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walkingchemicalfire · 3 years ago

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5 times Whumpee Heard “Look at me.”

+1 Time They Said It

@whumpmasinjuly Day 9 prompt: “Look at me”

A/N: So this is six snippets throughout a Whumpee’s journey. I’m combining the WIJ prompt with my secret sunflower gift for the greatest person and my dear friend, Fae @whumpywhumper

CW: torture, knives, stress position, tied up, blood loss, bleeding out, stabbed, oxygen mask, intubated whumpee, vague gaslighting, reference to being muzzled, panic attacks, reference to paralysis, learning to walk

~~~~~~

From Whumper:

Whumpee jolts awake at the sound of the keys jangling outside the door. Whumper is back and going to hurt them again. This had been the routine for the last two weeks. Whumper had abducted them and tortured them every day since. It was the only thing Whumpee could rely on.

The door opens and there stands Whumper, twirling their favorite knife with a bemused smile on their face that made Whumpee’s gut curdle in fear. They turn their face away and shut their eyes, trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

“Ah, ah, ah, Whumpee,” Their voice dripped with false playfulness as they grip their chin and dig their nails into the skin “Look at me.” They demand. Whumpee whimpers but does so, met with the sight of Whumper’s smirk and their blade coming closer and closer until they feel it against their collarbone.

Whumper takes their time moving the steel across Whumpee’s chest, never cutting, although they could do so easily, just gliding it back and forth. Whumpee looks into their captor’s eyes as they stutter out a desperate, “P-please,”

“Aww, begging so sweetly already?” Whumper asks before they flash a wicked grin and slice across Whumpee’s pectoral. Whumpee immediately cries out and Whumper claps their palm over their mouth. Whumpee squeezes their eyes closed so tightly they feel like they might seal them shut forever.

“Hey!” Whumper shouts and Whumpee snaps their eyes open. “I said I wanted you to look at me.” They cut another matching slice on the other pectoral while keeping eye contact with Whumpee. “I want to see your eyes as you fall to pieces.”

~~~~~~

From Caretaker:

Their wrists stung sharply in the restraints over their head. They couldn’t feel their arms, but their shoulders were wrenched up so tightly that was enough agony for a lifetime. But the worst was their back, oh god, their back. Whumpee wished that their back was numb like their arms. In fact, if they're wishing for things, they wish they could go back and not ask for the whip instead of the knife. Stupid, so stupid. All they wanted was to not have the knife again. It always hurt so bad, but that was nothing to the whip. They know better now.

Their toe slips off the edge of the stool and they gasp as all their pain roars to life. Their foot scrambles in the air as their other begins to lose traction as well. Panicked, they look down their body to try to see their target, but their vision whites out and they cant see, they cant see--

“Whumpee!” Caretaker’s voice reaches through Whumpee’s fog “Hey, hey, hey, Whumpee, Whumpee, look at me, look at me!” The voice sounds urgent so Whumpee listens and obeys. They spot Caretaker tied to a chair down below them. Caretaker tries to smile when they lock eyes “There you go, just like that, Whumpee. Just keep looking at me. You can get through this, I know you can, just look at me.”

Whumpee didn’t feel so scared anymore, not while gazing into Caretaker’s determined brown eyes. They are safe with them.

~~~~~~

From Whumper (and Caretaker):

This was the end. They were sure of it this time. Whumper had shoved the blade in too deeply this time. They had nicked something vital and now Whumpee was fading away. They already felt cold, they knew it wouldn’t be much longer, then this hell would finally be over. They would be free of Whumper. That sounded nice.

“Couldn’t just be quiet, could you?” Whumper seethes, standing over them. “Couldn’t just be my good little Whumpee like I taught you huh?” They wipe the blood soaked blade across their shirt. “And now look at me,” Whumper sighs “Having to put down my best, right in their prime.” They shake their head “Such a waste, look what you made me do, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s vision swims and their head lolls to the side. They see Caretaker pounding on the thick glass window. Their mouth is open in a soundless scream, or at least soundless to Whumpee, their ears aren't working so well right now. They can’t think of why. Thoughts are hard, maybe they should just sleep. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.

Whumpee drifts off, the last thing they see is Caretaker’s fierce brown eyes and their mouth moving to say silently, Look at me!

~~~~~~

From Rescuer:

Something is on their face. It’s covering their mouth and nose and they, oh no, it’s the muzzle again and they can’t breathe, they’re going to suffocate and there’s no air, they can’t do this again, they can’t--

“Hey there, take it easy,” a voice says nearby and their eyes shift over to find Rescuer. When did their eyes open? Were they open the whole time? Whumpee sees something in their lower peripheral, is it the muzzle? No, can’t be, this thing is plastic? It crosses the bridge of their nose and rests on their cheeks and under their chin. They don’t like it and try to shake it off.

“Ah, don’t do that,” Rescuer tells them, “It’s an oxygen mask, it’s helping you.”

“Nnnn…” Whumpee moans, letting their eyes close, wanting the darkness again.

“C’mon Whumpee, stay with me.” Rescuer taps their cheek until they drag their heavy eyelids open again, distant and unfocused. “That’s it, just look at me. You’re safe now.” They smile down at them when their eyes finally come to rest on Rescuer. “We found you.”

Whumpee opens their mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a harsh cough muffled by the mask over their face. Their eyes roll in their head and they hear Rescuer shouting and they’re being jostled and it hurts. Time to check out now.

~~~~~~

From Caretaker:

Whumpee floats on their cloud, not concerned with anything else but resting. It’s nice here, soft and so much nicer than with Whumper. Whumpee frowns and banishes the thought. They don’t want to think of Whumper now, it’s better this way.

“Whumpee? Can you hear me?” A familiar voice drifts down to them. They frown again, this time in concentration, they know this voice, but who is it? “You’re frowning,” The voice says and Whumpee looks around, not aware that they are being watched, but there is no one in the clouds with them. “I hope you can hear me, because I’ve got some things to tell you.”

“I can hear you,” Whumpee says but they don’t think the voice can hear them because they just continue on.

“I’m so sorry, Whumpee. I-I failed you. I failed you in the worst way possible and this,” They take a big gulp of air “This is all my fault.” The voice sounds sad and Whumpee doesn’t like that. It should sound strong and safe paired with beautiful brown eyes and, oh! Caretaker! That’s Caretaker’s voice!

Caretaker sighs “Please wake up and look at me,” There’s a ghostly caress to their cheek, Caretaker loves to touch them there and Whumpee can’t help but lean into it. “Please, just let me know you’re going to be okay.” Caretaker gets choked up and Whumpee listens to their stifled cries, following the sound through the clouds, up and up until they pop out the other side.

There’s no soft clouds here, but the hospital bed is nice enough. Whumpee takes their time coming back. Their body feels heavy but also loose. There are beeping and quiet whooshing sounds from somewhere. They want to find what is making the sounds so they push their eyes open and blink around hazily. Their throat feels thick and they cough to clear it, quickly realizing they can’t. They’re intubated. A tube is down their throat attached to a machine that is breathing for them.

Suddenly, Caretaker’s face is filling up their vision. “Oh my god, hi Whumpee, hi sweetheart.” Caretaker hastily wipes their eyes with one hand, still cupping Whumpee’s cheek with the other. “You did it, you came back to me.”

Whumpee blinks slowly in response and Caretaker chuckles in relief “Yeah, I know you’re still tired, it’s okay, you can rest all you want now.” Whumpee feels Caretaker brush their lips over Whumpee’s forehead as they fade back into the clouds “I'll be right here when you wake up again.” Whumpee likes the sound of that.

~~~~~~

From Themself:

Recovery is difficult, to say the least. Putting one foot in front of the other is a struggle, literally. Everyday, Whumpee pushes themself to take one step more, just one more. Step by step, they make their way across the room. It was always the hardest part to get moving, but once they started, they could keep going.

Today is a big day. They are going to walk across the entire room without any support from the physical therapist. They are going to walk all the way to Caretaker. Whumpee had kept Caretaker away while they learned to walk again. At the beginning, they had been embarrassed and ashamed at all the times they fell down or even simply tripped. As time went on and Whumpee got better, they changed their tune and kept Caretaker away in order to surprise them with how far they’ve come.

They watched their feet make the first few steps before looking up into Caretaker’s eyes and beaming brightly “Look at me, Caretaker! I’m doing it!”

Caretaker’s eyes grow misty as they watch Whumpee take confident steps all the way over to them. They scoop them up into a big hug when they take the final step, their heart overflowing with pride.

“You did it, Whumpee! I’m so proud of you!” Caretaker exclaims, peppering kisses across Whumpee’s brow and face.

Whumpee giggles and pats Caretaker’s cheek, gazing into their soft brown eyes. “Thank you, Caretaker, I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“We made it together, Whumpee.” Caretaker replies, hugging them tightly to their chest “Always together.”

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organic-guacamole · 3 years ago

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episode 210 here we go

awww seb doing the intro

congratulations to milky white and her baby chocolate milk😌

seb is so funny

but seriously, clean up that milk fast or else it will smell so bad in there....

was that Lauryn just randomly doing cartwheels? idk any theatre kids irl but that seems like it's a common thing...

is it just me or has ms Jenn been getting more harsh to Ricky and Seb mainly-

like what did they do to her

no because I actually snorted with laughter at the "you came back" WHAT IS THAT VOICE-

AND THE MASK OMG

yeah so my throat hurts now

I'm dying over here

KOURTNEY'S FACE

SAME GIRL SAME

Ricky's fake death got the whole place in tears /s

he looks like an asthmatic walrus

Seb's on piano, I love

we all know if he was the beast we'd all actually be crying✋

ok but I listen to Julia's version of home on Spotify when I want to cry-

right so gimme a second

is Ricky scratching his face.....while he's dying?

"belle i-" *flop*

round of applause to Ashlyn for trying to make Ricky's earthworm seizure look less.... yknow

Kourtney's just dying there

WAIT IS THAT NATALIE

did she really just disappear for 9 episodes just to come back and stare dramatically into the camera

WAIT SCRATCH THAT SHES HERE TO MURDER ASHLYN AND RICKY

oh so Ricky's wearing a gay shirt now too

so that's the real reason why Rini broke up, see y'all next season when Gini and caswen become canon /j

wait that was a long intro scene-

what was that look Carlos-

TALK TO MY BOY OR ELSE

carlos' run is so funny to me

therapist Ashlyn to the rescue

"that is...super" son you good?

ms Jenn call Benjamin, he would willingly put his loved ones on a rocket and blast them into Venus for you....

maybe

"I don't want you kids to be disappointed" girl you do realise you're the one that's most invested in this?

"a smooth opening night" wasn't there just 1 show though-

like their opening night was closing night too

"I think I was Troy at one point" PLEASE THATS THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE SEASON 1 FINALE

me Jenn looks like a serial killer during that clap and I'm lowkey scared for zacky

"I have notes"

oo if you're taking suggestions, lemme get my list

"mother is freaking out" uhhhhhh

right....'mother"

"is everyone sitting down?"

*looks around awkwardly*

*big red slowly sits*

"no..."

please seb was the only one sitting-

does that mean Carlos looked at Seb as soon as he walked in and assumed that everyone else was sitting too or am I a seblos clown🤡

"is this about the transformation"

WOW MAYBE OT IS RICKY

WOW HES A DETECTIVE FOR FIGURING THAT OUT SO QUICK🤩

YO WHY IS NATALIE HERE-

she just shows up when it's convenient? is she gonna be at the sleepover too?

Seb's heavy swallow after Carlos shouts at him makes me so sad

"I never learned how to lie but I figure if I keep my mouth closed, I can't tell the truth" *nods and smiles at Nini when she asks*

why are they casually standing up all over the pizza shop, just sit at a big table and talk instead of blocking passageways and blocking off at least 6 tables-

"how about I invite myself" WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO INVITE THEMSELVES TO ASHLYN'S HOUSE-

YOU CAN ASK BUT JUST FORCE YOUR WAY IN?

so Cash Caswell has a bigger house than... Dennis Caswell.... who would've thought

ah yes there's the good old EJ 1.0

Nini: "boys vs girls"

Gina: *looks devastated and glances longingly at EJ*

way to be inconspicuous

"but north high should be" *cracks her knuckles in the most uncomfortable way*

good for Ashlyn for getting more confident though

oo bossy big red

"i get bossy around the power tools"

is that why Ashlyn was holding up the drill in episode 8 orrrr 🤠

Lily, leave him alone please

she's literally not blinking, is that what makes her creepy?

the diss at big red and his face afterwards is priceless

isn't that similar to what Gina's mom said to her in season 1? hmmmm

but seriously please don't try to redeem lily, let us have a character to hate, or to love because they're evil.

not everyone's a good guy.

"im not liked here and I don't know what to do"

let antoine finish his salad and it'll fix everything

"hug emoji" *gags*

y'all realize Lily's literally 14?

why is she calling a 16/17 year old from another school for personal advice-

"he gets weird around tools"

I shouldn't be laughing so hard

"deja vu maybe?" awkward silence

I'm dying here I love EJ so so so so much

"where's seb"

*cuts to seb being held hostage hoping that they'd notice he's missing and go look for him*

"don't ask"

"oh ok"

"100% real faux fur" as you should queen

sponsored by target

Kourtney is singlehandedly saving the entire show.

Seb making finger guns make me happier than it should

why is this kinda making me want to have a co-ed sleepover with my non-existent theatre friends

YES YOU DO NEED TO TALK/SING TO SEB CARLOS THANK YOU FOR KNOWING THAT

wait what-

you haven't talked to him all WEEK-

Carlos are you stupid /hj

Benjamin is so adorable I can't

he turned around to come back for her instead of going home. you're "what do you want Jenn🙄X act isn't fooling anyone Benjamin 🙃

10101

1+4+16= 21st?

they placed 21st?

or do I just not remember how to convert to base ten

GIRL DON'T BE RUDE TO HIM, HE'S GONNA SAVE YALL

no ms Jenn, the kids are not eccentric 35 year olds.

aww sebby

is he thinking that Carlos is only with him cuz he's the only other openly gay guy at school-

son you are a perfect little bean don't put yourself down

yes they all ship portwell as they should.

they'll be throwing risotto at the wedding.

not the chocolates. stop there are no chocolates. please stop I'm dying.

Gina you don't have to explain yourself to her

it was a misunderstanding and it's in the past

why is Ashlyn still laughing-

exactly it wasn't a big deal please just move on Nini

Kourtney really be out here saving everything

WHY IS ASHLYN STILL LAUGHING

why do I feel like when Gina finally told Ash about it, she didn't think it was that funny but wanted to feel included in the inside joke so now she brings it up randomly to show that she's in on it....I totally don't do that...

"idk, the farmer type" oh son...

Ashlyn and big red are just spilling the secrets back and forth huh?

OOO EJ AND GINA SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-

cmon guys don't look at me like that-

"she is the best" and "we're buddies" don't sound right together

"pretty boy" "sweet boy" best ways to describe EJ

I love him.

and aw he's scared of rejection so he'll hold back just to keep her happy and not awkward how sweet

is Ricky wondering if letting her go(literally his song from last episode) was the best thing he did for Nini because he doesn't feel like it now? hmmm this is getting good

why is everyone so invested in Kourtney and Howie's relationship

PACK UP THE LAZY RICKY THING

oh yes Benji, that's exactly what she's doing

she couldn't follow her dream or whatever so now she's using the kids to gain some of the success she craves. why else would she have that massive hsm poster with her name on it in huge letters in her office.

just casually grab his hand with both your hands and stare at him creepily 🥰

ship jennzzara y'all

the first bump was a missed opportunity to do the baymax "falalala" as a reference to the fact that they watched big hero six while committing arson✋

wait so big red and EJ just left Ricky in the basement and now Ricky invited Carlos when they're supposed to be at the stage?

help no Ricky looks like he's about to tell Carlos he likes him (I know it's about writing the song for seb but still, look at his body language and tell me it doesn't look like that)

Ricky is so mature about this, he really just wants Nini to be happy even though he's hurting-

baby you deserve love, maybe Nini isn't the one for you but don't say you don't deserve it

why does he keep adding bro to the end like he doesn't know how to address Carlos

PLEASE CARLOS HAVING TO ADDRESS THE BRO THING

"let's write a song when we have like 45 minutes to get to the place and help our friends possibly win $50000 at the show in 2 weeks"

"can you hit a high C?"

"that's like the bottom of my range"

why am I laughing

this is so cool to see friendship interactions that we don't normally get to see

Nini why are you being like this-

Gina did nothing wrong??

I saw that, EJ and Gina being the only ones going in the same direction👀

right so obviously Kourtney's waiting until after the menkies to get back with Howie just in case he really is just using her as a way in to east high... obviously... right?

CARLOS

OK ITS COMING GET READY YALL

Why is portwell so awkward all of a sudden

OMG EJ

OMG GINA SAY YES or not, do what you want.

the way she doubts that EJ would genuinely ask so she has to make sure it's not Ashlyn behind it

THE "NOT THAT I KNOW OF"

LIKE WHAT GINA SAID TO JACK ABOUT EJ BEING HER BOYFRIEND

GUYS THEY'RE SOULMATES

I want risotto now please

THEY'RE SO SWEET AND ADORABLY AWKWARD ITS LIKEEK LITTLE KIDS

OOOOOOO what is this place that seblos is in, looks fancy....and secluded

oh wait no Ricky's just standing there

wait is it the bomb shelter

it looks so good what

HSKAGSJAGAJAGWISGSKAUASBWKSVAIWBAISBQKSHIQBWOABWOABDOQBZIQBAIAQBSIWBQISVQKSIANSGOQBSAISBKASBKWBAIABQOSBBSJAHAJAVAJSBAJHSKAHSJAHAJAJAAJAHHHHHHHH

@youranxiousnerd ARE YOU OK?

CUZ IM NOT OK

LOOK AT SEBBY'S FACE

LOOK AT HOW ADORABLE IT IS

THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME

SEBLOS IS KILLING ME

I AM DEAD

PLEASE SEND HELP

I like to imagine that Frankie and Joe practiced this in their apartment and just had a blast with it.

or maybe that Frankie practiced in secret like what Joe did for the climb

OH THE SUITS

THATS WHERE THAT CLIP IN THE PROMO WAS FROM

AWWW SEBBY'S SO CUTE

HE'S A LITTLE MARSHMALLOW

they're still so awkward with the dance I cant

let's appreciate Frankie's voice though

this episode really was made just for the seblos and portwell stans and you gotta love it

BIG RED GET OUT

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

Seb's little "yeah" IS ADORABLE

you can't tell me that wouldn't have been the best time for them to say I love you....IF FREAKIN BIG RED WASN'T THERE

ok but wait Ricky needs more hugs like that, look at his face

the boy needs love

"bro" please don't let Ricky and Carlos go back to not talking because their friendship is amazing

EJ laughing at Ricky sounding like a cat coughing up a furball is so funny to me

RICKY'S FLOP GETS ME EVERYTIME

I knew it was too good to be true

ok so Ricky's dead, next in line please

this episode was so short but I love it so much. this is what I signed up for for season 2✋

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #ej caswell #ricky bowen #gina porter #hsmtmts spoilers #seblos #seb mathew smith #carlos rodriguez #big red #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #lily hsmtmts #ms jenn #mr mazzara #natalie bagley #guac's episode text blocks :)

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little-red-hunk · 3 years ago

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Pliability Ch. 3

Pairing: Orange Cassidy/Original Female Character

Summary: Emily, a nurse and physical therapist for AEW, had barely been on the job before the pandemic hit. With no prior knowledge of how the business works, Emily learns as she goes in a situation that is not normal by any means. A harmless flirt, she makes friends easily with the talent and the crew. However, an actual real growing crush on Orange Cassidy, who seems to be flirting right back, has her in a tizzy and contemplating ideas that she had never really explored before.

Rating: Explicit / language and eventual smut

Word Count: 2,866 (Chapter 3/?)

Notes: I had an anon ask me why I hadn’t posted my fic directly to Tumblr and I didn’t really have an answer. So now, If you’ve not had a chance to check it out on AO3 for some reason you can do so here! And if you don’t want to wait for my updates directly to Tumblr, you can go read everything I’ve posted to date here

Previous Chapter

The following week brought an even more nervous atmosphere. Everyone was exuding extra excitement due to it being the “go home” for Double or Nothing. The excitement skidded to a halt with Emily as she read the tentative card for the show. While it wasn’t a surprise, seeing a Rey Fenix vs Orange Cassidy match listed didn’t please her. Her displeasure doubled when she heard some of the planned details of the match, including a big scuffle with all the ladder match participants at the end. Once she got to the end of the card and saw the outline of the big face-off between Inner Circle and The Elite as a preview for the Stadium Stampede, she was seriously contemplating faking being sick so she could be anywhere except there.

Out of an abundance of caution, Emily was asked to come sit ringside with the other doctors. There was still about two hours before showtime so she did the same thing she always did before the show: eat. A production meeting meant a deserted catering area so she took advantage by sitting down with her horrifyingly unhealthy burger chips and dessert. She sighed dejectedly and started watching old vine compilations on her phone. A familiar voice cut above the video and she lazily lifted her head to see Adam Page talking to one of the stage hands. Noticing Emily sitting all alone, he grabbed his protein bars and water before dropping down in a chair a few seats down. Bless him for adhering to social distancing.

“That looks incredible and I am full of rage that I can’t eat that right now,” he frowned.

“What? This thick, juicy bacon double cheeseburger? Cooked medium well and seasoned just right? With BBQ sauce and pepper jack cheese and grilled onions?”

“Now that’s just rude. You need to work on your bedside manner.”

Emily sneered. “Pfft. No patients right now. I can act like a bitch if I want.”

“What do ya mean ‘act’?”

“Keep it up and I’ll wax poetic about the decadence of this brownie and ice cream,” she warned.

“Alright, alright I’ll stop. But seriously, you good? I saw you earlier and you looked a little...I dunno, green around the gills.”

Her face softened at his concern. “Oh. Yeah I’m ok. Just a bit on edge for tonight. I saw the match list and some of the spots and I’m just.. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Last week was stressful enough.”

“Ah. Yeah, your boy Orange got rocked, that’s for damn sure. He said you cleared him though, no concussion.”

Warmth blossomed inside her chest upon hearing that Orange talked about her when she wasn’t around. Emily chose to ignore it as well as the fact that Adam referred to Orange as her boy. “He was fucking lucky. I really don’t know how he wasn’t hurt worse.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It happens like that sometimes. The ugliest looking thing could cause nothing more than a headache but then a tiny little move could snap a tendon.”

“That’s what gives me anxiety.”

“What? The potential randomness of an injury?”

“Yes.”

“Well darlin’, you might have picked the wrong place to work...maybe even the wrong field.”

She rolled her eyes. “I love helping people heal. I love working here. I just wish there was a way to insure nobody got seriously injured. Which is impossible I know...I’m just.. I don’t know, talkin’ out loud,” she stated before taking another bite of her burger.

He regarded her for a moment before asking, “You gonna be ringside again?”

She nodded while taking a drink of her Dr. Pepper.

“The whole night or just for your boyfriend’s match?”

That Dr. Pepper decided to come right back out, this time through her nostrils. Emily hastily grabbed a handful of napkins and brought it to her nose, grimacing. A coughing fit started, followed by three rapid-fire sneezes, a whine and then a boisterous belch. Adam never even blinked an eye.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said defensively, once she was able to compose herself. “I just don’t want to have to drag him to the med room for the second week in a row.”

Adam finally cracked a smile. “Not your boyfriend, huh? Then tell me, my good nurse, how did you know who I was talking about? I never said a name.”

Emily floundered. “Uh..I.. uh...shut up!”

“Aww look at your cheeks. You’re blushing! I KNEW you were sweet on Jim!”

“Fuck off! Who...Who the fuck says “sweet” anymore? So dumb...what are you, 73?”

He rolled his eyes and opened one of the protein bars. “Whatever. It’s cute.”

She stared him down for a few tense seconds before relenting and sighed, “Is it obvious?”

“Honestly? Not really. You flirt with everyone,” Adam said. Emily made a noise of exasperation but he kept on. “I was taking a shot in the dark. I was thinking maybe...30/70? But now..I mean you just shot soda out of your nose and then I’m pretty sure your whole body rebooted at the mere suggestion...so I’m gonna amend that to 100% ”

Emily pushed her food away, planted her forehead directly onto the table and groaned before sitting back up straight and clearing her throat. “Could you keep it to yourself? Uh...I’m still pretty new here and I don’t need rumors floating around. It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.”

The sincerity in her voice did not go unnoticed. Adam put on his serious face and with a hand over his heart declared “You have my word. Your craving for the D from vitamin C is safe with me.”

She groaned and threw a handful of chips at him. “You should be ashamed of that. Honestly.”

******************************************************

Emily’s mood hadn’t improved by bell time, despite her joking around with Adam. The anxiety within her kept slowly building the longer the night went on. The show was going on without any issues and honestly she sort of wished something, anything would mess up just so the worry would feel justified. Checking her watch, she saw that they were a little past the halfway point of Dynamite which meant it was time for the Orange Cassidy/Rey Fenix match. She could practically feel her blood pressure rising the moment Orange had walked out and Fenix went for a flying kick. Luckily he had stepped back to avoid getting hit but it didn’t ease her worry at all. Sweat trickled down her forehead, the sickening slap of multiple chops echoed in the mostly empty arena and the heat and humidity were overwhelming. She had to get out of there.

“Doc, am I good to take a quick break? I need some A/C and water.”

Dr. Chris nodded. Both he and Dr. Sampson were at ringside. “Will you bring me back a Gatorade? Grape please.”

“Yep,” she chirped while standing up and speed walking toward the backstage area. She zoomed down the hallway towards the medical evaluation room, already pulling her mask off and thinking how sweet that central air would feel. Busting the door open she found the closest vent and stood under it, trying to catch as much air as possible. The room was much cooler than outside but it wasn’t enough. She peeled off her black AEW staff polo and tossed it on the desk, leaving her in a plain black tank. Spotting a small desk fan on a counter, she positioned it to blow right in her face and decided to recline on one of the exam tables. The cooling sweat on her brow, the deep breaths and the fact that she couldn’t see what was happening in the ring lowered her pulse and she felt less agitated until...

“Emily, what room did you go to?”

It was Dr. Chris over the radio. A profoundly petulant sigh escaped her mouth before she answered. “I’m in med-eval, what’s up?”

“Had some ugly bumps at the end of this match. I’m heading there with Fenix and OC. Stay there and get some ice packs ready.”

Panic was not a strong enough word to describe the feeling that hit her. Her Apple Watch, annoying as it ever was, made sure to inform her that yes, she was most definitely freaking out by beeping loudly due to her increased heart rate. Swearing every swear word she had ever learned, Emily started to get out several different size ice packs and did a quick sterilization of the table she had been laying on. As a precaution, she slipped her mask back on as well as a pair of blue vinyl gloves. The door opened and Doc Sampson came in first with Fenix behind him. He thanked her for getting everything ready and started talking with Fenix and one of the people on staff that could translate. Emily continued to stand there, hands on her hips, waiting for Orange to walk in.

Well, to limp in more like it. Head hanging low, his bare chest red and sweaty, he hobbled slowly inside the room. When Orange finally raised his head, his eyes widened at the sight of her. He smiled and let out a small chuckle before sitting on the exam table on the other side of the room.

“I don’t know what you think is so damn funny,” she hissed, low enough that she didn’t disturb the others.

“Nothin’. Just happy to see you.”

If this were any other situation she might have literally cooed at that. However her concern and aggravation were too strong at the moment. Two deep breaths. In. Out.

“You are so full of shit. What happened?”

“Splash over the top rope to the outside of the ring where everyone was waiting. Got a little too much distance and my leg hit the metal barricade. I’ll be alright,” he explained.

“Yeah, sure. You’re free to go then. But...remind me, Which one of us is a medical professional? Me or you?” He dropped his head and lazily motioned to her. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now show me where the pain is located. I need to check for bruising.” He waved vaguely around his calf and knee area. “Alright well pull that pant leg up for me.”

“Can’t. Too tight,” he said.

Realization dawned on her that he was going to have to take those jeans off for her to check him over for physical damage. Which wasn’t a big deal. She was a nurse, a professional and she could handle this with no problem. Hell, half the time she’s working and stretching folks who wore teeny tiny trunks and nothing else. This was nothing. Totally innocent. A cake walk.

“If you can’t roll them up, you’re gonna have to lose ‘em. Thems the rules,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even.

Orange stood up slowly to slide the jeans off but then remembered he still had his shoes on. When he reached down to take one off, Emily noticed the slight tremor and the tiniest hitch of his breathing. Whichever way he had just positioned himself obviously hurt but of course he just kept on like it was fine. Not on her watch.

“Nope. Sit back up here,” she demanded, grabbing his hands away from his legs, straightening up his posture. He started to protest. “Ah! You better hush. I know it hurts. So sit down and be quiet.”

He actually did as he was told and a bit of her uneasiness melted away. Trying to remain as formal as possible, she quickly undid his shoes and slipped them off. He stood up again and slid his jeans down past his knees before sitting back on the table and gingerly working them off completely. Emily was surprised to see that under those jeans was just a pair of black Under Armour long johns. And even though the same amount of his skin was covered as before, being able to see the actual..definition under that tight fabric seemed so forbidden . A large bead of sweat falling from somewhere around her collarbone down into her cleavage reminded her that she had taken her polo off and was also in a position where more of her was on display than usual. Grabbing at the center of the top hem of her cami, she used the fabric to wipe the sweat away. The movement caught Orange’s attention and she did not miss the way his eyes darted back and forth between her face and her chest before looking down at the ground. A hot flash followed over here again if you asked her, gun to her head, if it was the actual room temperature or the current situation making her sweat she honestly couldn’t tell you. All she knew is that her dumb animal brain wanted to see him seeing her. Staring at her. Wanting her. She pushed all of those absolutely inappropriate thoughts away. She was a professional, goddamn it and would not let any level of school girl crush bullshit interfere with his level of care.

“Do you need help pushing this up?” She asked, taking a seat on one of the rolling stools, pointing to his lower legs. He nodded and she began to carefully stretch the material out and up. In the back of her mind she registered that she had actually never seen his legs before but pushed past it. “Tell me exactly where you feel the discomfort coming from,” she said while gingerly holding his leg by the calf.

Grabbing her left hand, Orange opted to show rather than tell and placed it on the bothersome spot. Despite the thin layer of vinyl on her hand she felt the heat from the contact and couldn’t help focusing on his obviously strong hand, still flushed red from his earlier exertion. More unseemly thoughts fired around in her head but she again quieted them. She leaned down to examine the area closely for any visible trauma, of which there was none. So she began to slowly poke and prod around, listening carefully to his response.

“Hold on a second, this will help,” she said, spinning her stool around to the nearby cabinets and rummaging. She spun back around waving a tube of BioFreeze gel. “Are you allergic to camphor or menthol?”

Orange shook his head no, so she proceeded to put the cool gel on her gloved fingers and rub it into the painful area. “I am almost addicted to this stuff,” she said, desperate to make casual conversation while massaging his legs. “I use it like twice a week.”

“For your patients?”

“Nah. For myself. Got some persistent back issues,” she answered. “Physical therapy can only do so much. And I don’t have regular access to a massage therapist because of work and well...covid.”

“Why not just have someone here do it?”

She shook her head and she continued to work the gel outwards just in case the soreness decided to spread. She could feel the muscles in his calf and thigh twitching with every pressured pass of her thumbs. “They aren’t here for me. We are here for all of you. Plus like...a 3rd of time I’m one doing the massaging.”

“I could do it.”

She paused her movements for a split second while the imaginary scenario played itself out in her mind quite quickly. She would be laying face down on her hotel bed while he straddled the back of her thighs, shirtless, rubbing and working deep circles into her bare skin with Zero 7 playing softly in the background and sweet scented cherry almond candles burned on the desk. While her libido was screaming “Yes, oh my god, yes! Come to my room TONIGHT”, the only outward reaction she had was a sort of non-committal hum as she continued pressing her fingers into his skin.

She gently let go of his leg, tossed her gel covered gloves in the garbage and pulled the leg of his long Johns back down. She gave his knee a very soft double pat. “Alright. You’re all good. I don’t see any visual evidence of bruising, but it’s only been a few minutes. Just keep an eye on it. Take this with you in case you’re still sore tomorrow. Let me know if you run out.”

“Thanks,” Orange said as he cautiously stretched his leg out, moving it in tiny circles to test how it felt. “The BioFreeze made it feel better already.” He lazily slid on his shoes opting to just carry his joggers in his hand. He stood up abruptly, leaving Emily no time to scoot back on her rolling stool. Her masked covered face was just a few scant inches from the flushed red skin of his very toned torso. Her whole body throbbed at the mere idea of running her tongue across his abs and she had to spin herself around to get him out of her line of sight. She stood up and took a deep breath before facing him again. He nodded at her before heading to the door. But he paused, turned back to Emily, very obviously shot her elevator eyes and said “Offer still stands” before leaving the room.

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bevioletskies · 3 years ago

Text

spare me a little (of your love)

summary: Klavier always liked to express his love with flowers, so sending a beautiful bouquet to his boyfriend every now and then seemed like the obvious thing to do. However, there’s just one little problem - Apollo is very, very allergic to pollen.

word count: 5.3k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day two of seven (prompt: "flowers"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. My source for flower meanings can be found here. Fic title is from the song Spare Me a Little of Your Love by Fleetwood Mac.

“The language of...flowers?”

“Oui, oui, mon ami!” Athena chirped, nodding eagerly. “That’s just one of the many languages I speak, y’know.”

Apollo eyed her skeptically over the top of his laptop screen. “...right. Elaborate, please.”

“Well, you know how people usually give roses to express their love?” Athena said, leaning across the gap between their desks. She didn’t even blink when she accidentally knocked over Apollo’s calendar and pen holder in one fell swoop. Apollo, on the other hand, shot her an affronted glance that she deftly ignored. “Well, each flower actually has its own specific meaning. It even varies from color to color! Par exemple, white roses symbolize innocence, while yellow roses symbolize friendship.”

“That seems unnecessarily complicated,” Apollo remarked. “Don’t most flowers come with a card? Why can’t people just write their messages instead?”

They turned at the sound of a disappointed groan coming from the middle of the room. “You’re so unromantic, Polly,” Trucy complained, peeking at them from over the back of the couch. “I almost feel bad for Mr. Gavin!”

“Hey,” Apollo protested. “I can be - I-I’m romantic!”

“If you say so,” Athena giggled, poking him in the shoulder. Huffing, Apollo prodded her back. Athena reached for a rubber band, fully intending to escalate things. She lowered her projectile dejectedly when Apollo raised his hands in surrender; he had no interest in losing an eye today.

“Sunflowers and tulips are supposed to symbolize happiness, right?” Phoenix asked. “Those are pretty much the only flowers I really know, so.”

There was a long, uncomfortably drawn-out silence. “...Daddy, your ex-girlfriend’s name was Dahlia. Her real name was - is - Iris.”

“Oh...right,” Phoenix chuckled, only mildly embarrassed. “Speaking of, do you know what dahlias and irises mean, Athena?”

Athena’s eyes were practically sparkling now. “Oui! Dahlias symbolize elegance and dignity.” Phoenix made a face. “...but, they also symbolize dishonesty and betrayal.”

“That’s more like it,” Phoenix muttered under his breath. “And irises?”

“Faith, wisdom, that kinda thing,” Athena shrugged. She then paused. “Y’know, if you want some ideas on the kinds of flowers Mr. Edgeworth would like, I can make some - ”

“Nope, nope, I-I’m good,” Phoenix interrupted swiftly, his face reddening. He had a vase of daffodils sitting on his desk, which Edgeworth had sent to the office a few days ago. None of them believed Phoenix when he claimed they were purely intended for decoration. “So why the sudden interest in flowers, Apollo? Is this, er...is this about Gavin?”

“If you’re not talking about your prosecutor, sir, I’m not talking about mine,” Apollo said firmly, turning back to his laptop.

“Sure, except I think your prosecutor’s fair game when he picks you up from work most days,” Phoenix teased. His tone was eerily similar to Trucy’s. If Phoenix wasn’t both his boss and his sort-of stepfather, Apollo would’ve picked up a rubber band himself.

A few hours later, Apollo was locking up the office for the evening when he heard the roar of a familiar-sounding motorcycle coming up the street. He turned, biting back a smile as Klavier pulled up beside the sidewalk and turned off his engine. “Your bike really is as obnoxious as you are.”

Klavier removed his helmet, pouting. “Achtung, is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“It is for me,” Apollo replied, kissing him briefly. “Hi.”

“Hallo,” Klavier murmured against Apollo’s lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Apollo said, reaching for Klavier’s spare helmet. “I’m feeling...pizza and all the cheesy garlic breadsticks. Or maybe we can just get cheesy garlic breadsticks.”

“As nice as that sounds, you need more vegetables than the little bits you get in your cup noodles, baby,” Klavier said, patting Apollo’s hip affectionately. “Pizza, breadsticks, and a side salad, ja?”

“Fine, fine,” Apollo grumbled, settling in behind Klavier. “Turn me into a rabbit, why don’t you? Buy me a bag of carrot sticks the next time we go to the grocery store. Stuff my mattress with straw and newspaper - ”

“And people think I’m the dramatic one,” Klavier lamented, shaking his head in amusement.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were sitting on the floor of Klavier’s living room, pleasantly stuffed with pizza and breadsticks and a mediocre amount of Greek salad (“I’m not a fan of olives, you know.” “Not surprising, since the color doesn’t work with your complexion.” “Klavier, I swear to - ”). A random made-for-TV movie was playing in the background on mute, though neither of them were particularly interested in watching it.

“How was work?” Apollo asked, taking a much-needed gulp of cold water. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get the taste of garlic out of his mouth.

“Boring, unfortunately,” Klavier said with a grimace. “Herr Edgeworth didn’t have anything but paperwork to offer me. No trials, no investigations, nichts. You?”

“Same,” Apollo replied. “Mr. Wright’s mostly working with Athena this month, so they’re taking the big clients while I get stuck with the smaller cases. Not that I’m complaining, I mean - it’s a nice change from Khura’in. I don’t want every trial to feel like I’m going under, you know?”

“Nein, that would be terrible,” Klavier agreed. “Exciting, sure, but the stress wouldn’t be worth it. I already found a gray hair the other day, ach.”

Apollo snorted. “Just one? You should see mine - I’m gonna be completely gray by thirty-five at this rate.” He shuffled closer so he could snuggle up against Klavier’s side, letting his head drop to Klavier’s shoulder. “So...turns out, Athena knows all about the flower language thing. Figured she might.”

“Flower...language...thing?” Klavier echoed, confused. He then brightened. “Ah! From our video call with my mama the other day, ja? I didn’t know you were actually interested.”

“I wasn’t, not at first,” Apollo admitted, squeezing Klavier’s arm. “But...I want your parents to like me, and since she said she was taking an interest, I thought, y’know, why not look into it? And it sounds kinda...contrived, not gonna lie. But I guess it’s kinda sweet, too. Like a secret language between just two people.”

Klavier’s face softened. “Ja, exactly. My parents used to write love letters to each other when they were in school, so I think this is Mama’s way of starting a new tradition - buying Papa flowers so he can plant them in his garden. You should see our family estate in the summer, it’s absolutely stunning.”

“Sounds like it,” Apollo said, smiling. “Your parents’ lives sound so...peaceful. Baking, gardening, travelling...I know it’s a little early to start thinking about retirement, but still, they’re living the dream.”

“They’re not retired yet,” Klavier chuckled. “And stop making me feel like I’m dating an old man, bitte. You complaining about your back makes me feel like I have to start complaining about my back.”

Apollo hummed, tracing random patterns along Klavier’s forearm with his finger. He was pleasantly sleepy from a number of things - his long, if uneventful day of work, the amount of cheese and carbs he’d just consumed, and the warmth of Klavier’s skin against his. “Sorry we can’t all afford chiropractors and massage therapists, sheesh,” he teased, unable to hold back a yawn.

“Maybe we can get a massage together someday,” Klavier suggested, stretching luxuriously. “Ah, before I forget - since we were talking about my parents just now, they asked me the other day if it would be alright to text you and send you things, little gifts and whatnot.”

“Huh? They would do that?” Apollo exclaimed. “I only just met them, like, a week ago!”

“They’re a bit...much,” Klavier said carefully. “Even when I was in high school, every friend I brought home was a potential lover to them, you know? They wanted to know everything about them, to shower them with gifts and affection. Even when I started working, I would ask Papa if I could have some flowers from his garden - you know, an arrangement to thank Herr Edgeworth for giving me a raise, a bouquet for my manager when we got our first record deal - and it was always the same story. Achtung, it’s embarrassing, but they mean well. You don’t have to say ja if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask.”

“No, I - it’s okay, I’d love to get to know your parents more, I’m just surprised,” Apollo admitted. The thought of them liking him this easily made him both relieved and unnerved at the same time. “Should I, uh, get them something in return?”

“Nein, nein, let them spoil you.” Klavier cupped Apollo’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “Just like I do.”

“Sap,” Apollo murmured, kissing him back.

_____

It was a sort of gradual thing, for the most part. Barely a day had gone by when Apollo found himself in a group text with Klavier’s parents; he quickly discovered how witty and sweet and whip-smart they both were. Klavier’s father sent gorgeous photos of his garden - and calling it a garden seemed almost too modest when it seemed to be the size of a soccer field - while Klavier’s mother sent book recommendations, even the occasional movie recommendation.

“I never thought I’d be at that point in my life where my boyfriend’s mother sends me three long paragraphs about how she ‘discovered’ the Legally Blonde musical, but here we are,” Apollo had mused to the other agency members.

“Did you tell her that Klavier reminds everyone of that song, the one that goes - ”

“No, Athena, I did not. I want her to like me, remember?”

Soon after that, gifts started to arrive. Apollo had requested they send them to the agency, given how little he trusted his apartment building’s security after they nearly let his cat escape not too long ago. Unfortunately, it was too late before he realized that sometimes, he trusted his co-workers - or more specifically, his sister - even less.

“Trucy, do you know who ate the last piece of pie? Y’know, the one I was saving for today, to celebrate the end of my trial?”

“...huh. No idea, sorry, Polly!”

“Wait - th-there’s graham crumbs on Mr. Hat, what the hell - ”

His sister’s betrayal aside, Apollo felt good about things, almost unusually good. He soon started texting Klavier’s parents just as frequently as he did his own mother, thanking them for their generosity whenever they sent the occasional box of pastries or discounted event tickets. They also exchanged anecdotes about Klavier, along with stories about their own lives. He even received celebratory emojis whenever he told them about his victories in court - over their son, no less.

“I’m starting to think they like you more than they like me,” Klavier had lamented, though he seemed pleased all the same.

Then, a month into their budding familial relationship, a problem arrived on Apollo’s desk in the form of a bouquet the size of his head.

“Ah-choo!”

Trucy and Athena, who had been standing by the latter’s desk, both startled at the sound. “Ay Dios mío!” Athena exclaimed, clutching her heart in shock. “Are you okay, Apollo? That was some sneeze. I thought we were having another earthquake!”

“Har, har,” Apollo said dryly, reaching for a tissue. “It’s just the - achoo - flowers, that’s all.”

“They’re beautiful - very classic,” Athena added, dropping into Apollo’s desk chair so she could get a closer look. “Red roses and white lilies, claro. Ooh, I see some red carnations and white chrysanthemums, too!”

“Well, I see a card,” Trucy said, plucking a small white notecard from between the leaves. “Let’s see what it says!”

“That’s for - achoo - me, thank you very much.” Apollo snatched the card out of her hands, then squinted through his watery eyes to read it. “I...oh. Klavier says his mom helped him make the arrangement, with flowers from his dad’s garden.”

“How sweet!” Trucy gushed, taking a moment to sniff them, inhaling deeply as her eyes drifted closed. “Ooh, and they smell amazing. Mr. Gavin is such a good - ”

“Ah-choo!” Apollo sniffled, wiping his nose carefully. “...dammit.”

“I didn’t know you were allergic to pollen, Apollo,” Phoenix commented; he was on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of tea. “You never had any problems with the flowers Edgeworth sent to m - I mean, to the office.”

“Maybe it’s a freshly-cut thing?” Athena guessed, ignoring Phoenix’s awkward laugh. “Or, y’know, some flowers are worse for allergies than others. Dahlias, for example, are the worst.” Phoenix made another face before turning back to what he was doing.

“You should tell him you’re allergic,” Trucy said, patting Apollo’s free hand in sympathy. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But…” Apollo hesitated. The others braced themselves, anticipating another sneeze. “...this is from Klavier and his parents, you know? I can put up with a sneeze or two if it makes them happy. He loves sending flowers, and his dad’s really into gardening, so...if I tell them, they’ll stop doing it, and they’ll be too understanding, and I - I can’t deal with that. The, uh, the niceness, I mean.”

“Poor you, having the sweetest in-laws in the world,” Athena teased, pouting exaggeratedly. Oh, the humanity, Widget added. Apollo would have glared at them both, had he not started sneezing again. “Como tú quieras, I guess.”

Hours later, when Klavier met Apollo at the agency, the sight of his face brightening when he saw the bouquet confirmed Apollo’s fears. “Ah, how wunderschön,” Klavier declared, beaming. “I was worried they wouldn’t hold up during delivery. Do you like them, liebe?”

“They’re beautiful,” Apollo said, as honest as he could be. “Thanks, Klavier. I, uh, I hope it didn’t take you too long to put together.”

“You know how picky I can be,” Klavier hummed, carefully drawing a carnation out of the vase between two practiced fingers and bringing it up to his nose to smell. “I don’t settle for anything less than perfekt.” He turned, smirking. “That’s why I’m dating you, after all.”

“Gross,” Apollo said, wrinkling his nose; the effect was ruined by his affectionate laughter. “Hey, is it okay if I press them after they’ve wilted? I was thinking I could keep ‘em in my journal as a nice little reminder.”

Klavier chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “Of course, Forehead. They’re all yours, you don’t have to ask for my permission. And I’m sure Mama and Papa would be delighted to hear you’re planning to give Papa’s flowers a second life. We’ll have to send you more in the future, ja?”

“...ja,” Apollo said weakly, his heart sinking.

_____

The next bouquet arrived two weeks later, bigger and bolder than before. According to Athena, it consisted of pink and orange roses, pink lilies, and yellow alstroemeria. However, it seemed to be the handful of sunflowers that topped everything off that left Apollo’s nose running all day.

“I think the only sunflower I can stand to be around is my attorney’s badge,” Apollo had bemoaned.

After that came an arrangement of white daisies, red gerbera, and white limonium (or, as Trucy liked to call it - she liked practicing tongue twisters when she was bored - “linoleum”). Then green hydrangeas and Queen Anne’s lace, which admittedly wasn't so bad, followed by purple daisies and pink gerbera, which was very, very bad. Apollo did not like the fact that he was getting used to the taste of Benadryl. He did manage to get some reprieve when Klavier sent him a simple vase of pink peonies.

“They’re hypoallergenic,” Athena had informed him. “But...mein Gott, Apollo, just tell him already!”

“But if I do, i-it’s…” Apollo had gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. Athena and Trucy had exchanged glances, then shook their heads in eerily synchronized disappointment.

Pink carnations and pink alstroemeria, purple irises and white aster, yellow daisies and orange roses; Apollo was starting to think the Gavin family garden was endless. And while his journal had never looked prettier, every page decorated with carefully pressed petals, every other page detailed with a date and a description courtesy of Athena’s expertise, his nose had never looked worse, his skin pink and dry and irritated. He was getting too used to the smell of CeraVe as well.

Finally, a bouquet of red roses - thankfully, also hypoallergenic - arrived with Klavier himself. He seemed delighted to be at the agency while everyone else was present for once, chatting happily with Athena and marvelling at Trucy’s card tricks. He and Phoenix seemed awkward around each other, though Apollo supposed that was to be expected. Even now, they hesitated whenever Apollo brought the other one up.

“So what’re you doing here, Mr. Gavin?” Trucy asked after she’d successfully duped him three times in a row. Apollo had to stop her before she started charging him for it. “Is it date night?”

“Not exactly,” Klavier said, turning to Apollo. “I came here to ask you something in person, liebe.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not suspicious at all. What’s up?”

“I think it’s about time you meet my parents in person.” Klavier took both of Apollo’s hands in his, smiling hopefully. “So, if you’re ready...are you free this weekend? We could go to my family estate, spend the day - Mama would love to teach you how to make those puff pastries you like, and Papa wants to show you around the garden so you can see where all your wunderschön flowers came from.”

“I...oh.” Apollo’s face fell for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “Sorry, Klav, that sounds incredible, but I-I was gonna stay with Mom this weekend. Maybe another time?”

“Natürlich,” Klavier replied, still smiling. While his smiles usually made Apollo feel warm and fuzzy, now all he was feeling was gnawing guilt. “Let me know when you have a free weekend, ja?”

“For sure,” Apollo promised, pecking him briefly on the cheek. “And thanks for the roses, even though I, uh, kinda ruined the occasion.”

“Ruined?” Klavier repeated, chuckling. “Ach, it’s no big deal, you’re busy. We have time, don’t we?”

“Of course!” Apollo exclaimed, far too loudly. Klavier didn’t seem to mind, though; he leaned down to kiss Apollo properly, humming all the while.

“Anyway, I should get going before Herr Edgeworth notices I’m not in my office,” Klavier said, reluctantly pulling away. The look on Phoenix's face suggested he knew that Edgeworth had figured it out long ago. “Auf Wiedersehen, süßer!”

The second Klavier left, Apollo let out the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t even need to look up to know the others were staring at him very judgmentally. “...I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You really shouldn’t lie to your boyfriend, Apollo,” Phoenix said gently; his voice had taken on the sort of “dad” tone that made Apollo feel even guiltier. “Er, that is, you shouldn’t lie to anyone, but you know what I mean. Are you really protecting his feelings by doing this?”

Sighing, Apollo collapsed into his desk chair, dropping his forehead to his desk with an audible thunk. “I know, I know. It was stupid from the start, but...I-I honestly wasn’t expecting him to send this many! I thought it’d be, y’know, for special occasions only, like every few months or whatever. Then I could deal with it, and he would never have to know. Not, like, just ‘cos he felt like it. Though I guess I really should’ve seen it coming, knowing him.”

“You really gotta tell him,” Trucy insisted. “Next time you see him, okay? Or else you’re never gonna say anything!”

“I will, I swear,” Apollo insisted, combing his fingers through his hair. He could feel more grays coming in by the second. “I have no interest in being the worst boyfriend ever, believe me.”

_____

It didn’t take long for Apollo to realize that while he was perfectly fine - or, at least, reasonably fine - with confrontation in the courtroom, he was very much not fine with confrontation in his personal life. The flower arrangements came less frequently now, and when they did, they seemed to be exclusively hypoallergenic. Klavier’s invitations, on the other hand, seemed more persistent.

“I don’t mean to push,” Klavier would say. “It’s just that exam week is coming up and, being professors and all, they’re going to be very busy soon. I was hoping we’d be able to spend some time with them before then.”

“Yeah, o-of course,” Apollo would reply, his stomach twisting every time, knowing full well he was about to turn him down again.

Another weekend went by, then another. There always seemed to be something, whether it was Apollo’s sudden frequent visits to Thalassa’s, Trucy’s sudden need for a magic show assistant, or that Apollo was just too tired to be good company. Eventually, Klavier seemed to simply stop asking. In fact, he seemed to stop asking him about anything at all.

“Do you wanna grab lunch?” Apollo had once asked Klavier while they were both packing up after the end of a lengthy trial.

“I don’t know.” Klavier had sounded tired, subdued; he refused to look Apollo in the eyes. “I think I’m just going to head back to the office and catch up on my emails. Take care, Herr Forehead.” He’d quickly swept out of the courtroom before Apollo could even say goodbye.

Apollo’s group text with his parents seemed to slow down, too, especially when it came to Klavier’s papa’s photos of his garden. Klavier’s mama, on the other hand, sent him short, stilted messages, now seemingly out of obligation instead of affection. Their near-radio silence, Apollo had to admit, was well-deserved. He knew he had to do something before it was too late, if it wasn’t already too late.

“I was surprised you wanted me to join you today,” Klavier said one morning as the two of them were taking a leisurely stroll around People Park, hand-in-hand. “Lately, I feel like I’ve been dating a ghost, achtung. We only ever see each other in court. Maybe at crime scenes, too, if we’re lucky.”

“And I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Apollo admitted. “I missed you, Klavier. Only...I, uh, I know that’s really my fault, not yours.”

“You do, do you?” Klavier sounded bitter. His grip on Apollo’s hand was looser than usual, like he was ready to pull away at any second, like he wanted to run. The thought made Apollo’s chest ache. “And here, I thought you were as oblivious as ever.”

“Hey,” Apollo protested, frowning. Then, he sighed. “No, you - you’re right. This is on me. Will you - I - listen, I have something for you, back at the office. Can we go get it before you head to work?”

Klavier nodded shortly. While his eyes had softened, his smile was still strained. “Ja, let’s go.”

Thankfully, the agency was empty when they got there, save for a certain something sitting patiently on Apollo’s desk. He set his bag down, then turned on all the lights, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. “So these aren’t as nice as your dad’s, but, uh. This is for you...and your parents.”

“What do you - ah!” Klavier approached Apollo’s desk with wide, disbelieving eyes, his gaze fixated on the beautiful arrangement of white lilies, yellow tulips, and white orchids wrapped in white decorative tissue paper. “Apollo, these are...they’re lovely! Did you pick these out yourself?”

“Athena helped,” Apollo said, hovering nervously. “She said white lilies are for humility, yellow tulips can mean forgiveness, and white orchids symbolize strength. Fitting, since I wanted to...apologize. For being a horrible boyfriend.”

“I don’t know about ‘horrible’,” Klavier said, gently running a finger down the length of one of the orchids. “...but you have been distant. If you’re not actually interested in meeting my parents, or if you...if you want to end things, just say so, will you?” His voice cracked. “I might like a bit of drama every now and then, but not in my own life. Not in my own relationship.”

“What?! No, no, I-I don’t wanna end things at all!” Apollo exclaimed, his voice filling the room. He took a few deep, even breaths to calm himself. “Just...will you hear me out? Please?” Klavier nodded, though he refused to look at him. “I’m...I’m sorry for avoiding you and your parents. And before you ask...yes. I was doing it on purpose. It’s nothing that - none of you did anything wrong, okay? It’s me, i-it’s - it - I - ah - ”

Klavier turned on his heel, worried. “Apollo? Are you - ”

“Ah-choo!”

Klavier jumped. “Ach - Apollo?”

“I forgot there were asters in there,” Apollo grumbled, reaching for a tissue. He wasn’t sure which was redder now, his nose or his cheeks. “It’s - I - achoo - ”

“Apollo,” Klavier said slowly; if Apollo didn’t know any better, he would've thought he was trying not to laugh. “Are you, by chance...allergic to pollen?”

Apollo sniffed sharply. “...yes, dammit, yes! That’s literally what I’ve been trying to say - achoo - just now, until - achoo - my sinuses decided to - achoo - speak for me!” He was half-doubled over at this point, clenching a fistful of tissues in both hands.

“Baby, have you been rejecting my invitation to meet my parents because you’re allergic to all the flowers we’ve been sending you for the last several weeks?” Klavier sounded more incredulous than angry.

“...yes. Yes, I have, yes, I’m an idiot and an asshole and - achoo - I’m so sorry, Klavier, I - achoo - ”

“Bitte, say it, don’t spray it.” Klavier held up Apollo’s tissue box for him, keeping it - and Apollo himself - at a good distance. “Mein Gott, Apollo, I thought you wanted to break up with me! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?!”

It took another minute or so before Apollo finally stopped sneezing long enough to get a full sentence out. He sniffled again, wiping his nose completely clean. “...have you ever told, like, the tiniest lie to make someone happy, only for it to turn into a big...thing? And then you know you have to come clean, that it’s what you’re s’posed to do, but the thought of doing it makes you anxious, even if not doing it also makes you anxious, and then...it just...it, uh, it stays with you.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “Not that that’s an excuse, it’s just - that’s just what happened. I’m sorry, Klavier, I really am. I really do want to meet your parents, they’re so sweet and friendly a-and funny, I’m just...I’m bad at this. Really, really bad at this.”

Klavier sighed. Apollo held his breath, anticipating the worst. Then, Klavier wrapped him in his arms, letting out another sigh of relief. “I understand, liebe, and...I forgive you. Danke for explaining yourself.” He kissed the top of Apollo’s head. “Maybe we should’ve stuck to sending you pies, ja?”

Apollo laughed wetly. “I don’t know how you’re joking right now. That’s usually my job.” He lifted his head from Klavier’s chest to look up at him with a grateful smile. “I really did love the flowers, you know. When they weren’t attacking my respiratory system, that is.”

“Still, let’s not push it any further,” Klavier said wryly. “Now - two things, if you don’t mind. First, let me give you some moisturizer for your poor, poor nose. I’m not kissing you until I’m sure your skin won’t flake off in the process.”

“Ew, thanks for the gross visual,” Apollo grimaced. “And the second thing?”

Klavier smiled. “If you're alright with it, I’d like you to tell my parents what happened...in person.”

_____

The garden was just as beautiful as Apollo imagined it to be, given the dozens and dozens of photos he’d gotten from Klavier’s papa. It was full and lush and vibrant, with towering trees that provided ample shade, a beautiful gazebo with a built-in fireplace, a gorgeous two-tiered fish pond, and of course, a plethora of flowers, as far as they could see. Everything was especially beautiful, in Apollo’s opinion, from the relative safety of the conservatory.

“We’re not throwing you to the wolves, darling,” Klavier’s mama insisted, as if she were talking about actual wild animals and not her husband’s hobby. “We’ll stay in here for high tea so you can admire the garden at a safe distance, yes?”

“Yes, th-thank you,” Apollo stammered, relieved. “High tea?”

“Today’s menu is German chocolate scones and mini-sandwiches. With the crusts cut off for my fussy baby boy, of course,” she added, pinching Klavier’s cheek with a devious grin.

“Mama,” Klavier protested, embarrassed. His papa chuckled, settling into the chair across from his son; he still had a smudge of dirt on his nose. “I’m a grown man, achtung. I have my own health insurance and everything!”

“I really am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gavin,” Apollo said sincerely. Despite their kindness and generosity, he was still somewhat intimidated by them, by how tall and beautiful and well-spoken they were. As much as he didn’t want to think about his former boss, Apollo could see where he and Klavier got their good looks and charm from. “I wanted to make a good impression, but I, uh, I didn’t go about it the right way. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, but...I kept it from happening for a dumb reason, and it led to me hurting your feelings and Klavier’s feelings. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven,” Klavier’s papa insisted, waving a hand. “Just promise you’ll stop by every now and then, alright? Our doors are open to you, Apollo. Consider us your parents, too, if you’d like.”

Apollo smiled softly. “I would, sir.”

“It’ll be a good, allergy-free time, I promise,” he continued with a teasing wink. “We’ll bake some bread, watch some home movies...are you interested in seeing - ach, what do the kids call it - Klavier’s ‘goth phase’?”

Apollo’s mouth dropped open. “...his what.”

“Papa, nein,” Klavier whined; he really did sound like a child now. “Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here, liebling.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Apollo said, his grin widening. “I would love to see Klavier’s goth phase. Did he dye his hair?”

“Oh, did he,” Klavier’s mama said slyly with the exasperated sigh of a parent who had dealt with too much. “It’s a miracle he managed to get back to blond at all.” She then got to her feet, smoothing out the front of her apron. “Anyway, Papa and I should go check on the scones now. You two sit tight, okay?” Before Apollo could blink, she’d dropped kisses on both his and Klavier’s foreheads, then disappeared down the hallway and into the kitchen, her husband in tow. He turned to look at Klavier, who was watching him nervously.

“I love them,” Apollo admitted. “They’re so sweet, Klav, they - stop looking at me like that, will you?”

“You can’t blame me for worrying,” Klavier said, kissing him briefly. “But I’m glad to hear it. Ich liebe dich, schatz.”

“Love you too, dork,” Apollo murmured against Klavier’s lips. “...so. Did you have a lip ring, or snake bites, or - ”

“Get out of my house,” Klavier huffed, pinching Apollo’s arm with an exaggerated pout.

“Hey! This isn’t your house, it’s your parents’ house, and they said their doors were open,” Apollo teased, laughing. Rolling his eyes, Klavier pulled Apollo into his arms, the two of them snuggled up on the loveseat. In the distance, they could see birds and butterflies fluttering among the flowers, a stray squirrel or two sniffing curiously at the edge of the fish pond. It was peaceful, serene. If it wasn't for the pollen, Apollo could see himself staying outside for hours at a time. “...but seriously, I’m looking forward to the video evidence.”

“I’m sure you are,” Klavier sighed, giving Apollo one last kiss before his parents returned with a large tray of sandwiches, scones, tea, and a vase with a single red rose for decoration - hypoallergenic, of course.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my second entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the fourth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Today, I have projected my allergies and anxiety onto Apollo, because that's what fanfiction is for, right? I hope y'all like my version of the Gavins; I've written them as cold and distant a couple of times, but I usually prefer to write them as warm and witty so that Klavier has a good support system in his life.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #sorry these previews are so massive!!#today's and day four's are probably the most lighthearted

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xxred-riotxx · 4 years ago

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Limelight

Part Twelve: Give me a color.

{Series Masterlist}

{Next}

This chapter is all smut. Nothing else. There is nothing relevant to the story line. This is also the first smut I’ve ever wrote so it’s horrible, but oh whale. The following chapters will reference this chapter but will not go into detail. You can skip it if youre uncomfortable or underage (again my blog is 18+). I will plan on releasing part 13 early so if you’re not comfortable with reading smut, you still get a chapter.

Warnings: 18+! smut. eating out. vouyerism?peeping tom? fingering. ass play. choking. rimming. this is honestly sex without penetration. Dom shinsou. bratty reader. sadism/masochism if you squint. daddy/sir.

Word count: 1441

Mustering up courage, Shinsou left the bathroom to shuffled down the hall to his room. His left hand grasped the fluffy white towel that hung dangerously low on his hips; meanwhile, his right hand moved up to the door, his knuckles gently broke the silence. “Princess? Are you in there?” Silence “Y/n? Hey. I’m uh- I’m coming in. I forgot my clothes…” his voice trailed off while slowly turning the brass door knob. “Kitten, are you sleep…- oh my god.” He stood there in amusement. He would have never guessed his celebrity crush would be dancing in HIS room, wearing nothing but HIS shirt. The cord from your ears to your hand told Shinsou you had headphones on. A few seconds had passed before you spun around, noticing the practically naked man staring at you. “Shit. Toshi! You scared the shit outta me!” Hand raised, swinging towards Shinsou’s chest. One hand still on his towel, his other hand swiftly latched behind your back, pushing your chest against his. “I’m sorry kitten.” Your eyes met Shinsou’s mysterious violet eyes. “I- uh- it's okay. Sorry for taking your shirt without asking…” Mumbling under your breath, your heart sped up. It wasn't’ until you felt water droplets trickle against your fingertips, you realized Shinsou was holding you against his wet, and naked, body. “Toshi. You wanna let go? And maybe go get dressed?” You chuckled. “Toshi, huh?” his usual gruff voice had a dark tone to it. “I’m sorry. I just thought it was cute and-” “I never said I didn’t like it, princess.” Shinsou grabbed the hem of the shirt and placed his hand on your lower back, toying with the thin lace of your panties. “I can’t believe I’ve got you in my arms.” Smooth fingertips traced down his chest, before finding their home on his hips. You tucked fingers into the top of his towel, knuckles nuzzled against his adonis belt. “Hitoshi, please kiss me already.” Without hesitation, Shinsou pressed his lips against yours. Wrapping both hands around your plush waist, his tongue pressed against your soft lips. You opened her mouth, allowing his tongue in. The cold metal ball swiped against your inner cheek, causing you to jump, arching your back against the wall. “Give me a color, babygirl. Let me know whenever you’re not comfortable.” Shinsou mumbled against you. His hands clutched the back of your plump thighs, hoisting you up. Legs locked around Shinsou’s waist. There was a playful pinch on your ass, followed by a husky groan. “What did I say, baby?” Realization struck… Shinsou is a major dom, yet your bratty side was telling you to disobey. “Sorry sir. Green.” Placing you down on his bed, Shinsou gathered your hair in his hands, moving it above your head, while attaching his lips to your open neck. Sucking on the now tender spot, he ran his tongue over the flesh. “You’re so beautiful, Y/n.” His breath hitched, gentle hands were now ghosting over his hard-on under the towel. “I feel like the luckiest guy in the world when I’m with you.” “Toshi, holy shit.” You huffed out. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Panic dripped from his mouth. “No. Fuck. You’re going to destroy me.” Wrapping your fist around Shinsou’s cock, you tugged at his length. At least a good 9 inches, if not more. A shaky moan drifted your attention. “Give me a color, daddy.” your teasing tone caused Shinsou’s dick to twitch under his restraining briefs. His strong hand gripped your throat, squeezing on the sides, your hand now removed from his cock and clasping onto his biceps. “I guess I’ve got a brat on my hands, huh?” Shinsou’s snarl caused your thighs to push together, making the slickness in between your legs increase. One hand tangled in your hair, and the other leaving her neck and settling on your clothed clit. “Toshi.” you whined. “Please.” Shinsou tugged your locks, a hiss slipping through your teeth. Rough fingers found their way under the elastic hem of your soaked underwear, lightly tracing your slit. Your hips thrusted upwards, craving Shinsou’s touch. “Hitoshi, please stop teasing me.” you barely squeaked out. “Ask me again properly, and I’ll THINK about giving you what you want.” His once normal pupils were now dilated and searched your face for any signs of discomfort or confusion. You wrapped your delicate arms around Shinsou’s neck before gazing deep into his lavender irises. “Please touch me, sir.” Shinsou plunged his fingers into your needy cunt, using the gathered slick as lubricant. Shaky little cries encouraged him to curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. “You look so fucking gorgeous, princess. Being such a good girl for me. I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” and with that Shinsou removed his fingers, Your now empty hole leaking with wetness. Your hands coiled into your hair. Shinsou placed two fingers in front of your face before swiftly taking them in his mouth, tongue swirling, collecting as much sweet nectar as he could. His pleased hum echoed in your ears. “Give me your color, kitten. Because once I taste you, I’m not sure I can stop myself.” The once soft, angelic appearance Shinsou gave was gone, and replaced with a dominating devil; You weren’t sure which you liked better. “...green.” you barely whimpered. “I’m about to make you feel so fucking good baby.” Now laying between your legs, he snatched you by the thighs, bruising your skin, and pulling you closer. Lazy wet kisses were peppered across the skin on your calves before he placed them behind his head. Your hungry whines added fuel to his fire. Licking his way from your knee to your puffy lips, he could feel your whole body shaking in anticipation. Shinsou growled out “Itadakimasu” before attacking your clit with his tongue. You traced your hands over your body before lifting up the fabric against your tummy, revealing your breasts, and toying with your pebbled nipples. “F-fuck T-toshi. I ugh.” You couldn’t even form a proper sentence. Shinsou unfastened one hand from your thigh, the other still squeezing and pulling your pussy as close as he could. Two cold fingers met your warm cunt, scissoring your slit open, allowing Shinsou to lick long swipes from asshole to your clit. The stubble on his cheeks and chin roughly scratched your skin, but the sheer bliss you felt distracted you. Shinsou’s hungry snarls could be heard all throughout the house. You felt the pads of Hitoshi’s fingers rub the tight rim of your ass. “I bet you’ve never been touched here have you, kitten? Do you want daddy to change that? Do you like your asshole being played with?” You screamed as Shinsou plunged his middle finger into your tight, untouched hole. “D-daddy!” “Awe. I’m sorry babygirl. Let daddy kiss it better.” Finger still in your ass, Shinsou licked the puckered ring around his digit. His cock leaking precum onto the sheets, the towel now long gone somewhere on the floor. You clenched, nearly forcing Hitoshi’s finger out of your hole. Desperate whines flowed from your mouth. The feeling of Shinsou’s wet tongue and his thick finger fucking you was nearly enough to make you cum. The babbling mess on his bed motivated him to speed up. “Mm gonna make you cum so hard. -Gonna make you scream my name.” The vibrations from his words rumbled against you hot pussy. Feeling your climax approach, your thighs clinched together against Shinsou’s face, weaving your fingers into his messy, sweat drenched hair. Your hips rutted upwards causing Hitoshi’s nose to bump your needy clit. “Nngh… Toshi… gonna. FUCK.” Your orgasm was so close. You could feel it, you could feel the need to pee. You could feel his fingers abuse your asshole. The twisting feel in your lower abdomen distracted you from the sound of the door opening. “That’s right, princess, cum on my face.” Speeding up his movements, his tongue greedily lapped against your dripping cunt. “Ah- ah- AH. unnf. Daddy-y-y-y.” Your juices splashed all over Shinsou’s face, He looked up at you, blissed out, cock red hot and craving attention. “Fuck Y/n.” He released both your thighs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was so hot.” A smug chuckle caught both yours and Shinsou’s attention. “Hell yeah it was!” The both of you quickly glanced at the door before fumbling for something to cover your nude bodies. Hitoshi grabbed the pillow laying next to your head and tossed it towards the door before yelling at his friend.

“Kaminari, what the fuck”

Taglist: @makkihoe @thegalxe @fandomsandmore394 @myherotrashbin @degenerationarmy @spicy-therapist-mom @dekustowel @kac-chowsballs @mindofess @mirikusashes @yn-tingz @virgoamajiki @chaichai-the-weeb @staygoldsquatchling02 @princeabomination @someweirdshitman @thathoneybee3 @miitsukai @vampsclassiffied @oof-imsorry @sirachano0dles @fionathebanana @lordexplosion-murder20 @ouijaeater15 @whywontyousaveme

#Limelight smau #shinsou smut #hitoshi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #shinso smut

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palimpsessed · 3 years ago

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Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

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gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years ago

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The American Dream

Read on AO3 (cw: drug talk, vampire/blood talk)

Jonathan sat stiffly in the living room, hands folded in his lap as he stared at the pair of women facing him. The girls—Nina and Dierdre, though he could never remember which was which even though they looked quite different—appeared to be a permanent fixture in Edward’s life. They seemed to be employees of his, affectionately referring to him as “the boss”, but it wasn’t clear whether that was the full extent of their relationship with him.

“So,” began the one he thought was Nina, “seems like you and the boss have been getting pretty freaky lately.”

Jonathan felt his ears growing hot, having no idea what to say in response to that. “Does it seem that way?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Dee, c’mon, don’t ask him about that,” the other woman chastised.

Ah, so the first to speak had actually been Dierdre, making her brunette companion Nina. Why couldn’t he manage to get that through his head?

“I didn’t ask anything,” Dierdre was arguing. “I’m just saying, like, there’s a lot of mess after he fucks off outta here. I mean, the bedroom looks like a crime scene once Eddie’s through with you,” she said, turning her attention back to Jonathan. “And he’s never been a messy eater.”

Jonathan was aware of the mess she was referring to, and he was also aware that the majority of it was unrelated to Edward’s feeding habits. Not that there wasn’t plenty of bloodsucking when they were together. But it had been apparent after their first encounter that this arrangement extended far beyond that of a predator and its prey. No, things had quickly become much more complicated and, well, messy than Jonathan had anticipated.

“Deirdre,” Nina said sharply, “quit it. It’s none of our business.”

“We’re the ones cleaning it up, Nina.”

“I can clean it,” Jonathan mumbled, speaking up for the first time. “I didn’t know you were… I can take care of it.”

“Please,” Nina said, waving the comment away. “You have no idea how Edward wants things done. He’s very persnickety about cleanliness. You’d just make it worse.”

“Besides, you’re the guest,” Deirdre added. “Guests don’t clean house.”

“Yeah, Dee,” her partner said, shooting a pointed look at Deirdre. “He’s a guest. So lay off with the personal questions.”

“But I didn’t ask him any questions,” she insisted.

“Just give the freaky sex talk a rest, babe. Can’t you see he’s about to plotz over there?”

Jonathan didn’t know what “plotz” meant, but it felt like an accurate assessment. His face was burning and every muscle in his body was taut from the power of his discomfort. “It’s fine,” he said curtly. “Look, do you think he’ll be down soon, or—”

“I’ll go check,” Deirdre announced, rising from the sofa. “Since I’m not allowed to talk to him anyway,” she added sarcastically as she headed toward the stairs that led up into the main living area.

Nina rolled her eyes, reclining on the couch and draping her legs over the arm. “I promise we’ve seen worse shit,” she said after a few moments. “She’s just messing with you.”

“Okay.”

She stared up at the ceiling, picking distractedly at the frayed end of the laces on one of her thick, black boots. “So, what do you do when you’re not here?”

“I’m a licensed psychotherapist and a published researcher. And I’m considering medical school.”

Nina turned to look at him, the ring pierced through here eyebrow shining as she cocked it in disbelief. “Get out.”

“I’m being serious,” Jonathan said, annoyed but not entirely surprised that she didn’t believe him.

“But you’re a kid!” she exclaimed, sitting up to study his face intently. “I mean, you look like shit, but Eddie said you’re not even thirty.”

“People can do things before they turn thirty.”

“Well, your age is just part of it,” she said. “Your lifestyle doesn’t really seem like someone trying to become a doctor.”

“I’m already a doctor,” he corrected. “I have two PhDs.”

Nina’s eyebrows crept further up her forehead. “Where do you find the hours to do all this shit and then also be here all the fucking time?”

“I’m not here that often. And the PhDs happened in the past, obviously.” He shrugged. “I’ve figured out a precise combination of prescription and recreational drugs to maximize my productivity and minimize any… psychological intrusions. And now I’m a doctor and a chemist and a therapist and a man who fucks a monster for free drugs.”

She nodded slowly, considering this. “Sounds like the American dream to me.”

“I suppose we really can have it all,” he muttered, picking at his fingernails.

#vampire au #scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #batman #dc #fic #my fic #writing #my writing #tw blood #tw drugs

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing Wrong

Prompt: Writing prompt for Merlin (preferably time passes?): Modern Day everyone try to explain to Arthur how life works now and Arthur trying to get Merlin to therapy because JESUS DUDE and coming up with a somewhat workable alibi for what can essentially be called immortality angst. Hope you're having a lovely day!!

Thanks for the prompt, babe! This is part of a series over on my Ao3 but it can be read as a standalone

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2217

So it turns out that Merlin, to no one's surprise but his, could benefit from seeing a therapist.

“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Emrys,” Dr. Lerchen says as Merlin sits down in the plush chair, “it’s good to meet you.”

“You as well, Dr. Lerchen.”

“Please, Melanie is fine.” Dr. Le—Melanie smiles and fixes her glasses. “I understand that you’ve never been to a therapist before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you. May I ask what you’ve heard about therapy?”

“That it’s something I should definitely do.”

“Well, I make no judgments about that, but what else?”

Merlin hesitates. He’s never had someone who’s…paid to listen to him. Whose job it is to help him sort through the mess in his brain. It feels…counterintuitive.

Melanie nods when he says as much. “You’re not the first person who feels a little awkward asking a therapist for help. Nor are you the first to think you don’t actually need it.”

Merlin blinks. “I didn’t say that.”

“No—“ Melanie gives him a look— “but am I right?”

He fidgets in the chair.

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” she says after a moment, “but I want to reassure you that you don’t need to have a reason to see a therapist.”

“I don’t?”

She shrugs. “Some people see me because they’re having issues at work that they’re struggling to manage. Some people see me because they’ve got mental issues they need help with. And some people see me because they’ve never actually had someone to talk to.”

“…really?”

Melanie smiles. “Yes, Mr. Emrys. You don’t have to need therapy to have therapy.”

A weight begins to lift off his shoulders. Judging by Melanie’s smile, she can see it. She sits back in her chair too and tilts her head.

“Is that all this is,” Merlin murmurs, mostly to himself, “is this…therapy?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s as easy to tell from the two minutes you’ve been here,” she laughs, “but…yes. I ask questions, and if you like, you answer them. Or we simply talk. About…whatever you’d like.”

“Whatever I like?”

“Believe me, I’ve spent sessions discussing nothing but movies and favorite colors.”

“With children?”

“With adults.” She gestures between them. “I’m here to provide the support you need to work through things. Does that sound alright?”

“…yes,” Merlin breathes, “that sounds…that sounds great.”

“Wonderful. May I ask you a few questions about why you’re here today?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I write them down?”

Merlin shakes his head and she retrieves a notepad.

“In your request for an appointment, you mentioned that you’d been referred to me by a friend of yours?”

“Yes, um, Leon Camlynn.”

“Ah, yes, I see.” She makes a note. “Had you been discussing therapy with him prior to the referral?”

“You should try it, Merlin,” Leon says encouragingly as Arthur sits down on the couch, “it’s just talking.”

“I’ve had experience with therapy before, Leon.”

“Not like this,” Leon promises, his eyes shining with the understanding of what type of ‘therapy’ Merlin’s been put through, “I promise.”

Merlin sighs. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine, Leon, I—“

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts softly, “I think you should try it. Just once, at least.”

He doesn’t blink at Merlin’s look of betrayal.

“Leon says it helps him, and maybe it’ll help you too.”

“There is so much between us already,” Leon says softly, drawing Merlin’s attention again, “so much history—“

“So why would I want to talk to someone that I’d have to explain things to?”

“—that you might not be able to talk about it with us,” Leon finishes, “and you’d only have to explain as much as you were comfortable with.”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t believe you. There’s—I—I can’t—my—hmm.”

“You don’t have to explain everything all the time, Merlin,” Leon says, “and you definitely won’t have to during the first session.”

“I agree,” Melanie says, patiently writing things down, “I’m not here to pressure you into telling me things you’re not comfortable with, nor am I going to tell you what to do.”

“He said that I should get used to talking to someone.” Merlin toys with the end of his shirt. “Someone that wasn’t…him.”

Melanie nods. “How long has it been? Since you spoke to someone other than Leon?”

1500 years. “…a while.”

“And is Leon your closest friend? Do you have anyone else?”

“I know people at work, I talk to them, they drag me out for pub nights. But Leon’s my only…friend-friend, really.”

“I see.” She looks back at the appointment record. “It says here you’re also considering whether or not you have some sort of PTSD?”

Damnit, Leon.

“…yes.”

“You needn’t tell me anything you feel uncomfortable telling me,” Melanie reminds, “but whatever you do tell me will be useful in how I can help you.”

Merlin can’t help glancing at the door.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” comes the quiet reassurance, “nothing you say will leave this room.”

He takes a deep, slow breath. He hasn’t talked about this to anyone. Not even Arthur. Not really. There are so many secrets that no one knows that he doesn’t know how to tell one without telling all of them.

“Pick something small,” Melanie suggests when he says as much, “something innocuous. A memory, perhaps, one that makes you happy.”

“Come on, Merlin, this way!”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur drags him through the woods. “Whatever creature you’re hunting is going to hear us coming from yards away, as you’re so fond of telling me.”

“We’re not hunting Merlin, now come on!”

“Then why are we out in the middle of the woods for no reason? And why am I carrying all this food?”

Arthur bursts through the edge of the woods into a clearing, spinning around with a blinding smile. “We’re having a picnic.”

Merlin blanches. “A what?”

“A picnic, Merlin,” Arthur repeats, taking the basket from him, “we’re going to sit down and eat.”

And they did, in the field, as butterflies flew around their heads.

“That sounds lovely,” Melanie says, smiling, “and how long ago was this?”

Merlin’s smile dims. “A long time.”

“Was it near where you grew up?”

“No, no, it was…quite far away. I, um, I grew up in a smaller village and went away to a big city to work.”

“Was it hard, being away from your family for such a long period of time?”

He misses his mother’s smile.

He misses the smell of the barn when he walks outside—not the big, Camelot stables, but their little barn with the cinnamon and cloves stuffed into the corners to keep the old donkey happy.

He misses Will, the shouts and yells of the other boys as they rush up and down the streets.

He misses the old man’s warbling in the late night as he walked back and forth with the lantern, putting out the lights on his market stall.

“I’d never been farther than walking distance away from my home,” he says quietly, examining his hands, “so it was…hard to adjust.”

“I’m sure. Did you go back to visit them ever?”

“The winters are harsh in Ealdor,” his mother says, pleading in front of the tightly Uther Pendragon, “and there are many children. Some of them just won't be strong enough to survive. We barely have enough food as it is, and if Kanen takes our harvest, our children won't live to see another summer. Please, we need your help.”

“Ealdor's in Cenred's kingdom,” Uther says dismissively, “your safety is his responsibility.”

“We've appealed to our King, but he cares little for the outlying regions. You're our only hope.”

Uther regards his mother with what can only be described as forced pity. “I have the deepest sympathy for you and would have this barbarian wiped off the face of the earth.”

“You'll help us?”

“I wish I could.”

Perhaps sensing Merlin’s dismay, Arthur speaks up. “Surely we can spare a few men?”

“…once.”

Melanie tilts her head. “You sound sad.”

“…my friend died when I went back,” Merlin says, “he…I’d known him since I was a little boy. He was…important to me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she does sound genuinely sorry, Merlin realizes, as she leans forward. “What was his name?”

“Will.”

“Will,” she repeats, “I’m sorry he passed.”

Merlin shrugs. Out of all the people he’s lost, he can’t afford to hurt over all of them all the time.

“What did you do afterward?”

“I went back to work.”

Melanie blinks. “Just like that? No time off, no time to grieve?”

“…where I come from, that wasn’t really a thing.”

“…I see.”

Merlin shifts. “Is something wrong?”

“People need time to process things,” she says, “to reconcile what’s happened in order to learn how to live with it. And if you weren’t given that time…”

“It wasn’t the most pressing thing on my mind.”

That gives her pause. She raises an eyebrow and nods for him to continue. Merlin fidgets a little in the chair.

“…I have a secret,” he says finally, “one that Will died to protect for me.”

She makes a soft noise.

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Merlin continues, staring at a spot on the carpet, “it—they would’ve—“

He breaks off. He hasn’t thought about his magic like this for centuries. He hasn’t thought about his magic for decades. He hasn’t actually looked at himself for…a long time.

He’s been hiding for almost as long as he can remember.

“What would they have done,” Melanie prompts softly.

“Killed me.” Merlin looks up. “They would’ve killed me.”

To her credit, Melanie doesn’t look shocked. Instead, she smiles softly.

“No one will kill you for a secret, Mr. Emrys, not on my watch.”

That shouldn’t make him feel as warm as it does, but he finds his own mouth turning up into a smile.

“Does your family know your secret?”

“My mother did. My father…yes, he knew.”

“Does Leon know?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

Merlin hesitates. “Yes. Yes, someone else knows. Even though I…I didn’t…I didn’t tell him when I should have.”

“You’re the only one who gets to make that decision,” Melanie reassures, “no one else.”

“But he felt so betrayed when I didn’t tell him. He was…he was angry with me.”

“You’ve lied to me. You’ve lied all this time.”

Merlin can’t quite hear his heart crack in two, but he can feel it.

“Why did you decide to tell him?”

Merlin shrugs. “He was going to get hurt if I didn’t show—if I didn’t tell him.”

“Hurt?”

“He…”

Ygraine, his mother, gone on the day of his birth because of magic.

Uther, turned bitter and cynical, making enemies upon enemies of magic while hoarding it for his own selfish purposes.

Morgana, his own sister, twisted and tortured by Uther, by Arthur, by Merlin, until she was barely recognizable.

Arthur had lost so much to magic that Merlin can’t bear to give him something else to lose.

“…he’s already been hurt by it,” Merlin says, shutting his eyes, “I didn’t want to hurt him too.”

“What happened to him?”

“He—“

Mordred steps out from behind a rock and walks toward Arthur, he raises his sword...

Arthur either hears him or sees his reflection in a sword on the ground. He stands and blocks the attack, he goes to stab and stops, realizing it's Mordred. Mordred stabs him and withdraws the sword, fatally wounding him.

Arthur goes to a knee.

Merlin can’t find the breath to scream.

“Merlin. There is nothing you can do.”

“I’ve failed?

“No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building, has come to pass.”

“I can't lose him! He's my friend!”

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin...Arthur is not just a King-he is the Once and Future King.”

Once and Forever.

“Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

Merlin. Merlin is all that’s left.

“It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock-the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.”

1500 years…

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He’s back.

“…he went away. For a very long time.”

“And now?”

Despite everything, Merlin finds himself smiling. “He’s my flatmate.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Melanie says softly, smiling too, “you two deserve your soft epilogue.”

Wait, what?

“I’m afraid that’s all we have the time for today, Mr. Emrys,” Melanie says, standing and holding out her hand for him to shake, “but I’d be happy to set up another appointment.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Merlin says, scrambling to his feet and shaking her hand, “and please, Merlin’s fine.”

“Merlin.” Her handshake is firm, grounding. “Be in touch.”

“I will.”

“And one last thing,” she calls as he goes to leave, “there is nothing wrong with being gay, Merlin.”

Wait, what?

#Merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

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whumpitisthen · 4 years ago

Text

Récamier

Masterlist

First drabble! This was made as a way to torture my friend who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with vampires. That’s why it’s in first person, I usually write in the third! Anyways, hope you like it. :)

"So..." - He began. He sounded soft and patient. - "You told me last week you've been having nightmares, ones you’ve never had before."

"Oh, did i tell you about that as well?" You reply, having genuinely forgotten that you told him about those.

"Yes, you have. Has your memory been getting worse as well?" He sounds almost concerned, a look of empathy in his eyes.

"Oh, no, no, I think it's pretty much the same as it always has been...?" It came out as a shaky reply, not confident in your own answer either.

"You don't sound too sure of that, Darling.” He says, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he notices the reaction the pet name has brought out of you. It wasn't anything big, just a small widening of the eyes and setting of your jaw, but he noticed nevertheless. He seems to really pay attention to you, in a way no-one else has, in a way no-one should.

"Uhmm... I think that's not something to worry about. I just forgot, that's all.” You add with a reassuring smile, ignoring the one that he wore still, though now it's starting to morph into a different one. Looks a little smaller, tight-lipped, overly kind.

He seems to disregard your answer entirely, instead, he pulls himself up a little straighter. He takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes, which allows you just a moment to take a good look at him.

You never told him but you do feel kind of intimidated by him. You know you shouldn't be. After all, he's your therapist. You should feel comfortable and relaxed, like you're just having a nice chat with a trusted friend.

But something about him seems... he just seems-, off, sometimes. You yourself are not even sure what the reason for that is. Maybe it's the relaxed way he keeps pulling his finger up and down on the arm of the chair. Maybe its the slight asymmetrical pull of the corners of his mouth, how on the left side it always pulls a little higher when he smiles. Maybe its the way he looks, distinctly paler than you, almost slickly, so much so, that you had to often stop yourself from asking him "Are you okay?". Maybe... Its the way his eyes seem to change colour, with the different lighting. You have noticed all these things about him in the month you've been coming here. Twice a week. He insisted on two times, even though you said you didn't think you needed it. In the end you decided to give in, he was the therapist after all. He knew what you needed.

"You're zoning out again, Darling. Do you perhaps need a break?"

There it is again. That pet name.

He hasn't called you that before. Or has he?

Maybe your memory really has been getting worse.

"Oh, u-uhm, sorry! No, it's fine we can keep going if you'd like." He seems to believe you, as he changes his position, crossing his legs and leaning his chin on one hand, as if getting ready for a story.

"So, you said something about bad nightmares you've been getting at the end of our last session. I'd like to ask you: Have they gotten any worse?"

You still don't remember actually telling him about them and honestly it’s starting to really bother you. You always have your guard up as it is, trust issues and all that, part of why you’re here, talking with your therapist. But for the life of you, you just cannot remember when you told him about those. Because you surely have. You have. He wouldn’t know otherwise! This is stupid.

"Ah, um. I guess... I-I don't know. I feel like they leave me more... tired? Than before. And I seem to get more exhausted as the days go on. I'm afraid I'll start falling asleep at my job if this keeps up."

He hums. Writes something on his clipboard. "Do you still see that shadow person that keeps following you?"

You don't remember telling him that either. No, shut up, you did because he knows, and the only way he would is if you told him.

He seems to notice your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, would you like to not talk about this for now? We can discuss something else."

His voice feels like it's background noise. Like waking up to birds chirping. They're loud and did wake you up, but you don't mind being woken up by birds singing under your window. It's a welcome way of attention.

It calms you. It relaxes you.

It makes you feel... tired.

"We can discuss the way you've been fidgeting a little more today than other times, I have noticed. Or how you keep stuttering so much. I can see something is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is, Love?"

A different pet name, but a pet name nonetheless.

You don't remember him calling you that before.

You don't remember.

You.

Dont-

"How do you know?"

You blurt out without thought.

You immediately regret it, but ultimately decide to keep the question in the air.

Because you cannot explain away the feeling of anxiety at every mention of those dreams, or pet names, or, or- ...you. It feels wrong, in this moment, to talk about you. It sounds dumb, these are your therapy sessions after all. It feels wrong though. Different. Like this isn’t how it was supposed to go. How else could it have gone?

"Excuse me?" He looks genuinely surprised. You think he might've missed the question, with how fast you blurted it out.

Before you could ask again, or rather apologize for the weird as fuck question, he continues. "How do I know... About what? About...” - He seems lost in thought, thinking about what it might be that you're referring to. His eyes land on his clipboard and stay there for a while, drifting over it. - “...about ...your dreams, perhaps?" He finishes slowly, as if unsure.

"Yes, uh... I... I don't remember t-telling about them... to... you?" You hate yourself for sounding like a scared child. You especially hate that your voice cracks in the middle of it, and you see his eyes widen, just a little, at that.

God, could you be more embarrassing?

"I told you, Dear.” - Another. -”You told me about them last week, didn't you?"

"I-I-I..., um..."

You're unsure of what to say

"I-, ...don't remember." You take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. You notice the slight tremble of your hands.

"...You seem troubled. Are you quite sure you're alright, Darling?” - He gives a reassuring smile, encouraging you to be confident and tell him if you're not. - “Perhaps, you feel... Hm." He stands up leaving the clipboard on his table. He walks over, as slowly and non-threataningly as he can, putting the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Hm... You don't seem sick. Sweetheart,”- Again. - “maybe we should talk about those dreams. They seem to leave you confused and disoriented."

"Stop."

"Hm?"

"Get off me."

You lean back, away from his hand, and sit up to catch your breath.

He seems perplexed. His hand falls back in place as he gets lost in thought again, looking at you. Expectant. Quiet.

"Am... Am I making you uncomfortable, Dear-"

"Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop calling me 'darling' and 'sweetheart' and 'love' and 'dear' and-, and... Stop looking at m-me."

He seems to freeze for a second. You're not sure what caused him to do that, but he seems... apathetic. Emotionless. Like he's not there, for just a moment.

He blinks once, swallows, and some resemblance of humanity comes back to him.

"I-... I am making you uncomfortable, is that it." It was more of a statement than a question. "Hm. So you say you don't remember." His eyes wander again. In the end, they come back, and change colour, and you feel like he's 100 metres tall while you're barely an inch.

The lighting didn't change, but his eyes noticeably did. You feel, with every second, more and more anxious, as the eyes keep looking at you, into you, and keep you in place.

Literally.

You cannot move.

You're trying.

The most you can do is flick your eyes betweeen his.

He comes closer now. His hand finds your forehead again, but this time to put a lost lock behind your ear.

He doesn't say anything, simply looks at you. All of you. While you're forced to keep eye contact, his are roaming over the whole of you, taking in every inch, every crevice, every nook and cranny.

As his eyes move the humanity seems to disappear once more and the hand returns to rest on your cheek, then slide down your neck.

As the pressure builds his other hand comes into view, positioning itself on your arm, effectively turning and pushing you down, back how you were before you realised his secret. Because you did, didn't you? You couldn't have just kept playing this little game of pretend between you two. You had to be smart and figure it out.

As you are shoved down back on the récamier, your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. You are panicking and scared and angry but mostly you just wanna run home, curl up under your covers and cry.

The feeling of having forgotten so much makes you wanna break down right there, but even that is denied of you as your "therapist" looms over you, shadowing your face. In the dark, his eyes, that scarlet hue, is so much more noticeable and unsettling.

How do his eyes go from such a pretty black to that mesmerising crimson? That cannot be human.

He leans down, close, close, right over you, so close you cannot see anything anymore but his eyes, boring endlessly into yours.

"Do you know when our last appointment was?"

You think and you feel like you know but you can't actually name the day, date or even time. Not that you could anwser him, not like this.

"Do you feel as if your mind has been working more different than before?"

"Do you feel unsafe, Angel?"

He leans closer, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, even quiter, like a deadly secret.

"Why did you have to ruin our fun, Angel? Wasn't it nice? Pretending? Playing? Why did you have to ruin that, huh, Sweetheart?"

As his voice starts to shake, a little in anger, a little unhinged, a little dangerous, you start trembling through his paralysing gaze.

You still don't remember anything. Not when the last appointment was, not when you told him about the dreams, not when you got here, not where you live, not who he is, not when your own birthday is, not your own name, only Angel, Angel, Angel...

"Does the shadow person ever... touch you? Has he ever talked to you? What did he say? Can you recall? What was it, hm? Tell me Love."

You don't want to. You don't want to you don't want to-

"A-A-Angel..."

"Yes, Love, keep going."

He was suffocating you

His sheer presence.

"A-a... Ang-gel, can y-y-you... can, you-..."

"That's it, keep going, you're doing great, Dear."

"Ange-el, can, can you-u-... can you c-...can y-you come see me-e...?"

"Mhm. There we go. There's a dear."

You feel violated. You feel him climbing on top of you, his weight effortlessly pinning you down even more, as he leans closer. You feel utterly completely absolutely terrifyingly helpless.

"See? In the end, you did remember!" He seems to sound different. He sounds like he's holding something back. Like there's a dam that's about to break and let the water envelop an entire city underwater. Like he's about to swallow you whole.

"Too late now, though. Shame. I was having fun with you. Too bad it had to end so soon. Now, maybe if you look desperate enough, we could do it again sometime? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Now keep still for me, Angel, this might hurt just a bit. I feel it's only fair i make you pay for wasting my time like that."

#creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whump #vampire whumper #y/n #reader insert #fear #amnesia #hallucination #nightmare #paralyzed #therapy session #first drabble can i get a pogchamp #my writing #sadistic whumper #creepy whump #intimate whump

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