#anyway now should be safe to tag without spoilers: | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hier--soir · 1 year ago

Text

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.”

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?”

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.”

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter. “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.”

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours.

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.”

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right?#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

1K notes · View notes

yinyangyandere · 6 months ago

Text

ll Yandere Anxiety HCs 🧡

[SPOILERS FOR INSIDE OUT 2]

Synopsis; A long list of headcanons on how I think Anxiety would be like as a yandere, as well as somewhat of a fanfic

ll Caution: General Yandere Mindset, Mental Manipulation, Betrayal, Obsessive/Possessive Behaviors, Bad Ending, Possible OOC Writing

A.N.; Not me literally writing a 9-page Google HC Doc yandere scenario for an emotion jfnjrndjnredj3j3er But seriously, I love Anxiety so much. I felt like she had a good deal of nuance to her character, in-between her wanting to help Riley for the future with good intentions in mind, but executing it poorly. Should go without saying she’s probably my fave in the franchise, and one of my fave Disney characters now.

At the same time, I noticed a lot of her behavior could potentially be ripe for a depiction where she wanted to protect Riley SO much that she’d do anything for her. Eventually, that led to me making this; it should be noted that you are not Riley in this though. It’s intended to be a what-if situation, if OG Anxiety displayed yandere-typical behavior and was inside your head instead. Hope that makes sense.

Anyways, make sure to acknowledge the warnings before reading further! If any of the above topics make you feel even a bit uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to look out for yourself and click off. Your mental health is important!

If anyone needs anything additional tagged, I’ll do so and edit the post with the added warning. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

----

First things first, I’m so sorry for you; imagine having a yandere that exists solely in your head, and no matter how hard you try to get rid of them, they’ll always be there. They exist as essentially a part of you, and removal of such things is far from easy. Especially so if that yandere in question is a personification of an emotion, which leads me to your lovesick “headmate” today: Anxiety.

🧡 ll Start:

She first showed up when you first began your puberty, similarly to Riley’s Anxiety from the movie. Like the others, she adores you and only wishes for the best when it comes to you. But all the while, the love Anxiety felt for you was growing more and more with each passing day, much more exponentially than what the other emotions in HQ felt.

Unconsciously, she slips her way into becoming the lead emotion, making you become an overall cautious individual as a whole. The others mostly disapproved of this, but they still went along with what Anxiety had in store for you since she could be pretty good at persuading everyone else into what she wanted.

Anxiety would, of course, step back so the rest can help you when needed, but as time went on, the other emotions needed to be more insistent on getting Anxiety to back down from the Control Panel. It had gotten to the point where Anxiety was basically piloting you for nearly the entire day without any of their input!

However, an awful pit in her stomach grew as well. Anxiety couldn’t help but squeeze her criss-crossed arms together as she observed your Joy manipulate the panel. ‘You were doing just fine with me in control!’ Anxiety couldn’t help but think to herself. ‘There’s no reason why I needed to step down!’

This feeling, this thought, persisted through multiple days and weeks. All the while, scenarios of you having a bad future because one of them made a mistake replayed on loop inside the girl’s head. She could’ve stepped in and stopped them, making sure you were safe, but she didn’t! She wouldn’t ever be able to forgive herself if she couldn’t protect you!

Anxiety, while she disliked these feelings, grew into someone who didn’t talk much to the others. She became antisocial, only focusing on tending to you and ensuring both your safety and happiness.

Sleepless nights and jealousy-filled days passed, and her obsession towards you never waned in the slightest. It grew, larger and more present, until it encompassed her entire life in her eyes. Anxiety lay awake one night, eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling. Her mind just wouldn’t stop racing, thinking of you and how she could help you so much more if she was more in-control of things around here.

…Wait. Maybe…if she was more in-control…the sole emotion to take care of the Control Panel…

That idea persisted inside her head for days on end. She didn’t talk to the others during this time, refusing to answer their questions on why she was acting so weird and off recently. They wouldn’t understand. They’re your emotions, yeah, but Anxiety was your main one! She was the one who made sure you’d be protected in any situation!

Finally, it all came to a head when your Joy pointed out how obsessive Anxiety has been over you. The others agreed with Joy, and seeing everyone else loom over her with those questioning looks of theirs made Anxiety feel trapped. In an uncharacteristic act of rage from her, Anxiety shouted back at them, yelling that they would never be able to understand how she’d feel and that she was the only person there who truly cares for you. She stormed off before anyone else could retort back.

When she came back, in the middle of the night, she wasn’t alone. Alongside her was the Mind Police; she was able to convince them that the emotions there were actually rogue secrets and that the real ones are missing. Anxiety watched silently, fidgeting, unable to stop the slight guilt in her heart as she watched her former friends be pulled away and be stuck inside the Vault. ‘It’s for you,’ Anxiety reassured herself, talking about…well, about you. ‘Everything I’m doing is for you.’

It was weird at first, adjusting to being the only emotion left inside H Q, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Since, as the days ticked onwards, Anxiety swooned over you, sometimes talking to you as if you’d be able to respond back to her. Finally, she had you all to herself, and she’ll guarantee that she’d be able to keep you from harm’s reach while being able to bask in all of you.

🧡 ll Further Descent:

Boy, if you thought Anxiety had gone off the deep-end before, she certainly has now. Her days and nights are completely consumed by you. HQ is absolutely covered in drawings and little origami depictions of both you and her (and, while she’d often blush while doing it, she also enjoyed treating them like dolls and making them give little kisses to one another). Interspruced with all of that is her written ramblings, and it felt like that the further you went down in her notes, the more fanatical it became.

Sometimes, she’d have small sparks of self-awareness. Anxiety will clean up HQ and tidy it, all while reminiscing on her love for you. These small moments of clarity will give her twinges of regret and doubt, but she’d push them all in the back of her mind in the end. After all, it’s for the greater good. She’d assure herself that she really was the only person who could truly be able to acknowledge everything about you until that assurance soon became a truth in her eyes. A stone-cold, unrelenting truth.

Meanwhile, you’d become much more nervous, “unstable” in some cases. Nowadays, you feel too apprehensive about going outside, quitting your in-person job in favor of an online or at-home one. Groceries are delivered to your door-step, and appointments you need to go to, like for a check-up or surgery, are done with great reluctance. After, you immediately rush back to the safety of your abode.

When it comes to social interactions, Anxiety also makes sure that, while you’d have friends, they wouldn’t get too close to you. She can’t have them hurting you, physically or emotionally! Though, deep down inside of her, Anxiety does feel a hint of possessiveness towards you, but it mostly comes out as her afraid for your well-being.

Crushes definitely are a no-go. Any attempts on trying to get closer to a love interest you may have is completely out of the question in the eyes of Anxiety. She’ll break the button that makes you feel socially-awkward if she has to.

Anxiety notices soon enough that your feelings of loneliness are increasing rapidly, and attempting to brainstorm an idea where both of you could be happy, a lightbulb goes off in her head.

She goes down to the studio where they produce your dreams, and through some sly convincing and surprising ability to help sway others to what she wants, Anxiety is able to control your dreams with full access. Now, she hopes that her plan will work.

🧡 ll Meeting You in Person:

Well, in-person is in very large quotation marks, but it’s the closest thing she can get to doing such a thing.

After making sure everything was in working order and looked good, Anxiety waited for night to come and for when it was finally time to reveal herself to you. The studio, while it mostly worked with actors, also had the option of summoning your consciousness in a tangible form; how else did you think those falling dreams would cause you to wake up violently right as you hit the ground? Though, Anxiety was using it for a much, much different purpose now.

She sweated bullets while she waited, stimming in both excitement and worry on how you’d react to her. Anxiety suddenly stood still when your eyes finally shut, signifying that it was time to enact her plan.

Pressing various buttons and switches, she grinned as the thing shuttered and spat out smoke before shooting a project of light from the machine’s camera. It morphed, taking form, until you were finally there right in front of Anxiety. You blinked, confused, before turning to the delighted squeak you heard.

You nearly barrelled over as you felt a sudden force of weight being flung right around your torso, and as you looked down through the wild forest of orange hair that somewhat covered your vision, you saw Anxiety tightly wrapped around you in a hug. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her smile beamed wider as she snuggled into you just a bit more.

“I…I finally get to see you,” you heard her mumble. “I never thought I would, but…here you are! With me!”

You gave her a confused expression, unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry, but, uh, do I know you?”

Anxiety’s eyes snapped open, tears wiped away in a flash, as she glanced up at you and immediately backed off. “O-oh, oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry; that was so dumb of me, ugh!” She muttered the last part under her breath.

What follows is what you’d expect: she explains to you that she’s your personification of Anxiety, but makes sure to add that she only steps in to prevent you from making possible bad decisions. At least, that’s partially true. Then, she gives you a small tour of the place, deciding to give you a tour of HQ another day (when she doesn’t have your face plastered all over the walls…). After, she insists to you that she’d do anything for you. Figuring that this was all a dream, you simply ask her for some levity from your struggles in reality. In short, you two have fun.

Anxiety is extremely reluctant to allow you to go, but she figures that it would be too suspicious and off-putting if she begged you to stay. When you awake, you just figure that it was some sort of strange lucid dream before going about your day.

So, it surprises you when you see Anxiety again the next night…and the next…and the next…and the next. Around the third time, you realize this is abnormal and start feeling uncomfortable around Anxiety. She notices, and asks you about it. You just wave it off, saying you’re a bit nervous for work tomorrow. Anxiety’s very doubtful, but she goes with it.

However, when she shows up again on the fourth night, you’ve had enough. You’re creeped out with her, and explain to a now very concerned Anxiety that she can’t be real. “I am!” She retorts back. “But-but that isn’t a bad thing! That just means you can talk to me if you have anything troubling you! Please, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you!”

Even though you did, in fact, run away from her that night, she just showed right back up again the next. What then happened was a repetitive cycle of you running away from Anxiety as she tries to explain her side of the story, waking up, and then going right back to Stage 1. You ask your doctors for a higher dosage of anxiety medication in hopes it would quell what you perceived as delusions. But no matter what you tried, no matter what medicine you took, Anxiety will always be the first thing you “wake” up to.

It had maybe been almost two weeks when you finally relented. Anxiety, however, seemed a bit snarky. “So, have you finally run all out-of-steam? Can I finally get to tell you what’s going on?!”

It took you a few seconds to reply. “...Yeah. Go ahead.”

She let out a sigh of relief, before she explained more on why she’s being so persistent with you. She figured that, since your life wasn’t the best at the moment, Anxiety would help give you some escapism during the night as a relief. While you still felt a bit off-put by one of your emotions continuously showing up in your dreams, and of all of them it’s the Anxiety one, her reasoning did give you some respite. She made sure she didn’t slip that she just really wanted to spend time with you too, though.

It took you a little while to warm up to both the idea and her again, but after some time, you started to enjoy your little adventures with Anxiety. She was funny, sweet, kind, and had all the same interests as you did. She became your best friend, but in Anxiety’s eyes, you two were already in a relationship.

Every time you awoke, she did a little happy dance at the progress being made. Heck, she even had a checklist full of things to make certain you’d fall for her in return. Anxiety was not going to allow herself to destroy your bond together with her. At this point, her whole life really is about you. She loves you so, so much and every day she gets more exhilarated at getting closer to the stage where she’d ask you the question.

Months pass on, and it’s now around the end of the year. She decided to give you a little celebration, convincing the workers below to set off fireworks outside. HQ was decked out in festive decorations, illuminated by the glow of the bright flashes of light outside. When Anxiety sees your gorgeous face lit up by the colors set off from the other side of the window, her heart thumps louder in her chest, almost to an audible level. Her breath is caught in her mouth, but shaking off the stunned reaction she has towards you, Anxiety figures now would be a good time as ever to ask you: do you love her as much as she loves you?

✨🧡 ll Yes:

“Well…ah, it’s a bit weird to be dating one of my emotions…”

Anxiety’s wide-eyed face immediately turns down on itself, pupils shrinking and a frown making itself very well-known on her face. No, no! You can’t-!

“...Ah, why not? Sure!”

I hope you’re stanced up because if not, you will be thrown to the ground in another one of Anxiety’s tight hugs. She keeps on letting out happy squeals, unable to contain her absolute joy at your response. You laugh at how cute she was, returning her hug. She smiles even wider at that.

“I love you, I love you, I love youIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOU!” Anxiety repeated, her tongue twisting near the end making her almost unable to be understood until her final declaration of love. You giggle, and at this her green eyes open up and twinkle at you, a smile spread wider across her face than ever before.

“I love you too.”

While Anxiety never truly does let go of her obsessive tendencies towards you, they do somewhat lax now that she knows you love her back. Her mind sometimes wanders to the other emotions locked up in the Vault, and now on her off-days, she actually goes and visits them, talking to them through the cell. Of course, they’re pissed off at her, but she just can’t stop gushing about you and how much you love her back. Anxiety is too lovestruck to notice the gagging coming from Ennui, Anger, and Disgust inside whenever she goes on another long spiel about how your kisses feel or the flower you gave to her the other day.

Speaking of gifts, while she loves to talk to you about your interests and hyperfixations, Anxiety’s personal go-to love language will always be presents. Whatever you want, she’ll make it happen in the dream.

If you had a bad day too, Anxiety will do double-duty to make sure you wake up feeling ten times better than what you felt like going to bed!

As you grow older, Anxiety reflects back on how when you pass away, so will all of them. But while she still frets over it, there’s also the reassuring thought that she may be a human in the next life alongside you. So, instead of being inside your head, Anxiety will get to live out in the real-world right beside you. But as long as she’s with you, any future is great to her.

Overall, Anxiety feels like a weight that’s been on her since her very inception has finally been lifted. She’s much more relaxed and allows you to go out more as long as you don’t cheat on her. Thankfully, you never do, and she couldn’t be more than grateful.

Life was finally good for her, and she couldn’t be any happier.

💔 ll No:

You smiled awkwardly down at her, the tension in the room suddenly becoming more palpable to you. “I-uh, what?”

Anxiety’s grin falters. “Do you love me?” She repeats.

Your smile becomes a frown, and so does her’s. “I’m…I’m going to be honest with you, Anxiety. I love being your friend. But if you’re asking if we should date, I just can’t accept.”

Immediately, Anxiety shouts out. “WHY NOT?!” Panic is written all over her face, chest heaving in a faulty attempt to calm herself down.

You flinch back from her, suddenly unsure of what to do. “It’s just-I-I don’t know!” You replied back. “You’re literally an emotion! Something my mind made up! You’re not real!”

Those last words hurt her worse than any knife ever could. “You-you don’t mean that! I know you don’t! We’re supposed to be happy together! I did everything for you! So please just love me! LOVE ME!”

You took a few steps back, unknowingly bumping into an ajar closet. When you turn around, you gape in abject horror.

Thousands of drawings and art crafts of you, reciprocating Anxiety’s adoration, filled your sight. You turned down to a sheet of paper that innocently slid to your feet.

‘I got rid of the others. I hated to, but they’d never be able to understand how I felt towards them. They were in the way. But now, we can be together forever! I can’t wait!’

Oh toaster strudels.

You whip back around to face Anxiety, fear evident on your face. She looked just as stunned as you, her green eyes prickling with tears as she shook her head. “I-I promise,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t think it would ever go this far. But I need you to love me back. I NEED YOU!”

Fast on your feet, you’re barely able to dodge Anxiety’s attempt at grabbing you, and without thinking, you go towards the window. You need to get out of this dream, A.S.A.P.

“NO! DON’T-” Too late.

As you fell, wind sweeping through your hair, you turned to gaze up at the window. The last you saw before you jolted awake was the speck of orange looking out the broken window, crying her eyes out and sobbing to herself.

Afterwards, you refused to fall asleep. You chugged energy drinks, made sure to take your anxiety medication every day, watched horror movies so you felt too scared, turned up your home’s lights, anything to make sure you wouldn’t go to sleep and see Anxiety again.

But in turn, you felt your own anxiety levels rising. You felt an irrational, unstoppable fear of attending to your job, jumped at every little creak in the house, the unexplainable drowsiness present in your fits of worry, you all knew it was the work of Anxiety to get you to go back to sleep and see her again.

Of course, you couldn’t stay awake forever. It happened one day when you did your best to explain to your boss why you haven’t been going to work. Your voice was slurred, giving away your sleepiness, and your boss on the other end worryingly called out to you as both your phone and your body landed on the cold floor.

🧡💔 ll Nice to See You Again:

You woke up on top of a comfortable bed, and while you were coming to, you noticed the rope wrapped tightly around you. A bandana had been wrapped around your mouth as well to make sure you didn’t make a peep.

At the foot of the bed, was Anxiety. She looked much more worn-out, eyebags present and hair an absolute mess. She was fiddling around with a clipboard at first, but as her eyes glanced at you for a moment, she realized you finally came to.

“Oh! Hey, didn’t notice you were awake there!” She ignored the cries of protests coming from you. She laughed, her loss of sanity being noted in her giggles. “I guess you always were a heavy sleeper!” You didn’t laugh back.

She got closer to you, any talk you had with her about personal space thrown out the (now repaired) window. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept either. “I mean, it makes sense. You were awake for a really long time out there. In fact, you didn’t sleep for four whole days! Can I ask why that is?”

You glared at her. She huffed. “Ooooh, I think I know what it is,” she muttered. “I bet you didn’t want to get nightmares. Well, it’s okay now! Your girlfriend here, Anxiety, will make sure you have only good dreams from now on!” She puffed out her chest. You didn’t know if she was mocking you or genuinely deluded into thinking that was the truth.

You uncomfortably shifted as she crawled to the other side of you, wrapping her arms around your bound form despite your discomfort. “I’ve been so, so alone these past few days. I missed you, I missed you so bad. But now, you’re back! With me! I can’t wait for what adventures you have planned for the both of us.” That final note in her voice, that seemed to almost hiss out, gave you a sense of fear. You were too scared to fight back or even move, just allowing Anxiety to make up four day’s worth of no hugs.

“I promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. No other person knows you like I do. Nobody.”

Should I even have to explain to you that your two’s relationship is toxic now? Because it is. Like, hazardous waste-type of toxic.

In her deluded mind, Anxiety fully believes that you just ran through that window because you were scared of the commitment, and that you just responded no to her love request because of the same reason. In time, she thinks she’ll be able to win you over, and considering how you can’t really get rid of her, you’re unfortunately stuck with her.

When you eventually did wake up, you found yourself in a hospital room, alone. At least, physically. You couldn’t help the onslaught of hopeless tears that trickled down your face.

In the background, Anxiety was fiddling with your feelings, not thinking about your own desires on the matter. She smiled, chuckling, when she found what she was looking for, hidden deep within the recesses of your hypothalamus: the control center that managed who you found romantically appealing.

She was smart about it, though. Despite wanting to just crank it all the way up, she gradually made it so you found her more alluring without you even noticing the changes.

You were immensely terrified of her at first, discouraging her, but as she set your romantic feelings towards her higher slowly, Anxiety noticed the change you had in your demeanor.

Eventually, she was comfortable in allowing you to finally be untied (she had undone the makeshift gag a little bit ago), and while she was a bit disappointed at still seeing you be uncomfortable around her and shying away, that just made Anxiety more determined to get you to fall in love with her.

Was doing all of this morally wrong and cementing her fully into the deep-end? Yes.

But did she truly care about that currently? No.

She can think about the moral dilemma years down the line when you two are fully reciprocating love towards one another.

Anxiety accidentally let out an excited snort at you finally hugging her once again. She clasped her hands over her mouth, blushing right after. You found it to be…weirdly cute.

Eventually, your romantic feelings were almost at 100%. As time passed on, your life became better as you started to reflect that same strange comforting feeling Anxiety felt towards you.

You felt inclined to question why you were getting these emotions for your mental stalker, but any attempt to further examine this is usually quashed thanks to Anxiety’s interference. Soon, you don’t even get these questions anymore. They just feel like they come naturally to you.

Those same reactions Anxiety had towards you were now being felt by you, except obviously with her. Shy gazes at her cute orange hair before looking away when she goes to return your look, fully enraptured in her kind voice and nodding along to whatever she said, blushing whenever you were complimented by her, the list goes on.

The fact that she did awful things almost seems to become a distant memory to you, until much later on, it becomes completely forgotten in your eyes.

Eventually, it came to a head. One night, when the two of you were alone, you tapped her on the shoulder. You smiled at her, blush clearly evident on your face as you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

“H-hey, uh, Anxiety? Can I ask you something kinda’...important? Promise not to freak out or anything, okay?”

Anxiety nodded violently. “Yeah!! Yeah, tell me anything!” She leaned in closer, eyes trained fully on you. Her hands were rolled up into fists, vibrating slightly in barely-disguised eagerness. After a bit of stammering, you finally were able to lock eyes with each other.

“Do you, um…want to go out with me-?”

“YES!! YES!!!” Anxiety jumped to respond, flapping her hands happily as she raced around the room. You laughed, before abruptly getting stopped by the kiss that Anxiety had placed on your lips. Both of you looked stunned for only a brief moment, before you happily returned it.

If emotions had brains, Anxiety was sure it short-circuited at that moment.

Finally relinquishing, you stepped back, only to lunge forward when you caught her about to fall right on her back.

“Woah, Anxiety, are you okay?” You chuckled. Anxiety looked up at you with a tired, but completely and utterly smitten look on her face.

“Never been better.”

Things were definitely better now. Much like if you said yes to her original proposal, she gives you more freedom in exchange for always being beside her when you’re dreaming. You happily accept, none the wiser of the manipulation Anxiety pulled to get to this moment.

She sometimes reflects on her actions, knowing full-well what she did was completely, morally-reprehensible. But at a certain point, Anxiety just sighs and puts it into the very back of her brain.

Yes, what she did was absolutely wrong. But, when she looks at you, finally head-over-heels for her as much as she is with you, Anxiety really can’t help but smile.

“I really am sorry, guys, but it was all worth it in the end.”

#ask to tag #long post #yandere tw #yandere disney #yandere pixar #yandere #yandere headcanons #anxiety inside out #anxiety io2 #inside out #inside out 2 #inside out headcanons #dark tw #manipulation tw

235 notes · View notes

dyaz-stories · 1 year ago

Text

how long will I slide? || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, big spoilers for s1 of sweet home, that should be it?

A/N: Written for day one of @neohumanmonster's fandom event, Turning a New Leaf. Prompt: The Other Side. He's the one I had an idea for for that theme, but I actually haven't watched s1 of Sweet Home in a couple of years, so I hope this feels in character for Eun Hyuk, and that it's not too incoherent for the setting of s1!

Eun Hyuk has eyes everywhere in the Green House apartment building — as much as he possibly can, at least. He’s used to studying efficiently,to taking as much information from a page as possible in a single glance. He’d never thought his abilities would be used in that way. That he’d end up sitting in front of footage coming from surveillance cameras, making sure not to let anything go unnoticed, because that would be the best way for him to be helpful to the people around him.

Oh, he doesn’t just do that. He’s taken up most of the tasks that require organization, wouldn’t trust others with it, if he’s being honest, but this is where he spends the bulk of his days. In front of a screen. Staring. His books forgotten and gathering dust in a corner of the room.

He doesn’t get distracted. If his eyes linger when you appear in front of ones of the cameras, it’s just because you’ve been vocal about thinking that other solutions were needed, and he doesn’t want you to endanger everyone by trying to put one of them in action. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have time for anything else anyway.

So when one of his screens flickers, he notices immediately. His mind starts running through the possibilities as he leans toward it, all of them bad. Any kind of system failure would be disastrous. Loss of electricity would be close to a death sentence. A camera being destroyed could mean that the monsters are getting better at finding them, smarter, which would mean they’re evolving.

And the last possibility, that he’s having a hallucination because his monsterization symptoms are progressing…

Well, he coldly evaluates, it would depend. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, if the residents could evacuate before he loses control completely.

When the screen lights back on, and he’s met with his own eerily smiling face and eyes gone completely black, he’s almost relieved.

Good, he thinks. I’ll be able to help as long as the cameras work.

“Will you?” his other self asks as it spreads to the other screens like a virus, voice coming out like a screech through the speakers. “Are you sure you’re helping them?”

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that the monster knows how to get under his skin, and yet he sits straighter at the question.

“Of course I am. Without me—”

“Maybe if they’d run when they wanted to, most of them would be safe right now,” the monster says, admitting out loud a fear that’s been eating at Eun Hyuk since the very start of this forced confinement. “Maybe you’re killing them by making them stay here. And really…” It laughs, high-pitched and maniacal. “Using that kid when you’d never have the guts to step out there by yourself?”

“I would,” Eun Hyuk protests, even if he’s aware that there is no actual argument happening here. “But I’m not the same kind of infected person as him. And I’m doing my part here. It’s not like…”

“Like you’re sending a kid out to be tortured only so he can be ostracized here? Sure looks like it.”

“It’s not,” Eun Hyuk repeats, weaker this time.

The monster opens its mouth to speak once more, when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Eun Hyuk?”

It’s you, and the monster’s face lights up as Eun Hyuk’s heart rate picks up.

Out of fear, surely. He doesn’t want you to know about his issues.

“Well how about that?” The monster practically purrs. “The thing you won’t let yourself have. Won’t even admit how badly you want—”

Eun Hyuk’s not really thinking when he picks up one of his notebooks to throw it at the screen. It bounces without any effect, of course, and the monsters starts laughing once more, until that’s all Eun Hyuk can hear, while it gets louder and louder and louder and—

The door opens behind him.

“You weren’t answering—”

“Don’t—”

You freeze in the entrance.

“Don’t what?”

He knows before turning around. Of course he does. Rational, human him is deeply aware that there is no way for you to see the things that his mind is creating.

“…come in before I tell you it’s okay,” he finishes with an even voice. “If you see something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s panic.”

You click your tongue at him, and he immediately hates himself for saying it. He doesn’t even mean it. You clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart, even if you believe in a very different way of handling people than he does.

“Well, I just noticed you hadn’t eaten your share yesterday,” you say, and it stings that your tone is biting, particularly when he knows how soft-spoken you can be with others. “I was bringing you something to eat.”

“You should let someone else—”

“You can’t let yourself go weak,” you reply, pushing the food in his hands and folding your arms over your chest. “You know how much people rely on you here. We may not see eye to eye, but the last thing they need is to start worrying about you and thinking you’re not able to lead them anymore.” There’s a second of silence before you add, almost as if you can’t help yourself “Also, you know I already think these rations are too small. You really shouldn’t go a day without eating at least that.”

He glances down at what you brought. True, it’s meager, and yet he feels a smile forming as he looks at it, at the acknowledgement that you were worried about him, even if you didn’t phrase it that way.

“Thank you,” he says.

And just like that, you soften. There’s part of him that finds it ridiculous, how you’ve given him a million second chances, how he’s let you down every time, and how you keep affording them to him still. The other one is so, so infinitely thankful for your kindness.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He sighs.

“As okay as I can be,” he answers, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is doing good.”

You nod gravely, then brush your hands over your jeans.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll leave you to—”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can hold it back and before you get too far away. You turn around to look at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Can you— would you mind eating with me?”

He could justify himself. Tell you he doesn’t like eating alone, even if he’s been doing it since his parents died, tell you he needs another set of eyes on the screen while he’s eating, tell you he needs to talk to you about one of the residents. He doesn’t, though. You read him a little too well, could probably tell that he’s lying. And he hopes that, with that big heart of yours, you’ll just…

“Sure,” you answer.

You grab a chair, pull it so you can sit facing him. As you sit down, your knees brush against his. The gesture feels surprisingly comfortable, in a way that he hopes doesn’t bring too much color to his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It gets lonely in here,” he answers, which technically isn’t a lie.

There’s a wrinkle on your forehead as you study him, one that forms whenever you’re concerned.

He’s more used to seeing the one between your eyebrows directed at him, the one that’s there when you’re annoyed.

“You can always ask me to keep you company,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. He’s sure you didn’t mean it like that, tries to pretend that it’s the monster that stirs his mind in that direction, but he knows, deep down, that that’s not the truth. That he’s actually desperate to know that someone like you could see value in someone like him.

But the truth is, if anything, you see value in everyone but him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re looking at him with these eyes, that you’re sitting with him, that you brought him food. You’re kind. You’d do that for just anyone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells you flatly once he’s gotten himself back under control. “Thank you for doing that.” Then, after a moment, “Anything I should know about what’s going on out there?”

You start answering, soft voice describing all sorts of meaningless details that you’ve noticed and apparently care about. Eun Hyuk keeps his back to the cameras. He still sees, from the corner of his eye, the monster taunting him. But as long as you’re here, so real, so soft, so human, he knows he can resist its pull.

Too bad he doesn’t know how long you’ll stick around for him.

first time writing for eun hyuk and it was quite interesting to do! also i think i need to try my hand at writing him before s3 comes out lol. i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home imagine #sweet home x reader #lee eunhyuk #lee eun hyuk #lee eunhyuk x reader #eunhyuk x reader #lee eun hyuk x reader #eun hyuk x reader #my writing

450 notes · View notes

pipperoo · 2 days ago

Text

….the searcher in the shadows was very good…..

thoughts under the cut….

i knew it was coming and it still killed me. samuel and the sun (reprise) was so evil. samuel didn’t deserve that, he still had so much he wanted to do :( he wasn’t supposed to leave rose’s side again, what the fuck! i was actually crying so much and having to hear rose’s reactions was just awful. i literally had to sit in silence for a few minutes just to process everything. you should have seen my face when they mentioned the purple button for the first time. fuck you kal, i hate you so much, i wish nothing but the worst for you!! and samuel, you were essential for literally everything!! they all relied on you and nothing would have happened if you weren’t there! i’m so glad margaret was able to say how strong she thinks he is! i miss him so much already and i’ve known this character for like 4 days. oh samuel, i knew you would die, but i still hoped you wouldn’t

king itzal definitely fucking deserved to win that bad parent poll, fuck that guy! i’m glad i trusted all my mutuals when they said to vote for him bc he really is that awful! his stupid spell destroyed their home and his intentions with margaret are so bad that she had to be stripped of her memories and hidden away just so she could be safe! i don’t know how, but i really didn’t expect itzal to be margaret and dakkar’s dad, that shocked me so much! and this guy had to gal to ask margaret to join his side to be evil when he was literally going to kill his son who was right behind her! i was so happy that margaret was immediately just “no” and blasted his ass (that had printing press plate hitting vibes and i loved it)

also fuck kal for making ahlaam see her dead husband, seriously not cool. i know i’m hating on these guys, but they are really cool villains that feel like they pose an actual threat even against people with magic, im excited to see what evil they do next!

i did enjoy all the new traveler lore, im glad there was more clarity on the magic ways and what they can do. i loved dakkar and addison immediately and how they expanded more on sia and ahlaam! i love the detail that they’re all connected through the radiance which makes so much sense on why margaret felt like something was missing because something literally was. without access to her magic she was cutoff from people she grew up being constantly connected to!!!

instant tears when it was revealed that dakkar was margaret’s brother. i’m glad she’s connecting more with her magic and remembering more things. but, it’s so tragic that she’s finally reuniting with the family she didn’t know she had and now she’s remembered how awful her father and she’s lost samuel who was so important in her found family. oughgh :(

rose and john were as always so sweet. john’s “i thought i lost you” destroyed me. i’m so glad they could have that moment in thank gravity! i love those two nerds!

i still have so many questions! what are the gates? how is sia’s vision going to unfold? how is rose the key? what’s the deal with the great enchantress? what makes margaret so important? what does bringing back the blazing world involve? i can’t wait to find them all out!

once again, as always, the music was just so great. my heart was pounding through the entirety of part 3, the tension was so palpable. my favs were rose and the stars, thank gravity, masterpiece containing masterpieces (reprise), and samuel and the sun (reprise). they were all tugging on my heartstrings! also all the sound effects were so cool, it really made it so immersive!

that was a rollercoaster, but i’m thrilled to be all caught up! looking forward to the mini episodes and wherever the plot goes next! i can’t wait to engage with the pulp musicals tag now that i don’t have to worry about spoilers and finally be able to look at ao3!! if anyone has fic recs for literally anything, i have no preferences, please give them to me!! anyway thanks for reading my thoughts, already this fandom has felt so so welcoming and i’m so happy to apart of it now!! <3

#pulp musicals #the searcher in the shadows #all of this was whirlwind to experience in four days but i’m so glad i finally listened to it!!!#some of the most incredible songs i’ve ever heard #i’m genuinely mad that this isn’t so much more popular #it truly is just that good!!

13 notes · View notes

fairy-writes · 10 months ago

Note

Hello there :) Congratulations on 1300 followers, that’s amazing. Could I please order a large Espresso for Geto Suguru from Jujutsu Kaisen 💙💙

LAST BREATH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: An angsty (emotional pain) imagine with Geto Suguru from JJK

Word Count: 0.5k

Fandom(s): Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes: I’m so sorry this took absolutely forever lovely! I hope you like it nonetheless!

SPOILERS FOR THE JJK MOVIE AND JJK 0

__________________________________________________________________________

Geto Suguru broke up with you on the morning of your seventeenth birthday.

You only found out later from Satoru that it was after he had slaughtered a village.

You should have known. After everything with Riko. You should have seen the signs that he was deteriorating. Spiraling. That things weren't as okay as you thought they were.

But you didn’t.

And it was your fault.

He broke up with you without another word and simply… left.

You cut down another curse spirit. Blackened purplish ichor coated your hands and your weapon.

It had been hours since the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons had commenced, and you were growing tired. But you couldn’t stop now, not when you were so close to killing the last of the cursed spirits and being done with this.

What had happened to Satoru? Or the rest of the first-year students? Hadn’t at least Inumaki and Panda been with you?

“YOUR PHONE IS RINGING! YOUR PHONE IS RINGING!”

Satoru’s obnoxious voice blasted through your concentration, and you were barely able to dodge a swipe from a particularly large cursed spirit. It was dispatched quickly, and you managed to pick up Satoru’s call on the last ring. He had recorded it nearly fifteen years earlier when you were just simple first years.

You knew the reason you weren’t able to change it was because you could hear Suguru snickering in the background.

Back when you were all still happy.

“What do you want?” You snap into the receiver and only hear a shaky inhale. Was this a prank? Then… you hear your name.

Only one person in the world said your name so tenderly like that. It had been years since you last heard him say your name. And he was the reason you were here fighting for your life.

“Geto.” You whisper and hear a raspy chuckle,

“Not Suguru?” You shake your head even though he can’t see it.

“You lost that privilege when you left.” Now he laughs a bit darkly. It sends a chill down your spine, and you duck under a small spirit who had tried to get the jump on you.

“I suppose I did. I suppose I did.”

It’s quiet. And not the tender, warm kind you were so used to when he was still here. Still home. It’s awkward until you blurt out the question that’s on your mind.

“How are you calling me anyway? I thought—”

“I’m dying.” Your weapon goes slack in your hand.

“How?” Another weak laugh. Was he trying not to worry you? Even after all this time? Did he still care?

“It seems Okkotsu was tougher than I expected.” At this, you can’t help but offer a quiet laugh.

“It seems so. He was trained by Satoru, after all.” Your voice cracks and you come to a realization.

For all your bravado about not caring about Suguru, you knew it was all a lie.

You knew you still loved him.

So you hunker down in a safe spot.

And listen as he draws his last breath.

#geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fairy writes #fairy1300followers

50 notes · View notes

peach-and-bugs · 2 years ago

Text

❤️Natalie Scatorccio NSFW Alphabet❤️ (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked)

❤️Read the SFW Alphabet here!❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: Minor spoiler for Season 2 episode 8! It's all dirty [AFAB Reader/anatomy used if any] (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked)

Word Count: 1,359

A/N: Hello lovelies! I know a lot of you wanted it, so here you go! Natalie's nsfw alphabet! She actually was a lot easier to write about than expected, probably because she's so straightforward anyways. Not much more for me to say, so enjoy, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!❤️

Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Nat is the type to need a cigarette after sex. I mean, maybe not a cigarette specifically bc I don't remember if she smokes in the show, but in my headcanon it's an every-now-and-then thing for her. But, for whatever reason she never got hooked on it like she did other things. But when it comes to caring for you specifically afterward she’d get you a warm towel to wash up at the very least. Everyone deserves that. But in a committed relationship she’d go as far as running a bath for you if you like and helping you in if it was a rather intense evening

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves your hips, I just know it. No matter what shape or size, she just loves having something to hang onto, ya know? It’s just the perfect spot for her hands and she loves running her thumbs over your stomach

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I know for a fact that she makes you clean her fingers with your tongue when she’d done with you. She wants you to know exactly what she’s tasting.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a dirty secret but she loves when her partner and this is only in a “serious” relationship (as serious as Natalie will get at least) takes complete control because she gets to be in a state where she’s not in control, but she knows she’s completely safe

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, we all know that Ms. Scatorccio knows exactly what she’s doing. When it comes to sex, she’s been around the block and back and she’s always willing to do another lap if she feels the need.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Imma say she enjoys receiving while face-sitting because it's the best of both worlds. She enjoys being on top, but she also likes receiving, and she loves the feeling of your arms and hands tight around her thighs

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

She’s more serious in my opinion. She doesn’t find sex silly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think she shaves everything (arms, legs, etc) but not regularly. She's cool with having stubble wherever so long as it's not bothering her.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Eh, again it depends on what kind of relationship you’ve got. I think over time she could learn to be romantic, but at the start, sex is a give and take for her. “You get what you need as long as I get what I need,” kind of thing. She’ll never make a big deal out of it though. She might have when she was younger, but she’d far more seasoned now, shall we say. She knows what she wants and that’s her priority

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She’s gotten good at using her hands because I doubt they let you bring any kind of toy with you to rehab, but she prefers a vibrator some nights

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think she’d enjoy mirror sex. She’d like watching herself but also forcing you to watch how she makes you feel. She's also into teeth. Like, not necessarily biting, but she likes someone with a nice set of teeth

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

She’s down for semi-public sex but still wants some privacy so anywhere with a locked door is fair game

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There isn’t a lot that doesn't turn her on really. Genuine interest in her sexually sometimes is all it takes. But she likes being teased and having her partner play coy with her. It makes her feel like a lady

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I think after watching S2 Ep 8 this is a given, but knife play…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She’s into both but has a fondness for receiving, ngl. This girl firmly insists that she’s a switch but she loves to bottom. Might sound like an oxymoron, but she loves the power she holds while receiving. Digging her hands in your hair and holding you where she wants you, squeezing your head or hand between her legs. Honestly, she’d gladly suffocate you if you let her

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She’s fast and rough when she’s on top, no questions asked. She likes getting to the point

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She’s quite fond of them. If it's guaranteed you’re not getting a night in together she’d gladly take a quickie in a bathroom stall if she needs it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Once there is some established relationship I think she’s down to try new things, but she’s not experimenting during a one-night stand, she might have done that before, but by now that’s behind her and she’s only experimenting with established trust from now on

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I don’t think she has a lot of stamina when it’s her cumming. She can have two, maybe three before she calls it quits. She could probably go for longer but once she’s had one or two she’s satisfied

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She doesn’t have a wide collection, just a few vibratos that she orders online while drunk and horny on random nights. But she’ll use them now and then with herself and whenever you want if that's something you’re into. I think she’d be really into using one on you while you eat her out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s a big tease. She enjoys being a mean girl sometimes!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I think she’s pretty quiet, but not for any lack of enjoyment. She’s got those breathy moans that swoon from the back of her throat and she tends to suck on her teeth

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She’s got nice hands. She keeps her nails short, partly because I think she’s a nail-biter, but she has the decency to file them before anything intimate happens so they’re nice and smooth. But she’s got long, thin fingers that really accentuate her knuckles and she’s always got a plethora of rings on so she makes a show of taking them off for you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She’s quite thin and lanky. I mean, we pretty much saw everything when she was walking around her motel in her bra and her fishnets.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s definitely high, but she knows she can get what she wants whenever or handle anything she needs on her own, so it's not often a “driver” for her or anything. Unless she’s drunk. If she's with someone she’s deemed as her person and she’s drunk, she wants in your pants as soon as possible

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She’s not the type to fall asleep after sex. She prefers having some kind of nightcap first (a drink or a cigarette or maybe even both to mix things up. Who knows!) you’re more likely than not to fall asleep before her which is when she makes her graceful exit if she’s not in her bed. However, in a committed relationship she’ll get back in bed with you after whatever “treat” she’s finished and hold you from behind till she knows you’re asleep. She likes kissing your shoulders when you’re naked. But she won't fall asleep that way, eventually turning over to her other side

#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio headcanons #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets #yellowjackets headcanons #charcater headcanons #character alphabet

107 notes · View notes

cry-stars · 29 days ago

Note

ooo wait wait i wanna hear i wanna hear... 9, 10 , 11, 12, and 19 ^w^

Thank you for asking, mice!! Sorry for how incredibly long this is fdhjkfdfdfd i rambled so much

9. worst part of canon

DR3 for me… I only dislike it because it’s canon dfhjkfddf if it was just a fanwork or an AU I would greatly enjoy it. I really liked parts of it, and I had such a good time watching it with my friend, I broke down crying at Nanami’s death. And I actually really like the anime-only characters! But there just wasn’t enough time given to either arc. I wanted to see more of the anime-only guys, as well as more of the SDR2 kids. Both arcs felt like they had so much potential but it just didn’t quite pay off. Again, I like it as long as I pretend it isn’t canon and just think of it as an AU.

I know lots of others have talked about this before, but I really dislike the way the kids treat Komaeda in DR3 when he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. I also saw an interesting post about how he was actually too nice to THEM because he went to lengths to blow up the schools so that they wouldn’t have to take their exams. The poster said that Komaeda would think that if the kids weren’t able to pass their exams, they likely weren’t Ultimates after all and wouldn’t actually be symbols of hope; he’d want them to try their best to pass and show the world their talents. And if they couldn’t, he’d drop them and find new people to support fdkjhfdfd. I think I agree with this idea, but I still need to think about it more.

10. worst part of fanon

it’s hard for me to pick because I’ve only been into DR for a few months and mostly stuck in the corner of the komaeda fandom fdhkjdffd so I don’t know tons of fanon. But the thing that gets me the most in fics is Komaeda’s suicidality, I think. To me, he is definitely suicidal, but only in a very specific way, where he wants to give up his life to Hope; he considers himself worthless and only good as a sacrifice. But I can’t see him killing himself, even if he wanted to, unless it was “for the greater good” (like it evidently was to him in SDR2 chapter 5).

I see a lot of fics where he’s suicidal, but in a more typical way, without the grandiosity. I just can’t get behind those. He’s got trauma and mental illness, but it doesn’t manifest in a typical way at all.

I personally think that he Might be more typically suicidal post-SDR2, but only passively. I think that him “coming back to life,” after believing that he had killed himself to become the Ultimate Hope, would really shake him up and bring him to a very low place. Thinking he had such bad luck that he couldn’t even kill himself properly, or accomplish either his goal of killing the remnants or saving the traitor. I think in this case though, he would just throw himself into dangerous situations in the hopes of accomplishing something useful, not caring about his own safety at all. (I’m still working out my thoughts about this). But anyway, rambles aside, I guess I just don’t like it when Komaeda is a “normal” suicidal person dfjhkfdfd he thinks about it Differently.

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

Only 12, and now 10 because I checked and remembered to remove a few dfkhjdfd they’re mostly spoiler related tags, plus a couple of notps because I’m a dirty monoshipper for some of my blorbos. I used to be so mentally ill about seeing them shipped with other people dfkhjfdfd I would never attack anyone of course, but I just really didn’t like seeing them, so I just blocked the tags haha.

12.the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

I already talked about Monaca, she’s the ultimate one like that for me in DR! But for another one, maybe Hanamura? If he was toned down just slightly, he would be a huge fave for me. I love characters who are loyal to their families and would do anything for them!! He was willing to kill to make sure his mom was safe and I respect that FDHKJHJFD even if i don’t endorse it dfkjhfhfd… I also love how unashamedly bi he is, and I think his duality where he has a “big city” facade, but also has a special place in his heart for his country family and upbringing is really sweet and fascinating. Just leave Sonia alone bruh and you’d be one of my faves…

19 you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like…

I’ve gotten so into horror and gore/dark stuff in general lately it’s not even funny… I used to hate that kind of stuff, I thought it was disgusting and frightening, but now I find a lot of solace in it. There’s still a line for me where I can’t watch certain things with too much violence or gore. I think what bothers me is when it happens to animals, or when people like… die permanently?? dfhjkdfhkhj that sounds so weird but i guess i like seeing these things more in fanworks where I know that the character will be ok and i’ll see them again haha. But it’s still embarrassing and weird for me dhfkfdfd i promise i’m not a violent person fdhjkfdfd

#thank you for asking!! :) i hope the rest of your day is good #tw suicide mention #just talking about maeda being himself fdkjfd

2 notes · View notes

goji-pilled · 6 months ago

Text

spoilers for the first main boss of shadow of the erdtree 👍

i dont think i necessarily would have to tag this as spoilers considering we have seen it before in trailers and its not a secret it exists but eh better safe than sorry for now i suppose

so that marks the first remembrance boss of the dlc as beaten in ng+2, from scratch (this is the first run of the dlc on this character), and this time i did it completely solo without any summons.

and whew my opinion definitely has changed a lot compared to the first time i fought it.

during the first run i absolutely hated this thing. genuinely one of my least favourite bosses and i have no doubt that i will still despise fighting this guy's death blight cousin ugh. this time however? i actually?? enjoyed the fight?? for the most part anyway.

i dont know what it is because my scadutree level is 4 as of in this clip which isn't any more than it was in the first run + this guy should do more damage and have more health now too but it somehow?? didnt feel like it??? idk if the dragonslayer katana is just broken like that or if they tweaked something during the patches but boy it felt so much better this tims.

which, again, is crazy considering im doing this in ng+2 from scratch.

however, i still have my share of criticism.

for one there are times where the effects from his bajillion phases put a noticable dent into my fram rate which absolutely sucks. and while im at the effects: there were also just times they either cluttered the screen and it was difficult to see anything, or where stuff like the tornado straight up just blocks the entire view of the dancing lion.

there's also the aoe stuff in the arena during the lighting phase which i find to be extremely annoying and feels like it was added just for the sake of making it more difficult. all it does is contribute to the points above made about the effects.

its not nearly as bad as it was with that atrocious final boss though LMFAO

also, arguably the worst part: although the lion's moveset is extremely cool and does the dancing part justice, with the way it zooms around there are times the camera just fucking goes all over the place making it hard to see and follow what is happening which cost me multiple deaths.

overall though still actually a very cool experience and a great boss though, not to mention that the theme is an absolutely fantastic banger; 7/10 👍

#sote spoilers #shadow of the erdtree spoilers

3 notes · View notes

tumblingdowntheway2019 · 1 year ago

Text

Master List Here!!

Yoooo, so here is another part of my long list of H.Cs incase you hadn't read that long list so this long list would make some more sense and I don't want it to start from one (1) again so it'll start off as point fifty-three (53) cause why not. This would be a story of it's own, but I hadn't done fanfic in a long time now so I just chose to do a list of H.Cs in order of how her time went. You all are free to use the ideas as a story or drawing idea, just tag me so I can see it, I love seeing others creativity!! 🤣😂

So I reckon there'll be a few lists of these, I don't mind, it's quite fun!! And I have a short fic just for fun. Slight spoiler, but involves Riju after the events of TotK and being a Gerudo. I feel like that should of had a subject in the game, considering what we see in the Dragon Tears. Still a fun game but I'mma have fun with it anyway.

And anything I think funny, I'll share, there's one (1) in my drafts about a funny dream I had about being at Lookout Landing.

So without further ado, cause I held you up long enough with this A/N, onto another long list of Head Canons I have for Zelda in the past!! Enjoy!!

💪😎💕

53. Mineru had unintentionally nearly gave Zelda a heart attack when in her spirit poe form. She was just using her ability to see if she had left a tool in another room on the floor below when suddenly the little blue flame was caught in a jar. Zelda then went to proudly show Mineru, only to find Mineru sitting on the ground, almost as if she sat down to meditate, and Zelda freaked out cause she wasn't reacting to her.

54. Sonia came in and saw the crying Zelda. She calmly looked at the jar on the ground, saying that Mineru is just fine. Zelda sniffled and looked at the jar. The flame formed enough of a resemblance to Mineru's face, causing Zelda to nearly shatter the jar by her grip when opening it.

55. Mineru returned to her body, nearly flat on her back on the ground cause the scared Zelda crashed into her with a hug and literally thought she was dead. Mineru apologizing, saying that she didn't think to show Zelda what she meant by her ability before. She'll make up for it, she swears it. Rauru forgot when the last time was that Mineru got so upset with herself like that.

56. All was good and catching the ghost with a jar became a running gag for them ever since.

57. Mineru also proved that she is just as capable of looking scary when she wants to. She had accompanied Sonia and Zelda when they went for their walk. A Horriblin had gotten past a construct guard and blocked their path. A second did the same from behind, blocking the only other means of escape. The Zonai quickly reacted by pulling Sonia and Zelda close to her, showing her enemy her claws. Ears pulling back, fur sticking up, eyes wide open glare and sharp teeth showing, almost making her look feral. Even the growling reminded Zelda of a wolf that was ready to pounce it's prey.

58. Sonia assured Mineru that she'll handle one (1) of the monsters and to just to make sure Zelda is safe. Mineru hunched over Zelda more as Sonia left to be behind them, claws extending just a little bit more than what's normally seen.

59. It was a tense stand off. The Horriblin creeping on closer as they crawled on the ceiling, they're makeshift weapons at the ready. It all happened so fast.

60. Sonia's opponent threw the it's weapon at her, it definitely got it's hands on part of a throwing spear. Sonia uses her recall ability to stop the spear in place and threw a rock at it, stunning it into hanging limply dazed as the spear back tracks towards it at high speed. Sonia did master her control of time after all.

61. Mineru's opponent lunged at the same time as it's companion. Mineru was able to pull Zelda back with her and grabbed the spear. Zelda couldn't see past the Zonai's arm, but she felt her self being pulled to the side and pushed toward Sonia, who sent the spear back and through its head, it was gone in a plume of red and black smoke before it even hit the ground.

62. It was then Zelda saw it was indeed the Zonai who pushed her towards the Queen, seeing the reason why it was done. The sharp top of the spear would have been right in her eye, had Mineru not used her arm to block it.

63. Mineru pulls the Horriblin off the ceiling, not even letting it even recover or hit the ground before she grabbed it by the throat and slams it down. Taking the opportunity to use the newly enquired spear to impale it before it too, disappeared into smoke.

64. Zelda stood in shock as she watched the two (2) look around, Mineru adjusting her ears to hear more in different directions as Sonia called upon the guard constructs. All she could do was repeatedly mutter "I'm sorry."

65. The threat wasn't over however. A Guard Construct appeared and informed Mineru and Sonia that that a load of monsters had infiltrated the back of the castle, advising they retreat to safety.

66. Mineru ordered it to escort Sonia and Zelda to the safe room nearby, she'll head back to her office. Zelda reluctantly followed Sonia and the Construct.

67. Once inside the safe room, Zelda began to hyperventilate. The memories from the past one hundred (100) years was flooding in, feeling useless, her friends/her family in danger, she couldn't do anything as they fought to protect her.

68. Sonia had quickly noticed this, and simply ask her to look her in the eyes and answer a set of questions.

What was her name - Zelda.

Tell me two (2) things you smell? - The wood burning at the fireplace nearby and Sonia's perfume.

Tell me three (3) things you feel? - The fabric of her outfit, the cold ground she was sitting on and Sonia's hands holding hers.

Tell me four things you hear? - Their breathing, the fire cackling, the battle nearby and the bug buzzing just out of sight.

Tell me five things you see? - Sonia, the fire, the books, the brick walls and .... Where was Mineru?

69. Zelda felt more grounded thanks to the questions, but her heart was in her throat when she noticed the missing Zonai. This was terrible déjà vu.

70. Sonia listened to Zelda about how the Champions' lives were brutally cut short during the Calamity. How she felt completely useless at that time and it was happening again. Didn't matter if Mineru and Rauru were experienced in combat, so were they and it still happened!

71. The first Queen held Zelda. Assured her that none of it was ever her fault and neither was this. The Zonai will return, just wait. But they have to make their way to safety. Oh, so they weren't in the safe room like she thought.

72. It was when they did reach the safe room that they thanked their lucky stars for the delay. A Lynel was rampaging amongst the rubble of what used to be the door and walls. It turned to them and charged. Many constructs formed many lines infront of the two (2) women, acting as a barricade to allow them to run elsewhere.

73. It wasn't enough, Sonia's time powers could only delay a living creature for mere seconds. They were cornered very quickly into the pursuit.

74. Zelda bravely tried to stand in front of Sonia, as if making up for her past weaknesses, and shut her eyes as she waited for the blade to make contact.

75. It never came, but a loud crash and mechanical noises did. She opened her eyes to the sight of a six (6) armed, huge construct that was welding an electric weapon in one (1) hand and a blade on another as the remaining four (4) held back the Lynel with as much strength as it can muster.

76. The shock was enough it stun it, the blade finished it. It seems that the constructs had done enough damage that allowed the huge construct to finish it with ease. It turned to Zelda and she froze.

77. "What's the status report?" Was asked by the Queen.

"The castle wasn't as run over as we thought, thankfully the horde had been eliminated. I got the all clear from the dispatched captains."

78. "The fifth thing I see, is Mineru in her construct." Zelda couldn't help but say quietly in relief. It earned her a slight chuckle from Sonia and the construct tilting its head slightly at her.

79. The women and Rauru rendezvous at Mineru's office at the same time. When everything was ok, Mineru returning to her body and standing beside her brother, Zelda couldn't help but hug them both. It startled them, but the saddened look from Sonia told them all they needed to know, tightly but gently hugging her back.

80. Mineru was the only one (1) in the castle who was injured in the conflict. It has been found that the monsters were in a nearby village first, but thankfully Rauru was there at the same time with the Rito Sage. The castle sustained minimal damage thanks to him having a construct warn the others as they held the majority back.

81. Zelda didn't allow Mineru to do much afterwards though. She had sustained a few more injuries due to having encounter the Lynel, a sprained wrist and cuts and bruises, minimal thankfully but it was enough to slow her down.

82. "This is why I prefer to study." She told the young Hylian as she was getting patched up. "Never was much of a brawler. Just enough to get by, at least until I got to my Construct."

83. Zelda learned that when the Zonai were slowly dying out due to unknown circumstances, Mineru had been the only guardian Rauru had. Fighting came easy to her when she needed to but she was never a strong brawler. It was why she made the robotic guards and Golem in the first place.

84. That was all she learned before the Rito Leader came into the halls, reporting to Rauru and Sonia the results of the failed monster raid. No death, many injured but none too major or life threatening and the village and castle are going to take a while to repair.

85. With a hand under his chin, Rauru thought of a way to get it all fixed faster. It was then that Sonia suggested using her Recall ability. The village wasn't too big.

86. Zelda immediately volunteered to help Sonia as it would make for good training. It was settled, so long as Rauru made sure his sister didn't over exert herself.

87. It took a day for the village, but the castle was another matter. It was too big for both women to use their powers on everything, so the Rito Leader suggested that they accompany him back to Rito Village.

88. Rauru had observed Zelda's behaviour after the incident, how tired she looked after the training opportunity in the town. He didn't hesitate to agree, it would be nice to be with his old friend again after all this time.

#tears of the kingdom #loz tears of the kingdom #princess zelda #king rauru #legend of zelda #queen sonia #mineru #Zelda #Sonia #Rauru #TotK #totk headcanons

9 notes · View notes

heavenwontbethe-same · 2 years ago

Note

Hey!! Long follower of yours but I've only recently been back on Tumblr and I just saw a post about Cordelia being the one who should have died in CoT. I was curious about it and read the tags and I'm already disappointed in Cordelia/CC. Because I really like Cordelia but I haven't read CoT yet, so if you're comfortable could you maybe elaborate a little? Just so I can understand if I should be prepared to be disappointed in Cordelia in CoT when I finally read it. (I don't care about spoilers so have at it). I'd really like to know your thoughts<3

hello! i would start off by saying that when you do read chot, to go in with an open mind because of course what i will be saying in this post is my own opinion and my perception of the books will obviously be different to how others see it. this post is going to be long and incoherent at points, i do apologise beforehand.

with that being said, i liked cordelia from the snippets we got before tlh even came out. i liked her in chog, even though there were certain moments that made me pause - her allowing her friends to make whatever assumptions or comments about her brother they liked without her ever blinking an eye, because she was too concerned with fitting in with them. but i still liked the book and still liked her.

choi is where i started to dislike her though, and it literally took me almost 2 years to finish choi because i found cordelia so insufferable.. in the very beginning of the book, alastair is looking out for her and wants her safe and out of trouble and says as much to matthew, but cordelia berates him in favour of her friend (page 17). at this point, cordelia knows the truth; if not in its entirety, then at least a considerable part of it. at the wedding reception, her friends are hostile to her brother despite all his attempts to be cordial. i believe at one point they even suggest that alastair made cordelia uncomfortable? the same alastair that sacrificed most of his life to protect her? and all before you're even a 100 pages into the book (page 96). she says, on page 297 to matthew, "perhaps you think i am terrible, still loving him." of course, she thinks it, she thinks alastair is kind and sweet and vulnerable, but god forbid she ever said any of this to her friends in her brother's defense. this post by @thepictureofsdr on cordelia and her continuous reluctance to defend alastair in any way shape or form is very well said.

and that was all just the sibling aspect of it. she continuously lies to lucie, her supposed best friend and future parabatai, about lilith and james and even matthew, while shunning lucie for keeping secrets of her own. lucie tries to talk to her, apologises for not telling her, but she can't move past it even though she literally did the same.

*chot spoilers*

in chot, during every battle or fight, she was reluctant to lift a weapon in order to not summon lilith. valid, but instead of seeking shelter, she would just stand there and wait for danger and have her friends babysit her while fighting off demons. there's a fight in chot where grace is inside because she can't fight. cordelia also won't fight but she's out there, not helping her friends fight them off, but also just standing there as a sitting duck waiting for them to attack??? and they eventually do attack because why wouldn't they, and three people are distracted from their own fights trying to save her. assuming you already know who dies, they die trying to save her here, all because she wouldn't lift a weapon but has to be in harms way anyway.

she hands off cortana to alastair, who not to mention lives with their heavily pregnant mother, knowing that demons now had a special interest in cortana after she became lilith's paladin. she eavesdropped on her brother and charles, when it was not her place to do so, she eavesdropped on james and grace and caused a whole other problem. she ran away with matthew to paris and led him on even when she knew she'd never get over james. she kissed matthew and ended up comparing him to james but still continued to kiss him anyways. she'd be in james' presence but think about grace even after james' continuous assurance that he felt nothing for her, and then she'd wish she was with matthew instead. every time she was in james' presence, she'd fixate on grace.

she did get more tolerable after she knew the truth, but that was such a small portion of the book and my opinion of her was already negative by then. she then goes on to rehash the lucie and lying thing even though it was resolved earlier in the book. the book ends with the epilogue stating that attitudes to her brother had changed because he had changed. and that was true, alastair wasn't closeted anymore and had changed, but cordelia follows it up with the line that he wouldn't have to worry about fitting in with her friends anymore, and that hit me the wrong way.

the overarching themes of her dynamic with most characters, whether intentionally or not, seemed to give off a holier than thou attitude. she never held herself accountable but was comfortable doing it to everyone else, even if her actions caused the problem in the first place. her relationship with alastair was particularly disappointing, given how much he sacrificed for her and how she was at times disappointed/ashamed to even be related to him. this just reminded me how this applies to edwina's character from the bridgerton show too, but i digress.

she never really had any character development throughout the entire series, so i would've preferred her dying instead of an actually interesting character.

#shoutout to this amazing person #you're amazing ily #thanks for the ask 💙#sunny is back on her bs #anti cordelia carstairs #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles

12 notes · View notes

lafortis · 9 months ago

Note

and just gonna follow that up... if you're counting calories, that's disordered eating bud. idk if the tag means you're aware of that or just trying not to trigger people, but yeah. please don't starve yourself :(

HUGE content warning for eating disorders under the read more (spoilers, I don't have one, I recommend just not reading at all if you do)

The tag is because I know the discussion of anything like that is triggering to those with eating disorders, not cus I consider myself to have an eating disorder lol. I promise I'm waaaay too lazy to get disordered about my thinking regarding my diet. I eat a good 40% of my meals at a banquet hall anyway, so my caloric estimates are spitballing for that portion of it. Mostly I'm tracking stuff because even just writing things down is enough to reconsider certain dietary choices, but no, I'm not starving myself or ignoring my body's signals. Because I'm making a conscious effort to eat healthily I feel better than I have in months if not years tbqh.

Like listen, I get where you're coming from. Things like CICO and other various fairly mild dieting concepts being indicative of eating disorders is a helpful truism to offer those recovering from eating disorders. I'll take this Reddit thread as an example because it's the best discussion I could find of such a thing: https://old.reddit.com/r/loseit/comments/wry6m1/disordered_eating_the_inaccuracy_of_tdee_and_the/

But the conclusion the OP makes is that people are using these tools in disordered ways, not that the tools themselves are disorder-inducing. The very first response OP has (that I could see) is agreeing to the sentiment that precise and obsessive adherence to their TDEE calculator is the disordered part and they're still perfectly useful as guesstimaters as long as you don't think that they're more than that. And again, this isn't a helpful sentiment to express to someone recovering from an eating disorder, because they don't need to hear that nuance or mollification of users of such tools, they just need to stop using them completely because they're going to lead to further harm.

But importantly, I do not personally have any particular eating disorder, nor have I ever had one, to the best of my knowledge. I take Vyvanse, which suppresses my hunger sometimes so I go on 14 hour coke fuelled gaming binges, but that's different. I am fully capable of monitoring my caloric intake (the restriction of which to healthily and safely reduce your weight is fairly widely agreed upon as a practice, as long as it is healthily and safely adhered to) without sliding too far into something unsafe for me; I've done it before, and I can do it again. I fuckin chopped a tree down yesterday. I work on my feet for goodly portions of the day. You can rest assured that you don't need to tell me that I gotta feed myself properly, because the consequences would be pretty immediate if I didn't.

Again, none of this should be read by pretty much anyone with an eating disorder (in fact I think I'll put it under a read more), because it's like telling a depressed person to simply not be sad. However, when you're not affected by that disorder, sometimes it really isn't that complicated. Many many people the world over undertake similar regimens safely. It's about the most normal form of dietting one can pursue. Now if dieting itself is a triggering concept, then yeah, that's a bad thing. Thatll be bad for you. But for me it is not. I am a relatively healthy 28 year old able-bodied man who has had a couple #neurodivergences throughout his life but nothing to do with his diet. I know I sound like an idiot explaining to you that I'm a big boy who can take care of himself (altho I am and I can), but I'm trying to get across the point that I think the message you're providing is a really good sentiment to the wrong person entirely lol.

Anyway I still very much appreciate the concern and compassion. I promise if there were ever to be truly any negative consequences to this pattern of behaviour I would bitch out in maybe five days tops because I am weak willed and love comfort more than almost anything else. The reason I am able to do a 500 calorie deficit at all is because it is truly so so so easy. I eat more on days when I do hard stuff anyway, altho my tracker is all about them averages so it don't rly care day to day. And I weigh myself not because I care about my weight but so that macrofactor can have data to work with to help it's estimates of my energy expenditure. I promise I am using the tool safely. I own and use an angle grinder regularly, you should probably be more worried about a splintered cutting wheel splitting my facemask or tearing out my jugular than that I starve myself (because I'm really not; I love food and anything that prevented me from enjoying enough food would not even be entertained)

#truly tho i do appreciate your concern anon i dpnt mean to come off as harsh

2 notes · View notes

chaos-has-theories · 2 years ago

Note

It would be SO funny but I don't know enough abt the triplets to write them abfjfnfjnf,,,, also @ ur tags YEAH she is SO messed up she is insane levels of not okay. But she's also spent literal years regretting not acting sooner and not doing this and not doing that so as soon as she knows sep+marwick r safe she goes after the custodian and everything else falls apart from there,, the young army gets disbanded and the guards pretty much all quit or run away and its just dominoes bc domdaniel didn't expect her to ever just. Attack the custodian head on. He DOUBLY doesn't expect it when she shows up at the observatory for him and. basically she has the element of surprise on her side and for once most things go her way and the castle is. Somewhat alright within a few months of her going back.

It's once everything has settled down that she rlly starts kind of losing it. Bc she was running on adrenaline and caffeine and fear up until then and suddenly she doesnt have that and she. Spirals. Bc she was hardly thinking abt the Implications of the time travel and now suddenly she is and did she leave her version of the castle without an eow? What's going to happen to everyone there?? And this is septimus but he's not her septimus really is he??? And what if something happens to him too? How does she get home? Can she get home? Is it even worth it to go home now that she's lost everyone she loves?? She ends up splitting her time between being eow, looking for the spell she used to go back, and being as good a parent as she can be (<-she has done Research) to little sep+marwick bc she wants to make sure they have the best lives she can give them even if she doesn't end up caring abt them as much as she did her septimus (<-spoiler she does in fact end up caring abt them just as much),, and in general she's paranoid constantly bc she's So worried that smth will happen to sep+marwick that she's almost too afraid to let anyone else know they exist,,,,, alther is one of Very Very few ppl who know and the Only person who knows abt what happened to her (bc she couldn't bring herself to lie to him) and anyway she's having a constant crisis basically. She doesn't even tell sarah+silas abt their son being alive bc she's So So afraid 😔😔😔

Sorry for the essay it wasn't meant to be this long but Uhhh here is more <33

oh no oh no this sounds very sad but also very cool (hit him again! give her the chair! down with domdaniel!) but yeah mostly sad

I'm pretty sure Sep would still have an almost lovely time even with Marcia spiraling (and hey, at least her second-in-command is still alive, right?)

but. but. If Marcia is gone and Septimus is dead. I'm pretty sure Silas would have to take over as EOW. And I can't decide whether that should comfort Marcia or make her freak out more but I personally cannot stop laughing at the prospect

#septimus heap #asks #anyway I do feel Marci re: I gotta fix this and then I can stop think about this *stops to think* oh no #also the way this is going I'll have to start writing Marcia fluff just to ecen out her experiences in this fandom!!#(/affectionate)

3 notes · View notes

killianglyndon · 3 years ago

Text

Reunion (tbb ep.16 fix-it fic)

Pairing: Crosshair x Medic! Female Reader

Warning: tbb ep.16 spoilers, mentioned of killing people, inhibitor chip?, some kissing, grammar mistakes, typo (cause i didn’t proof read lol. im too tired to do that.)

A/N: anyway, i was so mad and sad about tbb finale, so i decided to write a fix-it fic. That doesn’t mean I hate the episode, this is just my version of story. im not really good at writing so...haha. that’s why im a gifmaker, also my main language is not English, so there would have some typos and grammar mistakes.

Word count: 1.6k

read on ao3

You and The Bad Batch were on the way to save Hunter. You knew this would be a trap, but you couldn’t help but think of a certain sniper, your lover.

You and the batch didn’t understand what had happened to him at first, his brother, your love. The way he called you and the batch traitor, the way he raised his gun to you, and the way he talked. This wasn’t him, this was not the crosshair you know.

Then, it turned out that the kaminoans had implanted inhibitor chips in every clone to make clones blindly follow orders, even killing the jedi.

“Good soldiers follow orders” This line kept echoing in your head after you heard Crosshair say it. This, this was not the crosshair you know.

***

“You and omega wait here” Echo told you and omega.

“No, we should stick together!” Omega protested.

You put a hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

“No, echo’s right” Wrecker agreed with him.

“Stay out of sight, if things go south we’ll send you a signal. Go back to the ship and contact Rex.” Echo added, looking at you and omega.

You gave him a nod and pulled Omega back to your side before watching them ascend to the training room.

You know how much Hunter meant to Omega, the way they interacted, and the way they cared for each other. You understood why the young girl looked up to him.

“Omega, I’m sure they’ll get Hunter back.” You reassured her.

“I know, and Crosshair.” She looked at you with her bright eyes.

You were a little shocked when she mentioned him. All this time, you tried so hard to suppress your feelings for him, your love for him. The batch knew that you missed him, they could tell. The way you stared into his empty bed, and the nights that you cried until you were too tired and the tears were dried.

“Yeah, and Crosshair…” You smiled sadly at the young girl.

***

When you and Omega joined the batch in the training room, you, Omega, and AZI stayed in one of the gun towers. That was when you saw him, your Crosshair. Hunter and he were tackling each other while Tech, Echo, and Wrecker were shooting the droids.

“I believe you may have activated a few too many droids.” AZI said to Omega and you.

“ We can see that, AZI.” Omega raised her bow, aiming for the nearest droid to Hunter and Crosshair. Meanwhile, you used your blaster to shoot some of the droids near the others.

***

After clearing out all the droids, you, Omega, and AZI joined the others on the ground. You walked closer to Crosshair and Hunter.

You could see that Crosshair was shocked to see you, the coldness in his eyes, mixing up with a tiny bit of shock.

The big scar on the right side of his head was horrifying, did the empire did this to him? Your heart almost broke into million pieces, seeing the love of your life like this.

“Crosshair…” Your voice almost sounded like a whisper.

For a moment, you see the real Crosshair, your Crosshair. But soon replaced by the coldness and aloofness.

“Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s the inhibitor chip.” Hunter tried to talk some senses into him.

“Wrong.” Crosshair stared back at Hunter. “I had my chip removed a long time ago.” He added.

All of you looked shocked, Tech and Wrecker looked at each other, speechless. Hunter almost looked hurt.

“Since when?” Hunter asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes”

No. No. This is not Crosshair. The Crosshair you know would never do this.

“Cross, the empire lied about many things, what if they lied to you?” You asked, trying to hold back your tears.

“This is who I am.”

Crosshair tried to raise his rifle, but Hunter was faster. He stunned him before Crosshair’s attempt.

***

“Hunter, three Venators are descending on the city. We need to leave, now.” Tech stated.

“Wrecker, grab Crosshair. He’s coming with us.” Hunter grabbed Crosshair’s rifle and backpack, while you went to picked up Crosshair’s helmet.

You saw Omega gave Hunter a nod before walking away. Hunter caught you staring at him, so you gave a sad smile to him in return.

“He’s coming home with us.” Hunter said.

***

You and The Batch finally made it to Nala Se’s lab, Tech and Echo were currently trying to figure out a plan. After Crosshair and Hunter’s intense conversation, you saw him walking to the window and taking a seat to rest.

“AZI, come with me, I need your help on something.” You asked.

AZI followed you to Crosshair, you took a seat beside him.

“Crosshair…”

“What do you want?” He asked coldly.

“AZI is a medical droid, he can scan you to check if you still have the chip.”

“Indeed, I helped CT-5555 removed his and CT-5385’s chip according to my memory database.” AZI said.

“Fine.” Crosshair agreed reluctantly.

“CT-9904, this scan only takes a few seconds” AZI said before scanning Crosshair.

To be honest, you knew he still had the chip, you hoped he still had the chip. Cause there was no way, no way the Crosshair you knew would be like this.

“The scan is completed.” AZI said.

“So..?” You asked.

“CT-9904 still has his chip, the chip’s effect was weakened due to the injury from ion engine.” AZI answered.

You felt almost relieved?

The Batch heard it and rushed to you, “He still has...his chip?” Hunter asked, sounded a little guilty.

Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker looked at each other, surprised by this unexpected news as well.

“That would be correct.”AZI replied.

“Could you remove it, AZI?” Omega asked, she wanted his brother back as much as any of you did.

“Yes. I’m capable of removing CT-9904’s inhibitor chip.”

“Do it.” Hunter said.

You stayed next to Crosshair while AZI removed his chip. The surgery was faster than you think, you hold Crosshair’s hand during the whole surgery, and you still holding it now.

“CT-9904’s chip has been removed. He should be awake in any minutes.” AZI stated.

You felt his hand pressing yours, “Crosshair?”

“I...I…”

“Hey, you’re okay now. We removed your chip.” You reassured him.

Crosshair looked away from you, his eyes filled with guilt, confusion, anger, sadness.

“Don’t you hate me?” He asked. “All those things I had done…”

Your hand reached out to stroke his face, “No. Never. I know it’s the chip, Cross. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “I love you, always and forever.”

Crosshair put his hand on your face, wiping away the tears falling down your face. “ But I shot at you, I tried to kill you… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh, I forgive you, Cross. All of it. I’m sorry we didn’t come to save you earlier…”

Crosshair sat up and pulled you into a hug, you melted into his touch, inhaling his scent. Your Crosshair was finally back to you, this is real. The sleepless night without him, the loneliness, the emptiness, the desperation, were all gone. Crosshair was back to you, alive.

“I love you too, cyare.” He said it back.

He pulled away a little so he could kiss you on the lips, his hand trailed to your nape, kissing you with force. You and Crosshair clung on to each other so hard, afraid you would lose each other again. That was when you heard Hunter cleared his throat, you two finally pulled away from each other.

“I know you two miss each other but this lab is about to collapse. and this is not very…” Hunter said and eyed Omega.

“Right, sorry about that.” You answered, then looked at Crosshair whose arm was still wrapped around you. “Cross.” You nudged him.

“Fine.” He gave up and retreated his arm.

“I see Crosshair still has his severe and unyielding personality.” Tech stated.

“This is called missing someone, Tech.” Crosshair said and pulled out one toothpick to throw it at him.

“Ha! He’s back!” Wrecker exclaimed and playfully punched Crosshair’s shoulder.

Crosshair pretended to show an annoyed face, but deep down you knew he missed his brothers.

“Listen, Crosshair. I’m sorry. We should have come for you earlier.” Hunter said. “I was trying to keep the rest of the squad safe, but you are one of us. I’m sorry.”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, just stood up and walk toward Hunter. For a moment you thought he was going to punch him, but instead, Crosshair extended his hand to Hunter.

Hunter looked at Crosshair’s hand then his eyes, he reached out his hand to shake Crosshair’s.

“We need to leave fast, the structure could not hold much longer.” AZI chimed in.

***

All of you finally made it to the platform, for once the Kamino is sunny.

Omega stared at the Tipoca City, which was all destroyed. “It’s… all gone.”

You looked at that direction, the place all clones called home was all gone. The Batch and you took a few seconds to process this, to accept the fact.

“We should leave before Empire’s scouts show up.” Tech said.

“You coming with us?” Wrecker asked, looking at Crosshair.

“Yeah.” Crosshair said and took out a toothpick, putting it into his mouth.

Hunter nodded at him before walking to the ship with the others.

You still stood next to Crosshair, “You ready?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a little smile then intertwined his hand with yours, leading you to the Marauder.

You didn’t know what the future would be, but one thing was sure. Crosshair would be right beside you, always and forever.

tagging: @ahsoka1 @kavecika @starwarschicken @itsjml @ct-1994 @loth-wolffe-main @theiirs @thefeatherofhope @ahs0ka-tan0 @mallr4ts @kriffclone

#the bad batch #clone trooper crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #commander crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #bad batch crosshair x reader #star wars #tbb spoilers #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #mywriting

182 notes · View notes

goldengoddess · 4 years ago

Note

soooo the idea is a fic set during king of scars where the reader is nikolai's childhood best first and we stumble into his room one evening and we actually see him change into the demon and just absjajnsns

i am yours - nikolai lantsov

* KING OF SCARS & RULE OF WOLVES SPOILERS *

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader

a/n: okay this is absolutely garbage rae i am so sorry pls forgive me,,, i KNOW this is not how nikolai’s demon works and he wouldn’t just like turn back but for the sake of this fic pls pretend <33333

for the lovley @wtfrae !!! i love u pls go read her work everyone <3

warnings: spoilers! some angst n like threat of violence but y’all know me, everything is good and happy by the end

nikolai had always been the one person you could turn to. since the two of you were kids, it had always been an unbreakable bond. something no one else seemed to understand. how to kids, tossed aside by their family, tested in every way possible, were able to find each other and bring out the best in one another. nikolai made you better, made you good.

life in ravka was never easy, it was a constant struggle. especially in the years leading up to nikolai’s reign. the two of you almost hadn’t made it out alive then, and while nikolai had been out fighting with alina in the fold, you had stayed at the spinning wheel helping the injured.

but when things finally settled down, alina and mal safe and away, nikolai had told you so many stories. the two of you had spent months apart. so out of nostalgia, every night you’d sneak into nikolai’s room and listen to your best friend tell you stories about everything. all the battles he’d fought along as sturmhond, what the battle against the darkling had looked like.

and even when nikolai ran out of stories, and you ran out of questions, you kept sneaking into his room to talk to him. he was the king of ravka, during the day he never even stopped to take a breath. but his nights were reserved for you. just so he could hear the sound of your voice before he was bound to his bed by chains.

nikolai loved you dearly, you were the only constant he had ever known. but he couldn’t bring himself to share what had happened to him during the battle with the darkling, what he’d become. instead, he told you the stories he told everyone else, how he was captured and tortured. it hurt him, to lie to you. but he couldn’t have you seeing him the way he saw himself, a monster. so even though lying to you pained him every night, he would do it to hear your excited questions and giggles as you snuck out of his room.

he always made sure you were gone before zoya came in. he wouldn’t be able to explain the drugging potion. or even worse, his horrible transformation into the demon that lived inside of him.

but secrets almost never stay secrets.

“saints nikolai,” you gasped, rushing off his bed to grab grab your coat, “it’s past midnight. i can’t be in here!”

nikolai sat up and looked out his window, you watched the color drain from his face. he cleared his throat and walked over to you, “you’re right you should probably go.”

you nodded and shuffled away from him, but before opening the door you paused. you turned back to the blonde haired boy, “nikolai?”

“yes sweetheart?” he answered, facing you.

“i could,” you hesitated, “i could sleep over. one night, i’m not saying tonight. just some night. i’ll sleep on the floor but, i spend all of my night here anyways. just like when we were kids.”

as nikolai slowly walked closer to you, you waited for his teasing remark and eventual acceptance. the two of you w had a sleepover since before he left ravka. of course it wouldn’t be the same, as he was now king, but he was your nikolai.

instead, he gently tucked a piece of your hair and kissed your forehead. “i don’t think that’s such a good idea sweetheart.”

your heart shattered at his words and his at the fact that he had to say them. there was nothing he wanted more. nothing that would bring him more peace than holding you in his arms until the sunrise. not just for a couple of hours right before bed, not having to pretend that everything he felt for you was strictly platonic.

“oh” you said defeatedly. “that, yeah that’s okay. i’ll see you tomorrow nikolai.” and with that you rushed out of the room.

later, as zoya gave nikolai genya and david’s potion to knock him out, all he could think about was the horrible look on your face.

at some point in the night you’d made the decision to go talk to nikolai. the two of you couldn’t go on like this, attempting to be way you have been before the darkling and alina while tip toeing around these new feelings you had for eachother.

but as you made your way to nikolai’s doors, hand on the doorknob, you heard a soft growl coming from inside. you covered your mouth with your hand to prevent a gasp from escaping your lips. you slowly turned the handle and stepped into the room.

on nikolai’s kingly bed was a dark giant looking demon. it’s wings were the color of the night sky seen in the window of the bed room. it took your breath away.

you pressed your back against the wall, trying to move back towards the door without making any noise. but the demon heard you and snapped it’s head in your direction.

every part of your body was screaming to run, to scream even. but something stopped you. the eyes. they stopped you. they were dark and pitch black but there was something familiar about them. not the color but the way they watched you. like they were trying to remember every single part of you just in case.

nikolai was the only person who you knew looked at you that way.

“nikolai?” you whispered to the monster.

the creature craned its neck to the side, similar to the confused head tilts that nikolai used to give you during lessons. you took a hesitant step forward, holding your hands up to show that you weren’t going to cause harm.

“nikolai” you tried again, with more conviction in your voice.

the creature let out a small growl as a response and you flinched away. at your movement it out a whine and moved away from you.

you shuffled closer, “hey no no i’m okay. nikolai?”

slowly, as you repeated your best friends name over and over, the creature became less beast and more man. slowly morphing into a messy set of blonde curls and body you’d hugged more times than you can recall. your nikolai.

he curled up in a ball and leaned his back against the end of his bed.

“nikolai” you attempted softly, falling to your knees in front of him.

he scrambled away to a corner of the room, “please. please leave. i’m begging.” his voice was raspy from misuse, thought the two of you had spoken only hours before.

“nikolai i’m not leaving, please explain to me. what was that?” you pleaded with him.

“that was nothing, now go. please please” he sobbed into his hands.

you crossed your arms over your chest in a stubborn gesture that he couldn’t even see, “you’re lying to me again! i’m not leaving until you explain what that was. why can’t you tell me the truth for once?”

“that was me!” he yelled as he lifted his head and met your eyes for the first time.

you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar hazel color of his eyes. you crossed your legs together, “that was you?”

“yes that was me. that is what the darkling did to me. now please,” he let out an exhausted sob “please leave sweetheart.”

you felt tears swelling in your own eyes at his voice. how broken he sounded. your nikolai never sounded so defeated. and if he ever felt that way, he had never shown you. you crawled over to him slowly and placed your hands on the sides of his face, rubbing away the tears.

“what are you doing” he whimpered and dropped his head into your hands, “i could hurt you. sweetheart, you have to go.”

“my nikolai” you whispered, pushing his damp hair away from his forehead.

he closed his eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger, exhaustion, sadness, or a mix of all of it. “i cannot be yours. i’ve lied to you, i’m a demon, a monster. you can’t possibly want me to be yours.” he spit each word about himself as if it were venom, like the words ripped away a little bit of his humanity, or his confidence.

you shook your head and softly placed your forehead again his, still holding the sides of his face. “no. you’re my nikolai. you always will be.”

you placed two soft kisses on his cheeks, one on each side. “my” kiss, “nikolai,” another kiss.

“oh sweetheart, i am yours” he sighed and opened up his knees so you could fall into his embrace. “i am so sorry.”

“you should be” you mumbled into his chest. “what if you had died nikolai? and i wouldn’t have known what was happening to you until it was too late. i could have helped.”

he kissed the top of your head, still hesitantly. “im a fool, you can spend the rest of my life reminding me. i didn’t want to ruin this, us. it’s the last precious thing i have in my life.”

“we are still precious” you whispered and clung to his shirt like your life depended on it. “the same way you are still the nikolai i have always known, since childhood. you are still good. we will fix this.”

“and if we can’t?” he asked so softly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“then i’ll have to get just as familiar with the demon as i am with you” you joked.

and the rumble of nikolai’s laughing chest told you that everything would be perfectly fine. demon and all, he was still your nikolai.

taglist;

@deardiarystuff @bookishcrows @kazsimp @vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe

if your name is in bold, it means i couldn’t tag you <3

#nikolai lanstov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai duology #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone imagine #leigh bardugo #rae <3

364 notes · View notes

anime-lover-forever-1127 · 2 years ago

Text

The Hybrid & The Harvest Witch (Klaroline): Chapter 2 - Princess Grace & Nik

2. Princess Grace & Nik

----------

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "The Vampire Diaries", it belongs to its original creator Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, and L. J. Smith. Nor do I own "Originals", which belongs to its rightful creator Julie Plec, Michael Narducci, Leslie Morgenstein, Gina Girolamo. This is only a fanfiction, it is a piece of nonprofit work - that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release of "The Vampire Diaries" and "Originals". All of the characters come from the original works, a lot of the lines/text/scenes come from it as well. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. To fit the story, images can/are also edited (usually by me) using various apps and websites. So these images aren't mine; just edited a lot of the time.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and/or publish it onto any other website.

Warnings: Spoilers for Originals Season 1 Episode 1, Spoilers for The Vampire Diaries Season 4 Episode 20, Cami Bashing, Cursing, Suicidal thoughts, Suggestive content, alcohol , I'm not sure if I lined the events up correctly - I just went with the order that felt the smoothest, Blood, Violence, Gore (-? I'm not sure if this would reach the gore tag - but better safe than sorry)

----------

Today's Special

"A person has to keep something to herself or your life is just a layout in a magazine."

~Grace Kelly

----------

Two & A Half Years Later

Caroline thrummed her fingers on the counter as she waited for her drink. Her eyes glanced towards the coffee shop's entrance as she heard the bell on the door jingle.

She let out a curse underneath her breath as she saw Marcel enter, the vampire's eyes instantly went towards her.

"Really?" Marcel asks, using the disappointed tone he knew she just hated. It made her feel like a child, but worse than that, it made her feel like she had let him down.

Caroline shook her head, refusing to feel as if she was in the wrong this time, "Relax." She said casually, "I just wanted an iced coffee. It's like an oven outside."

"Yeah, well you should have told your guards to get you one then." Marcel reminded her.

Caroline rolled her eyes, "I can get my own drinks. Plus, they are supposed to protect me, not act like my servants."

"It's not that and you know it." Marcel said firmly. "You know the schedule is there to keep you safe. I don't mind you going to school-"

"Online." Caroline corrected.

Marcel sighed, "Online school and going in to write your tests, but other than that you need to stay inside. Where it's safe. You know the witches will do anything to get to you and Davina."

"Me and Davina can take them, and you know it. You don't need to keep us locked in the tower anymore Mother Gothel." Caroline joked, but the vampire easily heard the underlying tone of bitterness in her voice.

"I don't want you to feel trapped. I'm just trying to protect you to the best of my abilities." The vampire tried to reason.

"I know." Caroline sighed.

"Just a little bit longer now." Marcel told her gently. "Once the reaping phase passes, and they lose all their power, you and Davina can go wherever you want without fear."

Caroline looks down at her feet, "It's been years."

Marcel nodded, "And we're almost at the finish line. So go write your test, and then head straight home. Ok."

"Fine." Caroline sighed.

She then glanced at him, curious she asked, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I-I was- you see-" Marcel glanced to the side and Caroline followed his gaze and felt her lips turn downward.

"Really?" the witch asked, disgusted. "You know you can do so much better than her, right?" she asked, glaring at the other blond.

"Playing the protective daughter?" Marcel teased.

Caroline rolls her eyes. "Well when you act like a love sick puppy, someone has to. Just because she looks like her, doesn't mean you need to love her."

"It's not that." Marcel protested.

"Isn't it?" Caroline asks. "You may be able to fool your mind, but you won't be able to fool your heart." She says, poking his chest.

"Is this your new strategy?" Marcel asks with a raised eyebrow.

The blond shrugs, "Say something old and screw with your head until you finally realize she's a fraud. Yeah." She answers, as if it's obvious. "Therapists are supposed to help you, not judge you."

"Princess Grace of Monaco." The barista called, unsure.

"Oh, that's me." Caroline said, getting up to grab her drink. When the women behind the counter continued to stare at her, the witch offered a bright smile, "My parents were huge fans."

The barista let out a unsure chuckle and handed her the drink.

"Now head to class." Marcel ordered.

"Was already planning on it." Caroline answered, walking towards the exit. "I can not miss this test."

Before she could open the door, someone else pulled it open from the outside. Caroline paused, unable to stop herself from checking the guy out.

He was tall and dressed in dark genes and a light grey henley. He had curly dirty blond hair with piercing blue eyes.

His eyes traveled down her body, but stopped once it reached the cup in her hands, "Princess Grace?" He asked, chukling.

Caroline glared at him, "So what?"

"Well, see you around your majesty." The man smiled, holding the door open for her.

Caroline huffed and walked out with an extra sway in her hips, knowingly, still feeling his stare on her back until she rounded the corner.

----------

Later that night Caroline got dressed in a loose, flowy black, sleeveless shirt, with spaghetti straps. She paired it with simple blue jeans, wanting to fit into the background tonight.

"You're sneaking out again?" Davina asked from her bed, where she was working on a sketch.

"Well if Marcel didn't want me leaving, then he should have guards who aren't so easily fooled by an illusion spell." Caroline said, defending herself.

Davina put the pencil down and turned her body to face the older witch, who was currently in the process of arranging pillows under her blanket and then covering them with an illusion spell. "What if someone attacks you?"

Caroline rolled her eyes, "Please, if someone attacks me, and can actually take me down, then those chumps wouldn't be any good."

"The witches-"

"Have no power, at least compared to us. And soon, they won't have any power at all." Caroline said confidently.

"Oh, and what about the Originals? Marcel's worried." Davina reminded her.

"Please, weren't you the one who said we could take them." Caroline reminded her. "What happened to all that confidence?" She teased.

"It turned into concern. I'm worried about you." Davina answered.

Caroline's expression softened and she walked over to her, "I know. But I'll be fine." She said, trying to reassure the other witch. "We only live once. We aren't vampires. We won't be the same age forever. So we gotta live in the moment."

Davina sighed, Caroline was always the one who hated having to stay in the attic more than anything. "Stay safe."

"You could come with me." Caroline told her, walking over to the window, her black heels in hand.

"What? And who's going to cover your ass if Marcel comes to check in on us?" Davina teased playfully. "Plus, school dances aren't really my thing, I doubt full blown club ones would be any better."

Caroline nodded, "I'll be back by 2:30." She promised.

"You better be. If you aren't back by 2:31, I'm calling Marcel, and we're going to start a witch hunt for you." Davina threatened, smiling as Caroline climbed out the window.

----------

Caroline stood in line, her heels tapping impatiently on the ground.

The bouncer looked at her, finding it hard to believe she was 21. "Name and age?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I'm not sure about the second, but I'm pretty sure it was Princess Grace, wasn't it?" An accented voice answered for her.

Caroline turned her head to see the man from this morning smirking at her.

Her eyes narrowed, "And so what if I am?"

"Well I think it's a shame. She clearly wasn't even half as beautiful as you." The man answered without missing a beat.

Carolines face flushed, "You can't just go around saying things like that! I don't even know your name!"

"Nik." He answered. "You can call me Nik."

"Still-"

"What if I buy you a drink? Hm? Would that help?" Without waiting for a response, he turned to the bouncer, his pupils dilating, "You're going to let me, and the princess in."

The man repeated the words back without emotions, and Caroline's spine straightened up. "You're a vampire."

Nik extended his hand towards her, "Come on love. Give me a chance. I dare you."

Caroline looked at his outstretched hand. She knew it wasn't possible, seeing that she's a witch, but she still found herself compelled to give him a chance.

"Fine." She answered, placing her hand in his and letting him lead her inside.

Caroline found a booth in a corner, and she took the seat facing the entrance, making sure she could see the doorway clearly.

Nik joined her, two shots in hand.

The witch raised an eyebrow, "Trying to get me drunk already?"

"You know my name, and yet I'm still calling you princess. I need to level the playing field somehow." He smirked.

Caroline filt the corner of her lips turning upwards as she took the drink, "That would be a lot fair if I didn't know how high your alcohol metabolism actually was. I'd say the deck is more than in your favor."

Nik gave her a boyish smile, but there was nothing innocent about the monster lurking in his eyes, that had long since picked up on the magic dancing along her skin.

He hadn't confirmed it before, but now he knew for sure that she definitely had magic flowing through her blood and set into her bones.

She's a witch.

He knew for sure now that wearing the necklace he had designed to mask his wolf was a wise decision. It would be a waste to scare her off before he even got to know her.

Caroline took the shot, not once breaking eye contact, waiting for him to down his own. The original didn't disappoint, downing the shot in one go, he leaned on the table with his elbows, "Now, any chance I can get your name?" He asked, eyes daring her.

"You may earn it before the night's up," The witch answered, pushing back, "If you play your cards right."

Nik smirked, he knew she'd be interesting, and she hadn't let him down.

Caroline felt her vision grow fussy, and felt the familiar tug whenever someone used magic as an image of Jane-Anne Deveraux appeared in her mind.

She shook the dizziness away and could feel Nik's stare on her. She felt his blue eyes stare into her own, as a frown appeared on his face.

Caroline gave him a shaky smile, "Witchy migraine."

He raised an eyebrow, "I thought witches weren't allowed to use magic here?"

"They aren't." Caroline agreed. "But the magic builds up inside of us, and causes us headaches."

It technically wasn't a lie.

As a result of the harvest, she and Davina now had Monique, Cassie, and Abiligals magic trapped inside of them.

Nik nodded, knowing what she was saying was true. He knew if Kol was here, he'd probably have a fit in seeing what Marcel was doing to the New Orleans witches. Whether Marcel knew it or not, he was slowly killing them.

"Can you get me a Sex in the Driveway?" Caroline asked.

The man smirked as his blue eyes sparked, "Why, is that a way of suggesting something."

The witch smirked, "And here I thought you were classier than that." She propped herself on her elbows and leaned forward, "Trust me, when I want something. I'm very clear about it." She said, her tone taking on a suggestive hint.

Seeing his breath caught in his lungs, she let out a laugh and leaned back into her chair. "The alcohol will help my headache." She answered, but what she really wanted was for him to get caught at the bar so she could slip out without him noticing.

She doubted he'd be the type to let her go without asking any questions, considering how much fun they've been having.

And the last thing she wanted was to snap his neck and end the night on a bad note.

Nik sighed, "That was mean love. Are you sure you want a Sex in the Driveway?"

Caroline raised an eyebrow, "And here I thought you'd be all for getting me drunk? My tongue is a lot looser with alcohol in my bloodstream you know."

Nik's eyes darkened, "Oh believe me love. I know much better ways to get answers. I wonder about all the things I can discover when your muscles are loose, and you're screaming my name. I think I'm a lot more likely to get yours then."

Now it was Caroline's turn to be left breathless, as the man pinned her with his look. His eyes making promises that the witch was more than tempted to accept.

"Will you be here when I come back?" The vampire asked.

Caroline let out a sigh as she quickly regained her confidence, "Why don't you get up and see? The only way you'll know for sure is when you come back. You'll either see me here, or not." Before Nik left the table, she added, "and no peeking."

Nik smirked at her, "You play a dangerous game."

"But isn't that what makes it so much fun?" Caroline teased, her grin turning sharper.

The witch watched him walk away, almost not wanting to get up. Her will was once again strengthened when she unlocked her phone and saw a message from Davina.

Davina: You saw her?

Caroline: Janne-Anne?

Caroline: Yeah

Caroline: Don't call Marcel yet

Davina: Why?

Caroline: I wanna be there when he kills her. I wanna be there to see her pay. Give me a 20 min start, I'll call him when I'm half way home so he doesn't know I was out tonight

Davina: Allright

Davina: Hurry up

Davina: If he doesn't catch her in the act, he'll know we waited and that you left

----------

Caroline was halfway home when she found a quiet street and decided to call Marcel. The man picked up on the first ring.

"Janne-Anne." The witch said, having to stop walking so the vampire couldn't pick up on her footsteps.

"She used magic?" Marcel asked, surprised.

Caroline nodded, "She did. It was an identification spell, but a spell nonetheless."

"I'll handle it." The man told her. "Stay home-"

"No!" Caroline instantly protested. "That woman sentenced me and my friends to slaughter. I have the right to be there."

She heard him sigh on the other end, "Fine. Be ready, I'll come pick you up."

----------

Meanwhile Klaus returned to the table, expecting to see the blond witch still sitting there, only to find an empty seat.

His eyes flashed amber as his wolf rose to the surface. Her scent of honey, cituris, and ginger was already embedded into his memory; and now, the wolf wanted to track her down. The wolf saw it as a challenge and wanted to chase after her.

And the man in Klaus couldn't help but agree.

But before he could carry the thought out, he got a message from Marcel, telling him to meet him.

He sighed and threw a longing look at the empty seat. Taking one last deep breath of her scent, he willed himself to walk out.

He didn't even know her name, but that didn't make him want her any less.

----------

Caroline climbed up the fire escape and knocked on the window. Davina looked up and rushed to it, unlocking it.

"Thanks." The blond said, as she climbed in and began walking to her closet, she slipped off her black heels and pulled out a pair of socks from her dresser instead.

"So you're really going?" Davina asks.

"Of course I am. Aren't you?" Caroline asks, pulling on a cardigan and slipping into her black converse shoes. She whirled around to face her cousin, "That woman led her own daughter to the slaughter. She watched as we begged and begged for help. Doing nothing. I wanna watch her pay. Isn't that the only reason we stayed in New Orleans?"

Davina nodded, as she remembered the cold look that Janne-Anne had in her eyes despite watching her daughter get her throat slit.

"I'm going to." She nodded, pulling a jacket out of her own closet.

Caroline smiled, as they heard a knock on the door.

The blond's eyes widened as she remembered that she still would smell like the party, smoke, and alcohol. Moreover, she'd have Nik's scent on her. As light as it may be, a vampire as old as Marcel would be able to pick up on it. She picked up a perfume from the vanity and sprayed herself with it, from head to toe.

Davina gave her a moment, before walking to the door to open it.

Marcel raised an eyebrow at Davina, "You're coming to?"

The brunette nodded, "Caroline's right. I need to see this with my own two eyes. I wanna watch like she watched and did nothing well five girls - one of them being her own daughter, were led to their slaughter."

Marcel sighed, but he could easily understand where both girls were coming from. "Allright. Remember, to put a glamor on, and blend into the crowd. I don't want to risk it, especially when you're going to be that close to her. The last thing we need is her spotting you."

"It'll be fine." Caroline reassured him. "We know what we're doing."

Marcel nodded them, patting them on the shouldier, he led them out. "Whatever happens, stay closer, and look out for each other. Ok?"

----------

"Ekáti, plýne mas méchri na mi fainómaste." Caroline whispered underneath her breath, letting her magic cover both her and Davina.

The spell was a simple glamor, but with it in place, the people around them would only see two black haired sisters, with plain brown eyes. Letting them easily blend into the ground and be forgotten.

"Come on." Caroline nodded at Davina, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd until they got a perfect view of the show that was about to take place.

One of Marcel's vampires dragged the witch in front of Marcel.

Not even three years ago, Caroline looked up to the witch, and if something like this had happened to them, she could see herself doing everything in her power to help the women.

But now, after everything she had done, the women, and her coven had lost any and all loyalty Caroline may have held for them.

"Jane-Anne Deveraux." Marcel announced, before turning to the ground, "Give it up for Jane-Anne. Come on." He said, as if he was an announcer on a late night T.V. show.

"Jane-Anne Deveraux, you have been accused of the practice of witchcraft beyond the bounds of the rules set forth and enforced by me." He said, finally turning to the witch, a dark look beginning to appear in his eyes, "How do you plead?"

But as quickly as it had come, the look vanished. "Oh. Was that convincing? I studied law back in the fifties. It's all I know. Seriously, J, tick tock. You know the drill. How do you plead?" He repeated, forcing Janne-Anne to answer.

"I didn't do anything." The witch answers stubbornly.

But Marcel instantly called her out on her b.s, "That's a lie. You know it, I know it, and you hate that I know it. It drives you witches crazy that I'm aware of your every move. That you can't do magic in this town without getting caught. So, why don't we just cut to the chase, huh?" He asked. "You tell me what magic you're brewing. Tell me. I'll grant you leniency. Hey, I am, after all, a merciful man."

Davina clenched Caroline's hand, and the older witches' eyes narrowed. No way. They had been waiting so long for this moment.

Waiting for her to slip up.

Waiting to see one of the women who was directly responsible for their life being destroyed, punished.

Caroline squeezed Davina's hand back. The reminder that she was there was the only reason the blond didn't shout out in protest.

"Rot in hell, monster." Janne-Anne growled.

"I'll tell you what. I'll give you one more chance." He said, turning around, but before the witches eyes could soften, he turned around and slashed her neck, "Or not." He said, watching the woman collapse to the ground, her head barely attached to her shoulders.

Caroline flinched as a sudden image of Monique, and how the girl had fallen to the ground in a similar matter flashed before her eyes.

"Poetic justice." Caroline chukled, "I doubt she would want this. After all, Killer or not, the woman was her mother."

Davina turned to her, "It doesn't matter. We wanted this."

Caroline gave her cousin a small smile, it's true at first she desperately held onto the belief that they were doing this for their fallen friends.

But were they really?

No.

No they weren't.

This was for themselves.

It's true it's sad what happened to those girls, but they had died and left this plane behind.

But they had died, well Davina and Caroline struggled to survive.

Dying wasn't easy.

But the guilt, anger, and pain that came with living?

Death was easier in comparison.

Caroline turned her attention back to Marcel, she could see him talking to someone, but couldn't make the man out.

She shook her head, dismissing it as vampire business, something she liked to stay out of. That last thing she needed was another thing tying her to this city, after the magic all faded.

"You coming?" Davina asked, wanting to go back home.

"No. You go ahead. I wanna make sure we retrieve Janne-Anne's body." Caroline told her.

"Why?" The brunette asked.

"So the witches can't bury it ofcourse." Caroline answered, as Davina's eyes widened in understanding.

----------

Caroline entered the party, but left it behind as soon as she stepped in and made a B-line for the bathroom instead, unable to stomach the way vampires were blatantly feeding on humans.

Her breath began to come out quicker as she felt her chest begin to cave into itself. Her hands quickly fumbled against the faucet handles as she struggled to turn it on. The second cold water began rushing out, she splashed it against her face.

The cold water ran down her face, and snapped her out of the panic attack that was beginning to hit her.

Caroline sighed as she leaned against the cold material of the sink, letting her forehead rest against it, she began to wonder where it had all gone wrong.

She wanted to make the witches pay, but why did it feel like she was the one paying the price?

She may be alive, but she couldn't truly live her life, with the threat of the witches and their harvest reaping constantly hanging over her head.

Would it have been better if she had died that night?

Is it already too late?

The blond shook her head, trying to shake all those thoughts away.

No! She couldn't!

She couldn't leave Davina alone with this burden.

She needs to hold out.

Just a little bit longer...

----------

Loud music was booming through the area, as the party moved to cover the whole courtyard. Marcel and his vampires were dancing as they were high on both blood and drinks.

Klaus entered the courtyard, as Elijah observed from a balcony

"Hey, man, where'd you run off to?" Marcel asked, greeting his sire. He didn't notice it before, but now that he was closer to the man he could pick up scents that still lingered on him. One stood out to him, almost like it was citrus, and a hint of sweet note, but he couldn't pick it out exactly. The man had clearly been to a bar, and the strong scents of alcohol were covering the scent. Marcel just couldn't put his finger on what exactly he was smelling.

"You mean your minions aren't still documenting my every move?" Klaus asked, his tone was light, but Marcel, having been raised by him, could pick up the undertones of anger.

"Someone put you in a mood." Marcel commented, not realizing that a part of that mood resulted from Klaus being seperated from Marcel's ward - or more specifically the said ward running out on the thousand year old vampire. "What can I do?"

"What you can do is you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches." Klaus said, stepping closer.

"We're back to that." Marcel sighed, hoping they were past that. But he knew better, Klaus would never let something like that go.

"Yeah, we're back to that." Klaus glared at him.

"You know I owe you everything I got," Marcel admitted honestly, "but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one. This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that."

"Your town?" Klaus asked, stepping away, almost as if he had been burned.

"Damn straight." Marcel nodded confidently.

"That's funny," Klaus chukled, "because when I left 100 years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down, and now look at you – master of your domain, prince of the city." He said, lashing out bitterly.

The music stopped, as the people in the ground began to watch them, but Klaus paid them no mind. "I'd like to know how."

"Why?" Marcel asked, tilting his head as he saw a vampire and Thierry come up around Klaus. "Jealous?" The man questioned. But he then saw something dark appear in Klaus expresion and had to stop himself from flinching. He knew now was not the time to fight, and needed to cool the situation down before tensions rose even higher.

He wasn't ready to take on the originals.

Not yet.

"Hey, man, I get it." Marcel said, trying to cool the situation down, but still not willing to give up his footing. "Three hundred years ago, you helped build a backwater penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left." The man reminded his sire. "Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. we don't have to live in the shadows like locals know their place they look the other way. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing and the party never ends. You wanna pass on through? You wanna stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine." Marcel said fiercely. "My home, my family, my rules."

"And if someone breaks those rules?" Klaus asked, his voice adopting a sharp edge.

"They die. Mercy is for the weak." Marcel answered without backing down, and Klaus had to bury down the feeling of pride that rose in his chest. He was the one who-

"You taught me that, too. And I'm not the prince of the Quarter, friend. I'm the king! Show me some respect." Marcel growled out. There was only so much he could give, before his power and reputation collapsed. Something he couldn't let his people say, or everything he spent the last two centuries building would turn to ruin.

Klaus paused for a moment, before flashing towards one of the vampires that had tried to inch towards him, and bite him at the neck, his fangs mersously tearing through the younger vampire's neck. The decades the vampire had on him were nothing compared to Klaus' centuries, but those years were the only thing that prevented his bone from being crushed under the hybrid's ruthless attack. Any younger, and Klaus fangs would have torn through the bone like paper, ripping the man's head straight off his shoulders.

Klaus discards the man, dropping him like a rag doll, he turns to Marcel. Marcel flinches as he sees the blood dropping down Klaus' lips, and feels as if he's watching his kingdom bleed as the ground gives out from underneath him. He knows if he doesn't act quick, he'll be giving up everything.

"Your friend will be dead by the weekend," Klaus informs him. "which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet I cannot be killed." Klaus says, taunting the man he once called son. "I am immortal. Who has the power now, friend?"

Marcel could do nothing but stay silent, as he realized he was no longer looking at the man who raised him, but the Original who had seen the rise and fall of several empires.

The monsters that all creatures of the night feared.

Klaus Mikaelson.

----------

Caroline looked at the pulsing wound on the man's neck, and the black spider web like veins that spread from it.

She let her fingers graze over the wounds, only for the man to let out a scream.

She winced as Marcel spoke from behind her, "Can you help him."

"If I push magic against the venom flowing through his blood, I can push it back towards the entrance. It's not a cure. I won't be able to remove it completely, it's already mixed with his blood. Nomatter how much of the venom I remove, it's already mixed with his blood. All I can do is slow it down."

"It's something." Marcel argued.

Caroline shook her head, "All that will do it prolong his suffering."

Marcel cursed underneath his breath, and Caroline threw one last look at the vampire, before standing to face the vampire. "Did you get Janne-Anne's body?" She asked.

"Yes." Marcel answered.

"Good." Caroline sighed, relieved, before letting out a yawn as the night's events caught up to her.

She wanted to go back and see if Nik would still be at the party, wanting to continue their conversation, but knew with Marcel here, the chances of that happening were next to none.

And she was right, because when the vampire saw her tired expression, he gently urged her to the door, "Come on. You've had an eventful night. You need to sleep. I'll take care of this."

Caroline nodded, "Sorry I couldn't help." She said, as Marcel got a call.

He answered his phone and listened to someone on the other end speak for a moment before getting angry, his frustrations of the night catching up to him.

"You find him, and then you call me." Marcel growled.

"Who was that?" Caroline asked.

"The vampires I had followed Klaus." He answered, sighing.

Caroline raised an eyebrow, "Where was seen last?"

"He went back to a party, the one he was at before." Marcel huffed, hating how Klaus put him in this position and was just going back about his night. "The one near your campus. Probably left a woman hanging and is going back to get laid."

Caroline let out a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe not trying to go back is for the best. She came close to meeting Klaus Mikaelson in person twice now. She managed to avoid him at the Club, and barely missed him at the courtyard party.

Marcel saw how Caroline looked worried and shook his head, "Don't worry. I know how to deal with Klaus." He said, trying to reassure her.

Elijah suddenly appeared into the room, surprising her. The original barley even glanced at the plain black haired, brown eyed girl that he saw. The witches glamor couldn't disease her heartbeat from vampire ears, especially ones as old as Elijah, but the man just assumed she was there as a meal for the injured vampire, and dismissed her, turning his attention to Marcel.

"Is that so? Please elaborate." He asked Marcel.

Marcel instantly recognised the man from his childhood. The man truly hadn't changed a bit, more like he couldn't. But still dressed in the finest clothes, he easily recognised him, "Elijah Mikaelson." He greeted, his body tensing.

This caused the entourage of vampire's around them to rise as well, ready to protect their master at the smallest signal. But Marcel dismissed them, "No. I got it. It's all good." The last thing he needed was a fight breaking out near Caroline, against an original no less.

Elijah pulled out the chair across from Marcel and took a seat, "It's time we had a little chat."

Caroline had to force her magic down, as it began to rise up in defense.

"Well if you're gonna talk, talk." Marcel said impatiently. "I got things to do."

"Oh my, you have grown quite confident over the last century, haven't you?" Elijah asked, reminding the man that even now, he was still only the scared little boy his brother had taken in, to him.

"Me?" Marcel asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'd say it's you and your brother who got cocky, coming to my town like you own the place."

"Well, we did own the place once. We were all quite happy here as I recall. But we could never control those pesky witches of the French Quarter. How do you do it?" Elijah asked, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

"Your brother asked me the same question. I gave him the same answer: It's my business." He repeated, really getting sick of having to repeat the same thing to the brothers over and over again. "Everything in the Quarter is my business. Klaus comes into town all nice and friendly, then he starts looking down his nose at what I've down like it's some cheap knock-off of one of his dumb paintings, then he gets pissed of like a little bitch and bites one of my guys."

"Well, I do apologize for Klaus' poor behavior. I assume you know that that bite will kill your friend within a matter of days. Of course, Niklaus' blood would cure him." Elijah revealed the life saving information casually.

Caroline's eyes widened. It did make sense.

A snake can't kill itself with its own venom.

Klaus was the Original Hybrid. The first vampire that was a werewolf. No, he was a werewolf first, who became a vampire. So it's only natural his vampire side would blend with his werewolf, nuteriasing the poison that was toxic even to his siblings.

"What?" Marel asked, the mask of casualiness he was wearing, falling right off his face.

"Yes, apparently the blood of the hybrid will cure a werewolf bite. Quite a handy little thing when one needs leverage in negotiation." Elijah smirked, knowing he had Marcel's interest as well as the upper hand.

"What kind of negotiations are we talking about?" Marcel asked, knowing the price would be anything but cheap.

"Return the body of the witch Jane-Anne. Allow her people to put her to rest." Elijah revealed.

Marcel swallowed the curse that was about to escape his lips, down. He could hear Caroline's heart pick up speed. Elijah was still ignoring her, thankfully.

"What do you care about the witches?" Marcel asked, looking at Elijah so his gaze wouldn't wander to check on Caroline. The last thing he needed tonight was for Elijah to take an interest in her.

"Well, that's my business, now, isn't it?" Elijah taunted, repeating the words that Marcel had told him just a few moments ago.

Marcel glanced at Caroline from the corner of his eye. The glamor spell prevented him from seeing her, but he could clearly imagine her wide eyed expression underneath. How those brown eyes would be a dark shade of angry blue. How she would have shook her head and screamed that he was being crazy at him, if Elijah wasn't here.

Which only made what he was about to do, harder.

"Fine." He relented. "But I want the cure now. If my man dies, I swear I will kill Sophie as well, and then you can forget about ever getting what you want out of the Deveraux's."

Elijah took a threatening step towards Marcel at the information, but Marcel was done. He had enough of the Originals for one night. "LEAVE!" He roared. "Thierry will take you to the body." He said, glaring at the man in the suit.

Elijah returned the look head on, before sighing, and nodding to the vampire in the hat to show him where the witch was kept.

The second Elijah left, Caroline turned her furious look at Marcel. "How could you!" The witch shouted.

"I'm sorry Care." Marcel shook his head, "I had to."

"Had to! Do you have any idea what will happen now?" Caroline demanded.

"She'll be buried." Marcel said softly.

Caroline nodded sharpy, "And she'll find peace. She doesn't deserve peace! Not after what she's done!" She shouted, tears filling her eyes.

It wasn't fair!

Why would Janne-Anne get to be in peace?

After she killed her own daughter!

Destroyed Caroline and Davina's life!

"She doesn't deserve peace." Caroline said, her voice coming out hoarse as a result of the lump that was growing in her throat.

Marcel flinched as he saw tears well up in the young woman's eyes. "It's no fair Marcel. It's not fair."

"I know." Marcel said, trying to sooth her. "But it will all be over soon."

"When?" Caroline demanded. "Either we die, or we lose our magic and everything we've ever known." The blond confessed. As much as she was looking forward to putting this nightmare behind her. She knew that it wouldn't come without a price. The witches would lose all their magic, but Caroline and Davina would too. They would be giving up everything they had ever known.

"I-"

But Caroline shook her head, she didn't want to hear his excuses, or worse, see his pity. She turned around and ran out the door.

----------

Davina was practicing lighting a candle on fire, well Caroline finished up an essay, when Marcel walked into the attic.

The blond glanced at him, her anger at him for giving away Janne-Anne's body still not completely gone.

"I assume it's all quite out there?" Marcel asked.

'The witches know better than to use magic." Davina answered. "They know we can sense it when they do.

Caroline sighed, "Still doesn't stop them from testing out powers here and there. Can't they just learn." She sighed. "Better to be alive, then cast a silly spell. It's not like we cut off their connection to magic. They can still feel it."

"Well they are going to lose their powers. And it'll all be on them." Davina smirked, and Caroline couldn't help but smile back.

"What about the old ones?" Davina asks, turning to Marcel. "They're dangerous, and I don't want them to hurt you."

"The originals?" Marcel asked.

Caroline nodded, going to stand beside her cousin.

"Girls, as powerful as you both are, they don't stand a chance." He told them confidently.

"Really?" Caroline asked, not sounding too sure. "Do we really need to fight them head on. Can't you just dagger them, like you said they used to do to each other?" She asked, remembering the stories Marcel used to tell them.

"Won't work on Klaus." Marcel shakes his head.

Caroline nods, "I guess it's time to make a to-do list." She says, causing the other two to let out a groan. "It may be handy to actually get close to an original and see what makes them tick."

Marcel nods, "I think I may know just the thing. Give me half a day."

----------

Just as Marcel promised, when he came to visit the girls later that night, he brought a coffin with him.

"No way! You actually managed to get one of them!" Caroline gasped, jumping off the bed and running over to open the coffin.

Marcel smirked, "Did you ever doubt me."

"Kind of." Caroline teased.

Davina opened it and the girls looked inside intently, taking in the graying body of the man in the suit.

"This must be Elijah." Caroline notes.

Marcel nodded, "He is." When he saw Davina's hand inch towards the dagger he quickly stopped her. "No, don't remove the dagger."

Caroline nodded, turning to the brunette she said, "We should start putting some wards up."

"Don't you already have some?" Marcel asks. "Ones you review every week."

Davina nodded, "Yeah, well these won't be to keep things out, but to keep them in." She smiled.

Caroline touched the original, and felt a spark as she felt the magic running through him. And for the first time, she truly began to question if they could pull this off.

She shook her head, turning to Marcel and Davina, she knew that failure wasn't an option.

They needed to protect their home.

----------

An amazing Guest commentator on FanficNet brought up the idea of killing Hayley off, an excellent suggestion I definitely will be considering. So, should Hayley die in childbirth?

Like I of course didn't plan to have her around forever, but just killing her off in childbirth. It is a great idea, and I can see the benefits of both. Keep her around to bash her some more, or kill her off and be done with her entitled attitude and have the baby grow up to call Caroline 'Mama'. Or better yet, keep Hayley around - but she can't get her head out of her ass fast enough - and Caroline still becomes 'Mama'. (Personally, I'm leaning towards option 3). Because my original plan was for Hayley to die in season 5 for this fic, (but I basically ignore her for most of it, because Klaroline is the main priority here.)

As for Cami, let's be honest, would you use a cheap knock off purse (Cami), when you can have the real thing (Caroline). Yeah, I didn't think so. So why would I make Klaus? (I am sorry if that came out a little too sassy. I saw something similar in a movie once, and honestly thought it could be a funny way to reveal that yep - there will DEFINITELY be Cami bashing.)

And I gotta admit, I wasn't a huge fan of how Elijah went around using Klaus' blood for leverage (when I think they were still not getting along at this point because he was trying to shove a baby down Klaus throat) so he could free Hayley. Like it's not your blood - you can't go around offering it like cash. It's like spending money that isn't yours - without asking the person who actually earned the money. In general, I liked Elijah a lot more in TVD, where he was actually cunning, and wasn't just high on baby fever.

Anyways,

KLAROLINE FOR LIFE BECAUSE I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!

11 notes · View notes