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hopelessromantic5 · 1 year ago

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King Arthur happens to be traveling through Ealdor the exact day the citizens decide they’ve had enough of Merlin.

Labeling him too dangerous, they tied him up on the pyre in the center of town.

As long as Merlin had been alive, he’d never seen this pyre lit.

He would’ve just gotten himself out of this situation with his ‘gifts’ if it weren’t for his poor mother.

The villagers would never let her live in peace if he magically disappeared.

No, this was the only way she could go on living, even with a broken heart.

He didn’t fight. He didn’t really hear much of what they spit at him. But he could hear his mother wailing at him, to save himself, to do whatever he must do.

He’d resigned himself to an early death.

Tom, the town representative, started spewing some righteous words at him. New Religion words that didn’t quite make sense to him, but that’s to be expected. He is, himself, a creature of the old religion, if prophecy is to be trusted.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, serpent?”

Merlin opened his mouth to tell his mother that he loved her, but he stopped short.

In the distance, he could hear a sound.

The beating of hooves on hard, cold dirt.

Visitors were approaching.

It must be fate, he thinks.

As the horses drew closer, the villagers slowly turned their attentions away from him.

Merlin simply hung his head, letting the Earth he loved so dearly decide which way his life would swing.

“What is the meaning of this?”

A calm, steady voice came from behind him. Deep and concerned. Merlin wished he could see the man.

“My lord,” Tom bowed, as well as he could, which was strange.

Upon realization, Merlin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, were these visitors noble? They never had nobility stay long enough to make comments on anything, only ever just passing through.

“I asked you a question.” The voice said again, with all the authority of someone who’s used to using it.

“This man is a sorcerer, sire. We were just-“

“What has he done?”

“Sire?”

“What has this man done to call for these extreme measures?” When no one answered him immediately, he rephrased.

“Surely there must’ve been a crime committed?” As if it’s a question.

Merlin’s mother pulled herself out of shock and brought herself forth.

“He did nothing, sire.” She spoke firm and unmoving. She must’ve seen hope in this man that Merlin had yet to lay eyes on. “He’s only ever used it for healing wounds and helping our gardens in the winter. Please have mercy on him, my lord. He is my only son.” Tears started falling as her voice broke. She finally met Merlin’s eyes again and he smiled at her, weakly.

“So this man-“

“Sorcerer.” Corrected Tom. What a dick.

“This man, did nothing but heal you and help you survive and this is how you repay him?”

Again no answer.

The man seemed to gesture at Tom, walking towards the town elder, and bringing him finally into Merlin’s line of sight.

The doomed boy nearly gasped.

Silver and red bled together in the sun, armor and finery melded like roses in white sand.

The man-the lord…the knight? He had golden blonde hair, that shone like it’s own light.

Blue eyes made even more obvious and striking surrounded by unblemished, sun-kissed skin.

“You seem to be leading the horde. Tell me why?” No, answer. “Cut him down.” A command. The stranger’s face was a hard, blank line.

Funny how, even then, he didn’t feel like a stranger. But Merlin was in no state to remember it.

“My lord, I do not think that would be wise. Your father was the one to wage war on magic-“

“I am not my father. Cut him down.”

Merlin swallowed. Uther Pendragon was the only person in his mind that waged the war on magic, that began the purge. Which means this man could only be his son, Prince Arthur.

What a prince he was.

Well, King, now.

No wonder every person in the vicinity practically dropped to their knees upon his arrival. They’d all heard stories of ‘The Just King’ that now reigned over Camelot. Giving whatever he could to his citizens that needed it most, never turning anyone away who seeks shelter. Merlin had heard the same as everyone else. Seeing the King in person now, he was in awe.

“I will not endanger the lives of all who live here.” Tom turns back to Merlin with the lit torch.

Merlin held his breath, but the second Tom turned away from him, the King pulled his sword. It made the loveliest sound as it left the sheath.

The sound of salvation.

Tom had the tip of a majestic blade directed right at his throat, as the King spoke again.

“I said, cut him down.”

The look on the King’s face was one that could kill.

Merlin wondered momentarily why he cared so much.

Finally someone from the crowd stepped forward with a knife and began to cut away Merlin’s ties.

Hunith leapt forward and engulfed her son in a hug, while also somewhat holding his body upright.

He did not want to let go, considering he thought he would never get to hug his mother again. But the entire village was watching them.

As was-

“What is your name?”

It was phrased as a question but spoken like a command. Merlin knew it was directed at him without opening his eyes.

He did, reluctantly, release his mother and turn to the golden King, facing deep blue eyes head on. Never cowering.

“Merlin.”

The King must’ve seen something in him. Something every other person was blind to or chose to ignore, simply because he was a peasant. He took a step closer and Merlin could hear the tiny tink of metal pieces on his shining armor, as he did so.

“Well, Merlin.” He said, as if trying it out for himself. “Seeing as I’ve just given you your life, I’d like to ask a favor.”

Merlin’s curiosity was peaked, to say the least. King’s didn’t ask favors, they took whatever they wanted.

King Arthur did not wait for a reply to continue.

“I’m in need of assistance. And I could use someone with a gift like yours, specifically.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes in minuscule doubt. Doubt of intentions, doubt of his safety.

The King somehow knowing his exact thoughts said

“Of course you would be permitted to come back when you are needed. And when I have accomplished my goal, if you wish, you can leave. I will not keep anyone against their will. I am simply offering.” A small smile played on his mouth. Flush pink lips. He also held up his hands as if to say ‘I will not harm you’.

Merlin’s gut told him to follow this man.

Terrifyingly, his intuition told him to follow this man, practically a stranger, anywhere. Everywhere.

Merlin felt a pull he’s never felt before. In the moment, he assumed it was immense gratitude for saving his life.

Merlin turned to meet his mothers eyes, he already knew what she was going to tell him.

“I think it will be good for you. To get out for a while.” She smiles softly.

“Will you be alright?” He whispered, glancing at the crowd still gathered around an unlit pyre.

“I’ll be fine.” She grabbed him in a bear hug, like she always did. “And if they boot me out, I’ll come find you.”

Merlin sighed into her shoulder.

“Alright.”

When Merlin turned back, the King had turned his eyes to the ground, giving mother and son a moment of privacy.

Merlin was starting to warm to him already.

“Can I pack first?”

King Arthur met his gaze then, doing that half smile thing, again.

“I suppose.” He nodded. “But don’t dawdle we need to move if we want to make it back before sundown.”

“Yes, sire.” The title which usually held reverence and respect, was laced with sarcasm. He didn’t seem to think twice, as he strode away towards their hut to gather his things.

If Merlin had looked back, he would’ve found a fully beaming King looking after him and about six knights with faces of complete shock.

And perhaps, one knowing mother.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #merlin and arthur #hunith #king arthur #Ealdor #might continue #longer version will probably be on ao3

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gotta-winwin · 17 days ago

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(💬) ... vernon chwe x reader

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: the seemingly 'extraterrestrial' man that occupies Cubicle #218 cannot seem to take a hint - no matter how many flashing signs you throw at him.

tw/cw: fluff, corporate vernon, vernon is an oblivious lil shit, allusions to sex, quotes from b.e.d by Jacquees, shameless flirting and banter

based on an ask (hi + thanks for requesting!) as well as b.e.d by Jacquees MDNI

🪽fic rating/wc: pg 13/ 3.5k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i am forever stuck in this vernon loop - alas, here's a request that's been sitting in my inbox for awhile, brewing vernon thoughts the whole time. although this fic is entirely fluff, there are allusions to sex so please be mindful of your age and the fic rating.

Vernon would have quit his job a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you. A part of him still yearned for the stage, a trusty guitar in his hands and the sound of diehard fans screaming his name. Instead, he had found himself stuck, circling the corporate ladder, clocking in to work everyday just to sit in his one lonely cubicle, staring at numbers he had only pretended to understand when getting his degree.

He had his resignation letter signed and ready to go, and he would have handed it in if it hadn’t been for the notes that had begun to appear.

Colorful post-it notes that he’d find in the most random places - first his desk, then his lunchbox, in the pocket of his coat, stuck dead center on his computer screen. It baffled him, yet the notes kept coming, every single day of work without fail. At first he had scoffed, chalking it up to some silly office prank, but as time progressed, the notes became almost a given, as if the notes itself had rooted into his everyday routine. It filled him with anticipation and a reason to clock in everyday. As much as he hesitated to admit it, the silly notes made his day.

Of course, the notes were anonymous. Vernon had no idea that you were the reason he still showed up to work.

“This is basically workplace harassment.” Anne, your closest co-worker, commented, as she watched you pen your next note to Vernon. She was the only one who knew it was you behind the colorful post-its.

“If he didn’t like it he would’ve told HR months ago.” You argued, ripping the completed note off the pad of bright orange post-its. “Besides, you’ve seen him smile at the notes. Even got a laugh out of him a couple times.”

“But-” Anne snatched the note from you and read it aloud. “I hope our love will be like the number Pi: irrational and endless.” She shook her head, tsking. “Even for a compsci major, Y/N, Vernon would never find this funny. And if he does- he’s either mocking you, or his humor is just as broken as yours.”

“It’s funny!” You protested, snatching the note back. “Besides, I don’t even know where to leave this one. I’m running out of creative ideas.”

“What’s the point? You just need him to see it, right?”

You gave her a look. “There’s a higher probability of him laughing if he doesn’t expect the note. The less obvious the place, the better. He can’t be actively looking for it.”

Anne sighed, spinning her chair back to face her work desk. “Compsci nerds.”

Ignoring her, you continued. “I’m torn between leaving it taped to his water bottle, or taped to his bike.”

“Of course Cubicle Number 218 Vernon Chwe would bike to work.” Anne rolled her eyes. “How old is this man? Can’t he drive?”

“Hey!” You protested once again, defending him. “Maybe he just lives close, more cost-efficient you know.”

Anne sighed. “Tape it to his bike.” Her fingers tapped against her keyboard as she spoke. “He’s definitely not going to be expecting that one.”

Your smile widened, already imagining his little stunned expression. “Okay. Cover for me- I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever.” Anne mumbled, although you caught a glance of the amused smile on her face.

It was famously known throughout your office that the resident of Cubicle #218, Hansol Vernon Chwe, did not smile. He came into work and left while sporting the exact same facial expression the entire time. But you knew he smiled at your silly pick-up lines, no matter how stupid. And you knew that you might be the only person who knew just how pretty Vernon’s laugh was- even if it was from a distance.

If only you knew just how much Vernon wanted to know who was behind the silly notes that were his pick-me-up each day.

You: 1 Vernon: 0

“I wanna live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way.”

Vernon snorted audibly as he read the note, this time written on a hot pink post-it. His neighbouring co-workers snuck glances at him, drawn by the sudden noise.

He ignored their stares, tucking the note into his jacket pocket for later. He was slowly amassing a collection of them, his desk back at home covered in multicolored post-its, each one from a different day. Sometimes the lines would be so terrible he’d shudder in cringe, but more often than not, he’d find them genuinely funny.

Grabbing a file he needed faxed, Vernon made his way to the copier down the hall. Someone was already occupying it- and he realized he recognized her, the pretty girl who lived in cubicle #17.

He could hear the loud music coming from her headphones, poorly hidden under her strands of hair.

“Charli?” He asked, recognizing the familiar beats and rhythm of the song.

He watched you turn around to face him, startled by his sudden appearance. “What?”

He pointed awkwardly to your headphones. “Is that Charli XCX? I didn’t think your name was Charli, don’t worry. It’s Y/N, right?” He rambled on, smiling sheepishly.

You blinked, a little dazed by the amount of words he was suddenly speaking to you. You had always thought, like everyone else in the office, that Vernon was somehow untouchable. Someone so mysterious and way out of reality that the two of you just didn’t exist on the same plane of the universe. But now here he was, talking to you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Yeah.” You answered, after realizing you had just been blankly staring at him. “To both questions.” You quickly added, equally awkward. “It’s Charli XCX and my name is Y/N.”

“Great.” His gaze drifted past you towards the copier. “Are you nearly done?” Holding up the file in his hand, he gestured behind you. “I need to fax something.”

“Oh!” Hurriedly moving aside, you let out a tiny laugh. “I wasn’t really using it. Sometimes I just come in here and pretend I’m busy- to get away from how stuffy the office is. I don’t know why I just told you that.” You were mortified, glancing at him to make sure he wasn’t judging you.

Vernon’s lips were quirked into a smirk, as he tried hard to push down the laughter that was threatening to bubble up inside of him. Ultimately failing, his mouth widened into a smile as he laughed, the sound filling your ears better than any song could.

“I like you.” He stated, as if it was such a simple thing and didn’t have your heart racing. “You’re funny.”

His smile widened once he caught sight of your open mouth, stunned into silence at the new side of Mr. Cubicle #218 you were currently seeing.

“Close your mouth.” He mumbled, reaching a hand out to do it for you, his fingertips lightly pressing against your jaw. “You look like a fish.”

“I- what?” You spluttered, moving a step back.

Vernon shot you another melting smile, picking up his file and closing the copier. “Anyways, I’m all done. Are you going to hide out here some more?” He kept his eyes on you as he stacked the papers in his hands, organizing them against a nearby table.

You nodded dumbly, eyes following his movement as he walked out, stopping by the doorway to shoot you a tiny salute before turning away. He walked down the hall with a gait only he had, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you feeling extremely confused, your cheeks oddly warm.

You: 1 Vernon: 1

“Are you a worm? Cause I’d like to split you apart.”

Morbid, yes, but you were slowly running out of ideas. Placing the sticky note strategically in his work bag, you scurried off, ducking behind a bookshelf to watch his reaction.

“Are you a worm-” Vernon made a face as he read the note aloud. “Ew. Weird. Kinky?” He looked up at the ceiling, a concerning yet intrigued look on his face. A chuckle escaped him and you smiled in your success.

Your work days seemed to blow right by with the joy in knowing you had successfully made him laugh, mind still churning through your last encounter with Vernon by the copier a couple weeks ago. It had both startled you and ignited something within- a longing to know more about him.

“Looks like we’re the only ones left.”

You looked up, blinking your dry and strained eyes, spotting Vernon hovering right above your cubicle wall, a tired expression filling his face. You glanced around the office and realized he was right.

“Has it already been that long?” You wondered, rubbing your eyes as you shut off your computer, standing up to stretch your stiff back.

You could’ve sworn Vernon snorted at your words. “Do you enjoy working here? Time does fly when you’re having fun.”

You shook your head. “God, no. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Yeah, you.

An unspeakable look crossed his face as he grabbed your coat, helping you put it on. “C’mon, we can walk together.”

“Oh. Thanks- alright.”

The walk was amicably silent as you fell in step beside him, clutching your winter coat tightly as you both entered against the harsh wind. You spotted his banged up yellow bike across the street and bit back a grin.

“You bike to work and back?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. You often passed him on your own way to work, spotting him through the windshield of your car. Nearly ran him over once, in your earlier days of working, but you don’t speak of that.

“I do.” Vernon patted the trusty bike with a loving hand. “Never failed me once.”

A laugh escaped you, your breath hitting the winter wind and turning into a light fog.

His eyebrows raised. “Are you laughing at me?” His lips quivered up as he watched you descend into laughter once again.

“No!” You exclaimed through a fit of giggles, clutching your stomach. “Oh god, it’s just- Vernon Chwe- on a bike-”

A clear and infectious cackle of a laugh joined yours as Vernon too, doubled over in laughter. You paused, staring wide-eyed as giggles escaped him, thoroughly entertained by the amusement you had found in his transportation method.

Passerbys would have deemed the pair of you as mad, with the way you clutched onto Vernon’s arm to hold yourself up as you laughed harder, his own hand gripping yours in the bitter wind. It was numbingly cold but both of your insides were warm, cheeks flushed due to the ridiculous image of Vernon on a bike.

Y/N: 1 Vernon: 1 The universe(?): 1

“Yo.”

Your music paused suddenly, jolting you out of your zone. Spinning around in your chair, you frowned up at Vernon, who had somehow swiped your phone from your desk without you noticing.

“What’s up?” You sighed, taking off your headphones to glare at him. “You didn’t need to pause my music, y’know.”

“I’ve been sent on a coffee run, wanna come?” He spread his arms open in invitation. “We can take as long as we like.”

Ditching work for a while did sound like a nice pastime, especially with the lack of work you had currently. “I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air, actually. I’m down.”

“Put on your coat.” Vernon handed it to you, watching as you shrugged it on.

“I know you want to be in my b.e.d, grinding slowly.”

The last note had taken him terribly off guard and he needed a distraction to remedy that.

To be fair, you didn’t really know what had gotten into you- the sudden bravado and confidence put into the note had caught you terribly off guard as well.

“Do you know Joshua? He works in upper management but we’re pretty good friends.” Vernon suddenly asked, walking backwards along the sidewalk so he could look at you.

You nodded. “I’ve seen him around. He’s very social.” Unlike you, you declined to add.

“Yes. He’s hosting a social gathering later tonight, and asked if I could invite you.”

“He asked you to invite me?” You shot him a wary look, not quite believing him. You and Joshua barely passed as acquaintances.

Vernon’s hand reached behind his neck as he rubbed his nape, a sheepish and embarrassed expression on his face. You noticed his ears would turn pink whenever he was even mildly shy. “Okay, maybe I just wanted to invite you, alright?” He turned away, walking properly now to hide his face from your keen eyes.

A slow smile crossed your face. “Oh, no.” You mimed dread. “You’re in love with me, aren’t you.”

“What?” Vernon turned so fast you reckoned he must’ve gotten whiplash.

“I’m joking.” Punching his arm lightly, you gave him a lighthearted smile, ignoring the way your heart pounded at the brunt question. “I’d love to go to the little party. You didn’t have to use Joshua to invite me.”

“Well,” Vernon’s ears turned pink once again. “I’d say I’d pick you up and give you a ride home after, but- I don’t think we’d both fit on my bike.”

Both your lips twitched at the reminder of that night, where the two of you had laughed like it was the first time either one of you had found anything remotely funny.

“I’ll drive.” You offered, once the wave of silent laughter dissipated. “You can hitch your bike to the back of my car.”

“Me,” Vernon’s mouth dropped comically as he pressed his hands to his chest. “A passenger princess? How lucky.”

His smile widened as you laughed, and he shamelessly basked in the sound of it.

Y/N: 2? Vernon: 2? The universe: 1

The smell of musk was the first thing that hit you as the two of you entered Joshua’s townhouse. It was a small, quaint place, decorated to the brim with trinkets and flower pots, overflowing with both people and food. Vernon led the way as you shuffled in, greeting familiar faces and smiling at strangers.

“I thought you said ‘small gathering.’” You yelled, tiptoed next to Vernon so you could reach his ear.

You could tell from his eyes that he had no idea what you were saying. “What?” He yelled back, although his voice was carried away by the crowd as well.

“I said-” You felt like you might burst a lung trying to communicate. “I thought you said, ‘small gathering!’”

He stared at you blankly, blinking slowly, evidently still not in the loop.

Giving up, you were about to turn away when you suddenly felt his whole body shake, quivering against you as he laughed.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, this time right in his face.

“I heard you the first time, silly.” He yelled back, a shit-eating grin spreading wider as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Party Vernon sucks.” You concluded, moving away, only to be pulled back by his hand on your arm.

“Didn’t you complain that I was too ‘mysterious’?” He yelled, laughing harder when you visibly paled. “Yeah, I heard that. But it’s okay. I am very…how did you put it. Sullen, at work.”

Hiding your face, you slapped his chest, causing him to groan in pain.

“Ow.”

“Ow.” You mocked back. There really was no answer as to where the sudden childishness came from, but the way Vernon was staring at you- it made reason seem almost meaningless.

He threw his head back and laughed, soundless against the party’s atmosphere but somehow just as electrifying.

“Have fun, Y/N.” He said, grabbing your hands. “Let’s dance.”

Y/N: 2 Vernon: 3 The universe: 1

You had always sworn by the fact that driving late at night with the windows down, cold air blowing through your hair was the way to go.

“Admit it!” Vernon yelled through the wind, glancing at you from the passenger seat. “You had fun tonight.”

“I did.” You admitted. The party had been overwhelming at first, but the later the night got, the more fun you discovered yourself to have. “I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

You braked at a red light and flipped through your playlist, switching on the one song you knew would get a reaction out of Vernon.

“I know you wanna love But I just wanna fuck And girl, you know the deal I gotta keep it real I know you wanna see I know you wanna be In my B.E.D., grinding slowly”

The light turned green and you continued to drive, the roads empty and deserted, street lamps illuminating the world in a soft amber. Occasionally, you’d glance over at Vernon, who was bopping his head to the beat, murmuring the lyrics under his breath.

Oblivious man.

Reaching over, you turned the volume up, as if the louder the music was, it’d somehow reverberate its message into his skull. Get a hint! You wanted to scream at him. I’m kind of in love with you and want to jump your bones! Hello??

Vernon continued to groove to the music without a care in the world.

“This is a good song!” He yelled in your ear, his voice mixed with the whistling of the air, whooshing past you.

“I know!” You screamed back. Oh my god. Is he really this dense?

The song kept playing as you drove, winds calming down as you neared his place. In between the gap of the song switching to the next, Vernon spoke, his calm voice contrastingly the loudness before.

“I think I’m going to quit the job.”

You nearly crashed the car at his words, jerking the steering wheel back as you computed his words. “What?”

“I mean,” he turned in his seat to face you, his hair catching the last pieces of moonlight and shimmering against his skin. “I’ve always hated my job. And I already wrote a resignation letter and everything.”

“Oh.”

He must’ve noticed your silence, because he quickly continued. “Who knows? I might try being a rockstar or something.”

“A rockstar?” You let out an astonished laugh. Vernon Chwe seemed to be surprising you at every turn, even when you felt like you'd already figured him out.

He hummed. “Yeah. It just keeps..calling me, y’know?”

“Well then you should go for it.” You parked into the driveway of his apartment complex and turned to face him. “Really.”

“You think so?” His eyes were sparkling like precious jewels.

“Yeah. I do.”

Even though you knew that meant your next note would be your last.

Y/N: -10 Vernon: 3 The universe: -10

The office seemed even colder without the presence of Vernon around you. Even though he had always kept to himself, you could feel the lack of “Vernon” in the atmosphere. How he’d entrance you with the funny way he’d walk down the hall, his countless snack breaks and your shared copier trips. But most of all- it was the lack of notes.

“First day without Mr. Cubicle Number 218, how do you feel?” Anne asked you from her own desk. “Although, I guess he’s not 218 anymore, huh?”

“Yeah.” You stared dejectedly at your computer screen. “This job sucks.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re quitting too.” Anne let out a loud sigh. “I still think you should’ve told him you liked him.”

“I did!” You protested, rather loudly, drawing odd looks from nearby coworkers.

“You played a sex song in the car.” Anne pointed out, lowering her voice. “That is not confessing.”

“Well he should’ve put two and two together. The lyrics on the note was from that song.”

Anne laughed. “We’re talking about the male species. They wouldn’t know subtlety if it ran them over with a truck.”

“Whatever.” You muttered, returning to sulk in front of your giant mountain of paperwork. “He definitely didn’t like me like that anyways.” Sifling through the papers, you sighed. “I’m going to fax these, I’ll be right back.”

Anne only hummed, too engrossed by whatever she was reading on her phone.

Opening up the copier, you frowned at the paper already sitting there, a hot pink post-it note with messy handwriting scrawled on it.

“With all the variables in life, baby can you be my constant?”

You didn’t remember writing this.

“Call me ;)”

A loud laugh escaped you as you covered your mouth, looking around to make sure you hadn’t been caught loitering in the copy room once again. Grabbing your phone from your pocket you fumbled the numbers on the bottom of the note in, raising it to your ear as you listened to it ring.

“Hello?” You whispered, cupping your hand around your mouth to avoid detection.

Silence.

“Vernon?”

The sound of shuffling from the other line reached your ears. “You didn’t think I was just going to leave without saying goodbye, right?”

“Vernon?”

“Actually, pretend I didn’t say that.”

Your heart puttered to a stop.

“When can I see you again?”

Y/N: 0 Vernon: ♾️ The universe: 0

#vernon being a lil shit is my love language #svthub #seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen vernon #vernon x you #vernon x reader #svt vernon #vernon #seventeen fluff #svt fanfic #svt scenarios

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ginnsbaker · 2 months ago

Text

All Of Your Pieces (5 - The Truth)

Chapter Summary: A nuisance at your workplace forces you to re-evaluate your entire existence in Westview—and Wanda's hand, too. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: Gaslighting

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's commented on the story so far. Please, bear with me! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It doesn’t make any sense.

Geraldine had just stepped out to grab lunch for both of you. “Back in a jiffy!” she'd chirped before leaving. Now, an email sits in your inbox, unread, but the subject tells you everything you need to know.

Resignation letter, it says, effective immediately.

You stare at the screen, stunned. Geraldine loved her job. If something was wrong, she would’ve said something—wouldn’t she?

You try calling her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Growing uneasy, you decide to ask around the office.

“Hey guys, have you seen Geraldine?” you ask a group of your coworkers near the copier.

They shrug. “Last I saw, she was heading out for lunch,” one of them offers.

Frowning, you make your way to the lobby. Maybe the receptionist noticed something.

“Did Geraldine pass by here recently?” you ask.

She looks up. “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“I didn't notice, sorry.”

“Sure, no worries.” You head to the security desk next. The guard gives you a smile and a warm greeting before noticing the crease on your brows.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Hey, Norm. I’m looking for Geraldine. She went out for lunch and then sent in her resignation. Did you see her leave?”

Norm rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I did see her talking to someone outside earlier.”

“Who?”

“A woman. Late twenties, about 5'7". Red hair, pretty. Looked like they knew each other.”

Redheads around that age aren’t exactly common in town—certainly not ones who could be mistaken for your wife.

“Did you catch her name?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, stepping away from the desk.

Even if it is Wanda, it’s hard to connect her directly to Geraldine’s sudden resignation. Wanda has her moments of jealousy—which has been frequent as of late—but would she really go as far as to push someone out of their job over it?

Back in your office, you open Geraldine’s resignation email again, scanning for any hint you might have missed. That’s when you notice an attachment you hadn’t seen before. Curious, you click it.

An official-looking document appears on your screen, bearing a logo you don’t recognize: a circle with a sword piercing through it.

At the top, bold letters read: S.W.O.R.D. Alert: Westview Anomaly

Your eyes skim down the page.

*"To all Westview residents,

This is an urgent notice from the Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division (S.W.O.R.D.).

An anomaly has been detected in your area. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain indoors and avoid any attempts to leave town until further notice.

We are working diligently to resolve the situation.

Thank you for your cooperation."*

You lean back in your chair, your mouth twisted into a humorless smile. Is this some kind of joke?

“What’s that?” a voice asks from behind you.

Before you can close the window, Alex, your co-worker is already bent over, eyes scanning the message. As he reads, his face pales, eyes widening with something between fear and recognition.

“Alex?”

He stumbles back, his movements jittery, like a cornered animal. “No… I-I can’t. Please, no more,” he mutters under his breath.

“W-What's wrong?” You take a cautious step forward, reaching out, but he jerks away from your hand like it burns.

Suddenly, he seizes the lapels of your jacket, gripping them so tightly his knuckles blanch.

“Please, I beg you,” he implores. “Make her stop.”

“Stop who? What are you talking about?”

His eyes dart around, wild and frantic. “She’s doing this. Controlling everything.”

“Alex, you're not making any sense.”

He grabs your arm, eyes pleading. “Please, you have to make her stop!”

“Who? Who am I supposed to stop?” you ask weakly. Deep down, you have a sinking feeling about who he's referring to, but you can't—or won't—acknowledge it.

Wanda is a good person.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—do this.

If this is some kind of elaborate prank the entire office has set up for you, you swear you'll be the next one handing in your resignation first thing tomorrow.

But instead of the charade ending or Alex cracking a grin, he becomes even more hysterical.

“You have to help us! She’ll only listen to you. I can’t take this anymore—I feel everything she feels—”

You whip your head around and shout, “Are you guys seeing this?!”

No one—not a single soul—acknowledges you. They go about their business like you and Alex don’t even exist. Alex’s hands move from your jacket to your shoulders until he's gripping them hard, pushing you with surprising strength, his eyes panicked and unblinking as he begs you over and over for help.

When he shoves you again, something in you snaps. You push back, hard.

Perhaps, too hard.

Alex stumbles, losing his grip. He crashes to the floor, the back of his head colliding with the armrest of a nearby chair with a sickening whack.

“Oh my god! Alex, I’m sorry!”

You drop to your knees beside him, helping him sit up and checking for any sign of injury. He groans, rubbing the back of his head where it hit the chair, then turns to you with a dazed expression.

“What happened?” he asks, wincing slightly. “Why am I on the floor?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You... you don't remember?”

He blinks, confusion clouding his eyes. “Remember what? Did I miss something?”

“You—” you start, then stop yourself. The frantic look in his eyes from moments ago, his desperate pleas—it’s like it never happened. “Y-You lost your balance,” you say carefully, watching him for any sign of recognition. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He laughs nervously. “Oh, great. That’s embarrassing.”

You nod, forcing a smile. It doesn’t sit right with you—lying to him—but the thought of him slipping back into that earlier state terrifies you. Part of you is relieved to see him acting normal again, yet you can’t shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong.

You help him to his feet, though your own legs feel wobbly. “Maybe you should sit down for a bit,” you suggest.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, brushing himself off. “Actually, I could go for a coffee and a bagel. Want to join me?”

You glance quickly at the monitor of your computer. The message from S.W.O.R.D. is still there, glaring proof that the last two minutes weren’t just in your head. Right?

“I—uh, sure,” you stammer. Maybe a walk will help clear your head—or at least help you figure out how to deal with this. “Let me grab my wallet.”

–

Monica Rambeau is back in the real world, but reality feels no less surreal.

She spends half her day in a makeshift clinic just outside the nightmare she barely escaped, repeatedly telling Hayward she’s fine—ready to work, even—but her clearance is being held off for some reason.

Perched on a flimsy cot, Monica fiddles with the hospital bracelet still looped around her wrist. How could she even begin to explain what it was like? Being trapped in that town, her thoughts—no, her very self—locked away in some distant corner of her mind. She’d been a prisoner, forced to watch herself perform a role she couldn’t control.

Worse, she hadn’t just been aware of Wanda’s grief, guilt, anger, and longing—she’d felt them. They’d coursed through her like her own emotions, impossible to separate, impossible to ignore.

“How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Headaches?” The doctor asks her.

Monica musters a tight smile. “I'm fine, really.” But it's not entirely true. Her head throbs—not from any physical pain, but from the collision of two conflicting realities vying for space in her mind: the life she knows as Monica, and the fabricated existence of Geraldine—no matter how fleeting that life had been.

“So, am I cleared?” Monica asks.

“We need to review all your lab results first.”

“And my uniform?”

“It’s still in analysis.”

“I need to get back out there,” Monica murmurs. The doctor says nothing, retreating to her charts.

Jimmy steps into the tent, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Mighty glad to have you back, Captain. How are you feeling?”

“Like myself,” Monica answers, though she’s not entirely sure she believes it.

“Thank heavens for that.”

Monica’s notices a woman standing beside Jimmy, someone she hasn’t seen before.

“Uh, what’s the latest?” she asks, eyeing the bundle in the woman’s arms—clothes, from the look of it. Something other than another hospital gown, hopefully.

The woman answers, “There’s a briefing in ten. Pants are encouraged.” She hands Monica the aforementioned pants and Monica sighs in relief. Finally, some proper clothes.

“This is Dr. Darcy Lewis,” Jimmy says. “She’s the one who discovered the broadcast.”

Monica’s about to introduce herself when Darcy beats her to it, adding that she’s a huge fan of hers.

Before Monica can comment on that, the doctor approaches, holding a tablet. “We need to take these again,” she says, showing Monica the imaging results.

“Those are blank,” Darcy points out with a curious tilt of her head. The doctor explains the need for another blood draw and more tests, but Monica refuses.

“No, no, no. We’re done here,” she says with finality, before sliding off the gurney and heading toward her new uniform.

—

Nothing unusual happens for the rest of the day. Wanda is in the kitchen, as always—just like every other time you come home. She spends her days cooking, cleaning, keeping everything perfect. Not that you’re complaining, but there was a time when Wanda had hobbies. She used to keep a guitar in her room back at the Avengers compound—

Avengers?

What the hell is an ‘Avengers’?

And, more importantly, where did that thought come from?

“You're home early!” Wanda says, waltzing into the living room, an apron tied around her waist—exactly as you’d expected.

“Yeah, I wasn't feeling well,” you say, your eyes tracking her carefully.

She crosses over to you in concern. “Oh no, what's wrong?”

“Just a rough day,” you murmur. “Where are the boys?”

“They’re at Agnes’s,” she says with a small smile. “I thought we could have a nice dinner—just the two of us. It’s been a while since we had a proper date.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds nice.”

“Perfect!” Wanda beams. “I’ll just finish up in the kitchen. It’ll only take a few more minutes.”

As she turns away, you’re unable to stop yourself from dragging this out any longer.

“Wanda, wait.”

She stops, glancing back at you. “Yes?”

You take a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Rubbing your temples, the frustrations of the past week crash down all at once. “Can we sit down? Please, just come here.”

She obediently takes a seat beside you, her expression unreadable.

“Wanda, something strange is happening,” you say, having a hard time meeting her eyes as you say this.

“Like what?” You hear Wanda ask beside you, her voice surprisingly even.

“Alex had some kind of breakdown. He was begging me to 'stop her.' When I asked who he meant, he wouldn't say. And Geraldine—she just up and quit without a word.”

“That sounds serious. Maybe he should see someone,” Wanda says.

“I think that…” You trail off, gathering courage before turning to face her.

Wanda’s still smiling like nothing’s wrong, her features so exquisitely composed that it's hard to tell whether she has anything to do with this or if you've been unfairly suspicious of her.

But her eyes tell you something else. All you see is a storm brewing. She has never been able to hide her emotions from you, no matter how hard she tries. Wanda’s eyes have always given her away.

“I think that he was talking about you,” you say slowly, testing the waters. Wanda’s temper isn’t something you shy away from—it’s part of who she is—but right now, you’re treading lightly.

She laughs nervously. “Me? That's ridiculous.”

“Wanda,” you say softly. “I love you. But I need to know the truth.”

She stands abruptly, turning her back to you. “I think you're exhausted. You should go ahead and take a shower—”

You get to your feet as well. “Don't dismiss me! I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

She whirls around, eyes glistening. “What do you want me to say?”

“The fucking truth!”

Wanda flinches, and you freeze, immediately covering your mouth. You’ve never sworn in front of her before—not even during your worst arguments. Which, strangely, you can’t quite recall right now. You know you’ve had fights. Wanda’s had hobbies. You’ve traveled beyond Westview. These memories feel real, even as the details slip through your grasp like water.

She studies you for a long, silent moment, something clearly churning behind her eyes. Once you've simmered down, you know you should probably say sorry for lashing out like that.

“Wanda, I didn’t mean to—”

“The truth,” she cuts in sharply, “is that you're overworked and stressed. You've been distant, imagining things that aren't real.”

“Don't turn this around on me,” you retort, feeling your anger rising again. “Ever since the Harvest Festival, you know things have been off. When Agnes asked me about places I've been outside of Westview, I realized—I couldn't remember anything. It's like my life started the day we moved here.”

She forces a laugh, brittle and unnatural. “That's absurd. We've been here for years. Memories fade. It's normal.”

“No, Wanda, it's not normal,” you say through gritted teeth. “I can't recall our wedding, our honeymoon, the day the twins were born. It's all—”

“The albums are downstairs, Y/N, but we’ll get to them once you’re feeling better. Stress can do strange things to the mind, and—”

“Stop deflecting!” you snarl, your fists clenching at your sides. “It’s not just Alex, or Geraldine. People are acting weird, Wanda. And I think you know why.”

Her arms fold tightly across her chest, a wall going up between you. “I don't have to listen to this,” she says.

“Yes, you do!” You step closer, your voice softening as you try a different approach. “Wanda, I'm scared. I feel like I'm losing my grip on reality.”

She sighs deeply. “I understand you're feeling overwhelmed. But accusing me of... what exactly? Manipulating everyone? I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”

“Should I not have?” you whisper. “I got an email from an organization called S.W.O.R.D. about a ‘Westview Anomaly’. They think something's seriously wrong here.”

Wanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. “An email? It’s probably just spam. I don’t need to be working in an office to know better than to open suspicious messages.”

Tears prick your eyes. Why is she being like this? Why does it feel like she’s making you question your own sanity?

“Wanda, please.”

She places her hands on your shoulder, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should rest. We can talk about this later.”

“No!” You shove her hands away with more force than intended, startling her. “Why won't you talk to me?”

Wanda’s expression hardens. Without a word, she turns on her heel and starts walking away.

“Because you’re being irrational,” she finally throws over her shoulder. “You’re not yourself.”

“Maybe because I don't know who I am anymore!”

Wanda stops in her tracks, slowly turning back to face you. “What do you mean?”

“I can't remember my life before Westview,” you say, your voice trembling. “I have no memories beyond this town. Is this all real? Are the boys? Am I—”

Wanda closes the distance between you in an instant. “You’re very real.” Her hands find your face, cradling it with a tenderness that almost feels like an apology. “You’re Y/N. You’re my wife, the mother of my children. You’re my everything.”

“I…” you murmur, your gaze dropping to the floor. You wish her reassurances could sweep away all your doubts and fears, but they just don't.

They’re not enough.

“How do I fix this?” Wanda's voice cracks, her hands dropping to her sides.

You’re desperate to believe her, to feel the truth in her touch, so you reach out. Your hands find her waist, fingers gripping softly as if the contact could tether her to you. As if holding her could make her words real.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” you plead, pulling her closer to you. “Please.”

Wanda looks at you, and you can see the internal struggle play across her face. After a moment, she takes a shaky breath, exhaling like it costs her something.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Wanda’s always underestimated how much you get her, how deeply you care and are willing to understand whatever she’s keeping inside. You’ve been the only one who really got her, next to Pietro. But this is different.

This truth she’s holding could shatter everything. Telling you could mean losing you again—and maybe for the very last time.

Her eyes lift to meet yours again, and there’s a faint smile on her lips. For a split-second, you think she's about to give you what you’re asking, but then—

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Wanda says softly.

Before you can protest, her hands cradle your temples, and her eyes burn crimson. A warm sensation washes over you, and your vision blurs.

“Wanda?” you manage, a note of alarm creeping into your voice.

But the world is already blurring, dissolving into a haze, the memories of this conversation fading like a forgotten dream.

When you blink, she’s smiling at you from the kitchen doorway, her hair tied back and an apron dusted with flour wrapped snugly around her waist.

“You're home early!” she exclaims brightly.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reply, feeling a bit disoriented.

Her smile widens. “Perfect timing,” she says, turning back toward the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Where are the boys?” you ask.

“They're at a friend's house for the evening,” she replies. “I thought we could have a nice dinner, just the two of us.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds nice.”

She returns to the kitchen, and you sink into the couch, rubbing your temples. A nagging feeling tugs at the back of your mind, like you’re forgetting something important. It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself. Just exhaustion.

In the kitchen, Wanda quickly dabs a tear from her cheek and takes a deep breath.

“Everything will be okay,” she whispers to herself, just as the oven dings to signal that dinner is ready.

—

The briefing concluded on a sour note.

Hayward has officially escalated the situation, branding Wanda a hostile entity and moving toward full confrontation. Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy protest vehemently, but their objections are dismissed without a second thought.

It’s hard to justify the reality of Wanda's influence over the town: controlling the residents like puppets, violating their rights every second—it’s not an act of benevolence.

Monica, however, knows grief intimately. She regrets opening up to Hayward about her experiences in Westview, naively believing he might empathize with Wanda’s pain. Instead, he’s weaponized it, twisting her insights to justify his growing hostility. She realizes now just how misplaced her trust was.

“By the way, there’s something we’ve been meaning to ask,” Jimmy says as they are leaving the tent. “Do you happen to know Wanda’s wife in there? Y/N?”

Monica freezes for half a beat before glancing at him. “Yeah, but I didn’t meet her until I was pulled into the Hex. Why?”

“You know she’s dead, right?” Darcy says bluntly.

“I—” Monica's expression darkens with surprise. It's been just a few weeks since she returned from the Snap, vanishing for five years, and she's still trying to catch up on who else has come back and who hasn't.

Darcy picks up the thread of conversation as they walk. “What was Y/N like? Did you get a sense of her personality inside the Hex?”

Monica takes a moment to think. To be honest, she’d worried about you ever since Wanda cast her out. Knowing now that you’re dead should bring some closure, ease her concern—but that only made her regret coming back here without solid answers.

“From what I saw, she seemed like a wonderful person—kind, gentle,” Monica says.

“And she's under Wanda's control, right?” Darcy asks.

Monica shakes her head. “I don't think so. I believe Wanda had everyone in town playing a role, but not her family. I don't have concrete proof, but I could tell they were real.”

“So, it really was Y/N in there? It wasn't someone else just wearing her face?” Darcy presses in disbelief.

The idea is staggering. Wanda is immensely powerful—everyone saw what she could do with the Hex, reshaping reality itself. But bringing someone back from the dead? That seems like a step too far, even for her. Doesn’t it?

“I honestly don’t know,” Monica sighs, feeling the fatigue settle deep in her bones. “With Wanda, it’s hard to say what’s possible anymore.”

“Do you think talking to Wanda would get her to release the town?” Jimmy wonders.

“We can’t say for certain. All I know is that Wanda had the ability to cast me out. We can’t even confirm if she’s doing it alone. Hayward’s jumped to conclusions, and I hate the direction we’re going with this,” Monica says.

Darcy arches an eyebrow. “Hold up. Are you saying you think Wanda has an accomplice in there?”

“I’m just trying to cover all bases,” Monica says. “Maybe someone else knows what’s going on here and they’re stirring the pot too. We can't rule anything out.”

She turns to Jimmy. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe we can find a way to resolve this diplomatically. I truly believe Wanda means well. She’s just... been through so much, like all of us.”

Jimmy nods in agreement while Darcy shrugs, still skeptical but on board with the plan.

“How do you suggest we do that?” Darcy asks.

“By learning more about Y/N,” Monica says. “Think about it—remember how Wanda reacted at the deli? She was worried about Y/N, right before she threw me out of the Hex. I think Y/N figuring out the truth about their life in Westview is the key to all of this.”

“Wait, what deli?” Darcy grumbles, throwing her hands up like she’s just missed the season finale of her favorite show. And in a way, she has. “That never showed up on the broadcast!”

“Maybe Wanda's editing the footage real-time?” Jimmy suggests.

Monica nods. “It’s possible.”

“Well, Jimmy and I have scoured everything on Y/N,” Darcy interjects, pulling out her pad and scrolling through her notes. “All we found was a measly file in Stark’s database—barely more than a footnote.”

Monica crosses her arms and ponders for a moment. “I think I might know someone who can help,” she finally says.

Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look before speaking in unison. “Who?”

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, dialing a number as she walks away.

188 notes · View notes

hqbaby · 6 months ago

Text

twenty-seven — didn’t mean it

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.1k content. profanity, lots of tension, copious amounts of angst, mild violence

“What did Satoru mean?” Maki asks. She’s trudging through the snow beside Sukuna while everyone else marches ahead to get ready to leave.

He turns to her with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

This is the first time Maki has spoken to him all morning. She said nothing while he stumbled on through the snow like a complete idiot, suppressed her giggles unlike the rest of the group, and kept an awfully respectful distance from the guy who isn’t quite sure can still call himself your boyfriend. So Sukuna certainly wasn’t expecting her to come at him like this.

“He said you cheated on her,” she tells him, reminding him of the abundant accusations bandied about last night. “It’s probably not true, but he must’ve had a reason to believe something like that. He’s never been the type to flat-out lie.”

She watches as he stays silent, averting his eyes. She grimaces. “Did you really cheat on her?” she asks. “For fuck’s sake, Sukuna. I thought she was your best friend, why on earth—”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he protests, head shooting up as he somehow tries to defend his honor. “It wasn’t—I didn’t—It didn’t mean anything. And we barely did anything. And it was before we actually got together.”

Maki stares at him, unbelieving. When she warned you about Sukuna in the past, this was precisely the kind of thing she had in mind. He’s the type of guy who would cheat on you, the type who would make your life a living hell by stringing you along like you meant nothing to him. He’s the type of guy who would exploit your kindness and your love and care very little about the consequences of his actions.

But she’s seen the way he acts around you, the care and consideration, the unadulterated love this complete buffoon has for you. And she can’t bring herself to believe that she was ever right in her assumptions.

She sighs. “Did you tell her that?”

“No,” he tells her, shaking his head. “She doesn’t wanna talk.”

“I don’t blame her,” Maki admits. “Last night was… a wreck. It was all my fault.”

Sukuna furrows his brows at that. He stops walking, waiting for Maki to stop too and look back at him. He places a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “She knows it wasn’t. She’d never blame you.”

For once, Maki finds herself agreeing with the guy (who would’ve thought?) because she knows you. She knows you’d never blame her, let alone hold a grudge. You’d rather sit there, melting under the enormous pressure of every mistake ever made, every misunderstanding ever had, and crumble beneath it all.

She wonders how dreadfully lonely that must feel.

“You should tell her,” she says to the boy. “She won’t blame you either.”

Sukuna nods, resolved in his decision to talk to you, even if he knows there’s a chance that you’ll have nothing to say to him at all.

Of course Sukuna’s plans get derailed when everyone gets back to the house and he finds you and Satoru in a serious discussion on the living room floor. The two of you are wide-eyed when everyone comes ambling in, like you’ve been caught in the middle of something private and wrong.

Satoru stands up almost immediately and walks over to Kimi who gives him a look that sits somewhere between disappointment and resignation. He whispers something in her ear and wraps an arm around her shoulder, but Kimi distracts herself by talking to Utahime and thoroughly ignoring her boyfriend.

There’s something really weird going on there, Sukuna thinks, but he can’t quite point out what it is.

But never mind that. He looks at you, still crouched on the floor, no longer looking as listless as you did when he left you earlier. You’re bundled up in a sweater he doesn’t recognize and you’re regarding him with a look he’s not familiar with either.

You look as if you’re about to say something to him, your mouth just about to open when the door to the living room swings open, Mahito sauntering in with a huge grin. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and there’s a person trailing after him. A girl.

“Look who’s here!” he says with a flourish.

Utahime squeals, jumping up and rushing to the girl behind Mahito. “Emiko!” she says, hugging the girl. “You’re here!”

Emiko is all smiles as she hugs the club president, waving at the other members who approach to greet her. “I didn’t wanna miss out on the fun,” she says, groaning as Aoi pulls her in for a side hug. “Did you already ski without me?”

“We didn’t know you were coming,” Kento tells her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t look all angry though, his expression more akin to a father expressing disappointment towards his child. “We didn’t factor you into the plans.”

She just sighs and slumps back into Utahime’s embrace. “Oh, well, I forgive you, Kento.”

“You forgive me? Emiko, get back here—”

But it’s too late. Emiko’s already walking towards you—you stood up as soon as Mahito announced the girl’s presence—without even noticing Sukuna standing at the side. “Has he been bitching this whole trip?” she asks, looping her arm with yours as she looks at Kento pointedly. “Because I’ll kick his ass if he has.”

You crack a smile. An actual smile, Sukuna thinks. That’s something at least.

“He wouldn’t be Kento if he didn’t bitch a little,” you tell her, leaning in as if to divulge a secret that everyone else in the room can hear.

Emiko laughs, pressing herself closer to you. It’s only then that she lets her eyes travel across the room. She notes the people she doesn't know. Satoru, Kimi, Naoya, everyone she’ll have to introduce herself to later. She sees Sukuna last.

Her face twists into one of disgust, like she’s just seen a truckload of shit and the truckload of shit happens to be Sukuna. “You,” is all she says.

You follow her line of sight, completely oblivious to the string of curses Emiko is probably chanting in her head. “Have you met my boyfriend?” you ask, curiosity piqued by the girl’s reaction.

Now, if Sukuna wasn’t so busy trying to figure out who the fuck this girl is, he would’ve been over the moon at you calling him your “boyfriend.” It would’ve calmed his nerves a little, seen the glimmer of hope left in what he had deemed the vestiges of your relationship. But he misses it, too caught up in the big questions, Who is she? And why is she looking at me like I killed her family?

Emiko turns to you with an expression that Sukuna can only describe as restraint. “Your boyfriend?” she asks, eyes darting back at him then back at you. “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say almost hesitantly, which makes Sukuna want to gouge his eyes out.

“Oh,” Emiko says. “That’s… nice.”

She says a few things to you before pulling you in for a hug and drifting away to join the rest of the group.

Sukuna keeps his eyes on her back, still trying to place her in the recesses of his mind. A touch of your finger on his shoulder shifts his focus back to you. He turns to you, wide-eyed waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

You just nod towards the door to the dining room and start walking away. Sukuna follows.

When the two of you are out of the room, away from everyone else’s prying eyes and pricked ears, you look at Sukuna with caution.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you say slowly. “So… let’s talk.”

After a whole morning of mulling over his words, trying to figure out what to say to you, how to say it, the best order in which he ought to do it, Sukuna finds himself at a complete loss of words. There’s simultaneously too much and not enough for him to tell you. What is he supposed to say?

So, instead of whatever it is he’s supposed to be saying, he finds himself asking, “What were you and Satoru talking about?”

Your eyes widen and you purse your lips. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with us.”

“It kinda does,” he tells you. “Did something change? Between us?”

“No,” you say, and he doesn’t believe you. So, you reach into the pocket of the sweater you’re wearing and pull something out. You hold it out for him to take. “Satoru gave it to me.”

Sukuna looks at the box in your hands and he doesn’t even need to touch it to know what it is.

“Why?”

You shrug, placing the box back in your pocket when you realize that, no, Sukuna does not want to touch the engagement ring your ex boyfriend just gave you and wouldn’t take back. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Sukuna says slowly.

He can’t quite place what he’s feeling. He’s confused, definitely, by the whole ordeal. He’s still a little shocked by the fact that you’ve actually come to talk to him and he’s actually agreed. But he knows that’s not what he’s feeling.

And then it hits him.

He’s angry.

Huh. How weird.

“So because he’s a fucked up jerk who drove you away because he’ll stick his dick in anyone, he thinks he can just come back and ask you to fucking marry him?” he asks, venom in each word that falls from his mouth.

You furrow your brows, now recognizing the clear anger on your best friend’s face. “Sukuna, it’s not like that—”

“He knows that you’re with me now, doesn’t he?” he asks, his voice louder than it would’ve have been if he wasn’t so fucking pissed off. “It doesn’t matter what he wants. He doesn’t count right now. This is about you and me. Not him!”

You place a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, please.”

“No,” he says, shrugging your hand away. He barely registers the way your face falls when he rejects your touch. “I thought you loved you. I didn’t believe it before, I could tell there was something holding you back, but I trusted you anyway. Do you even love me?”

“You can’t just ask me—”

“Do you love me?” He’s yelling now. He really wishes that he wasn’t. “Or am I just some plaything you’ve used to bide your time until that asshole decides to come to his senses?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” you tell him, reaching to touch him again when he turns back at the door to the living room. “Please, can we just talk—”

He doesn’t mean to do it.

He really doesn’t.

His hand slaps your arm away before he realizes what he’s doing.

He looks at his hand, and he immediately wants to cut the thing off. The two of you stand there in stunned silence before Kento bursts through the door with concern on his face.

“Is everything okay here?” he asks slowly, surveying the situation before him.

You’re a few paces behind Sukuna, rubbing your reddening arm. You still look like you’re in complete shock, but Kento can tell that there are tears forming behind your eyes. He looks at Sukuna who’s looking down at his hand, and his suspicions are confirmed.

Kento’s at your side as the door opens and a few people check to see what’s going on.

“Did he hurt you?” Kento asks you softly, both his hands on your shoulders as he crouches down so that he can look up at your downturned head. “Hey, it’s just me. Are you okay?”

You feel truly stupid right now. It’s not like it hurts all that much anyway, and you’re well-aware that Sukuna didn’t do it on purpose. He didn’t mean to. If anything, he just wanted to keep your hand away from him, he wouldn’t purposely hit you.

But you feel like crying nonetheless. The whole barrage of emotions you’ve been carrying since last night, for most of your life, comes crashing down on you, as if Sukuna has tipped the iceberg and left you in its wake.

You’re vaguely aware of the chaos that ensues around you. There’s a fight, some choice words are thrown around, a few swings, a few misses. You can only assume that it’s Sukuna and one of the other boys.

Kento places an arm around you and leads you away, sits you down on a chair somewhere, continues to ask if you’re okay even if he never gets an answer. In the end, you find his eyes, your lips are wobbling before you even realize that they are. You place your head on his shoulder and you do the only thing you can do.

You cry.

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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loveacrosstimes · 18 days ago

Text

The Nurse and the Rancher - Ch. 2

Summary: Claire, a 27-year-old nurse from NYC accidentally gets transported back to California in 1995. There she meets Jamie, a 25-year-old Scot who recently inherited his uncle’s sprawling ranch in St. Helena.

Claire trudged along an undefined path at the edge of town, clumsily retracing her steps. She hoped to stumble back to the dirt road along the forest where she’d fallen through time, away from the hustle and bustle of New York City where everyone was walking with purpose.

Towards jobs, towards love, towards passions.

Sometimes, failure and heartbreak.

Either way, time – or the lack thereof – propelled the ebb and flow of foot traffic, helping to move people along on their journeys.

Here, in Le Cressida, time seemed to meander, chugging along just enough to avoid rousing suspicion, but without enough urgency to produce anything worth getting out of bed for.

She’d not seen a single soul until she’d managed to find the convenience store nestled unreasonably deep inside of this place that looked like the remains of a dilapidated movie set.

Le Cressida – the name even sounded fake .

What was undeniably real, however, was the irreparable damage this California dirt was doing to her favorite pair of work shoes. Frank had gotten them after she’d spent months complaining of the way every other pair she’d found seemed impartial to hospital floors – like the cushion and support they were supposed to provide were suggestions .

Now, they were coated in such grime, there wasn’t a washing machine that could salvage them. And yet, this would be a worthy sacrifice for her if she could just find … this … fucking … trail.

Pushing out a deep breath, she continued along the path, hoping to snuff out the long, dirt road where the universe had spit her out like yesterday’s trash. It’d seemed long and unforgiving at the time, sprawled out in front of her like a looming side quest, relishing in her arduous journey ahead.

Now that she needed it, it was nowhere to be found.

In hindsight, a map would’ve been a better investment than a newspaper – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

At least the sun wasn’t quite as vicious as when she’d arrived. A thin layer of clouds had gathered in the sky, blocking just enough heat and UV rays to provide her with a little bit of relief.

Walking several more hundred yards, Claire eventually ran out of trees, arriving to the edge of a wooden fence. She stopped, trying to remember if she’d passed one during her earlier trek into town. She didn’t immediately place it but kept walking until she realized what the fence was enshrouding: a modest bungalow that had seen much better days.

Worry rose where relief should’ve settled. There was no way she’d have passed this house and not remembered, or stopped to seek help, which meant that she’d somehow turned a wrong corner on her way back. She turned backwards, peering back over her journey, unsure where she’d gone wrong, a gnawing feeling building in her stomach.

If she couldn’t find the spot she’d somehow fallen through, how could she ever get back home? Granted, she hadn’t exactly figured out the logistics of a plan, but getting back to the spot was the first step to reversing this mind-boggling situation she’d found herself in.

With a loud sigh, she resigned her gaze upward, noticing that the thin smear of clouds were thickening and darkening before her very eyes. At this rate, she only had a few hours of daylight left – even less if a storm rolled in.

“Just what I need," she huffed.

Grabbing at the fence, Clair hoisted herself up backwards to give herself a better view of the area. Other than the house, carved amid the shrubbery, there was nothing other than thick trees stretching in both directions.

She bent down and planted one hand on top of the fence to steady herself as she hopped back down onto the ground.

Claire sunk into the fence, allowing the thick, splintery wood to support her for a spell. As a nurse, she was used to being on her feet, but not while traversing an unfamiliar state in an unfamiliar time, in godforsaken heat.

If she didn’t get out of the elements, she’d eventually collapse from exhaustion.

Pressing a hand into her face, Claire blinked rapidly, hoping that if she did it enough times, she'd wake up from what had to be a dream. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, she was simply a woman out of time with no means of providing for herself, or letting her loved ones know she was okay.

Loved ones. What loved ones. Frank was all but five years old in 1995, and still living in Germany, where his father was stationed in the army.

Meanwhile, her mother, Julia Beauchamp, hadn't even met her father yet -- in this timeline. But even if she had, it's not like she would be the mother she knew in the present or through her childhood. A comforting, level-headed, if not slightly reclusive woman, who occasionally stashed her with her grandmother for days, occasionally weeks, at a time.

Not that she’d minded. Her Grandma Agnes had been the living embodiment of a warm hug in her childhood.

Gulping, Claire realized that, for the first time in her life, she had no one but herself. The thought burned the inside of her nose, signaling that the tears were on the horizon. But they arrived quicker, heavier than she thought.

“Come on, get it together.”

Standing upright against the fence, she peered back towards the house.

From the road, she couldn't tell whether or not it was occupied or abandoned.

Given her position, she wasn’t sure what the better option would be.

On the one hand, she needed food, a change of clothes, and a decent place to sleep. But who in their right mind would take in a total stranger? Even if they were crazy enough, that doesn’t mean it’d be a smart decision for her – unless the home just so happened to be occupied by a sweet, little old lady, who thought Claire reminded her of her granddaughter. Someone aching to extend a little maternal affection.

A hot meal, a bath, a place to rest her aching body.

One sleep — that's all she needed. Enough time to come up with a real, viable plan, and figure out how to navigate this town she'd ended up in long enough to find the portal. Enough time to explain to Frank why she didn’t come back home on the night of their anniversary when their marriage was already hanging on by a thread.

And yet, that was the best-case scenario.

The house could very well belong to someone far less hospitable, who'd only make this journey more difficult for her; who’d ensure that she never had to worry about facing her husband after ghosting him on one of the most important days of their marriage, thus far.

Either way, she had to try.

Planting her hands into the fence, Claire hoisted herself up once more, just as she heard a car approaching down the dirt road. Well, less like a car and more like a black, mechanical whale, choking on the dry, California air.

It sputtered along the trail, gasping with each inch it gained, surrounded by a dust cloud befitting the dirty kid from Charlie Brown.

Balancing on top of the fence, Claire glanced back at the home, wondering if she should make herself scarce or if she’d be better off hitching a ride from whoever owned this very loud, very clunky piece of junk.

Afterall, the house would still be there to explore if they said no. And if they could drop her back off at the point where she’d come through – maybe this wouldn’t end up being the worst anniversary she’d ever had.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to give Frank another reason to think her heart wasn’t in their marriage. Maybe she’d be able to convince herself .

Claire approached the dirt road, nearly throwing herself in front of the car.

The old clunker skidded to an ungraceful stop a few feet in front of her. Before the occupants could survey the hurdle in their journey, Claire was approaching the driver’s side.

“What the hell are you doing, lady??” spit out the driver – an upper middle-aged man. There were also two, slightly younger men in the passenger seat and one in the back, too. “We got places to be.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Claire said, attempting to soothe his rancor, before turning her attention to the other men. “I was wondering if you gentlemen could help a lady out.”

The man in the passenger seat leaned forward, an unsettling glint in his eye. “Well, that depends on what kind of help a lady needs,” he grumbled in his best attempt at a seductive tone.

The comment garnered a chuckle from the man in the backseat.

“Hush up, Aaron. You too, Rob,” said the older man.

His tone wiped the smirks from their faces.

“What do you need, ma’am?” He asked. “We’re on a schedule.”

“A ride if you can manage. I was out here doing a house call today, but I’m not familiar with these parts, and I’ve gotten a little turned around.”

He eyed her attire. “You a nurse?”

“Yeah. For the local hospital … about ten miles out,” she said, remembering that detail about her story from the diner.

The hospital’s name didn’t surface as easily.

“Rosedale Medical Center?”

“Y-yeah, that one.”

He scratched his temple. “That’s a ways off … How’d you get all the way out here without any wheels?”

Oh right . If she was going to keep lying, she had to come up with a story that accounted for these little details that could trip her up – like this. “Uh, my friend dropped me off this morning,” she said quickly. “They were supposed to pick me up, but never showed up.”

His curious expression resigned into casual acceptance. “Some friend,” he said, humping his shoulders.

“Yeah, well they’re probably swamped at the hospital and haven’t gotten off yet, but as you can see, the weather is turning, and I’m trying to get out of here before the rain comes.”

That last part was true.

Sucking his teeth, he tilted his head. “I’d like to help you, but 10 miles both ways will set us back too much. And we have a lot of work to do.”

“That’s okay, actually,” she said quickly. “I’m actually just trying to get about a half mile or so from here to the road near my patient’s house. I kinda got lost and, I want to wait to see if my friend comes back up this way … well, that way,” she said pointing behind her.

In truth, she was hoping to locate the portal and figure out how to get back through – not that he needed to know that.

She swept her bottom lip into her teeth, hoping that her desperation would sway him.

It’s not like she had any cash to offer him — that jackass at the diner had made sure of that.

“And what if they don’t?”

“Well, then I’m no worse off than I am right now, am I?” She said with a sly smile to soften his grumbly exterior.

“I don’t know …”

“Aww, come on, daddio,” said one man.

“Yeah, the little lady asked nicely,” said the other.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Claire kept her focus on the driver, as he was obviously calling the shots.

“Okay, I’ll do you one better,” he eventually said. “How about you ride with us over to our place, spend the night there, we’ll drive you back to the hospital in the morning … the whole ten miles.”

Claire flashed him a panicked smile – there was no way in hell she’d take up shelter with three strange men overnight. “That’s such a generous offer, but I couldn’t impose on you like this.”

“Trust, you wouldn’t be imposing," he said. “Besides, we haven’t had a woman around the house since my wife died a few years back.”

A beat passed before she managed to push a conciliatory message out through her constricting throat. She doubted the feminine energy he was missing was anything she was willing or able to give him.

“Thanks …” he said dismissively, not noticing – or perhaps caring – about her discomfort. “So what do you say?”

She smiled politely. “I can’t, really. It’s too much of an ask.”

“Nonsense. Besides, you could earn your stay by whipping us up a quick meal. It’s been ages since we had anything decent to eat.”

“Hey, I do the best I can,” Aaron retorted, genuinely offended.

“Hush, boy,” the older man shot back – a reply that set off a back-and-forth between them that curdled her blood.

The absolute nerve of these men to think that after a long day at work she’d spend her evening cooking for them of all people. Nevermind the fact that she hadn’t actually made it to work – one second she was following a skeletal stray cat into one of the only working phone booths left in NYC, the next she was in hillbilly purgatory – it was still a nonstarter.

She barely enjoyed cooking for Frank, and she’d be damned if she was going to cook for another man on their anniversary.

“Gentlemen!” she yelled, cutting through the noise, “As I said, I appreciate the offer, but I really have to get home tonight. My husband is waiting for me, and he’ll have a fit if I don’t turn up.”

Refusing to wait for their response, and hoping to God that knowing another man had claimed her would be enough to satisfy their archaic sensibilities, Claire straightened her posture, and started back up down the road in the direction she’d come.

She hoped to hear the exasperated cranking of their car start up, then pass her by on their merry way.

These men obviously had nothing of value to offer her. And though a ride would’ve been nice, without them, she had time to regroup and maybe find some shelter for the night, since it was becoming clearer she probably wasn’t going to make it back to her home, her time today.

The cranking came, but not quick enough for her.

As she walked, a car crawled up behind her, but she kept her head forward until she couldn’t ignore their presence.

“What, you’re too good to cook for me and my sons?” Called out the father.

Claire drifted off the dirt road, onto the brushy overgrowth, hoping they’d realize she wasn’t going to bite, but her non response only made them slow down even more.

“Hey, bitch, my daddy asked you a question!” yelled one of the sons.

Clasping her arms over her chest, she pivoted to walk into the opposite direction, hoping they’d think she was too much trouble to pursue. But the car cranking down let her know that she wasn’t that lucky.

She quickly glanced back, noting the way the good-for-nothing father watched from the driver’s side. Before she knew it, the sons had exited the vehicle, and were quickly approaching her.

With no other options, she took off down the road, running as quickly as she could, kicking up dust with every step. It was barely a few seconds before she felt a man's hand yank her backwards by the arm.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” She yelled fighting to free herself from his grasp, as the heady laugh of the other brother pierced her eardrums.

He stood close, watching his brother manhandle her.

The more she thrashed, the tighter he gripped.

With her other fist, she pounded against his forearm, but it made no difference. So she dug her nails into his arm as hard as she could, drawing flesh and blood underneath the surface, causing him to release a loud, screechy howl.

For a second she was free, the urge to take off – despite the other brother being mere feet away – strong. But then he whacked her with an angry, vengeful hand, across her shoulder. She fell to the ground with a thud, the approving laughter from the other brother, drowning out her own agonizing cry.

Claire pressed her hands into the ground to stand, the sharp piercing pain in her shoulder causing her to collapse onto her back just as the brother she struck closed in on her. She kicked her feet, attempting to keep him at bay. He absorbed every kick, every thrash, cursing loudly when her foot managed to hit him at the perfect angle.

But that only angered him further. He dropped down onto his knees, using his weight to subdue her.

“Get off of me, you bastard!”

Unable to fight him off, she grabbed a handful of dirt and grass and threw it into his face, temporarily blinding him and rendering her invisible, as he tried to rid his eyes of the debris.

Claire balled up her fist and hit him as hard as she could across the face, nearly cracking her knuckles in the process. The man wailed, falling over onto his side, giving her just enough leeway to try to escape.

But she was immediately kicked back down by the second man, whose casual delight had evolved into rage. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, voice dripping with grisly intent.

In pain, and worn down from the absolute worst day she’d ever experienced, her body froze into a defensive position, as if it knew that she could never overpower two adult men, especially those with such delicately bruised egos.

Would this be how she would die? Alone in the middle of Le Cressida, California, 29 years in the past.

She closed her eyes shut, not wanting them to be the last thing she saw before she met her end.

For a moment, her mind drifted to Frank, their modern, yet cozy, adorably decorated apartment just outside of the city. Their wedding day. Her parents. The babies in the neonatal unit who depended on her. All the wonderful things this life had blessed her with.

Yes, that’s how she’d go out – focusing on the goo — arggghh . A firm hand around Claire's neck ripped her from her thoughts, back into the present

She gasped, flailing as she fought to take a clear breath until the weight of the other brother’s body cemented her arms to her side.

“One meal – that’s all you had to agree too. But no, you thought you were too good! Not you’re gonna p–”

BANG!!!!

A deafening sound exploded behind them, piercing her eardrums, and, when mixed with her depleted oxygen, made her head spin. The only thing that kept her lucid was seeing the man's face shift from nefarious delight into bright white terror.

And then she heard it...

“You, you, step away from the lass! ” yelled out a distinctively familiar, comforting. voice.

Firm, commanding, imbued with a heavy, Scottish accent...

Note: I hope you enjoy! Also, I updated on AO3 as well.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #claire fraser #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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icallhimjoey · 2 years ago

Note

idk why but I think it would be funny reader stuck in the elevator with joe and reader freaking out bc the elevator stopped while joe is all soft and trying to calm her down

YES excellent – i merged this idea with another request from anon who asked for a story that starts on the tube, so, here we go... a new five-part series! here's part one! thanks for the request, you're well sexy and the best, love ya for life xo Wordcount: 2.6K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Rough night?”

You knew what this looked like.

You understood why the person who you'd sat down next to immediately got up and moved a few seats down. Why they avoided the drama of it all.

You understood why the lady opposite you stared at the floor and nothing but the floor, pretending that she hadn't seen you, probably because that would just be easiest for everyone involved, the politest thing to do.

You understood why the handsome stranger at the end of the carriage kept looking over, his big round eyes overflowing with pity for the runaway bride in the dirty dress, mascara stains all down her face and her hair a tangled up mess.

You got it.

You probably would’ve felt the same had you witnessed a girl in a wedding dress sit down in an empty seat, sort of dazed and empty-looking, numb to the stares and whispers – if people even whispered at all; the tube was notoriously quiet, always and forever.

“Rough night?” a boy from a group of four, maybe five, called over, and the rest of them all tried to hide their laughs.

Badly.

It was obvious they’d been drinking and you guessed they were on their way to the next party. Off to find another bar or a club that still let people in after the last tube had gone.

You made direct eye-contact with the kid, and you looked exhausted the way people can only look exhausted after they’ve cried for a good while.

Made sense, since, you know, you’d cried for a good while.

You just looked at this boy, who thought maybe he’d get a reaction out of you, but your lack of expression and unwavering stare quickly made him grow uncomfortable. Made his buddies shove his shoulders as they told him to leave her alone man, suddenly all respectful and well-mannered.

They felt the vibe. None of this was fucking funny.

It was enough to get him to back off, and thank fuck they all got off at Leicester Square – of course they did – and when the doors closed again, you noticed the carriage was mostly empty now.

A glance sideways told you the handsome stranger who’d been sneaking looks at you was still there.

Watching you.

What an outfit to be seen in by someone who had looks that would usually make you sit up a little straighter. Would make you faff with your hair a bit. Would make you stick your chin out and push your shoulders back, just in case he looked at you again.

You absolutely didn’t give a single shit about it now.

Couldn't care less about what you currently looked like.

You knew your face was a mess of streaky foundation with black mascara marks all the way down to your chin and, fuck it, you weren’t even planning on washing it off tonight. You’d wallow in bed and probably would cry some more before you’d fall asleep.

Tomorrow could be the day on which you’d care.

Maybe.

Right now all you’d wanted to do was murder someone, then sleep, and also, empty the rest of your bladder.

Perhaps that was the only thing about tonight that brought you secret joy; the memory of squatting over your boss’s handbag to piss right into it. You had to stop in a scurry when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and didn’t want to be caught, but, if you had been, ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered.

You had resigned with immediate effect when you'd seen them.

Finding her unguarded handbag on your way out was exactly what she fucking deserved. You knew you'd probably regret it later, but for right now, it was all you fucking had.

The train stopped at Covent Garden, and it took a second for your body to get up to get out. Like the signals your eyes and ears picked up took longer to travel to the right parts of your brain, that then following signals took longer to travel from your brain to the right parts of your body.

You had to lift up your skirt, two fists grabbing at the tulle, to make sure your feet didn't get caught up as you stepped onto the platform.

With the increasingly annoying See It, Say It, Sorted repeating itself for the millionth time within the fourteen minutes you'd been on the tube, the doors beeped behind you before you heard them roll shut.

The platform felt empty, just a couple other people making their way towards the exit, and with your zest for life currently non-existent, the sensation of the wind from the tube leaving felt nice. So, you took a second, just stood there and thought to yourself how long it would take for it to become weird that you weren't moving.

There were just too many things to freak out over, far too much to completely overwhelm you, but it was almost like none of it was real. As if every single survival mechanism your body held within itself had switched on. They all made sure that the only thing you had going inside your brain was a low, constant hum. Nothing else.

It was almost like you weren't even there.

Like the whole evening had been a dream.

Like you didn't even really exist in this moment right now.

Yea. You were definitely dissociating.

You felt like a ghost a little.

One that had to pee, still. That motivated you enough to turn your head, tired heavy-lidded eyes reading the signs to follow them out.

Exit. To the lifts and stairs.

You were nearly home.

Home, where you were definitely 100 per cent going to beeline it straight from your front door right into bed.

Just that thought alone brought you back into yourself a little more, but it was just so you could tear up again. You felt the hot pinpricks behind your eyes and quickly shoved yourself out again.

No more crying, please.

You could just... float down the underground tunnels behind yourself. Follow your own footsteps out of the station. You knew were you lived. You would find yourself there later.

It was fine.

It was after the last theater rush, so for Covent Garden standards, it felt eerily quiet. Not that you were complaining. Waiting for the lifts whilst crushed between a bunch of tourists was the last thing you wanted right now.

But stepping into an empty lift with just one other person stepping in behind you, seeing just a few people step out on the other side, felt weird too.

Especially when you looked, and you saw that the one other person was the handsome stranger from your carriage. He'd apparently gotten off too, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed.

You were wearing a dirty wedding dress. Had black marks all over your face, all over your hands.

He looked fucking stunning. All prim and proper. Vintage-looking tweed green suit. Olive-y green. Gorgeous and well put together, the literal exact opposite from you in your current state. Like, sure, his curls were a little messy, but it seemed part of his look.

As the lift doors closed behind you, the stranger gave you a polite nod accompanied by a tight lipped smile. And you would have returned it, would've made it a kind, well-mannered exchange of acknowledgement, but, you weren't really inside of your body, remember?

All you did was look at him a second, face all blank, and you only slightly noticed that the empathy in his eyes doubled right in front of you before you turned away. You turned and slumped against the side, head resting back, eyes scanning the ads but not really reading anything, and you wondered if these lifts ever got cleaned. If someone ever took a rag and some cleaning solution and wiped down all the panels. By the look of things, probably not.

What if that was your job?

Clean the Covent Garden tube station lifts every day. There were four of them, and you imagined they all could use a good scrub.

You honestly wouldn't mind a job like it. You needed a new job anyway, 't was close to home and you liked the sense of accomplishment cleaning something incredibly dirty gave you. Where you could really see the difference.

You were doing a stellar job at distracting yourself from the current situation you were in. Made sure to stay all the way out of your body. Made sure that this veil that separated you from the real world, that blurred the boundaries between what was real and what was not, made sure that it stayed in place.

You were so close to home.

Wanted to be there right this second.

Fuck, you were so tired.

Maybe your new job could be figuring out this whole teleportation thing. See if you could make that work for yourself.

You didn't realise that your eyes were staring at the man who stood near where the doors were meant to open when you reached ground floor. Just, comfortably locked at the shoulder seam of his jacket.

Even when he turned his head a little for a quick look before he took a small sip from a half empty water bottle, surely because he could sense your two bulging wet eyeballs burn into his back, you didn't move your eyes.

Felt too nice to keep them there.

But then, without warning, there was a sudden jolt. It shocked you right back into your body and you couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you. The lift had come to an abrupt halt, and the lights flickered for a moment before they settled into a dim glow.

Oh no.

“Oh no,” the barely audible sound of your voice surprised you. Your throat still felt thick from crying, and hearing it out loud just reminded you of it more.

“Is it stuck?”

For a second, you thought that maybe, you were wrong.

You made a mistake.

Clearly you weren't really with it right now, so you didn't really trust your senses currently. You didn't really know what was real and what wasn't and found it difficult to differentiate.

But then the guy who was in there with you looked around, and then lowered his head. By the way his eyes moved, you could tell he was trying to listen for something.

“Are we stuck?” you tried again, and his eyes shot up to look at you.

No answer.

Fuck.

A mix of emotions washed over you; disbelief, annoyance, a new good dose of self-pity along with a strong healthy pang of sheer panic.

Cute.

It was kind of exactly how you felt about an hour ago.

If only there was a handbag of someone you really hated to piss into to elevate the situation a little. It helped a lot before.

“I think we're stuck.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to hear and it immediately threw you for a loop.

A panic attack.

The whole ordeal.

Your heart quickened its pace, an unsettling sensation tightened your whole chest and your breathing picked up, became all shallow at a rapid rate. Before you knew it, the box you were now trapped in felt like it was shrinking around you and suddenly you were in a place of imminent danger.

You were inside a mortal trap, a tragedy waiting to happen.

You had to sit down.

But your knees were locked.

You didn't know if the moisture you felt on your face were tears or sweat.

Oh man, it was hot in there. Did this guy feel hot in there too? Jesus Christ, why were wedding gowns so fucking restricting?

You saw how the emergency button was pressed, just once. Sensible. And then this guy waited patiently as he listened to static coming from the little intercom below it.

Well, fuck that.

In your panic you kind of threw yourself at this emergency button and with frantic hands and shaking fingers, you pressed it over and over and over, until two big hands took hold of you and guided your arms down.

“It's OK, don't worry. Help will come,”

Those words meant nothing to you, no matter how kindly they were said.

“Hello?!” you shouted like anyone would hear you, eyes big and darting, and you scanned the rest of the lift for more buttons.

Your phone!

Of course.

You fished your phone out, panicked movements making you nearly drop it.

No service.

Why?!

“Hey, breathe,” the far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good stranger tried, but you had already slung both arms over your head and got the jitters in your legs, desperately needing to move and so you started pacing.

Two small steps towards the back, two small steps back to where this guy was stood.

“This is just perfect, what the fuck, this is just–” the loud and sudden sob that escaped you made you slap a hand over your mouth.

“Calm down, we're safe, you need to–” he huffed a humourless laugh through his nostrils, all obvious nerves and tense uncomfortability. “You need to breathe,”

And he was right. You did need to breathe. You started feeling light-headed a little, felt your cheeks start to tingle, so you covered your face with both hands and squatted down, making the tulle skirt of your dress take up half the floorspace.

He joined you down there and held out his opened water bottle to you.

“Do you need some water?”

You didn't move your hands as you shook your head no.

“Okay, let me try that again. My name's Joe, I think you're having an anxiety attack, and I think you need some water. Here, have some water,”

“I don't want water.”

It was definitely sweat and tears. You felt clammy and cold but somehow uncomfortably hot at the same time.

“Breathe in, hey,” a finger got snapped in front of your face several times. That didn't do shit. “You're just breathing out, you've got to let air in too.”

And just for a second, the smallest fraction of a teeny tiny moment, everything suddenly cleared up in your mind. Comfort and ease took over and you felt... well, nothing.

Felt like drifting.

You felt everything flush down your body, all the way from your face right into your toes until it was all gone.

Just for a mere second, though.

“I'm fine,” you croaked before everything went slack. You lost your balance, your eyes rolled back and just like that, everything went dark.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” Joe muttered, moving forward from sitting on his haunches to pressing his knees into the fabric of your dress as he tried to reach for you in a flash.

He got you by the arm, his open water bottle terribly in the way, and his other hand managed to reach around your neck. He got to slowly lower you down, ease you towards the floor entirely unsure of what to do next.

What did he need to do next?!

He was trapped in a tube station lift, on a stop he didn't even need to get out of, with an unconscious runaway bride who'd quite clearly was having the absolutely worst day of her life ever.

What the fuck was he going to do?

Then, behind him, from the corner of the elevator, the intercom static picked up again and was followed by a crackly voice.

“Emergency services, how can we assist you?”

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #between floors and feelings

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matchamilkislover · 1 year ago

Text

White Horse, 2. (a.a.)

pairing: knight!abby x princess!reader

cw: fantasy!au, fem!reader, a tiny bit of blood mentioned, eventual displays of fighting and violence bc it’s fantasy, kind of slow burn?, tension, reader has an attitude, tall af!abby bc size difference, royalty!au, mentions of arranged marriages, some mentions of au politics, abby in armor is a warning in itself

synopsis: you are the youngest princess of the royal family that rules over your kingdom, Aphrynia. now a young adult, you’ve come of age in a tense time, and your personal protection is of utmost importance — which is why the resignation of your previous personal knight means a rushed reassignment ceremony with little to no preface. That being said, why does the name of your new knight sound so familiar?

word count: 3.67k

a/n: this is a kinda slow and really dialogue-heavy chapter but i’m still giggling and kicking my feet, i am so excited for the rest of the story omllll (it’s my own story i have to write it myself but i’m also delulu)

you can read part 1 here!

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

Clapping resounded in the large room, but you paid the sound no attention. Yours and Abby’s gazes were still locked on each other, like you were caught in a dance to see who would break away first. Finally, she gently kissed the top of your hand and released it, standing to tower over you with her tall, built form. The simple kiss on your hand made your heart speed up unexplainably, and you swallowed and quickly pulled it down to your side, burying your hands in the skirts of your gown. Abby’s gaze, however, was still locked on you, and you looked down and then around the room to avoid her gaze. What in the world was going on?

Realizing that everyone else in the room had moved on from the ceremony and started milling about, you too decided that it was time to go, clearing your throat before stepping out of place to find Nina. Abby opened her mouth and looked like she was about to reach out and say something to you, but was interrupted by members of the court starting to swarm and try to steal her attention. Thank god, you thought to yourself, dashing away before court members could swarm you, too.

A hand suddenly fell on your shoulder as your eyes searched the room for your lady’s maid, and you cursed in your head, turning to see which Lord or Lady (or worse, daughter or son) had gotten their claws into you. You would’ve breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was one of your own siblings if it wasn’t George.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d just seen a ghost, little sister,” he teased, that shit-eating grin of his spreading across his face. You just rolled your eyes and turned to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, George,” you lied, brushing his hand off your shoulder and crossing your arms. He laughed.

“Oh sure. She’s the one you always attended lessons with, right? Yeah, she was fun,” he replied casually.

“If by fun you mean insufferable, then sure,” you retorted. “Please, you only liked her because she supported your shenanigans.”

He lifted his hands humorously. “Hey, you got me there. It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while.” You sighed and started visually searching the room again, hangover still leaving you in a mood not quite fit for George’s lovely personality.

“I’m sure it is. But you’re a big boy, so if you could entertain yourself so I can get away from this lovely conversation, that would be great,” you finally huffed and quickly strode away, back on the hunt for Nina. Finding her meant finding breakfast and a nice rant session. And, you thought as your head throbbed again, a lot of water.

“There you are!” A familiar voice squealed as you moved about the cavernous room. You instantly smiled.

“Oh, Nora, thank goodness,” you squealed back as your eyes landed on your friend approaching just from your left. The two of you met with joining hands, squeezing comfortably.

“Are you alright? You looked entirely shocked to see Knight Anderson up there,” Nora inquired, her brows furrowing in concern. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time on this already exhausting day.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t really expect to see her, that’s all,” you replied, trying your best to brush off the way your heart pounded in your chest. You really wished it would stop that. Nora suppressed a knowing smile.

“She’s certainly changed a lot, hasn’t she,” Nora noted with waggling eyebrows.

“Nora,” you gasped, fighting the urge to smile with her. “You know good and well my opinion of her, so you can stop that now!” Though it felt genuine to you, your retort was unconvincing, and Nora simply rolled her eyes.

“Are you seriously still hung up on that? It’s been what, 8 years?”

“9,” you interrupted. “It’s been 9.” Nora rolled her eyes again.

“Close enough. If you want to hold a grudge, that’s fine by me, but I am going to enjoy this while I can,” she teased, sauntering away as you gasped again and feigned reaching out to hit her playfully as she walked away.

Finally, you spotted Nina waiting patiently for you near the edge of the room and let out a breath of relief. You approached her quickly, and her face lit up as you neared, feeling much less awkward when she was with you rather than being alone as a lady’s maid without her princess. You easily hooked your elbow with hers as you took a spot next to her, desperate to seem too occupied to socialize with anyone else.

“Can we please get out of here?” You begged through the clenched teeth of your plastered smile, nodding gracefully to people who passed you like nothing was wrong. Nina almost giggled.

“Yes of course, princess,” she replied, the two of you stepping forward and turning to the door.

“Why does everyone keep giggling at me?” You questioned, again through clenched teeth.

“Excuse me for my bluntness, but your reaction to Knight Anderson was quite entertaining,” she replied, still suppressing giggles.

“My reaction? What reaction?! I was under the impression my face was quite neutral, thank you!” You replied in a way that was almost offended.

“You just seemed quite surprised to see her, is all,” Nina explained gently. “I highly doubt someone who doesn’t know you well would have noticed, princess,” she reassured as the pair of you finally approached the large doors that would lead you out of this blasted throne room.

“It’s not my fault no one told me she of all people would be my new knight! You would be caught off-guard too if you were me!” You retorted, trying to keep your voice to a whisper despite your urge to raise it.

“All I’m saying, princess, is that-” Nina’s reply was cut off by a voice ringing out over the chatter of the crowd to you.

–

In terms of the aftermath of the ceremony for Abby, it was certainly a wave of attention — attention she didn’t want even one bit, especially when the only person she really wanted to talk to was you. Judging by your reaction, you certainly hadn’t been expecting to see her. Hell, she hadn’t been expecting to see you either until maybe 10 days ago. But it seemed like no one had bothered to inform you that she would be your new knight.

“Knight Anderson?” a voice asked, bringing Abby out of her thoughts and back to the many people surrounding her in the throne room.

“Hmm?” She replied, clearly having zoned out and not heard whatever the woman had said. She was quite a sight to take in, with gaudy clothing and a tight, pointed face. The woman smiled, but it looked more like a sneer.

“Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lady Ulfrid, I’m new here as well. I was just wondering, Queen Arabella spoke quite highly of your accomplishments, and it must be so for you to be a personal knight for her youngest daughter. What might these so-called accomplishments be, I might ask?” Lady Ulfried sneer-smiled again, and this time, Abby couldn’t help but feel like Abby saw the expressions just as they were. She was questioning her.

Raising an eyebrow, Abby let a smirk dance on the corners of her mouth and adjusted her stance. “Well, I was top of my class in training, but that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it? So what would you like to hear about? The battles I led in our recent land conflicts with Chryiont? Or the ones I led 2 years ago in Dungard? Or was it my successful takedown of the great Pirate Duke? You’ll need to be more specific, my lady,” Abby replied with a knowing smile, satisfied by the woman’s widening eyes.

“Oh, well, I- I just meant, um-, well,” Lady Ulfrid floundered, and it satisfied something a little sadistic within Abby. She was tired of being questioned because of her age, much less her gender, and it felt nice to make people who questioned her then question themselves instead.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, cutting off the woman and leaning down to her height. “I think I know exactly what you mean.” She smirked, and stood back to full height as Lady Ulfrid’s face reddened and she sped away from the knight, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

Turning to scan the rest of the room with her hands clasped behind her back, Abby suddenly realized that talking to Lady Ulfrid had made her lose sight of you. Last she saw, you were talking with one of your court friends — Nora, was it? — and now you had completely disappeared. Something about this felt oddly familiar. Right as she thought she caught a flash of your dress — god, that dress made you look something unearthly — another person tapped on her arm, and she nearly groaned before turning and seeing who it was.

“Long time no see, huh Anderson?” George asked with a sheepish grin, pulling her in for a one-handed hug. Abby grinned back and returned the hug gladly.

“Too long,” she replied easily. “But you know, I don’t think I can condone your shenanigans now,” she continued teasingly. George laughed with a wide, open mouth, patting Abby on the arm.

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to figure out a way around you,” he replied jokingly.

Abby chuckled and shook her head. Suddenly remembering that she had been looking for you, she snapped to attention, scanning the room quickly. Finally, she spotted you nearing the exit with your lady’s maid, and she patted George on the arm as a farewell before starting after you.

“Princess!” She called, nearly jogging across the room and swiping between different huddles of people. “Princess!”

—

Your smile dropped when you heard Abby calling after you. Shit. While you stood there trying to accept that Abby Anderson would be constantly on your heel from now on, Abby caught up, slowing to stop and face you. You looked at her, expecting her to say something, but she just stared back.

And you both kept staring.

Looking at her felt like seeing a dear old friend and someone entirely foreign to you all at the same time. Like two winds hitting you from opposite directions, pushing the breath out of your lungs and filling them back up all in one motion. She was so different but so familiar, it made you want to both run away and never leave her presence all at once. You didn’t even realize you were staring, studying her like art in a museum, until Nina loudly cleared her throat beside you.

Whoops.

You came to a start and also cleared your throat awkwardly, nodding to Abby as a delayed greeting as you shared an uncomfortable look with Nina. “Well, uh…I, we…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You remarked awkwardly. This was already going terribly.

“It has,” Abby confirmed with a nod. You pursed your lips.

“Well, uh, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we, princess?” Nina asked timidly, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you replied quickly, nodding and turning with Nina to return on course to your chambers.

You grimaced uncomfortably in Nina’s direction, and she returned the look apologetically. Abby looked like she had wanted to say something else, but instead bit her tongue and followed the two of you silently. The walk through the corridors was painfully quiet, you unconsciously straining to listen to the sound of Abby’s footsteps behind your own, hyper aware of her proximity to you. For someone who called her despicable the last time you had seen each other, you were certainly strangely invested in even the smallest movements of Abby Anderson.

Once you and Nina were safely inside your chambers, with Abby standing in place just outside your door, you flopped into a chair, rubbing your forehead. “This day has got to be some twisted sort of dream,” you moaned, slipping off your shoes one at a time. Nina simply suppressed a giggle and shushed you.

“These walls are not as thick as you wish them to be,” she reminded you in a hushed voice, perching in a chair adjacent to yours while she awaited your breakfast request. You pouted and sighed.

“I truly don’t understand why nobody told me she would be my new knight! I mean, she disappeared the day after we had our millionth argument 9 years ago, and now, out of the blue, she’s going to be right behind me 24/7? Guarding me? Protecting me like someone’s out for my blood? It’s just…fucking insane!” You whisper-yell, frustration bubbling over now that it was just you and Nina. Well, and Abby, waiting just outside the door.

Nina sighed, knowing that she should try to make you feel better, even though she couldn’t help but agree with how you felt. “The queen does what she does for a reason, I’m sure. With you being young and the whispers I hear from the other servants, I’m not surprised she wants a trusted eye on you,” she replies in a quiet voice. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, nodding.

“I know, I know. It’s just frustrating that not a single soul ever bothers to tell me anything. I mean, I would have really liked a warning that the girl I basically grew up with was not only returning to the palace as a knight, but my personal knight, and, to make matters worse, she looks like—” you gesture wildly to the door, “—that! How am I supposed to deal with that!?” you exclaim, your whisper lifting a little. Nina starts giggling uncontrollably, and after a minute you join her, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I think,” Nina says, taking a deep breath once her giggles finally subside, “that some breakfast and a lot of water might help make you feel better, hmm? Maybe a tonic from Dr. Anderson?” Nina offers kindly.

“Yes, please, you’re a saint, Nina,” you reply, rubbing your forehead again as the throbbing pushes forward. “But, no tonic, actually, please—I can’t handle being embarrassed by asking Abby’s father for a hangover cure the first day she returns, I think I might keel over from sheer embarrassment,” you finish with a groan. Nina chuckles and nods, standing from her perch.

“Whatever you say, princess,” she says with a pat on your shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she pushes the door open and exits the room, mumbling an awkward greeting to Abby that makes you cringe from sheer discomfort.

Sighing, you look around at the chaos that is your room after this morning’s rushed preparation activities, and decide that the least you can do even with this raging hangover is make your bed. You stand determinedly and approach the bed, pulling back layer after layer neatly to then arrange each one on top of the last. It’s a bit awkward with the shuffling of your dramatic skirt around the edge of the opulent bed frame, but you manage to make it work.

You’re tucking in the last corner of your many blankets when an unfamiliar knock on the door catches you off guard, and you get stuck pulling your hand out from beneath the mattress. You pull harder and harder, gritting your teeth and kicking yourself mentally for the ridiculousness of it all. Stupid fucking mattress, you groan mentally as you pull, why is this thing so goddamn heavy!? With one exceptionally strong pull, your hand rips free from its feather-filled prison, only for the momentum to send you falling backwards into a heavy sofa behind you, the collision making a crashing sound that mixes oh so wonderfully with the surprised shriek that leaves your mouth. You catch yourself just barely on an arm of the sofa, but have no time to process what just happened when Abby comes barging into the room, eyes wide as she searches for you.

Just perfect.

You both stare at each other like deer in headlights when your eyes meet, unsure of what to do. It’s Abby who breaks the silence first.

“Are you alright, princess?” She asks in a concerned tone, walking over to you gingerly. Her large form seems almost unnatural in your space, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the proportions.

“Um, yes, I’m fine, I just…fell,” you explain awkwardly, cheeks going pink. You stand straight and pull your hand off the sofa arm, hissing quietly when the friction stings on your pointer finger. Looking down to inspect it, you notice a long splinter shoved inside of the skin and grimace.

“You just fell?” Abby asks quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she eyes the splinter.

“Well, I, um— I got my hand stuck, and when I pulled it out, I guess I pulled too hard and just…fell…” Your voice trails off as you look from her to the bed and back to your hand, touching the splinter gingerly and hissing again.

Abby nods, humming in understanding. “I see…do you need help, um, with that?” She asked, gesturing to the splinter.

“Oh no, I’ve—I’ve got it,” you reply casually, trying to hide the clenching of your jaw when you gently pull on the slice of wood. Abby opens her mouth to ask if she can help again, but you're already setting your jaw and pulling the splinter firmly, gasping at the more intense stinging when it slips out of your skin. A large bead of blood immediately forms on the spot, hinting to a stream, and your face pales at the sight as you bite your lip and look away, eyes searching for a handkerchief.

Your breath quickens in panic as you search, just the thought of the blood now seeping out of your finger making your breath quicken and your heartbeat skyrocket. A warm hand on yours and the feeling of a handkerchief being dabbed on your finger pulls you out of your growing panic, and you look to see Abby ever so gently holding your hand in one of your own while the other dabs the blood from your finger with a handkerchief.

“I remember one time when we were 9, you fell and scraped your knee on the stone while we were running in the garden, and you were very nearly screaming,” Abby said suddenly as she looked at your finger. “I guess I was right to assume that fear hadn’t changed much,” she continued, chuckling. A breathy chuckle left your mouth in return, gaze still focused on her hands touching your own.

“I never did have the stomach for it, did I?” You responded quietly, a gentle smile dancing on your lips. “I guess some things never change.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed, “some things never really change, do they?” She spoke in nearly a whisper, eyes finally glancing up to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat slowing as you gazed into the stormy blue of her eyes.

“I guess not,” you whispered.

The sudden rapt knocking of Nina’s small fist and her pushing the door into your room ripped both of you out of the trance you had been in, you grabbing the handkerchief and holding it to your finger while Abby’s hands dropped yours and she stood at attention. Her mouth opened like she was about to announce her arrival before she spotted the two of you standing unusually close, and her movement stopped, brows immediately furrowing in confusion.

“I— We—“ you started.

“She fell!” Abby nearly shouted, her expression unsure. “She fell and I heard the commotion, so I came in, and she, um, got a splinter,” she finished, gesturing toward your hand. You raised your handkerchief covered finger as proof, and Nina nodded slowly. You weren’t quite sure why you felt like you had been caught doing something wrong, but it certainly did, and you certainly weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Abby cleared her throat, and nodded to the still open door. “Well, um, I should…yeah,” she stuttered, nodding a goodbye to both of you before returning to her post outside of the door that she closed behind herself.

As soon as the latch clicked, Nina’s eyes were on you like a hawk, and you were retreating back to where you had been sitting with your face in your hands. “Did I seriously just see that?” She asked incredulously, bringing a tray of food over with her and setting it on a small table. You nodded, face still in your hands, but you were quickly coaxed out by the smell of the food.

“I was just trying to make my stupid bed, and my stupid hand got stuck under the stupid mattress, and I fell pulling it out and got a splinter on my finger, and then it started bleeding when I pulled it out, and…yeah. That’s about it,” you poured the words out quickly, immediately feasting and downing large gulps of water when you finished. Nina simply nodded knowingly and watched, nibbling on a piece of toast as you ate.

“Y’know, that didn’t seem very despicable to me,” she remarked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, turning an annoyed glance at her. “Are you going to keep being like this? It was just an awkward situation,” you complained, shoving another piece of fruit in your mouth. Nina laughed and nodded.

“I’m sorry, princess, but it’s been just too easy,” she retorted, still laughing. You rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart still skipped a beat every once in a while, thinking about her calloused, warm hands encapsulating yours, and her deep eyes gazing into yours like nothing else existed in the world.

You seriously needed to distract yourself if you were going to survive this.

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

taglist: @paqerings @katniiss @dummysimp011 @chocbaleine

#white horse #knight!abby x princess!reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby is so calling you princess coded #knight x princess #wlw #abby x reader fic #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #matchamilkislover

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swiftsaltsweet · 6 months ago

Text

Two Knives Chapter 2: Kyoshi- Responsibility and a New Promise

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (RoK characters tbh)

Pairing: Rangshi

Summary:

Things have been stressful for Kyoshi. First, she sang a poem and now the whole kitchen staff thinks it’s about Rangi, and is sure that there will be gossip. Then, Yun asks her to join him for the Fifth Nation treaty signing. Now Rangi’s acting strange. It’s becoming a bit much for Kyoshi’s small corner of the world.

(Canon Divergent AU- Kelsang wasn’t the one who heard the poem?….aka What if it took longer for them to realize Kyoshi was the Avatar?)

Other Sites: AO3

A/N: “Ok so I finish chapter 1, now I’ll try to get chapter 2 done ASAP for next week :D” *gets possessed and cranks out 5 more chapters* ……………………ok y’all are getting this early o.o …..I may have scared myself with how fast I made these ;w; jaskldfjal 8U

__________________

The deadline for the Fifth Nation meeting was quickly drawing nearer. Everyone told her that it would be fine and there was nothing to worry about. Just stand there and be your usual, unnoticeable self!

Jianzhu apparently had gotten her a battle outfit to protect her. She would consider it thoughtful, and would’ve been happy…. If it wasn’t for the fact she knew he and Yun fought over her tagging along.

It was very apparent Jianzhu wasn’t happy with the turn of events, but he caved into Yun’s desire because he loved him. The same couldn’t go for the other “Kyoshi shouldn’t be coming with us” party member.

Rangi had been, and still was, very vocal about Kyoshi not going. She’d never seen her friend so agitated in the two years they’d known each other.

She was even giving the Avatar a hard time!

“Are you disobeying your Avatar?” Yun asked during one of their repeated bouts. Each time he lost a little of his playfulness and it devolved more into a resigned sigh.

“No. I’m just voicing an opinion,” Rangi answered.

“Well I’m ignoring it.”

“Shame, it’s the only smart thing being said around here,” she shrugged nonchalantly. But her stomps as she left Kyoshi and Yun behind betrayed her demeanor.

Yun and Kyoshi could only stare wide-eyed at her as she left.

“She’s never talked back like that before,” Yun stared in amazement. The three would usually let loose when they were alone, but Rangi never acted that insubordinate towards him. Well no, that wasn’t accurate, she’d never acted insubordinate ever, the worst she did was maybe give him a slightly hard time.

“Maybe she’s just stressed?” Kyoshi offered. Kyoshi was feeling stressed as well. Between her poem and the whole Fifth Nation thing, she was having a hard time sleeping at night. It didn’t help that Rangi was acting strangely on top of it all. “Maybe I shouldn’t go?”

“No! No, please, I need you to go,” Yun grabbed Kyoshi’s hand pleadingly.

Kyoshi playfully swatted it away. “Alright, alright, calm down.”

Yun sighed, relieved. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe she is stressed….”

“Because of the Fifth Nation?” Kyoshi asked. Maybe he had some insight about Rangi, the girl had been mostly avoiding her for the past few days. And if she wasn’t, she was uncharacteristically silent. She didn’t even reprimand her when Kyoshi was late one day!

“No I think it’s because of-” he stopped himself and glanced at Kyoshi. “I mean, yes I think that’s it.”

Kyoshi drummed her fingers on her knee, not buying his tone. She couldn't help but wonder if both of her friends were hiding something from her.

_________

Tap.

The rain outside had been tapping at her window for hours now.

Tomorrow was the day. The day they’d fly and sail out to meet with the Fifth Nation, and Kyoshi couldn’t sleep. Her eyes felt like they were being pried open by some external force. That external force being her own anxiety. Wait, maybe that was something more internal? Great, another thing to think about and keep her up!

She tossed and turned, but nothing could settle the earthquake inside her being.

Tap.

If only the rain would stop, maybe then she’d feel more restful?

Tap. Tap.

Great now the rain is picking up. She thought.

Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP TAP TAP!

Kyoshi shot up out of bed. That wasn’t the rain, that was her door!

W-who could be here at this hour? She thought as she grabbed her night robe and threw it on over her sleep clothes.

When she opened the door, she was met with something both familiar and unfamiliar. It was Rangi, but she wasn’t in her usual spiked armor. Instead she sported a sleeveless white tunic and her red trousers. It was strange seeing her like this, the spikes had almost felt like they were a part of Rangi. It was hard to separate the two.

For once, Kyoshi was able to see how well defined her muscles were, now that the shell had been stripped away. As well as the curves that were once hidden as well-

Kyoshi shot her eyes to Rangi’s face as fast as possible, to keep herself from ogling at her.

Rangi bore the same stern expression, looked Kyoshi up and down once, and then looked away.

“Rangi, what’s going on-gah!”

Rangi shoved something into Kyoshi’s arms. “To protect your hands…” She mumbled. Then she promptly turned and walked away.

Kyoshi stared after her until her figure had turned the corner and left. Then she finally looked down at what Rangi had given her. It was a box.

Kyoshi slowly opened the present, inside there was a pair of high quality leather gauntlets. The sight of them caused Kyoshi’s throat to sting, and her chest to heat up.

She closed the door to her room, and held the gloves close to her chest, as she finally and slowly drifted away into a shallow sleep.

_____

Kyoshi was a bundle of nerves. Being surrounded by so many daofei set her on edge. Well, it’d set anyone on edge she’d suppose. She wondered if Yun and Rangi were as nervous as she felt. Rangi seemed perfectly composed, yet intimidating, as usual. Yun was working his charm with a nice fake smile.

Kyoshi looked around and saw all the “servants” that were sneaking in and out. They were the kidnapped villagers.

Kyoshi started to violently shake looking at all the hostages. Then she looked at her food, and wondered if it had been poisoned. It took all her effort to keep her breath quiet and even.

Rangi was right, she shouldn’t have come. She was nothing more than a liability. What was she thinking?

She couldn’t bear to turn to Rangi, who was seated next to her. Couldn’t bear to look her in the eye and see Rangi respond with an “I told you so.”

So instead, she sat there shaking. On the verge of hyperventilating.

Until she felt something warm clasp her hand.

Kyoshi looked down, it was Rangi's hand, laying over top of hers. Kyoshi could feel pulses of warmth coming through her double layers of gloves, the top being generic snow gloves and the bottom layer being the ones Rangi gave her.

Kyoshi found the courage to look at Rangi's face, and instead of seeing the same stoic expression or one of reprimand…. She saw concern. Just slightly, only softened just enough for Kyoshi to notice.

Rangi squeezed Kyoshi's hand once. Stay strong.

Kyoshi's response was to readjust her fingers so that they would interlace, hoping to be completely entangled by the warmth. By the courage Rangi was sending to her.

She thought she heard a small gasp come from Rangi, but at that moment there was a big uproar of cheers coming from Yun's pai sho section.

Kyoshi and Rangi turned their attention back to the party, hand in hand. They stayed like that…..

Until Takaga decided to air Kuruk’s team's dirty laundry.

_________________

Kyoshi found herself in a new form of torture. Rangi was helping Kyoshi strip her armor off. Or really Rangi was doing it all herself, while Kyoshi stood there like a lump on a log.

It probably wouldn't have bothered Kyoshi too much in any other circumstance, but Rangi was wearing a thin cotton shift and her hair was down for once. Which meant that Kyoshi could see a lot more of her body than she could previously.

She could see every flex Rangi's muscle made as she removed each armor piece. She could see how her hair waterfall off and caressed her strong shoulders. How the cotton clothing hugged her-

“You can't sleep in that get up. Especially not the armor,” Rangi said. Kyoshi barely registered the words, she found herself too busy gawking at Rangi’s figure.

“Shouldn't you be sleeping with Yun?” Kyoshi asked, not really thinking of how she was phrasing her question.

Rangi’s head turned so fast she almost snapped her own neck.

“You know what I mean,” Kyoshi said.

The redness faded from Rangi’s ears as quickly as it came. “The Avatar and Master Jianzhu are reviewing strategy. Master Amak only ever sleeps in ten-minute intervals throughout the day, so he and the most experienced guardsmen will keep watch. The order is that everyone else should be well-rested for tomorrow.”

The duo settled beneath their furs. They laid there in silence, Kyoshi unable to fall asleep due to the sound of Rangi's breathing. She was so close. And the heat she radiated under the shared blanket was so warm. She tried to keep her body still, afraid of it moving closer towards her friend than she should, but found herself shifting every so often.

She needed a distraction, and right as she was about to ramble about what Tagaka had said about their family, Rangi spoke up.

“Why didn't you listen?” Rangi whispered.

“What?” Kyoshi's eyes widened and chanced turning over. She stared at Rangi’s back, she wasn't sure if she heard her correctly.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” Rangi repeated, just a little louder this time.

Kyoshi settled to lay back on her back and stared up at the tent's ceiling. She didn’t have an answer that she knew Rangi wouldn’t call “stupid.” That she made a promise to Yun first. That she was afraid she wouldn’t see Rangi again, and was willing to put her life at risk to get as much time with her as possible. You know, totally normal friend things.

And she really didn’t want Rangi to say “I told you so,”..... so she decided to play dumb instead. “I don't know what you mean.”

Something soft hit her in the face. Kyoshi looked over when the object was removed from her field of view, Rangi had hit her in the face with her pillow. Kyoshi's breath hitched when she realized their faces were only a few inches apart.

Rangi raised her pillow to strike again. “You know what I mean! Don't act like you only have rocks in that head of yours!”

Staring at Rangi’s disgruntled face, and her apparently thinking a pillow fight was the best way to punish Kyoshi….. Well… Kyoshi couldn't help the burble of laughter that escaped her lips. It only got louder when Rangi hit her again.

“I-it's not funny!” Rangi cried as she kept hitting Kyoshi with the pillow. Kyoshi just laughed harder with each hit.

“S-stop it!” Kyoshi cried, laughing with tears in her eyes. She reached over to grab the pillow from Rangi's hand.

“K-Kyoshi! Stop it!” Kyoshi felt Rangi grab hold of the front of her lapel and attempted to push her, but Kyoshi already had the pillow in her hand.

Kyoshi laughed. “But you're the one who…started…it.” In the tussle, her and Rangi had gotten closer, they were now nose to nose. Eyes boring into each other. Their breathing tickled each other's faces. Rangi’s flowery scent overtook Kyoshi's senses and she was starting to lose herself in it.

“Kyoshi….” Rangi murmured. Her face was red, and her eyes shifted away from Kyoshi's, shifted downwards.

Ashamed? Uncomfortable? Kyoshi couldn’t tell why she broke the eye contact. Kyoshi gulped, her heart was in overdrive. There was no way this was good for her health.

Kyoshi felt Rangi's grasp on her and the pillow loosen, and Kyoshi took her opportunity to turn back over, hugging her side of the sleeping quarters as much as possible.

“W-woops! S-sorry about that,” she tried to play it off nonchalantly, like a coward. “Sorry for messing around, we should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow!” Her voice shook, she knew her voice shook. But it was the best she could do to keep her cool.

She laid there for a good while, and wondered if Rangi had fallen asleep.

Then, Kyoshi felt two hands and a forehead press up against her back. “You have my pillow, stupid.”

Kyoshi snapped her arm and threw the pillow back to Rangi’s side. She must've overshot it or something, because Rangi didn't make a move for it. Instead, she could feel the firebender snuggle closer into Kyoshi’s back, her knees bumping against the back of Kyoshi’s own; and then the rest of her body melded into her shortly after. Rangi’s breathing slowed to a crawl, until Kyoshi was sure she'd fallen asleep.

Kyoshi did not move, afraid of disturbing the sleeping girl pressed up against her, who surely had a lapse in judgment. Instead she enjoyed the way Rangi’s body heated her own, and a different kind of warmth settled in her stomach and chest and that didn’t originate from the hearth that was next to her.

Kyoshi didn't go cold that night, nor did she get any sleep.

____

Kyoshi took a hard tumble down the iceberg’s mountainous terrain. She had just gotten free of a waterbender who tried to pull her down into the iceberg, but they hadn’t made their hole big enough for her. So she was able to break free with a swift kick to the face. Unfortunately, when she broke free she fell over the side of the icy cliff.

Kyoshi wobbled as she stood up, she saw Tagaka with Yun, he was encased in ice. A wave of fury rolled over here. Kelsang was injured, Yun was kidnapped, and Rangi……she didn’t want to think about what happened to Rangi. Unlike Kyoshi, Rangi, and a lot of the other soldiers had been pulled down into the iceberg by the waterbenders. Kyoshi tried to tell herself that she was fine, she’d make it out of the iceberg. She was Rangi, she could do anything! Plus, she was with Hei-Ran and Jianzhu. Surely she would be fine….. Right?

Kyoshi shook her head. Right now, all she saw was the woman who was the cause of all her grief. And she would make her pay.

“Give him back,” Kyoshi gasped. She gripped her side with one hand, and had the other extended out. As if trying to reach for Yun despite his distance.

Tagaka put a boot on the ice encasing Yun, and leaned on her knee. “The colossus speaks,” she said, smiling. She watched patiently as Kyoshi slowly staggered towards her. For someone who was wary of Kyoshi’s height at first, she seemed well at ease now that Kyoshi was injured.

Kyoshi swore at the pain in her body, the tumble she took down the iceberg had hurt her more than she thought. But it was nothing, Yun meant more to the world than her cracked ribs. Her fingers flexed instinctively towards Yun, and felt a pull.

“Give him back. Now.” She meant to sound angry and desperate, but instead she came across as pitiful and hopeless as she felt inside. She wasn’t sure if Yun could breathe in there. Kelsang had gotten hurt because of Tagaka’s ice spikes too. She wasn’t sure if Rangi was alive…..

Rage was swelling inside her. This woman was taking everything she held dear.

“Eh,” Takaga said, looking down at Yun. “I saw what I needed to see in the boy’s eyes. He’s worth more as a hostage than an Avatar, trust me.” She made a motion to shove Yun off the side with her foot, but was stopped by a concussive blow to the face.

Kyoshi didn’t know how she did it, but while Tagaka had briefly looked away, Kyoshi had found the energy to close the distance between them and landed a dirty blow on the daofei.

Kyoshi followed up the punch by tackling Tagaka to the ground, and proceeded to unleash a barrage of punches. They were so powerful it was almost like a shockwave, it blew apart her snow gloves, only the leather gauntlets beneath could withstand the blows. The blows sent cracks through the ice both under Tagaka and in Yun’s prison.

“What-guh- are you?” Tagaka gasped through a brief reprieve where Kyoshi's fists landed on her shoulders rather than her face. Kyoshi’s response was her own gasping breath as she didn’t let up.

Kyoshi felt a glow of light flash over her eyes, and the prison next to Yun burst open with a glow of its own. He’d figured out a way to waterbend out of his prison.

Yun briefly looked at Kyoshi but his attention had quickly been captured by some of Tagaka’s nearby men. Kyoshi didn’t take her attention off of Tagaka for one second. This time, each hit felt like the earth was shaking beneath her. A push every time she brought her fist down, a pull everytime she brought it back.

Yun used the rock glove, what little earth he had, to fend off the oncoming attackers. He dropped down into a deep stance, and pushed his earth out at his targets as hard as he could while Kyoshi raised her fist back for another big blow against Tagaka. Just as the two earthbenders enacted their next move, the earth shook with the intensity of the earthquake, and sheets of the seabed rose up from the sea.

Several ships were taken out, but a lot of the remaining ships maneuver their way around the sudden rocky terrain.

Kyosh brought her fist down onto Tagaka, but ended up whiffing the air instead as she felt a water whip hit her in the side. It knocked her a few feet away and Kyoshi hit the ground hard.

For a moment, she thought maybe Tagaka had done it to her, but when Kyoshi looked back, she realized it was one of Tagaka’s guards who’d somehow snuck by Yun. The man raised his arms and water over his head, the water turning into an ice spike, and aimed it at Kyoshi.

Kyoshi tried to rise to her feet, but felt overwhelming exhaustion as she attempted to do so, her limbs falling dead beside her. All she could do was look up, and wait for her head to join them.

“Kyoshi!” heard a familiar voice cry out to her. A giant fireball stopped the waterbender in his tracks and knocked him back. Rangi had come to the rescue. Just in time for Kyoshi’s vision to start to waver, and the cold to seep into her, as well as relief.

“You did good, kid,” said a man with a husky voice and an accent like Master Amak’s. “They’ll be telling stories about this for a long time.”

Kyoshi tried to turn, afraid another waterbender had snuck up on her, but the effort was too great for her. Her eyes became heavy as she sunk down into the ice. The last thing she saw was Rangi’s bleeding face as she came running to her, screaming her name over and over.

___________________

It was warm. Way too warm for it to be the iceberg she was on. Kyoshi opened her eyes to see a familiar brown ceiling. She was back in Yokoya.

“Kyoshi!” A familiar voice cried. Rangi’s face came into view. “You're awake! Are you feeling alright?”

Her face was creased with worry, she had a gourd in her hand.

Kyoshi tried to speak but all that came out was a rasp. Rangi instantly put the gord to Kyoshi's lips.

“What happened?” She asked when she finally felt she'd be able to speak without coughing. “Where's Yun?”

She could have sworn he had been freed, but if his personal bodyguard was here then maybe-

“He's fine,” Rangi replied in a sullen tone. “Master Jianzhu and my mother are with him. He’s plenty guarded. Yun ordered me to be here to make sure you were alright.”

Kyoshi figured Rangi was upset that she got booted out here, stuck with Kyoshi, unable to perform her real duties.

“Sorry, you should be with him instead of me.” Guilt rose inside Kyoshi. She’d been nothing but trouble for Rangi since this whole mess started. She wondered how she was ever going to repay her friend.

“Yeah you better be sorry,” she stood up from her chair. “Think of yourself for a change!” She was yelling at Kyoshi now.

Kyoshi stared at her wide eyed.

“You've been asleep for three days, Kyoshi! Three days! Do you know how worried I was?” Rangi’s chest heaved as her voice wavered.

“I-I’m sorry!” Was all Kyoshi could strangle out under Rangi’s heated gaze.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up!” her voice cracked, and tears were welling in her eyes as she collapsed back in her chair. “How could you be so reckless?”

Kyoshi felt dizzy, the change in Rangi’s emotions over the past few weeks had been too drastic and it was too soon after waking up. She scrambled to sit up more, and leaned over and cupped Rangi’s cheek with a hand, forgetting if she was violating Fire Nation decorum or not.

“Oh….” Rangi gasped, as Kyoshi wiped the tears from her eye. She brought one of her own hands up to hold Kyoshi’s hand in place, as she closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Rangi, I’m sorry,” Kyoshi started. “You were right, I shouldn’t have gone. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

Rangi made a sharp noise as she inhaled, and moved her head to the side so Kyoshi's hand covered her mouth. “T-take responsibility, you idiot!” she sobbed.

Kyoshi’s eyes swirled, she didn’t know what Rangi meant by that, but decided to roll with it. “A-alright…. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, without question!”

Another sharp inhalation. “You promise?” She finally opened her tear-filled eyes and looked at Kyoshi.

“Promise,” Kyoshi said, smiling at her…and the other three Rangi’s that somehow joined.

Kyoshi’s head suddenly felt very heavy, and she briefly wondered if she had gotten up too fast. She didn’t really have time to think as her head hit the pillow, and she heard Rangi calling her name again.

_____________________

A/N: I know I wrote out the “Let’s talk about your mom’s murders! :D” scene ;w; I didn’t want to, but I needed to add the other convo in (even though Rangi didn’t get her answer) and it just wouldn’t have flowed if I tried to squeeze both in. Hopefully we can get that convo in at a later date :’D

Anyway, fun fact! This was supposed to be chapter one! :’D The Tagaka scene was the first thing I wrote, then after Kyoshi collapsed it was supposed to be a flashback/dream of when she sang the poem, and then it ends with her waking up with Rangi next to her (and the intent of hinting that Rangi heard the poem).......and then I changed how I wanted things to go! :D I like the new order but….yeah…. Fun fact! 8U

#shadow of kyosh #rangshi #rangi #rangi sei'naka #rangi seinaka #kyoshi #rise of kyoshi au #kyoshi au #kyoshi fanfic #chronicles of the avatar #rise of kyoshi

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gasping-ghostzes · 8 months ago

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Back on my 9-1-1 grind! So here is my little info dump of what’s going on was of the most recent episode!!!

CW: for mentions and details of suicide

1- Bobby,

This man was literally plotting his suicide this episode, or more like acting on it? But first, when he handed in his resignation, I didn’t realise it until thinking about it after the episode finished, but that was his way of preparing the 118 of his absence. Him retiring and having the LAFD be able to replace him with another captain wouldn’t be seen as suspicious especially given his age (no shade to him ❤️) but also just what he’s been thru in recent years. Like the moments of him interacting with the characters one on one and giving them little bits of unjudgmental advice and praise really kind of confirmed it. Also the part where Buck thanks him, and he’s like “it’s been my pleasure kid”, just seemed so off to me, not that it’s outside of Bobby’s character to say that, but the scene of it playing out… u could tell shit was gonna get bad

2- Hen!

I clocked it the moment I saw the lady on screen and the moment Mara and Denny was like “oh yeah, our mums r gonna adopt Mara!” And I could just tell that this lady was gonna pull her strings to stop that from happening! But also, to me, the things that was used as evidence as to why Hem and Karen shouldn’t be allowed to adopt Mara was such blatant bias. Like I know that Hen hasn’t been known to always follow the rules, but she done it with the intent and knowledge that doing it will give her patients a fighting chance, more of a chance than letting them die because she was too strict on following the rules.

3- Eddie…

So, Edmundo? Yeah he needs to go get proper help…

However, ppl saying that his love of Shanon is out of character completely, aren’t thinking about what we know about Eddie hard enough. One, he only got married to Shanon because he got her pregnant and it was advised by his church that it’s the right thing to do… but it was the same with Shanon, she was pregnant and likely had been given thw same advice. But they were both decently young when Christopher was born, so the fact that they held their religion values so close, may have been the reason they never wanted a divorce even after having a more than clear dysfunctional life. But after Shanon died, Eddie never had that option Yknow? Like when Shanon left, there was likely always a part of him that knew she’d come back around eventually because she and him both felt slightly obligated to do so, but that didn’t mean they didn’t live each other, it was just more than dysfunctional. So her death, to him was a permanent state of her never being able to come back for him and Chris to have closure and never continue the attempts of having the average family experience.

Two, Him seeing Kim, a woman who looks like his previous first love, and wanting to have some sort of relationship with her is unhealthy, but it makes sense… he’s claimed to be a “nester” and that’s what he does, so seeing a woman who looks exactly like what he envisioned as who he would “nest” with since he was young, was more than likely triggering.

Three, him never gaining that closure from Shanon and instead wanting to find it in Kim now means he’s able to live a literal delusion. One where he doesn’t exactly acknowledge that what they had was dysfunctional (ignore the word, I can’t find another to describe them accurately) and one where he can “fix” his mistakes. I think the only reason he misses Shanon and speaks of her so highly is because she was as close to a normal life he could get…

Like from what we knew about his life growing up, it definitely wasn’t the best. So him getting to fix that aspects and making sure to give Christopher better childhood. So him having this average, perfect marriage would’ve definitely been apart of him fabricating this perfect life that He, Christopher and Shanon all had is his way of coping how the majority of his life has been uncontrollable. Like Kim coming back with a new hair cut and style only made that fantasy worse. To him that’s not Kim, that’s a Shanon with the dysfunction, cause more than likely, Eddie didn’t tell Kim exactly how him and Shanon worked…

So seeing Kim as Shanon, a version of Shanon who has no “memory” of who she and Eddie were both separate and together was basically his shot at getting a second chance… which I know he isn’t gonna exactly convince himself that Kim is literally Shanon, but that’s not gonna stop him from projecting this skewed and inaccurate version of Shanon he wanted and needed in Kim

#9 1 1 on abc #911 spoilers #911 abc #911 show #bobby nash #captain nash #station 118 #hen wilson #karen wilson #eddie diaz #edmundo eddie diaz #shanon diaz #kim 911 #character analysis #angsty gay firefighters #what the sigma is actually happening ?!#evan buckley #evan buck buckely

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miss-celestia13 · 10 months ago

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Violence

Jake ruminates on his love…

She came into his life with the force of a raging hurricane. A maelstrom of emotion and desire that he’d long refused to allow himself to feel. She was a storm restrained within a human skin, sent to disrupt his carefully crafted life.

There had been no way to refuse her, not that he wanted to. Her violent way of flirting had sealed it.

Being lured by her flashlight Morse Code and held at knifepoint was the most memorable way he’d ever been wooed.

The silver blade had rested against his throat, the small hand holding it unwavering and fearless, and he’d been gone from the moment she said;

“If you value that pretty neck, Jake, I’d stand very still and drop your hands.”

The urge to laugh and throttle her had struck him like a bolt of scarlet lightning.

She wanted him and hunted him down to have him. Shameless, utterly distracting, and so impatiently impulsive, he never knew what to expect next. A glitch in his system he’d been wholly unprepared to encounter.

He’d never felt as alive as he did under the power of her venom eyes that night.

It was as though his heart had shrivelled and died without him noticing. Years of neglect and abuse had rendered it nothing more than a muscle that pumped blood through his veins.

The tiny flame of hope he’d carried in the early days of his exile had guttered long before she appeared.

She was a shot of pure adrenaline that brought him back to life. She gave him a reason to stop running, teaching him how to live and fight for himself.

If she hadn’t decided he deserved better than what he had, he didn’t know where he’d be.

He’d resigned himself to a life of hollow, aching nothingness. Just him and the mocking echo of his racing steps as he sought a new hiding spot.

Never laying down roots, cutting any growth out before it could bloom, and dousing the surrounding earth with salt to ensure he’d remain alone.

It had worked until she dropped into his life like a boulder launched into a still lake. The ripples she’d caused still flowed through him.

Life had been cold before her. Petrified in time and tragic happenstance.

Grief, regret, and spite held him captive for so long, he had been afraid to see who he could be without it grinding him down.

All his would’ve, could’ve, should’ve’s weighed him down. Demons on his back.

Their poison tipped claws had sunk in deep, etching their unspeakable names into his bones, and filling his blood with their lethal dose.

Manon had seen all that, the enshrouding devouring darkness, the glacial waters surrounding him, and laughed in the face of his demons until they ran away screaming.

He once believed he deserved nothing more than the shallow, unmarked grave his pursuers had prepared for him.

Now, those who once hunted him filled that grave.

He thrived while they decayed.

And with her, his world was warm. Scalding in the best times.

They preferred spending time together wearing nothing but skin, accessorized with gooseflesh and sweat, his teeth marks, and the violets his fingers planted on her inner thighs whenever he crawled between them.

She was a fire, an untamed blaze in the dark that kept his brittle heart cozy and safe.

He was her peace and patience after her life of war, death, and self-appointed blame.

She was his, and he was hers.

Everything else was just static on the screen.

————————————-

I shared my MC's thoughts on Jake the other day, but I wrote them for both. It helps me get in their heads to write their stories. In this case, I had to write vows for them, and these helped me get into a romantic mindset. I wanted to share his side, too❤️

Silence - My MC’s thoughts on Jake.

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mostdisconcerting · 9 months ago

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Bad Day=Binging ScarNash

I had an interesting day today. Not in a good way. So as one does in such a situation, I went back to rewatch ScarNash. Cuz they’re my comfort ship.

This is just me reviewing almost every scene of the episode so I can forget that life exists for a little while🙃

Today I picked 4x04. And goodness I do not regret it one bit.

Starting with Patrick and the fat goose line. I’m sorry but why did that have to be so damn funny. “My fellow punters…” and “copious amounts of whiskey”, with his very Frank expression shifted my mood from stressed to joyful immediately. And I only now noticed that as Patrick and Eliza leave to meet Carter, Eliza yeets a paper in Clarence’s direction (or at least she tried).

I applaud Clarence’s “shit the parents are gonna argue if I don’t step in” senses. We love him for them.

I’m gonna make a rare mention of William, but I felt so bad for him when Ivy started talking about her mom’s gout. If I was eating anything resembling her description, I would gag to no end. Ruined the poor dudes snack.

Watching Patrick panic is probably my favorite part of this episode. Bros just pacing up, down, round and round, trying to think of what to do. (He’s literally just me but toned down and with an adult brain 😂)

That scene at Fallons was perfect. That unanimous “who?”, and the cover up that “we do love a little gossip now and then.”. It’s adorable and funny to see these to be in such sync and in such odds as they are.

Also, idk if anyone else noticed but she’s holding his ARM in the stables scene?! How-wha-why did I not notice that?

Poor Fitzroy. He could’ve had a much nicer career with his father out of the way. He’s known for being his father’s son, this way he could learn to be his own man.

We gotta talk about that cab scene. Literally, Patrick was trying to make things better by saying “it’s not your fault they left”, and just made it worse by adding “it’s mine, I should’ve never left you in charge”. She looked so genuinely offended by what he said, only to be shut down cuz they were literally in the middle of investigating.

Then they just break into Fallon’s office like it’s nothing and start bickering about the resignations again. She said she didn’t fire any of them. And then she admitted to firing multiple. Which is great I guess. So… we have that. Then they just hop through the office when someone comes in. Like. They have no right to be this adorable. Why are they literally my grandparents on steroids.

Turns out the lines about Eliza sulking started in this episode, which clearly adds to why she’s pissed when he spends the entirety of 4x05 just telling her she’s sulking and she should not sulk.

Then we have scene where Patrick’s pacing again. And I don’t blame him for making Eliza nervous too. Like he said “good I don’t see why I should suffer alone” (which is a quote I’ve been using way to much in real life recently lol)

Clarence makes his grand entry with some food and the info that Gibson is here. 🙃

And I’m finally going to end on those last two scenes of them together (cuz I skipped William kissing Eliza)

Them blackmailing Carter was hilarious. I mean, we know both of them were hella nervous cuz he could’ve just gunned both of them down there but that’s whatever. I love the little voice moderations and the expressions Eliza and Patrick pass each other basically saying “he’s agreed, now let’s get the hell out of here before he changes his mind and kills us”

Then we got Patrick praising Eliza. That could’ve played out to be an even more heartfelt scene had Eliza not seen the time and ran off. He looked disappointed, but he seemed to let it go (unlike William would’ve as we know) , understanding she probably forgot to do something .

Makes me sad seeing potential like this being flushed down a toilet.

They’re an old married couple and I love that for them🙃

#scarnash #patrick nash is adorable and you can’t convince me otherwise #miss scarlet and the duke #miss scarlet pbs #msatd #eliza scarlet #eliza x patrick #patrick nash #i like this show #nah #i love this show #i love these idiots #And I spend waaaaayyyy too much time thinking about it #Clearly #old married couple energy #I think I’m stuck down a ScarNash rabbithole and now I can’t get out #Help #Please

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guileheroine · 2 months ago

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arcane s2 act 1 thoughts

getting my impressions down before act 2 so i can remember how things felt at this point in time before everything gets blasted open :)

aughghhhhjjjjjjjjhhhhj

above all: it’s exciting to watch a show that’s technically incredible also be so tight in terms of writing, where you trust it enough to really immerse yourself w/o reservation. and moreso it’s so nice to be trusted to do some work as a viewer, interpret the ambiguities instead of being force-fed all the beats. and to have something so detail rich, dense and deftly constructed that you can mine it endlessly (as someone who’s seen s1 10-ish times lol)

they are packing so much story into these episodes compared to s1 act 1 and i won't be able to imagine all this tied up in 6 more eps until i see it - i wonder how it would feel as a slower paced show

the loungewear and rose petals really give the new opening a boudoir vibe. grateful!

no scene scratched my id like viktor leaving jayce — his open acknowledgement of their divergence (in those words no less) and the fact of their partnership being dead from the beginning

^for me the core of the story has long been what i call the two JV divergence arcs

relatedly, viktor in the black hood has there ever been a lük more instantly iconic. he has a STAGGERING face card. i look forward to further jayvik divorce proceedings but want him to meet the other undercity protags so bad, he seems poised to take on a similar role in the Cause as jinx

i really loved the opening scene between mel and jayce. it seems mel shielded him. i got tingly at her drawing the line at weaponising hextech and reaffirming her commitment to jayce and viktor's vision. their hextech dream, #ot3, # heres how meljayvik can still win!!!

the fight choreo, music, stylistic choices and just the marriage of form and content still feel thrilling. fortiche i am once again kissing your feet, vive la france

i dig this caitlyn arc. in s1 she didn’t quite pass muster against the rest of the cast bc it felt like the degree of naïveté needed to keep her as pure as it seemed they wanted her, was a hard sell in an ostensibly smart and capable character, in an ensemble where everyone else felt like much more textured products of their circumstances. i always thought that instead of the noble oblivious thing it would’ve been more seamless and meaningful if she’d been conscious but ambivalent about all the gross injustice, only digging deeper once it became personal via vi

and now!! feeling gratified bc i think they’re doing that arc, just in reverse: as soon as it becomes personal in the other direction, you see that her grip on the bigger picture is conditional and easily blinkered. it emphasises her previous passion about justice for zaun as deriving partly from the self-righteousness that's also an underacknowledged effect of privilege, instead of simple empathy. (plus the fairweather allyship is… a very resonant theme lmao and quite cool to see it depicted how the correct nudge, a taste of what the system deals out to others, will make the most earnest of listeners-and-learners retreat to their worst biases about the 'other'. the protofascist seed in every member of a cozy ruling class. honestly one of their most excellent writing choices)

i think cait hit vi on that stab wound from sevika which surely cannot have fully healed yet. ouch

absolutely loving jinx and sevika in the post-silco world, they are getting to come into their own in terms of motivations. absolutely obsessed with the smeech fight heheee

i can’t tell if jinx is doing better or worse. something soothing about the suicidal clarity though i don’t think her passivity is new—in s1 she was incredibly perceptive about what she was to silco but sort of resigned to it, so it's kinda exciting where she could go without his tether even though i miss silco sooooo much. i wonder if being in her Older Sibling Era (and vi being in her Abandoned Era) will help jinx and vi connect (🚨wishful thinking🚨, but somebody should write it)

“im glad it’s you / had to be you” has made me ILL since hearing it in that one teaser and now that it’s in context i might just throw up i cannot believeee we get a sister dynamic like this

vi rock bottom🤗 i couldn’t decide if she legit felt jinx was beyond the pale or did a hard swerve putting all her eggs in cait's basket, trying to bifurcate powder and jinx for the sake of, i guess, emotional self-preservation, with the notion of powder that had sustained her fully extinguished. love a protag so earthy and intense while being an unmitigated flop before the fateful tide of the story, and in that way she’s still very dean winchester-coded. also in that i want to see her bloody and crying, though at this point one win might be a relief

ambessa fox mode let’s goooo! i am curious if/when she’ll slip which i think could come down to something explosive with mel (🤞) or caitlyn realising she manipulated her in her griefblind state

idk if it just needs time or if it’s the unfillable silco-shaped hole, but so far the dialogue this season isn’t as sticky ?? (compared with s1 where they didn’t waste a word). but at least everyone’s hotter

i like heimerdinger more now that he’s ekko’s pet. i like jayce and ekko meeting lifetimes after “he didn’t even haggle”: they are just drinking tea and investigating the arcane not even realising their semi-interaction precipitated the instigating tragedy of Arcane. the world would never be the same. i hope they survive what may or may not be the time warp intact D:

the “it’s not supposed to be like that” with sevika and jinx and the bombs what is going on??? 👀👀

i'm glad theyre releasing this right in time to carry me through the winter. seasonal depression out, seasonal hyperfixation in

#i'm so alive #arcane #arcane s2 #*

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shes4twnksinatrnchct · 2 months ago

Text

Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, shameless flirting, sexual reference, mention of parental death

Words: 3.1k

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Contents***

The Beginning: Interlude iii

2039

Josh hasn’t changed at all.

Coley’s reminded of that as his laughter fills the house off and on whilst rambling about his family…

How his daughter’s starting first grade in the fall, his partner’s graduating with his doctorate in Literature in December, and what film projects he’s working on currently.

They’re able to actually have a pretty in depth conversation, this time, as opposed to the party they were at the last time where carrying on a lengthy conversation was nearly impossible.

Meanwhile, his twin brother quietly pouts at his poor timing whilst sipping his drink (that has shifted to something a little stronger than beer over the past hour), and eventually heads back to the kitchen to start on dinner officially.

As more time passes, more people start showing up.

Rhett, Collins, her boyfriend—Dominic, Kayce, his wife—Brooke, their daughter—Adrianna, all show up within ten minutes of each other, filling the house with all the more noise.

Rhett and Kayce are able to make themselves at home immediately because they often find themselves here, anyway, having reconnected with Jake through the years.

That’s solidified when the first question out of Addi’s mouth to Jake is, “Where’s the kitty-cat?!

Collins, on the other hand, is having a more difficult time facing the house she hasn’t seen since she was seven years old.

Like her aunt, she assumed he would’ve moved out after everything that happened, but he appears to enjoy making himself miserable.

Sitting on the couch, she glances around at how things seem so similar yet so different.

Despite Jake’s more-than-welcoming persona and gracious skill of hosting, the home just isn’t as warm or inviting as it had been all those years ago.

It’s merely a skeleton of the love that once flooded it when they first moved here, but it feels exactly the same as it did the day they left it with Jake inside.

The brunette glances at her aunt while she’s enveloped in conversation with Brooke, the maroon-haired woman explaining to her husband’s aunt that their new house has flooded twice now from the plumbing, and they’re not sure what to do.

“We’ve had two people come out and look at it. We’re scared the air conditioning unit is screwed, now, from all that water.” Brooke adds.

“Maybe aunt Coley can call her special H-VAC friend and get you guys a discount.” Collins voices suggestively to jest at her aunt.

It’s as if a record has scratched silence into the home, everyone seemingly hearing her say it.

Jake nearly chokes on his beer from where he hears it from the kitchen, while his twin brother jolts from running his mouth to Rhett, who’s taken up the mantle of helping Jake get the food ready to go in the oven.

“What?!” Josh calls from the kitchen, poking his head around the corner.

“Who?” Kayce presses.

“‘Special friend’? Since when do we have ‘special friends’?” Josh adds, stepping toward them.

“We don’t have special friends.” Coley assures him. “It’s not a thing—”

“—She wants it to be, though.” Collins teases.

“Elizabeth Collins.” Coley scolds her.

“Wait a minute, wait, wait, wait,” Rhett shakes his head. “Is this the dude that came and fixed the a/c when I was over there?”

“Yep. He left her his personal cell phone number to get back to him if it broke down again.” Collins explains. “Then she texted him—”

“—To ask a question about the new unit!” Coley defends herself.

“What did he say back?” Josh asks the question they’re all wanting to know the answer to.

“That she could call him anytime she needed and he’d be over.” Collins states.

“Okay, you’re making it sound bad.” Coley tells her niece, rolling her eyes.

“That’s what he said, Aunt Coley?” Kayce snaps, raising his brows.

“He was talking about if I needed anything else H-VAC related.” She insists.

“No, he wasn’t.” Josh thoughtlessly blurts, blinking at her in confusion that she could be so…oblivious.

“You know, Josh, some men don’t want sex 24/7.” Coley states, crossing her arms.

“You text him and tell him your unit needs an adjustment. See if he even shows up with tools—well, ones for the a/c, at least.” He mutters into his tequila soda before taking a swig.

Her nephews and her niece erupt into laughter, which takes her into the pit of a bad mood, not wanting Jake to get the wrong impression but she doesn’t understand how he can’t, now that everyone’s made it out to be much worse than it actually is.

“Whatever.” She grumbles, standing up to step to the kitchen to finally get something more than water to drink.

The food’s been in the oven for a few minutes now, while Jake’s been remaining in the kitchen—avoiding Coley the best that he can for the time being—absorbing the conversation and keeping his mouth shut.

Coley can practically feel the tension leaking from him when she steps into the kitchen and sees him leaning against the counter, downing the rest of his drink.

“Do you have wine?” She inquires quietly, hearing her niece, nephews, and Josh carrying on from the living room.

Jake doesn’t answer her at first, only stepping to the fridge to grab a bottle and place it on the counter.

“Here.” He mutters, reaching into the cupboard and holding out a wine glass to her.

Her fingertips brush along his hand when she accepts it from him, and he shut the cabinet and takes in a deep breath, looking at her from the corner of his eye to make sure she’s not looking at him before he outright stares at her.

“I’m not screwing my a/c guy, by the way.” She assures him, flatly, opening the bottle and pouring herself some, feeling his eyes on her back.

“I wouldn’t care if you were.” He lies, and she looks over her bare shoulder and blinks at him before taking a sip of the deep red liquid. “You’re single. You can sleep with your a/c guy. You can sleep with my a/c guy if you want.” He uses humor to try to distract from the fact he’s overthinking it entirely. “Bet he wouldn’t fuck up the wood flooring—they wear sensible shoes.”

Coley turns to face him, leaning against the counter opposite of him, unable to resist the smile that creeps to her face from his words while a quiet giggle leaves her.

“We’re in our forties. I think we all wear sensible shoes, now.” She points out.

“You wear sensible shoes now? What, you went from six inches to five or something?” He sarcastically scoffs, recalling the heels she wore in here.

“Four inches.” She corrects him, raising her brows.

“Four inches?” He asks, cooking up a smart comment that she doesn’t catch in time before he cuts his eyes at her and adds, “Since when is four inches enough for you?”

Her face burns red, and she lets out a flustered breath.

“I kinda walked into that one.” She admits with a sigh before bringing her glass to her lips, again.

Jake watches her do so, looking at the glass that she drains and places on the counter to refill.

“Want some?” She offers, noticing his attention on her as she pours more for herself.

The wine itself is the least of his desires compared to the woman holding the bottle.

It’s an invitation for trouble…and they can probably say “goodbye” to their meeting once they hide in the kitchen and get drunk before Connie even gets here…

The doorbell sounds, signaling the perfectly timed arrival of their former manager.

“Maybe later.” He tells Coley, ripping his eyes from her to get some relief—or at least try to, taking the opportunity to leave the kitchen and go to open the door.

“Hey, kid!” They hear her pipe to Jake as soon as he opens the door, not even giving him a moment to greet her before she’s adding, “Oh, my gosh, look at you!” her hands patting at his handsome face. “You need to shave.”

Coley’s blue eyes nearly roll out of her skull at the sound of the woman entering the house when Jake ushers her inside and offers to get her something to drink.

“Water. Hi, dear,” She says to Josh when he welcomes her in a hug, adding, “Oh, new faces,” referring to the group in the living room as Jake moves back to the kitchen.

“Just two new ones.” Josh says to her. “You remember Kayce, Collins, and Rhett.”

“How could I forget?” She chuckles, and Coley bites into her tongue as Connie’s introduced to Brooke, Addi, and Dominic.

When Jake fixes her water, his ex-girlfriend whispers, “Spit in it,” causing him to laugh quietly.

“Be nice.” He tells her lowly after mustering up his ability to be serious, raising his brows as he looks down at her.

“I am.” She insists, lying through her teeth.

“I’m serious, Coley, be nice.” He repeats it, more sternly. “This needs to be as cordial as it can be. Just let bygones be bygones.”

“What am I gonna do, Jake? Fire her again?” She asks, making him get nearly nose to nose with her to drive his point home.

“Bygones.” He repeats, his eyes staring into hers as he awaits her agreement to do so.

“Don’t shave. I like this.” She avoids acknowledging his request for peace, the wine already loosening the filter connected to her mouth and brain, as she admires his face an the facial hair he's let grow out.

He marks yet another thing of hers that hasn’t changed in the last fifteen years.

His eyes descend from the crinkles at the corners of her eyes from her smiling, to the curve of her lips that only grows when Coley plainly sees he's distracted.

“Here.” He snaps out of it, handing her the glass of water. “You need this more than she does.”

Coley shoots him an unamused look and he gets Connie more water before walking to the living room to hand it to her.

“Where’s Sammy and Daniel?” Connie asks as Jake hands the glass to her.

“They’re coming.” Josh assures her.

It’s as if now Connie’s realized that Josh isn’t the last one to arrive.

“Has hell frozen over?” She asks him, raising her brows.

“Coley got here early, too.” Josh shrugs. “For different reasons, I’m sure, but…” He adds with a subtle wink at Jake, who retorts with, “Shut up.”

“Oh.” Connie says upon the realization that Coley is here, after all, having not even paid attention to the amount of vehicles in the driveway. “Coley’s here?”

Coley rolls her jaw and now feels obligated to go acknowledge Connie, coming to the living room to join everyone else.

“Well, what do ya know, she is!” Connie adds sarcastically, beaming at the sight of the blonde woman before her.

The last time the two women saw one another, Coley was taking matters into her own hands, and firing her.

No consulting the band, no inquiring with other managers, or legal, or their publicist…

It was a sporadic, angry, fed-up, “Get your shit and go back home,” that had been conjured up on a day and a half of no sleep, dealing with children who were growing more and more difficult from constant traveling, and last-minute shows being added to the schedule.

“Hey, Coley, how are you?” She asks, next, deliberately speaking it in a manner intended to irritate the other woman, and it does in all its sickly-sweetness.

“As good as I can be.” Coley retorts, taking note of the way a select few people in the room seem to be holding their breath.

They’re soon seated around the dinner table, talking and waiting for Danny and Sam to arrive at any moment while the food is finishing up in the oven…

“…Gosh, it was a nightmare getting these kids ready and on stage on time!” Connie exclaims with a laugh, sharing some of the joys of being on the road with five stubborn young adults whose ammunition of barbaric pass-times was endless—all while Kayce, his wife, Rhett, Collins, and her boyfriend cling to each word.

Connie brushes her strawberry blonde hair from her eyes before taking a sip of wine and carrying on about the very hectic chaos of sound check, clambering back to their rooms to shower, going back and forth on when to leave for the venue, scouring around for wardrobe and what to wear, trying to race the clock for hair and makeup, weighing how much to drink or not drink to avoid being drunk on-stage…not to mention the array of technical difficulties, illnesses, or vehicle break-downs along the way.

It was a whirlwind more times than not, moving at what felt a million miles an hour.

“Mmm, and then, of course, it was only that much worse when you three came along.” She continues, motioning to Coley’s niece and nephews. “God, being up with two toddlers in the middle of the night, making sure the seven year old didn’t wander off, trying to keep you entertained on the road, keeping up with shoes and diapers, and hairbows, and toys…” She drolls on before quickly turning her attention to Rhett, “What was that blanket you drug everywhere that had the embroidered rabbit on it?”

Rhett snaps his fingers as he tries to remember what he called his beloved possession…

“You say that like it was you who was up with the two toddlers in the middle of the night, and you keeping up with Kayce, and you keeping them entertained on the road, and you keeping up with shoes and diapers, and hairbows…” Coley cuts in, eyeing Connie.

Josh and Jake glance between the two women as tension starts to tighten in the air, unbeknownst to the handful of twenty-somethings surrounding them.

“…And it wasn’t a blanket, it was a pillowcase, and it was called ‘Rabby’.” Coley informs her, lastly.

“Rabby, that’s it.” Connie says, blinking with a sarcastic smirk directed at Coley, then focusing her gaze back on Dominic and Brooke, “Gosh, we forgot that thing in Barcelona and didn’t realize it until we got to Madrid, and Rhett screamed and cried until Coley and Jake went back and got it. It was a complete nightmare.”

“Are we surprised?” Collins pokes fun at her little brother, and Josh and Jake laugh it off, hoping that it’ll ease the change of energy.

It’s a lost cause when Connie pointedly adds, “Hey, now, Rhett never stopped any shows on account of pitching a fit.”

“Thank you.” Rhett says with a chuckle, too naive to understand the slight bitterness in Connie’s tone as she brings all this up.

Of course she’s still bitter.

It’s now that the decently convincing expression on Coley’s face falls, and her leg knocks into Jake’s under the table, signaling him to pipe, “I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily call it her pitching a fit.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t really control her spells, you know?” Josh adds with a shrug while simultaneously mentally preparing for Connie and Coley’s inevitable rift.

Dominic glances at his girlfriend and she offers an uncomfortable smile, growing embarrassed, her eyes shifting to her aunt who rolls her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip.

“Oh, yeah, talk about a clusterfuck—oh, sorry,” Connie offers, looking at Addi who’s perched on Brooke’s lap before looking at Dominic and ripping the lid off of the can of worms that’s at the heart of the contention that began between her and the Rhythm Guitarist years ago. “Collins used to get so upset when Coley would have to go on stage, or go to meetings, or leave her at all, really, and she would cry, and cry, and cry. Well, one night they got on stage and Collins started up, and she couldn’t catch her breath, and then the next thing we know she’s turning blue, and passing out!”

Everyone else who had been present for the terrifying health scare don’t necessarily wish to relive the details of it, but Connie doesn't pay that fact any attention.

“Which the doctor said to just blow in her face and it’ll help her catch her breath, and that seemed to work. But it was a whole mess to try to get anything done without her being glued to Coley’s hip.” She quips.

Jake’s hand is a welcomed comfort when it lands on Coley’s thigh, free of any intention other than reassurance.

She releases a deep breath and keeps her mouth shut, trying to maintain the peace while surrounded by people she loves and wants to spend time with…

“…In fact, I think tonight will be the first time we have a meeting since 2019 where she won’t have a baby in her lap.” Connie’s over-exaggerated laugh matches her over-exaggerated comment, and Jake feels Coley tense under his palm, predicting her response the way that an eery calm predicts a hurricane. “It was overwhelming.” Connie finishes with a shake of her head before breathing out and adding, “I need more wine,” while standing up to go to the kitchen.

“I got it.” Jake offers but she waves him off.

Coley contemplates what she does next, weighing the option of either tearing into her right here in front of everybody, or doing so somewhat privately…

“I’m getting more, too.” Coley mumbles, grabbing her own wine glass.

“Coley,” Jake mumbles, subtly shaking his head while Josh distracts the other guests with a joke.

“Do you want me to do it outside, or in here, in front of all these people?” Coley asks Jake in a mutter, raising her blonde brows.

“I’d prefer you not do it at all.” He replies.

“I’d prefer her not do it at all, either, yet you guys invited her here, so.” She grumbles and rolls her eyes, moving away from the table and into the kitchen, glaring at Connie’s back.

“You know what was overwhelming?” Coley asks her as calmly as she can, and the older woman sighs out and replaces the cork in the bottle. “Sherri and Trace dying. Both of their parents. Dead. In the same moment. I think that constituted Collins ‘pitching fits’ when she felt like people she loved were leaving her, and Kayce needing to ‘wander off’ and be alone every now and then, and Rhett being so attached to that damn pillowcase of his mom’s that you always bitched about him dragging around.”

Constance turns to face her.

“You can be pissed at me for firing you. I understand that. But I don’t understand, nor will I ever want to understand, why you’ve always been so damn pissed off at the fact that I didn’t just let those kids go to the fucking State—because, again, it’s not like you were their caretaker having to endure and adapt to them.”

“Postponed shows, canceled shows—”

“Oh, Christ, of course, anything that messed with your money.” Coley scoffs.

“I comforted you and watched you have a meltdown because you thought you were knocked up and knew you couldn’t raise a kid. Only for you to turn around and voluntarily take on three of them, and not tell anybody until it was already a settled deal. Not even your own boyfriend—who was miserable, by the way, but never told you that because he supported you, and just wanted you to be happy. Even if it meant becoming Father Goose before he was even twenty-five—but, hey, anything Princess Coley wants, right?” There’s a bite of resentment in her voice, and Coley furrows her brows. “It was always your way or no way. Hell, you left Jake because he wouldn’t get off the road. You’ve always been like that, and nothing has changed because you still have your panties in a bunch over the fact that they re-hired me after you quit, and you have no say in whether I’m here or not.” Connie scoffs.

“Wanna bet?” Coley asks her, confident that she could go to Jake and have Connie out of the house within the next two minutes.

The strawberry-blonde steps to her, looking down at her before getting eye-level with her like a child.

“I do, actually, because they asked me—personally—to do this documentary with you guys. They want me here, regardless of whether you do or not.” Constance states, about to walk past her back to the dining room before stopping. “And my issue isn’t with those kids. It’s not their fault their aunt is a forty-year-old who still acts out when she doesn’t get her way.”

@takenbythemadness , @edgingthedarkness , @lizzys-sunflower , @zooweemama555 , @fleetingjake , @hollyco

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic

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simplifiedemotions · 1 year ago

Text

Roots

It started when they were forced to work together in a dingy office in the bowels of the Ministry.

Hermione expected his surly attitude:

A flush appeared in the hollows of his cheeks when she’d tried to direct his position. “I don’t take orders from you, Granger.”

She had anticipated that he would argue with her about everything:

“It must kill you to be wrong, Granger.” His cruel smirk appeared, though it was more strained now than when they were children. “Now what Ogden meant in the briefing was that…”

What she hadn’t expected, what opened her heart to a vulnerability she thought she should run away from, only because feelings this delicate were softer and more breakable than petals, was the ways in which Draco Malfoy could love.

A burning kind of love. A love that lights your soul but is liable to destroy it if the fire catches too much.

Still, she leaned into the heat that started at her fingers resting on his cheek.

She hadn’t expected his loneliness and only saw it because it reflected her own.

“I’ll be alone at Christmas.” He looked more surprised than Hermione did to have admitted it out loud. He flushed, his jaw tight, but Hermione pressed on before he could shut himself away again.

She admitted she felt lonely, too. More unbidden thoughts, spurting bitterly from her mouth like soured candy, that she preferred staying home alone on her sofa with some hot tea, over the tension that awaited her at a Weasley table that no longer felt welcoming once she acquired the title of ex-girlfriend.

He must have seen the pain shown on her face, because before she knew it he was drawing his wand from his robes and casting a spell.

“Orchideous.” A soft word under his breath as he motioned his wand in a circle. There was a flash of pink light, and then a single flower conjured from the tip of his wand.

Things she had not expected:

The soft, pink-petal flower beaming as if under the direct attention of the sun, uncaring if there was only one small window in the entire room.

He proffered the flower to her, and she took it, ignoring her trembling fingers as she brought the flower to her nose, her mouth quirking up without her permission when she took in the light fragrance.

There were several moments of quiet before Hermione said the only thing she could to disrupt the awkwardness: “I thought this spell was meant to conjure a whole bouquet.”

Things she had not expected: the way Draco Malfoy’s face softened when he gave someone a genuine smile.

“Funny thing about magic,” he drawled, arching an eyebrow and staring down his nose at her. “You can tweak any number of spells to suit your specific needs.” He leaned forward. “But if you prefer a bouquet, Granger, I can do that for you.”

Hermione frowned, flushing from her face up to the tips of her ears. “I didn’t say that.” She pushed from her desk, drawing her own wand, and she’d be a liar if she said it didn’t satisfy her to see Malfoy’s eyes narrow in apprehension.

She rolled her eyes and picked up one of her pens, pointing her wand at it and transfiguring the blue pen into a deep navy vase, then muttering a spell to fill it with water and putting the single flower inside.

She looked up at Malfoy and gave him a shy grin.

“Thank you.”

He looked away from her, clearing his throat before picking up his quill and continuing to work.

The next day, a whole bouquet of pink flowers sat in their own vase at the corner of her desk.

Things Hermione Granger did not expect: for there to be such an array of flowers in existence.

As well as the fact that it took her longer than she would’ve liked to guess that each of those flowers had special meanings.

A Black-Eyed Susan for justice, on the day she submitted her treatise on Werewolf rights.

A hoard of Bluebells on the day she’d been humbled by the Merfolk, who’d informed her that their fight for equal rights involved more than just raging at the system.

Butterfly weeds on the day she’d finally resigned to herself that she’d never get her parents their memories back. She’d cried in Draco’s arms when he’d told her how the weeds were slow to grow, but hard to die away once they rooted themselves to the earth.

That same evening, he’d handed her a bouquet of Edelweiss, a mountain flower meant to convey courage and devotion. She stared up from the furry white petals into Draco’s sad grey eyes, and resolved to keep looking at him for as long as she could.

This went on for at least a year. The amount of flowers he’d conjured was outrageous, but she’d be lying if she said she wanted him to stop.

She never was a good liar.

Hermione traced the delicate fold of the sunflower on her desk, wondering about a great many things close to her heart.

Instead, she said, “Do you wonder how magic might know how to create certain aspects of an item? It can create a flower, but how does it know how that flower smells? Or how its petals fold or sway depending on the pace of wind?”

Draco looked up from a scroll he had been focusing on for the last several hours, and she resolved not to tell him about the small ink stain on his cheek.

“I imagine magic is integral to imagination, in a lot of ways,” he said after a moment. “Take Muggles. They can’t see unicorns, and as far as they know, such creatures don’t exist. But that doesn’t mean they can’t conceive of them in their minds.”

Her heart picked up, and she could only smile wider when Draco scowled at her. Drawing closer to him, she put her hands on her hips and raised her nose in the air because she knew how much it annoyed him. “Well, according to Bateman’s theory…”

Things Hermione didn’t expect: for the evening to continue on. Their arguments about magical theory moved destinations. First, to the lift. The grates opened to a group of people waiting on the other side. Draco slid his palm against her lower back as they sidled inside.

Then, to the Apothecary in the Ministry, because Draco needed a Pepper-up potion, citing a certain curly-haired witch and her constant jabbering affecting his poor, tired body. He only laughed when she slapped him on the arm.

Then, to a Muggle pub Hermione had wanted to visit, ignoring Draco’s unamused look when he realised it was a pub themed around witches and warlocks during Christmas.

He vehemently refused the wizard cape the hostess offered to him, his displeasure written in his glower, even as they were given a table near the back and Hermione teased him incessantly about not getting into a magical mood.

They sampled eggnog and spiced rum, and Hermione relished the way his cheekbones turned red at the tips the more alcohol he consumed.

She only moved closer when he put an arm over her shoulders, enjoying the catching heat against her cheek.

Two people, backlit by low bulbs in front of Hermione’s unimpressive flat.

It was silly, the way her heart started pounding as her focus narrowed on him. Something in her wanted to devour, to fill some lost and now found aching want.

She wanted inside of him, through the hard marrow and narrow bones, past the veins that ensured blood pumped to his heart. The heart her hand laid on now, as she stepped closer and drew her face up; as she met his eyes and hoped to show the yearning in hers.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you, Granger?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her chin out. “Yes.” Smiling at his scowl, she added, “Please and thank you.”

She thought she knew the look currently simmering in his slate-grey eyes. It was the same look she held for him.

He grunted, clamping his jaw tight as if he could lock the words away, but he was about as adept at keeping his mouth shut as she was.

“Bloody witch, even the most mindless Weasley could see how I feel about you.”

Hermione gave him her most piercing glare. “And how was I meant to know that? Also, stop making fun of Ron just because it makes you feel better than him.”

Draco glared at her as he always did when she defended Ron, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hermione," he said, and his face wore an aggrieved look that would have offended her if he didn't seem so desperate. “You believe I gave you flowers every single day for several months just… because?”

She blushed and ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her embarrassment. “Well…”

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

Her heart stuttered. “Do what?”

“Look at me… like you don’t know…”

He stepped closer to her. Nerves rushed up and she stepped back, but that only served to pin her between the door and Draco, whose body was so warm she was sure she was burning up on the inside.

He set both hands on either side of her head, before leaning down until they were nose to nose, forcing her to look up.

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Do you always expect such things of me, Granger? Is that all I am to you?”

Expect? Oh, one day she should tell him about all the ways he was unexpected.

But for now, she was too busy pulling him closer and doing something unexpected of her own.

She caught fire, burning from the inside out but she only drew him closer. She trusted him not to leave her in cinders.

She trusted that he saw her as a phoenix, his slender hands leaving dragon-fire in their wake.

When she cut off to propose a theory of inherent elemental magic involving fire, he only told her to shut up and kissed her again, pushing her into her flat, kicking her door shut and herding her towards her bedroom.

She knew he’d listen the next morning, and perhaps even conjure a flower that would convey some related meaning to her words. And she’d smile again and let her warmed skin clear the air around her.

#dramione #dhr #dhr fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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