#I'm still terrified of what will happen next though. We still have one or even two chapters before this arc ends!

[sillyromance]

...He picked me up.

Just a minute ago, it was a fight: loud screams, screeching of metal upon metal, dead people, scents of sweat and blood flooding the ground underneath my boots. Now, it's just me and him; he is so huge, a death battle below is nothing but an amusing bunch of shouting tiniest punching each other for no reason.

Many years ago, he left to serve a kingdom opposing mine. I knew him... Very well. But we have changed. He isn't my old friend any more as well as I'm not an immature student of Royal academy.

I don't know who ordered him to come here. I have no idea how he found me in that mess. But there is no doubt why I'm on his palm now. My fate is clear: he is a giant, and I'm a human. I'm significantly weaker; my sword is a toy which won't do him any harm. As if I intended to... Anyway, I throw the blade away - then look back in his blue eyes gazing at me softly, almost like they did before his deception.

No words are said. Feeling tears swelling at the corners of my eyes, I hold away sobs, but continue to stare right in his face, showing that I don't fear what's coming next. He moves his thumb and rubs my wet cheek as if trying to reassure me. I don't protest. It's... comforting to be remembered. To be reminded that our bond still costs something.

Afterwards, he lifts me closer to his mouth, opens it slightly - and gently puts me inside, shutting his jaws behind my feet, leaving me in compete darkness. His tongue springs beneath me, saliva pools in immediately, soaking my clothes and hair as I lie limp, allowing my devourer to do anything he pleases with me.

I cry silently. I have already accepted my end.

At my surprise, he doesn't savour me for long. He is exceptionally careful with my vulnerable body; perhaps, it's because he tastes blood running from a wound in my shoulder. Merciful, as always... I'm grateful for him taking me from hell down below; at least, there will be no nasty smells and yelling soldiers when I die.

His lips part one last time - I see a glimpse of sky and the sun flickering gloriously at my smeared face. I look at it, peace settling in my chest.

Goodbye...

I tap the muscle, announcing that I'm ready.

And he listens - I feel as gravity gradually shifts beneath me. I slide into the pharynx - he swallows loudly, forever separating me from the outside world. Just a little quivering lump travelling down his powerful throat and disappearing without a trace in his broad chest as if I have never existed.

I slowly sink further, further into dark, soothing warmth. I hear his heart beating beside me, his huge lungs filtrating air as he inhales and exhales - signs of a great life all around my minuscule frame. Something I will be a part of very soon as a ship becomes a part of the ocean which claimed it.

The esophagus contracts, squeezing a pained whimper out of me - I'm pushed in a spacious chamber which greets me with an audible growl.

I don't know if I should feel anything as I tuck myself into the velvet folds. Acids make my skin itch a little, but it doesn't take long for the sensation to turn into pleasant numbness. It's pitch black, hot, humid. And soft. My lids lower against my will; exhaustion and blood loss are determined to knock me out. I know - if I fall asleep, I won't wake up. But it's OK. I'm tired. He is with me. His belly gurgles softly, digestion process ready to rage on; his hand wonders around his abdomen - I feel it touching my back, then it presses harder at me and doesn't ever go away.

Only he will ever know what happened to me. I'm not even visible out there - and though it should be terrifying, I'm happy that no one will come to save me.

He won't leave me alone again...

I smile. Then, allow my eyes finally close and succumb at the mercy of his stomach....

........

- Hey.

I blink, lifting on my elbow. The room is enormous; every item or piece of furniture is at least fifteen times bigger than me. Meanwhile, my bed is just the right size for a tiny. In fact, it is a cute fruit basket full of cushions. I want to pull away a heavy piece of fabric given me instead of a normal blanked - but hiss and give up on this plan immediately, blind and deaf from pain: the cut on my shoulder burns, convulsing, as if it was on fire.

Only once I catch my breath and the fog covering my vision clears a little, I notice familiar forget-me-not eyes twinkling kindly from above.

- Ugh... W-what happened?

The giant smiles.

- Your injury needs good treatment. I saw you on the buttle field and decided to take care of your crazy head before someone else did. It appears I was just in time.

I huff, falling back at the pillow dramatically.

- Very funny. Actually, I thought you was about to make me your food.

He raises a brow, then frowns - it looks like I have offended him.

- One more word - and I'm eating you for real.

I giggle. Next few minutes pass in silence as I watch him preparing a tiny bondage for my wounded arm. His large fingers move so accurately - it seems impossible, considering how big he is. When he finally turns to me, I let him wrap his work around the stinging area. Healing extract bites sensitive flesh aka crocodile, but I don't pay attention to it, smirking softly at my friend's focused expression as he tends me gingerly.

- That's why I love you. - I murmur.

He says nothing. Just smirks back - and gives me a kiss in the forehead.

[sovamurka]

I’ve got my copy of Exlibrium (the second life) vol.7 and oh my goodness, alternative covers in the ‘additional materials’ section make me go insane even though they’re, like, just sketches??? 

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[slut4thebroken]

Doctor’s Orders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | Jonathan Crane wears a weak dose of fear toxin as cologne to his appointments just to put his patients on edge. He’s particularly fond of how you react to it though.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, manipulation, inappropriate use of fear toxin, obvi, very dubious consent, painful sex, fearplay, HEAVY breeding kink, forced breeding, technically housewife kink?, overstimulation, abuse of power?, ionno lol.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | Based on this post. Credit to @lasagnebats for the idea. (Lowkey the plot kind of deviated from the whole fear cologne thing tbh but it’s still very relevant so whatever lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

It’s not mentioned in the actual story but it’s very important for the plot so incase you didn’t read the summary I’m going to say it again lol. He wears a weak dose of fear toxin as his cologne.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked as he walked in and sat down across from you, putting his briefcase at his feet. 

“Better.” You said with a small smile. After only a moment though, your heart started beating harder and faster, and your breathing picked up. You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat before adding, “I- I think.”

“You think?” His voice sent a shiver through your body. You weren’t sure if he was purposely trying to sound threatening, but that’s how you heard it. 

“I…” You couldn’t look at him as your stomach started churning. 

“Please look at me when I'm talking to you.” He sighed, making your gaze snap back to him. “We won’t get anywhere if you continue to overreact to even the simplest questions.” 

“I know— I know. I’m sorry.” You started bouncing your leg incessantly, trying to get rid of some of the nerves you were feeling. “H-how are you?” You asked in return to his original question. 

“Always so polite.” He said with an amused smile. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know… That’s just how I was raised I guess.” You shrugged, not having a better answer for him. 

“It has nothing to do with how terrified you are of upsetting me?” He asked curiously, tilting his head as he looked you up and down. 

“I- I’m not…” You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I was just… taught to respect people with more authority than me.” You said nervously. But it was true. You were always taught to show respect to people above you no matter what, especially if they were older than you. 

“I see. And you feel I have power over you right now?” 

“Yes.” You said quietly. Doesn’t he always?

“Well I don’t want you to fear me. These sessions are pointless if you can’t be completely open and honest with me.” You looked away from him again and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I promise you, nothing you say will upset me. I just want you to be truthful with me… So I can help you to the best of my ability. Do you understand?”

“Yes..” 

“Good.” He paused, seemingly coming up with the next topic of conversation. “You’re still having nightmares?” Your blood ran cold and your heart was almost starting to hurt with how hard it was beating. And all just because of a reminder of it. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“The same ones? Or something different.” 

“The same… But I noticed that they tend to happen more after our sessions than on days where I don’t see you…”

“Yes, that’d make sense. Since we talk about it, it’s only natural your brain would be thinking about it more.” 

“Right. Yeah— You’re right.” You said through a breath. 

“May I see your hand?” He suddenly asked, making you stiffen. 

“What?”

“Your hand.” He held out his own, waiting for you to place yours on top. With a shaky breath, you wiped your hand on your pants again, then placed it on his open palm. He turned it over so your palm was against his, then let out a quiet hum. Before you could ask what that meant, he grabbed your wrist and held your hand up, watching it tremble. He released you and you placed it back in your lap. 

“Why are you so scared?” 

“It… it's probably just because I started thinking about the nightmares.” That was the only explanation that made sense. It’s not like you’d be scared for no reason.

“Really? What were you thinking about?” You froze and looked away from him, trying to recall, but you never actually thought about them, more so just… remembered them. 

“I… I’m not sure.” You said absentmindedly, still trying to figure it out. He sighed quietly and took off his glasses, examining you closely. 

“I like to think that we’ve grown a bit closer since our first session. Wouldn’t you?” All you could do was nod wordlessly. “Almost like we’re more than just doctor and patient… Do you feel that way as well?” 

“I- I think so.” You said quietly. It was hard to tell right now. 

“Which is why I think we can try something that might work better for you.” He stood up and dragged his chair around the table, the loud screeching sound making you flinch. He sat down next to you and you waited nervously for what was next. 

“I think… if your brain is half focused on something else— something pleasurable…” he placed his hand on your thigh and leaned closer to you, “then you might be able to talk freely about what’s troubling you. What do you think?” Your chest was heaving as you stared at him with wide eyes, not able to respond. It felt like your throat was closing up and the speed at which your heart was beating made it feel like his hand was on your chest instead of your thigh, pushing down as hard as he could.       

“Is something wrong?” He asked once he noticed your reaction. 

“I-” You choked out, not able to say anything else. 

“Hm?” He waited, giving you a chance to respond. When you didn’t, he sighed. “As your doctor, if you’re in a state that leaves you unable to think or communicate clearly, it is my responsibility to do what I think is best.” His hand started snaking up your thigh, moving toward the center as it climbed higher. His touch was burning a trail on your skin and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

“Just relax. You want to actually make some progress, don’t you?” You gave him the tiniest nod, unable to do anything else. “Good girl. If you can control your emotions, then we can talk like civilized people, but for now, we’re going to have to try this.” You weren't even sure what exactly was making you feel this way, but you trusted Dr. Crane. He would only do what’s best for you. 

“Take off your pants.” He suddenly ordered, making your body go completely rigid. “I won’t repeat myself.” He warned and you immediately scrambled to take them off. Once they were on the floor, he grabbed your hips and guided you so that you were straddling his thighs, sitting on his lap. “Now, this might be a bit overwhelming for you, so I don’t mind if you need to keep your face buried against my chest or neck. Like this,” he gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into him, “see?” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, bringing your hands up the grab at his suit jacket. It felt like your entire body was trembling now. “Dr. Crane, I- I don’t feel very good.”

“Shh. Your body’s just excited. That’s why your heart is racing and your breathing is shallow.” He explained calmly. You’ve never felt this ‘excited’ before in your life. “Are you going to let me do my job now?” You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck to comfort yourself. “Thank you.” His hands started dragging up and down your thighs, just getting you used to his touch, but all it was doing was making you more anxious. His fingertips felt like claws on your hypersensitive body, but when you looked down, you saw no marks left behind. 

“I know you’re excited but you need to try and calm down.” He said calmly. “Take a deep breath through your nose, then out through your mouth.” You complied, though it wasn’t nearly as slow as he actually wanted. But it was an improvement. “Again. Deeper.” You inhaled again, trying to let the smell and warmth of his body soothe you. But it was like the deep breaths were making everything worse. 

“Dr. Crane, it’s not— I…” He sighed and your stomach churned when you realized he was disappointed in you. “No- I’m sorry. I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying.” You rushed out, taking more deep breaths. 

“That’s a good girl. Nice and slow.” His hands snaked up your thighs to your hips, then up the sides of your body, under your shirt. 

“W-what are you doing?” You choked out, when he dragged his hands up even more until he was touching your breasts. 

“Just feeling your heartbeat.” He explained. You gasped when he gently squeezed your breasts, groping them in a way that made your entire body feel hot. 

“Dr. Crane?” You whimpered and he shushed you. So you clung to his suit jacket and buried your face into the crook of his neck even more, seeking comfort. 

“I’ll need to remove your shirt. It’s obstructing my examination.” You hesitantly agreed and he pulled it over your head, then guided you back into the same position, now only in a pair of panties. “Deep breaths.” He reminded you as he continued. He only groped you for a few seconds before focusing his attention on your nipples. You let out a strangled moan when he gently pinched, rolling them between his fingers. You’ve never been overly sensitive there before, but right now, just the barest touch sent a shock through your body. 

“Your heart is racing.” He commented, flattening his hands on your chest and sliding them down your stomach. He reached your hips and gripped them tightly, then pulled them forward to grind your clothed heat on his bulge. You gasped at the sudden movement and when you felt the obvious sign of his arousal. 

“When’s the last time you’ve been fucked?” His tone remained the same; clinical, unemotional. It took you a moment to register his question, but once you did, a blush took over your face. “You’ve been a patient here for a few months now so I’m assuming at least a few months ago?” All the work you did to calm your breathing was gone in an instant. Words couldn’t form in your mouth, so you just nodded against his chest. “How long before that?” 

“I… I don’t remember.” You choked out, finally able to speak. 

“Poor thing. It’s been that long since you’ve been filled?” He cooed with faux sympathy. 

“Dr. Crane.” You sobbed, fisting his suit even tighter to ground yourself. He was still guiding your hips and you started to feel arousal pooling in your stomach. 

“Is that why you’re not making any progress? Your cunt’s been craving a cock so bad, you can’t even think?” You whined and started moving your hips on your own now, desperate for more. “Yeah I think that is the reason. You’re in your prime child bearing years, it’s only natural you’d be longing to breed.” You let out a strangled moan, feeling both humiliated and aroused by his words. “A few more sessions like this and you might actually be able to use that pretty little head of yours again.” 

“Please,” You whined, tears of desperation brimming in your eyes. Your heart was still pounding and your breathing was still shallow, but it started feeling different. Before, you weren’t sure what the cause was, but now you know it’s arousal. At least it mostly is. He suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head so your face was only inches from his. As his eyes trailed all over your face, taking you in, he hummed in thought, still staring at you with his piercing gaze. 

“Misattribution of arousal truly is a fascinating subject.” He smiled. You had no idea what that meant. “Take off your underwear.” He suddenly ordered, making your eyes widen. When he stared at you, giving you a warning gaze, you scrambled off his lap to remove them. He started unbuckling his belt, then opening his pants. When he took out his cock, your breath caught in your throat. Where is that supposed to fit?

“Sit.” You tentatively got on his lap again. He sat back in the metal chair a little, dragging his eyes down your body. “Put it in.” You swallowed and looked between his face and his length, feeling your heart start pounding even harder. “Now.” Biting your trembling lip, you grabbed his cock and put it at the right angle, then slowly and apprehensively lowered yourself onto it. You whimpered when he first breached your opening, immediately feeling the burn of the stretch. 

“You won’t like it if I have to take over so I suggest you do better than this.” He warned and you whined in response, but forced yourself down lower. 

“It hurts, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered, hoping for sympathy from the cold, apathetic doctor. 

“Enough.” He growled, grabbing your hips and lifting you off of him. He stood and spun you around to push your torso onto the cold metal table with a hand on the back of your neck. Holding you down firmly, he pushed his cock back in, this time going all the way. You cried out and scrambled for purchase on the table as he immediately started thrusting. 

“W-wait, Dr. Crane..” You choked out, the burning stretch bringing tears to your eyes. Not bothering with replying, he removed the hand from your neck and you heard clothes rustling, then he was putting his tie between your lips and wrapping it around your head to secure it. Almost instantly those feelings flared up again. Your chest heaved as you panted, trying to ignore how much it was hurting from your heart beating so fast and hard. 

He put his hand on your head this time, forcing your cheek onto the cold metal as he held you down and started moving faster. You sobbed out a moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on calming down but everything was just so much. 

“Is this what you needed? Have you been playing the role of the dumb little patient this whole time just to get me to fuck you?” You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t move it under his hand. “I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Is it really that good?” The way he was mocking you had you squeezing your thighs together, but he couldn’t have that. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on the table, keeping you from getting any real stimulation on your clit besides his balls smacking against it with every thrust. 

“Please!” You cried, the word being muffled by the tie. 

“I know. You’re probably so eager to come right now, aren’t you?” You did your best to nod, despite him holding you down. “Is the thought of finally getting bred making you all needy?” He asked condescendingly and you let out a strangled whimper. “Should I let you come on my cock?” 

“Yes!” You yelled, trying to make it sound coherent through the gag. He released your head and grabbed your shoulders, starting a brutal pace that made you almost scream from the intensity. The table was screeching against the floor with each thrust and you could start to hear his quiet grunts as he neared his orgasm.

“Go ahead then. Show me how needy this pathetic little cunt is for my cock.” He said and, despite the degrading words, you almost cried in relief. You’ve only made yourself come maybe a handful of times since being admitted to Arkham, so it did not take much longer for you to get there. You all but screamed around the gag when it hit you, making your legs turn to jelly. His thrusts didn’t even waiver, but you could hear groans coming from him. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through you, so intense that it bordered on painful. 

When it was finally done, you sagged into the table, but your body immediately went stiff when the overstimulation kicked in. You cried out and squirmed, trying to escape it, so he grabbed your hair and yanked you up, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. 

“I know.” He pulled your head back until it was resting on his shoulder, then turned it so your face was up against his neck. “Just breathe through it.” But you couldn’t. Everything was just too much. You sobbed loudly and buried your face in the crook of his neck as he fucked you, moving both hands down to grab your hips. 

“Just be a good girl and take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked and bred like a bitch in heat.” You let out a strangled sob at the degrading words. “No… It’s what you needed.” He growled, making you whimper. “Don’t worry, we’re going to keep doing this until I finally fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be less cock hungry. But we’ll probably have to keep this up while you’re pregnant because of all the hormones.” After your orgasm, everything your body was going through started to feel like it was from fear again, rather than arousal. His words were making you spiral into overthinking. You can’t have a baby yet— you’re too young. And also there’s the fact that you’re in an asylum… 

“And I think… I might make you my little lab rat. You respond so well to such a small dose, I’m eager to see how you’ll react to something more potent.” Now you were truly confused, but you were also too fucked out and overstimulated to try and understand. “God— that’ll be a fucking sight.” He choked out, rutting into you more frantically. Tears started streaming down your cheeks as he kept fucking you, getting more painful with every thrust. But based on the way his sounds kept getting louder, you knew it’d be over any second now.  

You cried out when he roughly snapped his hips into you and stayed there, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close and letting out a low groan. His hips bucked forward with every spurt of come that left his cock, despite the fact that he was already completely inside, pressed up against your cervix uncomfortably. Even after his orgasm ended, he remained buried inside you, keeping you plugged up for now.  

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now you’re nice and full.” He spoke softly, turning his head to kiss your neck as his hand rubbed over your lower stomach. “Mm… I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round— your tits swollen with milk. You’re going to look so beautiful.” Even though everything calmed down, you still felt anxious and scared. “And I’m sure once that kid is out, you’ll go back to being a brainless little bitch in heat so I’ll have to fuck another one into you.” You let out a weak sound, unable to do anything else. Your whole body was shaking. With how you were currently feeling, his words sounded like a threat. 

“Still can’t use that pretty head?” He asked curiously. You didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like he expected you to. “You must need more, then.” You whined at the thought. He gently pushed your torso back onto the table and you hissed in pain when he dragged his cock out. When his come trickled out, he cursed under his breath. Using his thumbs, he spread your puffy, abused folds, giving him a better view of your gaping hole. You flinched when he used his fingers to scoop up his come and push it back in. “Lucky for you, I cleared the rest of my schedule today just for this session, so I can keep giving you load after load until you drain my balls completely. Maybe then you’ll actually be able to fucking think.” 

Taglist (join here)

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[kudossi]

Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a—" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

[raphael-angele]

Nico Protection Squad

WARNING: Use of hateful slur

Nico, coming home from school with Percy: Hey, Reyna. Hey, Jason.

Reyna: Hey, Nico.

Jason: Hey, Buddy

Percy: Hey, guys. Uh, Nico, why don't you go to your room and rest. We need to talk.

Nico: Mkay. *leaves*

Percy: Make sure to do your homework, alright?

Nici: Uh huh!

Reyna: What happened?

Jason: Is he okay?

Percy: ...we need to call the team

---Later---

At one of their rooms:

Percy: Good day, everyone. I know it's late and it's unusual for me to call a meeting at this time but this is an emergency

Annabeth: But first, an attendance check. Annabeth? Here. Bianca?

Hazel: Oh, she comes back next week

Annabeth: Ok. Jason? Here. Thalia? Here. Percy? Here. Hazel? Here. Piper? Here. Reyna? Here. Will? Here. Grover? Here. Leo? Here. Frank? Here. And Mr. D? Present! Ok, that should be everyone. Take it away Percy

Percy, clearing his throat: Okay, I need you guys to swear that you will not go berserk right after this and you will remain seated until we have a plan.

Everyone:

Percy: So, I was picking up Nico from class. On the drive back, he...

Hazel: He what?

Percy: He...asked me what a faggot was.

Everyone:

Thalia: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

Will: Is he okay?!

Hazel: Where did he even learn that from?!

Jason: Did someone call him that?!?!?

Reyna: WHO THE HELL WOULD CALL HIM THAT?!?!?

Leo: Every single douchebag in school, of course!

Piper: You think they'd learn their lesson after the first time

Percy: *gavels* Order! Order!

Grover: I think we're all missing the point here. How's Nico doing?

Percy: He's fine. I asked him where he knew the word from. He said someone was calling him that, a couple of students a year above him apparently.

Frank: What happened then?

Percy: I asked him if he knew their names. He didn't and he asked me again what it meant.

Will: What did you say?

Percy: I didn't answer. There was a McDonalds right there and I went for it. He took the bait and has been quiet for the whole car ride.

Grover: So...what do we do?

Leo: OH! *raises his hand* WE'LL SET THEIR LOCKERS ON FIRE!

Thalia: I think what Grover meant was what do we do for now? We don't know these guys, and we don't know how much it's affecting Nico.

Reyna: Thalia's right. We need to have a plan to protect Nico and catch these bastards.

Annabeth: Percy and I already thought about it.

Percy: Introducing the Pick up/Drop off Nico Chart. We each get a schedule of when to pick him up, and when to drop him off

Annabeth: And to make sure we catch these guys, we think it would be best to see Nico off to his classrooms or at least the building.

Thalia, raising her hand: Uhm-

Percy: Don't worry. We adjusted it for times you guys are away. Which is why we used magnets to represent us. See? I'm the water droplet, Annabeth's the owl, Grover's the goat, Leo's the fire, you're the tree, Hazel's the-

Annabeth: They get it, Percy. All in favor of the chart say aye

Everyone, raises their hand: Aye!

Leo: So how are we gonna get back at these guys?

Jason: We could tell them off to the dean

Percy: You'd suggest that, wouldn't you, Mr. Goody Two Shoes?

Piper: I can charmspeak them to do embarassing stuff

Percy: Eh, we need something more

Annabeth: I'm writing that one down, it sounds funny

Mr D.: I am the God of Insanity. I can just drive them crazy.

Annabeth: Mr. D, no.

Percy: Not a bad idea though. I'm writing it down.

Will: Wait. I think I figured out another problem

Percy: What is it, Will?

Will: Who tells Bianca?

Everyone:

Percy: ...all in favor of keeping this a secret from Bianca, say aye?

Everyone, terrified: Aye!

Will: Whu- Percy, no. Remember that time you didn't tell her about how you accidentally destoryed Nico's mythomagic cards and made him sad for nearly a month?

Percy: *shivers* I still get nightmares from that.

Annabeth: Fine. Who tells her?

Everyone: *looks at Reyna and Thalia*

Reyna: No

Thalia: Absolutely not.

Mr. D: Hang on. If Bianca is so terrifying, why not just give the guys to her?

Percy: Mr. D, although that's a tempting plan, there is no telling what Bianca will do to those guys if we let her get near them.

Mr. D: She can't be THAT scary.

Everyone: Yes, she can.

Percy: With what she did to me? She might as well have sent me to Tartarus!

Frank: Gods, what did she do to him?

Annabeth: She took away all the blue in our apartment and replaced them with orange.

Percy: It took a month before she put them back! There was no blue food for a month!

[vbecker10]

The Night Nurse (Part 5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are the newly appointed night nurse for SHIELD and you couldn't be less excited about it. You have been given the side task of finding out who is stealing supplies from the infirmary. Soon after you start, you learn Loki is the one who has been slipping in at night to patch up his wounds and you confront him about why he can't heal as quickly as Thor. He reveals a dangerous secret he is keeping from the team and you worry increasingly for his safety as the two of you become closer over the next few weeks.

Warning: You asked for angst so I shall give you angst lol but also... some mentions of blood, minor injuries needing stitches, arguing between you and Loki, you being super awkward and Loki being oblivious, some swearing, a pretty major injury towards the end but no one dies... a romantic ending was requested so of course there will be fluff and cuteness and whatnot

A/N: For those of you who skipped Part 4 cause it was mostly just smutty, the first section in italics is end of Part 4 so you didn't miss any plot. If you read Part 4, you can start at the regular font section so you don't reread stuff you already read.

Also, I'm sorry this one is kind of short but when you see where I left it, you'll know why... it's cause I'm horrible lol. Hope you all like this! 💚💚

Loki's lip pause and he pulls away in confusion, his eyes trying to connect with yours as your fingers trace the tape on his back absent-mindedly.

"Can you die even though you're a god?" you ask him, looking at the bandage on his cheek as he shifts to be directly above you.

"Yes," he answers quietly.

You nod and he tilts your chin so you are looking him in the eyes.

"What happened, love?" he asks. "Where did your beautiful mind just go?"

You are quiet for a moment and Loki lets you search for the words on your own instead of slipping into your thoughts. "I'm afraid," you tell him in a whisper.

"Of what?" he asks, concern spreading through him as your clothes and his reappear on your bodies in a green flicker.

"Of losing you," you admit as he sits up. "I can feel myself falling for you more each day and the more deeply I care for you, the more terrified I am that something will happen to you. We still don't know why your magic is failing or how to fix it."

"Y/N, I promise you will not lose me, I have only just found you and I do not intend for this to end. We will find a way to mend my magic and I will heal as I used to," he says as he pulls you into a hug. He presses a kiss to your lips in an effort to try and reassure you.

You put your arms around him tightly but don't feel any comfort in his words. "You can't promise me that," you say as you rest your cheek against his chest. "You're going to keep training with Thor and keep going on missions and... and you're going to keep getting hurt." You touch his bandaged cheek lightly as you lean away from him. "Your magic is healing you slower and less completely each time you are injured. The last stitches I gave you even left a small scar."

"Y/N..." he says with a worried expression.

"I've seen horrific injuries on this job, bullet wounds, stabbings, burns... I've lost people I've tried desperately to save for hours..." you shake your head. "I can only continue to work here because I've learned to distance myself from my patients. I'm not friends with any of the SHIELD agents or the Avengers on purpose, Loki," you tell him.

"I don't know if I can wait here terrified that you're going to come back to me hurt... or that you won't come back," you feel the same tightness in your chest that you did when you waited for him to arrive tonight.

He kisses your forehead softly and you look up at him, tears threatening to fall. "I will speak to Thor tomorrow," he assures you. "I will tell him the truth about my magic failing and my healing abilities. I have no doubt he will allow me to take time away from the team so I can understand what is wrong with my magic."

"You promise?" you ask, desperate for him to finally be out of harms way while he searches for an answer.

"I promise," he nods and kisses your lips softly. "I cannot bear being the cause of your worries. I will do this for you because I know you need me to."

You hug him tighter and rest your head on his chest. "Thank you, Loki," you mumble against him, feeling your fears subside.

He runs his fingers through your hair and adds, "There is one thing you could do to show me how thankful you are."

You sit up, lifting your head to look at him and he chuckles, "Darling, you have such a vivid imagination." Your cheeks heat as you blush, knowing Loki read the thought that instantly appeared in your mind. You hide your face against his chest again.

"As much as I love your suggestion," he says and you look up at him slowly, waiting for him to continue. "I had a different idea in mind. Go on a date with me." His smirk fades into a soft smile and his fingers run down your cheek, "Please. I wish to see you outside of this horrid infirmary."

Loki doesn't give you a moment to answer before he says, "I know you have become accustomed to sleeping during the day and I am more than willing to stay awake all night to be with you. I have found several restaurants in the area that are open quite late and some of the museums have night hours as well. Unless you would prefer to see a movie or walk through one of the parks, the gardens are well lit this time of year."

You can't help but giggle at how much he knows about places to visit at night, "This doesn't seem like a spur of the moment ask. How long have you been planning this?"

"To ask you out on a date?" he asks to clarify.

"Yeah," you nod, knowing him talking to his brother was not originally part of his plan.

"About a week," he admits.

"A week? What took you so long?" you wonder.

He shrugs, "I could see in your thoughts that your feelings for me were growing as mine have been for you but... I wanted to wait until you were comfortable enough with how you felt to tell me yourself. I know you hate that I can read your mind without your knowledge so I assumed if I asked you out based solely on your hidden thoughts, you would have felt like your privacy was being invaded."

"That's probably true, actually," you agree with him then smile. "In that case, thank you for waiting. That was really sweet."

"I have my moments," he laughs.

"So I guess since you've been in my mind a bunch, you know I really only like you a little bit right?" you joke nervously, unsure if Loki knows the depth of your feelings for him.

He shakes his head, "Oh, I think you like me more than a little bit."

"Nope, just a teeny tiny bit," you laugh but you can see in his eyes he knows the truth.

"You love me," he smiles, his arm holding you closer to his body. Your heart beats faster when you hear those words out loud. "Deny me all you want, princess, but I don't need read your mind to know what is in your heart."

You smile and shrug, trying to push down the little voice inside of you that agrees with Loki. You have fallen so hard for him so much quicker than you imagined possible. "I'm not sure what you are talking about," you force out your response but there is no fooling the prince.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. "Tell me you love me," his tone is much less playful than it had been as his lips inch closer to yours.

Before you can stop yourself you say, "I will tell you that tomorrow... after our first date."

He smirks, "I will accept those terms, beautiful."

"Good," you giggle. "But now you need to go," you pull yourself free from him and get up, afraid if he stays one minute longer you will tell him what he wants to hear. "I have a ton of work to do and you have to sleep, it's so late."

Loki gets up from the exam table and follows you to the door of the infirmary. He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest, hooking his finger under your chin so you are looking up at him. "I will see you tomorrow for our date," he leans down and kisses your lips much too quickly and when he pulls away he smirks. He lets you go and vanishes without another word.

The sound of your phone ringing pulls you from your sleep and you reach for it, trying not to open your eyes. "Yea?" you answer the call annoyed and still mostly sleep.

"Y/N?" the voice asks, "It's Annmarie."

"Annmarie, sorry," you sit up, recognizing the voice of your coworker immediately. "I was sleeping," you check the clock on your nightstand.

"I know you've only been off shift for a few hours and your not scheduled tonight," your stomach knots knowing this is anything but a social call. "But there's an emergency at the Tower. Dr. Palmer needs everyone to come in," she explains and you throw off your sheets, getting out of bed quickly. You can hear the faint sound of alarms blaring in the background.

Holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder, you grab a clean pair of scrubs, fully awake now. "What happened?" you ask trying to understand what type of emergency would have them calling in all of the medical staff. It wasn't a drill, that much you were sure of.

"We are still getting reports in. All I know for sure is that there was a containment breach in one of the labs," she says. "I don't know what the chemical is yet, but the fail safes to lock down the lab weren't triggered in time. The gas spread too quickly."

You slip on your sneakers and grab your keys, "I'm leaving now."

"Okay, hopefully by the time you get here, Loki will have it fully contained," she says. "We're just starting to get the first wave of victims from the lab down here."

You open your front door and your stomach drops when she says his name. "Loki," you repeat his name as last night flashes through your mind.

"What?" Annemarie asks, the sound of people talking in the background becoming louder. "Did you ask something about Loki?"

You don't answer her, afraid of what she will tell you. You close the door and hear her yell to someone but you aren't listening as you run down the steps of your apartment building. "There's no word-," she says and you stop in the middle of the staircase, her sentence cut off when someone asks her a question.

"What?" you ask, your heart racing.

"There's no word yet on if he contained the toxin," she says. "They're evacuating all three lab floors now."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[fen-luciel]

The witches' covenant

Part.1 part.2

Here's the smut story I promised. It was supposed to be short, but of course, I dragged it out. I'm not yet sure if it will be divided into two or three parts, as the original draft is becoming darker than initially intended.

I hope you enjoy it.

WARNINGS!

Smut/Manipulation/coven/dubious consent

Witch reader X Sith Qimir

There are things you take for granted in life.

Breathing is a rhythmic movement of the body, automatic but fundamental. Maybe no one ever explained to you how or why, but you know it works that way. It's natural. Maybe you've never asked yourself because you take it for granted.

Growing up in a coven of witches led to asking a lot of questions to which you often didn't get an answer, at least not a sensible one. I still remember the first times I asked my mother about the thread, actually, I don't remember her answer, but I do remember being confused. I think she wanted me to find my own logic, and if needed, she would correct me. But I was ashamed, afraid of saying something stupid, and I felt embarrassed when the older members gave me that amused courteous smile after I had said something silly. I know they didn't mean to judge me, but the knot in my stomach that formed every single time was suffocating. So, I developed a bad habit.

I stopped asking. I would nod, at most I would ask to have the explanation repeated, but I never took the first step. "Do you understand?" I would nod. "Do you have any questions?" I would deny.

Yes, I had questions. I had a lot of them, many of which kept me up at night, like doubts about the thread, about our coven, about our planet, about what was outside the galaxy... but I didn't ask.

I tried to give myself answers. As the years went by, I realized that I wasn't the only one without answers. It was clear that many, like me, blindly followed my mother's will as the head of the coven.

Do you have a doubt? Talk to Aniseya.

Don't know what to do? Aniseya.

Are you suffering? Talk to Mother Aniseya.

Everyone sought answers from my mother, and I could understand why, she was... ethereal.

Always calm, with a warm smile, a gentle hand... she made you feel safe.

When I was younger, one of the things that terrified me the most was the fear that something bad would come to harm us one day. I was too young to give a real shape to the evil, it was more an unpleasant sensation that I imagined, and my mother could perceive it without me saying anything.

So, sometimes, in the evening, when everyone else was asleep, we would go out into the woods alone, with a small light to guide us, and we would reach the golden tree.

I loved that place even though it was another one of those things I couldn't explain since it seemed to be the only tree of its kind. I would rest my head on my mother's lap, and as she gently stroked my hair, she would tell me a lot of different stories, fairy tales, adventures, legends. She seemed to know an infinite number of them. I would have liked to ask her where she had heard them, but even in that case, I didn't ask. And so, every time, the next morning, I would wake up in my room, comfortably lying under the covers, the nightmares completely forgotten... at least for a while.

Growing up, many of those childhood fears disappeared, or I managed to answer them on my own thanks to years of study. However, other doubts occupied my mind.

For example, why were we so isolated from the rest of the world?

Why could we use the power of the thread?

Where did our traditions come from?

How ancient were they?

And how were other witches born?

I had seen pregnant women in the village, I had heard the cries of childbirth, the first cries of the babies, the birth of new life in the world was fascinating even though I had never seen the act in person, being too young or unable to help. But it was what happened before that confused me.

Every five years, a meeting was held, after which ten women would leave the walls of the fortress, and after a few months, they would return expecting.

I didn't know what happened, what they did. I believed there was some sort of ritual I wasn't yet admitted to. I imagined that one day it would happen to me too. As the daughter of the matriarch, I had more responsibilities than the others, I would take my mother's place one day. I imagined I was obliged to participate in any ritual presented to me in the coming years. As I was the future of the coven, one day I would have to create the new generation.

When I was about twelve years old, I realized something was off in my mother's stories and finally decided to ask her a question.

"What is a man?"

The embarrassment was still there, under my skin, but she smiled at me gently. Her answer was cryptic as always, but it made me feel better to hear it. "Everything in the galaxy has its opposite. Light and dark, peace and chaos, ice and fire. Woman and man. And between these opposites, many shades that draw closer until they merge. We are opposites and the same thing at the same time"

I nodded, but as usual, more because I felt stupid asking further.

"So... are men evil?" I tried one last time.

She shook her head.

"Do you think you are pure? Gender is only a physical limit, not a mental one. Don't combine the two, it would be a grave mistake" I was ashamed of that question, but I felt better. I felt like I understood.

Years passed, I began to mature, to train more vigorously, to study even more. I was increasingly involved in meetings, though some were still off-limits to me. And the more I became aware of the thread, the more... something called to me.

At first, it was like an unwanted gaze. I would wake up in the middle of the night believing there was someone with me, but upon waking, the room was intact. I even took extra precautions, but none of the alarms went off. I thought I was just stressed.

But the sensation worsened. I felt chills on my skin when I was in the waking world ready to fall asleep, a light touch that grazed my bare skin. At first, I thought it was the wind. Then, the fabric sliding over me at night. Maybe a chill or pajamas tickling me unintentionally, but that wasn't possible.

It seemed like a physical touch, hands, perhaps a feather, I don't know. But it warmed my skin. I would wake up in the middle of the night, uncomfortable, with a damp sensation between my legs that I had never experienced before. Sometimes, I mistook it for other types of discharge only to check and realize it wasn't what I imagined. I blushed, seeing how wet my underwear had become, leaving a sticky, damp spot in the center, the same liquid trickling between my legs or down the cheeks of my butt.

One evening, whether by luck or misfortune, as I headed to the laundry to leave my panties, I ran into Mother Koril.

"What are you doing awake at this hour? And wandering the corridors, Moreover." her tone always harsh and imperious.

It took an enormous amount of courage to explain to her what was happening, but despite my worst fears, she simply nodded. "It's normal for a girl your age. You shouldn't resist it" She ordered me to hurry and go back to bed, then disappeared down the corridor.

But I didn't understand. Resist it? Resist what? It was just another doubt I couldn't answer.

But now the seed of doubt had been planted. I wanted to understand what she was talking about, to see if I could fix this problem that kept recurring every night.

So, one evening I lay down in bed, making sure I was securely locked in, and against all logical reason, I decided to wear only a light tank top, leaving my lower half uncovered.

The only protection was the bedcovers, but I didn't think it would be a problem.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

To this day, I didn’t know exactly what happened that first night. I have scattered and confused memories. I was aware of my body lying on the mattress, but it was completely dark around me, and I couldn't tell if it was because I had my eyes closed or if it was so dark that I couldn't see a hand in front of my face.

All I knew is that the tingling sensation returned, that shiver that ran through my body from my forehead slowly downwards, my nipples hardening as if a gust of cold air made me shiver and even lower on my stomach, finally settling between my legs.

It was a light touch, a slow, long movement that grazed my center externally. I could feel the wetness beginning to seep from my core. Normally, that would have been the moment when I forced myself to wake up, but I repeated Mother Koril's words in my head "let yourself go"

And so I did.

Instinctively, I spread my legs wider, bending my knees, that touch lingering on the bud between my legs that I had never dared to touch in my life, starting to tease me inexorably in a slow, circular motion. I could hear myself panting, my hips moving erratically. It didn't matter if I was trying to escape or seek out that sensation, that touch didn't stop. I didn't understand what was happening, but I could concentrated my internal muscle in one of those natural movements like when I breathed, I did it automatically.

My body knew what I needed, even if I hadn't yet processed it mentally.

It was only a moment later when that caress moved further down where a pool of juices wet my behind that I became clear-headed again.

A pressure pushing into my wet center made me react suddenly, frightened. I woke up, sitting up in bed in one swift motion, as if walking from a nightmare. Moving the covers, I immediately saw the stain spreading and soaking through the sheets' fabric.

I was so ashamed of it that I decided not to tell anyone, tried to dab the stain hoping that it would not be visible the next day, had to dry between my legs with numerous tissues and hissed when I indirectly brushed my still sensitive clit.

I went to sleep with a sense of dissatisfaction that I did not understand.

For two days I pretended that nothing was happening, when I lay down and started to feel that tingling sensation I immediately opened my eyes again, unfortunately in this way the hours of sleep were broken and I rested with more difficulty being slow in everything I did.

On the third day, my mother realised my discomfort and after a particularly bad training session, she took me aside.

"Koril informed me of your conversation the other night" she began.

I could do nothing but tighten my lips in discomfort.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is changing as you grow. This is the connection to the thread that shows you the way. You don't have to resist it"

I replied with only a nod of my head.

I didn't understand what she was talking about, what I was resisting but I didn't know who to ask more of, I didn't want to look stupid.

But I trusted my mother.

So that night I tried again.

One thing I realised was that that touch had become more insistent on those evenings that I had run away from it. As if it was chasing me before I woke up, I closed my eyes and could already feel it between my legs.

Again, one new evening I tried against all my primal instincts to let go. One thing I realised was that the sensation I felt on my skin was actually an imitation of a hand's touch, the mornings I showered before joining the others had become a time of personal exploration where I tried to imitate that touch and soon realised that I could actually register that as the caress of a hand on my body. But I did not have the courage to do more.

Instead that evening as I concentrated on breathing in the darkness of my consciousness those phantom fingers returned insistently, they did not lose a second in teasing me by pressing directly on my clit, it was gentle yes, but firm. My legs instinctively spread wide, my hips in the air hungry for touch as that circular motion returned to tease my flesh.

I could feel a steady trickle of juices sliding from me and wetting the mattress as I trembled and tensed.

I gasped open-mouthed, little noises escaped my mouth, I wanted more even though I didn't understand what exactly I was chasing, and then again, that pressure where I needed it most.

There was no doubt when that itch opened my folds pushing deep between my legs, it was like feeling long, thick fingers digging directly into my womb, I panicked as I tried to wake up, but something was blinding me. Someone was tied to me in the wire holding me still and open to whatever was being done to me.

I was stuck with my legs open as that force pressed my inner walls, stretching and teasing me in a slow movement.

I could only continue to whimper as those fingers opened me inexorably.

Everything slippery, the sound of juices coming out noisily from the pressure as yet another caress returned to tease my bud, my swollen, wet flesh trembling from the stimulation, a hint of tears forming at the corners of my eyes, I wanted to look at what or who was doing this to me but it was all dark, I could only feel the mattress beneath me, my arms locked along my sides, my only outlet was in clutching the blankets in my fist.

I felt my body tense up in a vice bordering on painful before that touch continued to force its way into my folds even more deeper than before, I felt like I was going crazy not fully understanding how many fingers were in me, I moaned out loud for the first time as the soft walls stretched to make room, I held my legs open in a desperate search for something more almost hoping it might come in, harder, wetter, a ringing in my ears made everything muffled blocking out the rest of my senses.

And finally almost in a cruel gesture the touch on my clit became faster joining the thrusts in my core, a fire burning my skin, vibrating with a pleasure I had never felt before, a tide flooding my senses rhythmically until I reached the limit I cried out with no voice in my body, the walls contracted around those fingers almost as if they wanted to suck them inside me and these, covered by my fluids, slid easily in and out of me without leaving me a moment to breathe, my clitoris pinched hard one last time making more tears fall from my eyes, my hips galloping the air as I reached the first orgasm of my life.

Maybe I was crazy, but I swore I heard a low voice whispering "Good girl".

When I opened my eyes it was morning, it was like waking up from a nightmare in reality, I had dry skin around my eyes from spilled tears and between my legs a dirty, wet feeling, underneath me the sheet still damp in a stain under my bottom.

I didn't know what was happening, none of it made sense, why was this only happening to me now? And who was on the other end of the line?

By now I was sure of it, someone was luring me during the night hours by drawing my consciousness through the link, but I was still not good enough to be in control of what was going on around me, I was becoming vulnerable in the hands of someone I didn't know, or at least it felt like I didn't know.

Over the next few days I concentrated on searching for that signature in the coven, I found it hard to believe that anyone would dare use the power of the thread on me, I was the matriarch's daughter, I was respected, we were united and yet no matter how hard I searched nothing seemed to resemble what I had felt that night, not to mention that bond itself was silent.

On the one hand I was glad that it was no longer coming to disturb my sleep, but on the other hand... I blushed at the idea of feeling those shivers again, I had even (not without a huge dose of embarrassment) tried to do it on my own, but clearly I was doing something wrong, I was too hard, too hasty and in the end I was left with a sense of incompleteness that irritated me all day long.

I felt used, it seemed like whoever had sought me out had taken what he wanted and then left, it had been so persistent in the beginning and now? I needed... more.

And I knew I wouldn't fight it.

I wasn't a bad student, my mothers were proud of the results I brought I was consistent and diligent, but I improved even more after that experience, I studied harder, more intensely... I would never explain to either of them why I had changed.

And what was I supposed to tell them anyway?

Someone touches me between my legs at night and I realised I want more...? No it was better to avoid.

The subject of private parts was not taboo in the coven, in fact there were specific rituals regarding the sensuality of the body, I didn't know much about them since I wasn't admitted to those yet, but the body is a temple of physical and mental wellbeing and as such should be cared for.

I was simply too embarrassed to ask for more, as usual, I knew more about the medical side of it, but I had never wanted more, I hadn't even thought about it and there weren't really any girls my age to vent to.

All I knew was that by now I had made up my mind.

I would be the one pulling the strings this time and I hoped that whoever was on the other end would respond.

[sharararararara]

Never letting you go- Finnick Odair

WARNING: NSFW, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Dark Finnick, NON-CON, DUB-CON, Finnick being obsessive, mentions of trauma, drugging food.

Tell me if I missed anything.

Pairing: Dark Finnick Odair × Fem Reader

Summary: You and Finnick having a picnic on the beach when suddenly something happens that you will never forget.

Author's Note: I did not post for a long time so I am not really sure if I improved in writing or it became worse.

Everything ready Fin? You questioned Finnick who was packing food for the picnic later. Finnick placed the last container of food in the basket before turning to you, Yeah everything is ready, Finnick said to you before smiling and giving you a kiss on the cheek. Let's go, said Finnick as he grabbed the basket and the mat.

You blushed, touching the cheek that Finnick just kissed, You and Finnick had been married for 11 months already, You loved Finnick with all your heart, but sometimes he can be a little bit...possessive.

You did not blame him though, even after what happened in the games, when you almost died in front of him, that was when he saved you, promising that he would protect you and never let you go.

He kept that promise, just not in the way you imagined. He took the protecting and never letting you go part too seriously that it almost killed someone in the process.

But either way, you still loved Finnick, And you will never leave him for another man.

You followed Finnick, he was leading you to the beach, which you loved since it was the place where Finnick confessed his love for you, it was also the same place where he proposed to you.

Suddenly Finnick stopped walking

Love, I need to ask you something, said Finnick, who was now staring at the ground.

You looked at him confused, What happened? You asked, thinking why he started to act weird out of a sudden.

We've been married for almost a year, Finnick starts, looking at you like you knew what he was gonna ask next.

Ok? Why are you even asking me this? You asked, getting more and more confused by the second. Finnick hesitated, thinking about whether he should tell you or not.

I think we should have a child, not only one but 3 or maybe 5, Said Finnick, as he started rambling more about you being the perfect wife and mother to your kids, how he will take care of all of you.

I'm sorry Finnick but...I am not ready yet.

You said, cursing yourself for saying that to him, you knew how much Finnick wanted children, you were just not ready for kids yet.

Your mother died from giving birth to your little sister, you were there beside her, holding her hand, begging for her not to die, your hands full of blood.

Her and your baby sister's death left you traumatized, you were terrified to have children, thinking the same thing would happen to you and your child.

The silence between you and Finnick was unbearable, you hated when this type of thing happened.

Finnick's smile falls, I- um ok, that's fine, said Finnick as he started to walk to the beach again. You followed behind him, looking at him with sadness and regret.

You and Finnick continued to walk to the beach, the silence made you feel uncomfortable, You felt like you ruined everything.

You felt selfish, he gave everything to you, without you even asking him. And the only thing that Finnick asked was to have a child with you, and you said no.

Finally, after what seemed like a million years, due to what happened earlier between you and Finnick, you reached the beach.

Finnick walked over to the place where he proposed to you, he laid the mat on the sand. The view was beautiful, the sun was setting, the sound of the gentle breeze, it felt relaxing.

You smiled, memories feeling your head, every time you and Finnick had a picnic he always went to the spot where he proposed, which was under a palm tree.

You grabbed the basket wanting to help Finnick set up the picnic. No need to do that darling, said Finnick as he took the basket from you, you looked at him confused, oh ok, you said softly, sitting down on the mat.

Finnick was bringing out the food one by one, holding it carefully making sure it wouldn't spill, when he was almost done, he turned to you, Hey darling, why won't you pick up some seashells? We can make bracelets for each other, said Finnick as he smiled at you, That's a good idea! you replied, standing up as you started to look for seashells that would be perfect for the bracelets.

You picked a few seashells, some were pink, some were orange, and some were brown.

After a few minutes Finnick called you, telling you to come back since he was done setting up the food.

You ran up to him, your hands filled with different shells. You sat down beside him and laid the shells on the mat showing it to him one by one. Those are perfect, said Finnick, kissing your cheek as he smiled at you.

You and Finick started to eat, it was relaxing. The sound of the leaves of the palm tree swaying, your hair waving in the air.

While you were eating your food, you couldn't help but notice Finnick staring at you, like a hungry predator hunting his prey. In this case, you were the prey, being watched by Finnick's hungry eyes, his eyes full of lust.

Is there something wrong Fin? You asked, getting confused on why he is looking at you like that.

Finnick smirked, Just waiting, he said softly. Waiting for what? You asked, confusion written all over your face.

For you to sleep, he said softly, What do you mean by that? You asked, getting more and more confused. Finnick answer me-

You were caught off by the feeling of sleepiness, your eyes slowly starting to close.

Finnick what did you do? You whispered, sleepiness taking over you.

Finnick catches you before you fall, shhh it's okay, just let me take care of you, said Finnick as darkness consumes you.

Fuck you feel so good...

You opened your eyes to see Finnick on top of you, your legs on his shoulders, fucking you like an animal.

I'm gonna breed your tight pussy, you like that huh? Your tummy swelling with my child...

He says panting, fucking you even faster.

The sound of skin slapping and moans fills the room.

You felt sore like he had been fuck you for hours.

I'm gonna breed you until your full, until I know that your carrying my child.

Fuck- Your so tight...

Got you cumming on my fat cock for hours, said Finnick, his cock moving in and out of your pussy.

F-finnick why are you doing this.

You said softly, you can barely speak properly, the drug he put in your food really took an effect on you.

Finnick cupped your face, I had to do it darling- fuck..., I want to see you full of my seed, my cum leaking out of you... I-I promise to be a good father, he groans, I promise, Just let me ngh- fill you up.

What he was doing to you was so wrong, but felt so right. You knew this was wrong, and you should be angry at him. But the pleasure he was giving to you was amazing, maybe you should have a child, He would be a great father.

More Fin, you said as you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him closer to you, begging him to fuck you more.

Finnick moaned at what you said, Fucking you even harder and faster.

You were a moaning mess, your hair messy, your tummy bulging from Finnick's cock.

I can only fuck you like this, no one can but me! Said Finnick as he starts to suck on your neck.

O-only you! You said, moaning louder that you almost lost your voice.

I'm gonna cum deep inside of you baby, I'm gonna feel you up, said Finnick as he cums inside of you, his hot sticky cum painting your walls.

Finnick gave a few more thrust, until he picks you up and puts you on his lap, his cock still deep inside of you, preventing any cum to come out.

Finnick gave you small kisses on your shoulders, neck, and face, whispering sweet nothings to you.

I love you Baby...

Said Finnick, waiting for you to say it back.

I love you too Fin, you replied, smiling at him, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Finnick smiled lovingly at you, as he closed the gap between you and his lips.

He kept his promise, he will protect you and will never let you go.

[lolahasmoxie]

Conversations at 3 AM (E.M.)

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Reader

WORD: 1.3k

WARNING: nudity, language, casual intimacy, established relationship, friends to lovers, mentions of getting pregnant, mentions of sexy times, heart-to-heart talks (Eddie & reader are 25)

CONCEPT: You and Eddie aren't used to people sticking around.

DIVIDER FROM @firefly-graphics

Even though you were born at 6 a.m. on the dot, you were a night owl through and through.

During high school and college, summer meant you became a nocturnal creature, much to the annoyance of your family. There was one person it never annoyed, though.

You had met Eddie in elementary school after he moved into the trailer across from yours. From the day you met, you had been thick as thieves. For years, your friends watched as you skirted the line of will they won't they, watching the other traverse dating and relationships with an envious eye. It wasn't until a year ago, when Eddie kissed you during the middle of a movie night, that you had finally become more.

Tonight, you'd had dinner at Steve's house with the whole gang, seeing as Mike, Dustin, and Lucas were all in town for a long weekend from college. The boys had planned a one-off campaign at your shared apartment the following night, and by midnight, you and Eddie were in your home.

Side by side, you brushed your teeth, trying not to laugh as Eddie made faces at you in the mirror. Once in your Queen bed, Eddie's hands began mapping your body, and in a practiced routine that felt like breathing, you let him love you until sleep came for you both.

However, this time, sleep only came for Eddie.

You had tried everything to fall back asleep: counting sheep, listing Metallica songs followed by Black Sabbath, breathing in time with Eddie. Nothing worked. So, as carefully as you could, you crawled out of his hold, placing your pillow closer to Eddie when he started to stir. As his gangly arms wound around the object, you entered your kitchen.

You had been at the table for a while when you heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway. Turning your head, you watch as your tall metalhead boy walks into the kitchen naked as a jaybird, cock dangling freely as his hands wipe at his eyes like a little boy.

"What time issit." he mumbles as Eddie comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your hairline. "Why are you still up?"

"Almost 3 a.m. and I tried to go to sleep, but no dice," you say. He nods in understanding before sitting next to you at the table.

"I was having this great dream; you were wearing that black number you wore to our last show at the Hideout? Anyway, you were letting me drag you to the bathroom to do unspeakable things to you when I woke up, and instead of rubbing against my pretty girlfriend, I was humping your pillow. By the way, I'm pretty sure there's a stain, and I'm sorry in advance." You can't help but smile as you dip a carrot into the hummus.

"Didn't want to wake you up. You know how I toss and turn when I can't sleep."

"So there's no reason you're up at almost 3 a.m. eating," he paused as he reached for the container of hummus. "Jalapeno hummus? Holy fuck, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"No, you asshole," you playfully slap Eddie's arm as he tries to play off his terrified expression. "Nice to know how you feel about the topic, though."

"I'm just warning you, we could be on a babymaking schedule to get knocked up; I will still probably freak the fuck out when it does happen, so just a heads up for when we get there."

"Duly noted." you chuckle. Eddie laces his hand into yours and brings them to his lips. You can feel his eyes on you; you know Eddie will give you your space to work out whatever is going on in your brain. But he's also a persistent asshole who won't stop until he finds out why you left him alone in bed. "Does this ever feel too good, Eds?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us. I mean, we disagree on things, but we never really fight. Being together with you has always just felt scarily easy; I've never had that with other boyfriends." You sigh as you look at your joined hands. "Feels like I'm waiting for something, but I don't know for what."

"Easy, I know what it is," Eddie says as he gives your hand a squeeze. "You're waiting for the other shoe to drop." When you meet his gaze, those cow-brown eyes study you, looking at you with more love than you think you can handle.

"Elaborate, please."

"You and I have always been alike," he begins. "our dating histories are littered with people telling us we were too much. Too loud, too needy, or too whatever. But here's the good part, babe. You will never be too much for me. Ever."

"You mean it?" You're impressed that he could sum up your feelings so succinctly. He grins at you, a beautiful smile spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I mean it. I had to watch you date assholes for ten years; you really think I'm gonna let you go now that I'm lucky enough to call you mine? Not a chance, sweetheart." You reach out a hand and cup his cheek, and you can't help but smile when Eddie leans into your touch.

"Thank you, Eddie."

"No problem; you know, I had resigned myself to loving you from afar a long time ago. Sometimes, when I wake up next to you, I feel like I gotta pinch myself to make sure it's real."

"You're such a cheeseball," you tease. "Why don't you head back to bed? I'm gonna clean up and join you in a minute." You stand from your chair, but Eddie stops you with a tug of your hand. In a flash, you're on his lap. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, although you're in no danger of falling. Edde's grip is secure as he gives you a look you are all too familiar with. You speak his name, and he raises a hand to push the hair from your face.

"You know, it was very mean to leave me in that big bed all by myself," he begins, his hand cupping your cheek. You feel your body warm as his thumb caresses your cheek. "Why don't you let me take you back to bed and help quiet that big brain of yours. Sound good, sweetheart?"

You lean in to kiss your man, his arms wrapping tight around you as he fists your shirt in his hands. When his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, you happily grant him access, tangling your hands in his hair while you slowly start to grind against him. When you feel him hard and warm underneath you, you think you may never want to sleep again.

You both enjoy the kiss, neither of you rushing things. You pull back when you need air, and while Eddie's face is happy, there's something else. You raise an eyebrow as he licks his lips.

"You taste like salsa." You can't help but laugh as you lean forward and bury your nose in his neck. He pulls you closer, hands caressing your back like you're the most precious being in his universe. You can feel his chuckle as your chests press together.

You stay still for a moment to enjoy being surrounded by him. One of the things you loved about being nocturnal was how quiet the world was at almost 3 a.m. You hum contentedly when you feel Eddie's lips against your hair. You close your eyes, wanting to commit this moment, this feeling to memory.

"Alright," Eddie taps you on the ass and breaks the silence. "Let me take you back to bed, alright?" You climb out of his lap and softly kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I'll go brush my teeth. Why don't you go make sure the bed is warm." Eddie hops up, cock bobbing comically as he begins to do a naked run back to your room.

"I'll keep the home fires burning! If I fall asleep, wake me up with head!"

BONUS: THE NEXT DAY

Dustin: I'm just gonna have a seat here, and we can get started.

Eddie: fair warning, my naked ass has been on that chair.

Dustin: 😳

Dustin: like, recently naked?

Eddie: last night.

Dustin: you're a fucking animal.

Eddie: 😁

[oasiswithmyg]

First Meetings

So’lek x Sarentu!Reader

Hi everyone, this is my first fic ever for anything, this will be with AFAB reader in mind and will follow closely to the storyline of the game, so there will be spoilers. As I'm making this a series, each of these can be read as standalones. I hope you enjoy it ! Any Na’vi words or phrases I use, the English translation will be right next to it, if not then it will be at the end of the fic!

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist - Next

“It's our world, it's lost…dying, because we didn't fight for it when we had a chance. Now we’re fighting for yours. We’re going to make a difference here. Together.” Priya passionately declared as she looked at you sincerely. Then her eyes widened as she remembered something, “Oh! So’lek was hoping to catch you too. Promised him I wouldn't forget. Tell him I didn’t forget !”

You giggled at how cute and bubbly Priya was, out of all the humans here at the resistance base, you liked her cheerful mannerisms a lot. You could tell that she would be a wonderful friend to have. You nodded and thanked her before you head over to find So’lek.

As you slowly walked through the base, your mind had shifted to the recent events that occurred while you and the others were at the TAP facility a day ago. The reason for the shift being a certain resistance Na’vi.

Oel ngati kameie. I see you.

Those were the first words you heard from him when you woke up after the cryo sleep. Even with all the chaos that was going on at the time, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the Na’vi who seemed to be very straight-forward, blunt and yet understanding of the situation that you and the rest of the Sarentu had faced.

So’lek, he said, was his name (‘what a lovely name’ you had thought) when you asked him while on the run from the RDA, one of the last remaining survivors of his clan. Although, everytime you think of that memory, alone and running from the RDA, you remember the fear of being separated from everyone and wondering if they were safe. After what happened to Aha’ri, you couldn’t stand anyone else being hurt. But So’lek’s voice kept you moving forward and when one of the RDA in the AMP suit caught you, holding you down as that horrible man, Mercer looked down on you, comparing you to your sister, the only thing you wished and hoped for was that So’lek would keep the Sarentu trio safe, as you almost gave up, He came out of nowhere, shooting at the RDA to save you and told you to run.

When you finally got out of the TAP facility, Pandora was nothing like what Mercer or the TAP said it was. They said that it was a terrifying, vicious, and cruel world. However, to your eyes, It was beautiful, the bright sun, the sounds of the creatures and water of the forest. It was like a new world and you couldn’t believe that you spent so long without it all.

As you walked forward, finding So’lek and the others immediately became a priority, when you finally found So’lek, he was hurt, the concern in you washed over like a wave in your chest, he must have gotten injured while protecting you. You knew at that moment that you wanted to protect him as well, taking his bow and using your Na’vi sense that So'lek told you about, made you realize how much you missed out on life, then getting the dapophet plant to heal him and fighting the RDA, gave you a feeling like no other, it made you feel that you can help, that you can be a protector as well.

However, It was when So’lek asked about your songchord, that made your heart flutter. You can still remember the conversation even though it hadn’t been that long.

“You have no songchord.” So’lek said as he got up after repositioning his shoulder, noticing that the Sarentu he seemed to run into a lot was missing a songchord. There was just something different about her, she seemed very caring and yet so strong in spirit, as he could tell as they were on the run from the RDA. “We had my mother’s, but they stole it” Your voice cracked as you said it, the pain of losing both your sister and the songchord, the only piece of your mother left still hurts you to this day.

Hearing that, So’lek felt anger and resentment flare up in his chest. Not only did they kidnap the Sarentu children, kill his clan and hurt the lands of Pandora, they had the audacity to steal something precious from a child as well. He could not explain the feeling in his chest, he wanted to do something for the Sarentu. “Then we must change that” his voice seemed to soften as he said the words and as he questioned, “What is your name Sarentu ?”.

Hearing his voice being gentle brought heat to your cheeks, and more flutterings in your chest, a feeling of happiness seemed to spread through you, “Y/N, my name is Y/N” you looked at him as your name rolled out your mouth in a hurry. Hearing it, So’lek lips curved up a tiny bit, his smile although small was gentle.

The rest went on with him making sure you understood that you must find your own way as you are a Na’vi and by doing so on your own was the way you can learn and then he finally asked you to join the resistance, hearing how he talked about the resistance made you understand why he was in it and you wanted to join them to help other Na’vi, to help save Pandora. After reaching the resistance base and meeting many new human faces, it was a breath of fresh air, they seemed so kind and you could tell that they were sincere in their welcoming and the work that they do here. The only person you still felt a bit weird with was Alma, but you discarded it as it was probably a long time of not seeing each other. She must have felt that she lost all of you after putting you all to cyro sleep.

Seeing the rest of the Sarentu trio free was another happiness that you could not describe, as you saw them as your family. With you being the second to last youngest, you looked up to Ri’nela and Nor a lot, you tried to be there for them as much as possible, to be listening ear or someone they could find comfort in, especially Nor, as he lost his best friend, your big sister. He was the only one that would rebel at the facility, trying to follow Aha’ri’s footsteps. Ri’nela, she became a big sister to you, but was always worried about what would happen if things didn’t go the way TAP wanted. Then there was the youngest, Teylan, he was like a little brother you never had, he would always hold onto your shirt when he felt overwhelmed and sometimes at night when he felt no one would notice, he would sneak into your bed and cuddle wanting to escape whatever nightmares would plague him. It was why you made a very simple doll out of one of the old clothes you had, you gave it to him saying that at times if he couldn’t see you, that he can always hold on to it to know that you’ll always be there for him. The day you gave him that, he hugged you so tightly, he didn’t let go for a long time. But it worried you how much he seemed to praise and think about Mercer.

Then you were given your first mission, take down one of the RDA facilities near the base which was polluting the land, Pneumatic Tower Echo. It felt overwhelming at first but after seeing how the land, your land, the land of Pandora, was ruined because of the RDA, a determination had stirred up in you. It was what made you destroy the RDA facility as soon as possible. In wonder you had seen Eywa had worked in mysterious ways, the land rejuvenated after the facility was destroyed, with creatures from the forest returning to the land, the flora coming back to life. Teylan called you through the radio in worry after hearing the bang, he and the others were at a flower they found. He wanted you to be there with the others so you could check it out, you had hurried over to the group, slowing down as you and the others came closer to the flower, Ri’nela had gasped in wonder, saying how that it was the flower that opens only for the Sarentu, to connect to Eywa, a Tarsyu. You had looked at it in awe, as you could only barely remember seeing the flower when you were a toddler. Finally, pulling your kuru forward, you connected to Eywa and met your ancestor Entu, the first Toruk Makto, with your will renewed, your heart became content and excited at the prospect of learning more and more about what it means to be a Sarentu.

You stopped reminiscing as you finally headed over to the armory where So’lek was at, looking over his gun. For some reason you didn’t think twice when Priya told you that So’lek was looking for you, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own. So’lek ears turned to your direction as he heard your footsteps approach him, he looked up and his lips curved up automatically, he looked proud as he said, “You did well out there”. You felt happy at his words, that you had helped the resistance in some way. As you looked over at him, you felt curious about the weapon in his hand. “Did the humans teach you their weapons too ?” you asked.

So’lek’s eyes became dull at those words, a resentment growing in his chest as his thoughts went to his clan, from when he could last remember them. You wanted to take back the words immediately, not wanting to see his eyes fill with such emptiness ever again. “No, I saw the RDA butcher my clan. Their bullets slicing them to shreds. That was my lesson.” he explained, his voice low and tense as he continued, “I know how it feels to be among the last of your people. The humans…they are like their guns. Brought here to cause pain.”

You took in his words and you honestly agreed to what he exclaimed. Guns and those strange machines just brought more destruction to Pandora, especially the humans who operated them. But you were confused as well, were the humans here at the resistance base not RDA once ? Voicing this concern of yours, he firmly replied in a hurry, “and I will not make it easy for them to forget. They are our allies now, yes. But, this is not their war. They fight for the ghost of their home world. But we fight for our home.” His words made you think about your time spent at TAP. Although the program was to ensure a healthy relation between humans and Na’vi, it never felt like that. It felt like that evil man had won, “In the end, Mercer got what he wanted, he made us into soldiers.” Your hands clenched tightly at your sides, your tail swishing, agitated and just saying it made you frustrated.

So’lek looked at the Sarentu thoughtfully, he could understand her frustration, her pain and sorrow, he could see how much she wanted to change the way things were and he felt like he wanted to help guide her on her journey, to be her helping hand, he could not explain these emotions well. So he advised her, “You are not what they made you. You are Na’vi. You will learn what that means in time. Starting with this,” he pulled something from the back of his gear, it was a songchord, “I made it for you” he passed the songchord to you, looking at it, you could feel the crack in your heart when they had stole your mother’s songchord from you lessen. You held it in your hands gently, as if it was the most precious thing in the world, which probably was as this was the first time someone, other than your sister and mother, ever made anything for you.

“My own songchord, like my mother’s…” you gently noted.

“All Na’vi wear one. It is your life’s journey for the world to see. For you to remember” He explained the significance of the songchords to you.

“Her’s had more beads on it” you exclaimed in a low tone, trying to remember what it looked like when you last saw it, before Mercer had taken it right out of your hands. You tied the songchord that So’lek had given you on your wrist and examined it carefully, noticing a bead on, your eyes looked at him curiously.

“Each bead is a moment of great importance to the wearer. I have put one in place to commemorate your first steps to freedom. Build on it. Build your own memories. Each one, a new song in your heart.” So’lek explained, noting the soft and gentle look grace the Sarentu’s face. This expression was something he hoped to see, to brighten whatever dark clouds that had been swirling in her mind.

You looked at him, hoping to convey your will to him, “I hope we can. Ri’nela really wants to try. To know what it means to be Sarentu. But at the Tarsyu…Nor seemed confused. Upset.” Thinking about it, after your sister's death, Nor took it hard and felt that it was his own fault for her death, that he did not try harder. He always used to listen closely to Aha’ri with you when she would hum the songs or tell stories of the Sarentu.

“Eywa shows us who we are. And who we can be. But she also reminds us of what has been lost. For your people, that is a heavy burden” So’lek said somberly. He then picked up his gun and started inspecting it again. “The back exit is not so exposed, he may be there.” Noting the worry on your face for Nor, he stated. You nodded with a smile at him, you were about to turn and leave when you remembered, “So’lek,” he turned his head to your voice, a slight shiver crawled up his spine at the gentle caress in the way you said his name, he could see your expression and he felt shocked at the way your eyes looked him in gratefulness. “Irayo So’lek. Thank you so much. For saving me and the others. For giving me strength. For making this songchord and the bead, I will treasure it always and I hope that I can show you my journey through it.”

You turned to leave, feeling the heat rush back to your cheeks at the honest words you blurted out to him, your feelings all over the place. However, before you left, you heard him whisper to you, so that only you would hear, “Be safe.” You felt your heart skip a beat as you nodded to him and rushed out of the base in order to search for Nor.

So’lek did not expect the Sarentu to say such heart-felt words, he had to cover his face because it felt slightly heated. He did not understand what he was feeling, as he did not feel the same with the other Sarentu trio as he did with her. Maybe it was her honest and caring nature that made him feel flustered. For now though, he decided to ignore those feelings. He needed to focus on gathering intel about those who killed his clan and defeating the RDA.

Little did either of them know, that in the future that he would not be able to ignore his feelings and that there would be a bead that represents them on her songchord.

∘ Oel ngati kameie - I see you

∘ Irayo - thanks

Thank you if you've read through to the end ! I would greatly appreciate comments on how it was and any tips to further improve my writing.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 55: Lily's Illusion

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: blindness, conditioning, hypnosis, body control, abuse, aftermath of hand whump

October 1925

Oliver's sleep was troubled, filled with nightmares where he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't do anything to make his body obey him. Alexander's sire was shoving him below the waves, drowning him while he was helpless. Alexander was being tied up and tortured, and there was nothing Oliver could do for his master but watch, and --

He woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding too fast. It was pitch black, and despite being wide awake and terrified, he couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't see where he was, couldn't remember, and cold hands came out of nowhere to grip him tight. In a panic, he screamed, kicking his assailant and struggling out of his grasp, thick blankets impeding his escape.

"Oliver!" said a familiar voice. "Oliver, it's only me. You're safe."

His master. That's where he was -- in his master's bedchambers, in his master's arms. He took a deep breath, trying to expel the fear from his body. He was safe, even though he still couldn't open his eyes.

Alexander gently pulled him in closer, and Oliver accepted it, relaxing back onto the bed. "Sorry, sir."

"No need to apologize. I understand completely. My sleep has also been uneasy, although much improved by your presence," he said. "Are you still blinded?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we should head to Lily's as soon as you're ready," he said. "Although I suppose I'll have to help you dress and wash."

Oliver's face flushed. "Ah, I'm sure I can manage, sir…"

"Manage with your eyes closed? I won't have you falling down the stairs and harming yourself," he said with a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm going to pick you up now, all right?"

And Oliver felt himself being lifted by unnaturally strong arms, floating through the air with only his master as his tether to the world. Alexander seemed to sense his distress, as he hummed a tune under his breath as they walked, one that made Oliver's tense muscles relax. Despite that, the sensation of going down the stairs was still disconcerting.

"If you drop me off at the door to the bathroom, sir, I can take care of my business," said Oliver, hoping to retain some dignity.

"Very well, but I'm going to tend to your wounds afterwards. I need to make sure they're clean."

Oliver thankfully knew the layout of the bathroom well enough to find the toilet and sink, embarrassed at needing so much aid from his master and already quite tired of groping around in the dark. When he was finished, Alexander entered, removing his shirt to look at his back.

"It's terribly bruised, but the few cuts are shallow," Alexander murmured, applying some cool salve. "…You must think I'm a terrible coward for accepting my sire's command to strike you, rather than standing up to him."

"I don't, sir," he said, and it was almost true. "If you had tried, I don't doubt it would have been worse for both of us." He did know that, but in his heart, he wished that his master had protected him.

"There's only one way I can truly protect you," said Alexander, as though he had read Oliver's mind. "I need to kill him. It's easier said than done, of course, but… I will do it this time, or perish trying. I swear it."

Oliver didn't have to wonder what would happen to him in the entirely possible event that his master did perish trying. He'd no doubt end up in the hands of Alexander's sire, perhaps permanently, and the thought almost made him want to plead with Alexander not to try.

Instead, he shoved that unpleasant thought from his mind as best he could. "Will Miss Lily really be able to undo my punishment, sir?"

"I'm sure she will. Her mastery when it comes to controlling the human mind is unparalleled," he said. "And for enduring these latest hardships, I'll also make sure the pantry and icebox are well-stocked with whatever foods you favor. Anything you need."

"I appreciate it, sir."

"And the night after next, my dear friend Fitz arrives from overseas."

With everything that had happened lately, Oliver had nearly forgotten about his master's friend, and he was gripped by a wave of dread at the thought of another visiting vampire. "Is there anything I should know, sir, to better serve your friend?" he said, trying to feel out the situation.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. Just be your usual self, and I'm sure he'll just adore you. He's been after me to get a decent thrall for ages, you know," said Alexander. "Just be patient with him, give us space when we ask for it, and -- oh, I'm sure he'll want to drink from you."

The place where the Maestro had dug his fangs into Oliver's neck throbbed with pain. "He will, sir?" said Oliver reluctantly.

"It won't be painful!" his master reassured him quickly. "Fitz is nothing like my sire. His feeding will be as gentle as mine. He won't harm you, I swear it."

"I'm glad of that, sir," said Oliver, who still couldn't quite calm his anxiety.

"It probably won't surprise you to learn that my sire is the reason Fitz fled this city and resides overseas," said Alexander. "When my sire is finally dusted, he'll return to me. He'll come live in the manor with his thrall, and we'll be together at last."

Oliver had never heard his master sound so wistful. "He must be very important to you, sir."

"I suppose you would figure out sooner or later that we're old lovers. Fitz certainly won't make a secret of it."

"Lovers?" He was sure he was unable to hide the surprise on his face. "I didn't realize you had any lovers, sir."

"I confess that it's often a painful subject for me. Less so when I know he's on a boat heading over the Atlantic at this very moment. We share a bond, you see, and I can tell by how miserable he is -- he's always been especially prone to seasickness," said Alexander fondly. "But as much as I'd like to spend the evening pining fruitlessly, we really should get to Lily's as early as we can, lest she head out for the night before we can consult her. I'll guide you to the bedroom and help you put on the clothes I've chosen for you."

Oliver let himself be guided without a fuss, still loathing the fact that he was so helpless that he wasn't even able to choose his own clothes. If Miss Lily couldn't help him, if he had to resign himself to weeks of blindness and lose even more of his remaining autonomy to his master, unable to even indulge in the simple joy of reading, he wasn't sure he could endure it.

Soon enough, they were stepping out into the chill fall evening, Alexander keeping a firm arm around Oliver to guide him through the streets. It was distressing to be able to hear other pedestrians on the sidewalk, to feel the uneven stones under his feet, without being able to open his eyes and see anything. He was entirely reliant on his master to navigate the familiar city, and if Alexander let go, Oliver would be immediately lost and helpless. Thankfully, he clung to Oliver tightly.

"We're here," said Alexander. "There are four steps in front of you - let me help you up them."

Oliver heard a loud knocking, then footsteps and a door creaking open.

"Oh, Lex!" said a familiar voice. "I thought you were my 9pm appointment arriving early. And what on earth happened to your hand?"

"Our sire's handiwork, of course. Are you taking customers today?" asked Alexander. "I hope you have some time to help us. It's a bit of an emergency."

"Come in, come in," said Lily, and Oliver felt himself being gently nudged forward into a very warm room. "You know very well I'll make the time, but I'd rather get started right away. I assume our sire has done something to Oliver?"

Alexander's hands rested on Oliver's shoulders. "He commanded Oliver to keep his eyes closed and now he can't open them. My poor thrall is quite blind."

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "That's a surprisingly mild punishment from him, though. He must have approved of Oliver."

"Oliver comported himself magnificently. The very picture of an ideal thrall," said Alexander, and Oliver's heart felt warm from the praise. "Another reason why he deserves to have his sight restored as soon as possible."

"Let me see." Oliver felt soft hands touch his face. "Oliver, dear, what did he tell you as he was forcing your eyes to close? The exact phrasing, if you can."

Oliver's memories felt muddled and hazy from fear and enthrallment, but he could remember that. "He told me he was placing lead weights on my eyes, sir, that they're too heavy for me to lift, and that he is the only one who can move them."

"All right. I believe I can work with that. Come with me. Lex, you stay out here, and if my 9pm arrives, try to keep her occupied with your sparkling wit and impeccable social skills."

"You can't be serious about that."

"Leaving your manor and socializing sometimes is good for you," she said, as she touched a hand to Oliver's back and pushed him along.

Oliver heard a door close behind him.

"Can you sit down, dear?"

She took his hand and placed it on the seat of a chair, and Oliver sat, sinking into the soft leather. He realized that the chair was awfully familiar -- the twin of the chair in Miss Lily's room at the auction house. The association caused his mind to fog and he couldn't keep from letting out a yawn, already three quarters of the way to trance.

"You remember, don't you?" said Lily, as she ran fingers through his hair and down his cheek. "So obedient, so docile. So sleepy. And so very, very quiet."

Oliver was utterly helpless against the tide of hypnosis gripping his mind. His head lolled backwards as he let out a soft groan. With his eyes already closed tight, it felt natural for sleep to wash over him.

"Quiet, Oliver, you're so quiet. You're sinking back down under my power now. You're completely safe with me. Safe for you to fall asleep, fall deep asleep. You're so drowsy, aren't you? A quiet, docile boy like you just wants to sleep and listen…"

She kept murmuring to him, but Oliver was already out like a light, quiet and sleepy and dreaming. After the terror of the previous night, it was so good to sleep so soundly, comfortable and content. Oliver felt like he could float in this pleasant dream forever.

That is, until he heard footsteps. Footsteps which did not belong to Lily or his master. Footsteps that were oddly light and perfectly in rhythm.

No, it couldn't be. That was impossible. There was no way that he was here --

But he could feel it already, the hold over his body, the feeling that his flesh and bones no longer belonged to him. He wasn't being manipulated, not yet, but he could sense it all around. He was here and in control, and Oliver could barely think through the numbing terror that gripped him.

"Wake up," said the musical voice of Alexander's sire, followed by a crisp snap. "I don't recall allowing you to sleep."

"I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to fall asleep." Oliver felt himself forced out of the chair and into a kneel, his back ramrod straight and his sweating hands clasped behind him. He couldn't budge an inch, and although he still couldn't open his eyes, he could feel that icy gaze boring into him.

"I don't understand why you think that disobedience out of poor self control is better than disobedience on purpose. Disobedience is disobedience."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, trembling, waiting for a slap across his still tender cheek.

"I suppose, though, if you're to have any use as a servant, you'll need to have your eyes open, lest I have to puppet your wretched form everywhere," he said. "I will remove the weights on your eyes, and you will be appropriately grateful, and then you will serve me however I please."

Oliver swallowed nervously, dreading what the Maestro had in store for him. "Thank you very much for allowing me to serve you, sir."

"I will lift the heavy weight off each of your eyelids," he said, and Oliver felt something brush over his eyes, "and then you will graciously be allowed to open them on your own."

Despite being so eager to be cured earlier, Oliver was reluctant to open his eyes now, not wanting to face Alexander's sire once again, not understanding how he came to be here. But he had no choice. He opened his eyes…

…and there was Miss Lily standing before him.

He looked around in a panic. The Maestro was nowhere to be found, a phantom conjured by his own imagination and Miss Lily's mesmerism. "You…"

"He was the only one who could remove the command. I had to make your mind believe that I was him," she said. "I'm sorry for giving you such a fright, but it was the easiest way to undo what was done."

Oliver's heart was still pounding, unable to calm. "Yes, sir… thank you…"

"Poor dear, you're trembling like a leaf. Let me soothe you before sending you back to your master," she said. "Quiet now, Oliver. Quiet your frightened mind. You're safe here. It's only me."

"It's only you, sir…" said Oliver, sinking back into a merciful daze.

"That's right, and I take such good care of you, don't I?" she said with a smile. "You can relax now. Deep breaths, Oliver dear, deep breaths. Let all that tension out. Let that fear fade away. Let your mind be so, so quiet."

Oliver followed her instructions, taking deep breaths, and soon he did feel calmer, the terror of the hypnotic illusion fading. It was only a dream, one which could fade away into the obedient quiet of his enthralled mind.

"Lex is always singing your praises when he talks to me, you know," said Lily. "You're an absolute natural at serving a vampire, just as I knew you would be. Doesn't it make you feel good to serve Lex?"

It was both question and command, reinforcing his conditioning, and Oliver fell into it easily. "I very much enjoy serving Lex, sir."

"Of course you do, sweet boy. You've been so brave, and you deserve to feel good." She patted Oliver on the head one last time. "Now, if you're feeling better, why don't I return you to your master?"

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling like a weight had been lifted from more than his eyes.

They left the stark conditioning room and stepped out into Miss Lily's home, which was done up very differently from Alexander's, filled with bright colors, fussy details, and homespun knick-knacks. A fat black cat ran up to Miss Lily and began winding around her ankles, and she scooped it up and gave it a kiss on the head. "This is Luna," she said. "Her brother Sunny is probably off on Miriam's lap."

"Hello, Luna," said Oliver, giving her a scritch.

As they walked down the hallway, Oliver could hear a steady stream of excited patter. "…and then I told him, is that really an appropriate place to take a lady on a date? And you know what he said? He said, well, they hardly ever hold horse racing at night, so I thought you'd like to see it. And I said, I can't see a blessed thing even with a vampire's eyesight. And then --"

They entered the parlor, where Alexander was sitting on a frilly gingham couch and nodding politely to everything a young woman was saying. She was done up in the latest fashions, and had a scrawny-looking man on a leash, kneeling at her feet. He looked at Oliver with fear in his eyes, pleading, as though there were anything Oliver could do.

"Ah, you had an appointment for 9pm, I believe?" said Miss Lily to the woman. "I appreciate your patience. I had an emergency job, but I'm free to take your thrall to the conditioning room now."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" she chirped. "I've been having a lovely time with Lord Alexander here." She stood up and handed the man's leash over to Miss Lily. "Just a thorough reconditioning for obedience and contentment, please. The place I bought him from did such an awful job -- you can see how distressed he is, and you should see the faces he pulls when it's time to feed. He's already escaped twice and I had to waste so much time tracking him."

"Of course, it's my pleasure," she said.

"No…" The thrall was backing away from Miss Lily, practically choking himself with his own leash. "No, please…"

Miss Lily knelt down and pet his head like one would a dog. "It's all right, dear, you'll see. Why don't you just relax? Just relax. Calm and peaceful, okay? I'm not gong to hurt you. Everything's going to be okay."

Oliver watched in fascination as the fear bled away from the thrall's expression, his eyes fixed on Miss Lily's and becoming glassy and dazed. He couldn't help but wonder if he wore a similar expression when he was under Miss Lily's spell.

"That's a good dear. So relaxed and at ease," she cooed. "You're going to feel so much better after you've had a session with me, I promise."

The thrall glanced up at Oliver, as if looking for some kind of confirmation. Oliver remembered how terrified he was the first time he had gone in for conditioning. "She's right," he said with a smile. "It's not scary at all, it's just like having a really good sleep, and you'll feel great afterwards."

"See?" said Miss Lily. "There's nothing to be scared of." She turned to Lex. "Sorry I can't stay around and chat, but I should get started on this session."

"Of course. We'll take our leave, and call on you another night," he said. "Oh, and Lily, before I go -- are you free on Friday night? Fitz will be in town, and I was hoping we could all go to the Tiger's Eye."

"Ooh, I wouldn't miss it," she said. She stood and ruffled Oliver's hair. "You'll be a good boy for our dear friend Fitz, won't you?"

"Yes, Miss Lily."

"Then I'll see you two soon enough, I'm sure. Have a good evening!"

"Are you feeling better?" Alexander asked as they stepped back out into the cool night air. "You're certainly looking much better."

"Yes, much better, sir. Thank you very much for taking me to Miss Lily," Oliver said. Now that he could see once again, he could see that the night was clear, the sky filled with a thousand brilliant stars. "Do you think we could go for a walk before returning home, sir? I could use the fresh air."

"I think that's a splendid idea," said Alexander, wrapping his arm around Oliver's once more.

Oliver saw the thick wad of bandages wrapped around his master's hand, and quite against his will he remembered the sickening smell of burnt flesh in the air. "Sir, your hand…"

"I've told you before that it will heal, but I appreciate your concern for me," said his master with a warm smile. "Your health and company is all the balm I need to soothe my pains tonight."

Thanks to Miss Lily, he was so obedient, so eager to please. "I'm glad that I can be helpful to you, sir."

"Always, Oliver. Don't doubt it for a minute."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

I always enjoy writing Lily! Next week, the beginning of a three-parter involving a masquerade ball and Fitz's very impulsive decisions.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[karasbroken]

This tiny moment is one that I completely misinterpreted for the first decade or more and I still don't know exactly what I think but I'm going to ramble anyway. I played with filters to make the tie more obvious, because for the longest time, I thought Moya John threw scissors and Talyn John threw rock.

And that makes sense, right? They had two different experiences while they were parted for several months, and that made them into two different people. He talks later to Aeryn about not being the same person, and that her feelings, "you're just like him, you are him" are wrong. So I never questioned when my dark DVDs and fuzzy TV made it look like they tied.

But then I saw the 4k versions, and I was watching on a good screen and I could slow it down and pause and replay, and nope! They are both clearly throwing scissors. And the whole beautiful symbolism falls apart. Why did they tie? Does that actually mean they are the same person? Why doesn't John or Aeryn truly seem to believe that?

Everyone will have their own opinions, but how I think about it now is that this was a promise from Talyn John to Moya John. Yes, they had different experiences. Yes, that means they diverged. Yes, being with Aeryn changed Talyn John in ways Moya John couldn't (yet) understand. Talyn John feels older, calmer, more settled and mature in a rather dramatic way to me. But the tie is a reassurance that they are still both John. That they can be made whole. That the core of who he is, the man that loves Aeryn and controls wormholes is still capable of being loved by Aeryn (and learning to control wormholes). It will just take time.

We aren't wholly our memories and experiences. Which is reassuring to me, as a person who struggles with long-term memory formation.

John was twinned. "Equal and original." They are both him. They were always both him, even if he doesn't remember what the other twin experienced (yet). Moya John and Aeryn both struggle to believe this, though, for similar but related reasons.

Aeryn can't believe that he is actually John because she is terrified of loving him. She isn't mentally strong enough (yet) to survive his loss again and she knows that John is about to throw them all into terrible danger. She tries to convince herself that he's just a copy because she has to for her own sanity (but ultimately, eventually, she gives in. He is John, she does love him, and she can't won't stop herself from wanting to be with him).

Moya John can't accept that he is the same as Talyn John because it's just too psychologically weird. He was in two bodies having two different lives, and the whole time he knew, he deeply knew that the other guy was with Aeryn. Because he would have upended the universe to make it happen with her, so of course he did. A lot of Moya John's irresponsible and annoying behavior can be explained by the constant maddening awareness that his life was in the middle of being stolen by himself. For his sanity he has to create some sort of mental accommodation to survive being twinned, and turning the other guy into The Other is how he manages it. And then the Other is gone and now he's on this long journey to recombine his two selves.

I think the tie is a promise that they haven't diverged too far. That they're still both him. John doesn't realize it yet, but he is already starting to reintegrate his two selves. We will see him eventually, slowly, recover all the memories and knowledge that Talyn John possessed, he will even join together with him physically (it's not a coincidence that he injured his head in the same place, leaving the same scar, when Einstein unlocks the wormhole knowledge). Only when his integration is complete can he fully move on, marry Aeryn, have their child, and move forward to the next stage of their singular destiny.

That unification is something John can't even imagine in this moment. But the tie, that's hope.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: 2/22/22

summary: carmy receives bad news that changes his life forever, while you're relationship with him comes to a head. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), death, grief, mentions of suicide, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 5.5k

listen to: hurting kind - del water gap | robbers - the 1975 | hostages - the howl & the hum

a/n: i need therapy after writing this. so sorry bbs love you all. ok but fr, i thought that i was going to write a smut scene that was not going to be hot bc we know it's canon that carmy does not fuck and then it ended up being really hot and i'm once again asking for therapy.

read: chapter three

2/22/22

Something happened. Can you come over?

That’s all the text said. It’s all that needed to be said for you to drop everything you were doing and hop on the subway. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you imagine every single worst case scenario possible. Carmy had given you little context in regards to what this was about, and you almost regret not asking as your mind runs rampant with possibilities. Not that he would’ve given you an answer. Something about him seemed different. He’d never sent that urgent of a text. 

Not even when the restaurant was slammed and he needed you to come in on your day off. 

Something happened. 

The words continue to echo in your head until you reach him. 

You're at Carmy’s doorstep faster than you ever thought your feet could carry you, and when he opens the door for you, your heart breaks. He’s wrecked. His face is a flushed red, though you don’t think it’s from crying, and he looks like he hasn’t washed his fuckin’ hair in days. You take in his somber expression, like all of the joy he’s ever experienced has been sucked out of him. 

Carmy steps aside, allowing him into your apartment. 

He mumbles something you can barely hear, gesturing towards the couch, so you follow him, taking a seat on the crappy couch you’ve come to love. He stares at the floor, his eyes cold and empty, as you sit in silence. 

It’s you who breaks it, bursting at the seams with anxiety.

“Carmy, you’re scaring me,” you say softly. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as he licks his lips, swallowing as he opens his mouth to say something. It’s a few moments later that he’s finally able to put two words together to tell you what happened. 

“It’s Michael,” is all he manages to get out. You can hear the break in his voice when he utters Michael’s name, and you’re terrified of what he’s going to say next. 

“Your brother?” you ask, secretly hoping he won’t say yes. 

You feel your stomach drop. 

Carmy nods slowly, “Yeah.” 

He takes a few beats before saying anything else, his head swimming. On one hand it doesn’t feel real, and if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t be. There’s a part of him that still thinks this is some cruel, sick joke that Mikey cooked up, just to fuck with him. 

But he knows it’s real. He could hear it in the way that Sugar’s voice broke on the phone. He could hear it in the way that Richie practically screamed at him to stop being such a fuckin’ cuck and come home. He knows it’s real, because for the first time in years, his mom’s called him. 

Must be Sugar or something calling from her phone for her…. ‘S gotta be, he thinks to himself. 

“He’s-,” Carmy starts, before stopping again. Carmy looks away, in the opposite direction of you, focusing his eyes on something outside of the window. 

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might lose it. 

“He’s dead.”

“Oh Carmy,” you gasp, your heart wrenching in your chest as the words leave his mouth. You reach out to touch him, but he flinches, pulling away from you. 

“No,” is all he says through gritted teeth. 

You cannot touch me. You cannot make me feel better about this because I’ll have to feel worse about this, is what he wants to say. 

“The fuckin’ asshole shot himself on the State Street bridge. I don’t-, you don’t get to make me feel better about this,” he snaps, his tone almost a warning. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, sitting up straight and leaning towards him. He may not want your comforts, so you’re going to give your presence. He had asked you to come over after all, right? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, coldly. 

His response is jarring, leaving an unsavory taste in your mouth. You understand that he’s just gotten the most unimaginable news, but it doesn’t sit right with that he’s taking it out on you either. Is that why he invited you over? To be his punching bag? Instead, you decide to pivot to crisis control-mode, hoping to remedy some of the animosity he’s harboring. 

“Okay, well, I’ll call Kate and let her know that you can’t come in tonight, if that helps. Just so you don’t have to-,” you suggest. 

“Why would you fucking do that?” he yells, snapping his head towards you as he finally turns towards you. You can see it in his eyes: how angry and devastated he is – at Michael, at what happened – and even though you know it’s not personal, it stings all the same.

“Because!” you shout back. “Carmy, you just found out-... something terrible. I just don’t think you should-.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my mom and you’re not my girlfriend so,” he’s quick to retort, rebelliously. 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Carmen,” you cut him off with a yell. You know he’s hurting, but this is where you draw the line. “I’m well aware that I am not your girlfriend, but I am your friend, and I care about you.”

You’re right. 

He knows you’re right. 

He knows he’s being a dick, but it’s like he can’t stop his own rage from spilling out sideways as yells:

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, then get out!”

“Stop it!” you cut him off, venom in your voice. 

Carmy looks at you, his bloodshot eyes wide with utter despair. 

“You called me, Carmy. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking help,” you lower your voice, bringing the confrontation between the two of you back down. 

With his eyes fixed to the floor, his mind zoning out to numb the pain, he manages to get out, “I don’t want to-. I need to go to work tonight.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you plead softly, yet firmly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to make that decision,” he dismisses. 

He’s right. You don’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, giving in. 

It’s a horrible idea – for Carmy to go into the restaurant – but you know he’s going to do it anyway. 

“What can I do for you in the meantime?”

“I just-, I don’t think I can be alone right now,” he mumbles, averting his eyes once again. “Can you just like… sit here with me? Till we gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

The afternoon passes slowly, and you feel like the both of you have been lit on fire – only a matter of time before you burn his whole place down. As you’re getting ready to leave, Carmy sprints into the bathroom, emptying what little contents he has in his stomach into the toilet. You’d been aware that he’d been having some trouble – throwing up before work – but he’d refused to see a doctor. Another decision he’d made clear wasn’t yours to make. What you weren’t aware of was that it had gotten this bad.

Like you’d imagined, going into the restaurant had been a mistake. It hadn’t taken long for Carmy to blow up at a line cook, mid-shift, over an undercooked duck breast. Sure, it was a big mistake, but Carmy had sent the line cook home after making a very public example of them. After the event, Tim had urged Carmy to take a break, offering to expedite for a few, while you rushed him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you chastise him. 

“He’s a fucking idiot! How do you undercook a fucking-,” Carmy yells, his face twisted into a look of disgust.  

“Carmy!” you shout, stopping him mid-sentence. 

You both know this is not about the duck breast. 

You share a moment of silence together, the cold of the walk-in leaving goosebumps on your skin. You lower your voice, a quiet and intentional demand leave your lips as you instruct:

“Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

He nods in response, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. You watch him pace a few times, before he clutches at his chest, his breathing becoming more uneven. 

This is why coming in had been the worst idea ever. 

“Carmy, are you o-?" you start, genuinely worried about him. You feel like your head is spinning. Carmy is losing control and all you can do is watch. 

He holds out a hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you leave him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in fills your ears, as you close the door to the walk-in behind you. You feel like your heart is caught in your throat and watching him go through this is more painful than you could’ve ever imagined. You take a deep breath before returning to your station, keeping your head down for the rest of the shift. 

Dinner service is pure chaos as Carmy undulates from unbroken focus to volatile and unpredictable throughout making the evening hell for the rest of you. The tension is thick, and it’s as if everyone is walking on eggshells around him, more so than normal. By the time it’s over, you insist on walking Carmy home. You make a stop at your favorite deli near his apartment to pick up a quart container of matzo ball soup on the way.

“You gotta eat something,” you encourage, the silence in his apartment deafening.

You’re met with silence as he stares blankly at the table in front of him, his spoon dipped into the soup. Instead, you sit with him, watching him take a few sips of the broth, while the actual food in the soup goes untouched. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. 

He doesn’t know if he has the stomach for this either. 

All of this. Any of this. 

You eventually give in, packing up the soup to put in the fridge for another day, even though you know he’ll probably just toss it when you leave. Just when you think it’s time for you to go, he stops you with the most tender touch to your arm, as he asks:

“Stay?” 

His eyes are watery, and although he’s going to let himself cry yet, he looks more vulnerable than he’s looked all day. How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you agree. 

You change into one of your favorite t-shirts of his and the pair of sweatpants that he always seems to give you as you get ready for bed. He doesn’t even wear them anymore, as if he knows they’ve become your favorite… as if they’ve just become yours. You spend the evening with the TV on, not talking, just sitting in each others’ company. You watch as he smokes a cigarette inside, stress-running a hand through his slicked back hair from his shift earlier. 

Tonight feels heavy. 

Tonight is heavy. 

Before bed, you fill up a glass of water for him, before placing it on his bedside table. Carmy lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as you crawl into bed with him. 

He’s too afraid to his close his eye, because if he closes his eyes he’ll picture it: the State Street bridge, Michael…. 

How could he? he thinks to himself, the bitter taste of betrayal welling up at the bottom of his throat. 

You close your eyes, trying your best to fall asleep next to Carmy – something that feels like an impossible task when you can practically hear him thinking out loud beside you. Instead, the two of you just lay there, frozen in silence. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when you feel Carmy shift closer to you. 

He turns to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body, earning the smallest gasp of surprise from you. You’ve never seen him like this as he buries his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. It’s then that you realize he’s crying, and you know it’s highly likely that this is the first time he’s cried since he heard the news. 

“Carm?” you whisper, unsure if he wants you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

But he doesn’t respond. He just cries. 

So you let him. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you whisper, over and over again. 

You stroke his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you know there isn’t much you can do. Instead, you let him cry, running your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort you can. This is breaking your heart. You fight the tears coming to your eyes because this is so not about you right now. 

Carmy’s body shakes against yours as he finally lets go, surrendering to the huge waves of pain and grief that crash and pull him under. He feels like he’s being taken under a riptide, never to see the surface again. He knows he’s been wildly unfair to you and as he weeps against your body and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like you. 

Someone who chooses to say, even when he’s being a dick. 

Someone who cares enough to fight with him. 

Someone who cares for him like this. 

When he finally looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, all he can think to do is to kiss you. 

It catches you off guard as he surges forward, pressing his lips against yours, that for a moment, you let him. 

But reality hits and you’re afraid he’s gotten too carried away, swept up in a moment of grief. 

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you murmur, pushing him away.

He leans his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, almost as if he’s given up on the idea. You feel like he’s put you in an impossible position. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t want to – hadn’t thought about kissing him before – but this felt wrong. He was vulnerable, and you know you’ll both regret it in the morning. 

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you apologize quietly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence only makes you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” is all he says, cutting you off mid-sentence. With the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the sun, the moon, and you hang the stars, you’re not sure how to say no. 

Carmy leans in to kiss you once more before whispering mere inches away from your lips:

“Please.”

He presses his lips against yours again, immediately regretting his past self for not doing this sooner. He’s never tasted anything sweeter than you, and the way you kiss him back seems to bring all thoughts flooding his brain to a halt.

In between kisses you manage enough self control to stammer out, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s a declaration.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he begins to leave across your collarbone. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good,” he repeats. 

You surrender, letting go of your own ambivalence as you focus on the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s then that you realize what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. For a moment, you’ll tear down the walls, the rigid boundaries that you’ve kept to help you compartmentalize your relationship with Carmy. 

There’s no possibility of hiding from it when his body feels this good so close to yours. 

The truth is that you are fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you parrot.

With your confirmation, his mouth is back on yours, as you’re pulling him on top of you, deeper into your shared passionate liplock. He wonders why he’s denied himself the pleasure of having you, for this goddamn long. His tongue slides against yours, a tender hand moving up to cup your face. The way his name sounds tumbling out of your mouth sends him into a frenzy. It feels absolutely intoxicating and he can’t get enough. 

Carmy’s hands begin to wander, fingertips sliding at an experimental pace underneath the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing. You shudder against his touch, gasping as you anticipate where this is going. 

Carmy raises his head to look at you, not sure if it’s a good thing or not. 

“This okay?” he asks you, concern evident in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him permission. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing you again, dragging calloused fingertips up and down your torso underneath the shirt, hesitantly making their way to where they’d like to be. You’re not wearing a bra, he realizes, as his fingertips find soft, supple skin at the rounded bottom of your breast. He follows the shape of it, before bringing a cautious palm up to grab hold of the fullness of your breast. You arch into his touch, encouraging him further. Carmy takes his time exploring your body, giving you the lightest touch as his fingertips graze your nipple. 

“Can I take this off?” he questions, only willing to move forward if you say yes.

You nod, breathlessly, “Please.”

You watch as he sits up, pushing the hem of your shirt up over your breasts, revealing your bare body to him. He has to hold back a groan, swallowing hard. 

Carmy stops what he’s doing, in pure awe of you, as he marvels at you. He can’t believe this is real: that you’re here, laying in his bed, allowing him to do the things he thought could only live in his head. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” are the words that tumble out of his mouth and you think you may cry. 

“Touch me,” you whisper desperately, begging him to come back to you. 

“Touch me, Carmy.”

Carmy lays his body over yours, and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to fit perfectly between them. He begins to roll his hips against yours as he returns his attention back to your bare breasts. He drags his fingertips over your erect nipples, following his touch with his mouth. 

He practically groans as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, earning a strangled whine from you as his hot, wet mouth engulfs you. 

“Carmy,” you moan, arching into him. 

He’s rolling his hips against your clothed core on pure instinct, as he takes his time, now exploring unfamiliar territory with his lips and his tongue. You find a good rhythm as he continues to drag his mouth over you, grinding your hips into his underneath your remaining clothes. He’s surprisingly good at this – something you hadn’t expected considering he’d let you know he didn’t have much experience when it came to dating. You assumed that that meant sexually as well. 

As Carmy moves to your other breast, you feel one of his hands snake under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, lifting his hips so he can feel you. You know you’ve soaked through your cotton panties from the anticipation, and it goes right to his dick as he feels just how wet you are. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he’s seen in porn. He begins to rub circles across your clothed core, while he busies his mouth with exploring your other breast. 

But he’s not quite where you want him.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him. 

Had he just gotten caught up in the moment?

Did you not want to go this far?

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks you, a concerned tone in his voice. 

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, I just-.”

Instead of explaining, you reach down to grab his hand, guiding him just a little higher up to your clit. He presses the rough pad of his index finger against it, finally touching you where you need him, gasping to let him know that he’s found the right spot. His eyes are locked on you, watching your face change as the new spot you’ve shown him brings you more pleasure than he could’ve imagined. 

He practically groans into your mouth when he hears the way you whine his name, and he swears he’ll do anything to hear you say it again. 

“There?” he asks you, rubbing tight circles across your clit. 

“Yes,” you pant, growing wetter with every touch. 

Carmy pulls away just for a moment, daring to touch you underneath your panties. You’re so wet for him, and he thinks he may lose his mind as he slides his index finger in between your folds curiously.

“Take them off,” you practically demand. 

“Hm?” he hums, lost in the way you look at him with hooded lids and pupils blown out with pure desire. 

He’s never been this guy. 

The guy that gets the girl. 

He never knew he could feel like this guy, but here you are, begging him to undress you. 

“I said take them off,” you repeat yourself, more desperate this time. You take a lighter approach with what you say next, the smallest giggle in your voice. “And while you’re at it, we gotta get you naked too.” 

“Yeah,” he says, with the kind of conviction he’d say ‘heard’ with. 

He’s stripping off his shirt, and you’re sliding your pants and underwear off with him. 

“I have a condom in my emergency kit,” you say, the both of you busy shedding your clothes. 

“Yeah?” he asks you, relieved to hear it. He hadn’t thought that far yet. 

“Yeah, hold on,” you reply, getting up from the bed. 

Carmy thinks he may pass out as he watches you stand, giving him a full view of your naked body. You disappear only for a moment, before returning with the small emergency kit you always keep in your backpack. It’s equipped with all the ‘just-in-cases:’ tampons, panty liners, safety pins… condoms. You pull out a single condom before returning to the bed. Carmy’s kneeling on the bed, and you mirror his body language, doing the same. 

“What would you like to do?” you inquire softly. 

As turned on and hot for him as you are, you want to make sure that he still wants to do this. He finds himself surprised at your question, not sure how to answer it. 

“Think we can just pick up where we left off?” he asks you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. 

You place the condom down beside you on the bed, before leaning in to press your lips against his again. He inhales as you kiss him, his tongue immediately sliding against yours as one of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. He’s surprised as you pull away from him, beginning to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, his chest, and he hisses in anticipation as run your hands down his muscular abdomen, following with your mouth. 

“Hold on, I uh-,” he stutters out, as he anticipates where you’re going with this. 

You pause, sitting up tall as you kneel, your body across from his. 

“I just uh… if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, a blush running across his cheeks. 

“Yeah, no. Totally cool,” you reassure him, before crashing your lips against his once again. 

As you tangle your tongues together once again, Carmy begins to lead you down towards the bed, pushing you back, and climbing on top of you. He still has his sweatpants on, so you begin to bring your hands down to them. He hisses as you cup his rock hard erection, pleasantly surprised by what you feel. 

“Wanna take these off?” you ask in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, sitting up for a moment. 

You wait with baited breath as he strips his sweatpants off, wondering if he’s as thick as he feels. You’re practically pulsing, squeezing around nothing as you finally see him, Carmy, your best friend, fully naked. 

God, he’s beautiful. 

How had you not noticed how physically attractive he was? 

It’s not that you hadn’t noticed. It’s that you hadn’t let yourself think about it. 

You reach over to where you left the condom, handing it to him. Carmy takes it, a blush running across his cheeks as he rolls it on, still in disbelief that you’re about to do this. He returns to you, laying his body over top of you as you space for him once again between your legs. He’s hesitant to give you his full bodyweight as he gives you a long, passionate kiss. And before he knows it, you’re reaching down to stroke him, and he’s thrusting into your hand, his breath becoming heavier and heavier. 

You feel him as he presses his tip against you, rubbing it up and down before pushing into you. You both gasp as he gives you shallow thrusts, testing the waters, thrusting deeper into you with each one.

He pauses, exhaling as he’s fully inside of you. You’re pulsing around him, practically causing him to lose his mind with the way you feel alone.

“Fffffuck, you feel good,” he moans, trying not to cum right then and there. 

He begins giving you shallow, hesitant thrusts, unsure of himself. He wants to make you feel good. And he’s also terrified that this is going to end before it’s even properly started. 

Carmy stops again, pausing within you. 

“Sorry, I just-.” 

“No, it’s okay. Take your time.”

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous and that he’s trying not to cum. 

“How about… I take control?” you suggest, hesitantly. “And that way, if you need me to stop we can um… well, you can just tell me.”

“Uh… yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Sure.” 

Clumsily, the two of you switch positions, making sure he knows you’re okay with this. As he lies on his back, staring up at you, you straddle his hips, giving him the smallest smile. You reach down, guiding him into you once again. You gasp as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you, especially in this position. Carmy’s hands go to your hips as he watches you take him. 

“You feel really good too, Carm,” you finally say, your hands moving to his chest to brace yourself as you begin shifting your hips forward and back at the most unbearably slow pace. 

Carmy thinks he must be dreaming as he watches you ride him. His hands slide over your hips, wrapping around your body so that he can touch your butt. He’s practically digging the pads of his fingers into your hips as you begin moving over him at a faster pace. 

“Shit… you’re really good at this,” he groans, as you lean down to kiss him. 

You giggle against his lips, and whatever thoughts he has in his head disappear. Carmy begins thrusting up into you, his hands on your hips encouraging you to move a little faster as you kiss him. You’re moaning his name, whining as you feel every single inch of his cock slide against your walls, becoming more and more breathless by the minute. Your gasps turn into moans, getting higher in pitch as you go. His hands are guiding your hips, taking some control back as you grind against each other. 

“Carmy,” you cry out as he thrusts his hips hard into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, breathless, as you bury your face into his chest. 

He holds your hips down, pinning you down against him as pushing his hips into yours. 

“You wanna switch?” he asks, breathless. “Can I-?” 

“Please,” you reply eagerly.

You switch positions once more, and as Carmy guides himself into you again, you can tell he’s much more confident than last time you’d found yourself in this position. You wrap a leg around his waist and he holds you there, beginning to move his hips against yours again. He works his way up to a rapid pace, his face turning red as he does, and you’re writhing underneath his body, whispering the dirtiest things into his ear with every single thrust.

“Holy shit, Carmy. You feel so goddamn good too,” you praise him. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” he manages to get out in between grunts. 

“Yes. Please let me cum,” you beg him, as he hits that spot inside of you, earning another loud cry. 

“Don’t stop.”

He’s surprised to learn that he likes it when you beg as he tangles his fingers with yours, pinning you down so that he can fuck you. With your hand in his, so close to your climax, you let slip:

“I thought about this too. I’ve wanted this for so long too, Carmy.”

“Fuck,” he howls as he drives into you, his sole purpose to earn more praise from you. To hear you cry out his name. To give you what you’ve been begging for. 

You angle your hips upward so that he can go even deeper, hitting all the way to the back of you. You’re grasping at his back, his arms, his biceps, hanging onto any piece of him that you can as he shudders, letting out the most guttural sounds. You’re squeezing around him, as he takes you to your high. The feeling of you cumming, squeezing around him like your life depends on it drive him wild, and he’s fucking you through it, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him to his. 

As you finally come down, you pull Carmy in for a searing kiss. 

“Holy shit, Carm,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” he pants against your lips. 

Even if just for tonight, all feels right in the world. 

This feels right. 

*

The light of day is sobering. Before Carmy’s even had a chance to open his eyes, the events of the day before come flooding in, running in vicious circles around his mind: the phone call from Sugar, Richie screaming at him… and then…. 

Fuck. 

He’d crossed the line with you. 

He doesn’t know whether to be mad at himself or devastated that he fucked up, considering he’s sure as hell not going to let himself feel anything about Mikey yet. 

Michael. 

Michael’s dead. 

And he might’ve done the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do – the one thing that he’d been afraid of: that he might just lose you. 

As you stir in bed next to him, slowly blinking your eyes open, you turn over on your side. Carmy’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you can see Carmy’s stuck in his head. While you’d let yourself surrender to whatever that was last night, you knew today was different. 

“Hey,” is all you say, hugging Carmy’s bed sheets closer to your naked body. 

“Um… listen. We don’t have to-,” you begin, searching for the right words. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? I don’t-. You’ve got a lot going right now and-.”

You take a breath. You know the two of you can’t be together right now, even after your revelation last night. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Carmy swallows, fighting back the emotions that begin to swell in his chest. 

He feels sick to his stomach. 

But he doesn’t want to do this in front of you. 

“Yeah, no. We can… we can just forget it,” is all he gets out, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“You sure?” you question. 

He takes a beat before answering:

“I don’t want to lose you either.” 

And even with the declaration you’d made – the promise to forget since neither of you could afford to lose each other – things had become different. In the weeks following, your communications with Carmy were less than normal. While you understood he was processing, grieving, he’d withdrawn from you, and it hurt more than you had the words for. 

You’d check in, making sure he knew you were here for him if he needed to talk. But he put his head down, working night after night at the restaurant, cold, stoic, and checked out. You worried about him. And you also knew that you both needed some space from each other. 

Some days you regret it – sleeping together – and other days, you don’t. You think that maybe everyone had been right about the two of you all along – that this had been inevitable. But it happened under the worst timing, the worst circumstances and you miss your best friend. You wish, in some ways, that two of you could just go back to normal.

read: chapter five

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[bosbas]

Alternate Ending: I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

series masterlist original ending || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader WC: 5.2k words (whoops I got carried away)

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, benedict being so down bad for this woman, unrequited love, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy/birth

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: The timeline for this ending diverges after chapter 12!! This is how life would look like if Chapter 13 and onward didn't happen.

March 3, 1820 - B, 

I apologize for my delayed response – I’m sure you’ll understand that I was a tad occupied giving birth. But she’s finally here! It was easier than the other three, so I'm personally delighted, though Anthony seemed just as stressed as usual. And, as usual, he'll most likely be resting for the next five days. If he ever stops looking at her in awe, that is. It would be quite adorable if I didn't need to wrestle her away from him to nurse her every few hours! 

Although, I will say that Anthony being taken with her has worked out quite well for me. I was able to finish my novel and get a full night's sleep last night. I'd love to see you soon if you're up for it. You can meet her and we can discuss your latest painting, which I heard was absolutely breathtaking. Anthony and I will both be home for the next week at least, so feel free to pop by any time.

Yours, Y/I

You finished addressing the envelope to Benedict right as Anthony walked into your bedroom holding the tiny form of your newborn daughter. Twisting in your seat to face them, you cooed when you saw her fast asleep in his arms. She was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and you couldn’t help but marvel at her tiny fists opening and closing absentmindedly as she slept. She looked so peaceful in Anthony’s arms, and it was terrifying to think that a human being this small would grow up to be an adult and that you would have to guide her through it. Well, she would have Anthony too, you thought. And the thought did a lot to quell your fears.

For as long as you had known him, Anthony had been a steadfast figure in your life. He’d been the eldest of the Beaumont-Bridgertons, and he certainly acted like it, too. The responsibility he felt for his family was evident in everything he did, and it was one of the qualities you admired most about him. Now, seeing Anthony cradle your newborn daughter with such gentleness and awe only solidified your feelings for him.

You had decidedly not been in love when you had married him, but one couldn’t simply have four children with someone and not develop at least a little affection for them. The two of you had been wonderful friends even before you were married, and you still were, but along the way, it seemed that you had learned to love each other in your own funny sort of way. It wasn’t the sort of all-consuming love you had for Benedict all those years ago, and that perhaps you had still in a corner of your heart. But it was comforting and safe and built upon a deep respect for one another, and your life was all the better for it. 

Perhaps you and Ben had never been destined for a life like this, you thought. Your childhood intention to wed Benedict had been just that: a naïve plan. That night in the studio with Benedict, after he had found out in the most unfortunate manner that you and Anthony were courting, you had needed something safe and constant. And Benedict had given you the complete opposite. For so many years, he had been your anchor, but that night you felt like the ground had fallen away below your feet and you were in free fall. You had so much love for Benedict that you didn’t even know where to put it. You could feel it from your heart to your fingertips, and it was terrifying. You thought about Violet and Edmund in that moment, and how destroyed Violet had been when Edmund passed. The thought of that happening to you and Benedict made you sick. The thought of taking the risk and putting your heart in his hands only for it to crumble. 

Maybe running away from Benedict at that moment was the cowardly thing to do. Maybe you should have faced your fears and given in to the overpowering love. Maybe you should have kissed your best friend and dealt with the consequences later, holding his hand the whole way through. But you hadn’t. You had sought out safety instead, running up the stairs to Anthony’s room and knocking incessantly until he opened the door, eyes startled and hand holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.

“We’re getting married,” you had declared, breathing ragged and arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, hoping you meant you and Benedict but suspecting otherwise given that you were currently at his door looking furious. 

“You and me. And we’re going to do it as soon as possible.”

Anthony uttered a soft, “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. “And Benedict…” he added in a questioning tone.

“No,” you said firmly. “No Benedict.”

He had expected you to say more, but you just stood in front of him, unmoving. 

“I suppose I can start the arrangements,” Anthony said finally. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am sure.” 

God, Benedict must have truly done something stupid, he thought. “Very well, then.”

“Good night, Anthony. We can inform our families of our engagement tomorrow morning.”

He just nodded in response, still too stunned to fully process your words.

You cleared your throat and your stoic façade faded slightly. “And thank you, Anthony. For everything,” you said, suddenly very aware of what being married to Anthony might mean.

He shook his head. “No, no. It was nothing. You are family.”

A month later, you were married at the church near Aubrey Hall. Benedict barely stayed long enough to see the two of you say your vows, citing an urgent problem with his cottage in the countryside. His family was kind enough not to question his obviously fabricated excuse, but he couldn’t miss the endless looks of pity sent his way. He had been hurt. Well, you had hurt him. You hurt him when you walked away from him, and you hurt him when you announced your engagement to your family without telling him first, but most of all, you hurt him when you chose Anthony even after two decades of history with Benedict. 

Maybe none of your fears would have come true, and you and Ben would have been happy. Maybe he would have treated your heart with the same love and care with which he always treated you. But it didn’t do to dwell on what could have been. Your marriage with Anthony was real. It was concrete and it was grounding, and you couldn’t imagine a more stable presence in your life.

Bringing you out of your musings, you felt Anthony kiss your cheek in greeting and ask, “Do you want to take her?”

You nodded eagerly, setting down the letter in your hand so you could hold your daughter. “I’m surprised you’re willingly letting me have her,” you teased, laughing as Anthony all but collapsed onto the loveseat across from you, clearly exhausted.

He had been an awfully attentive father the past few days, ecstatic to finally have a girl after three boys. Though she had brought out a heightened sense of protectiveness he couldn’t seem to shake. It was rather endearing to see him so frazzled over a baby that weighed less than eight pounds, but you suspected there might be something more to it.

“She’s so tiny!” he defended, gaze fixed on her admittedly minuscule form in your arms. “I can’t help it…” He trailed off, deep in thought. You glanced up at him, noticing the change in his tone and his hunched posture. After five years of marriage, you had him memorized, and reading him came as naturally as reading a book. 

“Is anything the matter?” you asked gently, already having a general idea about what was plaguing him.

But he shook his head, murmuring a soft no and focusing on the writing desk behind you instead. “Is that for Benedict?” he inquired, nodding in the direction of the letter.

“Yes, I’m just telling him that she’s here and asking him to come visit,” you answered, still eyeing him carefully.

“So, he’s coming to visit, then?” pressed Anthony, eyes back on your daughter, who was currently sleeping soundly in your arms.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why do you ask?” You changed tactics, trying to seem nonchalant about your concern. 

“Alright. That’s good. Yes, that’s good,” he muttered, seemingly satisfied with your answer but his mind was obviously miles away. 

Growing increasingly worried, you stood up and carefully laid your daughter in her crib, ensuring she remained undisturbed. With her settled, you approached Anthony, who hadn't shifted his gaze from where you had been sitting. Kneeling beside him, you reached out and gingerly placed your hand on his. The touch seemed to quiet his restless thoughts, and he turned to meet your eyes, acknowledging the weight of his anxiety.

Anthony spoke softly, carefully. “I just want to make sure that you and the children are taken care of. In case something happens to me. I want you to have someone.”

You should have known that this was what plagued him. During the first year of your marriage, you settled into a comfortable dynamic with Anthony. It was not quite love, but something like it had blossomed between the two of you. However, it was after the birth of your first son, Arthur, that Anthony reached a breaking point. He realized that his grand plan to marry someone he didn’t love to avoid any undue heartbreak was not, in fact, foolproof. Even if there hadn’t been growing affection between you, Anthony completely fell in love with Arthur from the moment he was born. It was like nothing he’d experienced before; beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was terribly frightening. 

He had shared his fears with you–he’d had no choice in the matter when you were as stubborn and insistent as you were–and you had shared that you, too, were scared. But you trusted one another, and so the two of you navigated parenthood in tandem and Anthony’s fears subsided. Regardless, you could understand that the birth of your daughter brought back this fear in full force, and he felt a greater need to protect her from danger than he would with his sons.

“Anthony, I won’t need someone. You’re right here, and you always will be.”

He shook his head, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. “How can you know that?”

You pursed your lips, brows furrowing. “Even if you aren’t, it won’t be your fault. You’re a wonderful father. And a wonderful husband.” 

With a deep sigh, he clasped your hand and stood up, bringing you with him. “Just promise me you’ll ask Benedict to take care of you if I go?”

Your heart softened. Knowing he needed to hear you say it out loud, you nodded, “I promise.”

---

 March 5, 1820 – Y/I,

One would think Anthony had been the one to give birth instead of you! I’ll pop by today to give him a talking-to. And to meet my lovely niece, of course.

Yours, B

You found yourself in the nursery this afternoon, your three boys gathered around you and your daughter fast asleep in her crib. It was a lovely day out; sunny but not too hot, but the boys hardly noticed. Instead, they sat still, completely enthralled as you read from your current novel. Though you adored reading to your children, you found children’s books rather boring and repetitive. Thus, you had shifted to reading them excerpts from your own reading material. It made the endeavor much more interesting, and the boys seemed to love it too, evident as they hung on your every word.

“‘Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder,’” you read, and your sons gasped, not quite understanding the meaning of the word but easily catching onto your surprised reaction. You continued, “‘and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask-’”

“Surely I’ve heard wrong and you’re not reading to your children about murder!” came Benedict’s voice from the doorway. 

Immediately, three voices squealed in delight and Frankenstein was completely forgotten as your sons rushed over to their uncle. Charles was only one year old, but his brothers’ excitement only fueled his clumsy crawl toward Benedict’s waiting arms.

“They don’t exactly know what it means, Ben,” you laughed. “Besides, it’s wonderful literature. And it keeps them entertained.”

He picked up Charles in one arm and Arthur in the other, making his way over to you as Bernard clung to his leg. “Well, I’m sure you know better than me, darling,” he commented and kissed you sweetly on the top of your head. 

“Isn’t that usually the case?” you teased, standing up to properly greet your best friend. Though you hadn’t joined the welcome committee, you were positively glowing now that Ben had arrived. It had been over a week since you had seen him, and you had missed him terribly. You smiled brightly, instantly at ease in his presence.

Eyebrows raised and eyes shining with mirth, he teased back, “You forget I have three very bloodthirsty boys on my side who have just learned what murder is.”

You looked at Arthur, who was completely focused on attempting to undo Benedict’s cravat, and Charles, who had two fingers in his mouth and was unsuccessfully attempting to put in a third, then glanced back at Benedict. 

“Quite bloodthirsty, aren’t they?” you deadpanned as you gently pried Charles’ hand from his mouth. 

Ben couldn’t help the waves of laughter rolling off him as he observed your sons. “It seems they still have a way to go before they get there.” 

Then, spotting the pink crib across the room, he gasped and set down Arthur and Charles and somewhat successfully shook Bernard off his leg. Walking over to the crib, he stared at her, completely awestruck.

"She’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice down so as not to wake her.

You giggled, making your way over. “That’s exactly what Anthony said,” you smiled at him. 

But your smile did nothing to soothe the dull ache that had blossomed in his chest as he remembered all the things he could have had with you. The pain was not as unbearable now as it had been five years ago, but he was inclined to think that it would be there for the rest of his life. In the back of his mind, Benedict wondered if he would have been as good of a father as Anthony. He supposed he would never know, having devoted himself completely to his art and extinguishing any lingering hopes Violet had that her second son would ever marry. But you seemed happy, and that was truly all that mattered. 

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he smiled sweetly back down at you. “What’s her name? Something starting with a D, I’m sure. Otherwise, Anthony will have lost his mind.”

“Yes, naturally,” you giggled. You tugged on Ben’s sleeve to bring him closer to the crib. “Benedict, meet Diana Bridgerton.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton,” he murmured, intently observing your daughter as she slowly blinked her eyes open. 

“Quite eager to meet her uncle,” you observed, but Benedict was too mesmerized by her to respond properly.

“She’s got your eyes,” he whispered after a few seconds, turning back to you and placing an arm around you. Your arm snaked around his back, and you drew him in a little closer.

Leaning down to place his cheek on your head and hugging you tighter, he spoke softly, “I thought you might name her Daisy. Flower names and all that. Besides, it starts with a D.”

Benedict didn’t quite know where the comment had come from. You hadn’t mentioned flower names in years, but the thought had suddenly popped into his brain quite unexpectedly and he had been unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. He knew he was so incredibly lucky to know you and to love you and to have a friendship with you, but it was at times like these when he wished he didn’t know you quite so well. At times when knowing you was only a reminder of what he lost.

In that moment, you were thankful to be facing Diana’s crib instead of Benedict, because you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes. The flower names. Of course Benedict would have remembered. You had never truly regretted marrying Anthony, but what you had with Ben transcended anything you could ever have with anyone else, and sometimes it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t your person anymore.

Shaking your head to will the tears away, you responded, “No. No, I could never.”

“What? You always said you wanted to name your children flower names.”

“No, Benedict. I wanted to name our children flower names.”

He felt all the air in his lungs escaping all at once. It felt as if someone had reached deep inside of him, taken hold of every organ inside his body, and squeezed very tightly. Wanted to name our children. Our children. Our. Just a simple word, three letters in total, had managed to leave him completely disarmed. 

It was silly, really. You were married and had four children with his brother, of all people. And Benedict was still completely and irrevocably in love with you. He rather thought that he would always love you, in some form or another. Benedict suspected that Anthony knew this too, though his older brother was far too tactful to ever broach the subject. 

Seemingly unaware of Ben's internal turmoil as he tried to reduce his feelings to their usual dormant state, you grabbed hold of his hand and led him away from Diana toward the door. “Nurse Edwards can watch the children while we go downstairs to have some tea. I must hear about your painting displayed at the National Gallery! I wish I hadn’t been about two days from bursting so I could have gone to see the unveiling.”

---

November 17, 1820 – Benedict,

Y/N has fallen ill, and I am away on business unable to tend to her. Go to Aubrey Hall as soon as possible and make sure she’s alright.

Please.

Anthony

Benedict could barely hear the rain pouring down outside his carriage over his racing heartbeat. Anthony’s frantic note had left Ben in a state of panic. He had left for Aubrey Hall immediately upon receiving the note, but he still worried that he might be too late. What on earth had frightened his older brother to the point of asking Benedict for help? A million possibilities, each one as devastating as the other, raced through his mind. 

The sight of your home interrupted his catastrophizing, and he swung the door open and ran toward the entrance before the carriage could come to a complete stop. Benedict was somewhat aware that he was getting completely drenched in the rain, but his mind was far too focused on getting to you to care. 

The front door was already open when he reached it, and Benedict burst through, barely hearing the butler’s, “Upstairs in her bedchamber, Mr Bridgerton,” before he was frantically climbing the stairs to get to you. 

Once he reached your door, Ben stopped quite suddenly. He didn’t want to startle you by bursting in unannounced, so he waited a few seconds to catch his breath. Finally, he turned the doorknob slowly, hands shaking nervously as he entered your bedroom. 

In between shockingly vivid dreams and a splitting headache, you vaguely registered what looked to be Benedict’s tall frame standing in your room. You shook your head, confused by his presence and not quite trusting your own eyes, but the effort left you breathless and you coughed violently. 

“It’s alright, darling. You just rest,” he shushed you, shrugging off his drenched coat before he came to your side. 

It killed him to see you like this, pale and sweaty as shivers wracked through your tired body. He had never seen you look so ill, not even when you came down with influenza when you were ten years old, and he was trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“Have you called for a medic?” his voice came out a bit strangled as he asked your lady’s maid, Rose, who had been nervously fidgeting off to the side. 

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton. It's pneumonia," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "The best we can do is keep her comfortable and give her fluids until her fever breaks."

He nodded, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. But you had drifted into fitful sleep, and your shallow, ragged breathing was only making him more worried. 

Nevertheless, he had to think clearly. Anthony was away, meaning that Benedict was now entirely responsible for you. The realization steeled his nerves, so he straightened his waistcoat and released a controlled breath, ready to face whatever came his way.

“Where are the children? I trust Nurse Edwards is with them now,” he said firmly.

Rose nodded. “They’re asleep now, but she is there in case they need anything. They’re taken care of,” she reassured.

“Very well. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to them.” Then, clearing his throat, “Ring for tea, please,” he instructed. “And bring me towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.” 

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Benedict moved closer to your bedside, his heart twisting at the sight of you in distress. He didn't hesitate, pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting down beside you. Gently, he reached out to feel your burning forehead, but you immediately flinched, the pain evident in your eyes as they shot open.

“Too cold,” you rasped. “Please don’t.”

He cursed under his breath, heart cracking slightly at your reaction. But he withdrew his hand immediately, settling instead for sitting on a chair next to your bed, watching you intently for any signs that your condition was worsening.

You looked awfully pale, paler than he’d ever seen you, and your lips had turned a concerning shade of purple. Though even when you were drenched in sweat and shivering, you still were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he thought. Even now, years after you had married another man, you remained his muse. The heartbreak he experienced that summer had been an admittedly excellent source of inspiration, and his new works helped propel him forward in the art world. It had served as a distraction, proving especially useful when Ben heard the news that you were pregnant for the first time so soon after the wedding. But now he supposed that art was no longer a distraction, and had instead become his life. 

Maybe it was better this way, he sometimes thought. Maybe fate had never intended for him to be with you, though he couldn't fathom why the universe seemed so cruel. But the conclusion that he most often came to is that this was some sort of punishment. And he supposed he rather deserved it. He had continuously run away from the person he loved most, his best friend, the love of his life, time and again while you had only waited patiently for him to love you back. 

Looking down at you now, he still felt the need to take care of you. The instinct would never go away. But it was a shame that the only reason he was allowed to do it now was because your husband had asked him to.

Your lady’s maid cleared her throat, standing at the doorway with the items Benedict had requested. He waved her in and had her place the tea on your bedside table, but he took hold of the towels himself and dipped one of them in the bowl of water.

“How long have you been here?” Ben asked Rose, taking in her exhausted appearance.

“Since midmorning, Mr Bridgerton,” she responded, stifling a yawn. "But I'm happy to do it. Lady Bridgerton seems to need it, too."

“Well, I think you ought to go to bed now, Rose,” he responded, gently placing the damp towel on your forehead. You let out a soft sigh of relief, and the tightness in Benedict’s heart loosened the tiniest bit. 

Hearing his words, Rose could have collapsed right then and there. “Thank you, Mr Bridgerton. Please call for one of the servants if you need anything,” she said gratefully. And then, before he could change his mind, she hurried out of your bedroom. 

The towel had seemed to rouse you from your sleep, and you sat up weakly so you could take in your surroundings.

You opened your eyes, happy to find Benedict still in your room. “Hello, there,” you croaked, but he shushed you, immediately holding a teacup to your lips. You took a hesitant sip, but the warm liquid ran down your throat so soothingly that you grasped the cup with your own hands and drank the entire thing. 

Ben laughed softly, delicately taking the teacup from you so as not to touch you, not having forgotten your earlier protests when he placed a hand on your forehead.

“How long have you been here?” you asked Benedict, a particularly strong shiver making your teeth chatter. Noting his look of concern, you rushed to reassure him, “I’m fine, Ben. Promise.” However, you didn’t know how convincing you had sounded, given that you started violently coughing immediately after the words left your lips. 

“I can see that. You look great,” teased Benedict. 

“I bet,” you shot back, and he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I’m–” you started, but another coughing fit prevented you from continuing. He looked at you, eyes overflowing with worry, and exchanged the towel on your forehead for a fresh one, hoping it would provide at least some relief.

Once your coughing fit subsided, you were overtaken by a wave of exhaustion. Sliding back down into bed, you turned to Benedict. “I think I need to sleep if that’s alright,” you said softly, eyes already drooping shut.

“Mmm, I think so, too,” he agreed.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Please stay, Ben,” you said, eyes already closed. 

His heart nearly skipped a beat, having completely forgotten just how right your hand felt in his. “Always,” he murmured, reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. Benedict settled into the chair beside your bed, carefully watching you to make sure your breathing remained even. 

An hour later, a particularly intense shiver ran through you and you woke up to find that you were still clutching Benedict’s hand. He was staring at you intently, and you felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for him. Even though you had married Anthony, he was still here by your side, ensuring that you were safe. Even though you probably looked about two minutes away from death, and even though he probably had much more interesting things to do, he was here.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you whispered, not quite sure you wanted him to hear but needing to say it anyway.

His brow furrowed, not quite sure why you were apologizing. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, I am. I’m so sorry,” you said, barely registering the tears running down your face and mixing with your sweat. 

Ben wiped away your tears with one hand, the other still holding yours. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

You shook your head and the towel fell from your forehead once again, which he immediately replaced with a new one. “I don’t regret marrying him, but I regret hurting you,” you choked back a sob. “It was cowardly of me, and I’m sorry.”

Benedict was at a loss, your confession bringing his complicated feelings to the surface. But before he could find the right words, you had fallen asleep once again, eyes closed peacefully and your breathing even. He sat back in shock, attempting to process the meaning behind your words while still being careful not to move his hand too much so you could sleep peacefully. 

Benedict sat there for what felt like hours, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart as he watched you sleep, your hand still clasped in his. Surely you were at least a little delirious, he reasoned. How could you apologize for something he had caused?

Hours later, the morning sun filtered through your curtains and you stirred awake. You blinked your eyes open, a bit disoriented as you took in your surroundings. You glanced down, seeing Ben sitting in a chair next to your bed, fast asleep in what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Your hand was still clasped in Benedict’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. You felt a pang of guilt at the sight and cringed slightly as you remembered your tearful apology the previous night.

Sensing that you were awake, Benedict stirred, half opening his eyes to make sure you were alright. Wincing as his neck cracked, he sat up and asked groggily, “How’re you feeling this morning, darling?” 

“Much better, actually,” you responded.

A sudden wave of panic washed over you. “Who’s with the children?”

“Don’t worry! They’re alright. Nurse Edwards is with them,” he assured you. “Perhaps it’s for the best; they might get to engage with some books actually meant for children.” He kept his tone light and teasing, not entirely sure if you remembered your apology and not wanting to open up the conversation if you didn’t.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed in relief, relaxing against your pillows once again. Then, swatting his arm, you scolded, “And they enjoy the literature, mind you!”

“I suppose you are feeling better if you had the strength to hit me,” he remarked amusedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have hit you last night. Easily.” But your expression turned sincere. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to be a burden; I know you’re working on a new piece.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “You could never be a burden.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “And I meant what I said last night. It was ill-timed, I know, but I am truly sorry.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I didn’t treat you the way I should have and I was the one who hurt you. I’m just glad I can still have you as a best friend.”

You smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “We seem to be quite good at that, don’t you think? Being best friends.”

“Oh, the best,” he smiled at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

—

orginal ending || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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[kale-of-the-forbidden-cities]

Della Vacker post

I made this doodle of her while i was supposed to be working on artfight refs, but not to worry! i finished those just in time today :>

notice the Vacker registry pendant and prime sources chain. Notice how anxious she looks!

and now for the playlist which will make more sense after you've read the headcanons. You don't have to think it's perfect or in character, that's okay, it's just stuff i came up with

and now under the cut is my 15 page google doc thoughts of Della Vacker, from when she started dating Alden to Legacy-ish?? warning i think they get worse as they go, don't focus on the stuff after book 1 time, i'm not sure if i like it as much as i do the other as far as writing and wording goes and stuff

if you do take the time to read this, comment on it as much as you want!!! it feels good when people point out specific parts hehe

TW: mentions of eating disorders and ~uncomfortable age gaps~

Alden and Della had sort of an arranged marriage, with Alden on Della's match lists when she was sixteen, and her parents saw and were delighted to see a Vacker as her number one, but Della tried to argue, saying he’s a hundred years older, but by the time Alden got his next list she was nineteen and invited to his Winnowing Gala. Della was standing among all these girls who were mostly at least 30 years older than her, and she was terrified. She didn’t feel good enough to be there. She felt out of place. But Alden’s parents seemed to really like her, though she couldn’t tell if that was because they actually did or if it was just because she and Alden were each other’s top matches. She felt super weird about it, and he felt weird about it too, but despite the age gap, they were kind of pressured into getting together. 

And at first it was sooooooo awkward. They didn’t feel comfortable around each other, and Della still felt like a kid next to him. Not to mention the sheer perfection of him, and the other Vackers. This is where some other headcanons start coming in, with Della not feeling perfect enough, and she began to develop an eating disorder. 

This whole thing is so stressful for her, but her parents are happy, and Alden seems happy, who is she to ruin it? She was once an enjoyer of gossip, but now she's part of it, there were speculations about her from the very first date with alden, and she's not used to it! She's not used to being in the spotlight! 

Della: (surprised) I'm... I'm in the news? 

Alden: Oh... Yes, that happens. 

Della: ... But I only just started dating you- is- is that even public yet? 

Alden: No, but we did go out yesterday... 

Della: ... but I'm not a Vacker... I can't... (trails off) 

Alden: ...

Della goes for a walk in Atlantis and feels everyone watching her, and she can't take it, she feels like she's crumbling under the pressure (even though not that many people were actually looking or saying or thinking anything bad, but she saw a few people glance her way, someone pointed at her and whispered) and she breaks down, tears start to well up, and she tries to get somewhere to be alone, but it's Atlantis, she can't just leap away, she has to go back the way she came, and she's crying and she can't breathe and people are really staring now and really talking about her and someone tries to come help but she doesn't think that's what they're there to do, she runs away, she's running through crowded streets until she finally makes it out, and once her bubble thing lets her go she sits on the ground and sobs.

And of course people saw this whole thing, and they were talking about her all over again, but this time it wasn't just speculation about her relationship with Alden, this time it was people saying she wasn't fit to be a Vacker, that she was unstable and unpredictable and mentally ill for... crying? Well then, she can't let anyone see her cry ever again.

And at some points she wishes Alden would leave her or break up with her or something but after the stories and stuff about her were published he just hailed her and asked if she was okay. And this was before she'd read them. He seemed to care about her, and Della just thinks she's bringing shame on him, but he assures her that she isn't, and it's okay, and that it will blow over and that there's no reason to worry.

She becomes very familiar with that phrase, and learns to take it to heart. She's okay. He's okay. Everything is okay. even when she feels like dying, even when she realizes she hasn't eaten in three days and almost passes out in public and she feels terrified whenever she goes out with him and everything feels like too much and goddamnit why won't he leave her what does he still see in her why couldn't she have just enjoyed her after-foxfire years normally why why why???

But then as Alden cares for her and he doesn't leave her and he smiles for real, his smile is so unlike all the pictures she's seen, it's so soft and small and hesitant and his eyes look so gentle and happy and oh prime sources, after three years she's really falling for him and oh no this is awful, she feels so conflicted. She wanted him to leave her but now she doesn't want to leave him. 

After four years they finally share their first kiss, and it's... real. 

It's by no means a long kiss, but it feels like forever, time slows as thoughts race through Della’s mind and she thinks oh no. And then they pull apart, and she's tearing up, and mentally beating herself up for it, which only makes her need to cry more, and she can't breathe but Alden doesn't seem to get it, he's confused, he looks hurt, he asks whats wrong, so she chokes it down and tells him she's okay, just... really happy. I get emotional, she says with a forced laugh. 

And she accepts her fate. 

She’s trapped. 

Unless Alden ever has a sudden change of heart, she can't go anywhere.

Della was raised religious, but it wasn't nearly as strict as the Vackers. That's another thing she has to get used to - she has to carefully learn every ritual, all the history she might need to know, she doesn't want them to think she's not good enough. She has to fit into this family, and if she's a square in a circle hole, then she'll just have to cut off her own corners to fit. 

She didn't really expect it to go this long - she had three boyfriends when she was in Foxfire, but they all went by super fast, obviously. And they were never serious. But Alden was serious. Her parents wanted her to be serious. the Vackers were serious. 

Alden and Della obviously took things very very slowly, mostly due to the age gap and how uncomfortable they used to be around each other. They'd kissed twice after five years of dating, and it still feels so... new. They're careful in public, Della isn't herself anymore. She used to be so much happier. Now she's an empty shell, and sometimes life doesn't feel worth living.... but she's okay, she's okay, she's okay. There’s no reason to worry. Everything is perfect! She learns how to force a smile when people begin speculating about her mental health again... and she's not eating. She doesn't feel perfect enough. She hates her body, her face, her hair, she hates how ugly she feels standing next to Alden, her boyfriend, though that word feels wrong on her tongue. Even after a decade, she still messes up, says the wrong things and gets weird looks and she feels like the world could swallow her up, she could get murdered and it would be her fault.

Alden of course notices this, because, duh, he's not blind, but he doesn't know what to do. He waits for a few months, trying to let it pass because he's not good with words and... maybe if he pretends she's okay, she'll be okay. he just has to believe it and treat her as he has been - he does care, he just doesn't know what to do. He's trying to believe, but it's getting so hard to pretend because oh god she just collapsed in the middle of the room and she's not waking up and he's not very strong but he can pick her up easily and take her to the couch and he sits by her as he waits for a physician and he's trying so hard not to cry, but maybe she's worth crying over, he's so scared for her. Pretending everything was okay wasn't what she needed at all. He should have done something.

Della obviously ends up fine, but she doesn't talk to Alden about it. He apologizes and asks if she's okay, and she assures him he is, she says sorry, she promises to do better.

And she’s okay. 

She takes a deep breath and forces herself to eat. 

To prove she’s okay. 

She even hides the scale from herself for a few months. She's okay.

Well, now that she knows her limits she can be even better than before. 

Time flies by, and Alden and Della are closer than ever. They're not as close as the average couple that has been dating for a year, even though they've been together for ten, twenty, thirty. They love and care about each other, but there's.... something. Della gets better! She makes friends with some of Alden's friends, Grady and Edaline. They're also much older than her, but she's older now, too, so age shouldn't matter like it did when she was nineteen. Still, she feels the need to be polite in the same way she is to Alden's family. Despite that, it's... nice to be around them. To have conversations with Edaline while Alden is out, to have friends! She hasn't had those since the world started to judge her! Nobody wanted to be caught up in that kind of drama. She meets Edaline's sister, and they get along even better! Until she runs into her in the street and they talk for a while, and then the next day there's a picture of them in the news! Juline is a bad match, how could Della forget how could she mess up so badly how could she be so selfish to want anything for herself, how could she have slipped up like that!!!

She apologizes to Alden as soon as she sees him, then stops talking to Juline. Edaline has seen the article, and while this kind of thing doesn't matter to her, she understands why it would matter to Della. She's observant. She can tell that Della isn't okay. She and Juline talk, and they agree to let her go without asking questions. She clearly doesn't need more stress. Della is anxious to talk to Grady and Edaline for a bit after that, but when she does, they don't even bring up her suddenly cutting Juline off. Della wonders if she should bring it up, but she doesn't want to start trouble. So she pretends everything is fine and resists the urge to ask Eda how her sister is doing. 

This would be the time where Della would start visiting the Forbidden Cities and learning how to defend herself - going to the human world is freeing, but it comes with its risks. She's cautious not to get caught, and she's careful not to get hurt while she's there. In the Forbidden Cities, nobody knows her. She learns both how to hold her Vanishing for a long time, but also how to resist the light passing through her with each step she takes. Humans definitely don't blink in and out of sight as they walk. She learns a human language (in my headcanon it's Spanish, which she later teaches to her kids, while Alden teaches them English). She’s interested in human culture.

Luzia gifts Everglen to Alden, and he has it rebuilt, because the pressure to make things permanent with Della is starting to grow - he's been in relationships before, and they've all gone by so fast compared to this one. He feels differently about Della, he's actually gotten to know her, he thinks he's seen her at her worst. Della hears the whispers about marriage and gets terrified. She could really be Radelle Vacker. It's not the name she tried on at thirteen, fantasizing about marrying into the family, just for fun. It's an actual possibility.

Della had been living in an apartment since her twenties, she never felt like she could handle getting attached to a house the way most elves do. Besides, she liked the limited space - there was less to do with it, less options, but so many ways to decorate and make it hers. Unlike everything else in her life. Just because she appreciates beauty and fancy things, well, it doesn't have to be big to be beautiful. That was her place of peace. But then... Alden suggested she move into Everglen with him, after it gets rebuilt. And how could she say no? She can't. She hasn't said no to Alden once in all these decades. Not like he was too sure of what to do, either. Their relationship was the best pace it could have been for the two of them. And so Della moves into Everglen, and... gives up her apartment. And Everglen is big. It makes her feel small and anxious. But she'll get used to it. One time she had to cross the house to get a cup of water in the middle of the night - it was so eerie. She kept a cup by her bed from then on.

Another thing she gave up was her trips to the Forbidden Cities. She still wanted to go, and definitely could have, but she just stopped being able to find the time to visit as frequently, and eventually stopped going altogether. 

Now that they were living together, of course, people found out and started saying things and making more assumptions about Alden and Della's relationship, things that Della did not even feel nearly ready for - and they're not even married! They don't even share a room, let alone a bed! She feels kind of gross when she thinks about it for too long. but she's okay. She's getting good at this.

Until, to "celebrate" or whatever, Alden's parents suggest a family gathering at Everglen. Of course, Della is there. She already felt uncomfortable around Alden's parents, so she didn't expect it to go that well, but she wasn't expecting the sheer number of fancy intimidating and perfect Vackers that were there - she felt like scum next to them. And with the way some of them looked at her, she might as well have been. She made herself eat so they wouldn't go making assumptions about her health or mental well being, but after dinner, she excused herself and threw it all up in the bathroom. It wasn't even on purpose, she just felt that nauseous. She couldn't stay away for too long, though, because this was Alden's house, and being Alden's girlfriend, she'd surely be missed. So she gathers herself and returns for dessert, which she isn't able to stomach much of. She didn't notice until that night, but Alden seems so... stiff. And unnatural. Around the rest of his family. He's smiling, but that's not his smile. Della knows his smile! And she starts to wonder if Alden ever feels like she does. Despite how much he truly seems to belong here. Unlike she does.... she's not good enough.

And then Alden stands up and says he'd like to announce something, and he talks for a bit, then he mentions Della and she's forced to focus and listen and she doesn't even remember what he said, just that he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at his parents, while talking about her, and then he reached into his cape and turned around and kneeled down and

“Della, will you marry me?” 

And she freezes up and everything stops and her heart pounds in her ears and she feels like she might throw up again and then she chokes up and looks Alden in the eyes and the tears come before she can stop them, but she doesn't stop them because.... people cry at proposals all the time. It's normal. It's... an emotional moment. That's why she's crying. She's just. so. happy.

So she covers her mouth with her hands and says what she knows she has to say.

“Yes.” 

Except it's muffled and squeaky and choked so she nods to get her point across, she slowly stands up and steps towards Alden, and something in his eyes changes as he wraps his arms around her. Understanding, maybe? He's just as trapped as she is, isn’t he?

She cries into his chest, but they're definitely not happy tears. She can force a smile and pretend they are, but that doesn't make it any better. For a moment all she hears is herself sobbing and Alden's heartbeat, pounding much too hard for someone who could be truly at peace. Then the applause starts, and she cries harder, making herself feel even sicker. But this is the first time she's let tears fall in - no, has it really been a year? Has it been more? Less? She doesn't know. But it's been a while. And it's all coming out at once and the rush of hands clapping is taking over but she has to breathe. breathe. breathe. Alden rubs her back, and she focuses on that, she focuses on his smell.

And she breathes. 

In, out. 

She’s okay. 

She’s crying, but she’s happy, right? 

How could she be anything but happy? 

She’s… engaged. 

To Alden Vacker. 

So many people would give anything for this. People would crash weddings for a chance at marrying Alden Vacker. The world envies her. She even loves Alden! And she knows she does!

So why isn’t she happy??? 

Where’s the feeling she’s been missing for so long? 

She stands by the door as the Vackers leave, squeezing Alden's hand as she nods and smiles at each of the Vackers leaving. She's never even seen most of them. She recognizes Alden's parents, and of course Luzia Vacker, Fallon Vacker, Orem Vacker, and a few others she's read about in elvin history. She really is a part of them now.

But she doesn’t feel good enough. 

Her smile falls as soon as the last ones leave, and Alden isn't looking at her, and they need to talk about what to do, they need to talk about what happened, they need to celebrate, they need to...

Alden speaks up first. 

And he says,

“I’m sorry.” 

And he walks away. 

Della stares after him, feeling the light pass through her. She doesn't know how to feel. Alden just apologized... for proposing to her? She should feel hurt, but... she gets it. She's sorry, too.

She goes back over to the table to clean up all the plates left there, with the intent of getting her mind off of things, but... it's a giant table. It's overwhelming. She sits down and takes a half empty glass of wine that isn't even hers. She takes a deep breath and releases it in a long, slow, sigh.

She doesn't even finish the glass, but she feels sick like she's had five or ten. Or, she feels like what she thinks it'd be like? She's never actually gotten drunk, but she knows it can make you throw up. In any case, she knows she will not be getting drunk tonight. She needs to keep it together. She's okay.

The next morning, they act like they normally do, but they both know of the unspoken tension, the hurt and guilt and shame because of that disaster of a proposal that neither of them wanted to do yet. Especially not like that, in front of the Vackers. Della used to fantasize about her dream proposal - it would have been somewhere beautiful, maybe under the stars, remote and quiet. Certainly not in a well-lit room with every Vacker looking at her. She imagined tears, but she also imagined being happy. She imagined looking into her lover's eyes and smiling softly, and kissing them. Not whatever happened last night. 

But who is she to complain...

For a week, they try to pretend everything is like it was, like it has been... But then they both realize that it will never go back. They can’t go back. So they start planning the wedding. And we all know how that went. 

If you look closely in pictures taken when Alina was trying to get Alden to run away with her, you might see a glimmer of hope and desperation in Della's eyes, mixed with the shock and anxiety that was there already. For a moment Alden looked like he was about to leave and go with her - but then he snapped out of it. He was being beguiled. 

Of course, it could have just been the angle of the picture that painted that look on Della's face.

The Vackers are all freaking out after the wedding, but most pin the blame on Alina alone, and most are pleased with the end result of it - and they almost seem genuine when they smile at Della now. For once she's done something right? Do they think she handled it well? 

And honestly? Della is much happier in the week following the wedding - it's their "honeymoon period," in which they mostly just stay in Everglen where it's quiet and the world can't get to them. They invite Grady and Edaline over for tea, but that's the extent of their social interaction. For a short while. Then they're expected to go back to normal. They have to go out to work, they have to talk to people, and of course endure the speculation on what other things they could have been doing during that time. 

Now Alden and Della aren't great at communication but at this point with all the rumors and expectations to continue the Vacker family line, they do have to talk about it at some point. They just.... might procrastinate a bit.

Until finally, Della is the one to bring it up. 

She asks if he wants kids and he blinks, then says he doesn't know. He asks if she does, because if she does, he'll go along with it, of course. But she says she doesn't know either. They sit there at the table for a few minutes, neither looking at the other. They're not used to talking or making decisions together. Most of their decisions had been made for them until now.

So they wait a bit longer, until the pressure from their families and society becomes too much and they agree that they do want kids, even though they're still not sure. Except they've never even slept in the same bed... so they start there. And it's nice, actually. They no longer feel awkward just being around each other, and sometimes they cuddle, without saying anything. They'll lay down, and by morning Della is curled up in his arms and they're sharing a blanket. It's nice.

But they know they have to take it a step further eventually... and there's a big difference between cuddling fully clothed and... having a child. The last time Della had ever done anything remotely sexual was when she was a teenager, and Alden has even less experience. They don't even feel comfortable changing with the other there. They don't know how they're going to do this.

Okay, so they think, "well, Grady and Edaline have a kid, maybe we should talk to them.” And so they do! Which is like, really big for them, opening up and communicating and talking about their relationship with someone else - it's big. And scary. But... they're in the same boat. They're in this together. And soon, almost a year after they said they would... They have a child.

Both of them are really scared, because they didn't exactly have the best relationship with their own parents or the best childhood, and when Della finds out she's pregnant, she tells Alden immediately, and... he cries. He tries to pretend he's just happy, but Della has pulled that trick too many times for it to work on her. She sits by him, takes his hand, closes her eyes, and quietly admits that she's terrified. She tells him her fears about not being a good parent, and Alden is nodding along. He feels the same. He takes her hand, kisses her forehead, and promises that they'll do this together. But they have to talk about things, just like they're talking now. Della touches his cheek, wiping off a tear, and says, "I like it when we talk like this. It feels good." she leans on him, and he holds her.

And Della learns to take better care of herself, because it's not just her. She's actually eating every day, especially since Elwin noticed that she was a bit underweight when he first checked her. She grows more and more anxious the more time passes, and is constantly hailing Edaline to ask if x thing is normal for pregnancy. Edaline helps calm her by telling her baby stories about Jolie. She even gives her some of Jolie's old baby things, and Della is very grateful. Alden is just as stressed, and spends lots of time taking care of Della and figuring out what to prepare. When it was too early in the pregnancy to really start setting up a room yet, he tried to baby proof the entirety of Everglen, which is obviously impossible with all the wide staircases and tile floors and fancy crystal and sharp corners. But he tried. He settled for baby proofing the part of the house where Alvar's room was going to be, right by Alden and Della's room, then adding a baby gate in the hallway. This was not his idea, he was still trying to do the whole house when Edaline had to stop him.

Grady and Edaline bring Jolie over a lot and she tells them all about all the stuff that used to be hers, and when they knew Alvar's gender they let her help choose names. Being a brutally honest child (I think like 9 or 10, correct me if I'm wrong) she made a face at one of the names Alden suggested.

Of course, preparing for Alvar wasn't the only thing stressing Della out. They tried to keep it on the down low for a while, but of course the world found out about Della being pregnant. And there were so many predictions and speculation and people were even bringing up her "mental health struggles" (not that she doesn't have those, but they literally just saw her crying in public once) and wondering how she could be a good parent and how her child would turn out as an adult. Edaline saw how this was getting to her and told her to stop reading them so she wasn't as stressed, and finally convinced her by saying it'd be better for the baby if she could like. chill out a bit. 

And then Alvar is born, and everyone cries, and yes, Della is stressed and anxious and scared but they are happy tears! She can't help but smile as she looks at Alvar, so small and fragile and she wants to shield him from the harsh reality of the world. Alden seems almost scared to hold him, like he's afraid he'll break him if he messes up or does something wrong. He sits down by Della so she can help him make sure he does it right. Grady, Edaline, and Elwin are there to help if needed. Jolie is at Brant's house (I believe they’ve met by now). Della closes her eyes and breathes, and the moment is so... perfect. really, truly, perfect.

For a long time, things are great! they really couldn't be better... Alden and Della aren't perfect at parenting, but they're doing their best. They're managing a balance between their work and family fairly well. Like I said, they're not perfect. They do mess up. A lot. And they're super hard on themselves. But... they're trying. Alvar is growing up fairly happy, and when Jolie is old enough, she (and sometimes Brant) babysit him sometimes. Alden and Della are closer than ever with Grady and Eda, and Jolie, too. For the Vackers, the Ruewens are the first example of a healthy family that they've gotten to see.

Now, they say all good things must come to an end. 

Della is the happiest she’s been. Ever. 

And then Jolie dies. 

Everything fell apart then. the Ruewens were like family to Della and Alden, and Jolie was almost like a daughter or niece to them. And for Alvar? She had been a part of his life before he was even born. His special stuffie belonged to her, and he couldn't even fully grasp the concept of death yet. He kept asking where Jolie was, and Della couldn't explain it to him. Alden couldn't either, he'd never been good with words. Della had to keep telling him that she went away and she's not coming back, trying to explain death while still reeling from the shock of the news herself. At one point she got up and locked herself in the bathroom for a while, away from Alvar's questions and away from everything. Alden spent most of his days in his office, working. Della, on the other hand, had to take a break from work for a while. She knew the moment she left Everglen, she would be judged for grieving, grieving wrong, not grieving enough - whatever she did, it would be wrong. And it wasn't even her child who died. She wanted to comfort or help Edaline and Grady somehow, but she couldn't. She couldn't even get out of bed for a while. Alden didn’t really know this, because he'd been sleeping in his office.

All of this really affects Alvar's little child brain, but we can talk about his trauma another time. The planting happens, and the Vackers are right at the front. Alvar has finally gone quiet, and he seems to realize that she's really not coming back. He tries to go over to Brant after the proceedings, but he's kinda... unstable. Alden tells him it's time to go, so Alvar gives Brant a hug and goes back to his parents.

Even though they got that bit of closure, they're still broken. There's a wound that cannot be healed. A hole that cannot be filled. Della's mental health plummets, and for a bit, there is nobody taking care of Alvar. He plays alone in his room until he gets bored and goes to his parents room, where Della is usually curled up in bed, thinking too much and not thinking at the same time. Alden comes in one night and lays down next to her, reaching out his hand like they did when they were still figuring out how to be comfortable together. Della places her hand on top of his, and they sit there for a long time. Alvar comes in and crawls between them, placing his tiny hand on top of Della's. The three of them fall asleep there. 

Slowly, they recover. In a year they're seemingly okay again. But nothing is the same. Della and Alden are more distant from both each other and Alvar. And the wound never healed, only scarred over.

And whether that feeling of something missing affected their decision to have another child is up to speculation, but they did have another child. Part of it was also because Della felt like she had failed Alvar, that she had let him down when Jolie died, and she didn't know how to talk to him or fix things. He wasn't doing bad in Foxfire, he was actually doing better than Della had. But Alden didn't seem to think it was good enough. Or rather, his parents didn't. Alden didn't really seem all that bothered by anything Alvar was doing. He had a habit of getting too wrapped up in work, especially after Jolie died. But Alden's parents sometimes hailed him or came over, mostly to tell him how disappointed they were in how he was raising Alvar. And Della heard them blaming her, a few times. But she didn't know how to fix it. And he was still a level one - surely he had time to turn out okay?

They end up having Fitzroy Alden Fallon Avery Vacker, whose initials they did not think through (Jolie would have thought about it). But this time they feel like they're having this child alone. sure, it's their second one, but there's still no one to just... be with them. Help them. Della is still anxious, but she has no one to stop her from looking at the news, no baby stories to look back on except Alvar's, though even his have turned sad. Jolie was there for so many of them... 

Over time, they become a lot stricter with Alvar. And as Fitz (and Biana) grow older, both Alden and Della begin trying to force them into perfection. Alvar is so different and so unwilling to fit into what their family is supposed to be that Alden and Della have all but given up on him. And for Alvar, well it obviously doesn't feel great to be given up on, which really only makes him further apart from the others. He feels out of place everywhere. At home he isn't perfect enough, he has too much of an attitude, he's placed last in priority. At school, he's a Vacker. He can't escape it. It's who he is.

Prentice's mind break (if I'm mathing correctly) happened while Della was pregnant with Biana. And Alden was never really the same after it. He'd never been very talkative, but he became more distant than ever. He barely left his office, kept forgetting to eat or drink water or sleep. He got better over time, but he still smiles much less than he used to.

When Biana is born, the public doesn't really know how to feel about her. Two children is fine, but three? Isn't that pushing it a bit? So Biana grows up with people asking everything of her, but half expecting nothing. She was so scared she wasn't even going to manifest (which is a bit unrealistic but with the way things were exaggerated, she thought being talentless was very likely. Della was also very afraid of this possibility).

The happiest years for anyone in this family were from when Alvar was born to when Jolie died. Things don't seem like they'll ever be better.

Alden is forcing Fitz and Biana to be perfect to protect the family legacy. Della is forcing them to be perfect to protect them. She knows how cruel the world can be. But her “protection” doesn't come across in the best way. At home, she subtly brings attention to all their little flaws, and when they go out, she makes sure they hide them all. When they cry, she gently tells them not to, that it's okay, that they're okay, everything is okay.

After Alden recovered from the mind break, he suddenly started talking to Alvar (who was struggling a lot with Neverseen stuff and depression and an eating disorder at the time) more. And he wouldn't let Della know what they were talking about. Della stopped trusting Alden. Not that she ever truly had, but this was different.

And Alden and Della grew further apart. Nobody would know, of course, since when they're out in public or when others are around, they act as in love as ever. But sometimes they go all day without talking to each other. Della spends time with Fitz and Biana, takes them places, teaches them how to survive in this family. She teaches them how to be the best version of themselves. They are 3 and 5. Alvar is at school most of the day, and out doing... whatever until nearly sunset. Della could ask, but Alden seems like he has it covered, so it doesn't really matter. She knows she's starting to be apathetic again, and she doesn't want to be, especially when it comes to her kids, but it's so hard not to.

But then Alvar enters the elite levels, and Alden starts spending more time with Fitz. He keeps him in his office all day, but then Della goes in once and Alden is alone. Where is Fitz? She asks him, and he informs her that he's at a friend's house. Where did Fitz get friends? She should be happy for him, but something about all of this feels so wrong. But she doesn't press further. If she shows that she doesn't trust Alden, will people use that against her too? So she doesn't even question it, and instead works on becoming closer with Biana, so Alden can't take her away, too. Maybe she's being overdramatic about it, but that wrong feeling hasn't gone away. Maybe it's just anxiety. Maybe she's fine. No, she is fine. It's not a maybe. She's okay. Their family is okay.

This also creates a divide between Fitz and Biana, who used to be close as little kids. But now Fitz is disappearing every day, and Della is keeping Biana away from him and Alden, and Alvar never comes home, except briefly during breaks and weekends, but then he goes to stay stars know where. Fitz and Biana have vastly different personalities. Biana has learned to be confident and defensive, while Fitz... well, he doesn't know how to act around people. He's learned to depend only on Alden, because nobody else trusts him and he can't trust anyone else. The golden years of this corner of the family are far behind them, and now all they have is perfectionism, distrust, and a facade.

Della thinks that by bringing attention to all Fitz and Biana’s little flaws and imperfections, by pointing them out in subtle ways, she thinks that will give them a chance to "fix" them before the world notices and attacks them for it. She tells herself she wishes someone had done this to her before she had to learn for herself to be perfect. 

Fitz started going to foxfire, and Della can tell he's not really okay. Did they ever get him enrolled in tutor sessions? Maybe that's where he's been going off to? She hasn't been paying enough attention. They used to have dinner together as a family every night, but then Alden got busy, Fitz started bringing his food up to his room when he started school and became swamped with way more homework than what can be good and normal for an eleven year old. So Della usually ended up sitting at the table with Biana after making some food. She figures this is a good meal to skip. Two meals a day is more than enough.

Suddenly, everything changes. Suddenly, Sophie is there, and Fitz seems so much less tired. He seems less stressed. He joins Biana and Della for dinner, and sometimes even Alden sits and eats with them as well. Things are far from perfect, but Alden is smiling genuinely again. Only sometimes, but it's there. Della decides she likes this change. But she also realizes something...

Fitz was always either away or sick, Sophie was in the forbidden cities, where there are lots of human illnesses (she knows from experience). Alden never told her why he had Fitz get up so early to talk to him alone, Alden never talks to her anymore, goddamnit- what was Fitz doing? Alden couldn't have found Sophie. He couldn't have, she knows for a fact he never leaves! He was meeting with the council right before Sophie arrived with Fitz, in her strange human clothes, and Fitz was wearing human clothes and prime sources, she's thinking about this too much and she can't breathe - this has been going on for so long?? How could she not have seen?

No, she needs to stay calm. She... needs to talk to Alden about this. He's been busy today, but she takes two plates of food to his office in the evening, gently opens the door, and sits by him. Alden clearly thinks this is unusual, but she can't tell if it's in a positive or negative way. But that's not important. They need to talk. After a few bites of food, she prepares the question. Were you sending Fitz to the Forbidden Cities? she prepares it in her mind, has it on the tip of her tongue, she opens her mouth to speak, but what comes out instead is...

“How was your day?” 

Alden blinks, like that's not what he was expecting. It's not what Della was expecting either. But she's not ready to confront his lies, she's not ready to face the reality of the danger Fitz was in for quite possibly eight years? And that's how Alden and Della end up sitting in Alden's office for hours, having the longest, most normal conversation they've had in years. They sit together and watch the sun set. Della leans on him. She missed having someone to hold her. Alden missed the feeling of being loved.

Alden and Della sort of work on mending their relationship after this, but they don't really talk about Fitz and what Alden had him do. Della never feels ready to bring it up, and eventually she puts the whole thing out of her mind. After all, Fitz is fine, it's like it never happened. But it did happen, and she doesn't notice the ways this affected Fitz because she's too busy pretending everything is fine and forcing him to do the same! Sometimes it's less pretending and more just. lying to herself. Trying to trick herself into believing. One of the ways she's done this for herself these past decades is telling herself that other people have it worse. If someone is suffering more than her, her pain doesn't matter. going to the Forbidden Cities kind of ingrained this in her brain more, as she saw people who were literally starving to death on the street, and here she was, living in this fancy mansion with a good husband - after all, he's not abusive or anything, and she really loves him. Things are just… weird, sometimes. And she sort of ends up passing this mentality down to Biana and Fitz? There's a time in Flashback where Fitz says it's only fair that all this is happening - because everyone else in the friend group had a really hard time at least at one point in their life, and usually over a long time - he's fine! He's had it good. How could he complain?

Alden went to Exile with Sophie in book 2, but nobody knew about it. Well, nobody was supposed to know, until Sophie transmitted to Fitz and got him all freaked out. All Della really knows is that he got hurt on a mission from the Council, and he really didn’t seem to want to talk about it. When she tried to ask, he used the “no reason to worry” phrase three different times in that conversation. He was clearly stressed and upset about something, but he convinced her to drop it. He ended up falling asleep in his office that night, but that happens sometimes. Everything was looking bright for everyone else, until the Opening Ceremonies. You all know what happened there, so i’m not gonna go into it, but when Alden’s mind broke, Della was devastated. As far as everyone knew, he wasn’t coming back. He was dead, they had a planting for him. She didn’t eat for days. Alvar was basically taking care of the whole family, because Alden was gone and Della spent most of her time by Alden’s side, trying to bring him back. Alvar tried to convince her to leave every day, until one day he snapped and yelled at her, he’s gone and he’s not coming back, stop hoping. It was the same kind of thing she had told him when they lost Jolie. 

But unlike Jolie, Alden did come back, and the Vackers tried to erase the phase of their life where he was gone. They wanted to pretend that Keefe was right, that everything had gone back to perfection in Vacker Land. But this kind of thing leaves a lasting effect. They were afraid to even talk about what had happened with Alden, for fear that he’d break from the guilt of being gone and affecting them like that. Della still visits his Wanderling sometimes, not to mourn, but... for some other reason. There’s something surreal about looking at the tree, knowing full well Alden is okay at home. 

Another quick thing I want to touch on is in book 3 when Alden and Fitz went to help with Fintan’s mind healing. Della and Biana spent the afternoon and evening together, trying to do fun things to take their mind off of things. But then they heard about the fire and saw pictures before Alden and Fitz had even come home, and they understandably freaked out. The fire had consumed half of Eternalia, how could they have gotten out? How could they be okay? But they were, and both Vackers were strangled with hugs as soon as they got back. 

Della went with Fitz and Biana to join the Black Swan, partially because she wanted to, partially because she felt she should keep an eye on them and keep them at least semi in line, and partially because she wanted to escape the world and their pressing stares. And Everglen, a little bit. Juline was there, of course, but Della didn’t really know it was her. 

When Squall wasn't busy and didn't need to rush home, Della actually ended up talking to her a bit. Della was a little more honest (key word a little) with her because she obviously wasn't like the general public - she's a Black Swan member. At one point Squall actually thinks Della is about to call her out on being Juline when Della tells her she reminds her of someone she used to know, and hey, she's a Froster, too! But Della seems genuinely unaware as she sort of explains what happened with this old friend of hers - she's a bad match, and Della was seen talking with her... and she felt like she had no choice but to cut her off. Squall listens, but only half processes it because she's waiting for the "you're Juline aren't you?" But it never comes. 

After Alvar’s betrayal, Della knew a lot of people blamed her for how he ended up. After all, how could Alden Vacker have gone wrong? It was clearly Della’s influence that caused this. And she blames herself, too. She gave up on him. She didn’t talk to him enough. This whole thing also made the distrust in the Vacker family a lot worse - either Fitz or Biana said in Lodestar that it was like their parents wanted to know everything they’re doing, every place they go. They didn’t trust them. Fitz and Biana were growing closer after everything that had happened the past few years, but Della and Alden didn’t trust them, didn’t trust each other. This led to a lot of arguments between them and the kids, maybe not screaming matches, but raised voices and slammed fists and fighting back tears. When Keefe joined the Neverseen, Fitz shut himself in his room until school started again. He got quieter, and started to feel like he couldn’t trust anyone, even his sister, who he’d been taught to keep secrets from at a very young age. Della wanted to fix this somehow, she didn’t want to lose them like she’d lost Alvar - She wouldn’t give up on them. But she ended up just becoming overbearing and seemingly nosy. She thought she was helping. 

If I remember correctly, the others got told that Squall is Juline in Lodestar when they came to pick up their kids from Rimeshire. Juline gathers everyone and says she has to tell them something, and when she reveals it, Della's smile drops faster than it ever has and she feels blood drain from her face. Juline never looks directly at her, and Della is panicking, thinking about how Juline must hate her. She wonders if she should try to push her away more, but... at this point what does it matter? Fitz and Biana already spend lots of time with Dex, and they just slept over at the Dizznees- she joined an illegal organization with them for stars’ sake! So... it's fine. It's okay for her to be here, at rimeshire, talking to Juline. The world is changing, and people have bigger things to talk about than Alden Vacker’s wife sharing a conversation with Juline Dizznee. As they leave Rimeshire, Juline meets her eyes and offers a small smile. Della nods in return. 

When Alvar had his memories wiped and returned to Everglen, Della was determined to help him. She had this second chance, she wasn’t going to ruin it. She wanted to really believe he’d changed. But then Alvar got his memories back, and in front of the whole world at the celestial festival, he told everyone how his parents had given up on him. Della and Alden were watching that entire thing, as the world watched them, and Della couldn’t breathe. She watched Fitz threaten to kill Alvar, and for a few horrifying moments she thought she was about to lose both of them. And it was her fault, wasn’t it? That’s what everyone said. They blamed her. Alvar blamed her. She wouldn’t be surprised if Fitz and Biana blamed her, too. 

Ever since what the world has canonically deemed the “Scandal at Everglen,” things in the Vacker family have not gotten better. Alden had been talking to Fitz about matchmaking for a while, encouraging him to pursue Sophie as a romantic interest. Eventually they do get together. Della tries to be happy for him, but she still sees this and thinks, maybe give them time. If she could go back, she would have wanted to enjoy her life before committing to the Match forever. She’s almost relieved when Sophie and Fitz don’t work out. She thinks it’ll be better for Fitz in the end. She knows he’s been isolating himself from his family, from the world after the Scandal at Everglen, which is understandable. They all seem to think he’s crazy. He’s seventeen, and he almost killed his own brother, right there. But Della was watching, too, and she saw that it was Gethen doing the manipulating. Using the right words, would they make Fitz turn out like Alvar? The thought still chills her to this day. 

I don’t really have a good way to wrap it up other than I don’t think anything good will be happening to the Vackers anytime soon (except Biana, she seems to be doing relatively good compared to the rest). But yeah those are my Della thoughts :) 

Lastly, art tags:

@cutebisexualmess @void-kill @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @keefe--sencen @tastetherainbow290 

@myfairkatiecat @awful-amateur @aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen @necromycologist @cosmxc-ars3hol3