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yiangchen · 7 months

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it's so tragic funny that while i was watching t100, jroth was so adamant that there was nothing romantic there with bellarke, that it literally made me doubt what was very clearly being written as romantic (and it actually was. like, we know this now. it has been confirmed).

looking back, bellarke could have kissed at so many different points in the show, without changing anything else but having them kiss, and it would have made perfect sense. it would have flowed. it would have aligned with their relationship development.

just think about it. 1x09. unity day. is this a bit early? yes. but do they have the chemistry? yes. and have they had sufficient build up for two characters to have their first kiss? yes. honestly more than a lot of ships that happen in the first season of their show. especially since day trip just happened! plus, the flirting during unity day was...not subtle.

listen...she wanted to kiss him here so bad. seriously though. clarke could have and that would have been a very natural progression of this scene. it would have especially fit the early drop ship days vibe.

(or you could add in a scene where clarke finds him later, now sufficiently buzzed, they flirt some more, then she kisses him, and bellamy's like, "woah, woah, princess, what are you doing?" but he's smiling and she just shrugs with a smile and goes in to kiss him again, saying "having fun", and bellamy says, "you're drunk" and clarke is exasperated saying, "well you told me to!" and bellamy laughs, very amused, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is also very very VERY smitten.)

if you still think that's too soon, yeah, i tend to agree. i love the idea of s1 bellarke in fanfic, but for the show, i prefer a bit more of slowburn. so let's push it to season 2. no, that's not a true slowburn, but still, you had to wait a little for it, and a lot of shows do this successfully. so anyway. 2x05. post iconic reunion hug, shot in a very romantic way i might add.

bellamy is watching clarke sleep by the fire, she wakes, we have some platonic gazing with firelight flickering across their faces...

we all know how the scene goes. he reassures her. he confides in her. she reassures him back.

i'm sorry, but the way they are looking at each other here? dude, if they had been sitting any closer, they could have kissed. i tend to think it would be more in character for clarke to initiate a first kiss with bellamy in s1-4, but in this scene, i 100% could see bellamy going in to kiss her after this.

(and yes, i'm aware that octavia was pretending to be asleep this whole time, but honestly, her reaction to them would have added some much needed levity to the situation. octavia is a bellarke shipper, after all. also, some people might say that this would make clarke's "i love you" to finn less believable, but i disagree. you can have feelings for two people at the same time. i mean, she literally kisses lxa very quickly after finn's death sooo yeah...plus, it would have made the bellarke angst of s2b/3 even better.)

maybe you still want more of a slowburn though, and that is perfectly fair, which brings me to s3, which in my opinion would have been one of the best seasons for canon bellarke. alright. 3x05. hakeldama yup! it was prime time for a first kiss. i mean, all the build up of s1/2 obviously, but also...this had just happened:

but anyway...back to hakeldama. this is the peak of their angst. nothing tops it.

but then, after the heat of the moment, the softness comes in. as it always does with these two. they wind up sharing the softest, most romantic scene in this entire show (fight me).

that last gif, man...at this point, i think they would both go in for the kiss. mutually initiated. god, it would have fit the scene so well!

(some people might say that this would invalidate clarke's love for lxa, considering everything that happens two eps later, but again, i disagree. like i said before, you can have feelings for two people at the same time. people might also say that this would undermine bellamy's relationship with gina, but you know what? the whole fucking narrative undermined that relationship, so i really don't care. i loved gina, but if clarke can kiss lxa right after finn's death, then bellamy can kiss clarke right after gina's death. this show is messy, okay? and bellarke are messy as fuckkkk.)

still think it would be too early? okay. season 4 then. very recently, i realized how easy making bellarke canon in s4 would have been, holyyyy. starting off in 4x03. bellamy is sleeping on the couch and clarke watches him sleep with the softest smile on her face (i'm still crying about this btw). i can't find the right gif, but you all know the smile! then clarke is struggling so bellamy wakes up and is there to support her, making a declaration that has romantic undertones, it just does!

and then clarke lowkey makes a move on him lmao. for real though?? what was this???

i would only change one thing here. he takes a seat beside her first and then puts his hand on her shoulder. so that way they are eye level (aka kissing level).

when she lifts her head off their hands, their faces would be so close. maybe bellamy would tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, not realizing how intimate that kind of thing is until he does it. i could see them kissing here. clarke would initiate. although, i think it would be so much better if it was just an almost kiss. bellamy tells her she should get some sleep right before it happens.

and then in 4x06...

it's actually so funny how she says that and then she's like 'oh no. that sounded like it implied something. i did not mean to imply.'

and bellamy's over here like 'omg she's implying.'

which leads to him literally about to confess. i'm sorry, but there is no other way to interpret....

and of course clarke interrupts, but this is the moment, you guys! this could have been the moment.

right after this, before roan's interruption, there's a pause, and then clarke kisses him. it's a quick one. the kind of kiss where she has both of her hands on his face and he's so stunned by it that his eyebrows raise in surprise and before he can even process that it's happened, she's pulled back and they're looking at each other, a bit in awe, both surprised that she just did that.

then in 4x09, we actually get to see the reunion!! and it's the running kind. just like 2x05. only this time, after they run to each other and hug, bellamy pulls back and takes her face in his hands to examine her for injuries, and once he realizes she's okay, probably after she reassures him and puts a hand on his face, then he kisses her, but they both go in for it (and i cry).

in 4x13, i would change the location of the head and heart scene. somewhere more private...a bedroom (!). so, after this moment:

and bellamy turns away, upset, clarke pulls him back to face her and takes his face in her hands. his eyes are watery. so are hers. she kisses him. one thing leads to another and we get the sex scene we deserved!! then they're lying in bed, cuddling. bellamy's head is on her chest and clarke's playing with his hair. that's when she decides to ruin the moment lmao and continues the head and heart convo with "we've been through a lot together, you and i." i can just see it so well. they would shift so that they're laying on their sides, facing one another. maybe clarke's fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck now. when she says he has a big heart, her palm rests on his bare chest. when she says he has to use his head too, her fingers of her other hand shift from his neck to his temple. when bellamy says, "i've got you for that," clarke kisses him. their foreheads stay touching for a few breathes, then she pulls back to look at him and says that raven's premonition came true. like...am i crazy or would this have worked so well?? literally the same dialogue but...they're together.

(plus, this could have led to clarke raising bellamy's kid--august--along with madi over those six years they are separated, i'm just saying!)

maybe you still think that season 5 was the ultimate time for bellarke to go canon, and you know what? i honestly might just agree. the set up was there with clarke calling bellamy every day for 2,199 days. the potential was there. madi was the biggest bellarke shipper i swear. she wanted them to be together even more than all of us combined i think. for a bellarke kiss though, you would almost have to drastically change the course of events...unless you go with 5x13 and blecho have broken up earlier in the season. after clarke wakes bellamy from cryo (still crying about this moment, yeah!), i could see them having a moment.

before jordan walks in, maybe clarke helps bellamy out of the pod, and once they're both standing, bellamy would finally make his move. instead of bellamy asking why they're the only ones there, clarke does. bellamy tells her, "we'll figure it out, clarke, but first, i have something i wanna say." maybe he does something soft, like take her hand or brush her hair behind her ear. clarke is staring at him, not quite believing what is happening right now, but deep down, she knows. he tells her, "those six years without you were the worst of my life and i don't wanna waste any more time." clarke is wearing a watery smile, still not quite sure she believes what she's hearing. she tells him, "i radioed you every day you were gone." bellamy's whole face lights up and he tells her, "i know." their foreheads touch. both of his hands are cradling her cheeks, her hands are cradling his wrists. she whispers his name. it's the kind of kiss where the time before the kiss is excruciatingly long, but once they kiss, it becomes much more urgent as they finally give in to all of the feelings. god. would have been ICONIC.

plus, they both looked absolutely gorgeous in this scene. hello???

would have been one hell of an aesthetically pleasing first kiss holyyyy. then jordan interrupts and makes some comment about how his mom and dad were right all along :)

if not season 5 though...moving onto season 6. 6x10 to be exact. i know i've said that other times were the ultimate time for canon bellarke, but this episode is too! or right after it in 6x11. there are two scenarios that i see playing out here. (in both, blecho have broken up previously.)

in the first scenario, it's 6x10. as soon as bellamy saves clarke and she wakes up, instead of going in to hug him, i swear when i was watching it that i really thought she was going in for the kiss. that was the one and only time where i legitimately thought they were about to kiss while watching. it had never made more sense than in that moment. even with all of jroth's attempted brainwashing, my mind was stronger in that moment. it saw it coming. or at least i thought i did lmao. i know they didn't actually kiss.

but listen.

they really should have.

clarke is literally looking at him like this:

come on, man.

i usually say that bellamy should be the one initiating post s4, but in this moment, it would have been clarke.

and if not then, the other scenario is that they hug as usual. clarke gets some rest as usual. but when she wakes up in 6x11 and bellamy is at her side, they are in a separate private tent. they have that same conversation that they do. they argue about clarke risking her life again. but then...

he tells her, "hey, i just got you back." he says it firm but soft. i see bellamy initiating the kiss here, especially since he's almost lost her twice now, but once clarke realizes that this is really happening, that after all this time he wants her just as much as she wants him, she would for sure be the one initiating everything else. she would be sitting in his lap making out with him so fast jfsldkjfaslk and you know what? good for her!! they either just kiss a lot here, laying down on the bed, all tangled up together, and then they're interrupted, or maybe, just for once, they're allowed to be happy, uninterrupted, and they sleep together. either way. natural progression.

that's really the point of this longwinded post. so many times it could have happened. all of them a nature progression of the story that was being told.

then comes season 7...

there are no words.

6x13 left them off in a perfect place...

the set up was literally right there! they should have kissed in 7x01!! they should have lived happily ever after with madi in a seaside cabin situated in a field of gold!!

#so many wasted opportunites for an iconic first kiss i am TELLING YOU #absolutely TRAGIC #bellarke #t100 #this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks #just reread it and oof.......#so many feelings #so so many

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m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months

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Pomegranate Ink: XXV

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: A veil comes down in Shibuya, with tragic consequences.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.8k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: ok i’m ngl i doubt this is what you all are expecting when it comes to shibuya pomegranate ink version but oh well it does what it needs to for narrative purposes. sorry

“The situation is definitely strange,” you said, using one of the needles you hadn’t cursed yet to clean under your nails. “I mean, what reason would there be to put a curtain down on Shibuya?”

“I don’t know,” Tullia said. “A part of me is worried, because this is so out of the ordinary, but at the same time, can you believe it? This is my first mission since my promotion!”

Ever since your classmates had heard that you and Todo had recommended them for Grade 1 status, they had been over the moon about it. Maki, especially, had been close to tears when she heard the news, hugging you tightly and thanking you over and over again for it. You had assured all of them that you really believed they deserved it and weren’t just doing it because they were your friends, and from that moment onwards they had been showing off in front of you, like they wanted to prove that they were worthy of the designation.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t count towards one of your supervised missions. I’m the one who gave you your initial recommendation, so I can’t give you another one, you see,” you said. Tullia shrugged.

“It’s okay. I’ve missed working with you, so it’s not a big deal! It’ll be just like old times,” she said. You wiped off the needle and then cursed it before putting it away with the rest of them, making sure the pouch was securely closed and then setting it in your pocket where it usually stayed.

“Hopefully, Gojo’s able to take care of it and we don’t have to do anything. As much as I’d love to go on a mission with you again, I don’t know if I like the situation here. If I had my way, we’d be somewhere else, doing nothing,” you said.

“Can you detect something with your cursed signature detection?” she said. You shook your head.

“Not with that veil in the way. I’m sure if we go in, I’ll be hit with it all at once,” you said.

When a mysterious veil had fallen over Shibuya station, several sorcerers had been called to the scene. There were five teams that you could think of off the top of your head, though you knew there were a couple of other, unrelated sorcerers also around: one consisted of Naobito, Maki, and Nobara, another was Nanami, Megumi, and Ino, a third was Mei Mei, her brother Ui Ui, and Itadori, the fourth was Kusakabe and Panda, and the final team was you and Tullia. However, all of you were meant to be on standby — Gojo was the one who would go in and take care of things. He was strong enough to do whatever it took, so you weren’t worried.

“Oh, so you’re just generally having a bad feeling,” Tullia said.

“Aren’t you?” you said. “This whole thing isn’t right, especially since Mechamaru was revealed to be a traitor. There’s something going on, and I don’t doubt that those disaster curses have something to do with it.”

“It’s Gojo, though. Do you really think he’ll have any issues, even if he is fighting those things?” she said.

“That’s actually very fair,” you said. “You’re right, I’m worrying about nothing. Sorry to bring down the mood.”

“Not at all. I’d be surprised if you weren’t worried; after all, our team is just the two of us, so if we have to go in, then we only have each other to trust,” she said.

“There’s no one I’d rather have by my side,” you said. It made sense that you and she were assigned together once again; she was the reason you could use Composition, so there was no better place for her than with you. Besides, your techniques worked well together, as you specialized in ranged attacks and she was stronger in close combat, making you effective at fighting alongside one another.

“When will we know to go inside?” Tullia said. “I don’t want us to be late or anything.”

“I’m sure one of the assistant managers will let us know,” you promised. As if you had summoned them just by speaking, your phone rang. When you looked at the caller ID, it showed Ijichi’s contact, his picture the selfie you had taken of the two of you when he had dropped you off on your first official mission as a Grade 1 sorcerer proper.

“It’s time now,” he said briskly, hanging up before you could even say anything. You didn’t blame him; he had to pass on the same message to the others, and there was no time for politeness in such high-stakes situations. Instead, you put your phone away and turned back to Tullia.

“Ijichi says it’s time. Are you ready?” you said. She patted herself down.

“Tetrodotoxin, cyanide, good old bleach, arsenic, and — look what Gojo got for me to celebrate my promotion!” she said, pulling out a glimmering glass bottle. “Botulinum toxin! It’s the stuff they use for botox, but apparently in large doses it’s one of the most poisonous biological substances known. This is definitely going to be good.”

You grimaced. “Please keep that close to you at all times. It’ll kill anyone else that comes in contact with it.”

“I know, I know. I’m very responsible with my poisons, both because some of them are massively expensive and because they’re so dangerous to other people,” Tullia said. “Do you have everything?”

“I’ve cursed all of my needles,” you said. “That’s all I can do.”

“Let’s get going, then. We shouldn’t waste time,” she said.

“Wait. Tullia, you’re sure about this? I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer, so I have to go, but you’re just a student. You can stay back if you want,” you said. “I always ask so much of you, and you always put me first. You can decide not to this time. I won’t be mad.”

She waved you off. “I’m a Semi-Grade 1 now, so I need to start doing this kind of thing more regularly anyways. Come on, if Ijichi told you to come inside the veil then there’s probably a real reason he did so, so we shouldn’t dawdle.”

“Okay. See you on the other side,” you said.

“See you on the other side, Y/N,” she said.

Then, before you could hesitate further or second guess yourselves, you stepped into the veil, leaving the outside world behind, taking that leap into the unknown without looking back — because you were sorcerers, and that was what sorcerers did.

Almost before you had even finished entering the veil, you were bowled over by the immensely malevolent presences lurking in the area. The concentration of curses was greater than you had ever experienced, even greater than it had been during the Night Parade, or maybe it wasn’t that there were more curses but rather that those which were present were on a different level entirely.

And that familiar presence. It was only because Tullia was there and things were so similar to what they had been last Christmas Eve, but you realized where you knew that cursed signature from.

“Suguru Geto?” you muttered.

“Hm? Did you say something, Y/N?” Tullia said. You thought about telling her what you had just figured out, but there wasn’t a point, at least not until you had more information confirming it. Though you didn’t think you were mistaken, there had to be some other explanation for the familiarity of the residuals beyond a dead man walking once more.

“Never mind,” you said. “Now, what should we—”

“Nanami! Y/N! Gojo’s been sealed! Did you hear me? Nanami! Y/N! Gojo has been sealed!”

It was Itadori’s voice which interrupted your thoughts, his screams echoing from somewhere far away. You looked at Tullia for confirmation, but it was evident that she had heard him too, judging by her blown pupils and the panicked set to her mouth.

“Gojo’s been what?” she whispered.

“Sealed?” you said. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

Gojo was Gojo. He was your teacher. He was more than that, actually, he was like a part of your family. Your whole family, even. He was the man that had saved you from your previous life and taught you how to be strong. He was strong; he was strength itself, personified. So what did it mean for him to be sealed? How did that compute?

“It’s probably temporary,” Tullia said. “Right?”

You swallowed, shaking your head to clear it. This wasn’t the time for thoughts like this. You were in charge of both yours and Tullia’s wellbeing at the moment, and you were in an incredibly volatile area. You had to set aside your emotions and focus on the logic of what was happening.

“I don’t know how it’s happened, but yes, that’s correct. No method of permanent sealing exists, so if the curses have managed to seal Gojo, then we can definitely undo it. We just have to find him and get him out of their grasp,” you said.

“That should be our priority, then, yes?” she prompted. You were grateful to her for the steady guidance, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to go on if you didn’t have her cheery self with you. It was not just her cursed energy that was so vital to your operation; her optimism managed to counteract your occasionally more pessimistic outlook, ensuring that you could think clearly even when you just wanted to wallow in despair.

“Yes. We’ll have to be careful, because if these curses were capable of sealing even Gojo, then who knows what else they can do? There’s no doubt that Mount Fuji and the plant curse will be here, as well as the patchwork curse that Itadori and Nanami had to fight, plus whatever other allies they have. Whatever happens next, it’s going to be difficult,” you said.

“When is it not?” Tullia said rhetorically.

“This time is different, though. This time, it doesn’t matter if we risk death. We have to keep going. We cannot win if we don’t have Gojo, so we must be prepared to give up anything and everything if it means saving him,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Where should we go first?”

“The station,” you said. “That’s where I detect the most signatures gathered together, so it’s a sure bet that he’s there, too.”

“Lead the way,” she said, downing an entire bottle of arsenic and then tossing it to the side, following after you as you raced towards the station at top speed, taking the stairs two at a time until you reached a tiled room which seemed to be devoid of anyone. Skidding to a stop, you motioned for Tullia to do the same.

“It looks empty,” you said. “But someone’s here. Be on your guard; whoever it is, they’re powerful.”

When you thought about it, this signature, too, was one you recognized. There was a hot, angry edge to it, pulsing with rage and fire as it stalked around the room in search of something to explode at. It was none other than the volcano-head you had met at the restaurant the other day, but for some reason, he was staying concealed for the moment. It was only a matter of time before he picked up on yours and Tullia’s presence in the room, though, and then you were definitely in trouble, so you put your finger on your lips and jerked your head towards the stairwell, indicating for Tullia to follow your lead. If you could just sneak out before he noticed you…

“You’re not the person I wanted to see, but I suppose you’re good enough for the moment, Y/N L/N,” the aged voice of the curse rang out as flames burst in the stairway, trapping you in the room with the curse as he rounded a corner and revealed himself, looking as grotesque as he had the day you had met the first time.

“Mount Fuji,” you greeted tersely. “You never told me your real name, so I hope you’re alright with me calling you that.”

“It’s Jogo!” the curse screeched, steam pouring out of his ears. “My name is Jogo, and don’t you ever refer to me in such a demeaning way again!”

The heat from the fire Jogo had set in the stairwell was so high that it was making your skin burn from just the proximity to it, so reluctantly, you took a step forward, away from the fire but consequently closer to the curse.

“Fine, Jogo. What have you and your lot done to Gojo?” you said, brandishing a needle and holding it in front of you protectively. It was more a placebo than anything; you doubted a single needle would be enough to take out this curse, unless you were able to use Dissection and aim at one of the weak spots that would then be made apparent.

“Satoru Gojo? We sealed him in a prison realm. Who’s going to save you now, huh?” he said, leering at you with blackened teeth, smoke belching from the crater atop his head.

A prison realm. Well, that type of thing was probably the only reliable way to deal with someone like Gojo, but it made rescuing him a lot more painful for you. Even if you managed to obtain the realm in which Gojo was contained, you’d have to then figure out how to unseal him, and then you’d have to hope that the manner in which you went about doing that was something that you could actually manage to accomplish.

“We’ll get him back,” you said. “Don’t think that we won’t.”

“Not if I kill you here and now,” Jogo said, flames dancing at his fingertips when he spoke. You spun your needle between your fingers, a new nervous habit you had picked up on recently.

“It doesn’t matter if you do. Even if Tullia and I are gone, someone will get to him. If it’s not us, then it’ll be one of the others. I don’t have to be the hero who saves him. As long as he’s saved,” you said. “So go on. Do your worst, if that’s what you’re set on doing. But just remember that by killing me, you are forfeiting any chance of Sukuna coming to your aid.”

It was a bluff. You had come to this conclusion while you were talking: you did not want to die. Maybe it made you a coward, but you didn’t want to get hurt. You didn’t want anyone you cared about to be injured. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want your friends to die. But your words were true in one way: it didn’t matter if you did die, in the end, even if you were scared to. You were not the one who would turn the tides of this battle.

Except there was something only you could do. Something that Sukuna needed you for. This was where your importance came from. That was why they wanted you. It wasn’t because you were strong. It wasn’t because you were a particularly talented sorcerer. It was because for some reason, the King of Curses had decided you were a person he could not kill.

Lava bubbled over the rim of the volcano on Jogo’s head, dripping down his forehead like sweat, his eye glazing over as the flames in the staircase grew to an all-time high. You grabbed Tullia’s hand and squeezed it, trying to communicate without words what you wanted to say. He’s angry. He doesn’t care. Get ready.

Discreetly, she took out another bottle of arsenic and drank it. You thought that it was just about time for the botulinum toxin, but it wasn’t your cursed technique, so you wouldn’t presume to dictate to her what she should and shouldn’t be ingesting at any given moment.

“You’re right,” Jogo said. “I can’t kill you, at least not until we awaken Sukuna and figure out what, exactly, he wants from you. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you in the meantime, does it? Yes, that sounds like a good plan. I’m sure Sukuna will be pleased to see you burnt beyond the point of recognition, anyways; after all, I’ve heard that he harbors no love for you.”

You had no response to this. You had picked up on the intense hatred Sukuna had for you, too — it seeped out of his very being, so potent it took on a life of its own, like every cell in Sukuna’s body had its own equivalent dedicated solely to despising you, that vitriol braided into every fiber of his being. Jogo was likely correct; as long as you were still alive, Sukuna would probably delight at seeing you in pain.

“What do we do?” Tulla said under her breath as Jogo began to cackle.

“We fight, and we win,” you said.

“That’s it?” she said.

“Always is,” you said wryly. She scoffed.

“Do we just go improv?” she said.

“I have no idea what his abilities are, so we’re going to have to,” you said. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anything,” she said.

“And I trust you, so it’ll be fine. We can do this,” you said. “Just follow my lead, and I’ll follow yours. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said.

“I forgot!” Jogo said, clapping his hands together. “There’s nothing stopping me from killing her!”

He pointed at Tullia, and out of nowhere, large wasps manifested behind him, buzzing and dancing through the air towards her. You threw your needles at them, and though some made contact, there were so many in the swarm that it didn’t matter. Although Tullia tried to dodge and avoid them, it was futile — they followed her every step of the way, Jogo watching her keenly, watching how her feet slid against the freshly-washed tiles, and how she struggled to swat the insects away.

You took advantage of the moment to use Dissection on him, identifying his weak spots while you had the chance to. His eye, the volcano on his head, his jaw, and the nape of his neck glowed green, and you did not hesitate to fling a needle at him, aiming for the largest target: the volcano.

Right when the needle was about to strike, a chasm opened in the ground below him, spewing flames that melted the needle into a useless heap of metal at his feet. At the same time, in unison, the wasps emitted a piercing sound, surrounding Tullia, covering her entire body and then detonating, smoke and flame and ash billowing up in clouds around her.

“No!” you screamed, physically feeling the loss in your stomach. Tullia’s cursed energy, which you had grown accustomed to always being connected with yours, was suddenly gone, leaving you barren and empty. It made your movements unsure, your mind foggy as you tried to compensate for what had just been stolen from you.

Jogo took advantage of the moment to wrap one searing palm around your bicep, burning the flesh away with a smug grin on his face. You kicked and wailed, trying to pull free, but he held fast. You used your free hand to pull out a needle and stab it into his hand, but it was like you were suffering from a withdrawal or a hangover. You had grown so adapted to Tullia’s cursed energy that without it, you were nothing. You couldn’t do anything. You had been healing and fighting when you were only supposed to do one, and now that you didn’t have a buffer there to deal with the repercussions of it, you were facing them all at once.

“Let go of me!” you sobbed. Purple blood streamed from Jogo’s hand as you dragged the needle through his wrist, and he growled at you, upping his temperature so that this needle, too, evaporated into nothingness.

“I don’t think so,” he hissed. “You’ve been an impertinent little bitch, and even though I can’t kill you, I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

“She said to let go!” a familiar voice said, and suddenly a fist was ramming into Jogo’s head, knocking him back and sending him flying across the room. He slammed into a wall, and cursed energy flared through your body once more. “Use Composition on your arm before you lose it, quickly! I’ll be fine, I’ve had enough poison that you could probably heal an entire army and I’d be alright.”

“Tullia?” you said. “How did you—?”

“As soon as I saw him using fire, I dosed up on arsenic,” she said as you took a tiny bit of her energy to heal your arm, which Jogo had burnt to the bone. The flesh and muscle regenerated around it, not even a scar left due to the perfection of Composition as a Reverse Cursed Technique. “It’s fire resistant, so I was able to survive the insects’ initial onslaught. It’s not a permanent solution, but it worked in a pinch. Now come on and get your head in the game; you’re a Grade 1 sorcerer, for crying out loud!”

Her clothes were tattered and singed, her hair uneven and choppy, entire chunks missing from where it had crumbled away entirely. Her face and body were covered in burns, but burns could be healed, hair could be regrown, and clothes could be changed. She was alive, and that was what was important.

“Right,” you said. “I’ve been doing a bad job at showing that, haven’t I? Okay, listen, his weak spots are the volcano, the eye, the nape of his neck, and his jaw. He’s been melting the needles I throw at him, though, so I’ve been out of luck in trying to fight him because of that.”

“I guess you could say he’s too hot to handle,” she said with a snicker before composing herself. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, still reeling at her death and then at the fact that she wasn’t dead at all. She took another drink of arsenic, giving you a firm nod.

“I can probably go hand to hand and aim for those weak spots, but I doubt I’m strong enough to do any significant damage, and I don’t have Sukuna’s protection the way you do,” she said.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you said. “I’m going to do it myself. You just have to protect me. Distract him when he starts to hurt me again, and I’ll hit him before he can even think about killing you.”

This time, you did not even wait for Jogo to attack first. You went on the offensive, Tullia staying close enough to you that Jogo did not dare send a wide-ranging attack towards her for fear of catching you in the crossfire. You tossed out a handful of needles to serve as a distraction, but like all the others, they liquefied once they got within an arms’ length of Jogo.

Volcanic openings appeared in the ground in front of you as you ran, spitting out lava at random. There was no time to think as you leapt and swerved — you were acting purely on instinct, each footfall nothing more than guesswork. The wrong one meant death. The right one meant survival. But who could tell which was which? The ends of your sleeves caught on fire at one point, and you had to beat them against your side in order to put them out, but even then you could not pause, not when you were so close, not when there was no escape, not when this confrontation could only end in one of two ways: your death or his.

You reached him first, punching him in the jaw. Without the specific refinement and cursed energy of your needles, it didn’t exorcise him instantly, and anyways he was a special grade, so one hit wouldn’t have been enough to do the job regardless, but it did cause him pain. You could tell because he groaned at the contact, and his mouth hinged open for a moment, hanging there as he breathed fire at you, more steam pouring out from his ears when he did. You ducked out of the way of the blast, and before he could redirect his attack, Tullia kicked him in the back of the head. You rolled to your feet in the meanwhile, digging your fingers into his neck, gouging into it, his flesh and blood stuck under your nails when you pulled away to backhand him and then flip over the volcano that opened beneath your feet.

You continued like that, the three of you settling into a rhythm of sorts. You would strike, and then Tullia would attack before Jogo could turn his ire upon you. Then, right when he was about to retaliate against Tullia, you would lash out once more. He was at a definite disadvantage, not because of skill but because he could not kill you. You knew for a fact that if it were not for Sukuna’s threat weighing on his mind, he would’ve annihilated you already. But he could not, not if he ever wanted to be successful in his eventual goals, and you and Tullia abused that fact, pummeling him without care, dodging whatever he sent your way — or sometimes not even that. You could not count the amount of times that one of you burst into flames, barely managing to put it out in time to keep fighting.

There was a kind of clarity that you felt in that moment. You were no longer Y/N L/N. You were no longer anyone. And neither was Tullia; she wasn’t a person but an extension of yourself, as you were an extension of her, as you were both two halves of a greater whole and Jogo was the unspoken third which you could not exist without. Dissection and Composition and the burning body in between you. The healer and the empty glass and the fire-like-wine which filled you. There would be no one to fight without him. There would be no one to heal without him. That was the truth of sorcerers and curses: you both could not exist without one another, like a cyclical, self-contained plague. Who would you kill if not your counterpart? It was in your nature. You were born to fight Jogo, as Jogo was born to fight you. And if not him, if not you, then another, and another, and another, until one side could possibly win — if a victory which led to erasure could be considered as such.

If there were no curses, there would be no sorcerers. If there were no sorcerers, there would be no curses. There was no curse theory or scientific backing to support this thought. It was just something you knew in that instant, as you fought Jogo. It was one of those things you felt, a truth that resounded in your bones as surely as the fire which danced along your skin every time Jogo counterattacked.

You were beating him. He was weak now, but still frenzied, still overtaken by the rush of the fight, adrenaline and arrogance overtaking his reason, his higher-order thinking. It shouldn’t have been this simple, but for that one precious second, you allowed yourself to believe it. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe you and Tullia had really done it, that you had managed to exorcise a special grade of this magnitude. You allowed yourself to believe that you could move on and return to seeking out Gojo now.

“Domain Expansion,” Jogo gasped out, raising his hands, not to attack but for another purpose entirely. He must’ve given up on not wanting to kill you. He must’ve realized that there was this other way that he could wipe you out without having to worry about you anymore.

“Tullia!” you shouted desperately, shoving at her, trying to push her away with all your strength, no longer worrying about Jogo. “Tullia, run! You have to run!”

It was too late. She gazed at you, and you could see in her eyes that she knew what was happening, that she understood it was too late for her to escape, just like it was too late for you. As a mountain began to form around you, she embraced you, pressing her cheek to yours, her lips to your ear.

“Until the end, we keep fighting,” she said. “Even if we’re in his Domain, we keep fighting. Right? We’ll weaken him enough that maybe — maybe one of the others can do it, can get rid of him for good.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke. “Yes.”

“Thank you for being my friend,” she said.

“Thank you for being mine,” you said.

“Coffin of the Iron Mountain!” Jogo declared, rejuvenated by the power of the Doman Expansion, even though by all rights it should’ve drained him further. As the Domain completed, you and Tullia found yourselves standing inside of an enormous volcano, rocks crashing down and lava bubbling in the corners.

“Hold on a second. You said that that curse could perform a Domain Expansion. What if it pulls that out? Does she have any counter to that?” Nanami said. “If she doesn’t, then it’s totally irresponsible of you to send her. Even more irresponsible than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Um,” Gojo said. “Y/N? Do you have a counter for that?”

“Wow, Gojo,” you said. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that. Thank you for the concern, Nanami, sir, but as the case may be, I actually do have something I can use if things come to it, so I’ll be alright.”

You had learnt it from Noritoshi. He himself had never had the strength to accomplish it, but he had talked to you about it one day, back before you had even come to the school. He was the academic type, and he had studied the theory so carefully that he managed to explain that secret of the Big Three clans to you in the simplest way. He had been so skilled at explaining it to you, in fact, that you had managed to replicate it before even he could, much to his chagrin.

He had still been proud of you, vowing to work just as hard so that he could do it, too. The way that the Big Three clans countered Domain Expansions, even when they weren’t strong enough to lay out one of their own: you were the only outsider that had the knowledge, and even then it was only because you would one day be a Kamo. Though you generally detested the clans, you supposed you had them to thank for this one thing, for the reason why Jogo’s Domain did not immediately kill you.

“Falling Blossom Emotion,” you said, a layer of cursed energy creeping over you and shielding you from the flames and rocks of the volcanic Domain. Thus protected, you shifted to take stock of Tullia, knowing that unlike you, she didn’t have a defense against the sure-hit effect of the Domain.

Fire was licking up her legs and arms, but she was alive, determination sparkling in her eyes. The arsenic was probably the only reason she hadn’t completely burnt away yet, but you both knew that that would not last forever.

“You have a way to protect yourself?” she said.

“I do!” you said.

“Good!” she said.

“The arsenic seems to be protecting you for now. We just need to weaken him enough that he can’t maintain his Domain before it wears off, and then I can use Composition to heal you before we keep going,” you said.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” she said. “I can’t die quite yet, you know. I still have to tell someone that I love them.”

Together, stride for stride, heartbeat for heartbeat, the two of you did the exact opposite thing you were supposed to do when in a Domain: you sprinted towards the caster. The Lord of the Iron Mountain, the volcanic curse Jogo, that damned creature which you should’ve been fleeing from, but instead of doing that, you ran right towards him, you needles guiding the way, the air shimmering from the heat, the fire slowly overtaking Tullia’s body, her lower lip trembling from the effort of holding her screams in.

“You dare to challenge me in my own Domain?” Jogo shouted. “I will crush you like the insects you are! Let it always be remembered who the true humans are!”

He truly had forgotten about Sukuna, or maybe he no longer cared. The latter seemed unlikely, though; more accurately, he was probably so caught up with the rush of the battle that everything came second to the tantalizing prospect of winning.

Rocks came crashing down in huge landslides. They slid off the cursed energy of Falling Blossom Emotion without touching you, which meant that Tullia bore the brunt of it, raising her charred forearms to protect herself from the volley — but they just kept coming, in larger and larger quantities and sizes. But still, you kept going, kept running, because what else was there to do but that? What else was there to do but run?

“Y/N,” Tullia called out from behind you. “You have to be the one to do it! Keep going. Ignore whatever happens to me, okay? You can’t shut down again, because you are the one that has to do it!”

“Wait,” you said as a boulder twice even Todo’s size pinned her legs to the ground. “Wait, no, that’s not right!”

“Go,” she said. “If you don’t forget about me, he wins! Keep going!”

Elakshi was sitting by herself on a bench, slicing an apple and eating it as she went. You sat across from her, waiting for her to speak. She had been the one to suggest the meeting time and spot, so you thought it was only fair for her to say something first, but she waited until after her entire apple was finished to talk.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” she said. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” you said, bemused at how intently she had been eating the apple, to the point that she had not noticed nor cared that you were there, too. “I think we both want to talk about the same thing.”

“Your weakness?” she guessed, using a napkin to wipe the juice off of her knife. “That’s what I’m here to tell you about, even though my classmates would be furious if they knew.”

“Do you think so?” you said.

“We have one more year of exchange events against each other, don’t we? I’m just making it harder for myself if I tell you this. That’s part of the fun to me, though, and besides you’re the one that saved me, so at minimum I owe you for that time,” she said.

“You don’t owe me. I was just doing my job,” you said. “I’d appreciate it if you told me what you and Noritoshi figured out, though.”

“Love,” she said, getting straight to the point. You almost jumped at the directness with which she now spoke. “That’s your weakness.”

“My weakness…is love? I don’t see how that works,” you said.

“Call it love, or empathy, or what have you. It’s all the same concept: we can hurt you the best by hurting your friends, the people you care about. That’s when you get distracted. That’s when you give up. You have a heart that bleeds for others, the kind of heart that’s always wanting to help someone else, but not everyone in the world deserves to be helped, and sometimes, you have to abandon your friends for the greater good,” she said.

“Huh? Why would I do that? What good is there in abandoning the people I care about?” you said. She wrinkled her nose.

“There it is again. That’s the reason why you threw yourself in front of that branch for Maki Zenin. That’s the reason I knew you’d fall for my bluff and try to heal me, even though no normal sorcerer would ever care that much about their opponent. There is no version of you that doesn’t jump before that branch, just as there is no version of you that doesn’t stop to use Composition on me,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. And Maki is Maki. All I knew at that moment was that I could not let her die.”

Elakshi considered this. “Your emotions, your love for others, makes it impossible for you to see the big picture. You saved Maki in the moment, but you took yourself — a Grade 1 sorcerer — out of the fight, therefore putting everyone else at risk. You healed me in the moment, but you left yourself and Tullia vulnerable to my retaliation. I admire you, and this definitely isn’t me saying that you aren’t strong or something, but if you ever want to work past this, then you have to come to terms with the fact that there will be times when you can’t protect someone.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m meant to be a healer after all,” you said. “I’m so used to trying to save everyone that I end up saving no one.”

“I’ve been in a lot of hospitals in my time,” Elakshi said. “Can I tell you something I’ve learned? Even the best doctors can’t save everyone. In truth, I doubt anyone can.”

You had to leave Tullia behind. You had to exorcise this curse here and now, and to do that, you had to leave her to what very well could be her death. You had to keep going, had to keep running, and when you reached Jogo, you would have to kill him. There was no way around it. That was simply what you had to do.

You reached him and stabbed a needle into his throat before he could even think to melt it. He uppercutted you in return, and then it became the most lethal sparring match you had ever been in, every movement a brush with death, every second weakening you and strengthening him. Now that you were in his Domain, the roles had reversed. You could not keep up, and furthermore, Tullia’s energy was waning. She was dying, actively dying, and it did not just have a mental effect on you but a physical one, too: without those extra reserves to boost you, you grew exhausted at an exponentially faster rate.

Finally, Jogo reached for you, and you were not quite quick enough to avoid it. He grabbed your neck and squeezed, lifting you in the air and laughing as you kicked your legs and slapped at his hand in an attempt to free yourself.

“It’s time, Y/N L/N,” he said. “I’m going to set you on fire. I’m going to burn your memory into this world, so that you are remembered for years to come. Sukuna will be pleased with that, don’t you think?”

What did you even do now? How could you escape this? What could you even do? Your needles were useless against Jogo’s heat. Your only ally was almost dead. Your cursed technique wouldn’t do much good, either, as you already knew his weak spots — it was hitting them that was the issue.

There had to be a way. What was something only you could do? What was something that only Grade 1 sorcerer, Y/N L/N could do?

Peace settled over you as you understood, in that moment, the way that you could defeat Jogo. As Jogo readied himself to set you on fire, you strengthened Falling Blossom Emotion to defend yourself and then smiled, knowing that you could not care for the consequences of your actions, knowing that you could not hesitate or this really would be the end for you.

“Tullia!” you shouted with what little air you had left, praying that she’d hear you. “One last time. Nothing after this matters, so one last time, please let me take your strength from you!”

In response, your cursed energy lit up from the force of hers, as brilliant as the sun at midnight. The botulinum toxin, she must’ve had just enough power left in her body to drink it all at once, not knowing what you needed it for but having enough faith in you to go along with what you said anyways.

“Give it up, girl,” Jogo spat, the volcano on his head pouring out even more lava as you glared at him, Falling Blossom Emotion the only reason you hadn’t combusted yet. “That defensive technique of yours is about to fail, and then you will be nothing more than ashes. Why prolong your misery? You can’t do anything to me that matters.”

“I am Y/N L/N,” you said. “I am the girl who brought someone back to life. I can do anything. Composition!”

You clamped your hands down around his wrist, ignoring how your palms were burning from his body heat and holding them steady, using your Reverse Cursed Technique on him. It was an old factoid you remembered Ieri mentioning to you once, that Reverse Cursed Techniques were actually destructive to curses instead of beneficial, and you bet everything you had, everything Tullia had, on that being true.

Amongst all other Reverse Cursed Techniques, Composition reigned supreme, mostly because of its eponymous ability: the one which allowed its users to compose instead of just join. Maybe that was the reason it was so effective against Jogo, or maybe it was because of Tullia’s botulinum toxin fuelling you, or maybe you were really just that strong. Likely it was a combination of all these factors, but the reasoning behind it didn’t matter as much as the result did.

Almost as soon as you activated Composition, Jogo’s entire arm disintegrated. You thudded to the ground, the burns on your neck and palms throbbing with pain as you scrambled to your feet once again, resting your hands on his shoulders, pressing them into his skin. Your insides curled at the scent of your own flesh igniting, but this time, you did not falter, staring into his eye with the insane delight that came from the newfound mastery. His earlier vicious conceit had been replaced by naked fear, and this time, it was your turn to laugh at him.

“Composition,” you whispered, so quietly that he had to lean in to hear you. “Composition. Composition.”

Every single bit of energy Tullia had lent you, you poured into using your Reverse Cursed Technique on Jogo, watching as it ate away at his body, eyes glowing with the reflection of the fiery mountain of his Domain until he regained his composure enough to break free from you, canceling his Domain Expansion and stumbling towards the staircase.

You weren’t sure if he’d make it or not. You weren’t sure if you had used Composition long enough that he had reached the point of no return, or if he’d be able to regenerate again. You weren’t sure about any of that, but either way, there was nothing you could do about it anymore. You had used every last drop of cursed energy that both you and Tullia shared on him already. You couldn’t do anything now; you just had to leave it up to the rest of your friends, hoping that one of them found him before he regained enough strength to become a threat once more.

Crawling over to where Tullia’s body lay, you gathered her in your arms, listening for her heartbeat. It was there when you pressed your ear to her chest, faint but existent, even though her legs were a mangled mess of blood and tissue, her face and arms burnt beyond belief, dried bloodstains like tear tracks running down her cheeks and nose, a puddle formed from where it had dripped from her ears and mouth.

You hadn’t been careful enough. While fighting Jogo, you hadn’t considered how it would impact Tullia. You hadn’t considered anything bar the thought that you could not let him get away. Tullia, who had already endured so much, had been put through even more because of your carelessness, but she was alive. You had beaten Jogo back quickly enough that she had not vanished entirely in the desolation of his Domain.

There was no cursed energy boosting you when you picked her up. Your muscles and legs threatened to give out with every step, but this was your penance, your way of making up for what you had done to her, for how you had destroyed her as thoroughly as Jogo had.

“Y/N.” Her voice was weak and thin, barely more than a whisper.

“Shh, don’t talk. It’ll only make you worse. I’m taking you to where Ieri and my family members are stationed. They’ll heal you, and you’ll be okay,” you said.

“I don’t think Ieri can heal this,” she said.

“Of course she can’t. But my father, or one of my cousins, any of my family members, really, they’ll all be there and they can use Composition, so they can do it. It’ll be okay, so just be quiet and wait until we get there, alright? I know how much you like to talk, so please promise me you’ll be silent until we reach them,” you said. Your legs were howling as you dragged the two of you through what remained of Shibuya, the eerie silence of what should’ve been a bustling place.

“It’s Halloween,” Tullia observed. “I wish we had just gone trick or treating.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” you said, exasperated. “But you’re right, we would’ve been much better off if we had done that.”

“I had so many cute costume ideas,” she said. “Made a whole Pinterest board and everything.”

“We can do it tomorrow,” you said. “Once we’ve unsealed Gojo and he’s gotten rid of everything and everyone, we can all go trick or treating together.”

“That sounds nice,” she said. “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I would, too.”

You almost collapsed by the time you reached where the healers were located, thankfully without running into any other curses or curse users. Even though your cursed energy was gone, your senses were still attuned to others’ signatures, and you were able to hide away whenever anyone ran past. That was probably the only reason you made it safely, and even then you barely did. Surviving for so long with zero reserves of cursed energy and no one to heal you, and then physically exerting yourself by carrying Tullia so far, all but wiped you out. It was only by sheer will that you made it to where your family stood, your father barking out orders to your cousins so that they were deployed effectively.

“Father,” you said. The entire ward went silent as they took in your appearance. Your family members, the people that had watched you grow up, the ones who still in the back of their minds thought of you as a delicate flower, a beautiful failure, looked at you, and you wondered what they saw.

You were covered in ash like fine dust, Tullia’s blood smeared all over you just because of your proximity to her. Your neck and palms were burnt, your collar and one of your sleeves nothing more than blackened threads. You were littered with bruises and scratches from where Jogo had made contact with you, and to top it all off, you carried a body in your arms. You didn’t look very much like a girl raised to be a silent lady. To them, you probably didn’t look very much like a L/N at all.

“Y/N,” your father said coolly. You set Tullia down on a free bed and then crossed the room, falling into his embrace. He was stiff, but he held you, and though he was not your mother, though he was not Gojo, he was close enough. He was still your father.

“I know — Naobito told me you chose not to come to the exchange event,” you said, clinging to his shirt, the smell of his cologne so familiar, reminding you of your childhood. “Why? Why didn’t you come for me?”

“You should sit down,” your father said, guiding you to a chair and pushing you down. You did not resist, looking up at him beseechingly.

“You’re here now, though, right? You’re going to heal Tullia, right?” you said. Your father glanced over his shoulder at her, and he did not even go over to inspect her before he shook his head.

“She’s beyond saving. We can’t do much for her anymore,” he said.

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, ignoring his protests. “What do you mean? She’s not beyond saving! I could do it if I had the energy!”

“Yes, you probably could,” he said. “You’re a prodigy with Composition, remember? The rest of us aren’t like that. The rest of us can’t do it. So why don’t you heal her yourself?”

“I can’t, either,” you said. “Not right now. I used up the last of my energy fighting one of the special grade disaster curses. She gave me all of hers so that I could win, but that leaves us in this situation.”

“I see,” your father said. You wrinkled the fabric of his pressed shirt in your hands, leaving dirty smudges on the pristine, starched white. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“You don’t have to heal her all of the way. Just a little bit. Just give her enough energy that I can do it. That’s possible, isn’t it?” you said.

“That’s correct. Even the youngest of your cousins could accomplish that much,” he said. Still, nobody moved.

“Well? Get on with it, then! She’ll die if we don’t hurry up,” you said.

“No,” your father said. You froze, cocking your head. Had you heard him incorrectly?

“...no?” you repeated.

“It’s the same reason the L/Ns didn’t come to the exchange event,” he said. “You claimed that you are not one of us. You chose fighting instead of healing. I warned you that there would be a consequence to that decision, and this is what it is. You fought, and now you cannot save a person that you love.”

“Yet you can!” you said. “I understand what you’re doing. You’re deserting me in the hopes that I come back, that I choose to be a healer instead of fighting on the front lines. But, father, I can’t — I can’t heal without her! If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll never fight again, I’ll spend the rest of my life in Noritoshi’s shadow or three paces behind Naoya or whatever else you want from me, but please. You have to save her. Just do this one thing for me, and I will go back to being the daughter you want.”

“None of the L/Ns will lay a finger on her,” he decreed. “Do you understand? This is what happens when people don’t accept their roles in the natural order of things. You tried to rebel against the place you were given, and now Tullia will pay the price.”

“No,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “Punish me. I’m the one who did something wrong, so punish me for it if you must, but leave her out of it. Please leave her out of it. She didn’t do anything. She saved me, father, she’s saved me so many times that I can’t count it. She is my Composition. I cannot use it without her. You have to save her.”

“If you cannot use Composition without her, then perhaps you are not meant to use it at all. No one can have both. Dissection or Composition; didn’t I tell you that you’d have to pick? You made your choice. I made mine,” he said.

“None of you?” you said, looking at all of your family members. The younger ones turned away in shame, while the older ones held your accusing look levelly. “Not one of you will go against him and save her?”

The only response you got was a lingering, resounding silence. The people that had raised you were turning their backs on you. You understood their message: you were no longer one of them. You were not a healer; you were a fighter. You had chosen your path. They had chosen theirs.

“Get rid of the girl’s body,” your father said. “She’s taking up space. We don’t know when the next injured sorcerer will arrive, especially since I just received word that Sukuna’s manifested.”

“I’ll take her,” you said. “But you will all regret this. I swear to you, I will make sure that you do.”

“Where are you going with her?” your father said. You held Tullia, taking comfort in only the fact that her pulse was shallow but steady, that she was still breathing, though she had long ago gone unconscious.

“If you won’t save her,” you said coldly. “Then I will find someone else who will.”

“There is no one else that can save her,” your father said.

“Actually, there is,” you said. “One person. There is one other person who can do it.”

Your father’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

“I do,” you said.

“Y/N, think this over,” your father said. “He won’t help you.”

“Well,” you said. “It seems that neither will you.”

You were probably the only person in Shibuya that hoped he hadn’t vanished yet. You were probably the only person in the entire world that was actually happy to see him, happy to see those black marks still curled over the face which resembled Itadori’s so greatly. Because it wasn’t Itadori’s, this was as plain as day — even if the markings vanished, you’d still be able to tell the difference between your cheerful underclassman and the King of Curses.

“Sukuna!” you called out. He turned from where he was crouching by Megumi’s side, the expression on his face transforming from rage at your impertinence to rage at simply your being. No, he could not kill you, but it was hard to remember that in his presence, hard to remember that he still needed you for something.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, the name like poison on his tongue, ostensibly because it was a reminder of his first defeat, the time that he had lost to another woman of the same name. “How can you be so bold as to show your face here?”

“I know what you want from me,” you said, putting Tullia down and kneeling before him. Shock flashed across his irises, and his hands twitched, but he did not otherwise react.

“Is that so?” he said. “And what is it that I want from you?”

“A body,” you said. “Right?”

It was while you were using Composition on Jogo that you understood it. You were the only person in the world that could utilize the Reverse Cursed Technique to the extent that you did, so that had to have something to do with what Sukuna wanted from you. But what could a being capable of using his own Reverse Cursed Technique, even on other people, want from that? It was specific to Composition, that was clear.

“A body,” Sukuna said.

“You’ve manifested in a vessel that fights you every step of the way, but by using Composition, I can take someone else and alter them into being exactly the carrier you want,” you said. “Isn’t that correct? That’s why I can’t die yet. There isn’t anyone else in the world who has such potential with Composition, who will eventually have the power to heal someone’s body into another, more evolved form entirely.”

Sukuna was silent. You bowed your head, knowing that what you were offering was foolish and selfish, that you were all but spelling the world’s destruction with this, that in essence you were aiding the King of Curses, the most evil creature in the world. You were telling a monster you’d give him what he wanted, for the sole sake of saving one person.

“Please heal her,” you said. “I’ll give you what you want. I will compose the perfect body for you. If you don’t believe me, then I’ll even make a Binding Vow. Just — just please save her. I can’t do it without her.”

A deal with the devil. The world for your friend. Elakshi was right; maybe love was your greatest weakness. Maybe you shouldn’t ever try to save anyone. But you had to at least save Tullia, who had always saved you, and this was the only way you could do it. Your family had forsaken you. Your reserves of cursed energy were gone and would probably take days to recover back to even their base level. Only Sukuna was left.

“Just as I expected, you don’t know the slightest thing, Y/N L/N,” Sukuna said. Involuntarily, you raised your head and met his eyes, which were as red as the sky before a storm. He grinned at you, his teeth unnaturally sharp like demon-fangs. “I already have the body which I require, so I don’t need to make that kind of contract, with you or anyone else. Besides, how can you expect me to heal that girl?”

“What? What do you mean?” you said. As you watched, invisible slashes cut through Tullia’s body, thousands upon thousands of them so that her remains did not even resemble a person anymore, so that she was nothing more than a fallen heap of blood and cloth and poison sitting before you.

“As you can see, she’s already dead,” he said, and then he burst into a fit of deep, full laughter. You screamed in horror at the sight, something shattering in the back of your mind, in the corners of your soul — the link to Tullia’s energy, which you had come to depend on, was gone forever, and this time, it wasn’t coming back. Nobody could heal her now. There wasn’t even a her anymore, just scattered pieces of what had once been one of your best friends.

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw up, convulsing from the strain, your very body rejecting what had just happened. She shouldn’t have died. You should’ve saved her. There should’ve been some way, some manner in which she could’ve lived. When there was nothing left in your stomach, you dry heaved until you couldn’t breathe, and then blackness crept into the corners of your vision.

The last thing you felt before you passed out entirely was a taloned hand grabbing onto the back of your neck and the familiar sensation of teleportation. You were dimly aware of being thrown beside someone else, and then there were shouts — Ieri? Your father? You didn’t know — and then there was nothing. Blissful, calm, blank nothing.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

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Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Hellboy Propaganda

He is literally the beast of the apocalypse. He was forcibly assigned catholic at birth, he deserves this. Now i know the rules said no demons, and that is fair. But here is my propaganda: he is a half-demon AND he absolutely does not want to end the world. He just wants to hang out and beat up monsters and work his job. But catholic guilt and apocalypse stuff always gets in the way. The comic books contain a ridiculous amount of religious imagery, the author was raised catholic, and passages from the bible are occasionally quoted. Hellboy is also portrayed as a messianic figure in conjunction with being an apocalyptic one. He uh, kind of becomes the savior of the new world and its like a whole thing. Catholic imagery appears frequently. Statues of the virgin mary, churches, etc. he also wears a literal cross on his belt, what can i say.

Okay here’s my rant. Hi, hello, propaganda. The last ten issues of the comic literally feature Hellboy going to hell and killing satan. He kills satan, fucks around in hell for a bit, and then blows everything up and its godamn tragic. Forcibly assigned catholic at birth. A bro did not ask for this it just happened. His mom was a witch but tried to become catholic after she died. Kind of a banger move. It didn’t work out for her but she gets points for trying. He tried real hard to save the world and it kind of worked but he did still die and go to hell. But not because he did anything bad, it was just kind of unavoidable. Again, he did blow the place the fuck up when he was done so. Respect.

Lapsed Catholic who is literally a half demon and also the rightful King of England that’s right he’s descended from King Arthur on his mother’s side.

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

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I'm sure Harrow is lovely and I respect the space lesbians but listen to me. Listen.

Matt Murdock is the Catholic character of all time, and if you make him lose, I am blowing up this website and everyone in it.

He is Catholic. His mother is a nun. He grew up in a catholic orphanage. Half the episodes in the show include him going to confession. When he needs therapy, he talks to his priest. He dresses up as a devil partly because of the Catholicism.

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One time he got godly powers on loan from Heimdall (see below), and he did a lot of good with it, and then the second it was over he just... well. Also see below!

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This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

Please vote for Matt in the @catholic-character-tournament because he's the best and most realistic representation of what it means to be Catholic. Someone who's been punched and bet and crushed by life but still gets up every day to try. No, he's not a nun like his competition but he's not less devoted because of that. Not everyone is called to service. In the day he works at a defense lawyer to help people. Not for the money but to help people not get screwed over by the law. And at night, he dons a mask and beats up assholes when the law fails them. Is he perfect? No, that's the point. Matt is a broken man who is just trying his best to do well and live like Jesus.

He fully embodies the Catholic doctrine of faith and good works. He has faith in what he's doing even if others challenge him. He believes in forgiveness and repenting even when going up against "the devil."

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"The people you murder deserve another chance." ... "No, Frank. To try again, Frank. To try. And if you don't get that, there's something broken in you you can't fix, and you really are a nutjob." "You think God made you a one-man firing squad. But you're wrong. There is goodness in people, even in you. And you're gonna have to kill me, 'cause I'm never gonna stop coming for you, until I take you down."

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

He (tries) to love his enemy. He believes in Elektra and Frank and maybe Dex and their ability to change. To be good. And when he can't, Matt refuses to compromise on his morals. While not quite "turning his cheek" he never scoops to their level. Because they don't get to destroy who he is.

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Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

All he does is for the love he has to his neighbors, his community. He loves New York. Not for self-fulfilling needs or for the money or for the fame. He does it because he believes in justice. Because the law was created by humans and is inherently sinful.

"But his competition met God and was disappointed and blah blah"

Daredevil is more grounded (at least the show, maybe less the comics). So now, Matt doesn't met God. But he sure gets mad at him. All of season 3 he angry at God for all the trauma he expired.

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"You see, that was me, Sister. I suffered willingly. I gave my, uh... sweat and blood and skin without complaint. Because I too believed I was God's soldier. ( chuckles ) Well, not anymore. I am what I do in the dark now. I bleed only for myself. ( scoffs )" ... "You might hate God right now, but the feeling is not mutual." "No, I don't hate him. I've just seen his true face, is all."

Season 3 episode 1

As a Catholic I don't really want to fight God in a parking lot. Well I do but not in the same way that I've understood (primarily Jewish people but probably other Abrahamic religions) want to fight God in a Denny's parking lot. I want to yell and scream and cry at God and for the feeling to not be mutual. For Him to never stop loving me. As long as I have faith, He will reach out his hand.

#marvel #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #mcu #charlie cox #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r5 #hellboy #hell boy #cct polls

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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I have been thinking about FCG and Imogen's dynamic and how much it changed and i have talked about it in tags a couple of times

Like it changed from both of them going "there is something really wrong with you and you don't realize it, so i will help you fix it" to echother. And now they are both very much on a standstill and kinda waiting for the other to the other to "come to their senses"

I have a feeling that something is going to happen and they are gonna start arguing and snapping at each other, because there is a really fun tension forming between the two of them and their own arrogance is keeping them at bay

So here's the thing: I don't actually think FCG is acting this way towards Imogen! I think it's mostly one-sided and coming from Imogen, whereas FCG is kind of just rolling along doing their own thing.

FCG's arc so far has been one of learning their purpose and the truth about the demise of their party, which was obviously traumatic, but they were met with the support of Bells Hells and Imahara Joe and encouraged heavily to make their own path - and found a deity who represents exactly that: possibility, change, and chance. While his path towards faith has definitely been a weird one with its share of incorrect assumptions, it's also helped him through a lot of difficult circumstances, and it's been rewarded with the attention of the Changebringer. They also met FRIDA and were able to make a strong connection with them very quickly, and while they're still figuring things out, there's a sense of peace about it. FCG still does care about other people, but he's started to consider his own needs in a way he previously didn't and tentatively embrace personhood, and can see a way forward.

Imogen, on the other hand, despite learning much more about the source of her powers, knows less about what she wants now. Originally, she hoped to learn where they came from, and she wanted to be rid of them - or at least, she thought she wanted to be rid of him (Imogen's feelings about power lead me to believe she never actually wanted to be rid of them entirely, just, understandably, the downsides). She now knows that she is Ruidusborn, with all that entails...and the party is fighting most of the Ruidusborn, and the source of her powers. And, to be clear, I absolutely think the party is right, but Imogen finds herself wanting the thing she thought she didn't want (Ruidusborn powers). And whereas the party has largely been tolerant, if not always enthused with FCG's explorations of religion, Imogen feeling out the Ruby Vanguard was met with vehement opposition. Which, again, is fair, because FCG is saying some theologically incorrect and perhaps annoying to some but ultimately harmless shit about a canonically good-aligned deity, whereas Imogen was entertaining siding with a murderous group of cultists responsible for the deaths of Orym's husband, Orym himself, Fearne, and Laudna; but I can see why she felt upset about it.

I think Imogen is intensely jealous of FCG, actually, and she knows it's irrational, which only makes it feel worse. FCG is embracing personhood in a way she doesn't like, but that's the whole point of personhood, isn't it? To make the choices that are right for you, considering the needs of your friends but not erasing yourself to accommodate them. FCG has received support, and even a relationship with someone who can uniquely understand them - in fact, even more so, after this last episode, in which FRIDA has also killed at the command of Aeor. FCG, when unsure about their purpose and agency, received gentle guidance and encouragement to take their time and figure out who they wanted to be. Imogen, when plagued with doubt, has received none of that. She's been yelled at by Ashton and Orym (again: valid of Ashton and Orym, but we're focusing on Imogen's perspective and the fact that she probably even realizes they were right, but that doesn't help her actually feel better). She's constantly told by her closest friend (whose own darker power source was seemingly eliminated without ill effects) that she's "very capable" or that she's always been able to make her own decisions, both responses which give Imogen no room to actually grapple with that doubt and have a chance to address it head-on.

FCG didn't know what they wanted at the beginning, and has found an incredibly validating purpose and a companion who understands many of their struggles. Imogen got precisely what she thought wanted - she even now has a magical item that does take away some of the worst effects of her powers - and it's unsatisfying. She's full of resentment and she knows it's misdirected. I don't even think she's waiting for FCG to come to their senses. I think she just wants to feel what he feels and have what he has, but pursuing the gods isn't right for her, so she's lashing out.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role spoilers #critical role #imogen temult #fcg

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notyour-valentine · 9 months

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A Fair Exchange XL ~ Aemond Targaryen x Reader/OC (Angst)

[Navigation] [Moonboard Masterlist] [House of the Dragon Masterlist]

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: Aemonds proposal puts our Princess in a tough spot

Warning: bullying, blood, mention and threat of violence and death, mutilation, mention of torture and death, childbirth, injury, misogyny. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

[Series Masterlist]

Previously

Part XL

“It is a good plan. It is the best we have to make sure you get to safety. Deliver Jaehaera to Helaena for me, will you?”, he asked, giving her hands a little squeeze.

There was such finality in his voice.

“What about you?”, she asked.

He shrugged.

“I’ll find my way out of Dorne.”

All the while he had avoided meeting her gaze, his head lowered, his eye downcast, each word coming out mumbled yet certain.

She wanted to hit him. The urge came suddenly, from somewhere deep inside her, right along with a desire to scream. She wanted to slap him across the face with all her might, to shake him until his teeth rattled, to scream at him until he saw sense again.

But no matter how a blood curdling screech itched at the back of her throat, she couldn’t, not without drawing attention to them.

“How?”, she demanded to know through clenched teeth, not trusting her voice with much more lest her inner turmoil seize control of it to both their detriment.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, reminding her that he was still wearing his boots, his heavy leather boots that seemed glued to his feet.

The fact that they still graced his feet now was proof that this decision was not a spur of the moment thing. Otherwise he would have left them with Luke and Jaehaera, for, despite their uses, they were not for swimming.

Now there was no doubt that he had planned this, had led her on in a game of make believe all the while knowing he was going to abandon them, going to betray her.

“How?”, she repeated, her voice trembling as all of her began to shake.

His hands had held her own gently but now hers tightened to the point it made them wince, but she refused to lessen her grip.

“Why do you care?”, he snapped, a lightning of rage appearing in his eye for but a heartbeat.

Why do you care?

How could he ask that? Now? After everything? After stilling her shaking hands when they were still coated in blood? After dropping the body of the guard into the sea? After all they had done, all they had seen, all they had survived to get here.

And now he sought to just leave her…just like that, without a fight, without a struggle, without a heroic last stand. No, Aemond Targaryen was content to simply slip away into the night, to leave her and the others to their fates.

“Go now. Luke is waiting.”, he urged, almost gently, but she could tell his tone was off. He was a fool if he thought she would fall for his feigned lightheartedness.

They hadn’t come this far to separate. Not now. Not yet.

“No.”, she said, glaring up at him in pure defiance and resentment.

“What did you say?”, he asked, leaning in as if it had been the volume of her voice that caused his confusion.

“I will not go.”, she stated, searching his face for any trace of a reaction.

She could see the quiver of his lip, the twitch in his jaw muscle, the narrowing of his eye.

“You have to! Luke is waiting, and he won’t leave without you!”

By the sound of him she was the greatest fool in the Seven Kingdoms for not already being halfway to the boat. How comical, since he was the only one acting the jester, and a poor one at that.

“He’ll have to wait because I won’t go alone.”, she insisted.

She could see him bristle at her word,his eye darting out into the darkness as if to make out the ship in the black of night.

“You are putting all our lives at risk with your stubbornness.”, he snarled, anger laced in with his impatience.

“The only one being stubborn is you! What in seven hells are you thinking? You said it yourself - this is the only way.”

The look on his face told her that he still believed that, and that he had no alternative plan lined up, that he had intended on leaving them to her fate while returning to complete uncertainty.

“You don’t understand-”

“You’re right I don’t!”, she snapped, cutting him off. “And we don’t have time for you to so graciously share your genius!”

The breath she took had the aim of calming her. It did little of the sort but calmed her voice.

“You said you know how to swim? The motions…?”, she asked.

Aemond hesitated for a moment before giving the faintest of nods. “But it’s not enough.”

“It will have to be enough.”, she insisted. “You know the motions. It’s the same over and over.”

She glanced down at him. “Besides, you are…trained, are you not?”

He had been strong enough to carry Luke through Sunspear at night for hours, had held her as she lowered them down the castle walls, had guarded and protected them only to shrink away from the sea of all things in fear.

“Why are you being difficult?”, Aemond hissed, yanking his hand away.

She reached up and grabbed his arm.

“Because I refuse to abandon you!”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“You are not abandoning me. In any case, you are abandoning Luke, who will-”

“Oh shut up!”, she snapped at him, as loud as the night would allow. It was far too easy to see through his ploy, to guilt her into leaving him behind in order for Luke, to force her to make a choice she didn’t have to make in the first place.

“Shut up, Aemond!”, she hissed, the man in question looking baffled at her insolence. He deserved more than rudeness now, for his idiocy. “I can’t and I won’t, not after everything.”

She shook her head. “We’ll go back together, go home together. Like we said!”

She had repeated that mantra over and over as if to speak it into existence, and if she backtracked even slightly on her promise to the heavens, she feared they would yank it all from her grasp and send them all into damnation.

“Don’t do this to me, Aemond!”, she asked, her voice cracking under the strain.

Whether she had worn him down or whether her voice failing her that made Aemond fall silent, she did not know, but he was silent once more, glancing at his feet.

She could feel he was scared.

Reaching up, she barely brushed her hand against his cheek to look at her.

“We’ll be fine, Aemond!”, she promised him, reaching for his hand and pulling him to the edge. They would be fine. They would have to be.

She sat down on the edge, with him next to her, and the fact that he did nearly made her weep with relief.

“Your boots…they’ll weigh you down.”, she said.

For a dreadful moment she feared that this would change his mind but then he reached down, undid the clasps and slipped them off one by one.

Once they sank to the bottom, she pushed herself off of the edge and into the water. At this time of night, it was refreshingly cool. Her hand remained on the edge, waiting with baited breath.

Slowly, Aemond let himself slip into the water as well, inhaling sharply.

Instead of pushing herself off and beginning to swim at her pace, she waited for Aemond to begin.

After a nod from her, he began, with strong and steady breaststrokes, though not nearly as quick as she would have liked.

He was slow, but he swam, and that would have to be good enough.

She let him set the pace as she looked out into the night, searching for the occasional glimmer of light that would be their own little lighthouse.

Aemond tried desperately to remember every lesson he had ever had, to breathe in when he pulled his arms back, and out when he pushed them forward. Or had it been the other way?

He could not tell whether they had swam for but a moment, or half an eternity. All he felt was the tightness in his chest, the taste of salt on his lips and the stinging around his sapphire eye.

That was the waves doing that came, hitting the side of his face, making him gasp and cough for air.

How anyone would ever voluntarily do this, was beyond him. There was even a religion on the Iron Islands, where they worshipped the drowned god, leading all their priests out to see and holding them under until they were closer to death than life.

Aemond recalled the images he had seen of this deity, with a grey beard laced with seaweed, with shells and driftwood intertwined, looming under the sea and feasting on sailors who fell prey to the dangers of the sea, some by accident, some by vanity.

It was nearly pitch black, but Aemond could almost see the red eyes looking up from beneath the waves, as if to await him.

The thought spurred him on to swim faster, quicker, moving his legs and arms as much as he could in an attempt to just get on.

But the opposite was happening. It was as if he was stuck, frozen between the waves as his chest grew ever tighter, and his limbs ever heavier.

It was as if a weight had reached for him from below, pulling him down.

He thrashed to get it away from him as someone called his name, but Aemond did not know if that came from the heavens above or the Drowned God below.

While still kicking, he felt a touch on his arm and pulled away so forcefully, his head broke through the surface, his mouth filling with salt water.

He thrashed more, in an attempt to put distance between him and anything that was touching him, dragging him down, but the more he tried, the fewer the gasps of air became.

The salt burned in his eyes, on his hands, in the back of his throat, and when he tried to breathe, only water filled his mouth and Aemond knew he was drowning.

There was no longer a way to know where up was, not in this darkness. The skies were just as black as the pits of the sea and both had conspired to trap him forever.

Everything was dark, everything was a hell created just to torment him. And Aemond knew he deserved it. He deserved hell for killing the man tonight, and the fat one back in Dorne, for being a resentful son and a jealous brother, for tormenting her and causing her pain.

And this was a hell just for him.

Still, Aemond was still kicking, his arms flaring at everything and nothing until he found something his hands could coil around, something he could pull himself towards. Upwards, he realised as he used all his weight, upwards.

Breaking through the surface,, he gasped for air, only to realise he was sinking again.

Bubbles slipped past his lips, wasting precious air as he searched around blindly for what he had used to push him up, finding it once more, or something else, what mattered was he found something to brace himself against to reach the surface once more.

Something, anything - only Aemond knew there was nothing. Nothing to hold onto, nothing to pull himself up with, unless that something was her.

If I’m pushing myself up on her, I’m pushing her down, he realised. If I’m pulling myself to the surface using her, I’m drowning her in my stead.

He felt the all familiar heat of torment rise inside him, the kind that would make his skin burn, his chest tighten and his hands tremble, only this time he had no air to give.

I’m killing her, he thought. I’m drowning her. My hands are the ones that end her life.

Just like in his nightmares, only they weren’t nightmares, not anymore.

White dots began to appear in his vision, shining brightly against the darkness. They were familiar to him from frightful nights past and he forced himself to focus on them, as he felt his body grow heavier.

Don’t fight it, he told himself. Fighting means dragging her down with me.

At least, if it wasn't too late.

His body was aflame with desperation, wishing to fight until he had no more, to put up a heroic last stand against the elements, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but at what cost?

No, he couldn’t…he wouldn’t…if it was the last thing he ever did, Aemond would not drag her down with him.

If he hadn’t been surrounded by nothing but water, Aemond Targaryen may have wept.

And maybe he did, for only when the droplets ran into his mouth past his parted lips, did he realise he could still breathe, despite the choking, wretched coughs that shook his whole body.

Though it was a fruitless effort in the water, his body attempted to keel over in an attempt to aid the pressure on his upper chest as he gagged and splattered.

Only then did he realise there was a hand on his jaw, holding it in a firm grip. And another on the back of his head.

Panic surged inside him until he realised the hands were neither pushing nor pulling him, just holding him.

And the hands were warm.

In a world of cold water and biting salt that tore at his lips, buried itself into the scar around his lost eye, while scorching his lungs, those hands were warm..

As he coughed, gushes of salt water ran down his chin and over the hands that held his head steady. And the coughing stayed even after the water subsided.

Yet the ache remained, but with more frequent breaths, despite his racing heartbeat, he felt his senses returning.

"I'm sorry.", He gasped, his throat aching with any attempt to speak.

Another wave of coughs came over him, making his chest seize up.

As soon as this fit subsided, he tried again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.", He mumbled.

"Can you hear me, Aemond?", She asked. "I need you to answer me, with words."

"Yes.", He said, the sound of her voice feeling as warm to him as her hands, although it too was breathless and strained.

"I've got you. It's alright. I've got you, you just have to stay still.", She assured him. "Relax your body, I've got you."

He tried, but he couldn't. His whole body was aching, and each splash of water against his face made the bubbling fear boil over.

"I've got you!", She assured him, and though he could not see her, he heard her voice, could feel her hands on his face, and hear her breaths.

They were as steady as if dictated to by a metron, and in the absence of her words, they were all he could rely on. And he did, awaiting their whispering sounds, counting them, and later, trying to sync his shaking breaths to it.

Only after a while did Aemond gather his senses to realise they were moving, or rather, she was moving them.

"I'm sorry.", He whispered again.

He didn't dare ask to be let go for fear he would slip from her grasp into the darkness beneath, but he had to help her.

With her hands holding him up, her legs were the ones doing all the work and once he thought on it, he could feel them kicking beneath him.

"I'm sorry.", He said again, trying to move his legs to help her.

"You're well, Aemond?", She asked. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you.", He assured her.

"We're nearly there. Were nearly there, Aemond.", she promised him.

The first time he saw the flicker of light he didn't trust his senses, remembering tales of shipwrecked sailors seeing ships come nearly daily, as their weakened minds sought to torment them.

But she seemed determined to follow or, and she was the one moving them both.

When her hand left the back of his head, icy fear crashed over him like an avalanche, only to realise she had reached for something that lay in the water, pulling the rope towards them.

"Can you keep yourself upright for a moment?", She asked. "Only a moment, then I can help you again. Just move your legs steadily!",

He tried, for her, but the absence of her warmth made his heart thunder so fiercely he feared it would rip from his chest.

In the darkness he could barely make out more than her silhouette as she reached around him, fastening the rope around his waist.

How she made the knot in the water, without view or vision, he did not know, but it held firm.

As his hands closed around the rope, he felt more relieved than ever to feel the rough fibre rub against his palm. To him there had never been a sweeter sting, for he could feel it was connected to something, and when he pulled at the rope, he could pull himself forward, inch by painful inch until he realised they were almost within touching distance of the hull of a ship.

Her hands brushed along its end until she found what she had been looking for.

"Here!", She told him, her voice slightly slurred as she guided his hand to the end of a rope ladder.

Aemond wanted nothing more than to finally feel anything beneath his feet than water, yearning for the stability of even the thinnest of woods, but something told him to still his haste.

"You first!", He told her, moving to the side slightly.

He was facing her dragon eye, white and amber even in the night, of the other though, he only caught a glimpse through her half hooded eye and that looked nearly completely white.

Her hands, that had tied the rope around his waist with such certainty, now fumbled to find a grip, any grip of their own.

But she pulled herself up ahead of him.

Aemond could feel her limbs trembling before him, and saw her hands slipping again and again.

T'was on the third or fourth step when her hands slipped once more, only this time her footing wasn't strong enough to catch her.

She crashed down into Aemond, who grunted at the impact, his hand twisting itself around the rope ladder to now hold both their weight as the other grabbed a fistful of her shirt, pulling her up only so much as to trap her between the ship and his body to keep her from falling.

At the best of times it would have been an easy thing to carry her, but these were far from the best of times and he wasn't even sure he had enough strength to pull himself up the ship, let alone her too.

"Luke!", He called upward into the darkness. "You have to help her!"

The sight of his nephew appearing on the side of the ship nearly brought him to tears.

"Get her up!", Aemond pleaded, pushing her up as much as he was still able to.

Her body was limp and trembling, and he wasn't even sure she was able to hear him.

Once he could, Luke grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up out of his sight.

Aemond leaned his head against the ship, taking a few breaths.

He was beyond exhausted, but he couldn't rest just yet. A few more steps, that was all it was, but just slipping off into slumber was so tempting it took all his will to grit his teeth and pull himself up step by agonising step.

When he finally felt his hands on the edges he pulled himself up and let his drained body tip over, hitting the deck in a thump.

But it was the deck, and that was all that mattered.

There he lay as he had fallen, for a handful of heartbeats of maybe a hundred more. It was the feeling of movement to his side that made him look.

He had held her for but a moment, but she had held him for Gods know how long, and she was smaller than he was, and frailer, so much frailer.

Every muscle and bone screamed in protest as he pushed himself up, stumbling over to where Luke had laid her on her back.

"To her side.", He mumbled, his knee hitting the deck. "It'll help her breathe."

He had learned from his hours in the training yard, from pushing his body well beyond the suitable, to the point of aching limbs and restless stomachs.

She would get worse if they didn't steady her properly.

He angled her knee, and her arm as he brought her to lie on her side, placing his head under the side of hers so it would lie on the hard floor.

With the other he reached for her neck, feeling the rapid and racing pulsing of her heart.

"I'm sorry.", He whispered again

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

House of the Dragon Taglist

@crazylokonugget @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @rapoficeandfire @sabii5 @itsdanajane16 @cynic-spirit @dark-night-sky-99 @madislayyy @lightdragonrayne @severewobblerlightdragon

#valentineswritings #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen / reader #aemond targaryen / oc #aemond targaryen & reader #aemond targaryen & oc #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #asoiaf #fire and blood #the rogue prince #the princess and the queen #a fair exchange

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Margaret Dashwood: Is it canon?

Short answer: Margaret Dashwood basically isn’t in the book, so it’s all fanon. She is mentioned 36 times total. Compare that to Mrs. Jennings at 234 and Mrs. Charlotte Palmer at 62.

Margaret Dashwood has a tree fort, a favourite atlas, sword fights with Edward, wants to be a pirate, has a pony, does puppetry, hides under things, etc.

Fanon (I’m using this term to cover adaptations and JAFF), not canon. Here is the sum total of stuff we know about Margaret: Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humored, well-disposed girl; but as she had already imbibed a good deal of Marianne’s romance, without having much of her sense, she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal her sisters at a more advanced period of life.

Margaret Dashwood literally has no possessions mentioned in the novel. Also, unless he actually paid for it, Edward stole that atlas.

Margaret Dashwood bonds with Edward

Fanon, not canon. The only time we know that Margaret even speaks to Edward is when she opens the discussion on what they would do if they were all rich. Edward never actually replies to Margaret and he only mentions Marianne and Elinor in his speech

“I wish,” said Margaret, striking out a novel thought, “that somebody would give us all a large fortune apiece!”

“Oh that they would!” cried Marianne, her eyes sparkling with animation, and her cheeks glowing with the delight of such imaginary happiness.

“We are all unanimous in that wish, I suppose,” said Elinor, “in spite of the insufficiency of wealth.”

“Oh dear!” cried Margaret, “how happy I should be! I wonder what I should do with it!”

Marianne looked as if she had no doubt on that point.

“I should be puzzled to spend so large a fortune myself,” said Mrs. Dashwood, “if my children were all to be rich without my help.”

“You must begin your improvements on this house,” observed Elinor, “and your difficulties will soon vanish.”

“What magnificent orders would travel from this family to London,” said Edward, “in such an event! What a happy day for booksellers, music-sellers, and print-shops! You, Miss Dashwood, would give a general commission for every new print of merit to be sent you—and as for Marianne, I know her greatness of soul, there would not be music enough in London to content her. And books!—Thomson, Cowper, Scott—she would buy them all over and over again: she would buy up every copy, I believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands; and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree. Should not you, Marianne? Forgive me, if I am very saucy. But I was willing to show you that I had not forgot our old disputes.”

Margaret is not mentioned again in this conversation.

Margaret is rude to Fanny Dashwood

Fanon, not canon. Margaret doesn’t even have quoted speech until the Dashwoods are settled in Barton. I can’t even find an instance of Marianne being rude to Fanny or John, though we know she dislikes both of them.

What the heck is canon?

Margaret plays a few important roles. She that lets slip that Elinor has a lover left behind at Norland whose name is “F” to Sir John and Mrs. Jennings. Margaret is also the one who saw Willoughby request a lock of hair from Marianne, which she tells to Elinor. Margaret is also the one walking with Marianne when Marianne falls and is saved by Willoughby. She is the one who romantically calls Willoughby, “Marianne’s preserver”.

Her presence at home allows Marianne and Elinor to travel to London without leaving their mother to be lonely.

I think it is clever to use Margaret to make Edward more of a fleshed out character, but it’s not actually in the novel. Edward only says one single line of speech before the Dashwoods leave for Barton, this is it: “Devonshire! Are you, indeed, going there? So far from hence! And to what part of it?” For a visual medium, this just doesn’t work. You need to do something with Edward and both 1995 and 2008 used Margaret to help with the Edward problem.

#margaret dashwood #fanon or canon #sense and sensibility #jane austen is a genius #edward ferrars

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kiastirling-fanfic · 7 months

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Happy DADWC! I'd love to hear about Leda Aeducan, with "You lost a bet when you met me dear" from the Dear Hunter lyrics prompts?

Yesssss. Here's Leda meeting Zevran! Largely introspective until the very end. @dadrunkwriting

Rating: T for Zevran's sheer existence Cws: canon-typical mentions of death/violence

Leda didn’t have much time to think during the ambush. Shoot the archers on the ridge with Leliana before they could shoot her, trust Alistair to handle the mage, trust Sten to survive the assassin long enough to rally and Wynne to keep him standing, trust Paragon to distract at a minimum, and trust Morrigan would do her best to make things awful for the enemy.

Minimal thinking, she didn’t even have to shout orders really. After the Circle tower they all knew their parts, and ambush or not it wasn’t especially complicated, not like navigating the Fade in a way no dwarf was meant to.

Arrow, aim, fire, dodge, repeat until there was only the assassin left. But he was down too, taken out by Alistair’s shield bash. And alive, unlike his allies.

Leda didn’t even really have to think about the next steps. She was no stranger to assassins after all, no one made it to adulthood in the Diamond Quarter without at least familiarity with the possibility of an assassination attempt on their life, and a princess more than most. She’d disarmed her first assassin at 14, with only Gorim to aid her as the guards at her door lay dead and those guarding her brothers were suspiciously silent, paid to ignore the attack or perhaps uninterested in any event that didn’t involve their particular charges. That time she left the interrogation to her father’s men and paid the price by never learning the source of the attack.

It was a mistake she never made again, and she wasn’t about to break that streak on the surface.

Leda made quick work of tying up the assassin, typing his hands in a terrible angle to stymie his inevitable escape attempt, and checked his mouth for any poison he might have ready to swallow in the event of a faillure. His daggers - the fighting set he’d wielded in the battle, those for throwing he kept at his waist, and the knife in his boot too small to be called a dagger but not too small to cut robe or lodge in a neck - were set at least two yards away.

Only then did she slap him awake.

It was no surprise that Loghain was the one to order her killed, nor was it a surprise that the assassin had no loyalty. Even in Orzammar that was a rarity, for a knife in the dark to do so for an ideal they themselves believed in, and given what Leda knew of surfacers she doubted it was more common here.

What was a surprise was the assassin’s demeanor. Perhaps it was not so strange that when faced with near certain death one should seek to endear themself to their captor, but it was less endearment and more downright flirtation.

Leda could have helped herself, but she smiled all the same. Practicality, survival instinct, and a decent fighter beside.

This Zevran Arainai was a breath of fresh air on the surface. An oxymoron, perhaps, since the surface was where the fresh air came from. Perhaps it was a bit of familiarity then. Heat on her cheeks that Leda had only known while leaning over the great lava lake below the city, the tang of blood. Understanding.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” she assured him as she cut his bonds. “And you have to pull your own weight.”

“I think you will find, my dear Warden, that I can pull a great many things.” His comment was clearly intended to be lascivious, but it only made Leda throw back her head and laugh. She hauled Zevran to his feet, the elf unsurprisingly a fair bit taller than her but at least not so much as Alistair.

“I’m sure you can. I only hope you’re as good as your word. I think you’ll find you lost a bet when you met me, dear Crow.”

“Have I indeed?” His smile was as sharp as the dagger Leda had been gifted on the eve of her campaign.

Oh yes, she knew just how to handle men like him.

#dadwc #dragon age fanfiction #Leda Aeducan #Zevran/Aeducan

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darthkvznblogs · 2 years

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What do you think of the new Owl House and/or Amphibia episodes this week? Man, if you thought LAST week’s Owl House had some revelations…

Answering @the-literary-lord and the anon who asked pretty much the same question:

Honestly, I found Hollow Mind much more impactful even though I (and many in the fandom, not taking any credit here) had predicted a lot of the revelations; they just relentlessly kept coming and coming and the twist with Belos' "inner selves" was superbly executed. Edge of the World only really had a couple of reveals in King's true nature and the Titan Trappers, as well as the big cliffhanger - and don't get me wrong, they were big reveals, but the sort of 'wow factor' of this episode was a lot more understated - much more fridge horror, with the all-but-stated implication that the Trappers wear the actual skulls of King's ancestors and that the Titan that makes up the Boiling Isles themselves was one of those slain ancestors - probably not his actual dad, though, I doubt King stayed inside his egg for centuries if not thousands of years for civilization to have sprung up from the Titan's corpse.

(Wouldn't it be supremely messed up if Tarak(?) was actually wearing the skull of King's real father?)

Again, don't get me wrong, I loved it, it just wasn't as bonkers as last ep. I've rewatched Hollow Mind like five times in the past week. I'm obsessed with it :P

Amphibia definitely blew my socks off though! They're finally diving into the nitty gritty of the girls' relationships, the fighting was super cool, and both the heroes and the villains - especially the villains - are really bringing their A game to the table.

I have seen some weird buzz hating on Sasha for her doubts about being able to rescue Marcy and salvage their friendship; I think it's fair of Sasha (whose whole arc this season, though somewhat off-screen, has been realizing what a terrible person she was and that she needs to put in the work to fix their broken friendship) to bring up the fact that Marcy did, in fact, knowingly betray them - she'd know a thing or two about that, wouldn't she? - but I feel like there's also some projection going on here. I think some part of Sasha still feels like she doesn't deserve the second (third?) chance Anne's given her, which is why Anne's spiel about forgiveness and her "look at what we have now" comment hits so hard for her. I think Sasha just needed the verbal reassurance that Anne truly believes their friendship is worth saving - and able to be saved in the first place.

(And yes, I do mean friendship. I'm a staunch Sashannarcy supporter but I truly don't think we'll see any romance between any of the girls in canon. Just some ambiguous hints and scenes open to interpretation)

#ask box #the owl house #the owl house spoilers #amphibia #amphibia spoilers

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uten4 · 1 year

Note

Londrekia for the ask thing i am so curious to know your extended opinion on him.

Thank you! Haha, I feel like I've already told a lot of my opinion on him; it might be even more half-baked now since it's been a while since I've viewed some of his stories X) But let's see...

– Overall opinion of them: I like him alright. His design is well-made, pretty, and well-suited to him. I like his weird little dramatics and one-liners. The way he talks about women annoys me and makes me less interested in him. His rivalry with Wagner says a million times more about him than it does about Wagner, imo, but I suppose it's a reasonable motivation to give him. I feel like the most significant thing about him story-wise is the information he gives about Richter Schild, in which case his personality itself does an amazing job at that. He's kind of pathetic and overly eager to show his worth, which is the impression that Richter Schild gives in comparison to Licht Kreis. His weird thoughts about women also seem like they'd make sense enough for a member of Richter Schild to have.

But unlike Orie (another good surface-level representation character of the norm for a whole organization), there's not much that's interesting or unique about him... Is what I thought before I saw Merkava's chronicles. That thing singlehandedly took Lond from the "okay" category to the "quite cool" category in my eyes. The way he interacts with Merkava goes further than any other character has gotten with him. If I remember correctly, Chaos and Vatista also made a favorable impression on Merk, but Londrekia actually formed a real connection with him. And it was through the strength of his character alone. It was believable. Even though it seems like it's not plot-relevant yet, it was a great use for him; it told us more about the lore, him, and Merkava. Respects for all that. Plus, in that story, Lond had some initial doubts about talking to Lex, but in the end he did communicate with her like a normal person.

- Gender/sexuality headcanon: I don't really know, but he does give the impression that he has some gay thing going on with Merkava, doesn't he?

- Favorite moment in canon: When Phonon and Nanase bully him LOL

- Favorite moment in a fanwork: Hmmmmmm... I like your "cold boy summer" drawing of him, actually! :)

- Favorite line: "Yet, attacking when the opponent lacks the will to fight will brand me evil. I suppose I can speak with you for now..." This line is nice and it really makes it obvious that he has, like, standards. The thing about Londrekia is that he actually cares about propriety and fairness. Wasn't he annoyed that he had to fight Wagner when she didn't have her equipment? Or at the very least, he didn't take his win to heart, considering that she didn't have all her equipment. Also, part of his weird feelings about women seem to be based around chivalry. He thinks that hiking through the mountains is too strenuous of a job, and it wouldn't be good if Licht Kreis had to do it... It's strange for him to think that considering that the Licht Kreis girls are trained to physically fight, but we can see the thought process here.

- Characters I love seeing him interact with: Merkava and Lex. I think it could be interesting if he interacted with Orie more as well. They should gossip about Wagner. Omg also this never happened but he should interact with Mika too maybe... She ruins any impression he had about Licht Kreis.

- Sleeping headcanons: He would make his bed every morning as soon as he wakes up for sure.

- Favorite location headcanon: Ice-skating rink? I'd love to see him ice-skate actually.

#asks #send me characters for this ask game pwease :3 #unib

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kob131 · 2 years

Note

Follow up: if you don't like Claude NOW you really won't like him in Three Hopes. Like legit, for a good couple of moments he singlehandedly ceased the Edelgard vs Dimitri discourse and united both sides against him. Funnily apropos in my opinion. If I could describe him, he's not necessarily AS ruthless as Edelgard but he's definitely just as dirty at least from a political angle.

I can 100% see that.

You know what, I'm gonna gather all my thoughts on Claude here and now so people can understand.

Originally I didn't mind Claude much in the Crimson Flower route. He and Dimitri, like Edelgard in Verdant Wind, were basically non-entities so I had no reason to dislike him. In the war period, he had far less time dedicated to him than Dimitri, who didn't have much in the first place. By the end, I thought he was an alright guy and given that I looked him up beforehand, I believed that the Verdant Wind route could make a good case for him.

I am currently at Chapter 14 and I highly doubt it. Claude is a deeply annoying and frustrating character. The guy early on has a few moments were he acts like he's going to do some shady and dishonorable shit but he never does. I'm guessing this is supposed to make him out to be the 'dashing rogue' type that he's designed as. But what it actually does is make Claude a dumbass because he knows people are biased against Almyrans and he wants to change that but these acts just give the people around him every reason to be biased against him even WITHOUT knowing his heritage. Just as well, I don't think Claude actually reveals his heritage to anyone in game outside of Byleth (though to be fair, he seems to imply it post-game for Hilda and Leonie at least). If he does in the main game I'll say otherwise but given his Byleth support- I doubt it.

And even if I were to ignore how Claude's general attitude shoots his own ideals in the foot, his goal is basically impossible. He wants to unite Foldan as well as the world to get rid of prejudice. Problem is- One would think that looking at the divided Foldan would hammer into his head: 'Hey...things aren't that simple, are they?' That maybe Claude would instead try to just start making the slow process of opening up the world so things can get better over time right? ... Nah, such complicated things are for lesser beings. Claude is Claude so even despite the fact that he's shooting himself in the foot all the time, he seems to come out on top no matter what!

And I do mean, no matter what. Because in any route besides hers, Edelgard will die. In any route not his, Dimitri will die. In most routes, Rhea can die without a high enough support. In all routes, Claude lives. No really, it's canon that Claude lives in all routes. A trait completely unique to him as a Lord. Going even further, Claude is by far treated with the softest touch by the narrative. In all routes, he's depicted, at worst, as just a good guy trying his best. In all routes, he's the one dragging you onto the dance floor as clearly the fun loving guy. In all routes, his foes don't like fighting him even though other people would make more sense (like Edelgard and Dimitri). This is the key difference between him and Edelgard. Unlike her, where she does show some kind of weakness or vulnerability on her route and outright negative traits on the others- Claude lacks that.

I'll be blunt- the guy comes across as a Mary Sue.

In a previous post, I mentioned that Verdant Wind reminded me of Devil Survivor's Law route. I'll explain here: In Devil Survivor's Law Route, not only do you get an unambiguously good, feel good ending but you also get a proper resolution to the backstory of how your protagonist came to get the power of Bel and their connection to Nayoa. Contrast this with the Chaos route (which lacks the happy ending unless you play the Overlord route in the 8th day AND lacks any major lore), The Neutral Route (which lacks any lore outside it's own characters) and the Atsuro route (which is unique). This alongside the fan favorite Amane being your ally as well as getting the character best suited for the Recarm Loop strategy for the Lucifier superboss. All of this despite the Angels being the worst of the factions, being the ones RESPONSIBLE for trapping you inside the Yamato circle and basically killing whoever doesn't fit their absurd standards while blaming everyone else.

It's the same here. Crimson Flower and (presumably) Azure Moon lack any major reveal of lore and it seems even Silver Snow is more solemn than Verdant Wind. It kind of feels like if you aren't doing the original Silver route, you're pushed to Verdant Wind and Claude. This in spite of the fact that Claude is the worst of the Lords and Rhea.

Could I be wrong and full of it? Completely yes and I welcome any rebuttals though I will push back if I feel that I was not proven wrong. But as for now: i can totally see the Dimitri fans with their better character development and the Edelgard fans with the whole rebel appeal setting their philosophical differences aside to beat the shit out of Claude.

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breadqueen95 · 3 years

Text

I Hope You’re Okay - Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

wc: 8.2k (go off i guess)

summary: Bucky is filled with doubt and confusion after the events of Endgame. He breaks up with Y/n, reacting badly to his instinct to isolate himself. She’s more than a little confused; they’d fallen in love in Wakanda. What had changed? Months later, Sam is the only connection they still have. Set during the events of TFATWS, can Sam get his idiot friends to finally get over themselves and admit how much they still need each other? Based on “hope ur ok” by Olivia Rodrigo.

content warnings: physical affection. break ups. language. canon violence. murder. mental illness. trauma. mentions of major character deaths from endgame. endgame and tfatws spoilers. guns.

a/n: omg this one’s a doozy. I totally thought this was only gonna be 3k or so, 8k later and I’m shocked. This was a really fun one to write, though! Endgame and TFATWS spoilers galore, my babies. not proof read so expect a mistake or two. it’s 3am so i just don’t have it in me lmao

***

“I don’t understand,” you’d whispered, “I…I thought we were fine.”

Bucky sighed, his breath trembling as he exhaled. He ran his hand down his tired face, fingers lingering over his eyes to try and hide the tears that threatened to spill over. But you knew him. You knew him better than anyone, even Steve Rogers. This was harder for him that he was letting on.

So why was this happening?

“I honestly don’t get it either,” Bucky huskily murmured, keeping his voice low to avoid showing the cracks that wanted to break his words apart. “But…god, please don’t make this harder.”

You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, biting out, “I’m not exactly trying to be difficult here, Bucky. I’m trying to understand. We were fine. We were in Wakanda, and we were fucking perfect. Then we fight in a space war, we lose, turn to dust for five years, then we came back. So much has changed around us, but that doesn’t mean we—”

“Of course it means we’ve changed!” He burst out. This time he couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “Everything has fucking changed. The Avengers are over. Everyone’s gone. Tony’s dead. Natasha is dead. Steve decided to hide out in the past rather than stay with us. So yeah, everything has changed!” Bucky’s chest heaved with emotion. It was overwhelming after years of having these very human reactions smothered, and…he didn’t know how to handle it. He just wanted for this interaction to be over.

“So what?” You hissed, “So we suffer through unimaginable tragedy and you decide you don’t love me anymore? We got a second chance, Bucky. Did Wakanda mean nothing to you?”

“That’s not fair. You know it meant everything to me.”

“Then why the fuck are you breaking up with me?” You asked loudly, voice rising with anger and desperation. You’d lost so much…Tony and Natasha were family. They’d sacrificed themselves to save everyone, which knowing them, was the way they would’ve wanted to go out. That didn’t make it any easier…Tony left behind a wife and a little girl who loved him beyond all words. Natasha, who had been the hidden glue for the team for years, never got the appreciation she so deserved. She wouldn’t be able to see her found family find their footing again after so much suffering.

Then there was Steve. Steve had been your best friend, the brother you’d never had. You believed in him. You loved him. He introduced you to Bucky, asked you to stay with him in Wakanda as Shuri worked to reverse HYDRA’s horrendous work.

During those quiet and simple 2 years, you and Bucky had fallen in love. You thought your loneliness was over…that you’d found the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

Then Thanos happened. Steve abandoned you. He abandoned Bucky.

Now Bucky was abandoning you.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, finally meeting your eyes, “I don’t…I wish I could explain it. But I can’t.”

The finality in his words hit you like a train. He had decided. Nothing you said, no amount of begging or questioning, would change his mind.

He was done with you. For whatever reason…he was done.

“Okay,” you whispered, “okay, Bucky.” Sobs built in your chest, trying to force their way out. The accompanying breakdown was imminent. You felt the last bit of your sanity crumbling. It was time to leave, get yourself away from this hurt. Protect yourself.

You went to him, standing on your tiptoes to give him one last lingering kiss to his jawline. His breath shuttered as your lips met his skin. You didn’t know it, but that almost broke him. Bucky wanted to fall to his knees, beg for forgiveness. Beg you to stay.

But he didn’t.

That had been months ago, just a few days after Tony Stark’s funeral. The last memory you had of Bucky Barnes was him curling in on himself, burying his face in his hands as you turned and left the hotel room you’d been staying in together. You hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since.

Not that you hadn’t tried.

Bucky had broken your heart, but that hadn’t stopped you from loving him or wanting the best for him. He’d been through so much, way too much. Now that the dust had settled, he would be surrounded by infinite quiet moments. You knew Bucky. You knew his mind would be constantly spinning, reliving everything awful that had happened to him. Especially with nothing going on. There weren’t any battles to fight, no space wars to end. Nothing but his own mind.

Quite frankly, you were worried.

Sam was the only person from the team you’d been able to stay in touch with. He tried to check in with Bucky whenever he could, but he was back in Louisiana with his family. His family needed him, there was a lot going on down there. Buck lived in New York City, so it wasn’t as if Sam could just drop by on a whim to check on him in person. He had to settle for calling him whenever he could. Bucky hated cell phones…he was stupid and stubborn and old fashioned that way. Sam told you Bucky would talk occasionally, but for the most part he was shutting him out. Ignoring his calls and text messages.

As far as you knew, you were the only one who lived in the same city as him. New York City had been your home long before Bucky Barnes and breaking up with him wasn’t going to force you out. As far as you knew, he was still living out in Brooklyn. You’d moved yourself over to Manhattan, trying to lose yourself in the roar of the city and the tall skyscrapers. Pepper had given you a job with the NYC branch of Stark Industries. It was a little outside of your wheelhouse, but you were able to do some important work helping the world readjust to life post-Snap. It kept you busy.

In every single one of your weekly check-ins with Sam, he begged you to go out to Brooklyn and see Bucky. Just to check on him, see if he was okay. Give you both peace of mind, he always said.

Every time you said no.

That didn’t mean you didn’t think about Bucky. You thought about him every minute of every day. No matter how busy you kept yourself, he invaded every thought you had. After you’d gotten together in Wakanda, you and Bucky talked all the time about what a normal life together would be like once you could go home. Now that you were finally living a life of relative normalcy, those conversations replayed in your head endlessly.

“Where would you want to live?” You’d asked one night, his arms holding you tightly to his chest.

“I’d love to live in Brooklyn again,” he’d mused, “relearn the city. Show you all the places I remember from when I was growing up.” Bucky traced his fingers across your jawline to your chin, finally tilting your face to look at him, then whispered, “I’d want you with me. I want to wake up to you every day, fall asleep holding you every night.”

“You do?” Your voice was shaking with tenuous hope. Not many people wanted to stay around in your life for too long. Almost everyone left you – dead or of their own volition. Even the family you’d thought you’d found with the Avengers had collapsed, leaving you questioning the point of building any lasting relationships.

“Yes,” Bucky had murmured, leaning down to capture your lips with his own. With his mouth still touching yours, he whispered, “I can’t imagine anything better.”

That conversation was so damn vivid in your mind every time you thought about it. That didn’t help the pain that always came with it, which always felt like someone sliding a dagger into your heart with each word that echoed in your memory.

Bucky was good with knives, so you guessed it was only fitting.

“Sam,” you groaned, “you need to quit asking me. I’m not going to see Bucky.”

“C’mon, Y/n. He’s struggling, you know he is. I think seeing you would really help him.”

“The last time I saw him he was breaking up with me. So no, I don’t think it would. He made it very clear that he didn’t want me around anymore.”

“Y/n—”

“Don’t ‘y/n’ me. You know I’m right.”

“He asks about you.”

“…no he doesn’t. You just want me to go.” Even with the way you forced your voice into careless dismissal, your heart thundered against your ribcage. “Besides, I thought he wasn’t talking to you.”

“Not as much as I’d like, but he’ll talk every now and then,” Sam replied. “Of course it’s never about him or how he’s doing. For the few minutes I’ve got him on, Bucky only ever asks questions about you.”

You didn’t want to believe him. Believing him only made your hurt and confusion worse. But Sam was one of the most genuine people you knew. It was why he and Steve had been so close. Knowing how you felt about Bucky, knowing how utterly heartbroken you still were months later, he would never lie to you about that.

“Oh,” you said, breathless. “What…what does he ask?”

“If you’re okay. Where you ended up. Those kinds of things.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I tell him he needs to get his head out of his ass and call you himself,” Sam shot back, laughter evident in his smooth voice. “I assume he hasn’t.”

“No,” you answered, voice having gone quiet as your feelings raged within, “he hasn’t.”

He sighed, and you could picture him clearly in that moment. Sam had always rubbed his forehead when he was stressed or worried, always paired with a deep sigh like the one he gave off just now. You wanted to take a load off of his stress, you really did. But he was asking you for the one thing you couldn’t give.

“Will you at least call him?”

“Sam—”

“I know, I’m asking a lot here. Bucky hurt you, and trust me, as soon as I see him next I’m kicking his ass for it.” You giggled, picturing it so easily. “Just…will you do this? For me?”

“Fine,” you grumbled, “but you so owe me.”

“I’ll buy you all the pizza you want next time I’m in town, how’s that?”

“Perfect,” you laughed, then the sound faded away as you remembered. “Are you still giving up the shield tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah I am,” Sam answered, sounding tired. “Look, I…I know you and Steve were close. I know this must be hard for you.”

“It is,” you admitted, “but Steve gave that shield to you. Only you know what’s right. I trust you.”

***

Sam had texted you Bucky’s phone number right after your conversation this afternoon. What you should’ve done was call right away, get this big and scary thing that wasn’t actually big or scary at all over with.

So, in true Y/n fashion, you avoided it. You stared at your phone for the rest of the afternoon, then well into the evening. Once the clock passed 6:30pm, you’d forced yourself to pick it up and open the text message with his number. Then you stared at it for another thirty minutes, hands shaking as your fingers hovered over the screen.

But this was Sam. The one friend you had left was asking you for help. You had to do this.

Heart thundering in your ears, you finally pressed the highlighted number, then selected ‘call’ from the options listed. You pressed the phone to your ear, vision tunneling dangerously until the only thing that existed for you was the ringing as the call tried to get through.

It rang. And rang. And rang some more.

Finally, after a few more times, the call went to voicemail. Bucky hadn’t answered. You knew deep down that you hadn’t truly expected him to answer, but…it was like that dagger that stabbed you every time you thought about him twisted just a little more.

As the prompt kept going for the voicemail, you decided on a whim to leave one. You hadn’t really planned to, but after everything he’d made you go through, you wanted him to know that someone else cared. That someone else was worried. And, well…

You missed him.

Right after the beep sounded, you tried to level out your voice, and said, “Hi, Bucky. It’s Y/n. I, uh…I know we haven’t talked for a while, but…Sam’s been worried about you, you know. He’s asked me to check on you so many times I lost count. So, uh, this is me just…checking on you.” You paused, wrinkling your brow at how lame you sounded. What the fuck was that? “If you need anything, just…I don’t know, call me on this number. Bye.”

Hanging up, you threw yourself down on your bed in frustration and sheer embarrassment. Months had gone by without seeing or talking to Bucky, and the first time he hears your voice, you just had to say, ‘this is me checking on you’. Why couldn’t you just get it together for one goddamn second? Your stomach churned as you imagined him listening to that voicemail. It churned even worse as you pictured him deleting it, wanting nothing to do with you.

And you knew he would.

***

Bucky’s phone beeped next to him, jerking him out of his thoughts.

Looking around, he realized that his small apartment had grown dark as he sat. He hadn’t even noticed. The blue light from the television lit the space in an eerie glow, the colors he was still getting used to way too bright against his eyes. Stretching, he realized just how stiff his muscles had gotten from sitting in the same position for way too long.

Picking up his phone, he saw that he had one missed call and a new voicemail.

From Y/n.

He nearly dropped the phone is surprise. Bucky had saved her new contact information months ago, right after Sam had sent it over. He had started asking Bucky to call her around that time, sending over her number to try and give him a little push. He’d saved it, fully intending on calling, he just…hadn’t. Sam told him all the time how worried he was about her. She never talked to anyone, buried herself in work, and…

She was hurting. Sam never failed to remind him just how much Bucky had hurt her.

That was why he hadn’t called. How could he force himself into her life again? Surprise her with a phone call one day out of the blue after what he did to her?

That, and he was scared. Absolutely terrified of opening that self-inflicted wound all over again.

Hand shaking, Bucky pressed the button to start the voicemail and held it up to his ear. Her voice, still his favorite sound, echoed in his ear as she spoke.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s Y/n. I, uh…I know we haven’t talked for a while, but…Sam’s been worried about you, you know. He’s asked me to check on you so many times I lost count. So, uh, this is me just…checking on you. If you need anything, just…I don’t know, call me on this number. Bye.”

Bucky kept the phone against his ear even after the message ended. Then he hastily pulled the phone away, restarted the message, and pressed it against his ear even harder than before. Her voice sounded as beautiful as ever, causing his heart and mind go into absolute overdrive. Bucky had spent the past few months without her trying so hard not to feel anything, and the few words she’d spoken ripped those walls down almost immediately. Listening to her say his name was overwhelming. He’d spent so long trying to forget how it sounded that he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

Even with his strong, visceral reaction to hearing her talking to him again, she sounded…not great. Tired. Nervous. Out of patience. That could’ve just been because she was talking to him, to be fair. But he knew her. During those two years they spent together in Wakanda, he’d learned everything there was to know about her. They’d bared their souls to each other. All Bucky had needed to know Y/n wasn’t doing well were those few stilted sentences.

But…maybe he couldn’t say that anymore. He grimaced. It wasn’t fair of him to say he knew her. A few months shouldn’t be considered a huge chunk of time, especially to a 106-year-old man, but it felt like ages. So much could have changed since the last time he saw her. After the shit he pulled, Y/n probably had changed.

He wanted to call her back. More than anything. Even as he made to push the button that would dial her number, he paused right before he pressed it.

What the fuck gave him the right to call her? She said it herself; Sam had been asking her to talk to him for months. Guess she just finally got worn down enough to do it, just say she did it so she could shut him up for a bit. Hadn’t Sam been badgering him about doing the same thing? Knowing him, he thought if he could just get them to talk, they’d make up. Bucky knew it wasn’t that simple.

Bucky loved her. He didn’t know much in this strange new world he’d woken up to, but he was sure of that much. But he hadn’t ended things because he fell out of love. Anyone who knew Y/n knew falling out of love with her simply wasn’t possible. He ended things to protect her. From him.

Peace wasn’t something he was used to, especially once the Wakandans had helped him iron out his head. All he knew was that one minute, he was living a life of happiness with Y/n. Then he was fighting a goddamn space war. Then…they woke up apparently five years later, then fought another one. Natasha had already been dead when they’d come back. Bucky had watched Tony sacrifice himself on the battlefield to save the universe. Never getting to apologize to him…that was one of his greatest regrets.

Everything after had felt like blow after blow. The world had already been strange when he woke up the first time. It was even stranger after coming back with half the population. Then, his best friend, the man he considered his brother, decided the people he’d chosen as his family weren’t good enough for him. He left, went back, and lived the life he thought he’d always meant to.

Bucky knew that after everything Steve had been through, everything he’d sacrificed, he deserved to make that decision. He deserved to choose himself, and he had. That didn’t make it any easier. That didn’t make him any less bitter about the whole thing. It didn’t make the resentment that had slowly been simmering away in his gut these past few months disappear.

He was scared. He felt alone. He felt angry. After spending so long going from one fight to the next, Bucky hadn’t had a whole lot of time to process everything that had happened. Then there was Y/n, whispering sweet assurances in his ear. Holding him after his nightmares had woken them both up again. Putting aside her own grief at losing so many people she loved to hold his fraying edges together.

So he did the only thing he thought he could. He ended things. Bucky had convinced himself that it would be better. He could go off and get his shit together, and she could move on. Focus on herself. Find someone who deserved her. Someone who wasn’t a hundred-year-old mess.

As soon as the door had shut behind her, Bucky regretted it. He wished he hadn’t done it. To this day, he wished with his entire being he’d gone after her. Taken it all back. But he hadn’t, and he couldn’t change that. It didn’t help that he was trying to make amends for the countless crimes he’d been forced to commit. He couldn’t drag her down in that.

Sam had told him she was in New York City still – Manhattan, he’d said. The number of times he had to convince himself not to go over to her place and beg her to take him back was more than he’d care to admit. Even more so when considering the times he’d almost called her, if only just to hear her voice. Bucky missed her so, so much.

Bucky set the phone down. He couldn’t call her, not tonight. Not like this. He was heading out with Sam on a mission in a few days, somewhere in Europe connected to the Flag Smashers. He’d give him an earful first, though. First about giving up the shield, which he wholeheartedly thought was a huge mistake. Then about trying to work both sides of the field to fix his and Y/n’s relationship. Then…

Then maybe he’d ask for his advice. On how to handle this.

***

You’d watched them announce John Walker as the ‘New Captain America’ a few days later. The man might have the same blonde hair and blue eyes that Steve did. He might wear the same colors. He might even hold the shield you knew so well. That didn’t change the fact that he looked like the biggest fucking slimeball you’d ever seen.

Gritting your teeth, you watched as this stranger held the shield aloft to a cheering crowd. How could they do this? Who in their right mind thought this was the right call? Sam was the only one who could do that; Steve had chosen him. And he’d wanted the moniker to be his alone, the shield celebrated as a symbol of his legacy in his exhibit.

Bucky had never called you back. Sam hadn’t either, only giving you a thumbs up when you told him you’d tried to call but got no answer. You knew he was heading out on a mission today, and that Bucky was probably with him. Even without access to their phones, they’d know what had just happened. If you had guessed right, and you usually did, the government probably hadn’t warned Sam about their decision, let alone asked him if it was okay.

Fingers trembling with barely suppressed rage, you opened Sam’s contact info and called. Being on a mission, you knew he wouldn’t answer, so you’d have to settle for leaving a message. He couldn’t change it, and he was probably just as mad as you were but being a former member of the Avengers meant John Walker would contact you. He’d want you to follow him. Of course you’d say ‘fuck no’, but you wanted Sam’s opinion on this.

Right as the beep sounded, you launched right into your spiel, saying, “Look, I know this wasn’t your choice. I know you’re probably furious and you have every right to be. Just…as soon as you can, let me know how you want me to respond. They’ll come asking. Take care of yourself, talk to you soon.” Even as you hung up, you still felt uncertainty and anger chipping away at you. Steve had definitely not accounted for this when he’d given Sam the shield. You hadn’t, either. But who else could you call? Who else could you ask?

…Bucky. You could call Bucky.

All the other emotions you were drowning in forced out any possible shame as you called your ex for the second time in a few days. That familiar beep sounded, and you spoke without thinking.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and that’s fine, but go easy on Sam, okay? I know you’re probably mad, but still. And as soon as you hear this, let me know how you’re going to handle this Walker guy. I’m not sure what to do. Even if it’s just a text message. And just…take care of yourself, okay?”

He never called back. Neither did Sam.

A couple weeks later, right as you opened the news on your laptop one evening, the headline made your stomach drop.

CAPTAIN AMERICA KILLS CITIZEN WITH SHIELD OVERSEAS IN BLOODY SCENE

WHAT. THE. FUCK??????

Opening the article as quickly as you could, you scanned the article for information. For unknown reasons, John Walker had chased down a suspected Flag Smasher and nearly decapitated him with the shield, murdering him in front of a watching crowd. Instead of, you know, bringing him in like a REASONABLE PERSON. He’d fled the scene soon after and had yet to be found.

Checking the timestamp on the article, you saw that this had only happened within the past few hours. The article didn’t include the video due to its extremely violent nature. You didn’t want to see it. You had no desire to watch that brutal of a murder. But you had to know. That, and according to your sources, Sam and Bucky had also been tracking the Flag Smashers before going off the grid. You worried about them endlessly, even more so knowing this had happened. What if they’d been hurt?

A quick search on YouTube found the video. Eyes wide with horror, you watched the bloody scene unfurl on the cobblestone street. John Walker wasn’t just incompetent, he was unhinged. It made to slightly relieved he hadn’t tried to contact you to get your support. At first, your ego was a little stung by the very obvious snub. But having to deal with someone like this? You wanted no part in that.

The video ended, and all you could do was stare at your laptop. The frame was paused right where the video ended, a self-righteous Walker staring the crowd down, as if daring someone call him out on the murder he’d just committed. Then, a familiar vibranium arm off to the side caught your attention. Shifting your focus, you saw Bucky. Not too far away was Sam.

Breath catching in your throat, you hastily zoomed in. The quality was shit, but they both looked like they were okay for the most part. They seemed a little beaten up, but they were upright at least. That was something. Their faces betrayed all the emotions you now felt: shock, horror, and unmistakable rage. Bucky’s jaw looked like it was clenched, and his hands were curled into fists at his side.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on Bucky’s face. You hadn’t seen him since that day in the hotel room. He looked…different. Good. His long hair had now been cropped short, sticking out in every direction. You smiled a little in spite of yourself. He still had a penchant for stubbly cheeks and leather, which was a strange kind of comfort.

Knowing these two idiots as well as you did, you knew they’d charge right after Walker. They’d try to bring him in, get that shield away from him before he caused any more damage. That was just who they were. No getting around it.

That didn’t stop you from picking up your phone and calling Bucky.

“Bucky, it’s me. I just saw the video of Walker, and holy fuck that was messed up. I know Sam, and I know you. I’m not sure what happened after that, but…stay safe, okay? Don’t do anything too stupid. Tell Sam the same thing.”

After you hung up, you didn’t even try to call Sam. They were there together, there wasn’t really a point. Even in the hours after, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be anxious and feel shame about calling Bucky and leaving another message.

All you knew was that you wanted to hear his voice.

***

“Hand me the wrench, would you?” Sam asked.

Bucky wordlessly handed him the tool he needed, then continued working on his own task. As the sun rose higher in the sky above the water, Sam and Bucky worked quietly on the Wilson family boat. There was a lot that needed to be done, but Bucky was more than happy to help out after Sam had let him crash at his place.

He’d gotten back in the United States a couple of days ago, feeling strangely…at peace. He had held a gun to Zemo’s head in Sokovia and hadn’t killed him, hadn’t given in to the world’s expectations of the Winter Soldier. The man he had been forced to be for so long. That had never been the plan in the first place, but even so, it had been cathartic in a way. The Dora Milaje had Zemo and were taking him to the Raft, where he would hopefully spend the rest of his days. After everything the man had done, all the pain he had caused, it was a relief to be away from him.

Thankfully following through on his request, Ayo had left a particularly important package with him. One he brought to Sam, for whenever he was ready. Based on everything they’d been through, everything they’d talked about…he knew that time was coming. It was up to him now when that would be.

As soon as his plane touched down in New York, he’d wanted to go see Y/n. His phone with her information had been smashed to pieces when he’d (very stupidly) jumped from a plane without a parachute. Bucky had known his body would be fine, and the one chute on the plane had been defective. He just hadn’t considered the weirdly fragile piece of technology in his pocket. The only way he’d been able to contact Ayo was through the phone he kept on specifically to contact people in Wakanda. It had been made by them for that reason so the calls couldn’t be tracked, which of course explained why it was practically indestructible.

As his connecting flight to Louisiana soared above the city skyline, he wished with his entire being he was going to see her. All he wanted was to see her face, stare into those eyes he loved so much, and beg for her forgiveness. Beg for another chance. Beg her to listen when he promised he still loved her, and that he never stopped.

But the suit couldn’t exactly go on to Louisiana without him. He hated it, but Y/n would have to wait.

“You need to call her,” Sam said.

“What?” Bucky asked, having completely been oblivious to the world around him until Sam had said something.

“You need to call Y/n.”

“I don’t have my phone,” he grumbled in response, looking down at the tool in his hands.

“You can use mine, I’m good at sharing.”

“Sam…”

“Uh uh. Don’t use that tone with me, Barnes. She deserves to hear from you. Damn it, this has gone on long enough, don’t you think? You’re both miserable without each other, so do something about it!”

“I’m already planning on it!”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise and he physically recoiled in shock.

“Uh…sitting on my boat isn’t gonna help you with that, Buck.”

“After this Flag Smasher business is done,” he sighed, “I’m gonna go see her. The things I need to say, apologize for…I can’t do that over the phone.”

“Bucky,” Sam said, “it could take Karli weeks before she makes her move. Weeks. You really wanna wait that long? Make her wait?”

“I have to see this through. Once I do, I…I don’t know. I feel like I’ll have figured something out, somehow.”

“This isn’t going to erase what you did.”

“I know that. I do. But I need to do this my way. But I promise, I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to her. She’ll probably want nothing to do with me, but I have to try.”

Sam smiled at him in that knowing way of his, then said, “She misses you. I know she does.”

***

It took him until the day of the GRC vote to figure out how to recover old voicemails.

Once he’d replaced his phone, he went weeks without knowing that Y/n had tried to call him more than that one time. That she’d left him two messages and he hadn’t even known.

He’d had to go to Verizon in person to get it figured out. Once they’d helped him, he waited until he was back in his apartment to listen.

Her tone had changed from the first to the second. She was short and to the point, but there was no tiredness in her voice. Only trusting him to help her decide how to handle Walker. Wanting to know what he planned on doing.

The third showed the biggest change. His fist clenched reflexively upon hearing the outrage and anxiety in her voice as she reacted to the violence in Latvia, his first instinct to always protect her. What followed was…pleasant surprise. She wanted him to stay safe. Wanted him to not do anything stupid. Y/n hadn’t even bothered calling Sam, just asked Bucky to convey the message. She’d chosen to call him.

All this change, and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. It gave him hope that…well, maybe she’d listen. Maybe there was a chance.

Sam was already on his way here. If they managed to stop Karli and the Flag Smashers, if they managed to protect the city and get out alive, her place was his first stop.

***

Another few weeks had passed without hearing from Bucky.

Sam had called you about two weeks after the Latvia incident. He let you rush out all your panicked worries and scolding before assuring you that he and Bucky were just fine. They were laying low and were back stateside, waiting for the Flag Smashers to act. Somehow, Sam was sure they would try to pull off something huge in the coming weeks. They just weren’t sure where or when. In the meantime, they were going to wait. Plan. Train.

You hadn’t bothered him with your worries and insecurities about Bucky. From what he’d told you, they’d gone through a lot. Sam was going through a kind of personal reckoning of his own as he grappled with being a black man carrying that shield. He’d learned even more about the very nefarious past surrounding the serum in the United States and had told you about Isaiah Bradley. All you did was support him as best you could, and then offered your help for whatever was to come. You weren’t sure if he’d take you up on that, but he seemed comforted by it in any case.

In was a balmy spring night in the city. You’d been holed up in what used to be the Avengers Tower, now having resumed the mantle of Stark Tower. The GRC were holding a massive vote tonight on what they were going to do about caring for blip refugees, and the Stark Relief Foundation had to be ready for whatever they decided. Lost in your work, you hadn’t even known anything was amiss until one of your colleagues rushed into the room.

“Y/n, turn on the news. The Flag Smashers attacked the GRC meeting.”

“What?” You’d asked, disbelief and uncertainty flooding every sense.

She switched on the television in the conference room you’d been working in, and there it was. Live footage was being streamed from just a few blocks away. Your heart leapt in your throat as you saw panicked masses streaming from the building, their faces illuminated by the flashing red and blue lights of surrounding first responders.

“I have to go,” you breathed, whirling on your heels.

“What? You can’t go down there, it’s not safe!”

“I used to be an Avenger. I can’t not fight.”

“But—”

Her words were cut off as the door swung shut behind you. You’d given back your weapons when you’d taken this job. Hung up your tactical suit, now collecting dust in your closet. You were dangerously out of shape, finding solace and distraction in your work instead of honing your body.

You regretted it now.

Police officers had already surrounded the building. As you tried to force your way past them, they held up their arms to stop you.

“We’ve sealed the building for your protection, ma’am. Please return inside.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ve helped during these kinds of attacks before, it used to be my job—”

“That’s all well and fine, but we have it under control.”

“You’re not hearing me, I can help—”

“We’re under direct orders to keep everyone in the building.”

Damn them. As mad as you were, you knew they had a point. It was a well-known fact that the Stark Relief Foundation worked directly with the GRC to try and provide relief. It didn’t matter that you actively tried to sway them toward helping people rather than go with their avoidance tactics; mere association made this building and everyone in it a target.

“Okay,” you sighed, giving in, “just keep us updated. Call me directly.”

You handed them your business card, and the officer widened his eyes as he saw your very recognizable name.

“Wait, are you—”

Yet another person’s words were cut off by your impatience, heading right back inside and up to your office.

***

You’d spent the night glued to the news along with the rest of your floor.

The pops of gunfire and the roar of explosions echoed off the buildings, the sound carrying up to your conference room on the 32nd floor. Every sound mocked you. You used to be the first to charge into the fight, fighting with everything you had to protect your team and anyone who happened to be in the line of fire. Watching and waiting was a new kind of awful.

It didn’t help knowing Bucky and Sam were down there on the front lines. You’d cheered with everyone else as Sam first appeared on camera sporting a new suit and holding the shield you loved so much. He’d accepted the heavy mantle of Captain America. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you watched him, the news cameras tracking his efforts as he flew around the city.

As much as Bucky tried to hide in the shadows, the news had captured him often enough throughout the night as well. Searing panic had captured you in a chokehold as he utilized his vibranium arm and super strength to wrench open the door of a burning van, saving everyone trapped inside. Pride didn’t even begin to describe what you felt as you saw someone shaking his hand, thanking him. If the Bucky you’d first met all those years ago could see this…he would never believe it.

You’d stepped away at that point, needing a moment. Needing the time to say something you should’ve said a long time ago.

Ducking into your private office, you quickly shut the door behind you and pulled out your phone. Bucky hadn’t returned your calls for a reason, you knew that. You knew he was busy saving the city, being the hero he was always meant to be. But you had to leave one last message.

“Bucky, it’s Y/n,” you started quietly right as the beep sounded, “I know you don’t wanna talk to me, and it’s okay. I understand. I’ll stop calling after this. I just wanted you to know…”

Your words choked off as tears spilled over your lashes, and you took a shuddering breath, trying to collect yourself.

“I…I want you to know how proud I am of you. How proud I am to know you. You had the courage to unlearn every hateful thing they forced into that beautiful, amazing heart of yours, and it makes me happier than I can say knowing you’re becoming the hero you were always meant to be.”

A sob forced its way from your lungs, and you fought to keep yourself under just enough control to finish what you called to say.

“I hope you’re happier, today. I don’t know anyone who deserves happiness more than you do. I miss you so, so much. I just…I hope you’re okay. If I never see you or hear from you again, I want you to know how much I love you. I never stopped.”

That last confession, the one about you loving him, that had been unplanned. It slipped out, but you couldn’t say you regretted it. Unplanned or not, it was true. It had been true this entire time you’d been apart.

***

The mission had been a success.

According to most, anyway. And for the most part, it had been. The Flag Smashers had been stopped. Sam had made an impassioned speech to the most powerful people in the world, saying everything they’d needed to have heard a long time ago. It had been the most formidable thing Bucky had ever seen. He was so proud to know Sam, to fight alongside him.

Karli had been the only casualty. Sharon had killed her, thinking she would’ve killed Sam if she hadn’t. Despite everything Karli had done, Bucky couldn’t help but feel unbound regret and sadness over her loss. She was just a kid, at the end of the day. A kid who had been through too much and was trying to make people listen the only way she knew how. If the GRC had just listened to people in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

As Sam spoke to grateful New Yorkers who wanted a word with their new Captain America, Bucky pulled out his phone to check the time.

One new message. From Y/n.

Probably to chew him out for having extra police presence near Stark Tower. It had made sense strategically, but Bucky admittedly had selfish reasons for wanting that building sealed. Knowing Y/n, she would’ve charged right out into the streets to fight and help in any way she could. But he also knew from what Sam had told him that she hadn’t picked up a weapon in months. Hadn’t worked out in ages. If she went up against an enhanced Flag Smasher, they’d tear her to pieces. That couldn’t happen.

Trying to slow his racing heart, he held the phone to his ear.

“Bucky, it’s Y/n. I know you don’t wanna talk to me, and it’s okay. I understand. I’ll stop calling after this. I just wanted you to know… I…I want you to know how proud I am of you. How proud I am to know you. You had the courage to unlearn every hateful thing they forced into that beautiful, amazing heart of yours, and it makes me happier than I can say knowing you’re becoming the hero you were always meant to be. I hope you’re happier, today. I don’t know anyone who deserves happiness more than you do. I miss you so, so much. I just…I hope you’re okay. If I never see you or hear from you again, I want you to know how much I love you. I never stopped.”

He kept the phone pressed to his ear long after it ended. Tears were filling his tired eyes, slipping in unchecked streams down his grimy face. Bucky’s mouth, so used to scowling and grimacing, split into an earth-shattering grin. His heart soared.

Y/n was proud of him. She missed him. She loved him.

“Uh…what’s with the face?”

Sam’s bemused features materialized in front of him.

“How far is Y/n’s building from here?”

“What?” Sam asked, completely caught off guard. “It’s almost 3am, man. She’s asleep.”

“I don’t care, I need to go see her right now—”

“Whatever emotional epiphany you just had, you’re not gonna go bother that girl until you’ve had some damn sleep—”

“She loves me. Y/n still loves me,” Bucky interjected, giddiness making his voice jump around as he held up his phone, “she left me a message and told me.”

“Well fuck, that changes things.”

Sam texted Bucky her address as he sprinted off in the direction he’d pointed to, the exact building and apartment number coming in as he went. It was only a few blocks from where he’d started, and it took him no time at all to get there. Punching in the building code that Sam had given him, he didn’t slow down as he sped through the lobby to the elevators. He pressed the button for the 21st floor repeatedly until the doors opened, allowing him to hurtle inside.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of her apartment. 2114. He didn’t even stop to think about it and was soon knocking harshly at her door. He flinched a little after he’d done it, hoping he didn’t scare her.

The door creaked open, revealing a very tired Y/n in wrinkled work clothes. Her y/e/c eyes went wide with shock, mouth falling open into a started ‘o’.

“I love you too,” Bucky panted, “I never stopped. I’m an idiot, and I’m so sorry for hurting you, I just—”

His words were cut off as Y/n cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him softly. It was quick, barely even a peck really. She pulled back and looked at him, uncertainty swimming in her gaze.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, “I can’t believe I did that—”

It was Bucky’s turn to cut her off. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him before kissing her back. He tried to pour all the passion, affection, and love he hadn’t been able to show her during these lonely months. He tried to explain without words how much he regretted the choice he’d made, and how he never planned on letting her go again.

Her hands, always seeming so small to him, reached up and tangled in his hair, slightly scratching at his scalp. He groaned aloud at the sensation, chills erupting over his body at the pleasure her touch gave him. Leaning back, she pulled him with her until they were over the threshold of her apartment. Bucky kicked the door shut behind him, effectively shutting out the rest of the world.

Just her and him. How it was always supposed to be.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Bucky leaned his forehead against hers. He ran his hands over every part of her he could reach; her back, her hips, the back of her neck, up into her hair. He finally ended his trail as he cupped her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. Y/n reached up and covered his hands with her own, rubbing the backs of them with her thumbs.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, “I was so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, you were,” she murmured, but her eyes held nothing but love as she looked at him.

“I know there’s a lot to talk about, and a lot to move past. The only thing I know is,” he took a breath, “is that I want to be with you. I want to give this another shot.”

“Bucky, you broke my heart,” she whispered, and his own nearly tore in two at the sight, knowing he caused that pain.

“I’ll never stop being sorry for that.”

“I know,” she nodded, “none of this is fixed overnight, but I meant what I said. Every word. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

“I love you,” he choked out, overwhelmed by her and everything that had happened tonight. He pressed another kiss to her lips, and he found he wanted to do this for as long as she’d have him. The rest of their lives, if she wanted. He knew he did.

She smiled at him, and he realized in that moment just how much he missed that smile.

“Go shower, superhero,” she smirked, “I know you’ve had a long night, but I intend to fall asleep with your arms around me. Can’t let you in my clean sheets with you all grimy, though.”

“That sounds incredible and all, sweetheart,” he laughed, “but I don’t have any clothes here.”

“Yeah, you do,” she replied shyly.

“Uh, no I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I didn’t have it in me to get rid of some of your clothes, so they’ve been living at the bottom of my drawer. Still clean and everything.”

She giggled as he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed every inch of it he could reach, punctuating every single kiss with an ‘I love you’.

After a quick shower, he’d pulled on some boxers of his that she’d admitted to sleeping in once or twice. Bucky practically fell into bed, pulling her into him instantly. Burying his face in her hair, he felt at peace for the first in forever.

Bucky fell asleep that night with the love of his life in his arms, finally his again.

She was proud of him. She loved him. He was okay, all because he had her. Somehow he knew he always would.

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu #marvel #tfatws!bucky #tfatws #angst with happy ending #jenna writes #songfic #hope ur ok #olivia rodrigo

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enigmaticvariation · 3 years

Text

Who’s the traitor?

Here’s a legitimate analysis of who I think the traitor might be instead of me just being nostalgic for SMP Earth. The only thing we have to go by right now is that it’s a person who’s siding with Pogtopia and it would be surprising. I will be going through all the relevant people and ranking them from least to most likely, (in my opinion.) Let’s get started.

Quackity - This is objectively the worst option. Quackity’s entire arc is about how he just wanted to make a change and improve society but instead got trapped in a toxic relationship where he was mistreated and not taken seriously. He’s left that behind and is trying to move past it, so to just have him go back to his abuser would just be shitty writing and kind of gross.

Eret - This just makes no sense. He’s already betrayed L’manberg once and he clearly regretted it. He’s been very vocal about wanting to fight against Schlatt, and it would just be out of character.

Ponk, BBH, Awesamdude - While these guys are slowly becoming more plot relevant, I seriously doubt it would be any of them. The traitor is almost certainly someone with more plot relevance and emotional ties to the main characters. if any of them betrayed the main characters it wouldn’t feel much like a betrayal.

Niki - Niki has been one of the few characters in this story who has opposed Schlatt all along. She has been incredibly vocal about this, and has rebelled against him since the moment he took office. It would be surprising sure, but incredibly out of character.

Wilbur - I feel like despite being such a loose canon of a character, he would be a fairly unlikely option. I was watching from his perspective and he seemed genuinely surprised when Dream was talking about the traitor, and really annoyed that Dream wasn’t on his side any more. It also wouldn’t be that good of a twist, considering his constantly fluctuating sense of morality.

Fundy - This would make sense character wise. Fundy’s been scorned and shoved aside by his father his whole life. He was spying for Schlatt as a way to make his father proud, but when he gave his father the materials to defeat Schlatt he was shoved aside once more. He’s bitter. Also, he’d probably rather side with his fiancee who loves and respects him rather than his shitty dad. The only reason he’s so low down is because it seems to expected. One of those things Tumblr and Twitter predicted 2 months ago. While I wouldn’t necessarily mind this, I feel like there’s a better option.

Tommy - Tommy has a lot of reason to betray Wilbur. He’s been treated pretty badly and his opinions have been ignored. I can easily imagine a world where he would make a deal with Dream and help him as a way to get L’manberg back. He could also be trying to get the discs back, which is ultimately one of the things he cares about the most. I’ve seen lots of great analysis on this. It would also be a good, surprising twist, the scorned hero turned to the dark side. I’m not convinced it’s him though because he is a very black and white thinker, he firmly believes in good and evil. While he has a lot of reason to, I don’t know if he would actually betray his friends.

Technoblade - This is one of the most likely options but simultaneously one of the worst options. Wilbur has been convinced that Techno was going to betray him since day one and Techno literally said that he wouldn’t hesitate to betray Pogtopia just to make the final battle a fair fight. Every single person in mcytblr instantly predicted that Techno was going to betray Wilbur and Tommy, literally the moment he joined the server. It’s very likely, but it would be a bad twist. Dream said that the traitor would be the person we would least expect, so while Techno is a very likely option, it would be very much expected. I really don’t want him to be the traitor. I would take almost anything over him, I want a good twist.

Philza - I know a lot of people are saying that it’s stupid to think that he’s the traitor when he isn’t even whitelisted, but hear me out. We all want Phil on the server, we want him to beat some sense into Wilbur and save Tommy and Tubbo from the war zone they had been trapped in. Imagine though, if he joined the server and immediately sided against Wilbur. It would make sense though, he’s been very resistant against Wilbur’s actions. I think it would be most likely if he was the traitor along with Technoblade. It would be a nice call back to SMP Earth and Phil and Technoblade are an incredibly chaotic duo when they come together. It’s a bit unlikely, but it would be the best twist and a great opportunity to get Phil on the server.

Tubbo - Tubbo is the most likely traitor in my opinion. Despite his common front of being a sweet and naive person, he is one of the most morally grey characters on the smp. He will not hesitate to mess with people, destroy things, and is generally a pretty good liar. It would also be very in character. He’s been manipulated and pushed around by practically every person on the server, and he’s surely about to snap. He’s been treated just as bad by Wilbur as by Schlatt. He also lied about having the discs, which was quite suspicious. One of the few reasons why Tubbo might not be the traitor though is Tommy. Despite being morally grey and also lying about the discs I’m not sure that he would betray Tommy. They made a pact that they would always trust each other and generally have a very codependent relationship. That is why I think that the true traitor is not 1, but 2 people.

Tommy and Tubbo - I said Tubbo was the most likely traitor, but I think that Tommy and Tubbo together would be the best option. Dream said there was a traitor, but as far as I know he never explicitly stated that he was talking about just one person. They would probably make a deal together with Dream either for the discs or to get L’manberg back. It would also be very likely that they would work with Dream but betray him as well. It would be a Good Omens situation, Tommy and Tubbo being their own side and not strictly aligned with the already established sides. This would be good, Tommy and Tubbo were thrust into a war zone at a young age. They’ve spent the entire story being lied to and manipulated by the adults in their lives, and I think they deserve to go apeshit and fuck those guys up, you know, as a treat.

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

New Romantics | Part Four

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, Perv!Spencer low-key, public sex, quickies, multiple orgasms,

Word Count: 5k

a/n: what could possibly go wrong next?

She’s been asleep barely 2 hours when he shakes her awake, “Hey, when did you need to get ready today?”

“Uh?” She sits up and rubs her eyes, “we don’t have to leave until 1 so, like 11?”

“It’s 8:30, did you want to stay and sleep more?”

She looks at him and sighs, “are we okay?”

He nods, “can we just call it even?”

“Sure,” she agrees without knowing what she did wrong. It was more than just snapping on Tuesday, which is what she was still hurt over. “But I’m going to go, I need to change and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he nods but his smile is sad and she knows she’s fucking it up more.

She gets out of his bed, once it was the warmest bed she’s ever known. Any bed she shared with him was, but now it felt cold and uninviting and there was an unspoken knowingness that they were both genuinely upset.

“I’m still your fake girlfriend for the next 24 hours… can we make them count?” She asks, avoiding eye contact so he can't see her cry if he says no.

“Come here?”

She gets back into the bed and she cuddles into his chest. He holds her for a moment, “you’ve been the best girlfriend in the whole world. Do you really still want to be friends after this? Have I fucked up that bad?”

“Oh honey,” she places a hand on his cheek and looks at him softly, “I will be your neighbour, your best friend, your co-worker, carpool buddy, coffee friend, girlfriend, whatever you need as long as you’d like to have me around.”

He remembers the first time she said that and she knows because his smile is the same. “I love you.”

It hurts, “I love you, too.”

She kisses him quickly, attempting to pull back when his fingers grip her hair and his tongue is on her lips and she’s following his lead again.

“No,” she whispers, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” he stops and his hands drop to his sides so she can get back up.

“I’m going to go get ready, but I’ll come back when I’m done?”

“Yeah,” he nods again.

It breaks her heart to get up and go, she grabs her shoes and she sneaks out of his room, finding her keys in her pocket, she opens her own door and cries the second the door closes.

She cries in the shower, she cries while fixes her hair, she cries while she has lunch. Every song reminds her of the situation, every section of her apartment reminds her of him, the stupid door where they first kissed is closed and she wishes he was stable enough to bang on it and demand an answer.

Whatever was going on between them was reaching a bubbling over point, she can only store so much emotion before she explodes on him.

As soon as she is in her dress, makeup on and ready to go, she walks into his apartment to find him struggling with his bowtie, it makes her smile for the first time since she left his room this morning, “need help?”

“Yes, please.”

She walks over to him and repeats the same movements he attempted, making the bow look pretty before smoothing her hands over his dress shirt and looking up at him. “Handsome as ever.”

“You’re always beautiful,” he compliments her right back but his voice is still as sad as the night before.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on in there?” She pries, tapping his temple with her index finger, “you’re my best friend and I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I heard what you said yesterday,” he whispers, “about how if you were just using someone you would have picked Derek.”

“And?” She doesn’t get why it’s a big deal because it makes perfect sense to her in her mind.

“And it hurt me,” he snaps, “quite a lot!?”

And the dam breaks.

“Because I proved to them that I’m not using you? Spencer do you know what I meant by that?” She snaps right back.

“What else could it mean?! Clearly I’m not hot enough for you to just fuck and toss aside—”

“I meant that I love you and that’s why I’m with you! If I was just using someone for a job then I’d fuck Derek cause he’s a one and done, toss them to the side and never see them again, kind of guy!”

“And?” He repeats her word choice in a snippy tone that makes her furious but she knows he’s just trying his best to understand her.

She sighs loudly and obnoxiously, “and you’re a take him to meet your mom, marry and have his babies, love him for the rest of your life and one day scatter his ashes, kind of lover.” Crying by the end, she wipes her tears and tries to stay somewhat presentable-looking.

He’s silent, eyes wide as he takes in all her words, “I have always loved you,” she adds, “and no matter how fucking angry I am or how stressed or upset, I am never going to stop loving you, Spencer.”

“Me either,” his tone is still just as upset, “and that's the part that sucks.”

“What do you mean?” She just poured her heart out to him and he still doesn’t get it.

“I LOVE YOU!” He screams it at her with his hands thrown in the air, “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire fucking life and it’s driving me crazy!”

“It’s driving you crazy?” She can’t help but laugh like she’s losing her mind, “I have been doing everything in my power to make you understand that I love you and you keep thinking I just want to be friends!”

“Because you said you loved me like a friend the first time?!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” She is so frustrated she’s turning the same colour as her dress, steaming from her ears like a cartoon character.

“I asked if best friends can be in love because I wanted to see if you would say you loved me more than that, and then you fucking said “yeah cause that’s how I love you” which means you love me as a friend?!”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted?!”

She can’t rub her eyes cause she’ll ruin her makeup but she is so mad she just wants to scream. Pressing her fingers to her own temples, she turns away from him and sighs, she loves him so much and yet this is the most frustrating thing that’s ever happened.

“You are so lucky,” she just laughs, shaking her head back and forth as she turns back to him, “you are so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Why?”

She wraps her arms around his middle and looks up into his eyes with one last sigh, “we have to go or we’ll be late, so I can’t explain all of my feelings right now, so let’s bench this conversation and I can show you just how much I love you when we get back?”

“Okay,” he nods. He rests his hands on her arms and he looks down with the softest glance, he’s still trying so hard to not cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“So am I, I should have listened to you better and explained myself more,” she whispers, “do you believe me now?”

He nods, “I told you, it’s hard for me.”

“I tried my best to be subtle so I didn’t scare you off, but I guess you really don’t do subtle?” She can’t help but laugh, “but I really do love you.”

His hands are on her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss, she melts against him. He breathes her in, it’s the longest and deepest kiss she’s ever had and she honestly feels like he’s taking her soul and making her his. She belongs to him and she knows it, now he does too.

“I love you, too.”

—

All eyes are on her and it makes him smile, she’s the only one in a red dress in a room full of black and white, she stands out like a sore thumb. She looks the most beautiful, she stands beside Spencer with her arm wrapped around his and a huge smile on her face, it makes him even happier to see her smile again.

The hardest part of fighting with her was knowing she was upset and that he was only making it worse. Seeing her smile return is everything to him, he loves her more than words can express and she loves him right back, he can tell by the way she smiles at him; because it’s exactly the same way he’s smiling at her.

“I see that you’ve made up,” Derek interrupts their current dance to say hello.

The BAU team was always so busy on nights like this, they had all the best stories and everyone wanted to hear them, which meant they typically didn’t see each other a lot for the whole night.

“We did,” Spencer smiles. “Thank’s Derek.”

She looks up at them both, confused, “how many of them know?”

“Huh?” He plays dumb but she can see right through him.

“Do they all know I’m not really your girlfriend or is it just Aaron, Derek and whoever else you told?”

“Elle,” he says her name. “I told the first girl I slept with that I was falling in love with you because I needed advice from someone who has already been with me and knows how I get.”

“Sick, cool, love that for you,” she smiles and walks away.

He grabs her and she stops, “I told you how much it hurt that I had no one to talk to and you told all of them? And you couldn’t even tell me you really loved me this whole time? I thought we were best friends Spencer?” She shakes her head, disappointed more than anything, swatting his hand off her as he reaches to stop her.

“Let her go, she’s right to be a little mad,” Derek holds him back. “let her be mad.”

“Why?” Spencer is so new to relationships he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“She wants to be your girlfriend for real, let her calm down and then go apologize and ask her,” Derek's smile is sweet as he pulls Spencer into a hug.

It slowly becomes a dance, everyone is used to Derek being touchy with his friends, he has danced with everyone so far tonight so it’s only fair Spencer has a turn. Spencer holds him tight, eyes closed so he doesn’t have to think about all the attention he’s been getting since they arrived.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” he whispers, “but I have to go see her.”

“Fights like this just make your relationship stronger, it teaches you how she wants you to communicate, she just wants you to be honest with her, always,” he whispers with his cheek pressed to Spencer's, “and angry make-up sex is really fun.”

It makes him laugh, “thanks, but she won’t be sleeping with me for a few days, if my memory is correct then she’s mad for more than one reason.”

“Ah,” Derek gets it, “good luck my friend. Good luck.”

When Spencer pulls away, he heads in the direction Y/N left and follows the hallway as far as it goes. She’s sitting on a bench by a window, staring off at the night sky as she takes some deep breaths. She looks a little more peaceful, she’s had a really rough few weeks and he’s not making it any easier on her.

“I know two things for sure,” he speaks softly but she still jumps a little as she turns to him.

“What would they be?”

“That you’re the love of my life,” he’s confident as he sits on the bench beside her and takes her hand in his. “And I’m an idiot when it comes to love.”

“That is quite the dilemma,” she smirks, her eyes gleam as she looks at him and he knows she was trying not to cry by how glossy they are, but it makes her more beautiful, somehow.

“I’m really sorry.”

“All you have to do is tell me the truth, Spencer,” she places her hand on his leg and leans in with a whisper, “it’s really simple.”

“Truth is,” he whispers right back, lips close enough to kiss, “I’m never going to stop loving you, which means more stupid moments are in my future. Just so you know.”

She giggles and kisses him quickly, “I don’t mind being the smart one in the relationship, but you still have to ask.”

“Will you be my girlfriend and let me love you for the rest of my life, no matter how much I fuck up and drive you crazy?” He teases her, knowing she’ll say yes regardless.

“On one condition,” she can’t hide the smirk on her face and he’s nervous at what she’s thinking.

“Anything?”

“You let me love you for just as long? If not longer.”

He nods, “forever?”

She nods back before kissing him just as deeply as they did that morning, her hands in his hair as she presses his face into her’s with force. She holds him there and breathes him in, pulling back with a classic smooch sound, she smiles again, “you’re my boyfriend now.”

He nods with a small smile, “what should we do first as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She bites her lip and pretends to think about it for a moment, “fuck in the linen closet down the hall?”

“I don’t have any condoms on me?” Is his only worry, not getting caught, not that all their bosses and superiors were there, just that he didn’t have a condom.

She pulls one out of her bra with a smile, “Savannah gave this to me about 3 minutes before you came over here.”

“How much make-up sex do they have?” He asks as he takes her hand and leads her down the hallway.

She’s giddy and smiling, her heels click on the floor as they rush to the other end of the hall and open the little door. There are shelves with towels and rolls upon rolls of silverware in cloth napkins. A vacuum in the corner, some brooms and just enough room for them.

She pulls him in closer and shuts the door, reconnecting their lips as she pushes him up against it. Hands reaching for his belt she kisses down his neck and he’s like putty in her hands as soon as she strokes him, he moans by accident and she covers his mouth with her free hand.

“Do you have any idea how turned on you make me? I have wanted to fuck you since I first saw you, 6 years ago…”

“Really?” His muffled voice behind her hand makes her laugh. She removes her hand and instead runs her fingers through his hair while taking a moment to look at him and really take it all in.

“Yeah,” she nods, “which is why I asked to sleep with you on the way home from the bar, I didn’t know if I could handle it either it, but I’ve always wanted Doctor Reid from the BAU to rail me. I just didn’t think we’d end up falling in love?”

“No one has ever admitted to having a crush on me and meant it,” he whispers.

“I’m glad I get to be one of your firsts,” she smiles again before he pulls her into another kiss.

She kisses the side of his mouth and then his jaw, down his neck and then she’s dropping to her knees in front of him. He’s hard in her hands but he twitches as he sees her like this, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes as she strokes him, she flattens her tongue and taps the tip of his cock to it.

He has to cover his own mouth or else he’s going to get them caught, he moans at the feeling, closing his eyes and that's when she takes him in her mouth. His free hand is in her hair, careful not to mess it up but enough grip to steady himself.

He tilts his head back against the door with a knock and a sign, “fuck,” he can’t help but talk into his hand which only makes it sound louder in the tight space.

She feels so good every single time and yet this one feels different, he looks down at her and she pulls off, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he shrugs.

He helps her back up to her feet and she backs up against the shelves, “come here?”

He helps her hike her dress up, holding all the material up as he slips her underwear off and takes that condom back out of her bra with a single kiss to her chest. He rolls it over himself and lines up with her, her arms wrap around his shoulders as she looks at him, “show me how much you love me?”

He slides in and they don’t break eye contact as she takes him, her mouth opens in a silent gasp at the feeling, her hands grip his shoulders tighter as she steadies her ass on a shelf and wraps her legs around him while he bottoms out.

With a hand on her cheek and one on her lower back, he pulls out and thrusts back in with a smile as she bites back a moan, she pulls his face in close to hers to kiss him while he fucks her. The hand on his cheek slides down her neck, applying a small amount of pressure that makes her breathing hitch. She swallows sharply before his hand starts to trail over her breasts and then between them.

With a thumb on her clit, he fucks her a little harder while rubbing his thumb in a circle. She’s breathing heavily into his mouth, placing sloppy kisses against each other as they enjoyed each other.

She’s so close and he knows it, and then there is a knock on the door.

“Spence, we have a case when you’re done?” He hears Derek's voice behind the door and he can’t believe it.

“Okay!” He calls back without stopping, instead, he fucks into her a little faster.

“Oh!” She moans by accident before covering her mouth with a slap and wide eyes, moaning behind her hand as she bounces on his cock.

He kisses her hand, making her move it so he can press his lips back to hers and absorb all the noises she was going to make, her hands both reach for his back, gripping his suit jacket so tight he’s afraid she might rip it.

She cums with a shocked gasp, it’s as quiet as possible but it still echos around them as he gets closer and closer. He buries his face in her neck and accidentally moans as well as he cums, stilling his hips as he holds her there, sputtering his hips against hers as they catch their breath.

“I love you,” he manages to say between breaths, “that much.”

“You need to go,” she smiles.

He kisses her one last time before he pulls out, he loves the way she gasps every time he does so. She smiles after, their teeth clashing as they laugh, “I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“I’m never going to get a job,” she shakes her head as she gets off the shelf and fixes her dress.

He takes off the condom and wraps it in some paper towel on the shelf, he’ll get rid of it later. She picks up her underwear, he thinks she puts them back on, but she really slides them into his pocket for him to find in the middle of the case when he reaches for something important...

—

She rides back to headquarters with Penelope and JJ, both of them want to ask and she knows it. Mainly because she looks like she’s had sex, and also because she asks to stop at the academy so she can get another pair of underwear from her locker.

It’s not until they’re in Penelope’s office that they ask, “what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” She plays dumb.

“Dating Spencer?” Penelope says, “more specifically, having sex with him?” She mumbles and it makes Y/N laugh.

“In total, we’ve been having sex for 3 weeks now and I’ve had 21 orgasms, and we only really fuck on the weekends cause that’s when we’re not busy…” she grinds her teeth slightly with a raised brow, taking a deep breath, “yeah. It’s really great.”

“Holy shit?” They both look more shocked than she’s ever seen them. “How many has he had?” Penelope asks with a quiet voice, pretending she didn’t.

She laughs slightly, “like maybe 14? He’s really generous.”

“What the fuck?” JJ turns to Penelope and shakes her head and there’s something more there that Y/N can sense.

“Who’s Elle?” She asks and they both turn to her with the biggest eyes.

“How do you know about Elle?”

“She’s the first person he slept with?”

“When?” They both shout.

“So he wasn’t kidding. You guys really thought he was a virgin this whole time?” She looks at them like they’re crazy. “How?”

They both just shake their heads and sigh, stuttering and looking for words they don’t have. “We just never thought he could?”

“Snooze ya loose, I guess?” She shrugs, “so what is the case and how can I help?”

“Right! We have a case,” Penelope snaps back into it, “but seriously Elle? Are you sure you have your names right?”

“Penelope,” she looks at her seriously.

“Right, they’re headed to Roanoke.”

There was a child abduction of a 6-year-old girl, CARD and the BAU were both called out and that meant everyone was mingling on the two floors and they would use as much help as possible.

It also turns out that Anderson’s surrogate went into labour a little earlier than anyone expected; so he and his husband have left for paternity leave early. Leaving JJ without an assistant and she really needs help in the office for this one.

She catches on rather quickly, knowing the protocols from her training and she’s not afraid to ask questions. She’s still in her dress, her heels click on the tiles as she rushes around with files, making phone calls and running from the briefing room to Penelope’s office.

When they finally crack the case and apprehend the suspect, she sits down finally. It’s been 11 hours since the banquet, and she was exhausted beyond belief. She never slept the night before, Spencer was uncomfortable and she was in her jeans and when she did fall asleep, he was waking her up moments later to get ready.

It's Sunday morning at 9 am when Spencer finally returns back at headquarters. She’s sitting at his desk when he comes up and wraps his arms around her, “we’re going home, come on.”

“Don’t you have to debrief?”

“Did that on the way back,” he turns her around in the role chair and tilts her head up to look at him, she’s so tired and he can tell. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with his help, “I did enough profiling today and now I have a whole week to get through.”

“Just to come back and work here,” he smiles, “if you still want to?”

She wraps him up in a real hug and nods against him, “it’s so fun, even with all the murder.”

“Coming home to this is really nice,” he whispers before kissing her cheek quickly, “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice is behind them. They pull away to see him smiling, arms wide as he saunters over, “if it isn’t the new romantics.”

“Did you have any suspicions?” Y/N asks, he was a profiler after all.

“I knew something was up,” he’s honest. “I knew you guys were actually doing stuff together, I just didn’t think there was so much angst behind closed doors?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N laughs, holding Spencer closer, “it took too long.”

“I thought you were fighting about the job, cause he wasn’t really upset until you were in Penelope’s office, and I heard the rumours even before he heard what you said,” Derek smiles again, “but I also knew you loved him and he loves you.”

“Correct,” she can’t help but smile. “But we really should head home.”

“Home we go,” Spencer agrees.

—

She asks him to unzip her dress the second they’re back in her apartment. She drops the dress to the floor and heads to the bathroom and he’s left alone in her room. It feels different now. He remembers kissing her in the living room for the first time like it was yesterday, he remembers the first time they had sex, the first time he said I love you, and now he’s here and she’s his girlfriend and he’s going to get to make more memories with her.

He’s so embarrassed by how much he’s been crying lately, something about being in his mid-30s was making him feel like he was about to go through menopause— he has never been very openly emotional, but it’s about time he lets himself feel. He wipes the tears and turns to face the wall while he takes his suit off.

He’s been through too much, a lot of which she doesn’t know of. She has promised him forever, whether she means it or not, and he’s worried he’s going to fuck it up before he gets there.

When she comes back, she lays a towel down on her side of the bed and gets in, “guess who got her period on her first day of work?”

“No?” He gasps, playing along with her playful mood. “At least you’re not pregnant.”

“Thank god,” she sighs, “please for the love of God, don’t get me pregnant for at least 5 years? I want a decent career first so that I don't miss much on maternity leave. I really don't want to be benched for having kids.”

He cries again and she looks so concerned as she gets out of bed and wraps her arms around him, “what did I say wrong, Spencer?”

Still facing the wall, he just lets it all out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, sweetheart?” She attempts to soothe him by running her hands down his arms, “for crying or something else?”

“Crying,” he whispers and she turns him around then.

“Hey,” she looks up at him with the softest expression he’s ever seen, “you are allowed to have emotions, you are allowed to show them and ask for help and tell me when you need something. I’m not going to think you’re too much, or I can’t handle you or think of you as a burden. I know that’s how you feel because it’s how I fell, and we don’t need to go through that together.”

“I love you,” it’s the only thing that feels right to say.

“I love you,” she repeats it, “what made you cry?”

“Can we get in bed first?”

“Yeah, finish getting ready and then come tell me,” she whispers before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He slips away to go to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He’s exhausted but he doesn’t want to miss any time with her. He hurries back to her side, getting into bed in his underwear and making sure both his phones are on the night table, charged and ready if they need him.

But until then, he belonged to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” It’s the first thing he asks because he knows she has a big day tomorrow. “It can wait.”

“What’s that thing you say about intermittent sleep is actually better?”

“Don’t use my words against me, I do that so people don’t stop me from doing what I think I deserve,” he’s truthful. “I’m not going to ever lie or fib to you again. I hate myself, and if I don’t feel like I’ve done enough I won't sleep or eat sometimes.”

“I do that too,” she’s not proud, “are you trying to tell me you cried cause you’re hungry or tired?”

“No,” he smiles, “but thank you for asking for clarification, I like this new system.”

“Me too.”

“I cried because I really love you and I’m realizing this is all real and I’m going to get to make good memories with you, and when you said kids, even in a hypothetical sense, it made it feel real for me,” he whispers the words before pressing his lips together awkwardly.

She glows in the lap light like she did that first night, “it’s a weird concept, isn’t it? The future. At some point I’m going to have known you longer than anyone, one day we’ll have lived with each other longer than we’ve lived apart. We might be grandparents together one day? It’s all weird to think about.”

“Do you seriously want all that with me?” He’s asking because he has another question to ask right after.

“Yes, Spencer,” she laughs. “I really do.”

“Would you like to Marry me?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widen and her jaw drops and he’s never seen her look this stunned before.

He nods, “my mom isn’t going to able to appreciate my wedding the longer I wait, and if you really mean it; I’d like to have a wedding with my mom there while she remembers me.”

“I know her birthday is coming up, but can we bring her here instead?”

“Why?”

“My parents decided to drive from Salam to here for my graduation and use the flight money on a nice Airbnb for the week. We should do it while they’re all here because I don’t know when they’d be able to come back,” she has had the same worries about her parents missing her life.

“I’ll ask my mom,” he smiles. “So we’re getting married?”

“in like a week,” she laughs, “oh fuck, how are we going to do that in a week?”

He rolls over and grabs his personal phone, he dials a number and she looks even more confused now.

“Hey Penelope, how fast can you plan a wedding?”

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New Romantics:

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #new romantics

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curlynerd · 3 years

Text

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding