#The tools for a fulfilling life are laid out in front of me I know this I can See Them!!!
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Think I'm going to try and find a quilt making workshop next year!
And maybe, if I get up the gumption, an illustration class 🥺?
#I think I can do classes at the college my wife nominally works for for free? Or at least way cheaper#But they're not really a school anyone would associate with illustration#Doesn't hurt to check! And maybe that would make it less intimidating !!#I've got to bring up my tired bad wrist to my doctor at some point.. I wonder if it's the same issue as with my ankles ?#The tools for a fulfilling life are laid out in front of me I know this I can See Them!!!
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can you do some technoblade x teen platonic reader headcanons about techno sorta being the reader’s mentor and being one of the only people on the smp who could actually defeat technoblade in a sword fight?
behold... another main character
Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To Your Taglist
Warnings : Violence, Death, Some cursing
Word Count : 4.0k
The Blade and The Survivor (1/?)
Technoblade x GN!Platonic!Teen!Reader
You’ve only ever heard the story’s of the famous blood god growing up
Your brother was the first to introduce you to the legend, the legend of a man who never died
Who’s fought battles that no person could ever dream of and walked out victorious every time
The well known anarchist who’s taken down government after government
You were hooked from the very beginning and after every tail he would tell, you would beg your brother to teach you how to fight like him
While your brother wasn’t the best, he knew his way around basic weapons from your grandfather and agreed
He would bring you out to a nearby plains biome anytime you were free and teach you all he knew
And while it wasn't much, you were grateful for every piece of information and put your all into everything he taught you
He even reenacting some fights from the stories to make it interesting for you
You would always play along, acting as the infamous blade and running around with your brother
Sometimes you would shout “blood for the blood god” while killing cows or chickens
But you refused to kill pigs.
In fact you got a pet one and named it Bladey
For your birthday your brother got you a saddle and you made a carrot on a stick using the crops he stole from the farm so you could ride it across the village
He also gifted you a wooden sword and axe while he wielded stone
for safety of course, he wasn't about to give a child stone tools
Along with a shield that had the banner of your village
But out of every weapon, you were the best with a bow
You had a natural talent for it, every arrow you ever shot always hit its target
Your brother would always ruffle your hair and compare your aim to that of the blade’s, making you beam even brighter
“Who knew we have an archer on our hands, the blade could never compare,”
But all of this was done in secret
The village you lived in was safe, small and homey
Everyone knew one another, so the possibly of someone committing crimes or turning against someone was unlikely
The villagers were peaceful with one another
And with the iron golems patrolling every corner
you loved to give them poppies from your mother’s garden as a thank you
There was no need to learn to fight when you lived in a place that never needed it
The village ran on balance, equality amongst each person so that everyone could be amongst one another in peace
Plus, at the time you were the youngest in the village, considered a baby by everyone
And while you had the kindness and curiosity to match it, there was always something missing
Training was the only thing that fulfilled it
Your brother thought that your practises would disrupt that balance so he never told anyone about your activities
And that stayed true until your last night in the village
You, your brother and bladey were making your way back to the village after a long day of training when you noticed thick, black smoke rising from where it stood
You both started walking carefully to the area, you walking behind your brother with the pig in your arms for comfort
In the distance, you noted the shadow of pillagers and iron ore scattered across the grounds
You went to scream as you got close and run to your house, but your brother slapped his hand over your mouth and pulled you with him behind a nearby tree
But one of the pillagers heard the noise of leaves rustling and began to approach the both of you.
Your brother was quick to take out his sword, pushing you behind him
“Listen to me Y/n, I want you to run okay? Run and never stop until you know you’re safe okay?”
You shook your head, “What about you? What about our parents?”
He smiled sadly, shakily ruffling your hair, “I’ll be right behind you... Now go!”
The sound of swords clashing and the screams of your brother were the last things you heard as you ran, tears falling from your face
Bladey squealed in your arms, wiggling and turning to get out of them, sensing the danger but you kept your grip tight, following your brother’s orders and running as far as pos sible
Needless to say he didn’t follow, neither did the rest of the village that was left in ashes and ruins after the attack
You couldn't find the heart to turn back, to fight along side your brother
You fled like a coward. Guilt, pain and hatred riding on your back
But you didn't give up hope, plotting revenge against the mobs who destroyed your home
Who killed your family
You walked for days, stopping at villages, trading with them and improving your supplies
And getting a lot of carrots
Your wooden swords turned into iron, along with the rest of your tools
Your leather helmet turned into a full set of iron armor
But you kept your old shield, repairing it every time it lost durability
You even crafted a crossbow that you learned was the main weapon pillagers used
You dreamed of pointing it at there neck, watching the sharp arrowhead puncture their skin and bleed out on the floor
You tended to sleep through the day and fight threw the night, taking out your anger on the mobs that spawned around the wood houses you made to keep yourself warm and isolated
Times when you weren't fighting and training, you spent in the library of any village you found, learning about anything you could
It was there you learnt about the rare ore diamonds, hidden deep in caves
You also learned about enchantments, that made your armor and weapons even stronger
Soon enough you were geared up with full diamond armor and a set of diamond tools
But it was never enough, you always needed more
So you went to nether after repairing a ruined portal you came across
And began exploring
Gathered potions
All the materials you could find
Along with netherite
And fighting every mob you happened to pass by except piglins
For such a young age, you were stacked, maxed out to the point of boredom that you couldn't go further
Even Bladey had his own turtle shell, adjusted slightly to fit his head and allow him sight
You often wondered if this was what it was like to feel like technoblade
And throughout your journeys, you kept the stories your brother told you by heart, learning as much as you could about The Blade
You followed in his footsteps, using his successes as even more motivation to continue on your quest
And ready to finally get your revenge
It was easy to take down the pillage post, taking the banner and making your own shield that you kept as a trophy in your inventory as a reminder of what you lost
But it wasn’t enough, the loss of your family laid heavy and your heart
So you started protecting the villages you visited in exchange for lower prices in trades
You believed that was your purpose now, you had nothing else to do but fight for the people who couldn't fight for themselves
You wanted to help in ways that you couldn't all those years ago
You would wear a black cloak over your armor, the hood covering your head and a mask concealing your face
You couldn't imagine wearing a skull mask, even if it was for the aesthetic
You looked like death itself
Death with a cute pig side kick
Soon enough, word got around of a teenage warrior roaming the lands labelled ‘The Survivor’, catching the attention of Wilbur and Tommy who had just been exiled from L’manburg
“Why would we need them if we already have techno on our side?”
“Because we need all the allies we could get Tommy, plus we don’t want Shlatt to get to them first.”
You would be passing by Pogtopia on your horse with Bladey tucked into you lap sleeping, following a map to another village that needed help when a tall man stepped in front of your path, making you halt
“Why hello there, Survivor, care for a little chat?” he said ominously, leaning against your horse
You payed no mind to him, hitting his hand of your horse, rolling your eyes and moving around him
You’ve meet people like him on your travels before, people who only needed you for your skills and selfish reasons
At least, that how he came off and you didn’t care to stay and find out if your assumptions were true
“Hey, hey, hey, look, I’m sorry if I came off so forward but- I need your help,”
That made you stop.
“Need help with what exactly?”
He went on to explain his situation about a place called L’Manburg, an evil dictator named Jshlatt and his exile along with someone named TommyInnit
At first you said no.
You were only interest in keeping your own kind safe, protected people who needed it
And from the looks of it, it seemed that the two men put themselves in there position so they should be the one to take themselves out
That and you had more pressing matters to attend to than government
“What do you need? What would you want in return?” he started to beg, walking along side your horse as you started to ride away
“I already have all I need,” you croaked
“Well that seems boring. Don’t you want a bit of adventure in your life Survivor? A little bit of flavour to spice up it up? It must be so boring just fighting the same thing over and over again, why not work for a group? A collective?”
You grew tired of his voice, letting out a deep breath you began to consider his words
As much as you didn’t want to admit, he was right
You had been travelling around the lands, going insane, doing the same thing over and over
And while it helped people, it was growing tiring
Maybe one war wouldn’t be so bad, and perhaps you would learn some new stuff along the way
And the alliance with this so called L’manburg would be good for the long run
“If I agree... would you shut up?” you finally cut off his rambling and stopping your horse
He blinked in surprise, “Wow! If i had known talking would make you cave in, I would've brought up Tommy instead.”
You sighed, “I’ll help you okay? As long as I get free access to L’manburg afterwards along with all the supplies i need,”
“Done, done and done.”
The first day wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be
Wilbur was actually pretty chill, letting you make a new home out of the ravine they stayed in
Niki was also really kind, bringing sweet treats from Manburg every time she visited
It was nice to settle for a while, you couldn't remember the last time you slept under the same roof for more that a day
Your horse, Jewel along with Bladey seemed to settle well along with you
You also met Tubbo and Tommy, a lively duo that overwhelmed you at first but there energy was nice to see in such a grey environment
What you didn’t expect was to meet him
You would be mining a small space in the ravine for yourself and your pets when you heard a monotone voice sound from behind you
“Heh?! Who’s the kid?”
You spun around, raising your sword to the intruder but froze when you noticed the familiar skull mask, along with pointy piglin ears hidden behind bright pink hair
He didn’t seem fazed by your weapon, leaning against the stone door frame with his arms crossed
“You’re- you’re him.” you muttered in awe
Before he could respond, Wilbur popped out from behind him, “Oh, yeah. That’s Y/n, Y/n, Techno. Techno, Y/n,” he nudged his side, “They’ll be helping us take back L’manburg,”
Techno only nodded, “Nice.” he tilted his head, “Aren’t you that Survivor dude? That’s pretty pog.”
Cut to you standing frozen in place, jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide in amazement
“You- you know who I am?” you squeaked, quickly sticking your sword in the ground and leaning against the handle, stumbling slightly
An attempt to seem cool in front of your idol
An attempt that didn't really work out
He let out a hum, “Heard the name from around yeah,” he pointed to your sword, “Might not want to stab your sword in stone, It’s not that affective.”
And with that he left
Leaving you in shock
If only your brother could see you now
After that interaction, you started to follow him around like a lost puppy, watching in awe at every little thing he did
You felt like a kid again, the warmth in your chest that you lost so long ago restored because the person who tied you and your brother together was here
Because you were training and fighting along side your childhood hero
He would act annoyed at first, always shrugging you off or moving to other rooms to avoid you
You were like a parasite
He could never shake you off
He didn’t want to grow close to anyone, he was here to take down yet another corrupt government not to look after some orphan
That was Phil’s thing.
But after time he grew a liking to you, enjoying your presence while he was farming potatoes or visiting his cow farm
You acted different around him, the hard and emotionless exterior you showed to Tommy and Wilbur completely vanished and left an innocent, happy child
He always wondered why
People never did that with him
He was a feared name across the lands of the smp, everyone usually kept there distance and became extremely cautious in his presence
But you didn’t seem to get scared, in fact, you were a talker, constantly asking question after question even if he gave no response
It was nice not to be alone after so long even though he would never admit it
Even the voices started to take a liking to your bubbly and curious personality
Why is she asking the same question
Maybe you should answer her blood god
She seems nice
You really do take after your father
He saw a part of himself in you
Unlike Tommy and Wilbur, you weren’t fighting for government, you were fighting because you had nothing else to do
Because you were bored with your everyday life being, essentially, an assassin
The thought always made him chuckle
He left like he could trust you over them because your weren't driven under a government
At least that’s what he told himself
He also wanted to see why they valued your alliance so much to give up half there riches to you from L’manburg
“Duel with me.” he said to you one day, out of the blue as you both made your way across a plain biome looking to animals to kill for food
“Heh?” you said under your breath, clearing your throat while heat rose your your face at his suggestion and the noise of surprise that escaped your mouth
Techno couldn't deny that his heart warmed just a little at the small things you began to pick up from him
“Fight with me,” he drew out his sword, turning around and facing you with the weapon raised in the air, “I wanna see what you’re made of ‘Survivor’. So come on, lets fight,”
This was the first time techno actually talked to you directly, uttered words other that demands, silly excuses or grunts of acknowledgement
“I-” you let out a deep breath, shakily taking out your own sword, “Okay, okay,”
After establishing some rules, the duel began.
He let you take the first hit, barely dealing him damage but you got the second hit as well, knocking him down two hearts
He was quick to regain himself, taking three hearts with his sword and a free hit with his bow
That gave you the idea to take out your own, running a good distance away and getting three shots in
It was a close fight, you didn’t mind if you lost. Fighting Technoblade was already an honour as it was
Then you jumped of a piece of stone, landing a crit and watched his items fall to the floor
Technoblade was slain by Y/n
You let out a short breath, eyes widening in shock that you had just won
You just killed Technoblade
“I was only going easy on you- I- What enchantment do you have on your sword? You have creative mode don’t you? Yeah, you have creative mode... there’s just no way-”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress your laughs as the blood god ran over to pick up his items with a red face
“Hey! Hey don’t laugh! This isn’t a laughing matter!”
“It- it kind of is.” you said shyly, putting away your sword and eating some steak to regain the health you lost, “If it makes you feel better, I had one heart...”
“oNe hEaRt! She had one heart chat! What is this-”
His words had you rolling on the floor, wiping your eyes of the tears falling from your at how hard you were laughing
“What- What do I have to do for you to keep this between us-” he whispered after you calmed, looking around the the space, making sure it was just you and him
You shrugged, “Nothing really- I- uh, i didn’t mean to kill you... I’m sorry-”
Sorry? Who the fuck says sorry for killing someone
Who says sorry for killing him?
If anything you should be gloating, getting a billbourd and displaying the chat message for everyone to see
He’s never been gladder that nobody else was connected to the chat at the time
“I was going easy on you.”
“I- sure, sure okay...” you thought about it for a second, “If so... then why don’t you teach me the things you didn’t try? Like techniques and stuff...”
He froze at your suggestion, “You want- you want to learn from me?”
“Yeah!” you beamed, “You were... a big inspiration for me growing up and, I would love to learn from the source and not just through tails and stories.”
He thought about it for a bit, usually he would rely on his voices but they were all just insulting him
He didn’t see the harm in it, out of all the children on the SMP, he tolerated you the most
That and you had potential, it was rare to find someone with such skills and who acted humble with them
He sighed, patting the top of your head with a huff, “Sure... Sure why not.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah sure, I mean what’s the harm in it right?” he ruffled your hair
The action made your eyebrows rise and when you looked back up at the piglin hybrid, all you saw was the smile of your brother looking down at you
“Hey, everything alright?” he questioned, noticing your sudden glossy eyes
You quickly rubbed them with your knuckles, “Yeah, yeah I- I just forgot something at Pogtopia,” you said, backing away with an embarrassed smile, “I’ll meet you back there,”
“Sure, sure... I’ll just continue hunting,”
As you ran away he let out a deep breath, taking out swords and looking down at it with a scoff
“Chat... we never speak of this... again.”
After that, the both of you were inseparable
Going on adventures with each other, looting and exploring together
Where ever he went, you followed in his footsteps as he taught you about whatever he could
He even took you to his secret base and allowed you to help him in gathering supplies to help the fight
“What’s with the pig by the way?”
“It’s my emotional support pig.”
“And his name is bladey?”
“...”
“It’s a short for bladder...now what were you saying about poisoned arrows?”
And while you appreciated the action, your favourite times where the calm ones
When he would take you up to a hight tower or hill so the both of your could relax, maybe eat some mushroom stew as he told you stories of his own adventures
You opened up to him as well, telling him about your family and your village, how you were travelling around with so sense of direction
It was strange how easily he trusted you, maybe it was because you had similar experiences as him
You understood him and he understood you
You also began to make good friends with the rest of Pogtopia along with everyone else who started to betray shlatt and join there side, becoming more open with the reassurance from Techno that they weren’t bad people
You fit in well, a lot more that he did
You had potential for a bloodless life, he saw that
He didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as him, he didn’t want you to live the same isolated life
And while you agreed with his thoughts on anarchy, he didn’t want to you to have any part in what he was doing.
So when L’Manburg was taken back and Tubbo was but in power, he felt a sense of dread opening his enderchest and taking out his six wither skulls
Don’t let the wither’s hurt them
You’re going to hurt them more that they are
You won’t be able to protect
Protect them at all costs
It wasn’t just the voices that felt the urge to keep you safe
Over the months he’s grown a liking to you, treating you like his own student and teaching you the things he wish he knew at your age
But he could also be the one to corrupt you.
And he didn’t have the heart to find out which way it would go
You caught sight of the skulls in his hands before he switched to his sword, a hard look on his face as everyone began fighting each other
“Techno?” you walked up to him, “Are you-”
“Yeah... yeah I am.” he puffed out his chest, pulling you the side, “Look, things are about to get messy and when they do I want you to run-”
You knew where this was going, flashbacks of your brother fighting one of the pillagers to save you as you ran away to safe yourself, sacrificing himself for you
“No.” you cut him off before he could continue.
While you knew Techno was going to come out of this alive, you had the power to help him now, to help everyone, you didn’t need to run anymore
You considered Techno family now, well the closest thing you had to it and you weren't about to loose that
Not again.
“I’m staying with you Tech,”
He shook his head, “If you do, L’manburg would never look at you the same, you’ll be an outcast once again-”
“Then do what you have to do, but I’m not running away. What happens here is because of everyone’s belief and I believe in safety and protection so that is what I’ll provide.” you took out your sword smirking, “Plus, we all know what happened last time when you tried to fight me,”
“I thought you promised to never speak of this again!”
“I’m sorry I had to-”
“Okay kid, okay...” he took a deep breath, “Just stay clear of dream and his crew... and the withers... Actually? here take some golden apples-”
“Just go be an anarchist Techno,” you pushed him forwards, rolling your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”
“Actually, take this God apple and a few more potions-”
“I already have some-”
“Well take more. And some extra armor... just in case-” he threw the items at you before running away and setting up the soul sand, not wanting anyone to catch on to what he was doing
And with one final look around following the conclusion of his speech, he placed the skulls, unleashing ultimate chaos on the land once called L’manburg
...
Sorry this took so long! I always get ahead of myself with requests and end up writing a lot more that planned but i hope you enjoyed! I was making this so long that I had to spit this into part two, maybe part three to cover the rest of the lore and to be able to develop more on their relationship besides backstory
That and i really want to write the execution scene but this was already 4k words...
Feedback always appreciated🥰
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DEAREST HEART- Letter One
Okay, For The Better has got me at a standstill. Every time I go to write the next chapter, I get a very "bad" idea and I have to write it in to meld with what I have in mind, but as my birthday is approaching in 2 days and Halloween is quickly approaching, I have developed a very new and delicious idea. I thought up this story in the shower. Hear me out, okay? The blinds that cover the window in my bathroom fell, and I mean fell from the wall, so I had to take a shower in the dark with a candle. Well it gets pretty muggy in my bathroom, as there's not a lot of room, so I opened the window to get some air, well with the wind blowing and the leaves rustling I kinda got that weird feeling that someone was watching me (which I highly doubt). In this story the character/you are a new wife and mom and you've been unmotivated to do normal chores and upkeep due to de pression and anxiety. I kinda wanted to touch on some real topics that I felt may resonate as I've noticed there is a lot of depression and anxieties that have been major high and I just wanted to send a small message that you are seen, you are heard, you are worthy, you are loved. Even if it is in your own world, I'd rather have my own world that I can escape to and have things go my way than keep taking on the pressure of things we deal with everyday. Also this is another Dark Clark Kent. I know, I know, the idea of the man just does something to me. So with that curvies, I present to you Dearest Heart. Okay rant over for the day. Please proceed..........oh yeah MMMMMMmwwwwwwaaahhhhhhh
Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader
Warnings: Non Con, somnophilia, masturbation, stalking, mentions of impregnation. Maybe other things too. MINORS DNI!!!
You were getting up and ready for work, since starting your new job, you'd found yourself a bit out of balance. Being a new wife and mom, trying to adjust, you'd found yourself falling in and out of a reel of depression and anxiety. You very rarely had the energy or drive to clean and sometimes your depression got you to a point where you didn't really want to keep up your hygiene. Finally, you'd gotten the burst of life you needed and decided to make use of it while you had the drive. You started keeping up your hygiene as you used to and cleaned your house day by day. You started cherishing more moments with your husband and son. You had noticed the more you took effort within the day, it helped you feel a bit better everyday. One day, you stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air and sunlight. As you were getting ready to head back inside, you saw a letter place neatly on the bars of you security door with small rose. You tilted you head in confusion and looked around. You took the letter, seeing that it had "Dearest Heart' written beautifully across the front. You walked inside while admiring the vintage parchment envelope.
"Baby?" Your husband asked curiously, making you look up and smile as he and your son watched you.
"Well I think the mailman left someone else's mail-again." You sighed tossing the letter down on the table by your door. You went over and spent the remainder of you free time with your husband and son before heading into your office and logging on for work.
On your first break, you rushed out of your office hoping to spend time with your loved ones. You giggled as you watched your husband and son sleep with their mouths wide open on your couch. You were about to step into the bathroom when you got the nagging urge to go back and look at the letter again. You stared at it from across the room a moment before finally giving in to curiosity and grabbing it. You studied it for a moment before your husband adjusting on the couch startled you. You quietly went to the bathroom and examined the letter. Looking at your phone, you realized you didn't have much time, and would just open it to see what it looked like inside. A very hopeful side of you prayed that in your head that it was filled with cash that some good saint just felt in their heart to give, but you knew that was a slim chance. When you opened the letter, you almost gasped, almost like a child feeling as if you if you'd just done something forbidden. The alarm on you phone vibrated and you jumped, the letter dropped from you hands. You laughed a bit at yourself, picked up the letter, tucked it away and went back to work.
One your lunch break, after making something to eat for yourself and your hungry boys, you found yourself practically lured back to the bathroom to find the letter you'd tucked away for later. You opened it and pulled out a very beautifully written letter, but the first line damn near made your heart stop. You read it over and over trying to make sure you weren't seeing things, but there it was in black in, your name. You took a deep breath and continued reading the letter.
My Dearest Y/n,
I promised myself I wouldn't try to interfere in your life, but my heart won't let my stand idly by. I know this is abrupt as you've never seen me in your life, at least you don't remember meeting me, its been so long ago; but I can't keep quiet about this anymore as my love for you has yet to subside. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I swore I'd never lie to you and I am a man of my word. You might be a little worried as to how I know you, where you live-but you'd be shocked at how much I know about you and it'd scare you to know how long I've watched over you. Little love, I've been a bit disappointed in you. You allowed yourself to get to far down and instead of talking it out, you've been bottling everything in. We both know how that ends. You can talk to me if you need to, but I was really disappointed in how you allowed things to get. You weren't getting out of bed, you weren't keeping your hygiene up, and you weren't keeping the house up; on top of that, you haven't been utilizing any of your self-care tools. You didn't leave the house for a month and you cried every night by yourself because you're too stubborn to get out of your own head for two seconds and let the people who love you in. You were also finding a new lie every week to call into to work, that was disappointing darling because you don't have to lie, just tell them you need a day for your health, you don't owe them anymore explanation than that, but I don't want you to lie again. Do you remember those 2 weeks your backside was sore and stinging and you couldn't figure out why? I'm so sorry dear heart but I had to light a fire in you some way, and I just can't allow you to behave in such a way. I also can't stand to see the woman I love not take care of herself. On another note, I do want to tell you how proud of you I have been with how much you love and care for our son. He's growing so big isn't he? Oh darling, I know you think he's your husbands, but I guarantee he is my flesh and blood, why do you think he stares at me so long when he sees my photo pass your screen. His blood is my blood, he knows who he is. I have decided dear heart, to be a bit more active in your life as I have come to realize that my standing by protecting in the shadows is not enough. It will be awhile my love, but one day we will be together. You, Me and our son. I love you both so much, I promise you we will be a family as we should one day. For now I will continue to watch from the distance and protect you when you need me. I will also be there to talk whenever you just want to talk out loud. Before I end this letter, I want to also tell you how proud I am that you've started writing. I love the stories you've been writing about me and I promise to fulfill every one of you desires as soon as the time is right. Only this time, you'll be able to enjoy it as much as I have. I will be writing again, you don't have to reply, but it would be nice. Keep up the good work sweetheart, I love you.
With All My Heart and Soul,
Kal-El
Your heart pounded in your ears, you forgot to breath and tears filled your eyes. You kept trying to convince yourself it was a prank, but the more you tried to deny it, the more you knew it was real. You sat thinking to yourself, when you'd written a story about him, you didn't know anyone named Kal-El. You immediately started walking around your house making sure every window and door was locked. You wanted to tell your husband, but once again the gut feeling told you not to, and you'd realized that your gut was really on point and that just made things scarier.
You finished you lunch break and the rest of that day unable to concentrate on anything. That night while you took a shower, you kept looking through the blinds to see if you'd see someone. On one had you wanted to see if there was someone really there and on the other you felt you'd probably shit yourself if you really saw someone. After a moment or two, you'd finally convinced yourself it was a sick prank and someone in the neighborhood was being an idiot. You laughed a bit and finished up, ready to finally get the sleep you'd been begging for all day. As you laid in bed, every noise made you jump. Every time something or someone would move, you'd go from the precipice of sleep to fully awake. You had been feeling watched for the longest time and you'd just blamed it on being crazy, but now with the letter confirming your nightmare, you really had no idea what to do. Your mind ran and ran until it finally shut itself down and you drifted off to a very peaceful sleep despite everything going on around you.
He sat in the corner of your dark room watching you breath calmly. He wanted so badly to go over and rock you to sleep as he watched you struggle to fall asleep, but he couldn't present himself to you just yet, not until everything was perfect the way we wanted it before he showed himself.
He sat there watching you from the other side of the room knowing that soon you'd throw the covers off of your plush body exposing your luscious curves that he loved feeling in his large hands. His hand stroked himself as he thought back to the first night he took you. You were sleeping so good, you didn't hardly move. His released his hard thick cock from their restraints and pumped himself as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. He thought back to the first time he tasted your nipples, how hard they got when he kissed and nipped them. How wet you got for him and how he once made you cum from playing with them only. He then thought about how delicious you were. His fist moving faster and rougher down his shaft. He remembered how tight you were when he first fucked you. How hot and juicy you were as he pumped deep into your soft pussy filling you with every inch of him. He wanted to ruin you, and he wished you could see the happiness he felt when you couldn't cum one night from yours or your husbands touches. His hand pumped faster as he remembered fucking you so good one night your orgasm woke you as you came, as disappointed as he was that he couldn't feel you cum around him, he was still proud to have your body so responsive for him. That sent him over the edge and he came hard wanting so badly to empty inside of you. He wanted to see you round with his baby again, but he wanted to allow you the time to fully heal. He used one of your husbands shirts to wipe himself clean, and he gave you a soft peck on the lips, smiling when you turned away.
"I love you so much. I promise things will be right soon. Sleep well dearest heart." He whispered before leaving. He couldn't wait until you found his next letter.
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we’ll meet again
a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time
words: 2347
warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution
Masterlist
When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.
“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.
“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.
Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.
But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”
He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it’s dull and doesn’t matter right now.
When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.
It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.
She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.
“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.
“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”
For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?
“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.
“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”
She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.
“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”
“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”
To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.
“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”
Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.
“What do you want to happen?” she asks.
Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.
He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.
He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.
“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.
“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”
He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,
“What do you want, Princess?”
Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”
He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.
“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.
“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”
It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.
“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.
“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”
Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.
“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”
When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.
“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”
Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.
For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.
He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.
“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”
“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.
“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”
“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.
“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”
“I..”
She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.
“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”
“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”
“Then make it so we both get it.”
Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.
“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.
“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”
She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.
When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.
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Pay Your Penance (sub! Tony Stark x domme! Reader)
Summary: Tony forgot your anniversary, and he's eager to make it up to you.
Notes: Hello! I thought up this one-shot while I was watching online recitals for college (I seem to have a pattern of writing smut during class lol). I hope everyone enjoys this one, and thank you for reading! (use of she/her pronouns, no y/n)
Warnings: smut! 18+ only! very light angst, spanking, oral sex (fem receiving), pegging, dominant reader, sub Tony
WC: (almost) 2.6 k
Two days.
It had been two days since you had spoken to Tony. He deserved it, you justified. He forgot your three year anniversary. He had made the reservations to go to your favorite restaurant and sworn off work of any kind for the entire day in favor of spending it with you.
Needless to say, you were pretty pissed off when he was nowhere to be found throughout the day, only to find him in the workshop at 10:00 pm, making upgrades to his suits. You couldn’t believe that he had forgotten. And you let him know that. After a long chewing out, you had completely ignored him for two days. He didn’t make it easy to do that; his extroverted demeanour was difficult to ignore. But you managed. Up until now.
The two of you were having an extremely tense dinner back at your place. The past two days, you had eaten dinner alone. Tonight, you decided you would at least grace him with your presence, even if you wouldn’t do the same with conversation. No looks were even spared in his direction, though you could feel his eyes burning into you. Every sharp intake of breath from him caused you to take a sip of wine in an attempt to get him not to speak. Eventually, though, he did anyway.
“Please, darling. I’m sorry.”
The quaver in his voice caused you to glance up from your pasta. That was a mistake. You could see how glassy his eyes were and the guilt etched across his face. His hands were shaking, and you were sure they were clammy. His mouth was turned downwards in a frown that you usually would never want to see, and his bottom lip was trembling. You placed your fork on the table and rested your chin on your hands, silently prompting him to speak.
“Baby, I’m truly sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but there is absolutely no excuse for what I did. You mean the world to me; I’m ridiculously happy that you let me into your life. Which makes me feel all the more guilty for forgetting something this important. I promise that it will never happen again; I’ll program F.R.I.D.A.Y. to remind me every day for a week beforehand so I never forget again. But I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry for putting you through that pain, and I will never do anything to hurt you like that ever again. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
The sincerity in his tone struck you. You could practically see the guilt washing over him in strong waves. Sadness radiated off of him in a way that you had never seen before. And you did miss him, you really did. You missed his smile, the crinkles that would appear beside his eyes when he laughed, the scratch of his facial hair when he kissed you on the cheek, and the soft murmurs of “I love you” that would accompany every gesture of affection he gave you. But you still wanted to make him work for it, being the stubborn thing you were. And you knew exactly what you wanted him to do.
You arched your eyebrow, “Anything?”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly at the sound of your voice, “Anything, darling.”
You made eye contact with him then, missing the feeling of his chocolate brown eyes staring into yours. But swiftly after, your eyes swept downwards, eyeing up the swell of his lips and the way the t-shirt he was wearing clung to his biceps. You couldn’t help but have his punishment be of a sensual nature; you had both always been very sexually intimate people. Your bodies had a way of conveying what couldn’t be said with words.
“After we finish eating, I want you upstairs in our room, stripped and kneeling at the edge of the bed while I get some things ready. When I come back, you’re going to get your punishment, then you’re going to make me cum. If you’re good, I’ll let you cum after. Understood?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
You fell back into silence once more, though this one was more anticipatory than awkward. You could tell he was excited at the prospect of paying his penance, and was looking forward to things going back to normal between the two of you. You were looking forward to it as well; you missed him, though you wouldn’t admit it, of course.
It wasn’t long before the two of you finished your meal. You took the trek back to your bedroom together, and while Tony busied himself with obeying your commands, you disappeared into the closet to get some tools for the night ahead: a red and gold paddle for the punishment, and lube and a deep blue dildo (hopefully) for his reward. When you re-entered your bedroom with your tools in hand, you were pleased to find Tony nude and kneeling by the bed as requested. His head turned to you as you entered and he gave you a soft smile. You returned it as you set the dildo and lube on the nightstand for later use. You sat on the edge of the bed and tilted his chin so he was looking up at you. You kissed him sweetly as you gripped the paddle in your hands, contrasting the roughness of the punishment he was about to receive.
“Lay across my lap.”
Your voice was commanding, and he didn’t care disobey. He draped himself across your legs, ass up in the air and now hard cock pressing into your thigh.
“Tell me your safeword, sweetheart,” you told him, bringing the paddle up in preparation.
“Gauntlet,” he whispered back.
“Good boy,” you cooed, before bringing the paddle down to smack against his left cheek.
He made a soft noise of shock; you took him by surprise that time. But the two you landed on his right cheek in rapid succession didn’t. The next harsh smack made him gasp out, and the one that followed made him grip the sheets below him, whimpering into the mattress.
“That’s it, love. Taking your punishment like a good boy,” you crooned.
“Wanna be good for you,” he murmured back, slightly muffled by the mattress he was face down on.
You laid down five more smacks, and by the end, his soft gasps turned into moans. You could feel his hard-on pressing more insistently into your thigh. His ass was bright red; you knew it would be a struggle for him to sit tomorrow.
“All done, love. You did so wonderfully for me,” you said with a gentle smile.
“Thank you,” he replied softly, returning your smile.
“Why don’t you get on your knees for me, baby?”
He did as you told, kneeling directly in front of you and looking up at you adoringly. You placed the paddle beside you on the bed and spread your legs for him in invitation.
It didn’t take a doctorate for him to know what you wanted him to do. He crawled forward until his face was directly in front of your heat, stabilizing his hands on your thighs, and you knew that you were already dripping. You honestly had been since you had thought this up, excited to get him between your thighs and feel the scratch of his beard against your cunt.
The first press of his lips against you already had you reeling, but you knew how to reign it in. You gripped his hair tightly, holding him in place as his tongue licked between your folds, licking up your wetness. He went at it with enthusiasm and fervor; not only did he want to make this up to you, but he normally enjoyed eating you out just as much as you did. He loved the feeling of having you dripping down his chin, moaning unabashedly as you yanked on his hair. He loved your taste, and he loved when you were in control. He moved slightly from between your lower lips and sucked your clit into his mouth, which drew the first moan from you.
“Just like that, baby. Doing so well for me,” you praised.
You felt him smile against you as he continued to lavish your clit with attention. He had always had a bit of a praise kink. He finished your assault on your clit when you tugged him back down to your folds, and his tongue pressed deep inside of you, wanting to bring you to your release. The soft gasps of pleasure above him told him that he was fulfilling his goal. You slowly ground your hips into his face, spreading your wetness down his chin. He buried his nose into your cunt as he licked deeply, moaning at the taste of you. You tugged his hair roughly, eliciting another whine from him.
“So close, bub. Just a little more.”
He moved one of his hands from your thighs to your center and began toying with your clit while redoubling his efforts with his tongue.
“Fuck yeah, babe. Fuck,” you cursed as your orgasm washed over you.
He continued lapping at you through your high until you tugged him away from overstimulation. You smirked when you saw his face coated with your wetness. He blushed and wiped most of it off with his fingers, licking off teasingly. You chuckled gently and leaned down so you could kiss him, and you groaned softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue.
“That was great, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. Think it’s about time that you get rewarded,” you cooed.
He grinned up at you, “Thank you, honey.”
“Of course, Tony. Get on the bed for me on your back.”
He went obediently, laying on his back and spreading his legs for you. You grabbed the lube and the dildo and kneeled between his spread legs.
“So gorgeous for me,” you murmured.
His shy smile soon grew hungrier at the sight of you lubing up two of your fingers. He knew better than to get impatient, so he flopped his head down onto the pillow, eagerly awaiting the first press of your fingers inside of him.
You came over to him then, with slick fingers, the dildo and more lube in tow.
“Just gonna open you up first,” you stated.
You traced one of your lubed up fingers around the rim, not yet pushing it inside. His hole fluttered at the feeling and a soft, pleading whine fell from his lips. You couldn’t help but smirk as you slowly worked your first finger in since the moans that began to spill from him were already quite desperate.
“You already sound close, babe. Better hold it until I get that dildo inside of you,” you remarked as you sunk your finger in up to the knuckle.
The action drew a soft sob of pleasure from him, and you crooked your finger inside of him to hear more of those pretty noises.
Soon enough, you were asking, “Ready for a second, baby?”
He nodded vigorously, “Please! I can take it! Please!”
“It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to beg, I’ve got you,” you consoled as the tip of your second finger breached his hole.
He cried out desperately and ground his hips into your fingers, forcing your second finger in just as deep as the first. You scissored your fingers in him, stretching him out even more. You wanted to make sure that Tony was ready for it; you never wanted him to be in pain.
But soon he was begging for more, “Please, darling. I can take it, I’m ready. Need it so bad, please. Need you.”
“Does my good boy need to get fucked? Needs this dildo to ruin his tight, little hole?” you taunted, holding your dominance over his head.
“Yes! Need you to fuck me, please. Never needed it more. Please, baby, please.”
You always enjoyed when Tony got like this, when all he could think of was you. So, you gave in to his begging and removed your fingers, then coated the dildo in a generous amount of lube. You lined the dildo up with his waiting hole.
“Ready?”
The question was more of a formality; you knew he was ready, but you always wanted to be sure.
“Yes. ‘M ready.”
You slowly pushed in, allowing him time to adjust to the size of the toy. He moaned unabashedly at the feeling and pushed his hips into the dildo, forcing it deeper.
“Greedy, aren’t you?” you teased, pulling the toy back out of him.
“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Please. Please,” he begged, desperate for you to continue.
You smirked and suddenly slammed the full length of the toy into him, causing a broken cry to fall from his lips. He writhed underneath you as you continued your punishing pace, fucking into him roughly with no sign of stopping.
You used your free hand to guide his hands up to his nipples. He immediately began toying with them, and his moans grew louder. Your free hand then gripped his cock, and you began working it with slow strokes, still teasing him. A faster tug of your hand accompanied by a harsh slam of the toy made his back arch and he cried out.
“Please, honey. I’m so close.”
You quickened your pace with the dildo and he almost shrieked in pleasure.
“There it is,” you muttered, and drilled into the same spot over and over again.
Tears of pleasure sprang to his eyes as you sped up your strokes on his cock. Later, he would be embarrassed at the noise he made when he came, but for now, he didn’t care. The scream that tore itself from his throat was like music to your ears as he coated your hand in his cum. You continued to fuck him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, then slowly pulled the toy out and layed it on the nightstand.
For a while, you just held him, stroking his hair gently and murmuring how good he was for you. Eventually, he came back down and smiled sleepily up at you.
“Was that nice?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.
He nodded, “Yeah. Always is.”
You pressed a light kiss to his forehead, “I’m gonna get something to clean you up with, okay?”
He nodded again and you gathered the toys and put them back in the closet. Then, you grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and returned to Tony’s side, wiping up the cun that was still on his body. You cleaned what was still on your hand as well, then chucked the washcloth across the room and cradled your boyfriend in your arms.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y, turn off the lights, please,” you requested.
As the light dimmed down, you looked down at Tony, who smiled back up at you. Soon, though, the smile faded.
“You’re not upset anymore, are you?” he asked, almost sheepishly.
The look in your eyes grew a little sadder, “No, Tony, I’m not anymore. Just promise me you won’t forget next year.”
“Never again.”
You knew he’d stay true to his word. You loved him, after all, and you knew just how much he loved you, too. As you drifted off to sleep, the only thing on your mind was how wonderful the next year with him would be.
#tony stark#tony stark x reader#marvel#iron man#iron man x reader#tony stark smut#tony stark x reader smut#iron man smut#iron man x reader smut#sub tony#domme reader#smut#light angst#x reader#x reader smut#x reader oneshot#tony stark oneshot#iron man oneshot#oneshot
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Christmas Special
Hi folks! this one is a bit different from the other ones. I feel like you deserve a heads up as to what you’re about to read: the first half is crack-like, if not crack in the best way possible (it was really fun to write and i hope it will be as fun to read). The second half is much, much softer (and shippier), so please, do get through the not-so-serious bit!
This is in the canon world but you may take it as a “what if” or just a parralell universe, or something that can happen in the future. This is NOT connected to what’s happening next in the main storyline at this point.
For everyone who celebrates Christmas, have fun celebrating, don’t eat too much and if you do, don’t feel bad about it, it’s Christmas, if not now then when?
For anyone who doesn’t but still gets to have a break, really do take at least a full one day off to relax and reload batteries. It won’t hurt if you give yourself just that one day, I promise.
For everyone reading, I hope you’ll like it!
Oh, and it’s a slight swearing warning for this one!
Word count: 1810
Craaaaaaash
Okay, that was more than enough, Logan thought as he stood up with enough force to shake the desk if he happened to hit it – which, fortunately for all the papers that were scattered on it, he did not – and walked to the door only to open it equally as abruptly.
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
He knew that there were people doing things in his garage, of course he did, there always were people doing things in his garage while on the clock, after all, it was their job which they were getting paid for. What they didn’t get paid for was destroying the living shit out of the whole working space.
Logan didn’t know what to focus on first. Patton was standing over a pile of spare parts that was probably the source of the loud noise, Logan deduced, as Patton was looking extremely guilty upon seeing his boss in the door, and started smiling apologetically.
Looking a bit further away, Remus was cackling because whatever he was trying to help Patton built just came undone and for some reason he found that hilarious – Logan grew concerned at the sound of said cackling, to the point of wondering if the noise that finally alarmed him wasn’t by change the man itself.
At the other corned there was Virgil crouching on a table, with his phone in his hand. Why did he have to be up there to record whatever was happening, Logan had no idea, and frankly, he was so used to the oddities of his fellow mechanics that he might have as well let this one slide.
As soon as he noticed that the phone is not directed at the pair opposite to him but slightly to the side, his eyes followed suit and he saw Roman on a stool, trying to put a star on top of a tree that was way too big for the small space it got crammed into (when did he even manage to bring this thing to the garage?), the racer just barely keeping his balance. So the question why Virgil was even recording got answered.
“What the HELL is going on here”, Logan finally found his voice and yes, that was the question that was the most important. He threw a look that clearly transferred the message of ‘clean this up’ at Patton and the pile, which finally made the man move, maybe a bit too quickly because he stumbled on one of the parts and had to be caught by Remus in order not to fall and slice his face open, to which Virgil’s instinct turned on the “action mode”, and he was right beside the pair in no more than two seconds.
The fact that he, too, in his haze stumbled on his own feet didn’t go unnoticed, but he caught himself without help and was soon asking Patton if he was alright.
Seeing all of that unfold in just a few seconds, Logan started moving from the doorway to stand beside Roman in case he was the next one to stumble. He didn’t think about that too much, acting on instinct for once in his life.
Lo and behold, Roman got startled when he glanced over to check if everyone’s still alive and saw Logan right there, causing him to wobble on the unsteady stool and fall right into Logan’s arms.
The impact came unexpectedly and made them both tumble to the ground after a quick second when both of them thought Logan would be able to keep them upright (which he certainly could have, he just wasn’t ready for the momentum to be this strong).
(Roman would be very impressed and very flustered, so while a part of him was wailing because of the embarrassing situation and the fact that his ego got bruises too, a small part of him was glad that at least he wasn’t blushing like crazy staring up at the nerd from his arms).
They both got up from the ground, groaning, accompanied by the very same inhumane cackle from before, to which Roman answered with a middle finger as soon as he finished dusting himself off.
“Can somebody, please, explain to me what is happening?” Logan asked once again, scanning the room once more as well, noticing more Christmas decorations on the walls and stopping to give each of the men in the room a few seconds of his unfiltered stern look.
“Christmas is coming!”, came the answer from Patton, though he soon regretted bringing the attention to himself as Logan focused his eyes on him. “So… We thought… We could decorate a bit?”. He moved his hand to adjust his collar and glasses, realising that it might not have been the greatest idea.
“In the garage?”. Logan raised his brow, voice steady.
A nod.
“With all of the materials scattered everywhere?”
Another nod, more unsure. The rest of their little group starting to grow concerned of how calmly Logan was taking it.
He just took a deep breath and sighed, pinching his nose.
“Just clean this mess up”, he motioned to whatever was meant to be done from all those metal that still laid on the floor, “and you can focus on that tree since it’s already there”, he added, knowing that if they had a star, they must have had other decorations as well.
Patton squealed and jumped to give Logan a quick hug before he could really change his mind.
Virgil was smiling slightly as he bent down to start cleaning up, seeing as Patton got immediately pulled to the tree, forgetting of the first request Logan made. He didn’t really mind that.
“Thanks, Lo”, he heard right next to him, looking at the racer for a second before asking him to not let Patton try and get the highest branches and leaving for his office once more, this time hoping for no such disruptions.
***
It was after a few hours, when Logan had heard them say goodbye and the space behind his door grow more and more quiet with each bout of time when he finally finished all that his position required him to do. He was finally free to close up and rest.
He stretched before standing up, fingers rubbing at his eye under his glasses as he made sure everything was turned off and got ready to leave. Long hours in front of the computer were never the softest on his eyes, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage.
The main lights in the garage were off, but the strings of Christmas lights his mechanics used to line the walls were strong enough to cast everything in a moderately strong glow, while also making the place look quite cosy.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the tree, somehow organised in its disarray.
“Oh, you’re still here?”, a voice said suddenly, startling Logan a bit before the figure of the star racer came into view. “You shouldn’t work so late”.
“There is nothing I can do about that”, he answered simply, watching the other walk towards him before stopping at his side, turned so that he could look in the same direction.
Roman hummed a short sound before changing the subject. “The lights really set the mood, huh? Wonderous how just a few strings of colourful lights make everything look so different.”
Logan didn’t say anything to that, letting himself drink in the quiet and peace of the place that’s usually full of chatter and different machine sounds, from the roar of the engines to the clattering of accidentally dropped tools.
He let himself close his eyes just for a second, fully enveloped in the pleasant surroundings, forgetting about Roman being there in the first place. This was his safe heaven, owned by him, giving him the means to support himself and to be himself with the company of his own choosing.
He was brought back to the reality when he heard a small laugh from the side, immediately frowning at the conclusion that it must be directed at him, but when he looked at his companion his eyes were cast upon the ceiling, confusing him for a second.
“Roman”, he spoke up, tone level, when he followed his fellow’s line of sight. “Did you put mistletoe in my garage?”.
This question made Roman laugh out loud, the sound tinted with surprise and humour.
“I didn’t! I would have remembered if I did, Mr. Big Boss”. Roman looked at him, smiling, and that’s when the situation fully set in and Logan’s heart started to beat a little faster.
The fairly lights and the dimness of the rest of the garage, just how close they were, the smile shining all the way to Roman’s eyes that moved away from Logan , leaving him staring at Roman’s profile – there was something that made the whole situation feel like a dream.
The silence, though, was getting prolonged. Not tense, not asking for one of them to break it, but prolonged.
“I do think traditions should be celebrated, but I don’t demand it”, Roman said after a while, casual, keeping his voice vague enough so that his words may be easily converted into a topic for conversation rather than hinting at the sole action.
Somehow, that was the thing that made Logan feel the warmth of the season even more, or maybe it was just the warmth of Roman as a person? He was sure there was no other who could make their consent clear without any pressure on the other person to act on it in any way, and to do it in such gentle and clear way without being explicit…
Well, Logan was always partial to poetry.
And there is was, a kiss on the cheek, nothing more than the slightest brush of lips, to fulfil the tradition Logan would never predict he’d want to fulfil.
"Thank you" Logan said quietly after moving back just a tad, lingering close for a short second longer, looking at Roman's face with consideration before moving back to stand in their previous position, side by side, looking at the decorated interior. He wasn’t entirely sure how Roman would interpret that gratitude, but it didn’t matter at the time.
As soon as he moved, Roman's eyes glanced at him, the smallest bit of the smile he was desperately trying to hold back showing through, making Logan smile the slightest bit as well.
Roman stepped to the side, closing the distance once again, making their hands brush but not making any moves to do anything else. It was nice, Logan more felt than thought. The contact was relaxed and unobtrusive, open but not demanding. They both felt like this was enough, at least for now.
It was quite an eventful day and that peaceful moment was its ideal conclusion.
-----------------
Masterpost
Tag list: @mxxangel @mariita-2006 @compactdiscdraws
#sanders sides#logince#tsbikersau#sanders sides fic#logince fic#logan sanders#roman sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#remus sanders#crackfic (a bit)#swearing tw
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All I Want | AndyEddie
Or the four times Andy wanted to kiss Eddie and the one time he acted on it
A/N : Happy birthday @blenalela!! I’m so grateful that I got to speak to you, I love you so much Psychic💞🥰 I hope you have an awesome day, I wish you all the love! This is my gift to you, although it isn’t as fluffy as I would’ve liked to😂The absolute best to you, you deserve it (we still have to do something for our boi, Kagari Shuusei!!😉)
Also please forgive how bad this is, I wrote most of it on a sugar rush at 2 a.m and haven’t read a word of it ever since.🤣😘
Taglist : @murphyism @mavysnavy @speirs-sexy-ass @order-of-river-phoenix @inglourious-imagines @liebegott @tvserie-s-world @stressedinadress @warrior-healer
Posted : 31/12/2020
Masterlist Taglist Prompts
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1. The music was loud in his ears, a welcome distraction from the shells in his head. The young Australian girl's hand in his as they were dancing felt softer from his gun. But Andy couldn't focus entirely on her, despite her apparent beauty. The drinks he'd had earlier made him loosen up, enough to ask her for a dance as he noticed her alone at the bar but certainly not enough to make a fool of himself like some of his men were. Not that it mattered anyway, Andy could and would let it pass for tonight. He never was one to spoil their fun when they so obviously needed and deserved it. But still, his fingers ached for the familiar touch of the cold trigger against them. For something he could control, something he was familiar and good with. His collar was strangely tight, the light of the pub too bright for his hazy mind but he still found it in him to bow respectfully his goodbyes to the girl without puking all over her shoes. He saw her pink lips move, pearly white tooth displaying in a charming smile but her voice was lost in the constant buzzing his brain was making. Smiling politely, he left her to walk to the bar, sitting on one of the tools and gesturing to the barman for another drink. Maybe the cold glass could trick his mind into thinking he had an ounce of control again. As the liquid poured into the glass, Andy felt more than he saw another man sitting on the tool next to him, the uniform making his stomach twist painfully.
"Not one for dancing, Skip?" The south accent reminded him of something, the voice at the back of his mind whispering that he knew that man. Turning his upper body to face the other man, Andy's mouth twitched as he recognized the tanned skin and curly brown licks. His newly assigned First Lieutenant. He must have had a few drinks of his own, or that was what the bright smile on the lieutenant's face told him. Andy didn't quite know the man yet but he certainly did know the officer and he didn't seem like the type to go see the first girl he could lay eyes on. He thought about greeting the man with his rank before he decided otherwise. This night wasn't about the fallen of tomorrow nor was it about masks.
"For someone's toes pleasure.", he joked, raising his glass in the man's direction. "I'm surprised you're not though, you didn't strike me as the sidelined kind of guy. Or is the room too cold, Eddie?" Said man chuckled, shaking his head with a charming smile parting his lips.
"Didn't find the right partner yet." Eddie was gazing down at his drink, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Quite the romantic, are you?" Andy teased gently, nudging Eddie's side whose only answer was to raise his glass in Andy's direction like the latter did only a few moments ago before he said :
"One has to be." Andy grinned as the man downed his drink.
And if his eyes lingered to Eddie's lips as they curved back into a smile, well he blamed the alcohol he had already consumed.
2. The raindrops against the tents were falling so rhythmically that Andy felt like he was going crazy. The same things happened again and again. Japanese attack. Getting control of the situation. Taking care of the damages caused. Planning patrols. Sending men too broken to even understand why they're in the medical tent. Eat whatever the cooks gave them, too tired to try and find out what exactly he was eating. Paperwork. Sleep if there was enough time and not enough paperwork for Eddie to let him up another full night. Then again and again. But the rain never stopped. When the rain would stop, Andy would believe the end of the world had come. Or the beginning of Apocalypse. Whichever seems better at the time. Right now, with Eddie softly picking at his beloved guitar's chords, the captain couldn't care less. If he was accompanied by Eddie and his guitar, wherever he fell would be Heaven. Even if the rain and suffering never stopped, blurring the words in front of him, making his report nearly unreadable despite having started writing it mere thirty minutes ago. Andy sighed through his nose, rubbing his eyes that stung from lack of sleep to realize that his headache had passed. Closing his eyes as Eddie started to hum mindlessly, he laid back as much as the uncomfortable army chair would let him.
"Would you play something for me?" The soft melody stopped, rain completely fulfilling the air. There was no "What would you like?" or anything of the sort. They both knew perfectly that whatever Eddie played would be more than enough. They also knew that anything and everything Eddie played was already heavy with the thought of Andy. But still. Eddie started playing again, an unknown melody mixing with the rain like blood in water. Opening his eyes while his shoulders relaxed, he peered at Eddie, sitting on the edge of his bunk. The candle light made his face look softer, the wavering of the flame dancing on his cheeks as his lips were pressed together like they always were when he was focused. A sudden urge of reaching out and burying his hands in Eddie's hair overcame his rational thoughts for a brief instant, almost making him choke at how painfully strong it was.
And if Eddie was aware of his internal fight, well he showed no sign of it and continued playing.
3. It turned out that the end of the rain did not mean the end of the world or the beginning of Apocalypse. It meant the end of his nostrils and sense of smell. Andy didn't know what was worse : the fact that the smell of rotten coconuts was everywhere, even on their uniforms, or the fact that he was getting used to it. The constant twist in his stomach never weakened though. Nor did the aching in his heart, tearing him apart every waking second. Strangely enough, given that he was partly responsible for it, Eddie helped for the last part. Seeing him, talking to him soothed any pain Andy could've felt like an ointment. But paperwork alas didn't have such an effect. In fact, Andy felt like he was drowning, writing the same words over and over again. He had seen so many names pass on his desk that he had started to mix them up. Exhaustion had settled in his bones, making every limbs heavier. And yet, his heart was so light whenever he was with Eddie in the privacy of his tent. As if he was summoned, the flap of his tent opened to let his first lieutenant in, the noise of the camp louder until he closed the flap behind them. Andy greeted him with a nod and a small smile, already forgetting about the heaviness of his eyelids. Eddie sat on the edge of his bunk like he did countless times before, blue eyes quietly watching as Andy muffled a yawn which looked like it could have broken his jaw. No words were spoken for a long time, a comfortable silence taking over them until Andy yawned again, eyes tearing up slightly. Warm and calloused fingers wrapped around his right wrist, taking the pen from his hand as Andy could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie like a blanket draped on his shoulders.
"Take some rest, I'll finish this for you." It was barely a whisper, as if Eddie himself was scared to break the silence surrounding them. Andy probably should protest, it wasn't Eddie's job to sign letters or fulfill reports but his tongue wouldn't cooperate as his eyes immediately closed as soon as his head hit the pillow of his bunk. Perhaps he managed to mumble a thanks, he wasn't sure as his tired mind replayed the soft press of lips on his forehead. He mustn't have been dreaming because he remembered wanting to reach out and ask Eddie to lay down with him before he fell asleep.
And if Andy desperately wanted to feel those lips on his skin again, well he really couldn't be blamed.
4. Andrew remembered his godfather. The man used to tell him stories about his time in the war, which grew heavier as the date of Andy's shipping came closer. Once he had taken him apart after dinner, Andy remembered it for being the last time to date eating his mother's apple pie, and asked him to go for a walk.
"You're an officer, Andy. You'll have to make decisions that'll set the fate of young men. They'll decide your fate. But any decision you make, you are not the one taking it. Let the officer they trained do his job. Make a difference." he had told him before going back to the house Andy didn't think he had completely followed that advice, never really able to detach himself. But that was definitely the only thing that kept him upright that day, when even Gunny broke down. Seeing Eddie on one of the stretchers was like having his whole life played in front of him to have it crushed. On the inside, Andy crumbled, wanting nothing more than to run to Eddie's side and brush his sweaty curls away from his forehead, to reassure him that it'd be okay, although the man was already unconscious. However, he still had men to lead, men who were looking at him with terror in their eyes as if they'd just seen an immortal die. Andy tried not to think about how close from reality it was, instead tossing his feelings aside and tightening his grip on his rifle. The buzzing in his ears made it hard to focus on reciting the prologue of one of his manuals they gave him at the officer school but he managed, cursing the picture of a bloody and pale and lifeless Eddie out of his eyelids.
And if his voice wavered and his eyes got wet, well his godfather didn't have to know.
+1. This was familiar. The warmth of Eddie's shoulder from where it was connected with his own, smoke leaving the curly haired man's mouth as he exhaled. Before, Andy would have scowled disapprovingly at the white stick but now it comforted him in a way that could only be associated with Eddie.
The feeling that accompanied having a full, warm, tasty dinner was foreign though. So was the happy babbling of children in the background. Eddie's siblings. Their eyes still shone with innocence and laughter, and not for the first time since he went to Virginia to escape the suffocating crowds and noises of Boston, Andy thought that it had been worth it. Every second.
If he could go back and start it all over again, go through all the suffering and sorrow he endured, to be sure to have whatever it is that Eddie and him shared, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
"You're thinkin' again." It wasn't a question. No, it was a statement, a drawl of a voice more used to shout orders above flying bullets than to over emotional confessions. Yet he managed lullabies, Andy heard from joyful kids.
"It's my job." He replied with a breathy chuckle.
"Not anymore." There wasn't anything that could have been considered rude in Eddie's tone, for he always was and always will be a gentleman. But there was a softness in his voice, smoothing its rough edges so it could carry away Andy's doubts, leaving on its trail a feather light touched.
Andy looked down on his joined hands; elbows resting on his knees and sleeves rolled up. It was true. He wasn't an army captain anymore. He was Andy, although he had a feeling that for some boys he'd always be Ack Ack or Skip. He didn't mind.
"So what am I supposed to do?" He didn't expect an answer but as Eddie exhaled a new cloud of smoke and opened his mouth to speak, Andy couldn't say he was surprised.
"Whatever you want." A small smile tugged at his lips as Andy pondered, his knee slightly touching Eddie's.
What did he want? His blue eyes wavered to Eddie's thin lips, brows furrowed a tiniest bit as he thought about the past 3 years.
But could he have it? Looking up, he found Eddie's own blue eyes already locked with his, an ocean of soft understanding and sweet devotion.
And if their first kiss was far from perfect with too much teeth because of how wide they were both smiling , well they still had a lifetime before them to practice.
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Prompt 2 - Parents: “De Rubalcaba y Saavedra”
For @arcana-echoes
Summary: Ximena reminisces over two important people in her life she usually doesn’t think about.
Word count: ~2000
I had the most annoying case of writer’s block for this one when I didn’t know which way of storytelling I wanted, changed what I originally had (the first draft featured a lot more Rubalcaba sisters and took place in Calpacia) and got the idea for this while cooking with a friend. Apologies for the delay and for any grammatical errors or typos but I had to get it out of my system. Enjoy!
“Y’know, it was my mother’s birthday yesterday.”
The words slipped out of Ximena’s mouth before she realized she had actually voiced them out loud and it wasn’t just a stray thought when she saw Asra looking at her with wide eyes.
“Oh.”
He stopped tying together the bundles of sage and reached out to gently touch her hand.
“Ah, it’s fine. I guess I was just too preoccupied with everything going on to remember it. And it’s not like I would have received an invitation to her birthday party anyway.”
Her attempt at a dry laugh was somehow deflated by the sad look Asra gave her, and she immediately felt bad for making light of it.
“Don’t feel bad about it. I almost forgot about my father’s birthday once, it happens to the best of us.”
Ximena sighed but nodded. The thing was that the relationship between Asra and his parents had been vastly different than the one between hers.
“What did you usually do on her birthdays?” Asra had leaned with his back against the kitchen counter. Oh, so this was officially a break from work and story time. Ximena thought about whether to indulge him or not; despite knowing each other for quite some time, she had barely talked about her, or her father for that matter. Her sisters, her cousin and her aunt were frequently featured but for some reason she herself didn’t even know both Marisol and Valentín appeared rather rarely in her stories.
“There usually was a dinner with her favorite foods from all over Calpacia, and each year we gifted her something different - one time Cibela composed a piece for her, Heloisa wrote a play for her with us as the actors and I drew her as the mother of ancient gods once.” Ximena remembered how proud she had been that day when she saw the awe and happiness on her mother’s face. “The dinners were always attended by the nobles closest to her and occasionally also the Zaan, for her 50th they threw her a rightfully huge celebration on the palace grounds, with an orchestra, a huge buffet and everything her heart desired.”
“Something tells me that this was even more over the top than Count Lucio’s birthday parties.”
Ximena shrugged. She avoided the Palace, and with it the masquerades thrown in honor for Vesuvia’s sovereign, so she couldn’t make a comparison.
“She definitely gave her love for pompous celebrations to Heloisa. They were the only ones who loved those parties and took it way too serious. Agustín, Esmé and I were fine with them, we just retreated into some corner and had conversations but Cibela hated them.”
“What about your father?”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly the social butterfly of the two, but he enjoyed himself. I think part of it is because they met at such a party.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it was actually Tía Esmé’s birthday party which my mother helped organize. Mamá would occasionally tell us about the first time she saw him --” Ximena shifted her posture, adopted a dreamy look on her face and clasped her hands in front of her chest.
“‘There he stood by the window -- wearing that dashing costume made of golden silk, the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon.” She dropped her hands to her sides as Asra watched her with fascination.
“Wait, she invited him to the party despite not knowing him?”
Ximena shrugged. “She invited some members of the Merchant fleet, despite not all of them being nobles but since they were basically aristocracy-adjacent, no one really batted an eye. Now, as for marrying a non-aristocrat, that’s an entirely different thing.”
Asra scoffed. She had told him about the strict division of class back in Calpacia, and had called it horrendously intolerant. Part of this system had been what saw the peasants and ordinary people as disposable tools for the aristocracy to use according to their will, including to fight their petty wars.
“They married regardless?”
“Well, back in those days, Esmé was the heiress to Marquesa Constanza, and she vouched for my parents. It wasn’t a scandal despite having potential to be one but given that my father was just a few steps away from aristocracy and had an aunt who happened to be a noble, it really helped their case.”
“Good for them.”
“Yeah. The wedding was really grand. Esmé told us all about it when I was younger, it always sounded to me like something out of a fairytale.” She sighed. “But I think if I were to marry, it’d do with as few people as possible. Hell, Segismundo can be the only witness when my spouse and I exchange vows for all I care for, I don’t care much for grand gestures.”
Asra nodded. It was then when Ximena realized just how awkward it was to discuss a potential marriage with her… well, ex-lover. They were too many things at once, roommates, co-workers, close friends, amicable exes, and most conversations didn’t really get weird; except this one.
For a moment, she wondered what marrying Asra would be like. She doubted much would change between them; not a lot had changed while they were together, except that they became more romantically affectionate and the sex might’ve been gotten more frequent --
She stopped herself at once. Knock it off. Thinking about the sex with the ex with whom you still live and work with while you’re talking about your parents is weird.
Ximena cleared her throat. “Either way… that’s how my parents got married and when Cibela was born, Tía Esmé abdicated the title of marquesa so my mother really won at the lottery that day. Yay for us, I guess.”
“She abdicated? You never told me that… but wasn’t your aunt a whole general?” Asra furrowed his brows.
“Yeah, and choosing to not become a courtier was what made her fall out of favor in my grandmother’s eyes. She wanted a pawn at the court, not a grand marshal who acted independently. My mother fulfilled that role just fine by the time Cibela was born so Esmé gave her title and made a name for herself -- well, a bigger one than she already had. That turned my father into a marqués but it’d never be enough of a status elevation to override the Rubalcaba name so that’s why my sisters and me are ‘Rubalcaba y Saavedra and not ‘Saavedra y Rubalcaba.” Ximena gave a sardonic laugh. “Then again, technically speaking, I’m neither these days.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Asra said. Something in his voice said clearly that he wanted to know more though, as did his body language.
This was Asra she was talking to, who shared basically everything with her. The most she could do was give him a little back.
“No, don’t worry, I’m fine.” She paused for a moment and an awkward silence hung in the air between them.
“Sooo, what were your parents like?” Asra asked quickly. “I mean, what kind of people were they? I feel like your mum was the life of the party while your dad was more like… you.”
Ximena scoffed with amusement. “Yeah, I suppose that is kind of fitting. The quiet type, it rubbed off more on Cibela than me though. She was their favorite, which makes sense since she’s the firstborn, he even took her on one of his journeys when she turned fifteen. I don’t think he and Heloisa ever found a lot of common ground but then again, she always was sort of the troublemaker. I think he saw more of himself in me, and he loved the way I painted, how I closed myself off from the world when I was working to the point where I think he wanted me to pursue that career and not at the Guild. He was sweet, very gentle and whenever he sang, Mother would cry because it sounded so beautiful. She was a firecracker, turned heads wherever she went. She could always make me laugh even when I was sad as a small child, and loved seeing me do magic. I always wanted to be her as a kid, have the same way with words, to be instantly liked, hell, even be a courtier. I thought being an apprentice was awfully boring at first, which is hilarious because Heloisa thought being a courtier was boring as hell and all she wished for was to be a warrior like Cibela or a magician like me. But Tía Esmé said that I had gotten my father’s ‘tranquil mystique�� that drew people in, as well as his ability to read people.”
“I mean, you do have a ‘tranquil mystique’ which can be extremely charming.” Asra’s lips curved into a smile.
“Thank you, Asra, really.” Ximena replied. The smile on her face didn’t fade when she spoke next, and it had been something that had been bubbling underneath the surface ever since the conversation had turned towards this topic.
“And yet… in hindsight, they kind of sucked as parents. I mean, sure, they were nice, but… good grief, they were so absent in our lives from some point onwards -- even with Cibela, who they favoured to all hell and back! I really felt more like Esmé was my mother more than my actual mother at times!” She laughed. It wasn’t a particularly nice sound, much too bitter and dry but somehow she just felt the need to air her grievances.
“And then because Father was marqués he became more busy, went on more journeys, spent less time at the residence, and then didn’t come back from his trip to Fuck-knows-where alive and it changed Mother so much -- she was irritated more often than not, angry with Tía Esmé and by the time she became ill, she had all but locked herself up in the Summer Palace on our island in the Gulf of Cartagenth. And you know what’s the weird thing about all of this? I didn’t care about it at all. And that’s why I’m surprised in the first place about even remembering this birthday at all, because I’m so used to not caring that suddenly doing so just feels… idiotic.”
Ximena took a deep breath. Asra reached out as she sighed and rubbed her arm, obviously a bit surprised at her small outburst.
“I’m sorry. I wish… you had spent more time with them, and that they would have there for you when you needed them.”
Part of Ximena welcomed Asra’s sympathy, the other wanted to push it away and wrote it off as pity. She said nothing, merely nodded and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Do you still want to make something for your mum’s birthday?” Asra asked slowly. “It could feel nice, and maybe then you won’t think of it as ‘idiotic’ anymore.”
Ximena bit her lip. Maybe he was right… hell, Asra was by some miracle almost always right and taking his advice usually proved to be a step in the right direction. Perhaps swallowing her pride would be nice for a change, considering how admittedly damn hard it tended to be.
“We could make a cake, and if you want it to not just be the two of us, Sayelle can join us.”
“Well, she doesn’t even know who I really am.”
Asra sighed. “You wouldn’t need to tell her, of course -- unless you want to do that as well. I know it took you some time to tell me, so I don’t wanna push you. But she’s a good person and a dear friend, I trust her to keep your secret.”
Ximena raised an eyebrow and eyed Asra. Truth be told, from the amount of time she had spent with the Bizateni magician who owned a shop for magical supplies as well as antiquities, she liked her but this… it was quite the thing to tell someone else.
“I’ll think about it. The birthday is over anyway, so one or two days later won’t have my mother spinning in her grave more than she already might be.”
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Fallen Comforts
Rating: Teens and upper audiences, this is a more intense fanfiction form the others ive done, so be warned
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
Tyrian cursed as he returned to the Grimm palace. He ran through the halls quickly, praying to the gods above no one would see him. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes and he frantically wiped them away. Through his haste Tyrian had almost ran into Hazel, though he was quick enough to avoid him as he rushed past the conjoined hallway he was walking in.
"Hey! Tyrian-?" he didn't hear the rest of Hazel's question. He didn't care to hear it either. All he wanted to do was hide, get as far away from everyone as possible. He was not far from his room when he ran straight into Watts, knocking his lover down and throwing papers all over the hall.
"Tyrian!" He cried as both men fell to the ground. Tyrian got back up quickly, but not quick enough, because Watts' gaze immediately fell on his bandaged tail, clearly noticing the missing half of the appendage.
"By the gods- Tyrian!" He called after his pattner as Tyrian fled. Why did it have to be Watts to notice first? Why didn't he watch where he was going?
He decided to ignore the problem for now in favor of opening his door and slamming it shut behind him. He made sure to lock it before he flung his tired body onto the bed and cried. It hurt, it hurt more than anything he had felt in his entire life, more than when he had been slashed across the chest by a huntsman, more than when a grimm had rammed through his side. It was a constant bursting pain all along his back. He sobbed, silently at first as he let his mind take over. The pain clouding his judgment, letting his mind wander dangerously. The pain is what started it, but Tyrian soon realized the gravity of his situation. How disappointed she would be. He lost his tail- his weapon, his lifeline, his identity. he had foolishly lost it and failed his mission to boot. His tears fell unhindered now. Wetting his cheeks and soaking the pillow he hugged to himself. Salem was his savior- his goddess. She had rescued him from a fate so cruel that even she frowned upon it. She raised him, was a part of him. She was his reason to live. All of his memories were of her, of her kindness and cruelty. Well most of them. There were a handful from a time before the queen arrived, before he had snapped his own sanity and coldheartedly killed people. One of the few memories he had left was of a tail curled around him, and the feel of someone running their fingers through his hair. That was a very old memory. He missed that feeling, missed that familiarity those arms provided. He didn't know who they once belonged to, he didn't remember any details or descriptions, only the feeling of it all. More tears poured from his eyes, there was no point in stopping them now. He felt lost and humiliated. He felt like that small boy again, trapped in a cage while he was tortured and laughed at. He hated being reminded of that, he hated remembering when he was that weak. He hated himself for everything that had happened. He was useless now, the only tool that made him special, unique, and worth saving in her eyes was now gone. What would she do with him now? He didn't know how to fight well enough without his tail when he still had it, let alone now. A hiccup tore itself through his throat. He no longer tried to hold them back. His arms trembled as he pulled them around himself, his legs folding in front of him. He curled into his own body as best he could, the constant nagging word repeating in his head over and over and over again.
-useless, useless, useless!
The voice chanted, it was his own at first but then it morphed into Hazels, and Cinders, and Salems. But when it turned into Watts' voice he couldn't take it anymore. They were right, he was truly useless now. Salem would kill him- no, that would be too much of a mercy for having failed her. She could have sent him back to the circus, back to the mocking laughter and horrified screams. They would be the ones to kill him. Who wants a monster who can't even protect itself? He suppressed a scream from tearing through his mouth, instead choking it down with his own tears. He hadn't cried this much since Salem had first taken him in. When she had still believed he was useful. His fingernails dug into his arms, trying to tear at the flesh so he could distract himself with physical pain, rather than deal with the mental bombardment in his head. More sobs rang out in the room, he covered his mouth after letting out a rather loud one. Gods forbid if anyone came in and saw him. Any remote chance he had of redemption would be lost then. He cradled the remaining part of his tail, the last bit of who he once was. The chanting never stopped, and he couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything. There was nothing left, it was truly the end for him. Salem would see him in the next few days to relay his punishment, his banishment from her ranks. He was whimpering now too.
...So pathetic...
He thought, but he did nothing to stop them, he had no willpower to go on, no fight left in his eyes. Perhaps it would be better if he took care of his punishment himself, ended it before he could see the disappointment and hatred in Salem's eyes. No- he couldn't do that, it would go against the doctor's wishes. He promised to keep himself safe for Watts. He couldn't, no he refused to ever break a promise. He felt the static in the room cave in on him, it was too much, too loud, way too loud! The silence stung his ears harshly and the ringing joined the insistent chant.
"-Tyrian" a voice. A real voice said so gently he almost didn't hear it in the roar of his mind. But, when that familiar calloused hand ever so cautiously rested on his shoulder, he froze.
"Tyrian I know you can hear me" the voice held no annoyance, no tone of mockery, no hatred. It should have- "that's enough now." Watts stated, more pushy with his words. Tyrian did not speak, he couldn't even if he wanted to, instead he just laid there, silently crying. The bed dipped slightly before Watts leaned over him, forcing Tyrian to lay on his back with his head on Watts' lap.
"You know that isn't true." Tyrian didn't immediately know what the doctor was referring to. "You're not useless. You never could be useless." Ah now he understood. The look on his face must have been worrying. "Shhhh, I mean that Tyrian, you are more beneficial to this world than you know." He wiped away the stream of tears from Tyrians eye, gently resting that hand on his damp cheek.
"You've cried yourself into a puddle, what has you so upset? Is it because of your tail?" Tyrian felt his face flinch, Watts always managed to nail his problems on the head. His face softened even more, and as quiet as Watts was, it seemed like he had gone even quieter.
"It's okay Tyrian, losing a tail isnt going to kill you-"
"She will" he rasped out.
"What?"
"S-salem will" the stream of tears began to pick up again, but Watts was having none of it. He pulled Tyrian up gently, wrapping his arms around the hurt scorpion as his head fell on Tyrians shoulder. Tyrian sat still in watts lap, letting his own tear streaked face bury itself into the man's shoulder. Tyrian took note of how truly warm Watts was. He slowly lifted his own arms and loosely held them on his back. Watts squeezed the man gently, letting him cry into his shoulder. He felt his back hitch as each sob worked its way out.
"She would never kill you. I would never allow that. And I promise you, Tyrian, you're far too valuable for her to just leave you. She wont send you back there, she wont lock you away. I'd have to die at her feet before I let her do that." Watts' grip tightened. It was true, he'd rather die for Tyrians safety then let him suffer alone. Tyrian squeezed back slightly, faintly away of a wetness on his own bare shoulder.
Was Watts crying too..?
"You're… you mean too much to me Tyrian, to all of us. Please don't let this tragedy take away your light." Watts had struggled to speak, and he pulled out of Tyrians grasp in favor of holding the faunus' face in between his hands. Tyrians watery eyes met Watts', the bright green dulled by sadness and fear. Tyrian gasped as he looked at his partner.
"This won't stop you Tyrian. We'll figure it out- i'll heal you and make you better i promise. I swear it in my life that if I can't make you better then let the gods strike me down." He paused, the tears causing him to blink. "I promise…" he pulled Tyrian into a hug again and held him tighter than he ever had before.
"... I… I believe you." Tyrian croaked with his cracked voice. They cried together and allowed their emotions to run free. They stayed wound together long after they both had stopped crying. Tyrian shook with remaining stress but Watts was there to comfort him. He felt out of character, Watts was never one to comfort and help others, he'd rather laugh as they cried or left them to wallow alone. But Tyrian had woken up something so primal in him, that the moment he heard that quite sob from the hallway there was no second guessing his actions. He gently rocked Tyrian on the bed. Something his own mother used to do when he would be terrified of the storms in Atlas. It worked very well with Tyrian and proved to help calm his shaking.
Tyrians mind was fractured, anyone could tell. He had lost not only his weapon, but a part of himself. Something that he saw as his very reason for existence. Watts could not imagine what losing it had done to his mind. But he planned to piece back together the shattered remnants of this man. He had made a promise to him, and he would upkeep that promise until it was fulfilled. When Tyrian began to cry again Watts shushed him, it seemed his methods had only worked for a while before Tyrians mind started to eat at itself again. Watts decided to take his mother's advice once more, and he focused on undoing the battered braid Tyrian had left his hair in. He gently sifted his fingers through the long hair as he pulled the strands apart. Watts marvelled at the silken texture of it. From his previous inclinations he had assumed it was more corse, much like the ends of his bangs were. He was wondrously proven wrong. This was the first time Watts had the opportunity to admire how well Tyrian had taken care of himself. For as long as they have been together he had yet to run his hands through the man's hair. How he had not thought about pestering the man to do so before was beyond him. But now was not the time to lament about what he had and hadn't done. Instead he focused his attention back on Tyrian. He had gone completely still and limp against Watts, finally relaxing his body, and watts continued with his ministrations until the faunus' breathing slowed, and he was sure Tyrian had fallen asleep. Watts himself was beyond tired, dealing with emotions whether their his own or someone else's was always taxing. He gently guided Tyrian down into his pillows, letting him fall onto his side. Watts himself tried to sit back up, but the crack of his back and the pain in his side told him it was not worth it. So he complied with his body and moved himself next to Tyrian. Wrapping his arms against the man and holding him close.
Tomorrow will be a better day. It has to be...
Hey hey hey! Back again with a fanfiction for day 4! Man im really loving this week so far! I know this one doesn't exactly fit with the prompt for today but I was thinking about making a part two I guess, to show the aftermath? Not sure how well that would go but I hope you enjoy this angst! Thanks for the prompts @nutsandvoltsweek
#nuts and volts#nuts and volts week#rwby#rwby watts#rwby tyrian#arthur watts#tyrian callows#rwby fanfiction
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Holidays are always a hot topic in couples therapy, whether it’s whose family couples will be visiting, how much time to spend there, what activities will be included or avoided, how to enjoy the day when there is relational tension… the list goes on and on.
Thanksgiving Day is right around the corner. For many, this is a time to reunite with loved ones, play games, cheer on a favorite football team, and gobble down all the delicious food. Yet just like so many other special events, this Thanksgiving Day is one more causality of the pandemic. In this article we will explore a few issues facing many couples during this holiday and go over some ways to navigate them.
Issues
Expectations:
One key issue to tackle before any holiday is expectations. These little troublemakers can create all kinds of struggles to get through, especially when couples don’t slow down and talk about them. Often people believe their partner will have the same expectations or at least they will agree with them. Imagine if both partners are thinking that, but neither one communicates it. Now imagine how it will go if both partners have vastly different expectations about how, where, and with whom they will spend their holiday. How do you think Thanksgiving will play out for this couple? Do you think they will be feeling very thankful? Or do you think the turkey will feel lucky to be dinner instead of having to deal with the emotional fallout from this couple feeling disappointed, resentful, and angry?
This is an issue that regularly comes up with couples, but it’s intensified this year because many couples have an even greater divide in their expectations this year. Some people may expect to keep traditions and spend time with family or friends, while the other partner believes that staying home and social distancing is best.
Tolerance Differences:
Whether it’s the introvert and extrovert, large family or small family, zoning in front of the TV or playing games in a group, staying home or traveling, the list of differences could continue until Thanksgiving 2021. This goes beyond how we enjoy spending our time; these differences can look like social anxiety, overstimulation, and exhaustion. One definition of tolerance is the capacity to endure pain or hardship. It can be hard to understand that something we enjoy and find energizing can be something that requires our partner to endure. It can be such a difficult concept to understand that often people will believe that their partner is simply withholding or dismissing their needs. Oftentimes we expect (yup, there is that word again) our partner to be interested in the same things we are. I have seen this play out in many couples, as well as in my own family. Here are a few examples and some respectful ways of coping when these differences arise:
My mom loves playing games at family gatherings, but my stepdad does not. What I love about them is that they give each other space to enjoy the time the way they each want to- without expectation or judgement.
For me, my husband’s family loves to talk politics. His family is made up of all kinds of beliefs. Political debates are something I really don’t enjoy, so when this starts, I go and hang out with the kids or use that time to call and talk to my family.
I have had clients who want to spend every second with their family, talking and playing games, but the other partner is easily overstimulated or exhausted by that amount of interaction. After understanding that this was not an excuse for the partner to hide away, each couple was able to come up with signals or code words that would let their partner know why they might disappear for a bit. Then when the more introverted partner felt refreshed, they would go back and re-engage in the group.
The real issue with tolerating differences is not so much the difference, but the way partners handle those differences. If the couple makes it unsafe for one or both partners to have different tolerance levels, then they are creating an environment for resentment, anger, and pain. This doesn’t make a fun holiday or a fulfilling relationship.
Lockdown Grief:
This issue of lockdown grief is one that is solely related to the pandemic. Thanksgiving 2020 is not going to look like the ones before it and it is OKAY to be sad, mad, disappointed, and overwhelmed by this. Many people look forward to having large family/friend gatherings and if there was a year people needed to be able to connect and hug loved ones- it would be 2020. But what do we do when we are being asked not to gather and not hug? Often, we think of grief solely related to death, but grief is a reaction to loss, and I would be surprised to find anyone who hasn’t been shaken by loss in 2020. Each time we miss an opportunity to gather, celebrate, or travel…the losses add up. In addition to this, thousands of families are grieving the death of someone COVID robbed them of. Others are recovering from the illness and endless communities are facing economic hardship like never before. People are grieving the loss of their life’s work through being forced to close their business or being laid off from a job that they loved and that supported their family. There is a lot of loss in 2020, too much. It is important for couples to remember that people experience and express grief differently and some will feel this more than others. When couples are facing difficult times and they respond differently, and if they have not spent the time to understand and work with their differences then there is the potential to create more pain and distance in a time when they need each other the most.
As an example, an introverted partner may be excited to stay home and have an intimate holiday, but if their partner is extroverted or only sees family on certain holidays, then they may be struggling. This creates a vastly different emotional experience. Yet just like with the expectations and tolerance differences, the real hurdle is not that there is a difference but how the couple navigates that difference.
You may now be asking, “Well then how do we navigate the differences?” Here are some first steps to begin to build that skill.
Beginning steps to navigate differences.
Define expectations. This starts with each partner individually getting clear on what their vision is for the holiday (or anything really). This often looks like answering the how, who, when, what, and where. It can often be powerful to also be able to share the why. Such as, why this vision means something to you. The why can often help our partner feel more connected to part of a vision that they might experience a different way. For example, if someone enjoys interaction they might not understand that their partner feels connected and close to a family member by just sitting and watching a football game.
Take turns sharing your expectations. Check out steps here to keep this conversation from becoming toxic.
Openly acknowledge tolerance differences with curiosity and/or acceptance. If you think you identify something your partner may tolerate differently, tell them your thoughts, and ask them if it feels true for them. This gives your partner an opportunity to self-reflect and self-define. Ask each other what the tolerance differences feel like for them.
Come up with some creative experiments. Experiments are an extremely important tool; you don’t want to think of your ideas as solutions. Solutions have a feeling of finality, because if you solve a problem then the problem is no more. When couples take this mindset in conversation about an issue it can be the set up to the next big fight.
Here is why, if a couple sees X as a problem, they discuss it and decide the solution will be Y. Then the next time X happens, and Y doesn’t work the way they thought it would then it feels like they failed, or the relationship is doomed. Yet if we think of these things as experiments, then the conversations because the next time X happens lets try Y and then lets give Y a try 2 times, after the second try we will reevaluate how Y helps and how Y doesn’t work. The experiment gives couples a way to keep working together towards something vs trying one thing and allowing that one thing to determine if they are a good team or not.
So when looking at tolerance differences come up with experiments to try and then do a check in after you try them, look at what worked, what didn’t and make adjustments to the experiment for the next time.
When it comes to discussing tolerance difference around the pandemic, check out this article for help.
Acknowledge your emotions and/or grief around the lockdown. How do you feel affected? How is it affecting your holiday experience? If you and your partner have different experiences, that’s OKAY. But remember, this is a time to listen, show empathy and give comfort. Brene Brown has a great video on empathy, you can check it out here.
Now for the hard truth: Navigating difference is challenging, and requires a strong internal muscle that most of us don’t have naturally. Yet, the fact that you are reading this article is a great first step to building up your muscle. If you follow the steps above, that is even more impressive, because it can feel a bit scary to step out of our world to understand someone else’s. Pushing yourself to do something in the face of discomfort or fear, is brave and shows strength. So, I hope you give yourself and your partner extra points for trying, because you both deserve them.
If you find you are struggling during this holiday season and you need support or you want help building up your “difference” muscle, reach out to the therapists here for a free 20 minute consultation. We can help!
Also here are 15 ways to celebrate Thanksgiving together!
Go for a drive through nature. Take in the view, look for changing foliage, pack or pick up your favorite fall treat and stop someplace to enjoy the crisp autumn air. Describe what you are seeing and feeling to each other and what you enjoy about it.
Have a private Thanksgiving Dinner. If it is just the 2 of you, make it romantic. If you have kids, get them in on the planning and cooking. Dress up for dinner…fancy or silly. Be creative.
Start a “Giving” tradition together. Start a seasonal tradition of picking at least one charitable act to do together as a couple/family. Take canned foods to a place of worship or a local food bank. Take some yummy treats to Fire Stations or Law Enforcement Offices to thank them for being away from their families and serving the community. Think about helping to distribute hot meals on Thanksgiving Day.
Get crafty. Remember those turkey hands you used to cut out and paste together as a little kid? Well, who says you can’t still have fun with crafts as a grownup? Get yourselves in the spirit of the holiday with festive garlands, painted gourds and of course, delectable Thanksgiving-themed goodies!
Show your thanks for each other! Yes, it’s simple. Maybe it feels silly. But part of the holiday is simply showing gratitude for the small, every day blessings in your life … and that includes your partner, kids and family!
Have a “Thankful scavenger hunt” get post-its or plain paper and write things you are thankful for, happy memories and/or jokes. You hand each other the first one, then hide the others around your home. Each one will have a clue to where to find the next one. Include a simple little treat with the last note.
Thankful-bomb each other. Throughout the day post or hand thank you notes to each other. They can be simple but try to surprise each other on where you put them or when you hand them out.
Play board games, card games, or do a puzzle together instead of watching T.V. Try an escape room in a box or you can look for games that you work together to beat vs games that you play against one another.
Get physical together. Take a walk, go for a jog or hike, have a Turkey Dance party, and if you can have alone time enjoy exchanging sexy massages.
Make sure you have some quiet time during the day: take a nap, read a book, or mediate.
Watch a favorite holiday movie together.
If hosting a small gathering. Decide together in advance on who will do what when it comes to straightening the house, planning, preparation, cooking, and clean up responsibilities. Don’t strive for perfection instead strive for connection.
Look up different historical Thanksgiving traditions or food and try to recreate them.
If you can’t be with family in person get creative with video chats, online group games, or start a “I’m THANKFUL” text thread and spend the day messaging each other things you are thankful for, fond memories or silly jokes and memes. You can smile together even if you can’t physically be together and it is utterly amazing how joy, laughter, and smiles can connect us over even the furthest distance.
Look for ways to relax and enjoy the difference. As amazing as it is to be with a lot of family and friends, this holiday can be a good change of pace. You can stay in comfy clothes all day, be on your own schedule and not worry about challenging family interactions.
Remember, whether you find new traditions that you continue or enjoy returning to previous traditions next year, this is a good time to experiment and create meaningful and memorable experiences.
If you have any questions or want to learn more, please contact us.
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build a bridge to my heart and lead the way
part one
Alex has never been a huge fan of metaphors. He’s always preferred a more straightforward approach to the world, even more so since he’s been back home.
But there has never been anything straightforward about his feelings for Michael. So here he is, alone in his bed comparing their relationship to his missing leg. That afternoon in the tool shed, a lifetime ago and yet all too recent in his mind, had injured them irrevocably. The tentative possibility of something more was dealt a blow at the hands of his father.
For a decade they’d avoided the issue, letting the pain fester in the prolonged periods of separation. Sex had been their crutch, had kept the connection between them from falling apart for all those years without ever having to talk or heal.
Now they are here, finally building a foundation and standing on their own, adjusting to their new normal as friends. He tells himself not to push them too fast, knowing from his actual leg that rushing the process just leaves you laid out on your ass and hurting.
Days like today make the temptation to take that next step unbearable. Closing his eyes he can perfectly see the way the sunlight caught the hidden golden highlights in Michael’s hair and the column of his throat enticingly exposed whenever his head was thrown back in laughter, something Alex is proud to say was often.
Walking through town at the latest alien themed festival, avoiding Isobel and her eagerness to put them to work, had felt natural and innocuous. The day had been warmer than normal for the time of year and Michael’s bare arm had brushed against his as they walked close together even in less crowded areas. Skin electrified under the slightest touch, Alex had needed to remind himself not to grab his hand.
Michael had stepped away whenever they were approached by one of his father’s friends, always staying close and ready to rejoin him after he’d fulfilled his dutiful politeness. At one point while talking about his plans for retirement, he’d watched peripherally as Liz and Maria had cornered him by one of the booths. Michael had brushed it off when he’d asked and Alex hoped they hadn’t moved onto harassing him about the status of their relationship. They had already been bothering Alex for weeks.
Giving up on the prospect of sleep, he sits up and pauses before making his decision. He pulls on the sock and fastens the prosthetic into place before grabbing a jacket and his keys and walking out the front door. Suddenly the cabin is too secluded, too remote.
He’s halfway there before he’s aware of where his mind has taken him on autopilot. He isn’t really surprised, but he is wary. It’s after two in the morning and he wouldn’t blame him for turning him away. He follows the familiar route back to where Michael parks his airstream. The headlights track the graveyard of broken vehicles, markers leading him to his destination.
He turns the lights off as soon as he sees them gleam off the side of the trailer, staying put while he tries to make a plan. He is just exiting the car when the door to the swings open revealing Michael wearing nothing but boxers, rubbing the side of his face in a listless gesture. Alex takes a few steps closer so he is more easily visible.
“Alex?” He moves down onto the top step. “You ok?”
Alex opens his mouth but still doesn’t have the words to explain his presence. He offers an unhelpful shrug.
Michael glances down at his mostly naked body before taking a step back inside. He gestures toward the fire pit. “Get a fire started, I’ll be right out.”
Happy to have a task, Alex makes quick work of following orders. He has claimed his favorite lawn chair, the one he knows is most comfortable to get up from on his leg, when the door swings open again. It’s a long moment before Michael reappears, holding two mugs and closing the door behind him with his mind.
He sits in the chair closest to Alex before passing him one of the mugs. He offers the black one with a little green alien and Alex smiles, humming in happiness when the smell of chocolate hits his nose.
“Thanks.”
Michael nods with a tired smile and Alex feels guilty for waking him. They sit in silence, Michael shifting in his seat trying to get comfortable and Alex blowing on his too hot drink wondering if he should just leave. He steals a glance at Michael, now fully covered in a long sleeve shirt and jeans but no less beautiful to Alex.
This is what he wants. Quiet nights spent in each other’s company with nothing but nature’s soundtrack and a warm fire surrounding them. But he knows they’re not quite there yet.
“Twenty questions.”
“Light as a feather stiff as a board.” Michael laughs at the confused look on Alex’s face. “Oh, sorry, are we not randomly naming middle school sleepover games?”
Alex rolls his eyes and brings his mug closer to his face hiding his flushing cheeks behind the steam. He’s not sure where the idea came from but it’s growing on him. “Humor me, Guerin.”
Michael takes a sip from his own mug, lips quirking into a teasing smile.
“Liz and Deluca put you up to this? Did they dare you?” He shakes his head in mock sympathy. “You shoulda picked truth man.”
Alex ignores the gibe. “What do you mean did they put me up to it?”
Michael waves a hand, his eyes focused on the fire. “They were just being annoying earlier. Thought maybe they’d cornered you too.” He doesn’t elaborate, evading the topic as he had this afternoon, but Alex can guess the kinds of things the girls had said to him. He's starting to wonder if they have money on this.
Silence falls between them as they absorb the warmth of the flames and the hot cocoa. Michael has added some kind of spice, nutmeg, he thinks. Alex has no clue where he’d found it in the airstream but he’s glad he’d thought of it.
“Ok ok, I’ll play along.” Alex startles and then settles back into his seat feeling smug. Michael is just too easy sometimes.
“Favorite movie?”
Michael looks down into his mug like it holds the secrets to the universe.The firefight casts shadows across his face but Alex would wager a guess that he is blushing. “October Sky. Favorite song?”
“You’re a sadist.” Michael looks up with a surprised laugh and can’t hide his smile. Alex groans. “Ok, um,” he pauses, thumbs tapping against his mug while he tries to narrow down his choice. “First Day of My Life. Bright Eyes.”
“Random.” Michael tilts his head to the side, not judging just taking the information in. “I like it.”
They go back and forth like that for a while, asking trivial things and laughing as the fire slowly burns down. Without asking, Michael adds some more wood when it gets too low, wordlessly telling Alex to stay.
Alex flounders for his next question. Mug long since emptied and set to the side, his hands start tapping out a beat on his legs. He will never run out of things he wants to know about Michael, he’s sure of that, but he’s getting tired and also trying to avoid anything too deep. Tonight isn’t the night for those conversations.
“How did you know about light as a feather stiff as a board?” Maria had made him and Liz play it once when they were kids. She’d been so upset when it didn’t work.
Michael’s content smile turns mischievous and he looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes. Alex probably shouldn’t be as attracted to him as he is right now.
“Max and I would sneak down into the Evans’ basement to spy on Izzy and her friends sometimes. One time we came down and one of the girls was laying there with her eyes closed while the others surrounded her. Max thought they were doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice.” He snorts, shaking his head fondly at the happy memory of his brother.
“When they started chanting I caught on and I used my powers to lift her, just a couple of inches. Oh man, did they freak.” Alex loves seeing the unbridled joy on Michael’s face as he loses himself in the memory of a time when he and his siblings could just be kids. He knows how rare moments like that were for him.
“So you’ve always been a menace to society,” he quips.
Michael throws him a wink, looking way too proud of himself. “If there wasn’t proof I came from the stars, you’d think I’d popped up straight outta hell.”
Still smiling, his right hand absentmindedly moves to rub at the inside of his left forearm. It’s something he’s seen Michael do a handful of times over the years but he's never been able to figure out what triggers it or if he even knows he is doing it. He files it away as one of the more serious questions he’ll ask when he’s feeling brave.
“Wait.” Something clicks in his tired brain and he glares at Michael. “Was Maria there?”
Michael’s eyes squint as he drifts back into the memory. “Maybe? It’s possible, there was that brief blip where she and Is actually liked each other.” His eyes widen as Alex glares harder. “What?”
“She couldn’t get it to work with me. I had to buy her ice cream so she wouldn’t cry!”
Michael shakes his head, grin wider than before. “I’ll buy you an ice cream to make up for it, huh?”
His smile radiates and the waves roll onto Alex forcing him to drop the charade. “Well it’s the least you can do.”
Michael’s laugh is consumed by a yawn he tries to hide by turning his head, but reality crashes down around Alex and he remembers where they are. He’s imposing and although Michael won’t say it he knows he’s stayed too long.
“I should let you get back to sleep.” He stands before Michael can say anything, but he doesn’t even try, just looks up at Alex from behind drooping eyelids. Alex wants to kiss him goodbye. He wants to kiss him good night and he wants to kiss him good morning. He really needs to leave.
Walking towards his car, he stops and turns back when Michael calls his name.
Michael’s head tilts to one side as his eyes rake over him from head to toe sending a shiver down Alex’s spine and a burst of warmth to his gut at the same time.
“You sure you’re ok?”
“I am now.” With a small wave he turns quickly and practically jumps into his car.
Driving in the opposite direction, his eyes barely stray from the mirror where Michael’s figure grows smaller and further away until he extinguishes the fire, disappearing into the darkness.
#my fic#malex#malex fic#roswell new mexico#i’ve discovered my brand is hurting michael and making alex pine like a christmas tree#i hope it’s not too late to post this
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Book Review of “(Im)Proper Nouns” by Donna Sparrowhawk
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Kristen Lockhart (Im)Proper Nouns By Donna Sparrowhawk Book Review
In the collection of poems, (Im)Proper Nouns, poet Donna Sparrowhawk utilizes an effortless flow and rhythm within and between her poems. Some of my favorite literary tools she uses throughout her poems are imagery and metaphors. Her collection is split into three sections, that are the nouns persons, places, and things. The poems within each section complement each other nicely as well as the three sections to form the whole collection. Sparrowhawk’s themes and imagery gives insight to a well-rounded and fulfilling life so far as well as holds hope for a fulfilling life to come. In the section titled Persons, Sparrowhawk has an array of poems, some dedicated to someone by use of their name, others with a more metaphorical title. The poem “Even Now I Listen,” is a pretty straight forward poem about the speaker’s dad. I really appreciate the glimpse into the speaker’s relationship with her father growing up. She hones in on the relationship between her and her father through her diction and metaphors.
“I know what tone you would use Soft, sliding your words under The door of my pain-induced silence.” I like the imagery that this stanza creates. I imagine a teenage daughter distraught and not wanting to talk to anyone, but her dad is the one who can truly reach her in these times. As if gently whispering through the crack of her door or sliding a letter with some heartbreak advice on it. In the last stanza, the speaker is reminiscing on times when her father could give her advice in person.
“Would you lift your eyes to mine and gently with your Fatherly tenderness, sweep the hair fallen in my eyes Remind me
To lessen fear…love more.”
She is admittedly fearful and doubtful of something throughout this poem. Perhaps, felt she was not ready to take on some things in her life without her father always being right there with her. All she has is these memories and can only imagine the advice that her father could give her now. Because of the vulnerability, I feel like this poem is a lovely and intimate glimpse into the speaker and maybe even the poet’s life. Moreover, in the poem “Not Quite a Sonnet for Susan on Her Sixtieth Birthday,” Sparrowhawk has a very compelling free form as well as great diction to portray the speaker’s feelings towards “Susan.” The poet reflects on her own use of form in which she originally intended a sonnet that actually became a free form poem.
“I tried to write you a sonnet for your birthday… abab cdcd efef gg but the fact of the matter is you are definitely free verse and otherwise and wise.”
She admittedly switches gears from a sonnet form to a free form. Moreover, I like the analogy of comparing her friend, Susan, to a free form poem herself. As well as the wordplay in “…you are definitely free, verse and otherwise, and wise.” Moreover, she utilizes lots of little comments inside of parentheses throughout the poem.
“extraordinarily fun deliciously irreverent outlandishly chi-ful (and I love it that you know what that means)”
The use of her parenthetical inserts creates more intimacy between her and the friend receiving this gift. She adds some fun, witty inside jokes and personality. And the way she describes Susan; the words she uses, “extraordinary, deliciously irreverent.” She is describing a deep admiration of everything that makes Susan the way she is. While keeping few elements of a sonnet throughout the piece, the author iterates that her Susan cannot be described in any one form. She reminisces on the first time they met recalls specific details with her imagery and describes the instant connection the friends had. I love the final line of the poem, comparing Susan to a child, having the same whimsy and wonder as a newly Sixty year old woman. And ending the poem on an ellipse as to say that her and Susan’s friendship and story is far from over. Much like in the poem about her father, the speaker creates an intimacy between not only her and the person the poem is dedicated to, but also her and the reader. She does so through the use of parentheses, her imagery in describing her memories, and her witty metaphors. The first poem in the “Places” section of the book is one of my favorites called, “Musings on a Train.” I find the setting of this poem so refreshing. She truly captures what it is to feel like you are in the story itself with this poem. “I glance out as sheep newly shorn And young, bolt as the train Whistles, and the old ewes lazily graze, Ignoring the fray.”
I am fortunate to have ridden on a train in England as well, especially as someone who lives in Florida with very few, if any, passenger trains. This poem describes to calm whimsy of riding on a train traveling past hills and grassy fields. A quite relatable stanza in this piece, is as follows:
“I doze in strange comfortable discomfort Drifting in and out, nestled against my Ferdinand’s Jacket, crumpled on the table under my head.”
Though, not all readers might have had the experience of riding a train, the images she creates can certainly come to life in the reader’s imagination. I particularly love the phrase, “comfortable discomfort,” to describe falling asleep on a train. Again, maybe not all readers would know this as exactly as described, but I feel like the sensation of trying to fall asleep on a bus or car even, can be a strangely calming scenario in a not quite so comfortable vessel. Especially if you are riding in said vehicle with a loved one. The scene described in this poem is that of a comfortable, daily event that is intimate between the speaker and a loved one. Sparrowhawk’s imagery allows the readers a glimpse into the speaker’s life because of her descriptions of this sweet life. Another one of my absolute favorite pieces is “Ballad of Equeurdreville.” Sparrowhawk’s effortless rhyme scheme creates a hilariously witty and whimsical story in this poem. I love how while reading this poem the reader gets a scene laid out in front of them of this funny banter between a traveling couple.
“My, what a pleasant urban walk! said he As she dodged the biker […] I’m sure my mate said repast was just beyond this hill A lovely place for dinner, in lovely Equeurdreville.
Why, yes, my love! cooed she to he Somewhat loudly over the roar of the passing lorry.”
From the very first line, the setting is being described as “urban” and disruptive with the biker needing to be dodged, as well as the “roar of the passing lorry.” Yet, the positive attitudes of this couple is already creating a humorous build up.
“I fear a restaurant I will never see, said he. Her reply reassuringly whispered, perhaps more a shrill— Do you think we’ll ever bloody find this Equeurdreville?”
“[…] I dare say one can look from here to eternity, said he. But no sign, no hope of food, nor drink—no, nada, nil In this, this, uh…lovely…Equeurdreville.”
The couple have a shift in attitude the longer it takes for them to find this restaurant. I particularly love the last line of that stanza; it makes it seem like a sassy narrator is reading this poem aloud to the reader. “Oh my, said she. Oh my, indeed, said he As they walked and pondered what was the key Don’t know, said she, but make out a Will Next time you suggest to me Equeurdreville!”
The final stanza after the couple had finished their long awaited meal in Equeurdreville, we get the final round of witty commentary. The poem ends on a silly joke as well, adding to the fun nature of the rest of the poem. This poem reminded me of the whimsical ways of rhyming of Dr. Seuss. This poem is different from the other poems in the collection due to its playful theme. Yet it still holds the particular style especially when it comes to Sparrowhawk’s romantic diction and intimacy between characters. The contrast in playfulness from this poem compared to more mature themes in other poems, as well as her consistent rhyming scheme shows how talented and versatile Sparrowhawk is with her writing. Finally, in the section “Things,” there is a poem entitled, “Twilight,” that has just more of that calming scenery that Sparrowhawk paints.
“It’s that time of day again… The light, in its fade Softens… Well, softens Everything.”
This opening stanza creates such a lovely setting with just a few simple phrases, which is magical. I also love the third stanza continues with this serene imagery and the fourth begins to introduce another theme into this poem.
“I wonder if the fox Will make his appearance tonight Now that you, Not I, Are absent.
“I’ve missed you today I should have been with you today, But, painfully I really couldn’t Because we You and I Know how to love.” The speaker is describing beautiful scenery yet is lonely or missing her loved one. Yet, I gather this is the type of missing someone when they are just out for the day, perhaps at work.
“I know you are on your Way back to me now.
Warm soup is waiting And music, and me,
The words can wait.”
The lines of her poetry feel comfortable and familiar. Sparrowhawk has been able to take sorrow in her poems such as this one and spin it around into hope. This entire collection of poems by Donna Sparrowhawk reflects on a life filled with beauty and love for these persons, places, and things. She uses wonderous imagery and metaphors to describe these loved ones and locations in such intimate detail. The warmth, wit and charm in her words are the ties that carry over and connect all her poems in this collection, (Im)Proper Nouns.
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Imperio
This a fic to celebrate 100 followers! Thank you so much for supporting my work!
Almost everything in italics is a flashback! The only exception to this would be the single lines that are italicized. (example: I love Charlie Weasley)
I know this might not be how the Imperius Curse works, but y’know! This just a story I had in mind! Also, it’s kinda long, like really long LOL
Word Count: 5,487
It’s not really connected to this one, but there are some scenes I took from this fic so read over it before this one:
Charlie introducing (Y/N) to the rest of his family
Summary: This takes place during The Deathly Hallows. Charlie Weasley is desperately trying to find someone and will do everything it takes to get them back from the clutches of the Dark Lord.
The Imperius Curse is one of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. It is a well-known tool of the Dark Arts and frequently utilized by Lord Voldemort and his followers. It is one of the three Unforgivable Curses and its use will obtain its caster a lengthy sentence in Azkaban. When cast successfully, the curse places the victim completely under the caster’s control, though a person with exceptional strength of will is capable of resisting it.
The Malfoy Apothecary was a frequent place of meeting for Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Unaware clients were met by the sweet, cherry smell of their Superior Red upon entering. The intoxicating smell of the wine and the perfect manners of the staff distracted them from the horrors that took place behind the back-room doors.
The backroom contained, not only, the necessary supplies to keep their establishment running, but a set of mossy, stone steps that led down to the dark cellar. It was cold and damp, and the only light that shown came from a sliver underneath the door
.Footsteps echoed through the chamber, wooden casks of wine lining the walls of the large room. Two figures stood in a dimly lit section of the chamber. One of the figures stalked towards a large chair placed in front of a long, oak table which was usually utilized for meetings. The black-cloaked figure rounded the velvet chair, his white, arachnidian fingers clutching the arm of it, and finally sitting down.
“Bring out the prisoner,” A coarse, yet stern, voice commanded. The second figure, who remained standing, scurried towards the metal cage at the back of the room, his long, blond hair trailing behind him.
Lucius Malfoy determinedly walked down the line of casks, an obvious expression of agitation decorating his features. As a prisoner to The Dark Lord, one isn't expected to be shown mercy. Usually, a captured wizard would not last more than a day due to Voldemort's sustained talent to rid those he deemed unnecessary.
Knowing this information, (Y/N) (L/N) couldn't help growing uneasy as the days blurred together in her dungeon prison. As a dependable employee for the Ministry of Magic, (Y/N) held onto the hope that her friends and colleagues would come to her rescue. Shivering against the cold stone surface, she cursed at herself in anger. The Death Eaters had stripped her of her robes and left her locked in the freezing dungeon, presumably on Voldemort's orders to utilize the temperature to wear her down. Her past few days in captivity were filled with hunger, frustration, and silence.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not remember how she had been captured or how long had passed since she had vanished. Her inability to recall the day's events frustrated her, she had no way of knowing if her friends were safe and the fear that something might've happened to Charlie began to settle over her like a dark cloud.
Moving her tied hands in a defined triangular motion, she uttered the words, "Incendio" casting a small, undisrupted flame in the center of her cell. Inching towards it, she was suddenly enveloped by the warmth radiating from it, her shivering seizing as the light crackled in front of her.
The rusty, loud noise of scraping metal pierced her ears, inciting pain as Lucius Malfoy slowly slid open the lock. The cage door opened with a great "CRASH!", the rest of the metal vibrating from the forceful impact. Smirking at her flinch, Lucius stepped forwards, speaking in a cool tone, “The Dark Lord summoned you,” He stated plainly, his hands latching tightly around her biceps as he man-handled her out of the cage.
“Let me go!” (Y/N) yelled, thrashing around to free herself from his forceful grip. Gritting his teeth, Lucius strengthened his grip on (Y/N), dragging her down the line casks with difficulty. Frantically twisting and kicking, she attempted to knock her assailant down but her efforts proved to be futile. With one last powerful jerk, Lucius launched (Y/N) against the stone, her head slamming painfully against the rigid ground.
Her vision suddenly became blindingly white and a painful throbbing sensation emerged in her head. After a few seconds, (Y/N) found herself regaining her eyesight, blinking as the darkroom materialized again. She yelped when a large hand gripped her hair, cruelly yanking her head and torso off the ground. (Y/N) couldn't help her eyes widened when they connected with the red, malevolent slits staring down from the chair. She jerked her head towards the side, breaking their eye contact as Lucius' balled his fingers tighter into her hair. (Y/N)'s lips tightened into a line, only gritting her teeth when her head was forced forwards once again.
“Miss (L/N)” Voldemort hissed, hands placed delicately on the velvety armrests, "How lucky you are to be in my presence" He stated, the amusement in his voice clearly audible as they yanked her around. (Y/N), however, refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him as he addressed her. She kept her eyes focused on the wall to his left, jaw clenched as silence fell before her.
There was an imperceptible movement in Voldemort's hand, his fingers were squeezing the fabric underneath him in rising anger. He had the assumption that (Y/N), after days in chilling captivity, would beg for her life at his feet.
But she didn't.
Instead, she kept her gaze fixed away from his slitted eyes and remained silent.
The weight on the chair suddenly lifted and the unmistakable sound of footsteps crept towards her, the blurred figure developing in her vision. Though her actions were brave, The Dark Lord really wasn’t known for his patience.
Gritting his teeth, Voldemort gripped her chin aggressively and forced her focus on to him, "You will look at me when I address you," He spat, harshly squeezing the bones of her jaw with the faintest desire to crush them underneath his fingers.
(Y/N) attempted to free herself from his grip, but the hand in her hair held her steady, "Don't touch me," She retaliated with a resentful glare, but Voldemort only smiled in return.
“I can see why the Weasley boy took a liking to you,” Voldemort spoke coldly, circling through the cellar as if he were disinterested, “Put on quite a show when we took you,” He added, his hand delving into his cloak to retrieve his bony, yew wand.
“Let me go, William!” Charlie shouted, thrashing in his older brother's grip. Bill, however, didn't budge, he tightened his arms around Charlie's chest, remorsefully watching the scene unfold ahead of him.
"Charlie, stop!" Bill yelled, "There's nothing we can do for her right now!"
(Y/N)'s stunned body hung limply over the back of werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. The two were closely followed by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was yelling cheerfully as they made their escape. Bill knew how dangerous the pair of them were and did not want to risk Charlie's death at the hands of either of them.
Charlie desperately called out her name, he wanted nothing more than for her to wake up and fight, but his cries fell on deaf ears. Hot tears streamed down his face, his thrashing against Bill's grip increasing as he helplessly watched the two Death Eaters carry her away.
With her wand aimed towards Charlie, Bellatrix shot him a short wave along with a malicious smile as he screamed. But, once he finally managed to break free from Bill's grip, it was too late. A cloud of thick, dark smoke suddenly enveloped the three of them, shooting upwards into the night sky becoming untraceable in the darkness.
Charlie sprinted forwards, filled with adrenaline as he attempted to catch up to them, but it was useless. With a cry of anguish, Charlie's knees buckled and he sank onto the grass field of his home, slamming his fists against the ground.
“Go to hell,” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, earning another laugh from Lord Voldemort.
While carefully examining his wand, Voldemort made his way in front of her, “Normally, you’d be dead,” He stated plainly, "But I believe you will be of great use to me," Voldemort said, his fingers trailing over his wand once again before motioning to Lucius Malfoy.
Without hesitation, Malfoy forced out (Y/N)'s left arm while holding the rest of her body steady. Her eyes flickered from the wand, now aimed at her forearm, to the person holding it, "No!" She screeched, struggling against Lucius's grip only to be harshly pinned down against the group, her left arm outstretched painfully.
Uttering an indistinguishable spell, Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to her forearm, a sharp burning sensation rapidly shooting through it. (Y/N) screamed as the mark was painfully added into her skin, tears forming in her eyes as Voldemort’s laugh filled her ears, “Stop!” She screamed, attempting to pull her arm away, but there was nothing she could do.
Tears streamed down (Y/N)'s face and onto the mark, the clear droplets sliding down the inky skull and snake permanently attached to her body. There it was, the horrific brand of Lord Voldemort's devoted followers seared on her arm.
A thud came from the top of the steps, the door to the wine cellar slamming open loudly. "Starting without me?" A woman asked as she descended the stairs, her curls bouncing with each step. Then, the woman grinning from ear to ear stepped into the dimly lit room. Bellatrix Lestrange halted beside Lord Voldemort, her eyes landing on the fresh mark with admiration, "You should be grateful!" She bellowed maniacally, her fingers closing around (Y/N)'s sore arm, her winces of pain drowned out by Bellatrix's thunderous cackle.
(Y/N) felt another hand grip her face, but this time her (e/c) eyes met with Bellatrix's brown ones, "You're going to be very useful," She spat with a smile of someone truly insane.
Knelt in front of three merciless wizards, (Y/N), for the first time in her life, felt truly terrified.
The Burrow Charlie Weasley paced back and forth in his living room, attempting to decipher where Bellatrix Lestrange had taken his fianceé. He refused to sit around, he refused to wait for The Order to give him the okay, he wanted to find her before anyone could hurt her. “I’m going out to look again” Charlie announced, grabbing his satchel and headed towards the door. “Charlie!” Molly Weasley called, attempting to bring her son back into their home, but before she could get to him, he had already disapparated. Charlie routinely checked The Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeade, their shared home, Jacob’s home, anywhere he thought she would be. The Ministry was always his first stop, (Y/N) was a formidable Auror and it wasn’t unusual to find her in her office or around the Ministry. Charlie walked around, asking the staff if they had seen her or heard of her, but the answer was always “No, sorry” Charlie grew frustrated every day, he needed to find her and make sure she was okay, but his search always led to a dead end. Turning to face the fireplaces, he scanned the people entering and exiting, trying to see if he could catch someone who would know anything. Suddenly, one of the middle fireplaces started up and he caught a flash of her (H/C) hair. His eye’s widened, hoping they hadn’t deceived him. Charlie sprinted towards her, attempting to catch her, but she kept walking, “(Y/N)” He yelled, but she didn’t turn. (Y/N) headed to her office, ignoring her fiancee’s class, as instructed. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she continued on her way. Charlie gritted his teeth and continued to run until he finally grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Charlie grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “Are you okay?!” He asked, but he noticed something different about her. (Y/N)’s usually bright (E/C) eyes were clouded and her expression was blank. Once her foggy eyes landed on Charlie, her eyebrows furrowed and she pushed him off, knocking him to the ground, “Bombarda!” She screamed, aiming her wand at the Ministry ceiling until it began to crumble. Charlie rolled to the side, “Protego Maxima!” He shouted creating a barrier between himself and the falling debris. As (Y/N) aimed her wand at the ceiling, he caught sight of her left arm and the terrible mark seared into her skin, “Dear, Merlin! NO!” He screamed, scrambling to his feet, “Immobulus!” He yelled, but she had already disapparated, leaving a cloud of black smoke behind. “She’s a death eater” A ministry worker yelled, obviously upset about the damage, “(Y/N) (L/N) is a death eater!” “You will ruin your reputation in the Ministry” Bellatrix began, walking around (Y/N) in a circle. The Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy had left and the curse-breaker was left in the hands of one of the cruelest witches ever known. (Y/N) laughed, "My reputation will be ruined enough once people laid eyes on the disgusting mark you've branded me with!" She exclaimed in anger, but Bellatrix could only smile, "But this mark could never ruin me" (Y/N) grinned, she was a powerful witch herself, but not powerful enough "After this, everything you've ever worked for will come crumbling down," Bellatrix laughed, pulling out her curved wand. Shoving it close to (Y/N)'s temple, she grinned as the once-defiant Auror squeezed her eyes shut, "Imperio" She whispered, and even though she tried to fight it, she simply couldn't. "You will orchestrate an attack on the ministry on your own," Bellatrix began, releasing her handcuffs, "Destroy it, keep returning, destroy your reputation, make sure your mark is visible" (Y/N)'s foggy eyes landed on Bellatrix and she gave a nod, "Obey the Dark Lord," Bellatrix added on, "Oh," She grinned, "And if you see a Weasley," She said, heading up the stairs, "Don't hesitate to attack, kill if necessary" Bellatrix went up the stairs of the Apothecary, her laughter filling the empty store. (Y/N) walked upstairs and disapparated, ready to fulfill her tasks. The Ministry was crumbling, Death Eaters had invaded their ranks, and numerous more appeared, destroying any negative article towards Lord Voldemort and killing those who dared to speak again him. By that time, Charlie was long gone and back at The Burrow, his face buried in his hands. His mind kept flashing back to (Y/N) and her robotic expression, "The Imperius Curse," Charlie muttered, clenching his fists. Bill, Tonks, Penny, and Rowan sat in front of him, all shocked to hear the news, "She's working for Voldemort!" Charlie yelled, slamming his fists down on the couch, "They've brainwashed her!" Charlie was furious, they knew how much she meant to him, how powerful she was and they managed to get her into their ranks against her will. "The curse can't be broken unless the caster ceases to use it or they perish" Rowan recited, remembering the lesson on the Unforgivable Curses they received at Hogwarts "Then we'll have to find who cast it," Bill announced, patting his brother on the back, "We'll get her back, Charlie" He smiled softly and Charlie furrowed his eyebrows "We have to" Charlie muttered, getting up from his seat, "I think it was Bellatrix Lestrange, she kidnapped her" Charlie stated, gathering his supplies. "Then let's get her" Penny grinned, standing up and heading towards the door, "I assume you want the old team back?" She asked playfully and Charlie gave a nod, "Give me a couple hours" She said and disapparated to gather her former classmates. Tonks crossed her arms and huffed, "If it's my aunt, let me handle her" She grinned, "I've had some unfinished business since Harry's transfer from Little Whinging" Charlie looked at Tonks and raised an eyebrow, "If you think I'm not attacking her with you, you've got another thing coming" "I won't kill her, just let me disarm her," Tonks stated, twirling her wand, "We're a team, remember?"
“Charlie!” Tonks yelled, catching him and (Y/N) before they disapparated from Grimmauld Place, “Remember at Hogwarts when we graduated, that’d we’d always be a team?”
Charlie nodded with a smile, his arm wrapped around (Y/N), “Of course I do, that was after we found Jacob”
(Y/N) grinned, remembering how much trouble they got into during their years at school, but it was all for the better.
“We’ve always been a team, Tonks” (Y/N) smiled, “And we always will be”
“I just wanted to remind you two” Tonks grinned, “Get home safely” She waved as she watched the couple disapparate before returning into Grimmauld Place.
“Of course I do” Charlie replied with a smile. May 2nd, 1998. Hogwarts was under attack, Lord Voldemort had sent his forces to the shielded castle and everyone who was able to fight was defending the school until the early hours of the morning. Charlie Weasley was battling alongside his older brother, Bill. Andre Egwu and Barnaby Lee protected the Astronomy Tower by broomstick while Tulip Karasu and Merula Snyde manded the floors. Ben Copper and Penny Haywood were helping out in the Great Hall, helping the wounded and defending any areas they could. Rowan Khanna kept the barriers up alongside Horace Slughorn and Filius Flitwick. (Y/N) (L/N) was still under Bellatrix's spell. The Dark Lord kept her away from the fight, holding her inside the Forbidden Forest along with the other Death Eaters. "Let me find them" (Y/N) said, her (E/C) still clouded and her allegiance clearly with Voldemort, "I know how to get to them" Voldemort raised an arm to silence her and she quickly did. The Dark Lord had taught her to never speak out of turn and those who did were gravely punished. He grew tired of the fighting and decided to call off the invasion, ushering Harry Potter to come to find him before it was too late. "She's in Malfoy Manor?!" Charlie yelled at Bill for not telling him sooner, "We could've gotten her out, Bill!" "No!" Bill snapped, "You couldn't have, Charlie!" Bill wanted her back as much as his younger brother did, but it was too risky, "Harry told me she killed six snatchers with the wave of her hand! Dobby's dead because of her and you think they would give her up so easily!?" Charlie Weasley stayed quiet, finally realizing that this war didn't just only affect his wellbeing. Bill, a usually laid back man, had yelled at him. Charlie walked up to his brother and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, Bill" Charlie uttered, "I've been selfish, I never took into account how you must feel, how everyone must feel" Bill sighed and returned his brother's hug, "It's alright, Charlie." Bill replied, "Thank you" Bill and Charlie pushed through the Great Hall doors, exhausted from the long hours of battle. They hoped to find time to rest, but the screams and tears that filled the hall haunted all who stayed there. Bill's eyes widened when he saw his mother collapse with the rest of the family near her. Bill ran over with Charlie following after him, attempting to keep the worst out of their minds. Fred Weasley, one of the boys, had been killed during the battle. Percy laid over him, shaking him, attempting to wake him up. "It's my fault!" He yelled as Arthur Weasley attempted to pull him off their deceased family member, "I should've protected him! It should've been me!" Bill held back tears and he ripped Percy off his younger brother, "Don't say that!" He yelled as Percy cried, "Don't" He choked up, "ever say that" Bill broke, he began to cry as he pulled his brother in for a hug, not being able to look down at Fred. Charlie stared at his deceased brother as Ron cried over him and his Father attempted to console his mother. Ginny had been consoling George the entire time, he wasn't making jokes, he wasn't speaking, he was just crying. "Look, Georgie! Charlie's got himself a girlfriend" Fred exclaimed, pointing up at (Y/N) and Charlie after they shared their first kiss. He had brought her home for Christmas since her parents weren't home. Charlie recalled how he used to take care of the twins with Bill and Percy. "Everyone jump on Charlie!" Fred yelled, bouncing off the bed onto his brother's back. George followed suit, jumping into Charlie's arms as they both laughed. "Hey! Get off!" Charlie yelled as he tried to swing Fred off but he only held on tighter. Bill caught Ron as he attempted to jump on Charlie like his older brother had instructed. Percy rolled his eyes but smiled as Ginny attempted to pull Fred off Charlie. (Y/N) stood by the doorway, muffling her laughter as she watched Charlie and his siblings interact with each other. Sometimes he hated how troublesome they were, but he always enjoyed helping them, talking to them, and spending time with them. "Look what we made," Fred grinned, holding out a toy which resembled a Hungarian Horntail, "Dedicated to you" The twins wore colored suits as they brought the family around their new joke shop before the grand opening. "Spits fire and everything!" George chimed in, "Don't worry though, it's safe!" Charlie couldn't help but smile, his brothers were doing something wonderful and to think of the family as they designed their items was absolutely incredible. "I love it, you two are incredible" Charlie replied, admiring the toy in his hands. Charlie clenched his fists and began to cry, he couldn't believe this had happened after the twins always reminding them they'd be fine. They were supposed to be fine. Penny Haywood returned to the Great Hall with cauldrons of water for the injured, most of them enchanted to float behind her as she rushed through the crowds. Charlie was startled when he heard a scream and the clang of the cauldrons crashing. Turning to the sound, he noticed the spilled water and Penny Haywood crying on the ground. "Tonks!" She screamed, kneeling in front of her childhood friend, "Nymphadora Tonks! You wake up right now!" She yelled, shaking her as if she would wake up, "You promised me you'd be fine!" "We're gonna be fine" Tonks stated once again as she stretched her arms over her head, "We'll return to Teddy after the battle" Penny crossed her arms as she attempted to keep her friend from going, "There are enough able-bodied people fighting already!" Penny yelled, grabbing Tonks by the arm, "You and Remus should return home, Tonks" Penny pleaded. Tonks shook her head and pulled her dear friend in for a hug, "Penny, I love you to death," She began, "But Remus isn't staying home and neither am I, everyone is laying down their lives and so will we" She smiled, "You're fighting too even though I wish you would stay clear of danger" Penny gave a sigh and returned Tonks's hug, "You've got a point" She muttered. "We're gonna be fine, we're all going to be fine" Tonks grinned, "Now let's go find (Y/N)." Ben and Tulip ran up to Penny, attempting to pull her away, but Penny wouldn't budge. Ben was already crying as Tulip attempted to console the shrieking Penny. Charlie felt as if he was going to pass out, the screams, the death, it all shook him to his core. He gritted his teeth and ran out of the Great Hall, leaning up against the wall as he cried. "Charlie?" Harry called softly, "I'm sorry about Fred and Tonks" he muttered, "and about (Y/N), I know it must be hard" Charlie nodded with his head against the wall, "Thanks" he uttered and Harry gave a sigh "I'm going to end this" Harry stated, "Everything will be over soon" Charlie turned to Harry in surprise, "What do you suppose to do?!" Charlie yelled, "You can't waltz into the forbidden forest, Harry! You'll be killed" Harry placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, "I know what I have to do" He said, placing something on Charlie's shoulder, "But so do you" He added on and walked away. "Isn't that?" Harry muttered to Ron, staring at the blank-faced Curse-Breaker standing behind Bellatrix Lestrange. Malfoy Manor was dark and full of Death Eaters and even though (Y/N) was supposedly one of them, she still managed to stick out, she didn't belong there. "She's under the imperious curse," Ron muttered, "Charlie's gone mad looking for her" Harry glared at Bellatrix Lestrange, attempting to come up with a plan to rescue her, but the powerful people guarding her would make it extremely difficult. "We have to get her out," Ron whispered, "But how?" He asked, but Harry didn't know what to do. He knew Dobby would come to save them, but that was before he knew (Y/N) (L/N) was here, they could've saved her as well. The squeaking of the chandelier above distracted Bellatrix's interrogation as the Golden Trio and some of their allies. escaped to Shell Cottage. Charlie pulled the blanket off his shoulder and examined it, "The invisibility cloak" Charlie whispered in surprise. With a newfound sense of determination, Charlie slipped on the cloak and headed towards The Forbidden Forest. Harry Potter was alone like he had to be, but Charlie entered the forest separately, hoping to find (Y/N) Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and (Y/N) (L/N) stood around Voldemort, waiting for the chosen one's arrival. Narcissa had not kept her eyes of Hogwarts, worriedly wondering if her son was still alive. Lucius didn't speak and Bellatrix was growing annoyed just waiting around, "Let's just go in a get him!" Bellatrix exclaimed angrily. Lucius looked up at the castle, "It's still heavily fortified, Bellatrix" he uttered out and Voldemort turned to Bellatrix. "Harry Potter will be here soon" Voldemort stated, glancing over at (Y/N), "While we wait, send her in" Voldemort whispered to Bellatrix who still had (Y/N) under her spell. Bellatrix stalked over to (Y/N) and whispered something in her ear. Without hesitation, the foggy eyed woman and two death eaters walked into the darkness, heading towards the castle. Charlie Weasley maneuvered through the forest, attempting to find his fianceé who was taken from him long ago. He froze when he heard the crunching of branches, he moved to the side and watched as the love of his life and two death eaters headed towards Hogwarts. Following her, he wasn't sure whether to confront her or let her walk. Under Voldemort's power, he wasn't sure what she was capable of and he would do anything to keep her from harm. "Good Morning," (Y/N) muttered as she opened her eyes. Charlie had been playing with her hair, patiently waiting for her to wake up. "Morning," He replied, pressing a kiss against her forehead, "You always look so beautiful" (Y/N) laughed softly as she stretched, "How long have you been up?" She asked, reaching up to brush a strand of red hair away from his eyes. "Five minutes" He replied, propping his head upon his elbow, "I'll make you breakfast" He smiled Charlie still believed she looked beautiful, even with the scars and bruises, he was still his (Y/N). "Look at this!" Charlie exclaimed, throwing The Daily Prophet against the table, "(Y/N) (L/N) throws away all love for Charles Weasley, and joins The Dark Lord's Army by Rita Skeeter!" Charlie furrowed his eyebrows and began to read the article. "Charles Septimus Weasley and (Y/N) (L/N), lovers cruelly separated by a time of war. Charlie Weasley spends his days crying and mourning over the love he lost to the darkness, this is rubbish!" Charlie yelled making Merula and Andre chuckle. "It's kinda true, Weasley" Merula chimed in, crossing her arms behind her head, "You do other things, of course, but you do spend time crying" Charlie ripped the paper in half and threw it away, "We need another plan to get her back" Charlie followed after (Y/N) as the two death eaters separated from her as part of their plan. "Help!" She screamed, "Anyone please help me!" To the untrained eye, (Y/N) would just seem like a helpless woman calling out to someone, but her foggy eyes reflected the true nature of her actions. The doors opened and one of the Hogwarts professors rushed her inside as Charlie Weasley chased after her. The two death eaters attempted to infiltrate the castle, but the defenses the other professors had put up made it impossible. (Y/N) began to cry as they walked her down the corridor, but once the coast was clear, she pulled out her wand and stunned the woman helping her. "Bombarda Maxima!" She yelled and one of the walls came crumbling down. The explosion shook the ground as she began to attack the inside of the castle. Charlie ripped off the cloak and attempted to defend the castle without hurting (Y/N), "Protego Maxima!" He yelled, running after her. Bill Weasley was leaned up against the wall with his old friends as they attempted to grasp Tonks's death. They were all tired, sweaty, and bloody, they just wanted to win and finally finish off this war. "Where's Charlie?" Rowan asked as she rubbed Penny's back. Penny was distraught, she and Tonks had been friends since their first year, they shared a room together, Penny was at her wedding, she was there when Teddy was born and was named Godmother. Tonks's death affected her greatly. Barnaby gave a shrug, running his hand through his hair, "I haven't seen him" He replied, at that moment an explosion rang through the corridor and the group noticed Charlie fending off (Y/N). Tulip snatched some dungbombs and fireworks from her belt and set them ablaze, creating a barrier of smoke between Charlie and the hypnotized (Y/N). Penny scrambled to her feet, taking out potion vials to use as weapons. Merula glared at the cloud of smoke, attempting to see (Y/N) through all of it, but it was too difficult. Barnaby, Ben, Andre, and Rowan pulled out their wands as they walked over to defend Charlie. Bill forced himself off the wall and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Crucio!" Her voice rang through the smoke and a red light hit Charlie directly in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The Cruciatus Curse (also known as the Torture Curse) is a tool of the Dark Arts and one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It is one of the most powerful and sinister spells known to wizardkind. When cast successfully the curse inflicts intense, excruciating pain on the victim. But Charlie didn't feel any pain. (Y/N) came out from the cloud of smoke, sending off aggressive spells as the group surrounded Charlie and blocked off her advances. Charlie pushed himself off the ground, realizing the spell hadn't affected him. She didn't mean it. Charlie pushed through his friends and aimed his wand at (Y/N) once again, "If you truly wish to hurt me!" He cried, "Do it again" (Y/N) stopped in her tracks and gave a smile, repeating the spell, "Crucio!" She yelled out, but again, it knocked him off his feet without pain. "Again!" He screamed and the spell knocked him over once more, "I know you're strong, (Y/N)! Please, come back to me!" Charlie pushed himself off the ground and stared at (Y/N) dead in the eyes. She could've attacked, she could've gone through with her plan, but she didn't. (Y/N) just stood there, facing Charlie Weasley, her fianceé. Internally, (Y/N) had been trying to fight off the curse, but forcing out the Imperius curse was more difficult than blocking it in the beginning. "Bombarda!" (Y/N) yelled and ran off in the other direction, avoiding her friends. "Dammit!" Charlie screamed, "She's in there, I know she is!" The sun was rising, the death eaters marched on Hogwarts. Everyone had gathered in the front, preparing for one last face off. Harry Potter was dead, but they still had to fight. Charlie scanned the crowd and noticed (Y/N) standing amongst the crowd of Death Eaters as Voldemort address the defenders of Hogwarts. Their celebration of victory, however, was short-lived. Harry Potter jumped up and began attacking, sparking yet another battle in front of the school. (Y/N) followed after Bellatrix, defending her from behind as the two women rushed into the school. Charlie Weasley was the one attacking Bellatrix from behind, attempting to free (Y/N) from her dark spell. "ENOUGH BELLATRIX!" Charlie yelled attempting to stun her, but (Y/N) quickly cast Protego, "Let her go!" Bellatrix only laughed as they entered The Great Hall, knocking down anyone that stood in her way, "You've lost your precious girlfriend! Your sweet Freddie!" She yelled, "Now get ready to lose the rest of your family!" Bellatrix shot a spell at Ginny who was standing in front of the rest of her family. "No!" Charlie yelled, but Ginny deflected the spell. Molly Weasley turned, sheer anger filled her expression as she aimed her wand at Bellatrix. (Y/N) quickly turned to protect her, but Charlie began shooting spells in order to distract her. "Not my daughter, you bitch!" Molly Weasley exclaimed as Bellatrix began fighting her off, but with a few protective spells and a mother's strong will, Molly Weasley flung spells at the wicked witch, finally finishing her off. (Y/N)'s longterm incantation work off, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she passed out in front of her fianceé. (Y/N) almost hit the ground, but Charlie caught her right on time. Bill ran over to Charlie's side as he attempted to wake (Y/N) up. With a gasp, she opened her eyes, and Charlie was quickly overcome with emotion. "You're okay!" He exclaimed, pulling her up for a long-overdue kiss, "You're okay" He cried as he wrapped his arms around her. "Charlie.." (Y/N) whispered hoarsely, wrapping her arms around him in relief, "Please tell me I didn't cause too much trouble" Charlie looked at Bill and they both laughed, hugging (Y/N) at the same time. "I wish I could say that was true," Bill replied with a smile, "But it's not over yet" Bill stated, getting up to attack another Death Eater that approached. "Reducto!" He yelled, defending his brother and his fianceé, "Go, I've got him" Bill grinned as George ran in to fight with his brother. Percy Weasley and Ginny Weasley were up on the tables, casting defensive spells to protect Charlie and (Y/N) until she regained her strength. "Charlie," (Y/N) called as he attempted to move her out of The Great Hall, "I want to fight" She stated. "That's what I like to hear" Merula Snyde spoke up, "Good to have you back, (L/N)" Merula smiled, joined by Andre, Barnaby, Penny, Rowan, Ben, and Tulip. "We've missed you!" Ben chimed in, "But we can catch up later" He smiled. Ben seemed different, he wasn't nervous anymore. Being together again made him feel stronger and he knew his friends would have his back. More Death Eaters swarmed Hogwarts, but they were no match for the elusive Curse-Vaults group of Hogwarts. With a yell, Tulip set more bombs ablaze, throwing them into the crowd as Ben lined them up, sparking them with his wand. Merula, Andre, and Barnaby mounted their brooms and began attacking from the top, avoiding any quick spells shot at them. Penny drank a potion and spit fire at the hoards while still sending off explosion spells. Rowan began casting incarcerous, rendering the Death Eaters useless to any of their attacks. At the corner of her eye (Y/N) noticed the Malfoy Family huddling away from the Death Eaters. The three of them were wandless and defenseless. "Tulip!" (Y/N) yelled, pointing at the defenseless Malfoys. With a grin, Tulip appeared in front of the family giving them a bright "hey there!" as she set the Death Eaters ablaze, "Come with me" She grinned, walking to lead the family into a safe place. The Malfoys reluctantly followed her, but happy to finally be safe. Soon enough, the fighting ceased. The Dark Lord had perished thanks to Harry Potter and the remaining Death Eaters were chained up. Professor McGonagall walked up to (Y/N) with a reassuring smile as she nervously stared at the mark on her arm. "You were under a curse, everything you did under the incantation is pardoned," McGonagall said, placing a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) gripped her arm as she attempted to cover the mark, but she gave her former teacher a nod, "Thank you, Headmistress" She replied as McGonagall walked away. Charlie approached his fianceé, happily wrapping his arms around her, "I'm glad your safe" He muttered, pressing a kiss against his forehead, "There are some things I have to explain and they're hard to talk about," Charlie muttered, recalling his dead brother and former classmate. "I know what happened, Charlie" (Y/N) replied with a sigh, "I assumed what happened after I saw Penny and when she began crying again, she told me about Tonks" (Y/N) felt like crying herself, but thought it'd be best not to, "And Freddie, Bill told me" Charlie swallowed the knot in his throat as he hugged her once more, "I'm so glad you're safe" He cried, "I was so worried" (Y/N)'s heart hurt as she heard him cry, she nuzzled her face against his neck and sobbed as well, "Everything is going to be okay, Charlie" She whispered, happy to be herself again, but the pain experienced number of casualties was excruciating. As the years passed, (Y/N) and Charlie Weasley remained together as they began a family of their own. The mark of her left arm had faded since Voldemort's death, but the small outline still remained, a reminder of all that had happened. After all the tears, loss, and casualties they had finally found peace and happiness in their little home, watching their children grow up. Charlie was overjoyed when their firstborn had their first accidental magic experience, ecstatic to find out the young child had a chance to attend Hogwarts. (Y/N) couldn't wait to teach her children what she had learned alongside her husband. All was well.
#charlie weasley#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley x mc#charlie weasley x jacob's sibling#bill weasley#william weasley#fred weasley#george weasley#harry potter#ronald weasley#rowan khanna#penny haywood#ben copper#merula snyde#barnaby lee#nymphadora tonks#remus lupin#voldemort#malfoys#bellatrix lestrange#ginny weasley#molly weasley#hogwarts mystery#arthur weasley#harry potter hogwarts mystery#hogwarts mystery imagine#lucius malfoy#narcissa malfoy#harry potter imagines#battle of hogwarts
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13x20: “I don’t care what happens to me”-- Dean Worthless Winchester, John Winchester’s Death and Destiel
Oh my god!
I gotta say, 13x20 was an ANGSTY FEELSY amalgamation of meta and foreshadowing for the Big Finale Triad of 21, 22, and 23. It laid down S5 tones, key themes, and narrative direction, hoo boy!!!
I’m sorry I posted late! Time-of-month sickness was an interruption, yikes.
I’d like to start with the Dean & Sam final scene, then talk about the major culminating implications this Father-centric episode specifically holds for our beloved protagonist Dean Winchester the shackled child — the Man behind the Mask (which S13 has been a gigantic narrative mirror of) — and the Destiel narrative/Cas in relation to Dean’s arc and character disposition *rubs hands together*
Glynn & Co made Dean’s axel-swinging between communication and miscommunication pretty clear to me in the last scene of 13x20, especially regarding the dialogue that people thought was character regression into Brodependency.
After sleeping on it, I didn’t see the same scale of toxic codependency from seasons ago a la ‘there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.’ It wasn’t mutual. I saw it as: 1. more from Sam’s end, and 2. Dean’s willingness to protect his loved ones (Sam and CAS, in bold) combined with letting go and the textual acknowledgement of his low self-worth carrying over from 13x05 (the low self-worth he internalized across 99.6798% of his life course).
Firstly, Dabb’s subverting S5.
He put independent Dean in S5 independent Sam’s shoes here, and it’s surely not a coincidence that Dean himself referenced their implosive S5 Michael-Lucifer mess: “Where we were last time we had front row seats”. S5 exhibited Dean’s Holding On vs Sam’s Letting Go, with lost Dean crawling to Lisa’s door and yeah, we know how that prickly-edged story went. It’s finally Dean Letting Go vs Sam Holding On. It’s indicative of S13 faithless Grieving!Sam re: Mary/Jack seeking his own emancipation and finding real introspective purpose away from the codependent strings he’s clinging to. We heard Sam’s “If we die, we die together”. Don’t fret, his current arc is constructed to get rid of this kind of thinking and move towards Faith!
Dean’s prepared to cut the codependent strings — already has via 12x22, and then in 13x05 (albeit in a suicidal grief-ridden manner. Speaking of, 13x20 this time shifted focus to Sam’s risk-taking re: Lucifer and the Apocalypse in itself. Unsurprisingly, we already witnessed this narrative train running in reverse -- early S13 Grieving!Dean and Functioning Sam swapped roles post-13x06 and in 13x11. Man, I am pumpin’ my fists).
Atop the bro dualism, Dean’s behaviour in 13x20 concerned me the most, saddened me the most, and intrigued me the most.
:’(
I may have yelled said that Dean has emotionally matured, eliminated toxic coping mechanisms, achieved an internal balance between his femininity and non-performative masculinity (acknowledged in 13x04; actively manifested in 13x16 onwards x, x), and gained a sense of non-combative communication and understanding (seen in 13x14), yet his low self-worth constitutes the biggest roadblock to his FULL personal growth.
Okay, I know you’ll exclaim: after Cas returned, Dean wasn’t depressed anymore!
Well, that’s accurate and relatively inaccurate. Dean’s low self-worth is the central facet of his characteristic development, and it does have a guaranteed correlation with depression. Yes, you can feel worthless without being clinically depressed, but worthlessness is maladaptive and contributes to feeling depressed --> Dean’s depression.
Dean’s case is a heartbreaking one. He’s been depressed for YEARS. He never really cared about what happened to him for YEARS = our Dean meta textualized in gloomy letters!!
Yes, the single individual -- the canon WIN -- that placed him back on the rails was Cas, his Everything, resurrecting from the dead. Cas’ return drastically mitigated Dean’s severe nihilistic depression (aka his rock bottom nihilistic grief when he lost Cas) BUT it didn’t necessarily fix his pre-existing depression.
S13 depicts Dean -- despite Cas’ bright presence -- as traveling the rails empty. There’s not enough coal to fuel his engine because he LACKS the mental faculties to appropriately cope re: trauma and give up his control. This is why he seems to oscillate between character progression and regression, and he still isn’t 100% HONEST and OPEN about his feelings. He’s keepin’ it in. There’s no healthy psychological unload taking place.
Case in point? Dean’s regressed to drinking the hard booze again; Cas FILLS the negative spaces (as he’s been doing throughout S13). Dean is not disclosing the whole truth -- not saying what he’s genuinely feeling (to CAS. I discuss it x, x, x).
Plus, Dean’s internal worries re: Death, the next apocalyptic war, Cas’ Heavenly plans, and his respective destiny/fate (Death’s “See you soon”) just exacerbate the personal instability he’s experiencing.
And then we observe Dean’s parental duty rearing its head:
To me this is what reiterated the Brodependency being dismantled in late S12/S13 (12x22 and 13x12/15 in particular). Don’t get me wrong – Dean’s mostly let go. He was willing to leave Sam behind in 13x05 after losing the one person who textually means Everything to him.
Dean’s psyche is at a point right now where he AIN’T okay with Sam’s risk-taking. He questions his little brother’s half-baked plans and sympathizes with the close-to-here manic desperation (again, mirroring S5 and S13 Grieving!Dean), except Dean’s low self-worth puts him in the dark position: I’m doing it, all of it, for YOU (Sam and Cas) since I don’t value myself enough to do it for ME. He further says--
He obviously does, but us, the audience, know--in dramatic irony fashion--that this is NOT Dean’s entire truth.
He values his brother more than himself, and he values CAS more than himself. He cares about what happens to CAS. Nothing Else Matters. And we’re aware that Cas canonically occupies the highest pedestal in Dean’s life, which TPTB absolutely highlighted during Dean’s grieving arc, Cas’ return, and 13x16 onwards.
(In this scene, Dean continues to tell Sam what he’s NOT telling Cas. USE THE RIGHT WORDS.)
Cas is the love of Dean’s life, his Everything, and his Win. I mentioned before that losing Cas a second time would destroy him.
(**Dating 101: Dean therefore cannot establish a truly healthy, mutually interdependent relationship with Cas if he has low self-worth. He’s trying, but his personal losses -- more LOSSES than wins this season i.e. AU!Charlie/Mary/Jack in AU, non-confronted traumas i.e. Cas’ death, and insecurities cripple his ability to give Cas ALL of himself, out in the open!)
Although Dean HAS FAITH (Cas), the decisions he’ll formulate to protect/save Sam, Mary, Jack, and especially Cas aren’t exactly derived from mental stability. Keeping them safe is too paramount to Dean that the choices he’ll encounter could be questionable/dangerous, putting him in the line of (sacrificial) fire.
Sound familiar? It’s deliberately supposed to sound familiar!
Jack, TFW’s Unity/Balance symbol and characteristic mirror, even stated that ‘if he can’t keep others safe, what’s the use’?
Dean will make the penultimate save-the-world (read: save my family) decision ALONE regardless of Sam’s regressive wish to die together. And I wrote that his arc is now DIRECTLY paralleling S11 Casifer & Depressed!Cas’ S11/12 arc, especially (mis)communicative 12x19 --> 12x23 ‘I Have Faith’ Cas. There’s prevalent narrative symmetry in Dean’s arc (intrinsically linked to Cas’ arc).
“You, me, and Sam...we’re just better together” indeed, and this year’s season-ender should unite TFW like last season--unite Dean and Cas--in order to change their fates/defeat Death, but Dean’s decision will be an isolated one --> one that was foreshadowed as he faced expositional Daddy Issues™ Loki by himself. And Dean may not tell Cas, just like Cas hadn’t told Dean in 12x23 about his sacrificial act.
These vastly important storytelling threads ultimately conjoin with “I don’t care what happens to me. I never really have” as the PINNACLE of Dean’s 13-year long characterization; the progressive climax sparking his death/decay so that he can be reborn and revitalized aka THIS IS IT!! Dean’s impending death and self-sacrifice for his loved ones (CAS) = the ultimate catharsis in that S13′s narrative has finally approached the IRL scenario of 13x16 ghost kid (DEAN)’s release from father figure Bad Man -- from the negative influence of all the other literal (Loki, Odin, Lucifer, James Turner) and metaphorical (Asmodeus, Buddy, Michael) fatherly mirrors permeating this season. He’ll LET GO of everything that incarcerated him since he was 4 years old: his Blunt Tool role, control, manipulation, parental abuse and absenteeism, parental duty, the heteronormative patriarchy, and the long-standing trauma slapped on him by Alastair, Amara, and Cain.
He’ll burn the remaining pocket knife of all pocket knives tethering him to his past -- John Winchester x, x He’ll self-transform.
And Dean’s S13 death would fulfill the sacrificial Act of True Love (with Cas holding heavy weight in Dean’s decision for LOVE)--
--and S14 Winning Him Back in the subverted flavour of S10. Romance tropes abound!!
@thetwistedwillow and @sactownbrowns3 both ignited my stomach-churning feels. This is an extremely pivotal visual. The Michael-reminiscent sword and radiant halo-like lights atop Dean’s head? Yeah, set off HUGE Michael!Dean radars. Complete moral dualism with S10 Demon!Dean--selflessness vs selfishness. Free choice (saying yes to possession) vs stolen choice (demon transformation against his will).
Secondly, as aforementioned, Dean’s harbouring a LOT of traumas he hasn’t mentally confronted, with Daddy Issues™ re: John Winchester (reflected via Dean’s solo faceoff with Loki) as his overarching undealt source of trauma.
Loki tells Dean: “The truth is, [Odin] despised me, but he was my father. I’m sure you understand. What would you do for your father?”
And Dean stabs Loki’s hologram. He stabs the metaphorical father figure who neglected his sons. He stabs another narrative embodiment of John’s ghost, foreshadowing that Dean’s death = John Winchester’s final death. It’s time to deconstruct and conquer his influence.
(Gabriel was an extended mirror of both Dean and Sam, too. Gabe, the little brother whom deadbeat Daddy Chuck never paid attention to. ‘Ah, big bros, right? Always think they know best’ Gabe, who stabbed and killed deadbeat Loki. Gabe, who subsequently ran away from home, was used and tortured beneath Asmodeus’ control, embarked on a revenge trip, and didn’t feel good about it. Dean and Sam themselves knew what it felt like to be manipulated. While it’s true that their traumatic experiences are subjective, they share common Deadbeat Father-adjacent life courses.)
What beautiful and consistent silent storytelling!!
And oh look, narratively associated to this ^^ is the reappearance of Dean’s John-linked BAG OF EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE--
I can’t can’t can’t wait for him to let go of it PERMANENTLY!
And of course, Cas’ death remains his immediate significant source of undealt trauma (same links above: x, x, x)
*looks at Dean’s serious, intense, and emotionally laden expression* *clutches chest tight* *blinks away tears*
I additionally wrote something about Endverse!Cas and D/C (mis)communication a few months ago which I feel is relevant again:
And we know HUMAN Endverse!Cas was representative of that, a sad, depressed, and hollow depiction of the wrong choices for the right reasons who festers (AND DIES), in part because of Dean’s wrong choices, and also because of his own consciously uninformed, narrow-minded choices that led to this literal apocalypse of mind, body and soul.
5x04 laid down what Cas (and Dean) shouldn’t become. If both Cas and Dean (TFW) continue to fail in learning their lessons regarding healthy interdependence (where control must become equality; ignorance must become understanding; intransigence must become compromise; stonewalling must become transparency; lying must become honesty; silence must become communication), Endverse will be their life.
Thankfully, they’re learning as of S13 onwards and I’m ECSTATIC. Slow but sure progress (13x15′s conveying the shift), yet they still have to use the RIGHT WORDS.
Endverse!Dean, who never gave up his control to Cas nor listened to him, was himself consumed by the NEED over the WANT and an authoritarian means to an end. He lost everyone. And Endverse posed an ultimatum for Dean (and Cas’ own characteristic progress): keep your control forever, and you’ll have one destination–no growth, no life, no freedom.
Full circle!
Dean Winchester must die so he can live.
And what are Dean’s WINS (plural) by dying? Saving people instead of losing people--saving Mary, Jack, Sam, and Cas. Saving the world. Reuniting his family unit. Interacting instead of performing. OUTING INSTEAD OF HIDING. HIGH DEPRESSIONLESS SELF-WORTH INSTEAD OF LOW DEPRESSIVE SELF-WORTH.
Better yet, Dean will undergo character development in relation to his loved ones (and Cas). With high self-worth, Dean’s capable of learning how to value HIMSELF independently. In turn, without personal obstacles he’ll learn how to sustain HEALTHY interdependent relationships and COMMUNICATION as well as learn how to WHOLLY GIVE HIMSELF to others (Cas).
Tell Cas he’s not expendable, Dean. Disclose the real reason YOU “needed him back”. Expose your feelings, choose Want over Need, and push away your rejection fears! Cas loves you dearly—let him know that his love for you is reciprocated. Nothing but good things ahead!!
Gosh, this post is way longer than I expected—thank youu for sticking to it! Circumstances shall get worse before they get better, and it’s totally necessary to ensure our characters meet the final demise of their prisons.
BTW, I still can’t believe we got a borderline blatant onscreen bi!Dean (and Cas insert) treat!! What’s by is by! Overall I’m incessantly praising Dabb’s spectacular work so far + Glynn and Rich Speight Jr’s craft in this ep!!
Very little sub is left in the text, my friends. TPTB are rendering years’ worth of meta increasingly explicit in S13. I can only HOPE and expect that 13x23/S14 brings us past the Point of Know Return subtextual boundaries and into full-blown textual narrative! Authorial intent EXISTS.
**I know, I know--S14 wasn’t confirmed as the last season and S15 is fair game. The plot accordion, as per usual, re-emerges with the slight overhaul/pullback of characteristic arcs and narrative plot due to season renewals, but I’m Endgame Positive that slow progress is SURE progress. Imho Dean and Cas are so close in saying everything from saying nothing. THE UNSAID WILL BE SAID.
Bracing myself for the last 3 episodes—they’ll burn us in awesome ways!!
#long post for ts#spn s13#my meta#my stuff#destiel#character development#narrative#endgame destiel#canon destiel#textual destiel#bag symbolism#bags and emotional baggage#13x20#13x23#spn s13 speculation#silent storytelling#IN DABB WE TRUST#supernatural#deancas#parallels#dean is in love with cas#dean winchester#performing!dean#want vs need#miscommunication#communicate before it’s too late#USE YOUR WORDS#tw: depression#dean is bi#john winchester's a+ parenting
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Queen of the Sea (GT): Chapter 4
((All posted chapters))
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KAIA
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Kaia could scarcely draw a breath. The silence that followed Ailith’s statement felt like a leaden weight upon the room. And then the quiet was broken when two dozen mercenaries--giants to her--clamored closer to take a better look at her, their questioning voices ringing in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, hardly able to make out a word in the commotion. The fingers coiled tighter around her body as she was lifted higher. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself in front of her captor’s narrowed gaze. Andrea. Clearly the second in command aboard the ship. There was such a predatory glint in those sharp green depths, it was no wonder she was called the Huntress. Kaia still had her fishing hook and line tucked under her shirt. She could use it as a weapon, but that seemed unwise when she was suspended so high off the ground. “What is this?” Andrea demanded, her voice so close and sharp that Kaia was able to catch the words amongst all the cacophony. Kaia was relieved of her intense eyes as she turned to glare at Devian. “You said you swindled your magic map from sea nymphs. Is this one of them? Have you been keeping her captive in your pocket? You're sick! How in the hell was she not found earlier?” Kaia felt a stab of surprise. It sounded almost like the Huntress was outraged on her behalf.
Devian made a choked noise. “She has not been in my pocket since I arrived! I met her aboard this ship! You have some nerve calling me sick when you’re threatening to throw me overboard for the crime of existing aboard the Cutlass!”
“You’ve yet to answer the question of what she is.” Ailith’s voice was almost musical. Gentle. But when she spoke, all the others silenced herself. Where Andrea looked furious, the queen looked intrigued. She extended a finger, brushing Kaia’s hair experimentally. The touch was feather-light, but Kaia ducked her head with a whimper all the same at the contact. “She very well could be a sea nymph,” Ailith mused, “with this gorgeous hair.” Kaia offered no comment, trembling in Andrea’s hold. She doubted she could find her words even if she wanted to. Her most terrible fear had come to fruition and all she could do was cower like a weakling and be thoroughly disgusted with herself for it. “She’s nothing like any sea nymph I’ve ever seen,” a nereid said. Ondine, she had been called. She stunningly light blue hair and eyes to match. “They’re supposed to have fins and solid colored eyes.” “As if you’ve ever laid eyes on a sea nymph,” snorted a pyromancer. “No one asked you, Thorne,” Ondine hissed. “She could be a wind nymph!” someone put in. “What would a wind nymph be doing out in the middle of the ocean?” “What about a fae?” another said. “A fae would not let herself get captured so easily by a human! Look at her--she’s defenseless! Besides, they're supposed to have wings.” Soon enough, the room was filled again with everyone talking over each other to voice their opinions or questions. All the while, Kaia kept her head lowered. But she could feel every eye on her. The curious stares of the crew, the mysterious gaze of the queen, the guilt-ridden attempts of Devian to make eye contact. Worst of all, she could feel the sharp glare of the Huntress right before her. “Clear out, the lot of you,” Ailith said suddenly, quieting all the others. “Everyone out, except my Huntress and our two… guests. Thorne and Malika, stand guard outside the door. Go on.” Kaia dared to peer up. Eyes were still on her. Many in the crew looked like they wanted to argue, but they seemed to know better. The two mercenaries holding Devian released him. He made no move to run--there was nowhere for him to go, anyway. He was just as trapped and doomed as Kaia. As the room emptied, panic gave way to heavy despair in Kaia’s heart. For a few glorious minutes with Devian in the brig, she’d had hope. Hope that she could reach the treasure and reform her life back to the way it was supposed to be. Now, that hope and far more was being stripped away from her. “I don’t much appreciate stowaways,” Ailith said, strolling over to her throne. Her long coat billowed gently around her, as if a flowing aura of gentle air followed her. She had admitted to being half-sylph--a conjurer of wind. She took a seat at her throne and crossed her booted legs, regarding Kaia with a soft smile. “Stowaways are leeches, parasites who take resources that don’t belong to them. But you are… a most interesting stowaway. One that I simply cannot do away with. What exactly might you be, my dear?” Kaia’s insides squirmed like a nest of sea serpents. Unlike Devian, she had a feeling that the queen would not leave her alone without an answer. She struggled to breathe. Andrea’s hold was firm, tight. Even if it had been gentle, Kaia doubted speaking would have been an easy feat. “I-I might be a sea nymph,” she croaked out in clipped words, bowing her head. “Abandoned by my people. Simply trying to survive these harsh seas. Your Majesty.” Ailith laughed. “I don’t believe a word of that. Do you, Andrea?” “Not for a second,” Kaia’s captor grunted. “Ondine may be a river nereid, but she certainly knows more about sea nymphs than we do. If she says sea nymphs have fins and a particular set of eyes, then this is no sea nymph in my hand.” Kaia swallowed hard. “I-It matters not what I am! I mean no harm. As I said, I am only trying to survive. And as for your resources, anything I would have taken would not have been noticed. You have so much, I wouldn’t have made so much as a dent in one crate of food.” “Hmm.” Ailith cocked her head, observing Kaia almost languidly. “If you don’t want to answer what you are, that is perfectly fine. Given how defenseless you appear, it won’t be hard at all to sell you at the next port.” “W-what?” Kaia squeaked out. The queen grinned. “You’re eye-catching, my dear. Your size, and your hair. Mysterious and beautiful. You’ll fetch a wonderful price at a luxury market. My Huntress, have someone find a suitable cage for her. The one that held the harpy will do nicely.” Kaia’s mouth and throat went absolutely dry. She felt ill, but no more than a croak of horror passed her lips. “You can’t!” Devian declared. “You can’t sell her!” Ailith looked almost bored when she regarded him, as though he was a nuisance spoiling her fun. “And why is that?” Devian pointed right at Kaia, as though he might be referring to anybody else in the empty room. “She is the key to obtaining the treasure once we arrive at the shrine. I can read the map, but she can’t. She can activate the treasure, but I can’t. You need the both of us to get what you want.” “Interesting,” Andrea said, lowering Kaia slightly, where her voice wasn’t quite as jarring, but the view of her became more intimidating. “Just minutes ago, you claimed it was only you we needed to find and get the treasure. And now, you’ve been discovered a liar.” He stammered for a second, then answered, “I didn’t want to reveal her for her own safety. You’re mercenaries. You’ve only proved my choice right by immediately planning to sell her!” Kaia looked between them helplessly as they argued. Her life had been so simple that morning, and now it was being argued over without her say in the matter. “You claimed to have met this little… something aboard the ship,” Andrea went on. “How do you know she can activate the treasure? Hell, even you admitted to not knowing what she is!” “We’ve only just met! You barged in on us before we could speak for very long.” Devian ran both his hands back through his hair, trying to gather himself. “This is what I know. The treasure is… mysterious, ancient. A well-kept secret by gods and demigods themselves. And Kaia recognized it before I even full explained it to her. She has knowledge of it--enough to reveal herself to me even though she was frightened. Clearly, she has use. It would be unwise to risk something so dire. You cannot sell her.” A terrible mix of emotions twisted in Kaia’s gut. Devian was defending her, she understood, but the knowledge that her life hinged on her usefulness was enough to make her wish she had never revealed herself to him. She was merely a tool, a necessity. “Now this is simply delicious,” Ailith sighed, planting her chin on her knuckles. “These are terribly bold claims you’re making. I should kill you for lying to begin with, boy, but I’m simply too intrigued. The energy and resources it will take to fulfill your claim, however… What say you, Andrea? Should we throw the boy overboard and sell the girl, or shall we keep them both and embark on this adventure?” Kaia looked up at Andrea and found her staring back. Kaia flinched, but didn’t look away. The Huntress had mentioned something about Devian owing his life to her. Perhaps she had vouched for him to the queen. Certainly the same could be done for Kaia. “The girl can’t have had anything to do with the Cutlass crew,” Andrea said finally. “She has to have come from that ship. There is simply no way she arrived from somewhere before today. She would have been discovered.” She sighed, hesitating. “Someone as small as her poses no threat to our supplies. She’s only trying to get by, and she was no target to begin with.” Ailith’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that pity I hear, my Huntress? Oh… that won’t do at all. You’re beginning to sound like our dear, sweet Devian here. Innocence does not equal harmlessness.” Andrea became stony-faced at once--a startling change that made Kaia’s blood run cold. “No, my queen. What I meant to say is that there are better benefits in keeping these two. If they are lying, the girl will sell for more than enough to cover the supplies the two of them use aboard the ship. If they tell the truth, then they lead us to an incredibly valuable treasure.” The queen nodded slowly, deep in thought as she weighed Andrea’s words. Meanwhile, Andrea made quick eye contact with Kaia. Her expression was unreadable, making her all the more terrifying. Ailith laughed suddenly. “You truly are a huntress, through and through, making the most of her resources to benefit the most. Oh, I adore you.” With that, she stood. “They will stay, then.” Devian’s shoulders drooped with relief. “And once the treasure is yours, you’ll let us go?” “We’ll see,” Ailith said coyly. “For now, thank your god of choice that you aren’t under the ship.” She strolled over to the sliding doors and pulled them open. “Thorne! Find some chains. I want to keep Devian close. Cuff him in here, won’t you?” “And this girl?” Andrea sked, speaking over Devian’s protest to being confined. A fiercer light entered the queen’s eyes. “I simply cannot have you losing your edge. She’s your prisoner for now. Your prey. Your responsibility. Get what information you can from her, however you can. As long as she’s still in one piece to unlock this marvelous treasure, do whatever you see fit with her.” The fingers around Kaia tightened ever so slightly. She could practically feel Andrea’s outrage pouring straight through their skin-to-skin contact. Andrea breathed out sharply. “Your Majesty, I--” “You’ll do as I say,” the queen said calmly. “See that you have answers to report to me by tonight. And consider very carefully if you wish to show pity again.” No sooner than Ailith sauntered outside through the forecastle doors, two mercenaries entered with chains for Devian. He stepped back swiftly, throwing a wide-eyed look at Kaia. She trembled in Andrea’s hands, staring hard at him. Why did you have to put me in your pocket? she wanted desperately to demand of him. In a matter of moments, he was chained to the wall, and Andrea was briskly walking out of the forecastle. Their audience with the Queen of the Sea was over.
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Everything Has Changed: Chapter Five
Word Count: 2279
Warnings: None?
Master List
For the next few weeks, Sweet Pea seemed determined to give Riley the cold shoulder. He still walked with her to first period most days, but always a pace behind or in front. He kept his seat in the middle, but he would speak to her only if necessary. A few times, though, she’d caught him trying not to laugh at her side comments. Toni, on the other hand, was back in full force. Riley saw her nearly as much as Iris. With Toni came Fangs, a friendship Riley was surprised to enjoy. Fangs was a shameless, harmless flirt, and over time she’d started to relax, to become playful. She assumed Sweet Pea’s current glare had something to do with the cheeky comment she threw Fangs’ way, but she didn’t owe him any explanations.
As Fangs walked away, Kieran slid up behind her and slung an arm around her shoulders. The movement felt possessive and she stiffened under his grasp. She turned to face him, but his expression was blank. Even so, she suspected a glare had been pointed in the Serpents’ direction only a moment before. Sure enough, when they were out of sight Kieran’s hand slid from her shoulders, skimming her hips before falling to his side. Jake whistled to signal his approach, Iris trailing behind. When they reached them, Kieran went ahead with Jake while Iris lingered behind.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Why?”
“Kieran’s a little…”
“Annoying? Yeah. I know he’s just being protective, but...”
“I think it’s become more than that,” Iris said grimly. “Yes, he still doesn’t like the Serpents, but I think he’s just starting to realize that you’re dateable.”
“And on that lovely note, there’s the warning bell,” Riley said with a roll of her eyes.
Riley slipped into her chair as the bell for homeroom rang and laid her head down on the cool surface. The teacher’s voice droned into nonsense as Riley sat and contemplated Kieran. It soon became apparent that he’d started acting differently shortly after noticing her relationship with Fangs. Riley sighed, realizing that she was now part of a new pissing contest—except only one person was playing. He wouldn’t take the test, but Fangs’ top love language had to be physical touch, and he’d put an arm around any girl who would let him. There was a comfortable familiarity in the gestures. Kieran was too casual to comment on, nothing more than friendly, but enough to leave her unsettled. A ball of paper bounced off her head and her arm shot out to catch it.
Trouble with your just-good-friend?
Not at all in the mood, Riley ripped the paper into tiny shreds. Swiping the pieces off her desk and into her hand, she made her way to the door as the bell rang. The speed given by her anger was no match for the long legs of the Serpent and soon Sweet Pea walked at her side.
“Can I help you?”
“You’re never angry like this.”
“You have no idea what I’m like.”
“I have an idea that you’re not into him.”
Riley stopped dead, forcing Sweet Pea to grab her arm as the person behind her failed to change course. He pulled her to the side before she could wrench her arm free. The expression on his face seemed mildly annoyed. Riley glared in return, but her resolve wavered under the intensity of his gaze.
“That’s not even the real problem,” she said lamely. “But I don’t know how to—"
“The real problem?” he said over her, a harder smile came across his face, “You have two Southside boys to mess around with while you wait on a good Northside boy and there’s a problem?”
The bitterness in his voice cut to her core, but her defense was ice and his smile shriveled in light of her glare. Without another word, she turned and stalked into their classroom. Her books slammed on the desk as she took her seat. Mr. Kendrick glanced up in surprise, startled by the sudden noise. The final bell came and went, but Sweet Pea never came. Riley attempted to focus on the lesson, but today it was a lost cause. Her sour mood simmered just below boiling point for the rest of the day.
When the final bell rang, she pushed her way through the crowd, seeking her pink-haired Serpent. Toni was sitting on a picnic table, Jughead Jones beside her. Riley had mentioned the budding relationship to her friend once before, but Toni had shrugged it off—it was her duty to take the Serpent heir under her wing. She hesitated a moment, but Toni glanced up and shrugged away from Jughead. Riley waved apologetically as Toni headed to the parking lot. She stopped at her bike and grabbed a bottle of water from the saddlebag before continuing forward into the woods surrounding the property.
“Drink up,” she said, throwing the bottle in her direction.
“Water? My mood has nothing to do with my hydration, T.”
Toni rolled her eyes and motioned for her to drink. Shaking her head, Riley obliged and immediately spluttered. The vodka burned her throat as it went down, but by the third swig it was smoother.
“Do I want to know how you got vodka?”
“See I choose to wonder why my uncle hasn’t noticed his stash is watered down.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing we had some distance for a while, you need a positive role model.”
“Ah yes, teach me how to handle my emotions, Riles, you’ve nearly reached sainthood there.”
The angry response died in her throat, giving way to laughter as she realized she was just proving her point. Toni joined her, taking her own sip out of the bottle.
“Seriously though, why’re you so ticked off?”
“I thought I was done with Kieran and Sweet Pea making my life suck. But here they are again. Sucking up my life.”
“Hey, I’ve tried to do my piece with Sweet Pea. He’s too stubborn to let me change his mind, and like I’ve told you… Serpents before all else so no, no info. But what about Kieran?”
“Okay, I thought that he was just being overly protective, but now I’m wondering if he’s become interested—which I’m not at all.”
“He’s such a tool, honestly. I don’t understand why you’re friends with him.”
“He can be super sweet,” Riley said, defending her friend instinctively. “He’s just become different since I’ve started—"
“Hanging out with the Serpents,” Toni suggested, eyes narrowing slightly.
“You spend too much time with Sweet Pea,” Riley said rolling her eyes, “but, you’re right. He doesn’t care much for you guys.”
“Maybe you should spend more time with Sweets,” Toni said, “Speaking of, I have to meet up with the guys. You just looked like you could use a drink.”
“Toni,” Riley said, stopping her midturn, “You don’t think Fangs thinks that I’m into him, do you?”
Toni burst out laughing and started to walk back the way they’d came.
“I’m serious.”
“No, I know. And the answer is no. Honestly, if you saw the way that he was with the other Serpents, you’d think he hated you. He just likes to make shy girls confident—calls it his gift. I call it his ego.”
“Okay,” Riley said, smiling in relief. “Sweet Pea made me think that I was leading him on, and I just wanted to be clear.” Toni rolled her eyes but said nothing.
Most of the vehicles had gone in the brief time that they’d talked in the woods. Fangs straddled his bike, pulled up close to Toni’s while Sweet Pea leaned against his. Riley couldn’t help but trace his silhouette, sunlight obscuring the glare she was sure he wore. As they drew closer, she noticed his lips were slightly parted, as if he were shocked at the sight of her with Toni. She ran a hand through her hair, flipping it against its part and turned to Fangs.
“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?”
“Sure, sure,” Fangs answered, smiling easily.
Lifting her hand in farewell, Riley headed out of the parking lot, slipping her earbuds in as she walked. Two hours later, she drummed her fingers against the hood of the car her father worked on, waiting for Fangs to arrive. Her dad had turned to her several times, but hesitated, never sure what to say. Instead he handed her a wrench and let her get to work. Kieran was at the front counter; he’d volunteered to work a few shifts to give her the chance to be in the garage. Riley had slipped in through the backdoor to avoid him. When the clock inched toward six, Riley wiped her hands and headed to the front room.
Kieran’s mouth was contorted into a snarl as he spoke to the boy in the leather jacket. He was a Serpent that she had seen around but they’d never talked. Riley caught the door before it could snap shut and reveal her presence. Quietly she listened in and from what she could gather the Serpent was looking to barter, a typical practice at the shop, but Kieran was heavily implying that he couldn’t be trusted. Riley spoke up just as the Serpent slammed a fist on the counter.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“The shop has just lost Serpent business. Sweet Pea was right about you, thinking you’re superior. So sorry for trespassing, your highness.”
With that the Serpent stormed through the door, whipping out his phone. As he walked off Riley could hear him saying Fangs’ name and she knew if she didn’t act soon there’d never be a Serpent through the shop again. Kieran laughed, and Riley turned to him, surprised to see how proud of himself he looked. Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel the anger inside her rise to a boil.
“What the hell did you say to him?”
“Me? He’s the one trying to get brakes in exchange for cleaning.”
“Yeah, two sets of brakes for two weeks of cleaning up the shop. It’s one of the standard trades for people who need a break, no pun intended.”
A flicker of abashment crossed his face but was quickly replaced with scorn. “You guys can’t seriously expect Serpents to follow through on that.”
“If anyone fails to live up to their word, they end up with a black eye and another Serpent shows up to fulfill it. It always gets paid.”
“When are you going to wake up and realize that the Serpents are trash? You think they’re good people, but I thought you’d have realized with Sweet Pea,” his mouth curling derisively over the name, “he was obviously just interested in getting some. But then I guess you’ve moved on to Fangs so…"
His remarks were angry, bitter, and once again she found herself being split to the core. Overprotective, developing crush—there was no excuse. Rage reared itself and Riley was prepared to let it reign.
“Just leave, Kieran.” Riley’s eyes burned, angry tears coursing down her face. She’d known he wasn’t fond of the Serpents, but this was ridiculous. Kieran slammed the door on his way out, cracking the pane. Her fist pounded the counter as her dad walked through the door.
“Riles,” he started, worriedly, eyes shifting from the door to her. She just shook her head and explained what happened.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, looking at the part in her hand, “I’ll take care of it.”
“No, dad. It’s my thing to fix. I got it.” His eyes scanned over her, worriedly, but then he smiled and nodded.
“Alright, I’m going to put some cardboard over the door for now and then finish up in the garage. We’ll leave when you get back.”
The bells tinkled behind her as the door shut. The early October air was growing cooler by the day and Riley shudder as she headed towards the Wyrm. It was early enough in the day that the parking lot was nearly empty, but she still hesitated outside the worn door. She took a deep breath to center herself and pushed open the door. A few heads turned towards the sunlight, but lost interest just as quickly. Winding her way through the chairs, Riley approached the bartender.
“You ain’t 21,” he said, glaring down at her.
“I’m not here for alcohol,” she began, struggling not to roll her eyes. “I’m from Evan’s Garage. A Serpent came in about a half an hour ago … which based on your face, I’m guessing you’ve heard about already,” her face flushed, and she spoke a little quicker, “look, what that guy said is not the view of our shop, at all. He’s already been dealt with, but I wanted to give our customer his brakes, free of charge.” She slid the box across the bar, eyes downcast.
“Think you can bribe the Serpents,” the bartender growled.
“It’s not a bribe. It’s making things right,” Riley protested, looking up into his hard eyes.
“Don’t let Greaser give you a hard time, Riley.”
She turned to the speaker, surprised to see Fangs’ perched on a nearby stool. In her hurry to be in and out, she hadn’t noticed him. He was smiling at her, none of the hostility that Greaser exuded evident on his face. Relieved, she handed the part to him.
“Look, I don’t know who it was, but please let him know that we’re sorry that happened.”
Fangs nodded. “So, we forgive toolboy, you forgive my doubting you, and we go replace my tires?”
“You drive a hard bargain, Fogarty.”
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