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cannoli-reader · 5 months

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My notes Watching the WoT show. Season 1, Episode 1 (spoilers)

So I got some interest after putting up the notes from the finale not long ago, and I figured I would post the rest from this project, originally appearing on the readandfindout.com message board. There were posted on 11/19/2021. The notes are under a cut because I get verbose.

00:15-00:30 - "The arrogance.. And the women of the Aes Sedai were left to pick up the pieces."

This is going to be a problem going forward. There's already a problem with the books, where readers accept at face value the characters' assertion that men don't want to marry a woman who can handle them like a child with the One Power. It's clear in the context where we see many female channelers having good relationships with mundane male partners, that the White Tower is just rationalizing their own isolation from the rest of the world. So is this just Moiraine and the White Tower using their bullshit to justify their own policies, or is it the through line of the series? It could, however, be a legit interpretation of Moiraine's lecture to Egwene in EotW about the men who broke the world, so IDK.

03:45 - "Four ta'veren" Screw this bullshit, if she does not turn out to be wrong. Not to mention in the books, Moiraine herself says she was only expecting one. How the hell would she even HEAR about "four" ta'veren? Anyone who learned something like that would be all over the issue, not just passing along the rumors! "All the right age" Egwene and Nynaeve are years apart from the three boys. Less than a month was enough to disqualify two other boys their age from the search. In New Spring, a few DAYS eliminated one baby.

And anticipating the ad hominem response from the dipshits out there, I don’t believe ta’veren is a power or elevated status. My distaste for Egwne’s personality has no bearing on this issue (not least because I’d feel the exact same about Nynaeve, whom I have defended emphatically and often on this and other fora). Egwene’s role and arc are nothing like the other three. She is all about her White Tower stuff, and has little to no effect on anyone else or the rest of the world. Tuon, for example, could also not be a ta’veren because she affects nothing much outside the Seanchan. Nynaeve, meanwhile, operates on a different scale. Even things like rallying the Malkier are not ta’veren-type things. She was just making them be Malkieri, the way Egwene works to bring out the best of the Tower and Tuon the Seanchan. The ta’veren CHANGE things. The ta’veren introduce new concepts, not just practical reforms. They break the paradigm. Egwene and Tuon and Nynaeve work within the system, figuratively speaking. Though each is a rebel or revolutionary in some ways (given his plans for a sequel set in Seanchan, I am pretty sure RJ intended Tuon to be a player in a da’covale & a’dam revolution/reformation down the road), they are people who rearrange the box in which they operate. The ta’veren break the boxes and make new ones. The multi-national coalitions Perrin & Mat are leading in KoD are a synecdoche for what Rand will assemble for Tarmon Gaidon. Whereas the girls might be doing something superficially similar, it’s through established institutions, like Malkier, the Tower, Seanchan conquests and the laws of succession in Andor & Cairhien.

04:00 - What little I've seen, I do like Moiraine & Lan's performances. Physically, they are horribly cast, but it's good enough to go with.

5:07 - I kind of like the idea of a ceremony and invocation to go with the braid-awarding. It's just too bad that they could not come up with anything better than a bunch of of mystic-sounding mumbo-jumbo bullshit. And while superficially it seems like they missed the point that the Women's Circle is the governing body, and not the adult female population, it also makes sense that it could be a women-only secret that ALL women are in the Circle, not just the "elders" who are publicly acknowledged as such. We know that the actual Two Rivers women have things they keep secret from the men, like their sexual mores.

And it gives some context to the cliff-pushing scene in the trailer, even if it would have been more satisfying as a surprise, by Egwene's apparently resting smug-face. But it's a really stupid & out-of-character ritual/test thing. Edit from the Future: Also a huge time waste!

07:10 - There is no progress in the Two Rivers! The road has not improved in their lifetimes! if anything, it should be fading. Although, not really, because I think the implication in the books is that the Two Rivers is a relatively healthy society, essentially being quarantined from the problems afflicting the rest of the world with stagnation. But the isolation and lack of development is a THING for a reason! Not to idealize it, but for Perrin to change with his leadership. Bad enough to make up an extra ta'veren who serves no purpose in the story, but let's also take away one of the canonical manifestations really proving that we have no damn idea what ta'veren means!

07:30 - The thing with the wolves almost makes sense. This in no way looks like the tag end of a bitterly cold winter that has not actually let up yet, and they're clinging to the calendar 's definition of springtime out of a desperate hope it's coming. So the wolves are instead a hint that there is something bad coming out of the mountains. Except of course for the fact that wolves HUNT Trollocs. They are animals, who don’t have concepts really of the future, except in the vaguest terms, so they don’t think about strategic retreats. If Twisted Ones and Neverborn are around, the wolves are going after them. If there are too many for their pack to take down, other wolves are going to come, until someone confirms the Twisted Ones are dead.

If wolves run from Shadowspawn, that’s another piece of significance you’re taking away from Perrin! Setting aside their lack of utility at Tarmon Gaidon, Perrin’s identity crisis is that he’s afraid of losing his rationality and human reasoning! He’s afraid that he will become like a wolf, and that manifests when he goes hell-for-leather at a Myrdraal like a wolf would, instead of fighting smart like a human!

07:45 – I am getting cognitive dissonance from Michael McElhatton’s Santa beard.

07:50 – Hey, where’s the wind?!?!?!?

09:10 – Perrin’s married. His wife is going to get killed. This should be really interesting! The question is, on Winternight, or is he going to come home later to find her dead?

09:20 – Okay “down to Taren Ferry” makes sense topographically. People don’t always use up or down to refer to north and south. But there are armies heading SOUTH from Taren Ferry? The only thing SOUTH of Taren Ferry is the rest of the Two Rivers.

09:35 – So they are going to address Mat’s distinctive superficial character traits by making him gross. And something close to a gambling addict. You don’t need to have him so desperate for another game just to convey the difference when his luck power kicks in.

10:05 – That the whole village blows smoke up Egwene’s ass explains a lot of her personality issues. In the book, she was making more of a big deal about her braid than anyone else was. A standing ovation, because, what? She managed not to die all these years while under the care of responsible adults?

For the record, Egwene in the books, got her braid late. Though not as late as some, it was later than the normal age and notably late for someone who was determined to get it younger than anyone else, ever. But according to Moiraine & Lan, the ta’veren candidates are 20. Not 17. So if Egwene is one of them, she’s four years behind the curve. That’s like graduating high school at 22. Like getting out of Hogwarts at 21. Maybe the applause is sarcastic.

Oo, oo, ooh! What if Perrin’s wife is the fourth ta'veren and it’s a big thing that she gets killed!

10:15 – Damn, stocky, fat bald sexagenarians, as Bran al'Vere is supposed to be, are sexy in TV Emond’s Field.

10:20 – I like the little sad smile from Nynaeve, because she doesn’t have a dad anymore.

10:25 – Since when are the Coplins and Congars friendly? Since when are they the sort to buy a round? Is this show’s idea of showing how unpleasant they are going to be restricted to shaming them for drinking?

10:30 – And Nynaeve is toasting and quaffing. What, the, actual, fxck.

10:50 – Not to get all real-worldy, but farming communities do not spend a whole festival day in the bar, when there is plenty of sunshine, and the weather is warm enough not to require outerwear.

11:10 – “How did the ceremony go today?” Perrin, the whole female population was cheering and celebrating. That should be a clue. Also, she came back alive, which, from what we see of the ceremony is probably not 100% guaranteed. That should tell you all you need to know without needing to ask her possibly estranged boyfriend.

11:43 – I don’t know if the Two Rivers folk are being uncharacteristically hostile to someone who just came into an inn out of the rain (two factors that alone make his behavior thus far completely normal and to-be-expected, and not the kind of thing inspiring you to put a hand to hilt in anticipation of trouble), or if it’s just a way to show how insular the village is, that strangers are not a normal thing. In the books, they found Thom’s arriving late at night to be suspicious or rude, as if he was a friendly visitor who should come at a considerate time, rather than a customer or hired professional. OTOH, they see strangers as fascinating and a cause for celebration. There mere presence of three people no one knows are enough to make this the potentially best Bel Tine ever.

11:46 – Lan “mun-DRAG-or-in”. WTF?

11:58 – Moiraine’s entrance (not to mention Egwene’s, earlier) makes more sense in context than how it looked in the trailers. OTOH it feels like they are trying to have their cake and eat it too. The promotional material suggests she is the focal character, but they also want her to be the mysterious stranger viewed from the perspective of the hobbits Two Rivers folk.

12:05 – Walking by Nynaeve without eye contact is a nice touch.

12:15 - Damnit Marin, the ring was supposed to keep things discreet! Also, the Aes Sedai bit was supposed to be a secret, because it makes people nervous and a place like the Two Rivers would clam up if she started asking prying questions about their neighbors.

13:17 – Yes, Nynaeve, tell the blacksmith how his job works. Actually, that kind of works with her early perception as a controlling pain in the ass.

13:40 – Yeah, baby, stoke those bellows. Show Faile how it’s done.

13:50 – Maybe it’s different if you’re married, but touching someone like that when they are working has a kind of creepy vibe. But I want to know all about the future late Mistress Aybara. Who looks like she escaped the set of Vikings.

14:30 – Is this degradation of the Cauthon family necessary? Some of us like Abell. It’s a thing that Mat looks up to him! You don’t need to shit on his parents to show Mat has a good side. This is just such lazy, short-hand characterization. "Oh, the guy we think is a jerk has a tragic family history."

16:00 – I am going to laugh my ass off if the scene people on social media have been assuming is post-coital is just them relaxing after finishing up the dishes.

16:10 – Egwene really does spend most of the series avoiding her Two Rivers compatriots.

16:15 – And as I suspected, the woman ceremonies are secret from the men, making Perrin asking Rand even dumber.

16:53 – Rand does not do surprise kisses. Rand needs a gold-engraved invitation for PDA. In a relationship that’s clearly going through an awkward phase, where they seem uncertain where they stand, that would especially be the case.

17:40 – Is she talking about the berry?

17:53 – Moiraine, WTF are you bathing in? It looks like when my mother would forget to put the wheelbarrow** away after pulling weeds, and it would fill up with rain and become this vegetable soup-like mess. Or the kiddie pool that would fill up with grass from jumping in and out of it with wet feet.

** given the subject matter, I reflexively capitalized Wheel at first

18:02 – A Malkieri man and a Cairhienin woman would not bathe together unless they were doing it! No, this is just wrong. Especially not in a tub that was just used by half a dozen Nym.

18:15 – Lan saying a bath in the Two Rivers could be warmer is like a guy from Alaska complaining about the temperature in Jersey. Also, Lan does not ever complain, even if he had to take a bath on the Ross Shelf.

18:45 – I’ve seen Rosamund Pike jam a wine bottle up her hoo-ha to fake rape trauma, and the bits of plant stuck to her somehow seem more off-putting.

18:55 – “What is it?” "I think I’m sitting on a thorn."

19:15 – Ah. So they were playing hide the Dragon Scepter, after all.

19:25 – Canonically confirmed, Egwene is boring in the sack. Not surprising, really.

20:08 – Rand’s problem with Egwene being the Wisdom was not about himself, it was that he found it ridiculous for Egwene, because it’s a job for life, currently being held by a 24-year-old, and he knows that’s not how she operates. Then he had a problem when she confirmed it and said she wanted to move away to find a post. Celibacy was not a thing! Daise Congar, Nynaeve’s replacement, has a husband. Why would it even be a job requirement?

It looks like they’re altering this for no reason other than to make Egwene “right” in this argument, while incidentally messing with her characterization. Egwene would have no hesitation. Onward and upward is her thing (which is why Rand laughed at the idea of her serving a 50-year apprenticeship). If you can’t keep up with her, she’ll move on. This is, like it or not about her, one of her most important aspects, that informs so much of her relationships and choices in the story! But they decided to just make her worried and Rand butt-hurt even after she specifically says she was asked, and hasn’t accepted.

And if the Two Rivers is cool with extramarital sex, why is the Wisdom celibate? This is the problem with changing things out of character favoritism or convenience – you disrupt everything connected to it.

21:23 – British accents aside, they have a rather odd mix of Anglo and American slang. “Mum” and “Guys” being two examples.

22:30 – This is not Mat. He might have stolen from a neighbor to buy his sisters food. But not freaking toys!

23:00 – Moiraine and Lan already know the Shadowspawn are there?!

24:27 – Okay, I was wrong. This might actually be an improvement on how Rand’s & Egwene’s relationship was done in the books. The understanding and acceptance is a better explanation for Rand’s reaction than being pissy about his feewings being hurted. Of course, by the books’ society, it makes Egwene a dirty rake and cad who besmirched Rand’s virtue when she had no intention of doing right by him, so it’s going be amusing if the results of their tampering is to make their world more patriarchal than the books. Edit from the Future: LOL. You have no idea!

24:45 – “This pool is sacred. It’s an honor to clean it.” It’s also outdoors and a natural feature, making cleaning it somewhat pointless.

27:05 – The Nynaeve-Moiraine conversation works when you bear in mind they are trying to keep the Dragon’s identity a mystery, but the whole White Tower thing is bullshit. It might work if the old Wisdom who raised Nynaeve, but whose name Nynaeve can’t be bothered to use, turns out to have been lying, but even then, it makes Listening to the Wind a known manifestation of the Power.

Identity and self-perception is an important theme in these books! That she can channel should come as an utter shock to Nynaeve, that upends everything she thinks she knows about herself! This was my objection to non-white Two Rivers people, that Rand should absolutely believe without a shadow of doubt that he is the biological son of Tam. If he is markedly different from the rest of his neighbors to the degree that it’s not plausible he is a half-breed (as a pale-skinned red-head would not be in Africa or India or East Asia or the pre-civilized New World), then news that Tam found him as a baby does not land with the same impact.

BTW, this doesn’t necessarily go for Nynaeve, given that ITB she did have issues of isolation and estrangement from her neighbors. But that’s because of her dedication to her duties and role and coming to it too young, with her authority being challenged, not because she’s known as an outsider who is desperately trying to fit in.

Speaking of those duties, after several scenes of Nynaeve in her role as Wisdom, we are not super clear what that job is, much less that it’s the equal of the mayor. Given real world preconceptions, it could easily be seen as a peripheral clerical role. Especially with the pointless celibacy.

27:10 - I also feel like Perrin would not be spending so much time away from his wife, drinking with his buddies. Not because of his ITB preoccupations with Faile, which are at least in part due to every other member of his family being dead, but because it’s undutiful.

28:10 – So Listening to the Wind is literal. I guess when the Sea Folk teach Elayne Cloud Dancing, it’s going to involve actual choreography?

28:57 – I was first thinking, ‘why is Lan looking for Shadowspawn tracks when he has already sensed them, instead of doing something constructive like warning the villagers?'”' And it turns out it’s even more stupid. They have killed sheep and left the corpses in the shape of a Dragon’s Fang! A. How did they get away with it? Sheep are super important to the Two Rivers people who would be guarding them. That’s what a shepherd is for. Shouldn’t a Two Rivers person have been the one to find them? B. Why would they leave anything edible? If they are in too much of a hurry to eat them all, why make artistic shapes, especially when, from the camera angle, only a Draghkar could see what they did? Edit from the Future: Re-watched this with my non-reader sister, whose comment was "Why is it an apostrophe?" Way to use the Dragon's Fang, without actually establishing what that is, show!

29:42 – I’m going to give all the benefit of the doubt and assuming Moiraine is both eavesdropping on the boys with the Power and also preparing village-wide wards against Shadowspawn.

30:45 – Necessary exposition regarding the life-rebirth cycle and Wheel. Especially since WoT Novices (we need a good name for those who have not read the books; for GoT, I understand they were often called Unsullied) probably have no idea why it’s even called “Wheel of Time”.

31:05 – And good context for Tam’s trailer line, where before it looked like a substitute for his commentary on the resilience of the Two Rivers folk.

Then again, if you have to explain to your twenty-year-old son during an annually-performed ritual for the dead how the afterlife works, you’ve probably failed as a parent somewhere along the line.

32:37 – If Emond’s Field has a four-piece band, why even is Thom?

33:08 – Also fuck everyone who complained about Jordan putting superfluous detail in the story. He didn’t make us sit through actual dancing and Bel Tine festivals before the shadowspawn showed up.

And, just for the record, the Bel Tine practices seem much better suited to Sa Ven or what the WoT-quivalent of Samhain is.

Though, come to think of it, in a culture that believes in practical reincarnation to the point that the return of an historical figure is a really big deal, maybe the springtime festival IS a better time for it.

33:25 – More dancing. You’d think this is what would have been on the page and cut for the screen.

33:59 – Why?!?! Trollocs like dramatic surprise? There is a reason Jordan did it the way he did! Because it works! You don’t see the Trollocs approaching Rand & Tam because there is a door there! Not because they sneaked up to throw a spiked mace through the torso of the miller’s son without making any noise until he fell over! And this slight wispy-built guy gets hit in the back by a mace or axe or whatever and is NOT thrown violently forward, he just collapses like he was run through by a rapier?

34:17 – Maybe they are trying to show Egwene protecting people, but it just looks silly, like she’s distracted during a game of duck-duck-goose. I mean, it is a character trait of hers to assume that kind of responsibility that she is in no way capable of carrying out, but come on. Make sure there is someone behind you before volunteering yourself as a human shield.

34:45 – The Trollocs appear to be having more difficulty killing the villagers than I would expect. Lots of swinging and missing and shoving.

34:58 – Fain just noping out, like “My job is done…”

35:20 – Get bent, Rafe. Natti & Abell can’t even be bothered to make sure their daughters are safe?

36:02 – I’m sorry, I can’t not see Madeleine Madden’s nose wart. Been driving me nuts all episode.

36:43 – The al’Thor experience would have been a lot scarier if that was the very first appearance of the Trollocs.

36:52 – Ah, Hollywood Archery! It’s something you use in the same room as your target! It’s like pistol shooting, which is why they often assign it as a specialty for slender women, too. And you can instantly pick up a bow and start shooting, and never mind that leaving it strung is a good way for the bow to lose its strength and power.

Which actually might explain why Rand failed to kill a Trolloc with a headshot from a "longbow".

37:15 – Trollocs always go for the easiest kill. That’s why Narg would turn from a supine victim to honorably fight an armed foe. First of all, Narg’s one trait is that Narg smart. Narg can’t kill man with stick and boy with stool, Narg sure as shit not going to fuck with blademaster.

37:48 – On the one hand, Narg came pretty damn close to winning blademaster status for himself, but on the other, he goes down like a bitch.

38:18 - The trolloc on all fours was neat.

40:24 – Dammit Mat, they’re better off in such a good hiding spot! Out in the open, being carried by an as-a-result slower person is not nearly as safe.

40:29 – “Remember when we played hide-n-seek?” Kids do it all the time, it’s not something you need to remind them of, but TV writers all seem to think it is. Screen characters are always saying "Remember how we would play hide and seek" to kids when mortal danger threatens.

Of course, a better response from Bode and Eldrin would be “No shit, Mat! We were doing pretty good until you dragged us out of our shelter.”

Where does he think the Shadowspawn came from? The well on the green? How does he know the oak he is sending the girls toward isn’t right in their path?

41:20 – I like Moiraine’s channeling better than I thought I would from the trailer. It’s not like Rand’s kill-em-all weave in the Stone. Those white lines are flows of saidar, not the effects of her weaves, and she’s only killing a few at a time, in sight.

41:23 – I feel like Nynaeve getting dragged off by her braid is supposed to be a joke.

42:06 - PERRIN KILLS LAILA! That’s awesome! Brilliant! He’s going to be SOOO messed up about this! This could be, if done right, a great bridge to a lot of his issues!

And for the record, I find a blonde Two Rivers person a much greater violation than the black people cast as such.

43:37 – Something about the way that last Trolloc snarls at them reminds me of Lurtz, the Uruk-hai who killed Trevalyn in Fellowship. If only Miranda Sedai had been there to save him.

Bad Cannoli! Use their epic fantasy names, not their Bond names.

I now want Daniel Craig to play Rhuarc.

45:36 – The al’Thors made it to the village! What happened to the baby reveal?!?!?

46:59 – I want to throw things whenever the Cauthons are on screen.

48:12 – We lose so much world-building and characterization by having Moiraine just wander past and Heal Tam unsolicited.

49:18 – And just about all of Moriaine’s characterization goes out the window when she tells them straight out that she’s here for the Dragon Reborn who is one of the kids in front of her. (hint, it’s the White Guy; nice job, casting people)

49:44 – Egwene being ordered to come is another mistake. Her thing, one of the things that makes many of her fans love her, is that she looks for, and seizes on, opportunities to get the Call to Adventure. She, more than any of them, wants to be a Main Character! It’s the very last bit of characterization of her in the books, FFS!

49:56 – “You’ve lived too long in these mountains, pretending that what happens in the rest of the world won’t affect you.” This feels more like some sort of political virtue signaling than anything relevant to the Two Rivers folk themselves.

50:07 – “the other sisters of the Aes Sedai” Sisters OR Aes Sedai. You don’t make the Old Tongue more accessible with this silly redundancy. It sounds like Aes Sedai is a specific entity, and Moiraine and Liandrin and the others are its sisters.

51:09 – Putting the wind bit here is just fan service and makes no sense. Get bent, show.

I will add more of these as I can get them up and adapt the format.

#wot on prime #season 1 #timestamp annotations

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quack-city · 2 years

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Season 4 spoilers, I guess

Like I really do not understand why they had to overcomplicate and "explain" everything... Like honestly, maybe it's just me, but I really liked the upside down when it was just another dimension that existed along side ours and that's it. Because it made sense somehow by how simple it was. But now as it turns out it was all just a... Mind? A body? Of some telekinesis freak with a weird ass ideology that in all my honesty makes zero sense. Like that whole speech by Henry-Vecna-One is just so fucking dumb, I had to rewatch it on multiple occasions yet I didn't understand shit. Like, if we're explaining shit so much, maybe I've missed something, but how in the world of fuck was the upside down created? Why wasn't there an upside down for every hawkins lab kid? Or was Henry just extra special little voldemort type of boy that he got his own little hospital interior design looking dimension?

And that shit ruins their whole "Russia bad guys" plot, too. Because how the fuck did they find out about the Demogorgon and the Upside Down? Why do random people like Enzo (and I assume he's a pretty low ranking soldier, considering that he's just a prison guard, and like, I literally don't know why they just randomly give this top secret information about some "american monsters" to some fucking betacuck no swag looking motherfuckers, and not just keep this secret information to the high-ranking circle of individuals within the military and the government. And I'm not even talking about the fact that they keep a fucking monster from another dimension who can climb walls in a prison full of unprofessional personnel (aka simple guards) and a nearby village (which is a whole another topic)) simply know about it? Or is it a gag about the american military not knowing how to keep info like this to themselves? But okay, whatever, maybe it's some cold war type of shit, whatever, alright. Why the hell no one in Hawkins knows about it though and why does no one know anything about it around Hawkins? Because my brother in christ, when soldiers just fucking roam around your little town in the middle of nowhere, you kinda start asking questions. But okay, whatever. Maybe people are just dumb and shit and would believe everything they've been told. But what I was wondering though, why the fuck was there a portal in the middle of nowhere in the Soviet Union? Did Henry randomly decide to go international? Did he accidentally misplaced a finger and targeted some Petya Vasechkin and not Peter Basildon like he meant to do? That just makes zero sense.

And don't even let me start talking about the characters this season. Like they geniuenly suck, big time. Robin is just a quirky little lesbian side kick who had her 2,5 gay moments and that's it. Steve is apparently horny and that's about it. Lucas is there. Dustin is Suzie's boyfriend. Suzie is a genius and religious (amen). That stoner guy whose name I fucking forgot. Mike exists to be a romantic interest. Will exist to be a romantic interest's romantic interest and to get those 2,5 gay moment to sturdy 4 gay moments. Eddie is alright, he's the star of the show. Eleven explains the plot. Adults are just fucking around with russian people. Russian people are not even russian. What am i doing with my life

Conclusion: i shat myself

#stranger things spoilers #stranger things 4 spoilers

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todoslosdiasdemivida · 1 year

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I swear, I am apparently in my feels about several of my muses tonight, but none more so than Gabriel and Ramona [ AKA Martina––middle name for mine, though her canon name in Overwatch ].

Now, as I always state, everything below the cut here is within the self-contained storyline for my takes on them as I’m not tagging anyone and I would never throw my headcanons at anyone else and expect them to adhere, so this is solely for my Gabriel and Ramona but…

Gabriel and Ramona meet when they are both serving in the military. She’s a [ skilled ] chopper pilot and probably flew a few of his missions.

They have a few exchanges here and there. We know Gabe likes to run his mouth, and Ramona, well, she can give as good as she gets. They end up hitting it off.

He likes her because she doesn’t backdown and she doesn’t buckle under the pressures of the job, keeps a level head. Hell, they even have similar ideas about why they do the job. She likes him because of that dark, dry sense of humor that matches her own. The way they just seem to complement each other, like who they are as individuals just fits together.

They spend some of their leave time together, though there’s nothing official to it. They don’t bother with labels. They don’t even really try to push the relationship further. They just… enjoy spending time together.

It isn’t until around the time that her enlistment is up that they start talking a bit more seriously, that they discuss the possibility of a future and an us and a what that would mean.

She doesn’t reenlist.

It isn’t terribly long after that Gabe makes the move to Overwatch, and they see each other whenever he’s not off trying to save the world, leading the team as strike commander.

She can see the weight of that responsibility on him, and she does what she can to alleviate it, even if only for a time, offering him support whenever she can, sending him messages when he’s away. She never misses seeing him off on a mission unless it’s something sudden and unplanned––it’s a ritual of sorts to tell him to come home safe and she has no plans of breaking it because he always does.

It’s only once Jack Morrison takes over as leader in the aftermath of the war that Gabriel and Ramona can focus on them again.

He pops the question not long after that, and they don’t even plan a big wedding––neither of them have ever been fussy people. It’s just a small affair for friends and family at the church Ramona’s family have attended forever.

They wait a few years before starting a family of their own, and everything is wonderful.

For a time.

Slowly but surely, however, Ramona begins to see the shift.

To draw from another post I made:

The tragedy for Reyes of realizing that no matter what he does, he’ll never make the change he wants to see in the world, he’ll never achieve justice, never attain peace. For every truly heinous villain he removes, corporate or government figures who are just as corrupt if not more so—and with the added dangerous quality of being able cloak and shield themselves in politics and laws—will take their place. And then what is there? What can he do then? He can’t do anything to a legitimate political figure or government official or government-sanctioned entity. So what can he do?

He gets more and more disillusioned and jaded and frustrated and angry because it shouldn’t be like this and he can’t fix it and this isn’t what he fought and bled for all these years.

He can’t compartmentalize it because it’s consuming him from the inside out, crashing out in waves—outbursts of anger.

His friendships with people he’s fought those wars with and bled beside becomes a nightmare because they work beside him and they see where he’s going and they can’t and won’t accept it or follow him there. Not this time.

His marriage to the love of his life, his partner, his other half becomes strained. Loud arguments over nothing. Harsh words he didn’t mean. Breakdowns. Apologies. He’s not sleeping. Not like he should. He can’t separate himself from the job anymore and it’s destroying him and she can’t help. She can’t fix it or make it right no matter how hard she tries or how much she wants to do something, anything to make him feel less ragged and wartorn and shattered. Not this time.

Then, one day it all explodes, figuratively, literally, and then everything changes. Everything. The pain and anger that consumed him before is manifest now, physical, an agonizing and tortuous reality he faces with every breath of his body, as it constantly destroys and restores itself, tears itself apart and puts itself back together.

And he can’t go back because he’s burned those bridges and he’s done too much but going forward isn’t any better, no matter what he tells himself.

There’s no living with any of it, the past or the present.

But there’s no dying either.

Only existing in this hell.

And she exists in her own hell, too. No one can say that she doesn’t.

No body to bury, just an empty casket. No one to help her through it, or her son. The found family they’d once had is—seemingly irreparably—shattered. The trial happens, and she has to hear all sorts of things about her husband from people she had considered part of that family, even at the worst of times. But she can’t let go. She can’t and she won’t. Let all of them be swayed, but she won’t.

They didn’t see what she saw, and even if they asked her to take the stand to tell them, she wouldn’t. They don’t deserve to know the truth. [ He wouldn’t want them to, and she won’t betray that confidence. ]

They didn’t see him cracking and breaking under the pressure, under the weight of everything that was wrong with Overwatch and with the way of the world in general. Not like she did.

They didn’t see him fall apart. They didn’t hold him when he’d breakdown. They didn’t hear the whispered apologies as he buried his face against her shoulder and held to her like she was the only one keeping him anchored. They didn’t reassure him and coax him to bed so that he could try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

They didn’t get awakened by the nightmares, the terrors, at two or three or four in the morning to see him in a cold sweat, eyes not quite seeing their bedroom, mind stuck in what he had dreamt––the war? a mission? both? He seldom had said, even once she managed to calm him, to guide him back.

They didn’t listen to his quiet confessions in the stillness of the night about what was tearing him apart, about the futility of it all, about the helplessness, about the doubts.

They didn’t.

Not any of it.

So even when she tries to move on with her life, she can’t. She tries dating again, and she can’t, not with anything long-term. She does her best to raise their son, and she thinks that’s probably about the best she’s done at anything to do with living her life since it all fell apart.

In her main au, she takes up vigilante-ing at night, doing everything she can to make the streets a little safer in the neighborhood, because she’d rather die on her feet fighting for what she believes in––for what’s right––because that’s the way she’s always lived her life. [ It’s just another reason they were both similar before. ]

She isn’t enhanced, isn’t special. She’s just a former soldier, a mother, a widow who wants to protect what she has left.

Maybe it leads to her joining the recalled Overwatch, maybe it doesn’t––verse variables depending––but at the end of the day, the takeaway is that she continues the fight in his name, in his honor, in his memory…

And perhaps the worst part of it all?

Are they reunited once it’s all said and done?

… Or is that just another tragedy?

#|| that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger || { about gabriel / reaper }#|| afraid she'd kill you? / be surprised if she didn't || { about ramona }#|| he set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her || { about gabriel & ramona }#|| some women fear the fire; some simply become it || { v; main au // ramona }#// I #// This is fine.#// I'm fine.#// Everything is fine.#// I just #// have a lot of feelings about them #// and as basically nothing of nothing to this is canon #// except the BAREST outline #// I have done this to myself.

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wack-ashimself · 1 year

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So, real quick, what the FUCK is 'White Noise' about?

It isn't weird to be weird. It has very detailed and specific purposes and points. What are they? I HAVE NO IDEA. It's so layered, open for interpretation, and satirical abstract that you do not know when it's trying to make a serious point or make a joke about a serious point (that we take too seriously).

It's German. SO fucking German. Sense of humor to timing to writing to fucking Hitler, German, and Germany being all kinds of focal points beyond reasoning. So either this was written by a German, for Germans, or...an american trying to do Germanic work. But it's German. What does that mean? Dry, on the nose humor (to the point if you can't tell if it's trying to be funny or bring a mirror to society). Also it does what every 'smart/witty' movie does: everybody is a fucking (well informed) genius, even the kids and by standers, and NO ONE BREATHS; they all have a cocked and loaded responses for ANYONE saying ANYTHING at anytime. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW NORMAL HUMANS OPERATE. This isn't necessarily German, but def European. And NY times asshole-ish.

Major Themes:

>Germany (in every way).

>Life, rebirth.

>Death and Entropy (GERMAN x 3).

>Programming people's minds.

>Purgatory (is a grocery store. I thought that was witty).

>Pride (and it harming you or your loved ones).

>Hope, faith, and mob mentality.

>Disasters that are impossible to avoid/be influenced by.

>Divorce, marriage, love, betrayal.

What were not major themes in any way:

>Holding the trucking company who caused the accident accountable.

>Holding the train company accountable for transporting unsafe amounts of toxic chemicals (never say to WHERE it was going either).

>Holding the government accountable for letting the above 2 get away with what they did.

Everyone is saying this is predictive programming, but I will tell you: this was an ART project. The accident and spill were more of a motivator to push the characters in the direction they were going, not a main focus of the themes. I felt like this was a movie, knowing it was a movie, seeing what they could get away with. I mean it starts with the entertainment value of car accidents in movies, and how we become numb to the reality of the violence and death of it all. And later, if an event/disaster doesn't harm enough people/the right people, the media (and in turn world) won't care about it.

THEN it ends with a WHOLE DANCE NUMBER thru the credits. That happened no where else in the movie, nor made sense compared to the rest of the movie.

So again: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE POINT OF 'WHITE NOISE'?

It's not bad. It's good for what it is. But what exactly it is is....up for debate.

White Noise: 7.2/10. Worth the one time watch (and reading all the different background aesthetic choices you missed cuz the movie never stops with its' narratives).

ps-Best part? Probably one of the only undeniable 'that is def for comedic effect' parts of the movie (cuz again: you had no idea when it was funny or so on the nose real). He confronts his wife in the dark room by clicking on the light dramatically. But...it's unexpectedly way too bright, so he clicks it a few more times to adjust the setting, awkwardly. That was such an overdone trope, but done in a wholly new funny manner. Tho I am sure fucking family guy did it too at some point. They have no original ideas...

pps-with how it was written, acted, and overall done? This would have been a better stage play. 1000%. Few times would something be better live (and overacted). Sorry but super deep monologues (from more than one character)....aren't realistic, or regular, in a movie setting. Never feels...authentic. It feels staged. And that's where they should be...

#white noise #movie #movies #movie review #movie reviews #germany #german

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

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First Lady of the Court Pt. II

(Wilbur Soot x Reader) Part I, Part II, Part III

Part 2: Moments

The first time Tubbo snuck you out of the city it was like a breath of fresh air. Schlatt was on your last nerve while you tried to keep everything else together. Your duties included collecting unfair taxes, answering questions from concerned citizens, getting Schlatt cigars and booze but you tried to keep your main focus on watching over Fundy. While Fundy was on Schlatt’s side now you still wanted to keep an eye on him for Wilbur, trying to sow the seed that this wasn’t the best decision in the world. Plus Fundy always saw you as a mother figure so you hoped you had a little bit of influence over him and his actions. Although you never wanted to replace Sally, his actual mom, he still looked up to you like one and you treated him as a son. You let the breeze tickle your cheeks as Tubbo led you towards Pogtopia, you were disappointed seeing you were now headed inside of a cave and couldn’t stay in the fresh air. Did they need to make their base an underground bunker? You supposed that logically, it did make the most sense, considering they were in hiding from the government.

“Be careful okay?” Tubbo smiled over at you, “There are no railings or anything I don’t want you to fall. I think Wilbur would kill me!” You nodded as he led you down the steps of the cavern, you were in awe at the lights that were set up all around you. It was amazing what they managed to do in such a short amount of time. While you were away from the boys Tubbo managed to fill you in on who Technoblade was and would constantly update you on what Tommy and Wilbur were up to. You couldn’t wait to experience everything they created in person. “Hey, guys it’s me!” Tubbo shouted his voice echoing off the walls of the cave, “I brought a surprise.” He flashed a big smile in your direction, his eyebrows wiggling at you suggestively.

“A surprise?” Tommy raised an eyebrow stepping out into the open and once he caught sight of you he let out a loud shrieking laugh. He ran over and tossed his arms around your neck, you were much shorter than him so the hug was a little awkward but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Hi, Tommy. I missed you too.” You hugged him back with a squeeze and a soft giggle of your own, “You holding up okay?”

“I’m gonna be much better when we get Manburg back from Schlatt’s clutches. God, it’s so good to see you, women, I can’t believe I’m saying that! Wilbur’s gonna lose his shit! WILBUR GET IN HERE!”

“Shut up Tommy I’m coming, I’m coming.” Wilbur groaned walking into the room, his trenchcoat floating behind him. “What exactly is so important. I was in the middle of something rather importannnnnnn- (Y/N),” He sputtered jaw-dropping as he saw you. You looked just as beautiful as he last remembered you, the bags under your eyes were new, as was the suit, but other than that you were the epitome of a goddess in his eyes. Meanwhile, he looked like a homeless mess covered in dirt and grime, hair a greasy mess, clothes tattered. Wilbur never wanted to die more than he did at this moment.

You didn’t care about any of that though he was still your Wilbur, you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was. “Hey, Wilby long time no see.” You walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug, you pressed your head to his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your voice was soft, as you squeezed your eyes shut, you felt the ex-president tense up in your hold.

Oh god did he smell? He totally smelled. Wilbur prayed that he didn’t smell, could you tell how fast his heart was beating? He hesitantly ran a hand through your hair and caressed it softly, it was just as soft as he remembered. He missed it more than he ever would’ve imagined.

“I missed you too my darling,” He whispered, “so much. You have no idea.” Wilbur looked up to see the smirking faces of Tommy and Tubbo and his face turned bright red. They both were mouthing ‘simp’ at him, well it was more Tommy than Tubbo but still. He glared at his companions and pulled away from you, “Let’s go talk in private okay?” You tried to turn around to glance behind you but Wilbur only dragged you away so you couldn’t get a good look at the teenagers. As soon as the two of you were alone Wilbur cupped your cheeks and pressed an almost desperate kiss against your lips. You sighed happily into it, grabbing the collar of his trench coat to hold him close to you. Wilbur rested his head against your own and after a few minutes of silence he finally spoke up, “How’re you doing?”

“Usually that’s asked before you kiss.” A smirk was planted on your lips as you reached up and twirled his curls between your fingers. He burned red up to the tips of his ears and he nudged you while scoffing, “I’m hanging in there Wilbur. I’m stronger than I look, remember that.”

“And Fundy?” Wilbur asked a bit hesitantly, “I’m sure he has no desire to know about me and I guess I don’t deserve to know about him but even so…”

“He’s doing good...he’s very… I guess confused is the right word. He’s desperately trying to gain Schlatt’s approval, I think he just to make someone proud-”

“I’m proud of him!” Wilbur tried to argue and you shushed him softly,

“I know Will, I know. But does he know that?” You raised an eyebrow as he shrunk in on himself. “I’m looking out for him though so try not to worry, he still seems to tolerate me.” Wilbur looked relieved at the fact that you were still in Fundy’s good graces and were keeping an eye on him.

“You’re an angel, (Y/N). When this is over I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

“Oh stop.” You tossed your head back with a laugh, your (h/c) hair falling in front of your eyes shyly. Wilbur could only smile at you as he pushed your hair out of your face to kiss your nose.

“Now tell me everything you know about Schlatt and his band of misfits.”

---

The second time you snuck out with Tubbo was the day before Schlatt’s festival. Tubbo spent the entire day decorating for it and with your help, the both of you managed to get the decorations up in a timely manner. Sometime after the preparations were complete Tommy requested to meet up with Tubbo. Immediately you pleaded with Tubbo to let you go with him but he seemed very hesitant to let you join. He told you that the last time he visited Pogtopia Wilbur was acting very strange and he didn’t want you to get hurt by him in any form. You were flattered that you had him looking out for you but you assured him that Wilbur would never hurt you and that talking to you might be positive for his mental health. Tubbo gave you a tense smile and interlocked his hand with yours,

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won't, I promise. Plus I’ll have you to protect me if anything goes wrong.”

“I appreciate that but I am very weak,” Tubbo sheepishly smiled scratching at his chin, his face turning slightly pink. You tossed your head back and laughed, as you squeezed his hand tightly,

“Okay, I’ll look out for both of us then.”

You both had to sneak past an overzealous Fundy who wanted mother-son bonding time but eventually, you shook him off your scent and made your way into Pogtopia. Tubbo called out your arrival and once again Tommy beat Wilbur in greeting you at the entrance. You frowned seeing that he looked a little worse for wear, the bags under his eyes were darker and a clear indicator that he wasn’t sleeping very well. Your motherly instincts kicked in automatically at that moment as you cupped his cheeks in your hands. He made a groan of protest but didn’t pull away from the warm embrace of your hands.

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping, what’s been going on?” You asked and Tommy looked hesitant to tell you which worried you, even more, no one was giving you a straight answer but it all revolved around Wilbur.

“(Y/n)!” Wilbur called as Tommy opened his mouth to answer your question, “It’s so good to see you!” He grabbed you by the waist and drew you into a deep kiss, you couldn’t help but smile into it, you loved this man. “So much has happened, I can’t wait to catch you up. Come, come, let’s talk.” Wilbur led you down the long corridors of Pogtopia, from behind you both Tommy and Tubbo frowned in worry.

“Will she be alright?” Tubbo looked up at his tall friend,

“Obviously she's a badass.” Tommy scoffed but Tubbo knew him long enough to tell that he was just as worried about the girl as he was.

“I missed you, Wilby.” The soft tone in your voice seemed to make Wilbur melt into you, but there was something in his eyes that made you pause. You bit your lip as he placed his hand on your cheek, they were rougher than you remembered but then again it was to be expected. He also smelled like cigarette smoke and wood, the smoke was new and wasn’t necessarily too terrible. After all, you’ve dealt with Schlatt’s smell of alcohol and cigars for months at this point.

“I missed you too my darling, but things have been finally coming up Wilbur. It’s amazing and I know we didn’t get invited to the festival tomorrow but it doesn’t even matter.” Wilbur hummed stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Cause something is going to happen that’s going to change everything.” You tilted your head to the side in confusion,

“What do you mean? I mean shit Will I’m happy for you, I want the bastard out of power as soon as possible. He’s an absolute mess.” You gave an awkward laugh, “at this point Tubbo, Quackity and I are running things.”

Wilbur didn’t seem to find that as funny as you did considering that his smile turned into a bitter frown, “He’s ruined everything I built, it’s disgusting.”

“Shit.” You gave another uncomfortable laugh and crossed your arms, “I wouldn’t say he’s ruined everything. After all the country you built is still standing, right now it may have a different name but it’s still there, the people who love it are still there-”

“Tommy and I aren’t.” He snarled at you and you flinched backward in response, you waited for an apology but you didn’t get one. “The people who loved it, who made it what it was aren’t there anymore. They didn’t care about it as I did. It’s MY country,” You glared at him and crossed your arms, your jaw was set in place.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay just making sure.” You wound your hand back and punched him in the stomach, not hard but just enough to stun him, “you son of a bitch! How DARE you insinuate that Tubbo and I don’t care about L’manberg as you and Tommy did. We all lost a life in the control room to Eret! We fought beside you against Dream for the revolution so the country you dreamed of could even come to fruition! We’ve done our best to keep everyone happy when everyone under Schlatt is fucking miserable and you know what we’ve done a damn good job of it! You’re insinuating that Niki and Fundy’s struggles have met nothing to you either, we’ve fought just as much as you have. This isn’t a competition.”

“You’re wrong. It is a competition because it’s MY country!” He grabbed your shoulders, nails digging into the skin, you kissed your teeth in pain. You supposed the pain was justifiable considering you had just knocked him in the stomach. “MY country that isn’t MINE anymore, what’s the point in it even standing!”

“What…?”

“What’s the point in it even standing.” He smiled wickedly moving your hand to brush your hair out of your eyes, suddenly scarily gentle with you, “(Y/N) don’t you get it? The solution was right there the entire time. We blow it up!”

“WE WHAT?! Wilbur are you nuts! People live there, I live there! So does your son? If you blow it up Schlatt’s won!”

“No, I win. We win.” He purred leaning close to rest his head against your own, “We can start a family afterward. You know my love like we always wanted...after everything after the smoke clears. We can be together-”

“Wilbur.”

“We can kiss in the remnants of what once was. Then we rebuild something new, something grand-”

“No.” Your voice quivered in fear, “Wilbur that’s not what I want.” The smile was wiped off his face and his brows furrowed.

“Sorry? Come again?”

“I don’t want it to be gone. I want it as it was-” “IT CAN NEVER BE WHAT IT WAS! CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!” He slammed you up against the walls of the ravine, you let out a choking gasp as pain shot down the back of your skull and your spine. A brief glance of old Wilbur flitted across his face, he pulled away from you watching you sink down onto the floor. “I...darling I’m so sorry.” He whispered softly, his hands shaking at his sides, “I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. I’d never hurt you.” Wilbur reached his arm out and you flinched, a heartbroken look spread across his face. “Please...I can’t lose you-” He paused as you raised your hand in a stopping motion,

“Wilbur. You blow up that country, and we’re done.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Me or the country. Your choice.” You snarled, baring your teeth as you rose to your feet, “I love you. So fucking much but I won’t STAND being treated like I’m garbage.”

“You’re not garbage. You’re not you’re my entire world. I-I’m doing this for you and for Fundy and for everyone-”

“You’re doing this for yourself you prick!”

“Am I interrupting something?” Tubbo murmured finally coming into the room,

“Yes-NO.” Both you and Wilbur said simultaneously, you both glared at one another as Tubbo’s ears flattened against his skull.

“We have to go.” Tubbo spoke up, “Schlatt will get worried. Let’s go (Y/N).”

“We aren’t done- (Y/N) please.” Wilbur reached out to you and you shook his arm free from it. You glared back at him and walked past Tubbo,

“Let’s go. See you soon Wilbur.” With one last glance at Wilbur, Tubbo followed you out of Pogtopia.

---

The third time you saw Wilbur was the day of the festival. Schlatt had tricked you all, Tubbo’s head was pressed against your chest as you both were trapped inside his execution box. He had found the both of you out and decided it was the perfect time to get his revenge for your treasonous acts. You were staring death straight in the eyes, and the almost hesitant eyes of Technoblade stared right back at you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.” His smooth voice echoed through the chamber, Tubbo only clutched onto you harder.

“Technoblade please.” He tried to plead with the pigman, and Schlatt only cackled loudly in response. Technoblade closed his eyes and shot, you heard a loud snap of the crossbow and saw colors beyond your wildest imagination; in between the chaos you swore you saw a flash of Tommy and hear a cry from Wilbur. You woke up in bed, one single heart levitating above your chest, two cannon lives down, your ears were still ringing from the fireworks moments prior. ‘Tubbo…’ You thought squeezing your eyes tightly, ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you…’ You tossed your legs over the side of the bed quickly tumbling out of it, Tubbo burst through your door moments later. Anxiety was written all over his face but even he knew now wasn’t the time to talk about your interconnected trauma. “We have to go. NOW.” Tubbo motioned to the door with his head, you stood up grabbing what you could momentarily, and ran. The both of you sprinted past a devastated looking Fundy, you made the mistake of looking behind you as he let out a soft,

“Mom?”

You closed your eyes and turned away from the fox hybrid, not before mouthing an ‘I’m sorry,’ in his direction. Tubbo dragged you behind him all the way back to Pogtopia both of you eerily quiet the entire way. Entering the ravine the first thing you heard was Tommy’s ferocious yelling, Tubbo flinched a little and rushed away to comfort his friend the best he could. You noticed Wilbur was scarily silent, as you approached you saw how small his pupils were, the smile on his face was nothing less than mad. It turned your stomach but even so, you wanted comfort from someone you loved, you took his hand and squeezed. Still smiling he looked down at you and kissed the top of your head. It didn’t take a genius to understand he was oddly enthused with what went down between Schlatt, Tubbo and you, the man you once loved was gone.

“My darling, I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Do whatever you want. Blow it up.” Your voice was icy and soft so only he could hear you, “Fuck it.”

Wilbur’s smile widened and he kissed you passionately, he tasted like smoke and it was so overwhelming it burned your eyes and almost choked you. He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours,

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say those words. You won’t regret this I promise.” He turned towards Tommy and the Blade with the damned smile still on his cheeks, you didn’t respond to him. You felt gross, this isn’t what you wanted, you only hoped when the time came you would convince him otherwise. He began to go on and on about a pit, and a fight between Technoblade and Tommy; supposedly in you and Tubbo’s honor. You watch the two climb into it, even though you knew Tommy was going to get his ass kicked you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Even when The Blade won and Tommy was getting patched up by Niki you could only stare at the flickering torches on the wall, the only person to be able to pull you out of your stupor was in fact, Tubbo.

“(Y/N) it’s gonna be alright. I promise.” You gave a tired nod, stroking his hair fondly he let out a soft whine. “You’re scaring me a little, I don’t like that you’re so silent.”

“I know Tubbo. I know. Everything will work out one way or another. We just have to have hope.” You spoke, but your tone was anything but comforting, it was flat and it chilled Tubbo’s core. He wouldn’t let you turn out like Wilbur not if he had anything to say in the matter.

---

It was finally the day of the Manburg vs Pogtopia war, surprisingly the rebellion had earned a lot more members than you had originally expected. Obviously, you had your core members, Technoblade, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, and obviously Wilbur and you. However, it seemed Quackity was done with Schlatt’s bullshit just like everyone else, Fundy saw the error of his ways and fought by your and Wilbur’s side as did Eret. As everyone gathered around to discuss the plan, Fundy got your attention with a snap of his fingers, you blinked turning towards him.

“Hi, little champion...how’re you doing?” You smiled towards him ruffling his bright orange hair. He frowned swatting your hands away with a disgruntled huff,

“I’m alright. How’re you doing?” It seemed Tubbo wasn’t the only one worried about your mental health, Fundy’s frown only worsened. “My dad’s a dick.”

“Fundy-”

“No. No, he is and you know it. He’s changed (Y/N), don’t follow him down that path...please. I need you. I can’t lose you too...” Your eyebrows furrowed and you smiled sadly, his words touched your heart and you felt nothing but fondness for the young man. You reached out and cupped his cheek with your hand, his eyes lit up and he nuzzled into it almost desperately.

“You haven’t lost me yet and you won't lose me today.” You assured and he let out a soft breath of relief, “I’m going to do all I can to save your father. I know he can bounce back from this, but if I can’t.” A watery look came across your face and Fundy kissed your forehead quickly,

“I’ll be there to help pick you back up. So will Tubbo we all love you.”

“Thank you little champion.” You spoke, a smile spreading across your lips, his tail began to wag insanely fast. “You stay safe today too, I don’t want to see you hurt or worse.”

“I will. Now come on Technoblade apparently has something to show us.” Fundy hummed holding out his arm for you to take, you did so joining the others. Once you all were gathered Technoblade led everyone to what he called ‘the vault,’ and the vault it certainly was. Everyone was equally as shocked at the sheer amount of gear The Blade managed to gather in such a short amount of time. There were Netherite weapons and armor and in almost every chest were potions and bows for the entire milita. Everyone made a mad dash towards the chests gathering whatever artillery they could find, and taking it for themselves. You made sure all the kids and Fundy were suited up and geared properly before taking what you could for yourself, there was some Netherite left which you applied to your body, you also grabbed an ax and a crossbow of your own. You glanced over at Wilbur and saw him bare, no weapon or armor insight, you furrowed your brow in concern and shook his arm gently. He glanced over you with a hint of the tender expression he used to always look at you with, it made your heartbreak.

“Wilby?”

“Hm?”

“No armor?” You questioned and he brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“No. I won’t need it,” Wilbur hummed as you gave a disbelieving scoff. He chuckled a little at your disbelief and nudged your shoulder, “Trust me. Everything’s going to work out.”

You could only nod your head in understanding even if you truly did not understand his reasoning. The battle was long and bloody, tearing apart Schlatt’s allies was no easy task but Pogtopia managed to get them to surrender. You couldn’t help but be hesitant and suspicious, it wasn’t like Dream to just call off his forces and surrender so easily. You’ve fought against him enough times now to know that, yet Wilbur seemed unperturbed. Even when you all had Schlatt cornered Wilbur only seemed to get a little bit of glee from it, only seeming to feel more when the old ram had a heart attack and keeled over. You all had won but you didn’t feel good. You didn’t feel like it was over, not even when Wilbur took your hands and kissed them lightly on top of the podium beside Tommy and him. It did come as a surprise to you when Wilbur gave up power in favor of handing it off to Tommy, then Tommy gave it up for Tubbo, Tubbo began to give a nervous speech and you couldn’t help but be proud of him. Tubbo would make a great president much better than Schlatt ever was and maybe even better than Wilbur. Tubbo was warm and compassionate he might not even need your assistance as the first lady, honestly, you didn’t even know if you wanted the title again. Although any thoughts of happiness were wiped away as your stomach churned seeing Wilbur sneak away from the crowd, that wasn’t good.

You followed behind your boyfriend on high alert, it’s not that you didn’t trust him, it was just that he was clinically insane. Eventually, Wilbur entered a small room that was cold and dark, you took a deep breath before stepping inside behind him. Your eyes widened in absolute horror, nonsensical scribbles were all over the walls and in the middle of the room sat a familiar button, chills rocketed down your spine. The setup of the room was an all too familiar sight, Eret’s words echoed through your mind and you felt the burn of betrayal run hot. Wilbur’s hands hovered over the button with a longing smile, caressing it like it was the face of his lover. You reached your arm out to call to him but felt a tight hand come around your waist,

“What’re you doing?”

Shock flooded through your system as you looked up at the man touching you. It was Phil, Wilbur’s father, you had only met the man briefly a few times so you both had knowledge of one another's existence.

“Phil?” Wilbur turned around his jaw clenching, “(Y/N)? Shit,” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “You're both trying to gang up on me, that’s just unfair.” He leaned his head back, his beautiful curls falling around his face as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you know what this button is?”

“Uh-huh. I do.” Phil gruffly stated his big grey wings curling around you protectively.

“Have you heard... the song? On the walls? Before? Have you heard the song? I was just saying, I made this big point, it was poignant, and it's um... There was a special place where men could go, but it's not there anymore y'know, it's not-” Wilbur let out a frustrated sigh punching the wall right next to the button. You jumped a little as Phil cut in,

“It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!”

“Phil’s right! Wilbur, we did it together, we don’t need to blow it up anymore! We can be happy!”

“(Y/N), PHIL, I'M ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, your body went numb as you remembered the execution, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence.

“And you want to just blow it all up.”

“I do,-” Wilbur started before letting out a frustrated sigh, “I think, I-”

“You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.”

“We all did Wilby. Please listen to us.” You pleaded and he flinched at your tone, it was so tender and loving. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness.

“I don't even know if it works anymore, Phil, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.”

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...”

“Yeah.”

“Wilbur. Don’t please.” You let out a frustrated cry stepping forward in front of Phil, “I know what you’re about to do. This isn’t you.” He looked at you with such pity he cupped your cheek with your hand, staring dead in your eyes,

“It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a loud cry as explosions fired all around you. Wilbur pulled you close to protect you from any stray debris, he let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

“Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you and he captured your lips with his own. Once again he tasted like cigarettes, but there was a hint of warm honey and coffee...a hint of old Wilbur. He murmured a gentle, ‘I love you’ before pushing you away from him and onto the floor. He turned to Phil letting out a loud declaration,

“Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me! (Wilbur throws Phil his sword) Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

“I- You're my SON!”

“Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T!”

“Shut up (Y/N). PHIL, KILL ME!”

“No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-”

Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” A loud pause echoed as Wilbur shoved his sword into Phil’s hand holding it to his chest. “Do it. Do it.”

“PHIL DON’T.”

The man ignored you running his sword through his son's chest. Wilbur choked blood staining the front of his shirt before spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. He looked over at you and reached his arm out in your direction. ‘Watch out for Fundy,’ He mouthed before smiling at you, the look would always be ingrained in your memory, the smiling face of Wilbur Soot the love of your life, as the light left his eyes.

“God! You couldn't just let- You couldn't just win! You couldn't- You had to just throw your toys out the pram!” He snarled through tears of his own cradling his son's lifeless body. You crawled over and gently put your hand on Phil’s shoulder, he turned and pressed his head into your chest. The father of the man you loved mourned beside you, not sure what was next for you but both were in agreement that this country changed Wilbur for the worst. It caused him to blow up a nation, hurt his loved ones, something he never would’ve dreamed of doing when he was young. It twisted his mind making him forget what was important to him, you’d never step foot in this crater again.

---

We’re back BITCHES! This is the second part out of I think I’ve decided 3 parts, thank you so much for waiting and being patient. I hope it was worth it! Stay healthy and safe little spirits! @blossom-702 and @mayempress

#dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp x you #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #mcyt #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #minecraft x reader #minecraft x you #minecraft fanfiction #l'manburg #fanfiction #x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Heartache

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captivity, torture, brainwashing, delusional Bucky.

Words: 2535.

Summary: You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

P.S. I have to say it turned out darker than I expected. Attention! Bucky is free from his programming, but he does not heal as he should.

__________________

“You look old.”

You decide to give him the pleasure of hearing your voice. It sounds dull from behind the glass when Bucky comes closer, looking at someone he recognizes too well, but you do not recognize a man he became, nothing reminding you of the one with whom you once shared your bed.

You know what the man looking at you through the glass thinks. You didn’t age a day since the last time he saw you, and while he knows why, it still surprises him to see a young woman watching him calmly as if all those years didn't pass.

“You miss your star.” You say, tilting your head to the side and narrowing your eyes at him when you see his new vibranium arm.

“It doesn't matter.” His answer is immediate, and Bucky isn't surprised to hear the raw anger in his own voice: he is no longer the Soldier you knew, and he is worried he won't find a way to interact with you. You don't seem too interested in Bucky Barnes and whoever he works for despite the fact you are hardly HYDRA's soldier yourself.

What he doesn't know is that you still stay the soldier you have been once, and nothing will ever change that regardless of whoever Bucky Barnes sends your way to cure you from HYDRA's conditioning.

"I'm glad you remember me."

You find it peculiar: a man who has been trying so hard to get rid of anything that ties him to the Winter Soldier has been looking for you for years, finally tracking you down, capturing you and bringing you here as if your pure existence didn't remind him of the worst years of his life. What did he expect to find? A comfort in someone who once had been paired with him just for the sake of research?

"Don't bother, Mr. Barnes. There's nothing there left for you."

You see he's taken aback because you have hit a nerve. Apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the connection between the two of you remained the same, and he could dig up the feelings that had long been buried. Stupid, you think, he's forgetting the most important part: he is not the man you formed the bond with. You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

It doesn't matter. After all those years you didn't believe in happy endings, and even if the man watching you through the glass think he is going to get one after getting out, he is clearly deluding himself.

Averting his eyes, Bucky clears his throat and changes the topic, trying to give himself a false hope he can mend things. “I will convince Shuri to treat you. She helped me break through the conditioning, and she will do the same to you."

You could raise your brow at him, but maintaining this facade is tiresome and doesn't make sense. "I see you have no idea how much my conditioning differs from yours. You can't break through it. It's embedded in me."

"I thought so, but I got rid of mine. You can do it too, I'm sure."

Although you see him trying to assure you, Bucky's getting agitated because he really has no idea what HYDRA did to you. He couldn't know it when he still was the Soldier, but now the lack of his knowledge leads you to the thought your former masters destroyed whatever info they still kept - they foresaw he would search for you.

"Your brainwashing was flimsy. I've always wondered how come you were considered HYDRA'S greatest assassin when you just needed to see your dear friend once to start getting your memories back." You snort, knowing Bucky would feel a slight hint of jealousy in your voice, but you don't care: you've never hid from him you only needed the Winter Soldier, and he was gone.

Bucky doesn't know what to say as a part of him wants to scream there was nothing flimsy about electroconvulsive therapy he went through over and over again, but he looks at you and sees how different you are from him, having no memories of your own, not knowing even your name or the place where you came from. It doesn't scare him, but the fact you had long merged with the Soldier you've become does. You don't separate yourself from her the way he did. In fact, the Soldier had completely absorbed your true persona, and Bucky doesn’t know the real you. He only knows RED, a Soldat who at one point was been created by HYDRA just like all of them were. Despite searching for the information about your past for years, he found nothing, not even the year when you became a part of the organization. Bucky doesn’t think you did it willingly judging by the fact how you reacted when he had been training you among the other Soldiers, but he can’t be sure.

You’re a ghost. None of the masters who had been giving you orders know anything about you except your specialization and things you can do. Bucky supposes there were once people who knew the truth, but all of them are probably dead since the ones he has captured were utterly useless. His only hope is Shuri who might bring whatever is left somewhere deep inside your mind to the surface, yet he isn’t sure she will take you: the more you talk, the more it becomes clear you will not ask her to do it willingly, and Shuri won’t like that. The redemption can only be granted to someone who asks and works for it.

You don’t seem the type.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you quietly, his forehead almost touching the glass separating you two when Bucky watches you with that pathetic expression of his. “If I let you go, you will return to people you serve. If I bring you to police, you will end up in a lab in the hands of the government.”

You allow him to see your smile as you observe him, desperately hoping you will tell him you will come back to the good guys and stay with him, playing a role of his funny little girlfriend because Bucky Barnes cannot allow himself to form an adequate relationship with any woman who has not been tainted the way he was. It probably seems so tragic to him that he had to spent years trying to catch you.

Although the chair you’re bound to doesn’t let you stand and come over to him, you still lean closer to the window, wearing the same polite but welcoming smile you used to lure your targets closer to you.

“I want you back in that chair, going through the whole process of brainwashing again until you become the Soldat you’ve been. I want you standing with me and feeling as much pain as I did until your sensitivity goes down to zero, and you no longer remember those funny friends of yours. I know you won’t trade your freedom and whatever else you have after getting out, but I don’t need James Buchanan Barnes or White Wolf or whoever you have become. I am RED of HYDRA, and I have bonded with the Winter Soldier you buried, Bucky.”

When he leaves, the massive metal door getting locked ten times the least, you stare at the grey wall beside the glass. You wonder how getting the privilege of remembering his past made him so miserable, a pathetic, broken man who did not understand how lucky he had been, not only breaking free from HYDRA’s grip but gaining his true identity back. He probably pitied himself, poor little boy who had been broken by the big bad guys. He did not understand that all other soldiers who came after him, except the suicide squad made with Stark’s serum, had been turned into ashes. There was nothing left to break in them - and you either.

_______________________

Shuri wasn’t happy to hear your story just like he thought, but Bucky couldn’t lie to her, hoping she would understand. Of course, she didn’t, telling him outright it was impossible to treat somebody who didn’t want to be treated. While it was also inhuman, forcing you to do something against your will just like HYDRA has been doing all these years, it also erased the possibility to use the same methods she chose when she treated Bucky.

“You don’t understand,” she tells him, shaking her head, “it’s not that I don’t want to help, but without her cooperating it’s close to impossible. They didn’t use the same ways to program her just like they did to you.”

He isn’t satisfied with her answer even though he knows Shuri wants to help. He can’t leave it like that, leave you to your fate, return you where you belonged, and he keeps asking who or what may be able to help you until she finally tells him something about electrical stimulation of the brain that can awake memories that you have buried. Shuri immediately regrets it, seeing how Bucky’s face lights up.

“It is a very complicated process that requires an extensive medical knowledge. Worse, even if performed correctly, this technique can traumatize her even further. Please don’t do this. We don’t even know if this method will be effective.”

Bucky doesn’t promise her anything, though a part of him feels guilty he made her tell him this. He just has to do it: undoubtedly, HYDRA or whoever you work for now will force you to go through the brainwashing process again, and whatever treatment Shuri told him about can’t be worse than this. If Bucky does everything right, you might stand a chance to live like he does, away from the horrors of the war you had been a part of ever since the organization abducted you. Even if you don’t want it, clearly it is an effect of the memory suppressing machine: any sane human being wants to have a normal life, right?

It takes him months to find and steal the equipment he needs, leaving no traces - it reminds him of the days when he had been under HYDRA’s control, but he does what he has to. Learning how to use the machine is a much more complicated task, but Bucky is grateful for that serum-enhanced brain of his: he nearly swallows the information from the books in record time, reading about sending a burst of electrical energy into your cerebral cortex to stimulate your brain and finally retrieve your memories. Now he knows what Shuri meant by traumatizing, but this doesn’t stop him either. He does what he has to do.

“What is your name?” He repeats after listening to your screams for ten or maybe twenty minutes, your body going limp in the black, cold chair when you open your mouth, breathing heavily, your face stained with tears and sweat.

“Dolores.” You say immediately, knowing he will repeat the procedure if you keep silent, your heat beating wildly. “I grew up... on a small farm in Iowa... I had an older sister... and slept with a big teddy bear with a red ribbon...”

“You are lying.” He says simply, and a jolt of electricity cuts through your head, nearly electrocuting you while you scream again and again.

For some reason he always feels it when you say what he wants to hear instead of the truth. What he doesn’t understand is that the truth he wants has been told months ago: you did not remember and you were not going to remember anything from your past. It was stupid to try. There was nothing left of you, and while he thought he was resurrecting a human in you, he was simply destroying your body that was regenerating every night after the therapy.

When you receive a new jolt, shaking and screaming, tears streaming down your face until they fall down onto your already wet t-shirt, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Either I will have you as my Soldat, or I will not have you at all.”

Bucky presses the button.

__________________________

When he is finished he takes you to a bath in the room next to your cell. You almost lose the ability to move for an hour or two, giving him time to prepare you: Bucky undresses you and slowly lowers your body in the tub filled with warm water, watching that you take a comfortable position and don’t slip, effectively suffocating. Today he had almost gone too far, risking to fry your brain: you still refused to give up even after two months of therapy you have gone through, and Bucky isn’t too happy.

Pouring a strawberry-scented shampoo on his palm, Bucky starts to carefully wash your hair that grew longer in the months of captivity, watching that neither shampoo nor the foam gets in your eyes. You are nearly breathless: the serum they gave you made you less stronger than him, but your regeneration abilities are on a whole different level, and soon your body will adjust and erase the damage made.

He asks himself whether keep using the machine makes sense since he didn’t make much progress, the programming still very much in you even after all those incredibly painful sessions. What if you were right from the start? What if there was nothing to remember, and all he could do was to leave you in the state you were in before he destroyed whatever was left of you?

No, he can’t do it. Leaving you means taking away your chance to ever get back to normal life, and he can’t force himself to do that.

Never in his life Bucky Barnes will admit letting you go meant never getting his own happy ending the way he wants it.

“Why reinventing the wheel when you can make it so much easier?” All of a sudden, your hoarse voice whimpers in his ear when you look at him, tiredly moving your head up. “Do what they’ve always done. Use the programming to give me an order.”

A part of him is shocked with the revelation: he wanted to be neither the Soldier nor the one giving him commands. But the other part makes him realize how much easier it would be if he just used what has already been done to you instead of relying on an obviously ineffective method that damaged your mind and body. Of course, he has nothing in common with Karpov sending him on the assassination missions. Bucky only wants you to learn how to become human again, free you from HYDRA once and for all, give you the life you undoubtedly wanted. Even if he uses the same method the organization did until he finds a better way to undo the programming, it is still for your own good.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #yandere #MCU

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lucemferto · 3 years

Note

I feel like the festival was such wasted potential for Techno character development, or at least introspection. He got along well with Tubbo up to that point plus he was coerced by a government, his 1# enemy, and it seems like a missed opportunity that he wasn't shaken up by this and just went "well it wasn't technically my fault so I don't feel any guilt whatsoever". Nowadays he doesn't even bring up the festival unless someone (usually Tommy) does.

Honestly, I think that’s a legitimate gripe to have ... however I don’t really agree.

This might surprise some, seeing as I am regarded as the resident Technoblade-hater of the fandom ... but the more I examine what I dislike about his S2-storyline, the more I come to appreciate how he’s used in S1.

(As a disclaimer: In my Techno marathon, which angry comments from Techno-fans have obligated me to undertake, I’m at Nov. 16th)

Like, in my opinion, Techno doesn’t need a character arc. The fact that he is a static character - which is a statement that very much holds true for S1 - works here, because he (like most characters in S1) exists to supplement Tommy’s and Wilbur’s story.

When he comes in there’s this tension and reverence derived from how the other characters treat him (and from the audience’s intertextual understanding of Technoblade), but pretty early on there’s also this warmth that is established especially between Tommy and Techno.

Techno very much serves as a secondary mentor and brother figure - especially as Wilbur begins to spiral - and that aspect of him is explored during the Pet War between Tommy and Sapnap. During this time Techno is a source of security and safety for Tommy and by extension the audience.

But then the Red Festival happens and it turns that whole dynamic upside-down. It isn’t a moment of character development, but a moment of character exploration - another facet of Techno’s character is shown: That he’s willing to go as far as it takes to fulfil his ideals. If killing Tubbo is what it takes then he will do it. If destroying L’Manburg will bring about the anarchy he desires, he will aid and abet Wilbur even at his (Wilbur’s) lowest point.

It’s a complete shake-up of Tommy’s relationship to Techno and serves as a great lead-in to the lowest point of the narrative. It makes Tommy and viewers feel isolated and robbed of their one source of security. It’s a great reversal of dynamics (though I wish more had been done with that prior to Nov. 16th, but that’s hardly Techno’s fault).

And Techno’s not turned into a sudden monster - this reveal does not do a 180° on his character. If anything, it delivers on what we, the viewers, already feared in the back of our minds. Techno’s still the same Techno, but this harder edge that - like Tommy, the viewer might have wanted to ignore - is turned into a sharp relief.

Through it all, Techno’s probably still treated the most sympathetically out of all the S1 antagonists (Schlatt, Dream, arguably Wilbur). There is a certain sense of tragedy to his story. He clearly didn’t want to kill Tubbo - he’s not some bloodthirsty monster - and stalled as much as he could. But he still went through with the execution - something the more traditionally heroic characters in S1 like Tommy and Niki probably wouldn’t have done - or, at the very least, that scene is framed in a way where the viewer is lead to believe that they wouldn’t have done that.

And overall, there’s just this tragedy of Techno being so unable to compromise and communicate - so unable to divert from his chosen path of violence - that he ends up standing alone. I have expressed my grievances with this part - I wish we had a whole event dedicated to the Techno-Pogtopia-fallout instead of cramming it all into Nov. 16th - but on the whole, if you take every POV into perspective, it still comes off that way.

He’s this man feeling betrayed by the world, lashing out and alienating everyone that he could have potentially allied with or convinced to his philosophy otherwise. Because to him, violence is the only universal language. But it’s a language with which you make no allies - only enemies.

And having watched a majority of the POVs on Nov. 16th at this point, Techno’s definitely not framed as in the right - which, again, is not a repudiation of anarchy in and of itself; it’s more a repudiation of Technoblade (which is a problem, when he’s the only anarchist in the story at this point and thus effectively the stand-in for the philosophy as a whole, but that’s a discussion for another time).

Like, newly-appointed President Tubbo gives a speech about reconciliation and forgiveness, working together and healing - and later on at the L’Mantree about the nation being a feeling of togetherness - so the framing couldn’t be clearer.

But Technoblade isn’t the type of person to forgive and forget. Not on Nov. 16th.

So, anyway, that’s probably way more than you asked for. Please forgive me, but I had the sudden urge to word-vomit!

#dream smp #dreamsmp #dsmp #dsmpblr #technoblade #dsmp technoblade #dsmp techno #tubbo #dsmp tubbo #dream smp analysis #dsmp analysis #dream smp season 1 #tommyinnit #dsmp tommy #dsmp tommyinnit

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Danger First

Chapter 10

@pocketramblr :)

One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first #danger first au #fic #fanfic

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...)

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?”

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation.

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,”

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?”

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket.

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?”

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly.

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded.

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him.

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?”

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,”

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,”

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?”

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,”

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,”

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence.

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips.

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian…

Y/N.

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…”

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

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,”

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,”

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,”

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him.

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already.

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?”

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily.

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it.

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!”

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it.

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,”

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause.

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,”

The jab didn’t land, though.

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense.

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name.

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,”

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,”

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking.

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature.

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it.

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much.

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach.

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,”

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,”

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed.

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,”

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia.

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch.

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?”

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be.

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games.

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

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up.

They did quite the opposite.

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw.

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,”

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right.

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them.

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all.

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike.

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning.

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th.

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?”

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for.

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up.

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves.

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though.

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed.

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey.

“A drink, dear leader?”

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?”

“Too many,”

“For once, I agree with you,”

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it.

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,”

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan.

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?”

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?”

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?”

“You know that’s not what this is about,”

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked.

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing?

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with.

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,”

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?”

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?”

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?”

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all.

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that.

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too.

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan.

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible.

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,”

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible.

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,”

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,”

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips.

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,”

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Why would that be wonderful?”

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own.

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first.

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one.

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

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine.

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him.

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained.

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself.

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group.

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached.

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch.

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too.

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this?

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end.

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,”

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,”

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?”

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over.

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back.

“I’ll try not to,”

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,”

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours.

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed.

“What?”

“You weren’t invited,”

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,”

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?”

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,”

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,”

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been.

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,”

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it.

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky.

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,”

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,”

“Yeah, he would have…”

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick.

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again.

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?”

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?”

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,”

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-”

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,”

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,”

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip.

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,”

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,”

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it.

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea.

It fell on deaf ears.

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave.

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live.

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before.

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again.

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

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better.

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued.

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck.

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded.

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth.

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died.

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life.

What remained now?

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it.

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N.

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen.

It was only right that they go together.

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,”

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun.

“Quiet,”

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them?

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles.

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,”

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time.

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet.

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

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end.

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it.

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that.

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be.

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him.

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there.

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side.

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it.

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment.

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly.

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back.

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning.

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,”

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead?

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,”

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,”

Married.

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?”

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,”

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,”

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips.

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

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

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it.

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all.

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,”

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them.

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket.

“We buried them in Ciczheni,”

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand.

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,”

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word.

Ciczheni.

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks.

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two.

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home.

Making a family.

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been.

For Y/N, though...

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling.

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives.

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare.

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace.

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer.

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them.

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know.

They both would.

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying.

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#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #barricade day #zemo fanfic

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Hypothetically | Chapter 25-27

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 18k

chapter 25

“What do you mean we’re working a missing dog case?” Hotch questioned his whole entire life at that moment as Mindy and Garcia explained the case they think they found.

“Sir, I promise you’re going to want to listen to this,” Garcia said softly, her green dress and pink hair pom-poms really reassuring him that everything was fine.

Y/N watched him roll his eyes and wish he was somewhere else, he had been getting more and more fed up with work lately. Having a hard time with Strauss, his wife, and the job in general. After Hayley almost died last year and being stabbed, he had the worst luck on the team.

“It’s going to take a minute for you to see what we see,” Mindy matched Garcia’s aura perfectly, dressed in a cat sweater.

“All 5 of these families have reported dogs missing in the Sacramento area. You think that’s not that weird, they’re probably stealing dogs for fights and step one in the serial killer handbook. But you’d be wrong,” Garcia explained, flipping from photos of missing dog posters to murdered families.

“The dogs go missing right, the parents put all their information onto a flyer, the flyer gets plastered into the neighbourhood where everyone sees it. The unsub takes the flyer, and the dog and returns it to the family just to get inside of the house. He learns what their safety protocols are like and then he decides to break in and murder,” Mindy laid it all out easily for them to follow.

“Is there any evidence that the killer is the dognapper?” Prentiss asked, chewing on the end of her pencil as she tried to wrap her head around it all.

“No,” Garcia pressed her lips together quickly. “But! Family number 5, they were murdered on Friday. Their crime scene is the newest, it’s where we’ll get the best idea of what’s going on.”

“Sir,” Mindy added. “If I’m correct about this, another family is going to die in 2 days. There’s been another small dog reported missing in Sacramento, the same type of family and everything. It’s a signature if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Send us everything you have, wheels up in 20,” Hotch sighed, taking his things and leaving the room.

“Is he okay?” Y/N asked Rossi.

Dave and he were the closest, Hotch never told his secrets of personal gossip to anyone else. He knew Rossi understood family problems the best. Having been married and divorced 3 times each.

“Don’t repeat this, Garcia that means you,” he teased her quickly. “He asked Hayley if she wanted more kids, after seeing you and JJ expanding the BAU’s gifted children program. She said she’d only have another baby if he took a few years off.”

“Oh,” Y/N wasn’t surprised. If Spencer wasn’t in the BAU he probably wouldn’t get it either. “He’s young, he can come back at any time, as you did.”

“Which is what I said to him. He just doesn’t know how he’d fill all the time yet, he doesn’t have an interest in fishing or cigars like moi,” Rossi explained. Standing up and straightening out his suit, “not to mention the writing chops to keep your brain fresh.”

“Come on grandpa, it’s time to board the plane you can brag later,” Derek patted him on the back. “Some of us like to stay active and have fun on our time off.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fun,” Rossi argues as they leave the room. They were like a bunch of teenagers sometimes.

“Well, I’ll see you in a few days, just be in Vegas by Sunday at 2 pm,” Y/N frowned at Spencer. “Call me when you’re free?”

Spencer leaned in and kissed her softly. Rubbing his hand over her belly as he did so, saying goodbye to the little dude in there. “Be good, take care of each other.”

She smiled, wishing he didn’t have to go again. “We always do, come home to me safely boy wonder.”

In Penelope’s office, Mindy had basically moved in. It was big enough for the two of them and they worked together anyway. Sharing all the computer space, rolling around each other like crazy people as they switched jobs. That meant that Mindy’s office became Y/N’s office when she stayed back on a case.

Y/N would be 33 weeks pregnant as of Thursday, and officially Mrs. Dr. Reid by Sunday.

If everything went according to plan. This case seemed simple enough to get them home in time. If not, the flight from LA to Vegas wasn’t even that long. Y/N and Will had a plan if this was to happen, JJ and Spencer would head right to Vegas while Will and Henry flew in with Y/N. All she really needed was her wedding dress and hospital go-bag, and Spencer.

She wasn’t going to go into labour any time soon, Matty was still way too high and she was barely even having Braxton hicks contractions yet. If her body wasn’t practicing, surely it wouldn’t just start. She was a planner, she planned everything and this pregnancy didn’t seem to listen. All she wanted was for him to be born on or after June 10th, healthy and happy, that’s her only wish.

She hated cases like these, ones that made her sit behind a desk and just look at everything till it made sense. But it never did, not in her brain. Thinking like an unsub was the only time it made sense, but she never understood it. Kidnapping a dog just to kill a family was never going to be something one could just understand.

The only idea she had was to get someone inside the newest victims’ house and just wait for the unsub to return the dog. It would be the easiest way to bring him in for questioning. So she called Hotch.

“Hotchner,” he answered shortly.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you had a plan yet? If not, I’ve been thinking.”

“We’re trying to find a way to get eyes and ears inside the vics home,” Hotch explained, it sounded like he was driving and yelling over the speaker.

“I was thinking you could send in Reid or Morgan posing as a tutor or coach of some kind, then you can hide the equipment in the bag they bring in, it would be the least suspicious,” she ran her thoughts through to him.

“That would work, I’ll have the team see what we can do from our end,” Hotch ended the call abruptly. Still in the bad mood from when he left.

She couldn’t blame him, it’s a hard spot raising kids and having this job. Y/N and Spencer were still trying to figure out how they were going to pull it off. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Haley, always being alone with Jack and half the time her life was in danger. The risk that came with the job almost didn’t feel worth it, especially when it meant losing your family on top of everything else.

They sent Derek in, with Penelope in his ear, as he set up the cameras and microphones. Setting up 24/7 patrol across the street in a model home. Meaning that Y/N’s job was basically over and all she had to do was kick her feet up and eat snacks until she could go home.

—

Spencer crawled into bed 2 days later around 4 in the morning, cuddling into her without even taking off his work clothes. She barely slept when Spencer wasn’t home, she opened her eyes when she noticed he was there, as if she hadn’t even slept yet.

He smelled like hotel soap and stale airplane air. “Hi,” he whispered as he tried to cuddle in close to her, being held back by her belly.

“Home just in time to have to fly out again,” she smiled at him softly.

“I know,” he sighed. “I doubt the bureau would like us if we used the jet to travel to a wedding. It’s bad enough we have one and no other unit does.”

“Are you excited or nervous?”

“Both.”

“Mmm,” she hummed along. “I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“I still haven’t written my vows and,” she stopped herself, frowning a little as Spencer laid a hand on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s all happening so fast. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to enjoy any of it and I’m worried if this is how fast the lead-up is, then how fast will the night be over?”

“Oh bunny,” he cooed. “I’ll make sure we get a moment alone, how about we sneak off during the party and go to the swing and just spend time together? Really make the most of our day.”

“Okay,” she smiled again. “A part of me wishes it was just us.”

“How about this,” Spencer said as he sat up, turning on the bedside lamp before getting out of bed. He looked through his underwear drawer and pulled out the box the rings were in. “Marry me, right now?”

“What?” She laughed.

“Just me and you, marry me?”

“It won’t count this way?” She rebutted, sitting up as well as she squinted in the light. Trying to wake up more.

“you’re not religious and you hate the government even though you work for them,” he reminded her. “Having a sheet of paper and dedicating my life to you are two completely different things.”

“I told you I don’t have my vows ready!”

Spencer sat on the bed, sitting directly across from her as he placed the rings on the bed. Taking both her hands in his as he looked into her eyes. “Just make it up?”

“You’re insufferable,” she teased him.

“And you love me,” he teased right back.

“Fine, Spencer Reid, you big fuckin’ dork,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “My whole life I’ve just wanted to love you. I don’t know how I managed to pull it off, but here I am."

She let out a long, shaky breath as she continued. "You complete me, I don’t feel right when you’re not around and I never want to lose you. Marrying you means more to me than just becoming your wife, I don’t care about the term or the tax benefits," she laughed as a tear fell down her cheek. he wiped it away quickly.

"I was perfectly content just being in your rotation. Being your partner for life is a blessing to me, I’m going to love you forever.” She picked up and ring and put it on his finger.

His eyes were glossy as he watched her shaking hand slip the ring over him. He loved her more than he even knew how to describe at the moment.

“Do you remember that one time you asked me to show you how a real man loves a woman?”

She laughed, looking down at her gigantic belly. “Kinda hard to forget when I’m carrying around this extra 30 pounds.”

“It reminded me of a quote I read on a swing one time,” he said softly, watching her eyes gleam as she knew where he was going.

“The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Y/N with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I love her nonetheless because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.”

“What’s that from?” Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks, she had never known what book he was reading. She always wondered what his thoughts were in that moment when their eyes locked in remembrance all those years ago.

“Great Expectations by Charles Dickens,” Spencer replied, starting to cry as well.

That’s when she remembered it, looking over at the book that had been sitting on his bedside table for months. It was the book he re-read the most, the book he was reading that first night in Wichita when she asked to crawl into his bed. The book he put down before they conceived Matthew. The whole time she was falling in love with him, the way she did as a child, he was reading the same book because it reminded him of her.

“I didn’t expect that book to hold such a place in my heart the first time I read it. I only brought it to the park with me that day because it was the closest book to me, and I was having a really hard day,” he stopped to wipe his tears softly. “Yet somehow, every single bad day in my life has been made better by you. You’re my greatest expectation, and the only one I’m trying the hardest to live up to.”

“I love you,” she replied to him softly. Holding his face in her hands now as she stared into his eyes, “you’re always going to be everything I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever need. You’ve met every expectation, and beyond.”

“I love you,” he smiled. He took her left hand off his cheek, sliding the silver band over her ring finger, pressing it snugly against her engagement ring. “forever.”

“And then some,” Y/N added before kissing him softly.

She smiled against his lips, sitting back and looking at him with complete wonder. “Dr. Y/L/N,” she teased him, pretending to tip her imaginary hat.

“Agent Reid,” he copied her causing them both to laugh again.

“So when is our real anniversary then?” Y/N asked softly, trying to remember what day of the month it was.

“It’s April 20th.”

“Our anniversary cannot be 4/20!” She panicked. “Oh. My god!”

Spencer laughed from down deep in his gut, laying down against the sheets as she smacked his arm lightly. “I’m serious, but that’s so funny though,” she laughed too.

She laid back against the sheets then, Spencer cuddled into her side. His face in the crook of her neck while laying a leg over hers. She held him as close as she could, Matthew really starting to get in the way of everything she did now.

She let out a deep breath as she settled with Spencer against her. “I love you so much, my husband.”

“I love you more, my wife,” he replied. The words sounding like heaven on his lips.

chapter 26

She let out a deep breath when the dress actually zipped up. She was so worried that in the last 2 weeks her body had completely changed. JJ finished with her zipper, fluffing her dress and making sure everything was in place.

Her mom was wiping her tears for the 4th time in the last hour, Y/N couldn’t stop laughing every time she heard her sniffle. It didn’t feel as life-changing as her mother made it seem, Spencer and Y/N were already married in her opinion, this was just a nice formality for their parents.

She could hear all the people talking in her parent’s yard, a few kids yelling as they ran around each other. People were already drinking, there was food and snacks all around. It was just a big party where they were going to tell everyone exactly how much they loved each other.

As much as she was ready mentally, her body was shot. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t leave, the baby was kicking from the anxiety in her body no matter how hard she tried to calm down. It was nerve-wracking to be so open in front of so many people.

It was even worse with the fact she hadn’t seen Spencer since yesterday. As much as he claimed he wasn’t superstitious, he really didn’t want to see her before the wedding. Claiming his mother was the worried one, Y/N let it slide no matter how much she hated sleeping in her childhood bed all by herself with a mini-gymnast in her stomach.

“Are you ready?” JJ asked her softly.

She nodded, looking in the mirror at herself one last time. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure,” JJ smiled, taking Debbie with her as they walked out of her room.

She stood in the window, opening the blinds and looking out towards the swings once again. Spencer was sitting there, swinging while staring at her window.

She smiled, feeling the butterflies leave her system in a beautiful flurry as their eyes locked. She was ready, she had always been ready to marry him.

She walked out of the room and down the stairs, holding the railing carefully. She was just wearing a pair of crocs under her dress, not trusting her big clumsy ass with heels.

She waited in the foyer as Emily walked across the street to gather everyone. She was officiating for them, Spencer wanted her to be the one to marry them, she was the closest thing to a sister he had.

Every single important person in their lives was in the crowd. Even Spencers father was there, in the back, quiet. Diana was happy to see him, Spencer felt indifferent. Gideon came too, which made it a little easier.

They all walked across the street then, gathering at the end of the makeshift aisle they laid out in the park. Penelope played a simple wedding march, starting the ceremony officially.

Everyone stood, turning towards them. Chloe went down first, dropping flower petals in big clumps here and there before running towards her mom. Then it was Y/N’s turn, opting out of the whole bridesmaid’s thing for the sake of not having to pick and choose between her co-workers and sisters-in-law.

Her dad extended an arm for her, she took it as she softly smiled at him. He looked like he was trying not to cry, “ready?”

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

Seeing Spencer at the end of the aisle was like a dream. She began to walk towards him, every step closer made her heartbeat louder and louder in her chest. Before she knew it she was standing in front of him, her dad giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before handing her over to Spencer.

The idea of giving her away was weird. He wasn’t giving her to him, he was simply helping her reach him. And he always had been.

Spencer’s hand was soft in hers and they stepped towards Emily together.

The music stopped then, causing them to turn to each other and smile. It was time.

It felt more like time stopped, however, getting a sort of tunnel vision for each other as the rest of the world faded away.

“Welcome everyone, you can take a seat,” Emily cut into the moment. “A few weeks ago Spencer asked me if I’d marry him off to his best friend, I of course said yes because who can say no to that face?”

Everyone laughed as Spencer blushed. “Spencer is the smartest man to work in the FBI, we’re not afraid to admit that. From the day I met him, he was nothing but informative and kind, as well as shy and personal. It took a while to learn anything about him, but once you get to know him he’s like an open book. And it’s a good story.”

“Like most good fairy tales, it’s a story told in two parts. Starting with a meet-cute of cosmic proportions, a plotline that would make any other ’right for each other at the wrong time,’ story run for the hills,” Emily exaggerated.

“And finally, a reunion,” her voice was soft then. “I’ll never forget the day Spencer held the door open for Y/N, she walked in with a smile on her face that was almost as big as Spencers. He introduced us to a childhood friend that day, not realizing she would become part of our family.”

Y/N felt herself getting a little choked up, seeing Penelope and JJ wiping their tears just off to the side.

“It’s a story best told in the first person,” Emily laughed at her own joke. “So, without further ado, ladies first,” she instructed, stepping away from the altar to keep the focus on them.

“Well?” Y/N shook her head at him, motioning with her hand for him to start speaking. Making everyone laugh once again. Spencer’s smile was adorable as he giggled.

“Would you say— hypothetically, of course, that soulmates are real, Doctor Reid?” She questioned him softly.

He nodded, “I would.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Because I think you’re mine. And I think I’ve known that for a very long time. There was something about you, that first day I saw you. You weren’t shoving dirt up your nose or pulling on my hair. You were reading a book, I believe it was Matilda, you were all by yourself and you looked sad.”

“Me, being me,” she laughed to herself, “I marched over to you and I asked if you wanted to play in the sandbox with me. One small gesture changed the entire course of my life, you became a friend and then a stranger again in the blink of an eye. I know what it’s like to know of you and not be in your presence and it’s the worst.”

She didn’t want to cry, but she knew she was about to. “I know you’re my soulmate because my soul physically aches when you’re not around. Like magnets, I’m pulled towards you and I’m willing to crush anything that gets in the way. You and I were once the same cosmic rock just floating through space, separated for millions of years until the time was right.”

“I found you right when I needed you,” she wiped a tear off her cheek quickly. “When we needed each other. And I’m never going to let you go.”

She turned towards Emily, grabbing a ring from her. “With this ring, you’re tied to me for eternity now, the way things always should have been.”

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, wiping his own tears before holding her hands again.

“Your turn, pretty boy,” she teased him one last time, laughing to try and stop the tears.

“Most of you know the story,” Spencer began his speech. Staring into Y/N’s eyes, trying to forget there was an audience.

“We met in kindergarten, she was wearing a sundress with green and pink flowers, much like today. You had bangs back then and a cute pink bow in your hair. And you were as stubborn then as you are now,” he smiled. “Mrs. Richardson had told me twice that we weren’t allowed to put water in the sandbox, no matter how important it was to the construction of my model pyramids. That’s why I was reading my book. You went to your backpack, grabbed a water bottle, and poured it right into the sand without thinking twice about the consequences.

“I didn’t really see you again until I was 13, I sat on that swing with my copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens while you sat in your window way up there.” He pointed at her house, past the swing set. “I’ll never know what you were reading or what you were thinking, but I have the exact moment I saw you ingrained in my memory,” Spencer’s words were soft as his thumbs ran over her hands.

“Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets.” Spencer recited from memory.

“You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Y/N, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you,” Spencer’s voice trailed off to a whisper as he reached the end.

“I read that quote moments before seeing you again, and part of me knew the universe had greater plans for us. And I knew, Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!”

“With this ring,” Spencer finally added. Lifting the last ring from Derek’s extended hand, placing it on Y/N’s ring finger where it belonged. “I vow to love you till my very last moments, and if heaven is real I’ll be waiting for your loving embrace.”

She wiped her tears quickly, looking up as she tried to stop her mascara from smudging. “You’re a dick sometimes,” she started to laugh before hearing the crowd do the same.

“You love me,” he teased her.

“I do,” she smiled, pulling him in and kissing him hard on the lips. Getting lost in his embrace as the world around them stopped.

—

Having every single person that she loved mingle around her parent’s backyard felt a little surreal. Her father and Rossi were smoking cigars together on the desk, Levi and Will were discussing training stories while Chloe and Henry chased each other around the yard.

Emily and Noelle were slowly dancing in their own little world to the music that played, not too far from Haley and Arron who had the same idea. Jack was talking to Derek, sharing stories about their favourite superhero.

Diana and Debbie were going around making sure everyone had a drink or a snack, discussing their children and showing off to everyone that was there. It was a lot to take in, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. This was the most perfect little wedding she could have ever asked for.

Spencer never left her side, holding her hand where ever she went for the majority of the night. Knowing she hated being the centre of anyone else attention, calming her down from all the eyes that were on her.

“Do you want to go to the swing?” He whispered in her ear when they were finally alone.

“Please,” she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting to just be alone with him for a while.

She snuck out of the yard and across the street, Y/N sat down on the swing for the first time in years, her big belly thanking her for the relief. Spencer pushed her lightly on the swing, helping her swing in the late-night spring breeze in rural Nevada.

The light in her bedroom was still on, illuminating the empty room she called hers for the majority of her life. Still unable to process the fact that she did it, she married Spencer. She made a life in his orbit, she was happy and loved and making a family with the man of her dreams.

This was the best revenge she could have ever gotten on any childhood bully or predator in her life. Pure happiness, that no one could take from her. Knowing she did this on her own, meeting Spencer out of the blue and building a life of joy and peace was so unbelievably wonderful.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Spencer asked softly as he continued to push her on the swing.

“I’m just amazed that I did it,” she said softly.

“Did what?”

“all this,” she waved her arm out in front of her. “I grew up, I made friends and a family and found the love of my life even after believing for so long that I never would.”

“the universe had better plans for you than you thought,” She could hear the smile on Spencer’s face as he spoke. “You’re so deserving of the world and then some, you’re worth the universe to me. Brighter than any star in the sky, more powerful than the big-bang.”

She dragged her feet along the sand, stopping the swing abruptly before turning around to see Spencer. His eyes glistened in the moonlight or the streetlight. Either way, his brown eyes were glowing as she looked up at him softly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could, pressing her cheek against his chest softly. “For showing me that love is real.”

“Being able to love you has been the best part of my life.”

She pulled him into another kiss, holding his face softly as she peppered kisses to his lips over and over. “You get me forever.”

“And then some.”

“Hypothetically,” she teased him lightly. “Anything is possible when the two of us get together.”

“I love you,” was all he could say before kissing her again.

They could hear the music travelling across the street for the yard, she wrapped her arms around him and swayed to the beat. Taking a moment completely alone with him to just appreciate him. To hold him close, hear his heartbeat through his suit jacket and just take it all in.

The rest of her life started at that moment, the birth of a new future. One with endless possibilities, endless happiness, and the most love in the whole world.

Soulmates, 500 years in the making.

Placing 500 more years of possibilities in the hands of Fate, who cradled them in her loving embrace. Making a future for them unlike any she’s made before.

Epilogue

2020

The birds chirping used to make her wake up with a smile, now it made her panic a little. She was so overly used to being woken up to a baby crying, a kid with a tummy ache, or the sound of fighting coming from the cribs in the twin’s room.

When it was quiet she worried, opening her eyes and looking around to see all 4 of her children cuddled up around her and Spencer. Completely asleep, and absolutely adorable.

Matthews’s face was beside hers on the pillow. His long hair falling over his face, just like his fathers used to all those years ago. She kissed her baby on the forehead, unable to fully understand that he was 10 now.

The twins were in the middle, Harper and Derek were attached at the hip all day long. Sleeping basically on top of each other, it was the only way they were peaceful. Since being squished together in the womb, they’ve become best friends and each other’s comfort person over the last 6 years.

Alice on the other hand was a daddy’s girl. Probably because she got the most time with him, 2 and a half years’ worth of all Spencer’s love and affection.

Spencer had quit the BAU when they got pregnant with their last baby, deciding he wanted to be with his kids full time. He wanted to be more present, to make more memories and just be a good dad.

Every morning Alice would find her way into the bed, she’d do whatever it took to get between Y/N and Spencer, cuddling into her father’s arms and going back to sleep. Almost every time, she would push her mom’s arms away, waking Y/N up in the process just to smirk at her as if to say; “haha my turn.”

She loved her little family. And they loved her too, she had been out of town for a week on a really bad case that required all hands on deck. They called her every day, begging her to come home soon, breaking her heart. So it wasn’t a surprise to see all of them snuggled in, taking in all the time with her that they could.

Matthews’s eyes fluttered as he woke up, his big beautiful brown eyes looking at her softly. “Mom,” he said softly with a smile before wrapping his arms around her neck and snuggling into her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, Mr. Magoo,” she whispered into his hair, holding him close. He still smelled like her little baby, only bigger as he rested against her.

“Are we still going to Uncle Dave’s tonight?” He asked as he settled against her, wanting her to run her fingers through his hair. It calmed him as it did for Spencer, soothing his mind as it ran a million miles a minute.

“I think so,” she replied, picking him up softly and laying on her back more. “I think all your cousins are going to be there too.”

“Even Jack?” He asked, sitting up with wonder in his eyes. Jack was 15 now, and just the coolest dude in Matthews’s life. Much like how Spencer looked up to Hotch in the beginning.

“Even Jack!” She whispered with enthusiasm, trying to keep the others asleep but it was too late.

“Mommy!” Harper cried, pushing Derek away from her as she leaped into her mother’s arms.

“Hi sweetheart,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she got smothered in hugs from the twins.

Spencer looked over at her then. Alice was snuggled into his neck, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. She had always played with his hair every chance she could get. Especially whenever he held her or gave her a ride on his shoulders as they walked through the park.

“Hi,” Spencer smiled.

There he was, the love of her life. His smile made her feel at home, the love between them only growing every morning when they laid eyes on each other.

“Are you going to say hi to mommy?” Spencer asked Alice, rubbing her back softly.

She raised her hand to wave softly before dropping it back onto Spencer’s head with a smack, “ow?” He laughed lightly, making her bounce on his chest and laugh in response.

She was always quiet in the morning, leaving all the talking to her siblings. She was the calmest of them all, she was also the easiest of the 4 of them. She didn’t cry unless she was desperate for food or attention, she slept through the nights and was just all around not fussy at all. A literal blessing to their lives.

The twins were a lot, they knew they would be. She doesn’t miss the days and nights of them taking turns screaming. And she definitely doesn’t miss the ache of her body as two babies sucked her dry for almost 6 months. Breastfeeding kicked her ass the most, eventually making her lose too much weight and faint from low blood pressure, it sucked.

The outcome was beyond worth it. Derek and Harper were the craziest, funniest, loudest 6-year-olds in the whole world. If they weren’t writing a show, pretending to direct a spooky movie or pulling pranks on their father, they were planning to.

They had a specific dynamic, Harper was the planner and Derek was the do-er. Harper would come up with the sneakiest, worst ideas a child could have and somehow always managed to convince Derek to do it for her. A modern-day Jekyll and Hyde terrorized her home.

But Matthew, He was the sweetest. Being a single child till the age of 4 meant he was around Spencer and Y/N all the time, just the three of them. He’s shy but outgoing, he speaks his mind and he isn’t afraid to share his thoughts and feelings. He’s the best part of both of them but with all the confidence to follow his dreams. He was handsome and smart, he was sweet and kind, he was her baby. Forever and always, no matter how big he got.

He’s smart like Spencer, but not jumping through elementary school as fast. They agreed to let him decide when he turned 14. He deserved the chance to grow up with his own age group, to make friends and memories that were good and happy, to build the confidence to stand up for himself and others before he finished school. He didn’t mind it, he enjoyed helping other students when he finished his work early and asking for extra credit assignments.

And he liked being in class with Roz LaMontagne. They were smitten with each other from day one, always holding hands and playing nicely. JJ and Y/N always felt bad peeling them apart from each other at the end of a playdate, they were best friends.

It was like Roz had 2 older brothers with Henry and Matt, the 3 of them being so close in age they were often mistaken for triplets, with JJ and Y/N being their lesbian moms. It was a ruse that came in handy when they saw men checking them out, or when they wanted a family discount at the zoo.

Her life felt perfect, it was far from it in reality but she was happy with that. She worked long hours, her kids missed her every day, she didn’t see Spencer as often as she’d like and she was always tired. But that was what it took, she would work herself to the bone in an instant if it meant that she could come home and be snuggled like this every time.

“How was your week?” She asked Harper, brushing her strawberry blond hair behind her ear as she cuddled into her other side. Now having 3 children laying on top of her.

“Dad took us to the air and space museum,” Derek answered for her.

“No way!” Y/N enthused. “You need to tell me everything you learned!”

“The Museum is the largest of the Smithsonian's 19 museums and its Center for Earth and Planetary studies is one of the Institution's nine research centres. More than eight million people a year visit the Museum's two locations, making it one of the most visited museums in the country,” Matthew explained, remembering the sign at the entrance from memory.

“Wow, what was everyone’s favourite part? Maybe we can go again soon and you can all show me?” She suggested, riling them all up till they were bouncing on the mattress and screaming suggestions back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” Y/N settled them down. Watching them all sit-down and smile as they tried to stop laugh and listen. “Why don’t we go get breakfast and spend the morning together before we get ready to go to Aunt Penny’s party tonight okay?”

“I thought it was Uncle Dave's party?” Derek asked.

“It’s at his house but you know how aunt penny plans,” Y/N smiled at him. “How about you all go get dressed and pick something nice to wear while I talk to your dad for a bit?”

“Anything I want to wear?” Harper questioned her, very serious.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, “something nice, but yes your choice.”

“Yes!” Harper screamed, hopping off the bed making the whole room shake as she ran down the hall. The sound of her bare feet slapping the hardwood carrying through the hallway in an echo.

“Matty, I’ll dress Alice, can you just watch her for a minute?” Spencer asked as he placed Alice in the middle of the bed.

“Sure,” Matthew smiled. “Come on Ali, I’ll read you a book?”

She put her arms out for her brother to carry her, and soon enough it was just Spencer and Y/N all alone again. Spencer and her both falling back against the pillows and sighing in the quiet.

Spencer pulled her into a hug, wrapping himself around her as he kissed her cheek, “I missed you so much, I hate when you’re gone.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” she said softly. “I got a job offer last night, and I think I’m going to take it.”

“What is it?”

“VICAP and the BAU are merging, even more, I’ve been asked to be the Chief of VICAP to personally overview the program and pass the information along to Prentiss,” She explained. “It would be a 9-5 thing, 5 days a week. I’d be home for dinner and all weekend long. We could have another baby or go on vacation? You know the possibilities are endless.”

Spencer kissed her again, “you’d be able to help people and be home all the time.”

“Exactly,” she smiled into his embrace. “I told them I’d let them know later today, they want me to start next month.”

“Follow your gut,” Spencer whispered, happy at the decision she was making either way.

“My gut is currently saying ‘feeeeed meeee’, so let’s get going!” She cheered as she tried to escape from his embrace.

He just held on tighter, tickling her stomach and kissing her neck, “help!” She cried, joking obviously and the kids knew that. Sure enough, 4 pairs of feet came running back into their room, dog piling them.

“I said help! Not suffocate me?!” She teased them as Spencer let her go, each taking a child and tickling them instead. Everyone was screaming again, giggling from deep in their stomach, feeling sick from how happy they were.

She loved every moment of it.

—

After 10 years, the BAU had gone through a lot of changes. Everyone seemed to come and go at least once, some leaving for good when their families started. But there were a lot of new faces now, once someone was on the team they were family.

It was a rare occasion for everyone to get together, especially now that almost everyone had kids. Spencer and Y/N went from being the 2nd set of parents to aunty and uncle to 8 kids in 10 years.

That meant that there were currently 12 screaming kids terrorizing Rossi’s beautiful backyard as the adults sat around the fire. “Please tell me no one here has a baby announcement to make, I don’t think I can handle a thirteenth,” Rossi complained, grey hair making him look more like papa Rossi than uncle Dave now.

“No,” everyone said in unison, laughing at the abundantly clear meaning. They were all too tired to do it all again.

“Like Spencer’s mom said, why have another when you can stop at perfection?” Emily joked as she leaned into Noelle’s embrace. “PJ is the best little guy in the world.”

“Spencer makes some great kids,” Y/N laughed. Remembering that time Emily nervously asked them if Spencer would be the donor for her child. Wanting her kid to be born with the best DNA she could think of.

“That he does,” Noelle smiled, looking into the yard to see PJ, Michael and Hank roughhousing like they always were.

They all had kids fairly close together, always making sure each new member of the BAU's gifted children program had friends who were more like family in their lives. Their small chosen family expanded not only in size but with the amount of love they shared for each other.

Henry was 12 now, Jack 15. They had always gotten along well together, being a little more on the nerdy side. They welcomed Matthew into their little group with open arms, as well as Roz.

Hotch ended up becoming Section Chief, taking a desk job so that he could spend more time with his family. They welcomed Jessie 6 years ago, right around the time Y/N had the twins. She was a spitting image of Haley with all the stern seriousness of Hotch. Seeing her and Harper try and work together was always funny. Harper and Derek were always trying to start shit somewhere, while Jessie ran to Y/N to tattle on them. It was the funniest dynamic out of all the age groups, and it was only going to get worse as they grew up.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed, looking at her kids as they all smiled and laughed. The joy they brought her was unimaginable, “I think 5 would be interesting.”

“You’re a psycho, and I should know, I’m an expert,” JJ just shook her head, blinking at the craziness. “I can barely handle 3.”

“Alice was so easy though,” she whined. “All of them were good, I miss having a baby who wanted to cuddle with me. It’s not fair Spencer gets all the attention now.”

“You could always quit, they’d love that,” he teased her softly, not wanting to wake Alice as she slept on him, tired from playing with everyone during the afternoon.

“My new position is going to be better for us,” she smirked.

“What position?” Penelope yelled at her.

“I’m going to be the VICAP unit chief,” she smiled, watching them all light up as they congratulated her. Starling the sleeping Alice on Spencer’s chest.

“I think I’ve done enough fieldwork, I’d like to cook more dinners and read more bedtime stories now,” she smiled. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Haley added. “I never expected Aaron to slow down, but when he did I think it was the best thing he chose to do. Jack and Jessie love having him around all the time.”

“To 10 plus years on the job, 10 years of friendship and the 12 new lives we brought into this world,” Y/N said as she lifted her can of ginger-ale, everyone following with their own drinks.

“To family,” Prentiss added.

“To family,” they all repeated.

Taking a sip before smiling at each other, everything ended up okay. It was more than they ever expected, and everything they hoped for.

—

The kids all fell asleep on the ride home. Spencer and Y/N each taking one of the twins upstairs first, placing them in their beds softly before returning to the garage for the others. Finding Matthew trying to carefully bring Alice inside to help his parents.

“Hey Matty it’s okay,” Spencer whispered, placing a hand on his back. “you go inside with your mom and I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay,” he replied, extremely tired as his eyelids drooped.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulders, he was almost as tall as her already and she wasn’t ready for that. “Come on my baby,” she whispered as she led him into the house and up the stairs.

She helped him change into a pair of pyjamas before helping him into his bed, covering him in his adorable planet-covered sheets. She tucked him in nice a snug before sitting on the edge, looking down at him as he closed his eyes and settled in.

She brushed his brown curls off his face, making way for the kiss she was about to leave on his forehead. “Goodnight my Matty Magoo, I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the edge of the milky way,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m excited for you to be home more. Dad worries about you and it makes him sad, I like seeing you both happy together.” He rambled all his thoughts out at night just like Spencer did.

She kissed his head softly, holding his cheeks in her hand as she looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “You are so sweet, have a good sleep and I will see you tomorrow. I love you.” She told him again, and she’d tell him a million more times if she could.

“I love you, too, mom,” he smiled one last time before closing his eyes.

She shut off his lamp, closing his door on the way out.

She stood in the hallway then, a hand on her heart as she thought about just how much she loved him. JJ wasn’t kidding when she said you grow a love so big you’d kill for them.

Back in the twin’s room, she made sure they were comfortable for the night, taking Harper out of the crazy dress and pants she picked out for the day. Tucking both of them into their little beds, kissing their heads before turning on their nightlight. They didn’t like the dark, and they liked to keep their door open a little so buddy could sneak in.

In her own room, she found Spencer in bed, shirtless with a book. He got sexier as he got older, it was impossible and yet it happened. Every year he looked different, in a wonderful way.

His hair was fluffy, his tummy was fuller— a dad bod as Penelope would call it. He wore glasses all the time now, having a hard time reading without them. It made him incredibly hot.

She changed into a cute pyjama set, satin shorts and a spaghetti strap top, wanting to get his attention away from whatever book he found this time.

She could feel his eyes on her as she changed, not wanting to look at him and make him stop.

He put his book down when she got in beside him, still on the right side after all these years. “What?” She asked him as he kept staring at her.

“Were you serious?”

“Yes I do think you’re sexy, I didn’t think you could read minds too?” She teased him.

“Funny,” he smiled at her. “Do you want another baby?”

She shrugged, “we could Russian roulette this and just see if it happens?”

“Seriously?” His voice dropped, softer than normal. “Because I would have 16 more kids with you if you wanted. They’re all so amazing, every time.”

“I know,” she felt her heart melt. “Matthew said you get sad when I’m not here, he worries for you.”

“All week, Harper wore her regular outfits because she likes making you laugh with her silly ones,” Spencer told her. They liked to share secrets about their kids at night. Basically profiling them.

“I love them,” her heart felt like it was going to burst.

“Come here,” Spencer requested, waiting for her to sit on his hips and look down into his eyes like she always did. She brushed the hair off his face, holding his cheeks in her hands.

His eyes are so much like Matthews, but it was Alice who looked the most like him. She had his nose, his chin, she was tall and skinny and just the most adorable copy of him. Every feature on him was in one of their kids, he saw the same thing in her.

“Are you sure?” She asked him softly.

“The only thing in the whole world that I know for certain is that I love you and this family. Even gravity is simply a hypothetical, but you and me… I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” his words soft and his expression softer.

She kissed him, pressing her lips against his for the first time in a while. It always felt like coming home, this was where she was meant to be.

When she pulled back all she wanted to do was look at him for a minute, to imagine what new little face the two of them could make together. All 4 of their children were so perfect, she couldn’t imagine a 5th possibility.

“Put a baby in me,” She whispered.

She didn’t have to tell him twice, he reached over to the night table to turn off the light before kissing her neck softly. His big, warm hands wrapped around her back, pulling her in closer to him.

He was so much different now from the first time they did this. Confident, stronger, older, but he was still her soft boy. He held her with care, kissed her like she was made out of glass. The contrast of his actions and the feeling of his rough hands on her body made her feel like she was on fire.

He pushed the straps of her shirt off her shoulders, dipping her back a little so he could kiss her cheek. He pushed her shirt down, freeing one of her breasts, holding it softly in his hands before kissing the newly exposed skin.

His tongue swiped across her nipple, making her gasp and grip his arm as she rutted into the feeling. He cradled her head in his hands, laying her back with her head now at the foot of the bed.

Still, between her legs, he pulled the satin shorts down slowly to see she never wore any underwear under them. He smirked, running his finger softly over her vagina, watching in awe as she spread her legs wider for him.

She could see how hard he was, his erection making a tent in his boxers as he teased her softly. “Still so perfect,” he praised her. “Look how tight you are, sucking my finger inside that tight heat.”

She tightened around him on purpose then, feeling his finger slip in even more. “Fuck,” he gasped. Moving down more to place a kiss on her clit.

Her breathing picked up then, even after 11 years of sex with this man, the thought of his tongue on her still made her shiver. He was just that good, always getting better every time he dove face-first into her.

Her back arched the second his tongue connected with her clit. Pushing herself into his tongue more and more as he explored her. Two fingers were inside of her now, Spencer’s mouth kissing and sucking and licking every single inch of her pussy as she quietly gasped into the darkness.

She wanted to scream for more, she always did, but she couldn’t anymore. There were 4 sets of ears just down the hall trying to have a peaceful night’s sleep, she had to remind herself of that every time.

“Fuck, Spencer,” she whispered, biting her lip so nothing else slipped out.

“What?” He whispered against her skin, kissing her groin and lower tummy.

“Please,” she begged softly, sitting up and climbing onto his lap once more. “Daddy?”

It had been years since she said that to him, not able to utter the words once he actually became a father. It lit a fire in him, pulling her in closer before he ripped the shirt off her body.

He held her against him, kissing her neck as he basically growled at the feeling. Becoming almost feral with the thought of fucking her. She was in love with the feeling, when he got rough with her it was the best.

She enjoyed every second of it, knowing she’d wake up in the morning with beard burn on her neck and between her thighs, not giving a single fuck. It was so worth it, the tickle of his facial hair on her skin beside his mouth, she craved it.

“I need you out of those boxers, sir,” she panted, holding his hair as he continued to kiss her neck.

He pulled off her, looking at her in the darkness with lust-filled eyes. “Lay back,” he instructed her.

She always listened, laying back against the pillows as he freed himself from the confines of his underwear. Crawling on top of her and hovering slightly as he looked down at her. He brushed her hair off her face, kissing her lips lightly before smiling.

“Tell me again what you want?”

She smirked, “I want you to put a baby in me, fill me up. Let me make you a daddy again?”

The noise that left his throat was enough to make her clit twitch again, it was deep and guttural and beyond sexy. He became an animal on nights like this.

She spread her legs again, wrapping her knees around him as he pulled him in against her body. “Fuck me, Spencer.”

He lined himself up with her quickly, dragging the head of his cock through her folds a few times before he began to push in. Little by little, achingly slow. Teasing her, knowing just how badly she wanted him to pound into her.

“Yes,” she sighed as he bottomed out, dropping her head back against the pillow softly.

Her hands roamed his back, waiting for him to start to move again. Digging her nails in when he finally did, pulling out slowly before pushing back in with effort.

“Ah,” she moaned softly, covering her own mouth as he started to move faster.

“Shhh,” he reminded her, kissing her neck again as he found his rhythm.

“Shut up and fuck me then,” she sounded desperate. “Please,” she added. Not wanting him to stop out of spite.

“Shut up and take it,” he ordered, placing his own hand over her mouth as he fucked her harder.

She couldn’t believe it, he was holding one hand over her mouth while his other reached for her clit, making her jolt forward at the contact. It was everything she wanted, it was rough and powerful and just the best reminder that she belonged to him.

Spencer was hers, she was his, they created this entire world together. She felt so overwhelmed, she wasn’t aware that she was crying at the pleasure till Spencer moved his hand off her mouth to wipe off a tear.

“Keep going,” she encouraged him. “Please, please.”

“Shhh,” he soothed her, “I’m going to make you feel so good bunny, you’re going to be so full, so beautiful carrying another one of our babies.”

That did it for her, she tilted her head back as she arched her back. Pulling Spencer’s fingers into her mouth so that she wouldn’t moan too loud as she came on his cock.

Spencer shuttered at the feeling, fucking into her with vigour as he tried to hold in his own moans. Sounding more like a whimper when he finally came, spilling into her with the force of a Mack truck.

He dropped against her body then, breathing deep into her neck. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, holding him inside of her so nothing slipped out. “Fuck.”

“I love you,” Spencer breathed against her skin.

She ran her fingers through his hair softly before kissing his forehead. “I love you more.”

They stayed like that for a while, only pulling apart finally to get cleaned up. Spencer turned back on the light, helping her to the bathroom quietly before stripping the sheets off the bed.

She returned to a freshly made bed and a dressed Spencer waiting for her. She put her shorts and a t-shirt back on, slipping into bed and cuddling into him once more. Having to look presentable for when the kids eventually came running into their room at 7 am.

She sighed into his embrace, smiling softly against his skin. “What was that Buddha quote you told me all those years ago?”

“When you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other,” Spencer replied softly.

“Goodnight, Spence,” she kissed his jaw softly as she snuggled in closer.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

the end

#hypothetically #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

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