest ?” She finally spoke, eyes moist and now drilling holes at her sister. “Can’t you see what is laid plainly for us ? Or is it that your Dornish stay hardened your heart to the matters of this family?” How could she said that to her ?

“Rhaenyra.” Scolded the distant voice of their father. But the sisters where indeed at a stalemate. Rhaenyra blinding herself to Yn’s words and hurting her in ways she knew would wound her.

And as expected by the princess, Yn’s heart throbbed menacing to shatter. Alicent, now the only one holding her hand squeezed it tightly earning her a deadly glare from Rhaenyra before Yn could shake her friend’s hand off like it burned her.

She wasn’t crying like Rhaenyra though she would, knew she would if she was anything like she remembered her sister to be in their teens. No, she was angry, hurt indeed, but anger was far stronger, morphing her beautiful face into a frightening piece of art.

“To hell with your sides Rhaenyra.” She spat making the Heiress flinch at the use of her name in such uncharacteristically cold manner. “This is not about you nor is it about you my Queen.” She quickly presided. “Children were hurt in a querelle that had no reason to be in the first place. Had you. And you, cared and done better.” She finally adressed Alicent.

It was true, they could hate each other but cousins were ment to spend time and entitled to chance to like each other. In any other familial setting it is what would’ve happened but instilling disdain, mistrust and hate for one another only pushed the younger generation further appart. Weakening the once strong house of the dragons. Her right hand softly lended on her stomach for confort but equally remind the participants of this masquerade her very pregnant state.

“How do you see this family, if it is indeed still one, keep itself afloat id it’s Pilars are constantly digging at each other ? Acting like enraged, selfish children is no act of a queen. Not of a mother.” Yn pressed. “Does this place, this hour, this very DAY seem to both of you appropriate for squabbles ?” She asked but wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Your reconciliation is a dream far gone, but don’t sacrifice your children to a petty querelle. You were friends once and now you are family independently from your liking. I do not pick sides as there is none. And if there were, I would side in favor of my family and whatever is left of it.”

Finally, her voice stopped, the fire of words extinguished by exhaustion. Cracked at the end too. “You are mine, Idaña, you are me. And how I love you. But this can’t keep happening, I’ll not allow it, nor will my heart bear to see it.” She almost broke then and there but manage to fight back tears as she slowly turned away, walking hands extended torwards her children who hurriedly joined her linking their hands to their mother’s.

Silently, the trio made its way to the door, and not once did Yn look back at Rhaenyra. To scared of finding herself on the receiving end of one of her contempt filled gazes. On their way tot he door, guards and the block which regrettably became known as the « blacks » in her prolonged absence, all parted to let them out of this wretched scene.

Her father made an attempt at calling her but YN paid no mind, tis was all but a show she hated the notion of being associated with. And her father was the unassuming maestro to this broken symphony : she’d never been mad before and in turn he never really cared to consult her. Not once in the decade following her Mother’s death has he tried with her. And tonight wouldn’t be any different.

Daemon did sustain the heat of her gaze though, with a smirk : how character appropriate. But he deserves no mention as he substantially did not move from his place even a minute. He found his niece’s wrath to be most interesting though, in light of the novelty of it. Finally she was channeling the dragon burning in her he thought as she walked past him, face hardened and hands impossibly thigh around her children’s.But she paid no mind.

The dornish Prince and Princess’s timidly looked back at the room as their mother was leading them out in silence. Aliandra met her Aunt’s eyes who mirrored the hurt apparent in her mother’s while Vyserion noted the awkward fiddling of the queen’s hands as the doors closed behind them.

[genshinemblem564]

Sagau: A god's closure + world building

World building, possibly, it's here if I need it

Characters: Hu Tao

This came about from a journey to the "border" with Hu Tao. As an immortal being who grew up as a mortal, your own mortality, or lack thereof, began to weigh on you. When you finally reached your destination, you and Hu Tao were surprised to find a massive gate where you distinctly remember there wasn't one, and in front of it stood a hulking being which resembled an Anubis.

"Anubis": Ah, your grace. To what does this watcher of souls owe your visit? Ah, but forgive me, your memory is not fully intact, so I imagine you must have many questions.

Warden: I am a being known as a "Warden" as I am a protector of the kind and good willed souls that pass through here, while making sure the evil spirits remain trapped in their prison. This gate you see is the gate to the after life. You may note that it was not here upon your last visit, both it and I were revealed by your desire and divine power. Now may I ask, what is your desire?

You shake yourself from your shocked state and state the purpose of your journey.

(Y/N): I-I wish to know, can I visit my friends once they're "gone"? I may be immortal, but I was raised as a mortal, so bonds come to me much easier than they do the archons and other immortal beings.

Warden: I see. Well, to answer your question, yes, you may visit the afterlife whenever you like .

You breathe a sigh of relief as the weight that had been on you the entire journey here finally lifted.

Hu Tao: Oooh, hey, big fella, would you mind describing the afterlife a bit? I'm just "dying" to know more about it.

(Y/N): I'm also rather curious.

Warden: Very well. The afterlife has gone by many names, you may choose to call it whichever you like, but it serves as both paradise and prison. You may recall I said I am "a" warden, there many more of my kin beyond this gate. This place was made by you in your past life to be a paradise to all, and that meant making it a prison for others, and I must say your past self understood mortals well, as there are many aspects to this ever expanding plane. First, I should explain that this gate's destination changes depending on your soul. Good and neutral souls enter a serenity inducing room where servants attempt to lift the weight of their past life, and just beside that is a therapy center as some spirits are more tormented than others. Meanwhile, evil souls are brought straight to the prison, where they are kept until further notice.

(Y/N): Sorry to interrupt, but what is a neutral soul?

Warden: Hmm. I suppose you would say they are those who mind their business, or perhaps they are broken souls who could have done more if life had provided better circumstances. In short, while these souls are not "good" by some standards, they hold no malice within then. Thus, they are neutral. Pranksters, such as your guide here, are also labeled under this category, while good at heart, they are still trouble makers disturbing the peace and thus require disciplinary action should their pranks get out of hand.

You nod and smile in acceptance to this answer, feeling relieved for all of the broken people you've heard of. Hu Tao kind of huffed as if she thought he was describing her.

Warden: On the note of broken souls, there is also a rehabilitation wing of the prison per your command. In your words, "Evil is a disease. Those who are born with it may be beyond saving, but those infected by it are curable with proper treatment." So far, these words have proven true. Many a Rotten soul has been cleansed of malice and given freedom from their torment. Speaking of the prison, the only other thing of note is that it is ever changing in size to house the ever changing number of inmates, but this is true of all aspects of this realm. Now, onto the more pleasant aspects of the afterlife. As stated before, your past self understood mortals well and constructed many districts, with the souls making new ones with each generation. The first is the obvious housing district where the souls live or rather have more personal family time as, if you wish to be technical, no one "lives" here.

You and Hu Tao chuckle a little at his little joke.

Warden: Second, there are the working districts as, surprisingly, many souls find satisfaction in hard work. These souls do jobs such as farming, cooking, many different types of artistry, engineering, construction, smithing, and sales despite there not being a currency here. These districts include the market, the entertainment district where concerts and plays are held, the foundry where all metal is worked into a new shape where it is promptly sent to either the workshop where it is used as machine parts, or the ones made into weapons will be sent to the coloseum where the souls who yearn for battle can relive their glory and have crowds of adoring fans cheer them on for it, and then there are the self explanatory farmlands and restaurants.

(Y/N): That's, um, a lot.

Warden: Quite, and there's still more. There are also the springs and gardens for those seeking a moment of peace, the banquet hall often used by the warrior spirits after a thrilling match as they revel in each other's glory, then there is the central plaza which the souls have taken to calling Festival Street as all of the realms festivities are held there, the archives where those who seek to learn can go to hone their craft. Also, since many people seem to ask, yes, the souls of animals are sent to paradise as, while a lot of animals do kill, it is most often during a hunt or defense, and they are not all malicious. Pets will often wait outside this gate for their owner or one of them if they had multiple, wild and farm animals are led to separate biomes that are suited to them. These biomes are also popular spots to take a trip. Ahem, sorry, I'm just so used to being interrupted by that question that going so long without answering it felt weird. Anyway, back on topic, there is also the museum, along with the archives it is used to preserve the truth of this world's history, not the glorified mess they teach in schools. There are many more human desires that I can list districts and buildings for, but I feel you and your friend would like to make it home before the end of the season, so this will be the last of what I say provided you don't have anymore questions. It may not surprise you that many of the souls within this realm are quite religious, so much so that there is a statue of you, er, your former self in the central plaza, with many smaller shrines to you and other deities scattered throughout the numerous districts.

Hu Tao thanks the warden before turning to leave.

(Y/N): Just one more question, I promise this will be quick. As I've stated before, immotality can be costly on one's soul. This holds true even to those born with it. My question is, would I be able to give others the ability to visit?

Warden: If that is what you desire. I take it this means I will be seeing a few of the archons soon?

You nod and thank him for his time before finally leaving with an extra spring in your step. Once outside, Hu Tao stretches rather loudly.

Hu Tao: Mmmmh. Man, that took forever, but I think we both got something out of that. You got peace of mind and i got a new appreciation for my work.

(Y/N): A "new" appreciation? You enjoyed your work well enough before, I dread to think of what you'll do now.

Hu Tao: Oh you. Don't some archons to visit?

(Y/N): Maybe later, we were in there for quite a while, and all that listening made me rather hungry.

Hu Tao was about to comment before her stomach growled, causing you both to laugh as you made your way back to the harbor.

___________________________________________

Well, that was a massive info dump, definitely longer than I anticipated. I haven't seen anyone tackle the subject of the reader's lack of mortality, and the idea of a creator who can willingly traverse both the realms of living and dead has been rotting my brain, I also wanted the ability to give the archons a bit of closure, at least the ones who lost someone dear to them. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that rather lengthy info dump

[simlit]

Okay. Character Solidifying ask game. For Peia, numbers 6, 19, 22, 25, 42 and 43.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

Affection. Peia's shyness stems more from his being, almost literally "a fish out of water", not from some past trauma. He would have grown up with many "siblings" and been very comfortable when he was home. Moving from the spirit world to the mortal realm was the trigger for a lot of his struggles, as he never really gets over that feeling of vulnerability.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

He would have seen humans as very terrible, destructive creatures, but after having spent time amongst them, he sees there are many who are not this way, and that there is just as much beauty in their world as his own.

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?

The most important person in his life to date is Xiaoming, who acts mostly as his mentor. He sees him very much as a guide, a big brother who shields him and keeps him safe. He enjoys Irellian's companionship as they share an elemental nature, so he feels, to a certain extent, that they are kin. Peia has never had any kind of romantic experiences or attachments before. He's quite youthful in that way, and somewhat naïve. He may not recognize romantic feelings for what they are without having someone help him to better understand them. But I see him as demisexual. He would have to form a very close emotional bond and deep friendship with someone first. Traits he would value highly, or would see as ideal in a partner would certainly be gentleness, and a love of living things. But he also greatly admires strength, both physically and emotionally. Self-assured people and very intelligent people would be just as fascinating to him, and he is most suited to a person who can fill that role of protector and/or caretaker. Not part of the question but additional headcanon, Peia's love language would also be acts of service, in a very domestic/maternal way. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of their partner, being very attentive to their physical needs, health and mental wellbeing. Simple shows of affection such as waiting at the door when they arrive home, treating their belongings tenderly, and being very diligent/obedient as a way of gaining affirmation, but also to show that he respects them. So, I should say also someone who is not afraid to give compliments as they would go very far with Peia. He really needs to hear that he is a good boi lmao.

25. What are their hobbies and interests?

As previously mentioned, he liked to play instruments, he'd love music in general, also gardening and learning to care for plants as well as their purposes. And of course, his deep love of water. He would thrive near water, and be very sickly too far from it. He loves being outside, at the very least, being close to nature in some capacity. In my canon he upkeeps a water temple, maintaining the shrine makes him happy and makes him feel closer to the spirits.

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

I wouldn't say he has something he deeply wants to obtain. Rather, I think his greatest wish is simply to live in peace. He desperately craves safety and security, and since he is naturally a very skittish person, he can be made anxious easily. it can be quite damaging to his spirit and he can even become ill if stressed. So being able to have a calm environment where he can feel safe and protected is the most important thing for him.

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are they holding them back?

No, not secrets. Though, it takes times to build up trust with him, once someone has it, he would be open to sharing most anything about himself if they asked.

[elderflowergin]

"What about GC who was taken by an intruder?"

" I should give her a hug, it must've been so hard."

Writer-nim gave us the best ever love confession ever, it's not even because JH said, because Eun-ae could have said this and it's impact would have been just as devastating and beautiful. Beautiful kind GilChae, finally getting a hug. I love her. ♥️♥️♥️

Dear Anon,

What a beautifully-constructed conversation and confession. She tries to explain why she divorced Capt Gu, can’t get the words out (I fully believe she believes the reason she gave Capt Gu and that it is a truth, if not THE reason she divorced him) and then he says the most unadorned words - I love you whether you’re rich or poor or however you are, and I love you when you didn’t love me and I love you when you do (in effect, I choose to see your actions for the love they represent even if your words push me away). I loved Namgoong Min’s facial expressions here, e.g. the grief when he says “cheeky”, because that’s a quality she has lost over the traumatic months (years?).

And then there’s Gil-chae, the best and bravest, bravest most of all for unburdening herself ever so briefly of the secret she’s been holding onto. I think it’s so sad she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone, even Eun-ae, but I can see why. She’s been their protector, the person holding it all together for them, and I think she understands that Eun-ae and her family may not be able to bear it. I think that in that moment, when he not only expressed his love, but acknowledged and grieved the past versions of her and depth of his understanding for everyone she has had to be, she trusted and believed he could carry it. It was enormously courageous of her, but he rose to the moment and met it.

For me personally this scene is a success because there is nothing new in it except for Gil-chae’s secret. All of the information was established by previous episodes. We know she’s changed, she’s not her same self anymore (and she’s been through war and retained her core personality, so we know something is badly wrong) and we’ve seen her flinch at the slave market when he touched her skirt. We’re aware that he doesn’t share the common Joseon notions of purity and does not believe it’s a woman’s fault when she gets assaulted (something she doesn’t know, which makes her confession even braver than it otherwise would have been). The conversation brought together so many disparate threads very elegantly.

I think from the fusion sageuk perspective, what’s wonderful about it is the fantasy fulfilment. We’re maybe six hundred years past this point in history and yet so many people still have poor experiences when they try to tell partners, friends and family about assault and abuse. This all-encompassing empathy, the physical gesture of an embrace and the promise to hold her that night (the precise opposite, btw, of the promises he made the night before they almost ran away together) - these are all things we in the 21c wish we could hear, and yet many women I know will not tell the men in their lives about the things they’ve endured. Maybe because they’re protecting themselves, maybe because they once rang bells that could not be unrung, and have learnt that burying the trauma is preferable to the alternative. I think writernim succeeded splendidly in that “embrace” that you described a few asks ago.

Thanks for stopping by, dear Anon, and letting me witter on!

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #2: Now we're getting somewhere

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 3K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, *NSFW*

______________________________________________

II. There’s a lack of consensus within the medical community about the long-term impacts of carbon freezing on humanoid physiology.

The primary risk factor is brain damage—there being a critical window between when the body is inundated with tibanna gas and starved of oxygen before achieving stasis.

That’s all to say, you certainly wouldn’t enter a freezing chamber voluntarily. 

Not that the traitor known as Ozan Sango had gone in willingly. There's a grimace on his face, suspended in carbonite. Something between a shout and a whimper that’s just visible between his two outstretched hands raised in terror.

Watching that pained expression dissolve into embers that flutter like moths around the Razor Crest’s detention area is a little unsettling.

There's barely enough room in here for Mando to stand up straight, and you both pivot your shoulders to avoid encroaching on one another’s personal space. So when the man known as Ozan Sango collapses to the floor from his disintegrating carbonite cartridge, he falls directly onto your feet. 

“Here, I can get him past the hibernation sickness,” you offer helpfully, pulling at your red leather gloves—the only part of your original outfit you were allowed to keep.

“Don’t,” Mando cautions, catching your hand by the wrist. “The less people who know about your…abilities, the better.”

“No. Of course. Right.” You shake your head, caught off guard by your own stupidity. You must seem so foolish to him. 

“Thulani…” 

Damnit, whenever he says your name, your stomach jumps into your throat. Time dilates, slowing to a crawl as the Mandalorian slips his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together. “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

It didn’t escape your notice that Mando was at his most assured when he stepped into the role of protector. The sarcastic jokes and endlessly frustrated sighs evaporated to reveal his truest self. 

You smile at him and vainly wish that you could slow down time to stay in this moment forever, while his feelings are faithful and uncomplicated.

When he finally releases you, the bounty hunter reaches out with a syringe in his other hand. “This should do the trick.”

“Huh,” you mutter. “Didn’t think you were really involved in the waking them up part.”

“Good to have on hand when you need to get them mobile.” 

Yikes! You try not to think about Mando as the ruthless bounty hunter, but going into business with him made the Mandalorian's professional activities less an abstract scenario and more like something in which you are directly complicit.

On three, you both lift Ozan Sango under each arm and deposit him onto a small bench, the only accommodation inside the Razor Crest’s holding cell. The Crest had space to secure one or two hostiles for transit. Designed for capacity, not comfort.

Sango leans forward to place his head between his knees, groaning whenever the light catches his incessantly blinking eyes. Part of you desperately wanted to rush forward to check his vitals and get him hydrated. But that would sabotage the fearsome mercenary image you’re working hard to project.

“You?!” Catching sight of Mando, the traitor known as Ozan Sango shrinks back onto the bench, hugging his legs to his chest. He must realize how undignified he looks because he immediately places his feet back on the ground, squaring his shoulders before snarling, “My answer is still no.”

“Ok,” you spread both hands out wide in a gesture of humility. “I understand that getting knocked out and waking up in a strange place isn’t the friendliest way to start a partnership, but you also didn’t give us much of a chance to present the details back on Berchest. So this time, try to open your mind to the possibilities.”

“You could have come to me with money, begging on your knees, and my answer would still be the same,” he sneers at you.

“In case it isn’t clear,” the Mandalorian growls impatiently. “We are currently in hyperspace. No one is about to come through that door to save you. If you cooperate, I have use for you. Stay silent, and I’ll sell you back to Tagge Corp for the bounty.”

At that, Ozan Sango blanched—which is to say that his garnet skin transformed into a pale mauve color. “Tagge has a Guild contract out on me?”

“You know those corpos. Pretty possessive about their intellectual property.” Your tone is indifferent, disinterested. Like how you imagine a heartless merc would sound. “Now, the question Mando and I can’t answer is whether they’ll punish you with a stint in prison or just skip the judicial process entirely to make an example of you.”

As far as this man is concerned, you could care less about his gruesome death at the hands of an evil corporation. “Maybe they’ll use you to send a message to all those other drones contemplating industrial espionage.” 

“Fine. Bring me back. I can’t wait to tell Tagge Corp all about your absurd plan to rob them.”

“Who says you’ll be going back alive?” Mando snaps, flicking the blade from his vambrace into the palm of his hand, where it vibrates menacingly.

“So,” he steps forward, close enough for the shield door to cast an ominous blue light over his Beskar. “I can bring you in warm,” the helmet tilts to one side, “or I can bring you in cold,” then the other. Posing it as a question. 

Yeah, he’s very good at this.

Ozan looks from Mando to you and back again. Taking the opposite approach, you avoid looking at the holding cell entirely so your face won’t betray the truth—that there’s absolutely no way you’d let the Mandalorian murder him.

“Hmmmf,” Ozan snorts. “But I tell you what you want to know, and you’ll just let me walk out of here, right?” 

Raising an eyebrow, he tosses a button torn from his jacket at the shield, which emits a strobe of white light that would have been blinding if you and Mando weren’t both wearing protective lenses.

“Again,” you say insistently while Ozan Sango cradles his head in his hands. “There’s no need for any of this if you would simply behave.”

Despite the agony, he manages to shoot you a look of pure loathing.

“You’re doing quite well for yourself on Berchest,” you continue. “His lordship, the Duke Raife Galantis, has also put out a contract for your return—under your new alias, of course. Give us the information we want, and we will happily place you back into his generous employ.”

“You threaten me with the Tagge Corporation but want me to betray them? If they’re hunting me for sharing trade secrets, how much shit am I piling onto myself by helping you destroy their operations?”

“It’s one refinery,” you remind him.

“The most productive coaxium refinery in the quadrant,” Ozan retorts. 

“Which they operate on unceded land without legal authority.” 

“Exactly,” Ozan Sango throws up his hands. “This is political. You’re asking me to take part in a terrorist plot.”

“Your handler,” Mando interrupts. “Ubaa Dir led us to believe that your time at Tagge Corp made you sympathetic to revolutionary politics.” 

At the sound of that name, Ozan’s head snaps up.

“This is the same information you promised her,” you persist, weaving a heartfelt undertone into your voice before going cold. “That is until Raife Galantis offered you a more lucrative way to get back at your corporate overlords.” 

"That's not how it happened!"

The look of shame that crosses Ozan Sango’s face convinces you that, in the end, despite his better judgment, he'll agree to help you. There’s still a beating heart in there, somewhere underneath the cowardice.

“What information could I give you that’s in any way useful?” He scoffs defeatedly. “They’ll have changed security codes by now. I’ll have no access.”

“We need help with the layout, floor plans, and anything you can tell us about security protocols. We won’t be able to break into the depot blind.”

“You won’t be able to break in at all,” the man known as Ozan Sango howls. “It’s a walled compound with guard towers everywhere. It’s impenetrable.”

“Let us worry about getting in,” Mando says dismissively.

“Can I ask a question?” Sango interjects. “Why would you trust anything I say?” 

“Ubaa Dir told us to give you this.” 

“She’s alive?!” Sango’s green eyes went wide, eager. "You've seen her?"

When Mando drops the shield to place an ancient star compass, like a sacred talisman, into Ozan Sango’s waiting hands, you might have guessed the bounty hunter had given him a baby Porg. His eyes glisten, and his jaw goes slack. 

“There’s also a message she wanted us to deliver,” you say, leaning forward to give him the recording. At his touch, it projected a holographic image of the Rebel leader, Ubaa Dir. She smiles indulgently, grateful for the chance to speak to him again.

“You can—ahem,” you cough, inching towards the control panel. “There’ll be more privacy if we close the cell.”

Having already watched the hologram yourself, it's clear that these two had a complicated history—one that definitely involved fucking each other. You can’t help but wonder if any of your former lovers would risk their lives to help you overthrow an intergalactic fascist corporation. 

Although sex didn’t have to factor into it, necessarily. 

After all, here you are putting your ass on the line for a new rebellion, and you’d only met this woman a week ago. Erenada! Was that only last week?

As a former Rebel yourself, Ubaa Dir’s magnetism was instantly recognizable. She had conviction, a righteous cause, and the charisma to make you believe that her uprising would be one of those rare moments to fight for justice. The woman was a born leader.

Mando had taken some convincing, yet here he was, right by your side. At first, you suspected the Mandalorian might have been another one of Ubaa Dir’s lovers. But now…

Well, sex didn’t have to factor into it, necessarily.

Either way, you didn’t want to ask what leverage she had against the bounty hunter, just in case it was the type of relationship that might also have him crying alone inside a holding cell. 

In due time, there came a knock from behind the cell door. Mando opened it, but he did not reactivate the shield. Guess he has 'Ozan Sango' clocked as a lovesick sucker, too. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, the man’s eyes ruddy and swollen, he declares, “I’ll do it,” in barely more than a whisper. 

“Good,” is Mando’s only response.

“So…what happens now?”

“We get to work.” The bounty hunter speaks into his comlink, giving Nito the all-clear to enter the detention area.

“No names,” he points a finger at the Ardennian. Our… engineer will handle schematics and spatial modeling. Focus on executive facilities and operations, especially the control room.”

The man known as Ozan Sango nods, “And then? How will I stay in contact with you?”

“You won’t,” Mando says.

“We'll ensure you get back to Berchest,” you assure him. “When you finally hear about what happens, you’ll be safe and secure, living your new life under the patronage of House Galantis.”

“It was you who proved that isn’t true!”

“Well, I’m sure the Duke will take your requests for increased security more seriously after this."

“Hey there, yeah, I’m sorry, but first, I gotta know how you were able to block our biometric sensor?” Nito asks, taking out Mando’s tracking fob, which remains silent even though he is holding it less than a foot from its target.

“What? Oh! That's because I fabricated the original sample I provided to Tagge Corp.”

So much for that lingering hope. You didn’t realize how anxiously you’d been waiting to learn his secret method for hiding yourself so completely. The ability to render any tracking fob useless would be a game-changer. 

But it just came down to common sense. You hadn’t thought to provide a false sample. Though, to be fair to your seventeen-year-old self, it hadn’t occurred to you that you might actually survive a galactic civil war. 

At roughly the same size as the cockpit, it's way too cramped inside the detention area for you to stand around like a piece of furniture. You leave Ozan, Mando, and Nito to discuss guard levels and security protocols. The kid would undoubtedly go over every last detail with you—about a dozen times a day—over the coming weeks anyway. 

Below deck, you throw yourself inside the sleeping compartment and onto your bedroll before noticing the Child asleep in a nest of blankets. Luckily, he slept like the dead after a big meal. He barely registers you, curling up beside him. You make room, one arm tucked beneath your head, while the other pulls him into the crook of your arm.

Staring up at the ceiling, curiosity piqued, you’re powerless to stop your mind from imagining all the million things Ubaa Dir could be holding over Mando. It wasn’t sex—since, apparently, this Mandalorian is celibate. He said he swore the Creed as a young man. Did that mean he’d never—? 

Surely, you’ve had some love affairs that weren’t just about sex. Or, at least more than just the sex…

One consequence of spending a life on the run is that you’re only ever there for the beginning of things. There isn’t time to cultivate the kind of devotion that would shake a man to his core at the sight of your compass, or locket, or some other trinket.

Maybe sex wasn’t everything. Mando cares about you and values you, and now you both understand where things lie...

Which is the mature and respectful way to deal with his rejection. Not the cruel and selfish approach you want to take, of throwing temptation in his face at every turn until he cast aside his Creed and bent you over the captain’s chair like it was the only thing he could think about since the moment you met.

But what kind of love is that? To ask a man you respect to betray his principles? 

Maybe if he just stroked himself while you watch—?

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” sitting bolt upright at the sound of that modulated voice. “Just checking on the little guy.” You look down to see him snoring with his mouth half open. “It’s gonna be hard to keep him out of sight once he wakes up.”

“We’ve got nine hours til we reach Daiyu. Our informant can spend it in the holding cell.” Your eyebrows arch in disbelief.

“What?” he shrugs. “There’s a vacc tube in there.”

“How do we get him back to Berchest?” You ask tentatively. “Contact House Galantis once we’re in the city?”

“I still think Vos is our best option,” Mando replies firmly. “I don’t want any direct contact.”  

At this, you nod absentmindedly; your thoughts are still up in the cockpit, getting railed by the Mandalorian while you hold onto the headrest. With all those squats he does, Mando could probably go for hours.

“When did you get the stealth suit, Thulani?”

You take in a great, big breath through your nostrils and shrug, “A while ago.” 

Mando reaches into the compartment to pull the vizor from your face. It takes every ounce of self-control to not flinch or shrink away. Instead, you stare steadfastly into the view plate, exactly where his eyes should be.

“I don’t remember you having it when we left Dorumaa,” he says gruffly, with a wry edge that bordered on teasing. 

His broad shoulders obscure the overhead light from the cargo hold, casting you in shadow. If you reached out your arms, you could wrap them around his waist and press your head against his chest.

“Mmmm," you hum thoughtfully and shrug again as though you can’t quite recall. “Do you really think it's okay to leave Nito up there on his own? Our engineer is pretty chatty.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” 

“What?” You laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “How? The ship is—”

“Do you really think that suit would stop me from tracking you?”

“I—I didn’t buy the suit because of you. I mean, your thermal scanner made me think it was a good idea, but that’s not—”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he shakes his head, handing you back the vizor. “Make sure you remember that.” 

That knee-jerk defensiveness, which always gets the better of you, begins to surge up inside. “Well, who’s to say you aren’t as much of an easy read under that helmet? I bet you squint and crinkle your nose just like the rest of us.”

But Mando brushes off the argument, “Where did you plan to hide from me?”

Ugh, he is not going to let this go. “I didn’t—”

“Come on, you bought the suit. You had a plan.” He leans over, propping himself against the sleeping compartment's door frame with a bent elbow. Which is another unfair advantage since now all you can think about is running your hands over the hard planes of his stomach.

“You may recall you were very insistent that I not leave the ship those first few weeks?”  

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” he says. Not an excuse or justification. Merely a statement of fact. There were no apologies from the Mandalorian.

"And now you do?"

He nods. Which isn't an enthusiastic endorsement, but you'll take it.

“Can I just say how proud I was to sneak this on board without you noticing?”

Mando crosses his arms over his chest in a huff, then uncrosses them, cracking his knuckles between clenched fists before unfurling his fingers and relaxing his shoulders. The whole performance made you anxious about what he wanted to say next.

“When did you stop being afraid of me?”

“Ha!” Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. Your brain scrambles to come up with some coy remark, but instead, you land on honesty. “It wasn’t any one moment…that sunrise on Naboo? Maybe the Kalidor?” 

Laughing, you remember him holding your face in his hands, telling you to 'take care of them,' right before launching himself at this vicious flying beast. It wasn’t the same as overthrowing the Tagge Corporation…but no one had ever fought their way out of a monster’s stomach to save you before that day.

“I bought the suit on an impulse,” you say quietly, tracing your fingers over the seamless black fabric. “So that I didn’t feel completely helpless...like I could regain some control.”

“I understand.” The Mandalorian says coolly, before something shifted in his posture that felt...dominating. “But you should know, Thulani, there's no place you could hide from me that I wouldn’t find you.”

And with that, he climbed back up the ladder.

*********************

Read the next installment in Volume 3 - Post 3: Another Tale of Emergency Medicine

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[deanwinchesterswitch]

September 2022

I'm happy to say that there is a long list this month, and it includes several fandoms. Despite how busy the month was, I had a lot of time to read while riding in the car.

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~Big Sky~

That Simple ~ @avanatural. Author's Summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sherriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for?

~Crossovers~

After Hours (Two-shot) ~ @smol-and-grumpy. Author's Summary: They’re just outside of Helena, Montana, when they get pulled over. Dean knew that nothing good can come out of letting Y/N behind the wheels of his Baby. Little does he know that it’s probably the best thing that could happen to them in months. That good thing comes in the form of a tall, green-eyed Sheriff.

~MCU~

After ~ @wkemeup. Author's Summary: The morning after confessions and years of self-imposed unrequited love, you and Bucky are finally together. Happy. Until a woman from Bucky’s past shows up and threatens everything. 

Dangerous Dance ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: None

Would I Lie To You? ~ @cockslutpadalecki. Author's Summary: None (Mean!Steve x F!Hydra!Reader)

~RPF~

Last Night ~ @luci-in-trenchcoats. Author's Summary: The reader is in for a surprise when she finds out the guy from the bar last night shows up on stage at a convention…

Sexiest Bedroom Scene Ever ~ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior. Author's Summary: Y/N is determined to make Jensen get some sleep, even if other ideas keep popping into her head. And his.

Showing You Off ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: A casual zoom call with his buddy is the perfect place for Jeff to show you off…

~The Sandman~

Mystical Tales ~ @lex-the-flex. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Morpheus x reader)

No Title ~ @dreaming-about-fanfictions. Author's Summary: None (Drabble) (Morpheus x sick!reader)

No Title ~ @full-time-make-believer. Author's Summary: None (Morpheus x fae!wife)

~Supernatural~

Breathe Free Part One ~ @trektraveler. Author's Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He’d seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn’t about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he’s not too late!

Breathe Free Part Two ~ @trektraveler. Author's Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He’d seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn’t about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he’s not too late!

Could Have Been Me ~ @just-another-busy-fangirl. Author's Summary: TFW finally figures out how to defeat Lucifer, once and for all.  It doesn’t end well.

Her Protector ~ @deanwanddamons. Author's Summary: Y/N and Dean decide to have an evening watching horror films.

Impossible Choice ~ @girl-next-door-writes. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean x reader)

In a Million Memories Chapter Four: Salvation ~ @deaneverafter. Author's Summary: 15 years ago...

In a Million Memories Chapter Five: Cosmic Love ~ @deaneverafter. Author's Summary: a glimpse of Dean's life in Rochester. But what are his dreams and the songs trying to tell him...?

In a Million Memories Chapter Six: The Wreck of Our Hearts ~ @deaneverafter. Author's Summary: Dean dreams more dreams he can't remember and stumbles closer to... something.

In A Million Memories Chapter Seven: I Made a Lovers Prayer ~ @deaneverafter. Author's Summary: Dean deals with a rainy day at the fire station, and ponders everything that's been happening.

Just A Stomach Bug ~ @avanatural. Author's Summary: Y/N, Dean’s girlfriend, suffers from a stomach bug. Dean suspects that she could be pregnant. Suddenly, he finds himself confronted with the idea of starting a family. Is he going to be a dad?

Midnight Things ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Some things can only be dealt with in the middle of the night.

Radio Lust ~ @cryptke. Author's Summary: surprise impala sex fic with dean

To Be Her Hero ~ @talesmaniac89. Author's Summary: Dean can’t fight the demons in his girlfriend’s mind. But he can still be there for her, comforting her.

~The Boys~

Good Girl ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Soldier Boy needs to blow off some steam upon his return to the right side of the pond.

Old Habits ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Butcher and Hughie have a stellar idea to get Soldier Boy to keep up his end of the deal. It goes to hell pretty fast.

~Top Gun: Maverick~

All Or Nothing Part 2-Plus One ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: Keeping your promises to Jake may prove to be more challenging when a joyous occasion takes an unexpected turn.

All Or Nothing Part 3-Hand On You ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: The fallout begins as the events of the previous night are revealed.

All Or Nothing Part 4-Broken Promises ~ @princessmisery666. Author's Summary: The broken promises have a devastating effect, causing painful decisions.

[cosmicjoke]

Levi has the biggest heart in the series to be honest. You're absolutely right about him resenting meaningless deaths and he hates it even more for his comrades. I think the same applies for when he was living in the underground. I don't think he ever killed innocent people. He killed when it was absolutely necessary or probably as self-defense. Like when those guys assaulted Isabel. It must've been a horrible experience for Isabel and Levi definitely couldn't stand it. That's how they had to survive in the underground. I still wonder how he got into a fight with the dude the day Kenny left him tho or what happened to that guy. I wish Isayama had shared more moments of Levi's life in there. What do you think about all this? In your opinion what would prompt Levi to go for the kill in the underground? I'd like to read your analysis. 😊

Hi there!

There was definitely a lot about Levi's life and past in the Underground that could have been explored, but of course, because it wasn't the main plot, there was only so much Isayama could go into that.

I agree with you, that Levi has an innately good and kind heart, and really, it's that prevailing quality of his that allowed him, through the hardship and deprivation of his life in the Underground, to continue to have the capacity to care for others. I see people sometimes claim that Isabel and Furlan were the ones who taught Levi to care for others, or who gave him the capacity for selflessness, but I don't agree with that at all. I think Levi always had those qualities, and it was those qualities and that capacity, which remained within him DESPITE the difficulty and pain of his life, that allowed him to befriend Isabel and Furlan to begin with. Lets not forget, that Furlan initially made contact with Levi because he planned to threaten him into joining his own gang. He tried to lure him to a spot where Furlan's guys was waiting and planning on beating him up, and based on Levi's ability to fight back, offer him a chance afterward to join them. Furlan's initial intentions weren't pure or friendly toward Levi at all. He wanted to use him for his strength in order to push his own agenda. So truly, it was in spite of that, that Levi and him ended up becoming family to each other, and that, I feel like, is owed to Levi's own open heart and natural empathy and compassion. The same, I think, can be said about how Isabel came to be a part of their family. In the anime, it's the situation with the bird, which is wonderful, but in the manga, it's very different. Levi finds Isabel dying in the street, probably from starvation, and he takes her in. Isabel tells one of the scouts when they go up to the surface that Levi saved her life and basically gave her a reason to live, that he made her life of misery bearable. He gave her hope when before she had none.

So I think Levi's friendship of Furlan and Isabel, his taking them in and essentially becoming their protector and guardian, is testament to the fact that he's always, from the start, had a pure and good heart. Because of course, given Levi's strength and abilities, it would have made his own survival so much easier if he were on his own, rather than having to look out for and provide for two other people, including a very young girl. It speaks to his kindness and generosity that he took both Furlan and Isabel in and took care of them like he did, as well as numerous other young people who he took in and helped provide for by working with them, lending his strength to them, etc...

As to answer your specific question, I think Levi would kill in the Underground, and up above as well, in order to defend either himself, or those he cares about. Levi was never innately violent. That's a huge point of difference between him and Eren, for example. Levi grew up in an environment which essentially forced him to LEARN violence in order to survive. A world of extreme poverty and deprivation and inequality, a world of violence and immense struggle. He was faced with situations in which the only way to survive was to fight back, to engage in violence in turn, etc... He was taught violence by Kenny, taught specifically to use violence against violence, to use violence to keep himself alive. Eren, by contrast, grew up well provided for, with a loving, nuclear family, with a mother and father who cared for him, wanting for nothing in terms of life necessities. He was never taught violence. But still, he was innately, naturally drawn towards violence.

I don't think violence comes naturally to Levi at all. It was a product of the environment he grew up in entirely. I think, if Levi had had the privilege and luck to grow up in a loving, warm environment, well provided for, without constant threats to his life, he would have been the gentlest person, truly. I really think that. Part of Levi's tragedy is that he's, in his deepest heart, a kind, compassionate and gentle soul, but he was born into a life of such struggle and hardship, that he was forced to turn to violence in order to just keep himself alive.

So, yeah, basically, I think Levi will only kill others if he absolutely has to in order to protect either himself or those he loves. People bring up how Levi killed, or it's implied he killed, a group of men for "cutting Isabel's hair", but this shows how people often twist, or misrepresent Levi's actions to try and make him look bad. They try to frame it as him committing murder for something as harmless as a practical joke played on Isabel, but that isn't what happened at all. Isabel comes home with her hair sheered off, and Furlan and Levi question her about what happened, asking if she was hanging around those people again, showing clear concern for her well being and safety. It's heavily implied that Isabel had gotten tangled up with a group of dangerous men who had previously hurt Isabel, and would likely continue to do so. We see Isabel later in her room, crying and repeating over and over to herself that she'll "kill them". She's clearly, deeply upset over what they did to her. We aren't given specific examples of the harm they've done her, but I think it can be easily inferred, because Levi decides then and there that he isn't going to allow it to go on. He probably killed them, because he knew, eventually, if he didn't, they were going to do something truly terrible to Isabel, if they hadn't already, and maybe even kill her. He was protecting her life and her well being

Anyway, this got long, lol. But yes, to answer your question, Levi kills when it's necessary, not because he gets any kind of pleasure or satisfaction out of it.

[monstersfear]

the end of something // rhett, teddy, & emilio

TIMING: sometime before midnight. PARTIES: @eldritchaccident @ironcladrhett & @monstersfear SUMMARY: teddy and emilio prepare to leave town, and rhett informs them that he won't be joining them. CONTENT: sibling death, mentions of past suicide ideation

“Metzli’s going to meet us at the edge of town,” Emilio announced, slipping his phone into his pocket with a grimace. “They’ve got some kind of a caravan set up. Figure it’s safer to travel in groups.” Not to mention he knew Teddy would want reassurance that Metzli made it out. The hunter might not admit it, but he wouldn’t mind that reassurance himself. He’d made a list in the back of his mind, had people he was keeping track of throughout this whole evacuation process. Ari, Kaden, Metzli, Nicole, Vida. 

Next to him now were two people near the top of said list. There was some relief in having both Teddy and Rhett where he could see them, some quiet factor that made it a little easier to breathe. Emilio might not be as self aware as some people might want him to be, but he knew he had… issues here. A town falling apart, everyone he loved inside of it… It was a painfully familiar scenario. Last time this happened, he’d walked away with nothing. He’d saved no one. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“We should move fast. This shit’s going under quick, and we can’t be here when it does.” He motioned for the other two men to follow him quickly, eyes darting around to take in the darkened sky and crumbling town.

—

Packing had been finished for a good few weeks at this point. Teddy didn't know the day or the hour of the fucking apocalypse so they had to be prepared. Besides, it wasn't like either himself or Emilio were terribly unfamiliar with living out of boxes or bags. Most of the bigger shit was in a storage container a few towns away, they had a carry on sized bag each to hold them over in the interim. 

The biggest trouble the florist had been dealing with was keeping track of Zazzy. The normally quite lazy couch potato of a raiju runt had gotten more and more agitated and energetic as the end approached. In a way it was nice. Gave them about as much of a heads-up as they were going to get. But now that it was time Teddy was struggling to keep the wormy zoomie little fuzzball in his arms. Suddenly wishing he had got the little guy a carrier crate but he kinda figured that the raiju wouldn't like that very much. Oops. 

Maybe it was nice though. To have something to focus on that took quite a bit of strain to do so. Had his mind had moments to wander, surely Teddy would've gotten stuck in a loop of worry and stomach churning anxiety. As it was. He could hardly take his eyes off the cat/dog/weasel thing. Any chances he had were all spent on Emilio. Convinced that his man was going to go off and do some last minute heroics that was going to get him killed one way or another. One arm to hold Zazz, one hand to continuously anchor himself to the hunter. 

Rhett had just pulled in and popped up to the apartment too, he probably had the easiest job of packing between all of them. Perks of living mobily, Teddy supposed. He was about to make a comment to that end when Emilio spoke up, and confirmed what he'd been thinking. They were together now. Time to get out. And make sure everyone they cared about followed suit. 

—

As they exited the building, Rhett’s gaze followed a similar path to Emilio’s, scanning over the fucked up sky while his resolve hardened. This couldn’t be allowed to spread. The boys, Ari, Vida… all of them had to get out and be safe. Wasn’t any point in claiming to be a protector if you weren’t ready to lay down your life. That said, there had to be some left. Younger blood, the kind that warmed a heart enough to let it be given to another. That wasn’t on the table for Rhett anymore, but Emilio still had time. Still had hope. Teddy gave him that—Teddy and all the other people his little brother had met in this town. 

Had to protect that.

Bringing up the rear, Rhett placed a hand on Emilio’s shoulder as they all reached the Fungi Wagon, urging him to turn around. “Here,” he muttered, digging the keys from his pocket with one hand and taking Emilio’s in the other, forcing them into his palm. 

When Teddy got the passenger side door open, he’d notice that all the personal junk that used to take up the space in the back had been fully cleared out. In fact, other than the painted mural that still clung to its metal sides, every trace of Rhett had been scrubbed from the vehicle. The man himself looked up to meet Emilio’s gaze, the wilted smile on his lips conveying his hope that he wouldn’t have to say what came next. As practiced as he was with goodbyes, this wasn’t one he’d expected to have to make a second time.

—

Teddy’s hand gripped his tightly, and Emilio understood why. It wasn’t just a passive thing here, wasn’t just a show of affection. Emilio had a bad habit of going to dark places, and no one knew that better than Teddy. It was only a few months ago that the florist had been desperately trying to convince Emilio to keep living, only a few months ago that Rhett had dragged him away from his desire to stop and done everything he could to keep him separate from it. And Emilio would be lying if he said those feelings were entirely gone. He’d be lying if he said he thought they ever could be, after everything. But right now, he was choosing something else. With Teddy’s hand in his, it felt just a little easier to do.

Rhett’s hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, and Emilio glanced to his brother with a quizzical expression on his face. He took the keys robotically, brows furrowing together. “Really must be the end of the world if you’re letting me drive,” he joked, huffing a laugh as he slipped the keychain around his finger and flipped the key absently.

But then Rhett met his eye. Then he got that goddamn look on his face, and there was a pit in Emilio’s stomach that was bottomless and gaping, a feeling that hollowed him out so quickly it should have been impossible. The smile slipped off his face, the keys going still in his hand as he stopped swinging them so abruptly that they hit against his knuckles with a quiet clatter. 

“No,” he said, the word little more than a breath of air. “No. Absolutely fucking not, Rhett, I’m not kidding. No.” 

—

With the raiju placed in a ball of blankets in the front seat, content with the warmth from the car to keep it still, Teddy had a moment to breathe. To think. And a moment is all it was, cause from the other side of the van something of a commotion stirred. Somehow between that and all that was missing from the vehicle, the meaning was partially lost on the demon. The florist hurried to the other side though, taking up his spot right next to Emilio once again. There was a heat beginning to radiate from the hunter as he got more and more amped up. 

“Wait–wait– what’s happening?” Social cues weren’t Teddy’s forte, but it was obvious something was wrong. That achey thrum began to worm its way up in his chest. Instinctively he put an arm around the slayer, but his eyes stayed firmly on Rhett. There was a play going on around him and he hadn’t been given the script. It really shouldn’t have been that hard to figure out.  But it was the end of the fucking world and the man had more than a few things on his mind that were perhaps taking up a bit of his cognitive processing. “Rhett– why…what are you planning?” 

—

Of course he argued. Rhett had expected as much, steeling himself against the fear that started creeping into Emilio’s expression. Teddy came ‘round the other side of the van, joining them with a bemused look on his face before asking what was going on. The warden let his gaze flick over to Teddy, needing a moment to be free of the pain he was causing Emilio. 

“Can’t come with,” he answered softly. “Some people here need my help.” With a thick swallow, he glanced back to Emilio. “This is it, kiddo. The big one. Need to make myself useful.”

—

“He’s planning on staying behind,” Emilio spat, because for him, grief always came with anger. Anger towards the situation that left them with an unwinnable battle. Angry at the world for taking and taking and taking until he had nothing left to give. Angry at Rhett for making this choice, for doing a stupid, heroic thing when Emilio desperately needed him to be a coward. Angry at himself for not seeing any of it coming. 

And the anger wasn’t real. He knew that, too. He knew that the anger was a defense mechanism, a fire built in a wasteland to keep him warm. He wasn’t angry at Rhett or at himself or even at the world at large. But admitting that meant admitting to what was lurking underneath. Admitting that meant recognizing how small he felt, how scared. And Emilio couldn’t do that.

So he glared in Rhett’s direction, fire burning behind his eyes to distract from the aching in his chest, and he told himself that that was better. He told himself it was easier this way. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he said, taking a step towards his brother and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, knuckles white with his grip. “You think, what, you make the sacrifice play after months of telling me I’m not allowed to? Some people need your help? I need you, you prick. What about that?” His throat burned, and his vision blurred in a way he pretended was rage instead of tears threatening to spill over. 

“Fuck this. Fuck you. Get in the fucking van, Everett.” Please, he added silently, the word unspoken but present in his expression all the same.

—

"Wh–" Fuck. Now that it'd been said aloud it was so obvious what it all had been pointing to. Teddy shifted uncomfortably, at a total loss of how to respond. "Y-your–?" Leaving. Or staying rather. Staying there in the middle of assured destruction to save the rest of the world. Hunters died to protect others. That's something Emilio had said over and over and over. You don't get old in that line of work. You don't get happily ever afters or even the joy of retiring.  Rhett was the closest thing Teddy had ever seen that seemed to contradict that statement. But now he was– 

He was shaking. Teddy knew that much, but everything seemed so numb outside of his hands it was hard to feel anything else. He gripped tighter and tighter onto Emilio, knowing that this had to have been a thousand times worse for him. Teddy only just got to know the old warden. But that was Emilio's brother. He was supposed to be a fixture in their life. Together. More weird breakfasts and old stories and time. But Rhett had other plans it seemed. 

—

“You’ve got people,” Rhett said sadly. “Y’haven’t needed me for a long time, now. So here’s what’s gonna happen.” Still very much trapped in Emilio’s grip, the warden brought a hand to the side of his neck and braced it there. “You two are gonna get as far away from here as you can, hear me? Real far. Don’t take any fuckin’ chances.” He glanced to Teddy, perhaps as a silent plea to help talk some sense into Emilio, because he knew this would be an uphill battle. “Me? Can’t back out. If I bail, they don’t have enough people.” He paused. “If they don’t have enough people, we all die.” His other hand gave Teddy’s shoulder a squeeze before moving it to now frame Emilio’s pained face between them both.

“Listen t’me, little brother. I’m old. I ain’t got much time left in this world, anyway. We both know that. Let me… let me go out doin’ somethin’ that’ll help everyone, not just… whatever makes me feel better in the moment. Whatever dampens the rage and the hurt… just lemme do this, kid. For you. For Ted. For all the people in this damn town who’d cry at your funeral. Please.”

—

“You’re my people.” His voice broke on the last word, just a little. Emilio hadn’t felt like a child in decades now, hadn’t even really felt like a child when he was a child, but in this moment, he was eight years old again. He was staring in wonder as his mother and uncle dragged their brother into the house and laid him on the kitchen table, flinching as too-loud voices ordered him to sit with the bleeding man while they went to get help, struck with the realization of what help meant when they returned with the priest instead of the doctor. 

Hunters were supposed to have their lives cut off at the knees, were built to die long before their hair went gray and their skin began to wrinkle and Emilio knew that. Emilio had known that all his life, had watched it happen. He’d seen his mother and siblings dead in the street, had watched his nephew die before the kid was old enough to know what dying meant. And somehow, he’d thought Rhett was different. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that the warden was above all that, that Rhett would outlive him and that there’d be relief in, for once, being the one to leave instead of the one to get left. But Rhett’s hand was gripping the side of his neck in a way that meant goodbye now, and it didn’t make sense even though it did. It was impossible even though it wasn’t. Every inch of it ached.

“No,” he said again, because what else was there to say? What else was there to do? “No. I’m not — I’m not going to leave you. I can’t. I can’t do that again.” It was an ugly mirror image of the last moments in Etla; the chaos, the anguish, the grief. People he loved dying while he made it out. Was this how it was always going to be? Was Emilio always the one who survived, no matter how little he wanted to? Maybe this was his punishment, he thought, the retribution for all the sins he’d stacked up under his belt. To lose Rhett in a way that seemed to echo the way he’d lost everyone else was the kind of thing just cruel enough for God to come up with.

Desperately, Emilio looked to Teddy, eyes pleading with his boyfriend to do… something. To drag Rhett into the damn van, kicking and screaming. To make some demon deal that would tie his brother to life instead of allowing him to die. To fix the unfixable, somehow. 

—

Both sets of eyes were on him now and Teddy was just left stammering. Of course he wanted Rhett to stay, of course he wanted to stop whatever the hell was going through the old man's head, let someone else take the torch. But Rhett was looking at him too, pleading him just as much to tell Emilio that this was how it had to be. Teddy didn't know though, how true that was. How could they just agree to let him run into the flames? Even if it meant the rest of the world wouldn't catch fire. 

"Isn't there anything else? There's gotta be uhh–" He swallowed, hard. Feeling the weight of expectations from either side of the growing chasm. "Someone else or…" 

—

Recognizing the spot he’d put Teddy in, Rhett closed his eyes and shook his head. “There’s no talkin’ me out of it, lads. But yes, there is someone else… and they’re waitin’ on me.” He let his hands fall back to his sides, beginning the slow retreat that would eventually end with him turning his back on the pair. “I’m sorry, Emilio. Don’t wanna do this to you, but… couldn’t let someone else go in my stead. Wouldn’t be right. This is my job, and I’ve been doin’ fuck all, lately.” It was because he was suddenly afraid of losing the man again, afraid of abandoning him by dying doing something reckless… which felt silly, now. It went against everything he’d been saying, because more than anything else, he knew he had to throw himself on the knife so that Emilio wouldn’t do it himself. There was something else, too. Something he’d never said aloud, but this seemed like the right moment to give it a shot. 

“I just want you t’be… proud of me.” His voice wavered as he spoke, the instinct to withdraw taking over. “Know I ain’t all here, haven’t been since I was a kid. Know I do a lot of stupid shit. Say stupid things. No kinda role model. Violent, angry, spiteful.” He dragged his gaze up to meet Emilio’s, the tiredness settling over his worn features. “Don’t want you to fall too deep in that hole. Be more like Ted, not like me. Lemme go out doin’ somethin’ a good person would do. Remember me like that, maybe, not… not all the other shit. Maybe.” His voice dropped to a whisper on the final word, head drooping shamefully. 

“... you need to leave.”

—

Teddy was trying, just like Emilio was. But Rhett had always been a stubborn old bastard, for as long as Emilio had known him. Once he’d set his mind to something, it was always damn near impossible to change it. It was one of the many ways the two hunters were alike, one of the many things that had drawn them together since the first day Rhett wandered into Etla. In the past, it had always seemed like a good thing. But in this moment? It was the worst thing in the goddamn world. 

“I am proud of you,” he said, and Christ, Emilio had never been one to beg but this sure as hell sounded like it. He’d faced down torture and unimaginable pain, had gone up against a fucking ancient demon without begging for shit, but he was pleading like a damn kid now. Every inch of his face was pleading desperately for Rhett to change his mind, just this once. He knew a lost cause when he saw one, but he’d never been particularly good at accepting them for what they were. It was almost funny, in a cruel way; he’d lost so much now that, at this point, you’d think he’d be used to it.

He shook his head, breath hitching. “You said I could go first,” he replied stubbornly, and he knew he sounded like a child but he was beyond caring. “You said that. I can’t —” He looked back to Teddy again, shaking his head. “I can’t leave him.”

—

That was just Emilio’s fear talking. Rhett knew it well, and knew that this goodbye wouldn’t end in hugs and tearful smiles. No, this goodbye would be wretched, the most wretched he’d ever created of his own volition, and yet… he had to do it. “I know I did,” the warden muttered, untangling himself from Emilio’s grip and taking a step back. “Turns out I was lyin’. I’m sorry.” It’s all he could do, now. Apologize. He’d said his piece, and Emilio would either accept or reject it, in his own time. He’d hate him for his sacrifice, or he’d go through the stages of grief and see that Rhett was just doing it to protect him. 

“You can leave me, and you will,” the warden argued, his voice low. Another quick glance up at the darkening sky told him that the time was drawing near. Still hours away, but he wanted them to be hours from this place before everything went to shit. “Runnin’ outta time. Not gonna argue ‘bout it anymore. Take the wagon, go join the caravan, n’ get outta here. Go live your lives. And goddamnit, be careful. Don’t make me die for nothin’.”

—

As Rhett pulled away, Emilio’s hands gripped the air in his absence, as if his fingers weren’t quite ready to admit that there was nothing left for them to hold onto. They opened and closed, fist clenching and unclenching absently in the way it always did when he was left with nothing to fight. It was so much harder like this. When the turmoil existed nowhere but inside of him, he didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know how to breathe around it. “Don’t,” he said quietly, still pleading. Still angry and still not. “Don’t apologize. Just — Just get in the van. We’ll figure something else out, like Teddy said. Please.” 

But Rhett’s voice was firm, his eyes darting up to the sky and the way it darkened around them. When all this was said and done, would it be a sunny day? Emilio found himself filled with a surge of bitterness at the thought, found himself unreasonably angry towards a sun that would rise tomorrow even if Rhett was no longer around to see it. That was always the hardest part about loss. It wasn’t the moment you lost something — it was the moment after. It was the one after that. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he begged. “Please, Rhett. No me dejen solo.”

—

“You’re not alone,” Rhett answered, nodding at Teddy. “You’ve got a whole caravan waitin’ on you.” And to dispel any remaining hope Emilio or Teddy had of convincing him, he went on to add, “I’m not gettin’ in that van, you know that. We can either say goodbye, or…” His throat felt tight and his breathing was weak, still afraid of that worst-case scenario. “... or I can just walk away. Don’t… really want it to end like that, though.”

—

It was tense, everything ached in a way that felt like they were being sent through a meat grinder but slowly and in reverse. Teddy knew what it was like to not get a goodbye. Knew the empty hollow pain that haunted you forever afterwards. Knew Emilio wouldn't ever come close to forgiving himself if he didn't say something. But he also knew how hard it was for the slayer to express himself. All he could do was hold tight to his hand, but give him a nudge forward. Not quite resigned to the idea of letting this happen, but not wanting to let Emilio give himself another thing to beat himself up about. 

—

There were moments where it felt like the goddamn world was closing in around you. Emilio was no stranger to them, had had more than his fair share. In Etla, in New Orleans, in that cave just outside of town, in his own apartment. There were moments where the world was both too big and too small, where everything was a contradiction that seemed impossible to grapple with. There were moments you could never get out from under, and this was one of them. Emilio would live in this moment for the rest of his life, he knew, would carry it with him in the same overflowing stack where there were bodies rotting on a Mexican street and smoke rising up from a warehouse where no one had died. 

Rhett was right; Emilio knew he wasn’t getting in the van. He’d known it since the beginning, since the moment those keys were pressed into his hands. The ending was already written down. There was no changing it. And he was angry, even if he wasn’t. There was rage burning in his chest, even if it wasn’t rage at all. 

There were so many people he’d never said goodbye to. His mother, his father, his siblings, his nephew. Silas. So many names on a list so full of regret that it was a wonder there was ever any left for anyone else. The idea of adding Rhett’s to it, the idea of losing him without whatever tiny semblance of peace a goodbye might offer…

“Don’t.” He choked on the word like a physical thing, like the lump in his throat was made up of something more tangible than grief. “Don’t just walk away. I don’t — I don’t want that.” He reached up with the hand Teddy wasn’t holding in a death grip, scrubbed it across his face and pretended it didn’t come back wet. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be mad at you. I don’t know what else to be.”

—

“I know.” The statement was simple, but it said a lot. Anger was easiest, they both knew that. Facing the rest of it was… difficult. Complicated. And always, no matter how hard they tried, they were poisoned with a little bit of anger. “You can be mad. Hell, I’d be mad, too. But it doesn’t change what needs t’happen.” Closing the small distance that had grown between them, Rhett gracelessly pulled Emilio into a hug. “Take some comfort in knowin’ I’m goin’ out how I want, eh? Doin’ a good thing. Bein’ a good person.” He pulled back, framing the slayer’s face in his hands once more, a sad, tearful smile blooming on his lips.

Damn, wouldn’t you know it? He’d been wrong after all.

“I love you, little brother. And I’m gonna do whatever I have to to protect you. Right now, that means makin’ sure this bloody doomsday bullshit stays local.” Rhett looked to Teddy as he released the hunter, the fondness in his expression only growing. “Take care of him for me,” he muttered as he leaned in to give Teddy a hug as well, holding for a few extra beats before moving back again.

“Right. Well then, off you go.” An emotional sniff followed the dismissal as he gave a half-hearted wave of his arm.

—

Ted could hardly come up with something that felt right in that moment. Instead he nodded grimly at Rhett's request. Tried to slip on a smile, and squeezed the old man with all the love and warmth he wished he'd been able to give his brother so many years ago. It hurt to say goodbye, sure. But at least they were able to do so. It wouldn't just be another mystery, or start of a cycle of revenge and grief. After all, what were they going to do about Rhett's killer? The town was already destroying itself. The best they could hope was to be on the outside to watch it burn. 

—

If not for Teddy’s hand gripping his, Emilio would have fought it more. He would have dug his heels into the ground, would have refused to leave his brother to die alone in a crumbling town that neither of them had ever really made a home out of. Emilio was a stubborn man, loyal to a fault more often than not, and the idea of leaving Rhett here was so unfathomable that if not for the tragedy of it all, it might have been a laughable concept. But Teddy was holding onto him in a way that said he wasn’t leaving unless Emilio did, and Teddy was too good a man to be allowed to die for nothing. 

Gripping Rhett tightly in the embrace, Emilio buried his head in the warden’s shoulder for a moment, hating himself for the dampness left there when he pulled away. “You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met,” he said, “you fucking asshole. Doing the goddamn hero shit.” Dying so Emilio wouldn’t have to, despite knowing that there would always be a part of Emilio that wanted it. 

“I love you,” he muttered, the words sticking to the back of his throat, coming out garbled and feeling wrong even if they were probably the truest thing he’d ever said. Saying it hurt. Every bit of this hurt, from the tearful smile on Rhett’s face to the way he hugged Teddy just as tightly as he had Emilio. In another world, a kinder one, they could have been a family for a little longer than they had. They could have had something bigger. Something better. Something whole. But this world wasn’t built for things like that.

An unexpected panic built up in his chest as Rhett waved with a sense of finality that Emilio wasn’t ready for. Desperation creeped back in, and he shook his head again. “No. No, I’m not — I’m not ready. I can’t go yet. There has to be more time.”

—

It would be cruel to let Emilio know just how much his protesting was breaking Rhett’s heart, so the warden stuffed a cork so deep in that bottle that it wouldn’t be able to to spill a single drop, right up to the end. Turn it off. Turn it off. Just like he always had.

“More time’s only gonna make it harder. ‘Sides… we don’t have much left.” He offered another lopsided smirk, masking how badly this hurt. “Get outta here, ‘fore I gotta stuff you in the van myself. I’ll stand in the middle of the road and wave all dramatic, like a movie, eh?” He listed his arms again, this time giving a larger, more insistent ushering motion with both of them. “See you two in the next life. Make the best outta this one, first.”

—

If they waited until he was ready, they’d never leave. Emilio knew that. He’d stand here until the world fell down around them, would die and be buried and rot in the ground for a hundred years and still not be ready for this. There were some things, he thought, you could never be ready for. There were some things you could never be okay with. This was one of them. 

Bringing a trembling hand to his head, he scrubbed it across his face and nodded, feeling a little more unsteady on his feet than he had in a long, long time. He pulled Rhett in for another hug, fists gripping the back of the warden’s shirt tightly. “You’re an asshole,” he muttered into the man’s neck, the words coming out a little more broken than he’d like to admit. “I love you.”

—

Calling on pride while so much sorrow swam around one’s heart wasn’t fair, or even kind. But Teddy felt a swell of it nonetheless. At Emilio’s ability to speak his mind, at Rhett’s stalwart ability to go through with this despite how much it must hurt. The florist had no idea of what would await the warden at the end of this road. What would await them at their own destination. Too many unknowns. The only thing he knew for sure. The only thing Teddy knew for sure was that they had to keep going. That he was going to do his best to do exactly what Rhett said and take care of Emilio. No matter what. 

As if to seal that promise, Teddy moved in and kissed Em on the cheek. Softly smiling through the heartache. He turned towards the man, the hero, the fucking saint of batshit baddassery. “Thank you for everything… Bringing him to me. Always being there when we needed you. You’re amazing, you know that Rhett?” 

—

A breathy chuckle managed to squeeze itself from his aching lungs as Emilio called him an asshole for the second—third?—time. He returned the hug fiercely, ruffling the slayer’s hair as they reluctantly pulled apart. “Love you more, ya stupid fuckin’ muppet.” Throwing a wink at him, Rhett smiled, a little less sad this time, seeing the way Teddy slipped effortlessly into that supporting role. And then complimented him, which drew forth an exasperated scoff. 

“Nah, nah… m’just an daft idiot who’s good with weapons.” Slipping the rifle from his back, he flicked the safety off. “Do me a favor… pray that some weird beasties come tumblin’ outta all these rips in reality, eh? Could use a little excitement for the last ride.” His grin widened, returning to that familiar, reckless type of insanity that was his whole personality. “And hey! Be good to my wagon! If you total ‘er, I’m gonna haunt both your fuckin’ arses!” Rhett moved with finality now, bracing the rifle in front of him as the storm rolled in overhead and thunder boomed between the clouds. The plea for them to just get out of there was quarantined to his eyes, the rest of him looking terribly ready for a fight. 

—

“Haunt us anyway.” It was only half a joke, and the way his voice wobbled betrayed as much. It was a stupid notion, of course, because exorcising Rhett in order to keep him from becoming a poltergeist would only mean losing him twice instead of once, but God, Emilio would have killed for something to cling to. It wasn’t enough to have a worn old van and a rushed goodbye. Nothing would ever be enough.

His legs remained locked in place, refusing to move for a moment in spite of the way he’d already agreed to go. Walking away from this, leaving while Rhett was alive and animated and knowing this was the last time he’d ever see him in such a way, it felt impossible. It was too much; they were asking too much of him. He glanced back to Teddy, throat burning, trying to communicate that he needed the florist to take that first step towards the van, trying to say without words that Emilio needed an extra push if he was going to be expected to climb this mountain.

—

With a heaved sigh, Teddy nodded and curled his arms around Emilio. Held him tight for just a moment before ushering both of them towards the van. "Want me to drive, love?" It was half a question, half an announcement as he was already going for the keys. The hunter didn't seem in a particularly good headspace to be driving. Teddy walked with him to the passenger side. Scooching aside the slumbering raiju who was content and dreaming, completely unaware of how hurt everyone around it was. As he rounded the front of the old wagon he ran his hand along the hood. A soft sad smile as he gave it a pat, as if thanking the van for its role in giving him the opportunity to meet its…former owner. As if asking for forgiveness from the machine, for accepting it and letting Rhett go. 

They had miles to go before they could rest, but the first turn of the key would always be the hardest. Teddy's hand wavered on the gear shift. As they watched the form of Rhett Tangaroa slip into the mist and shadow. All he could do now was look to Emilio for permission. 

—

He waved, as promised. But something in him knew that the van would sit there for too long if he waited. So, with a sweeping bow, the warden took his exit. Backed away from the scene, bathed in the red of the taillights, that wild grin never leaving his face. 

Not until he turned on his heel and faced the darkness that loomed behind him. The forced exuberance wilted, eyes widening in the face of his own mortality. Wasn’t how he ever saw himself going. He fought for the greater good, sure, but only in the way he understood. Killing fae. This was… well, this was foreign. But, he thought to himself, suppose an old dog can learn new tricks. 

It was time to get to his spot. There were still hours to go, but Rhett wouldn’t be the one showing up unfashionably late and dooming the whole fuckin’ planet, not after all that game he’d been talking moments ago. 

One step forward, into the gathering fog. Do it for them. His heart thumped quickly in his chest. Do it for him.

Another step, and the warden was swallowed whole by the malignant force settling over the town.