#look growing up Different from your peers is a fucking nightmare
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Okay so I have a lot of thoughts about the whole thing of the Gerudo being a race of entirely women, with the only exception being one man born every hundred years, and that man automatically being their king. Now this worldbuilding comes from Ocarina of Time, and there's obviously a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications there, because it was 1998. And it seems that Tears of the Kingdom is sticking with the lore of Gerudo men being extremely rare and becoming the King of their people, which once again has a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications because it's 2023 and Nintendo has somehow gotten even worse about this shit.
But let's set aside the whole... everything, and look at this from just the in-universe perspective. How does it work? I mean, it's pretty clear that there is no overlap between the kings; the old ones are normally long gone by the time a new one is born, but the Gerudo manage to take care of themselves during the hangtime. So they must have an established system of government and leadership that doesn't involve a king, and somehow that system is set up in a way that does a smooth transfer of power once a new king is born and old enough to take the throne. But why bother always declaring a random guy to be your King when you already have a perfectly functional system in place?
I mean again, the whole thing has a lot of sexist implications, but we're not looking at this from a real world context, we're examining it in-universe. And we could just go the lazy route and say that their king is in charge just because he's the only man, but I don't like that. I mean come on, the Gerudo are a race of entirely women, and most of their outside problems come from Hylian men being creepy about it. They are entirely a matriarchy; there is literally no reason for their culture to have an inherent respect for men, even if the man in question is one of them. And they're desert people; they live in an extremely harsh and dangerous landscape, if they don't have their shit together, they will die. By sheer necessity, their culture needs to put a lot of value in being practical, because if they're stupid about things, people die. They really can't afford to have a shitty leader take over, and just letting some guy take the wheel doesn't really fit with the way their culture must otherwise work.
So again, why the fuck do they bother having a King?
I think it's mainly just a ceremonial position. Yes, if the guy is a good leader he'll be in charge, but if he isn't good at being a King or isn't interested in the job... fuck it, they've already got a functional government system that's been leading their people the whole time, why fix what isn't broken? The title of Gerudo King isn't about leadership or power. I think it's more about belonging. Because the Gerudo are a culture where every single one of them can be defined in the same way... and there is exactly one exception once a century. Men are considered to be inherently outsiders at the best of times, and more often they're enemies. A man born into this culture is a natural outsider; he is completely unique, and that means he doesn't really fit into his community. And well... when someone is fundamentally different from the rest of their community, they tend to be ostracized.
So I think that's why the position of Gerudo King exists. It isn't about them needing or even wanting a man to lead them. The title of King doesn't need to involve any leadership at all. It's about giving the man born every century a place in their society. It's a way of saying yes, you are one of us, you are a Gerudo, you belong here, you are wanted and you are loved.
The Gerudo know that every hundred years, one of their children will be fundamentally different from all of his peers. And so their society is built to ensure that a child who is completely different from them will still be loved and accepted. He will always have a place in their society. He doesn't need to earn their love, he has it just for existing. These are his people.
The title of Gerudo King isn't an inherent position of authority. It's a promise of acceptance.
#legend of zelda#ganondorf#tears of the kingdom#gerudo#look i have so many thoughts about how their society works#and for the record i really hate the implied bioessentialist gender stuff#but this is my headcanon on the whole gerudo king thing#if their king wants authority he still needs to earn it like everyone else#but they make sure he always has a place among his people#look growing up Different from your peers is a fucking nightmare#as any neurodivergent/disabled/queer kid can attest#i like the idea of gerudo society being structured around ensuring all their children felt like they belonged there#and having a system ready to go for the one kid they KNOW will be the most different
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A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 2
Astarion x fem!tav
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: Terrible flirting. Biting. Tav is horny lmao
Author’s Note: I played Baldur’s gate for 7.5 hours today AND wrote this. Fuck yeah. GIF from @rinriya
Talk to me! | Series Masterlist
“Have you ever considered –I don’t know –not being the way you are?”
Astarion scoffed, waving his hand dismissively at her question. “Please, and miss out these little moments only you and I share? Darling, I could never.”
She didn’t respond, though Astarion knew better than to assume she wouldn’t bite back a bit.
With the loss of her tent, Tav had resigned herself to sleep on her bedroll under the stars. However, that meant that she had opened herself up to being bothered by everyone and anyone walking by –and Astarion truly couldn’t help himself. She was easy to rile up, and more importantly, easy to fluster. His plan was simple enough –manipulate her into falling for him, ensure she won’t turn on him, cut her loose when the tadpole ordeal was done with.
Easy enough.
Her bite back came in the form of a jab in his ribs with her staff –a little too close for comfort as far as he was concerned.
“What in the hells was that for?” He hissed, yanking away from her as she settled back into a sitting position. Astarion held his side, sneering at the ache that bloomed just below his ribcage.
“For being annoying.”
“Oh, I’m sorry –here I thought I was entertaining your little crush.”
“Crush? Crush?” She looked at him incredulously, as if the very thought of having an inkling of romantic feelings for him was impossible. Astarion, of course, knew better. He could smell the blood that rushed through her when he flirted. “In your bloody dreams!”
It was just too easy to flirt. “Oh, you are always in my dreams, my love.”
"Your dreams; my nightmares," she retorted, her tone laced with a teasing edge. She moved closer to him too, unable to keep herself from his orbit.
He chuckled, rubbing his side where she had jabbed him with the staff. "Ah, you wound me, my dearest Tav. I thought you'd at least consider joining me in the realm of dreams."
Tav rolled her eyes, but Astarion could see the little smile that threatened to tug at the corner of her lips. He had her right where he wanted as he shifted his weight, resting on his side as he peered up at her.
"Considering it and actually doing it are two very different things," she replied, her smirk growing more pronounced.
Astarion rested his head in his palm, looking up at her through his lashes. She swallowed hard, and he knew he had her.
“Admit it, Tav. There's a spark, a certain...fascination."
She raised an eyebrow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Fascination with annoyance, perhaps."
He grinned, undeterred. "Or maybe with the enigmatic rogue sitting right next to you."
“You’re right, Astarion,” she sighed dramatically, putting her hand over her heart for a moment. He sat up properly now, close enough that his arm brushed hers.
Astarion narrowed his eyes slightly, cocking his head to the side as she got closer to him than ever before. Her hand reached up and touched his jaw lightly. For a moment, he was surprised by her response, by her sudden touch. It was soft against his cheek –not teasing, not caressing. Just impossibly soft hands on his skin, and Astarion had to keep himself from shivering.
“I am fascinated by you. Overwhelmingly, obsessively fascinated…,” Astarion, by instinct, leaned in closer –he could feel her breath on his lips, and for a moment he wondered how she would taste on his tongue. But then she gently smacked him on the cheek and pulled away, “by how self-indulgent you are.”
Astarion blinked in surprise, the gentle smack breaking the spell he was under. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind in those few seconds, trying to process that she had bested him in the art of flirting. And while he was certain she wasn’t doing it to trick him (Tav was far too nice for that, he had learned over the last few days), it was still a shock to his system.
This wouldn’t do; he was supposed to be manipulating her –not the other way around.
Tav smirked, savoring the moment of triumph she seemingly had over him. "You see, Astarion, fascination doesn't always lead to adoration. Sometimes, it just leads to more creative ways to put you in your place."
The vampire, still rubbing his cheek with a bemused expression, chuckled. "Well played, you cheeky little thing. I must say, you do have a talent for keeping me on my toes."
“If you two are done flirting,” Karlach cackled, throwing a piece of bread at Tav’s head. She grumbled a bit, looking over her shoulder at the tiefling while the blood rushed to her cheeks. Embarrassed that she had been caught flirting with him, no doubt. “I think it’s time for Fangs there to take watch so we can get some rest.”
Tav pulled away from Astarion entirely then, giving the tiefling her undivided attention with a friendly nod and a smile. He, however, was staring at Tav and the blush that had crept its way up her body. It made his jaw ache with need –not a lustful need, but a hunger-pained one that he knew he would need to deal with when everyone had gone to sleep.
Finally, he broke his gaze from her and stood, offering his hand to her like he had the other day. Tav took it with a smile, pulling herself up —though this time she pulled away sooner than before.
“Goodnight, Astarion,” she called over her shoulder, waving at him as she followed Karlach to her tent to change. “Wake me if you need a break!”
He wouldn’t be waking her though. Not tonight —not if he wanted to build his strength properly.
*****
Sleep had proven to be elusive, slipping through her grasp like sand through fingers, leaving her restless throughout the night. Since the crash landing, a peaceful night's sleep had become a rare commodity. It wasn't solely due to the unfamiliarity of sleeping on the ground or exposure to the elements; an underlying unease persisted. The constant presence of the worm writhing behind her eye seemed to amplify with each passing moment, as if determined to delve deeper into the recesses of her brain. The combination of the unusual environment, the uneasiness of her new companions, and the tadpole just made sleeping impossible, even with her eyes closed.
As the night wore on, the restlessness in her bones refused to abate. Unbeknownst to her, Astarion had been silently stalking in the periphery, drawn by the tantalizing scent of her blood. In her restlessness, a voice whispered in her ear –Open your eyes, my dear. Do not let him take without asking. Perhaps it was a bad dream making her feel anxious, and she forced her eyes open to avoid furthering any nightmares that wanted to creep their way into her mind.
Except the nightmare seemed to be real as her sleep deprived eyes focused on fangs, then ruby red eyes, then finally Asterion's horrified look of realization that he had been caught.
“What in the hells are you doing?” She practically screamed, scrambling out of her bedroll as Astarion pulled away with his hands up.
“Shush, please –I wasn’t going to hurt you, I swear –I just…I needed blood and I –,”
“Thought you could just have some of mine?” She finished for him, pushing herself off the ground.
For a moment, Astarion looked panicked; scared even. And while that tugged on her heartstrings a little bit, it wasn’t enough to wet the flames of anger that were swirling around inside her.
“I just needed a taste,” he explained, voice shaking some as he tried to defend himself.
“How long has it been since you killed someone? Days? Hours?”
“Please,” he begged, shaking his head now. “I feed on animals –bears, boar, kobolds. But I’m weak, and if we’re going to keep up the way we are…I need something more. Something stronger.”
Tav contemplated Astarion’s desperate plea, her heart torn between concern and the growing sense of connection with the vampire before her. A flicker of empathy softened her gaze as she sighed, finally giving into her desire to help over hindering him further.
“Fine,” she agreed, her voice gentle yet firm. She pointed at him, as if scolding him. “But only if you promise to ask next time. I want to help you, Astarion, but I can’t have you draining the life out of me. We’re a team in this mess, and I’d rather you take a little from me than risk going after something more dangerous.”
Astarion’s eyes widened in a mix of surprise and gratitude, his usually guarded demeanor momentarily giving way to a genuine expression of thanks. He nodded earnestly, the weight of her trust not lost on him.
“Thank you, Tav,” he replied, his voice touched with sincerity. “I promise, next time I’ll ask. No more midnight surprises.”
She nodded once, looking around for a moment to ensure their friends were still asleep. Then she motioned to her throat, baring it to him. “Okay…well, have at it, then.”
He chuckled darkly, unable to help himself, before reaching out to touch her waist gently. “Let’s make it a bit more comfortable for you, darling. Lay down.”
His touch against her waist only aided in the blood rushing to her cheeks, and she was suddenly very aware that he knew that. There was no way Astarion didn’t know how much he flustered her, or how easily he made her blush. And somehow that made her blush even harder.
But Tav simply nodded, ignoring the embarrassment as she laid back in her bedroll and closed her eyes. Her heart beat fast in her ears, pounding as she felt Astarion’s body hover over her’s —felt his mouth just barely touching her throat before finally piercing her with his bite. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hands shooting up to grip his biceps in surprise.
The pain, however, was short lived and was soon replaced by a strangely warm feeling that pooled in her belly as she became lost of the feel of his mouth on her throat. There was no helping the sound that escaped her lips —a soft moan that caused Astarion to tense up momentarily as he drained her of her blood.
Her fingers loosened on his biceps as he continued to drink, and while the pain was turning into something far more, she did her best to push him off of her.
“Astarion,” she murmured, voice cracking as he pulled away sharply.
For a moment, he hovered over her as if trying to catch his breath; to return to his senses. Her neck throbbed where he bit, and though her vision was a bit hazy, she saw a drop of blood slip down the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, she lifted a heavy hand to his lips and wiped the blood away with her thumb.
“I hope I taste good,” she sighed, admiring the fresh crimson on her finger tip. Her body felt heavy, and she was sure sleep was going to overcome her at any moment.
Astarion lifted her thumb to his mouth, tempted to bite once more but instead kissing the blood off her finger. “You have…no idea.”
Finally, he pulled away from her and stood slowly, taking a deep breath. Tav sat up weakly, closing her eyes for a moment to stop her head from spinning.
“Get some rest,” he ordered, turning away from her. “I need to find something a little more filling.”
He stepped away, but stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “This was a gift, you know,” he reassured, voice soft and sincere. “I won’t forget it.”
Tav was inclined to believe that.
#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion fic#baldur’s gate astarion
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FILE NAME: SUMMER CAMP BLUES.TXT
USERS FOUND: stalker!yan!izuku midoriya x fem!afab!reader
WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! DO NOT OPEN! noncon, dubcon, piv, fingering (f!receiving), blood, violence, stalking, yandere, biting and drawing blood, ask to tag
NOTES ABOUT THE VIRUS: you could’ve sworn you saw eyes in the woods. deep pits of blackness and a lust you couldn’t fathom… until it was right in front of you, that is.
INTERNAL MESSAGE: heed the tags. i’m being so serious. and please, ask me to tag anything that i may have missed. visit the masterlist here!
NEW NOTIFICATIONS! @kaedescara @yaekiss @pvbbyb0y @voidshoutsback @4izawas (want to be added? send me an ask off anon!)
you took a step back and away from the boy in front of you. he was… was he crying? this didn’t make any sense. he looked so meek, so… scared, almost.
“what do you mean, no?” he sniffled, barely holding it together as he peered at you with emerald eyes that glinted in the moonlight. “you said you liked me, that you really loved being my friend… i thought we would be together forever.”green curls fell into his face as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. he really looked younger than you, even though he was a year your senior. you winced at the sight, looking around to see if any of your friends were there to save you. no one came.
“i’m sorry, izuku. i just don’t like you like that. i hope you can forgive me.”
he didn’t reply, only sniffling a little harder, so you got to your feet from the picnic blanket beneath you. “i’m just going to go back to my cabin. we can pretend this didn’t happen in the morning, okay?”
you were met with silence from the boy as his image started to waver in front of you. you turned, seeing the lights of your cabin in the distance through the trees, and you took two steps through the grass before a vice grip was suddenly attached to your wrist.
you were yanked back down to the floor, and izuku was over you, tear-stained face close to yours, a sick look in his eyes. “don’t leave me. you can’t fucking leave me-”
you shot up straight in your bed, almost smacking your head on the rafters thanks to being on the top bunk. you looked around, feeling like the grip of that kid was still on you. you took a few deep breaths and flopped right back down onto your pillow. just that dream again, you muttered inwardly, closing your eyes again in the morning light of the dawn peeking through the messy blinds of the staff cabin you shared with your friend.
every summer since that day, you’d had dreams of that teen from your past. you hadn’t seen or heard from him since that day, and frankly, a majority of it wasn’t even what had happened. izuku midoriya was the shy kid at camp, and you had befriended him to be nice. you really had ended up enjoying his company, however, until he turned around and asked you out. you had said no, and he accepted that and walked away, never to be seen again. your friends at the time assumed he had simply begged his mom to come pick him up, too embarrassed to face you, but you didn’t know for sure.
it had been a long, long time since that day. you were a kid, barely a teenager, and yet the memory kept coming back as if it was a horrible trauma you had faced. you rubbed the heels of your palms into your eyes and considered trying to go back to sleep, but you instead were met with the blaring of your friend’s alarm from the bunk below. it was time to get up and get ready for work.
you had ended up with the seasonal gig as soon as you turned eighteen, graduating from summer camp goer to summer camp counselor. you enjoyed giving kids of the younger generations the experiences that you had gotten growing up, whether it be making boats out of different materials to float out onto the lake, friendship bracelets, or even just telling ghost stories by the fire. the camp had become your passion, and you had figured that dealing with nightmares every summer was worth it to see the kids be happy year after year.
you rolled your way out of bed and clambered lazily down the ladder, smacking your friend in the face with a pillow to get her ass up and moving. it was going to be another long day of hiking followed by a bonfire, and you were in charge of both.
you spent the early morning hours getting yourself ready, taking full advantage of the private staff bathrooms to shower in peace (without shower shoes! because your friends were clean!) and attempted, yet again, to make sense of your nightmare.
ever since you returned to the camp as a counselor, you felt watched. you felt as though someone was always just beyond the tree line, just out of eyesight. you had almost started convincing yourself you were crazy, what with how your friends made fun of you for feeling that way. they consistently reminded you that you were always safe within the fencing of the summer camp, with cameras and people everywhere, and you had half a mind to believe them.
sometimes, though, you convinced yourself that you could see someone in the woods. a mna, large and wide, a mop of hair over his face, as though he had been living in the wilderness for years. you saw him late at night or early in the morning, far off in the distance. if you caught him, he would disappear just as quickly as he arrived.
you were starting to believe it when your friends told you you were crazy.
a bump against the bathroom window roused you from your introspection, and you turned your head towards it. upon seeing nothing, you simply assumed that it was a bird dropping something against the window pane.
you shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. nothing to be afraid of.
—
you smiled widely as you led your group of young teens up the side of the mountain, walking stick in hand, heavy pack adding to your load as you trekked through the rocky terrain. you heard some kids chit chatting with each other, others whining about having to do physical movement while on a summer retreat. you just laughed at their antics, shaking your head and shouting that you were almost at the top.
you took a look around to locate the next white marker on a tree up ahead. thank the gods for the people that had first mapped the trail and made your life so much easier. you tossed a look over your shoulder to remind the kids to grab onto the sturdy looking trees you were grabbing to help them tug themselves up over higher rocks, and they listened to you.
you got your group to the top first with no cuts or bruises. it was almost like a miracle.
two by two your campers stepped up into the clearing, ooh’s and ahh’s being shared amongst them as they took in the beautiful view of nature.
you allowed yourself a moment of reprieve, knowing your kids weren’t stupid and wouldn’t get closer to the ledge. you hummed a tune as you took your backpack off and dropped it near the very edge, taking a seat at the rock cliff and swinging your legs over the edge. kicking them back and forth, you fumbled in your pack for one of your large water jugs, unscrewing it and taking a few long sips.
you felt serene, up there on that ledge. you kept an ear out for your kids, but you allowed them to explore the beautiful clearing for a minute or two as you cooled down from your workout. you even allowed yourself to pour a little of the water over the back of your neck. sighing as the cool liquid soaked into your shirt and cooled you off immediately.
it was then that you saw it. the slightest of flashes, something that you shouldn’t have been able to see with your sunglasses on.
your brows furrowed. you were high up on a mountain in the middle of the woods, and you know you saw something flash.
you lifted your sunglasses up to perch them on your head as you looked out towards that general direction, and that’s when you saw it again. a flash, followed by movement in the trees.
a… a camera? maybe? but there shouldn’t be anyone in the woods.
“miss yn! miss yn! come here! we found a cool bug!”
“i’m coming!” you shouted back to your camper who was begging for your attention, slowly rising to your feet as you continued to stare out into the woods, directly at where the flash came from.
you packed your bag and hurried from the ledge. maybe you needed to take some melatonin to really get a good night’s sleep tonight. you were seeing things,
—
the bonfire was a success. only two of the younger girls got marshmallow in their hair! that much was considered an absolute win.
you and your other counselors got your respective cabins to bed a little later that night, having allowed them to stay up by the fire until the temperature really started to dip. you and your friend were on the hook for putting the blaze out, as any good camp counselors should when practicing fire safety in the middle of the woods.
you, however, had come prepared with a hoodie over your tshirt and shorts. your friend, not so much. you sighed as you watched her shaking hands fumble with another water bottle, and you walked over to take it from her and shoo her off. “i can put it out. it’s small now,”
“but we’re not supposed to leave each other alone,” she whined right back to you, making you actually laugh.
“you know i can handle myself in the dark, babes. i’ll be fine. go, before you give yourself hypothermia.”
“i think i should stay-”
“go. i got this.” you chuckled and turned her by her shoulders, pushing her in the direction of the private staff bathrooms to go take a hot shower and warm back up.
she begrudgingly left you alone with the final tasks of putting out the fire, making sure the camp was clean, and then finally going off to bed. you used the rest of the water bottles on hand to put out the burning embers, kicking them with your beat up sneaker to make sure they would stop smoking. you wiped your hands on the front of your sweatshirt, and turned away from the fire to sit on one of the logs that was used as a bench to look up at the night sky.
you let out a sigh. it was pleasantly dark, the moon full overhead, stars glittering among the black ink of the night. these nights were what you loved as a kid coming to camp. you could never see the stars from home, but out here, they shone down on you almost as brightly as the sun.
you remembered izuku, from back then, how those wet green eyes glittered in the same light. you worried for him. you hoped he was okay.
a tree branch snapped off to your left, towards the woods where the camp ended and the tree line began.
you sat up straight before fumbling around in your hoodie pocket for your flashlight, getting to your feet. if it was a deer or a small critter, it would be better to shoo it off than have a young camper try to interact with it without knowing.
you took slow, methodical steps towards the tree line, listening for any other sounds from the woods other than the crunching of leaves and gravel under your own feet. you held your breath as you shined your flashlight through the leaves.
“hello?” you called into the trees, taking a few more steps forward, past the tree line and into the gaping maw of the woods. “if you’re a deer or a fox or something, just get away.”
you crunched the twigs and leaves a little harder under your feet to further scare the animal away, and then stood still. there was nothing, not even the sound of the breeze in the treetops could be heard. it was as if a blanket fell over the world and trapped you in it.
you let out a breath you didn’t know you had even been holding. the critter must have scampered away. you had barely even needed to walk into the woods for it to get scared off.
you turned and saw the light of your cabin between the trees and the leaves, but only for a split second before there was suddenly someone there.
you barely realized what your body was doing, but you thanked a god you weren’t sure you even believed in that your fight or flight kicked in. you were running as hard as your legs could pump, deeper into the forest which was frankly the wrong way but you had no choice. it felt like your ears were ringing as you felt bushes and bramble and twigs kick up around your legs and claw at your clothes.
you heard it – the looming figure, the stranger, the mystery man – you heard him trampling towards you, heavy footfalls in the dark of night as your lungs ached for breath. he was after you and you felt like you were going to pass out from the sudden spike of fear and adrenaline.
you almost pissed yourself when you tried to hop a fallen tree only to have it grab you by the ankle and send you crashing to the forest floor, face first, your nose bashing in against the hard dirt as you screamed.
you struggled, legs flailing and body heaving as you tried to get up, but then there was a hand on the back of your neck, large and rough and gloved, pressing your face to the floor.
you were trapped.
you screamed again, and the thing’s – no, the man’s – hand tightened around the back of your neck, his fingertips pressing against your windpipe, and you froze underneath him.
“finally…” you heard a voice murmur, and it felt like fire ants had started crawling down your spinal cord.
you knew that voice. you recognized it from your nightmares.
you said nothing as the man’s heavy hand stayed on your neck, and he shifted to press a knee into your back, permanently disabling you from moving. “finally…” he repeated himself, and your blood went cold when you heard the smile in his muffled voice, “i’ve got you. i’ve finally got you. it’s been such a long time since i’ve seen your pretty face in person, yn.”
“let me go, izuku,” you murmured right back to him, trying to lift and turn your head from the forest floor, not wanting to aggravate him more, “just let me go. this is a mistake, i can’t-”
“you denied me,” he spoke over you, gripping your neck tighter and making you wheeze and your eyes roll back, “all those years ago. do you remember? remember how i held your hand and confessed to you? i was just a loser back then. i didn’t think you thought that of me, but i was wrong.”
you opened your mouth to reply, but he leaned more of his weight into the knee shoving you down into the ground, and instead you wheezed.
“you told me no. that you just wanted to be friends… girls who only want friends don’t go kissing other guys behind the cabins. they don’t do that. why did you do that to me? i loved you, it wasn’t fair.”
“izuku…” you wheezed out, and finally he seemed to let up, letting go of your neck and shifting off of your back to forcibly grip your shoulders and spin you so that your back was in the mud instead. it was at this moment that you tasted the familiar tang of blood; your nose had started bleeding from the impact.
you were finally met with the green eyes of your attacker, familiar and dark and crazed, barely visible in the bright moonlight and from underneath the dirty hockey mask he wore to make an attempt at concealing his identity. clearly, he knew that you recognized him, so he straightened where he was straddling your midsection to push the mask up onto his head.
he was older, and he was bigger. the scrawny kid you knew at camp as kids turned into a massive giant of a man, rippling muscle under a tattered t-shirt and faded ripped jeans that barely held together around his thighs. his freckles seemed more abundant, as did some scars on his face that you couldn’t explain.
he studied your bleeding face in the pale moonlight, and, ever the crier, teared up at your pain and at seeing you up close for the first time in years.
he reached a hand down to swipe at the blood dripping onto your lips with a gloved thumb. “why did you say no? why didn’t you love me back? why did you make me do this to you? you’re bleeding, i didn’t mean to make you trip…”
“how did you find me?” you jerked your head away from his grip, trying to get a hold on the situation you found yourself in. “i don’t understand, why are- what did-”
“it was easy to find you.” he muttered, shaking his head and gripping your chin to keep you still. “you kept coming back to camp. your pictures are all over the camp website. every year you’d come back for sleepaway, and then you kept coming back as a counselor. it was simple. you should have expected me, i loved this camp as a kid before you broke my heart.”
he was rambling, his fingers curling into the soft, stained apples of your cheeks as he held your face up towards the night sky to make sure you were listening to him.
your chest heaved. you felt like your body was caving in on itself. he had always been there, always in the shadows. those eyes, those camera flickers… you weren’t delusional. but you were too late with that realization.
“izuku,” you coughed a little, starting to really feel suffocated by the post nasal drip of your blood in your throat from the fall, “please, i’m sorry. let me go, please don’t-“
“i’m not gonna hurt you,” he cut you off, shaking his head once again as he let go of your chin to slide his bloodied hand down your front.
your blood ran cold. “izuku, no-“
“please,” he begged you, pathetically, shifting back off of your midsection and down lower, lower, straddling your upper thighs. his hands, dirty and bloody, hovered over your chest, ghosting down your form with a wet, lovesick smile on his face. “just once, please, i-… i just need to…”
you didn’t get a chance to protest, or even think about it, because izuku was making the decision for you.
he leaned down and mashed his lips to yours. you couldn’t breathe. your hands scrambled to shove at his shoulders, your lips squeezed shut, but his own dry, cracked ones worked you open. his thick, corded biceps didn’t budge from where they caged you in, one hand on either side of your head now.
you kicked and squirmed and izuku didn’t move. he kissed you and you didn’t kiss back. he laved his tongue over your bloodied lips, slurping up the tainted re liquid as if it were wine instead.
“you taste divine…” he purred against you, a hand moving along your side before starting to tug at your waistband.
you gave one last attempt at trying to struggle, at trying to punch at his face or shove him away, but he was massive, looming over you and grabbing your flailing hands in one of his own to pin them above your head.
“stop resisting, you’ve left me no choice!” he practically whined at you as he pinned you to the muddy floor, and you felt the involuntary reaction of your body heating up spread through your cheeks like wildfire. “i have to have you…” he murmured, licking his lips clean of your blood, and you felt your head start to swim.
“no, please…” you shook your head, the throbbing in your face from the fall finally registering, “please don’t, izuku…”
“shh, you’ll like it. i can already tell.” he smiled at you, wet and soggy, before leaning back down to start kissing along your neck and jaw. his hand slid underneath your shirt, a warm, broad palm pressing into your side before sliding up to cup your breast.
“no bra… amazing…” he muttered into your collarbone, toying with your nipple as you whimpered and squirmed underneath him.
you didn’t want this, you wanted to run – you had no choice but to allow him to sit up again and remove your pants and underwear in one rough go, yelping out when you heard the thin fabric of your panties tear in his grip despite your pants. he pushed your knees apart and groaned, staring at your glistening folds in the moonlight. “you’re so wet. see? i knew you loved me, depe down.”
you knew better than to argue with a brick wall.
you felt one hand ghost over your folds, making you twitch and jerk; his other hand moved to shove your shirt up to reveal your tits to the cold night air, making you shiver.
izuku was practically purring, sliding two fingers between your sopping folds as he groped your breast. “look at you. so much more pliant. i didn’t want to hurt you, see? i just wanted to show you how much i loved you, i promise.”
you opened your mouth to rebut, but all that poured out were a string of curses and whimpers as he pushed one thick digit into your twitching hole, the rough pad of his thumb drawing tight circles over your puffy clit.
you shouldn’t be feeling so good. you shouldn’t be whimpering in the dirt under him, squirming and digging your nails into the mud while you tasted your own blood on your lips. and yet, you were, keening under his touch as he pumped one, no, two fingers in and out of you, wet squelching starting to echo through the trees.
his lips were on your neck again, sucking bruise after bruise into your skin as he guided a third finger in, making you cry out from the stretch. he laughed against your ear, “enjoying yourself now? i could’ve given this to you so long ago, but you kept running. not anymore.”
a chill ran up your spine, but the fear ebbed away into pleasure as he found that spongy spot inside of your tight walls that had your eyes rolling back into your head and your arms flying to wrap around him.
he groaned, his teeth sinking into your neck as you started to crumble. you felt the coil in your stomach burn red hot, faster than you yourself could do, and your body jerked in his grasp as your high came crashing down onto you. you felt your fluids gush into the palm of his hand and splash onto the dirt floor underneath you, and you swore you could hear izuku moaning in tandem with you against your skin, as if he was getting just as much pleasure from it as you were.
he fingered you through your high before pulling his fingers out and licking them clean with a moan. you shook, eyes wide and teary, thinking he would be done – unwise of you, you came to realize, as he sat back on his heels and shoved his dirty jeans down just enough to let his heavy cock flop out, dripping with pre, so hefty it couldn’t stand on its own. you started to shake your head through the fog of your orgasm, heels digging into the dirt. “no, no, it won’t-”
“stop,” he growled, grabbing your ankle and yanking you back towards him, making you cry out in fear, “stay still. it’s gonna fit. you just need to relax, okay? can you relax?”
you were panicking again, shaking under him as he looped your twitching legs around his waist and tapped his cock against your wet pussy. you throbbed and shifted underneath him, whimpering at how the head of his cock bumped against your clit with each swipe. he was smiling again, lovesick and puppylike as he watched his cock get soaked in your juices.
“finally…” he hummed, revering the way the fear in your eyes turned to straight panic as the tip of his cock dipped into your hole, “finally i can fill you up.”
izuku sunk himself home, and you screamed. the sting was harsh, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as the feeling of being filled in just the right way.
izuku groaned and immediately flopped over you, sinking himself as deep as he could go, lifting your legs up onto the crooks of his arms, bending you in half as he nuzzled against your shoulder. “you feel just like i imagined, so tight… i know you’re not a virgin, but you feel like one.”
you bit down on your lip, feeling yourself involuntarily clench at his words. he gasped a little, and then you felt his smile against your skin. “i’ll move now, okay? you’re gonna feel so good.”
you barely had a breath in your lungs before he was drawing his hips back and slamming himself home. you screamed into the forest, unheard by the camp, as izuku ruthlessly fucked into you. jackrabbiting and needy, he fucked you like an animal in heat, and you were getting off on it.
the angle he had you contorted in was perfect, hitting the right spots and feeling the drag of his cockhead against your walls had your head spinning. you latched onto him, unable to find purchase in the forest floor, and he welcomed your embrace by caging you under him further.
his balls smacked heavily against your ass as he pounded you, your eyes rolling back hard into the sockets as you felt the coil in your stomach start to heat up. you were babbling, clawing at his back, digging your nails in and twitching so violently.
izuku was moaning into your shoulder, drooling against your skin, laving his tongue along your collar bone. “fuck, fuck, please, cum for me, cum on my cock, gonna fill you up so good, please-”
listening to his moans against your ear rattled your brain and make you see white. you cried out loudly into the night air, your body pulling taut as a bowstring before you let go, feeling yourself cum all over his cock, that creamy ring of white forming almost immediately.
you felt like you were floating, but only for mere seconds. you felt his cock jump in your sopping hole, and then you were being filled to the brim with his seed, and you felt his teeth sink into your flesh.
this time, you screamed in true pain.
he gnashed his teeth into your shoulder as he came inside you, breaking the skin and letting his mouth fill. you panted, feeling hazy and too warm, dizzy and flighty…
he lifted his head from your shoulder and swallowed the fresh blood, smiling as it dripped down his chin and landed on your lips. “that was… everything. let’s get you home.”
you felt your body be lifted soon enough, and you saw the lights of your cabin in the far distance flicker out.
#dark content#izuku midoriya x reader#midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#deku x reader#mha x reader#my hero academia x reader#bnha x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#izuku.txt#tw noncon#tw dubcon#tw violence#tw blood#noncon.txt#dubcon.txt#dark.txt#tw dark content#ask to tag.txt#KINKTOBER.EXE#VIRUS.EXE
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just once...
Raining out today, and I’m waiting for parts. And I’m in the mood to write... so be it.
With a last name like mine, I promise you, I have experienced just a touch of bigotry many times in my life time. No I’m not native, and no nothing I have experienced is like living with racism EVERY SINGLE DAY.
But I have had a taste of it. The first few times, confused me, as I was younger and didn’t know about such things. Every time it was in reference to my last name.... with a promised “well you don’t look .....” to follow.
Truly from what I’ve witnessed there are different levels of bigotry. Pure hatred to simple distrust and ignorance.
Early grade school (Pershing), some folks moved in next to us, that had adopted Japanese kids. Being a kid, that meant nothing to me, they were just my friends.
Later in Jr. Hi, my best buddy was Hispanic/Native. I still saw nothing different, until an event.
Marcial and I had witness a car accident, that was drawing a crowd. So being curious, we wondered up to the site. There on the curb was another kid our age full of hormones trying to prove his manhood “we don’t need any of your kind here....”
His comment spooked me, but I didn’t know why. Marcial got stone cold quiet, and we just walked away. Here I had just witnessed my first bigoted remark, and didn’t know it. And my friend knew exactly what had happened. We didn’t speak of it, probably because I didn’t know.
In hi school trying to prove to my peers I was as tough as they, I made a horrible off handed racist comment to no one in particular in the locker room. I didn’t even know what it meant, .... and a black friend walked around the corner, and heard the whole thing. We were never the same after that, and it is still to this day one of my most embarrassed moments of my life.... even though I was only 15. I remember it vividly.
I know the verbiage.. “words don’t hurt no one” ... and I couldn’t disagree more. Words are words, but its human nature to for us to push the envelope, every step of the way. When words become common, they lack less and less the definition by commonality. Even though in reality, its definition is still there, even with all the smoke and mirrors. With the envelope pushing, it just never looses its impact.
“Fuck” back when I first heard this word, was brutal, and ruthless. Never ever said in polite company. Now its common. Pretty much everyone uses it..... its become part of English language world wide. Has the word lost any of its definition/punch of use? No... perfect example in my itty bitty head. I’m not slamming the word fuck by any means.... my foul mouth it flows frequently. But here its an example of “words”.
I attended UNL for 1 semester fall of 1971.... Being a very thin, docile, and small statured, I was hit upon a few times by early confused Homosexuals. This was all new to me, and had no idea what was going on until much later. No, there were no contact sports. Nothing but inferred comments, all which went over my head, as I didn’t know what “gay” was. If someone were to have told me, I’d probably had nightmares...
Once I realized this portion of experience was about, it drove me to prove to the world I’m far from gay. Heavy mustache, big dogs, wrench on cars, guns, motorcycles.... all the macho stuff.... talk about stereotyping. Still enjoy all of that stuff.
Point being, I was bigoted possibly as gay, and as Native up to this point in my life. All before the main portion of my adult life.
To be honest.... in this portion of my life, I’ll be the first to admit, I was a sexist of sorts. Practiced with no conscience. I do not condone such behavior to this day, but it still a struggle at times for myself. And unfortunately from my Mom... I resist commenting about people who are over weight (yeah I’m fat too).
At Lincoln Hoot and Hollar, is where I experienced real world bigotry, with a full on understanding.
It was horrible at times, but a huge learning curve on growing up, and excepting “people for what they are”.
My family for the times definitely was my learning curve. As they say, kids don’t know bigotry naturally, they are taught it. I think this is very true, but with a noted exception (some people are just evil naturally).
What was acceptable back then will not work today. My Pop had a hard time in his later years.... almost comical and I couldn’t believe what he’d say, without any qualms or quilt. Back in his day he was considered a big supporter of equal rights. Todays standard he couldn’t meet the mark.
WWW... came into my life, including X world. I went social way before facebook or any of the others popular sites now.
I picked up on new friends comments (who had never met me face to face, or even a phone call)... that they thought I was really Native. Hints of “that Indian guy in Nebraska...”
Historically, us stupid White Americans have shown no mercy to “others”. When the Olympics were in Australia.... accolades were showered to the Australians for their recognizing Aboriginals, and giving them rights after “hundreds of years” belittlement. Americans proudly awarding Australians for their work with the races??????
WHAT? REALLY? ... SMFH!!!
A large portion of the world treats “others” just horribly. The examples are endless. Holocaust was a nightmare of the worst kind. But it still continues to this day, in modern times, with no reporting in main stream news (that's old news, it doesn’t sell papers). As if nothing ever happens. Genocide is real, and living in the back yard.
America’s pride of history with races is nothing but a sham. Our true history is never taught. And now Critical Race theory is up for conversation? What? Why, is it even questioned. Is anyone interested is fixing real problem?
My own kids didn't even know American past race history.... until I told them of the examples. Rosewood, Greenwood, Indian White schools, Japanese internment camps, Sikhs, Palestinians, Muslims, Islam's, White Clay, Pine Ridge. etc etc etc....
An astonishing story happened to me a few years back.
In casual conversation one day my nephew Devin mentioned, he had an employee at LPS that worked for him.
This employee found out Devin was related to some Whitefoots. This guy went on to tell Devin a wild story from over 50 years ago dealing with a Whitefoot. In translation I was rubbing my head, as I couldn’t comprehend this crazy story. And honestly, typically I thought initially it had to do with my Pop and the Patrol. Not me.
My scout troop.. (1965ish?) took a trip to the Ozarks. We invited another troop to join us. This other troop had a large black membership ... not an issue, but pertinent to the story.
On the bus on the way down to the Ozarks I apparently befriended one of the scouts from the other troop and didn’t even realize it. Hell I don’t remember this actually. 50 years is a long time ago, and I was maybe 13? I remember the trip, but an isolated incident of this sort is mind blowing.
Back in 2018, my Hunny and I were invited to a wedding. The bride just so turned out to be this very same guys daughter.
But there he was, and he remembered it all. And made a point to tell me the complete story. And me the first 30 seconds or so questioning my mental state, confused, with “who is this guy”... but he knew Devin. Then is all came together remembering the story Devin had told me..
He was on this bus with his troop and a bunch of silly white kids. I’d guess feeling a bit out of place. And I was the only one that would talk to him. And me being a nerd proceeded to try and teach him a couple of “knots”.... He never forgot this very tiny piece of time in his life time.
Please understand, I was walking into another realm, blindly. The wedding was a celebration of life, but this was astounding and overwhelming at the same time.
Paul Lecher is his name. Went to Northeast a few years after me. Went onto UNL, and was a “walk on” for the Cornhusker’s football team.
And here at a his daughters wedding, was proudly telling me this story from another century.
This story really doesn’t have anything to do with the theme of this blog, other than the fact that I mention he is black (this could be misconstrued). But I do feel it relates to the theme on an entertainment level, from the opionion of an old guy.
JUST WOW....
I truly haven’t kept in touch with Paul since our reacquaintance other than a text or 2. . No excuse other than Life in general. And this story is one of my favorite hi lights of my life.
Some where in the back of my cavernous empty skull, I remember something about a phone call I got a couple of years after the Ozarks trip. I hung up on the caller, as I didn’t recognize the name as introduced. Was this Paul trying to reconnect? Caller ID wasn’t a thing then, so no way to figure out who had called. I just knew caller was young like me. I feel bad about this memory, but then why should I.... so young and blind to reality.
Another one of those things an Adult just bears with another ding in his life.
As an elder adult, it still amazes me bigotry, among the wealthy, educated, upper shelf life style folks in our world today. A friend of mine for years of pretty fair stature here in Waverlyville, was making blanket comments during Desert Storm. I really don’t have qualms with bigots, but this one changed my opinion of him for many years later.
We as stupid white Americans have treated everyone .......... in the worlds swimming pool, its just embarrassing.
Yeah I know, its obvious, I’m not really too proud of America’s race history.. But seemingly its getting worse, at best the same of 100 years ago.
As an elder adult now. I suppose I just have to except human nature. I’ll still make my futile stands time to time in conversation. My hopes that future brings us together will not happen in my life time. But maybe in my grandkids??
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133
Saturday and I’m walking through Bloomsbury, scratching at the hair growing back from getting waxed, checking nobody has this in their sight line, and bewitched for the millionth time by my own city. There are streets I still haven’t walked down before, dozens of buildings new to me but old to the eyes of time. Thank god, in a way, for the strict rules dictating what one can do to an old structure in London. When the rules are imposed on the interior of your home, it’s a nightmare. But in return you get to walk from postcode to postcode knowing it hasn’t really changed since the 1800s. Perhaps a woman back then took the same route on the way to get hammered by a mechanical dildo to relieve her hysteria. Subtract the promises that an establishment takes Apple Pay and the strip lighting, and you really never know. I have been at home all day by the time I take this walk at night, watching heinous videos about Hamas and migrant detention centres on the US border and addiction to “tranq” and developing a headache. C is running late to visit, citing a “bike oil / white fleece jacket emergency”. In the end I pick him up from Hackney Road, and we drive to the petrol station and he teaches me, as promised, how to put air in my car tires. I film every step of the process closely so I don’t forget a detail, and wonder whether it looks to a passerby like we are content creators for a niche car-based TikTok account. Little do they know I’m just a nervous young lady tormented by car ownership. V will later proclaim that C is my dad. “He teaches you everything a dad should, and he wants to fuck your mother”, she explains
C and I sit at my dining table and smoke as it gets dark, I open my blinds to let in the remainder of the daylight, we see a parakeet in a tree, several people walk past and peer in. They are watching us watch a video that british chef Jamie Oliver made in his early years, where he cooks along to a song he recorded instructing the listened on making lamb curry. The best and worst pet is that he sings in a Jamaican accent. I always forget how on-display you are on my terrace, either to ambitious future homeowners or crack addicts lightly casing the joint. I realise when I finally close the blinds after C leaves that someone saw me attempt to take 11 selfies holding the flowers A sent because he was “feeling romantic”. I don’t know what is more embarrassing - being flooded with gifts with no occasion to warrant them and that I feel at my core I don’t deserve…or being caught learning to take tasteful yet grateful yet sexy photos of myself near said gifts. I’m also keenly aware that I don’t have A’s LA address and so can’t return the favour. C assures me it’s not a competition and that this is sometimes what men do for women
So I walk in aforementioned bewitched state through architectural heaven to dinner with V and A (different A). Important rule to break: if you don’t go to the studio, you are still allowed to go out and have fun the same evening. Perhaps breaking it is what feels so good, and not the architecture. Still. E is at the table when I arrive but swiftly leaves to hang out with someone V and I find annoying. I tell the table how stressed out I am by L and her toxic brand of friendship. We had agreed to deliver the painting I owed her in return for the music video she made me, to her home at 3pm today. I want nothing less than to be in touch with her again, but it felt important to make good on the trade so that she can’t accuse me of owing her anything down the line. R at the gallery texts to say that there was nobody at the house when the painting arrived. L is uncontactable for two hours subsequently, then swamps our iMessage thread with a mix of fake apology and somehow blaming me for not adequately responding to an earlier text, or misunderstanding her needs. Short of copy and pasting the receipts here (which I will eventually when I’m in a less discreet mood, and in their entirety from 2021-present) I am struggling to explain just how twisted it all becomes. I skim most of the texts for the buzzwords I’m used to from her. Words that are heavy duty and yet mean nothing when used this way
By the time we eat, and A is explaining to V how Morpheus8 treatments could protect her neck from sagging in the next ten years, I have forgotten my troubles. Debating a facelift isn’t an issue for me for at least two decades, and the food is good, and the restaurant music is weird. A invites me to stay with her at the chateau in LA if my romantic situation goes tits up at the end of February. I have rarely tested this theory, but I think A might be a very good person to flee to should the worst happen. She knows suffering. She has had covid 9 times. I pay, and we are kicked off our table so another party can be seated. V and I walk to the bus stop and regret this transport choice when two loud European men vape and grunt and make other disgusting and mildly sexual bodily noises two rows behind us. “Next time a black cab”, V says
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good girl (m.)
You’re such a good wife to Naoya that he rewards you for your obedience.
request. naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man’s gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj)
cw. explicit smut, riding, dirty talk WITH praising bcos why not, dom! husband naoya, sexism, overstimulation, creampie, lots of kissing, titty sucking, you might end up liking naoya and that’s a warning
note. LISTEN. this is purely self indulgent even if this is a request. my bestie requested this to me anyway so ik she won’t mind i pictured myself as the reader :) so if you don’t like how the reader and naoya was portrayed, that’s a you problem :) EDITED BECAUSE IT’S NAOYA YAY, also got inspired by @caizen ‘s ask about naoya wanting his wife to not bow too deep because he wants to see her face :)
[part of the trophy wife collection]
Being Naoya Zen’in’s trophy wife required a lot of things. You had to be immaculate, précised, refined and full of dignity in everything you did. He already did the work all by himself just to keep the house running, his hard work the only reason you were able to live such a comfortable, luxurious life. On top of that, you had an extremely powerful man trusting you to welcome him every night, and who were you to not fulfill your duty as his wife well?
The moment the black limousine parked on the driveway, the guards lined on duty opening the doors of him and the rest of the house staff greeting him, you were already in front of everyone.
Keep your head down, but don’t look too hard at your feet. Naoya-sama wants to see your face – his lovely wife’s face – upon his arrival.
He would never say it out loud, but five years and counting of marriage with him meant you knew him better than anyone. Through his confident and arrogant self, Naoya worried about a lot of things, you included. There were times he’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare in which he lost you, his arms scrambling to find your body to press it against his for reassurance. You were there, you would always be there, but the confirmation never hurt.
You bowed down to him, skin cleared, cheeks flushed, and lips glossy – all telltales of a happy, nurtured wife who was well taken care of – present before him. And you were beautiful too; the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.
“Welcome home, Naoya-sama.”
Naoya’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you dressed in your yukata, hair done perfectly and hands clasped politely in your lap. He tried not to let it show too much though, even though his staff had watched him grow up, he needed to keep his pride as the clan leader. Not even his precious wife could make him tear down his walls in public, though you did not need to worry about his brash attitude, following him inside three steps behind as he’d instructed.
He loosened his tie and dismissed the other servants, locking the door of your shared room. “Is my tea prepared?”
“Yes, Naoya-sama, mixed with jasmine just as you like.”
Naoya’s hands stilled on his tie. His gaze fluttered over yours, eyes still ducked down to the floor with a small smile playing on your lips, one that said welcome home in more ways than one.
The sight of you – so compliant and meek as ever – stirred something deep within his heart. His whole life, he believed women were useless, creatures that were below him. Until now, he held firm in that, but fuck, you were always so open and willing to do everything he asked that he could feel himself hardening in his pants. Women may be useless, but once they followed his orders and praised him so heavenly the way you did?
He fucking loved it.
Naoya’s tie went flying the other room, his cock swelling in his pants as he tugged you by your wrist. You landed on the mattress behind you, watching with a heaving chest as your husband crawled above you. His gaze felt predatory, dark eyes hooded with lust while he planted his knees beside your waist, his fingers looped with yours.
You smiled sweetly up at him, so temptingly sweet his resolve broke for a split second. He captured your lips to taste you on him, the sounds of your husband’s satisfied hum making your chest puff out with pride.
Everyone may look down on you for marrying such a ‘horrible’ man like him, calling you stupid and immoral, even going as far as claiming you were nothing but a dumb cock-hungry slut, but Naoya – even you – knew better. You were not foolish; in fact, no one could handle Naoya’s attitude better than you did, and you were smart enough to keep buying that strawberry flavored lip balm he loved so much, causing your husband to squeeze your palms.
“Good girl,” he mumbled absentmindedly, the praises shooting heat flush to your core. “You’re so good for me, you know that?” he peppered kisses all over your skin, a gesture so rare that you were panting underneath him, resisting the urge to rub your legs together.
Naoya was extremely skillful in bed, his virility as a man not to be looked down on for his ability to render you immobile to walk, throat sore and voiceless for a few days truly impressive. But he was different today; his usual tight grip the same but laced with a want that went beyond than lust. You could never say it out loud, especially not around him, but it was clear – Naoya treated you with affection and care.
“I’m very lucky to have found such a submissive woman like you, but that’s not true is it? Women like you aren’t found, you’re trained,” he harshly tugged the first layers of your yukata to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of your collarbone that was free for him to mark. “Have I trained you well, my wife?”
“Yes, Naoya-sama, trained me so good,” you rasped out, bringing your legs forward, only for it to bump against the sides of his waist.
Naoya sucked on your skin until he was sure he’d completely marked his territory, the grazing sensation of his teeth so erotic and passionate along with his clothed cock rubbing into your folds. His hand trailed down your waist, yanking the ties of your clothes apart. You gasped as he teasingly rubbed your clit, even going as far as to roll it between his strong fingers. “For you, ah, I’d do anything for you, Naoya-sama.”
“It’s my love when we’re in the sheets,” he corrected you, “When a woman knows her place and obeys me so well, a good girl like you deserves to be rewarded,” hearing your small whines at his words, Naoya chuckled at your skin. “Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?”
“Yes, p-please, I need you,” you moaned wantonly, gathering the courage to lift your hips up and grind it against his erection. He surprised you by not pushing you away, so you kept going, slathering your wetness all over the front of his pants. “Fuck me, my love, please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Naoya smirked, standing up to rid himself of his pants and belt. You whined at the loss of contact and sat up on your elbows, legs spread wide open as you feasted on the delectable way he discarded his clothing one by one. His fat cock, red and flushed with pre-cum, slapped against his toned upper body.
You would’ve groaned at his bare beauty, but he’d already crawled on top of you once more, completely ridding you of the multiple layers of modest clothing you wore, revealing a redolent set of white lace.
Naoya narrowed his eyes at the nearly transparent thong, his hands cupping your seeping cunt with a low hum. “Is this for me? Did my pretty baby get dressed up for me?” you nodded eagerly, pathetically reaching upwards to wrap your arms around him. You were growing needy, soft yet desperate as your stuttered gasps hovered on his ear. “Were you thinking of me the whole time I was away for work?”
“I always think of you, my love,” you breathed out, “Your smile, your voice, your lips, your hands,” legs twitching, you dared run your knee to brush his forearm, the teasing and confident movement earning you a seductive, warning glare from your dominant husband. But oh – you were just starting to have your fun. “Your cock inside me.”
“Naughty little girl,” he snickered, grabbing your hand and shoving it deep inside your panties. That evoked a high-pitched moan from you as your nails grazed against your shaved pussy, Naoya’s smirk present the harder he pressed your palm on yourself. “Did you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself like this?” He was testing you, reminding you of his power and authority, trying to see if you would break his rules that he’d been so firm into fucking deep into your skull.
Naughty as you might be sometimes, you never forgot your place. You were daring, but never in your wildest dreams would you dare go against him. Not because you were plain weak and submissive, but simply because the thought of pleasing him more and feeding his ego was far more satisfying.
You shook your head, pitiable tears already shining through. “N-no, I would never. Only you can make me feel good, just you, mmh.”
Naoya groaned deep in his throat, satisfied at your answer. “You’re always so sweet for me,” he says, leaning over to knee your legs open wider. He situated himself between your body, slow and sensual in removing your bra and panties, the lacy material disappearing somewhere on the black marbled floors. You laid there, vulnerable and wanting, clutching at his biceps as he grinded his cock on your puffy folds. “Have I ever told you’re the perfect little wife? So fucking needy for me always, fuck. This pussy was made for me.”
“This pussy is yours,” you acquiesced, breathing hard when Naoya pulled away to peer at your body. He liked his wife to be healthy, strong and ready to carry his child whenever he wanted, and his hands squeezed your hips appreciatively.
“I exist purely to serve you, my love,” you vowed, “I have no other purpose than to make you feel good and love you. You’re my everything, the world and more.”
He’d looked at you with lust before, the desire pooling in his eyes always making you feel wanted, but this was different. Naoya would never let those cursed three words fall from his mouth, but it shone clearly in his eyes anyway. He gazed at your curves and dips so lovingly that your arousal peaked, slick coating his cock from where he was slowly teasing your cunt with his tip.
Unable to hold back any longer, Naoya flipped you over. Your breath knocked out from your chest at the sudden movement, his hands tugging at your wrist to pull you close to him. He leant back on the bed, kissing you feverishly all the while keeping you shaking on his thigh. Due to your wetness gushing, you slid down his muscular thigh, and you moaned at the contact. “As I should be,” Naoya nibbled at your lips, his harsh words contrasting the tenderness of his hold on you. “You’re nothing to me if you can’t even do something as simple as that.”
You nodded with no hesitation, fully accepting that you were purely his now – and you would honestly not have it otherwise.
Naoya helped you lift your hips up, shushing you with a slap on your ass when you stared at him nervously.
Every time Naoya fucked you, he was direct and simple. He preferred to have you on all fours where he could focus on his own pleasure, or sometimes he would rather cum upon seeing your fucked-out face, the image of your tongue lolled out while he fucked you on oblivion enough to make him nut right away.
But now he was guiding your arms around his neck, kissing the sides of your lips as if to answer your silent questions. “Sit on my cock, baby, I’ll reward you for your obedience tonight,” he said, his cock twitching as he directed your entrance right above his cock. Naoya slid you down, allowing you to feel inch by inch, thick vein upon one another – sliding inside you and stretching you out so good. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead on his, teeth locked on your bottom lip as he bottomed out.
Fuck, you’d never felt so full.
However, Naoya wasn’t pleased. He clenched his jaw and tapped your bottom lip, scolding you with his mean glare. “Don’t hold back when you scream my name, you understand? Cherish this moment – I won’t always care about your pleasure. You should thank me for this.”
“I-I will!”
Torturous. That was how you would describe it. You had never been this close to him before; not in this position and angle. Each lift of your hips caused your hardened nipples to brush over his muscular chest, his attention sorely focused on the way you bounced on his cock.
Something about holding him this close felt so intimate, breaths tangled and moans shared, along with the pleasure delivered into your bodies with the way you were rolling your hips along his length.
“Still so fucking tight for me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I love this pussy so much, fuck, you’re mine. Just mine, all mine,” Naoya eventually lost it, hooking his arms under your armpits and feet flat on the bed. You kept screaming his name like a prayer, the worship falling from your lips like a broken record driving him to fuck into you faster. He’d had enough of your pace; he’d been good enough that now it was his turn to fuck you, and you were glad he did because his fast, brutal pace was so mind-numbing.
Naoya hitched you up higher until your chin rested above his hair, your breasts right at his mouth. He sucked and bit at the soft flesh angrily, grip so tight on your hips you were hissing from the pain. At the same time, it felt so fucking good unlike everything you’ve ever felt.
“My perfect fucking wife—a quiet, compliant wife is worth more than gold, baby. You’re my fucking treasure.”
Naoya thrusted hard and deep until the bed was creaking, mattress dipped from both your weight. The room felt so foggy with your lovemaking and you tightened around him, crying as he kept hitting that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “I’m c-coming!” you whined helplessly, hugging your husband deep to your chest while your fingers tugging at his hair. “Naoya, please!”
“Then come for me,” he nibbled at your ear, delivering another hard slap at your ass. “I’m allowing you to. Come. Make a mess around me.”
“Oh my gosh, ugh, fuck,” you came around him hard, your orgasm making you shake. He still wasn’t done, but his breathless murmurs of close, I’m so close had you holding him tighter, whispering dirty words in his ear to assist your husband into reaching his high. The oversensitivity of him plowing into you even after you came was too much, but you took it all like the good wife you were. Biting the protests down at your tongue, you rode him to meet his hips thrust by thrust, his balls snapping at your ass. “Mmmh, I love you, I love you. I-I love you.”
“As you should, baby. You’re supposed to love me,” Naoya devoured your mindless babbling by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his hips stilling inside for a moment. Fingers clutching desperately to him, you shut your eyes tight, cunt dripping as Naoya spilled his seed deep inside you.
You kissed him one last time in refusal to let go, but Naoya wasn’t having any of it. He was very iffy every after sex that you had no choice but to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled out.
He stumbled into the bathroom afterwards while you laid there on the soiled sheets, weakly fisting the pillow beneath you. You were so fucked out, tired after a long day of managing everything he wanted you to take care of. To be fucked good by your husband…there was truly no better way of life.
Just as you were drifting off, you felt something damp sliding over your inner thighs. You blinked sleepily at a silent Naoya, sending him a small smile as he wiped both your cum away. He left the towel inside the bathroom before he came back, sliding his white shirt over your frame and tugging a fresh pair of his boxers to your legs. Aftercare with Naoya…while it wasn’t impossible, it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Your heart kept fluttering inside your chest, that feeling blooming harder when he slid under the sheets beside you, his strong arms pulling you taut in his chest.
His skin remained mark free. You knew Naoya hated being marked; reminding you all the time he wanted to be flawless. You respected that and pressed a deep kiss on the spot above his heart instead, madly and hopelessly in love as you traced circles on his bare chest.
You could stay like this forever, in the warmth and safety of your husband’s arms, but you still had wifely duties to fulfill. Naoya had already done his, prompting you to lean up to trace kisses at his sharp jaw, sweet and docile as ever as you asked, “Naoya…how was work today?”
“Same as usual.”
That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, so you didn’t pry further.
“You need to rest and regain your strength so you can work hard again tomorrow,” you mumbled sleepily, “I’ve already planned your meals for the next week. We’re going plant-based for a while, you need it.”
Naoya remained silent. You would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his hand caressing your back in a manner so gentle that seemed so alien with him, the strangeness of it all intensified when you looked up at his face, only to see that he had already been studying your features a long time before. There was an unsettled frown on his face, one that you tried to smoothen away with the pads of your fingertips. “What’s wrong, my love?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve already forgotten about all my worries. They don’t matter anymore,” he whispered, his voice way too soft. It fit the atmosphere, however, whatnot with the newfound intimacy that you basked in. Suddenly, Naoya cupped your cheek, utterly serious as he croaked out, “Baby.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you love me?”
You didn’t have to think twice about it. The answer would be – “Always and forever.”
However, Naoya wasn’t satisfied. He needed more, wanted to understand more, craved to find a logical reason behind your devotion to him.
“Why?” he demanded, “What is it about me you love so much?”
“Everything,” you confessed, the love so clear in your eyes that even for a small moment, Naoya felt like he understood now. “You’re perfect to me, Naoya. I’m glad you’re the one I’m spending my life with. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
“But why?”
“Because,” you giggled, “You’re handsome, you’re caring even if you don’t show it that much, you’re smart, ambitious, hardworking and the best husband I could ask for,” Naoya opened his lips, probably to ask a stupid why again, until you cut him off, silencing your odd husband with a kiss. Thankfully, Naoya gave in, relaxing at your touches. “Loving you is second nature to me. It’s not living if it’s not loving you.”
Although he didn’t – and would never say I love you – he had his own way of expressing it. He let you know that he shared the same stance at you, staring deep into your eyes while he cupped your cheek, surprisingly somber as he proudly said, “I made the right decision of marrying you.”
“I’m glad you don’t regret it.”
“I could never regret it,” he whispered back, but you had already fallen asleep. That night, you dreamt no more. There was no need to when everything you’ve ever wanted was already right there at your reach, and Naoya joined you long after, the faint linger of a loving kiss a husband only ever gave to his wife the last thing you felt before you faded off into dreamland.
#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin x reader smut#naoya zenin smut#naoya x reader#naoya x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#naoya zenin x reader romance#naoya zenin x reader fluff#naoya zenin romance#naoya zenin fluff#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines#jujutsu kaisen romance#naoya best husband 💕#naoya x reader fluff#naoya x reader romance#naoya trophy wife tingz#did i cry writing this the answer is no but i most definitely fell in love#i love him so much...#suki: faves#YEP im self absorbed so what#suki: 2.4k milestone event
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the world’s a little blurry | b.b.
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: none
word count: 2107
summary: bucky is home, and he is yours
note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol
enjoy! <3
it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.
living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.
second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.
third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.
it’s nice.
it feels safe.
and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.
bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.
this was the biggest adjustment of all.
he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.
“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”
no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.
but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.
that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.
it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.
and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.
the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.
things were getting better.
of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.
his girl.
as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.
bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.
“go back to sleep, doll.”
you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”
home.
had he ever had a home before?
he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.
he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.
you’re home.
bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”
you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”
he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”
something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.
“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”
“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”
“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”
sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”
he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”
with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”
he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”
“part of the gig.”
you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”
“got unfinished business first.”
you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”
these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.
“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”
“i know.”
the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”
“there’s dried drool on my face.”
“yeah, i know.”
it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”
“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.
“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.
you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.
i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.
when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”
“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”
delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”
he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”
a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”
“but i’m not done--”
“please. let me.”
you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.
“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”
bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.
you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”
the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”
bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfic#my writing#the world's a little blurry#eeeee i'm so excited to post thissssss
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Can i request a klaus mikaelson x reader where the reader is in hayleys place… a pregnant wolf but in the end klaus and her fall in love?
Okay lovie I got pretty carried away with this so it's kinda long... but thank you for the request! I hope you like it!
Clarification
Klaus Mikaelson x reader
*I didn't want to copy the show verbatim so I basically made this completely different from what happens to Hayley I hope that's okay!*
“Nik I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!”
“LIAR!” The pain in his voice has you recoiling. How had things gotten so fucked up?
“I swear, I love you! Please stop!” The hybrid’s furious gaze turns to your father who challenges him for what you all know is the last time.
“STOP IT! PLEASE!” Your father’s corpse drops unceremoniously to the ground within seconds. You can’t take your eyes off of the man that had raised you, tears slipping down your face.
“Remember this day Y/f/n Y/l/n. This is what happens when you betray the original hybrid.”
Three years ago, to the day Klaus Mikaelson had slaughtered every remaining blood relative of your pack right before your eyes, leaving you the sole survivor of his man-made massacre.
Standing at the entrance to the compound you hoped today would go smoother than that day had all those years ago.
Klaus didn’t speak after you’d said your piece. Letting the shared history between the two of you cloud his judgement he’s on you in a second. His hand is wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the wall before you even have the chance to react. Instantly your own hands fly to his wrists pulling harshly to try and free yourself and continue the conversation without conflict.
Klaus doesn’t let up though. His grip gets tighter with each passing second. As his eyes begin to glow, the veins beneath them appear in a show of dominance.
Problem was, you were never one to back down from a challenge.
Growling lowly, you refuse to submit to the hybrid before you. With all rational thoughts out the window you sink your teeth into the arm of the man holding you. His unrelenting choke hold falters offering you your only chance to slip free. You push past him and take shelter behind his oldest living brother.
“Please do tell, what exactly is going on here?” Ever the noble gentleman, Elijah tries to diffuse the rather abrupt display of aggression.
“I’m pregnant.” The words fall past your lips without warning. Elijah didn’t know who you were, none of the Mikaelson’s did except for Klaus.
“Pardon?” Turning towards you, you can already see the look of disbelief color his features.
“She’s a liar! I’LL KILL HER!” The threat did little to scare you off. If he had really wanted you dead, he would have killed you three years ago when he had the chance.
“I’m not lying and we both fucking know it!” Lunging at you Klaus tries to maneuver around Elijah only to be stopped with a hand to his chest.
“I think that’s quite enough. What is your name?” He addresses the hybrid, then you.
“Y/n.”
“I find it hard to believe a woman I’ve never met harbors the child of my brother.” You chuckle humorlessly then.
“I do know him, have for years. He just doesn’t want you to know that.” Admittedly you had wounded more than Klaus’ pride when things had gone south between the two of you.
“Niklaus?” Elijah gives his younger brother a look that reads don’t fucking try lying to me. He doesn’t offer Elijah an explanation, opting instead to leave the room in a huff.
“I know this isn’t ideal, but I promise it’s his.”
“Very well, make yourself comfortable, we’ll find a witch in the morning.” You don’t ask him to elaborate, you knew they all needed proof, he needed proof. Without a word more you trudge up the stairs, Elijah following closely behind you. “If you’re lying about this, I’ll rip your heart out myself, you have my word.” hastily leaving the room you both had entered, he quietly shuts the door behind him.
There was nothing left to do now but wait.
Klaus Mikaelson should have been the last person you wanted to see. The remaining hatred you had for him should have been simmering but it wasn’t. You had never gotten a proper goodbye from the man that had stolen your heart. Your alcohol fogged mind told you there was no better time for a good bye than right now, and what better way to say it then to fall into the bed of the man you had once loved?
Klaus had eyed you suspiciously, his heart locked behind the walls he had built that fateful day.
You hadn’t even spoken, words had never been your winning feature. You had grabbed him by the collar pressing your lips to his.
It was heaven
He didn’t ask questions, choosing instead to lead you out of the bar hand in hand to the only safe place he knew.
His bed.
The months that had followed had been nothing short of chaotic. The witches of New Orleans had “officially” confirmed that you were in fact carrying the child of Klaus Mikaelson. He had taken the news rather poorly. Disappearing for weeks before finally surfacing at the compound again. Though he had returned, his icy demeanor towards you had stayed ever present. So, you kept as far away from him as you could. Until you didn’t.
You had been passing his study when the door had opened quickly causing you to stumble. You were sure your face was about to become very acquainted with the hardwood floor of the hall way when a pair of strong arms hand wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to grip his wrist desperately, one hand flying to your barely showing baby bump.
“Your alright, I’ve got you.” His sentence was clipped, but that had been the most he had said to you since you stepped foot in the compound all those weeks ago.
“Thank you.” You’re not sure what had possessed you to bury your face in his chest but the warmth and comfort was worth the ire you were about to face. You’re surprised to look up and see him peering at you through confused eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t- It won’t happen again.” You leave before he has the chance to yell.
After your bout of clumsiness Klaus had laid off his harsh temper with you. You were sure it had been Elijah’s doing, probably some speech about stress being bad for the baby, but you didn’t mind. The somewhat calm atmosphere had brightened your mood considerably and gave you the tiniest shred of hope that maybe this wouldn’t be such a nightmare.
“ELIJAH!!!” You had never seen a thousand-year-old vampire move so fast in your life.
“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” His panic laced tone has a sheepish smile spreading on your face before you feel the tiny flutter again. Grabbing the originals hand, you place it on your stomach and wait.
“Come on little bean, you can do it.” The look of utter surprise that spreads across his face as a tiny thump reaches his hand is priceless.
“KLAUS COME HERE!” Elijah doesn’t move his hand, the wonder of human life making his undead heart melt. Klaus rushes into the room in much the same manor, the only difference being the glowing eyes and raised fist.
“Come feel!” You don’t hesitate to place his hand over your ever moving child. Elijah leaves the room then, wanting to give you and the father of said child a moment. “Do you feel it? Feel her?” A small smile spreads across the hybrids face his hand pressing slightly harder to the fading kick.
“I do. It’s amazing.” Silence fell upon the two of you, with it your doubts grew.
“What if I can’t do this?” The vulnerability in your words has Klaus looking at you in shock. He had never seen you so unsure of yourself.
“You can love, you are going to be a great mother.”
“No, I’m not, this baby is screwed and we both know it. Fuck, you can’t even look at me half the time. What kind of a family is she going to have?”
“This family isn’t perfect but it’s hers.” His words do little to comfort the growing fear inside your heart.
“I wish my dad was here.” The sob that rips from your throat is deafening, not for the first time Klaus wishes things had happened differently between the two of you.
“I’m sorry love.” You don’t let him finish, far too hormonal to not hug the father of your bastard kid. Klaus holds you tightly letting you release the built-up emotion, kissing your forehead every so often. “We will get through this, I promise.” Nodding your head, you stay firmly planted against the hybrid’s chest.
You hope he’s right.
Things weren’t perfect between you and Klaus, but with each passing day you saw the tension leave his shoulders and felt your anger slip through the cracks.
You loved him. It was simple, but none of it mattered if he didn’t love you back.
Sitting on the couch watching T.V. you traced patterns onto your stomach, mindlessly humming a melody that lived rent free in your mind. Klaus made his way into the living room, lifting your feet before placing them in his lap.
“What are you watching love?” The nickname had become a staple in the conversations between the two of you as of late.
“I’m not sure, I’m not really paying attention.”
“Why? Are you feeling alright?” Rubbing his hand up and down your leg you watch the man before you. Things had been so corrupt between you both, at one point you were sure you could never go back. Now though? You weren’t sure what to believe.
Nodding lightly, you try to defuse his worry.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Us.” The word hangs heavily in the air.
“What about us?” Inhaling a lengthy breath, you burst the perfect bubble you had been living in.
“I’m in love with you.” Klaus pauses his movement on your leg shifting his gaze to stare into yours.
“What?”
“I know a lot of shit happened between us Nik, and I know you don’t trust me but I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I know you might not feel the same” Your sentence is cut short by the hybrids lips connecting with your own.
“I thought I would never hear you say that again.” Closing the gap again, you press your forehead to his.
“We both made mistakes. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
“I forgave you a long time ago.” At his words you feel the moisture begin to pool in the corner of your eyes.
“Me too.”
The love you and the hybrid shared had never faded, you both just needed a little clarification to see it.
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Magnolia Final Part
Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: Mentions of blood and death
Summary: idk dude just read the other chapters first or this is gonna make no sense
A/n: I did this instead of studying for my finals, also it could probably use a neither round of editing but I was anxious to post it. And I really don't give a fuck if this is historically inacurate all research done for this was from Pirate of the Caribbean.
Part 1 Part 2
♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~
You considered the stars your friends, their predictability and reserve made them easy to get along with. You had been taught to read their language from your early days of ships and oceans. As a child, you would speak to them, whispering secrets from your bedroom window. Your young nights had been filled with time spent stretching from the top of your magnolia tree to try and grasp their beauty. Even now as you stared up at the heavens you wished to cradle them like priceless jewels, their wonder never faded. But you supposed their mystery is what made them so appealing, everyone wanted something they could never quite reach.
The news of your captured prince had spread like fire in a dry wind, the letters you had sent to Aldir and their neighboring kingdoms throwing many into action. Sirius’s kingdom was large, powerful, and merciless. Some wanted the prince for leverage, many others wanted blood; revenge driving them to empty treasuries and sharpen swords. At first, you had been sitting pretty, letters of bids coming to you at every stop you made. Eventually, prices got too high and kingdoms decided it would be easier to take than to pay.
Ash burned in the back of your throat, you stared at your feet as the second ship that week crumbled into the ocean. Its flames were heavy on your back, reflecting in the greys of the sea. A particularly large crack of the fire made the breath catch in your throat. Your fear of the element had persisted for years filling your nightmares with smoke and screams.
As the distance between you and the defeated ship lengthened your heart began to calm. The air was thick with moisture, purple clouds bruising the dull sky. The ocean was frothy, waves lapping tirelessly at the sides of your ship.
Your mind felt dizzy, the taste of blood still thick in your mouth. Two more men had been lost in the fight which had taken place just minutes ago. One flung into the ocean and the other struck by a bullet. That was six bodies that you had been forced to dump into the sea the past month.
You had to get rid of Sirius before more corpses were to be fed to the sharks. This had never been so strikingly obvious before yet, you hesitated. Nails dug into your palms, the voices in your head fighting a clamoring war. Your feelings were illegible, their messy colors smeared together in an uninterpretable painting. So you threw them away, ignoring the throb in your chest and taking a breath. Sirius was to be sold to the highest bidder and that was that. You felt your past’s grip on your throat loosening. There was only one way to get rid of what used to be, you had to kill it.
Sirius had never been so bewildered before. His life had been a book that was written a thousand times over. The prince falls in love, the queen doesn’t approve, the love runs off, the prince finds the love, and then happily ever after. But life wasn’t as sweet nor simple as a children’s story and this may be the first time that he had ever truly realized that. All it took was the prince to be tied in the love’s basement ready to be sold to his death.
Sirius woke with a start as metal clattered inches from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his breath slowly returned to his lungs. He stared at the plate which had woken him, it was piled higher than normal with two rolls dropped next to it. He peered up at the giver of this gift.
He recognized the small blonde as the one he had threatened a few weeks before, the fear he had seen in her eyes that moment now replaced with pity, bitter and soft like rotten fruit.
“I wanna talk.” She said plainly, toeing the plate towards him like a bribe, he supposed that’s exactly what it was.
Sirius sat up ignoring the hammer of his head. His hair stuck to his cheek, slick with sweat. The woman whose name he never learned dropped to a squat beside him, a small knife held in her hand. His eyes widened as it glinted in the small gas lamp hanging above his head.
“Relax.” She sighed cutting the rope that tethered his hands behind his back.
Sirius felt his shoulders groan in protest as they fell forward, his wrists aching and rubbed red. Hot pin pricks filled his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
When he looked back up Adrie was now seated in front of him, her legs crossed. She glanced down at the food and then back up at him, “You can eat if you agree to answer some questions.” Her demands were simple.
He let silence settle for just a moment, “Fine.” After all, what did he have to lose? His dignity? His pride? They had been sleeping with the fishes for ages.
She pushed the plate towards him, watching him quietly as he began to eat, “You don’t look like much of a prince to me.” She hummed after a moment.
Sirius swallowed, licking his lips, “Does anyone after two weeks locked in the bottom of a ship full of scum?"
Adrie cracked a smile, “I suppose not.”
She stared at him still, she was lying a bit. Years held prisoner couldn’t erase the royalty he was raised with, it stuck to him like wet stuck to water. Nothing and everything proved him a prince, you could take his crown but you could never take his title.
“How do you know y/n?”
Sirius was startled by the suddenness of the question but not remotely surprised it was asked, “She hasn’t told you?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if she had,” Adire responded, her tone was blunt.
He bit into a roll thoughtfully taking his time to chew slowly, she was patient, her blank expression, not faltering.
“I thought you were friends.” He mumbled with a full mouth.
Her jaw tightened, “Y/n doesn’t speak of her past.”
“So you’ve come to me for information?” Sirius said mild mockery in his voice.
“Obviously.”
He eyed the woman curiously, she was not what he had expected of your right hand man. Sirius smiled loosely, “You sure you wanna disobey Captain’s orders?”
“Start talking or I take the food and hang you by your ankles.”
Sirius huffed glancing between her and his food, “Fine, you win.”
“Good. Tell me everything.” She demanded.
Sirius felt his throat tighten around the potatoes he had swallowed, his mind ached with hazy memories of summer days and speeding hearts, “There isn’t much to tell.”
“You’re a bad lair.” Adire hummed.
Sirius sighed, eyes falling to the bright white scars which laced his hands. He wasn’t sure where else to start but the beginning. He told of a loud baker girl who snuck over the walls into his garden and brought him pastries and friendship. He continued with vague details, of growing up together with swords and stars, reliving each moment he shared.
He felt his words stiffen as he spoke of falling in love with you. Part of him felt like he was talking of someone completely different. Someone who had burnt up with her parents in a small bakery a million miles away. What was left, muffling cries above him, was a shell of that girl her soul replaced with seaweed and smoke. He pushed the thought away, swallowing it with the lump in his throat as he continued to speak of a proposal he regretted and the consequences of disobeying his mother.
The broken fairytale cut his tongue filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He attempted to wash it down with the rum his listener had brought to him but its flavor was just as bad, it's only redemption was the warmth that filled his stomach.
Adrie looked at him blankly, "I don't blame her for wanting you dead."
Sirius wished she had stayed silent.
"But I pity you, you don't deserve death."
He didn't look up and instead finished his drink, "Your pity means nothing to me."
She sighed standing to her feet, "I never thought it did."
When her boots disappeared up the ladder he let his cup drop to the ground, it rolled knocking into his heel as tears dripped from his chin.
By the time you had dropped anchor just off of Haran, the moisture had dropped from the air. Dry winds and clear skies greeted your crew.
Rowboats were dropped in the water quickly, the sun was setting fast and a night of cheap ale and cheaper women were in the forefront of many a man's heads.
You were tired, the happiness of your crewmates falling short at your feet. Exhaustion had replaced all anger and sadness you had harbored for the past weeks making your eyes grow dull as the bags beneath them. The satchel burned under your arms had a note you had written agreeing to the Yerith King’s price. You had singed your finger on the wax used to seal the envelope, it still throbbed a bit with the unsteady beat of your heart. You tried not to think about much on your way to land instead filling your head with that faint burn and fog of the setting sun.
Adrie watched as you played with the diamond strung around your neck, a new piece she had only seen in recent days. She assumed you had taken it from one of the ships which had recently burnt into the sea. The bright stone was so different from the rest of your jewelry she was surprised you wore it all. Obnoxious gems had never been your type.
She was wrong on this thought, large jewels used to be what you would stare at as you passed shop windows, wishing you had the money to clutch one in your hand. They used to be a dream and a wish, now they were just things you stole and sold to the highest bidder.
Sirius had been briefly told of the plans for the evening. Two men whom he had become somewhat accustomed to during his stay had tied him up. The knots were tighter than usual as they were to be gone for the night. In his usual nature, Sirius complained about the ache of his wrists and the cramps in his legs. His grievances went unheard and his company disappeared from sight. The boat was quiet within the hour, nothing but the creak of old boards and calls of gulls far above his head breaking the silence.
He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, time passing in its usual way, slowly. Finally, a clear thought came to Sirius’s head, he had the whole boat to himself. That meant there was no one to stop him from escaping his certain and quickly approaching death.
Sirius tried to twist his hands out of the rope for what must have been an hour and only resulted in drawing blood from his wrists. Switching tactics he began to slowly shuffle and roll around the cabin he was in, searching for anything that could cut rope. As the sun’s light began to fade his task was growing difficult. Just before he gave in to his exhaustion Sirius found a bent nail sticking about a centimeter out of the ladder that led to the upper deck. The next two hours were spent rubbing his binds against the dull metal until they finally snapped.
After a month of being held prisoner, freedom left him stunned. He stumbled up the ladder until he reached the ship’s deck. The warm breeze which washed over him felt like a gift from the gods. A smile stretched his aching cheeks and for the first time in a while Sirius Black let out a genuine laugh.
He quickly found a small boat which he could lower to the water. He could be miles away before the sun rose and you found his binds cut. Judging by the port you had stopped at he was only a few days' row from neutral lands. There he could gather himself and write for help. He was saved.
Sirius’s glee was cut short as he realized that he was missing one vital thing; you. The only reason he was out here in the first place was for you. He had spent years following rumors across the sea, he had given up his place as king, he had spent hundreds of thousands on supplies. But the truth was even if he hadn’t done all that, even if he had stumbled across you within a week and spent no more than ten doubloons he still wouldn’t leave this ship alive unless you were by his side.
Sirius cursed, slamming his fist into the deck. His eyes darted around in what felt like panic. He was trapped between your love and his life and while he had chosen the former weeks ago he had no way of securing it.
In the dark, a glint of light was seen. A crate of liquor stowed next to the captain’s quarters revealed itself to the pale moon. The man's mind buzzed, he realized quickly that he would need to act fast, the hours of the dark he had left must be well used.
The deal had been easy, one glance at the large gem and you had a buyer offering hundreds. You walked away with 400 doubloons knowing it was worth much more. Not that you cared, you had been hours from chucking the necklace into the sea.
It was late at night now, the golden light of pubs and brothels spilling onto the gravel road you walked. Your legs still felt weak, they were accustomed to the sway of boats on sloshing waves not the strange sturdiness of the ground. You hadn’t been able to sleep well on land since you had stepped off it, you had always opted for a swinging hammock over a still cot.
You swung your bag of coins round in circles as you made your way to the beach. The water was smooth save the ripple of waves drawn by the full moon. Sand glistened silver under your boots, the light crash of water on rocks echoing around you.
You had never intended to spend the full night on land, your crew was well aware of this fact and none would be surprised to find you gone in the morning. You shoved one of your beached row boats back into the water, splashing about ankle deep before leaping into it.
When you reached your ship, you sensed something was wrong immediately. The small voice which you tended to ignore was screaming in the back of your head. As you climbed onto the deck the strong scent of liquor overwhelmed you. You heard a soft splash and glanced down to look at the puddle you had stepped into. Swiping two fingers through the fluid and plopping them into your mouth you hummed. There was no mistaking the sharp taste of gin. You looked around to find the leak and instead locked eyes with a figure who stood about 20 meters in front of you.
“Sirius?” You asked though you already knew it was him, you didn’t think you would ever forget his face, even if it was obscured by the shadows of the moon.
He gapped at you, unsure of what to say.
You took a step closer and caught a glance of the bottle he held in his hand. Its thin neck was stuffed with a piece of cloth, the soft glow of a gas lamp flickering behind him. The second you realized what he had planned your gun was pointed at his chest.
“Drop the bottle Black.” you hissed with a steady voice despite the fact that your gun was rattling in your hands. Your thoughts were now fogged with fear, plagued by smoke and flames.
Sirius had suddenly found his voice, “I know you’re not stupid enough to fire that. One spark and we’ll both go up in flames.”
Your breaths quickened, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” You croaked. “Why do you want to ruin everything I’ve built for myself?”
“I’m not leaving without you y/n.” He shouted, “I can’t live without you. Just come with me. Please. Just come with me and it will all be fine.”
You shook your head, “No.”
“Please, please! I need you y/n, I can’t go back without you!” He begged, snatching the lamp from behind him, “I won’t be able to live.”
It was in that moment that you understood he was just as desperate as you, just as lost and hopeless. You dropped your gun to your side, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. Your throat tightened holding back a sob, “Okay.” You said with a broken voice.
Sirius cracked a small smile, “I knew it.” He sighed, “I knew you still loved me.” Setting down the lamp he opened his arms walking towards you. You met him halfway burying your face into his rough jacket.
“God I missed you y/n,” he whispered as you slipped a knife from under your sleeve.
“I’m so sorry Siri.” You mumbled in response before plunging the blade into his back.
You held him as he collapsed forward, choking back on his own blood. You had begun to sob, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade which was lodged into him. Eventually his weight became too much to bear and you both fell to the ground. Sirius rolled off next to you, his hand still clasped around your own. The two of you started up at the stars listening as his breaths slowed. Just before they stopped completely you felt a small squeeze of your hand and for just a moment you saw the soft pink of a petal floating towards you.
You weren't sure how long you lay there, staring up at the sky but it was long enough for you to finally realize that you were the villain of your story. It was an odd thing to recognize considering in all of the books you had carried as a child you took the place of the protagonist; the one who swung the sword to save the kingdom You had always been the one to end your life with a happily ever after.
Now you had realized that you had never been a hero. You had spent your life as a villain in the making, each step you had taken leading you closer and closer to your undeniable fate of evil. You had your chance to be the princess trapped in the tower, but you had ignored the prince and now took the shape of a witch. A witch who stole and killed and burned all that she hated. Some had to do it after all, we can’t all be heroes. There is no story without a villain, at least not one worth reading.
As much as the small baker girl who rested amongst the magnolia tree would have hated you, the woman you saw when you looked in the mirror was okay with who you had become. And if she was okay with it, then why did it matter what the past would have thought? You had been running from it for years and now you would never have to again. Because now your past ran from you.
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so many of u changed ur urls so if I have the wrong person tagged or the wrong username let me know
Masterlist
#harry potter fandom#harry potter imagines#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfics#sirius black imagines#sirius black x reader#sirius black#sirius black x oc#sirius black imagine#young marauders#harry potter marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders x you#marauders x reader#marauders imagines#marauders imagine#marauders era fic#marauders#harry potter au#sirius x oc#sirius and regulus#sirius#magnolia#harry potter#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#harry potter x y/n#fem!reader
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the devil you know
Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert
Genres: Action / Drama
Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?
Сhapter 4/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Every single night, she was tormented by the same nightmare. Every single night, the same memory replayed behind her closed eyelids. She saw that fateful night, the night when she had decided she couldn’t keep pretending anymore.
It was the night before the great battle, and, as always, Levi fell asleep in her bed, curled around her body, holding on to her almost desperately, as though he was afraid that should he let go even for a second, she’d vanish.
Levi thought that his embrace could keep her with him. Hange wished for it to be the truth.
Getting out of the circle of his arms was a considerable effort, he held her too close, too tight, and Hange… Hange didn’t want to leave that sweet embrace. Levi was wrapped around her like a vice, he was a poison ivy that had its twigs engraved so deep it reached to the very depths of her heart.
Hange had to cut it out, to cut him out. And, by gods, was it an unwanted progress.
But after a few moments of quiet struggling, of silent curses and pants, she slipped out from his embrace and their bed. That small victory was well-earned, but not enjoyed. Hange felt her heart break the moment Levi’s arms were no longer around her. Without him, she felt so cold. With every inch she put between them, the ice that began covering her heart continued growing.
Next, she packed her scarce belongings. She wanted to take more, she couldn’t do it. Everything she’d take back home – her uniform with Wings of Freedom splayed proudly on the back, her heavy notebooks with dozens of notes and sketches done by her beloved assistant, that book Erwin had once given her, the scarf Mike had knitted for her, the flower Levi had gifted her, the very same one she treasured just dearly as the memory of him confessing after the gift had been presented, - all of it was going to be looked at and thoroughly analyzed. By her Marleyan comrades, friends and possible prosecutors.
She could take nothing that could be conceived as dubious, but that jacket, the one that was shared by both of them and still held his scent and warmth— she wasn’t strong enough to leave it behind.
So she put it on, praying for it to give her strength.
A long way home was awaiting her.
And Hange couldn’t leave without giving him, the one man she truly loved, a goodbye kiss.
“I know you won’t,” she whispered against his brow, her fingers caressing his hair with a feather light touch, “but please try to forgive me. It was out of my control, Levi.”
It was his fault too. When Levi came, the ground had been kicked from under her feet. And a simple mission turned into a tragedy.
When she gathered enough strength to leave the room, the hallway was empty. Hange knew it would be, she was familiar with the workings of Survey Corps like the back of her hand. She strolled through the well-known hallways without fear, trailing her hand along the walls.
The Military Headquarters back at Liberio was better built than this building. Even Warriors’ barracks, despite being designed to hold Eldians, were built so much better. Those buildings were sturdier, more technologically equipped, much more comfortable.
But, god damn it, she was going to miss Survey Corps’ headquarters, this shitty building that was situated in the middle of nowhere.
Compared to Marley, everything in Paradise was ancient, outdated, useless. But it didn’t stop her from loving that fucked up little island. It didn’t stop her from loving people that were living there, despite them being branded as monsters by her nation.
She turned the corner, took the stairs, and, at the end of it, just near the exit Hange saw a shadow.
She meant to duck behind the corner, to run and hide, but the form of that shadow was all too familiar, and she was just as familiar to that shadow. Hange had no choice but to stop and surrender to another cruel twist of fate.
“Squad Leader!” Moblit ran up to her, smiling and endearing as always.
Fucking hell, and Hange thought that saying goodbye to Levi would be the hardest task. However, Levi, at least, hadn’t been awake.
“Are you nervous, as well?" he asked, curiously peering into her eyes. Was she nervous? That was an understatement. "Personally, I can’t sleep! I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I even wrote a letter to my Momma, do you remember her?”
Of course, Hange remembered Moblit’s Momma, the soft and caring Mrs. Berner, a far kinder woman than Hange’s Momma was.
“I told her about our mission and how proud I am for participating in it. And… I added a second part, the one that would be sent in case…”
“No.” Hange shook her head resolutely, her hands clenching into fists. No, no, no, she refused to even entertain that foul idea. Impulsively, she took a step forward, circling her arms around her sweet assistant. “No, Moblit,” she repeated, voice muffled by his shirt. If he heard the quiet sniffling, Hange didn’t care. Moblit never minded her eccentricities. “You will survive. You will survive this shit and the next one you will undoubtedly face. You will make your Momma and everyone else around you proud.” You will make me proud. “And you will leave a glorious, happy and long life. You promise me?”
“Squad Leader…”
“Promise me!” she demanded, bordering on desperation.
In that moment, the dream always divided from reality.
In reality, Hange waited until he had given her a promise, and then feigned exhaustion, leaving Moblit to use another exit. But in a dream, Moblit made her stay, coercing her to have a cup of tea with him. And in the candle-light lit mass hall, they met Erwin, then Levi joined their impromptu party, gluing himself to her side and blinking sleepily at everyone who had gathered.
In a dream, Hange never left. She stayed under Moblit’s care, was guided by Erwin’s wisdom, was surrounded by Levi’s love.
And that’s why that dream was a cruel, excruciating nightmare. It showed her things that could never be. It showed her the future she desperately wanted to come true. Escaping from the clutches of that fantasy was hard, painful. And if that was complicated….
Well, waking up in that bed was pure agony.
Every single morning, Hange woke up lost and disoriented, and had to spend a few long moments, making sense of it all.
Her first instinct was to stretch her arms, to yawn and reach out – to warmth and comfort, to loving embrace, husky voice and reluctant kiss. To him. To everything she had lost. To everything she never actually had.
But she was alone in that bed.
There was no Levi, lying next to her, complaining about her morning breath. There was no Squad Leader Hange, no four-eyes , who would smile and start singing in Levi’s ear.
There was only she, a broken, empty shell of a person.
A Marleyan who fell for an Eldian. A war chief that devised weapons for her enemies. A fool with twisted loyalties and convoluted goals.
She betrayed her homeland, she didn’t have a home.
She was abandoned by her fellow countrymen, was rejected by the people closest to her.
But, strangely, as pathetic as she was, as miserable and wretched, she was not alone. Even in her sorry state, despite her vile betrayal, she still had a friend.
He was by all means her enemy, a monster and a devil, and yet he saved her life more times than she could count.
Even now, when her lies had been discovered and her villainy uncovered, he remained by her side, continued to care for her.
If all Eldians were truly as monstrous as she had been told since her birth, then how to make sense if the existence of one extremely brave, inexplicably kind Moblit Berner? Hange, as genius as she was, couldn’t understand him, couldn’t explain why someone as good and bright as him had decided to stick with her.
“Good morning!” he walked into her room with a smile, carrying her breakfast on a plate.
He had been repeating the exact same routine every day for the past month. He had been doing this ever since Erwin had appointed him as her assistant.
In that room, that bed, nostalgia, memories and regrets were impossible to escape.
Hange tried telling Moblit that he didn’t have to this, didn't have to care for her as though she was still his comrade. But Moblit was relentless. And she was too lonely and miserable to cut off the only kind soul that remained loyal to her.
“I managed to get your favorite biscuits this morning,” he continued, moving around the room to put the cutlery down on a table and open the curtains to let the sunshine in. “Almost got in a fight with Sasha because of it.”
Despite herself, Hange snickered. Moblit always had that kind of an effect on her. He possessed the uncanny ability to cheer her up with a simple, but heartfelt and caring gesture.
There was only one other person who was better at it than him. But after everything that happened between them… the hell would freeze sooner than she would hear praise and a comforting word from him.
Waving those sullen thoughts away, Hange stretched her arms and rose from the bed. She followed the sweet aroma of biscuits to the table Moblit had set for her.
“Any updates on Gabi and Falco?”
That was the first question she asked every morning. And every morning, Moblit gave her the same disappointing answer.
“I’m sorry,” he ducked his head solemnly. “We didn’t manage to locate them yet.
Hange expected as much. And yet, the lack of news still troubled her. Where were fierce Gabi and adorable Falco? Were they—
She shook her head, pressing lips together. Of course, they were still alive. They were candidates, the best of all best. Mentally repeating that mantra a couple of times, she forced her mind flow into different direction.
“What’s our plan for today?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuits. “Are we going to work on a new uniform again?”
Working on that project was fun. Having Mobllit as her assistant once again was fun. In the moments, when her brain was too occupied with an idea, she could almost pretend that everything was normal. That she was Squad Leader Hange, working with Executive Officer Moblit on a new project. Sometimes, Hange got so lost in that little game inside her head, she even expected for the door to burst open to let a grumpy Captain inside. But, of course, that couldn't happen.
These distant memories, they were comforting. They reminded her of the rare times in her life when she was truly happy. But the past... was in the past.
“Eh, you see…” Moblit raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it with an apologizing smile. “Armin asked me to look into something. I was actually wondering if you would like to accompany me. I bet you’re getting sick of spending days in these four walls.”
She was starting to feel like a wilting flower, that was true. It would have been nice to go outside. However…
“Am I even allowed to leave this room?”
Moblit winced. “I’m not really sure about it… But I was assigned to look after you. I think it wouldn’t hurt if you go with me. Besides…” he sat on the chair next to her, looking at her almost pleadingly. Oh, Moblit and his perfect puppy eyes, Hange could never resist them. “I’d like to have your company. And, perhaps, your advice as well…”
“Advice?” Hange frowned. “On what? What is your task about exactly?”
“Don’t know if I can tell you,” nevertheless, Moblit leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But they found out that one of the volunteers, Yelena, has been conspiring with Eren. They asked me to interrogate the other volunteer.”
“Oh?” that sounded both ominous and intriguing. Hange curled her lips into a grin and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to use my interrogating skills?”
“No!” paling slightly, Moblit frantically lifted his hands, shaking them from side to side. “No reaping out nails, please! No threats of bloody violence! Just… talk with him.”
She almost forgot how easy it was to tease and embarrass Moblit. Oh, how Hange missed him.
“Alright, I’ll do my best to control the violent urges,” she winked at him, laughing at his scandalous face. “And thank you for inviting me. It’s been ages since I saw the world outside that room.”
“There is another thing I have to ask of you...” Moblit cast his eyes down, playing with the sleeve of his coat. “Technically, I’ll be representing Survey Corps, so…”
Oh. Hange shifted her gaze to the wardrobe, where her old uniform was still hanging. That feeling inside her, she couldn’t quite identify it. Was it shame? Or trepidation?
She showed nothing of it to Moblit. As their eyes met, she faced him with an easy smile.
“Sure, I don’t mind. I do wonder if that thing still fits me.”
“It is. It always will.”
The remark was short, it could be read as meaningless. But Moblit’s voice was deep and gravely, full of conviction. Hange tilted her head, stealing a moment to study him more closely. He looked back at her, his hazel eyes honest and kind.
A lump in her throat was thick enough to make it hard to breathe. It brought tears to her eyes. Hange closed them tightly, to keep the tears from falling down.
“I need a moment,” she murmured, facing away from Moblit, “I’ll be ready in five.”
“I’ll be waiting in the hallway,” he said and let her be.
___
Walking through the streets of Sina was both pleasant and excruciating.
Feeling the sun on her cheeks and the wind in her hair after so many days of being confined to a one single room was enjoyable, enough to put a smile on her lips. And Sina, so very different from Liberio, was a lovely city with interesting architecture and narrow clean streets.
But these places were too familiar, the alleyways etched into her mind too deeply. And the uniform… the long green coat fitted her too well, and, at the same time, suffocated her. The shiny Wings of Freedom were burning her even through the clothes.
This proud emblem, it wasn’t hers. She wasn’t worthy of wearing it.
And the looks people had been given her, the awe and pride— fuck, Hange would rather prefer they cursed and flanged stones at her.
“Their smiles make me uncomfortable,” Moblit confessed. “They used to throw shit at us after every expedition. But now that Eren has killed a bunch of people, they suddenly decide that we’re heroes.”
“You always have been heroes.”
You, not we. There was nothing heroic inside of her.
“Remember that tavern?” Moblit’s cheerful voice and excited expression didn’t chase away the shadows completely. But the shadows took a step back, frightened by his light. “We had a glorious fight with MPs there.”
The fond memory brought laughter to her lips. “You almost got your arm broken in that fight.”
Moblit chuckled along with her. “Thanks to you I didn’t. I thought that punch of yours would get that guy obliterated.”
Hange touched her knuckles tenderly. Moblit was right, that was one hell of a punch. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel how the force of the hit had reverberated through her skin, tendons, muscles and down to the bones. Perhaps, that time, she had overdone it. She always had troubles reining in her anger.
“And remember that guy Captain Levi kicked? I see him around from time to time. Because of his broken jaw, he still has trouble speaking clearly.”
Ah, Hange remembered that guy as well. He was red-headed and had an ugly moustache. He also left a nasty bruise on her cheek. Levi’s kick to his jaw was a payback for that.
“Those were the times, huh?” Moblit nudged her, offering a kind smile.
Hange averted her eyes, feeling her lips quiver. Yeah, those were the times. Distant times, now they seemed more like a dream. A dream Hange wouldn’t want to wake up from.
Sensing her discomfort, Moblit steered them to the side, taking their conversation in another direction as well. “Speaking of Captain Levi, I sent him the new uniform. He wrote back that he liked it.”
The uniform she accidentally created with Levi’s size in mind. It was in no way intentional. She thought of Survey Corps’ soldiers when she was making a design. And in her mind, the perfect example of the scout was Levi. She was surprised she still remembered his size. Although, considering how much time she had dedicated to studying his body…
The new uniform was a sudden project, a product of the abundance of free time on her part. She wasn’t going to show it to anyone. Even Moblit found out about it by pure accident, when he stumbled upon her crude drawings. She was surprised he liked it. She was surprised Levi liked it. Did he really, though?
“He actually wrote so?”
“Well, he wrote that it could be useful, and in his words…”
Oh. As high praise as one could get from Levi.
“You write to him?” truthfully, that was another surprise for Hange. She didn’t remember Moblit and Levi have any sort of relationships, especially this close.
“We talk a lot,” Moblit shrugged, looking anywhere but at Hange. She was starting to wonder why, but his next words quickly unveiled the mystery. “Technically, we’re the only adults in Survey Corps, and after you left, we… found that we have a lot in common.”
Well. At least, her betrayal had one good outcome. It gave birth to a new friendship. And destroyed several old ones. Hange winced at the last thought.
“Oh, look where are we!” Moblit once again pulled her out of the abyss with his clear, loud voice. The wonder, added to it, however, seemed a little bit too faked. As smart and sharp as he was, Moblit could never excel at lying and pretending.
Not like she did.
Forcing these thoughts away, Hange followed the direction Moblit was pointing at. She couldn’t help but smile at what came into her sights.
Sina’s pastries. The best bakery in the city. In Hange’s humble opinion, the best bakery in the whole damn world. The one they had back at home, on the corner of the street in Liberio, right next to her apartment, didn’t even compare.
Just looking at the sign made her mouth fill with saliva.
“Moblit,” she grasped at his sleeve, her hold desperate. Her eyes were still trained on that shiny sign made in cursive. “Moblit, I know I’m asking a lot—”
He grinned. “Want me to get you that cherry pie you loved so much?”
Oh god, yes. Right now, Hange wanted it more than anything else.
“I understand it if you can’t. I mean, I’m a prisoner from a foreign country. Isn’t buying pies considered to be treason in this case?”
Moblit chuckled warmly. He looked at her, and his expression was kind and gentle enough to make the saints weep. He curled his hand around her shoulder, and from the place where he touched her, warmth spread through her body. “I wouldn’t mind committing treason for a friend.”
Fuck. Hange felt it once again. Her heart squeezing painfully, her throat constricting, tears welling in her eyes. She had to shut her lids to keep them from falling down her cheeks.
Her eyes still closed, with her voice cracking, she asked, “Would it be weird if I give you a hug right now?”
“Don’t know. Is it weird that I really want that hug?”
Her sob turning into a giggle, Hange surged forward, falling right in Moblit’s waiting arms. He pressed her close, his palm patting her on the back. Hange buried her face in his chest and relaxed against him, inhaling his faint scent of citrus and cinnamon. Sweet and pleasant, just like Moblit.
What was she doing all that time, without him at her side?
Moblit smiled at her as they separated. Hange meant to smile back, but in that exact moment— her stomach gurgled. Loudly.
She cringed.
“So… about that pie?”
“I’m on it,” Moblit promised and darted to the bakery.
___
Perhaps, it was fate. It was destiny, divine intervention, that led her to this moment. To the wooden bench in the park, to the bird’s singing in her ear, to the sweet, heavenly taste in her mouth.
The pie was perfect, so much better than Hange had remembered. It was soft enough to melt in her mouth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. It was sweet, but not sugary, the cherry toping adding slight bitterness.
Fantastic, the pie was fantastic. If Hange could, she’d stay in that bakery until the end of her days, devouring those phenomenal pastries until she exploded. Ah, what a happy death that would be…
Moblit observed her with an amused grin. “Did they not feed you at all in your Marley?”
“Not like this.” Hange managed, despite her full mouth.
Food in Marley was more diverse than on Paradise. They had more resources, they had a bigger variety of products and ingredients. But Hange was a soldier. She either ate at barracks or she cooked for herself at home. Food, made by army cooks, was nourishing, but lacking in flavor. And the dinners, prepared by her, almost always consisted of something quick and extremely simple.
The only place where Hange could eat to her heart’s content, where food was made out of the best, freshest ingredients and prepared by the most skillful chefs, was the official events, organized by the brass. And as the leader of the research facility, one of the most recognized war chief and the only child of her father, one of the Marleyan’s biggest heroes, Hange was always a welcome guest on these events.
But they were so boring that not even a promise of good food could make her sit until the end of them.
“Well, wait until you try Niccolo’s food. He is a true master.”
“Already did,” her stomach once again gurgled, this time the embarrassing sound was provoked by the memory of Sasha and Connie treating her to some of the maestro’s masterpieces. Sasha certainly was a lucky girl. “I ate so much, I thought I was gonna puke.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” bashfully, Moblit rubbed his neck. “The first time he made food for us, I was eating like the man starved. I was so ashamed, but then I looked around,” he chuckled lowly, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “And realized I wasn’t the only one.”
“I see you had a lot of fun,” she said, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t one of them, and never was. The suddenly appeared sadness was foolish and unwelcome. She had her own friends back home. Perhaps, they still thought about her. Perhaps, they still cared. “And what about that guy you need to interrogate? Is he also an amazing cook?”
“No, he is a soldier, he taught us so much about your technology! He was the one who was in charge of controlling the airship we used to get to Liberio.”
So their new friend was a pilot? And, apparently, a skillful one at that. Navigating through Liberio during all that chaos was certainly a challenge. Hange wondered if she knew him.
“So what is the name of that ace pilot of yours?”
Moblit lifted his chin, something close to pride appearing in his gaze. "He really is amazing. His name is Onyakopon."
Hange's jaw dropped. Her precious pie almost dropped as well. Hadn't she misheard? Onyakopon? The same Onyakopon who had spent almost a year as her understudy? Who taught Hange how to pilot the plane? That Onyakopon?
Could it really be? Could they really meet here, after so many years, on Paradis of all the places? Or was it some other Onyakopon who also happened to be an ace pilot?
"Hange-san?" a worried crease lay between Moblit's eyebrows. "Are the two of you—"
"Don't know," she shrugged, promptly finishing the last of her pie. "Shall we go and find that out?"
Moblit nodded resolutely. Hange felt something like nostalgia stirring up inside her.
___
For a man who was supposedly under a close watch and a possible suspect, Onyakopon had the nicest of accommodations. Much better than Hange's single room.
The house was small, but cozy, surrounded by pretty garden and vast green fields. If one were to ignore the lonely guard who was munching on an apple in the shadow of the tree, the front yard possessed absolutely no flaws.
Hange immediately shared her observation with Moblit, telling it to him in a faint whisper.
"Let's hope Onyakopon isn't a traitor and we won't end up dragging him from this heavenly place," he answered her.
If their Onyakopon was the same Onyakopon Hange knew, they wouldn't need to take the drastic measures. He was a smart, honest and good man. And, judging by Moblit's set expression, he knew that too.
As they approached the house, a man came in their sights. Dark-skinned, tall and handsome, he was reading a book on the porch, a look of complete concentration on his face.
All doubt left her mind. It was the same Onyakopon. The bright, curious young man who wanted to learn from her and who taught her something in return.
At the sound of their footsteps, Onyankopon looked up. And recognized her too, from just one glance. As their eyes met, his grew in size, almost comically. So he didn't know she was there as well. Strange, Hange would have thought he overheard the commotion she had caused on their trip back to Paradis.
But, perhaps, Onyakopon was too focused on piloting the airship and keeping all of them alive.
"Hange?" his voice was no louder than the wind's song. Hange nodded swiftly, having troubles finding her own voice. She wasn't sure it would obey her. "Oh I'll be damned!" Onyakopon jumped to his feet and all but ran to her. He squeezed her elbows, peering into her face in disbelief. "I'll be damned, Hange! I've heard the talks about some Marleyan soldier, but I could never guess that it was you! No one told me that you were captured."
Well, captured might be a strong word to describe what happened to her. Levi didn't capture her, he simply caught her - unaware and unprepared. Hange saw the face that was haunting her dreams and didn't even think of fighting against him.
She thought that Levi came to kill her then. She was almost ready for him to do it, to finish it once and for all. Being killed by the humanity's strongest - was there a greater honor? Being killed by the man you loved so dearly - was there a bigger joy?
Gently, Hange pried Onyakopon's hands off her. "It's a very long story."
"I have—"
"You don't," Moblit took a step forward, partially hiding Hange behind his back. "We need to talk, Onyakopon. I'm sure you've already guessed why."
"Yeah. Your friend here," Onyankopon threw an accusing glare at his guardian who was enjoying the afternoon shade, not disturbed by their conversation. "Already warned me. Alright," he let out a defeated sigh, "Do you guys want tea or coffee? Maybe, some snacks?"
Moblit gave him a tight-lipped smile. "We've already eaten, thank you."
"I— I'll bring some tea anyway."
He disappeared inside the house without another word. Hange and Moblit watched him go, then, when he vanished from their sight, they shared a look.
"He doesn't seem nervous," Hange remarked.
Moblit seemed to be of the same opinion. "He looks rather disappointed. I really hope he is innocent. But..." he shook his head and mumbled, more to himself than Hange, "I was always bad at figuring out liars."
Ouch. If after everything she had been through, Hange still possessed a heart, Moblit's words would have dealt a fatal blow.
Alas... She felt but a small pang. It didn't make her wheeze with pain, only forced to cast her eyes down.
___
Onyakopon returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three cups on it. Jerking his head into its direction, he led them to a table on the backyard.
Once they all took their places, heavy silence hanged over them. Onyakopon was the one to break it.
"So, no offence," he tilted his head to the side, his gaze slowly switching between Hange and Moblit. "If this is the official business, then… why Hange is here?"
"It's a long story," Hange said at the same time as Moblit claimed,
"Hange and I have been working together before."
"Wait..." a frown appeared on Onyakopon's face. It was almost immediately taken over by the look of shock. "Are you telling me that the famed Marleyan spy I've been hearing so much about, the one who spent five years on Paradis and almost became the Commander of Survey Corps, is Hange Zoe, one of the brightest minds of Marley?"
"Something like that, yeah," Hange took a cup of tea in her hands, hiding her embarrassment behind it.
"Wow... that's certainly... a lot to take in. I heard so many things about you."
"Nice ones, I hope?"
The corners of Onyakopon's lips slid down. "Not really."
"Ah... Understandable, I guess."
"But if you're the famous betrayer, why are you here? Are you—"
"We've been working together for a long time," Moblit repeated. "I trust Hange's judgement."
"I have an exceptional talent of picking out bullshit. And," Hange grinned, the curl of her lips just this side of being feral. "I'm a master of reaping fingernails out."
Onyakopon promptly chocked on the tea he was drinking. Sending her the most disappointing of his looks, Moblit jumped out from his seat to help the other man to cough it all out. His panicked face did awake a bit of shame in Hange.
"It was a joke," she hurried to assure.
"A very bad one," Moblit grumbled, softly patting Onyakopon on the back.
"I see nothing has changed about you, Hange," after returning his breathing under control, Onyakopon raised his eyes, giving her a joyful smile.
Hange wasn't sure if his words held any truth, personally, she hadn't felt like her happy, curious and driven self from years ago, but, nevertheless, she answered his smile with the one of her own.
"Now, let's talk about you," Moblit returned to his place, sitting down on the opposite side from Onyakopon. His back was straight, his expression relaxed but solemn. He grew, Hange noted absentmindedly. He was no longer that timid, shy man she had met all these years ago. "Do you know what happened with Yelena?"
"I understand that she is in the same boat as I am right now."
"Not quite," Moblit retorted. "We've recently found out that she has been talking with Eren behind our backs."
Onyakopon put the cup down, his hands a little more unsteady than Hange remembered them to be. "I... didn't know about any of this. Do you know what they were discussing?"
"Commander Pixis and the others are attempting to make sense of it as we speak."
"And in the meantime you decided to interrogate me." Onyakopon's demeanor changed, his eyes flashing. "Have I not done enough, Moblit? For you and for the people of Eldia? Haven't we helped you enough? And yet, you still don't trust me. You come here with—" his gaze shifted to Hange, but whatever Onyakopon wanted to say didn't leave his mouth, Moblit's hardened expression stopping him.
"You know how hard it is to earn trust," Moblit spoke calmly. "Especially now. Personally, I don't think that you're involved in Yelena's dealings. But I have to make sure of it. Wouldn't you do the same, if you were in my position?"
"Besides," Hange chimed in, "Even Eren is imprisoned. Do you really blame them for not trusting foreigners?"
Onyakopon took his time before answering. His jaw clenched, as he fixed his gaze on the wooden surface of the table.
"Maybe, you're right," he said at last. At his admission, Moblit relaxed. But Hange knew that Onyakopon wasn't finished yet. "But I risked my life to help get Eren back. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Yelena took part in that mission as well." Moblit reminded.
"I'm not Yelena." Onyankopon harshly retorted.
Moblit scowled. Onyakopon was glaring back at him, hands crossed on his chest. Hange decided it was time to intervene once more.
"Are we thinking of the same Yelena?" she interrupted their staring contest, easing the air around both men. "Tall, blonde and absolutely crazy?"
Not taking his eyes of Onyakopon, Moblit nodded. "She also has a strange obsession with Yeager brothers."
"Ah," yeah, Hange knew her. How could she not? Yelena was... "A lovely girl. Even I get chills from her. I doubt that Pixis would be able to get something out of her."
"That what worries me," Moblit confessed, rubbing his temples. The gesture was familiar to Hange - Moblit always suffered from headaches when under stress. "The Queen is coming back soon. If we don't secure the capital..."
"Historia is coming back?" Hange wasn't aware of it. When she asked Sasha about a little girl that once was called Christa and then grew up to become a Queen, Sasha said that she was also getting ready to become a mother. Was bringing her to the capital a good call then? With everything in such state of disarray?
"It was her decision, not ours," Moblit explained. "When the Queen learned what is going in, she deemed it necessary to intervene."
"Hopefully, the Queen is loved more than Eren Yeager."
Yeah, that would be the best case scenario. For everyone - even Marleyans - involved.
"In these uncertain times..." Moblit hanged his head with a deep, weary sigh. "Hope is all we have. Thank you for your time, Onyakopon. We'll be heading back now."
Having said that, he stood up. Hange meant to follow his suit, but at the last moment, Onyakopon stopped her, catching her sleeve between his fingers.
"About what happened in Liberio," he stiffly began. "Marley destroyed my hometown," Hange solemnly nodded. She was forced to take part in that particular operation. She hated every second of it. "I can't and I won't forgive them for that. But..." his voice softened, his thumb rubbed comforting circles around her pulse point. "Liberio was your home as well. So I know what you're going through."
Taken by surprise, Hange blinked a couple of times, gawking at Onyakopon. She expected anger from him. In the worst case - pity. But he offered her only his understanding. She was grateful for that.
“Goodbye, Onyankopon,” she smiled sweetly.
“Hopefully, that wouldn’t be our last meeting.”
Hange could very well agree on that.
___
When they were back in Sina, the sun was already setting, painting the streets and buildings into shades of orange, red and pink. While walking through the town, Hange was once again reminded of how beautiful it truly was. The abundance of trees and flower bushes, the shiny cobblestone and petite houses added to its charm, making Sina look almost magical.
“Pretty as a picture,” Hange had once called it, during a walk through the town with Levi by her side. Her fascination, that careless mishap almost got her lie uncovered.
“You look like you’re seeing it for the first time, four-eyes,” Levi had thrown that line carelessly, but his had narrowed ever so slightly and his frown had deepened. “Didn’t you say that you have grown up in the city?”
In that moment, Hange had almost started panicking. She could almost see it too – Levi finding out the truth, Levi dragging her to Erwin, Erwin getting everything he could out of her, him, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Keiji, Abel, Levi and countless of others feeling disappointed and betrayed. The story would have ended with her standing on the gallows.
Perhaps, this end would have been more merciful. But that day, her joyful, only slightly forced laughter and a meaningless ‘Don’t you know me, Levi? I always have my head up in the clouds?’ had saved her from the early demise. And doomed her to many years of torture, heartache and self-hatred.
“Hey,” a gentle hand on her elbow broke her out of the internal misery. Hange looked up, meeting Moblit’s hazel eyes. “It will take some time until we reach the headquarters. Can we talk in the meanwhile?”
“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“I actually want to ask a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Moblit trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips in a line. Hange smiled faintly, she knew that expression too – he always wore it when he was contemplating his next move. As soon as his mind was set, it vanished, the usual kind face returning. “I would like to know why… you came here in the first place.”
That was it? Hange almost exhaled with relief. She thought he was going to ask something truly awful.
“Didn’t I tell you already? Just like Hoover, Leonhart, Braun and Galliard, I was sent to retrieve the Founding Titan.”
“But you didn’t do it. You had countless opportunities to take Eren from us, and you never acted on any of them. So why did you really come here?”
That was… a question more complicated than Hange was ready for. She didn’t know what to tell Moblit, how much she was willing to share. She had never talked about this, not to a single soul. Her comrades and friends from Marley would never understand her anyway. But Moblit wasn’t Marleyan, he didn’t possess the same mentality. Perhaps, he wouldn’t judge her. Hange was counting on that.
Without another second spent on doubt, she began her tale,
“My father was a hero – a soldier, brilliant tactician, an even better politician. He was resolute, fearsome and absolutely merciless to his enemies. No surprise that many considered him to be an ideal Marleyan citizen. And I was his only child. Naturally, everyone expected me to be as brilliant as him. I began my training at the age of five, and by the age of twelve I was already a perfect soldier. However, that’s not who I wanted to be. I wanted to explore the world, to travel to distant lands, but as the child of my father, I had my whole life controlled by him, and then, when he passed away, by the expectations everyone had for me.”
Taking a pause, Hange chanced a look at Moblit, expecting him to be disgusted or annoyed by her whining. She had everything given to her on a plate, a bright future guarantied, and she still yearned for something more. It was pathetic, wasn’t it? She was pathetic. However, Moblit… didn’t seem to share that opinion. At least, his face didn’t show the signs of it. Instead of the outrage Hange had expected to see, she was met with sympathy.
It made the pain in her chest grew tenfold.
Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue.
“I could never decide for myself, my whole life was controlled by my father’s legacy. I wanted to break free of it, by whatever means necessary. So when I heard about the mission to retrieve the Founding Titan, I latched onto that chance, convincing the brass to send me there with the kids. But I’ve arrived earlier than them, and we got separated. And so… I decided to use that time to do what I always wanted. To study and explore.”
It was the most brilliant of her adventures. She loathed being a soldier and having to kill countless enemies of Marley. But there was no war at Paradis. The only enemies were Titans, and as much as Hange felt for their struggle, she managed to convince herself that she was killing them for their own good. That she was freeing them from their never-ending curse.
“No one knew me here, and I could be whoever I wanted to. And I liked being Squad Leader Hange, because Squad Leader Hange was allowed to be as weird and curious as I wanted. People here accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I found the place where I belonged.”
Of course, that wasn’t true, a mere fantasy, a delusion on her part. She was a Marleyan, a child of the man who condemned thousands of Eldians. She had no place in their world. And yet, Hange was happy. It was the bitter truth she was afraid to admit for so long - she loved the persona of Squad Leader Hange. So much more than the persona of the Professor and war engineer, Hange Zoe.
But nothing could last forever. And when the time has come to return to Marley, Hange was devastated. She lost herself in playing her own game.
“That’s it, I guess,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Looking up, she saw they were almost by the stables where they left their horses in the morning. So deep inside her own head, she failed to notice how much time had passed. “I ran away because I was sick of my life back home. And I spent five years pretending to be someone else.”
“Were you really?” Moblit watched her, his gaze inquisitive. “Were you really pretending to be someone else, Hange-san? Or did you finally allow yourself to release your true self?”
That was… a scary statement. And much more loaded than Hange could deal with in that moment.
“I could be wrong, though,” Moblit shot her an innocent smile. Hange cursed under her breath, a true devil, that’s what he was. Getting her to admit to so much of her insecurities, Moblit surely had a talent for it. And to think he asked her to help him with interrogation. He seemed to be pretty adept at it himself.
“Stay here, I’ll bring our horses,” he started walking in the direction of the stables, but at the last moment turned away, and, meeting Hange’s eyes, added, “I’m glad that you took that mission, Hange-san. And I’m glad that I got to meet the real you. All of us are.”
Hange snorted, watching Moblit go. Perhaps, her father was right about something. Devils, all of them were. How else to explain the ease with which they wormed their way into her heart?
Her shoulders dropped as soon as Moblit had disappeared from her view, and she turned to stare at the setting sun. Certainly, it was one hell of a draining conversation.
But as her thoughts were still scattered in disarray, her heart felt so much lighter. She never shared this part of her with anyone, was afraid to admit it even to herself. But now she was glad she had finally done it. Perhaps, she should have done it a long time ago. Her life could have been easier then, the amount of regrets considerably lesser.
She swept her gaze around the plaza Moblit left her at. With the day coming to an end, not a lot of people were there. As far as Hange could see, the only ones still present were a happy mother with a two children, who were feeding the pigeons on the bench at the far side of the plaza, an elderly couple, and—
And a girl that sat at the edge of the fountain. The short stature, slumped shoulders, that luscious long black hair were familiar to the point of setting Hange's heart ablaze.
She couldn't see the face, was afraid to, but even so, Hange denied what her eyes saw. Surely, it was her imagination, her mind conjuring things that weren't there. This girl, she was—
A shadow, fathom. It couldn't be— it couldn't be her. Even the possibility of it was raising the hairs at the back of Hange's neck.
It wasn't Pieck, just a random girl. Hange was wrong, simply seeing things. Those familiar traits belonged to someone else. Pieck wasn't here, in Paradis, Pieck couldn't be—
"Hange?" she jumped, and whirled around so swiftly her head went dizzy. Before her stood Moblit, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "Everything alright?"
She exhaled with relief. "Peachy," she answered with a smile she didn't feel. Her eyes shifted from one side of plaza to the other, searching for the figure she had seen. But like all shadows do, she simply vanished.
"I brought our horses," Moblit gestured for her to follow him. Hange did, not looking back even once.
Even so, she felt someone's gaze burning into her back all the way to the headquarters.
___
"Sorry," Moblit stood at the threshold of her room, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I need to report to Zacklay and Pixis."
His expression was nearly apologetic. Hange patted his shoulder, touched by his not so subtle concern. "Stop worrying so much, Mob. Nothing would happen if you leave me for one evening."
Moblit kept frowning, looking as unconvinced as ever. "I'll tell Sasha and Connie to bring you dinner,” he nodded to himself. “And if you need anything, just tell the guard to call for me."
"Alright, alright. Now go!" Hange gave him a forceful push. "And make me proud!"
She didn't get an answer out of him, but she did see a faint blush appear on his cheeks. That was enough for Hange to chuckle victoriously.
Once Moblit had disappeared around the corner, Hange shoved the door closed and leaned against it. It was an exhausting, eventful day. She wanted nothing more than to rest. She headed towards the bed to fulfill that exact goal.
But no sooner than she had seated down, she heard the knock on the door. Albeit quietly, it was repeated three more times.
Sighing, Hange stood up again and walked back to the door. She swung it open, expecting to see Sasha and Connie. She was hoping to get a warm meal inside while gossiping with the two teenagers. A second later, the door stood open. And Hange's throat was closed up.
On the other side of the threshold— there was no Sasha, no Connie. Only Pieck.
And so the shadow finally took form.
Pieck was dressed similarly to her, in the dark green uniform. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail, a smile was playing on her lips. The subtle differences in her attire only added to the sense of disbelief.
At the sight of her lovely face, all air left Hange's lungs. She desperately tried to take a breath, opening and closing her mouth rapidly. She wasn’t sure for how long she would have continued gaping like a fish fresh out of the water hadn't Pieck taken the matters in her own hands.
"It's been a while, Hange," as always, she spoke in a quiet, sugary sweet voice. Usually it calmed Hange down. Now it was sending shivers down her spine. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Pieck," Hange meant to sound leveled, controlled. But even a single word came out shaky and unsure. "Pieck," she tried again, this time with more success. "What are you doing here?"
Pushing past Hange, Pieck walked inside the room, heavily sliding down on a chair. "Serving my country. Something you have forgotten about."
Pieck stared straight at her, hands folded in her lap, a picture of friendliness and innocence. But the smile Hange always found so endearing, now seemed almost chilling.
"Tell me, Hange, is this the part of your plan? Have you decided to use your old history with these people to destroy them from the inside? Or," Pieck paused, tilting her head to one side. She didn't look angry, or disappointed. If anything, she seemed simply curious. But the atmosphere in the room was tense, air electrified with trepidation. Hange knew Pieck all too well, she knew how dangerous the shifter girl could be. "Have you already forgotten what they did in Liberio, in our city? How they destroyed it? How killed thousands of men, women and children? These monsters almost killed Reiner, Porco," her voice wavered at the names of her dear comrades. But even then, she didn’t drop the unassuming façade. "And do you know what happened to Udo and Zophia? Have you seen what become of them?"
Stunned, Hange could only stare at Pieck. The words left her, her mind unable to come up with anything she could have used to explain herself.
Indifferent to Hange’s internal struggle, Pieck continued.
"Do you even care, Hange? About Marley, about us?"
"Of course, I do." How Pieck could even doubt that? Udo and Zophia, those bright, adorable children Hange couldn't quite imagine them being gone. "Pieck, you misunderstand, I've been captured, I'm not—"
"Don't make me laugh." Pieck interrupted curtly. "You have your own room, you walk freely through the town, you wear their uniform. Is this how they treat all of their prisoners? Awfully kind of them then, considering the monstrosities these devils committed."
"Pieck, listen—"
Pieck didn't want to.
"You always were a strange one, Hange," gracefully, the girl stood up, taking a step closer. With her hands behind her back, she started pacing, circling around Hange. "I could never understand what was going on inside your head. I still can't. But, naively, I thought that I knew you. That after years of fighting side by side, we grew close enough. And after the disaster at Liberio," she picked up a sheet of paper from Hange's desk, gave it a quick once over before disregarding it in favor of focusing her eyes on Hange once more. "I kept looking for you. I was so afraid to find your body under a fallen building or see you with a hole in the head. But you were nowhere to be found. Everyone was worried sick, the brass was livid - the devils from Paradis killed the Warhammer, took our Beast and now our brightest mind was missing as well. And then I remembered what I have seen during the fight. A short man approaching you, the same one who nearly killed Zeke, that Ackerman. I thought he had captured you, I thought you needed saving. Seems like I was wrong about that, huh?”
Even now, Pieck was keeping her calm. Despite the harsh accusations, her voice remained gentle, almost soothing. The smile was still in place, and her head was tilted up, peering into Hange’s eyes.
Hange did everything she could to escape that unsettling gaze.
“I also came to because I needed you,” Pieck continued. “I thought you would help me with my mission.”
Would she? Should she? Hange didn’t know. She knew what Professor Hange Zoe would have done. She knew what Squad Leader Hange would have done.
But what would she do?
“I guess it doesn’t matter. Whether you help us or not, the outcome will be the same. Paradis will fall, Hange. Consider it my only warning. If you wish to witness its demise alongside these devils, I won't stop you. But," without looking at Hange, Pieck laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "If your decision ever changes, I'll be happy to fight by your side."
After that, Pieck left the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Hange, however, didn’t move, remaining frozen in one place, too stunned to follow after Pieck and demand a more thorough explanation.
However... what was there to explain? Paradis will fall. Plain and simple.
Right now, Hange couldn't quite believe it, although she was supposed to expect it. What could possibly happen to that little island after Eren's desperate rampage? But even before that, Paradis was already doomed. The events that transpired at Shiganshina proved to the outside world just how dangerous the Eldians could be. And Shiganshina was simply a plant that had grown out of the seed of Grisha Yeager's crimes.
There was no hope for Paradis. There never was.
Paradis will fall.
What could she do to save it? Could she do something, anything at all? Could she help them, expose her nation's plans? Could she betray her motherland like that? If she shared the truth with people of Paradis, would they even believe her? Would her people forgive her?
Hange didn't know. Her mind was in frenzy, her thoughts flying from one horrible outcome to the other. It was in that catatonic state that Sasha and Connie found her.
"Hange-san? Is everything alright?"
Hange looked up, meeting their bewildered gazes. In that moment she realized - she didn't want these kids to die. She didn't want for them to suffer any more than they've already done. And the others - Moblit, Levi - Hange couldn't bear the thought of them in harm. But—
She didn't want for her fellow countrymen to die as well.
Fuck. Why was everything so hard these days, why it was so damn complicated? When would her heart stop tearing into two pieces? Why was everything out of her control?
It was always an issue of hers, the lack of control. This time was no different. Caught between crossfires, Hange didn't know which side to choose. Perhaps then... she shouldn't choose at all.
Perhaps, she should take the back seat. Let everything transpire the way it was supposed to be. Let them fight, let someone win.
And so, with a heavy heart and troubled consciousness, Hange came to a decision. She would not alert Paradis about the threat hanging over them. She would not help Marley in their fight.
But there was another side to all of this. Another warning, another trouble that couldn’t be ignored.
There was a danger of Marley invasion, but equally disturbing was the events transpiring inside the Walls. Something was brewing, a storm ready to swipe everyone in its path. And Hange had a nasty feeling that at the center of it, two figures stood – Yeager brothers.
Nothing could be done about Eren, Hange had doubts that even his closest friends had a single clue of what was going inside the boy’s head, what dangerous ideas were forming there. But Zeke, Hange knew how to deal with Zeke. She also knew someone who could deal with him in the most efficient way.
She didn’t know what Zeke was planning. But she was confident that Levi would be able to find out.
She just needed to give him a little push.
“Sasha,” Hange smiled at the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you would be so kind, tell Moblit to visit me before he retires for the night.”
Moblit had mentioned that he was corresponding with Levi. The time has come to use this detail to her and the world’s advantage.
The world as they knew was changing, perhaps, it was already at the brink of collapse, horrible destruction. What did Moblit say? In these uncertain times, hope is all we have?
In that case, her only hope was Levi.
#does someone still remember that fic? i for sure had almost forgotten about it jdfsdkhgsjgh#levihan
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Seeds
remember guys! you can ask me to tag them on future updates
Summary: The idea of a soulmate is well known, they will come to you one day, either as a lover or a friend. A single bond made of invisible thread is what will let you feel their emotions, joys and worries, to experience their pain and for them to feel yours.
But beware, for not all blessed unions are meant to be, if you were to hate and push them away, a slow death shall consume them and a garden will bloom within their chest, the flowers will fight and push to feel the sun from the outside, a poetic dead of a broken lover. A beautiful dead for your hollow existence.
You know that your mother was never a good person, or so you have been told.
Miranda meet her when she came from the city to the village, four months pregnant and with the false story of being “sick”, her sickness? She decided to cheat on her rich husband and she wanted to have you away from prying eyes and possibly abandon you here. Your birth giver was upfront about how "Having a bastard could ruin my lifestyle!", Mother Miranda smiled sweetly and had Alcina give your mother refugee and help during the birth, the Lady agreed and housed the woman.
On the night of your birth, Alcina held you in her arms, begging Miranda to let her keep you, but she denied. You were hers and hers alone.
As for your mother? Only Miranda knows what happened to her, but you suspect, that her body is buried somewhere in the forest, alone and forgotten, you couldn’t care any less.
Miranda was the one to raise you, to love you, the one who would be there when you were sick, to kiss your tears away when nightmares woke you up. She was the one to break your body apart and scream in our face how much of a failure you were, just like Alcina or Donna or those pesky lycans running amok outside, but within your failure, she saw minimal success, you were quick to learn how to care for her experiments, which were the signs of cadou rejection and how to treat it, at least, you could be useful until she placed you in the mansion the villagers were building for you.
You have seen so many people been brought to the lab, so many lives being taken for a selfish reason, that you grew numb, there was no anger or pain, you felt no grief when the test subjects saw you and begged for help, you did nothing for there was nothing inside you.
You are surprised when Miranda begins to show interest in a kid, you know he was brought here years ago and somehow had managed to survive the horrors your mother put him through. Interest grew into an obsession and then into pride, hope, you will forever remember how hard Miranda screamed when her golden child came out a failure too, cursing at the skies and asking why? He had been so close to being her perfect little boy and he turned out to be yet another fuck up.
But she doesn’t throw him away, her favoritism shows when she moved him from the medical area into a room in her private chambers, never allowing you to go close to him, slapping you and kicking up a storm whenever she saw you too close to his door, even if you were passing by. But you never resent him, you can’t hate him or her, all you can do is nod and go away.
But curiosity is something hard to get rid of, and so you waited for days almost a month until Mother left to meet up with Alcina, using the moment to sneak into his room. A beautiful room, compared to yours, he had a big bed with a canopy, the thick curtains prevent you from seeing him, it feels like a fairy tale when you part the curtain to peer inside.
Truly like a fairy tale...a beautiful boy lays there, his golden hair is going gray, probably out of stress. He has a couple of scars on his face and some new ones on his arms. You feel like reaching inside and kiss him to break the spell, but it feels...wrong, like if you could tarnish him even further by touching him, like if your mother would appear and toss you aside for laying one of your dirty hands on his skin. No matter how bad you wish to be his Knight and save him, the terror you feel over defying Mother Miranda’s orders makes you stay still.
And then, it happened.
It began as an agonizing stab in your chest, it made you trip backwards painfully slamming your head against the wall, gasping for air when the pain as a needle began to pierce through you slowly making its way to your heart, a pitiful sob left your mouth, rendering you useless while your body overcomes the initial discomfort. It takes all of your willpower to get straight and look up at the ceiling through your tears, the light it's blinding and it leaves you dizzy, almost ready to empty your stomach.
Karl Heisenberg, age eleven, lays on his luxurious-looking bed, his entire body shakes painfully, breaking through his mouth, and the fever that's racking his body is the only thing keeping him from noticing that, his soulmate is standing a couple of steps away from his bed.
But how do you even know this?
Because Miranda told you about the concept of someone blindingly loving you for all eternity, who would be your other half and the missing piece to your broken existence, Dimitrescu once said that those stories were silly little fantasies, that love should be won over and one should prove to be the right person for someone else and not just have it “hand it over”.
You used to dream of the day you would feel the connection between yourself and another person, of being able to experience their joy when their eyes fell on you. But this is far from what you wanted, what you always wished for! All you can feel is pain, radiating from so many places in your body, rendering you useless, overwhelmed with anger, grief, sorrow for “yourself”.
Everything quickly piles up, so consumed by what Karl is feeling that you don’t hear the tray that falls and the porcelain plates that shatter, you vaguely register the sting of Miranda slapping you and the distant sound of her screams.
She drags you out of the room and into the cold world outside her home, across the heartless forest and you wonder...if you might end up like your mother, buried under some tree to be forgotten. But Miranda keeps walking until she throws you at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu, speaking to the tall woman and leaving you under her care, forever.
When you were younger, you used to fear the Lady. She was imposing and so strong, a self-made matriarch, but she's so careful when helping you up and guiding you through her beautiful home, her hands are so kind when she helps you to undress and sit in the tub filled with warm water, racking her fingers through your messy hair...so this is what a mother truly is like?
She only leaves you alone when she goes to fetch anything you could wear, looking displeased when she hands you a maid's uniform "We must send for the seamstress, I cannot have you wearing those shabby clothes" that, for some reason gets you to smile.
Later, her movements are soft as she runs a brush through your hair, the fire makes the wood crack and explode, filling the room with a nice warmth, something you never lacked off but that never truly permeated your body.
"Y/N, care to explain why mother Miranda was so angry, earlier?" you hear the concern in her voice, a bit of worry hidden in a stern tone.
Alcina can see you shrink a bit, as if ashamed of what you had done “I saw the kid mother keeps in her chambers” it comes out like a whisper, scared of Miranda appearing at that moment to slap you again “I think he’s my soul mate, Alcina!”
Lady Dimitrescu chuckles lightly and smiles when you turn around to look at her ”Your soul mate, some dirty man-thing? Oh my sweet girl I hope it isn’t real and you were just revolted by the sight of a man!”
“But I felt his pain and his emotions...it was scary, but maybe he will love me!”
“Just because you can feel what he feels, doesn’t mean everything will be alright. That’s why those romances are so volatile, darling! There’s no real reason for them to work beyond being stubborn and tell yourself that it will work out” the lady is classy and gracious in her movements as she poured herself another glass of wine “That the other person at the end of your bond will fall to their knees the moment they see you, but in reality, they might resent your sole existence and end up killing you!”
“Killing me?” that comes as a surprise, you have never heard of this.
“Yes...a cruel and unjust dead” Alcina brings you to her lap letting one of her hands spread over your small chest with a sorrowful look on her face “Your lungs will get infested with flowers, a bouquet of throe will bloom within your body, each day the garden will grow and fight to see the sun beyond your mouth and it will rob you of all air and kill you in no time”
She sees you wonder about it, a million questions that you wish to ask, everything falling apart when her curious daughters come into the room, moved by the rumors some maids had shared about their mother adopting another child. All too eager to know their new sister.
After that day, the topic is never brought up.
You grow and learn everything under Alcina’s guidance, the woman is hellbent on making a lady out of you. She teaches you how to read and write, about math and how to sing, applauding when you show her the gift the cadou in your stomach gave you, Midas' touch.
Her daughters and your self-appointed sisters, all laugh and joke around you, treat you like if you were another human when you are no different from their mother, another failed creation, a remainder that Miranda was cursed to not have what she wants. But the love of your little family drowns those thoughts, leaving the happiness of your existence in a nice home and the ever-presence of pain and resentment in the back of your head.
As you grow you notice, each cut and wound that leaves a scar on your skin turns to gold when made by you, but looks as pale lines when made by Heisenberg. You can’t help but laugh when the idea of being a piece of pottery repaired via kintsugi pops in your head, and for a moment you ask yourself if Heisenberg also has golden scars to match yours?
You cry the day when you finally leave the castle, trying hard to convey your love for your mother and sisters with hugs and kisses, in low whispers, promises of coming over as much as you can. The Lady kisses your forehead and sends you off with some final words of advice.
"Never lower your head and always do your best, remember you have us and we would never let you fall"
You are eighteen when you become the miracle worker of the village, crafting medicines with alchemy, signing at the church when the congregation asks you to, turning anything into gold with your touch, smiling with grace, and claiming to have been blessed with a precious gift by Mother Miranda to help the poor and keep the village off absolute agony. In the end, everything tastes like vile and ash, the forced smiles and the sweet tone of your voice make you gang behind the long veil that covers your face.
The days when you sing at the church, are the only ones when you can feel all his hatred directed at you, each painful stab making your eyes tear, yet you keep on making the people happy with hymns crafted before you were even born. If you could let him feel how similar your anger for Miranda is, perhaps the pain in your chest would dissipate, but you can't because you are hollow.
Among the villagers you are Lady Y/N L/N, the golden touch child, you are adored and blindly loved, Miranda smiles radiantly whenever she hears nothing but good words from her cattle, how much they dote on you, ready to serve without a thought, the eagerness to work under you. You may have been a failed vessel but you are a success as a flycatcher, bringing the sheep down to the slaughterhouse to be sent to the other Lords.
On meeting day, the pain and emotions that you feel seem to amplify the closer you are to Heisenberg.
As you sit beside your adoptive mother, your smaller hand in hers, while Mother Miranda speaks and praises each one of her children, lingering a bit too much on her golden child. The pressure in your chest grows, it feels like when you submerge in the tub as if your lungs were being crushed under an invisible force, ready to cough and gasp for air.
Across from you, he sits, posture closed and annoyed beyond belief when Miranda asks him to stay a bit longer after the meeting is done, you feel relief when Lady Dimitrescu gets up, opting to ignore Heisenberg in favor of bringing you back to the castle for your scheduled visit.
You two aren't even halfway through your journey back when you notice you are missing something, a small gift for today's reunion, a bag of fine jasmine tea.
"Mother, I need to get back. It seems I misplaced something, you go ahead!"
There's no time for Alcina to respond before you volt back to the church, the soft lace of your veil beautifully flying behind your hurried steps, slowly dropping your speed the closer you get to the entrance of the building, from it you can see Miranda, she as shed her mask off and is touching Heisenberg's face the way you have seen brides or wives touch their husbands' faces.
A pulse of repugnance and despise make you stumble back, pressing your back against the outer wall, it feels like the first time you met him, it's blinding and leaves you disoriented for a second, a hand flies up to your mouth when a wave of nausea hits you. He's not only pissed, he feels filthy and is suppressing a murderous intent behind a mask of indifference.
The sensation grows and grows until it's crushing you. One look up and you see him standing before you, a hand caging you between him and pillar.
"What are you doing here, freak? The tall bitch sent you to spy on me? tell her to fuck off" this isn't the first time you hear his voice, but it feels like it, even if his words are filled with malice, they taste like bitter wine for you.
"NO!...I mean...no, Lord Heisenberg. I came back because I lost something, a small bag"
"So you are afraid the dog stole from you, are you calling me a thief?" your mouth opens to explain to him once more, but the burly man only growls and steps away "Think whatever you want, I can't care any less for whatever the scum thinks of me"
Later, in the solitude of your home, you will call yourself an idiot, asking yourself why you reached for his empty hand when he turned around ready to leave, why you didn't revealed who you were, why you didn't cried when the man slammed your body against the wall.
"DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME, BITCH!" Heisenberg's tobacco infused breath hits your face, the painful stab of hatred felt like if your body were being torn apart "I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE LIKE YOU, YOU MAKE SICK!"
This time, when he turns around to leave, you don't reach out, you stay there, gasping for hair and coughing like if you were drowning, a slick sensation in your throat makes you gag and cough harder than before, both of your hands are cupped over your mouth, scared at the idea of throwing up.
Thank God you don't.
The moment passes and your body calms down, but your eyes grow wide when you see what made you gag.
A single yellow carnation petal covered in spit rests between your hands.
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Yelow Carnation: rejection and disdain
tag list:
@happygalaxymilkshake @mightybeeb @kittyb2000
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Sell My Soul - 2
Pairing: dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader
Summary: Your husbands finds a secret you’ve been keeping and he is not happy.
Words: 2k
Warning: non-con/dub-con (past, mentioned), smut, breeding kink, Stockholm syndrome (kinda), language, 18+ ONLY
A/N: The second part to Sell My Soul. Read the first part here .
Part 3
MASTERLIST
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You found him waiting for you in the bedroom, sitting on the bed with his legs apart and his handcuffs on the bedside cabinet. You walked in timidly and he gestured for you to shut the door. His face for once was emotionless and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Your husband scared you most when he became this way, because you knew behind this façade was a fury that would burn you. You’d seen it only a couple times since you’d married him all those months ago and it still gave you nightmares.
“Come here, Mrs Bodecker. It’s time we have a little talk.” Lee said and you walked to sit beside him. Before you could, he held your waist and lowered you to your knees between his parted legs. He tapped your chin and you raised your head to gaze up at him. Though his posture was relaxed, his eyes were dark. These blue eyes had looked at you in all sorts of ways: lust, anger, jealousy and even kindness. You shivered slightly.
“Tell me Y/n, haven’t I been a kind husband to you?” He asked, and you nodded. In the traditional sense of the word, he had. He provided for you and kept you safe. There were days he’d chase you around the house and lavish you with kisses, or times when he’d be overcome with an urge to care for you and he’ll feed you himself.
“Unlike the other men you know, have I ever raised a hand or belt on you?” he continued, and you shook your head, confused. Though he could be rough, he’d never beaten you. The only marks you carried were made by his mouth or the occasional prints of his fingers in throes of passion.
“Didn’t I straighten out your brother and let him keep that store of yours?” You nodded again, not knowing where he was going with these questions. You’d gotten a little better at reading him over the months, but you didn’t know what had gotten into him today.
Lee sighed then, before take hold of your face and holding tight. The fire in his eyes seemed to flare.
“Didn’t I forgive you when you tried to run away from me, not just once but twice?” His voice was hard, and you swallowed. You’d made two unsuccessful escape attempted but hadn’t even made it to the town borders before he caught you. That was within the first few months of your marriage. You didn’t try it again because it was futile. He had been angry, so so angry. You hadn’t left the bed and the house for days and he stayed home with you, fucking the truth of his ownership into you for days.
“Lee, I won’t do it again. You know it.” You said and placed your hands on his thighs just the way you know he liked.
He tilted his head and licked his lips as he looked at you in contemplation. The glass around his emotions was cracking and his face contorted in anger as he leaned down to whisper directly in your face.
“Tell me Mrs Bodecker, how long have you been taking these?” He asked and your heart almost stopped beating as he pulled out the bottle of contraceptive pills from his pocket. Your eyes widened in terror and you looked from the bottle in his hand to his eyes with increasing panic. His hand around your jaw became painful and you pushed against his wrist.
“Please”, you croaked and Lee suddenly pushed you away before standing up. You stumbled backwards and crawled away from him but didn’t run away. That would be a fatal mistake right now.
“I cared for you, provided for you, I was kind to you and your family and all I asked in return was for you to be a good wife and give me children, a family. This is how you repay me?” He practically spat the words and started unbuttoning his shirt. He threw it away and he took long strides towards you before hauling you up by your arm. “Strip”
“Lee, please, lets talk about this”, you pleaded.
“There is nothing left to talk about. Strip right now before I rip off your dress and parade you through the neighborhood to let you and everyone else know your fucking place.”
You trembled as you started striping and watched him do the same. This was probably the angriest you had ever seen him, and you had no thoughts of disobeying at this point. The moment your undergarment was off, and you were bare, he picked you up and tossed you on the bed but didn’t climb up himself. Instead, he took his handcuffs from the bedside cabinet and started fiddling with them.
“How long have you been taking these for?” He asked and you eyed the handcuffs with rising trepidation before answering.
“From the very day we got married.”
He stalked towards you and took your hands before cuffing them to the headboard, leaving you prone and helpless.
“Is that the truth? Because if I find out that you were ever pregnant and terminated my child –”
“No!” You cut him off suddenly. “I wouldn’t do that, you have to believe me. I – I was never pregnant.” You closed your eyes and tried not to cry. The bed dipped under his weight and he hovered over you, the spicy scent of his cologne and sweat smothering you.
“Why did you do it?” He asked and something in his voice made you open your eyes and peer deeply into his. For the first time you saw a crack in his veneer and saw hidden within the layers of anger the betrayal than sat within. Your heart thudded for an entirely different reason because you never expected the strong man who you called husband to ever look as vulnerable as he did at that point.
“I am sorry Lee” you sobbed. “I was so scared”
His lips trailed over your tear stained cheeks before following a well-known path down your body and stopped between your thighs. Familiar hands parted them, and you felt his kisses on your nub that made you clench around nothing.
“What were you scared of, Y/n?” He was looking at you with his chin covered in your essence and truth spilled out of your lips.
“I don’t want children growing up in a house where their parents’ marriage was made by force and not love.”
Lee’s face twisted and he crawled up until his face was right above yours.
“You don’t think there is love in our marriage?”
Your mouth parted but no words came out. Was there love in your marriage? You never wanted to marry him; he had blackmailed you into it. You’d tried everything for the first few months to leave him and start a new life somewhere else. But when it became apparent that you were stuck with him, you’d ceased your efforts. You’d become resigned to the fact that you were his wife and had tried your best to adapt to that role so your life could go as smoothly as was possible. For months now you’d been a dutiful wife to him, and you were surprised when he was what others would say a good husband to you. Was there love in your relationship? Was there more than duty and resignation in your heart for him?
“I don’t know Lee, I don’t know!”
You expected him to shout at you, but your husband was full of surprises tonight. He kissed you, and he kissed you in a way he had never before. It was gentle yet passionate and he took his time tracing every part of your mouth. You were breathless by the time he pulled away and struggling against the handcuffs.
“How can you not see our love? How can you not see my love?” He didn’t let you answer and let his mouth press wet kisses everywhere on your body. He bathed your breasts and sucked, your moans urging him on. “How can you deprive me of the chance to see our children nurse from these breasts?”
“Lee, please uncuff me.” You pleaded but he paid you no mind. Your emotions were everywhere, and you wanted nothing more than to touch him right now.
“How can you deprive me of seeing you get beautiful and round with our child” He said nuzzling your stomach and you struggled harder against the cuffs. They cut into your soft skin, but you didn’t care.
“Please honey, release me. I need to touch you.” You begged. He had again nestled his head between your thighs, and you needed him to lick off every drop of moisture that leaked out of you.
“How can you take those disgusting pills that prevent my seed from growing inside this cunt? This pretty cunt that would taste ten times sweeter with our baby inside you.” He licked a straight strip and you arched your back. He thrust inside you with his tongue and played with your bud until you came with his name on your lips.
“Lee!”
His hands were beside your head now and his cock at your entrance.
“Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t see love there.” He whispered and your heart clenched painfully in your chest. Your eyes watered and he entered you slowly, groaning with every inch. His thrusts were unhurried, and you burned everywhere he touched you.
“My hands” You whispered and this time he listened. Still inside you he reached for the key and uncuffed you, taking your raw hands in his and kissing them. You put them around him and kissed him deep, trying to convey through him what you were feeling.
“If I were to give you divorce papers right now, would you sign?” He asked and stopped moving inside you. Your hips buckled and tried to get him to move but he pinned you down with his weight. “Tell me, my sweet little wife. Would you sign them?”
You could see nothing more than his sweaty face above yours and feel nothing more than his body against yours. His heart was beating against you and gently combed your finger through his damn hair before touching his face.
“No, Mr Bodecker, I don’t want to leave you.” A truth that you hadn’t acknowledged to yourself. A scary truth that you never let your heart accept, but how could you not when he gazed at you with blue eyes that held the force of ocean behind them. You kissed him again and he moved, more frantic now.
“Promise me you’ll never take those pills again!”
“I won’t! I promise!”
“Promise me you won’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you Lee!”
“You’re mine! My wife, my love. Tell me you’ll be the mother of my children”
“I’m yours, Lee! I will bear your kids! I’ll be their mother!” You shouted.
He hit that spot inside you that made your dig your heels in his back until he hit it again. Your voice rose up in a frenzy and you clamped hard on him, breathless with your release. Lee pumped into you until all you could see and feel and smell and taste was him. He went at you and when he came inside, his hands entwined with yours. You lay sweaty in his arms, neither of you letting the other go.
“You never answered me.” He whispered in your ear, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. “Do you really think there is no love in this marriage?”
You looked at your husband and for the first time let the wall around your heart crumble. It mattered little in this moment how he took you. The truth was that you were his and you knew in your heart that he was yours too.
“I may have made a slight misjudgment” You admitted, and you saw him smirk. That smirk more than anything else assured you that things will be okay again.
#dark!lee bodecker x reader#lee bodecker x reader#dark!lee bodecker#lee bodecker#the devil all the time#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan
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i was all over her (a)
part of the autumn experiences collection.
pairing: yandere!tomura shigaraki x reader
genre: angst
words: 2.5k
summary: you never learn.
prompt: visitor
warnings: noncon mentions/intentions, stalking, pervertedness, this is a yandere fic
The rain was quickly soaking through his cotton shirt, chilling Tomura to the bone with a grumble threatening to work it’s way up his throat. He hadn’t brought an umbrella in protest of Kurogiri’s suggestion, he was sure it wouldn’t rain as he walked his normal path. But, he was wrong, it was fucking downpouring and his chuck-taylors were hardly holding up.
Your frog umbrella flashed in and out of the streetlights, the rhythmic step of rain boots clicking and splashing in the puddles that littered the sidewalk. Brown, muddy water rushed in the crook of the street so fast he was briefly reminded of the times he and his family used to look at fish in the nearby rivers. That was a long time ago, no need to make room for old broken memories that would soon cease to exist as he aged further in life.
What he wanted, was you. Your cute little feet stuffed into rainboots far too big for you, they were a gift from your father. That man was too flippant of your desires and needs that he didn’t even know his own child’s shoe size, a sorry excuse for a man if he were to be honest. The umbrella was a gift from your sister, adamant on you having something to keep you sheltered in this shitty ass neighborhood. You didn’t deserve to live here, he could imagine you in a perfectly manicured house with polished nails and frilly sundresses. The sun would sparkle on your skin and you’d smell flowery with a twinge of cinnamon, leaving men desperate and eager to flip up your skirt with the intent to breed you. You’d look so good, he mused. Cum filling your cunt as you squealed underneath him, pleading for more from your dearest, Tomura.
“Mmph!”
Your shoe caught onto a crack in the sidewalk, nearly sending you face first into the mess that was the gravelly street. He imagined you’d make such lovely whimpers and moans as he rammed his cock into you, greedily taking you from behind...or maybe the front? He’d like to cum inside you to mark you and maybe, if he was really desperate, your mouth.
He was working himself up, your apartment was near and the excitement was practically eating him alive with the thought that he’d be able to have you if he was just patient. It would be far too easy for you to get away and cause a scene if he grabbed you by the hair and tugged you into his arms, though, would anyone come for you? Your sister was right, this rough place that you called home was no home at all, they didn’t care about your wellbeing. They didn’t even care about basic necessities, like moving the trash bins so it would be easier for you to keep clean. They were selfish and it made him sick to think of them hurting you, taking you, and doing whatever these fucking creeps could think of. They didn’t care about you like he did.
“Hey! You live in this apartment?”
Shigaraki ducks into a nearby alleyway, back crashing against the wall as he shakes water out of his face like a wet dog. Soft pants fall from his chapped lips as water dribbles down his ears and neck. There’s a tightness in his pants and his heart is racing, a usual occurrence when he followed you home.
“Hm? Oh...yes, I do! It’s nice to meet you!” You tell him your name, why would you even think that would be a good idea? “Is there something wrong? I’m new to the area!”
The man chuckles and your stalkers red eyes peer out from behind the wall, noting your neighbors large frame practically swallowing you up. He almost couldn’t see you considering this man was huddling you into the corner and looking down at you like a piece of meat.
“You’re new? No shit, I’ve never seen a pretty thing like you before.”
You can’t even help yourself, cheeks lifting as you pull your keys out of your pocket. Must be the neglect from your parents, you’ll let just anyone in between your legs huh?
No.
He can’t think like that, you’re different. You wouldn’t, you can hardly touch yourself correctly. He’d form you into the perfect girl, perfect housewife who made him meals and let him bend you over any countertop.
“Ah, well thank you sir.”
You’ve got manners too, he likes that. He wants to hear his name-not Shigaraki-but Tomura as it rolls off your tongue, it’d be syrupy and sweet just like you.
Clunky boots step into your apartment and a creaky door is locked closed, bet that makes you feel safe huh? Like no one’s gonna hurt you? Well, under his eye they won’t. But the only thing it won’t stop is Shigaraki; climbing the white rickety stairs to follow and a copy of your key to match.
Waiting takes a long time, but it’s worth it to keep this little habit up. The water drips from his hair to his chin and neck, leaving a trail that would no doubt make him smell as disgusting as he felt. His hand reaches up to insert the key before the bulbous man from before is grunting out words that he couldn’t care to listen to. Though, the dude is utterly unrelenting and questions him, “what the hell are you doing?”
“What?”
“Are you...who the fuck are you? I thought she was single.”
Shigaraki scans him, unimpressed with the way he’d come to confront him when the two of them had the same goal in mind.
“It’s none of your business.”
The man reaches for his wrist, looking small in the meat of his palm as Shigaraki lets him play hero for the time being.
“I’m calling a hero! I have a cousin who works with Endeavor, you know! Stay here!”
“Let go of me.”
The grip is starting to hurt but the man keeps squeezing, even adding a bit more strength when the wiry man expresses resistance. Doesn’t matter, he’ll just get rid of him while he can. Can’t go around harassing women if you’re just a pile of dust, right?
Isn’t that what you do, Tomura? Stalk and harass future fucktoys? Or rather...as you like to call them, potential housewives?
Sometimes, he might blanch when those thoughts resurface, bothering him and making him feel ashamed of who he is. How could someone like him, a successor to fucking All for One feel shame? That frustration or perhaps disturbance due to the intrusive thoughts lets his anger unleash, cracking like whips in the form of crumbling the man to dust. His wife beater, something he was sure he was (though he doubted anyone would want to marry this fuck), crumbled on top of the ashes and grew soaked under the downpour.
“I told you to let go of me. Now look at you.”
What once used to be a living, breathing person, is now kicked to the drain below. Fingers itching the delicate skin near his jaw, he enters the apartment. He feels hungry, but not for food. He just wants to eat you right up. Yeah, that sounds right. Take you all for himself.
You’d discarded the boots in the alcove near your door, the frogs smiling with pink cheeks as Shigaraki’s childish shoes squash them in his path of destruction. You lie drowsily in bed, pink fluffy pajamas comforting your soft skin and a duvet pulled up to your nose. You’d normally be asleep if it weren’t for the constant nagging in your gut. It felt as though something had gone horribly wrong. The anxiety causes you to lay still in your bed as if something was watching your every breath.
It was eerily similar to the way you’d cower from your closet at night with the idea planted in your head that monsters were coming to eat you. This was only different in the way that you didn’t know what monster was coming. Not only that, you had no idea what he would do to you.
You’d call yourself crazy during times like these, but you’d been right when the door to your bedroom opens.
“I know you’re awake. You always sleep on your back, not your side.”
It’s quiet and still. There’s tension thickening in the air like gravy on the stove and you briefly wonder if this was another bout of sleep paralysis. You thought you’d been in this position before, someone or something watching you. It had never felt like this, you’d never felt so terrified in your life.
“Not up for talking, huh? A bit ungrateful considering I helped rid your little ‘home’ of that greasy pig next door.”
The footsteps grow closer and against all instincts to play dead or even just move away, you sit up and face the man. His red eyes stare down at you, face bony and cracked...he looked like something straight out of a nightmare. Most people you knew were delicate and kind; they looked like regular people. Shigaraki though...you thought that Shigaraki might eat you alive and tear you apart limb by limp. A whimper exits your mouth as you sit paralyzed whilst he simply gets closer and closer.
His eyes trace the neckline of your sleeping shirt, a scoop neck that showed the smattering of beauty marks adorning your skin. You were so beautiful, he grinned and planted his bottom at the edge of your bed. You shook, the water logged clothes easily soaking through to you and making your heart sink deeper in your chest. You held a confused look, like a deer in headlights or maybe a puppy with twitching ears.
“I’m...I’m sorry…”
“Why are you apologizing? Aren’t I the one who broke in?”
Cry for me. You’d look so good and I’d commit it to memory, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re such a pushover, how’d you let this happen? Hm?”
The tears build at your lash line until finally falling in fat droplets down your cheeks. Your hands turn to fists like a child as you rub your eyes, no defenses in place other than to cry like a submissive brat. Your breaths were uneven as you attempted to wipe away tears until a quick hand caught your wrist, pinky lifted.
“Look at me, when you cry. Gets me off,” he giggles before leaning so close your lips could almost touch, “did you know that? Everytime you sobbed in your pillow, I had a hard time choosing whether or not I should cuddle you or jerk off.”
A broken wail escapes you as your body finally makes the move to get away, your feet kick in the tangled sheets and you attempt to wrangle your wrist away from him, thrashing and beating on his chest desperately. He almost felt a bit sad, sure, he was a bit mean with the teasing. But...you had to have known that someday someone was going to come for you like this, right?
It’s easy to intercept your punches, holding both wrists at your head as he leaned over you. His hair framed the two of you, leaving you completely caged in this man. His lithe body scooched up yours, hips resting at yours for a moment.
“I’m gonna make you mine, well, more like you already are mine. Tomura Shigaraki's little wife. Okay? So you’re gonna come with me to the base without complaints, yeah?”
A brave scream tore through your mouth as you arched your back, trying for a second escape attempt. His left hand detached from your arm to grab your throat, cries quickly dying out as you thrashed wildly.
“If my pinky touches this vein right here, you’ll turn into a pile of dirt. If that happens, I’ll move onto someone else. So come on; do you really want to be the cause of someone’s future suffering? Give up, daddy taught you better than to fight.”
“How…?”
He laughed heartily, your throat clenching under his grip before he loosened to let you get a whoosh of air.
“Seriously? It’s so obvious you’re a daddy’s girl, take the stupid little gifts, listen to his every command, and wait for the day he decides to acknowledge you. It’s practically...practically predictable! You’re predictable and sad.”
His words feel like venom as you cry, the lack of oxygen making fuzzy black spots dot your vision. He might kill you in this moment, your lungs squeezed and he finally let go. You sputtered, body confused with it’s sudden freedom as you looked up at him with glassy eyes and snot dripping down past your lips to your chin.
“You look tired, I’ll take you home okay?”
You’re dazed, you almost don’t recognize the way he peels back the covers and grazes his hands up your thighs, exposing every inch of skin as if you were a present meant to be savoured.
“I’m a virgin! Please don’t…”
A look flashes in his eyes as he peers at you from his lashes.
“Perfect, just makes you even sweeter.”
You hadn’t thought you could cry more, but every word that came out of his predatory lips made a new wave of heartache resurface, was this really who you were? A weak girl who could let herself be lifted into the arms of a man she didn’t know, fingers digging into the plump flesh of her bottom as she weakly clung on?
A memory flashes in your mind as you let yourself be taken care of...well no, be kidnapped from your bedroom. It was the one with the high school boys, the way they’d flipped up your skirt and prodded at your weakest, most sensitive places. You’d cried for them to stop, told your father what the sickening boys had done to you. They’d practically defiled you, maybe would have gone so far to take you in that empty classroom had you not kicked one of them square in the shin.
Your father’s words ring in your ears.
“Well, you must have done something for that to happen. Don’t wear such short skirts next time.”
A hand comes to caress the top of your head. Tomura’s, he had you right where he wanted you. Vulnerable and weak to his advances, you were tired too. This was just going to make things easier.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle, you shivered in his arms and prayed to God for forgiveness as you buried yourself closer to him, the warmth comforting and soothing for your soul. Your bare feet swung limply as he kept you pressed to his front, walking on a seemingly practiced path. He was all over you.
If he could apologize, Tomura didn’t think he would. He had to be all over you. Consume your soul like the evillest of demons.
“Cheer up, maybe if you’d been a bit more vigilant, this would have never happened.”
Your bottom lip trembled, maybe love was not destined for you. After all, you must have been asking for this.
“And by the way...you know I love you right?”
You’d heard it a million times before.
#bnha#bnha x reader#yandere bnha#yandere bnha x reader#tomura imagine#tomura x y/n#tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x y/n#yandere shigaraki#yandere tomura
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Okay fine we're doing this. I havent read the books and I'm probably not going to I've only seen the movies so I'm sorry if anything I say is contradictory or has already been stated.
So! Descendants 3 was kinda shit and I dont like it but especially because of the ending because everybody was like "oh yeah island is open and we're all happy with no worries or implications about free villains or people being spiteful about being imprisoned for years!" In fact if anything they joked about those things.
The island is basically its own culture, I can't say how long it's been around, long enough for some almost adult kids to be about and to develop a kind of community.
The Isle is a place of poverty, people are dirty and on the street, eveyone steals from each other and most people don't put much effort into appearance upkeep (personal or of the sourounding area) not because of laziness or being "evil" but because they clearly don't have time or luxury to do such things or possibly even the clean water. Does the Isle have clean water?? How to they get electricity??? Someone tell me!
Another thing that I've noticed is easy to see but is not much explicitly said is the unique style of those on the Isle. As previously stated they don't have much but those who have the most "power" and such on the Isle are the best example of this As they have the most colourful outfits. However these outfits are often made out of patches and ripped things put together, even salvaged things like nets and chains as we can see on thing like Uma and Harry's outfits in D3 they make the best of what they've got and they do fantastic because their outfits are intricate and detailed and just tell you everything you need to know about them. Which is why it's a damn s h a m e when the original VK's ajust their style to be more like Auradon's. That's not an improvement! Be proud of where you came from!! It's like they forgot what it was like being on the Isle in D3!
Moving on, here's something that was touched on in D2 but not enough. Equality. On the Isle there is basically equal opportunity as in saying everything is shit and nome cares what gender and presumably what sexuality you are as long as you can work. Sexism is shown to be almost casual in aurodon from the looks of it, Chad makes sexist comments and litterally none else says anything or seems to see anything wrong with it except Jay who caves to pressure from peers and expectations. He does redeem himself because he's from the isle and he knows you shouldn't give a shit about anyone's gender or anything. If they can do something and ask to be included you give them that opportunity. The sexism is also implied in the way that the rule book has men written specifically in the first place and that it has taken until then for anyone but boys to be allowed on any kind of sports team. We never see it! It seems to be the hetronormative veiw where the boys do sport and girls do cheerleeding and other genders? What other genders? Never heard of that? BAD AURADON!! I bet there's so many trans folk on the island just living their lives, thinking Aurodon is the better place and not knowing that it's a cis het filled nightmare.
Okay no I'm headcannoning now, if their are now a bunch of Isle kids at auradon prep they find it fucking aweful the way all these preppy royals are treating them and make the first LGBT club in Auradon. There is lots of pushback and they get bullied a fuck ton for making themselves the most prominent queer folk in the school until a fight breaks out and the club demand that they should be treated better, taking all the evidence to fairy godmother who is very hesitant because COME ON she's never been that great she is biased to Auradon kids and if putting away those in the Isle is brought up she is all on it, she is jelly spined about doing anything against the royal kids. So the kids are like "Fine, if you won't help us we'll take this to the King himself!" Well mainly the queer mom's of the group (you know the ones I'm talking about) who lead the others and protect the anxious queers as they storm to Ben at his fucking locker and demand an audience because they are being harassed and bullied and none is doing anything. Ben had no idea there was even a LGBT club (too busy ig) and is gassed there is one for a moment before he's like "wait people are harassing you?" So Bisexual King Ben gets his lovely Bi wife and they start coming to club meetings and investing in the pins and stuff the club makes. Most club members are pleased but the queer mom's are apprehensive that this will help until some assholes come to the club to do their usual bullying only to find King and Queen Beast themselves siting there with rainbow bracelets and bi pins and all trying to have a nice old time eating their fucking cupcakes what the fuck are yall doing? The bullying dies down quick once they realise it ain't gonna fly, the other OG VK's that hear about this become members and very protective over their queer children. Did I mention Dizzy and Ceila are a part of the club? They're girlfriend's. Celia is one of the queer moms. Harry becomes one of the biggest protectors over the group as the pan dad. He's been going around snogging everyone and anyone wholl snog him everyone already knew he was queer they just didn't have the balls to try and bully him over it as much as they bullied the lil club members. But now Harry can often be seen in jackets and shit with pan and general queer patches and pins and running around with his gay children yelling "MOVE WE'RE GAY!!" He totally calls them his queer crew. Anyway as a result lots of queer royals start coming out of the woodwork, obvs Lonnie is one of them, and the club eventually serves to bring members of Auradon and the Isle close together.
Where was I? Yada yada auradon expects girls to be pretty princesses and boys to be brave knights or dashing princes. It's shit and should stop being portrayed as good. Moving on!
Food! One of the things we'll established in all movies is that the food of the Isle is shit compared to food of Auradon. The Isle has no fresh fruit which likely means its almost impossible for things to grow there which is fair because again there doesn't seem to be much fresh water and there are always clouds overhead so no sun. Maybe there is some people trying really hard to grow stuff but the general attitude of the Isle seems to be "there is no time for that" and fruits are forgotten so much that the VK's litterally don't knownwhat they are when they come across them. That and anything containing sugar. Actually it's mention by Dizzy and Celia that they enjoy the fact that the cake dosent have dirt or flies so basically food there is terrible. We don't see much food on the Isle but what we do see seems to be beans, eggs, chips and shellfish. Basically protine and carbs that can be easily stored and produced. To be fair beans are kidna good for you but they're likely a sign that if they get any imports from the mainland it is canned stuff. Prison food. There's probably some chef villain that is trying their best to make good food out of the shit but honestly the Isle dwellers should be angry that they've been deprived of good food for so long not happy they're finally been given decency.
Moving on, music! Auradon dosent have nearly as many musical numbers it seems, the Isle songs have a distinct style, to them, the villains that basically "founded" the place were masters of the dramatic songs (with backup or solo) so banging music is basically ingrained in the music's culture, even for battle as we see with the fight between Mal and Uma in D3. Meanwhile Auradon seems to have mainly romance and "I want" songs. Even Audrey's villain song is basically an I want song.
Okay let's talk about the Villains. We've established that the VK's are not inherently bad. However not all of them can be totally good and there are legit OG Villains just kinda chillin on the Isle. They've obviously lost quite a bit of their power, motivation and sanity (isolation will do that to ya as they lost everything and the VKs know no different) but deadass? They were bad guys. You can try to rehabilitate them sure but you've basically just let them free roam, they could make a runner and you wouldn't get the chance. They were also shitty patents which is brushed over/joked about in the interaction between Carlos and...man I feel bad I forgot her name deadass their relationship seemed to come out of nowhere in the second film she didn't seem interested in them at all and friendzoned them multiple times I'm pretty sure Disney did that becaue queer kids were relating to Carlos and headcanoning them as queer (which they deffinatly are) but deadass their mom is an attempted animal murderer and has hurt her child as we can see from how they're afraid of her and her rhetoric and yet it's "haha I'm afraid to meet your ma!" "Me too cus im a dog! Lol!" Fuuuuck offfffff
I think I'm running out of thoughts so here's a last one for now; with the magical barrier down a bunch of magical Villains kids should be coming out for the woodwork. We know Mal has magic basically stored in her so it's is possible, she technically doesn't need the spellbook to do magic it is just inherent to her. So with the diverse range of people from the isle there are deffinatly magic folk in there. Actually if we're following Disney movie law I saw something mentioning Jay being half Genie and yeah! He should be half Genie! Jafar got turned into a Genie he's probably only human because of the barrier! Oh also Ben should be able to go beast on command as long as he had a better beast form than he did in the movies. And give him back the beard and fangs like fuck you he looked so much better
Okay I'm done for now
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On Education
An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published.
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I think every parent struggles with the question of when they should teach their children hard truths. At some point, every child needs to learn about death. They need to learn about hatred. They need to learn about the horrors people will inflict on them for being different. This is something that is as true for ghouls as it is for humans. For most people, it is a fact of life that someone will hate you for existing.
Human-on-human prejudice is still something I don’t fully understand. At least humans have a reason to hate us. I don’t know why they go looking for reasons to hate each other too.
Educating ghouls is a challenge. We need to know about ourselves, of course. We need to know about our kind - our needs, our history, our ways of moving through human society - but we need to learn everything that humans learn too. The more we can fit seamlessly into the human world, the safer we are. You probably don’t know this, what with how much the news loves a story about a ghoul living in secret among humans, their murders exposed to the shock of their friends and acquaintances, but those of us who are brought up among humans don’t get found out very often. It’s the feral children, the big city packs that still hunt most of their food, the all-ghoul communes, that are easier targets for the exterminators. Those of us that are fully integrated are much harder to sniff out, unless we seriously fuck up.
{Editing Note: Don’t say fuck. Even though it’s a really good word}
The best way to make sure a ghoul can pass as human is to start us young. Get us into kindergarten, then elementary school, and keep going all the way through college. There’s nothing better than hands-on training. That’s what my mom did for me, mostly. I was raised in human society, in the human public school system, and I’ve never had a true close call. I’ve never caught the eye of an exterminator, and no human has ever asked me pointed questions about my habits or diet.
For the sake of completeness, I should say that I was in the human public school system for everything except for middle school. It’s not like that’s a great loss, though - everything I’ve heard about middle school sounds like hell. I don’t know how any of you survived going through puberty in front of all your peers.
{Editing Note: I am not talking about ghoul puberty unless I can find a reliable human to tell me what their puberty was like. If I wrote about something that I thought was ghoul-specific but is actually normal I’d die on the spot. I’d call a fucking exterminator on myself.}
Conventional schooling might be the best setup for success, but it’s also the most dangerous route. Kids talk, and that’s as true for us as it is for you. It takes a lot of work to make a child understand that there are some things you can never tell anyone, not even your closest friends, not ever. It’s not a fun burden to grow up carrying either. I’ve known the fear of death for literally longer than I can remember. I’ve known that letting myself be truly honest and vulnerable with any of my classmates would bring it to me and my parents before the day was over {Editing Note: True vulnerability is what I need now, though. I should find a place to talk about my dad}. It’s more loneliness than any child should ever grow up with. I was lucky; I found Scarlet in 4th grade. There are plenty of ghoul children that don’t find each other until high school, if there are even any other ghoul children to be found.
Some parents decide that the risk is too great. They’d rather have alive children than well-adjusted children, so they homeschool them {Editing Note: Okay, that’s way too harsh. Don’t be biased}. I did get to experience this approach for those couple of years when I wasn’t in middle school, and it does have some advantages other than safety. When I was in public school, my mom had to find time after school to teach me about our people. In a homeschool setting, ghoul studies could actually be integrated into our curriculum. It wasn’t completely asocial, either - ghoul parents often use their Society connections to find other ghoul children that are homeschooling so we can learn together. I met my second best friend, Scorpio, because we were homeschooled together.
{Editing Note: My friends are going to read this. I need to make it super clear that Scorpio is the second best friend I made chronologically. I’m not ranking my friends in front of the entire world.}
Scorpio’s a good friend, but he’s also a good case study for the drawbacks of homeschooling. He was homeschooled K through 12 and he is definitely the worst of my friends at passing. He has no idea what’s normal for ghouls vs normal for humans, so he compensates by either saying nothing or saying the most obvious, outlandish lies you could imagine when childhood comes up in conversation. In his defense, those lies are usually pretty funny, and he does connect pretty well with the right kind of people. Scorpio’s got a bunch of very specific subjects that he knows a ton about and loves to talk about. He and Scarlet can go on for hours about literary theory.
{Editing Note: That’s too meandering. I’m just trying to explain why some ghouls homeschool and some don’t - I don’t need to put my weird friends on blast.}
There’s another kind of formal schooling for ghouls that’s much, much rarer - the ghoul private school. The only one I even knew of, St. Raymond’s, was shut down last year by exterminators. Normally I’d tell you to take the lurid details you hear on the news with a healthy pinch of salt, and I still would, but that many rich young ghouls, completely cut off from the rest of humanity… it’s hard to predict what becomes normalized in that kind of echo chamber.
Fortunately, my patron knows more people than I do, so I have more to offer you than grim speculation. According to her, these kinds of places always have a very small student body, rarely breaking a hundred. The lesson content is pretty similar to homeschool - fully integrated ghoul curriculum, plus a few specialized lessons on blending into human society. Out of necessity, they’re almost always boarding schools. It’s easier to keep a low profile if you don’t have a bunch of ghoul kids not used to hiding going to and from the campus every day.
Apparently, it’s that kind of logistical challenge that makes these schools so rare. Aside from all the money you need to run a school in the first place, and how careful you need to be to pass scrutiny from the Board of Education, providing discretely for the needs of that many ghouls is an organizational nightmare. I mean, there’s a reason that ghoul families are so small, a reason why even our extended households rarely do more than scrape the double digits. There’s only so much flesh that can be safely obtained in one area at a time. There aren’t a lot of ghouls that have the resources and the inclination to put one of these schools together.
There is, of course, one more ways that ghouls are educated - the school of hard knocks {Editing Note: That’s such a trivializing way to put it. Have some sensitivity, me}. Given how short our average life expectancy is, it’s inevitable that some ghoul children have to fend for themselves from a very young age. I doubt it comes as a surprise that most of them don’t manage to integrate into human society very well. The lucky ones figure out early on how to kill discreetly, how to hide their nature from observers, and how to vary their hunting patterns enough to avoid the attention of the exterminators. The rest either starve quietly or die violently.
Most of these feral ghouls who survive to be teenagers eventually find each other and form packs. From a pure survival standpoint, this is a bad move. A group of feral teenage ghouls have a much harder time covering their tracks than they would as individuals, but for most, the chance at companionship is too tempting. It’s miserable, being alone in the world. Packs offer most of them the best chance to escape loneliness that they’ll ever get. And for most of them, it ends in a shallow grave within a year. Putting down a pack of feral ghouls is a good headline for an exterminator, and it’s a lot less work than trying to ferret out those of us who’ve figured out how to pass. That isn’t how the majority of ghouls die, but it’s how a plurality of us do.
For those few feral ghouls that survive to adulthood, their lives take one of three paths. Sometimes they find a patron and fall in with a household, and they do their best to heal from the trauma of their childhood. They do their best to find a happy life in human society, just like those of us who were luckier. Sometimes they become true Hunters, living their lives on the outskirts of our Society; still embraced by us, if only at an arm’s length. I’ll talk more about them later.
And sometimes, they become the Lost. Not that ghouls from any walk of life are immune to that fate, but… I’ll get to them later too. You may not have heard of them by that name, but I guarantee you’ve heard of the Lost.
{Editing Note: That’s a really grim note to end the chapter on. I should play with the structure a bit and find a more uplifting note to leave this subject on.}
{Editing Note: Or I could ask Kestrel. I’m sure she’d have ideas on how to better write the section on feral ghouls, and she could help me strike a more authentic tone. But… I don’t want to upset her. She doesn’t like to think about it, and I don’t want to hurt her. Is this important enough? Would she think it’s important enough?}
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this is me trying | b.b.
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
warnings: language, tfatws spoilers, angstyyyy vibes baby
word count: 1557
summary: bucky is trying. you are proud of him.
note: here’s a shorter part of twalb! you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like!
enjoy! <3
“he gave it away.”
you sit on the arm of bucky’s couch as the two of you watch what unfolds in front of you. bucky sits on the floor-- sometimes, you meet him right where he is. other times, you sit back, close enough to be in reach. this is one of those times.
“he gave it away,” bucky’s words echo in the apartment. you’ve been bringing some of your things over, so the words don’t reverberate off the walls the way that they once did. the space feels less hollow than it once did. you’ve even gone to thrift stores hand in hand and bucky has pointed out dated art and offered a low, “this is nice.” it didn’t matter if it was the ugliest thing you’d ever seen. it came home with you and went on the walls immediately.
a careful and watchful eye is kept on bucky, though you can’t help but allow your attention to flick to the tv screen every now and then. “he gave it away and this asshole gets to take the captain america name? are you fucking serious?”
bucky opens his mouth to say something, but then the words come from the tv speakers. he feels like a brother.
you can watch as bucky processes. he gives a little huff of a laugh and he shakes his head, as if to shake off the words. almost hesitantly, you reach out, placing your hand on the shoulder where flesh meets vibranium and you rub there softly. you remember the first time you did it. at first, you worried that you had overstepped a boundary— you had stumbled over your words and stopped but he shook his head and asked if you would do it again. and his head tipped back and he had said “that feels nice.” you had always made a point to do it when he was stressed.
there’s no movement for a few minutes. just you, rubbing that spot on his shoulder. eventually, you slide over onto the couch and you wrap your arms around his neck. and then, you feel his hand come up to touch your forearm. “am i overreacting?” he asks you quietly. he almost sounds embarrassed.
“no! bucky, no.” you slide down so you sit on the floor beside him, your hand touching his leg. “you’re entitled to your anger. and your hurt.”
he moves his knuckle across his top lip. “i need to talk to sam.”
he brushes off your touch and stands, moving towards the bedroom.
that’s another thing about bucky barnes.
he is the kindest, most loving partner you have ever had. he is attentive, he is giving, he is charming.
he can also be cold.
you don’t blame him. you think that if you had gone through half the things he had, you would be a solid block of ice. the fact that he has warmed to you at all is a miracle, in your eyes. of course, he would argue, and say that there is no one else in the world who would have the patience as he thawed.
but it’s time like these, when his thoughts are a jumbled mess of his past, what he has lost and who has left him… these are the times that he tends to close up. he’s given you his explanation in the past.
“you’re my future. i don’t want to bring us down with… everything else.”
and, of course, you would argue that that is bullshit and that you want everything else. you want his moods and you want his hurt, you want to be there through it all, no matter what that means. that is what you signed up for.
as you trail him, you think that again.
shaky hands are filling a duffel bag. you lean in the doorway and watch him, watch the weight in his shoulders and the cloud of pain that you know surrounds him, can consume him. “bucky.”
he doesn’t look up, but his hands still.
“let me help you.”
you brush up beside him like a cat and you gently begin to fold the clothes that he had begun to stuff into the bag. he rubs at his eyebrow and watches you and you gather a toiletry bag and all of the essentials he would need for a week. at some point, he surrendered and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands laced in front of him, eyes studying them. when you zip the bag up, he finally peers up at you. his expression reminds you of a dog left out in the cold.
“thanks, doll,” he murmurs, eyes trailing to the bag.
you smile and you again put your hand on that spot on his shoulder. he sighs and his head tips, leaning against your hand. the hand moves to the side of his face, your other following suit, until you are cradling him in your palms. you swipe your thumb along his lower lip, and he kisses it.
“you’re allowed to be angry,” you whisper. “you’re allowed to be sad. you’re allowed these feelings.”
“i’m tired of being angry,” he admits, and you can hear how tired he is. “i’m tired of being sad. you know, i have these moments, where it feels like-- it feels like things are getting better.” he gestures in between the two of you. “this. therapy. the amends. you know, there are good days. there are days where i… i feel like i have the chance for a normal life. and then…” he shakes his head. “and then there are bad days.”
you swallow and you nod your head. your hand runs through his hair. you wait and see if he’ll speak more, but the words never come. “one bad day doesn’t erase ten good ones, buck.” you sit beside him on the bed, and he tugs you nearer, draping your legs over his. “i’m really proud of you.”
something about the words are so simple, but you watch as they flick a switch in him. he takes your thigh and he squeezes it. “i’m trying.”
“i know you are,” you place your hand over his.
“it’s fucking hard.”
“i know it is.”
bucky smiles a little bit and he releases a breath. you wonder how long that air, those feelings, have been trapped in his chest. you hope it’s a relief. “i should get going.”
you both stand and you help him gather the last few things he needs. the both of you linger in the doorway and he’s looking at you, and there’s a smile on his face, but it’s different than normal. it’s softer. it’s gentler. there’s something behind his eyes that says come with me. i don’t want to be parted.
“stay safe,” you say. there are some walls up around you, and he knows it, too. you fear something happening to him. super soldier or not-- bucky not coming home is the nightmare that plagues you most often. “call me when you can.”
“i’ll call you as soon as i’m there,” bucky says, and you know he will. he is a man of his word. a gentleman. “maybe sooner. i’ll miss you too much.”
you roll your eyes and bucky gets that shit eating grin on his face that you love so much. “can’t blame you.” you grow silent and you’re simply looking at him, and he is looking at you. “stay safe. i’m serious.”
“i know you are.”
“no, bucky. i’m not fucking around--”
“i know you aren’t.”
you give him a pointed look, and he nods. “i’ll be safe, doll.”
he reaches out and takes your hand, tugging you in. hands take your waist and he’s holding you like water in his hands and he can’t pull you in tight enough. you feel his nose brush your neck and you feel his grip on your back and you want to say something, but the words die out in your throat.
bucky peppers kisses along your neck, up to your jaw, your cheek. he pulls back enough to look at you and the corner of his mouth turns up before he is kissing you.
kissing bucky barnes is addictive. it is needy, and it is passionate. it is all hands and want, all desperation, as if this could be the last time that you kiss. your lungs burn but the pain is welcome and when you break, his lips are back to your jaw, featherlight and just as loving.
he pecks you once more. twice. you laugh and so does he and it’s your favorite sound in the world. “go.” you finally say and you make a feigned attempt to push him away, your giggles still in your throat. his lips find yours just one more time before he really does let you go, bringing the duffel onto his shoulder.
he stares at you. you stare back. you play this game a lot.
“i’ll see you soon.”
you nod and open the door for him and you linger in the doorway, watching as he makes his way down the hall. your head rests against the frame and he looks back at you over his shoulder, and he smiles.
how do you tell bucky barnes that you have fallen in love with him?
you’ll have to figure it out.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky x female reader#the world's a little blurry#my writing
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