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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

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Not Like This | Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader

Note: A literal brain fart that I unexpectedly wrote in the afternoon after listening to girl in red today. Angst is seriously the only thing I can produce and feel good about somehow, like what the hell. I should bring this up in therapy next time. I didn't do much research for the fic so lots of stuff is just pulled out of my ass. Get ready for some typical cliché "dying-in-one's-arms" story. Feat. some random google translated Spanish sentences.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Character Death, Angst, Unrequited Love, Just Pain, Blood, Ghost made an oopsie

Summary: You wanted to touch and kiss her but not like this...

Word Count: 2,6k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

"You don't have to do this!"

You practically beg but she just looks at you with that gaze, the one which says that she won't change her mind, no matter what.

She had held the same gaze when she informed you about her decision to take over the cartel and abandon your brothers and sisters in arms.

She is already in too deep at this point. You both know.

You had known for years since the moment when she took Pascale's hand and danced with him in that god-forsaken club.

He enticed her with an idea and she created El Sin Nombre. And it's all your fault. When you dumped that barrel with the son of La Araña in the river, you thought you had done the right thing and you turned your back on Alejandro and the others.

You watch her, her face is full of determination; it's almost like she's looking through you instead of at you, too captivated by her thoughts.

"It's for us. That deal will make sure our families and the ones after us won't ever grow up and live like we did."

"It wasn't that bad! And compared to how many people will suffer because of that man-"

"Not that bad? Y/N, we drank rainwater while my dead mother rotted in the bedroom! I had to stop Feliz from eating her! Your legs are like this because we didn't have access to proper medical care even in the military! We both suffered so much... But like this... With the authority I have now, these days are nothing but a bad dream! We have established schools and hospitals, and with this money, we'll help even more people!"

Your heart stings when she mentions your disability and the hand grasping your cane burns. She's right. You had suffered. But that was in the past. And compared to the suffering that this terrorist and his organization would bring upon the world...

You couldn't even look the people on the streets of Las Almas in the eyes anymore, how could you bear the weight of responsibility for the horrible crimes of that man?

Maybe you shouldn't have taken her hand when you were discharged from the military due to your increasing leg pain and weeks later she had shown up in front of your doorstep to take you into the hands of the cartel.

"He and those missiles will kill people, dozens of them! Innocent families, brothers, and sisters, little girls like Emilia... Valeria, please- Don't do this. The people hunting him will hunt you too. The Los Vaqueros, Alejandro-"

"We already made the deal. There are no takebacks, Y/N." There's no escape.

You stare at her. The ache in your chest that has been buried deep for years now, grows stronger.

You almost don't recognize her.

She's not the girl who took your first kiss at the age of 7. She's not the best friend you had since childhood. Not the teenager who made out with you when she was drunk at 17 and then didn't remember. Not the one who motivated you to follow your dream of joining the high school basketball team. Not the one who mesmerized you with her naturally glowing character who drew you in like a moth to a flame.

And yet...

You still love her.

And what could you do? You're already in too deep.

Years ago you decided to follow her until your feet couldn't carry you anymore.

You're a fool for her and if she decides to walk straight into hell, even then you will follow her.

You smile bitterly. She takes a step forward and grabs your right hand, her eyes staring straight into yours. Your heart flutters as always. The bitterness in your heart grows.

"You're my best friend Y/N, mi hermana. You know I'm doing this for us. Para tiempos más brillantes."

She doesn't see the tears threatening to fall from your eyes when she embraces you and you quietly sob into her arms. She holds you close and yet you've never felt farther away from her.

"para tiempos más brillantes" you whisper in her shoulder and for you these words are like a prayer, begging God or whoever to forgive you for your foolish heart and your foolish love.

A few days later you arrive in a black SUV for the cartel meeting.

The atmosphere in the house is already strange when you enter with Valeria. Diego greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand like always and once again you discreetly wipe your hand on your dress.

You hate participating in those meetings but to the cartel you're like a symbol, a symbol for the wealth and power that one can gain with the help of the cartel. So it's expected that you attend. And she likes it when you're with her.

You feel like a doll in that expensive dress Valeria gifted you. It's a light blue backless dress and compliments your shape.

She gave you this one with her typical words about wanting to make you feel good about yourself but you neither feel pretty nor good; the slit on the side shows off the scars on your leg and with your cane you give the image of a circus actor instead of a rich woman.

"You can rest upstairs", Valeria tells you and pats your shoulder and one of Diego's underlings wearing a black mask steps forward to accompany you.

"I'll see you in a bit."

"Yeah", you mumble and follow the guy. He tries to be discreet but you notice him looking at your feet right away and you huff inwardly. Yeah, she couldn't gift me expensive high heels unfortunately.

You're wearing flats because anything with heels hurt not only your feet but your legs as well.

On the highest floor you pour yourself a drink and sit on one of the chairs at the long round table.

You stare at the ice cubes in your class and watch as they slowly melt. Time ticks by and Valeria is nowhere to be seen.

It's pathetic how you wait for her like a puppy. But it's always been like this. She goes somewhere, you follow. When she's away, you wait for her, the only company your anxiety and worries.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.

The atmosphere has been weird before but when the guard tells you in a breathless voice that he will be right back, you know something is definitely off.

You're not on the comms and you don't have a weapon, you never bring one to these events because it "ruins your outfits".

But you don't have to worry much because right when you think about grabbing a kitchen knife just in case, Valeria and her lackeys storm through the door.

She's armed - unlike when you two entered the house. You immediately know something went wrong.

"Y/N", she says, her tone cold and you stand up quickly, "go on the terrace for a bit."

You blink perplexed. "What? Why?"

She gives you a look as she grabs the phone one of her men holds up for her.

"Solo hazlo!"

You continue to stare for a few seconds, but she turns away, not looking at you.

"Yes, El Sin Nombre" you sigh eventually. A guard offers you a gun and you take it silently.

You walk to the back of the room and leave through the door, the gazes of Valeria's guards burn on your naked back.

You sit on one of the loungers, letting your cane and gun rest by your side and you stare at the darkening sky. You know who she's calling in there and the guilt plagues your mind.

How did you two end up like this? This isn't the future you imagined for yourself.

Yes, you wanted to be by her side but not like this.

The 16-year old Y/N L/N didn't see herself as the closest confidant of a drug cartel boss. Your younger self didn't see herself involved with corruption and the distribution of narcotics. You didn't see yourself lying next to her, back to back, in a bed with a pistol under the pillow.

In your ideal future you would lay in her arms in a cozy bed in a house with room for you two and your family, her sister Emilia, your grandparents, maybe even a dog like Feliz. Just you, the love of your life and your family.

No guns, no drugs, just a happy life, satisfied with what you have.

But you know better. That dream will never come true. Valeria loves you, always has, but not like you love her. You'll never be more than her best friend.

And even if she saw you in a different light, your dream can never come true. The things you both have done in your past will haunt you.

You know it's only a matter of time until the USA will hunt you and the other drug cartels down. They'll purge everything they can get a sniff of. And then El Sin Nombre will pay the price. But you'll be right beside her.

"At least we can be together in prison", you say to no one in particular, a bitter smile on your lips.

You stroke the frayed strap of the bracelet Valeria had gifted you all those years ago in high school. Memories come up but they're interrupted by a low hum. Confused you turn your head, searching the sky when a loud bang and sudden gunshots ring out in the house.

In the blink of an eye you're on your feet, gun in hand with the safety off, your cane disregarded.

You hurry to the door right when it gets slammed open and Valeria runs into you. Shocked you lower your hands, mierda you almost shot her!

"Y/N!", she shouts, grabbing you by your arm. "We have to move!"

She pulls you with her but the low hum has turned into growling and the roar of spinning rotors accompanies the black helicopter who suddenly hovers over the house. You're trapped.

"Down! Get down, now!", someone in the helicopter shouts and god, you're so stupid but she's in danger and without a second thought you shoot at the man standing at the open in the helicopter, while trying to cover her with your body.

"Y/N!"

A lot happens in mere seconds. The man at the helicopter door ducks inside, the other soldiers scream and point their guns at you and you shoot once more when someone shoves you and the force sends you to your knees.

"Cease Fire, Immediately!!"

Shouts echo around you, two more men run on the terrace, rifle and gun pointing at you but you don't care.

You turn and stare at her and she looks you in the eyes. The brown is basically black in the dusk. The corners of her lips twitch as if she wants to smile. You notice the rapidly growing spot on her grey shirt, underneath her necklace on the left side.

You scream and she hugs you, forcing her whole body weight on you. You crumble completely to the ground, holding her close, one hand still clutching the gun.

"Target is hit- I repeat target is hit! Ghost what the fu-"

"Don't shoot! I know that woman!"

Y/N she whispers. She's not moving her lips but you know she called you. You stare into her eyes as she gasps for air.

"Ria, I got you- It's okay- I got you, I-"

You drop the gun and press onto the wound from the back. Your hands turn slippery from her blood.

One of the men walks up to you and kicks your gun away from your reach and as he hovered over you, you pull her closer, shielding her with your upper body.

No, no. This can't be happening!

Your heart beat resounds loudly in your ears, it drowns out the helicopter noise and the shouting soldiers. You feel naseous from the surging helplessness you feel. Until you hear a certain voice. It's familiar.

"Y/N, hey! It's me, Alejandro. Let me have a look at her, please."

Alejandro?

You lift your head, still holding eye contact with her. Her eyes are wide, shocked probably at the sudden development. You gulp but bile still rises in your throat.

Hands grab you, but they're not forceful and you straighten your upper body to give Alejandro the chance to look at her in your arms. You look at him, begging him to do something, to help- save her.

"...dro", she wheezes and he smiles but his raised eyebrows give his worry away.

"Valeria."

He reaches for her back where you hold her and when his hand finds yours, his face darkens. He stands up and turns towards the helicopter and waves at the blonde man inside, his red hand glistening.

"We need a medic now!"

The sentence flings you into the past.

"Necesito evacuación médica para Y/N!! Gómez, hijo de puta, call it in now!!"

Gunshots whizz past you two but Valeria doesn't care.

She puts more pressure on your legs and you just watch how her expression stirs from worry to determination.

You adore that face so much. Her sharp eyebrows, the straight bridge of her nose, her long eyelashes, the lines when she smiles. She's your own personal Aphrodite.

"...s beautiful..."

She looks at you scowling. "Shut up, Y/N! Don't go all woozy on me now! We'll get you out of here and you'll be just fine, okay?!"

You smile. Of course. You'll be just fine. After all, she's by your side.

"..can't do anything for her..."

You blink. The words pull you out of your distant memory. She's holding onto you, you realize belatedly. Her fingers dig into your skin but her grip is weak, too weak.

The two soldiers who got in front of you and checked her body retreat. You open your move to say something but she touches your face to get your attention.

"Y/N..."

She pulls you down, while moving her lips as if she wants to whisper something to you. Your chest painfully constricts.

Instead your lips meet. Someone says something but you don't hear them, too shocked by the sudden kiss.

It's more like a peck and it tastes like the alcohol you drank before but your chest almost explodes.

"D-Don't do that, Ria", you croak. The nickname is like poison on your lips.

She smiles. And kisses you again. Longer this time. You taste salt.

"Not like this- I don't want it like this! I haven't even- me cago en la puta, Valeria Martina Garza, you-"

You cover her hands with yours, smearing her blood on them as you grip her fingers tight, holding on like she's your lifeline. Your foreheads touch. The pain in your chest is tearing you apart. You feel like dying.

"Para tiem...pos más brillantes...", she whispers breathlessly and you sob, showering her face with kisses while cradling her in your arms. She huffs as if she's protesting.

"Don't fucking say that! Yo no puedo vivir sin ti!! I love you, Ria, I-"

The smile is still on her lips when her body goes limp in your arms. Your chest constricts as you breathe in shakily.

Tears fall and you rock her in your arms, holding the only one who ever mattered in your life in your arms and you scream, the pain in your chest never stopping.

How can I wish for better times when you're not with me?!

"Y/N L/N, what do you know about El Sin Nombre?"

"Ella era mi alma gemela. I'll tell you everything."

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booburry · 5 months

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20 questions for fic writers

thank you @silurisanguine for the tag! These are always fun!

1) How many works do you have on AO3

7 and counting.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

166, 653 with a 15k+ one shot of Dieter & Javi about to get dropped within the next few days...

3) What fandoms do you write for?

In order I started: Dragon Age, Hogwarts Legacy, Starfield, Pedroverse (currently Dieter & Javi G but WIP's for Joel, Marcus P, Din with my brain wanting to also shove Frankie and Ezra into that mix).

I have also been avidly avoiding playing BG3 because I know I will deep dive into that fandom and my current WIP's cannot handle

4) Top five fics by kudos?

To The Mistake's We've Make, Echoes in Time, 'Tis the Season for Cullen Fluff & Smut, Feral, Paradiso: Passion. Pleasure. Play!

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes I worry I do to a fault - like someone will give me a heart? BEST BELIEVE YOU WILL GET ONE TOO! Comments are my life blood and very much the thing that makes me giggle and squirm every time I get an AO3 or Tumblr notif

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I am Silvia Gaunt, which is a Aesop Sharp Bodyguard AU...also in WIP status. I literally have the character narrate within the first page how it ends horrible, and I have it truly ending with Aesop weeping with loss.

7) What’s the fic you write with the happiest ending?

uhhhhh, probably the Heiress series with Marcus Pike I have in WIP status, just because Marcus deserves a happy ending (my sweet, soft, babyyyyyy).

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully with everything I have released on AO3 I have not gotten any hate. Back when I wrote on FF.net during the years where I have buried and burned those fics, I got a decent amount of hate for making Bane less of a monster and more of a broken person who had a soft side, and it was truly the thing that had me stop writing. So I am super, duper, gratefully (and always blown away) but the constant love I receive on AO3 and Tumblr

9) Do you write smut?

hahahahahahahahahahaha. Next.

I n all honesty, I think my smut is continuously adding me to some government agency's list. Between that absolutely mind boggling Paradiso one-shot and now this Dieter x Javi piece that is rotting my brain.

Truly - check my temperature or send me to the doctor if I ever release a series or one shot that doesn't have smut. I ain't right.

10) Do you write crossovers?

Not entirely - unless you consider Dieter Bravo (The Bubble) x Javi G (Unbearable Weight) a crossover, but they exist within the same universe in my mind so it never counted. Wouldn't be against a crossover either, just never thought of an idea to do so.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of ha

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes...part of To The Mistakes We've Made was translated into Russian by the lovely @myachanya. (not @'ing you to do it but to call you out and give you so much love and affection my friend!!!)

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not a fic but @5oh5 and I spent an entire afternoon creating the Sam Coe Smut Alphabet and I think if we ever released those transcripts of our tumblr chat during that time, we would get put on a list.

Otherwise, no, but I am not against it. I also frequently talk shop with a select few about my plots in great detail as well as talk about others - I fucking love talking plot points and fic development haha

14) What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Titanic was the first famous ship I remember being an obsession for me, (the dedication I had to rewinding BOTH VHS's...) but 20/10 would not recommend a voyage. Millennium Falcon is always a solid choice but obviously with my current fixation it's all about Razor Crest.

Oh...fandom ship's? I honestly always seek out or write Reader or OC inserts so I truly can't say.

15) What’s the WIP you hope to finish but doubt you ever will?

My Cullen series - I honestly teeter on just abandoning it. I wrote it when I first got back into writing after an almost 10 year solid hiatus and my ability and style has already transformed that if I ever went back, I would have to redo everything I have posted to be happy with it but I absolutely love the story idea so I don't want to completely let go, but I would literally create new WIP's before wanting to write this one again.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I want to say my dialogue - perhaps my descriptions on emotions but I honestly struggle to say any descriptions I provide are a strength, rather middle ground or slightly subpar.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

GRAMMAR FFS. And always insisting every story idea needs to be an expansive 20 to 30 chapter story that doesn't have the plot structured far enough or my ADHD takes me to a new fixation

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I was always able to avoid it because I struggle enough with English being so dyslexic that I don't need to struggle through a language I don't know but then Pedro came in with all of his Spanish self and now I find myself with 4 to 5 tabs open searching words and sentences and searching for lyrics or words being used in sentences by native speakers so I can try to ensure it's all correct because I fucking neeeeeeeeeeed Javi to speak to me in Spanish to me as he loses his mind. I think it's a cardinal sin if I don't.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Christopher Nolan's Batman Universe for Bane - but that was when I was a teenage and will never let that resurface lol

20) Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

This is really hard, almost impossible to choose. Mistakes because it was the first fic that really got a lot of recognition for me, a lot of love given to me. Echoes because it has brought me close to many people and then Double Trouble because I am becoming obsessed with my reader, Dieter & Javi being a throuple and cause it's my current writing obsession and every new thing I release always becomes my favorite.

Tagging some lovelies incase they wish to partake (no pressure): @5oh5, @sp00kymulderr

#20 questions for fic writers #fun tag games

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marvel-and-moor · 17 days

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tagged by @thrakaboom

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Twenty-five!

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 69,644

3. What fandoms do you write for? These days I mostly have inspiration for Marvel Comics, or Fantasy High, but I haven't published many fics for those. On AO3 I have fics for Supernatural, TMA, MCU, Agents of SHIELD, Arrowverse and more. A lot of fandoms only have one or two fics published before my brain latches onto a new thing.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I moved the pencil, R.I.P Rory Williams, Planning on PRIDE, A Walk Through the Scottish Countryside, and Agents of STAR Labs

5. Do you respond to comments? Sometimes. Not very often.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably The Price of Freedom some good ol Tim Stoker angst.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm gonna say A Walk Through the Scottish Countryside. It's very fluffy. Is there a reason both of these are TMA? Idk

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've gotten hate on fics before, the most memorable was one I wrote where Sam Winchester was calling Dean out on unfairly blaming him for things, and I got a long rant angry at me for hating Dean.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have written smut but I've never published it 🤫

10. Do you write crossovers? I do! One of my most popular and oldest fic was a crossover between Agents of Shield and Arrowverse which I never finished and still get comments on asking me to finish 😬 oops

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I started one with @thrakaboom but we both ended up running out of steam. I also had an idea for a modern stormlight AU that I brainstormed with @bone-weaver but it also never got off the ground.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? At this moment? I am really intrigued by the idea of Bruce Banner/Hank Pym but there aren't a lot of fics with them and I haven't finished the stories I've been writing of them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? oh there are so many. I started a lot of long-form supernatural fics in 2020 that I never finished. One of them was exploring if Magda hadn't been killed off early and a new generation of Special Kids had emerged. I also have a lot of Marvel Comics fics, mostly featuring Bruce Banner, that I've placed on hold that I don't know if I'll ever finish.

16. What are your writing strengths? I've been told my dialogue feels really natural and realistic

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I have aphantasia and descriptions are hard for me to come up with. And then sometimes I over compensate or fall back on cliches.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Overall: I am for it! From a reading perspective: If it's in Spanish I'll understand it and enjoy imagining the characters accents. If it's a language I don't understand, I can always look it up with google translate. (or a translation could be provided in the notes or something). The only thing that's difficult is when the writer is not a native speaker and they make understandable mistakes that make the language end up being misrepresented in someway.

As a writer, I like to incorporate Spanish into my fics when it feels appropriate.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Warrior Cats. It's buried deep in some dead forum now though

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Okay after rereading some and much contemplation I think I'm going to say Lonely Hearts. I worked really hard on it and I am proud of my portrayal of Clint and Bruce. It was a lot of fun to write ^-^

tagging: @kinnersonne @bone-weaver @phoenix-jasper @tuometarr

No pressure! And I know not all of you use AO3 so this might not apply to you but I wanted to tag you just in case ^-^

#tag game #writing #fanfics

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dreamedge · 1 month

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AO3 tag game :3

shout-out to @ragecndybars for the tag! <3 I got to think a lot about some older fics and also the deep, eternal impact CC has has on my soul, so I'm emotional rn lol.

How many works do you have on AO3?

21! Which is, a lot more than I thought tbh. I've been writing these long, long fics for so many years now that I've sort of forgotten about all the little ones I've managed in between. And even the long ones add up after a while. Though, I did only import a small selection of my fics from ff.net, so the back catalogue of stuff I've actually written is way longer. ... That's fine, some of that stuff can stay buried lol.

Even at 21 though... *Looks at my shoebox of story ideas and outlines* Its... its still not enough. Its, its just no where close to even making a dent in everything I want to write eventually.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

650,444. I'm pretty sure at least half of that is entirely in CC, and another quarter is in can i bleed. Which, tbh I'm not sure how I feel about that lol. Deeply introspective fics, my passion, my talent, my beloathed. Some part of me does miss simply writting 5k chapters and calling it done for a week. Not all of me though.

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

Only 10! That number probably isn't going to grow much either. I tend to gravitate towards bigger projects these days rather than simple oneshots or even like, 5 chapter long stuff, so I tend to go all in on a small number of fandoms instead of spreading my attention around, even though I want to.

Cardcaptor Sakura

Digimon

Dragon Age Inquisition

Percy Jackson

Persona 3

Power Rangers RPM

RWBY

Teen Wolf

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle

BNHA

Top five fics by kudos:

A Most Precious Thing (Tsubasa): tbh this being number one is an absolute surprise, though I'm very happy about it. According to AO3, this was published almost 10 years ago, will be 10 years exactly in just a few weeks, but people still regularly give it kudos and comments. It was a complete experiment, style wise; I'd never written anything like it before, I've written one thing like it since, and I'm just so thankful that people loved it so much despite the inexperience behind it.

Of the Woods (Teen Wolf/CCS): This being so high up is not a surprise, and I'm annoyed about it. Mostly bc I know its only so high up bc its for such a big fandom, written during said fandom's height. I think its probably one of the fic I've soured the most on since I wrote it; its just not that great.

Crests Corrupted (Digimon) : Oh, here it is. My masterpiece. Maybe its weird to say that of the fic that's only 3rd, but it truly is, and to see a fic I have put so much of myself into being even this high and this appreciated means so much to me.

can i bleed within your love (Persona 3) : Hi! I don't have much to say about this one, only that I'm so happy with the sheer outpouring of love this has gotten, and I can't wait to finish it.

True Feelings Chocolate (Digimon) : Oh, um, I sort of forgot about you. What are you doing here? ...This is awkward, I really didn't expect this to do so well. Its just a silly little fic I wrote for valentine's one year. I'm glad it did well?

Do you respond to comments?

I try! I don't succeed a lot of the time; generally I'm very tired after posting a chapter and then its been like two weeks and responding feels awkward. Also I tend to ramble, if you haven't noticed yet, some sometimes I'll just close out of responding to avoid any chance of me accidentally spoiling or saying something I shouldn't. I'm... working on it.

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

Oh that's easy. Its the RWBY one, Your Love on Your Sleeve and Your Pain Buried Deep. I don't tend to write angsty fics, I like happy endings, I think this is the only one I've ever written and I'm glad to keep it that way.

Do you write crossovers?

I've written one before, the TW one that's up there. I generally tend to prefer fusions over straight up crossovers; I've gotten several P3 fusions planned, a PJ fusion, the bnha fic I wrote is a fusion. I just, I love fusions. I greatly prefer writing them over cross-overs generally.

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Once or twice, but that was ages ago and I've mostly blocked it from my memory. The fandoms I'm in now have been full of such lovely people, I've been really lucky.

Do you write smut?

Smut, as in the fic happens to have a sex scene? Not typically, but I'm not against doing so when the need calls. Smut, as in the entire point of the fic in the sex scene? No. I'm actually very bad at it. I'll do it if I must but I find even writing kiss scenes awkward, let alone everything else. I will gladly leave it to people much better at their craft them I am.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To the best of my knowledge? No I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had people offer? I don't know if they ever did or even if, in my general ineptitude when it comes to responding to people, I actually agreed they could.

Hey, if anyone wants to translate my works, feel free!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

... Hey, thats not fair.

Hmmm, well, after much thinking I'm gonna go with Kurogane/Fai from TRC. Other ships may currently have their hooks in my brain, but kurofai is a big comfort to me still, I really love them. And lets be honest. Ain't no one doing it like those two.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

I have, its not posted anywhere, and technically I've barely started writing it, its almost entirely outline rn, but I do have a p3 fantasy au thats just... fucking massive. Its a huge project just from the outline i have, long even in comparison to CC, so long that I doubt I'd ever finish it to the point where I've barely started it.

What are your writing strengths?

Combat. I write a damn good fight scene and I know it. I take a lot of pride in that. I also tend to have a pretty solid grasp of pacing on an overall level for longer fics. Per chapter pacing gets a bit more eh, but the overall pacing of arcs and stuff for my longer fics, I generally know what I'm doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I never know when to shut the fuck up! This is a problem I've known I've had for years. I just let characters go on these long, internal monologues, which is only acceptable because I also write deeply introspective fics. However, it tends to slow chapters down a lot and after a bit, characters repeat themselves and its a problem.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I'm incapable bc I'm monolingual but I've always loved fics that use other languages! Maybe I can do that some day lol.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Yknow, if I dug far far far back in my ff.net account it would probably be Naruto? I think. My memory is fuzzy and I'm not actually going to go look. However, thats the first one I posted.

The *very* first fic i ever wrote, I have a very clear memory of for some reason. It was a FFX2/Series of Unfortunate Events crossover, I was in the fourth grade, I thought it was the coolest thing. Hm, memories.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

I actually have two answers for this, which, I know is against the spirit and rule of the question BUT. Too bad.

One is A Most Precious Thing, bc it was such an experience to write. Despite being 10 years old I still love it. It was, as I said above, an utter experiment. It is written entirely in 2nd person, which is not actually a choice? I made? Um, I tried, very hard in the beginning, to write in in my standard 3rd, and it didn't work. The story actively refused to be written as such and I kept ending up back in 2nd. And at some point I just gave up and wrote the rest of it as such. And it taught me, so much, about point of view and how that relates to emotional distance, and really, but trusting myself with my writing, that even if I can't say why this is happening, somewhere deep down there is a reason to it and I should trust that. As a writer who takes my craft very seriously, this one has a soft spot in my heart bc of all of that.

However, Crests Corrupted owns a piece of my soul that I will never get back. It is my thesis, my masterpiece, It has defined years of my life, I have poured hundreds of thousands of words into it, I have given it so much of my heart and my pain. It has redefined how I approach writing, it has shaped, totally, the style in which I write today. Even years from now, even years after I finally finish it whenever that is, I don't think I will ever be truly free of it. It is my favorite. How can't it be?

#asks #hello i ramble too much #tag game

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siebenschoen · 1 year

Text

and I never want to believe (that happiness is something different, something more

@ ao3

fandom: ikemen sengoku

pairing: yukimura x mc x sasuke

tags: pre-relationship

summary:

Kasugayama is plagued by the summer heat, thankfully Sasuke and Mai have a beach (lake) episode planned. Or, alternatively: three silly, goofy friends discover that sometimes a trio is just the right amount of people.

The Kasugayama summers are hot. Unbearably so. Mai spends most of her time in doors, crawling from shadowy place to shadowy place whenever the sun travels further into her hiding places. The summer wardrobe she had sown herself – and had been so excited about in winter, back when sunshine seemed like a long-lost dream and not a constant never ending hell – while airy, doesn’t help much when even existing within the limits of her own skin feels like a punishment. When Mai sleeps, she dreams of Air Conditioning Units and iced tea. Neither of which are currently at her disposal. Or will be for the next three hundred years or so.

She has been hibernating indoors for what feels like years, when she decides that it needs to stop. She is bored. Bored out of her mind. Maybe a few days away from turning into a serial killer bored. Her encloser needs enrichment bored. At this point she feels like she knows the wooden ceiling pattern in her room as well as the great hall by heart and she’s starting to get a really good grip on the one in Sasuke’s room as well. Not a good sign. She could start a new sewing project. And usually she probably would, but – and it pains her to even think so – currently the idea of picking up needle and thread evokes nothing but dread in her. Not only seems the heat to have dried up all her creative energy – she is usually proud to say that she is pretty good at picking up inspiration from even the most unusual sources – but the thought of having any extra fabric draped over her lap while stitching makes her want to dig a deep, and preferably cold, hole to bury herself into.

Nevertheless, Mai needs something to do. Anything to set her mind on. Overwise she might join Kenshin in his… intense obsession with sharp objects. Unfortunately, the heat derives her of any energy to actually be creative and come up with something herself, which is how she finds herself in Sasuke’s quarters… whining. To his credit, Sasuke handles her poorly delivered sob story about dying of boredom with a sincerity and grace that is almost enviable. He sorts the smoke bombs he was working on when Mai dramatically fell through his door into neat little piles in front of him, pushes his glasses up with one finger and gives her a look as she’s sprawled on his floor that makes Mai feel like she’s part of a secret mission. It’s almost enough to make her feel excited despite the heat. “Why don’t we go down to the lake later? It’s fed by springs so the water should be cold enough to cool even you down.” Cold water does sound nice. Really, really nice. Mai tries to sit up while hitting her open hand with her fist. She fails a little with the balance but is positive – from the look of mild concern on Sasuke’s face – that it came across as part of her natural grace and charm. “That’s a great idea! I could pack some lunch and then it will be just like a trip to the beach!”

On her way out of the door she can hear a faint gasp and Sasuke’s awed whisper. “We’ve reached the beach trip episode.”

It’s easy enough to convince the maids of Kasugayama’s kitchen to let her grab a few bites and snacks here and there. They like her well enough, although Mai is convinced, they think her a strange anomaly that can get away with almost too much in front of their lords. But even though Mai is considered to be of significantly higher status, as a personal friend to the lord of the castle – Kenshin’s friendship is a difficult thing to obtain and a baffling thing to hold – she always finds time to chat with them, listen to their complaints, offer up some ramblings of her own and fix up their clothes whenever something needs mending. So, yes, they think her strange, but they still like her despite that. Some, she suspects, harbour even a little motherly concern for her. A young, unmarried woman constantly surrounded by equally unmarried men, some of them known to be notorious flirts – Lord Shingen – yes, to a respectable Sengoku woman Mai probably seems to be constantly dangling on the edge of ruin and therefore in dire need of a bit of care and protection.

Lucky for her, today that protective instinct shows itself in a heaping supply of picnic goodies. She has a bit of a hard time carrying them all down the hallway to the spot where she is supposed to meet up with Sasuke, but that’s fine. The thoughts of cool waters and relaxing shades keep her going. It will be nice to get out of the castle for bit. Kasugayama isn’t exactly a narrow confinement, in fact she has gotten lost on her way more than once. Particularly in her early time here. But there’s only so many times you can lay down to watch the faint wind rustle through the gardens before you get a serious case of cabin fever. Besides she has always loved day trips, back in the future. Unfortunately, they are very unusual here in the Sengoku. Not only because traveling does take a significant amount of time and is related to far more dangers than Mai was ever used to, but also because the concept of self-care and taking time off for yourself hasn’t really reached the popularity she was used to. Mai has just started debating how Instagram influencers would try to sell their relaxing evening with their #favouritebathsuppliesever to the average Sengoku audience, when she feels a weight being lifted from her shoulders. “What armies are you planning on feeding?”, Yukimura’s already slightly irritated voice asks her. “Just the special forces,” she quips back while trying to snatch her picnic bag back. He holds them up higher – just out of her reach – and his usual kind of grumpy facial expression is rounded off with genuine confusion. Mai rolls her eyes at him. “Sasuke and me. We are going down to the lake.” “Oh,” Yukimura says in his infinite wisdom and lowers the bag just enough that she can make another (successful) attempt to grab it. “Alone?” There’s a flicker of… something on his face. He looks almost hurt, which in turn makes Mai feel bad. Very bad. She knows that it can’t always be easy being friends with both Sasuke and her. They have three hundred years of knowledge and stories to share between them, reference that Yukimura can’t possibly understand. And as much as she treasures the familiarity this brings to Sasuke’s and her relationship, she doesn’t want Yukimura to feel left out.

Ever since she arrived in Kasugayama it has always been the three of them. She knows that Sasuke and Yukimura were close even before then, but she can’t help but feel like she nestled herself quite neatly into their dynamic. She loves the bickering and easy camaraderie she has with Yukimura. His friendship brings out her fire. He is so brave and passionate about the things he loves that she can’t help but be so as well. And Sasuke offers comfort that no one else quite can. He understands the path she walked, because he walked it as well. Where Yukimura makes her want to fight, Sasuke keeps her grounded. She needs them, both of them.

Only when Yukimura’s ears start to turn red and his mouth twitches slightly, does Mai realise that she’s been starring at him for a quite some time now. “Well,” she says as she vows to herself to make Yukimura feel included and needed, “Unless you want to come with?” He hesitates for a moment before he grabs her picnic bag right back. “You’ll need someone to carry all of this any way.” And then adds, perhaps to distract from the redness that is slowly but surely spreading to his cheeks, “Dummies can’t be trusted with that.” Because she is a gracious person and fantastic friend Mai just laughs and follows him out of the castle.

[…]

The lake is beautiful. Slightly hidden between the rolling hills and mountains, the sun hasn’t yet managed to dry out the surrounding greenery and everything looks, smells, <em>feels</em> lush and alive. They find a secluded patch of grass flanked by sun-warm stones and rustling trees. Mai leaves Sasuke and Yukimura to unpack and darts to where the lake water is lapping at stones and tree trunks. The water is clear and still and when she looks close enough she can see little fish darting between the cool grey stones. Here, at the edge, the lake seems shallow enough to easily walk into it, though she can already make out a few deeper spots. She can hardly wait to get into it. She skips back to where the other two are settling in and helps Yukimura to brace their clay water bottles between some rocks in the lakes water to keep them cool. The water is pleasantly cold against her fingers, and she only grows more excited. This was a good idea. In fact, this probably was a damn near perfect idea.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting in there. Now,” she says, pointing at the lake. Sasuke pushes his glasses up, the ghost of smile dancing on his lips. “Seeing as we came all the way here to do exactly that, that’s a fairly reasonable plan of action. One I’ll be delighted to participate in as well.” “That’s a rather impractical way of saying you will go for a swim,” Yukimura grumbles from the side. As opposed to Mai and Sasuke, who are still standing, he has settled into the grass, a piece of melon already in hand. “Now, now,” Sasuke clasps him on the shoulder, “I think you of all people, my dear friend, are not in position to judge people for how well they express themselves with words.” That comment makes Yukimura splutter, but – already beet red – he doesn’t manage more than a indignant “Hey!” as a comeback. Once again proving Sasuke right.

Countless of beach and swimming trips have taught Mai that it is quite a good idea to wear your swimsuit already under your clothes, if you aren’t too keen on the whole ‘somebody maybe actually very likely is going to see my booby, but I’m still trying to prevent it as elegantly as possible’ spiel and so she comes prepared. It’s easy enough to get out of her thin summer yukata, unlike the fancy kimonos she sometimes wears around the castle. She folds her clothes up neatly and puts them down next to the cloth she brought to dry herself off later. Mai thinks that considering the time – both the period and the spontaneity of their little trip – she has done a fairly good job with her swimming costume. Well, maybe that is a bit of an overstatement. She has grabbed the first shift that seemed like: a) reasonably light material that wouldn’t take long to dry in the sun and b) a simple, but not too long cut that would allow her the necessary freedom of movement. Nevertheless, Yukimura’s alarmed gasp is a bit insulting. “What?”, she turns around, eyebrow raised. As soon as her eyes meet Yukimura’s, his head snaps back to study his piece of melon. The question whether he thought she would jump into the lake in her full outfit is at the tip of her tongue, but a quick glance in Sasuke’s direction and his subtle head shake stops her. Besides she is aiming for amiable and nice today anyway, no reason to goad him. Even after all these months Yukimura can still be painfully shy as it is.

She makes for the lake then. The cold water that laps at her feet sends goose bumps up her body, but after weeks of heat it’s exciting more than anything else. Still she has to bit her lip to keep from yelping as she wades in deeper. Her feet kick up small clouds of dirt and send the little fish scurrying away. The worst parts are her knees and her stomach, but once those are submerged it doesn’t take much bravery to hold her breath and let herself fall beneath the surface. She can feel her hair float up as her body sinks slowly towards the shallow ground of the lake. With her eyes squeezed shut, she tries to concentrate on the feeling of the cold surrounding her that becomes more pleasant with every second. Her feet find the ground, that is more mud than stone now that she has left the shore a few metres behind her. But it still offers enough support so that she can push herself back up and burst through the surface. The sun, to which she returns, feels significantly less burning than the one she left behind. She can see Sasuke coming to join her. His ninja outfit exchanged for a simple pair of pants. A weird feeling bubbles in her tummy at the sight of his bare chest. She and Sasuke are comfortable enough with each other so that they hug the other one freely and often, so she wasn’t completely unaware of the strength his body holds. Hell, logic alone is enough to deduce that a ninja is well trained. But it still makes her feel weird to see it. To be forced to acknowledge it, in a way. Mai pushes that thought process away and throws Sasuke a quick wave before she kicks up her legs to float on the water.

She always liked that. Floating around, feeling almost weightless. The cold water at your back and the sun warming your face and stomach. She closes her eyes and let’s the light paint red patterns on her closed eyelids, listening to the wind in the trees and the slight ripple in the water that Sasuke’s swimming is causing. Every once in a while she opens an eye to check that she isn’t drifting off, but otherwise relaxes and tries to commit this feeling to memory. Lord knows it will be hot and unbearable again soon enough. She doesn’t know how long she spend day dreaming, but by the time she raises herself up the front side of her body as almost dried and sends a fresh thrill of coolness down her spine. Yukimura has moved from his place on the grass to a large stone that protrudes a bit so that he can let his feet dangle in the water. Mai pushes herself forward and lets herself float gently towards him. “Can’t you swim?”

He scoffs. “Of course, I can swim. I’m a samurai.” He sounds honestly offended and for a moment Mai debates to apologise and drop the matter, but the water is so nice, and she is feeling as relaxed as she hasn’t felt in days. If she ever had the energy to go toe to toe with Yukimura it is now. And though she did promise herself to be nice, teasing Yukimura can be just so much fun. “Then why aren’t you joining us?” For a moment Yukimura just stares at her as if to comprehend what she has just said. Or if she has really said it. Then he goes bright red. “I- I can’t- I mean”, he clears his throat, desperately looking everywhere but towards her, “It would- It really wouldn’t be… um, proper, you know.” Mai laughs. “That’s what you’re worried about? But Sasuke’s already in the lake with me!” If possible, Yukimura blushes an even brighter shade of red. “Yeah, but he’s, you know…” “I really don’t” “Well, you and he… Don’t make me say it, dummy!” “Yuki, I genuinely have no idea-” “I think what Yukimura is trying to say,” Sasuke helpfully throws in while he floats past them dead man’s style, “Is that he thinks you and I are in a romantic relationship.” “Oh,” is all Mai can think to say to that, while Yukimura splutters furiously and almost slips from his stone. “But that’s not true,” she adds after a moment. That makes Yukimura look up. His previous embarrassment seemingly forgotten. “You are not?” “No,” Mai says at the same time as Sasuke chimes in with an noncharacteristicly amused “Nope”. “But then why are you like-,” Yukimura gestures between them, “like that?”

For the second time in just a few minutes Mai is genuinely baffled. She is aware that Yukimura sometimes feels left out between Sasuke and her. Hells, she knows that he did so today. But she wouldn’t have guessed that it was because he thought Sasuke and her were dating. And sure, if she’s being honest with herself, she likes Sasuke and he is attractive – and if she is really, really honest, she could see herself dating him in another life that didn’t involve time travel and samurai shenanigans. They work well together, are a good team and Mai always thought that friendships are a great foundation for a relationship. But the point is: her life does involve time travel and samurai shenanigans and also Yukimura and no matter what she feels for Sasuke, she knows that she also feels the same for Yukimura. They are goofy, silly best friends, that just happen to be also really hot. So, really, it’s not that she and Sasuke are like that, it’s that they all are like that. Sasuke and her, Yukimura and her, and even Yukimura and Sasuke. They all have their little special bonds, but that’s the important part: it’s them, all of them. Without even one it wouldn’t be the same.

“Sasuke and I are like ‘that’,” Mai tries for air quotes, but because she’s trying to stay afloat at the same time so they don’t come across particularly convincing, “Just like you and I or you and him.” He stares at her for a moment, a long moment. Then his gaze darts to Sasuke, who makes finger guns at him, and Yukimura turns bright red before it darts back to Mai. “I don’t think-,” he starts, before Sasuke throws in: “Yeah, that is often the problem. With both of you, really.” That blow comes unexpected. “Hey!”, Mai and Yukimura cry in unison. “You have to admit there’s some truth to it.” Sasuke didn’t take his glasses into the lake, but if he did Mai is sure he would be pushing them up right now. “Yuki, I can understand to some degree. He’s awkward enough at the best of times and this must all be very confusing for him. But you,” he turns to Mai, “I would have expected you to be less dense about it than I was. Although, I did require Lord Shingen’s help.” “What does Lord Shingen have to do with this?”, Yukimura looks almost too confused to be embarrassed, “Whatever this is!” “Well,” Sasuke gives both of them a pointed look, “He congratulated me and informed me that he always thought the only thing better than a team of two is a team of three.” Oh, Mai thinks while Yukimura looks on even more confused than before, oho.

It does make sense: them three being like that, instead of just two of them. She needs them both after all. And they both need her and each other, she supposes. And also, it doesn’t hurt, that they are both very hot. Lord Shingen can be very… special, but he knows desire and probably love as well and she feels like he was dead on right with that one. It does make sense. But even more important than that, the thought of them both feels good, it feels right. And she realises, a bit startled by the thought, that she wants them. She wants them, because they could be just like this, but also perhaps a bit different than this – it would be them. And that’s what she wants. That’s what Sasuke wants. And Yukimura…

She takes Sasuke’s hand in her own, pulling him with her as she swims closer towards Yukimura’s rock. The stone feels warm beneath her fingers as she pulls herself up out of the water and looks at Yukimura from underneath her lashes. “Yuki?”, she asks sweetly, “Have you ever heard of polyamory?” With a sudden yelp Yukimura falls into the lake.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen yukimura #ikesen sasuke #yukimura x mc x sasuke #my writing

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sunflowerharrington · 2 years

Text

stitches: chapter 4

004: magical thinking

STITCHES MASTERLIST

fandom - stranger things (2016-)

rating - mature, for now

pairing(s) - eddie munson x reader, steve harrington x reader, billy hargrove x reader

stitches taglist - @vingtetunmars @dallysnecklace @preciousbabypeter @eddiebillysteve @taecube @quickiesgirl @will-byers-is-my-boyfriend dm or comment to let me know if you would like to be added or taken off!

stranger things taglist - @eddies-bat @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @sympathyforher dm or comment to let me know if you would like to be added or taken off!

word count - 3.4k

warnings and tags for this chapter - threats, trauma, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), billy’s past is mentioned, papa is mentioned, billy being an asshole, the mind flayer, mention of what happened to chrissy in chapter two/three, vecna, implied death, vecna’s curse, telekinesis, my shitty latin.

author’s notes - i tried a hand at latin in this chapter, it’s really fucking terrible, i’m so sorry. translations at the end of the chapter! and sorry for like, disappearing for two weeks, i promise i have a good reason why!!

can also be found on my AO3, @/sunflowerharrington

“Y/N?” Billy called, stopping to catch his own breath for a second before taking off in the opposite direction of which he was running, back in the direction he thought the trailer was. “Y/N? Where are you?!”

“Billy! Billy, I can't see you! I can’t—”

“Y/N, stay put, I’m coming— Shit!” He shrieked, tripping over a tendril on the ground that had wrapped around his ankle, pulling him deep into the shadows as he cried out for help, for mercy, anything. He was desperate.

It reminded you of the times when you ‘misbehaved’ in the hospital; when they would drag you into your own special room, keeping you hidden for days on end. No windows, 107.6 square feet of space in total, enclosing you in the white-painted walls, one crack on the floor from when you tried to free yourself from the shackles before.

And one inmate. You. In your very own prison; your mind, stopping you from performing acts that the human race shouldn’t be capable of, as did the metal that had been released from your neck moments ago. You didn’t expect much of your new life in the underworld, in fact, you thought your corpse would be burning in a pyre right about now, or buried six feet under next to your friends from the ‘hospital.’ But that wasn’t how this world worked.

But one doesn’t simply become an immortal when they die. You were supposed to be in Hell, but maybe you already were; even though nothing could be worse than being sat in the electric chair awaiting your death, silently pleading for Peter or one of your friends to come save you since you were unable to scream; the makeshift gag in your mouth making it almost impossible to make any sounds other than short little whimpers. It was torture like nothing else imaginable, barely even fathomable. And what they did behind those closed doors in the lab… that was a sin like no other. Unforgivable, unforgettable. Pure and utter evil—

“Shit, Y/N! Why the fuck did you not follow me?” A familiar voice called, out of breath and panting from running, it seemed. “You told me that we’ve gotta stick together and you didn’t listen to yourself! You scared the shit out of me! I was all alone when it happened!”

You didn’t want this. You hated when people yelled at you for something out of your control. You had no idea where he had gone, and you wanted to stick with him but your separation was not your fault. Was he throwing the fact that he was in the wrong onto you because he didn’t want to admit that you were right and he was wrong?

Both of your deaths were unlucky in the fact that you both had received eternal life, or so it seemed. And it made you want to grab a pillow and scream into it for that eternity until there was no more air in your lungs, just heaviness and despair.

You couldn’t even die like a normal person. Instead you were thrown into your second chance at life on a lifeline; you just didn’t know it yet. You didn’t know what that lifeline was yet either.

And you still felt that weight of the world you had on your shoulders to become the new version of Hawkins’ residents, just as you did two mornings ago, a week ago, a month ago, a year ago. Almost two decades ago.

“Y/N? Did I do something wrong?”

“Billy… You’re scaring me.”

He walked over to you, running his hand through his curly hair, before pressing his body against yours. Tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your head against his rapidly rising and falling chest, you could hear his heart beating at a rapid pace. “Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry! I thought I’d lost you for good. I was so worried, Four.”

You took in his embrace carefully, burying your face in his neck, your tears staining his skin like acrylic enamel paint to a windowpane, hoping he wouldn’t notice your reddening eyes. Your breath stuttered as you felt Billy’s fingers caressing the nape of your neck, repetitive hushes leaving his plush lips.

As you looked up, you felt his breath ghosting your lips, sending even more goosebumps prickling over your skin. He took his time studying your face in the silence, the only sound being your heartbeats beating in sync with one another.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” He whispered, caressing the side of your face with his thumb.

Blue stared into (e/c), a fusion of bright colors, and four pupils began to dilate more than they already had, both yours and Billy’s eyes almost fully black like the midnight sky on a summer night.

His tanned skin radiated warmth between you, and Billy went to pinch himself, dreaming about you. But this was no dream, and he was really in the Upside Down with the most beautiful person he had ever seen. You wrapped one of your arms tighter around his waist, bringing your other hand to mirror his actions, cupping his strong jawline.

He leant into your touch, smiling down at you, taking a gentle hold of your waist this time. “You mean that?” You asked, a small blush of peach creeping onto your cheeks. Hair prickled on the back of his neck as you stood on your tip-toes, bringing your face even closer to his. He gulped loudly when these next words left your soft, kissable lips;

“Can I kiss you, Billy?” You asked, voice low with want. This new feeling felt… weird. Anticipating what could potentially come next.

Billy couldn’t look at you the way you were; lips parted ever so slightly, pupils fully blown. He couldn’t look at you like that. You were a stranger he met only two days ago, and even though he felt attraction, he couldn’t let himself get lost in your sparkling (e/c) eyes.

Not yet.

His heart was beating so fast he couldn’t get a decent breath in. His head was pounding. He felt your breath on his cheeks. And he felt something stirring in his stomach; a feeling he hated like no other.

Butterflies.

You watched as his eyelids began to flutter, then close, letting the sounds and visuals in his mind carry him to what he could potentially call his euphoria. And then you leaned in, cautiously brushing your lips against his, catching him in a slow, sweet kiss.

His breath stuttered in the process, flinching at the contact you made, your movements so caring and kind it hurt like hell.

“You need to go,” he said, mentally kicking himself into Hell for ruining the moment. “Go. Without me. There’s something I need to take care of.” He took your shoulders in his oddly strong grip, pushing you away from him. “Find a way out and come back to me.”

“Billy, I—” You began, but as you did, he started walking away.

You blinked once, twice, three times, and as you did he vanished into the darkness, black veins running up his legs and arms as he did. You tried to come up with a rational explanation as to why that happened, but every reason you thought of was impossible. The mind flayer vanished into thin air when it threw you onto the trailer, appearing as a shadow in the purple and red sky, surrounded by harmonious screeches from the bats that had circled around you and Billy earlier.

You let out a short sigh before the breath in your chest hitched, leaving you to choke on the toxic air as a voice began to boom through your surrounding area. It was a lot lower and authoritative than Billy’s, if that was even possible, speaking to somebody. Probably Billy.

And you began to repeat three words in your mind over and over:

Just.

Keep.

Breathing.

Billy shuddered as he begrudgingly trudged away against his own will, trying to stop his feet from moving him, trying to hold himself back, but it was no use. When he opened his eyes wider, his heartbeat began to slowly pick up in pace as he averted his strong gaze towards the red and navy blue skies, a giant spider-like creature emerging from the shadows.

As the creature set its gaze on Billy, the latter’s irises glazed over, their color morphing into that of glacial icebergs, almost white with a tinge of cobalt blue. The color of the flames of a bunsen burner, fluttering around like the wings of a butterfly.

From then on, were you to roam around this world alone? Were you meant to be alone forever, trying desperately to get Billy to come back to you?

That’s what it felt like.

As fresh tears pricked your eyes, you felt a body barrelling into you, a strong hand grabbing you by the wrist before you could even comprehend what had happened.

“Y/N, we have to go. Now.”

“What—? Billy, you’re not making any sense! What is going on?” You fumbled through your words, stopping when you felt a strong hand clasp your shoulder, almost breaking it in its almost superhuman grip.

“I’m so glad you followed me, because now we might be able to make it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, following his movements with your eyes until he turned to directly look at you, grazing his lower lip between his teeth in thought. Or what you thought was thinking, when in reality it was the complete opposite of that.

But you didn’t need to know that. Not just yet. It would take time for him to come around and realize what had happened to him too.

And you didn’t even follow him.

Something felt… wrong.

You began walking alongside him, through the depths of the underworld surrounded by floating clocks and ancient-looking buildings that, in your mind, should have crumbled into miniscule little particles centuries ago. You walked and walked, subconsciously taking a hold of Billy’s hand as you did, your eyes finally falling upon a stairwell leading to… somewhere.

You started climbing the stairs when Billy finally spoke again. “How fast do you think time flies in here?”

You blinked at him. Of all things to say at that moment.

“You want to know what time it is?” You asked slowly, and he nodded. Unbelievable.

“Are you serious right now? Of all things you’d want to know right now, you chose the time?”

Billy’s face changed into a deep frown immediately. “Of course I want to know what fucking time it is. I’m bored as shit and I just wanna go home! So shut the fuck up, yeah?”

“I feel like… Something’s wrong,” you said, ignoring him. “That— That time has stopped here. Did you see those floating clocks earlier?”

“Of course I saw the fucking clocks, Y/N. They’re everywhere! Did your ‘Papa’ erase your stupid memory too? Or were you just this dense to begin with?” He asked, his voice seething as he pushed you backwards off the stairwell with both hands, your back hitting the ground. “Hm, yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“What happened to you?” You asked, slowly getting back to your feet, as they almost slipped out from beneath you on the wet, slimy ground.

He didn’t reply with words, instead choosing to take a few steps away from you up the stairs. You grabbed his wrist, pinning him with an unmistakable glare. “Who hurt you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Who the hell hurt you?” You demanded to know through your gritted teeth, each word coming out of your mouth crystal clear as day.

“I said it doesn’t fucking matter, alright?” He shouted back, releasing himself from your grip, pushing you away from him again.

You smiled internally. It seemed like the real Billy had returned. Anywho, you bit hard on the inner side of your cheek, almost drawing blood, holding back from snapping at him. But that didn’t work. You won’t let him tell you what to do.

You grabbed his waist with all the strength you had in one arm, pinning him against the door with his wrists in the grip of your other hand. You stared him down, smiling as you saw a hint of a peachy blush creep onto his cheeks, giving his tough-guy act away.

“Listen here, Hargrove. I keep telling you we’re all each other has in here, so you gotta start listening to me and quit acting like a five year old who isn’t getting their Mommy’s attention,” you said, your voice seething with venom. “We have no other option than to ascend these stairs, Billy. Stay in line and don’t cross me like that ever again, or what happened to Chrissy will happen to you in the hands of myself. Got it?”

You let go of Billy’s wrists with a forceful shove and he gulped, concealing it by rolling his eyes, though not fully angry as he kept a hold of your hand, beginning to ascend the stairwell closely behind you.

“We’re all each other has and if we lose our heads now there’s no way we’re ever getting out of here. Keep your head straight. I don’t need you going insane, okay?” This time your voice had softened, like fluffy clouds, like the tears of an angel.

When you finally reached the top, a door stood on its own before you. Billy tried to tug on your arm but you didn’t move, too captivated by the stained glass rose in the centre of the door.

“There’s nothing here, Four, we have to keep moving.”

“You can’t see this door?” You asked, trying the door handle before pushing the door open, and you walked inside, pulling Billy in with you.

You also tried to ignore how much he sounded like Peter when he said your number at the same time. Pushing that to the back of your mind in the only safe place left in your head. Something about the way Billy moved reminded you so much of him.

“See? There was a door here,” you chuckled. “Silly Billy.”

Saying the inside of this room was small would be the understatement of the millennium. It was tiny. With four white painted concrete walls, an equally as uncomfortable looking floor and a metal framed bed with the thinnest mattress known to man. Two pairs of handcuffs that looked the same as those in that trailer hung from the bedpost’s metal backboard.

There was no bathroom. Just a sink next to the bed and a small hole in the floor.

Billy’s disgusted gaze averted towards you, pale faced like you’d just seen a ghost. He bumped your shoulder with his, causing you to gasp and turn to him and he could practically hear the whiplash.

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He asked, the sudden softness in his voice confusing you. One moment he was the most angry, mean person you had ever met, other than Two and Three, the next moment he was the most caring.

“This… looks like my room. My old room, from the lab,” you revealed quietly, anxiously knotting your fingers together, not looking up at him, avoiding all eye and body contact.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He suddenly felt grateful for everything he ever had in his life when he inhabited the overworld, and regretted being violent towards you. This looked like a worse hell than you were both in right now. His mouth had dropped open in sudden shock.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, this time his grip soft, not trying to break your collarbone this time. Billy gave your arm another little squeeze of reassurance, though he was just as, if not more terrified than you.

“Where are you from, Billy?” You asked out of the blue, causing him to do a double take. How were you so calm?

“California,” he sighed, running his fingertips along one of the walls. “I miss the beach.”

“Cal…ifor…nia? California,” you sounded out. “There is a beach there? What is at the beach?”

“The beach reminds me of someone who I used to be close with. There’s seagulls and all the ice cream you could ever want nearby. Much better than that Scoops Ahoy shit at the mall.” He pressed his full body weight against you as he engulfed you in an embrace, kissing the top of your forehead in another act of reassurance.

“Billy, what are all these words? What do they mean?”

You didn’t know these words:

Seagulls.

Ice cream.

Scoops Ahoy.

Mall.

Billy wondered how you didn’t know these words; one minute he thought you were speaking like Shakespeare, the next a toddler who was just starting to learn how to speak. He didn’t know how this was possible.

“I’ll tell you later. Now, come on, doll. Let’s go somewhere safer than here,” he whispered softly in your ear, his breath leaving goosebumps on your skin in its wake, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. “It’s not good to stay here any longer.”

“You’re right, California. Let’s go.” You watched as Billy smiled at the nickname, lacing his fingers in with yours, his others curling around the door handle.

The door opened with ease, and Billy took a deep breath as he looked into the darkness before you both. And even after all things had been considered, he felt happy, for once in his fucked up life he felt that euphoria circling his being, the same feeling that would be felt when doves are released at weddings, because that is one of the most beautiful things on Planet Earth. And he felt that same feeling when he looked at you.

“After you, Y/N,” he said as he looked at you with those doe eyes you grew to appreciate more and more each day that passed, taking your hand in his.

Until one of you slipped, breaking that bond forever.

“Billy?” You called out. “I lost you again? Goddamn it!” You tried looking around for those beautiful doe eyes, to no avail.

Panic set in immediately, and you couldn’t help but let a little laugh of desperation out.

And you couldn’t stop laughing, because if you did you would start crying. And you weren’t going to cry. You weren’t going to spend your days here just the way you had spent your life in the overworld, choking on your own tears in your room that felt more like a jail cell. The only difference was that now you were choking on the spores in the air and the fingers that had started to wrap tightly around your neck, metaphorically, squeezing the last of your life out of you.

You opened your eyes, and then it hit you, like a tonne of bricks being swung from a crane as you were by the Mind Flayer only a few days ago. You were awake at your own funeral.

Peering down into the coffin shaped box in front of you, horror washed over you like a seven foot tall wave as you saw your own body laying in the casket, faceless entities surrounding it. A low chant emitted from the backs of their throats in a language that wasn’t English.

“Ave umbra monstrum**,” they repeatedly chanted in unison in Latin. “Debemus simul venire ad finem vitae Four.**”

You circled around the casket to look into your own eyes, which were being forcefully kept open by hooks, the strings of the hooks had been sewn into the skin beneath the hair of your eyebrows. As you looked down you felt the very same sensation in your eyelids and brows, and you stumbled backwards, your chest heaving. This couldn’t be the end… Could it?

After all you had done, all you had worked for, all you had planned for the future. It didn’t feel like your time was up. No, this was just the beginning for you.

You felt your body getting lighter as your feet left the ground, slowly being turned around to face something before you. A half-human-looking creature with tendrils all over its body, staring at you with a creepy glare.

“It’s time, Four. Time to end your never ending suffering. Once. And. For. All.”

LATIN TRANSLATIONS

- Ave Umbra Monstrum: Hail the Shadow Monster

- Debemus simul venire ad finem vitae Four: We must end the life of Four

sorry if it’s shit, i don’t speak latin but i wanted to add it anyway to challenge myself

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sparxwrites · 2 years

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hi! first of all i just wanted to say i really loved your fics for cr1, and damn, i went through your ripley/percy tag for more content and was certainly not disappointed (i love perc'ahlia with my whole heart i do but these two. they're so awful it's just so good, and i do feel a bit bad about it but Percy really was made to be tortured lol, and the long term implications are so interesting too, i honestly wish there were more fics for them and for this) , also riprolo is SUCH an amazing shipname oh my god esp as she literally killed him and ripped him apart sdnjjkssd. it also inspired me to make a playlist for them and there's so many fitting songs wow. consider: pain & i hate everything about you by three days grace are so written for them (and nicotine by panic at the disco, and whiskey by young rising sons, and so many others tbh). Also something about adding pop mainstream songs to it is so enticing cause i bet percy would hate it xD Anyway, i Really loved your lecturer/student modern au in Paris and all the aesthetic and the idea of the fire in the de rolo household and how she's dragging away from it and coaxing him to alcoholism and drugs and all (there's just so much potential in the idea of them in a modern au! all of the manipulation! like, i don't think i saw any fics about it, it'd be so interesting to explore) and i would absolutely love if you wrote and published it someday, and for now if you have a few more ideas to share about it as well. (and your fic about a modern au with how he keeps calling her to say he hates her... the influence she still has on him... so good). oh and the hc you had about him not being able to get off without pain and questioning if he had always been this way or she made him like that? 10/10 also you did mention you have a lot of other riprolo AUs and i'd love to hear about them if you want to talk about it and share! I'm aware that i'm probably years late to this tho oops so if you're not that into it anymore it's completely understandable too! and sorry that this got so so long sjkdfsfdsd

ahhh, thank you so much!!!! super super glad you enjoy my riprolo content - they are such a good ship, and i'm so insane about them, and percy really was made to be tortured tbh. i'm also delighted it inspired you into making a mix, because fanmixes really are a dying art, tragically.

honestly idk what other aus i'd even talk about, because i have so so many, and they're all buried deep in discord chats and old servers, and also they're all just variations on the theme of "ripley hurts/manipulates percy and he has a bad time about it"... i'm also not really in the critrole fandom any more, though i still have a soft spot for the show. so probably no more fic from me on it! i'm glad riprolo lives on tho. it has a special place in my heart <3

#anonymous #ask #people saying nice things #critrole

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spiritofthenortheners · 14 days

Text

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @marbled-polecat 💛 Had to look at my stats for this and was in for some surprises 😅

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I have 43 works on AO3, all of those are fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 285,225 (surprised myself here).

3. What fandoms do you write for? Star Wars and recently I’ve written some Call of Duty thanks to my partner playing the game.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos

Hit and Run (CoD, Soap/Ghost, Rated E)

Under Arrangement (SW, Fox/Rex plus several other relationships, a part of Over the Line which is a fix-it series where Order 66 is prevented. Rated E)

No White Lies (CoD, Soap/Ghost. Rated E)

Come Down With Me (SW, several relationships, Jesse/Kix, Echo/Fives, Fox/Rex…from Over the Line series. Rated E)

After Sunset in Coruscant (from Over the Line too, mostly Fox/Rex. Rated E)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! It may take some days but definitely yes.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I’d like to say presences since it’s meant to be a horror-vibe Cody/Fox story. I write angst but I also like the ending to have some hope, if not complete happiness.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Close Calls. At least I tried to make the ending very happy (do not look at the ruins of Coruscant burning in the background too closely, focus on the kissing)

8. Do you get hate on fics? I haven’t so far so maybe I go with not yet?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes I do, definitely. Messy fucked up kind and also sometimes a bit fluffier. I like exploring different dynamics in relationships and sex is one of the ways to do this exploring. I prefer my smut with plot though.

10. Do you write crossovers? Nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!? Crossing fingers here…

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, once!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Oh this is a hard one… I tend to like several ships? Cody and Rex in every possible iteration. Cody/Thire. Fox/Rex but only if Rex is the more messed up one. Ghost/Soap. Might be easier to say I don’t really have all time favourites 😂

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Since I usually only have a couple of WIPs at the time I think my odds at finishing them are decent but no promises!

16. What are your writing strengths? I’d like to think writing characters who are flawed or somewhat ambiguous with their motivations? I’m also rather quick at getting the first draft out, it’s the editing that takes time.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Spelling errors. I also struggle with ending a sentence with a simple dot too much. While writing I get loads of ideas and try to incorporate them into the fic only to realise after a while it won’t work with the direction the plot was meant to go. Um so yeah there’s a lot to learn *shrugs*

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Mm. Always a bit tricky, but I do like short easily understandable phrases and such a lot.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Haha since I’m old… Charmed. Those drabbles have been buried deep in the floppy disk cemetary.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? A tie with All the Things No One Said and Deep End.

No pressure tagging @bilbosmom-belladonna and anyone interested 💛

The template below for easier access.

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

#tag game #20 questions for writers #star wars fanfiction #cod fanfiction #my writing

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marypsue · 3 years

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I know I'm a few years late to the party and probably somebody else has said this first and better, but I think all the issues I had with characterisation in s3 are actually symptoms of the one real issue: lack of continuity in character development.

Seeing Hopper disrespecting Joyce, saying she sounds crazy and writing off her hunch about the magnets, doesn't make any sense at all coming from the man who's seen how sensitive Joyce is about being called crazy and seen how her impossible hunches have been right - twice - and how when she says the world is ending, it usually is. Especially if it's supposed to be more obvious than ever that he's secretly in love with her. I bought that he cared about her more in any one given scene from s1 than in 90% of s3, and that remaining 10% was packed into just two scenes.

Billy's relationship with Max also gets a big shiny retcon out of nowhere to make us feel sad about him dying, when I might have actually cared that he died if his 'redemption arc' had involved addressing literally any of the things he needed 'redeeming' for. Including, ironically enough, the issues with his relationship with Max that got cut to try to make me care about him more. If he'd ended up sacrificing himself for Max or, even better, for Lucas, if he'd ended up needing the Party's help with the monster situation he'd ended up in and wound up begrudgingly building a better relationship with Max and having to confront his prejudices on the way, I would have actually been there for that storyline and might have been affected by his death, instead of kind of just wishing we could see more of Will and Jonathan. Tying his story up to El's made a lot of sense - but only if you took s3 as an independent, individual unit, where they were both Designated Major Characters. As a season in a long-running story, though, it didn't really connect to and build off of what that had come before, thematically, narratively, or emotionally, so what was obviously meant to be big and climactic and meaningful just left me kind of confused and annoyed.

I don't really have detailed thoughts on everybody else, but there's been some criticism I've agreed with about Dustin "Emotionally Intelligent" Henderson being snippy and sarcastic with a doped-up Steve and Lucas being generally sidelined. I actually felt like a lot of Mike's and El's character stuff was really well done, once we got past the cringeworthy setup of his 'lie', and El's friends stepping up to save her was !!!yes!, but again, it got very much sidelined because the show was trying to focus on characters and plots that it hadn't really built up to, at least not in the way it had El's issues around identity and being used as a tool and a weapon and only valued for her powers, and Mike's fear of losing her again. The moment all El's friends jump in with fireworks should have been the big slo-mo climactic moment for the kids in the Battle of Starcourt, not the Jesus shot. That's where my emotional investment was, that's what I really wanted to see, but it got treated kind of like an also-ran.

There were individual scenes that really struck home, but the overall character arcs of s3 just kind of felt like they'd been written by people who'd had the characters described to them, but never actually seen an episode of the show. And it was especially obvious to me as somebody whose first experience of the show was watching all three seasons back to back.

Also, Alexei had no noticeable distinct consistent character or motivation and so I did not imprint on him at all and would have happily cut 90% of the scenes he was in, and also, what the fuck was that plot with Karen Wheeler. Jesus.

#stranger things #and I keep finding out that those individual scenes were things the actors pushed for or outright wrote #like...I'm hoping part of the delays on s4 are because the forced hiatus led to a script review #because otherwise...my fear is More Of The Same #have been stewing on these thoughts for a while but like I guess tonight they escape into the wild?#but shall post em in the middle of the night for maximum ignorability #working on the tkaa sequel I'm writing billy and it's just like...you all really went about this in the worst way possible #there were so many other options and ways you could have gone about this storyline if that was really where you wanted to take it #and we got...this #just a panoply of choices I would have vetoed if they'd given me complete creative control #also joyce and hopper in that season were everything I've always hated about 80s romcoms #ever watch the runaway bride? protip: don't #ANYWAY now I have SAID MY PIECE #and I can once more engage in squee and speculation #i have no idea how deep I have to bury a fandom tag these days #so that tumblr doesn't throw it in the tag #but I think it was twenty?#okay while I'm at it mr clarke DEFINITELY knows that SOMETHING is up by this point #and he almost definitely has a pretty good idea of what it is based on the info the main characters have requested from him so far #they referenced the lost boys a bunch of times in s3 #so I'm just holding out for mr clarke to get his 'all the damn vampires' moment in whatever the final season ends up being #is that twenty? that's got to be twenty

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marvel-m-lee · 2 years

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Here's a prompt: Camilo was tickled very often by Pepa and Felix but as he grew up he thought it was embarrassing (teenagers... deep down he still liked) so as teen he refused to admit he was even ticklish until his parents decides to give him a sweet tickle attack. sorry about my english :/

Are you t!cklish? No- that's childish-

Words:4472

Fandom: encanto

Summary: *prompt* Camilo thinks being t!cklish is childish and enjoying it it even wirse- his parents show him otherwise though...

Warnings: angst-t!ckling, the tword has also been banned so I censor it now x

A/N: HELLO. I've been sick all day with a headache and this was the only thing keeping me going- I wrote another one like this too but with Mira and Bruno, so hmu if yall wanna see it??

Also this is MUCH longer than expected- like way longer- but I love it so much 🥲

Also your English is great! I don't believe you mare any mistakes in the prompt! <33 hopefully you emjoy this or its at least similar to the idea haha :D

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

It was a normal day in the Encanto, Camilo was going round, making everyone smile, laugh, and teasing his family, winding his siblings and cousins up the wall as per usual.

Everything was great... until just around tea time.

Camilo was the playful cousin. That was it. He was followed up by Mirabel and recently Isabela in his antics, no matter how childish or silly they seem, as long as they made his family and village happy and brought a smile to someone's face, he didn't care. Though there was one thing Camilo tried to stay away from-

T!ckling.

Why you may be asking? Well, when Camilo was younger, he would love the activity; it wouldn't be rare to hear a squealing Camilo somewhere in the house. He would usually go round and cause mischief, earning him the said t!ckles, and go round in that circle. Many of the adults had realized the boy enjoyed the activity so they would find any way to get him, give it a ball left outside or a sock on the floor, they would give the boy any reason to be wrecked into a giggly puddle on the floor.

Camilo would love every bit of it. Then his tio Bruno left... After that, he was still t!ckled sure, but it became rare enough that by the age of 10 and his younger brother Antonio being born, he never received any t!ckles, unless it was from his elder sister or Isabela- even so, it would only be a poke to the side at most.

By the age of 15 though, Camilo still seemed to enjoy the activity. Some days he'd just wake up, craving t!ckles for no exact reason other than waking up! It's like this secret joy taunted him because deep down, he also thought everyone had stopped because it was childish. If they knew he enjoyed it, why would they stop? He could never think of any other reason other than how everyone must have looked down upon him or how it was childish and embarrassing.

So he buried it deep inside him, whenever the activity arose he would always try to stay away or avoid it somehow, and if the dreaded question ever came up he would shrug and say no, then leave, not being able to stand a minute more in case he would be looked down upon again.

He wanted to make people smile. Not think he was a little kid.

It all came tumbling down right before dinner. Camilo was walking to his room after coming back from the town. He'd seen some kids a bit younger than him running around and chasing each other, then tag teaming and t!ckling one of them to the ground. That scene sent Camilo into a whole other mood and he needed to calm down in his room.

On the way, though, he bumped into his tio Bruno and Mirabel. The two were chatting about something and Camilo was so focused up in his mind that they all walked into each other.

"Woah, hey Camilo!" Mirabel said, smiling at her primo who seemed to be in a weird daze after the bump.

"h-hey? Hey Mirabel, Hey Tio Bruno" The chameleon didn't make eye contact but he still said hello, trying to not act suspicious or too weird, even though he couldn't help it.

"You okay Camilo?" Bruno asked, realising the boy seemed to be a little out of it. Camilo shook his head, as though trying to rid the thoughts that threatened his mind.

"hmm? Yeah- no, yeah. You okay Bruno?"

Bruno tilted his head a little, both he and Mirabel sensing something was up but not wanting to upset him further. "Yeah... if anythings wrong, you can talk to us" Bruno explained, smiling a little at his nephew. Mirabel nodded agreeing with Bruno.

Camilo still made no attempt at eye contact, knowing his face would flush the minute he did. He just nodded and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Yep... Thanks Tio, Thanks Prima- can i- Can I just get through please?" Camilo asked, jestering to his room.

Bruno turned around to see where Camilo had pointed, "Oh! yeah! sorry Camilo, here" Bruno span back around and turned slightly so the boy could walk between Mirabel and he.

"Thahanks- AH" Camilo couldn't help but laugh nervously as he walked through, then feeling a poke at his side from his prima to get a smile on his face. Camilo jumped back and blushed, covering his mouth from the yell he'd given out.

"Uh...? Are you okay Camilo?" Bruno asked, looking at the boy who was horrific looking at a grinning Mirabel. Camilo quickly shook his head between the two, then avoided looking at them all together and tried to compose himself, shaking his head.

"Uh- Yeah! Yeah, Its fine-"

"T!cklish~" Mirabel wiggled some finger at him, making him roll his eyes and try to hide a whine as he began to hate the situation.

"noho- no." Camilo couldn't help the quick response or the nervous giggle within it.

Bruno looked surprisingly between the two and smiled at his nephew, quickly remembering how when he was younger he would love the activity. "Oh yeah, like when you were younger and loved it! Are you still that t!cklish?" Bruno asked, not meaning to fluster the boy any more than he already was. Camilo looked away once more covering his face with a hand as he pretended to look annoyed- though he secretly was hiding his blushing red face.

"Ugh- No. Im not- its so babish" Camilo groaned.

"T!cklings not babish! Tio Bruno's 50 and look" Mirabel begin to poke Bruno's sides and he jumped back, giggling and laughing, gently swatting his neices hand.

"Nohoht right nohow Mirahabel!" Mirabel stopped with a smirk but still turned to Camilo.

"It's okay to be t!cklish primo" she encouraged, trying to make the boy feel better, though the whole topic was sending him to hell.

"Y-yeah- I know- obviously it's fine. I'm just not-"

"Not what exactly?" Camilo jumped out of his skin when he saw his mother walking out of her and his father's room, Dolores too surprisingly.

"I- uh- nothing mami" Camilo had accidently made eye contact with his parents, showing his blushing and embarrassed face.

"Camilo's said he isn't t!cklish" Dolores explained, oh how quickly he cursed her gift once more.

"No- well- yeah- I'm not. It's dumb- I just wanna go to my room please?" Camilo stuttered and whined, looking over to his room.

Why was this becoming such a big thing? Why couldn't he just go to his room and calm down? Why did he have to be like this?

"It's not dumb hijo, its perfectly normal" Felix explained, wanting to reassure his teenage son.

"Yeah, anyway Camilo, you used to love it when you were younger" Pepa explained, quickly remembering her son who loved t!ckles.

Camilo grunted, why did they all suddenly care now? Why remember now? He had mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah- and that was like almost a decade ago. I've grown up since then, matured-"

"Pfft" Dolores couldn't hold back her snicker, she walked over and began poking her brothers side, knowing fully well he was still just as t!cklish as he was ten years ago.

"Hehey!" Camilo jumped back, his face blushed as he almost bumped into Bruno again.

"L-leave off- I'm not t!cklish!" Camilo slightly yelled, feeling embarrassed- yet something within him seemed happy? Excited almost?

"You're not t!cklish?" Pepa asked, raising an eyebrow at her son as Dolores let off with a sweet smile, knowing exactly what would go down now.

Camilo was a mischievous kid. He was cheeky, playful, dramatic; and where did he get this? His parents.

Pepa and Felix were both pretty playful people, even when they were younger they would be the out going ones! It wasn't a surprise one of their kids would take their playful and teasing traits.

Camilo trued to hold back his nervous giggles and blushing face, groaning at the whole situation.

When he was younger, his parents were ruthless. He loved it, but right now he just wanted to yell or hide or anything so he didn't have to feel so trapped and flustered. It was so dumb. He hated how he wanted to run, yet also hated how his mind seemed to slowly be travelling to cloud 9. Why why why!?

"Camilo, you used to love being t!ckled! What changed?" Felix asked, slightly teasing the boy as he wiggled a finger at him. Camilo ran a hand through his hair and groaned, trying to seem confident but failing as his voice cracked.

"N-nothing- I grew up and now I just- I just wanna get to my room! So please, please move?" Oh yes. Very confident. Zero eye contact, voice breaking, asking rather than demanding, MANNERS.

"Nothing changed?" Bruno asked, rather blunt as he smiled at his nephew.

Camilo span around, surprisingly close to his uncle as Dplores had made him almost fall onto him previously.

"What?! I- no- I- oh come on! I'm 15, this is so childish and stupid-"

"Camilo, are you embarrassed by t!ckling?" Bruno asked, interrupting his rambling and luckily making him stop before he blurted something he didn't want to.

Camilo stopped and his blush grew by 50%, unable to speak for a second.

"I'm not t!cklish, so why would I?" He asked, a little defensively. Honesty, no one knew who he was trying to convince, everyone had already seen his giggles at a few pokes, his blushing face was a grand tell too.

"Oh really?" Pepa asked, mischief in her voice as she smirked at her son.

"Mami-" Camilo watched as she stepped forward a little, making him step back and walk into Bruno who just held him lightly, feeling as he shook from bubbled up giggles in his throat and butterflies in his tummy.

"Felix, I think we should test this. If Camilo's telling the truth, he wouldn't mind right?" Pepa asked her husband, hand on her hip with a mischievous smile. Her husband had the exact sane look on his face, then turned to Camilo.

"Yeah, surely he shouldn't lie to us?"

Camilo squeaked very quietly, only Bruno and Delores being able to hear it. The two let out little giggles and a chuckle as Camilo was almost frozen. Bruno wasn't holding him tight, just hands on his arms so he had a chance to escape.

Camilo's body wouldn't move though. His mind raced and raced with thoughts about how dumb it was and how he needed to escape, but he also wanted it- it had been so long and maybe it was okay? He was childish all the time right? But then again, this is something he shouldn't enjoy, he should be embarrassed right?

Wrong.

Pepa teasingly wiggled her fingers at her son and smirked as she crouched forwards a little towards her son.

"Wahait- mami-" camilo couldn't help the tiny giggles that slipped through his mouth, hands up slightly as he tried to look away and hide his blushing face but couldn't.

"T!ckle t!ckle Camilo~" Mirabel teased from the sidelines, now standing with Dolores as the two watched the scene unfold.

Camilo grunted at his cousin but yelped as hands attatched themselves to his sides and belly, beginning to t!ckle around his belly button and sides.

"WAiAhait! Wahait mAmI!" Camilo jumped backwards into Bruno who just kept camilo there, lightly holding him as he fell backwards into him. Pepa had began to attack his torso, poking and spidering, or just casual t!ckle squeezing his sides.

Felix smirked, hands on his hips as he watched the scene, "Camilo? What's wrong? T!cklish?" He teased, unable to hide the shit eating grin on his face.

"Nohoho! NO NO-" Camilo hadn't even seen where his dad had walked up and began to help his wife, both taking a side each as each of their ten digits danced around a side each, sending Camilo into hystericals.

"EEE PfFt pLEASE-" Camilo couldn't seem to say stop, just laughing himself silly. It had been years since someone had done this to him, and he wasn't complaining anymore, though he kept up his little "I'm not t!cklish" act.

Camilo didn't even try to stop them yet, just hugging himself above their hands and laughing with blush filling his whole face. Freely letting them do as they pleased.

"Aw, Amor are you t!cklish?" Pepa awed, continuing to t!ckle her son and take a hand to the side of his neck. This made adorable giggles spill from his mouth, hunching up his shoulders to make it stop.

He couldn't handle it all, his mind splitting a couple times. This wasn't even half of what they used to do to wreck him, yet he was already squeezing his eyes shut and hugging himself.

It isn't possible to get more t!cklish is it?

"Nahaha ehehehe mami mami- papi-" Felix slowed down for a second to appreciate their sons adorable, child-like giggles, but said giggles only empowered his mum to continue her assault, moving around to the back of his neck to make him squeal slightly.

"Camilo, what's wrong? You're wiggling around so much!" Felix joined in again, attacking one of the boys hips and continuing his assault on his belly.

This really made a movement for Camilo, he doubled over, now covering his torso and hiding his neck, lifting up a arm where Pepa had stopped t!ckling his side to rub the neck t!ckles away.

T!ckling did something to your mind, because obviously this was a terrible mistake.

Bruno wrapped his arms around Camilo's torso, trying to keep him from falling over but accidentally making the boy laugh harder as he expected more t!ckles from the movement.

Camilo almost fell to the ground again when his papa attacked his ribcage, skittering his fingers all over one side. Camilo try to lean away but never tried to actually escape, emjoying the moment with his parents.

"EEE PFF WAHAHIT wAhAhHHaIt!" Camilo laugh was now his casual belly laughter, laughing as his dad wrecked his ribcage and squeezing his eyes shut even tighter.

"DAD- PAPI-" Camilo couldn't talk yet, letting his laughter light up the area.

"Yeah Camilo?" His dad answered, as though nothing was going on and began to squeeze the back of Camilo's ribs, causing him to jolt up and open himself up, trying to protect himself, though it was very difficult as his mother decided to play music on his ribcage.

"Felix, look! This one makes music" Pepa teased, treating her son as a toddler again, teasing him abd pretending. She began to poke different ribs and "play music" as she called it. Felix deciding to wreck his side abd ribs once more.

"OkAY OKAY! You WIHIHIN!" Camilo began to fight back mow, very lightly of course, holding his parents wrists with a hand each.

The two stopped instantly, giving their son some breathing and regain a little sanity; but they weren't done yet. They only stopped to look at each other as they realised the position they were in.

"Camilo, I think your t!cklish-" Bruno slightly whispered, well, he tried too, but was rather loud making everyone laugh and Camilo cringe.

"No no, our test isn't complete yet" Felix teased, smirking at his wife. Camilo looked up at the two with horror in his eyes, well- joy- but still. He couldn't believe they weren't done?! Not that a part of him wanted them to be.

"Waiaiahat- nohoho-" Camilo couldn't hold back his giggling, where else were they gonna go? How badly were they gonna wreck him? Sure so far they hadn't killed him, but he surrendered?- Well not really but still!

The two quickly shot their hands into the boys armpits, making him jump and almost knock over Bruno. He squealed and slammed his arms down, shaking his head as a smile quickly carved its way onto his mouth.

"Told you he was t!cklish" Dolores smirked from a far wotb Mirabel, watching as he threw his head back and squeaked, kicking out beneath him.

"SHUHUT UPPP DOLOREHEJES" Camilo swapped between light giggling and loud hearty laughter, desperately trying to escape now but unable to because his mind just faded with an escape plan, just standing there and taking it as he was above cloud 9, a smile on his face as he tried to do anything and everything.

The boy would throw his head back, kick out his legs- though just tio was pretty strong- try to scrunch up, he even did that tiny nose scrunch to hide his face. At one point he had his arms down and forearms up, trying to hide his face as giggles slipped through his hands. His sides would try to swivel and swerve but no matter what he could still feal the t!ckling fingers under his arms.

One hand each up his armpits, each parent had another hand left, both going for rather hellish spots to wreck their boy's mind. Pepa would t!ckle the top of Camilo's belly, very gently of course, making giggles spill from his mouth, whilst Felix decided to go for a kill and use his other hand to roughly squeeze the boys hips, making him jump and yell, almost kicking him somehow.

Camilo's brain was completely I'm fractures at this point. He couldn't handle all the different t!ckling in all the different places, making him want to scream, laugh, giggle, yet his mind wouldn't tell them apart so he just died in each. Tears began to spill from his eyes now, doubling over with laughter as he let the t!ckles take over.

There was only one thing Camilo knew for certain. He wanted this. He loved it.

"Camiloooo~" Camilo heard his name, yet the t!ckling didn't crease, "Camilo are you t!cklish?" Camilo couldn't answer, nor wanted too, only shaking his head. Though everyone else thought this wad him indicating a "no".

"Wow? He's still keeping up with the act?" Bruno and Dolores questioned, surprised at it.

"It's because hes secretly loving it" Mirabel joked, wanting to see how far he would go.

"So you're not t!cklish?" Pepa asked, continuing to wreck his armpit and belly.

Camilo began to giggle as he focused on the gentle belly tickles, but squealed when his father squeezed his hip again.

"PLEHAHESSESASEEE" Camilo tried to beg, he needed it to stop, but wanted it to continue. It seemed that was no secret to anyone.

Camilo fell to his knees in an instant, Bruno letting him gently fall rather than collapse. The boy couldn't hold up much longer and continued to squeal and laugh.

"Oh come on hijo, you used to be able to take this for way longer!" Felix teased, moving to gently t!ckle the boys neck.

"THAHAHAT WAS TEHEHEN YEARS AGOOOHOHO Nooooohoho" Camilo really couldn't stand the neck t!ckles, wiggling his head around more.

"Aw, you're adorable Camilo!" Pepa awed,watching as her son erupted into child-like giggles once more, almost hiccuping with sweet laughter.

Camilo was sitting on his knees now, his parents and tio doing the same, he was surrounded by t!ckles and giggles, laughter filling the air.

"Last time Camilo; Are you t!cklish?" His mum asked, trying to sound as though this was a very important issue that they would have to fix.

"MaHAHAmI! StAhAHaP aSKinHihing!" Camilo begged, emjoying the moment but knowing whatever answer he gave would choose his fate.

"Fine mi Amor, but don't blame me for what happens next!" His parents nodded at Bruno who let the kid go, his parents t!ckling him to the ground as Pepa sat on his waist and Felix held up his arms.

They let the t!ckling stopped for a moment, giving their son a breather and a little bit of his sanity back.

Camilo whined with giggles as he let his head fall back, not even realising the position just yet. He had blush all over his face, a smile, and his hair a mess everywhere on the ground and around around his face.

But the boys smile faded as he kept his eyes closed, realising what had happened, what might happen, he couldn't stop the thoughts that convinced him he was weak and childish.

"Mahami- papi- plehease... this is so dumb and embarrassing" He whined, apparently not learning his lesson just yet...

"You're a child Camilo" Pepa sighed with a smile, "everyone's t!cklish, and if you enjoy it, don't be embarrassed" Felix bumped in, smiling at his son.

Camilo needed to be told that, parts of him still not believing it, but he still needed to hear it.

"Anyway, I'm hungry" Pepa teased, looking down at her sons belly and picking up her hands into claws above him.

Quickly Camilo realised the situation and watched as horror, looking to his sister, cousin and uncle for help, but each had a smile or smirk on their face as they waited for the show.

"Mami- mami wahait- we can talk about this? Dinner will be ready soon-" Pepa only shook her head as Camilo began to beg, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"No no, your belly looks much nicer, and I'm hungry now. You don't mind do you? Seeing as you're not t!cklish?" Pepa teased, going in for the gold as she gently began to lift up his shirt and ruana. Camilo had already started giggling at the air and fabric that glided over his skin.

He looked to his father for support but he had the same shit eating grin, holding the boys arms above his head as he held a hand over the boys death spot, giving his armpit a gentle poke that made him dissolve into laughter.

"Mi vida, do you think he got more t!cklish?!" Felix teased, looking up to his wife as their son continued to laugh beneath them, only having a poke.

Pepa shook her head, "no, no, he can't be, he's not t!cklish!" She teased, poking her sons belly a little, making him wiggle.

"Pleheheaseee"

"Ohhh, yeah- you're right!" Felix teased, t!ckling their sons neck making him hunch up.

"Guhuhuys!"

"Anyway, I'm hungry!"

"Mahami! mahHAMII AH NOHOHO NO NO MAMIIIIIIII" Camilo screamed as his mother quickly pounced, clawing his sides and squeezing as she took a big breath, then blew a massive raspberry on her sons tummy.

"MAMI- NOHO NO YOU WIN YOU WIN PLEASEEE" Camilo lifted his back and flopped around as he yelled, screaming laughter filled the room as his dad stuck his fingers into his armpits and began to t!ckle him silly.

"PAPI- MAMI NO- WAHAIT WAITHHFDKAGAHSHAT" Camilo's words quickly mixed in with his laughter as he was free to thrash around as he was tortured. He squealed and screamed, closing his eyes tightly as tears prickled.

His mother blew another rasberry, gripping his hips and squeezing, turning his laughter silent, his dad swapped hands and he quickly began to twist and trash more.

This continued for what felt like hours. Camilo finally gave up on fighting back, limping and occasionally lifting his back as his mum would blow another rasberry.

He threw his head back, hair everywhere and blush grown way past his ears and down his neck, his smile plastered onto his face and threatened to stick forever as the wonder continued.

Pepa landed a few light kisses on her sons tummy, gently fluttering her fingers over his sides as Felix stopped and t!ckles his neck. Camilo was so done, so worn out, he just sat back as his giggles spilled from his mouth.

"Aw- that was adorable-" Mirabel stated, awing at her primo. Dolores agreed with a smile, Bruno too. Then Julieta called everyone fir dinner, the three left and explained the others might be a couple more minutes.

Felix and Pepa both let off, helping their son sit up with them. Pepa sat on her knees and Felix on a knee, Camilo was still silly with giggles and sat up with a light head. Camilo couldn't hide his happiness, both his parents awing at his adorableness. Felixed ruffled the boys hair with a proud smile.

"See, not so childish or bad is it?"

Camilo didn't answer, though his giggles did fade.

"I mean- I never said it was bad but-"

"Ah, so you do still enjoy it?" Pepa teased, smiling at her eldest son.

Camilo blushed and grunted, not necessarily agreeing but he didn't disagree.

"Why are you so embarrassed about it?" Felix asked, putting a reassuring hand on his sons shoulder.

Camilo was silent for a second but let out a sigh, he was still a little loopy from all the t!ckles so he couldn't think properly and just started talking.

Camilo explained that they knew he liked it when he was younger, but they had stopped after Bruno disappeared and never really did anything again, and after Antonio was born they would never t!ckle him and so he assumed it was something to be ashamed of or that it was only for children so he shouldn't enjoy it. Normally he would be able to shape shift to get rid of something he couldn't cope with, be someone else. But he couldn't with his mind, so he hated that he liked it and and-

He didn't finish though, broken by his parents who both leant in and took their boy in for a hug.

"We're so sorry Camilo" Pepa never wanted to do that, Felix neither. They explained it was okay to enjoy tickling, that it was okay if it was childish, many people young or old still enjoyed it.

The reason they hasn't done it was because they had been under so much stress and after Bruno left, it was just strange because he also used to like it and it reminded Pepa of him.

"We promise to t!ckle you more often" Camilo cringed and blushed at that, though they were trying to be sincere and helped him up.

"Ohokay- that- er- let's just drop it for now" Camilo laughed nervously, cringing at the promise. Felix poked the boys side, sending him jumping through the air.

"Never dropping this" he said, teasing his son yet again.

"Yeah, we should show everyone at dinner how t!cklish you are" Pepa teased, nudging her son.

Camilo put his hands up and blushed, a nervous smile on his face. "NO! Noho- no I'm okay- let's just go-"

Camilo received many more t!ckles after that.

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

allow me one last goodbye : h.z

giving you a moment alone, bucky allows you to say goodbye to zemo. (900 words)

requested: not exactly - the idea is mine but you guys agreed about having a zemo fic so here we are! warnings: tfatws spoilers

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

Walking ahead, the sense of dread was overpowering. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as you turned the corner, the heights of the memorial coming into view.

"Thought I'd find you here," You speak up whilst his back remains turned, allowing you a moment to try and compose yourself, ignoring the tears already threatening to appear.

"I just wanted to see it, once at least now that I'm free." Glancing over his shoulder, his stoic expression softens, his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your weak smile whilst your heart pangs in your chest. "Mi Schatz," Holding his hand out toward you, Zemo watches closely as you hesitantly accept.

Pulling you closer into his embrace, you bury your face into the fur lining his coat, wishing you could stay with him like this forever.

"It's wonderful," You quietly mutter, looking up at Zemo's chiselled jawline, missing the nights you'd run your fingers along it and kiss down his neck. How during his days in prison you'd watch on the other side of the glass as he grew a beard, hating it whilst you quite liked it, teasing him about his appearance. Back before you fully knew him, knew Helmut as opposed to Zemo. "how do you feel, being here?"

Zemo hums to himself before tearing his focus away from the memorial, the family etched in stone to you, noticing the tears forming in your eyes. "At peace," He calmly states. "and I'm glad you're here with me." He smiles down at you, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek.

"I'm sorry you couldn't have visited sooner." You admit, knowing how little time is left between you both. "Helmut,"

"It's okay, Y/n." Zemo's hand moves to gently lift your chin up, allowing him to fully see your face in the sunlight, the warmth you provided him and light over the past few years when all he endured was darkness. "Thank you, for the visits, and putting up with me all this time." He jokes lightly, but you shake your head.

"I'd do it again, anything." You whisper, hearing the sound of footsteps creep from around the corner. "I love you, Helmut."

Zemo smiles proudly. "As you should, mi schatz." He chuckles, leaning in closer as his lips brush against yours delicately, too afraid to hurt you. "Do what needs to be done, for me." Zemo breathes into your lips, ignoring the plea in your gaze.

"I, I can't." It hurt to go against him, after all the things you've endured since meeting him when you were assigned to monitor his progress in prison. "It's wrong, Helmut, you know it deep down." Resting your hand on his chest, you can hear his heart beating faster, despite his cool exterior.

Ignoring your statement, he tenses up at the sound of a gun clicking. "I thought you'd be here sooner." Zemo calls out to Bucky who holds his left arm out for you, only to watch you bury your face into Zemo's chest.

"Y/n, come on." Bucky demands.

"One more minute, please, Bucky." You try to reason as Zemo strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

"It's going to be fine, Y/n." Zemo assures. "This won't be the end, my dove."

Before you can object, Bucky grabs a hold of you as he tears you from Zemo's arms forcefully. "Bucky! Stop!" You cry out as the Dora Milaje appear, forming around Zemo.

Standing tall, Zemo tries not to falter his gaze which remains set ahead, admiring the scenes he once loved of Sokovia.

"Please," You plead against Bucky as Zemo walks on, trying to keep himself together as he ignores your muffled sobs, his heart cracking at the sound. "let me say goodbye." The words are barely audible as you look up to Bucky weakly whilst you hang in his arms.

Looking over to Ayo, no words are exchanged.

Bucky releases his grip on you, and you're heading straight ahead toward the Dora Milaje. "Helmut!" You yell, running at full force as the Dora Milaje part from around him.

Evidently surprised, Zemo remains still as you wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him a moment to adjust.

Resting his arms around your waist, Zemo can still hear the soft whimpers leaving your lips. "Oh, Y/n," Zemo hushes. "this isn't the end, not for us, not yet." He chuckles dryly. "You'll see me again."

"You promise?" You know it's useless to ask such a thing, but the small smile forming on Zemo's lips says otherwise.

Nodding in response, Zemo captures your lips with his passionately.

Salty tears mix with your lips, the bitterness contrasting the sheer sweetness of his lips against yours until he pulls away.

"Take care, Y/n. Do what you must, my dove." Zemo takes your hand in his as you step backwards, your hand slipping out from his grasp for the last time.

The Dora Milaje form around him once more, and Zemo turns to face the jet before him.

Now knowing you're out of sight, a stray tear falls down Zemo's cheek, unsure if he can truly keep his promise this time to you, his love, his dove.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

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rpd-rookie · 3 years

Text

The One Who Runs Away, The One Who Runs Back (Leon S. Kennedy x Reader)

Author’s note: This is a sequel to “A PAST WITH HER, A FUTURE WITH YOU” and the end of my three-parts fan fiction "I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY HEART" I decided to write after so many of you asked for it. Sorry it took so long but I was navigating from one fandom to another. (BTW, if there are any Devil May Cry fans up here, you can read my DMC fan fictions here) PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon.

Tagged: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Post-Break up, Sexual Content

Part 1 / Part 2

***

Do you remember? We started this story by quoting some sitcom character that was clueless about love. Well, here’s a suggestion. Why not ending it by quoting someone who knew a little more on such matter.

William Shakespeare - you know that English dude expert on tragic ‘drink this poison, stab yourself’ kind of love - apparently once said ‘Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck’. I say ‘apparently’ cause, even though I have a master in English lit, this quote is from the internet, and also … who knows what the guy truly said?

But it’s the quote that’s important. Not the author. The quote it’s important because it sums up perfectly how this story is gonna end. However, before starting, let me tell you this quote is going to be the only Shakespeare-worthy sentence in this final chapter. You’ve been warned.

Love runs away from those chasing her. Well, this part was definitely written for someone like Ada Wong. Owner of countless gold medals and possibly a world record at this point, that woman is basically the Usain Bolt of the ‘Running from Leon S. Kennedy’ competition. Unchallenged winner since the creation of this sultry version of cat and mouse game, it’s better not to think about the number of times she successfully ran away from her favourite agent. But this year, this formidable titleholder in a gorgeous red dress will have to face her Nemesis in the championship. You. Though the comparison to the hideous bio-organic killing machine might not be very complimentary to you but you get the idea. This year you enter the Kennedy Olympics. And this year you run like Sonic the Hedgehog and you win the damn competition (screw you Usain Bold!). And you do this with your head high and without an ounce of regret. Ignore all the texts and flowers Leon might send on your track Mario Kart style. His gifts are not as slippery as banana peels and they can easily be dodged, I promise. Well, most of the time, when you’re not lying on your bed in the middle of the night crying and sobbing while reading his messages or playing his voice in your voicemail again and again until you’re nothing more but a giant mess with puffy red eyes drowning in a puddle of your own tears. Screw those messages too! And screw his broken yet terribly sexy voice as well!

Being a man of word, Leon kept his promise. And for months you kept on running peacefully, marathoning away from this past relationship that had destroyed you like no other before while tranquilly fixing your broken heart on the way. That run was a good cardio.

But sometimes, cardio is not enough, and even just the small sight of an overpriced whisky bottle or the smell of Leon’s perfume on some guy’s clothes is enough to reopen your wounds. And when it happens, you always do the same thing, you break the damn bottle - and run cause damn! it’s expensive! - or you tell the guy his perfume smells like cheap cologne and that he should definitely change it, which is an improvement on your past destructive behaviour, since there was a time shortly after the break up when you would have simply dragged the guy to your place to let him fuck you senseless while imagining he was Leon. All that just for the illusion to feel him again and for the sake to kick him out the next morning, screaming like a hysterical psycho.

So imagine, for a small second, the wave of intense feelings surging out of your healing heart when, in the middle of a cafe, you hear some dude sitting behind you ordering Leon’s favourite whisky while wearing the same bloody perfume. “It’s got to be relentless persecution at that point!” You sigh, already annoyed, closing your book more violently than intended. Hope you’re ready, stranger! Because you’re not in the mood to deal with this right now. You turn around with a fake smile that reflects perfectly your irritation, ready to give him hell, your sharpest riposte already burning your tongue. After all, he deserves it and you can’t help it. But when you meet familiar – and freaking gorgeous - baby blue eyes you freeze and stare, suddenly confused and lost and refusing to believe that in spite of the intense running, love just jumped at your neck after all and it was sitting there, taking the shape of Leon S(tupid) Kennedy.

You should have stood up and left, run for your life, run for your heart. And yet, you didn’t. You stayed there staring at him looking at you, allowing all your memories, the good ones and the bad ones, all your buried feelings to come back from the dead, embracing them as if you had missed them, which, let’s be honest, you probably had. You tried to scream to yourself “Come on, Y/N! Shake a leg!” but it seemed that what you brain understood was something like “Cum on him! Open your legs!” as a couple of blurry hours later, you were on Leon’s bed, legs wide open, screaming his name and begging him not to stop his amazing thrusts.

Six months, you ran for six months … Well, looks like the run ends here and now. After a minute-long deep stare, an afternoon of amazing sex and two hours long of something blurry in between.

“I missed you.” And there you were! The moment all couples that broke up have after one of them (in this case Leon with the infamous ‘I missed you line’) starts to believe they miraculously rekindled their love. The fatal post-coital cuddling session that you don’t know how to react to, as you think of all the possibilities before you. Possibility Number 1) You tell Leon you missed him too and cuddle, enjoying that embrace you secretly yearned for months. But that includes forgetting what he has done or pretending that nothing happened. Possibility Number 2) You push him away, get dressed, leave again and act as if this afternoon never happened. But if Leon doesn’t remind you of it, the ache between your legs will, that’s for sure! Possibility Number 3) You jump him again until you sore even more and hope that you’ll be able to leave afterwards. Frankly, all possibilities suck because, in all cases, it seems like you lose. Since, with Possibility Number 1) you lose the run forever, with Possibility Number 2) you lose him again and with Possibility Number 3) well it’s result 1 or 2 + your body aching like crazy for days. I suck at math but no need to be Einstein to know the result of this calculation looks unpleasant. So what do you choose?

You see a triangular dice rolling in your head, showing a never-ending succession of 1, 2 and 3 that doesn’t make any sense and that confuse you even more than you already are. 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 3, 2 ! Oh for fuck’s sake!

You grimace, angry and pissed at Leon and probably even more at yourself, and finally leaves his bed and his strong warm arms, feeling the tears furiously forming in your eyes. “I can’t” You can’t look at him in the eyes. You don’t want to see his confusion, don’t want to see his pain as he witnesses all his hopes shatter to pieces. “ What do you mean?” You can hear the sheets crease behind you, alerting you of Leon’s agitation, so you hurry and pick up all your clothes scattered in his room. You must leave, now. 2! 2 it is! “This! All This! This afternoon never happened.” You tell him, putting on your clothes with sudden clumsy and trembling hands, not caring if your bra is correctly hooked or if you put your shirt on back to front. Your heart. You have to think of your poor heart first. “Hey, hey, hey.” You feel Leon’s hand softly grabbing your arms and you let go of whatever you were holding right now. His voice is sweet and trying to be comforting. Don’t look at him Y/N! Don’t look at him! “Look at me.” You do. Damn it! And you see his gorgeous blue eyes staring at you, studying your flustered face and the tears slowly drowning your (colour) look. You missed those eyes. You missed them so.damn.much ! As much as you missed his hands cupping your face and his thumbs wiping up your tears. God! How many tears those thumbs have missed recently. “It’s alright.”

You want to believe him. You really do. But there is this voice screaming in your head and very clearly this time. A voice shouting, forcing you to remember that night, that awful nightmarish night, the one when you felt your heart break and your dreams turn to ashes. All that because of him and his obsession for her.

“No, it’s not alright, Leon.” You shake your head and miraculously manage to take a small step back. You never thought you could. But you had to. You can’t stay close to him. You can’t let him touch you, feel you. Not if you want to run away. And you have to run away. Like her! Like Ada. Ada! “I told you. For as long as you have feelings for Ada, I can’t … we can’t…” “Please don’t talk about her.” He begs and rubs his hand over his face. Is he trying to chase her away from his mind? Is she still in here? Please, let her not be in here. “But she’s the reason we’re in this situation now. She’s the reason why we’re in this mess.” You insist only for the sake to see his reaction when you mention Ada, to see if she’s still under his skin, somewhere. “Ada is not the reason. I am!” Leon corrects you, a finger directed at his heavy chest as he is putting the full blame on himself for the first time since that night. “I am the one who went after Ada when I shouldn’t have! I am the reason why we broke up! I am the reason why we are so miserable!” “But I was fine!” You shouted back in an attempt to show him he was wrong refusing to listen to that part of you who knew he was completely right. You were miserable without him. “I was doing fine until you came back and fucked everything up! I was healing goddamnit!” You felt new tears rolling along your red cheeks and quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand that felt so callous and rough in comparison to Leon’s gentle touch. “You can’t just jump back into my life like this and expect me to forget!”

Leon nods, agreeing with you in a certain way. But the truth is, he doesn’t want you to forget. He doesn’t expect you to erase his mistake. He just wants you to forgive him … No, he just wants you to come back to him. Period. And that’s got to be what you want to. It has to! “So why did you have sex with me, huh?” He finally asks even though he already knows your answer. “Tell me!” You’re not the kind of person who has meaningless sex, not the kind of person who worships one’s body with divine kisses and devoted caresses if they mean nothing. “Why did you have sex with me?” And yet the answer he wishes to hear doesn’t come out. “For fuck’s sake Y/N! Answer me! Why?” He shouts making you shiver and cry even more. “Because I LOVE YOU!” You finally scream. And it hurts. It hurts but it feels good too. Like a weight lifted off your chest. “Because I missed you too! Because those months without you have been terrible! Because I don’t know how to handle even just the thought of you or the sound of your voice in my voicemail. Because each time I see something that makes me think of you, I’m a mess and I do things that normal me would never do! You fucked me up, Leon! You fucked me up but I love you! And I hate to love you!” You grunt in pain and relief, enraged but happy that you finally let everything out. And Leon listens in silence, frozen by your powerful honest confession. But he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him is overjoyed, ecstatic that you still love him but there is another part that just feels terrible, sorry for the pain your love for him caused you even in his absence. “But you see—“ You continue “That’s the problem in our relationship, Leon! I love you in ways that are so intense, that go beyond sanity. And you love me by half.” You see him crumple, his horrified face looking suddenly very pale as if he had just heard some dreadful news. Is that really how you feel? Is that how you see his love for you? Is that what he has made you believe? “Goodbye Leon.”

With the full intention to leave Leon’s place for good and never come back, you grab you bag on your way out of the bedroom while carelessly shoving your underwear inside of it since you forgot to put them on in the midst of panic and precipitation. Get out of here, Y/N! Now! A reasonable voice encourages you. Listen to me! But this not what Leon wants.

“I never loved you by half.” He declares and you abruptly stop, asking God if he’s some kind of sadist that loves seeing you in pain from the comfort of his divine sofa somewhere in heaven. “Never.” But it’s not God and his sadism that makes you turn around. It’s you, and your masochist love for that blue-eyed man before you. “I don’t believe you” Your voice almost doesn’t leave your throat as you try not to sob. “But it’s the truth.” He says with a calm soothing voice as he slowly approaches you. “I never imagined my future with Ada. I never wished to grow old with her or build a home with her.” You want to tell Leon to stop talking, to stay where he is but your body doesn’t seem to respond. And when you feel him grabbing your hands in his and the comforting warmth that goes with that simple touch, you know that leaving is now an almost impossible task. “Yes. I admit it. My feelings for her were real.” Even when his honesty hurts you, you don’t know how to leave anymore. “But they were nothing in comparison to what I feel for you.” You try to let go, pulling your hands away from his loving grip but he holds you back. And you’re not strong enough. Or maybe, you just don’t want to be strong. Everything is so confusing. Everything is tearing you apart. “But they’re still here, aren’t they?” You question, hoping his answer might give you a clue, might give you the strength to make the correct decision. Do you leave? Or do you stay? “And they’ll keep coming back each she goes back into your life. You can’t let go of her.” “You’re maybe right.” His words hurt you more than you thought they would. They hurt like hell because you realise there are not the ones you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear him say that he would let go of Ada, for good, for you. You wanted to hear that because deep down … YOU WANTED TO FUCKING STAY! “But can you let go of your past?” He continues and you shake your head refusing to hear any other word coming out of Leon’s mouth. “Don’t!” You beg, weary. “No! Listen to me this time. Ada is my past, Y/N. She’s my past. And you … you’re my future. You’re my life, damn it!” He doesn’t cry but you don’t need his tears to sense how emotional and how honest he is. And suddenly, you just want to listen to him. “And I was a fool not to see it sooner. When you left me, I felt a void I had never felt in my entire life. I felt like a part of me was missing. And then, the bombing in Washington happened, and it was like I had nothing left. I needed you. I wanted you. You. Not Ada.” “Leon” You whisper and he cups your face again, blue eyes staring deep into yours, allowing you to see everything in him, his strong love for you and all the weaknesses he hated to admit. “It was you in my mind. Only you. And it will always be you. Because I love you. Now. Today. And I will always love you.”

You cry even more, uncertain if those tears are tears of sorrow, tears of joy or a mix of both. God, how can your emotions be such a mess right now? How can you be wishing to shout at him with all the anger you’ve accumulated and, at the same time, willing to kiss him with all love you’ve got?

“If you got to believe something. Believe that. And if that’s not enough and you think you can be happy with someone else. Then go. I won’t hold you back.” You frown. He is fucking lying. You’re sure of it. “You can’t stop running after me and you know it.” He smiles and scoffs, sensing that hint of sudden defiance in your tone he enjoys a lot. “True. I can’t sop running after you. But I’ll do my best not to catch you if that’s what you want. But you got to tell me. Is that what you truly want?” You don’t reply. Truth is, you’re not sure what to say not because you’re not sure that’s what you want but because you’re not sure you can trust him if you let him in again. “No.” You whisper. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you. All of you.” You can see Leon struggle to contain his growing joy as it starts to glimmer brighter and brighter in his irises. He doesn’t want to cry victory just yet. He is cautious and rightfully so. “But can I?” “Want me?” He smiles. “ Have you completely?” You correct, searching for a promise in his eyes, one you hope, you wish he would not break this time. “Trust me with your heart again and find out.”

This better not hurt this time…

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #i trusted you with my heart #resident evil fanfic #fanfic

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missfangirll · 3 years

Note

If im not too late, I'd request anything for Beiyuan/Wu Xi. There are so few works out there for them :c

So, I wanted to write some XiYuan fluff and somehow ended up writing Dad!Beiyuan bonding with Chengling, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband and a sort-of-fix-it for WoH episode 36?? 😅

The plot follows the show, after episode 36, but their shared past in the novel (Qi Ye) did happen, if that makes sense? 😅 Sorry for the confusion.. The title is a Chinese poem called 蝶恋花 by Liu Yong.

Anyway, here's some XiYuan fluff/dad!Beiyuan/WoH fix-it? 😂😂

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Fandom: Qi Ye, Word of Honor Rating: General Relationship: Wu Xi/Jing Beiyuan, Jing Beiyuan & Zhang Chengling Tags: Fluff, Bonding, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband, Fix-it of sorts Words: 2565 Summary: In an inn, Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, together with Zhang Chengling, await the return of Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing, who have run off to die on a mountain. Beiyuan has to care for Zishu's disciple, while being distracted by his husband.

Read on AO3

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Butterflies in Love with Flowers

Jing Beiyuan has plenty of practice waiting.

He has waited for sixty years at the Three-Life Stone, has waited for Helian Yi for six lifetimes. Has waited in the Imperial City for his schemes and machinations to bear fruit, has waited for Wu Xi. He has plenty of practice.

Which doesn’t mean, however, that he is a patient man.

Jing Beiyuan paces the inn room he shares with his husband, deliberately walking closely past Wu Xi who is sitting cross-legged at the low table reading, looking entirely unperturbed. Much to Jing Beiyuan’s dismay, that is to say, so he brushes Wu Xi’s back with the seam of his sleeve every time he walks by.

Wu Xi doesn’t react for a while, but after the sixth turn, without saying a word, he casually grabs Jing Beiyuan’s sleeve and, turning slightly, pulls him down in his lap, effectively trapping him there with both arms tightly around him.

Jing Beiyuan is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot, and he would never let an opportunity pass to cuddle his husband. With a deep sigh, he settles into the other’s embrace, leaning his head on Wu Xi’s broad chest.

“I am worried,” he admits eventually.

Stroking his hair soothingly, Wu Xi just hums in quiet understanding.

"I'm worried about the two idiots on the mountain," he adds, as if that wasn't obvious, and Wu Xi, as expected, doesn't reply. Jing Beiyuan continues, unbothered by his husband's lack of reaction. "I keep telling the little idiot," here he pauses to marvel at the fact that he distinguishes his companions merely by the grade of their idiocy, then sighs inwardly, "that his shifu and shishu are fine, that he should focus on his training in order to have something to show his shifu upon his return, but sometimes I…." He trails off, snuggling closer into the other's neck.

Zhang Chengling isn't coping well with the fact that both his mentors left with the intention to die on that mountain, albeit with different purposes in mind, and Jing Beiyuan has had to forcefully stop him from climbing that mountain himself, twice by now. For now he seems to have begrudgingly accepted his fate, although Jing Beiyuan can see his outbursts of anger for the fear they are.

He inhales deeply, willing his thoughts to calm down. All they have to do now is wait, wait for Zishu and his little maniac to return safely, and return they will, he has no doubts about it. He can’t, for Chengling’s sake.

A knock on the door interrupts the silent moment and with a groan, Jing Beiyuan clambers out of his husband’s lap to open the door, while said husband reaches for his abandoned book. The elderly innkeeper in front of him doesn’t spare a glance at Jing Beiyuan’s slightly ruffled hair, fiddling with the cap in his hands. At the other’s raised eyebrow, he bows so deep his forehead seems to touch his knees, and Jing Beiyuan has to bite back a grin.

“Yes?”, he asks magnanimously. The man shifts uncomfortably. “Your highness,” he begins, but Jing Beiyuan interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder. “I am certainly not worthy of such a noble title, my good man, just call me Lord Seventh, and speak freely. What bothers you?”

The other man bows again, not as low as before, but it still looks uncomfortable. “Your lordship,” he begins, and Jing Beiyuan sighs, hearing a slight huff of laughter from behind. Wu Xi knows of his resentment against his past life and the decorum it entailed. “Your lordship,” the man repeats, sounding increasingly desperate. “Your, umm.. The young master… He… The courtyard…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Jing Beiyuan has a vague idea of what he is trying to say, so he just nods and breezes past the innkeeper, who hastily shuts the door and scrambles to follow him.

From the inn’s inner courtyard he can already hear a dull thudding noise that grows louder as he approaches. In the yard, next to a small wooden shack, he finds the source of the noise: Zhang Chengling, gracelessly hitting the timber wall with a training sword, his face and back sweaty, his hair in disarray, his mouth a thin line. Jing Beiyuan nods to the innkeeper, who retreats to another building, then slowly approaches the boy, keeping his distance from the sword. Leaning on the wooden wall, he stays silent, observing Zishu’s disciple. The boy has grown a finger’s breadth over the last weeks, his body starting to stretch, his face about to lose the softness of childhood. He has seen a lot these past months, Jing Beiyuan muses, and feels infinite fondness for the little idiot.

Zhang Chengling has seen him, of course, but doesn’t make any move to stop his grim assault on the shack, so Jing Beiyuan says after a while, “You might want to use a real sword when you intend to put a hole in that thing.” His teasing doesn’t gain a reaction, however, the boy still hacking away at the wood. “Chengling,” he says after a while, softly, gently, “they will return.”

“I know,” comes the strained reply, but the beating doesn’t stop. The hits seem to grow less forceful, though, and Jing Beiyuan inches closer. “If Tian Chuang had succeeded,” he adds quietly, “we would know.” He looks directly at Chengling who stubbornly avoids his gaze, but his movements slow further, until he swings the sword like a flag bearer his banner in a parade. Jing Beiyuan carefully closes the distance, intercepting the last swing with his hand, gripping the wooden sword. He notices its shaking, and it’s only a heartbeat before Chengling collapses into his arms, letting go of the sword and wrapping both arms around him in a desperate embrace. Jing Beiyuan lowers the sword, then enfolds the boy in his arms, a hand on the back of his head, and lets him sob quietly into his shoulder.

“I miss them,” the boy snuffles into his robes, his face hidden. “Sometimes I dream about them, dead and cold, buried under all that snow and I…” He hiccups, then starts sobbing again. Jing Beiyuan breathes slowly. A few days after Zishu, and then the Ghost Valley Master, ascended the mountain, there had been news of an immense avalanche that had buried a large group of people, presumably the joined forces of the Window of Heaven and the Scorpion King. But nothing had reached them since, and all of them had grown restless, even Wu Xi, even though he would never admit to it.

A hand on the boy’s back, Jing Beiyuan rubs soothing circles. “Come with me,” he says at last, “Let’s go inside and have some tea, hm?” A nod, then Chengling takes a step back, sheepishly rubbing his red eyes. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, but Jing Beiyuan just huffs. “Never be sorry for how you feel,” he admonishes gently, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, subtly scooping the wooden sword up with the other hand. “Let’s have some tea and sweets, what do you say?” Chengling sniffs again, then says with the hint of a smile, “Didn’t the Great Shaman explicitly forbid us to eat sweets before dinner?” Jing Beiyuan makes a carefree gesture, then, lowering his voice, adds in a conspiratorial tone, “We have to hide it, then,” which finally makes Chengling laugh. A lighter air around them, they stroll back to the room. (Wu Xi gives them a stern look as Jing Beiyuan retrieves a bag of sweets from his sleeve, but says nothing when they share some over tea, which Jing Beiyuan secretly finds endlessly endearing.)

⚘⚘

The next morning finds Jing Beiyuan on a bench in that same courtyard, at the other side this time, half hidden under a canopy hung with ivy. In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by the rising sun, Wu Xi is practicing his martial arts.

Jing Beiyuan admires everything about his little venom. His honesty, his loyalty, his unrestrained emotions, but watching the other train always leaves him breathless and with a dry mouth. Wu Xi, in his usual black robes, is a sight to behold: Even under layers of cloth his broad shoulders are visible, his long black braids with the silver hairpiece, the moon mirrored in a clear lake at night. Wu Xi in his robes is a force to be reckoned with. Wu Xi without his robes, in just some black pants, is… Well. Enticing enough to make Jing Beiyuan leave the bed before sunrise and watch him train, even after being together for years and having seen his husband naked plenty of times. Still, watching him move through the forms is different. His skin glistens with sweat, making the light catch on his collarbones, his abs. His movements show a raw power, a graceful intensity that always reminds Jing Beiyuan of a large tiger. He moves silently, with deadly precision, as if he wanted to sneak up on a hidden assassin. He doesn’t use a weapon, but Jing Beiyuan knows how strong he is, how fast, and is pretty sure that a sword would only slow him down.

Distractedly petting the sable that is curled contentedly in his lap, Jing Beiyuan marvels at his husband, until Wu Xi ends his performance with a graceful vault, landing on his hands and feet like a large cat. His hair, tied back only with a simple black leather cord, falls over his face with the movement, his eyes like glimmering coals behind the black curtain. It reminds Jing Beiyuan of their early days, of the time Wu Xi wore a veil, and he himself a mask of another kind. Trying to hide the slight shiver, he smiles at his sweaty husband who now approaches him. Before he can say anything, Wu Xi steps between his knees, carefully scooping up the sable, then reaching down to cup the nape of Jing Beiyuan’s neck. With a hint of restrained power, he pulls him up and into a searing kiss. Smiling against his lips, Wu Xi whispers, “Room,” and Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled.

It’s still early enough in the morning that they don’t have to be overly cautious, so when they shed their respective robes - and pets, Wu Xi’s tiny green snake gets set in its cage, while the sable leaps nimbly away from the commotion - Jing Beiyuan can’t suppress a giggle at his husband’s eagerness.

“What brought this on?”, he asks, a little breathless, as the other’s teeth close over his pulse point. Wu Xi stills for a heartbeat, then bites down harder, licking over the spot, which elicits a shiver.

“You,” is the answer, and Jing Beiyuan pulls away a fraction to look at his husband with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary,” he smirks, “whereas you were--”

“You watched,” Wu Xi breathes into his neck, leaning back in. With another giggle, Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled to the bed.

Later, when they lay under scrunched up covers, sated and sweaty and content, Jing Beiyuan nuzzles into Wu Xi’s chest, inhaling his sharp scent.

“Would you do that,” he asks eventually, his voice quiet. “Sacrifice your life, I mean. For me.”

“Yes,” is all Wu Xi answers, firm and without hesitation. “I would. I will. Everything.” His arms tighten around Jing Beiyuan. After a long silence, the latter says softly, “But what if I didn’t want that?” He turns slightly to look up. “What if I didn’t want a life that’s bought with yours?”

Wu Xi doesn’t meet his gaze as he replies, “I still would. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you, Beiyuan. I’m a coward, but I couldn’t. I thought I’d lost you once, and I..” His voice breaks, and Jing Beiyuan reaches up to cup his face. “You’re not. I would like to say that I would react differently, but…” He shrugs with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t. If I could save your life by giving up mine, I would. I would, and then wait for you again at the Three-Life Stone, until you came to meet me. And maybe this time, you would be the one with white hair.” Snuggling closer, he trails a finger over the other’s chest, then places his hand on his sternum, feeling the unrestrained energy underneath. Wu Xi turns his head, then cups Jing Beiyuan’s cheek, meeting him in a slow, languid kiss.

“I love you,” he breathes against the other’s lips, “I have loved you for all your lifetimes and I will continue to love you in all that follow. Where you go, I’m going, Beiyuan.”

⚘⚘

It takes almost another month until Zishu and his little-, no, his giant idiot return. On a sunny afternoon, as if they had just been out for a stroll, they saunter casually into the inn’s dining room, and Jing Beiyuan almost drops his teacup, staring in disbelief. Before he can say anything, Zishu grins - he grins! - at him and plops down into the bench opposite him, Wen Kexing at his side. Jing Beiyuan notices in utter shock that the latter’s hair has gone completely white.

“Wha--,” he starts, but now the waiter has spotted them, hurrying over. Giving their, admittedly quite ragged, appearance a cautious once-over, he clears his throat, but Jing Beiyuan hurries to assuage him. “Whatever these gentlemen desire to eat,” he declares, probably with more grandeur than necessary, “they will receive.” The waiter hurries to nod his head like a turtle, but Zishu just shakes his head. “Just cold water,” he says, much to Jing Beiyuan’s and the waiter’s astonishment, but the latter immediately scrambles off to bring them their order.

Jing Beiyuan looks scrutinizingly at both of them, then says slowly, “Welcome back.” Zishu nods solemnly, taking Wen Kexing’s hand under the table. “Sorry it took so long,” he says quietly. Jing Beiyuan snorts. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” he gestures into the general direction of the inner courtyard, “but to your silly little disciple.” Zishu at least has the decency to flinch, looking uncomfortable. But it is Wen Kexing who speaks first. “How is he?”, he asks, and Jing Beiyuan notices the cautious fondness in his voice. Shrugging, he admits, “There are good days and bad.” After a pause, he adds, more quietly, “And good nights and bad.” Zishu nods, as if in agreement, and Jing Beiyuan’s curiosity wins over. “What happened?”, he asks animatedly, gesturing to the state of their robes, then Wen Kexing’s hair. “You were gone almost two months, and--”

Zishu interrupts him, sounding incredulous. “Two months?” He casts an uncertain glance at his companion who looks equally stunned. “Oh.” Inhaling slowly, he adds, “Well, I’d prefer to tell the story only once, so where is that useless disciple of mine?” Grinning, Jing Beiyuan gestures again to the inner courtyard. “Training.” Zishu gives him a skeptical look, then gets to his feet. Ignoring the waiter who just arrived with their order, he heads for the inner courtyard. Jing Beiyuan tilts his head a fraction, looking at Wen Kexing, both smiling slightly. Then, from outside, “SHIFU!”, and a dull thud, followed by another muffled “Shishu!”.

Smiling into his teacup, Jing Beiyuan closes his eyes. Some stories seem to have a happy ending after all.

#qi ye #lord seventh #七爷 #wu xi #jing beiyuan #xiyuan #otp: soulmates are stupid i love you on purpose #word of honor #a tale of the wanderers #faraway wanderers #wen kexing #zhou zishu #wenzhou #my writing #fanfic #fluff

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damienthepious · 3 years

Text

i would sell u to satan for One Comment. pfft dklfsldkjf hello please enjoy my little fic lalala

Missive

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Polyamory, (which like DUH but also), (it's. specifically the context. idk how to. ah whatever just read it.), Kissing, very mild angst, Implied Sexual Content, rilla hooligan hours!!!

Summary: Lord Arum cannot join Damien and Rilla in much of their lives. Luckily, they are all of them too clever to let that stop them from sharing as much as they possibly can.

Notes: this Possessed me. it did not exist this morning, and now it does. oops! uh, enjoy?? ghjgkdjfk love u happy lkt <3<3<3

It leaves an ache deep in Damien's chest, the reality which must, for the sake of all of their safety, keep Lord Arum tucked away from his and Rilla's lives in the Citadel. That reality dictates that Damien's home must be kept distant from his lily, that he may not even speak Arum's name or acknowledge his existence for fear of bringing danger to all that Damien loves. It aches, and perhaps it would only ache if Sir Damien were left with his own instincts and sorrow and guilt to guide him, but-

Early on, Rilla comes to meet him on a break (he has convinced the Queen to allow him guard duty again, despite the cast on his arm), on the pretense of checking his injuries and bringing him medication for the pain. She takes his hand, and with a grin that Damien could not argue against even if he wanted to, she tugs him into a side room, small and private.

"What-"

She leans dangerously close, tilts his chin up with a knuckle while her grin slips to a smirk, and then she leans down, pressing their lips together in a tender, fierce sort of kiss, ending with a sharp little bite on his bottom lip. He gasps softly as she pulls away, her other hand tangled playfully in his curls, and when he blinks his eyes back open she laughs at the look on his face.

"Arum wanted me to pass that along," she says slyly, nuzzling against his cheek. "And here's one from me, too."

She tugs his hair gently to angle his head back, and then she kisses him once more, warm and undeniable and stunning his mind completely blank.

She laughs again as he slowly blinks back to himself, holding her close in his arms and murmuring something that might either be a prayer or a line of verse (not even Damien himself is certain, just at the moment), and then she cups his cheek with a softer, fonder smile.

"Rilla," he breathes, and he can imagine, just for a heartbeat, Arum's heat at his back, Arum's arms curling gentle and certain around the both of them. "Oh, oh love, I-"

"I know," she says, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I know I can't keep you for long, I just wanted to make sure I got that very important message to you." She winks, and Damien laughs helplessly. She leans a little closer, then, her lips teasing at the line of his jaw. "Any return message you'd like to send back with me, Sir Poet?"

Damien laughs again, both at her words and at the nearly tickling touch of her lips against his skin.

He considers, for a moment, humming lightly as he holds Rilla snugly against his chest, and then he nods.

"An equally crucial one, certainly," he says, his voice sonorous with mock-severity. "I am quite confident I can entrust you with delivering a missive of such grave import."

Her eyes spark with delight, her lips pressing together to bury the full force of her enthusiasm. "On my honor, oh brave Sir Knight," she purrs, utterly indulgent.

"But first, my forever-flower," he murmurs, and then he leans up, peppering her cheeks with sweet, gentle kisses until she laughs, and then he captures her own lips properly, and the way she giggles even into the kiss is as dear and right as home. "First, only for you," he finishes, murmuring soft, and she smiles so warm that it makes his heart stumble.

"You are so sweet sometimes that it drives me crazy," she says, teasing over an edge of heat as she squeezes her arms around him.

"I hope I shall drive our lily to quite the same distraction," Damien admits, and then he schools his expression mock-serious again. "Now, for my message in kind..."

Damien curls his injured arm carefully tight around the small of her back, trails his other hand slowly up her spine until he can cradle the back of her head (he imagines Rilla mirroring him, tracing a line up the center of Arum's back, imagines the way the monster will shiver and hiss in response), and then he pulls her gently down into the kiss.

He tries to pour out the whole of his affection, tender and lingering against Rilla's lips, teasing only gentle with his tongue, delicate in just the way he knows will make their monster go breathless and wild when Rilla echoes this kiss in his arms.

When their lips part, he presses his forehead against her own, leaving his eyes closed with a sigh.

"Saints," Rilla breathes, and Damien can hear the grin in her voice. "Y'know, I was planning on trying to get some work done today, but after that-"

Damien laughs. "It was not my intention at all to thwart your plans, my love, but- well, I do not foresee you escaping from our lily's arms for quite some time after you deliver that particular note."

"Oh no," she says, utterly sarcastic. "How awful for me, not at all a complete fucking win that I'll have to find a way to pay you back for sometime."

"Certainly," Damien hums warmly. "Of course not, my flower."

They cling for a little while longer, mutually reluctant for as long as they can justify, until eventually they manage to pry themselves apart, kissing once more before they each retreat to their respective responsibilities. This time, however, the parting does not leave Damien awash with that sense of inevitable heartsick loneliness. He cannot see his lily here, in his Citadel. He cannot even speak of that beloved half of his heart, but-

Arum's mind lingers on Damien, even distant. Enough so to whisper affection into Rilla's ear to bring with her, to bring along to Damien. And Rilla will bear his own affection back, to reassure their monster of their love in the moments they cannot share in truth.

Arum cannot join them in the Citadel, not as the world exists currently, but-

Damien and Rilla both carry Lord Arum with them, regardless. In their hearts, in their hands, on their lips, in the love they share with each other. Even distant, their love persists. Even hidden.

Sir Damien stands stalwart at his post, dutiful for the rest of the day, and his lips tingle and his mind drifts with buzzing affection as he devises some rather pleasant ideas regarding future messages to pass between his loves, and he does not need to brace beneath his yearning while his mind is so much more gently occupied.

Lord Arum nuzzles affection into the back of his neck to carry along the next time he leaves the Keep, arms wound snug around his chest, and Damien enthusiastically carries that warmth with him until he can surprise Rilla between appointments the next morning, making her squeak and giggle when Damien nips gently at the back of her neck.

Rilla shocks him into a yelp with her hand on his backside just outside the barracks, cackling laughter and deflecting all blame to the monster for the slap until Damien laughs as well, already strategizing a volley in return.

Arum pins him against the wall the moment he enters the Keep, echoing Amaryllis' teasing words to soften the news that she will be too busy to join them that evening.

Rilla graces him with Arum's kiss in the market square, surrounded by laughter and light, and he returns a kiss to be delivered in the dim-lit safety of the Keep, and for only a moment, he can feel Lord Arum's scaled palm, settled soft over their own clasped hands.

They weave affection between them, passing hands and tongues and whispers, and whenever any two of them are removed from their third, they breathe their distant love to each other regardless, memory and intent and shared devotion, love murmured from lip to lip to lip to lip, notes folded and refolded, softened by affectionate caressing and made ever more beautiful. And always, every time, the love they carry between them is sealed with a kiss.

#gay gay gay gay gay #i mean. uh. [normal tags]#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #commente please tho actually for real

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s-creations · 2 years

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Quomodo Mundus Cadit - Chapter 2

The defeat of the Devil should have been the end of it. The Cup Brothers won and all debts were to be forgiven.

At least...that was the original plan. No one was expecting the world to fall apart. Whatever was contained in the Devil was not unleashed onto the world. Now it's up to two powerless children, a dice with no title, and a immortal being with no powers to fix what's become broken.

(Story idea inspired by artwork created by @inazumaneko)

Fandom: The Cuphead Show/Cuphead Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Cuphead & Mugman & The Devil & King Dice, The Devil/King Dice Warnings/Additional Tags: Lots of Characters, Violence, Blood, Sacrifice, People are gonna die, Death, Elder Kettle is in this but won’t appear for awhile, AU, Inspired by Tumblr, End of the World.

Dice was very familiar with the feeling of losing a fight. The deep pulse of pain that traveled through him. The sting of cuts that were no doubt filled with dirt and becoming infected. The weight in his chest of having to deal with whatever the fallout of this fight was. An uncomfortable reminder of his childhood he really didn’t want to focus on at the moment. When he was able to fully reach consciousness, Dice realized he was currently buried under rubble. Not a lot, but enough that it was still a task to break free. Once freed, Dice was greeted to a crumbling and abandoned Casino. His pride and joy turned to ruin.

But…how? Surely he wasn’t out for that long. Where were the workers? Where was anyone?

Exiting the Casino only gave more questions. Everything was in ruin. The Casino, the entry to Hell, the part of the city that Dice was able to see. The sky an uncomfortable deep blood red.

Unable to really wrap his head around what was happening, Dice quickly made an easy to follow plan. Worry about the outside world later. Right now, find the boss. Turning away from the destroyed city, Dice slowly made his way towards the entrance to Hell.

Worry seeped its way further into him as he entered. The normal roaring flames and demon servants were nowhere to be found. It was eerily quiet and unbearably cold for a place that was supposed to be on fire. Before the crumbling throne was a hole. Leading to where the Devil’s way to Hell was. But it was as dead and cold as the throne room. Which was honestly an even more worrisome discovery. As Dice reached the first even level of ground, he paused for a moment to peer around.

If he didn’t know better, Dice would have called this a rather normal cave. Cool gray stone was stalactites and stalagmites everywhere. Deep and cavernous, freezing and hollow. But because it was so normal that it caused Dice to panic. This was the entry level to Hell. Why was everything so cold?

On the cave walls, Dice found the familiar burn marks that he’d seen on the Devil’s office created from his tantrums. Along with marks that Dice could uncomfortably identify as those coming from the brother’s weapons. He’d become very familiar with those over the course of the day.

Speaking of the cups. As he peered around once more, he realized he didn’t see them. Dice could only assume they’d already run off.

“I suppose the boss didn’t fare so well either…” Dice muttered darkly. Even if his boss had lost, that didn’t explain why everything was the way it currently was.

“Sir!” Dice called out. Voice echoing back in the cave. “Boss, if you can hear me, answer!”

Nothing.

While he wasn’t overly worried about his boss being killed. Dice was concerned where the Devil could have possibly gone. The fear quickly fell away when, turning the ‘corner’ of the rubble pile, he found the other. Located at the base of the rubble pile Dice had just turned. Lying on his back with eyes staring up as his arms were splayed out by his side. Unbothered at the hurried footsteps that drew closer to him. Uncaring at the clearly panicked look on Dice’s face as he stared down at the Devil.

“There you are sir. What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer? What even happened to you?”

Dice waited for an answer, but received none. The Devil continued to stare straight ahead. Seeming uncaring that Hell was cold and that Dice was standing right there.

“Sir…can you hear me?” Dice inched a little closer cautiously, knowing the Devil was one for personal space. It didn’t seem to matter as, even standing directly over him and waving a hand in front of his face, the Devil didn’t move.

“Look, I’m not pleased by the trouncing either. But the world looks like…well, Hell right now and Hell itself looks wrong. It would be great if you could explain what is happening.”

Still nothing. Letting out a deep sigh, Dice decided it was time to move. The Devil was uncaring as he was unceremoniously lifted off the ground. An arm slung around Dice’s shoulder as he pulled himself and the Devil out of the hole. The Lord of Sin seemed uncaring as they walked into the destroyed city. Uncaring of the ruined buildings and charred remains of once living people.

“So, none of this excites you?” Dice panted weakly, “Your silence is so comforting.”

It was night when Dice had to stop. Or what Dice assumed to be night as the sun seemed to have just disappeared behind the red. The little light that was being produced during the day quickly diminishing as time marched on. Having to hunker down in a crumbling building. Quick to start a fire before the air became too cold. Dice letting out a grunt as he finally was able to sit down. Looking over to find the Devil still unresponsive.

“Are…you hungry? It’s been awhile since we’ve eaten, I think. I’m not fully sure how much time has passed since those brothers… Do you have any idea?”

Silence.

Dice, admitting somewhat of a defeat, instead turns his attention to the area around them. The Casino had not offered anything in the way of supplies. All burnt up and turned to ash. So the next best step would be to savage what Dice could find. It was a moment of luck that Dice realized he’d snuck them into an abandoned apartment. At least…he hoped it was abandoned. No signs of bodies or anything else appearing at the moment. He could only assume people had just fled when they saw…whatever happened.

While there were only two standing floors, Dice was pleased to find there was more than enough to collect. A sturdy shoulder bag was eventually filled with food and other needed supplies. Clothing that would be able to disguise the Devil and himself as they went further out into the disaster zone. Dice only assuming if someone spotted them it would quickly turn south. Especially if they knew how vulnerable the Devil was at this moment.

As he turned to leave the last picked over room, Dice looked up and paused as he made eye contact with his reflection. Even in the cracked mirror Dice was able to see every scratch that littered his body. His normally immaculate suite was now torn and covered in dirt, the shoes looking like he’d just dug them out of a used bin. His dark purple socks poked out where the sole was broken away. What was most worrisome was the crack that had begun to form. Thankfully it wasn’t too severe, Dice could still see out of his right eye. But it was something he would definitely need to be careful about as it was already lying a little unevenly.

Going back to the ground floor, Dice found the Devil still where he was left by the other. Fire still acting as the only beckon of light in the darkened world. Dice let out a sigh as he sat back down. Eyes traveling over to look back at his companion. After looking himself over made Dice realize he hadn’t noticed how much the Devil had changed. The eyes, while still a shocking yellow, now longer glowed. Once foot long horns were shrunk to less than four inches. The black fur that once shined was now dull and matted.

How much has changed?

With how unnervingly quiet it was, Dice was surprised he was able to fall asleep. Waking the next morning with a sore back and a feeling somehow worse. The Devil, on his part, was still quiet and unmoving.

The first sign of trouble arrived when Dice moved him and the Devil further into Isle Three. As he explored the nearby buildings, Dice stumbled across a grizzly scene. What was apparently once a group of three had dwindled down to one. With those who had fallen being done in by the ‘survivor’. Their hands and front covered in dry blood with a wild look in their eyes.

Dice had to recover quickly when the other, upon realizing they were not alone, dashed towards him. He easily slid his pocket knife out, Dice blocked one of the hands away. Wincing slightly as the other hand clawed at the bare skin. Dice ignored the sting as he plunged the blade deep into his attacker's throat. There was a gargled cry of surprise and pain. The attacker stumbled back, trying to stop the flow of blood. Only to collapse the next second. Eyes glassy as their life spilled from them.

“Interesting…” Dice commented casually as he cleaned the blade before tucking the knife away.

Whatever had happened has caused changes to the surrounding area as well as the mental stability to those who were still alive. Possibly. Dice was making a rather large assumption. But he was sure that at least two days had only passed. He’s not sure what could have caused such a mental degradation in someone so quickly. Whatever this situation was, this was causing a lot of damage.

Somehow, Hell had found its way to the surface. Hell had officially broken loose and the ruler was absolutely no help at the moment.

As the days passed, it was all filled with Dice collecting what he could find. Changing his outfit and dressing the Devil in rags in hopes to help them blend in further. After determining Isle Three held nothing salvageable any more, Dice moved them both to Isle Two. While this Isle was not as severely damaged as the previous one, it’s clear this Isle was not habitable either.

At this point, Dice calculated that at least five days had passed since the Cup Brothers returned to the Casino. And he still didn’t know what was happening. It was becoming maddening to find any clue as to what was going on.

He let out a slow sigh as he watched the food before him cook. Eyes flickering over to the curled up form of the Devil. “Feel like saying anything to me today?”

Nothing.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind so much about this silence. But you’ve given me no signs that you’re actually hearing me. This is very different from your usual bouts of tantrums. I feel as if all of this is the result of the Cup Brothers defeating us. But you’ve never really explained to me how Hell really worked. So if this is supposed to happen when you lose, it would be great if-”

“I’m sorry.”

Dice quickly silenced himself hearing the quiet voice. Eyes snapping over to the Devil, who was still staring into the fire. “...What?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

That was scary.

It was definitely said by the Devil himself. His mouth barely moved, but Dice knew that voice. But…Dice was thrown for a shock to hear the Devil to actually apologize.

“You’re sorry?” Dice repeated back.

“Yeah.”

“...What for?”

“I’m not…really sure?”

“That is amazingly unhelpful.”

For the first time since this ordeal, the Devil moved on his own will. Turning his head to glare at Dice. “It’s hard to explain fully what’s happening.”

“But you do know?”

“...To a certain degree, I suppose I do.”

Dice huffed. The Devil was usually cryptic, it came with the title. Twisting his words to make some poor sucker believe they would be given the world in return for their soul. At the moment, however, this was infuriating.

“Alright, let’s try this a different way,” said Dice, “What if I just asked more specific questions. Something more focused for you.”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

Dice gave a dejected sigh through his nose. “Then I suppose that’s what we’re going to work with for now. Alright, let’s start from the beginning. What happened between you and the Cup Brothers.”

“Well…I lost.”

“You lost.”

“...Yep.”

“How does that result with you being…submissive.”

“Excuse you.”

“Boss, I mean that in the nicest way possible. But I’ve had to carry you everywhere since I found you. This is the first time you’ve even talked! Even now you sound different. You look different, this is not…normal. Not good? Whatever label you want to give it.”

“Explain.”

“You look weaker. Not tired just…you sound strangely mortal. You look mortal. You’re acting mortal!”

The Devil, at this point, gave pause. Giving a small hum before leaking at the fire again. “...Suppose I am. Mortal, that is. To a point. I don’t think I can be killed. But…I’m not feeling the strength I normally do.”

Dice stared at the other, mouth open in disbelief. “What?”

“What happens when the Lord of Sin is defeated, hm? To be honest, I wasn’t sure. Not that I ever expected to be defeated.”

“...Sir… Devil-”

“Lucifer.”

Dice faltered at that. “What?”

“It was my name before I fell. And while I’ve never been fully mortal before…I doubt that I can carry the name ‘Devil’ anymore. So, Lucifer will work.”

“Why…can’t you carry that title anymore.”

Devil- Lucifer let out a snort. “Come now Dice. You’re not that dense.”

At that it fell quiet. Lucifer seemed content in what he said while Dice mulled over every word.

“...You have no powers.” Dice eventually muttered.

“Yep.”

“So, where did it go?” Lucifer merely waved his hand around, indicating the destruction that surrounded them. “Your powers caused all of this? H-How?”

“Well, I did contain a lot of power. Untapped, untamed power that was only in control when I had it. With nothing holding it back, it can just run amok.”

“So it just went on a rampage and now it’s gone?”

“No. Nothing that strong can just disappear.”

“Then where is it?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I sure as Hell don’t have it.”

“Couldn’t it just be running around still? Just, not here on the Isles?”

“Nah. Isle Two would be worse then this is if it was still out. Also, we would be dead. Would have come back to finish the job.”

“As…comforting as that is to know that we aren’t in immediate danger. Where could this power have gone?”

“Don’t know.”

“Sir, you’re making it very hard to not want to kill you right now.”

“You could try.”

Dice winced at how calm Lucifer sounded. “I-I’m not going to do that!”

“Then don’t make the threat.”

“Look, I’m just… This is a serious issue and I wish you would take this seriously.”

“I don’t really have the motivation to. Besides, with my current state, I don’t think I’ll be much help. Basically mortal, extremely tired, a sack of potatoes has more purpose than I do right now.” Lucifer suddenly let out a yawn before lying down and rolling onto his side. Back now facing Dice. Who raised his brow at the sudden action and silence.

“So, that’s it? You have no powers, no idea where that power went, or even have a solution to offer to get this fixed.”

“More or less.”

Dice let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. He actually felt worse now. All Hell had broken loose, they were now living in an apocalyptic world, and the only being who could possibly fix it was currently snoring. And there was nothing Dice could do about it.

“I wonder if it’s too late to retire.” Dice muttered darkly.

________________________

Dice did not sleep well that night. Mind felt stuck as he tried to work through an unsolvable situation. When it started to become lighter, as the sun couldn’t be used for time anymore, Dice decided it was time to scavenge some more. Honestly just trying to find something for him to do.

On a normal day, at this point, Dice would be fully dressed to the ‘T’. Heading to the boss’ office with breakfast, being carried by servants of course. Both would discuss what the plan for that day would be. What needed to be completed before opening the door, finding new ways to trick suckers into giving their soul away. Sharing a laugh as the thought of past ‘deals’ and the fear they could strike into anyone.

Dice smirking as he felt the Devil’s tail gently tapping against his leg.

But now Dice was scavenging through dirt and dust to find something edible.

He traveled further from the ‘home base’ that he felt comfortable with. But it was slim picking from the buildings nearby and the more he could find the better. Since it was so quiet, Dice could only help that the Dev- Lucifer would be fine on his own for longer. What he’d found so far wasn’t going to last them too long.

As he was nearing the cross section of a main street way when Dice heard a familiar sound. That of a scuffle. One that, if Dice was hearing correctly, was very one sided. Deciding he wanted nothing to do with that today, Dice turned. It would be best to hide and let the fighting pass instead of outrunning it. The area was too open and running would draw attention to him. Instead, Dice rushed over to a sizable pile of rubble, ducking behind it as the fighting drew closer.

As expected, it was an uneven match. Four against two. With the larger group sporting wide, heavy built fighters. However it was the party of two that surprised Dice.

Cuphead and Mugman, the two boys who brought the Devil down. With fire in their eyes and shooting light from their fingertips. Now surrounded by bandits, alone, looking worse than Dice expected. Cuphead was missing his handle while Mugman’s entire right eye was cracked. One attempted to swing a sword to defend while the other was just trying to run a straight path.

Dice should have left. The bandits would pay him no mind and this was an outcome he didn’t want to see. But his legs wouldn’t move. All he could do was watch as Cuphead used the sword unskillfully. Barely keeping the bandits at bay. Dice wondering why the brother’s wouldn’t just use the same powers they brought the Devil down with?

Then, a sickening idea surfaced. If Lucifer was powerless, why wouldn’t the brothers be?

Dice winces as Mugman, who barely avoided a swing from a bandit and tripped, hit the ground. A heavy crack sounding as his face took full impact. Cuphead let out a strained “Mugman!”, lowering his defenses. One of the bandits took advantage of this. Giving a good whack to the back of the cup’s head.

The realization hit at that point. These brothers had been reduced to children once more.

Dice was out of his spot in seconds, pocket knife in hand as he stalked forward. Bandit #1, who was the closest, turned hearing footsteps draw closer. They weren’t much trouble. Dice plunging his knight into the other’s jugular and continued on. Ignoring the wet gurgles and gasps of a dying man.

Bandit #2 was the first ‘obstacle’, if Dice wanted to be generous with that title. This one had at least the were with all to raise their weapon, a wooden board. But was left vulnerable as Dice landed a punch to the stomach. Yanking the board out of their weak grasp. Bashing it over the back of their heads while the knife sliced across their throat as they fell. Another one left to desperately struggle for air.

The final two, realizing what was going on, teamed up. One grabbed the brothers around their necks while the last held a piece of glass dangerously to Mugman’s good eye. Dice paused at that.

“The hell do you want.” Bandit #3, the one holding the glass, demanded.

“The two boys you currently have, if you don’t mind.” Dice replied calmly.

“Why do you care about these little brats. We’re honestly doing them a favor.”

“By toying with them? How kind. But I’m going to say, on their behalf, they would like to remain alive. So for your own good, release them. Unless you want to end up like your companions back there.”

“Eddie, I think we should listen. It’s not worth it.” Bandit #4 whispered fearfully.

Eddie let out a low growl, almost sounding demonic Dice noted, before turning to his companion. “But they said- …Fine. Drop them.”

Bandit #4 did just that. Cuphead quickly recovered, scrambling to get Mugman up and both of them away from their attackers. Dice raised a brow as the brothers took safety behind him, but said nothing on the matter.

“Know this lackey,” Eddie spat out to Dice, “You have a target on your back if you protect them.”

With that, they fled. Dice slightly confused by the ominous message. But pushed it aside as nonsense as he faced the brothers. Cuphead desperately glued what he could back into place on Mugman’s face. The tube itself looked dangerously low.

“He’s not healing.” Dice casually commented.

“We couldn’t find all the pieces.” Cuphead responded. His voice clearly indicated he was close to crying.

Dice bent down, raising his hands as Cuphead raised his sword, arms shaking. “I just want a look, I’ll be careful.”

Cuphead gave pause…but stepped back, never lowering the sword. Dice didn't blame him.

Being cautious and slow, Dice gently turned Mugman’s face. Stomach turning seeing the extensive damage inflicted. “Do you know how this happened?”

“...Not really.”

Seemed to be the standard answer. “Do you lose your handle at the same time?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine.”

Dice let out a slow sigh as he moved his hands away. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do. …When was the last time you two ate?”

“This morning.”

“Good… Well, come along. It won’t do us any good to be out here like sitting ducks.” Dice went to stand, only to pause as Mugman raised his arms. Not high, but a clear silent request that Dice recognized. He easily lifted the young mug up, positioning him so the uninjured side could rest comfortable against Dice’s chest. The free hand was offered out for Cuphead to take. Who was still holding the sword up.

“I’m fine.”

“I know. But this is so I don’t lose you.”

Cuphead gave a few seconds of contemplation before putting the sword away. Not looking up as his hand slid into the one being offered. Dice merely gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze before leading the way back to his home base.

#Cuphead #mugman #The Devil #King Dice #fanfiction #au world #inspired by art #inazumaneko #s-creations #also on ao3

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