#*to find out if i have that condition i have to get my blood drawn and i am TERRIFIED of needles i also have very hard veins to find | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tiredfox64 · 6 months ago

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Let’s Keep This a Secret

Prior notes: I like my men a little scary. He got me giggling, kissing my feet, and crying in horror. Also I just really wanted to post something of mine and change it up.

Pairing: Reiko x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Do you fear skin to skin contact?

You were only a baby when your mom married General Shao. You never viewed him as your stepfather, he was always your father. He raised you as if you were blood related to him. He promised to protect you and love you as his own.

And protect he did, from any and everything. Especially boys.

The older you got, the more attention you attracted. Not only were you the general’s daughter but you had your mother’s beauty. Many men wanted to get with you for the fact that you were pretty and they wanted the general’s admiration. That never happened. Shao would never allow a boy to step close to you at all. The only one who would ever get close was Reiko. Yet even Reiko had a hard time getting to know you.

When you both were young he rarely cared about getting to know you. He was an orphan who lost his parents to the war. All he cared about was what General Shao had to say to him. He listened well to every order he gave. After a while Shao almost started to see him like a son. Still not a good enough position to let near his daughter.

In fact, Shao thought you shouldn’t be seeing the grueling and harsh conditions it takes to be part of his army. It’s better that you don’t know. But you did want to know. You have the right to know. Plus you wanted to know a thing or two since Shao didn’t want to teach you anything. He said he would protect you, he meant it. Why do you need to know how to protect yourself when you got him. It just pushed you away from Reiko even more.

You would find reasons to go over though. Every time you would come around to the training grounds you would always look for Reiko. At this point he was the lieutenant to your dad’s army. How could you not be drawn to a man with power and authority. When he was the only man in your life that your dad somewhat let you close to, you started to be attracted to him. Seeing those milky white eyes take a glance at you made you excited. However, no matter how old you got your father would not allow you anywhere near.

You had to take matters into your own hands. You went out with friends one night. As you were out you realized no one would be able to stop you from talking to any boys. The only person who could stop you was yourself, and you did stop yourself. You were too nervous to be around other guys or even say a word to them. Shao was to blame for your lack of social skills when it came to men. The only person who you could fathom talking to was…Reiko! Of course! Why didn’t you think of him before? You should go see if he is anywhere around.

Your friends were not too keen on sticking around and running to the training grounds. They didn’t want to get in trouble and they were actually scared of Reiko. Not many women go after him believe it or not. They begged you not to go but you were determined. You walked off on your own, your heart pumping with nervousness and excitement. As you expected you saw Reiko at the training grounds. Lucky you.

You hid behind a tree, not wanting to disturb his training. You looked with curious eyes as you watched him get some extra training in. His shurikens would strike the wooden dummy. His aim was precise. Every time he would fling them he would let out a grunt that made your stomach do twirls. The way the sweat on his muscles glistened in the moonlight and how his hair slightly blew in the light breeze made you think you were looking at nature’s finest specimen. You didn’t realize you were being drawn towards him in that moment and you stepped over a stick. It snapped and Reiko’s head snapped towards your direction. You gasp as you went back to hiding behind the tree. You were worried you had ruined everything. Closer and closer you heard him make his way towards you in a quick pace. Then there was silence. In one fell swoop he turned the corner and was right in front of you, pushing you against the tree. His knife was out but once he realized it was you he made sure not to have it too close.

“Oh, it’s just the general’s daughter. Why are you out here so late?” He spoke to you in his usual gruff voice.

You couldn’t say anything since you were so excited that he actually spoke to you. You stared up at him all stupid-like but with eyes filled with awe. Reiko was very confused but he backed away from you once he realized he was way too close. He put his knife away and was thinking of just leaving you be before thinking for a second. If somehow you got hurt while out here alone his ass could be on the line. The last thing he wants is for the general to see that his daughter got hurt and find out that his loyal lieutenant let her walk away all alone in the night. Yeah, no, not willing to risk it.

“Come on, let me get you back home. Your father won’t like this.” He warned you but you didn’t care.

He yanked on your arm and dragged you away, gently though cause he can’t hurt you in the slightest. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his arm. He flinched and was about to push you away but he stopped himself.

Don’t hurt the general’s daughter. Don’t hurt the general’s daughter.

He groaned but kept walking while you clung onto him. You kept staring up at him all starry eyed. He looks even more handsome up close. He felt your eyes on him and he had no idea what was up with you. Actually everyone’s eyes were on him and you. The general’s daughter was clinging onto a man? Impossible! Reiko was letting a woman cling onto him? That’s even more impossible! It was so frustrating to him to be in this position but he had a task and he had to finish it.

The moment he brought you to the door of your home and the door opened you were off him immediately. That dazed expression was gone and you looked focused as you looked up at your dad. Reiko was confused but carried on as he explained that he was just bringing you home. Shao thanked Reiko for bringing you back home safe and before he could scold you, you gave him those sad puppy dog eyes that get you out of most situations. And then the excuses came about how you lost track of time, you got separated from your friends, some of them bailed on you, blah, blah, blah. Shao just took all that you said as a fact. His sweet girl could never do wrong. You walked inside your home, giving Reiko a wave goodbye before closing the door. That smile on your face was full of joy. You were up in your room kicking your feet and thinking about your moment with Reiko. You’re definitely doing this again.

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It’s like every week at this point. You go out with friends, you sneak off to see Reiko training, he catches you and brings you home, you make up your excuses, rinse and repeat.

Reiko caught on that this was definitely intentional. He started letting you stay with him for a bit, not wanting to cut his training time just for you. Then y’all started talking. You talked about your home life, what you like to do, your hobbies, your friends, etcétera etcétera. He first ignored you but the moment you seemed hurt by the fact he wasn’t listening he got his act together and started listening. Once he did he realized you weren’t that bad. You weren’t annoying or stupid. In fact you were even kind of cute when you told him about your life. Woah, did he just find someone cute?

He started opening up to you, speaking about his past and his present. It actually made him feel better to have someone listen to what happened to him other than Shao. He was surprised that even when he said something negative about your dad you wouldn’t judge him or having him punished for speaking his mind. Even he who is loyal to Shao can get upset by the things he does.

You and Reiko grew closer and closer to the point you guys would forget how late it was getting. He would immediately rush you home, holding your hand to guide you back. At this point Shao was getting highly suspicious of you. Why were you coming back so late and never coming back with your friends? You just shrugged it off and told him he was getting too worked up. You pushed your way inside and the moment your dad turned his back to you, you swiftly turned around, grabbed Reiko’s face, and placed a light kiss on his lips. He was stunned but couldn’t say anything in that moment. You just waved goodbye like usual and closed the door. So you just gonna leave a man hanging like that?

Alright clearly there was much more going on between you two. You made it clear to Reiko that you wanted to be something more. That explained your strange behavior from the beginning. You just had a mega crush on him. You got him hooked he won’t deny that. He’s never loved someone and he didn’t know how. All he knows is fighting and war. But you can teach him, and teach him you did. You both were learning and you found out what felt right for you two. The kissing, the touching, the love language. It slowly became clearer and you two were compatible. You were over the moon. Finally, you had a boyfriend. A man you can trust and felt safe with. Hopefully whenever your dad finds out he won’t kill Reiko. He can’t kill his best lieutenant, right?

Oh just remembering it all gives you butterflies. Sigh

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Did you have a good time going down memory lane? Good! Cause someone is knocking on your window. Go open it!

You yank the curtains away and see Reiko at your windowsill. You quickly open the window and he leaps in. You are surprise by the fact he managed to climb all that way up to your window just to see you again. It was risky since you should be asleep at this time but you were up thinking about Reiko nonstop.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have already left.” You whisper to him.

“How could I stay away from my woman. We just can’t get caught.” He picks you up in his strong arms and starts to kiss you.

He was much more rough in every sort of way. That means his kisses are too. You don’t mind at all. You like it. You like how rough he can get considering you were always treated so delicately.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms wrap around his neck while you two keep kissing. Your hands hold his face, letting your fingers feel his stubble. He walks over to your bed and places you down on it. You look up at him with the same sense of awe you got when you first saw him training.

“I think I’ll stay for the night. I did put in the effort to sneak in here, I think I deserve to stay.” He whispers in your ear.

You don’t say anything, you just smile and nod your head frantically to say yes. You two have done this before but you always get super happy to get the chance to have him sleep in your bed.

You know what makes it even better? Skin to skin contact!

He starts to take his armor off and places it down gently on the floor. Too much metal on there, it’s gonna freaking wake up your parents if it hits the floor. You take off your clothes as well. You thought you would be more nervous to get naked in front of somebody. You can’t even talk to other guys how are you gonna strip in front of them. But seeing how Reiko shows off his body with little shame since his armor exposes him quite a bit you felt that there was nothing to be worried about. If guys can have their chest out why can’t girls? Same thing, different structure.

Once you two were both naked you guys got into your bed, the sheets being the only thing to cover you both. He brings you in closer, his rough skin contrasting with your soft skin. His hands wander as he goes back to kissing you. Your hands went up to his head let down his hair. Your fingers rake through the thick strands. You wish he could always have his hair down. He looks so hot when he has it down.

You spend the rest of the time talking to each other, whispering to prevent anyone from hearing you. The close contact combined with the loving eye contact made you realize how lucky you are. Though Reiko is not perfect when it comes to love he does his best for you.

At the end of the night you two slowly succumb to the tiredness. He holds you close to him while he lays his head on your chest. It’s like his own personal pillow. He listens to your heartbeat as it slows down. Your arms are wrapped around his head as you caress him to sleep. Before you fall asleep yourself you have one more thing to say to him.

“I love you.” One more kiss to his forehead and you’re out like a light.

After notes: I want that man. I want that scary man. I wanna lick him. My fiancé pointed out that his nipples are too dark I don’t know why he ever pointed that out. It sent me into a spiral and I asked him who else got dark nipples and he said all of them. Fucking…really?! Anyways yeah I just wanted to switch it up cause I was doing SO MUCH when it came to the Lin Kuei brothers. I have no issue writing for them but it’s like I gotta do something else or I’ll start hating it. Not anyone’s fault that’s just how I am. Hope y’all can enjoy this. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #mk1 reiko #reiko #mk reiko #reiko x reader #fluff #reiko mk1 #reiko mortal kombat

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atinylittlepain · 7 months ago

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Little Pinch

nurse!marcus pike x f!reader

she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.

wordcount | 3.3K

content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls

a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless

..........................................................................

Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed.

It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, let’s try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. It’s embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesn’t go offline again.

The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly won’t help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why can’t she be like that? Why can’t she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat.

If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadn’t responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right.

“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and that’s probably why he’s so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now she’s supposed to answer it.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more.

“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label.

“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.

“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesn’t seem to presently be working.

“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because he’s just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything that’s called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort.

“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.

“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”

“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself.

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.”

“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.

“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?”

“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.”

“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”

“Do you have a golden retriever?”

“What?”

“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now.

“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever.

“Great name.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.

“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer.

“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous and–

“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldn’t, but it kind of works.

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away.

“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?”

“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”

“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.”

“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.”

“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while you’re at it.

“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again.

…

“Yes, this is she speaking.” This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor.

“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?”

“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.

“Marcus, right?” Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, she’s a goner.

“How have you been since we– you, well–”

“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her.

“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places.

“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”

“No?”

“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope.”

“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”

“What thing?”

“The pretty thing.”

“Yep.” Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier.

“So, you do live around here then?”

“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”

“I do.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Wow.”

“What? I’m making conversation.”

“You’re still not very good at it.”

“I’ll keep working on it for you.”

“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”

“What kind do you think I get?”

“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”

“Somehow I feel insulted.”

“Well.”

“You’re not even right either.”

“No? What do you get then?” He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust.

“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”

“What? It’s a classic.”

“Actually, you know what, that tracks.”

“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured.

“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”

“Yeah, we’re not bad.”

“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”

“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers.

“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?”

“I might be free on Saturday.”

“I might also be free on Saturday.”

“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”

“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that.

“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesn’t think twice about nodding again.

“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest.

“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.

“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Kinda weird, you know.”

“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”

“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Looking forward to it, Marcus.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike au #marcus pike angst #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you

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askinkiskarma · 11 months ago

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say you'll remember me

�� young!coriolanus snow x f!reader

➳ warnings: angst, mentions of lucy gray, some violent imagery, no happy ending, allusions to smut, snow should be a warning by himself honestly

➳ wc: >1000 words

➳ a/n: i'm back from the dead after ?? months ?? because much to my dismay, i have fallen prey to movie coriolanus snow's charms (tom blyth the man that you are). i need that man biblically. no i have not read the books, please don't come for me, i don't care how unhinged he is, in the movies he's pookie and i love him and i could change him i KNOW it. anyway please enjoy x

He's so tall and handsome as hell He's so bad, but he does it so well I can see the end as it begins My one condition is

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. Barely a man, when you really stopped to think about it, but it didn’t look like it right now, as he was sitting in the empty auditorium of the university he just left behind, with the stature and poise of a titan… or a god. His time in district 12 changed him. It brought out a side to him very few people knew him capable of, least of all his beautiful, gentle cousin, Tigris. The boy you once knew, golden curly locks of hair inundating the space on his face his azure irises usually lit up, wit and ambition so clearly displayed in them, the boy who, despite it all, despite all that stood against him, still had the remnants of a gentle heart in an environment that thrived on beating such a needless thing out of you… that boy seemed gone, killed by the person who stood tall in front of you, who desperately fought to let bygones be bygones.

Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. He had to be, to get to where he wanted, to become who he knew he was always destined to be. He had to be, to forget - the war, the famine, the hurt and pain, the loss of love, the loss of hope, the loss of innocence. His blood-red coat was still and unmoving, the fabric as rigid as the persona he skilfully embodied, even as the wind blew past him and circled the room you were carefully eyeing, noticing every detail of it, of him, as you tried your hardest to gauge a mood, or hear a thought, through the unwieldy silence that met you like a careful, long-lost friend.

“So curious, aren’t we, little bird?”

It shouldn’t have, not when he was the one whose back was turned to you, whose head lost in rumination, but his words, soft and whimsical, took you by surprise. As it always happened, your heart jumped in your chest in quiet anticipation, yearning to catch a glimpse of the one only you were fortunate enough to see.

“Is it less intimidating… now that you’re done?”

He turned then, his bright eyes finding yours immediately, drawn like a moth to a flame, and he smirked knowingly, the facade slipping away little by little, chipping like the paint on old walls. It’s funny. Out of the pair of you, you’ve always thought that was you. The moth. Forever risking your life and wings, for the beauty of it all, for the fire that you knew would either consume you or breathe new life in you. It was always a gamble, being in his presence, a game of Russian roulette you were addicted to, because how could you not be? How could you not… when he approaches you, slowly and methodically, his eyes never leaving yours, hungry and needy, speaking all the words he refused to say out loud, allowing you to see it - the glimpses of the boy. The boy you loved, the boy who survived somewhere inside of him, begging to be let out in the presence of someone who wouldn’t hurt the frail, withering existence that still clung to life the best way it knew how.

“Who says it was ever intimidating, huh?”

Your smile was enough to thaw the ice, enough for his hand, cold and calloused, warm and calming, to find your face, his thumb caressing the supple skin of your jaw, tracing the soft lips he dreamt about in whispered nights and wildest dreams. He tasted like roses and desire, and he kissed you like you were the breath he’s been denied his whole life. It was easy to forget in those moments, who he was, who you were, all that stood against you, the ghost of the girl he was trying so hard to banish from his mind.

“Let’s go for a walk, just you and me.”

Long walks in the city that was still reeling after the war you could barely remember felt intimate and almost like for your eyes and ears only, for only your bodies to feel and touch, for only your minds to wonder about and wander through. Through them, you knew Coriolanus - his many strengths and few weaknesses, his outright dreams and closeted desires, the depths of his soul he felt reluctantly comfortable to bare to you… and in turn, he knew you, more and more each day, as he found breath in the drowning sea that was once Lucy Grey and was levitated to better and never-seen before heights, away from the pain that haunted him every moment of his life.

“I think I loved her.” He tells you one night, his fingers massaging your back, tracing patterns onto it only he could understand, patterns you could spend the rest of your life trying to decipher.

“I think you loved her, too.” You sigh, happy that his walls, tall and reinforced in layers of heavy, indestructible brick, were slowly chipping at the seams for you, but sad at the ghost that tormented his every breathing moment, and, as a result, yours, too.

“I think I love you.” His voice was dark, serious, plagued with a twinge of uncertainty and fear, for the feelings he wanted to bury but couldn’t, that he wanted to hide from you and from himself, but decided against. It was short and simple, the confession, barely a few words whispered in the dead of night, while his glistening body was trembling softly under your touch and under the weight of the confession. It was short and simple, but it was enough to knock the breath of your lungs and any semblance of thought from your mind.

“You wouldn��t… leave, right? You won’t leave.”

You smile in his chest, and it almost hurts, the need to feel him, closer still, to touch your lips to his and pour it all into a kiss and watch him do the same.

“Never.”

In these moments, he wasn’t Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem, the heir to the Plinth fortune. In these moments, he was your Corio, and you were his little bird. When you are done, the disjointed song of the city coming to life falls upon deaf ears as you hold each other, reluctant to let go and face the harsh realities of the world that surrounded you and seeped into every aspect of your being, no matter how unwelcome. You hoped you could stay like this forever, safe in his arms, in the arms that welcomed you, in the arms that held onto you and thus, onto the inherent goodness born into him that he was forever struggling to subjugate, that you hoped he never would.

But… Coriolanus Snow was a hard man. And when he inevitably left you one fateful night, you tried to forget the tears that stained his pillow, the last remnants of the boy who gave his dying breath in his soul, that cried and screamed for the life he could have had, a life that was taken from him, a life that the world and the man whose presence still inundated the now lonely, deserted room, conspired to end. And as you lay on the empty bed, your own tears mixing with his own as they drenched the fabric you knew you’ll never see again, you couldn’t help but wonder if the man he would become would remember you, and all you shared, or if to him, much like the boy you loved, you were already dead.

Say you'll remember me Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe Red lips and rosy cheeks Say you'll see me again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams

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matchavellichor · 1 year ago

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Warm Blood on Cool Marble

dark!Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - Angst - 2.2k words - ao3

A/N: I saw this lovely artwork by @tamayula-hl SO long ago and it's been living in my head rent-free ever since. Enjoy the terribly dark word vomit!!!

Summary: Casting an Unforgivable on his friend one fateful night in Slytherin's Scriptorium awakens something ravenous inside of Sebastian.

Tags: !!Violence!!, Sadism, Cruelty, Sebastian is not Nice, Dark Magic, Blood Rituals, Rough Kissing, Deliberate Use of Crucio, Minor NSFW

Pain spreads in tendrils under her skin. White-hot. Burning scorch marks into her bones, then underneath—into the very marrow, until it seems as much a part of her as the fibers of her soul. It swallows her whole with the intention to devour.

Time easily escapes her under the influence of the curse, seemingly eternal. Only when it abruptly lets up is she distantly aware that it must have only been a few seconds.

Despite this, her nerves ache with the memory—muscles twitching, breath coming in heavy pants against the flagstone floor she’s bracing herself against.

Ominis has just enough time to kneel beside her before she’s retching onto the stone, agony still a broiling mess in her stomach. He holds her hair back and she can feel the anxiety in his clammy hands, in his hushed words she can barely make out over the ringing in her ears.

Sebastian is deadly silent.

She composes herself enough to blink back the stars dancing behind her vision and glances up to find he’s deadly still, as well. Frozen in place. Staring.

His wand is held loosely in his hand, his lips parted just enough to suggest surprise, as if a revelation of some sort has been made. A revelation of what she isn’t sure, as she’s certain it isn’t his first time experimenting with this specific Unforgivable.

Ominis is still fretting over her condition right beside her, his hands squeezing hers as if he can wring the trembling out of them, siphon the pain out. Her focus is drawn elsewhere. Magnetized to the expression Sebastian’s features are pulled into.

There’s a glint in his eyes, dark and pooling like warm blood on cool marble. A look that’s somehow familiar, that she tries to press down on with her thumb. Keep still long enough to decipher.

He takes a sharp breath, his irises catching the dim light of the wall torches, and it’s like they flash scarlet for a brief moment. Amber morphs into garnet right before her very eyes, gone as quick as she catches it.

She does catch it though.

Right there, is a vicious kind of yearning. Violent, greedy desire. Something grasping, clawing, gnawing. Avarice, in all its sheer, ugly inhumanity.

It burns bright in his eyes and knocks all of the wind out of her lungs. She staggers back and dry heaves and Ominis is on her again, blanched with worry.

“I’m taking her back,” he says as helps her to her feet, and his tone is clipped, angry. Infuriated with Sebastian’s apparent indifference. “Explore your dearly coveted scriptorium alone. I hope it was worth it.”

She wishes she could tell him that Sebastian is anything but indifferent at the moment, but her throat can’t get any words out. The clarification wouldn’t do him any good, anyway. She knows that apathy would be worlds more comforting than the rapacity that burns in his eyes now.

She lets Ominis sling her arm around his neck and help her out of the chamber. When she glances over her shoulder, Sebastian has moved already, disappearing into the opened vault. He doesn’t turn to look back at her.

She isn’t sure who is avoiding who. If it’s the simmering fear inside her that instinctively keeps her away from him or if it’s he who intentionally hides himself. His absence shouldn’t eat away at her as much as it does, and yet it tears her apart from the inside out, swallows her whole.

Ominis is more livid than she is, holding a bitterness that causes him to push Sebastian away just as ardently as the brunette isolates himself. It’s unhealthy, especially as she considers what he must be spending his time doing now that he’s had access to Salazar’s writings. Either Ominis lacks the foresight or simply the energy to try to dissuade him any further.

Concern wracks her nerves. Despite her efforts, she’s only afforded brief glimpses. Any time she approaches him working in the desolate corners of the library, he tucks his notes away quickly, refuses to meet her eyes.

She wishes she could pretend his aversion to her is a product of remorse. She can’t. Rejection digs sharply in her chest, until it hurts more than the fear she still subconsciously harbors for him.

Only then, does she follow him.

The Feldcroft Catacombs are dark and frigid. She stumbles through scattered bones with the faint light of her lumos, picks her way through cobwebs and corridors. Nearly impales herself with a snapped femur she falls on top of. She wipes off her scraped palms and continues on, determined.

Eventually, pain-stakingly, she reaches the chamber he’s in. It’s barren, save for the glowing light of his wand and the stone dolmen in the center of the room.

The stench of dark magic is so heavy she nearly gags from it. It permeates her senses and she can almost feel it sink into her very being, wear down her soul just from proximity. He stands hunched over the stone table, back turned to her, working fervently.

Her shoes scuff against the stone floor and he turns quick as lightning, wand outstretched, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes burn when he catches sight of her. She ignores the instinctive, primal, screaming urge inside of her to run.

“You shouldn’t be here.” There’s more desperation in his voice than she would’ve anticipated, and if she stretches it, hazes her perception, she could almost pretend he sounds remorseful.

Her eyes comb over the runes drawn in scarlet on the table, the glowing artifact in his hands. There’s blood dripping down his forearm, oozing from the cut on his palm. Blood magic, she catalogs briefly. Something obscure and archaic.

Her heart seizes violently in her chest when she lets her eyes drift up to meet his again. “What have you done?”

“What I had to,” he whispers, and his tone is resigned. “There’s no use in trying to stop me. It’s already completed.”

She takes a step closer and he reciprocates a step back, presses himself against the stone mantle. It’s ironic, how he almost seems scared of her. Jarring. She tilts her head and studies him.

“Leave,” he seethes, so vicious it’s startling. The words bitten out through clenched teeth. Still, she notices the lilt buried deep beneath it. The waver in his voice. The tremor in his hands. She’s never seen Sebastian so terrified.

“You know I won’t,” she says, and takes another step closer. He tries to inch away again, but there’s nowhere for him to go so he only glares at her, tightens his grip around his wand, stiffens his position.

She stalks towards him until his wand digs into her chest and he’s staring down at her with widened eyes. She turns her gaze to the artifact in his hands.

“Let it go, Sebastian,” she says, gentle, like she’s cornering a scared animal. With blood dripping down his palm and his eyes round saucers, he truly looks like something savage. Unfettered. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to you? Please. We’ll destroy it together.”

He shakes his head fervently and holds it farther out of her reach. “Don’t you dare. Don’t come near it.”

There’s a moment frozen in the air between them. Caught in the live-wire tension, swirling in their shared panting breaths. She isn’t certain of anything other than the fact that she needs to put an end to this.

She lunges for the relic.

It tumbles out of his hand with a dull clatter, and she immediately dives for it, sinking to the floor. He doesn’t follow her down.

Her fingers are barely able to brush the jagged edge of it before debilitating pain sears up her nerves and white explodes behind her eyes.

Immediately, she jerks back sharply, her body curling into itself as she writhes. She’s distantly aware of the fact she’s screaming herself hoarse.

This… this is different than before.

Infinitely more intense, more intentional. If she had ever known passion before—by any definition of the word—it pales miserably in comparison to the zealous onslaught she feels now.

She can feel the way the darkness around them feeds into it, entwines itself with his magic, stokes the flickering flames of his cruelty until it’s all-consuming. Until she’s certain she’ll be reduced to ash when he’s done with her.

When he finally relents, he’s hovering over her. His eyes are fixed on her face, and she catches that glint there again. How voracious he is, utterly starved. She tries to move her muscles but they feel like they’ve been flayed, tendons and sinew cut away for him to prod and gawk at.

“How did it feel?” he whispers, voice feverish with fascination. There’s an unrestrained quality to it, something deranged seeping through the cracks.

He moves over her when she tries to squirm away, straddles her hips. His eyes are still drinking in every drop of her, trained on her face, on the faint twitching in her arms. She takes too long to blink back to full lucidity and he squeezes her cheeks in his hand, gives her a shake. Blood streaks her chin and she nearly becomes sick from it.

“Get yourself together,” he grits, tone dripping with appetent impatience. “Tell me. Tell me how it felt. Or has it already escaped you? Do you need a reminder?”

“No, no, please—”

He grins then, teeth bone-white and all knives.

“You don’t have a clue, do you?” he murmurs. “How beautiful you sounded screaming for me. Writhing under my wand. My magic.”

He’s close. She feels his breath on her lips and it smells like copper, makes her gut twist violently.

“It was even better than in the scriptorium. God, how I despised myself for enjoying it so much then,” he leans in until his lips ghost the shell of her ear, voice lowered to a whisper. “For touching myself to the thought afterward.”

He shifts his hips against hers and she feels it— the stiffness pressed to her stomach, equal parts dizzying as it is nauseating. His hunger for her is in every possible meaning of the word, wolfish, insatiable.

His breath is hot at her temples, words scorching. “Tell me, did you feel me then? Feel me inside of you, as strongly as you did just now?” The fervor in his voice is thick, palpable, so much so it’s a miracle she doesn’t choke on all the vigor of it. “Through the searing pain, did you feel nothing but me?”

Tears burn a path down her cheeks before she can stop herself, but she’s too sore to feel properly mortified by them. Just as quickly as they marr her skin, they’re swiped away.

Replaced with the wet drag of a tongue.

She whimpers, squirms away, but he holds her steadfast. Rambles more insanities, voice scathing against heat-flushed, saliva-slick skin.

“You know, I thought that once I saved Anne, I would be done. I would leave this all behind. But now,” he chuckles, rasping deep in his chest, something maniacal. “There’s so much overwhelming beauty in it all. So much rapture. How could I ever give it up? How could I ever let this go?”

She forces herself to blink away the stickiness in her lashes, to meet his eyes, see him for what he really is. The glowing relic fallen just out of reach casts his face in an incandescent indigo, portent and foreboding.

Through the deep blue, his eyes glint blood-red.

Not a flicker, but something permanently changed, something intrinsic to him now. The sight nerves her to her core, sends a shudder up her spine.

He surges forward and swallows whatever gasp she intended to let out.

His lips on hers are vicious, punishing—and she wonders if he’ll ever be able to be anything but. He licks into her mouth with long, hungry strokes, runs his tongue along her teeth, bites mercilessly until he tastes metal. Her mouth pools with scarlet and he doesn’t bother soothing it, instead groaning deeply in triumph.

The shock of it all dislocates something in her, makes it so easy for her to offer up whimpers against his mouth, for her to let him brutalize her so wholly. He takes it as permission to tear her open, grope bruises into her skin with his wandering hands.

He squeezes her chest so roughly she chokes on a sob, rakes her nails down his forearms. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as if the sound makes something heavy inside of him twist. Ache.

When he finally breaks away from her he’s grinning. Lips kiss-bruised and swollen, pink-tinged saliva on his chin. He stares for a drawn out moment, as if committing the way she looks to memory.

As he unmolds his body from hers, she struggles desperately to catch her breath. She’s still dizzy, even after he’s collected himself, even after he’s on his feet tucking his notes back into his satchel and the relic’s safely back in his hands.

He watches her for another long moment and she’d almost mistake the look in his eyes for fondness. She catches herself. There’s too much voracity behind his gaze for it to be anything remotely tender.

His breaths are just as ragged as hers as he leaves her there, on the floor, tremors still wracking her body. Before he slips out of the chamber, he stills. Turns to look back at her one last time.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian x mc #ao3 #dark fic #dead dove do not eat

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 1 year ago

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Bound by Blood- Part 2

Part 1

Hero thrashed in their abductor’s iron-grip as they took them far away from the crime scene.

“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to indulge myself now,” Supervillain’s voice drawled.

Hero glared up from their spot in Supervillain’s arms. They blew a puff of frost into their face, hoping to disorient them. Supervillain only chuckled.

“My darling, do you really think your feeble cold will faze me?”

Without warning, Supervillain bit down into Hero’s neck; Hero cried out in pain. Supervillain drank a generous amount of blood from their system. Hero’s vision slid in and out of focus, and their limbs quickly fell limp.

“Sleep now,” Supervillain’s voice rumbled distantly, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Despite their efforts to do otherwise, Hero was quickly lulled to sleep.

…

When Hero woke up, they felt the warm embrace of silk sheets and a plush comforter. They opened their eyes to a grand bedroom. They sat up, rubbing their eyes. They immediately started scanning the room for any escape routes. There was a large window on one wall, with the curtains drawn shut. Hero clambered out of bed and scrambled over to it. The window had been tinted to let in the least amount of sunlight, and worse, there were bars over it.

“Enjoying the scenery?”

Hero nearly jumped out of their skin, whipping around to face Supervillain.

“Are you frightened?” Supervillain asked with a smirk and a tilt of their head.

“No,” Hero lied.

Supervillain laughed, a chilling sound that sent an unnatural shiver down Hero’s spine.

“Little Hero,” they said, stalking forward, “I can hear your heart rate- it’s beating faster than I can run. You’re shaking- and I know that your cryogenic makeup prevents you from getting hypothermic.”

Supervillain now stood inches from Hero’s face. They tilted their chin up to meet their gaze.

“But most of all- your eyes. They give away your fear,” they said, “such pretty eyes, especially so when they’re glazed over from blood loss.”

“Y-you’ve made your point, I’m scared,” Hero admitted, “what do you want?”

Supervillain ran a hand through Hero’s hair.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” they hummed, “first I have to get you ready.”

“Ready?”

“For your appearance of course,” Supervillain said, “what good is an ultimatum without the leverage?”

In a blink of an eye, Supervillain had swept Hero up and had deposited them in a different room- a cell, to be exact.

“I do hate to put you in such deplorable conditions, but we have to make this believable.”

Supervillain quickly manhandled Hero into a chair and wrapped them tightly in thick, coarse ropes. They shoved a gag into their mouth and turned on a camera.

“Try to look frightened, my dear, your performance is important,” Supervillain said, “now, how do I work this thing-”

Supervillain fought with the camera for a little bit until it snapped a picture of Hero. Hero blinked against the flash.

“Ugh, human technology, our helper and our reckoning,” Supervillain said, looking at the picture.

Supervillain quickly untied Hero and removed their gag.

“You were wonderful, Hero,” Supervillain said, patting them on the head, “maybe not Oscar-worthy, but a bumbling fool like Detective should be convinced.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Hero asked, standing up.

“Oh, the typical things: ensure immunity, receive control of the city, maybe demand a nice bottle of wine for us to share, though I don’t touch the stuff personally… yes, I think all that would be quite nice.”

“The city isn’t going to hand over control just because you kidnapped me!” Hero said incredulously.

“Maybe,” Supervillain agreed, “but it would be a shame if Detective had your blood on their hands because they refused to comply.”

Hero froze in place. Supervillain laughed.

“Oh, my darling,” they said, “I’m not actually going to kill you, I would never even dream of such a thing, but the city doesn’t need to know that. And now with you out of the way, I can easily remove anyone who opposes me. When a city has had a hero to protect them for so long, they forget how to protect themselves, and I’m very much counting on that.”

Part 3

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#writeblr #writing #creative writing #whump #hero x villain #heroes and villains #kidnapping #captivity #yandere x darling #leverage #bound by blood #vampire carewhumper #vampire whumper #yandere vampire #human whumpee #hero whumpee #vampire x human

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angstyaches · 2 months ago

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The Hexagon: Aftermath, Part One

Hexagon Parts 1 - 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is a long one (4,000+). It's a lot of general recovery stuff, with a bit of rare Charlie/Ryan interaction.

Also, please note that I am in no way a medical professional (and neither is Ryan).

CW: effects of hunger/exhaustion/dehydration, passing out, slightly medical setting, injury (burns), nausea, mention of emeto, anxiety, refeeding, mention of blood drinking, stomach noises, embarrassment/awkwardness, demonic possession, fear for CT's wellbeing.

___

The last stretch of the car ride felt like the longest, and yet Charlie felt stuck in a daze. He couldn’t sleep anymore, no matter how badly he wanted to. What mental energy he had, he was channeling into not crying, not throwing up, not panicking over the sickening fear he felt, that he would suddenly be flung from a dream and back into the forest. Into the hexagon.

He must have drawn a loud, shaky breath or something, because Shayne tilted his head to try to look at him.

“You okay?”

Charli nodded. “I’m...”

Whatever the end of that sentence was supposed to be, it didn’t make it to his lips. He wasn’t even sure why that was, exactly. He just wanted his bed. He wanted his parents. He wanted to be alone with Shayne so they could cry and process everything at their own speed.

He most certainly did not want to see Ryan Aldridge waiting in the driveway as Elliott pulled up to the townhouse.

There was no delicate way of putting it; Charlie had never stopped finding Ryan abjectly terrifying. He liked to think he’d done a decent job of acclimatising to a world that consisted of demons, demon eaters, witches, shifters, and vampires, but the most ancient vampire he’d ever met still send tendrils of cold through his body. She never smiled. She never looked angry. She never made any sudden movements. And she had never transitioned away from calling him Mr. Waters. Then again, he’d always been too terrified to ask her to call him anything else, so maybe that one was on him.

In his fragile state, she was probably the last person he wanted to see right now.

She was standing in the driveway of the townhouse, holding a black parasol to shield her face from the sun. She was wearing a crisp white pantsuit that washed out her unnaturally pale skin even more. For a woman trying so hard to block out UV rays, she looked like she should have come with her own light sensitivity warning.

Elliott pulled up the handbrake and whipped off his sunglasses. The engine rumbled down to silence, finishing off with a whine from the air conditioning. Ingrid had been reminding Trevor to get that checked out for months.

“Oh, god.” Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. “I-I need to tell my car where his dad is.”

“You... mean your dad where –?”

“My dad where his c-car is.”

“Charlie,” Shayne muttered. “I’m sure they’re far more worried about you than the fucking car.”

Charlie blinked, the movement happening far too slowly. The way Ryan Aldridge would blink. Probably. The thought of his parents worrying about him, unable to contact him, put a surge of panic right into the centre of his chest cavity. The way his mother’s face, her entire being, had collapsed inwards on that night three years ago, when he’d told them what he –

Charlie jumped. The door next to him had been opened. Switching to autopilot, he slid out of the back seat and promptly forgot how to use his legs.

Somebody – Shayne? Elliott? Ryan? – grabbed him, to keep him from sagging to the ground. Maybe CT had managed to pull themself together and levitate him.

CT? he whispered internally, and a cold wave of black swarmed his vision. It seeped into his every thought, his memories of the past few days, flashes of childhood visits to the sea. Bubbles of pressure pushed up against his lungs, inside and out.

Lights exploded in the darkness. His stomach heaved.

His mind stretched on and on, and Charlie followed it, until he could feel the demon submerged in that same smothering darkness. They weren’t reaching back towards him.

Still, Charlie took some semblance of relief in feeling the low, thrumming pressure of them.

Come back to me, Charlie pleaded. When you’re ready.

___

When he opened his eyes, he was on his back, but not in a pile of pine needles. Not on the concrete driveway in front of the townhouse, either. A white ceiling enclosed the room, where he’d half-expected to see drifting treetops through a purple gloss.

Charlie savoured it for a few seconds. He had missed being inside. The older he got, the more sure he became that he had been put on this earth to be inside, to be cosy and warm and in soft lighting.

The lighting here was not soft, though, and Charlie’s eyes protested as he tried to have a look around.

Some kind of thin, narrow bed was stretched out beneath him, as though he had fallen asleep on an examining table. He could feel that his hoodie and Converse were gone, but his damp, three-day-old jeans and t-shirt still clung to his skin. Nausea rolled over him in cold waves, and he realised he was sweating. Was it always this warm when there was no natural breeze blowing through?

With the glow of gratitude fading fast, Charlie turned his head. It felt like trying to shove his face through quicksand, but it was worth it.

A few feet away, a leather chair sat across from the front of a massive, light oak desk. Shayne was standing behind the chair, resting his weight against its back. He was looking down, his eyelids heavy, and was attempting to wrap something around his hand.

Elliott stood at the other side of the room, by the door, arms crossed, looking off into the middle distance. His aviators hung from the front of his shirt.

Ryan had shed her parasol and one layer of her white suit. She was organising medical equipment on a plastic trolley. Her wavy white hair had been scraped back into a bulldog clip to keep it from falling into her face. Charlie hadn’t thought it was possible for the woman to look even more severe, but now he missed the softening curls that normally framed her face.

He didn’t recognise the room, but he assumed it was Ryan office. Shayne had mentioned it to him several times in the past. Aside from books, the only decorations were a couple of deer skulls mounted on stands, and a square wall clock that, Charlie realised as soon as he noticed it, ticked obnoxiously in the quiet. And the walls, the carpet, the bookshelves, almost everything was clean and white.

Of course it would be, Charlie thought, squinting his eyes to fight off the pulsing headache.

This was where Shayne had first been medically assessed by Ryan, and where he had finally managed to tell them the truth about Madelyn and his eating issues. It felt a little bit bizarre that Charlie now had his own story to tell about this room. The time they got trapped in the forest and had to be rescued by Elliott.

Except... They hadn’t been rescued by Elliott, had they? Someone had taken down the wards and allowed them to escape.

Shayne had never quite explained that one, Charlie realised. Only now did that make Charlie feel a bit uneasy.

As though he had been thinking the same thing, Shayne’s eyes swiveled anxiously upwards. His gaze softened, though, when he realised that Charlie was awake. He lurched away from the leather chair.

“Hey, love.”

“Hey,” Charlie breathed.

Shayne closed the distance, his wrapped hand gently – messily – pushing Charlie’s hair back from his eyes. Charlie closed his eyes and groaned softly as his forehead was kissed.

“Are you okay?”

Before Charlie could respond, Ryan turned towards them. A stethoscope hung from her neck. If she was surprised at Charlie’s departure into consciousness, her face had no intention of showing it.

“As I have said, Mr. Waters is dehydrated. His body has entered a state of adaptive ketosis. I will continue to monitor his vitals while he rests and is gradually reintroduced to food and fluids.”

At the mention of food, Charlie felt a strange ripple go through the walls of his stomach. It had to be hunger, and yet there was the slightest tinge of acid in the back of his throat, as though he might be sick as soon as he tried to swallow anything.

Shayne rolled his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering uneasily. His grip on Charlie’s hand was weak. “Are you okay, love?” he asked again.

Charlie nodded, though he felt a stuttering echo of that panicked feeling in his chest. Nausea twisted in his stomach, heightened by the white lights. The absence of CT’s voice panged, not just in his head but throughout his body.

He shifted on his back.

“Want to sit up?” Shayne asked.

Charlie nodded again.

As he moved, he found a drip connected to his arm. His own right hand had also been bandaged, all the way up to the tips of his fingers, where he’d touched the wards and blistered his skin. His movement unsettled a large, white basin that had been lying next to him. Shayne reached out to steady it before it could fall off the – he was literally lying on an examining table.

Was it normal for Elder vampires to own examining tables?

A smell suddenly wafted towards Charlie, conjuring up memories of various kitchens throughout his teenage years, all of them different, and yet the hearty aroma of his dad’s chicken casserole was the same in each one. After this, maybe he would study remotely for a few weeks, spend some time with his parents, if they were happy to have him. Maybe ask his dad to teach him his casserole recipe.

After hearing what Ryan had said about a gradual introduction to food, he had a feeling that what he was smelling now was more likely to be some kind of broth. After almost three days, though, he’d take what he was given.

“My... my parents.” Stars blinked in and out of his vision as he tried to focus on not letting his head sway back and forth. He mustn’t have done a great job, because Shayne’s bandaged hand came to rest against his cheek, and Charlie inadvertently leaned into it. He rubbed at his eyes, and found tears had gathered there.

“Miss McDonagh has been tasked with informing Ingrid and Trevor Waters of the situation.” Ryan glanced at her silver watch. The clock face rested on the inside of her wrist. “I should expect she will be speaking with them presently.”

“Miss McDonagh?” Elliott scoffed. Charlie had almost forgotten he was there. “Odd thing to call your lover, but alright.”

Ryan ignored him. So did Charlie. He looked at Shayne. “Is that...?”

“Lucy,” Shayne nodded.

Charlie exhaled. He didn’t exactly trust this counsellor, who he’d never met, but he trusted Shayne. He swallowed, his throat feeling like grit.

“Is... she here, at the townhouse?” Shayne was looking at Ryan as she worked. “Does that mean Nancy’s back, too?”

Ryan pushed the trolley a little closer. The chicken broth smell became stronger.

“Um.” Shayne reached across himself and held his waist. The gauze on his right hand was already unraveling. “Ryan?”

“Shayne.” She dismissed him with a calm, fluid shake of her head. “Since you will not allow me to examine you, there is currently no need for you for you to be present.”

“Wait.” Charlie’s stomach lurched, both at the prospect of being left alone with Ryan, and at what she’d said. He tried to catch Shayne’s eye. “You wouldn’t let her check on you?”

Shayne scowled. He looked down and rubbed his thumb against Charlie’s wrist, sending tingles across his skin. “I’m fine. You’re the one who collapsed in the driveway. And threw up on your shoes.”

“I –” Charlie grimaced. He couldn’t remember throwing up, but with the way his tummy had felt after the flat Coke, and the way he felt now, it definitely sounded like something that could have happened. That would explain the basin, too.

It also spoke volumes that he didn’t even worry about his Converse being ruined.

“I want to stay with Charlie. I can be useful –”

“Elliott?” Nothing shifted in Ryan’s expression, and yet Shayne sucked in a breath as though he were being told off. “Would you terribly mind relieving me of this one?”

As he peeled himself away from the far wall, Elliott looked just as surprised to be summoned as Shayne looked betrayed.

Ryan picked up a deep, heavy mug from the trolley. Her fingers splayed delicately as she turned to pass it to Elliott. Charlie watched it go and felt his heart drop; rationally, he knew there would be more, and he would never take food away from Shayne, but Charlie’s stomach was starting to cramp up impatiently. It felt less like hunger and more like a burning anxiety over being so empty for so long.

Ryan took a few more things from the trolley and thrust them towards Elliott. He wrapped a fist around the mug handle, but still managed to make it look precarious. He tucked everything else under his armpit so he could plant a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“Come on.”

“Really?” Shayne snarled at him.

“Really.” Elliott directed him towards the door. “Charlie’s in good hands, and those hands will be even better if you’re not in here being a nuisance.”

“See you later, lovely,” Charlie half-smiled. He hated feeling so helpless to do anything else about the worried look on Shayne’s face. He didn’t realise how pathetic he must have looked, keeping his eyes trained on Shayne’s back, until Elliott had finished herding him out of the room, until the door clicked shut behind them.

And then, for the first time in his life, he was alone with a vampire.

“Are you in any pain?”

Charlie jumped. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you in any pain?”

Was it his imagination, or had she spoken more slowly when she’d repeated herself? Was she being sarcastic? Pointing out that he was a lowly, pathetic human, while she was an all-knowing Elder vampire? Was this a power play?

“Mr. Waters?”

Charlie flinched again, his heart stuttering.

“I apologise for instructing Shayne to leave. I realise how that might be... uncomfortable for you.”

Guilt seeped into Charlie’s gut. Was it that obvious?

“In your condition, it is best for both of you to be in calm, quiet environments.”

“Right. He needs to rest, too,” he said quietly. That was what she was getting at, right? That she was focused on tending to Charlie, but that she also cared for Shayne? She had protected him from Madelyn for this long, after all, and while Shayne was still a walking sack of issues, his mental and physical health had both improved a lot since living with her.

That’s what you would tell me, isn’t it, CT? You’d be telling me to get over my stupid hang-ups and do what’s best in the moment?

“Are you in any pain, Mr. Waters?”

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. “My hand. My stomach. My head, the... the lights are hurting my eyes.”

“My apologies again.” Ryan walked stiffly to the door and twisted a dimmer switch. The lights softened all at once, and although his head still ached, the buzzing pressure in Charlie’s eyes eased. He didn’t have to squint anymore.

“Thank you.”

She crossed the room again, dipping behind her large desk. As he watched her, Charlie now realised that she had a fridge in the back corner. The door was clear glass, and inside, what looked like tiny bottles of wine sat on a wire shelf.

Charlie felt his stomach gurgle as he realised that those probably weren’t tiny bottles of wine. He looked away as Ryan reach inside, towards a lower shelf that was blocked from his view anyway.

“I would like to take your blood pressure now that you are awake.”

Charlie nodded stiffly, gaze glued to the floor. He glanced to the side, holding perfectly still, as Ryan wheeled over a blood pressure monitor – seriously, who had a blood pressure monitor ready to go at a moment’s notice? – and strapped the reader around his upper arm. He tried to control his breathing as the machine tightened. Would his anxiety mess up the results of this?

Ryan was suddenly standing directly in front of him, staring down her nose. There was an uncapped bottle of water in her hand.

“Oh...” Charlie stammered and took the bottle. The condensation immediately started to seep into his bandage, so he passed it into his left hand. “Thank you.”

“Do not drink too quickly. Your digestive tract will not be capable of processing it yet.”

Charlie nodded, trying not to think of that quarter-bottle of Coke and how it was now splattered across the Aldridges’ driveway along with his stomach acid. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swished it lightly. He barely let his lips get wet, despite the clawing dryness in his throat.

Ryan moved back to his side and unstrapped the blood pressure monitor. Charlie squeezed in a couple more miniscule sips of water, but found himself taking a little more each time. Ryan didn’t share the readings with him. Good. Too much bodily data could make Charlie feel squeamish, and between the hunger-nausea and the chilled cabinet full of what he could only assume was actual human blood, he didn’t need anything else stirring up his stomach. His water was only just starting to settle in, and it would be a shame to lose it all again.

Ryan unhooked the stethoscope from around her neck. “Please lift your shirt at the back.”

Charlie fumbled it a bit, with his gauzed hand and his water bottle, but was grateful that Ryan didn’t try to lift it herself. He winced as she pressed the metal chest piece to the centre of his back.

“Breathe in.”

Charlie did. He fought the urge to let the breath stutter back out prematurely as water and bile clogged his throat.

“And out.”

She asked him to do this several times before moving the stethoscope to his chest. The thought of her listening to the pumping of his heart made Charlie tremble. Was she picturing sucking the blood from his veins like straws? Would she tell him she needed a blood sample for medical reasons, stick him with a needle, and drain him dry before he even realised what was happening?

Grrrrrroar.

Charlie’s eyes widened, his hand clenching around his water bottle. By the sounds of it, his stomach was only just becoming aware of its newly-acquired contents. His eyes flicked towards Ryan’s face as she continued listening to his heart. If he had heard his own tummy rumbling, then she had heard it with her vampiric hearing and had most definitely heard it through the stethoscope. Her face didn’t give her away. She hadn’t even flinched, despite how horrifically loud it must have been. She continued listening to his heartbeat, and then swiftly turned, removing her earpieces, to write down the result.

Something in Charlie’s chest suddenly unclenched. This whole time, he’d thought of Ryan as nothing but a vampire, whereas he should have been thinking of her as a... Well, maybe not a doctor, as he wasn’t sure she had any actual qualifications, but certainly a caregiver.

She removed the chest piece and stood off to the side again. Charlie allowed himself a couple more sips of water, laying a hand on his stomach to ward off any uneasiness. He could feel his belly churning, but no cramping, which had to be a good sign.

“You may cover yourself, Mr. Waters.”

“Charlie,” Charlie said softly. He tugged his t-shirt back into place.

“Next, I will give you a cup of light broth. It is important that you do not consume it too hastily, or –”

“I-I know. It could make me sick.”

Ryan gave a curt nod as she turned towards her trolley. Charlie flushed a little at himself for interrupting, but he was a teacher’s pet at heart and knew deep down he’d never let go of that need to seem like he was paying attention, participating, understanding the assignment.

He was also dying to get his hands on something warm and nourishing. His mouth, now that he had the barest amount of fluids in his body, watered as he watched Ryan pick up a mug of broth.

“Is there anything else in particular that is concerning you?” She paused as she handed him the mug, easing the bottle of water from his hand so he could hold it steady. She capped the bottle and turned to leave it on the trolley.

It took Charlie a minute to answer her question. Maybe two or three. He gently sipped on the broth, and even though he knew he had to take his time, he struggled to keep himself from drinking it any faster. He wondered if he could feel the broth literally warming his insides as it slipped down his throat, or if the relief of finally feeling safe was only just setting into his body.

He tentatively felt for CT, but still felt no energy coming back from them.

Charlie lowered the mug to his lap. The light flavour of the broth stuck to his tongue and he fought to swallow it down as tears pricked his eyes.

“I can’t talk to Charlie Too.”

Ryan had busied herself with tidying up her equipment as he’d been drinking. She was standing behind her desk, sliding a beige folder onto a shelf filled with other, disturbingly similar, beige folders.

“That’s what we call the demon that I –”

“I am aware.” Ryan smoothly turned her head. “Perhaps this is the reason for Shayne’s questions regarding Nancy’s time of arrival. She has limited knowledge on the topic of demons, but regardless is the greatest source of knowledge at our disposal.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s heart fluttered. “Maybe. I-I assumed he wanted to ask her if she knew anything about the trap.”

It may have been Charlie’s imagination, but Ryan’s chin seemed to lower slightly, her eyes sharpening. He almost choked on nothing as fear spiked in his gut.

“Not – not that we thought she set it,” Charlie sputtered. “Just –”

There was a sharp knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, someone hurried into the room.

She was pale and a little curvy, with cotton-candy pink hair tied in two low, messy pigtails. Her shoulders were hunched, and she kept a hold of the door handle. Her other hand hovered over her chin as she cast her eyes about the room.

“H-hi, Ryan, I...” She grimaced as she caught Charlie’s eye. “Hi. Charlie?”

Charlie nodded. “Lucy?”

Her grimace widened. “Hi. So, your mother and father are fine. I explained the situation, and they’re coming to get you tomorrow. I assured them that you’re in great hands.”

Charlie swallowed over the urge to belch, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face. Tomorrow felt too far away. Separated from Shayne and frozen out by CT, all he wanted was to see his parents’ faces. “Thank you.”

“I would also like to schedule a meeting between the two of you,” Ryan cut in. She folded her arms. Her gaze swiveled from Lucy to Charlie. “A debriefing following your ordeal. Tomorrow morning, once you have had some rest.”

Charlie tried to nod, to be a good student and show that he understood the value of Ryan’s suggestion. He flinched as another bubble of pressure rose up through his chest, muffling the burp with the back of his hand.

“T-tomorrow morning, you said, Ryan?” Lucy said slowly. She took a step back, still clutching the door handle.

“We will finalise the details later.”

“Okay. Well, it’s – uh, been nice to meet you, Charlie. I’ll – I’ll just...” Lucy pointed with her thumb before backing out of the room, pulling the door shut with her.

Alarm grew in Charlie’s mind; he hadn’t expected a qualified counsellor to slink about, acting like an embarrassed teenager. Charlie very much hoped she hadn’t been like this when she’d been on the phone with his parents.

Doesn’t really matter, he thought to himself as he took a sip from his mug. And to CT, he thought, Everything’s going to be okay.

He had to believe hard enough for both of them now.

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year ago

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

We have a frightening tale for you today... reader be scare, you're in to beware! Please, come in. Sit in the Chilling Chair at our Terrible Table in our Devious Dining Room. Now, I hope you're hungry, because we've made plenty of PETRIFYING PASTA! Fufufu... let's begin.

It was looking to be a very special Halloween. This particular year, the holiday had fallen on Friday the 13th! Spooktacular! Alas, nobody could go trick or treating, for there was a blood moon that day, and nobody wanted to be outside where their costumes would be stained with all the blood. Sigh... what a boring, uneventful day it was shaping up to be!

But then... a sound right outside. The sound of the mailbox opening and closing. Mail? On this federal holiday? How strange! And a bit disconcerting... who would dare to venture out with the town moist with blood? Maybe a vampire... eep! I opened the door, shivering, worried I may accidentally invite the hypothetical vampire inside, only to find...

Nobody there. No body at all. Just a severed, green hand clinging to the mailbox. So that's what the sound was! And here I was, worried it would be something scary. I shooed the little critter away, and as it scuttled off on its fingers, I saw that it had left something in the mailbox! Something familiar.

Why, it was a copy of Super Mario 64 DS! How generous, a Halloween miracle! I had been wanting to play this lately, but my childhood game card had stopped working. This was shaping up to be a nice Halloween after all! It was a used copy, and it still had the price sticker on it, having been resold at $6.66. Upon seeing this number, I immediately screamed. Someone had gotten an incredible deal on this game!

So, I opened the box. Everything was in great condition! Even the manual was included! I don't remember the manual looking like a torn piece of paper with "I SEE YOU" written on it with blood, but it's been a long time. I know I still have my original manual around somewhere, so no need to flip through this one. I got right to playing the game!

What a rush of nostalgia! There was my friend Mario's funny face on the touch screen, ready to be tapped! And tap I did! Rather than the game drawing the lineart of Mario's face, though, it drew something else. A tombstone with my full name, date of birth, and another, later date written on it. Weird! Must be a weird coincidental thing drawn by the previous owner? I played around with the squiggly lines and spun it around. It was fun :)

I got right into the game, and everything was just as I remembered it! I was visited by Lakitu, went into the castle, and jumped into the first painting, like I had so many times before. But something definitely was strange here. I was reasonably certain that the first mission of Bob-omb Battlefield was not called "Kill The Big Bob-omb Dead" in any version of the game! Nevertheless, I continued on.

That was when I saw it. Where I would expect a Bob-omb Buddy to stand was the most terrifying character design I had ever seen. Against my better judgement, I approached and interacted with it.

"Hi! I'm Bob-omb...

BLOODY!!!"

EEK! I could not believe my eyes! I would expect such material in an "adults only"-rated game, but in MARIO?! I had no idea what to do. I continued playing for some foolish reason, running off toward the Big Bob-omb the way I always would, hoping to find comfort in the familiar. The game felt normal again, aside from how Big Bob-omb left a large splatter of realistic blood on the ground when defeated, and I was mercifully brought back to the safety of Peach's Castle.

And yet... I felt a morbid curiosity. An urge to continue playing. Maybe it was just a glitch? Maybe the second mission would be back to normal, and I would get to see my friend Koopa the Quick? That would be nice. I selected the second mission, and...

It was normal. It was safe. The Bob-ombs, Buddies. Maybe none of that was even real. Maybe I was still shaken up about the knock at the door earlier? Whatever it was, it wasn't important anymore. I could finally play my funny Mario game and have fun! I walked on over to my friend the Koopa and interacted with him.

"Excuse me? Can I help you? Who are you?"

I was confused. Wasn't he supposed to ask for Mario? Wasn't this Koopa the Quick?

And then, as if he heard me, he turned his head. He wasn't looking at Yoshi. He was looking straight through the screen at me, and his eyes were more realistic than ever.

"I'm not Koopa the Quick.

I'm Koopa the TRICK!"

AIIIIIEEEEE!!!

Of course, none of this has been real! Just some Halloween Hijinxs! There is no such thing as a realistic turtle!

...Or is there?

That's for you to find out... heehee! Happy Halloween!

#mario #super mario 64 ds #bob omb buddy #koopa the quick #halloween #creepypasta #unreality #long post #mod chikako

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secret-smut-sideblog · 8 months ago

Text

Dream Girl Evil

Gale x F! Tav (named)

(Child Of Dawn series, Part 3)

PG-13 jealousy, possessiveness, love triangle dynamics, angst, betrayal, sensuality

Gale is determined to help Aurum with her condition, but between his own ambition and a circling vampire will he be able to stay in the light...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

Rising early had come habit to him now. He honestly looked forward to it.

There was a peace in the world when it was still shrouded in blue. The sun just starting its travels, the air still a little crisp.

And, of course, her.

He stretched his arms above his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Gathering his books.

Usually he could hear her humming and searched for the sound. But another voice rose outside his tent.

"You know, I'm quite sorry I missed your little reveal, darling."

Gale froze.

Opening the flap of his tent, he saw the pale elf sitting on a log facing her as she hung laundry. Leaned back on one arm, his ankles crossed just so. Head cocked.

She paid him little mind, hanging and smoothing with sure fingers. Hair twisted up in a clip, robe flowing around her as she moved. Light revealing from under her sternum as the fabric shifted.

"From what Karlach so graciously pantomimed it seemed to have been quite the sight."

"Well, I'm sure we'll all watch me unravel in due time." Her tone was impartial.

He stood, circling around to her front. Twisting a loose lock of her hair over her shoulder. Eyes on the radiance in her chest. Entranced.

Gale's own chest tightened. Of course. A man starved of sun for two hundred years would be drawn to this. A private sunlight poured from her endless.

"Does it hurt?" Astarion's voice was soft then, looking up at her eyes.

She seemed to pause, considering him.

"It hurts worse to keep it in."

His fingers reached out.

"May I?"

Gale dropped his books on the low table.

Their eyes darted to him.

Astarion's hand paused it's journey but didn't retreat. Glaring cold daggers into him over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I woke up a little late. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

She smiled at him, her eyes open and trusting.

Astarion noticed. The change in her demeanor making his jaw tighten.

"No, you're right on time." Her voice was wind chimes again. Gale tried to keep the pleased smug out of his face.

She stepped back from his fingers graciously, giving his hand a quick reassuring squeeze.

"I will do my best to keep my troubles out of the way. We'll find answers for your scars soon, I promise."

Astarion's eyes went round, lips falling slightly open.

"That's not-"

He shook his head slightly, smoothing back over into that preening smile.

"Of course. Thank you, you sweet thing."

"Well, I best be back to my mending. Missing what is sure to be very stimulating conversation." He clasped hands behind his back. Turning on his heel, but not before giving her a smile, his eyes briefly lingering on her glow in a hint of longing.

Gale watched him go, making sure he actually left and hadn't dipped into shadows.

Aurum was already back to the laundry, unbothered.

"Are you okay?" Gale hushed.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." She laughed.

Looking down at her chest, she pulled the robe apart. Her bright sternum revealed with a sigh.

"It's not the first time I've been propositioned for this." She gestured at the light. "Something about conquering the holy girl really gets people going."

He stood and put a gentle hand against it. The heat of her skin and the contained radiance warming his palm through to the wrist.

"It hurts you?"

She held her hand over his. Smiling up at him.

"Doesn't yours?"

He laughed then. "You've got me there."

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and every fiber of his being resisted kissing her.

"You have something to show me?"

"Ah, yes!" He pulled back, gathering the tomes.

"I've found several promising texts. Those on restraining magic and blood dilution. Would pact breaking be relevant?"

She laughed coldly. "No. He doesn't release anyone."

Her eyes widened, seeming to have said too much. Mouth forming that thin line.

"Aurum, you can tell me." He pulled her hand down to him. "Your secrets are always safe here, and more information will be tantamount to our success."

She played with his fingers absent-mindedly for a moment, seeming to fight with herself.

Relented with a sigh.

"My full name is Aurum Hathala Orndeir."

Information shot across his skull, rocking him back.

"You're a descendant of a Sunlord? The Sunlord?"

This changed everything.

He got up and started to pace.

"The power in your chest. What magic does it hail from?" He was nearly bubbling over with excitement.

The untapped power at her fingertips, if he was right in his assumption it would be world changing.

She seemed apprehensive for a moment, looking at the fervor in his eyes.

"I think this is a bad idea." She rose to feet.

"No, wait."

Between his arcane power of Mystra and her divine light of Amaunator. The undivided face of Lathander. The Yellow God. They would be unstoppable.

"I cannot take part in your ambition, I'm sorry. You don't understand what is inside me."

"Then tell me so I can."

"No. I'm sorry, Gale. I've said too much."

She gathered the folded sheets in her arms and walked away. Robe of gold and crimson trailing behind her.

Only then did he see the subtle markings along the hem. Embellished round suns, the sigil with her the whole time.

All breath stolen from his chest he watched her leave.

Walking past Astarion's tent, he took up pace with her easily. Walking on his heels, leaning towards her to whisper something.

She should have known better.

Of course he just wanted her like the others did.

Either a power to be tapped or an idol to be worshipped. Often a combination of the two.

How silly, to think that this would be different.

Leaning her head back, she allowed Astarion's venom to soothe through her. Giving in to the numbing pleasure.

He felt it, pausing against her throat for a moment. Then leaned further in. Drinking more earnestly.

At least his intentions for her were clear. She knew where she stood here.

Reaching up she cupped around the back of his head, sighing. Pulling him into her sieve throat.

His hands pushed to the outside of her thighs, both sat against his tent floor.

A growl reverberating through his throat, he pushed his hips into her lower back.

Her chest pulsed and his eyes darted down to it. Pulling the front of her blouse down in his fist.

Her breasts pressed against the taut fabric, she started to feel it again. That rising sun.

Well, he said he wanted a show.

She released one of the fingers holding in her chest.

The light burned out through her limbs, lifting the hair along both of their bodies. The beginnings of a crackling in the air.

She knew the moment it reached her throat cause he gripped on tight. Fingers digging lifeline in her sides.

Her holy blood pushed through both of them and she knew it wouldn't be without consequence. Giving her blood, in its full rapture, to the undead. Her father would punish her severely.

But for now, the light fractured river through both of them. Pulsing with her heart.

She felt his beat against her back twice before he pulled away.

Falling back, he gripped at his chest. Eyes frantic for a moment.

"Did... did you just restart my heart?" He looked up at her in shock and a hint of fear.

"Don't get your hopes up. I would've incinerated you before I revived you."

"What are you?" He sat up, staring at her reverently.

There it is. What. Not whom.

She'd already lost hope, it didn't matter if they knew anymore.

"I am the Eternal Sun. I am Amauntor's Chosen."

Part 4

#gale sweetie you fucked up so bad. yeah its nuclear dude #gale x tav #astarion x tav #screenshots by @dailygale and @lovelybluebirdie #lyrics from: may the best - london grammar

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sapphic-woes · 2 years ago

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Short with maid!reader x Ambessa. Here Ambessa gets hurt and you just want to make sure she's okay. (Not rlly proofread)

The palace was up in flames.

Assassination attempts on your warlord weren't uncommon. Ambessa regularly faced people deadset on taking her life for numerous reasons. However, your lady always told you that their motivations mattered very little to her.

---

"Their vengeance is not enough to match my skill. Instead, it makes them falter." Your lady calmly spoke. She walked with purposeful strides, and you scurried after her, quickly helping her remove her bloody garments. You swallowed before speaking up.

"My lady. Your sword..." She had walked through the palace with it still brandish in her hand and soaked in her enemy's blood. Now, Ambessa simply blinked, still for a moment before unceremoniously dunking it into the pool and earning a gasp from you.

"My lady that's dirty–!"

"As is the rest of my body. Which is why you, my sweet..." You gasped as Ambessa gripped your arm and dragged you closer. You were mesmerized by her haunting eyes, how they swam with a dangerous mischief.

How could the blood splattered across her face make the cloudy irises of her eyes gleam? Her voice was velvet against your ears, but you knew she could sound ruthless in a heartbeat. Ambessa was a dangerous beauty you knew you shouldn't have been drawn to...and yet?

"You must focus and tend closely to every part of your master, hm?"

You found yourself a moth to her flame regardless.

---

Surely in this moment, she had finally burned you.

You just needed to know–if she was safe, how her condition was, if she was in pain–but you were but a lowly maid, and Ambessa, the ruler of Noxus. Your worries didn't need to be quelled, as they mattered not to anyone else but your love.

"Please, may I help?" Your attempt to provide assistance and get closer was ignored, as several doctors and nurses worked together to aid Ambessa. You couldn't even see your lady–only able to hear her groans and listen to words thrown about the state of her health into the air.

"They ambushed her! Those cowards."

"We need to stop the bleeding, now."

"Goodness, any closer and they would have pierced a major artery."

"There's another arrow? How did she even survive this?"

What you overheard didn't help calm you down, but no matter how much you tried to get closer, you couldn't. Eventually, to keep the palace calm and not show the attack had shaken the kingdom, you and all other attendants were ushered back to continue your usual work. You were reluctant, but no matter how hard you pressed, you weren't allowed to even sneak a glance at Ambessa.

But you weren't her chambermaid for nothing. No–she had chosen you for your unique...attitude whenever things came to your warlord, and you weren't going to give up. Instead, you decided you would find another way to check on Ambessa–just, not in broad daylight.

With a single candlelight you scurried through the halls of the palace, avoiding patrol guards until you made it to Ambessa's chambers. However, two guards stood at the door. Dammit.

"Pardon me." You tried to come off as calm, dipping into a curtsy before them. You clenched your fists with the handfuls of your dress, eyes politely downcast.

"I am the lady's chambermaid. I stopped by out of worry...may I sit by my lady's side and attend to her? I just want to make sure she's alright." Silence followed until one of them answered.

"Apologies miss, but we were instructed not to let anyone in." Your heart sunk into your chest, but you couldn't give up just yet!

"Please, it will only be a few minutes. I just need to see her." One of the guards looked guilty as they glanced at the other.

"I... I'm sorry miss, but we aren't allowed–"

"Let her in." All three of you stilled at the gravely, low tone of your warlord's command.

Ambessa was shirtless, chest and torso bound with bandages. You knew she was one to sleep completely naked, but for the courtesy of the guards, she had a loose pair of black pants on. They hung a bit at her hips, making you swallow and try your hardest to focus.

"...Yes my lady." The guards inclined their heads, and you smiled in relief as Ambessa let you in.

"My lady what happened? I was so worried, they didn't let me see you or tell us anything. I heard it was an ambush–those cowards–and you barely managed to hold your own! How is the pain? How can you even move right now? My lady let me help you back to bed–!" All your fretful rambling came to a full stop when Ambessa wrapped her arms around you, pulling you as close and tight as her wounds would allow.

She smelled of blood and medicinal alcohol. Her breaths were deep yet worryingly unsteady. Her nose was buried in the crook of your neck, and she breathed you in–grounding herself before murmuring against your skin.

"I feared what would happen. If I had lost to them. If I wasn't able to see you again." Oh.

The words left unspoken made you suck in a shaky breath. You are the reason I fought so hard. Was woven into each second Ambessa held onto you, burned into every inch of your skin. The fear of leaving you had made her strong. You were the miracle that pulled Ambessa through her battle.

"...I love you." You whispered the words as if afraid the air wouldn't hold the weight of them. Ambessa sagged into you. You realized her hands were trembling. The warlord pressed a single kiss into your neck, lips lingering as if hoping to brand her mark on you there.

"I love you too darling. Always."

#ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

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evilminji · 10 months ago

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Why Dont More BNHA SI-OCs end up Animals?

No, seriously, Nedzu is both terrifying and an INCREDIBLE asset.

If you were a Villian. An ends justify the means sort of bloke, as it were, why WOULDN'T you try and make another Nedzu? Sure, he promises terrible, terrible, blood soaked Vengeance, the likes of which sane men fear to contemplate and madmen shudder to behold, but? It's not like THEY'LL get caught!

They are VERY smart.

They have a plan!

Are you catching the sarcasm? Cause they sure are catching these Probably A Stoat Hands! And a tire iron! No survivors! *Nedzu's back up coughs awkwardly* Fine. SOME survivors! But he's still upset.

He dislikes Labs.

And think about it! Really, what is more likely? Some rando has? Two(2) SEPERATE Quirks? One of which not only kicked pre-birth, but is continual and very likely the ONLY THING keeping THAT PARTICULAR SOUL in that body. While the other is? *spins the wheel* Meh. We'll figure it out later.

Those are VERY different Quirks!

They would require VERY different secondary adaptations. Some of which might CONFLICT. Fatally no less. It would also be a rather notable quirk mutation, from their parents.

Possibly HEREDITARY.

Gonna have your OC grapple with the reality the not ONLY have a Chronic, Life Threatening, Quirk Reliant Medical Condition. That if the ever get arrested, falsely or not, they better PRAY those cops both notice and GIVE A SHIT about their medical bracelet... or that's it.

One pair of Quirk Suppressing Handcuffs.

Any medical grade Suppressant.

They'll die. Plain and simple. Dressed up in fancy medical jargon, their body will just... given out. Like a puppets who's strings are cut.

Oh, and it's HEREDITARY.

Because Quirks run in bloodlines. And once a mutation happens? It's here to stay! So her/his/their KIDS all stand the chance of being yoinked from another world. And their grandkids. Great grandkids. For however long it takes to shift into something else.

Here's a brochure on adoption.

You know, assuming you live that long.

Is it a great idea to explore? Fuck yeah! Am I gonna do it? Fuck no! So free to a good home I guess, just lemme read it! But!! You know what SIDE STEPS all this?

Quirked Animals!

Perfect for all you dub-... actually, let's not lie to ourselfs, WILDLY UNETHICAL scientific needs! You can splice in genes for intelligence Quirks! Maybe you'll get it right! Ballpark it! So what if loads of them die horrifically? Something, something, in the name of progress! They tell themselves.

Nedzu :) Violently :) Disagrees :)

But he ALSO! Only soooorta gives a shit about... like a small handful of humans. A fellow Quirked Animal? Who needs Schooling and legal Gaurdianship? A guide to the world of humans?

Not to MENTION? My Ace ass love the concept? Of abstracting attraction!

Because!

You are a Cat.

You are a Quirked Cat. You Quirk allows you sentience and memories of being human. Do you still find humans attractive? Or was that your human body? Do you find CATS attractive? They are animals. Your mind rebels. But? Were two images, drawn upon a wall, presented too you? Which would be desirable to you now?

Well groomed fur? A charming grin?

No one and nothing?

You are a Cat. A teenager. Around you, your peers speak of dates and crushes and dreams of marriage in some far off future day. You struggle to reach the seat of your desk, too see the board properly. You have nothing you can add to their conversations.

Clothing feels oppressive and wrong against your fur.

It feels worse to be naked.

You are a Cat.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation

#bnha #bnha prompt #bnha thoughts #minji's ponderings

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fic-recommended · 1 year ago

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Shyan Fics

more to be added, if I feel like adding

—————————————

I’ll Crawl Home – carrieonfighting

(16,024 words / 6 chapters / Teen and up)

Tags: Demon!Shane, Angst, Non-Linear Narrative, bc im PRETENTIOUS, Protective!Shane

"Shane was almost unnerved by how quickly he’d settled into this body, this name, this life - his friendship with Ryan was the most time he’d spent with any human before, and yet the man fascinated him."

Wow. That’s all I gotta say. I started reading Shane/Ryan fic because I had a weird dream and went looking for comfort fic to ease the edges of my mind. I stumbled upon this fic and was so fucking blown away. I was drawn in because of the demon!Shane tag and the way this story is charted out is insane. It’s nonlinear (there is a liner version tho I’m strongly against it). Just ohmygod read this fic it’s insane and hurts so good.

I’m Gonna Keep You in Love with Me (for a While) – beethechange

(21,847 words / 1 chapter / Explicit)

Tags: fake married, also real married, friends to husbands to lovers to ???, Las Vegas Wedding, possible dubious consent due to alcohol consumption, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Rimming, just assume most of the kinds of sex are present here, probably more Celine Dion than you were hoping for, they say "fuck" a lot, also "dude" but I don't make the rules okay, Bedsharing

Shane is pacing around the hotel room. It’s not a huge room and Shane’s legs are long enough that he doesn’t have much real estate to pace before he has to swing back around for another loop.

“Can you stop?” Ryan asks. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Okay,” Shane says finally. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re just going to—we’re going to be married. The only way out is through.”

“Um,” Ryan says, because this plan strikes him as counterproductive to their shared goal of not being married.

To me there are the big two when thinking of Shane/Ryan fics. That is to say the others aren’t amazing but two gutted me in a way I was not expecting from I ship I don’t even ship. This is one of the two and fucks sake it hurts me but in a way I really like and neeeeeded. (The other is the one above this)

Muscles Better and Nerves More – beethechange

(26,301 words / 1 chapter / Explicit)

Tags: Bodyswap, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, First Time, Pining, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Body Horror, Rituals, Swearing, Sexy Shame

“I’m serious,” Ryan says. “Don’t go fucking up my body. I want that shit back in the same condition I left it.”

“The same condition—Ryan. I’m not spending hours in a gym every day so you don’t lose muscle mass.”

“I want you to treat my body with the respect you would a national park. Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories.”

***

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way.

I have found out while reading this fic that I am also a sucker for bodyswap!au. Something about learning to love someone completely while seeing (and being lmao) all of them is so intimate and endearing to me. Plus there’s dumplings in this fic and that is just sweet sweet poetry.

If you can find a way to love me, it’s all right – varnes

(11,232 words / 1 chapter / Teen and up)

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Psychic Ryan

When Ryan was a kid, he fell into a pile of bricks. They were playing hide and seek, and he thought he had the best hiding spot: high up in a thickly lush tree, his knees drawn to his chest so that he’d blend in. But the branch broke. He hit his head and doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. When he woke up a few hours later, the sun was setting, and his friends were gone, and his parents were calling for him, their flashlights swinging across the grass. There’d been blood on his bangs.

Anyway, now he can see ghosts.

Kind of.

Look, he’s not great at it.

Or: Ryan, personally, has three lists: “NICE GHOSTS,” “GHOSTS I DON’T FUCK WITH,” and, “IDK, SPOOKY STUFF.”

Oh my goddddd this fic is so sweet and so owie. At first I was skeptical because the fanon is that Shane can see demons or ghosts or whatever. But having it be Ryan???? So owie in such a good way. Other then this fic being the masterpiece that it is, I’m going to convince you with one sentence: Ryan has a cat with a ghost in it that demands Taco Bell. That’s it baybee. Read it or you’ll regret itttt.

BFFS Get Married For A Week – Ryan and Shane – aspookycryptidsock

(18,108 words / 8 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Pining, Mutual Pining

"As I was saying," Curly continues with a pointed glare in Ryan's direction. "It's my honor to join the two of you in unholy matrimony. The rules are simple, you'll live together, plan one date each, and cherish each other. Til week do you part."

I first read this fic years and years ago. I don’t know how it happened but me and my best friend found it while being at a library and we went feral reading it before their mom picked us up. It’s my origin story to the ship. This fic is my first love and my baby gorl. Shane is intense in a way I lovelovelove. Ryan is dumber then a pile a bricks amen.

Body Farming – shiphitsthefan

(7,251 words / 1 chapter / Explicit)

Tags: Season/Series 04, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Shane Madej, Protective Shane Madej, Omega Ryan Bergara, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Scenting, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting, Daddy Kink, Size Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Filth with Feelings, Community: bfukinkmeme, Multisex Omega

Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

Your honor I’d like to state my case by saying being horny on main is bc I’m silly goofy and I never meant no harm. ABO fuck or die in a cave? Fuccck kkkk y e aaaa

Por Favor, Sweetheart – carrieonfighting

(7,859 words / 1 chapter / Teen and up)

Tags: Kid Fic, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Accidental Baby Acquisition, ryan dadgara, and shane dadej, Original Baby Character - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, You Have Been Warned

Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late

Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

Ryan gains custody of a baby and is strugggglinnnggg until a Sasquatch comes and helps <3. Ain’t nothing says romance baybeee then an actual baby.

daring it’s a faded notion – varnes

(28,760 words / 5 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: Paranormal shenanigans, y'all remember that trope where people can't be more than 5 feet apart without Suffering?

The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

Ghosties don’t like the no homo and said ummm yeeeeet!!! Into the Grand Canyon then the ghoul boys kiss???? Makes me go hubba hubba

Collide - needywitch

(35,310 words / 2 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: Pining, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Biting, First Time, Dirty Talk, Love Confessions, Rough Sex, Shane Madej Has a Big Dick

Ryan is desperately in love with his best friend.

Owieeeeeee. This one made me cryyyy. The prose of this fic along with a healthy usage of the word jaunty made this fic deeply emotional as well as made me want to cry when they kissed. Very excellent

A Perfect Piece of Ass, Like Every Californian - beethechange

(25,706 words / 3 chapters / Explicit)

Tags: entirely self-indulgent PWP, smut with feelings, Threesome, Birthday Sex, Oral Sex, lotta ball stuff here folks, so i hope you like balls, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Sexy Air Traffic Conducting, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism

“Happy birthday, Shane,” Sara says. “I got you a Ryan.”

“Th—thanks?” Shane says. He looks at Ryan and Ryan just looks back, weirdly impassive, giving nothing away. “But I’m pretty sure I already have a Ryan in this model. What’s the return policy?”

“Not like this, you don’t,” she says, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. Out of the corner of his eye Shane can see Ryan bring his hand to his mouth, stifling a snicker that he turns into a cough. Oh, he thinks.

Oh shit.

I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that this fic is morally correct but Shane/Sara/Ryan fic is what I needed and it blew me away and it is the best smut thank you goodnight

#shane madej #shyan shipping society #Shyan #shane x ryan #ryan bergara #shane madej x reader #shane madej x ryan bergara #ryan bergara x reader #ghoul boys #watcher #watcher fanfic #buzzfeed unsolved #watcher ghost files #I’m sorry #shyan fic #fic recs #Shyan fic recs

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ferrocyan · 1 month ago

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ffxiv write day 28 - deleterious

(continued from here. some dialogue is taken from canon, but the story is a bit canon divergent)

yaana feels the air change behind her, an electrifying shift not unlike the start of a match. she glances back and sees tart with his signature onstage smirk, propped up with one hand on the wall in pretend-cockiness. "yeah, need anything from me, witch?" he taunts eutrope.

she scoffs and turns to yaana. "i'm not here to fight you, but to talk to my sisters."

yaana startles for a moment, then snarls, "good, because we have a mountain of questions for you. why did you disappear without a word? what exactly have you been doing all this time?" her fists are balled tightly, claws digging into her palms.

eutrope's gaze flickers for a moment. she watches her and neyuni in turn, then thinks better of her explanation, telling them simply, "i'll explain everything in due course." just as yaana is about to quip, oh, classic eutrope, always with that excuse, the next words out of the elder sister's lips makes her freeze.

she says something eutrope never would: "yaana, you need to give up fighting right now."

"wh-what? why?!"

"because if you repeatedly transfigure your flesh with a feral soul, you'll eventually develop psychonekrosis-- an irreversible disease where your own soul degrades," eutrope states flatly. as if she's talking about her morning training regime or her diet, "once it's begun, it's too late. all you can do is await death...like me." only at the end her voice wavers.

yaana's own is much shakier than hers. "this... this can't be true." she looks at her younger sister, torn up with fear just like herself; her older sister, resolute, having accepted the fact of her situation; then her eyes arrive at her partner--

tart looks white as a snow-crashed terminal, his mouth hanging open and backed to the wall. he's horrified,

but not surprised. yaana can't shake the sense of it. why. why not--

she hears the words, barely thinking as she speaks them, "isn't that why fighters get immortalized? so we can get out before it's too late?"

"yaana. have you ever met one of the immortalized?"

she blinks. tart is here, isn't he? whoever--whatever it is claiming to be the arcadion fighter souleater--

eutrope explains how she looked into the immortalized due to changes in her own body, and ended up finding the truth. yaana tries to listen, but--there's too much, her thoughts are racing and clamoring one after another--eyes closed, deep breaths. just stop--stop thinking! her hands start to hurt, and yaana realizes her claws have drawn blood. she focuses on them for the moment.

neyuni had asked if there was a cure for eutrope's--their--condition, and her older sister replied with a yes, "it's a soul of surpassingly dense constitution. like yours," she glares at tart.

the champion has swallowed his unease, sporting a mocking grin again. he drawls, "a-ha, so you do need something from me!"

"i've heard enough of your jokes," eutrope snaps. "you're only talking back now because i had become weaker than i'd realized. but mark my words, souleater, i will be the one to devour you!"

he approaches eutrope as she speaks, stalking closer and closer. yaana's breath catches in her chest when he leans menacingly over her sister, neither backing down until their foreheads clash together.

"sounds good, wicked thunder!" souleater laughs. "my soul's yours if you can take it."

the front door creaks open at that moment, and the two deadlocked fighters flinch away from each other. eutrope flees from the room--then exiting from the basement, out of their house altogether, without saying another word.

#ffxivwrite2024 #7.0 spoilers #my writing #tart the wol #THERES A BIT MORE TO THIS SCENE ILL DO IT TOMORROW (SCREAMS)

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stephsageek · 2 months ago

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A Preview of the upcoming chapter of my Five x Lila fic, "Much Longer Than Six Years, Five Months, and Two Days."

“—Klaus?” Five interrupted, trying to get his brother’s full attention.

This was important.

“Yeah?” Klaus’s eyes dragged back towards his brother’s. Five waited a beat until he saw focus in his brother’s green eyes.

“Old dogs like me and him—never change,” Five intoned.

Five’s mouth twitched unhappily. He took no joy in telling Klaus that trusting Dad—no matter what version of him it might be—was a terrible idea.

He didn’t want to burst Klaus’s bubble; he’d always had a soft spot for him.

But this had to be done. It was better to try to tell him than for him to find out the hard way.

Five had seen the usefulness of their father in the past—even admitted to himself that he and the old man were more alike than not—but that only cemented his distrust and dislike of the Hargreeves patriarch.

“He has never had our best interests at heart,” Five finished, as gently as he could manage. His tone was cold even to his own ears.

No wonder everyone avoids me, he frowned. Can't even give someone advice without sounding like an asshole. He mentally shook his head. Old dogs, indeed.

Five’s mind drifted back as it often did to their childhood.

Back to when Klaus would return from spending a night in the mausoleum—looking pale and drawn. The nights he’d crawl into Five’s bed, when they were very young, shivering from nightmares, weeping, and mumbling about ghosts.

Five clenched his jaw, sudden rage spoiling his mood.

I need a God damn drink.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he had managed to reign in his fit of emotion.

Klaus’s mouth twitched, begrudgingly acknowledging his older brother’s words. Deep down, he likely knew their wisdom firsthand.

Five recognized that Klaus generally didn’t heed advice from his siblings very often, but he hoped that Klaus would listen this time.

He hated seeing any of them get hurt.

All he ever seemed to be able to do was pick up the pieces.

Five frowned feeling awkward. Should he do something? Reach out reassuringly?

Only Klaus would receive such affection from Number Five.

Five honestly didn’t care for any form of affection—hadn’t liked being so much as touched, as far back as he could remember.

For Five, touch was no small thing. It was not straightforward in his mind.

To Number Five, it meant the loss of control. It meant risk. Risk of harm, risk of intrusion, risk of invasion, risk of vulnerability; But more than that, Five feared how it might lead to ruin, to being compromised and clouding his judgment.

It was likely a conditioned response to being experimented on as children—like rhesus monkeys clinging to a steel mother wrapped in tattered fabric.

It felt like an uncharitable thought considering Grace—but she and Pogo had always felt more like parents to Five than Dad ever had.

To the Hargreeves children being touched by Dad meant being given shots, having blood drawn, having tests run, and needing to fight, and defend. Even being spoken to meant harsh words, criticism, and orders.

God, what a fucked-up family, he mentally sighed, reaching out to Chet as he passed and snagging a flute of champagne.

Five watched Klaus sit across from him, only feeling the barest twinge of guilt as he took in his defeated posture.

Five twisted, dropping a shot glass full of whiskey into his beer with a plop.

“So, my only plan for tonight is to get fucked up beyond all recognition.” Five took hold of his boiler maker, affectionately patting his brother on the shoulder. He squeezed him once, for good measure.

Suddenly Klaus perked up and began scanning the other tables.

He's just gonna go try and convince somebody else. He never gives up, does he?

He found himself smiling.

Klaus always seemed to bounce back. Five might pretend to get annoyed with their wayward brother but the truth was he envied his ability to remain resilient and positive despite things frequently going wrong in all their lives.

None of the others saw how strong Klaus really was but Five knew.

Klaus was a survivor, like him.

Whenever things went wrong, Klaus would be the first to rally himself. Always with an easy smile, covering up his pain.

Klaus had always been the most stubborn when it came to showing him affection. The rest had taken the way he flinched from every casual brush of their fingers, shoved away all attempts at a hug, and ignored every high-five, as a clear sign that Number Five Hargreeves was the last person they should be touchy-feely with.

But Klaus, even as children, had doggedly come back for second, third, and even fourth attempts.

Five could think of only two people alive whose touch he was not on some level immediately repulsed by or suspicious of.

Five's eyes strayed ever so slightly over his brother’s velvet-covered shoulder to a black-clad figure talking animatedly with their father, her blond tresses catching the light. His eyes drawn to the sway of inviting hips and a blinding smile.

He swallowed, eyes snapping back before they could linger.

Maybe I've already had enough?

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #lila pitts #five x lila #number five #my fanfiction #fanfiction preview #working hard #klaus hargreeves #what's really funny is that now that I've been doing more editing this version no longer exists lol #I previewed something that effectively no longer exists

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whentherewerebicycles · 1 year ago

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okay. i promised myself i would do some long reflective journaling to sort through some Big Feelings and I keep kicking the can down the road because idk sometimes you don't want to sort through the Big Feelings in case you don't like what you find there. but I have a morning of uninterrupted time and I am in a good headspace and I think I will just write through some stuff under the cut.

it sure looks like i might be having a baby next summer, which means that things are moving out of the hypothetical realm and into the realm of being Very Real. so i am experiencing the expected levels of "oh shit oh shit oh shit i am about to be responsible for a living being???" that i imagine all prospective parents experience. more than that, though, i think i am having to confront the reality of single parenthood in a more emotional way than i was expecting! and this is partly because it might be about to become real for me, but also because some people i love very much who are very close to me are pregnant now too, and i am watching them live an experience of pregnancy that is very different from the one i've had thus far and much closer to the socially "normal" path. and i think that is surfacing some unexamined and semi-unexpected feelings of grief/loss for me as well as a complicated mix of horrible bridge troll jealousy feelings. i want to write through some of that so i can get a better handle on what i'm feeling instead of letting the big emotions unexpectedly avalanche over me at random times.

let me think first about my own experience of getting pregnant.

I'm glad I am pregnant and I am extra, extra grateful that things are going well thus far after experiencing a pregnancy loss this summer that kind of turned me inside out for a while. I also know that despite how excruciatingly drawn-out this process has felt, I was able to get pregnant a lot faster/easier than many people are and I don't take that for granted. but man oh man I think getting pregnant via assisted reproduction can really fuck with your head and heart in ways I wasn't anticipating when I started this process a little over a year ago. everything is so intensely medicalized. my life has just been going to appointments and getting ultrasounds and having blood drawn and giving myself hormone shots and undergoing painful medical procedures and healing from an emergency surgery and reading medical journals and swallowing pills and recording symptoms in a tracking journal. I don't feel like I've spent this year preparing for and then actively trying to conceive a child; i feel like I've spent this year receiving intensive treatment for a medical condition (not being pregnant) that requires obsessive anxious monitoring and might be rooted in some deeper flaw or failing in my body. almost no part of this experience has felt private, intimate, precious, spontaneous, joyful, sacred, sexy, or fun in any way. it's all felt mediated by doctors and by an incredibly expensive industry that jacks up the prices knowing most people going this route don't have an alternative (because they're gay or they're single or they have medical conditions that impact their ability to conceive naturally). and the ectopic pregnancy just like intensified and heightened all of that, because all of a sudden i DID have a life-threatening medical condition and all that obsessive monitoring WAS justified and my body HAD fucked up, and everyone afterwards spent a lot of time warning me i'd need to subject myself to even closer monitoring next time because i was at increased risk of it happening again.

idk man it's just been a lot!!!!!! and i think that even though early on I was like "i'm going to try to carve out some part of this experience that can be just mine, separate from the medical aspects of assisted conception," i just kind of failed at doing that. i don't think it's my "fault" or whatever, because idk, there's a lot of cultural pressure to medicalize and pathologize and turn our bodies over to doctors or whatever, and it's hard to swim against the current, especially when you are stressed and spending a lot of money and willing to do whatever an expert tells you to do if it'll get you the thing you want so badly. so i don't blame myself but i also have to acknowledge that i haven't had a very positive experience of trying to get pregnant and i think that the single precious, sacred moment of this whole entire year was when that very kind very gruff tech let me watch the heartbeat on the ultrasound right before the surgery and then went to get warm blankets from the dryer to wrap me in. and maybe also the night that my mom and i had the little burial in the woods. that was it, those were the only sacred moments, and they were moments of deep and wrenching grief, not of joy. even finding out i was pregnant again only a few months after the loss wasn't really a moment of uncomplicated joy, because i was so immediately consumed by anxiety and so instantly sucked back into the vortex of endless medical monitoring. so idk i think i have some unresolved grief around the experience of trying to conceive/early pregnancy i got compared to the one i might've hoped for.

when i found out my SIL was pregnant, in the immediate aftermath of my own loss and on the same timeline i would've been on, i just spent a long time feeling like the most horrible bridge troll version of myself i could possibly imagine. i was just eaten up inside with jealousy and it wasn't just that she was having a joyful, healthy, uncomplicated experience of pregnancy while i was healing from a very raw and painful loss. it was also this feeling that like, she was supposed to be pregnant, she was expected to be pregnant, and the whole world was smiling joyfully upon her pregnancy, and everything was unfolding smoothly for her in ways that it hadn't for me. they're young, they're married, they own a house, they have two good incomes and will easily be able to support a family, she's thin and blond and very pretty, and (while i don't know this for sure) it seemed like they got pregnant for free on almost the first attempt, on the exact schedule they'd decided they wanted to have their first baby. and idk just watching my parents excitedly prepare for their first grandkid and make all these plans for how they'd be involved and coming out to tour fancy daycares with them just sucked! you can be so happy and excited for someone you love and also you can feel like the bitterest, ugliest, most horrid little bridge troll inside. i just felt like, i'm going it alone, i'm older and i have fertility issues that might make it impossible for me to do this, i make less money, i'll never own a house, i don't have a partner, blah blah blah, and even though most of those things are choices i've made about the type of life i want to live, it just felt like... idk. i was just eaten up inside by jealousy!!!! like i know nothing about their experience of trying to conceive or what her experience of pregnancy has been like so far, but my ugly inner troll voice was like, why was it so easy for them and hard for me, why did i have to pour $15,000+ into this process, why did they get to have fun joyful let's-create-a-future-together sex while i had to go to a doctor every other week to get stuck with needles and prodded with ultrasound wands and have an insanely painful cramp-inducing dye injected into my fallopian tubes, and why, WHY did our babies conceived at almost exactly the same time have such different fates.

i mean the answer is just like, this is the world we live in! this is the reality of being a queer person and an unpartnered person who wants a family! these are the life choices we make! this is the randomness of conception outcomes and a healthy dose of plain bad luck! but it was hard (and is hard) to not internalize the differences as like, something is Wrong With Me and something is Right With Them. and i think on the most basic level i was just jealous of their shared joy, and was feeling the ache of, i'm in this by myself, i have to weather this loss by myself, i am the only person who cares about this as deeply as i do. and of course that wasn't wholly true, of course i had my mom and my sister and my closest friends who grieved with me and took such good care of me, but idk. i think it stirred up some feelings about being unpartnered for me that i hadn't really examined all that closely before.

and i think... like... i think that is probably the other big piece that i am going to have to spend time grappling with, maybe for a long time, maybe for the rest of my life! with my students, we often talk about the idea of animating questions, like the big preoccupations you find yourself wrestling with again and again, these questions that won't ever be resolved because they don't have a simple or straightforward answer. they are questions you don't ever answer once and for all, but wrestling with them over the years is what gives shape and meaning to your life as a person on a quest for purpose, for clarity, for deeper understanding. i am carving out a life path for myself that looks different from most of the people around me and i think that sometimes i really really wrestle with the question of, like, does this path represent a failure or a choice? and if i have chosen this path have i made that choice out of cowardice or from a place of strength?

i still have to untangle what i mean here or what i feel around this, but i think like... i don't know... i don't really crave partnership, i don't feel its absence in my adult life, i have cared deeply about past romantic partners as people but i have always felt immensely relieved when relationships end because i get my own space & life back, and i feel like almost all of my human emotional needs for connection are met through my friendships and my work. i like sex and i like the idea of a live-in best friend but i also feel pretty sure that modern dating on the apps is not the avenue through which i would find that person and i don't really know of other ways to go about building relationships like that at this stage in my life. but idk man the cultural PRESSURE you feel to do the expected life path thing is immense!!!! and i think that while most of the time i'm able to set that pressure aside and just live my life, the decision to have a child on my own suddenly reignites all of those uncertainties and some of that shame around like, why isn't this a thing i want, does it mean i am emotionally stunted in some way, will it impact my ability to parent well, blah blah blah.

i suspect i will spend a LOT of time in this next chapter of my life trying to untangle those feelings, so i am not going to put too much pressure on it now!! i just want to begin naming them so they aren't just like, swirling around in the back of my mind seeping into everything. i think what i can say definitively right now is this:

i have never felt a strong impulse towards or yearning for romantic partnership, and thinking about dating mostly just makes me feel tired and like i would be doing it for other people, not for myself. if i really think about it, i can imagine myself in a shared partnership with someone who shares my interests and values and sense of humor, but i truly can't imagine getting there through hinge or bumble or whatever. maybe that is where the sense of tiredness comes from when i think about dating, lol.

that said... i HAVE, for a very long time, felt a very strong impulse towards becoming a parent. i feel nervous about this (money! time! blowing up your life! being responsible for a small person!) but i feel no ambivalence towards it, you know? i want to be a parent and i think i'll be good at being a parent (i mean i am sure i will also feel like i am a Very Bad Parent for much of the time as that seems to be a feature of parenting, but on the whole i feel confident in my ability to provide the love and stability and structure necessary to raise a reasonably happy, well-adjusted kid). i have never been able to imagine a life where i do not become a parent by some route and i feel a deep, wrenching sadness when i imagine a life where i don't raise a family.

i think the sense of total clarity and joy i feel around the choice to parent vs. the profound ambivalence i feel around the idea of dating signals something important! but it is just challenging, you know, to carve out a life for yourself that goes a little or a lot against the grain of what other people's lives look like and what people think would make you happy. i know i am very VERY lucky that over the past five-ish years my parents have gone from being extremely skeptical or worried about my life path to 10000000% supportive and on board and ready to help me make it work. but i also just think i gotta wrestle with the cultural demons in my own head/heart you know!! i am going to have to work hard to get to the point where i feel really secure in my choices!! i know that the horrid bridge troll feelings about other people conceiving easily in the context of happy marriages are normal and okay to feel - it's just human to wish that your own journey was easier, simpler, cheaper, less painful. but i also think that, as liz says all the time, security (in yourself and in your choices) is a gift you give to yourself and everyone around you. i might not be there yet, but i want to work hard to get to a point where i am so secure in the choices i have made that i can experience other people's experiences and choices as simply theirs, not as a reflection or a shaming judgment on mine. i want to be able to say, i am so happy for you, and i am also so happy for me, because we have both worked hard to create the lives we needed and wanted for ourselves, and now we get to live in them. I want to know with total certainty that I, not other people, get to decide what my life means.

but also.... i want to think of this journey not just in terms of Struggling to Make Peace With My Choices but also in terms of like... sometimes taking a different path can produce unexpected joys that people on the regular path won't get to experience. for instance, i can already tell that my mom and my sister are going to be incredibly involved in raising my kid, and that my parents are going to feel an extra sense of responsibility to provide my child with a life that is incredibly rich and full of love. so i am going to have a life that is rich in family relationships, maybe richer than it would've been if i was part of a traditional nuclear family unit. i am going to have to learn to depend on and lean on other people in wholly new ways, which will challenge me (a person who tends towards insularity and independence) to really stretch and grow. i am also going to get to have a different experience of parenting in the home! i am going to have to learn to work things out with my kid without another adult there to help mediate conflicts. we are going to have to figure out how to be a good, functioning team because we are going to have to share responsibility differently than in a two-parent household. and i hope that through this experience i also get to meet and talk with other single parents (something tumblr has already allowed me to start doing!), and i get to develop a deeper, richer understanding of alternative family structures and life paths that don't look like other people's.

i want to be honest: there is some real grief there! i have chosen a life that is different than the one i hazily imagined for myself as a younger person... and already that has meant that i've had a very different experience of trying to conceive/being pregnant than the people closest to me, which has sometimes felt very painful and lonely. and i imagine that as i navigate parenting i will have to keep grappling with the grief of like, living in a culture where it's not "normal" to parent alone, where other people will judge the choices i make, and where i will be missing out on some of the joys of shared childraising i see other people around me experiencing. but i don't know i guess i just have faith in my ability to make meaning out of my life, and i think that the grief will be counterbalanced by joys i'm not able to anticipate from this vantage point because i haven't lived them yet.

and also if i stop for a second and think: would i rather not go down this path at all? the answer comes back to me so clearly and so immediately. of course not. i want you so badly, little seahorse. i'm so ready for you to come into my life. i'm ready to shed my old self, my old life, and become somebody wholly new, in a wholly new relationship with a wholly new human being. hey! i love you! come here and be my baby!

#iui tag #parenting tag #feeeeeelings #personal #mw #i feel a lot better journaling cures almost everything #and thank you to everyone who has been v kind to me over the past few months. <33333

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