#a previous post in the tag convinced me that I'm not the only one going crazy from the lack of content | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readsaboutreid · 4 months ago

Text

Permanent Solution (part II) | S.R.

contains: lots of discussion of suicide, other typical criminal minds violence, heavy heavy angst but a happy ending (i promise!), MORGAN GETS REDEEMED

look i'm sorry to put spencer and reader through so much pain T-T but also i wanted to use my own negative thoughts in a better way than just stewing in them so i adapted them to fit this

i also had someone request that i tag them so i guess if you'd like for me to tag you in future posts lmk and i'll add you onto a taglist! when you request just specify if you want to be tagged for a specific part 2 (or continuation of a specific story) or tagged for any future fics :)

Spencer jolted awake, the faint ringing of his alarm clock dragging him out of sleep. He sat up and rubbed his sore neck, wondering why his alarm sounded like it was in a different room. And then the memories from the previous night came rushing back to him, and he realized that it sounded that way because it was, in fact, coming from a different room. He had fallen asleep on the couch, Dr. Mewshroom taking up (Y/N)’s usual place wrapped in his arms. He checked his phone, no missed calls from her (but about 20 from Garcia, and only one voicemail, also from Garcia), and the clock on its little digital screen told him it was 6:30 AM. He got up and went into the bedroom, checking to see if maybe she had decided against waking him. Anxiety rushed through his veins when he saw the empty bed, and he called her phone again, which rang four times before going to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep.

He swallowed, struggling around the lump forming in his throat. He got a call from Hotch right as he started getting dressed for a day off (much earned after their last case). “I’m sorry, Reid, but I need you and (Y/L/N) here immediately. We have a new case, local, and we need all hands on deck for this one. I need you two in the briefing room in 20 minutes.” Spencer groaned internally at the prospect of back-to-back cases but confirmed that he’d be there. Then, he covered for (Y/N)’s absence. He said that she was sick and couldn’t leave the bathroom for longer than five minutes at a time and that seemed to be all the convincing Hotch would need. “Since the case is local that’s fine, she can join us when she recovers. But get here ASAP, Reid.” Click.

Spencer took a deep breath to calm the anxiety bubbling in his gut and chest. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it hadn’t happened since they had moved in together five months ago. Since she had stopped taking The Walk. He took a deep breath and assured himself that the chances of (Y?N) being missing were slim-to-none.

Spencer walked through the glass doors of the BAU and hurried to the round table, the last one of the team to enter. He nodded to Garcia, Prentiss (who looked like she had a very fun mystery date the previous night), Hotch, and Rossi. He pointedly ignored the greetings of both JJ and Morgan, the latter rolling his eyes slightly at the passive aggressive behavior.

“Reid, glad you could make it. Okay JJ, fill us in,” Hotch nodded to JJ, who stepped forward and placed a file in front of each of them.

"Where's (Y/N)?" Penelope asked Spencer, giving him a confused and worried look. He avoided her gaze as he muttered something about her having a stomach bug while he took his seat.

“Last night, a body turned up in the Anacostia River, near the 11th Street bridge,” JJ began as she placed files in front of each of them. Spencer’s blood ran cold, and his stomach dropped at her words. Not there, anywhere but there.

“It’s the third body they’ve found this month, and the timeframe between bodies seems to be around the same each time, one week. All the victims are female, mid-to-late 20s, and all three had a history of multiple suicide attempts," she explained, pulling up some of the crime scene photos on the projector in front of them.

“Hold up, JJ,” Morgan interjected, “if all three victims have a history of suicidal tendencies, how do we know these aren’t just run-of-the-mill suicides?”

“Each body was disposed of in a large black trash bag,” Hotch explained.

“That and they found evidence of torture as well as ligature marks on the wrist and ankle of each of the victims,” she elaborated, switching the slide to show some of the coroner’s photos. Electrical burns littered the torso of the victim on the slide, and Spencer's stomach churned at the sight. She looked so much like (Y/N) it was uncanny.

“Each victim has a similar build and they've all got the same hair cut and color,” Prentiss observed, “maybe a surrogate for the Unsub’s real target?” Please, no.

"Could be a mother or girlfriend," Rossi speculated. "Do the DC police have any idea of where he's taking his victims from, or is it just the dump site that they know? And are there any witnesses?"

"Until last night, the victims had all been taken from their homes with no witnesses on what the police assume were the same nights the previous victims' bodies had been dumped," JJ answered, "but last night he seems to have escalated and abducted someone straight from the bridge itself according to a nearby eyewitness, a man who had been out for a late night jog. They found this—" she clicked to the next slide, "at the scene, along with the victim's cell phone, both of which have been bagged as evidence and are at the local precinct."

Spencer’s world came to a crashing, burning halt. In the image on the screen was a rather generic looking, but still all too familiar, green knit cardigan and black cell phone with a cracked screen. No one else had seemed to put it together yet, except perhaps Rossi, who had shifted his gaze to Spencer.

"Do we know the identity of the most recent abductee—" Prentiss had started to ask before Spencer had to stand and run to the trash can to vomit.

"That's some stomach virus," Rossi mused, giving Spencer a concerned and knowing look.

"Reid? Are you alri—" Prentiss was cut off again, this time by Hotch.

"Prentiss, Morgan, go to the location where the bodies were found, and the most recent victim abducted. Track down the eye witness through any means possible and interview him. Rossi and JJ, you two head to the precinct. Reid, my office. Now." Hotch issued the orders with a deeper sense of urgency than usual. Spencer stood and shakily walked to Hotch's office after the rest of the team had hurried off, and as soon as Hotch entered and closed the door behind him Spencer’s legs gave out, leaving him to collapse onto his knees.

"Talk,” Hotch said, his tone dangerously quiet.

"(Y/N)'s not sick," he managed to choke out between the gasping sobs that now wracked his chest. "Di-didn't— come home— last night," his words were punctuated by gasping breaths. "M-my sweater— wearing my sweater—" he couldn't breathe, and his vision was like looking through a tunnel, the edges getting darker and pushing in more and more with each second, he struggled to inhale. He shouldn't have gone home last night. He should have gone after her.

"And you have reason to believe she was at the 11th Street bridge?" Hotch questioned.

"She used to walk there every night," Spencer jumped at the sound of Garcia's hollow voice coming from behind him. He hadn't even noticed her come in through his panicked haze. "When she first started here. It's why she always looked so tired those first five months, because she'd barely sleep. She'd walk there and pace back and forth along the bridge. Sometimes she'd just sit on the railing."

"Sh-she hasn't been there in months," Spencer's voice was hoarse, "but last night she— something happened that upset her and she walked off—" another round of sobs forced their way out. "Hotch, he's gonna—" Spencer reached for the trash can next to Hotch's desk and vomited again, and again.

"Spencer," Hotch knelt in front of the young agent, gently moving the trash can to the side. "Deep breaths. I know you're terrified. If you need to take yourself off the case, don't worry. We'll find her."

"Off the case?" He panted, trying to steady his breathing.

"Well you're clearly in no state to be doing much of anything. I don't think anyone on the team would blame you for having to step back on this one," Hotch reasoned.

"What? No, no I've got to find her!" He felt his head clearing a bit as his breathing finally returned to a normal rhythm, his vision slowly returning until he could see the full room properly.

"Reid, are you sure that’s a good idea—"

"Hotch," Spencer interrupted, "I can't just do nothing while he tor—" he reached for the trashcan and vomited yet again at the thought of what the Unsub was going to do to her, what he probably already was doing to her; he was honestly surprised there was anything left for his stomach to throw up at this point. “I can’t just sit by and watch, knowing that every second she’s there with him she’s being subjected to one sort of torture or another.”

Hotch paused and observed Spencer briefly before he rose to his feet and offered Spencer a hand to help him stand, as well. “Take a few minutes to compose yourself and then meet me at the SUV downstairs. We’ll head to the precinct together and you can fill me in on what happened that upset her last night. It might help with the victimology, which you’re going to be working on with me for now since you know (Y/N) better than anyone else.”

“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer managed to force out, the words quiet and trembling. Hotch left the office and Garcia lingered, giving Spencer a look of pure sorrow.

“I— I’m so sorry, Spencer,” she began, an echo of their conversation outside of the bar last night.

“Garcia, this isn’t your fault,” he responded, continuing the reprisal.

“When you didn’t call me last night I—I just figured that you two had—I don't know—kissed and made up and fallen asleep, I didn’t realize that she never even made it home,” her voice broke on the very last word, and her hand shot up to her mouth as sobs began to escape. Spencer’s legs were still shaky, but he managed to cross the room to her and give her a tight embrace. “I—no, you shouldn’t have to comfort me right now, Spencer, I’m sorry!”

“Consider this me returning the favor from yesterday,” he muttered, his own voice tearful while he kept holding on to her. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Spencer, you have to find her before he can—”

“I know. I will,” he said, trying his very best to sound determined. Instead, his voice came out sounding more like that of a frightened boy than a grown FBI agent.

“What’s going on with Reid?” Emily asked Derek, giving him a quizzical look from the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Last night I sort of went off on (Y/N) after one too many glasses of whiskey and I may have told her nobody wanted her there,” he confessed, shame swirling in his head as he drove. He didn’t really dislike her; he found her demeanor slightly off-putting, but he had felt the same way about Reid when he first joined the team, and she was an excellent profiler, so the least he could do was give (Y/N) the same benefit of the doubt he had given Reid. “Garcia tore me a new one after he had come back into the bar and told us that she had broken things off between them because of my...outburst.”

“Damn it, Morgan,” Emily muttered, flipping through the file in her hands. “You see, this is why we can’t have nice things!”

“Look, look, I know I was wrong about what I said to her, but I can’t turn back the clock. I’ll just have to find her and apologize once she’s feeling better.” They approached the 11th Street bridge, and he stopped the car and put it in park. They both stepped out into the crisp morning air, a light fog slightly obscuring their vision.

“According to the witness statement, this guy was out for a late-night jog when he called the non-emergency police line after seeing a man toss what the was presumed to be trash into the river in a giant black trash bag,” Emily recited what she had read from the file on the drive there. “But he called 911 when he said he heard what sounded like the start of a scream and then saw the struggle before saying the woman went entirely limp. Report says he tried to catch up with the Unsub, who then got into an unmarked black van and drove away.”

"Looks like the CSI team may have missed something," Derek called out to Emily as he caught a glimpse of what looked like an earring and some dried blood under some fallen leaves on the bridge. He snapped a glove onto his hand, and when he pushed the leaves aside he felt his blood run cold. He'd recognize this earring anywhere. "Oh, no."

"I-I like your earrings," a soft, small voice spoke from behind Derek and Penelope as they did their morning flirting routine. They both turned and saw the newest member of the team looking shyly at Penelope.

"Oh these? Thanks! You know, I could make you a pair if you'd like," Garcia smiled at (Y/N), whose eyes widened in panic.

"O-oh! No, don't worry, y-you don't n-n-need to trouble yourself like that!" The young agent hurried off in a panic.

"That was...weird," Derek mused to himself as he walked to his desk.

"I guess she decided to take up Garcia's offer on a pair of her own after all," he muttered, his voice sorrowful.

"What'd you find, Morgan?" Emily asked as she made her way over. "Is that one of Garcia's earrings? How'd that get here?"

"She had offered to make a pair for (Y/N) right around the time she joined the team," Derek explained before looking up to find Emily's face falling at the realization.

"Oh, god," she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Bag that, I'll call Hotch and let him know what we found."

"I'll also call Garcia, ask her to get the address of the witness. We got to get (Y/N) out of there ASAP." Derek pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia.

"What, Derek?" She snapped, and Derek had to fight every urge in his body to playfully argue with her to try to lessen her anger with him. There were more pressing things he had to talk about right now.

"Hey, Garcia, we found something at the scene," he began, "it was, uh, an earring you had made for (Y/L/N) from the looks of it. Got a little bit of dried blood on the post." He took in a deep breath before adding on, "I'm sorry." The line was silent for a minute before she finally spoke again.

"Poor Reid," she whispered, her voice tearful. He could hear her take a shaky breath before she asked, "what, uh, what do you need me to do?"

"I need the address of the witness, a man named Jonathan Levi," he he explained.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I can get that for you right now," she said, her voice growing stronger. He could almost see her wiping her tears from her cheeks as he heard her sniffle on the other end. "I'm sending it to your phone now. And Derek?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"You find this son of a bitch," she said before the line disconnected.

"We will," he said to himself.

"Prentiss," Hotch's voice came through Emily's cell phone, "what have you been able to learn from the crime scene?"

"Uh, well not very much, yet. Morgan's calling Garcia to get the address of the witness so we can interview him," she answered, trying to keep her voice from sounding shaky. She failed.

''But?" Hotch pressed.

"...but we did find an earring with some dried blood on the post that was missed under some leaves," she added, swallowing nearly audibly. "Earrings that—that Morgan thinks Garcia had made for (Y/L/N) a little while back."

"Thanks, Prentiss. I've got Reid with me, I'll let him know what you've found," Hotch said before the line disconnected.

"—yeah, baby girl?" She heard from where Morgan stood, followed by a determined, "We will."

"Prentiss!" He called out, heading to the black SUV. "Garcia sent me the address, can you drive?" He tossed her the keys and she caught them, jogging over to the drivers' seat.

"Reid, you doing okay?" Rossi asked him as they rushed to the home they had finally tracked the Unsub to.

"I—I just—," he stammered, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just hope we get to her in time." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"We know he keeps them for a week. It's only been three days," Spencer felt Rossi's hand land on his shoulder. "She's a fighter, Spencer. You know that better than anyone else here."

The address Garcia had tracked down for them led them to the fairly large but still dilapidated house of a man named Andrew Warren, a CNA at a local mental facility who lost his parents in a double suicide as a child, and then his older sister to suicide a month ago after she had gone through multiple rounds of ECT as a teenager in the 1990s.

The other SUV containing Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan arrived at the house slightly before theirs and Spencer could see as his coworkers stopped the car and raced towards the door of the house. Morgan kicked down the door and raced inside right as Hotch put their vehicle in park and Spencer was out of the door before he could hear any of Hotch's orders. He didn't care about orders, right now. All he cared about was getting the love of his life to safety.

As he ran over the threshold of the house, he heard shouting coming from up a bunch of old stairs. He took the steps two at a time and he went up each floor until he finally reached what seemed to be the third floor landing. The shouting became more distinct as he approached and he could make out Morgan negotiating with the Unsub.

"She's weak," the Unsub spat, followed by a whimper from (Y/N) that sent a stab of pure fear through his gut. "Weak members of our species like her need to be removed from the gene pool."

"Drop the knife, Andrew," Spencer heard Morgan say in a calm voice as he rounded the final corner and the entire situation came into his view. The Unsub had (Y/N) in front of him with a knife held to her throat, both of them standing before a large, open window. She was in nothing but her underwear and bra and had multiple electrical burns marring her skin. (Y/N) made eye contact with Spencer and tears started streaking down her cheeks as she mouthed I'm sorry to him, sending a crack through his chest.

"Don't come any closer!" The Unsub screamed as he finally noticed Spencer approaching with his gun drawn. Spencer's eyes widened as he slowly put his gun back into the holster and then raised his hands just as slowly. He halted his steps and took a deep breath.

"It's okay, Andrew," Spencer attempted to sound calm and collected through his panic. "I'm just trying to help."

Spencer looked around the room at JJ and Prentiss who were flanking Morgan in the center, both with their guns drawn. He could hear Hotch and Rossi approaching behind him and he turned and softly told them, "stay back." He then started slowly approaching again as he turned to the Unsub. "I know what you've been through, Andrew," he said, his voice steadier than he thought it would be.

"You lost your parents in a double suicide when you and your sister were little. Your foster parents would torment you and your sister and blamed you both for the way you reacted to the trauma you had been through and your sister ended up institutionalized after a suicide attempt at 17. Once she got out and took custody of you when she turned 18 and you were 16, she had trouble being able to keep up with everything. She started harming herself," Spencer took another shaky breath as he slowly continued forward, watching as tears welled in Andrew's eyes. "And then you lost her, too, when she jumped from the 11th Street bridge a month ago."

"Sh-she was weak, just like my mom and dad." Andrew responded, but his voice cracked and faltered.

"No, Andrew, they weren't weak. They were sick," Spencer reasoned with him. "Your sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, just like your parents. She was sick and in pain. She wasn't weak."

"She was weak," Andrew said. "She left me here all alone!"

"I know," Spencer said, the slightest amount of relief sparking within him as the knife at (Y/N)'s throat began to lower. "I know she did. You can't blame yourself, though, Andrew. It's not your fault. They needed help that you couldn't give by yourself, and that's not your fault. Just let her go and we can get you the help that you need." He pleaded with him, his voice wavering slightly as he looked (Y/N) in the eye again and saw all of the fear and pain radiating from them.

"No," Andrew responded as tears streaked down his face. "I can't—" As he raised the knife back to (Y/N)'s neck, Spencer heard the sound of gunfire and watched in terror as Andrew started to fall backward with his arms still around (Y/N). Spencer tried to run to her but didn't make it before they fell through the open window.

"No!" Morgan shouted as he lunged forward, grabbing (Y/N)'s hand right as she fell backward out the window. Andrew's lifeless body plummeted to the ground beneath them, landing with a crunch. "Hold on, (Y/L/N), I've got you!" He called to her as she dangled from the window, his hand her only lifeline.

Spencer rushed forward to his side before reaching his own hand out the window toward (Y/N), and together they pulled her back up through the window. They moved back and Morgan closed the window as Spencer wrapped (Y/N) into his arms while she sobbed in relief.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered into his chest over and over. Spencer just held her close and kept assuring her that she had nothing to apologize for.

I sat on the back lip of the ambulance, a blanket around my shoulders in some borrowed clothes. Spencer refused to leave my side until he was called away by Hotch. "I'll be right back, okay, love?" He looked at me before giving my forehead a soft, gentle kiss and then walked over to our boss.

"(Y/N)," I heard from a few feet away. I turned and was faced with Derek Morgan.

"M-Morgan," I stammered as my eyes widened. "I-I'm so sorry—"

"Stop, (Y/N). You don't have to apologize to me for anything," he started, "I'm the one who needs to be apologizing for my behavior."

"I—you just kept me from being dragged out of a window and likely breaking my neck. You don't owe me anything. I owe you my life." I muttered, looking at the ground.

"You don't owe me anything. I did the same thing for you that I would have done for any other member of this team," he looked at me while I kept my gaze on the ground in front of me. "Look at me, (Y/N)." I looked at him and he looked me right in the eye as he said, "my behavior the other night was uncalled for. "This team is a family, and you are a vital part of that family. We need you, Spencer needs you, and I'm so, so sorry. I hope that you'll let me try to make it up to you in the future."

Vital. He called me vital. That word clanged through me and I broke down crying again. He wrapped me in a bear hug and apologized again. "Th-thank you, Derek." I said, my voice small as I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him in return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said one more time before releasing me. The paramedics approached and asked if anyone was going to accompany me to the hospital.

"Reid!" Morgan called to Spencer, who had just finished up with Hotch. Spencer raced back to us, his eyes widening and growing concerned when he saw my fresh tears.

"What's wrong?! Is everything okay?" He asked as he gently grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. I closed my eyes and nodded, unable to form any words. Vital. I'd never felt that I was wanted or needed anywhere I'd been in my life, much less vital to anyone or anything.

"Paramedics wanna know if you're gonna accompany her to the hospital," Morgan explained, and Spencer agreed in a heartbeat. I was then loaded onto a gurney and into the ambulance, one of the paramedics and Spencer following behind.

Vital. As I looked at Spencer, he grabbed by hand and pulled it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. "I'm so happy you're alive," Spencer whispered to me, his hand moving to stroke some of my hair out of my face. "I love you, (Y/N)."

@busy-buzzing here's part 2 sorry it took so long!

#criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid #heavy angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #angst

127 notes · View notes

andreafmn · 1 year ago

Text

Speak | Chapter 10

Word Count: 3.5K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 10/? Warnings: emotional and mental abuse A/N: can't believe I finished this on schedule! the story everyone is obsessed with for some reason just got updated😂🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

<- Previous | Next ->

Chapter 10

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Jacob suddenly asked as the pair made their way to his truck. "It's already so late and I don't wanna make the drive back to Forks right now."

"Uh, sure, that sounds great," she said, trying to contain her excitement. A surge of happiness took over her as she witnessed Jake trying. He was trying to keep them together, at least that's what it looked like to her. "I'll just let dad know."

"Yeah, sure."

After she had settled on the center of the seat, Jacob helped his father into the truck, stepping out to say goodbye to his friends.

"I'll let you know that there won't be any funny business under my roof, (Y/N)," Billy smiled teasingly. "Though I am glad that Jacob is seemingly trying to turn over a new leaf this new year."

"I promise we'll do nothing but sleep, Billy," she chuckled. "And I also hope this is a new start for Jake and me. That everything that happened stays in the past and we can just give it our all in this relationship."

"If it is meant to be, (Y/N), the universe will find a way," he said as mystically as he always spoke. "You deserve happiness, my child."

"People keep saying that," she responded, her eyes growing far more interested in the skin of her fingers. "Does no one think that Jake can make me happy?"

"That's not what I'm saying, (Y/N)," he smiled, his hand falling on top of the one she was picking. "All I am saying is that if the love and happiness that you deserve is with Jacob, then the universe will allow it."

"And if not?"

"Then, your paths will always align."

"Then let's hope that what's written on the stars is in our favor." And as she said that she didn't know if she was wishing that to convince him or to convince herself.

The three of them rode back to the Black residence in a comfortable silence. The sounds of the woods and the whistling of the wind filled their quiet. She wondered what they said. If they whispered words of encouragement or if they taunted her downfall. She wanted to believe it was the former, because the latter would wreck her.

"Well, you two. I trust that you will behave yourselves since you're under my roof," Billy told them, eyeing the teenagers suspiciously. "And don't start getting used to these sleepovers. This is only because it's already two in the morning and we are all tired."

"Dad," Jacob grumbled. "Just go to bed already."

"Ooh, never thought I'd be shooed away in my own home," the man chuckled. "But I will leave you two. Not because you told me so, but because I am tired. Good night, kids."

"Night, dad."

"Good night, Billy."

Billy rolled away to his bedroom, turning in for the night. He left the couple standing in the living room, a heavy and tense air blowing between them. They had yet to acknowledge everything that had happened between them, much less finally putting it to rest.

"Uh, I'll get you some clothes and you can shower first if you want," Jacob mumbled as he walked into his room before coming out with a folded t-shirt and some sweatpants. "Might be a bit big on you, but it's better than nothing. There're extra towels under the sink."

"Sure," she smiled. "Thanks."

There was still remnant awkwardness between them as they tried to waltz around unspoken words. She locked herself in the bathroom, finally allowing herself to breathe. Fresh start is what she told herself. Over and over again she told herself that they were having a fresh start. As she showered and cleaned away Paul's touch and the thought of him, she had to believe it.

Jacob was who she had always wanted. The boy she had grown up with, the one she had never forgotten. Still, her mind wondered what would have happened if Paul had been the one she had met first. If he had been the boy that was in her mind for the almost sixteen years she had been alive. Maybe she would have been standing in his bathroom instead of Jake's. Maybe she would have been wearing his oversized t-shirt.

"Hey," Jacob called softly from the living room as she opened the bathroom door. "Come here."

(Y/N) walked down the hallway to where he was, a smile stretching on her face as she was met with what Jake had done while she showered.

He had pushed aside the wooden coffee table that lived between the sofas and placed in its stead plush blankets and pillows, a pair of hot chocolate mugs in front of the fireplace. His long, wet hair was plaited back, and he had changed into pajamas. And he was waiting for her.

"What's all this?" (Y/N) smiled.

"I think it's about time we put things to rest already, (Y/N)," he said, patting the pace in front of him. "I don't like fighting with you."

"I don't like it either," she sighed contentedly as she sank into the warmth of his body, his arms wrapping around her. "I like things when they're like this. When we're together and happy."

"I know, and I want it to be like this all the time. But it can't be when I hear you're running around with Paul," he reminded her. His tone was soft, but his words were as snipping as a snake's bite. "I just can't stand the guy and it's embarrassing when it happens in front of the town."

"Jake, I..."

"Don't worry, baby, that's all in the past. As long as you promise not to see him again, (Y/N). I don't want you to fall into his trap."

(Y/N) couldn't remain quiet for long. She knew it would only work to anger him. But how could she promise something she didn't want to do? Something that her gut told her was wrong. "Of course," she lied. "I promise. Paul is a thing from the past."

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled before he turned her head to kiss her. "We need to focus more on us. Focus on our relationship."

"I would love that," she beamed. "I want this to work, Jake. I want us to work."

"Then let's," he smirked.

Jake attached his mouth to her neck, nipping at a spot that took her breath away. His hand held her head back, gripping her jaw. He took in her scent, the warmth of her skin, the sounds from her mouth. All as he imagined...

"Stop, Jake," she said, her voice treading between a moan and a chuckle. "Your dad is literally down the hall."

"He's a heavy sleeper," he chuckled against her skin. "He'll never know."

"No, Jake." She separated from him; a playful grin splayed on her mouth as she turned to face him. "Not here. Not now."

"Ugh, fine," he groaned, falling on his back. "Then, I guess we'll just sleep."

"Yes," she mused, crawling over his body and planting a soft kiss on his lips. "But together."

Jacob wrapped his arms around her and chuckled, positioning both of them comfortably on a blanket and draping another over them. Her body curled into his, his arms wrapped around her waist as he spooned her.

"We'll have to talk about taking things to the next level," he said against her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "I think it might cement everything between us."

"And I think you need to take a breather, Jacob," she chuckled. "We just got to a good place. Let's take things as they go."

"Ugh, fine," he muttered jokingly. "Then, let's just go to sleep."

"Alright, Jake. Good night."

"Night, (Y/N)."

If every night after was like this one, maybe it was the universe's way of telling her that Jake was the one. Laying there, wrapped in his arms, she could let herself believe that the tides were changing. That at the end of the day, Jacob would choose her. Maybe, just maybe.

***

"I can't believe she went home with him," Paul groaned, punching a nearby tree. The way the bark splintered helped ease his anger for a second, but the burning pain inside his chest remained. "I don't know what else I can do to make her understand what a shitty guy he is."

"You know there is," Jared teased. "You could always tell her how you feel and why."

Paul's stoic stare was clear even in the darkness of the night. He knew Jared was right. The more he pursued her without telling her the reason why, the harder it would be to explain his behavior. "You know I can't, dude," he grumbled. "I don't wanna put her in the middle of all of this bull."

"It's not that bad, man," the boy offered. "Look at me and Kim. She knows and nothing has happened to her."

"Yeah, she also liked you before you were a shapeshifting freak," he joked. "And look at Emily. She's forever scarred because didn't have a grasp on what was happening."

"Come on, you know that was an exception, Paul. What happened to her was a very unfortunate accident. But an accident, nonetheless. There's really no reason for you to be running from (Y/N)."

"Look how much shit happened to Bella in so little time, Jared. And it all started when she found out the truth about the Cullens," Paul said. "I don't know what I would do if I made (Y/N) go through any of that because of what I am."

"So you're gonna continue brooding and make our lives miserable? Just tell her, man. Maybe she'll fall in love with you and turn that frown upside down."

Paul picked up a stick and threw it at Jared's head, laughing as the other boy tried to duck but failed to; the piece of wood bouncing off his forehead. "You'll have to put up with me for a lot longer then," he laughed, swallowing the sadness that threatened to overtake him. "I just don't think I have it in me to do that to her. She deserves to be safe and happy."

"Even if it's with Jacob?"

"Unfortunately, that decision is hers to make," he sighed. "I just wish she didn't have to get hurt in the process."

Jared remained quiet for a second. He stared as his pack brother paced before him, his mind too quiet aside for the sporadic image of (Y/N). But even if he didn't say it, he could feel Paul's sadness. He could feel the tug in his chest that called him to go to her. He had felt it too. Every time Kim had to go to a family dinner or visit family out of state, he felt like someone had taken his heart off his chest and sent it away.

But (Y/N) was so close. All he had to do was have one tough conversation and he could soften the grasp of the claws that covered his heart. "What are you so afraid of, Paul?" Jared finally said. "I know you say you don't want to hurt her and all that, but there's something else. Isn't there?"

Paul stared at his friend, wondering if he was that transparent. "I've never been a, uh, a relationship guy. Haven't had the best role models," he confessed. "I guess I think that if I let myself get close to her, I won't be able to handle when she inevitably goes. Because at the end of the day, everyone leaves."

"Not everyone, Paul. We're still here."

"Because you have to be," he shrugged. "If you had the chance to go, you would take it. And don't try denying it."

"Come on, man. You're my friend. More than that, you're my brother," Jared reassured. "But, sure, if I had the chance to leave the rez one day, I would take it. But that doesn't mean I would leave my friends behind. Much less, family."

"Jared, we wouldn't have even spoken to each other had it not been because of the shift. I'm not that delusional to think otherwise."

"Regardless of how or why it happened, life brought us together, Paul. And whether you like it or not, you're my brother now," the boy smiled, draping his arm over Paul's shoulders. "Now, you need to let that girl prove that she would stick by you as well. And it starts by having that difficult conversation you're so scared to have. She's desperate for a reason, dude. All you have to do is tell her."

"She's going to think I'm crazy, J. That I'm making up stories to get her away from Jake," Paul whined. "Why would she believe that there are shapeshifting wolves roaming around the reservation protecting humans from threats? And what if she goes to her sister with the story? Then Bella will know about vampires and shapeshifters, and it'll just add more shit on top of the mess we're dealing with."

"How about you stop overthinking yourself into the ground and finally grow some balls?" Jared teased. "Don't think of what might happen and live in the moment. I know last year's Paul would've had the courage to ask her out. Jacob or no Jacob."

"I technically already asked her out once, and it ended up with me, by myself, in the diner," he reminded his friend, red flooding his cheeks as he recalled the embarrassing moment. "This is not just about inviting the prettiest girl in school to the prom. This is about telling someone that everything they had believed is not real. It's telling her that it doesn't matter what she might have wanted, that something out in the universe decided that we are bonded for life. It's telling a girl like her that she's stuck with a guy like me."

"Man, I can't keep trying to convince you that you are a good guy," Jared sighed. "I'm not saying you're the gods' gift to mankind. Certainly not the you from a year ago. But you're not that guy anymore. You're not even the same guy from six months ago. So, it's time to pick yourself up and do what you have to do. Stop moping about this and do something."

***

(Y/N) woke up with warm arms wrapped around her and a pang in her chest she didn't understand. She was supposed to feel happy. She was supposed to wake up that New Year's Day with an overwhelming amount of joy and the sense that things were finally on the right path. Instead, there was an aching void in her heart that was trying to eat at her insides.

It was the same void that had started festering since that fateful night at the bonfire. The one that seemed to calm whenever the fluke was around. The one that called out his name and she had let go on deaf ears.

That pang filled her with guilt. As she lay in Jacob's arms, she felt guilty that her head was thinking of another guy. And it was a guy she barely knew. A boy that she had no business thinking about, much less dreaming about.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't forget the softness of his hands against her skin, the brightness of his smile as he looked at her, the glimmer in his eyes when he listened to her. She couldn't get him out of her head.

And as if by divine intervention, the very constant thought appeared in Jacob's window. He knocked softly, motioning for her to go outside. (Y/N) couldn't believe he was there, much less that Jacob had yet to wake up. But what was harder to fathom was the fact that she was tiptoeing to the front door dragging a blanket with her.

"What are you doing here, Paul?" (Y/N) said as she closed the door behind her, wrapping the fabric tighter around her body. "If Jacob sees you here, he'll kill you."

"I thought I was supposed to be playing nice with him," he grinned teasingly. "What if I was here to extend a truce?"

"It wouldn't have mattered because he made me promise him that I wouldn't see you again," she whispered. "So, imagine what he will do if he sees you here right now."

"And did you?"

"What? Did I what?"

"Did you promise him, (Y/N)?" Paul asked sadly. "Is this your way of telling me that you're cutting ties with me?"

"No, of course not," she quickly replied. "I mean, I did promise him. But I never intended to keep it. I would just find a way to keep you two separate."

"So, what? I'd just be your dirty little secret?" he replied, anger clear in his tone. "Yeah, no, thanks. I'd rather take my chances with other friendships."

"What did you want me to say, Paul? Did you want me to tell my jealous boyfriend that I wanted to maintain a friendship with the one guy he seems to despise more than anything?" (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth. "Would you have wanted me to tell Jake that I wanted to spend time with a guy he was close to dragging into the middle of town and beating the living daylights out of him? Sure, that would have ended great for me."

"Why would you wanna be with a guy like that, (Y/N)? If you're that afraid of his reaction over something as small as a friendship, what do you think will happen if something bigger happens?"

"He only reacts that way with you, and I don't get why," she sighed. "And I wanna be with him because I... because... because I..."

"Why, (Y/N)? Tell me!"

"Because I love him, Paul," she cried, shame cracking her voice. "I've been waiting for this chance for the better part of my life. I've been in love with him for as long as I've known what it was. And he wants me back, Paul. He wants me. And I'm not giving up at the first sign of hardship. So, if you really want to be my friend then you're gonna have to live with that."

"What if I don't?" Paul grumbled, his voice low and hurt. He got closer to her. So close she could feel how warm his body was, even through the blanket. "What if I can't stand around and watch as he mistreats you? Someone that loves you would never treat you like that."

"Don't make this harder than it already is, Paul," she whispered, warm tears falling down her cheeks. "For some reason I want you in my life. But I won't screw up what I just started with Jacob for a friend."

"I just don't wanna see you like this," he said, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumbs. "You deserve to be happy, but not when it has rules and regulations like this. You should be allowed to still be yourself when you're in a relationship."

"Paul..."

"Listen, (Y/N)," he sighed. "I can't tell you what to do, nor would I want to. But I can't just watch in the sidelines as he treats you like shit when you deserve someone that will worship the ground you walk on."

"What are you saying, Paul?" (Y/N) croaked. "Are you saying you won't be my friend if I stay with Jacob?"

"(Y/N), I'm saying that I won't keep quiet if he keeps mistreating you."

"He doesn't," she said, but she knew it wasn't convincing. She didn't even believe it herself. "He just... he's just passionate, I guess."

"Then can you promise me something?" Paul sighed, his eyes glossing with tears. "If he ever –and I mean ever—gets physical with you, even as much as lifts his hand at you, you will tell me. The second it happens, you call me."

"I don't think it'll come to that," she forced a smile. "He would never put his hands on me."

"Just, please, (Y/N). Promise me and don't lie to me."

"Alright," she said, looking straight into the brown of his eyes. "I promise, Paul."

"I'll make sure you're always safe," he promised. His hand had not fallen from her face, his thumb caressing over her cheekbone. "No one is going to hurt you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) had no idea why, but she believed every word he said. So, she promised. And, unlike with Jacob, she intended to keep it.

Next ->

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii @DyslexicCatterpillar @Blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx@minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedJay @sirenheadenby@andreiaafaria@bluetreecloud20 @valejewel @nogitsune-the @user0ur0mom@skyesthebomb @swidkid @avis15 @honeylovemoon@wonieeee @edwardssugarmommy @nyenye@sugajar @lovel-blog @witchofhawkins @Six-Call @then-worship-at-my-altar@ems-alexandra @blueshoelacess @Nyctophilia710 @rosalie-whitlock @nocturnalherb16 @this-is-a-bad-idea@esposadomd @locokoca@volturiwolf@spookyqueen@gh0stgirl33@catgirlpwr @nolaxox @klf1999@krazyk99@ilikepunsbeth@adaydreamaway08@cinffy23 @paodemorangol1l1 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel@toomanythoughts33@jrosefangirl@queereddie @Missvicious @sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo@fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-Loki-Bucky @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@justamessandahalf@come-on-darling-honey@dove-chan32931@kaita11@gangstalicious06 @iincandescenttt @demonchick1@uwunuggetchan@elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @shara-ne@nngkay@blackloveangel13 @Mar @the-faceless-bride@holywolfsstuff@abs-2020@lunajay33@hpboysslut2707@lisacarolined @TheCollectorOfWords @euphoria1992 @yuki255 @gabi-princesada1d @lowkeysaurus@zealouscookierebeltrash@laylasbunbunny@sleepilysworld@quartzzzzzzz@merakiaes @Rycbar22 @treatiseofselena@pinkdragonfandream-blog @attlas567 @american-sataness @magical-spit @t-stark35@thirstybunzy@inpraizeof@multifandombitch696@phases��ofthemoon @oi-itse@foley-97@gh0stgurl @rinalous @Smolalien13 @jstarr86@svsmoony@spideysbaby @Odinswarriorvalkyrie @Coquita @ilikepunsbeth @Itsmytimetodream @ivory-raptor @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay @midnightmisses @paperbackwitch @problematicpastry @thirstybunzy @magical-spit @t-stark35 @multifandombitch696

@kiroii-ntzl @ggshif79 @ratsys @iincandescenttt @loserclub36 @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @ronslovergir; @fresita1218 @buckywenal @flu0re @xkatiex @unicornicopia1 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @ange111face222

515 notes · View notes

stars-and-inkpots · 1 year ago

Note

Greetings, I'm hoping you're having a great day and or night😊 I love your writing, you're talented! If your requests are still open, can I request Tav (female please) being insecure that she doesn't live up to Gales standards because he was with Mystra? Tav just tells him "I'm in love with you, but I'm nothing. I'm no Goddess" I love my romance with some angst🥲❤️

I finally have a little time this week to write!! I loved this request, thank you so much. I actually had two versions of this planned out, one where you aren't yet together (this one), and another set in post game when the two of you are together in Waterdeep (I might finish this version and post it at some point too) ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy!

With You | Gale x Reader

You were nothing when compared to a god, and Gale certainly wasn’t blind to that.

So you keep yourself at a distance. You convince yourself that this is for the best.

Of course, Gale notices.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Love confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, first kiss, comfort, self-esteem issues, low self-worth issues

Ao3 Link: Baldur's Gate 3 Requests

Word Count: 1,037

Realising you had developed feelings for Gale was a complicated discovery on its own. Knowing that Gale’s previous partner had been none other than a literal goddess complicated it even further.

The two of you had grown close, and both of you would be fools to not admit that there was something between the two of you. But you hesitated everytime the opportunity to take things any further than friendship arose. Not because you didn’t want to, no; Gods, you wanted to so badly. But it was exactly because of Mystra that you hesitated.

Gale had been with a goddess before. A goddess. And you were just… well, you were just you. You were mortal, and you could never hope to possibly compare to the divine. And what if he was just settling for you? Was he simply lowering his standards? What if Mystra, for whatever reason, decided to return to her affections for Gale? Would he, despite everything that She had done, go back to Her? You were nothing when compared to a god, and Gale certainly wasn’t blind to that.

So you keep yourself at a distance. You convince yourself that this is for the best.

Of course, Gale notices.

Not immediately at first, but after a few days of you barely speaking to him, he can’t help but worry he’s done something wrong. There are no more late night talks by the fire; no walking just a little too close to be simply friendly during the day; no stolen glances. Nothing. Where there was once undeniably something, there is nothing. He curses himself for not saying anything sooner, for hesitating.

At first, he wants to assume it’s because you suddenly realised that he’s dangerous, that he’s volatile. Then he worries that you’ve realised he’s just not as impressive as you thought he was. Maybe his skill no longer impresses you, and if he doesn’t have that then what else is there? The thought that you look at him and see only what he thinks he is, a pathetic shadow of a man who once was.

Maybe it’s desperate on his end, but he’s not willing to just let this go. As much as he’s ready to wallow in self-pity, he needs to know. He can change, if that’s what you want.

---

“I want to talk to you, if you have a moment,” Gale says before you can duck into your tent for the night.

“Alright,” you relent. “Let’s go for a walk then.” You lead the two of you out of camp, and Gale follows beside you. You can’t shake the anxious feeling that only grows with the silence between you two. Once you’re far enough away, Gale speaks up.

“I’m going to be perfectly transparent here; and if I’ve misread anything, do stop me before I embarrass myself too much.” Gale takes a breath, as if he’s already waiting for you to object. When you remain silent, he continues. “You mean a great deal to me, and I care about you a lot. In all honesty, I have feelings for you, very strong feelings. Now, a few days ago I had thought that you returned and shared my affections. But you’ve been quite different with me as of late. I know I am not owed an explanation or an answer, but I will still ask for one all the same.”

You freeze. Even though you knew this conversation would come eventually, you don’t know what to say. He’s here. He’s here and he just admitted that he felt the same way as you did, and yet you can’t bring yourself to answer.

“I just want to know if it was something I did. Did something change? As I said, you don’t have to answer, of course, I just… what happened to make you change your mind?” You can hear the nervous self-consciousness in his words, but it confuses you. How could he ever think it was something that he did when he had been with a goddess? How could he want you?

“No, nothing changed. It was nothing that you did. I promise.” You sit down, and Gale follows, sitting beside you.

“Then why have you been so cold with me? It isn’t fair to tell me I did nothing wrong when you go from spending so much time with me to barely even looking at me, let alone speaking to me.” He sounds frustrated, and you don’t exactly blame him. It was cruel of you to treat him so differently without an explanation.

“I’m sorry.” You finally bring yourself to look over at him. Even through his slight annoyance with your behaviour, there is hurt. “You deserve better than me,” you say finally. You watch his expression change to one of confusion. “You shouldn’t lower your standards for me.”

“What?” For once, you seem to have rendered him nearly speechless.

“Gale, I’m in love with you, but I’m nothing. I’m no goddess.”

A sudden understanding crosses his face.

“Yes, you are. You most certainly are.” He takes your hand in his. “And you are more than I deserve, I assure you. If you truly wish to remain no more than friends, then so be it; but if those worries were all that were holding you back, I assure you you need not entertain them any further.” Every word sounds so completely genuine.

“Are you sure?” You ask, despite yourself.

“Completely.” He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. The act and the way he looks at you is enough to push your worries aside for now. You can tell he means everything he says.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, in a rush of newfound confidence.

“I would like nothing more.”

The hand not holding yours rests against your face, thumb brushing along your cheek. You brush your fingers through his hair, and you feel him shiver. It’s a soft kiss, the beginning of things. When you part he rests his forehead against yours and both of you are smiling.

The walk back to camp is quiet, but comfortable. Gale doesn’t let go of your hand until you kiss once more and retire for the night to your tents.

#gale dekarios #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate 3 x reader

269 notes · View notes

villainofmyownstory · 6 months ago

Text

Day Zero chapter 4

masterlist | taglist | AO3

Previous | Next

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Your horror and fear after what happened at the town hall are mixed with hope. Unfortunately, the newly met man in the mask doesn't make things any easier for you. He is stubborn and distrustful. However, when night comes, he takes you to his only safe place. To his house. Home.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, weapon, suicide

author's note: I decided to post a new chapter today, unfortunately I'm having a worse time in my life again…. I hope it will get better soon. The longest chapter so far, let me know what you think.

Warning!! Mention of a suicide attempt, if you don't want to or can't read this, skip the parts where day 64 is referred to. Your mental health is more important! Take care of yourself, dear reader.

AO3

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Chapter 4: The one where you visit Ghost's house

Day 732

Getting to the tower by car definitely shouldn't take as long as your hike. The distance to cover, from the center to the suburbs, did not seem so far. You both remain silent the entire way. Ghost keeps looking in the rearview mirror while driving. As if he had to make sure you were still sitting on the trunk. When it reduces speed or (worse) brakes to almost zero on the odometer. His gaze focuses on the mirror. As if the man expected you to take advantage of the opportunity and jump out of the car, taking Riley with you. You will run away and disappear, just as you suddenly and unexpectedly appeared.

Admittedly, you had no intention of doing so. Quite the opposite. You wanted to stay. Even though the man was hostile towards you, you were sure of that. Damn, he wanted to shoot you!

Like a hunter hunting a defenseless deer. A sniper in war, shooting at a designated, nameless target. Without blinking an eye, in cold blood, in one breath. Shot. Exhale. End.

Without even exchanging a word with you. Without asking you anything. Not wanting to know anything. One shot and you're done, you wouldn't even feel it. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Remembering what happened a dozen or so minutes ago, you clench your hands into fists. Rubbing the material of your gloves against each other. Feeling the rough material slide over the skin of your hand. You try to focus exactly on that feeling.. You don't want to let fear and terror get the best of you. Breathe, slowly. Don't let these bad thoughts defeat you. Luckily for you, the man didn't do anything to you. Maybe he is also a lost and lonely man. Who is slowly losing his mind under these circumstances. He can't cope. Just like you.

You swallow. The hands are still tightly clenched into fists. Your hands are sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker with each passing minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at a higher speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, they are probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Although it's all Ghost, he has the upper hand. He has the most important argument and strength - he has a gun. Also, he's in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. He's taller and better built than you. Definitely stronger and athletic. Yet you try to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, somehow he has to believe that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he'll let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away wasn't fit to live in for another winter. No heating, a leaking roof, you could list more defects. And the food supply in the area was running out, you found almost everything edible. You didn't know if it would be safe to return to that place.

You swallow. Your hands are still clenched into fists. Sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker by the minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at an increasing speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Without a doubt, the whole Ghost guy, has an advantage over you. He has the most important argument and power - he has a gun. Besides, he is in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. Higher and much better built than you. Stronger. Athletic. But, if you are trying to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, he has to believe in some way that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he will let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away, is uninhabitable for another winter. There's no heating, the roof is leaking. And food supplies were running out in the area, you could find almost anything edible. You don't know if it would be safe to go back there.

This town you are in now is the only one of the larger ones in this area. He seems to be better organized, definitely better than you. You haven't even found a car in working order with at least a little bit of fuel in the tank. So maybe it's better to stay with him. It will be easier to survive. Maybe the two of you can find other people?

Maybe the man knows something more, maybe he knows about a settlement, a safe place? Some larger group of living people? Maybe there is some hope.

Meeting this man caused a small spark that some future might exist.

Although it is probably not difficult, you have never been able to plan or predict. You lived in the moment. Not worrying too much about what the next day will bring. Not really taking into account.

The consequences of your actions or, inversely, your inaction. It's time to grow up, the worried voices of your parents echo in your head. Well, maybe you should have listened to them.

You sigh and look away from the passing suburban landscape, still lost in your own thoughts. You look down for a moment, at your protruding belly and wide thighs. You haven't even lost much weight in the last two years. You blame it on your bad, inappropriate diet. You mainly ate carbohydrates and cans of ready-made or sweetened food. You found any canned vegetables less and less often. Lots of cans of carbonated drinks and lots of sweets. Not to mention salty snacks. It was easier that way. Everything had long expiration dates and was tightly packed. Thanks to this food, you satisfy your hunger and provide your body with endorphins. Fighting with your own bad, dark thoughts, when you had supplies of food and drink. You simply lay in bed on the mattress for weeks. Vegetating, waiting. Counting on... you didn't know what.

You look back at the passing landscape, individual buildings and road signs. City exit sign, highway exit, empty fields.

You regret that in the past you were never interested in the army. You didn't even know what military unit this man was from. The only thing that was clear to you was the British flag attached to his uniform. Maybe it meant something? Perhaps he was here for a reason?

Even now, when the cold of the coming evening and the breeze caused by the speed of the car caress your cheeks and exposed neck. This causes goosebumps and reddened cheeks. It was bearable, the feeling of cold wasn't really that bad.

The most significant thing is that you no longer have to walk.

The important thing is that after so many days you at last found hope.

The fact that you are finally not alone.

You choose not to think about it any longer, clinging to Riley, thanking him without words for saving him. You calm down a little.

When you finally arrive at your destination, the man hurriedly gets out of the car and opens the trunk with a gun in one hand.

“Riley stays with me”

If you don't mind the penetrating chill of the coming evening, the coldness in the man's voice definitely makes you shiver.

‘And you, woman, go into the building and tell your people to leave. I have you in my sights all the time.’

You don't have the strength to argue with him. Another exchange of words makes no sense at this point. You dream of eating something and finally taking off those damn shoes. Your legs hurt so terribly. Subconsciously, you already know that a verbal battle with this man is pointless now. He won't believe you anyway, he has to see for himself. See what you keep telling him.

One thing you were sure of right from the start. This guy was definitely confident and he didn't tolerate a word of disagreement, he knew best. Stubborn. Probably soulless, a killing machine. Who knows what bad shit he'd done in the past?

So as you slowly walk towards the building next to the tower, you wonder if your back might get shot. Simple and clear. He will execute you and this will all be over. Perhaps it would have been better. Maybe that was your end.

Fate. Destiny.

Maybe these two years of loneliness and torment were supposed to end this way. Your body will remain near the tower as a warning to other travelers. If anyone but the two of you had survived this long. Because during these few months, without seeing any sign of another person's life, you began to believe that you were completely alone. That somehow you were the only one who survived.

Day 64

You

You didn't think the crisis would come so quickly. That you will lose faith. You didn't see any solution to the situation, or there never was one.

You weren't the type of person who was sad, emotional, or prone to depression. You were always a ray of light, a cheerful green pea, as your dad used to say.

But now, as more days passed, more days of darkness, emptiness, silence. Fucking loneliness.

You couldn't handle it.

You have stopped looking out the window for hours, hoping that your loved ones will come home.

That some familiar face will save you. That someone will break the silence.

The worst were the sleepless nights. Curled up somewhere in a corner or hidden in a bathroom, somewhere in a room without windows. As far away from the outside walls as possible.

You gave up really fast. And you made one most important decision. And that day, early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky. You left the house at a brisk pace and easily reached your destination without stopping. Standing in front of the abandoned pharmacy, you knew why and for what you had come here. Without blinking an eye, you went inside and quickly found the right packages and took them from the shelves. Then, just as efficiently, you hurried back to the empty family house.

However, as you crossed the threshold of the building, the familiar smell, so close to your heart reached your nostrils. Home, the family nest. The door slammed behind you and then, for the first and only time, you hesitated.

Just as you had done for years, now, you called out to the empty rooms.

“Mom? Dad? Sis?... I'm back..."

Silence.

Nobody answered.

Emptiness.

So that was a sign, no one was there. And the decision was made, there was no turning back.

Sitting down on a chair in the dining room, you carefully unpacked the contents of the packages you brought. Earlier, you prepared a kitchen mortar and a glass of water.

Slowly, systematically, one by one, you place tablets of different sizes on the bottom of the agate dish. You don't know what quantity is right. Probably the bigger the better. The more the faster. The larger the quantity, the much painless it should be. You hope so. End the pain. Put an end to this misery.

Stirring slowly with a heavy stone pestle, you don't worry that some of the grinded medicine, will fall on the table. White powder stains the dining room table and your jeans.

Nobody will see the mess anyway. And if they do, they won't pay attention to such a detail anyway. They're more likely to notice you.

You pour the ground contents into a glass of water. Hoping that some of it will dissolve and make it easier for you to drink.

Bitterness. This is all you feel.

The cold water with the crushed tablets slowly passes down your throat into your stomach.... The bitterness on your tongue. The ground up undissolved pieces irritate your gums, sticking like sand between your teeth. You feel the acid under your tongue. Something in your throat.

You slowly swallow the rest of the mixture in the glass. Now you just have to wait. You fall asleep.

Alone.

But you won't wake up on your own. Eternal peace. Eternal peaceful sleep.

Maybe it'll be better if there's anything waiting for you afterward. If only this pain would go away.

That's what you're counting on. Well, you haven't been good at math since kindergarten.

Day 732

Finally, after a long while of walking, with a feeling of fear, with the gun pointed at your back, you reach the door of the building. With a deep sigh, slightly irritated by this whole protracted situation, you open the door

“Hey guys, come out.”

With irony in your voice, you look at the man standing at a notable distance from you.

"You see? Like I said, no one. here. There isn't"

You say angrily, clenching your fists. After a few moments, you turn on your heel and cross your arms over your chest, waiting for Ghost to move. Whatever was going on in his head right now was starting to irritate you. Constant silence on his part, and when he did have something to say. It was his words that were cold, harsh. Angry, rough commands. He addresses you without respect.

In fact, he treats you worse than a dog.

“I'll shoot you if no one comes out soon."

Ghost adjusted the gun resting on his shoulder, still aiming at you.

“No one will come out of this building...”

You sigh.

“...maybe you'll finally believe me and we'll end this nonsense? If this is how you host all your guests. I'd rather not know how my predecessors ended up.”

You add, exhaling loudly through your nose

“And I don't really want to find out”

While waiting for the man's reaction, you look at him closely. Why is he so hostile? Why does he still not believe you?

Yes, no one had the right in these strange times to trust anyone or anything, however, you appeared in the area defenseless. Without any weapons. You didn't even think to bring a knife with you. Nothing for possible self-defense. So he, after all, was just plain stubborn.

Finally, the man slowly, silently approaches you and searches the inside of the building.

Of course there is no one inside.

Paying no attention to you, the masked man turned around and moves back toward the vehicle.

“Let's go. There's not much time left.”

He throws over his shoulder in your direction. Nothing more, no apologies, you're right. I believe you now. No remorse, no understanding. Heartless, strange, Ghost.

As you sit next to the dog, with your back to the boot, the man starts the car with a squeal of tyres. The speed of the car is definitely higher. You are going too fast, even though there are no other road users besides you. It's as if Ghost is racing against the setting sun. Every now and then he nervously checks his watch and turns his head over his shoulder, towards the western sky. And so on and on.

The streets grow darker and darker. Night is coming. Nightfall.

This time you are heading in a different direction from the centre. A new, unfamiliar one. With Riley at your side, you watch the changing landscape with curiosity. Crowded, densely built-up streets with many tall buildings turn into new suburbs. Single family houses and wide pavements with overgrown yards appear before our eyes. This must once have been a nice, quiet and green neighbourhood. Families with children probably spent their best moments here, enjoying a happy life together. The middle class probably lived here and worked hard for every square metre. After school, children rode their bikes on the wide streets or ran on the green, evenly mowed lawns.

Once. Past. Memories.

Finally, after several minutes of crazy driving, the man parks the car next to one of the houses. Hurriedly he gets out and opens the garage door with a flourish.

Ghost quickly pulls in and reaches for the dog and pulls him out of the trunk. He puts him in another car, parked in the garage next door.

“Hurry up, we don't have much time.”

With that, Ghost opens the passenger door and gets behind the wheel without waiting for you.

When you change to a smaller vehicle and sit on the passenger side, you ask in surprise

“Why a we changing the car? What's going on?"

He doesn't answer anything, he rushes away. He drives for a while, again, in silence you notice him circling the area. You definitely pass the same house several times.

“Why are we driving around?”

You ask with a little fear. From minute to minute, every behavior of a man causes increasing nervousness in your body. Again, you find his behavior strange, irrational.

‘We need to confuse the trail, cover our tracks.’

The man finally speaks up and after a few moments stops at the next house.

‘Stay in the car and don't go anywhere, understood?’

Ghost quickly picks up Riley and, with the dog in his arms, marches quickly in an unknown direction. Disappearing from your sight after a moment. You're left alone, in the car, in an unknown place.

The sun was almost below the horizon, a small red glow gently illuminated the wide street.

Suddenly, the door opens on your side and you jump in your seat, slightly scared. Seeing the now familiar, masked figure, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Shit!”

You clutch your chest, mumbling.

“Put this on your shoes and walk fast, damn it.”

The man hands you something like hospital slippers. You quickly put them on over your shoes. Hearing his voice, you know perfectly well that there is no time for discussion. Time is running out.

"Pull your hair back or keep it out of the wind and follow me quickly. Don't you dare turn around and stop!"

The man grabs you by the elbow and pulls you out of the car. He moves quickly, taking quick and decisive long strides. Compared to his legs, yours are considerably shorter than his, you practically have to run to keep up with his pace.

Not only do your legs hurt, but you are simply out of shape. Many weeks of trekking to this city and saving the portions of food you took with you. And also, the nerves caused by today have left you simply out of shape, out of strength.

Stumbling, your legs slowly give up and you hold your hair with one hand to keep it from being blown away by the wind, as commanded. You try not to fall behind the man.

At one point, Ghost slows down for a moment and turns his head, looking behind him.

“Damn it, faster.”

Regardless of your protests, he grabs you and lifts you off the ground.

"Hold on to me and don't let go."

He energetically grabs your hips and lifts you up, pulling your body towards him. He squeezes your plump body hard, digging into your skin. He's practically running now. You hold on to him, praying that he doesn't fall under the pressure of your weight or suddenly drop you.

However, nothing of the sort happens, and you both quickly reach one of the larger houses in the area. The only thing that distinguishes it from the others. Apart from its size, is that it has massive shutters and is not as overgrown with weeds as the others in the area.

The man opens the door locks, with one hand, and hurriedly enters the house. Finally, he sets you down on the floor, mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He closes first one front door and then another, more massive one with multiple security features.

The room goes dark.

‘Where are we?’

You finally ask hesitantly, catching your breath. You didn't even notice when you held your breath.

‘In my house.’

He answers briefly and walks past you into the cramped vestibule, deep into the dark hallway

‘Take off your shoes and jacket, leave them here. Follow me.’

Ghost's house is warm and somehow strangely cozy. Standing in the doorway of the living room, while the man hastily closes the shutters and before the room goes completely dark, you try to look around. Get acquainted with the new surroundings.

The interior is decorated in a simple style. Plain, single-coloured shelves. The dark furniture bends slightly under the pressure of the collected objects. Against the walls, where there is no furniture, stand towers of neatly arranged things. There were a lot of objects here. Everything neatly, perfectly arranged. Books, CDs, clothes, bins, boxes containing other things (rather essential for survival and ordinary daily needs). Everything neatly and evenly grouped. You will not be surprised if you find that the man has everything carefully catalogued. So if you were to ask him for a small lithium battery of the CR1620 type, he would certainly find it in a few moments, without hesitation.

Despite the large number of items stored, the space does not seem cluttered. In the middle of the room is a large dark sofa with a small coffee table, opposite one of the walls on which is a large flat-screen TV. Looking to your right, you notice a slight glow and notice that instead of another wall with lots of cupboards and shelves filled in, there are open double sliding doors that lead into the kitchen. Now that glow reaches you, it's the light from the LED lamps above the worktop, slightly illuminating the distant room. You make a mental note to ask the man later where he gets his electricity from. Because he definitely has some sort of energy source. So it's not just the tower you were in last time that has a power source. It looks like this house has been inhabited for a long time and is definitely set up to live in such apocalyptic conditions for a long time. Rather, you could ask the man if he found this house by chance. Did he know about this building beforehand, and if not, how did he know to prepare so much?

Maybe he was one of those weirdos who believed every conspiracy theory, every rumour. Perhaps he was once in some sect that spoke of the imminent end of the world.

When Ghost finishes closing the shutters, the room is completely dark. You don't even hear the man moving around the room because suddenly you hear his low voice from behind you.

“Follow me, you need to wash up.”

It's only now that it's come to you. That's right. You must stink badly. Now the smell must be clearly noticeable in an enclosed room.

You feel a wave of shame sweep over you. Your cheeks are definitely red.

So many days of wandering, sleeping anywhere, as long as there was a roof over your head.

When you set off, you didn't take too many things with you. You mainly packed food, a sleeping bag and one thick sweatshirt, which usually served as a pillow. In order not to carry too many weight in your rucksack. You did not take excess clothing, but only the most necessary things to survive. You didn't expect to find much food along the way that was still edible. You didn't know how long the trek would take. However, you didn't think it would be that long. Too long.

So you turn away in shame, lowering your head, even though the house is dark, you are afraid of the man's gaze. You feel your way towards where the Ghost's voice had just come from.

You feel embarrassed about yourself, you must have, well literally, stank. You can't even remember the last time you washed yourself properly. Before setting off, you managed to heat up the water you had collected and washed yourself thoroughly in the bath. You don't even remember how many days ago that was. Too long ago to remember.

You have quite long hair, which you had tied up in a braid for days without even untangling it or combing it every day. Now many strands have fallen out of the braid, in fact, even your hairstyle looked more like your hair was loose than braided.

But the fatigue and frustration of the ongoing journey had subsided and you no longer cared about looking presentable. You didn't expect to meet anyone.

Seeing the soft light that spread a pleasant warm and yellow aura in the narrow corridor. You slowly approach the open door. Finally you hear the clear voice of a man from deep in the room, and he speaks to you again in the same dark and monotonous voice.

“Take a bath, you have everything you need in the bathtub”

Then, following his voice, you enter a slightly lit room.

It is a large bathroom decorated in a minimalist style. Dark tiles and silver fittings. No windows, no shelves of supplies. Simple minimalist interior.

A man stands next to a large free-standing bathtub. Without waiting for your answer, he leaves and speaks again.

“Wait a few minutes, the water needs to heat up”

Before you can say anything, Ghost pushes past you and closes the door behind him.

You stand in the room for a few moments, you feel so unreal and strange. As if you were in some hotel. On a special vacation.

There was a time, well, you hardly even remember, when you had things like hot water, warmth, a house without a dripping roof and just a safe space. Everything is prepared and at your disposal. You don't have to search for anything. Scouring shops and houses to find the thing you need like shampoo, toothpaste or a hairbrush.

You sit down on the closed toilet, gently remove your gloves and place them on the sink, having to wash them by hand to put them back on as quickly as possible.

You struggle to remove your shoes, and a terrible sight appears to your eyes: socks that were probably white were now a mixture of several colours. Brown, greyish black or crimson. With great difficulty you remove the sock, hissing loudly in pain. The cotton material has stuck to the dried blood, fusing with the cotton material of the sock and with your foot. Some of the wounds are reopening. Most of the nails are practically black. They are likely to fall off soon. Now that your feet are finally uncovered and you are free to lay them on the cold stone tiles on the bathroom floor. You breathe more deeply.

Cursing under your breath, you try to undress. You slowly stand up, shaking on your swollen legs. It seems to you that it is even worse than when you had tightly knotted shoes on your feet the whole time.

After a few moments, you slowly reach for the rest of your clothes and slowly undress, throwing your dirty clothes on the floor. The last layer of clothes, the one closest to your skin, has practically stuck to it. The material is wet, as if greasy and even hard in some places, soaked through with the sweat that your skin has secreted over many weeks.

When you finally manage to undress, with shaking legs you walk over to the bath and sit down on its edge. As you turn on the tap you almost sob with joy. It's been a long time since you've seen running water. Hot straight from the tap. It used to be a normal thing that attracted attention, today it's an incredible luxury.

You hesitantly reach your hand under the flowing stream of water and shiver with pleasure. It's really, really warm. You don't even know what you're going to say to Ghost when you get out after your bath. You are so grateful to him. There are no words now to describe your joy and gratitude over such a trivial matter as this bath.

You reach for the bottle standing next to the bath. A 3-in-1 body wash. For men. Well, you can't have everything. But even if you only had warm running water at your disposal, you wouldn't mind at all.

When the bath fills to the bottom, you slowly step into it and sit down. Despite the growing tingling on your skin and the pinching of your wounds. You lean more comfortably against the tub, tilt your head back and close your eyes. You finally feel comfortable and can relax, at least for a while. Your muscles and injured skin, although they seem to hurt less for a while, can finally rest.

Hot water heats the bathroom, slowly steam appears in this small space, it becomes stuffy.

The bath takes a really long time. You contemplate how the water will slowly warm your frozen, swollen body. You wash every inch of your body thoroughly. The gel smells nice, you can feel lavender and sandalwood.

You don't care that a man might be angry with you and full of further resentment. Because you spent so much time in the bathroom. That you used too much water.

It feels so wonderful. Blissful. You finally wash your greasy and tangled hair and massage your scalp. You feel tears coming to your eyes. For the first time in you don't know when, you feel safe, just clean and comfortable. You allow yourself moments of weakness.

Relaxed, you fall asleep, but unfortunately the bad memories haunt you once again.

Days 64-66

You

You didn't see how long it would be before these peculiar cocktails full of anxiety would kick in, so you chose the closest place that seemed comfortable. The sofa in the living room.

Lying down, you hugged one of the cushions you had taken from your parents' bedroom earlier. It was big, soft and smelled like.... Mum. Home. The closeness. Security. Stability. All the good things that no longer existed.

You don't know how much time has passed, each passing minute seems like an eternity.

Eventually your eyelids become heavier and heavier. Your breathing slows down. You fall asleep. Hoping forever.

Unfortunately, you were wrong, the mixture of drugs was not what you expected. You wake up with a terrible, huge stomach ache, headache, nausea. You don't even have the strength to open your eyes.

You vomit. You can't collect your thoughts, you don't know what's going on. There is only one thing in your head: pain, pain, pain.

All this goes on for hours, moaning in pain, nausea, fainting. Breathing problems come on suddenly, convulsions occur.

Everything is one long agony.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

You were not meant to suffer.

Tears run down your cheeks, mixing with the vomit that is practically everywhere. You must have fallen off the couch. You don't even feel yourself hitting the floor.

Everything hurts so much.

You fall asleep for brief moments. It all continues, the pain, the crying, the momentary loss of consciousness and then back again. Vicious circle. Endless.

When it all goes away for a while, you don't have the strength to get up, you stare at the white ceiling. Your heart beats fast.

Night and day pass. In the end, everything slowly subsides. This time you have failed. Something gave you another chance. Maybe there was a reason that you survived after all.

Days 732

You

You wake up abruptly and only after a while do you remember where you are. The bath water is already cold. You sit up shrinking your legs, hugging your legs tightly to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them. You bury your head, trying to make the bad memories disappear, hide, or preferably erase them from your mind.

It's not just the constant, daily nightmares that remind you of the ordeal that day. When you swallowed the ground pills and the wrong mixture caused one of the side effects to appear. That night you lost some of your hearing.

Maybe it was a punishment, or maybe it was meant as a reminder. It's not worth it. You shouldn't. No.

You will never forget.

Once the water is very cold, we get out of the bath. Although your body has thankfully relaxed a little. You wrap yourself in a towel and look around the bathroom. No sign of a change of clothes. After all, you're not going to parade around in a small towel that barely covers your pudgy body.

Slowly, hesitantly, you open the bathroom door, wanting to call out and ask a man for clean clothes. Because there is no point in wearing the old ones. They are fit to burn at most. You don't believe that even the best washing machine and detergents can cope with such dirt that has dried for weeks.

Looking down the corridor you notice a few changes. The corridor is softly lit, no longer dark.

And the other thing is that there is a chair opposite the bathroom door.

And on it lie nicely stacked brand new clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush. Next to it lie plasters, bandages and wound disinfectant.

You look around the corridor, but there is no one there but you.

In the distant kitchen you hear the clink of plates and cupboards being opened. You think you hear the clatter of Riley's claws walking quickly across the kitchen floor, a very familiar sound, something known from the past.

In addition to the symphony of sounds, your nostrils are filled with a smell. Food. Dinner. Definitely a warm meal. It's all so unreal, ordinary, idyllic. So innocent and mundane. As if those two years never happened, as if you were spending your weekend off gossiping at a friend's house. And you weren't struggling in drudgery and terror to survive.

Hurriedly, feeling your stomach growl with hunger, you pick up the things Ghost left for you from the chair. You glance at the tag of one of the clothes, not only were they the right size, they were from a really good and expensive company.

Returning to the bathroom you smile slightly, hugging the fresh and tactile clothes.

Well, maybe meeting and visiting Ghost's house wasn't as bad as you thought at first.

And maybe under the mask he wasn't such a scary person after all.

taglist:

@leviathanleva @chocolate-noodles @vmaxis @poohkie90 @ghostlythots @nobodys-coffee @famouscattale @youdontneedtoknow1226 @pimpinsins @justguessfan @novasilvae @pausbirudanlumbalumba @ella2497 @lunamoonbby @sams-pineapples @tonylagsagne @lurkinwbreexy

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost #call of duty fanfic #cod au #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #dayzero💀

79 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

Text

Immortal Beloved - Chapter One.

Oh guys, when I tell you I was touched beyond words at how this was received by you all. I have been sitting here squeaking with joy at your lovely reviews! If I have missed anybody out in my thank you notes, please take my humble apology and know that I appreciate you so much for taking the time to both read and offer feedback.

Okay, so on with the first chapter, then. You'll notice here that my imagination weaves with canon to make some slight changes, such as giving the boy's (and Ada's) mother a name, also I wrote John only to have one child with his late wife. It made sense to me, not having to pull focus from the plot too much by having to characterise four little ones on top of everything else.

So yes, here we are, then. I think I'm going to choose Thursday as our update day and keep it to once a week posting. Those who know me of old know that I often like to throw in a little surprise update sometimes, though! Once again, thank you so much for the feedback, and I truly hope you continue to enjoy it :)

Previous chapters - Prologue

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,057

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“John?”

He was still in a daze as he entered the back room, seeing Polly lift her gaze from the paper she read in front of the crackling hearth, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bloody white as a sheet. If you’re about to be sick, go back outside. I’ve neither the desire nor patience for mopping up the contents of your stomach.”

“Nah, I’m... I’m alright, Pol,” he began, his voice just as vacant as the expression upon his face, the toothpick between his lips practically dangling.

She wasn’t convinced by his statement, placing the paper upon the arm of the chair and rising to her feet. “John, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you...” She sniffed his breath, her mouth down turning as she scoffed, “and you stink like a brewery floor. What did Tommy say, eh, about getting in this state. Look at you!”

Her admonishment barely even landed; John still in a state of shock at what he’d witnessed, his eyes flitting to the table. Whiskey. Yes.

Polly’s gaze followed. “No. There’ll be no more of that. You’ve had enough.”

Finally, he moved, side stepping his aunt as he reached for the bottle, uncorking it rapidly and drinking from it directly. “Believe me, Pol. After what I just saw, all the fucking whiskey in Ireland ain’t enough.”

She folded her arms, watching as he crashed down in the chair opposite the one she’d been comfortably sitting in. “Well, you don’t look hurt. Whatever it was, it can’t have been that bad.”

“Not for me, but...” he began, taking another swig of the golden liquid within his grasp, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as his eyes found hers, “for the fella outside missing his head, I can’t say the same.”

“You bloody what, John Shelby?” Her voice rose like a siren, Polly’s authoritative boom filling the space. “A Rasmussen, I take it? And since when have you been in the habit of lopping off heads and leaving the evidence all over the bloody street? Holy shit, you boys will be the death of me!”

She then studied him a little closer. No blood. He'd have been covered in more than just a fine misting of crimson, should he have removed somebody of their head. It also wasn’t John’s style, as far as despatching of an enemy went. He was a gangster, not a barbarian. She wouldn’t have even pegged his elder brothers for such acts, and their bloodlust far exceeded John’s. Her statement was about to be recanted when her nephew offered his reply.

“No, not me. I didn’t do fuck all!” he corrected, gulping back more whiskey, the shock starting to soften as his muscles began to unclench, one by one. “It weren’t me, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I’ve just seen out there.”

“Is that so?” she charged, moving swiftly to stand beside his chair. “Try me.”

He pointed his index finger towards the door, his eyes rounding once more as he relived it in his mind. “A woman, a fucking woman in a white dress, covered in blood, moving faster than I could see. She fucking... grabbed this fella, right, like he was a kiddie’s doll, bit into his neck, and then ripped his fucking head off. I ain’t lying to ya. I swear on my soul, that’s what I saw. She had these teeth, teeth like a fucking wolf.”

Polly lifted her chin, a wave of cold dread sloshing through her insides. She knew exactly what John had seen, but could scarcely believe it. They were back. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”

His eyes narrowed, leaning forward in his seat. Her answer, it had been a little too swiftly delivered. “You believe me, don’t you? You know what she was.”

“I said go to bed.”

“I ain’t going nowhere until you tell me what the fuck that thing outside was.” Yes, Polly could be firm, but so could her nephew. It was a trait that ran strongly through the Shelby blood. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, striding to the cabinet and fetching two glasses.

“Pour.” John met her instruction wordlessly, tipping the whiskey into the glasses she held, taking the other from her. Polly sank into her seat, sipping her whiskey and pulling a cigarette from the case beside her, lighting up. “Your great-grandmother used to call them the shadow walkers, but it’s only since that Bram Stoker fellow wrote his novel that there’s been a commonly known name for them. That woman you saw, John, she wasn’t human. She was a vampire.”

John was baffled, and his face showed it. “But they ain’t real. I’ve heard of that book you’re on about, Dracula, isn’t it? They... they’re fiction.”

A light snort sounded from Polly’s nose, her cigarette glowing as she took a fierce drag upon it. “Most people think that they are. They think of them as nothing more than monsters of make-believe, dreamed into existence by the imagination of a brilliant novelist.” Pausing, she smirked darkly, sighing through her nose. “I wish to god above I was one of those people. They keep themselves very well hidden, the vampires. And who would believe it, that these blood sucking creatures of the night truly exist, eh? Seeing is believing, though, and by god, John. I wish you hadn’t seen her. Those things, they’re evil incarnate.”

“She saved me life,” he admitted, eyebrows rising a fraction. “That man, and apparently three mates of his, they were all waiting for me. The one missing his head was Samuel Rasmussen. She knew him by name.”

Polly cocked her head slightly. “What did she say to you?”

“Not much,” he sniffed, sipping his drink. “Said what I’ve just told you, then said my blood smelled like earth and fire, other things an’ all but I forget what. Oh, and that I was the most beautiful creature she’d seen in a long time.”

She smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, she got that part right. You take after your mother in that respect.” It never ceased to amaze her, just how much John resembled Thora, her late sister-in-law. His blue eyes, lily skin and auburn hair came straight from her. “I’m warning you now, though. What she did for you won’t have been out of sheer magnanimity, oh no. There’ll be a reason behind it, and whatever that reason is, I am telling you, John, you’ll want for no part in it.”

He smirked, feeling a little more himself. “What if the reason is that she just wants to fuck me?”

Immediately, he found his ear clipped. “Fucking hell, Pol!”

“Take something seriously for once in your fucking life!”

He rubbed the side of his head, chewing aggressively on his toothpick. “I bloody am.”

Her snort dripped in sarcasm “Like fuck, you are. You’d want throwing right into the loony bin if you even contemplated that, you bloody daft boy!” She remained forward in her seat, her dark eyes fixing him in an unbreakable stare. “Don’t trust her, not even for a second, or it’ll be your head ripped off your shoulders and left out for the coppers to find next. You hear me?”

“You make it sound like I’m going to see her again,” he mused, swirling the whiskey around within the glass tumbler before sinking it.

“You will,” she assured, her tone bitter. “You will see her again, because like I said, they don’t do anything without good reason to, those creatures. But you’ll be prepared. Carry a silver knife and get up to the church sharpish, fill a little bottle with holy water from the font. When weaponised, silver will kill her and the water will burn. And whatever you do, John, never, ever invite her into this house. She can’t get in unless she’s invited.”

He had to wonder how, exactly, Polly had such a wealth of knowledge over them. “Have you ever met one before? You talk like you know them of old.”

“No, thank god, but your great-grandmother Boswell, she had. Those campfire stories she told us as babes, we knew they weren’t fibs. We heeded her warnings. They’re drawn to gypsy blood, you see, something about it being palatable.”

“She didn’t bite me, though,” John reasoned, Polly scoffing lightly.

“If she’d just taken out four other fellas, she probably wasn’t hungry. That’s what they need to survive, the blood of the living. Trust me, she’ll be back, but you’ll be prepared. Stab her in her cold, dead heart and forget you ever met her. Don’t even think twice about it. We’ve got enough to be reckoning with, what with these fucking Rasmussen’s and the pile of shit they’re throwing our way. I don’t need the worry that you’re being stalked by the bloody undead on top of that.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this to us before?”

Sinking her drink, she cleared her throat, reaching for the bottle. “And have you think I’d gone loopy?” Her snorted words brought a smile to John, Polly continuing. “We just don’t speak of them any longer. They’re rare, not an everyday threat. I’ve never heard hide nor hair of them since hearing nana’s stories, since I was just a young girl.”

As the lie fell from her lips, Polly felt conflicted. She had to protect him, though. Keep the details scant. Besides, he was too drunk to take on anything else. Indeed, there was more she could have explained. She decided against it, clamping her lips between her teeth for a moment.

“Hang on,” he spoke, frowning a little. “What did you mean, when you said undead?”

“They aren’t alive anymore, John.” She paused, picking a little fleck of tobacco from her lip. “They walk and talk, but they’re not really living. Something about how they’re made, I don’t know the details, but yes. Undead. An enchanted corpse, basically.”

“I dunno about enchanted, but she was enchanting,” he began, the corner of his mouth upturning. “She was bloody beautiful.” His face further softened as he remembered that feeling of magic lingering in the air between he and her, the pull to her, her essence shining like the brightest star within a pitch-black sky.

“John, no. Absolutely fucking not.” Her pointed finger only momentarily wiped the growing smirk from his handsome features. “I mean it, do not even consider a fucking dalliance with a bloody vampire!”

He shrugged slightly. “I’ve took worse to bed.”

“John!” Her acerbic bite of his name had him in soft fits, the whiskey seeming to do the trick in placating the fear he’d felt at the time, now he was no longer in peril. “Your fucking face when you walked in here not ten minutes ago, looking like you’d seen a ghost. I was surprised your trousers were still dry, you looked that afraid!”

“Bloody hell, Pol. I was only pulling your leg,” he laughed, rising from his seat. “Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid. I’m going to bed. Maybe all of this is just a drunken dream, I dunno.” Suddenly, her foot shot out, kicking him in the shin. “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Did that feel like a dream to you?”

“No, it feels like it’s gonna be a whacking great bruise on me leg!”

She smirked, entertained at herself. “Good, might have knocked a bit of sense into you. Goodnight, love.”

“Yeah, night, Pol.”

He departed for the stairs, ambling up quietly so as not to wake Finn, entering his room and shivering upon the removal of his coat. His stripping of clothes into long johns and a vest was done at speed, diving under the bed covers and burrowing beneath the many woollen blankets. He hated that his room was the farthest from the chimney breast, meaning the heat didn’t ever reach the room where he could see his breath clouding through the darkness, it was so bitterly chilly.

The knocking through of the three houses that allowed for their once illegal bookmaking endeavours to be run from the Watery Lane properties meant one large communal home, Tommy and Arthur’s abodes flanking the three, John remaining within the house he’d been born in twenty-eight years previously. It was the home he and his late wife had lived in, before he’d sadly lost her four years previously.

Closing his eyes, he felt the pull of sleep tug at him, drifting off into dreamless slumber, awoken the following morning by the sound of the milkman’s cart doing the morning deliveries. Oh, his head. He needed tea and jam slathered toast, and quickly. Heading downstairs, he warmed enough water to have a wash and shave, combing his hair and returning to pull on a suit, opening the front door to take the milk in off the front step.

“Morning, Mr Shelby.”

“Morning, Jack,” he called back to the milkman, his cart paused, John turning to see a throng of people gathered a little further down the lane. “What’s all that about?”

“Some kids found a headless body down by number six, so I’ve been told. The bobbies are on their way. Shocking business for a Wednesday morning, I can tell you!”

John’s heart skipped on a beat as the night before rushed back over his neurons. He truly hadn’t been dreaming. “Blimey,” he began, feigning something as close to shock as he could, craning his neck a little further, able to make out the figures of his elder brother’s there surveying the scene, the local constabulary appearing right at the bottom of the lane. “Wonder how he ended up headless?”

Jack lit a cigarette, his chest tightening as he coughed. “Might be best not to know, eh?” He paused, John seeing it, the unspoken statement there upon the milkman’s face. Grim discoveries close to a Shelby dwelling. Of course, he suspected it had something to do with him or his brothers, but Jack was much too cautious to speak it. Their reputation preceded them, after all.

“I’ll be moving along now, Mr Shelby.” He flicked the reins, clicking his tongue. “C’mon, Beamish. Walk on.” The giant, bay shire horse snorted before continuing to the next house, Jack’s lad jumping off the back of the cart to lay the required bottles next to each door, both getting a good look at the grizzly scene as they passed it by, Tommy and Arthur having a brief chat with Sergeant Moss before walking back to meet John on the doorstep.

The former cocked his head back in the direction of the small crowd. “Know anything about that, John? How one of our adversaries came to be missing his head almost right outside our front doors?” He’d recognised Samuel’s face as it lay wide-eyed upon the cobbles ten feet from his body, remembering him from the race meet.

Tommy watched as his younger brother stepped back into the house, his mouth thinning. “I think we need a family meeting.” With the elders of the Shelby family assembled, cups of tea poured and cigarettes lit, John recounted the events of the night before to his brother’s, Polly interjecting with details that backed up his story. Tommy listened passively, but Arthur, well...

His gruff laughter sounded through the air, sweeping a hand through his hair. His laughter was not mocking, though. It carried with it all the hollowness of fear. “A bloody what?”

“Arthur, you know he’s telling the truth,” Polly stated defiantly, her eldest nephew still laughing, laughing to stop himself beginning to shake with fright.

“What a pile of old shit! A bloody vampire, eh? Fucking hell, you two have lost your faculties if you’re expecting us to believe that!” Turning to his brother, Arthur was surprised to see Tommy completely unmoved by the story, his face unflinching, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Come on, Arthur,” he spoke evenly, sipping his tea. “Nobody is having you on, and you know it.” Turning to John, he placed his tea down. “This woman, John. Long, dark hair with a tattooed throat and chest?”

He nodded a little dumbly. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Tommy sat back again, flicking ash into the nearby ashtray with a sniff. “She’s been watching the house for a couple of weeks now.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to mention that to anyone?” Polly charged him with, a deep frown settling between her eyebrows.

“Speak not of the shadow walkers, lest ye bring them into the light. That’s what our dad used to say,” he revealed, Arthur scoffing immediately as he threw himself to his feet.

“I ain’t listening to this load of old cobblers! Fucking mad, the lot of ya!”

“Arthur, you know it’s true. You saw what I did on that night,” he reasoned softly, Arthur’s agitation winding tighter by the second as he paced the flagstones. “It’s time to face up to what happened.”

“What night?” John demanded lightly, looking between them. Silence followed. “One of you better give me a fucking answer.”

Tommy paused, bringing his cigarette to his lips once more. “I’ve thought about that night here and there over the years, but never mentioned it. Dad told us not to breathe a word to anyone,” he began, Arthur making a start for the door, almost throwing it off its hinges and slamming it behind him.

Jerking his head in his wake he raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Terrified the life out of Arthur, so much so that he pissed himself. He’s never come to terms with that he witnessed, refuses to acknowledge it ever happened at all. He can’t comprehend what he saw, what we saw on that night, when dad took us up to the Black Patch when we were nippers to visit family. Now, I don’t know how much Polly revealed to you, but they aren’t spoken about, the shadow walkers as our gypsy kin always referred to them as, but for centuries, they had a pact.

“Gypsy blood to a vampire is what a fine wine or whiskey is to us, so for hundreds of years, vampires would guard the camps in exchange for feeding upon that blood. That was, at least, until the pact was broken. I don’t know why, and neither did our dad, but one night they returned, to hand out the punishment they felt befitting of that broken pact.

“Our dad did perhaps the only honourable thing he ever has as a father, and got on a horse, riding us out of there to the nearest church where he hid us away until the dawn. Vampires cannot walk upon hallowed ground, nor can they stand in the daylight, lest they burn to ashes. The rest of the camp weren’t so lucky. People were attacked, only very few surviving, but in a state of dread that one day, they’d be back. I suppose that day was last night, for I highly doubt she’s acting alone.”

John immediately stared at Polly. “Did you know all of this?”

She nodded in confirmation. “I did.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you tell me last night?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“Because you were drunk as a lord, John. What I said was enough explanation without going into the finer details, of which I wasn’t sure you’d be able to absorb. I’m fucking surprised you comprehended even half of what I told you, to be frank.”

John’s puzzlement was clear as it ghosted across his face, sighing as he rubbed his brow. “But it don’t make no sense. If she was here because she wanted us dead, some kind of further punishment for our kin breaking the pact, then why am I still alive? She could have had me head off, just the same as she did to Samuel fucking Rasmussen, but she didn’t.” He felt his heart flutter as he remembered how fondly she’d gazed upon him. God, she was such a beauty.

Tommy shrugged lightly. “At a guess, I’d say she wants to rekindle the blood pact. Why she’d choose us and not one of the other families out there, well, I can’t answer that.”

“Which means she probably wants something else from us, something greater,” a frowning Polly mused, the dread in her voice quite clear. It was a distinct change to her usual confident, self-assured tone.

“And we’re not about to give her the chance to even broach it.” Tommy then turned to John, his eyes wide. “You’ll carry a silver knife upon your person from now on, as we all will. Her kind are not to be trusted. Killing that man, I suspect was to lure you into a false sense of security. Vampires are immortal; they have all the fucking time in the world to exact a plan. She’s biding her time.”

“She didn’t only kill him,” John snorted, jerking his head to the right. “Coppers will find another three bodies somewhere out there soon enough.”

Tommy rose to his feet, keen to move to his office and begin the day. “All the more reason not to trust her when she returns. Mark my words, John boy. She’ll be back. She’ll be back, I tell you, and it won’t lead to anything good.”

All talk of vampires, blood pacts and a family history unknown to John meant that he could forget his pounding head for a short time. After his refuelling with toast and tea, he walked through to the offices, grasping the ledger and beginning to write, the space soon filling, the usual loud chaos abounding.

Hangovers and mysterious, vampiric women aside, John’s day ended certainly more favourably than the previous. The favourite at Epson, Shamrock Pride pulled up lame in the fifth race, just as he was intended to. This netted a very tidy profit for them, John finishing his day with a spring in his step because of it.

The Garrison for a whiskey or three? Whyever not.

“Daddy?”

The soft grasp of a tiny hand curled his little finger, John pausing from pulling on his overcoat to look down into the big, green eyes of his daughter, Katie carrying a book within her grasp.

“You should be in bed, pige.” Pige. Short for pigeon, the fond pet name for his only child from his short marriage to Martha, his wife taken from him by the cruel clutches of consumption when Katie was mere baby in arms.

Poking out her bottom lip, she proffered the book forth. The Velveteen Rabbit. It had to have been their fourth read through at that point, the book only published six months before. “Please?”

He sighed softly through his nose. “Go on,” he spoke to his brother, “I’ll catch up with you.”

Arthur nodded, leaving John to place his coat over the back of the fireside armchair there in the front room, adjusting his trousers as he sat, Katie scrambling onto his lap. “Right, where were we?”

Opening the book, the cloth binding soft and velvety against his fingers, John laid the well-worn leather bookmark across Katie’s legs, stroking her strawberry blonde curls as he began to read. Ten minutes, give or take, and she would nod off with her little rosy cheeked face nestled against his chest.

Eleven and a half minutes later, and the soft little piglet snorts of a babe in slumber filled the space, John smiling down at her. “Let’s get you up them stairs, eh, pige?” Once he’d placed her into her bed and covered her in blankets, he laid a kiss to her forehead, whispering his love before creeping out, overcoat thrown on and a cigarette lit before stepping out into the frigid night.

Snowflakes fluttered down over the streets of Small Heath, John feeling winter tingle as his cheeks, the flames of the blast furnaces offering a roar of warmth as he passed them by, the lights of The Garrison twinkling through the inky gloom.

“John.”

The whisper of his name echoed through his ears, John turning, his eyes scanning for the source. Nobody. On he walked.

“John.”

It was louder than before this time as once again he halted, turning, looking for the female to whom the voice belonged. He almost dived out of his skin when upon his turn back, there she was.

The vampire looked even more breathtaking to him than she had the night before.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x ofc #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

87 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 8 months ago

Text

Steddie Fic Recs. Part 8!

Previous Recommendations: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Okay, so I don't know how this got away from me, but I missed posting my recommendations on Tuesday. (Again.) I'm here now, though. And I've got some more gay men being gay little doods for you to read.

If there are any Tumblr blogs tagged and you'd like to not be, feel free to reach out to be removed. I have no qualms doing so. I respect y'all.

As always, the tags and themes vary on all of these fics. Heed all tags, ratings, and archive warnings with caution.

good side by ghosttotheparty

“They don’t talk about it, even though it keeps happening.

Their eyes keep locking, and they keep lingering. Looking at each other like they’re trying to use fucking telepathy or something. Like they’re sharing silent secrets that no one else is allowed to know. Secrets that they don’t even know.”

Chapters: 1/1, WC: 13,336, Rating: Explicit no Archive Warnings apply College/University AU Roommates AU

————— 2. it’s darker than you thought now by emchant3d @emchant3d

“‘Do you even want to fucking be here?’ he yells.

‘Not when you’re acting like this!’ Eddie says, and Steve’s throat goes tight like there’s a fist wrapped around it.

Or, the boy with abandonment issues falls for the boy who always runs”

Chapters: 1/1, WC: 7,850, Rating: Mature no Archive Warnings apply

————— 3. Like a Rainbow in the Dark by parsnips_and_meth

“Perhaps Steve was ill. There was no reason for this sort of fuss — he hardly knew the guy, and Eddie hadn’t exactly been the most forthcoming when he had visited him in the hospital. He had quipped, sure, pain-hazed and slurring, had smirked and winked and thrust his arms about, but he hadn’t really talked. He’d deflected — classic, really — and Steve hadn’t meddled, hadn’t done anything about the sleepless bruises under his eyes or paper-thinness of his skin, or the way he had sat in the hospital bed coiled, ready to jump and run.

Because Steve didn’t know Eddie. And Eddie didn’t know Steve. Which is why he was surprised when, on a quiet, drizzly Tuesday morning at The Enigma Pig, the walkie-talkie on his hip crackled to life.

(In a moment of need, Eddie radios Steve for help.)”

Chapters: 3/3, WC: 11,284, Rating: Mature without using Archive Warnings Trans Eddie Munson

————— 4. Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore by steddieasitgoes @steddieasitgoes

“Vecna is dead. Or so Steve thinks until Dustin is screaming ‘Code Red’ through a radio. Steve runs out of the house with conditioner still in his hair to save the day only to learn the ‘code red’ is that Eddie Munson is being a little shit and doesn’t want to go to his graduation ceremony tomorrow. Steve’s going to kill them both.

Or:

Steve convinces Eddie to go to graduation and ends up regretting the decision when Eddie shows up looking better than ever, sending Steve into a major sexuality crisis. And more fun ensues!”

Chapters: 11/11, WC: 71,899, Rating: Mature no Archive Warnings apply Part of a series: Time of My Life (And I Owe it All to You)

#stranger things #fic rec #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

24 notes · View notes

damnfandomproblems · 2 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/damnfandomproblems/762755438698807297/5850-listen-this-is-my-two-cents-worth-both

I'm laughing so much at this ask, holy smokes. It's so desperate to make it sound like multiple people in the comments are in the wrong and simply don't know they've been jerks when sending feedback to roleplayers, when I know for a fact it's way more likely that roleplayers they've sent asks to are just being ultra-sensitive weirdos who asked for one thing, while trying to imply they only wanted something else, and having it backfire on them, then freaking out because people sent them what they conveyed they wanted.

I actually went through my mutual's interactions to dig this up because apparently you need convincing, and I'm tired and cranky enough to say something about it:

"I really love your writing! You have an amazing way with similes and metaphors, I especially love (example). I did notice sometimes there's a tendency to mix up "you're" and "your", but that's really the biggest thing. I love reading your threads and love our muses' interactions, looking forward to more!"

How on earth can someone look at an ask like that with a straight face and say, "you were being dickish, the other person has full right to be upset"? Get out of here.

They posted a meme that said, to paraphrase, "tell me how I'm doing with my writing!" with a slightly cheesy subtitle that acknowledged how writers are "always improving". There were a lot of them going around. In this interaction, my mutual accepted the feedback because they literally asked for it. A lot of roleplayers, however, think "literally asking for it" means "not actually asking for it, but everyone will know the difference", even though they're posting the same frigging meme and there's zero context clues in their tags to suggest they want people to not actually send some flavor of constructive criticism.

It's true that people aren't always aware of the tone of their criticism. But literally none of the asks have denied that fact, including me now, so what's your damage? What are you trying to convince people of that they don't already know?

Because all you're doing at this point is being condescending towards other people in the comments, and digging your heels in when they insist they've been putting things nicely. I've been roleplaying for 20-something years, it's a hobby I've taken from neopets to gaia to tumblr, and I can completely back up the fact that tumblr roleplayers can be incredibly manipulative in what they ask for. I've dealt with it so many times, and at this point, it's even second-nature to be able to point out, and identify, the exact "type" of roleplayer who does this.

Posting as a response to a previous ask.

#fandom problem 5850 #response to previous problem #response to previous ask #mod sf

9 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 5 months ago

Note

Thank you Kait for the previous post! Honestly it baffled me a lot as well when I come across that kind of people. Saeran/MC will never be codependent in my eyes when this phone call literally exists on day 10 of his route. We're not even going through the AE yet. That's right people. He actually knows and learning how to make decision for himself/what he feels right instead of following other people's choices 😩😩

People want to believe what they want to believe, and at the end of the day, I don't want to waste my time or energy trying to convince other people that Saeran/MC isn't what they think it is.

If they don't see the way Ray Route and the RAE is setting up the clear narrative foils between V/Rika and Saeran/MC to show the differences between an unhealthy relationship where two people are obsessed with the idea of the other and run with that and a healthy one between troubled people who're trying their best to make sense of the world together and by themselves, I don't know if they will.

I'm not saying Mystic Messenger does the very best job at explaining many of these themes narratively, but I am saying if you read what's in front of you and think about it, the answers are there and it doesn't hide itself from you. If you're looking, you can see it.

However, I know a lot of people don't understand the complexities that exist between V and Rika, either. I get it, I know why people are fast to hate them for justifiable reasons, but if you don't understand the dynamics of their relationship, you gloss over a huge part of the story when it comes to what the game is exploring with Saeran and MC. I'm not telling people to care about V or Rika when I say that, I am saying that if you want to talk about toxic codependency, then your answer is V/Rika.

Maybe I have an easier time understanding the dynamic between V/Rika because there have been times where I've been like Jihyun, and that uncomfortable mirror has helped me become a better person. I am grateful to Jihyun for that. Someone wrote in my tags yesterday that V and Rika aren't about who is the perfect victim or the perfect abuser, they're two unhealthy people who are trying to cling to each other to cope in the most toxic way imaginable.

Neither of them will ever be wholly innocent as their actions hurt each other other and many of the people around them. Could we argue semantics on who did something "worse?" Yeah, you could argue that up and down because there's layers to the things both Rika and V have done. But the core of their relationship is built on unhealthy codependency. They cling to each other and as long as they do that, they'll continue to burn like a wildfire.

It's not healthy.

Jihyun even acknowledged how unhealthy it was in the RAE for him to shelter Rika. It's that awareness he has that makes me upset with him, because he'll destroy himself to keep his promise, and in doing so, destroys everyone around him because of it. Sometimes, you've got to understand that your dependency on another person isn't the healthiest thing. You have to make boundaries and start working on getting away from that dynamic, or you need to go and straight up leave.

Saeran and MC do not act and react to situations in the Good Ending the same way that Rika and V react and act to situations that they're thrust into. Saeran and MC are partners, they work together, confide in each other and make decisions based on trust. But, what they do is not based on what the other wants.

Your image shows that.

MC: Would you stop working with them if I asked you to stop? Saeran: To tell you the truth, no, I'll continue on. If it was before, I would've done what you told me to do, but, I want to persuade you now.

V and Rika don't communicate like that. V "shelters" Rika from what she has to face even though he knows it's wrong because he feels like that is the only way to prove he is giving 1000% of his life to ensure his mother didn't die for "nothing". Rika leans into the obsession she holds for Jihyun, continuing to view him as a God who will save her from her devil, even though she knows, deep down, he can't save her from her nightmares.

God. They drive me up a wall all the time but they are the ones we need to look at if we're going to talk about characters who have an unhealthy attachment to each other.

#princessjung #I normally don't talk this much about V or Rika because I don't want to deal with the drama that comes with that #people misunderstand what I'm saying and assume that I'm condoning the atrocities they've committed because I try to understand them #UNDERSTANDING DOESN'T EQUAL CONDONE OR SUPPORTING #I think V and Rika are so goddamn interesting but it's a minefield to talk about them when most people REASONABLY want to ignore them #i can't fault y'all who can't stand rika or v i get why you hate them #i have my own personal gripes with them #i was about to jump over the table in the RAE to sock Jihyun in the face for what happened with Saeyoung #and I'm sure we all understand my gripes with Rika given that SAERAN IS MY FAVORITE #please for the love of god read what i say a few times i don't want to hear drama #ask #mod kait #character analysis

11 notes · View notes

snowblossomreads · 11 months ago

Text

Day 18: Blankets and Snuggles

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant x Fem!Reader

Summary: In where Y/n and Sinclair are now dating and continue their baking tradition from the previous year.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): baking and eating, snuggles and kisses, sweet treats and hugs, just everything warm and fuzzy in this one folks!

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: I'm back with more Sinclair LOL. He has been getting a lot of love and it's what he deserves 😣😣 So enjoy as he finally gets to have his snacks in peace with his favourite person (y/n aka you bc you are a lovely human being ! yeah that's right i'm talking to you person that's reading this 🥰🥰)

"Where have you been [Y/n]?! I've been waiting all day for you, worried sick about where you’d gone off to," Sinclair complained as he watched her take her coat and boots off to not track mud in his home. "You can't tell me you're going to come and bake with me and then not tell me when. It is a crime you know!" He huffed, as he followed her into the kitchen like a lost puppy who had finally found its owner.

"A crime? Really?" She teased, amusement bubbling up in her chest as she went to put the bag of supplies that she had bought with her on the kitchen counter.

Turning around, she saw the slight pout on his thin lips, and she couldn't stifle the giggle at how dejected he looked. This only made his frown grow deeper. Of course Sinclair would be the one to get upset when he was promised snacks and didn't get them on time. But honestly, who wouldn’t be?

"It is! See, this is why you should move in with me," he explained while [Y/n] meandered towards him and threw her arms around his waist in a hug. She swayed side as she looked up at him and how his eyes were bright and passionate as he laid out his reasoning. "Then you can always be around, and we can cook together and cuddle, lots of cuddles! And then you don't have to come out in this dreadful weather when you visit me. Because you'll already be with me! Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does, but it also sounds like some sort of ploy though! I bet it's just because you want me to bake my world-famous cookies for you every week, innit?"

"Hmph of course not! You know I can have more than food on my mind when it comes to you," he sulked for a moment before his exuberant energy returned. “Though you do make wonderful cookies! And I love them. But I love you more!"

"Aww I love you too Sinclair," she squealed as he kissed her all over her face to prove how much he loved her. "And I know love, I'm just teasing! I know that brilliant mind of yours is always working on something," she beamed causing him to radiate, proud at how much his mind really did work. "But I don't know, my contract isn't up yet for my flat and I want to stay until it's over," she explained, and she could see the sad look that reappeared on his features which made her heart also feel a bit blue. "Buuuut," she drawled out, causing his attention to perk up. "How about we bake and you try to convince me why moving in with you is a good idea. And maybe just maybe I'll give it some more consideration."

"Deal!" He shouted with a grin. "Well, come on what are we waiting for? Let's start because I'm starving!"

Unwrapping themselves from each other, [Y/n] and Sinclair continued their newly instated tradition of baking each year for the holidays. It had started the year before when she had come to spread some cheer on his first post-divorce holiday. One thing led to another and well, not only did they have a new tradition but they had a new relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend!

Last year was gingerbread cookies, and this year would be the same though with some additional ones. Snickerdoodle and thumbprint cookies! All of them were pretty simple to make considering they had the same base just with some extra things done to them in the middle, and she thought it a fun project for them both.

Of course, she had to keep Sinclair from eating the raw pastry again but that was par for the course.

"It smells so nice," he whined as she quickly took the mixing bowl from him. "If it smells nice why can't I eat it!"

"Sinclair please no! Remember what I told you last time and all the other times! I don't want to bring you to hospital if you get sick from eating raw pastry," she chided in good nature before turning back to him and seeing he was up to mischief again. "Hey wait that's for the thumbprint cookies," she laughed as she watched him spooned a bit of jam from the glass container and put it in his mouth.

"We have plenty for them though!" He replied, voice muffled by the spoon still in his mouth.

"Well Mr. Jam man! How about you add some to those cookies, and then you can continue nicking the rest of it," she snickered, as she watched him give her a thumbs up before beginning his mission of jamming the cookies.

It was his duty after all as jam man.

During all that prep, he also listed off all the reasons she should stay with him starting off with the obvious as he stated.

"You can spend time with me, I can spend time with you, I can cook for you, you can cook for me," he rambled on plopping jam in the cookies while stealing some of it for himself. "We can cuddle every day. Oh, I can drive you to work too so you don't have to take the Tube, that means more time together- I said that already didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did," [Y/n] laughed as she rolled balls of dough in the cinnamon sugar to make the snickerdoodle cookies. "I'm getting a lot of 'we can spend time together' as your reasoning."

"There's nothing wrong with that is it?” He asked, pausing from his jam duties. "I like spending time with you, we always have fun even if we are just here doing nothing."

"Nope, nothing wrong at all! And I do also love our time together, my cheeks always hurt afterwards and in a good way!"

They both turned to look at each other, a bright smile on their lips as they mulled over how much they adored being with one another at every chance they got. Huh…maybe it wouldn't be so bad moving in…she did love the energy he had and of course Sinclair himself. So would it be so bad to share a space with him?

'Hm.'

She pondered some more as they continued to finish prepping all the cookies, chatting all through the process as he continued to list off more reasons she should live with him. After they had set a batch of them in the oven, and wrapped up the leftovers, they were startled by the doorbell ringing.

"I'll get it!" [Y/n] exclaimed bounding out of the kitchen before Sinclair could say anything, leaving him with baking cookies that smelled terrific and made his stomach grumble.

Cookies for lunch what a wonderful thing!

"Okay I know what you're thinking Sinclair," [Y/n]'s voice floated into the room yet he couldn't see her. "'Cookies for lunch! Wonderful!' Well you know I love that but," she appeared with a pizza box in hand and he could have sworn he had fallen even harder in love with her than he thought possible. “I need something a little more substantial so forgive me for ordering pizza before I got here and don't you dare try to pay me back!”

His eyes sparkled as he approached her, or more like bounded towards her, and she only had a second to lift the box in her hand away from her chest before Sinclair was pressed against her and raining more kisses upon her.

“Oh! I love you so much my magical food fairy!” He blurted, squeezing her in a tight hug that had her breathless, yet she couldn't stop the laughter that escaped her at his enthusiasm. “You're just absolutely wonderful, you know that? God do I love you! You always know just how to make my day!”

“Haha well if cheap pizza and cookies make you happy then I'm in luck because I can afford those every week,” she teased as he pressed his lips against hers, cutting her off with a smile as they kissed. “But I don't think our blood work would approve,” she giggled breathlessly when he pulled away.

‘Ding!’

The sound of the timer on top of the oven went off, signalling that the cookies were done, and also that it was time for them to taste the fruits of their labour.

“Perfect everything is done let's dig in!” Sinclair announced as he let [Y/n] go, enthusiastic about the snacks that they now had. “I’ll bring the plates and cookies you go get comfy in the living room okay?”

Giving him a thumbs up and an ecstatic ‘okay’, she scampered off to get everything nice and cosy on the couch for their meal of junk that was oh so delicious with each other.

The cheap pizza was a hit with both of them as they chatted and laughed while a silly Christmas movie played on the TV. It served as background noise mainly as the two had more than enough to talk about.

After the meal had been devoured, and everything but the cookies were put up, they found themselves snuggled tight in blankets wrapped around them on the couch as food coma from earlier began to sit in. Her legs were tangled in between Sinclair’s, and her body pressed against his as she lazily played with his hair.

There was a drowsy smile on his lips that was so cute! So much so, that she couldn't resist the urge to lean up a little and give him a soft peck.

“Sinclair,” she whispered against his lips, pulling away and blowing some of his golden hair away from his face causing him to hum softly.

“I love you very much, you know that right?” She asked in a whisper as she kissed his cheek before she gazed at his sleepy but happy expression.

“Mhmm of course I do,” he replied. "You wouldn’t have come baked with me if you didn’t? And the pizza? You must love me if you brought me pizza [Y/n] it’s a scientific fact.”

His amber eyes squinted at her question as he was very much falling asleep, yet they were still vibrant and conveyed a joyful emotion that was not dulled by drowsiness. She could also see the odd speck of dark green or grey around his eyes that sometimes made them look hazel when the light hit them just right. Gosh was he a work of wonder! How could one person be so handsome, brilliant, and kind all in one? He was like a dream.

“Weeell,” she drawled, playing with the cosy jumper he had been wearing all day that was so soft against her fingertips. “Do you love me?”

Perking up at that question, he leaned down until the tips of their noses touched and he gently rubbed them together causing her to giggle. “Of course I do! You’re my favourite person in the world! Plus you don’t get mad at me when I go and talk your ear off even if what I’m saying is boring to you.”

She grinned,

“Of course I’m going to listen to you ‘Clair, you deserve to be listened to,” she smiled. "Even though sometimes I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she added making Sinclair nip at her noise like a puppy giving a warning nip.

It caused her to shriek with laughter and he did it again. However, this time he laid on top of her and wrapped his arms tight around her in a warm hug that caused her to snuggle closer to him underneath the blankets. Their breathy laughter filled the air as they kissed once more while [Y/n] also stroked his cheek as his warm lips captured hers briefly.

She could get used to this. The cuddling with him every day, kissing him when he went to work and came back. And really anytime truthfully. And him of course, she could get used to waking up and going to sleep in his arms. Honestly, it sounded like a good life. When they pulled away, Sinclair noted the shine in her eyes and his heart began to beat faster as she always got that shine in her eyes when good news was on its way.

“Well, I guess because I love you so much, and you love me so much I well..maybe it won’t hurt too much for me to move in with you. I could get used to all this cuddling you know?”

It took him a moment to process what she had said, but when he did, a loud shout of joy flew from his lips and almost deafened her. But it was worth the way his entire face brightened and his eyes lit up as if he wasn’t about to fall asleep just a moment ago.

“[Y/n]! This is brilliant, wonderful, oh you’re so wonderful, do you know that?” He asked as he squeezed her tight and made her laugh the sweet sound he loved to hear. “Oh I’m so happy okay we need to get movers, and we can get your stuff here! And your lease, do you want to terminate it early? I know it might cost a bit so if you need any help I’m happy to pay for the fees since I’m making you move. And oh I need to clean the closet so you can have room!”

She watched with a tiny grin as he listed off the things that they would need to do so they could get ready for her move and she couldn’t help the fluttering in her stomach. He was so lovely. And with each little thing he added to their list with enthusiasm, she couldn’t stop how warm her heart felt.

Maybe it knew she had made the right decision, and the thought of it only made her happier as she listened with a sleepy smile to her new roommate's rambling.

A/N: All Sinclair needs is snacks and his girlfriend and he's a happy puppy! Who wouldn't want a man like him 😉😉 I hope everyone gets to have some snacks this holiday and if not, let me know so i can send Sinclair over with cookies!!

Tags: @mercurial-make-em-ups, @deepperplexity

#sinclair x reader #sinclair bryant x reader #rickmas2023 #rickmas #blossom writes #is twinning with millie again🤣

31 notes · View notes

moralesmilesanhour · 10 months ago

Text

AND ANOTHER THING! Going off of my tags on my previous post, outside of me just thinking they're cute I also feel like flowerbyte works better for me purely on a narrative level. One of my biggest pet peeves esp for action movies is when the romantic subplot takes over like half the story without proper development. It doesn't matter WHO it is or how much I like the characters individually I will literally fast forward through every romantic scene if it feels shoehorned in. It makes it so tedious you don't even understand. (Haterism ahead. Well not really 'hate' just mild irritation really. this is looong):

So let's look at Gwen and Miles' relationsip. We start ITSV with Miles basically having a one-sided crush on Gwen. By the end of the film they had just agreed to be friends and have known each other for maybe like a week tops, and *maybe* Gwen reciprocates but it's not extremely clear. Whatever occurs between them in between ITSV and ATSV, we don't see (it's implied that they haven't even seen each other at all for obvious reasons so. oof).

But then we jump into ATSV, and suddenly they're swinging into the sunset talking about how they're "the same"...? Besties. Friends. Niece and nephew. Neither of you know each other dfghjkl

Then the wholeee rest of their scenes together is just the film trying desperately convince us through the music, framing, and even other characters' dialogue that there is romantic (notice how i specify ROMANTIC) tension between these two kids that is just so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. I'm sorry, but is this tension in the room with us right now...? But okay movie.

Now, compare that to the scene in ATSV where Miles and Margo first bump into each other. They're able to establish romantic chemistry almost IMMEDIATELY! One look and a 'hey'. That's all it fuckin' took! They *both* like each other and it's clear as day.

Then right after, Margo is given a quick implied backstory that instantly gives her and Miles a reason to relate to each other that isn't (necessarily) just about them both being Spider-Man (because, in Margo's words, they're ALL Spider-Man and this means you need more than that to form a genuine connection). Neither of them feel like they can be themselves because their environment at home doesn't allow for it, even without the secret identity. Bada-bing bada-boom instant connection in under 5 minutes and I am still awake by the end of it.

Then, finally, we get a scene that shows that they can, to some extent, trust each other. Margo only just met this dude a few scenes ago, but she immediately goes against Miguel's wishes knowing the consequences and attempts to send him back home because her convictions are stronger than her loyalty to Spider Society. Just that act alone makes her a better ally to Miles than like, half the cast at this point.

...And that creates a bit of a dilemma if Gwiles is meant to be endgame.

As literally everyone and their mother have pointed out by now, Gwen is objectively a bad friend to Miles in this film. But...I would also argue that there are very few instances outside of combat in either film where she's even a *good* friend. And that's sort of the point, isn't it? Gwen has been terrible at friendship for the majority of the time we spend with her because she's traumatized from literally murdering the last good friend she had. Then her dad tried to shoot her. Then Miguel-- you know how it goes. She clearly has a long way to go before even a healthy *friendship* with Miles can start to develop. So that leaves me with a few questions:

A) Why did we wait until the last scene of the SECOND FILM for her to finally decide to be a good friend

B) Why didn't they just give Miles and Gwen more scenes together where they actually get to know each other if their relationship is now so important to the story, and:

C) If Gwen's whole journey is about her inability to maintain strong friendships...Why the FUCK is she the love interest then???

Either we all just got baited, or we are now going to have to spend a decent portion of BTSV watching Gwen try to salvage a friendship that was barely even that developed to begin with, convince the guy whose trust she just lost that she would ALSO make a good girlfriend i guess, and all the while there is now another potential love interest that is clearly, *according to the movie itself*, the better option (or so it seems for now). So like...Where do we go from here?? It just feels like a clumsy narrative decision. And if they do the misogynistic ass 'cat-fight' between two female characters over the main guy I will literally commit a felony. So yeah that's where my head is at right now thank you for reading all the way through my tangent over pixels on a screen sorry everybody

#blabbering #u can disagree but keep it cute #these are just things that don't make sense to ME in MY brain #and again we are only talking about narrative for the most part ship who you want i dont care #.

23 notes · View notes

inafieldofdaisies · 1 year ago

Text

WIP Whenever (not me thinking yesterday wasn't Wednesday for a good chunk of it and then being too drained to post... just pretend I ain't late) | Tagged by @direwombat @adelaidedrubman and @nightbloodbix ❤️

I'm coming with Calahan and Mary May POVs for this week's check-in. All the feels, for sure. 💔

Light streamed into the living room of Mary May's place on the second floor of the Spread Eagle, making Calahan change positions and bury his face in the couch cushions in an attempt to get a couple of extra minutes of rest. The previous night, he had sneaked back into the bar with Leslie for a celebratory drink after they had successfully gotten Zorro and his clothes out of his Peggie infested cabin. Once they had parted ways, he had climbed upstairs as quietly as he could and crashed on the couch without a much craved shower, knowing Mary May would be out cold at the late hour and wouldn’t appreciate him barging into her bedroom unannounced. The first thing he heard that early morning as he did his hardest to stay asleep were her footsteps as she left her room and headed for the small kitchen. She was humming under her breath as she made coffee, the scent carrying over to him and teasing his senses. A few minutes later, a cup was placed at the coffee table next to him, and he could feel Mary May looming over the couch. When she didn't move, he reluctantly turned and looked at her with blurry eyes, "Is it an emergency?" He took a second to take in her messy blond hair and oversized t-shirt, ignoring the slightly annoyed look on her face. "Good morning to you, too, Rookie.", she rolled her eyes at his impatient tone before moving back to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. "I could feel you staring, you know.", he retorted and threw a hand over his eyes, deciding he would lay down a little bit longer seeing how for the past few days he had been running around the Valley on so many errands and barely getting any sleep. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, I was making sure you were still breathing. Can't have the Resistance lose its leader." Calahan let out a laugh at her dodging his flirting yet again, "Whatever you say, gorgeous."

Mary May took a seat on the small kitchen table that only had two chairs thanks to the tiny space she was using as living quarters. She bit into a piece of toast before asking, "So how did it go with John's doppelganger? What trouble did you get him into?" "He's got potential, that's for sure. Helped me get my shit from the cabin, and we had fun doing it. Remind me to have a word with Sabrina for hiding him." "And did "your shit" also include a certain raccoon?", she raised an eyebrow. Calahan peeked over the back of the couch, sending a smile her way that usually worked in convincing people to see things his way. With Mary May, sadly, all his tactics seemed to have the opposite effect usually. "Zorro will be on his best behavior, I promise. You won't even notice he's around. Plus… he gives mean foot rubs." "Rookie.", disbelief seeped into her tone. "Fine. The foot rubs were a lie. Though, I can take up on that task." "You ain't coming anywhere near my feet, Rookie." "Your loss. And Zorro?" "You really love gettin' on my nerves early in the morning." Calahan gestured around her living room, "He won't take up much of your space and he will be out with me, anyway." Mary May let out a laugh, the first sign he was getting somewhere, "It's like you're trying to sell me a piece of furniture." "I couldn't leave him behind, gorgeous. He's my son." A huff escaped her, probably at the pout he followed his words with, "He's a raccoon."

"Still my son. He was defending the cabin, you know. Costed one Peggie a finger. Scared the life out of Leslie, too, to the point he tried to flee the room like a bat out of hell. It was hilarious.", he couldn't help the proud smile that emerged at the memory. His words piqued her interest, "Did he now?" "Told you I was teaching him tricks before Joseph's takeover. He is one of us, just stuck in a raccoon body, unable to talk." Mary May rolled her eyes before saying, "Fine. He can stay. Just… keep "your son" in check. I find something in here destroyed, he gets the boot." "You love him, you just don't want to admit it. Thank you.", he blew a kiss her way before lying back down and shifting his gaze up to the ceiling as his mind ran over the potential tasks he could take on next. He was dying to take a drive and check up on Hurk and Sharky, knowing the two were probably in the deep with the cult, but he knew chances were less capable of taking care of themselves people needed his help in the Valley. "Have him scratch a Seed's eye out or something, and I might start to like him." Silence took over as Mary May finished her breakfast while Calahan closed his eyes, set on enjoying the precious minutes of peace, knowing with the County on lockdown that never truly lasted. Eventually, she got up and walked to the couch, her arms came to rest on the back as she leaned over to look at Hartley. "You're staring again.", he muttered before cracking one eye open and meeting her baby blues, "Not that I mind." "Whatever you say, Sleeping Beauty. It's rare that you shut up, forgive me for thinking you had fallen asleep on me." "Sleeping Beauty, huh? There's a proven method to wake me up then, gorgeous." "You say, 'a kiss', I'm banning you from the bar for a week, Rookie." "You're no fun.", he stuck out his tongue, before asking, "So… why did you need me awake?"

Mary May took a deep breath, for once looking uncertain, "I know you have enough on your plate as is and I don't want to join in with all the folks asking you for help…" Calahan rose up to a sitting position that brought him on the same eye level as her when he said in a serious tone, "Whatever you need, just ask." He was well aware only inches separated them to the point he could start counting the freckles scattered across her nose and she seemed to have realized the same thing as her gaze darted to his lips for a second. It happened so quick he could have missed it if he had blinked, but he didn't. You like me, Angel. Too bad you refuse to admit it, let alone act on it. But in a way Calahan was glad about her faking disinterest. He told himself it was for the best, that it would be an unwanted complication in the middle of a holy war, that the last thing he needed was to fall for anyone and he was certain with her it would be unavoidable and as natural as breathing. The biggest trouble I can ever get myself into. He had wholeheartedly expected Mary May to pull back and put more space between them, but as the seconds ticked by, she remained glued to the spot with an unreadable expression on her face. She finally cleared her throat, "I was wondering if you'd help get the Widowmaker back." "Your daddy's truck?" Mary May nodded, sadness swimming in her eyes, "John had his men steal it. And as you know, I was too "preoccupied" to chase after them.", a frown appeared as she added, "Bastard doesn't know how to keep his hands off my things, does he?" "We're getting it back, gorgeous. And the next thing of his I fuck up, you bet would be dedicated to you." A small smile that pulled at his heart erased the scowl, "Can I come with?" "Like you even have to ask me that.", Calahan booped her nose and got up, heading for the bathroom as he called out, "I'm going to put a word out, find where they're keeping the truck."

Mary May watched Hartley disappear into her bedroom and stayed put until she heard the bathroom door close behind him. The second it did, she took it as a sign to move and entered the room, trying to ignore the sound of the running water and the visuals that threatened to appear in her mind. She quickly changed into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, wanting to not waste too much time in case Calahan decided to cut his shower short. She couldn't deny for some reason it had taken her a more than the usual amount of willpower to stop staring at his bare chest as he slept on her couch that morning. The fact he had called her lingering gaze out didn't help matters. Should tell him to find a new place to sleep at or at least shower elsewhere. Definitely to stop walking around shirtless and promise I'd throw him out otherwise. Yeah, he'd have a field day hearing that one. Mary May immediately hated the idea of making him leave, she had grown used to having his presense around the bar and how he was always willing to try to make her crack a smile or offer a distraction from the headaches John Seed was causing her. Calahan Hartley was a ball of chaos, but also a breath of fresh air and a helping hand to anyone that needed assistance at dealing with the cult. Days back John had spared no resources in taking over Fall's End, finally succeeding at closing down the Spread Eagle with her en route back to his bunker, to the hell she had barely escaped last time.

Or so the bastard thought. The victory hadn't lasted long. Just until Hartley had barelled into town in no other than a stolen Peggie truck and wipped out John's men like nobody's business. Then he had rushed at her with worry in his eyes, curse words directed at the youngest Seed spilling out of his mouth as he had cut her free. "Are you hurt, Mary May? 'Cause I swear to God, John won't know what's coming for him… I ain't losing anyone else.", he had asked while he examined her all over, his tone dead serious, promising of good old trouble headed John's way. As she, Calahan and Jerome had pried away the boards nailed to one of the only things her father had left her: the bar and reopened it, Mary May had been the first to offer the Deputy a place to stay when he needed it, feeling like it was the least she could do as a thank you for helping her keep her promise and her old man's wish alive. Off-key singing pulled her out of the memory and she found herself biting back a smile at the idea that the man that was rapidly turning into the Project's number one enemy and had somehow ended up leading a resistance against it, was currently showering in her very bathroom and acting like anything but a vicious vigilante. Not all heroes wear capes, alright. Some work as deputies that have broken more laws than the people they arrest and own a raccoon they consider a son. She quickly exited the bedroom and strode downstairs, set on preparing the bar for the day and putting any thoughts of Hartley at the back burner, where they belonged.

The first thing to greet her were small feet scurrying off across the wooden floors that made her release a sigh before she called out, "Zorro." Initially the name had no effect until seconds later when a head poked out from behind the bar and "Calahan's son" rushed at her, wrapping his paws around her leg in what his owner deemed as "greeting". "Morning to you, too, boy.", Mary May muttered as she stared down at the raccoon, then pointed towards the stairs, "Up to your father you go now. I have to open the bar. Can't have you chasing off paying customers." The raccoon made no move, dark gaze trained on her face, forcing her to repeat more sternly, "Up, Zorro." At the command Zorro finally sprung into action, waddling over to the stairs and sneaking a look her way to see if she was following as he began to climb up. He got half of the way and stopped, making Mary May shake her head, "What? Want me to come too? Fine. Guess I do need to open the door for you. Maybe he should teach you how to do that." The second her boots hit the first step, the raccoon resumed his ascend. "Bit off a Peggie's finger, did ya now?", Zorro's ears perked up as if he understood her words, "Good job.", then she frowned, "And I'm talking to a raccoon. Your daddy is rubbing off on me, Zorro." She pushed open the door that separated the downstairs area and her living quaters and followed him inside at the exact moment Calahan chose to emerge from her bedroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as he dried off his hair with another.

"Jesus, Rookie.", the words left her before she could stop them, winning a laugh out of him. "Thought you headed down. Sorry.", Hartley explained sheepishly, while his smug smile was anything but apologetic and only widening at the fact she was most definitely gawking and yet to get anything else out, "Enjoying the view, gorgeous? For the record, I don't blame you for coming back for more." Pull yourself together. Mary May returned her narrowed gaze back to his face, and after a final look at him, she twirled around and said, "Make sure your son behaves." The door cut off his throaty laughter while she took the stairs two at a time and tried her hardest to stop her mind from wandering into a dangerous territory, of wondering what the small tattoo above his hip spelled. Sure as hell ain't asking him. He won't let me live that one down. Back down in the bar, she made it her mission to exorcize him from her thoughts, focusing on taking down the chairs and making sure everything was in place for opening and when she ran out of tasks to keep her preoccupied, she moved onto the small kitchen, arranging whatever Casey had left out of place. Mary May frowned at the knowledge her only employee was no doubt going to be late, that she had nobody to distract her with small talk.

She was used to Calahan's advances, to his casual flirting, had gotten pretty good at ignoring it all and having an array of reasons why she had to do it. Yet as the months passed and he stuck around, the list with reminders of why getting involved with him was out of the question had suddenly started to become shorter. She was starting to forget. To yearn. It was the worst idea to harbor. Especially now that everything had gone to shit. Maybe I should send him to sleep at the church… make him Jerome's problem. Then she'd be all alone again. Left to dwell on the past, on everything she had lost and regretted. Or she could continue laughing at Calahan's jokes. Have his devilish blue eyes be the first thing she saw each morning. Yes, keeping him around for the time being sounded like the better option. A car engine cut off outside, followed by the jiggle of the bell above the bar's entrance that made her poke her head in through the serving hatch of the kitchen, "We're not open yet." Her breath hitched for a second as her eyes settled on the person that had entered.

Phantom pain shooting across her chest inevitably came next, just like it had with his surprising arrival the day before. It was almost as strong as it had been in that awful moment she had found herself in John Seed's chair, teary eyes staring at him bathed in red hues, her blood becoming one with the room when he made true on his promises of immeasurable pain. Her hopeless screams filling the dead silence, drowning out his patient voice as the realization nobody would come for her sank in. She could still hear his sick reassurances how she had made the right choice by finally "saying Yes" after hours of torture, that the fact she had confessed her "sins" meant she was a step closer to his precious Eden. The twisted delight in his blue gaze still haunted her. The memory lingered just like the crude scar he had left he with. Seeing Hudson on screen anytime she turned on the TVs in the bar only reopened her old wounds. You're still standing. Free. Alive. The bar is open. He hasn't won. And never will. "Morning, Mary May. Should I come back then? Figured I could catch up with Cal before he runs off somewhere.", the apologetic tone and genuine smile were a quick reminder she wasn't facing the man that had made it his job to destroy everything she held dear. Not that she would ever actually confuse the two, but she had to admit the resemblance was quite jarring and she'd need time to get used to not wincing at the sight of his face.

"Ah, now, as the owner of this fine establishment, I can always make an exception, Detective. Anything to drink?" Leslie shook his head as he pulled out one of the chairs at the bar and sat down. "Still not at the stage where I'm morning drinking." "Stick around some more, and you'd get there, Les. It's a rite of passage for anyone settling down in the County ever since the Seeds came along.", Mary May retorted as she exited the kitchenette and slipped into her usual spot. Gary Fairgrave used to have those days where he'd throw back a glass of bourbon while cursing the Project to hell and back before heading off towards the bar after bidding her and her mother a goodbye. "I knew that family was rotten down to the root from the moment they got here. Shit smells like shit, no matter how much french perfume you spray on it.", it was what her old man used to say, taking pride in how his gut instinct had been right about the Seeds. Years later, she was the only one left from the Fairgraves to carry on his legacy and keep the deep-seated hate alive. Leslie gave her a sad smile, seeming at struggle with his own demons, "It all feels like a nightmare, yet my alarm for work is yet to ring and wake me up." A grimace pulled at her features, and her hands set back to straightening the pile of glass coasters at the bar, ignoring how many of them had Calahan's phone number on them, "Wish I could say things would get better…"

"Hope.", Leslie muttered with a strange look. "Hm?", she couldn't help her bitter laugh. "It's what we always have left. Hope. Sabrina would always tell me that. Tell it to any worried family we had to meet with." His words made her release a sigh, "You two are going to find her." Yet a part of her worried. That John had his claws deep into the bright-eyed Deputy. That Calahan was wrong about Sabrina's unwavering conviction. That maybe she had been a traitor all along, and all of them had just failed to see it. Whistling carried from the stairs accompanied by Calahan taking the steps quickly, and in record time, he was at Leslie's side. "My new partner returns.", he exclaimed in a greeting before playfully slapping his back and taking the seat next to him. "Come on, my boy.", Hartley reached down and picked up Zorro from the ground. "Chairs are for paying-" "-customers.", he finished her complaint as he set the raccoon down in one of the empty chairs, "Come on, gorgeous, how can you turn down such a cute face?" Mary May frowned at his puppy dog eyes and the fact they were working. A little. "Doesn't change the fact he's an animal." "A member of the Resistance. And… I was talking about myself." "You ain't cute, Rookie."

Leslie choked back a laugh as Calahan rubbed at his chest, groaning in pain for good measure, "One day, you're gonna realize what you're missing, gorgeous. And I won't be looking for payback for these insults. Too much." He sent a wink her way before clicking his tongue at Zorro in a signal, then turning to Leslie, "Shall we go then, partner? See what plans of John's we can sabotage?" The detective was the first to get up, followed by no other than Calahan's son on the way to the door. Hartley remained seated as he regarded her with a heated expression before leaning over the bar the same way he had earlier that morning and whispering, "I will see to locating what you need me to find. Try not to think about me too much while I'm gone." All she could seem to do was exhale and then involuntary inhale his scent while his baby blues stayed glued to hers. "Thank you for breakfast, by the way. I sure can get used to it." "You gonna start paying me rent, Rookie?", she finally managed to croak out, adding, "For two preferably." Calahan ignored her words and the fact he had someone waiting on him and observing the whole thing, "Can you feel this?" "Hmm?", she gave him a confused look, refusing to back away first and prove that he was getting to her. "How good we could be… if only you weren't so damn stubborn." He moved back, finally putting space between them again and with another wink was gone. Mary May stared at the door, willing for the pesky longing to go away and refusing to admit how for a second, it felt like he had taken all the oxygen from the room with him.

Tagging @clicheantagonist @josephseedismyfather @socially-awkward-skeleton @thesingularityseries @detectivelokis @aceghosts @madparadoxum @chazz-anova @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @voidika @harmonyowl @v0idbuggy @strangefable @schoute @jacobsneed @strafethesesinners @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @nightwingshero @josephslittledeputy @euryalex @florbelles @neonneurons @simplegenius042 @vampireninjabunnies-blog and anyone with something to share ❤️

41 notes · View notes

pawseds · 8 months ago

Text

I convinced our Delta Green game master to have a play-by-post (basically text roleplay) section in our game's server and uhhhhh maybe I've been having too much fun with it. Writing is faster than drawing comics, what can I say?

(Long ramble about writing stories below hehe oops)

While we're here! A bit about writing: I like writing! I've written for loger than I've drawn for (because school). I think I'm better at writing than drawing for that reason (I'm more confident at least). I've written short stories. I've written short stories about TTRPG things. I've also written a ~100k word novel by hand for 2 years. While writing it, I had 'writing class' (technically AS/A level Ennglish Language classes). It was the only class I had confidence in and high expectations for.

With those 2 combined, I burnt out pretty quick LOL. Specifically, I had a big perfectionism issue because of the high expectations I had from my teacher and especially myself -- it was the one thing I knew excelled at in school, so I better do it well! After I was done with the novel and A levels, I was supposed to edit the novel. It's been years and I haven't done it yet, and I wouldn't write non-assignment stories (except 2) until now. Writing became more nerverwracking than it was fun, so why would I?

To get back to the PBP thing: I've been in a campaign that was fully PBP. With my mindset being the way it is, hey! This is just one big writing exercise, so I ran along with that and had fun with it. I saw how some players would make their own PBP and essentially monologue/have a scene only with their PC. That was cool to see.

And now, my current Delta Green campaign (tagged 'Helvetia'). Hrothgar (guy in drawing) and his kids were ported over from a previous D&D campaign (the fully PBP one!), so the crew had a very well defined background already. Of course I get tons of drawing ideas for them, except I don't have the time to draw them all (compsci hard). But since the server has a PBP section, I had like 2 weeks to kill between session 0 and 1, and I was bursting with ideas... I made a lot of solo PBPs that were essentially short stories.

It didn't quite hit me until some time ago, but the PBPs actually made me enjoy writing again -- enjoy it a lot more, in fact! I think the format of Discord threads and messages removed most perfectionism tendencies I had. I just had to fire the story away, message by message. It didn't have to be amazing, and it was fun! (Also I really don't know how to shut up with them LOL)

I'll definitely be cleaning these PBPs up and posting them here as stories. Some of them are just silly, fun, slice-of-life character sketches. (These were the stories I wrote after my novel... and yes, they were about my other set of Delta Green characters LMAO) (and I've posted them here under pawsedswrite btw!) But some I see as legitamite short stories that I would edit more heavily and present as a short story. They were the kinds I could see myself writing on a document rather than on Discord.

Well, I lied. 'I would edit' is false. I have already edited one, because I spent like 5-6h writing this one PBP (oops) instead of writing the draft for my short story class/elective (oops 2). I joked to my two friends saying that I could just submit it as my assignment. Apparently, they both really liked it and said the dialogued slapped. So I did!

I procrastinated like hell on it though, because I was very nervous to go back into the PBP with an axe to edit it. Being in a writing class where nearly everyone else has been formally studying writing for some years kinda puts some pressure on ya!

Like the last assignment (which I'll post here after editing), I had a lot of worries. But the feedback and grade I got from my last assignment, the peer review I got from the current one, and also the support from those two friends (shoutout @katastrofish <3) made me feel more confident in myself. And also the fact that I had a lot of fun editing the PBP!

Uhhh this ramble was way longer than expected LMFAO if you've made it this far, damn, thanks for reading! If you also write or have similar experiences, feel free to share em. And have a good day!

(bonus POV editing)

11 notes · View notes

crimsonedquill · 1 year ago

Text

Lost Love Pt. 2 (Ominis Gaunt x f!reader)

Tags: some angst, hurt/comfort

By popular demand, I'm back to deliver maximum emotional damage!

So yes, this is a fic to wrap up my previous Sebastian x jealous f!reader angst post (which I didn't expect to return to tbf!). Like I mentioned previously, making my foray into writing sebby content has been fun, but I'm going to try to focus on other characters for a bit now. (Will still do HCs and drabbles for him, though)

Thanks for all the love and positive feedback 🖤

The funeral of Solomon Sallow was attended by just three – Anne, Ominis, and you. Anne had first insisted on doing it all by herself, though you were glad Ominis had been able to convince her otherwise, seeing as she was in no fit state to bear this alone.

You held her as she paid her last respects. She placed a black rose on the freshly dug soil before turning her tear-streaked face to Ominis. “Ominis, would you…”

“Of course,” Ominis said, inclining his head. He stepped forward and drew a deep breath, taking a moment to find the right words before he proceeded. “Solomon Sallow was… flawed, like any one of us. He was a man of great passion and conviction, and his ways could often be brash and fiery. But let us not mistake his gruffness for malice, for his love for his kin knew no bounds. His every action was driven by a deep and abiding desire to protect and care for those he held dear. Let us find comfort in the knowledge that he died as he lived, standing between his family and adversity.”

He stepped back and the three of you stood in silence, the only sound coming from the wind blowing over the small hill. As Anne leaned her head on your shoulder to cry, you felt the familiar onset of doubt consume you. Part of you wished Sebastian was there with you, though you couldn’t say why – was it because you felt he had a right to, or because you wanted him to suffer, to feel the consequences of his deeds? You couldn’t say for certain. These past few days, you’d been experiencing so many emotions that it was often like you weren’t feeling anything at all. You’d give everything for a good cry right now.

After a few minutes, Anne said she was ready to leave and you led her back to the house, Ominis wandering beside you. Once you were inside, the frail girl sank into a chair, clutching her side as she winced. “Thank… thank you both, for everything. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Nonsense,” Ominis said. “It’s the least I could have done to repay you for your kindness over the years. I’m sure Y/N feels the same way.”

You nodded. “It’s no trouble at all, Anne. And I just want to say, if you change your mind about leaving –”

The Sallow girl shook her head resolutely. “I know you worry, but I need to do this. There’s nothing left for me here, and… I don’t know if I’ll ever find it in my heart to forgive my brother for what he’s done. I just need to get away and think for a very long time.”

“Know that you can always write us if you’re ever in need of counsel, or anything at all really,” Ominis said. “Please take good care of yourself, Anne.”

Anne nodded softly, and the two of you said your goodbyes. You were grateful for the breeze of fresh air once you stepped outside, though it did little to loosen the iron glove tightly closed around your heart.

“You did well back there,” you said to Ominis. “Those were beautiful words.”

“I hope it gave her some comfort, at the very least. Though if I were to be fully honest, nothing about this feels right.”

“I’ll say. You think she’ll be all right?”

“I do,” he answered, his voice lacking scepticism to your relief. “She’s stronger than she appears. Now, tell me, how are you feeling?”

You shuffled your feet, not even daring to meet his empty gaze. “I’m not certain it matters how I’m feeling at the moment.”

“It matters to me. Just because Anne chooses to bear this on her own does not mean that you have to as well. We only have each other to rely on now, it would be foolish to squander that –”

It happened within a matter of seconds. You hadn’t meant to kiss him; the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Yet before you could even process what was happening, you could feel Ominis’ lips touching yours, a maelstrom of thoughts and feelings scrambling your mind. Both of your breaths were heavy when you pulled apart.

You were the first to speak up: “I… I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done that –”

“We shouldn’t have,” he agreed. “But I… I think I understand. You must feel confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I do, but that shouldn’t be an excuse. Let’s just… forget about this and head back to the castle, all right?”

He agreed. You didn’t bring up the subject again on your way back, though you noticed how your eyes kept drifting off to look at his profile. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were thinking; that somehow, it had felt right.

— — —

You had not seen Sebastian ever since Professor Weasley had excused him from his regular schedule to give him time to mourn his uncle, though this didn’t mean his presence wasn’t hanging over you, like a dark spectre. In fact, the longer the hollow feeling in your chest persisted, the more you became convinced it was stemming from your inability to confront him. You briefly considered asking Ominis to accompany you to see him, but eventually you gathered all of your courage and went to his dorm alone, your heart rapidly beating in your chest when you knocked on the door.

“What do you want?” a bitter voice sounded from inside. You felt something sting, like a needle – he sounded almost like a completely different person. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding yourself face to face with Sebastian Sallow – or what was left of him. His hair was unkempt, he had bags under his eyes and his once rosy cheeks had paled to the point where you could almost see through him. It occurred to you that you only now realised what a human shell looked like.

“Y/N!” He stood up from his bed so fast that he knocked over the pile of books sitting next to it. You were thankful for the interruption, if only so you didn’t have to look him in the eye. You picked up one of the books and handed it over to him. “I see you’ve taken up reading again.”

“I never stopped. Anne’s situation hasn’t changed. I can’t give up on her, not now she needs me the most.”

“After everything that happened?” you asked, trying not to sound too scornful. “You do realise that your unbridled pursuit of any means to cure your sister was what led to all this trouble in the first place, right?”

“Of course I do!” he snapped back, his face contorting with anger. “But you honestly can’t expect me to –”

You don’t know what it was that snapped him back to reality, but the gaze in his eyes suddenly softened, and he sank onto the bed as he scratched his head. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You need to give yourself time to grieve. All of this, the guilt you’re bearing – you might not want to admit it, but it’s consuming you.”

“No,” he said, beginning to ramble again. “No, I can’t. Anne is depending on me. I must –”

“Sebastian.” You were surprised at the power in your own voice, as was he. “Listen to me. Your sister is leaving.”

“Leaving?” He looked at you in confusion. “To where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere far away from Feldcroft.”

“But… I don’t understand.” The sudden panic in his voice made you swallow, though you tried to keep a straight face. “How can – why hasn’t she told me anything?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” you said icily. “She can’t bear the thought of her own brother being a murderer, Sebastian. That’s why. She doesn’t want to face you because she isn’t sure she will ever be able to forgive you for what happened.”

The rising tension in the air was palpable as you stood there, waiting for his response. You watched him, trying to read his face for any signs that reality was dawning on him, but what had once been second nature to you now seemed like an impossible task. Your heart sank as you saw his features hardening, darkness returning to his eyes.

“This was Ominis, wasn’t it?” he asked. “He put her up to this.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “After all this, your only response is to blame your friend?” you asked, not knowing whether to be mad or shocked.

“Some ‘friend’,” Sebastian seethed. “He’s been against me right from the beginning. Pretending to care, just to stab me in the back in the end.”

“He lied just so you wouldn’t have to go to Azkaban for what you did!” you yelled.

“And I suppose I ought to be grateful? Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need his sympathies – and the same goes for you.”

At last, you felt something inside you giving away, perhaps the last piece of the wall between your lingering feelings and the rising tide of anger that had been consuming you for weeks. When you spoke, your voice was steady, but chillingly cold. “You should know that I dreaded facing you today. I was terrified of seeing my friend hurting like this – the boy who’d always been watching over me since I was little, who never once hesitated to stand up for me even if it got him into trouble. The boy who I knew I cared much more for than a friend, even though I never dared confess that to him, because our companionship was dearer to me than my personal feelings. But I think I’ll rest a whole lot easier now that I know that person is gone. Goodbye, Sebastian.”

You left without giving him an opportunity to respond. Tears were burning in the corners of your eyes, and by the time you had reached your own dorm they were flowing freely, spilling memories of a dead past.

— — —

It was practically a miracle that you managed to pass most of your O.W.L.s after everything that had transpired in the last couple of weeks, though you mostly credited it to Sebastian slowly disappearing from your mind. Ominis and you had helped each other through it, studying together until late in the evening and questioning each other at breakfast, and at last your letters arrived, informing you both that you had cleared all of your required classes. Now, you found yourself in the Slytherin common room, chuckling to yourself as you watched a mildly intoxicated Imelda standing on a table with a mug of Butterbeer in her hand, leading the crowd in chanting house songs. You quietly left for some fresh air, spotting a familiar face out on the viaduct.

“Good evening,” you smiled as you approached Ominis. “The choice of music tonight wasn’t to your liking?”

“That was supposed to be music?” he retorted.

You chuckled as you stood next to him, leaning against the short wall. It was a beautiful night out, the light of a bright moon dancing on the ripples of the quiet lake. You were content to just stand there without saying anything, but then he spoke up: “I heard you spoke to Sebastian. I chose not to bring it up because I didn’t want you to be distracted, but –”

“Please, can we just not –” You sighed before recollecting yourself. “I just… I want to stop thinking about him. He’s made his choices and I’ve made my peace with that.”

He turned his head slightly in your direction. “Have you?”

“I thought I could save him, that there was something I could say to get him to change, to see the error of his ways… but then I realised that I was just feeding into my own delusion. I care about him, and I still think that I would give him my forgiveness if he sincerely asked for it, but his burden isn’t mine to carry. He needs to find his way out of this on his own. And I need to think about my own future as well.”

He was silent for a moment, as if to weigh your words. You noticed you were slightly nervous to hear his judgement, but he simply nodded. “I feel the same way. The best course of action for us to take right now is to focus on our own healing, lest we’re doomed to repeat the mistakes that led us here.”

You looked at your feet. “I’ve been giving all of it a great deal of thought lately. Some things more than others.”

“Such as?”

“What a potential future could look like, for you, and me.” You felt a familiar warmth in your stomach. You’d never paid much attention to it, but you had to admit Ominis was quite handsome, his almost noble features illuminated by the pale moonlight. “I was hesitant to bring it up because I feared I was simply looking for consolation after Sebastian… but then I realised there is more to it than that. You’ve always cared for me, Ominis. I wouldn’t blame you for desiring to stay friends after everything that happened, but I want to be candid about my feelings… this time.”

You took a deep, shivering breath. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He didn’t reply at first, clearly taken slightly aback by your confession. Then he leaned forward and easily found your lips, as if his blindness wasn’t a hindrance at all. He gently cupped your cheek as you kissed, his other hand reaching down to hold yours, squeezing it to put you at ease, to offer you the comfort of his warmth.

Eventually, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know where this will lead us,” he said. “But I would very much like to find out.”

“I’d like that too,” you smiled.

— — —

“Will you write to me?”

You had to slightly raise your voice to avoid being drowned out by the noise coming from the locomotive and the excited chatter of the students around you. Ominis smiled, reaching out his hand as an invitation for you to grab it. You took it, rubbing his palm with your thumb.

“Of course I will,” he assured you. “Every day, if need be.”

You stood on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” you replied, thankfulness sounding through in your voice, “for being patient with me. I’ll admit I was afraid, but –”

“You owe me no explanation,” he replied. “I simply wish the best for you. We can take as long as you need.”

You chuckled. “Where did you learn to be such a gentleman?”

“There are some secrets I cannot divulge, even to you, my dearest. Now, you should probably be on your way.”

“Yeah, probably…” You took his other hand, the thought of letting him go paining your heart. You looked into his pale eyes. “I’ll miss you, Ominis.”“We will be seeing each other again before you know it,” he said. And as you once again closed your eyes and felt his lips against yours, you felt safe, knowing that somehow, everything would be all right.

— — —

“We’re here,” the coachman announced. Sebastian muttered a quick thanks before stepping off, pulling up his hood to shield himself from the rain. After the coach departed, he turned around and began to walk toward the lone house in the distance.

He had meant to say goodbye to them. He’d been practising it in his head for days – what to say, how to best put his thoughts on everything that happened. How to convey his sincerity when he apologised for everything he’d put them through. He wouldn’t have expected them to forgive him right away, but he had at least hoped it could be their first step on their long way to healing.

He’d changed his mind and left as soon as he had seen them share a kiss.

It wasn’t that he was upset, or mad at them. If any, he would say he had been more or less expecting her to turn to Ominis after what he’d done to her. Still, he regretted that it had taken the sight of his best friends finding comfort in each other for him to finally get a sense of the damage he had inflicted. They were all gone now – his uncle, Anne, his friends. Driven away, all by his own fault.

Had it been worth it? Had it been worth chasing after false hope, burning everything he had held dear?

He opened the door. His feet crossed the threshold, leaving muddy puddles on the floor. His footsteps echoed through the silence, the sole sound in a space devoid of life.

He was alone.

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader

112 notes · View notes

spikedsoul · 2 years ago

Text

maid's worst nightmare - ch 38

sorry y'all, i'm just realizing it's taking me a month between shortass chapters and i feel bad ;o; just been stupidly busy and hyperfixated on games i recently got. i'll try to post more often but as usual i can't promise, so thank y'all for sticking with me!

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

"We can talk about it later, but not in front of the kids!" you whispered harshly to Bowser as he carried you toward the waiting boys. From your angle, you could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he was struggling to hold back a smirk - and you could also see Morton and Ludwig exchanging glances with each other as they stood waiting in the shadow of the stadium wall.

Junior was the one to speak up as the two of you drew closer.

“You’re late!” the little koopa huffed, pointing an accusing claw at you and Bowser. “What took you so long?!”

“You two get a little tangled up at lunchtime?” Ludwig snickered.

Fuck, they were gonna make you blush and give away that yes, that’s what happened, and you really didn’t want to admit that to the kids… or at least, you didn’t want to admit it with Junior there.

You did your best to roll your eyes convincingly; Ludwig probably wouldn’t buy it, but you were hoping Morton and Junior would. Before you could speak up, though, Bowser beat you to it: “Actually, we had to swing by sister’s room so she could measure this li’l maid for some new clothes. Peach said it could be a few more weeks ‘fore she can go home.”

Morton put his hands on his hips, his eyes squinted in suspicion even as he nodded. “Alright… then why are you carrying her? There’s no reason for that unless she can’t walk, so are you telling me she also hurt her leg or something to warrant this?”

Damn it, Morton was too smart for his own good! And Ludwig just looked smug as hell. He knew.

“Can’t a maid trip down the stairs without getting grilled about it?” you mumbled as you brought your hands to your face. “Also don’t I have a race to ref? Let’s get to that. Still haven’t seen the inside of this stadium track and I’m eager to.”

Ludwig snickered softly. “Alright, alright. We’ll get everything powered up; you two just go get settled.”

“Papa?” You glanced down at Junior at his voice - only to see him staring intently and thoughtfully at the pair of you. Bowser hummed softly to encourage the little koopa to continue; you could feel the vibrations in his chest. “Are you still gonna try to capture Peach?” Junior’s eyes were now solidly fixed on you.

Outwardly, Bowser didn’t seem to react, but you could feel him tense. It seemed even Junior was onto him.

“I dunno, kiddo. Maybe if she wants help gettin’ that short guy to chase her, but I think it’s time I let her go, huh?” the king said rather tactfully. You made a note to praise him for that - the other kids already didn’t like Peach, so you were oddly proud that he was openly telling them he was moving on.

Wait, why was Junior pointing at you with that grin on his snout?

“Mama,” he stated.

Your face flushed immediately and you hid behind your hands again. “I’m too young to be a mom!” you protested despite being perfectly old enough to be at least a young mother.

The boys all broke out into cackling and scurried off without another word, leaving you and Bowser standing there near the stairs that led up into the stadium. By now, you were pretty certain they had planned that, even if Ludwig had to probably explain what was happening to Junior and Morton. The two older boys had probably intentionally convinced Junior to call you Mama now instead of Peach, and if you were honest, you had no idea how you really felt about that.

All in all, it was probably inevitable given that you intended to stay by Bowser’s side much longer than a few more weeks, and so you probably wouldn’t have avoided the ‘Mama’ tag indefinitely - you just hadn’t expected Junior to so quickly turn around on who his mother figure would be.

Maybe he hadn't, actually. Maybe they got him to say it just to see how you'd react. Yeah, honestly that seemed more likely…

"So," Bowser grunted as he started up the stairs, "Now that you're officially Mama to my youngest… that makes me Daddy, right?" He grinned broadly, obviously proud of himself for circling back to that conversation.

"Maybe," you hummed, hoping it would humble him a little.

"Definitely," he chuffed. "Definitely yes."

He finally crested the stairs and started down the stone hallway that blocked your view of the stadium. You were definitely getting excited to see what all was in store for this race. So excited, in fact, that you were happy to drop the subject of what he wanted you to call him - you couldn't even help wiggling just slightly in his arms as some of the track began to come into the limited view of the hallway.

"Excited?" he rumbled, gently squeezing you to him; at least he had the decency to change topics, and you enjoyed the closeness.

You lightly rubbed your cheek on his chest as you replied, "Yeah, honestly. I don't think I've ever seen anything like a race track before."

"Wait until ya see it workin'."

Electricity suddenly thrummed through the air just a few steps away from the hallway exit, and you sucked in a breath as the ground itself briefly shuddered. Subconsciously, you reached up and curled your fingers around Bowser's spiked collar, your knuckles lightly pressing against his soft, warm scales. You felt him gently squeeze you again in an effort to help you keep calm.

Bowser rumbled softly as he finally stepped into the light of the buzzing stadium. Your eyes went wide in awe as you took in the grand sight in front of you.

There was a straight stretch of road that ran along the seats, the starting/finish line off to the right a little; a loud sound off to your left had your head whipping around, just to see a pair of thwomps slowly warming up, one of them just lifting from the ground. The road past them was swallowed up by a massive castle-like structure, no doubt with more hazards lying in wait. To the right, down a ways from the line, was a little block with balls of fire slowly popping out of it in a spinning obstacle. Your nose wrinkled as the smell of sulfur wafted over the seating area. On both sides, transparent boxes are slowly appearing with question marks on them.

"Well, my dear?" Bowser purred. He gave you a few minutes to take it in before turning to head up more stairs, straight to a spot that was obviously reserved for him: a tall throne-like chair with a cushy-looking cushion on the seat for his heavy body.

Sitting on top of the cushion was a blanket, no doubt for you just in case of a blizzard, and an envelope with Bowser's name in fancy script.

"It's incredible," you murmured. "I can't wait to see the race in action. But how will we keep track of the boys when they're on the rest of the track?"

He hummed softly, shifting you into one arm and carefully clearing his seat of the items. "A screen'll pop up showin' the boys when they get outta sight. Lakitus are gonna be positioned around the track to get us good angles."

You nodded a bit, settling in his lap carefully. That was interesting, but you didn't have time to comment before you could see the boys slowly driving their karts up to the starting line.

"Oh! Here they come!" You grinned, resisting the urge to wave at the boys. They didn't seem to be looking your way anyway.

You forgot to bring up the envelope and Bowser didn't care to remind you.

#bowser #bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser jr #bowser junior #morton koopa jr #ludwig von koopa #super mario bros #fanfic #fanfiction

62 notes · View notes