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kasjophe · 4 years ago

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drarry raising teddy, possible TW

when Draco is having bad days

I have more thoughts on him than Harry, so this will be long and more detailed than post about Potter (I basically wrote there what Malfoy does for him, so general idea is to write what Harry does for Draco)

Harry knows Draco is paranoid and obsessive in general.

first Harry noticed that every night at random hours there are footsteps around the house, to the kitchen or Teddy's room or bathroom (it gave him a scare sometimes but he figured even a thief couldn't stomp as discreetly as Malfoy does) he could hear the stove or faucets going on and off. Murmurs of the boy as Harry felt the protecting charms around the house being layered up again.

Malfoy spend nights over Teddy's crib and one midnight Harry joined him thinking the baby woke up "What are you doing? He's sleeping." "I know." "..Do you want me to watch over him? Is he okay?" "Yeah.. I'm just making sure he's breathing." After that there was a moment of silence. "I do that too sometimes. But it's almost 1 am, Malfoy. And I know it's not my business but-" "You're right. It's not. Just go back to sleep, sorry if I woke you up."

He slowly started being on better terms with Draco and instead of taking turns taking care of the baby, they hang out together, because Teddy started growing and healthy communication around the house was a key to raise him well. So Harry noticed more things.

that Draco would stop playing with Teddy, run to the door and check the locks

after Potter saw blood sinking through Malfoy’s clothes on his left arm he payed more attention to that and realised Draco would never carry Teddy on his left side.. where the Dark Mark is supposed to be

with time Harry learned to actually observe even more

how Draco would wear Christmas sweaters from Molly almost every morning and on movie nights and then out of nowhere there’s no sight of them and he either dresses too formally around the house or wears the same thing for days

how Draco avoids eye contact, becomes stiff and his voice is tense when he’s asked questions

the way confident, snarky yet caring Malfoy would become cold and insecure in a split of seconds (Harry would say those aren’t right words to describe it, but he can’t quite name it either)

Harry sees the way Draco insists to play with Teddy out of nowhere (to the point that even the boy wants him to go away) and glares when you get close to little Lupin (sometimes he literally picks him up before you can touch him and walks away pretending he has something to do)

if you read the when Harry is having bad days you know Draco has his ways to make Potter feel better without making it obvious

so Harry decided to also do something and try to make Draco feel more comfortable and safe

but it seemed like it only made things worse

“Theres’s a letter for you from ‘Mione” “You asked her to do it, didn’t you?”

“Molly is asking what do you want for Sunday dinner?” “Nothing. She’s being polite and doesn’t actually want me there. Only you and Teddy should go.”

“Oh look, your narcissus flowers are bloooming, they look-” “Awful. They are awful. I have to get rid of them.”

“Alright Malfoy, how about chaser one on one round?” “So you would let me win again? No, thanks.”

Harry also learned that Draco is hurting himself. But it's not something he will discuss here.

Harry Potter became desperate to make Draco Malfoy feel better.

Harry learned there are Draco's things, and disturbing them makes him deeply anxious even if he acts as if it's nothing.

Potter doesn't interfere Draco when he's nursing Teddy in the morning - it's their time.

He stopped offering help in the garden and only watches from afar as Malfoy muscles relax when he's watering his precious flowers.

If Draco starts overeating Harry becomes very careful of what he cooks and not to touch something Draco might eat later as comfort food.

Teddy is always a good way to make his caretakers feel better - but he's very significant when it comes to Malfoy.

If Draco stops eating Harry gives Teddy an idea to 'make' breakfast or dinner for all of them and that results in little boy excitedly searching for Malfoy "I made this for you! OH AND THIS TOO DRAY' YOU HAVE TO EAT IT ALL" and Draco's tired eyes lighten and he obediently eats every last piece.

Harry realised Teddy's method works well on Draco in many aspects. But if Malfoy notices - it's over and he gets worse so Potter has to be sneaky about it.

He plays Draco's favourite music and that means Teddy has to dance with Malfoy "because it's their song and Dray knows all the moves"

"Malfoy, how about Quidditch round?" "Potter-" "Come on, Teddy is being raised by two brilliant chasers. We have different techniques, he could learn so much from both of us!" "You use this argument every time." "And look at Teddy! He'll be the greatest." "What if he doesn't want to play Quidditch" Harry bites his tongue from saying something without thinking. "You and Ron will teach him how to play chess then." "Teddy!"

One night when Harry heard creek of the bed and footsteps again he made up his mind. He grabbed his wand and whispered a spell. In other room Draco froze as he saw misty, dazzling stag. Potter listened carefully the whole time but after few minutes of nervous walking there was no more sound that night.

Next night, creek of wood under body weight. Harry's swish of wand. Steady quietness for few minutes. Footsteps again. One trip to the kitchen but then again, peace the whole night.

So it became a routine. For Harry to cast a patronus before sleep. For Draco to fall asleep next to silver stag and stop the urge to get up and check if the stove is turned off, if there's no water leaking, if protecting charms are on and if the little boy sleeping is safe and sound. For Malfoy to close his eyes and not overthink.

They never talk about this.

Harry knows Draco has to notice himself he's being appreciated and not to tell him. So Harry makes sure Molly asks Draco herself to join her in the kitchen (he's the only one she allows in). When Hermione sends an owl on Tuesdays Harry doesn't pick up the mail, so Draco can do it himself.

And whenever Harry notices Christmas sweaters dissapear from the sight he stops wearing his. (he thought about finding them and simply forcing git to wear it but he knows that won't work) Of course Malfoy doesn't ask why Harry stops, his pride won't allow him.

But when Draco opens the closet and sees sweaters with embroidered "H", "D", "T" laying next to each other (Harry can in fact be sneaky) he freezes. After few seconds he picks them up, orders a movie night and they all watch some muggle comedy wearing those cozy sweaters as Teddy falls asleep snuggled between his uncles.

Harry pretending to be mad when Teddy turns his hair white to make sure Draco notices.

Harry making sure it's chilly in the house when Draco stubbornly wears long sleeves when it's bloody hot.

Harry making sure no-one stares at Draco's arm when he's wearing short sleeves.

Harry asking Malfoy the most basics questions like "What's your favourite colour? How do you like your tea? Sea or Mountains?" so Draco can learn to feel more comfortable in conversations. And Malfoy is so grateful he doesn't push Harry away.

Harry Potter knows Draco Malfoy doesn't really have "bad days". Each day is a fight for him. But Harry learns how to help him get through them.

And when the bad days indeed come, he also learns Draco Malfoy doesn't mind a shoulder to cry on. Or arms to be hugged with.

Or a body instead of enchanted mist to fall asleep next to.

I've been making this for almost a week because I wanted to make sure I include everything the way I wanted. Not sure if I achieved it but here we are. I hope you enjoyed.

#draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry #teddy lupin #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanons #headcanon #expecto patronum #angst #fluff

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ryttu3k · 4 years ago

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Working out this little coterie! (Bloodlines and Night Road protags, plus a handful of others.) Present-day (we’ll call it 2021, for the sake of dates) San Francisco. Subject to change, probably!

Sierra Torres

Gangrel. Embraced 2004, apparent age 23, current age 40. Unknown sire.

Bloodlines protagonist. Had a rough upbringing, ended up in the foster system with her older brother. One of her longer-term foster homes got her interested in the environment, and as she grew older, she got heavily into environmental activism (and has definitely chained herself to at least one bulldozer). Went to college to study ecology, but found she wasn’t the most studious and ended up dropping out, drifting around LA and working odd jobs.

Was Embraced by a guy she met at a protest against logging (at night, obviously), and, well, plot happened. (Much to her irritation. She’s mostly gay, teeny bit bicurious, but damn the one time she hooks up with a guy...)

Definitely clicked more with Jack than LaCroix during the events at the theatre, and as soon as she could meet with the Anarchs, she jumped in with both feet. Would lowkey die for both Beckett and Nines and has decided they’re both her dads (Jack is Favourite Weird Uncle).

Post-game, she stayed in LA with the Anarchs until all that business with Tara Kearney and Vannevar Thomas made it a bit uncomfortable. Growing tired of the politics, she (and Wren, who she’s known since the Ankaran Sarcophagus event) left for San Francisco, although she’s still in contact with and on good terms with the LA Anarchs, still does the odd mission for them, and will meet with the SF Anarchs on their behalf.

Leader of the coterie. Dating Wren.

Elijah ‘Pyre’ Carter

Banu Haqim. Embraced 1999, apparent age 19, current age 41. Sire: Julian Sim.

Night Road protagonist. The Good End version of Night Road where Pyre realised that, hey, Julian’s plans are really fucked up and ended up bailing on Julian, running off to SF with his boyfriend Raúl (who also isn’t a ghoul), also known as the AU where Pyre isn’t a complete disaster.

Originally from Syracuse. Was in college, dropped out, worked three jobs to pay off his whopping amounts of debt, was deliberately targeted by Julian. Worked (and was romantically involved) with Julian for nearly a decade before Julian manipulated him into diablerising Aila; shortly after, Julian disappeared. Pyre spent ten years on the road working as a courier until the events of the game in November and December 2019, where he was instantly drawn back to Julian’s side, fighting between his loyalty to his sire and his own sense of ethics.

Raúl helps become his moral backbone, and they work together (without Raúl being ghouled). After absorbing - and making use of - the 2100 formula, he apologises to Lettow and tells Julian that he can’t work with him, and he and Raúl leave for San Francisco, meeting Sierra there.

While he’s the eldest of the coterie (both in actual chronological age and in how long he’s been a vampire), he has no desire to lead, and is happy to leave that to Sierra. Has depression.

Raúl Cañedo

Brujah. Embraced 2020, apparent age 26, current age, uh, 27. Sire: Nines Rodriguez.

Night Road supporting character. As per canon, he grew up in Mexico City. After his father’s death and the arrest of his mother’s companion Antonio, he, his mother, and several family members crossed the border. Raúl was the only one to survive. While trying to help other family members across, he ran across Pyre, later encountering him again at Camp Scheffler.

Unlike in-game, when Pyre said he wasn’t comfortable making him into a ghoul, he accepted it, and they continued to work together hunting the true monsters as-is, gradually falling for each other over the events of the game and leaving together for San Francisco.

After being badly injured in an attempt to save people from a remnant Sabbat group, he asked Pyre to Embrace him. Pyre was reluctant to do so himself, and eventually Sierra suggested that he would make a pretty ideal Brujah. With the coterie travelling down to LA together, they met with Nines, who agreed to Embrace him. Now, Raúl is still happily involved with Pyre, still trying to fight against the real monsters, working through his PTSD, and learning what it is to be Kindred.

Briar

Toreador. Embraced 2011, apparent age 22, current age 32. Sire: D'Espine.

Originally from Dallas, Briar was an autistic, nonbinary arts student on the verge of dropping out when they caught the eye of D’Espine, who offered them the position of model and dancer at her club. Bonus points - for the relatively low price of becoming one of her ghouls, they’d also be able to be shaped into the perfect picture of androgyny they always wanted to be (along with the help of the Tzimisce Ana). While the life was sometimes difficult, they enjoyed the opportunity to explore fashion, music, and beauty, and eventually agreed to be Embraced.

For a few years, it wasn’t a bad life. Plenty of creative stimulation, with Briar able to get involved in fashion design and having plenty of beautiful things to stimulate their mind. Those nights came to an end with the Second Inquisition attacked Dallas in 2019, which set Briar’s anxiety off in a bad way; D’Espine encouraged many of her childer and ghouls to relocate for safer environments, and Briar (along with Ana, who, by now, was a friend) fled to San Francisco. There, they met Sierra and eventually the others, and is now enjoying the quiet security of being part of a coterie.

Brianna 'Wren' Metcalfe

Nosferatu. Embraced 2002, apparent age... hard to tell but she was 18 when she was Embraced, current age 37. Sire: Mitnick.

Wren has a surprisingly common story amongst Nosferatu - a geek and hacker (and, let’s be real, a bit of a weeaboo), she had stumbled her way across SchreckNet, was amazed at the world she had discovered, and was promptly dealt with. Namely, they sent Mitnick (who had previously done exactly that) out to her, who explained what she had found, and her options were either becoming a hideous undead sewer-dwelling creature of the night, or death.

Wren was sufficiently geeky enough to go, “Well fuck, I’m not exactly pretty or popular as-is, I can stay online, and I get neat powers. Let’s go for it!” and happily agreed to the Embrace. It was pretty cool - for a couple of years, when, shortly after the Ankaran Sarcophagus incident, the NSA breached SchreckNet and really got the Second Inquisition ball rolling.

Diving right into playing information security games against the NSA and FIRSTLIGHT, Wren worked on keeping the few remaining Kindred information systems relatively secure, right up until the 2009 information blackout. Deeply put out by the sudden lack of freedom, Wren approached Sierra, the Anarch neonate who had helped her sire out five years earlier, joining their movement and working on encryption and message-passing right under the noses of the SI (and, cautiously, starting a relationship with the Gangrel). When Sierra relocated to San Francisco, Wren followed, and now works on keeping the coterie secure and protected from the SI.

Occasional singing partner of Mort Sheaffer and preeminent provider of pirated media amongst San Francisco’s Kindred. Dating Sierra. Autistic and ADHD.

Ana

Tzimisce. Embraced 2007 at 16 but uses vicissitude to look older, current age 30. Unknown sire.

Ana’s background is relatively typical, albeit unhappy. A closeted trans girl, she went to school, dated girls, played sports, and generally play-acted the part of a ‘typical’ teenage boy, longing for graduation (when she could move away and start over).

Things went rather badly wrong when she was sixteen. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time during a Sabbat War Party, she was Embraced and promptly knocked unconscious and buried alive (or, well, unalive). When the terrified and traumatised Ana finally dug herself out along with the rest of her follow ‘shovelheads’, she was crudely inducted into the Sabbat and sent on a hunt to track down a target she had never heard of, one of the disposable shock troops made especially for her elders to use as they wished.

She was one of the lucky ones. While her humanity had taken a beating during her Embrace, she was more scared than bloodthirsty, fled, and hid herself amongst the alleys and sewers, and had the exceedingly good fortune to stumble into a group of high-humanity Kindred who immediately recognised what she had gone through. They helped her, slowly and painstakingly, regain her humanity, and when they recognised the clan she had been Embraced into, even found an independent Tzimisce mentor to help her begin to learn to combine Protean and Dominate into Vicissitude.

The first person she used vicissitude on was herself, and while her ‘base’ appearance is usually the same (of a pretty young woman in her early twenties), she does delight in odd modifications or changes. While the discipline has a bad reputation as being used for pain, she uses it to help people, and by the early 2010s she had a reputation for helping people transition or modify their appearances in general. Working with D’Espine and her ghouls, she met and befriended Briar, and when the SI attack hit Dallas, the two fled to San Francisco together. While Ana’s PTSD still rears its ugly head, the security of her new coterie and the sibling-like relationship she has with Briar is helping her heal.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm bloodlines #vtm night road #disaster coterie #oc: sierra #oc: pyre #oc: briar #raul canedo #oc: wren #oc: ana

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toohardtoforgetcth · 5 years ago

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Too Hard To Forget

Chapter One

Warnings: swearing, angst, moody Cal cause who doesn’t love that, hospital setting

3,923 words

A/N: this is the first chapter of my musician!Cal series! there is a prologue too but it’s optional as it could potentially be triggering for some. it’s my first piece of writing i’ve ever posted so feedback is appreciated! hope you guys enjoy :)

Parker Daniels could barely keep her eyes open. She was at the tail end of her night shift, just finishing up her rounds before she called it a night and crawled into her bed. She didn’t usually work nights, but a colleague called in sick and she was the only one available to cover, so her typical ten-hour shift turned into a draining 16 hours. To say she was brutally exhausted was an understatement.

“Parker, honey,” Diane, the night shift office administrator, sounded softly. “You look beat. We’ve got things covered here. Go home and get some rest.”

Parker shook her head. “I’m almost done. Just have to give Mrs. Jordan her meds.”

“Hannah just got here, I’ll have her do it,” she insisted. “Go home, dear. You need sleep.”

Parker flashed her a grateful, but tired, smile. “Thanks, Diane. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

She disappeared into the staff room to gather her things and exited through the back door of the building into the staff parking lot. The warm July air ruffled her hair as she dug through her bag for her car keys, the neon red lights from the emergency sign on the hospital connected to Westhill Retirement Home illuminating her face in the darkness. Parker unlocked the door of her black Honda Civic, dropping in and letting her head fall back on the headrest. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then started the engine, grateful for the short ten-minute drive back to her apartment.

As soon as she opened the door, her grey tabby, Loki, meowed incessantly at her feet.

“Hi, handsome,” she whispered, crouching down and scratching his head. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

He trotted over to his food dish and sat, waiting for her. Parker filled his dish, dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. Thankful that she didn’t have to work in the morning, she washed her face, changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed. She was fast asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

• • • • • •

“I just sold out of my last copy yesterday, but we should be getting more tomorrow. I can set one aside for you if you like,” Calum offered begrudgingly.

Sometimes—actually, quite often, Calum wondered why on earth he had a job in customer service. His love of music drew him to Rudy’s as a teen, but now, in his mid-twenties, his cynical and less-than-sunny disposition made him question what he was still doing here. When he was a kid, he would spend hours sifting through the vinyl albums, fooling around with the instruments, and saving up his allowance for his first guitar and a new CD every time he could afford one. He gladly accepted when Rudy offered him a job, but it was more for the staff discount than anything—Calum really hated dealing with people. He had a short temper, and this particular customer was testing what little patience he had left. He’d been browsing around the store for the last half an hour, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem with this guy was that he was asking Calum stupid questions every time he tried to get back to work, like the prices and aisle location of every single record he was interested in, even though both were clearly labeled on signs above the shelves. Calum was getting annoyed—he had shit to do.

“Can you check in the back? You must have more somewhere,” the man asked, gesturing to the stock room behind Calum.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t have any more, in the back or otherwise. If you don’t want me to put one on hold, then leave and let me get back to work,” he snapped impatiently.

The man’s jaw dropped, shocked at Calum’s blatant dismissal. Shaking his head, the man left the store, muttering under his breath about disrespectful kids. Calum was hardly a kid, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue. He didn’t give two shits what anyone thought of him.

He was about to head back to the last aisle he had attempted to do inventory on, when Tom, Calum’s boss, cleared his throat. Calum whipped around, facing the old man.

“Calum, my office, please.”

Calum rolled his brown eyes, following the short, bald man into the stock room and then into the little utility closet that doubled as a makeshift office for the owner of the store. Rudy passed away earlier this year, and his jackass of a brother took over ownership of the shop. Rudy was much nicer, and although Calum didn’t particularly like much of anyone, he most definitely preferred Rudy over Tom. He wasn’t sure Tom even liked music. He gestured for Calum to sit in the chair opposite his desk as he sat in the armchair behind it.

“Calum,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his beady eyes. “If you don’t stop scaring away my customers, I’m going to have to let you go. You need to get your attitude in check.”

“My attitude? Dude has been hounding me for the last 30 minutes, Tom. I haven’t been able to get anything done. You want your customers inhibiting the productivity of your staff?” he replied sarcastically.

Tom shot Calum a disapproving look. “I mean it, kid. This is your final warning. My brother may have let you get away with murder, but I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour,” he said sternly with a wave of his hand, dismissing Calum.

• • • • • •

After cashing out his last customer just after eight, Calum shut off the lights in the store, setting the alarm and locking the front door behind him. He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his leather jacket, lighting it and taking a long drag. He inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine drift down his throat and into his lungs. Calum knew it was a bad habit. Gram hated it. But it was a habit he couldn’t seem to kick, no matter how many times he tried for her. It calmed him, relaxed him. And after today, he needed it. He stepped out into the cool night air, one hand in his pocket as he walked, the other holding his cigarette. He finished just before he reached the front of a one-story brick building, stubbing it out under his boot as he stepped through the sliding doors.

Calum nodded his head at the receptionist, having walked these halls many times before. He turned left into the last room at the end of the hall, the permanent scowl on his face replaced with a genuine smile at the sight of the only woman in this world he loved.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he grinned, kicking off his boots and sliding onto the bed beside her. “How was your day?”

The old woman smiled fondly at her grandson, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “My day was just fine, dear. Got up nice and early, ran a marathon, found a cure for cancer, you know. Just small stuff,” she winked.

Calum chuckled, folding his hands behind his head. “Impressive. Wish my days were as productive as yours.”

Gram wrinkled her nose, catching a whiff of smoke from the cigarette Calum had just put out. “Oh, Calum. When are you going to quit that awful habit of yours?” she chided. “You’re going to land yourself in this hospital bed right next to me if you keep it up.”

“I can think of worse places to be,” he shrugged, resting his head on her shoulder.

• • • • • •

Just after nine, halfway through their second episode of Golden Girls, a woman dressed in scrubs knocked on the door to Gram’s room. Calum glanced up, shifting slightly on the bed to allow the nurse some space to look her over. She checked her vitals, then handed Gram a dixie cup with an assortment of pills, along with a second cup of water to wash them down. When she was finished, the nurse tossed the cups into the trash can beside her bed. Calum noticed Gram’s eyelids fluttering.

“Are you getting tired?”

Gram gave him a lazy smile in response.

Calum chuckled. He slipped off the bed, tugging on his boots and jacket. “Get some rest. I’ll see you Tuesday, yeah?” He planted a kiss on Gram’s forehead. “Love you, pretty lady.”

“I love you too, dear,” Gram smiled as he disappeared from view.

» » » » » »

Parker slept in late on Monday morning, a luxury she was rarely afforded. She woke up feeling rested and ready to enjoy her day off, which consisted of making breakfast, going for a run and cleaning her apartment. Around one, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel before checking her phone. She had a text waiting from her best friend, Jenna:

Yo bitch, meet me at Enzo’s. New café on Fifth. Lunch. You have half an hour. ;)

Parker laughed to herself. Jenna was charismatic and about as blunt and upfront as they came. She had a give-no-fucks attitude, and she was also one of the most genuine people Parker had ever known. They’d been friends since college, and no one in this world knew her like Jenna.

• • • • • •

“Hi, babe,” Jenna pulled her into a tight hug. “How’s life? How’s work? It’s been a long time.”

Parker laughed, rolling her grey eyes. “I saw you on Friday.”

“I know, I know. But it feels like ages.”

It was a cool, breezy day for the middle of July, so they opted for a table on the patio to enjoy one of the milder summer days. The girls caught up over nachos and a pitcher of beer. Parker was not, nor had she ever been, one of those people that felt satisfied after eating a salad. She was happy to work out regularly if it meant she got to continue eating the greasy, carb-loaded foods she loved. They chatted about work and family and how Jenna was struggling to choose between the three boys she’d been talking to. She was still rambling on when Parker became distracted by a tall, dark and handsome stranger, walking in their direction on the other side of the street. He was the textbook definition of a bad boy—dressed head to toe in black, complete with a leather jacket, a cigarette between his lips.

Jenna noticed Parker’s distracted expression, following her gaze to the dark-haired man.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Jenna shook her head. “Honey, that boy’s middle name is trouble.”

Parker’s grey eyes drifted from the stranger back to her friend, tilting her head questioningly. “Do you know him?”

“Of course not,” Jenna furrowed her brows. “But look at him. He reeks of heartbreak and bad decisions.”

Parker glanced across the street again, but the stranger had already disappeared. The girls paid their bill, left the café, and Parker never gave him another thought.

» » » » » »

Calum didn’t start work until noon on Tuesday so around nine, he decided to bring breakfast for Gram—coffee and donuts from her favourite bakery downtown.

He entered her room holding up the bag of donuts, and Gram’s face lit up. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite grandson?” she beamed, taking the bag from his hands.

“I’m your only grandson,” Calum rolled his eyes.

He sat on the bed and handed Gram her coffee. Around 11, a nurse peeked her head in the doorway. “Morning, Grace!” she chirped brightly.

“Oh, come in, Parker, dear,” Grace motioned with a wave of her hand. “This is my grandson, Calum,” she added, taking notice of Parker gazing at the man sitting next to her on the bed.

He was handsome. No, that didn’t even begin to cover it. He was gorgeous. He looked oddly familiar to her, though Parker had no idea where she knew him from. She supposed she could ask, but he didn’t look to be in a chatty mood. In fact, he didn’t look to be all that approachable at all. Parker took in the outfit he was wearing—black shirt, black jeans, black boots—and then her eyes drifted to the chair beside the bed. Laying on the arm was a leather jacket, and Parker noticed the edge of a pack of cigarettes in one of the pockets. That’s when it occurred to her—he was the stranger from the street outside the café. Calum glanced up and said nothing as he gave Parker a curt nod.

Grace elbowed him in the side. He shot her a look, then he stood, shrugging his jacket on over his broad shoulders.

“I gotta get to work, but I’ll stop by after, yeah?” He bent down and kissed Gram on the cheek. He brushed by Parker a little too forcefully without so much as another glance before he disappeared down the hallway.

Grace wore an apologetic look when Parker’s eyes finally found hers. “Don’t mind my Calum, he’s—” she paused for a moment, contemplating her words. “Well, he’s a little rough around the edges is all.”

Parker forced a smile. “He seems nice,” she lied. He didn’t seem nice at all.

Grace looked at her knowingly. “I may be old, dear, but I’m not dumb,” she chuckled. “I know he’s not the most pleasant, but he’s good to me, and that’s more than I can ask for.”

“I’m sure he’s lovely, Grace,” Parker assured her as she set Grace’s medications on the table beside her bed.

» » » » » »

Parker saw Calum several more times throughout the rest of the week. Although he clearly lacked basic social skills, noted in the way he gave Parker the cold shoulder every time she saw him, it was obvious how much he cared for Grace. Parker only ever saw him smile when he was with her. He was there twice a day almost every day—sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours. Grace took every opportunity she could to tell Parker that he wasn’t all bad. She wasn’t convinced, but that didn’t stop her from trying to be friendly towards him, even when he ignored every attempt she made. She even talked herself into believing he was having an off day when he bumped into her in the hallway. He knocked everything out of her hands, including her coffee cup which spilled all over the floor. He said nothing—just continued walking like nothing had happened. People have bad days, she thought. But she was starting to think maybe Calum was just an asshole.

» » » » » »

Parker and Jenna were walking downtown, window shopping and wasting time in the sunshine on Saturday afternoon. Parker stopped outside one of the shops, grabbing Jenna’s hand and dragging her in. “I wanna get the new All Time Low album,” she explained upon seeing Jenna’s confused expression.

“Why don’t you just listen to it on Spotify like a normal person?” Jenna muttered. Why anyone would pay for music you could get for free was beyond her, but Parker just rolled her eyes and tugged her inside.

She browsed through the aisles until she found what she was looking for, bringing it up to the front desk with Jenna trailing behind her. Parker set it on the counter, waiting for the man standing behind it to finish what he was doing so she could pay. Parker found herself admiring him from the back, even though she couldn’t see his face. He had tattoos snaking up his hands and arms, disappearing under the sleeves of a faded black t-shirt. The shirt hugged his biceps tightly and he had a wide, muscular frame that was obvious even under his shirt. She didn’t realize who it was until he turned his head to the side.

Calum.

Parker blushed, embarrassed at herself for checking him out. She didn’t even know he had tattoos. She had never seen him without his signature leather jacket, which struck her as odd, since it was the middle of summer, and who wears a leather jacket in the summer?

Calum reached out, sliding the CD on the counter towards him, scanning the barcode without looking up.

She smiled her most genuine smile. “Hey!” she greeted brightly.

His brown eyes finally flicked up to meet hers, not a single spark of warmth in them. He took the debit machine out of its holder and set it on the counter in front of her without a word, looking utterly bored.

Parker frowned. She was becoming a little bothered by his blatant disregard for her. Did he not recognize her? She tapped her card on the machine, waiting until the approved message flashed on the screen before picking up the CD. She glanced up at Calum again, but he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, it seemed like he was intentionally avoiding her gaze. “Right. Well, see you around, I guess.”

Jenna waited until they were out of the store before she questioned Parker. “Was that—do you know that guy?”

Parker nodded.

“How? And more importantly, what the hell was that about?” Jenna demanded.

“I have no idea,” Parker admitted truthfully. “I met him the other day at work,” she explained. “He’s the grandson of one of my patients. Actually, I’ve bumped into him a couple times this week. But he obviously doesn’t remember me,” she muttered.

“Or,” Jenna countered, “he’s just a big ol’ douche with a stick up his ass.”

“Yeah, he’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Parker laughed.

“Hot as hell, though. I’ll give him that,” Jenna mused.

• • • • • •

Calum finished work late on Saturday night, after Tom demanded he finish the inventory that he couldn’t be bothered to do himself. Calum was already on thin ice with Tom, so in the interest of keeping his job, he kept his mouth shut and stayed. Calum hated most aspects of his job, but inventory wasn’t so bad. He closed the store at six and put a Radiohead album on the record player while he worked. He might have finished an hour earlier, had he not been distracted by thoughts of a grey-eyed girl with a pretty smile. He replayed today’s encounter back in his head. Parker was the last person he expected to walk into the store that afternoon. He was taken by surprise, even more so when she walked up to the counter with one of his own favourite albums. He had been rude to her—on several occasions—he knew, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, she rubbed him the wrong way. But Calum had to admit, Parker was beautiful. There was something about her eyes—steel grey with flecks of blue, and her brighter-than-the-sun attitude that never seemed to falter. Calum briefly wondered how much it would take to make her angry. She kept popping into his head at the most inconvenient times, and it pissed him off.

» » » » » »

Parker was sitting behind the reception desk, eyes glancing up at the sound of the front door opening. Her heart stopped momentarily when Calum walked in. She cast her eyes down quickly, avoiding eye contact. He said nothing to her nor to the other two women sitting behind the desk next to Parker, his path clearly set for Grace’s room at the end of the hall.

Parker had seen Calum at Westhill two more times since their meeting at the record store, and there was no way that Calum hadn’t recognized her—she deduced that he just wasn’t fond of her. He made that point painfully obvious, but she was bound and determined to change his mind, being that he didn’t have any good reason. She was perfectly polite and she took good care of Grace. Usually, Parker wasn’t bothered by people who didn’t care for her, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, it irked her that Calum didn’t. At noon, armed with her tray of medications and Grace’s lunch, Parker headed down the hall to Grace’s room with the intent to strike up a conversation with Calum and kill him with kindness.

As she was about to go inside, she overheard Calum talking to Grace. He didn’t usually have much to say—Parker could count on two hands the number of words she had ever heard him utter—and she was intrigued by the sound of his voice. It was deep and raspy, and Parker swore she could hear an accent she hadn’t picked up on before. She wondered why Calum had an accent and Grace didn’t.

Parker leaned against the doorframe for a minute, just listening to him talk animatedly to his grandmother. She wasn’t really listening to the words he spoke so much as the way he spoke them. His voice was surprisingly soothing, and for the first time she noticed he had an infectious laugh that made Parker smile.

She was distracted a moment too long because when she looked up, Calum was outside the door and levelling her with an angry stare. The smile slipped off Parker’s face immediately.

“You make it a habit to eavesdrop on people?” he snarled.

“Oh—no,” she tried to explain, looking down at her tray. “I was just—”

“Just what?” he cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just being fucking nosy and invading what little privacy we have here?”

“Honestly, I—I wasn’t—” Parker stuttered, but words failed her when he lifted his hand, slamming it next to her head on the wall. She wanted to kick herself for flinching—now he had no doubt she was afraid of him.

Calum leaned in close, close enough for Parker to see the spark of anger dancing in his brown eyes. “Stay the fuck out of our private conversations, understand?”

Parker instinctively backed further into the corner she had been standing in, feeling incredibly threatened by Calum. His expression was deadly—Parker couldn’t even utter any words to explain herself, looking dumbly up at him while her heart pounded and her hands shook so violently she almost dropped her tray. So much for convincing him not to hate her.

He lingered a moment longer before dropping his hand, the fire in his eyes burning into hers once more before he turned down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, Parker let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She closed her eyes briefly to compose herself before entering Grace’s room, quickly setting the tray on her nightstand and leaving before she could say a word.

If Parker was on the fence about Calum before, she wasn’t anymore—he terrified her.

• • • • • •

Calum was beginning to get fed up with Grace’s irritatingly sweet nurse. Or rather, fed up with the things she was making him feel. He would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, the way he got a rise out of her when he cornered her outside of Grace’s room today. He had seen her coming with that stupidly sweet smile on her face, and their encounter couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. She reacted exactly how he had hoped, and seeing the fear in her eyes—fear of him—gave Calum a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe now she’d leave him the hell alone and he could let his mind wander in peace without worrying about thinking of her.

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ehstarwar · 5 years ago

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under thy own life’s key (6/7)

They’d been like this the whole night. Sleeping only periodically, spending the majority of their time fucking. Slowly sometimes, without any real desire for release, just the feeling of each others bodies. More roughly, other times; desperate pounding that Rey is sure leaves bruises. But she loves it.

Ben and Rey celebrate their first time having sex with more sex.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: thank u all so much for the love so far; u are all my favorite people ever. also plz don't hate me.

Chapter 6: they kill me with a living death

She doesn’t know what time it was. It could be four a.m.; could be noon; could be an entire different year for all Rey cared.

Ben worked his mouth over her chest, laving at her hard, pink nipples that felt perpetually hard. His mouth sucked on one, the other being attended to by his hand; caressing, tugging, flicking. Like it was his one and only purpose. His come was still running down her thighs, combined with the slickness his mouth was creating. His other hand was pulsing in and out of her, two fingers deep in her cunt. His thumb teased her clit until it felt like it was about to fall off.

Her orgasms now don’t come as shocking currents, but more like tidal waves that wash over her entire body. His fingers work her through it as his mouth continues sucking hickeys over her chest. When he withdrawals his finger, Ben brings them to his mouth, sucking every last drop of Rey he can.

Reys’ hand delicately traces all the moles on his face, making a constellation that she’d repeatedly kissed through the night. His eyes were hooded, she didn’t know if that was from lack of enough sleep or desire for her. She’d like to think it was both.

“What time is it?” She asked, voice hoarse from screams she muffled with pillows or Bens’ hand.

“Who cares,” Ben says, peppering kisses up her neck.

“My body has gotten quite used to eating multiple times a day, so, it cares.”

Ben scowled. “I’ll bring you food.”

“You don’t think our friends will notice it’s odd that you’re up and I’m not?”

“I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather. That I’m probably already infected with whatever you have, so I’ll take care of you.”

“That sounds nice…” Ben chuckled into her skin, tickling her neck. “It may be more believable if I go up and say you’re sick. They think you’re a vampire that got sun poisoning yesterday.”

“Our friends are idiots.”

“Yeah, but we choose to be friends with them anyways.”

“Hmmm…” He rubs his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. “It may be wiser for you to go up. That way you won’t fall asleep in a post-orgasm haze. Again.”

“Ugh,” She lightly smacks his arm, cheeks turning red. “I fall asleep because of some sort of sex hormone that orgasms produce. If anything, the blame is on you, not me.”

“I totally believe you, baby.”

There it was. That term of endearment that made Rey hot in all the best ways. Which is bizarre. It’s a very common nickname for significant others that Rey just so happens to have never been called before and now Rey doesn’t want to be called literally anything else.

It also presents another problem.

It was an endearment that couples called each other. People who were dating. Had established that they were seeing each other. Who could, for the most part, talk to their partner and figure out where their relationship stood. Something Rey and Ben had yet to do.

The idea of the forthcoming conversation that they needed to have (they were well beyond the point of being able to put it off), was enough to make Rey shoot up from the bed and out of Bens’ grasp. She rooted around for clean underwear and clothes she could slip on so as not to scar her friends for life.

“You really are hungry,” Ben comments, still laying on the bed.

“Benjamin, have you met me?”

“Fair.”

“Any particular order that you’d like to place? But I’ll have you know that my culinary skills peaked when I learned to put an egg in instant ramen.” Bens’ mouth twitched up at the corners.

“I’m sure you’ll get enough for the both of us. I’ll just eat whatever scraps you leave behind.”

Rey side eyes him as she begins to climb the stairs. She hears an even toned voice call up ‘try to throw a vegetable in there, too’ before she opens the stairwell door.

After their bellies are full and Ben eats Rey out again (his desert, he’d teased), they wind up in the shower. Ben holds her up, using the tile wall as a support as he relentlessly thrust up into her. Their bodies are slick and Rey would normally be worried about the likelihood of slipping, but she doesn’t with Ben. At no point did his muscles feel like the were ready to give out. He just held her, pounding into her with ruthless abandon, making her chant his name like a prayer.

“You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna get us all filthy again right in the shower?” Rey could only manage to moan for him, nodding her head against the cool tile. Bens’ mouth descended onto her shoulder, lightly biting down as he began to come. His hands held her hips flush with his, leaving no option for Rey other than to just hang limply in his arms as her orgasm crashed through her too.

Ben was sweet with her then, sinking them both to the shower floor, still attached, as he brushed the water and wet strands of hair out of her eyes. They were like that a minute until she heard a bottle being opened, then felt ben work shampoo into her hair.

“You’re gonna make my hair nice… like yours?” She asked, still a little breathless. He just hummed in acknowledgement. He rinsed out the shampoo before putting conditioner, then worked a soapy wash toweled down her whole body, missing no nook or cranny, even cleaning each toe individually.

Rey felt like a fucking queen.

Rey returned the favor to him, taking advantage of being able to run her hands through the glorious mop of black hair on his head, and tracing all the hard plains of his muscles. Rey though she’d get scored for taking extra good care washing his firm ass, but Ben didn’t seem to mind.

They rinsed off, and Ben got out before her, so that he could dry himself off before wrapping Rey like a burrito in a warm towel. She brushed out her hair, applied lotion down her whole body; pampering her for reasons she was too high to question.

They ended up back on the bed, Ben finding new sheets in the small closet and placing them on there. They’d have to think of a believable way to wash the come stains out of the others before they left. Neither of them seemed to care too much at the moment.

Rey went back to munching on some wheat thins she’d snagged from the kitchen on her run while Ben sat, facing her, rubbing her legs.

“We should probably talk about… this,” Ben spoke, suddenly, causing Rey to choke for a second on the four wheat thins she currently had stuffed in her mouth.

“About what?” She questioned, mouth still full. Ben gave her a pointed look.

“Rey.” She waived her hands in surrender, setting down the box beside the bed and swallowing the rest in her mouth.

“You’re right, you’re right,” She says, while situating herself a little straighter. A hollow feeling formed in her gut at the thought o having to talk about their relationship, but it’s what adults did. Get through something uncomfortable so that something slightly less uncomfortable would be waiting for her after.

“I guess I just want to know where we stand… like after… everything.” Ben gestures vaguely to the dirty sheets in the corner.

“After all the sex, you mean.” Bens’ ears turn red and Rey can’t help but caress them.

“And.. things like that. We didn’t used to do that before.” Rey drops her hand slowly.

“I guess… I don’t know where we stand. It’s… a lot to process.” His face falls.

“We’ve had all night to process.”

“We were sort of busy all night, if you’ll remember. Plus, we’ve been friends for eight year, Ben. Twelve hours isn’t exactly a ton of time to think things over.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. What is there to think about Rey?”

She gets up from the bed, needing to put distance between Ben and herself.

“Eight years, Ben. We’ve been best friends for eight years. Going from platonic emotions to very sexually charged emotions, merits a little bit of thinking.”

“Such as?”

Rey huffs, searching her head to find something that wouldn’t make Ben scoff at her. Like there was chance of that happening.

“Like… who I’m going to call when I want to get drunk in my apartment and watch trashy shows with if I can’t call you.”

“Why wouldn’t you call me? If we’er together, wouldn’t I be the person you’d do that with, no questions asked?”

“What if we fight, Ben? What if we do what we’re doing right now? Who could I call then?”

“We both have other friends! Hell, we’re in a house full of them right now.”

“But you’re different. It’s different between us, Ben, it always has been.”

“That’s exactly why there’s nothing for us to think about! We were always headed towards this!”

“It’s not easy for me to just accept that! You’re my best friend! If it turns out that we weren’t meant for this and we do break up, what am I supposed to do? I can handle loosing a boyfriend, but I can’t handle loosing my best friend on top of that!”

“That won’t happen.”

“We’re fighting right now and we’re not even officially dating.”

“We wouldn’t break up, Rey. We’d make it work. I’m not your parents, I’m not going to leave you like garbage.”

Rey goes rigid. Her whole body tenses as the words play over and over again in her head.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, Ben. You can’t be upset with me for being scared.”

His jaw works as his eyes continue to stare deeply into hers.

“I’ve proved myself for eight years that I won’t leave you, Rey. What more do I have to do?”

Rey stares right back at him, unmoving.

“Maybe not be a huge asshole to me while asking for us to be together would have helped.”

Neither of them can move, both unyielding in their respective ground. When it’s clear that their thoughts on this won’t change either, Rey turns around to grab clothes. She takes off the comically large t-shirt that Ben placed on her, replacing it with her own clothing.

“I’m going to stay with Rose for the rest of the trip.” She doesn’t turn to tell him that, but she can hear the squeaking of the bed as he gets up. He doesn’t say anything. When she turns to face him to grab her phone, she sees that his expression is still hard, but his eyes softened a bit.

Rey forces down the tears that will absolutely be spilling soon.

“Rey, I-” But he doesn’t finish. Rey looks at him, willing from him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He closes him mouth and Rey leaves the room.

When Finn opens the door to Roses’ room, he’s met with a watery-eyed Rey.

“Oh, hey Rey. Rose and I were just playing cards. But like, we didn’t have any cards so we were playing with ones on our phone. That’s why there’s no actual cards here. What did you- Are you okay?”

“Finn, I think I messed everything up.” Rey breaks into sobs before she can finish speaking.

#just fyi #im a serial HEA-ist #plz keep that in mind my loves #reylo #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #sw #star wars #fan fiction #ao3 #adam driver #daisy ridley #ben x rey #rey x ben #my work #utolk

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queen-paladin · 5 years ago

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How I Loved You, How I Cried

Context: Gwiylim Lee x F! Reader. A few minutes after your virginity loss to Gwilym and their first night together, (Y/N) feels the courage to confess something personal from her past to him and let him know about a personal trauma... Angst/Fluff

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of sex, swearing, sexual assault, not the world’s best grammar.

(I have been a fanfiction reading stan on this site for months and now it is my turn to share what I myself wrote! Hello there! This is the not the first fanfic I have ever written, but definitely the first Bohrap cast fanfiction I have written. The original came in two parts and I am hesitant to post the first one with the actual v-card loss and sexytimes in it, unless asked for so maybe ? a ? oneshot ? I would personally love to thank the support I have gotten for this decision to post my own Bohrap/Queen writing online. I will give copyrights to @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever for a little bit of inspiration in the beginning from the Aftercare headcanons. Also tagging @sohoneyspreadyourwings and @musicalprostitue for the encouragement today...so here we go! Other fics to come soon!

Also, I read or saw somewhere Gwilym was Cassio in Othello in a stage production at some point, but if I am wrong, let me know immediately and I will fix it. And if I am right, someone please say so and tell me what other Shakespeare he has done. Because I am curious. Maybe it may play into some future fics *wink*)

You lie panting for a little bit, now that the climax has tizzied away. You hear Gwil next to you, doing the same. You start to get up on your elbows.

“Let me go get you-”

“Oh no, you don’t have to. You’re the one new to this. Please let me take care of you, let me hold you.”

“Okay.”

He pulls a soft, grey blanket scrunched in a corner of the duvet and wraps it over you like a cape. You feel one of his arms scoop under you and the other around you and you do the same. He nuzzles his face in your hair and you in his chest, smelling his soap. Both of you silently play footsie for a bit, giggling like children for a second. He’s so tall you had to stretch your toes to reach his until you give up and use part of your foot to gently poke his shin.

“How was I?” you ask.

“You were incredible, Y/N”

“Thank you, for everything you did for me tonight” you say, nuzzling his chest a bit.

“You’re welcome” he says. You feel his hand reach your back and trace bits of your spine and ribs. You start to lightly tickle what chest hairs you see and trace figure eights.

“Fy cariad bach, my little goddess, Rydych yn hardd, my sweet bird” he whispers.

Eventually he lets go and you feel a bit of coolness. The blanket drapes off some of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Gwil goes to put on some blue boxers and offers you some of his that can fit you and an old, white t-shirt. It’s not your most fashionable look, but neither of you care.

A sudden urge hits you. If you don’t talk about it now, you don’t think you ever will.

“Now that we’ve done this, Gwilym...” you say. He perks a bit at the mention of his fuller name.

“There’s something I’d like to tell you. But could you hold me again while I talk about it...I mean, like spoon me?” you ask. It would be easier if you couldn’t feel the pressure to make eye contact or see his face.

“Yes”

You turn over to face the wall and the bedside desk. A couple of the leftover rose petals tumble in your hair and a couple rest in your peripheral vision. He was so sure you were comfortable tonight he made the effort to decorate the bed with rose petals. You feel his arms wrap around your stomach and his chin on your head. You take a deep breath, enjoying the moment. Outside,birds are chirping a little in the night. A fan in the room was turned on in the midst of the scramble for comfy clothes and it purrs and blows cool air. You take five seconds to enjoy it before you begin.

“I told you I am-was a virgin. And it’s true. But only technically true. Everything I am about to tell you really happened. Please believe me.”

You sigh deeply. Then you feel ready to relive it one more time.

“There was another boy. He was my cousin. It was Easter and the family were all together after church. When everyone was preoccupied, he took me to the guest bedroom. He asked me to take my clothes off. I did. Then he took off his. He led me to the closet and turned off the lights. It was pitch dark and I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel. I don’t even remember much. I was in such shock. I’ve kept blocking it from my mind. I remember his...his penis touching me, though. I was lying on the floor and he was doing something like push ups over me. I don’t know if he went into me or not. I don’t remember. I felt so uncomfortable I cried and begged him to stop. He did. We got out and dressed and he told me not to tell anyone. I’ve only told my immediate family and the odd counselor or rare friend and now you.”

You pause for a little to let it soak in. You hear that he has no comment yet to say. Maybe he is taking it in. Then you decide to include the last, and most important detail.

“I was nine years old.”

There is a pause even stiller than before.

“And at the time, I didn’t even know what sex was at the time, much less what happened to me.”

Your heart is picking up speed again. At once you feel relief that you don’ t have to hide or bury this burden with your boyfriend anymore. But at the same time, here you were, out in the open. Nowehere to hide. After all, moments before you decided to reveal your naked body to him. Now it seemed as if he saw your own inner nakedness and was waiting for his verdict.

“Do you believe me?” you ask.

“I do”

You feel his arms tense up a little bit. Almost in anger, almost to keep you secure.

“Oh my god...that bastard...that’s horrible.”

You feel a couple of tears well up. The pain and confusion and loss that hit you years ago has returned. It returns every time you recount it.

“I was so scared...You would think that I was so inexperienced you would be bored and tired of me or that...that I was ...was damaged goods. Either way, I wasn’t good enough, especially not for you.”

“No, no, not at all.” he insists. You give yourself permission to cry for a bit.

“The whole damaged goods thing is just old-fashioned bullshit” Gwilym insists “ And even if you were inexperienced, if you wanted anything or needed help, I could help you. You were wonderful just now, cariad. I had a wonderful hour I will never forget.”

You feel him gently turn around. By this point, there have been more tears wiping off what makeup you have put on for tonight. The little blemishes on your face and eyes are revealed. It almost makes you cry more, since you are worried this is the most unattractive you seem in front of Gwil. You decide to look at him in his blue eyes and continue rambling. More things, things you have rearely talked about, begin unpiling.

“I sometimes wonder if I led him on-”

“A nine year old girl? If a man or any guy is turned on by a nine year old girl, he’s the one with a problem.” He wipes away a couple tears with his hands. He cups your face with all the gentleness in the world.

“I can’t imagine what it was like or how it is like. But it was not your fault. You didn’t even bloody know what was happening. He was just some prick who took advantage of a child. That’s the nicest thing I can say about him.”

Gwil begins to wipe a few more tears that fall down from your cheeks. Even with your bare, blemished face, reddened and scrunched from crying, he loves you deeply.

“Three words from me, and Rami, Ben and Joe would have a man hunt for him. I think Lucy would especially enjoy parading around town waving your cousin’s head on a spike”

You smile, both of you chuckling at the image. You move over and kiss him softly, in gratitude.

“That’s why I thank you. Because for years, I hated the idea of sex once I learned about it. If I ever got aroused, I hated myself and called myself a slut and a whore. The idea of a wedding night felt like an execution to me. I had my first boyfriend, he loved that I was virtuous or whatever but whenever he hugged or wanted to kiss me, I was a little terrified. And it showed. He was mad that I wouldn't let him touch me. He broke up with me before we could even kiss. I felt like if I wasn’t the way I was, if I wasn’t such a prude when it came to those kinds of things, he would have stayed with me.”

“Honestly, the whole prude idea can go to hell. No one should be rushed or humiliated into anything they aren’t ready for” he whispers.

You flinch, wondering how Gwil would feel with you talking about past relationships. But he is still. His eyes are crying a little bit too. One hand is wrapped around to caress you and the other still holding your cheek.

“Then I met you.” you say. “And I agreed to date you. And be your girlfriend. You never do anything without asking me first. And whenever I let you, I feel good. Warm. Safe. Loved. I decided it was right to make my sex debut with you. It felt...natural. I actually wanted to do it...And there’s no one else on earth I would rather have it be, than you.”

Gwil hugs you tighter and peppers you with loving kisses. He is now smiling, in spite of the tears both of you have shed, starting to dry.

“Y/N, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I promise to you, now, you are always safe with me, especially in here. You have no reason to hide. It is never easy to live with this, but I will be with you and help you every step of the way. I love you so much. And I will always protect you. Even though it still haunts you, just know, at least, even when it feels unbearable, know I am here. And I adore you. And you are safe” Gwil says, leaving a slow, romantic, tender kiss on your lips. You both begin to smile again through it.

After a moment, he fetches you both a glass of water. Crying always made both of you thirsty, and now that your deepest emotions are released, the water replenishes. You ask him about his experience with Shakespeare and if there are some of the Shakespeare lines he still remembers and you fall asleep safe in Gwil’s arms, bits of Cassio’s lines from Othello lulling you both to peace.

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theflashdriver · 5 years ago

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Silvaze: Nightly Routine

Blaze finds herself drifting off but, having left the couch and trekked up to her bedroom, she finds the mattress occupied by a certain Silver hedgehog. I’ve decided to start posting my works from Silvaze week here now! Prepare for 5 more fics over the next little while! This story was written for the Dream prompt and comes in at 3.2k words!

---

Crisis city nights weren't much different from Crisis city days. Thick cloud hung overhead, fires still wildly burned and you could rest assured that the spawn of Iblis still prowled the streets. With the sun down it was, admittedly, a little darker, but the ever-present flames prevented true darkness. Really, one could sleep all day and scavenge all night without the slightest change in difficulty; the difference was that small.

Yet, for whatever reason, Blaze had fallen into a routine based on this unseen solar cycle. The first of her yawns had just broken through her lips, no matter how she'd tried to smother it, and dampness was starting to collect in her eyes. The words in her poetry book had started to jumble, she was scarcely able to read them let alone understand the prose's deeper meaning. Thus began that evening routine; stretching slightly, she rose from the chair she'd been lounging in and began to wander through her abode.

She and her partner had recently claimed a townhouse as their home, gathering the prior occupants' heirlooms and enshrining them in what had once been a child's bedroom. The building was nice, being one in a row of houses had offered some additional protection, and they'd settled rather easily. Books and games they'd gathered were neatly pilled in the living room, the cupboards were filled with salvaged goods and any damage to the walls had been thoroughly patched.

Blaze climbed the stairs, another yawn sneaking past her lips as she reached the landing. A few paces more and she arrived in their bedroom hallway, but before she could sleep step two of this routine had to be completed. She pushed into the first door on the right, coming face to face with a thoroughly unused bedroom; its neat bedspread coated in a thick layer of dust. Ignoring that she turned to the closet, opening it and finding her clothes neatly arranged. Shedding her combat garb, taking extra care to avoid the various bandages crossing her body, she donned her nightwear; a loose-fitting grey tank top and equally baggy black shorts. Her gloves removed, she reached up and gently undid her ponytail. Free of it and her heels she couldn't help but feel she'd shrunk considerably. Regardless phase two was complete, with the spring of carpet directly beneath her Blaze exited her room crossed to the door directly opposite. Here she hesitated, not for fear of continuing but out of courtesy.

Ever so gently, the feline turned the doorknob and slowly pushed inside what had become her true bedroom. The room was dark, heavy curtains pulled, but every so often a pulse of cyan light would push away that darkness. That lowlight provided more than enough visibility for Blaze to glance across the room. Of course, that presence of that light meant the one who cast it was also present. Silver the hedgehog was fast asleep, lying upon their shared bed. She didn't remember when he'd come in from scouting, she'd surely been too engrossed in her reading, but it was wonderful to see him sleeping so soundly, despite the world outside. His quills and limbs strewn in every direction, he was laying on top of the duvet rather than beneath it; backside in the air as he took up the central section of their bed. Blaze tried to smother her laugh. It was common that she stayed up later than him but she'd only found him like this on a couple of occasions. Today's scouting must have really sapped him for energy; he hadn't had the strength to crawl beneath the covers let alone give her a proper rundown of what he'd seen. As Blaze rounded to her side of the bed she knew the end point of her routine was near, it lay somewhere beneath that hedgehog's left shoulder.

His face was buried deep into the pillow but, from her new angle, she could see dimples brought on by his sleeping smile. The patchwork of bandages garbing both their bodies slipped her mind as she watched him. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a slight movement. His foot was twitching, a telltale sign that he was dreaming but about what she could only guess. Perhaps some great success, be it the final defeat of Iblis or the discovery of some helpful artefact from a bygone era.

As she slid to sit on the bed the hedgehog shifted in response, a sound not dissimilar to a sigh slipping his lips, but he hadn't moved nearly enough. Fortunately, however, Blaze knew exactly how to handle him. Her hand came up to caress his quills, slowly but methodically returning his quills to their typical arrangement. With every brush and caress, she watched his expression shift, through her touch she was able to gently ease him further toward his side of the bed. Her fingertips rounded to the back of his ear and scratched, though she did so much too gently. Silver's head tilted toward her hand, his whole body shifting back into her grasp as he attempted to fully embrace that contact. After no more than a minute he was fully on his side, his sleepy smile fully displayed to her, and she managed to slip into a lying position.

Face to face with him, she could see the effect her touch was having. His grin had been warped, small fangs glinting through a broad grin and his brow smoothed through relaxation. Another yawn having broken through, Blaze's head fully met with the pillow; her eyes slowly closing. From there her scratching slowed, her hand slipped to hold at his nape and she felt sleep begin to overtake her.

But alas, it could not claim her yet.

A whine, bordering on pathetic, slipped his throat; his sleeping form lumbered closer in clear protest of her stopping. She lowered her hand to the small of his back and gently pushed her forehead to his but, apparently, this contact wasn't enough. The feline felt him even nuzzle closer, as if attempting to sink deeper into her touch if not reclaim the other side of the bed.

She bumped back with her own forehead but, as she did, words tumbled from his lips. Spoken no louder than a whimper, he pleaded with her, "Don't go, Blaze, please… I need…"

She felt the twitch of his foot and, prying her eyes open, she watched his brow harden. There was no doubt in her mind, the hedgehog was dreaming of her. For as long as she'd known him, she known he was a frequent dreamer. He'd often regale her with them as though they had really happened, sometimes Silver would dream of how he imagined the past; sailing over bright blue seas and clambering through vine filled forests. He'd even talked of a school life, attending classes and doing whatever it was they were meant to do in school. Oftentimes she was present in such dreams but, on occasion, he would wake up scared. Either he'd noticed she wasn't there or, as was more common, he'd lost her in some nightmare.

"So naïve…" Her hand gently brushed between his spines before returning to hold the back of his head, drawing his face closer to hers. Tired as she was, Blaze couldn't stand to leave him like this. The feline's claws pricked free as she resumed her gentle scratching, "So sweet."

The smile immediately returned to his lips, she felt him gently wriggle back into her grasp as coos flavoured his breath. Blaze heard his tail begin to wag; a gentle yet repeated slapping noise filling their small bedroom. As if in response, she felt her tail flop across their waistlines before gently curling around him. Soon her free hand found its way to his chest fur, her fingers gently dragging through it; undoing the knots that had formed over the day's endeavours. He smelled strongly of smoke, well… everything in this world did, but beneath that was the slightly more appealing scent of sweat from the day's work. She'd trained with him in the morning, they'd sparred as per usual, but they'd spent most of the day apart. She'd checked their inventory and gathered food from the surrounding area; Silver had both scouted for Iblis' inevitable return and, more crucially, flown around the survivor settlements to make sure they were still intact, crossing from one side of the city to the other. His powers were strong but, naturally, overuse had drained him. It was no wonder he'd fallen into such a deep sleep.

As she continued, claws combing deeper through his fur, more words were pushed past his lips, "Thank you, Blaze…"

Whispering again, she started a reply; "There's nothing to tha-

Lost in a reality all of his own, the hedgehog cut her off. With three simple words knocked the sleep from her, "I love you…"

Blaze told herself it was sleep babble, plain and simple, nothing more and nothing less, but with those words spoken her heart quadrupled in pace. He'd been dreaming about her, dreaming deeply enough to call her name, and had then spoken those three words; three words simple words she'd never expected to hear. Before she could catch herself Blaze was purring, her claws shrank as her fists bawled and teeth grit. Even if he was asleep, even if there was no one to see, the feline wanted to hide her face; embarrassment burned like wildfire.

The sleeping hedgehog didn't help matters; he slipped forward again, attempting to seek out her touch. It was too much; she kept her hand to his chest in an attempt to keep the distance. Eventually, he settled; head slumping against the pillow and a look she could only read as dissatisfied formed on his face. Her fists slowly unclenched, her heartbeat rang above her considerable purrs.

Slowly, without so much as a thought, Blaze found herself shifting; soon her chin hung no more than an inch above his forehead. She aligned herself with his right ear, its tip poking free from his mess of quills. Leaning closer still, heat growing in her chest and on her face, Blaze closed her eyes. Opportunities like this were common, quiet moments always heightened the tension between them, but only in her dreams would she dare act upon them. With him asleep, Blaze's confidence was bolstered but even still she was afraid. What would this do to their partnership? Would he return her feelings? Even if he did, how would that affect their future? It might make him reckless, overly defensive of her… well, more than he already was.

Despite these thoughts, Blaze felt a twinge of confidence; likely brought about by his sleeping state. In as soft a voice as she could muster, she whispered four simple words into his ear; "I love you too," His head tilted upward in response to the sound, her muzzle dragged through his quills only for her chin to linger upon his forehead. Still whispering, purred words fell from her lips; "I want to tell you properly someday but, for now, I guess this will have to do."

Without so much as a thought, Blaze's lips found the hedgehog's forehead; her hand gently tugging back his quills to better allow the contact. The kiss was anything but brief; she'd longed to do this for so long and finally worked up the gumption, Blaze was going to take her time. Despite the coarseness of their world, his fur was still soft. He really was a naïve wonder in this otherwise rotten city, she didn't dare to think where or who she'd be without him. They would have struggled alone, a far worse fate than struggling together.

Finally, the kiss completed, Blaze pulled away from his forehead; releasing his quills, but as she did a groan sounded beneath her. Silver was shifting, his movements were different from those prior.

"B-Blaze?" Though sleep's slur lingered in his voice, Blaze could tell he was awake, "Wh-When did you get here?"

Their eyes locked and, try as she might, Blaze couldn't smother her purr. There was no way he knew of the kiss, he'd only started to stir as she pulled away, but the thought of that contact lingered in her mind; she bashfully broke eye contact. Her eyes slipped to his lips, "Not too long ago. I'm sorry to have awoken you."

"D-Don't worry about it," A sleepy smile crossed his face but, beyond it, even in the dark she could see his blush, "I'm sorry I didn't come down earlier, I was just too drained. Rest has really helped."

"So I noticed, you didn't make it under the covers," Now that her eyes were on his muzzle it was as though bashfulness was holding her hostage, she couldn't pry her eyes away from his lips, "You were dreaming, weren't you? Do you want to tell me about it?"

"W-Well," His hesitation spoke volumes, "Y-Yeah, I had a dream, it was different from the usual sort though," It seemed as though his sleep talk was truthful, "You were there…"

"I was…?" She struggled to feign ignorance; she couldn't help noticing his face was drawing closer… or was she drawing closer to him?

"Yes and… w-well, we…" It was like she was magnetized; slowly but surely the feline found herself inching closer and closer. Her lips were so close to his, no more than three inches between them. He'd clearly noticed, "Blaze…"

"Silver…" The end of his name rolled with her purr, her head began to tilt as the inches counted down.

As the tension heightened Blaze's eyes closed, his fanciful dream had granted them both the confidence to move forward! Their lips were about to meet, purrs ferociously tore through her chest and her ears pinned forward as if pointing her closer still. Her tail began to lash in anticipation and claws extend, a second longer and they'd seal their bond with a kiss!

But, for some strange reason, their lips never met. Instead, Blaze felt something bizarre. She was no longer leaning toward him, her head felt heavy and there was a pair of arms holding her, not his arms hugging her close but an arm behind her knees and another around her shoulders. Her eyes flickered open, she blinked twice, only to find they aligned with a familiar ceiling rather than her partner. She was in the living room, no more than three paces from the chair she'd been reading in.

A groan slipped her throat as she continued to blink the sleep from her eye, she felt the grasp around her shoulder and legs tighten slightly. They'd been moving before, they'd suddenly stopped. Where was Silver? Turning slightly, she locked eyes with his frazzled muzzle; the hedgehog was indeed the one holding her, but for some reason, they were in the living room? What had happened to that kiss? They'd been so close to-

Blaze's groggy mind finally caught up to her body, reality crushed her like a toppled skyscraper. It'd all been a dream; she'd been so foolish! While Silver occasionally spoke in his sleep the phrases were rarely so concrete. Furthermore, while her warmth often drew him close, for him to move so fitfully yet remain in deep sleep; it was simply unrealistic. It all made sense; she didn't remember him coming back because she'd fallen asleep before he'd returned! Even her confidence had been dreamt; taking such blatant initiative was well beyond her current capability. A different type of embarrassment swept over her, not that of butterflies in her stomach and inevitable kisses but the type born of hindsight, the type that toted an overwhelming compulsion to kick herself.

Judging by the sheepish look in his eye the embarrassment was mutual, albeit heavily lopsided with her bearing the brunt. He was a mess, fur lined with soot and a fresh bandage bound around his left shoulder.

His voice wavered, "H-Hey Blaze, sorry to wake you."

"Silver," She accidentally grumbled, "What are you doing?"

"I thought you were having a dream so I figured I'd move you somewhere more comfortable," He quickly explained, her awakened grumpiness had lit a panic in his eyes, "Your claws kept coming out so I thought it might've been a nightmare, w-was I wrong?"

"Y-You're so naïve," Again, those words came out as more of a growl than she intended. Even outside that dream, her blush still ran rampant; chasing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. The closeness of his lips certainly wasn't helping matters, "It was just a dream, a normal dream!"

Blaze quickly broke eye contact, her fists clenched as she turned to the ground. Her book had fallen, her page surely lost but that was the least of her problems. Even now the lowlight scene kept replaying in her mind, from his words to the kiss they'd very almost shared. Usually, her dreams would fade when she woke up, Silver was far better at recounting his, but given the contrast between the situations Blaze knew there was no shaking it.

"Do you want me to put you back?" Regret and dejection punctuated his query, her grows had clearly offset him.

While a small (very embarrassed) part of her wanted to say yes, her sleepy memories of that imagined night and the comfort she felt in his arms begged otherwise. Maybe it was the regret in his voice, perhaps she was simply too tired to refuse but the warmth she felt was undeniably contributing to her want to stay. Besides, it wasn't his fault she'd had that dream; on any other occasion, she'd consider this normal. He was trying to help her, carry her up to bed so she could rest peacefully; she would do the same for him, without hesitation.

Rather than answer him, she posed a question of her own; "Why didn't you use your powers to pick me up?"

"I was scared they'd be too loud, I didn't want to wake you," Silver admitted, "I guess that was silly considering I ended up doing it anyway…" The feline met her partner's eye once more, his guilt was plain to see, "I'm sorry."

"Just…" She rolled her eyes, feeling her face flare warmer still, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Though a pout remained fixed to her lips, his kind-hearted nature continued to warm her heart, "It's fine, j-just take me upstairs."

"A-Are you sure, I can set you down-

"Silver," Again she found herself hissing, the embarrassment was simply too much; reality mismatched with fantasy. Certain her words would fail the cat mustered some courage; she'd speak through her actions. Biting her lip, she pushed her forehead against his cheek, nuzzling in a rough attempt to relax him, before fully leaning into the crook of his neck; allowing her eyes to close, "I'm just tired, let's go to bed."

"A-Alright," She felt his grasp shift slightly, accommodating her shift, and started to walk, "Oh, um, I hope your dream was nice whatever it was…"

With her face hidden among his fluff Blaze hoped he couldn't read her expression, but from the strain in his voice she knew they were in the same position; embarrassed by their situation but too scared to confront it. Perhaps, one day, she'd have the gall to act as she had in that dream, but until then she was content with how things were. As long as they were together they were free to dream of what might be.

#silvaze #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #silver #blaze

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imagine-buckycap · 5 years ago

Text

Babysitting- Bucky Barnes X Reader

Prompt: You and Bucky are tasked with babysitting Morgan and things go a bit awry.

Word Count: 1,593

Warnings: none (:

CAUTION: CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Hello everyone!! I know I have been gone a long time, but I am back and ready for action! And now especially since the spoiler ban for Endgame has been lifted, I have more prompts that I’m itching to write than ever. So of you guys have requests the box is always open, so go ahead and send those in, and I hope you guys are having a good week so far. XX

In the wake of Tony’s death Morgan was a constant. Someone who would always be around at meetings and other important events because her Mom refused to leave her with a sitter.she was always under the table or nicking pastries and sandwiches from the catering counter in the meeting room. But none of us minded, her mom wouldn’t leave her with a sitter. And this was for good reason, every time Pepper left Morgan for longer than 30 minutes she would inevitably scare the sitter off one way or another. Her most recent scheme; she stole some tech from Tony’s garage and ran around the forest with a repulsor on each hand, using old logs and the occasional boulder for target practice. She has also been known to employ Friday and use her to chase the sitter away….Ever since she had been regularly attending meetings, typically tasked with taking ‘diligent’ notes and making sure none of the breakfast pastries went to waste.

You had become accustomed to seeing her around, and she had become accustomed to using her plump cheeks and deep brown puppy dog eyes to win a spot on your lap at each meeting so she would be able to “listen better”, and the pastries her mom said she couldn’t have but you gave her anyway. It wasn’t long before Pepper picked up on this relationship and approached you one day after a particularly long meeting.

“Hey I know this is a lot to ask, and you can totally say no, there’s no pressure. But would you maybe watch Morgan tonight? I have a Gala to go to and they have a strict no kids policy, it’s a black tie event and I don’t have-

“Of course I will Pepper, it really wouldn’t be a problem,” you assured, looking down at Morgan who was busy reading a book about computer microchips, a stolen book from her Dad’s personal collection no doubt.

“That’s so great to hear, I will go down to the parking garage and grab her booster seat from the car, give me one sec and I’ll meet you on the street. Where did yo park?” Pepper asked.

“Oh you mean right now, yeah I- uh, I’m parked on the corner of Graham and Bellflower, by the coffee bistro,” you informed. Pepper nodded and let go of Morgan’s hand, causing the small child to look up from her book.

“You two are gonna hang out tonight together while Mommy attends a very important Gala, Ok?” Pepper cooed to Morgan. She nodded in agreement and smiled up at you, you smiled back.

Pepper handed you the booster seat and before you could even ask which way it was supposed to face, she was gone. You struggled with the seat for a solid 45 minutes, the small snide comments from Morgan were no help either. She finally caved and helped you install the damn thing, and you could tell your struggle slightly amused her. On the ride home she asked you about where you lived, you explained that you lived in a small apartment on the other side of town, and that you had a small chubby cat you affectionately named Gravy. She was very excited to meet Gravy.

Once you arrived home and unlocked the door Morgan made herself at home on the couch, right next to Gravy. She cooed at him and pulled his ears a little too hard, but he didn’t mind. As you were looking through the fridge for a suitable snack for Morgan, Bucky waltzed into the kitchen, clad in sweatpants and a tight t-shirt.

“You could at least look decent, Bucky, Tony Stark’s progeny is in our living room, and not gonna lie, she scares me,” you confessed. He looked at you from the counter, his face unamused.

“So that’s what all that squealing was,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, thinking.

“What?” you asked. He shrugged. “I’m gonna get that kid to like me if it’s the last thing I do. I mean we all know her Dad never did, so I’m gonna make her like me dammit,” he proclaimed. You found a string cheese and various fruit in the fridge, and some crackers in the pantry, while Bucky lamented his plan to you.

“Uh-huh, you go ahead and do that, babe,” you mused while you assembled the cheese and crackers onto a plate, hoping furiously that this child didn’t have any allergies.

“Do we have any juice?” you asked Bucky, who was busy looking around the corner and into the living room at the small child.

“I dunno,” he answered. He was obviously not paying any attention to you. Due to his lack of attention, you thought you’d mess with him a little bit. “Oh and also, I’m cheating on you with Sam and I’m also pregnant with this unborn child,’ you mused.

“Holy shit, what?” he asked, whipping around from his post at the corner to look at you. You laughed and smacked his butt lightly on the way out of the kitchen.

You emerged into the living room to find Morgan and Gravy essentially having a staring contest.

“Morgan, are you hungry? I made you a snack,” you offered. She continued to stare at the cat. Bucky tried next. “Morgan, do you want something to eat? After all, you’ve had such a long day attending all those important meetings with your Mom.” At the sound of a new, male voice, she broke her gaze to look over at Bucky. Her eyes doubled in size as she took in the man standing by the TV. Silently, she got up off the couch and crept over to Bucky. Her face was determined and her eyebrows were furrowed deeply on her forehead, she was thinking. He stood motionless, looking down at the small girl approaching him. Neither of them spoke nor broke eye contact. Finally, when Morgan was no more than three steps away from Bucky, she spoke. “I know who you are,” she accused. Bucky sighed and tried to put his best foot forward.

“Do ya now?” he asked. She nodded and closed the gap between them, reaching out to stroke the back of his gleaming hand lightly, she couldn’t reach much higher up. She ran her hand up and down the ridges on his hand, still looking up at him.

“Yeah. You’re the guy who killed my Grandma and Grandpa.” Bucky Winced. “Daddy tells me that story every once in a while, but he says you’re not a bad guy, you were just made to do bad things. He told me it’s not your fault and you can’t help it. He also told me you’re better now. Is that true?” she asked, stepping back to look at him. He was quiet for a bit; probably trying to think of his response. I stepped in.

“Bucky is mostly better, he still sometimes feels bad, but he would never hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. He is working on it,” you explained. Morgan nodded and pulled lightly on Bucky’s hand.

“Can I touch the gold?” she asked. Bucky nodded and crouched down, bringing his bicep to her level. She stroked the smooth metal, completely captivated by the technology whirring quietly inside. Bucky was still silent, but his eyes were glossy. You could tell he was elated for two reasons. One, the girl liked, practically loved, him, and two, Tony had forgiven him, somewhat, for what he did all those years ago.

“Hey Morgan, do you wanna play a board game?” you asked after she was done grilling Bucky about his arm and everything about it.

“Yeah, sure” she agreed. You marched down the hall to the closet where you kept the games. After about five minutes of trying to decide which game Morgan would like best, you finally slid CandyLand and Monopoly out from the piles. You figured you would let her choose. You rounded the corner to the living room and the sight before your eyes nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

“James Buchanan Barnes, why does Morgan have a knife?” you asked, not wanting to come any further into the living room.

“She felt unsafe,” was his simple answer. You were about to ask why a 6 year old would feel unsafe when Morgan turned to you, brandishing the knife with a perfect stance and forward thrust. So she wanted to learn how to knife fight from the most revered assassin in the entire world. This child was a handful, but you had to say she was resourceful

“Well now I feel unsafe,” you mumbled, taking a step back.

“Do you want a knife?” Bucky asked. You shook your head, stepping forward and grabbing the knife from Morgan.

“Since when is it a good idea to give a 6 year old a knife?” you asked.

“Nat held one for the first time when she was 4. I want the youth of today to have choices. If she wants to be a knife-wielding 8 year old, then so be it. Kids do weirder things,” he defended. You shook your head in defeat. So Bucky was not to be left alone on babysitting duty, noted.

MASTERLIST

#Bucky Barnes #imagine #fluff #babysitter #morgan stark #cute

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legends-of-nisty · 6 years ago

Text

Symbiote

Fandom: Fairytail

Ship Title: Gajevy/Gale

Rating: T

A.N: Hello everyone! So this is chapter 2 I’m not entirely sure when/if I will post chapter 3. I’m hoping to keep going with this if my mental health stays level.

Also please keep in mind that this is only inspired by Venom but it’s also Fairytail inspired so it’s not exactly Venom symbiote style. Hope you all still enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairytail of it’s characters. Inspiration was taken from Marvel’s Venom characters. Any similarities are because of this inspiration. All credit goes to Marvel studios and the Fairytail creators for this inspiration and the characters.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 2

Swish, swish, swish,

Levy opened her eyes looking up at her ceiling fan spinning off center as it always did. The air in the room smelled stale and vaguely foggy. She must have left the tiny window open to the polluted L.A. streets outside.

She took a deep breath as her brain calmed itself from the initial panic as she remembered the previous events. Previous events that she now realized had to have been a dream.

“Not a dream.”

She bolted up in her bed. “Who’s there!?” She said her eyes wide and drawing her knees up to her chest. It was now that she realized she was still wearing the janitor uniform from her dream.

“It wasn’t a damn dream” The voice she’d heard sounded again and her eyes darted around the room. It was a deep voice, a rumbling but smooth voice. An annoyed voice.

She swallowed hard, spying her closet with the door slightly open. With shaking hands she reached over the edge of her mattress that lay on the hardwood floor and grabbed the wooden baseball bat that was there for this very reason.

Her palms were slippery against the varnish of the wood but she gripped it tightly with white knuckles as she stood as quietly as possible on surprisingly steady legs. She moved towards the closet without ever taking her eyes off the crack into the darkness. One boot covered foot in front of the other and she took small quiet breaths.

What she would do when she reached the door she didn’t know. Was she really prepared to take on an intruder with just a baseball bat when he could have who knows what for a weapon? Maybe she would just slam the door closed, but if he had a gun he could shoot her through the thin and hollow plasterboard door.

She took a breath to calm herself as her hand reached for the doorknob. It was cold and would squeak when she turned it. If she turned it. Would she turn it?

Hesitating she loosened her grip then tightened it again. With a burst of speed, she opened the door and swung the bat forward into its depths. It hit the supports for her closet organizer, denting the cheap metal pole and sending clothing flying.

She was panting as she looked into the tiny space that had no one in it. She blinked not understanding. She’d heard a voice from within the closet but… No one was there.

“What are you doing shorty?” She squeaked hearing the voice from behind her. She spun around, swinging the bat inexperienced-ly and catching nothing but air. The propulsion sent her and the bat sideways into the full body mirror on the wall. The bat shattered the glass and she stumbled forward tripping on her own feet and falling. She shrieked again, dropping the bat and putting her hands up to catch herself. Her palms caught her weight sparing her face from landing in the shrapnels of glass but they themselves were pierced and pain shot up her arms.

She cried out again and quickly removed her hands from the glass, sitting back on her butt luckily, beside the glass pile.

The pain was sharp and she looked at her hands seeing the smeared mess of her blood. The glass pieces were small but deeply embedded into her skin. She sat watching the red turn into a watercolour from the tears that had surfaced.

Calm down Levy. Calm down. She soothed herself trying to get her mind to relax. She was clearly hallucinating.

With another deep breath she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stood up. She took the few steps over to her little bathroom which was down a hallway. ‘Hallway’ really was a glorified term for the small stretch of floor boards that led to the other rooms in the small apartment.

She went to the sink first to clean the blood off. She turned on the cold water tap and the water creaked in the pipes before sputtering out. She closed her eyes letting the liquid wash over her hands. The water was cool to the touch but not cold really, though it didn’t matter to Levy because it felt good in the stinging cuts left from the glass. With a sigh she opened her eyes…

...and then opened her mouth to scream.

In the mirror in front of her was not her reflection. It was not a small woman with blue hair and messy bed head that should be there. It was not her small figure and petite frame she saw.

Instead what she saw was a dark black shadowy outline of a large man. A large man with spiky hair and red eyes peering out from within the shadow.

Something kept her from screaming although she very much was trying too. It almost felt like something physical was holding the sound in.

“Please stop that it hurts.” The same deep voice again but this time she could see the mouth it came from. Varying degrees of the darkness let her see the figure more clearly as it’s mouth moved to form the words.

She closed her mouth though she still looked on with wide, horrified eyes.

“W-wha….What…” Her voice was stuttered and hushed though it didn’t matter as she couldn’t form the words anyways.

“I am Gajeel.” It said and grinned letting her see the sharp teeth of this shadow.

Levy didn’t respond, she felt light headed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw up or pass out or both.

“Quit panicking would ya? It’s a lot of work keeping your body functioning normally.” The voice that sounded distinctly male complained looking at her as if she was the reflection instead of him. She forced herself to take deep controlled breaths, though still keeping her eyes on her not-reflection.

“What are you?” She finally managed to squeak out. It shrugged it’s shoulders a bit to relaxed a motion for such a big looming figure.

“What I am don’t matter. You, though, yer my host.” He (as she had subconsciously decided that this shadow monster was male) explained looking her body over. She swallowed hard scared to death in that moment and the shadow figure grinned again letting out what must be a laugh.

“Gi hi hi. Don’t ya worry shorty. Yer a good match fer me even if ya startle a bit easy.” Her hands were shaking and again she felt like she was going to pass out. She gripped the edge of the porcelain sink to steady herself then cried out as the pain shot up her arms again from the glass in her hands. The smile disappeared from the shadows face and it seemed to flinch.

Levy wanted to grip her wrist but both hands hurt and which hand would grip the other she didn’t know so she just looked at both bloodied hands as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t freak out.” The shadow said drawing her attention away to the mirror for a moment before it was back at her hands. They felt warm suddenly and her skin darkened, it seemed to sweat the same black goo from the lab in her cuts and her mouth dropped open. It didn’t hurt and she watched it push the small pieces of glass out of her hand and into the sink where they landed with the softest plinking sound.

The goo receded and instead of her seeing the cuts from before she saw...nothing. The skin was healed.

She blinked, it couldn’t be real, skin didn’t heal that fast. She moved both hands to feel the other and she couldn’t even tell that there had been a cut there. Her initial fear was shifting to wonder and confusion.

“Yer welcome.” The voice said again annoyed but in a more disinterested way. Levy blushed and quickly looked at the shadow in the mirror.

“T-thank you. Sorry... I wasn’t expecting….” How did she finish that sentence? She wasn’t expecting to be going crazy? Sharing her body? Was she sharing a body?

“Yes yer sharing a body and no ya ain’t crazy. We share a mind now too.” He said aloud and again Levy’s eyes widened. She was sharing a body? A mind? She couldn’t even think privately from this… this…

“Symbiote?” Gajeel supplied. He didn’t look like he was enjoying this part. He sighed as Levy’s mind started racing again.

“Listen shorty here’s the deal. I’m a symbiote. Those assholes kidnapped a bunch of my kind from our planet and brought us back here. We can’t survive here without a body ta inhabit and everyone they gave me was shit.” He motioned to her from the mirror.

“You on the other hand seem ta be a perfect fit for me, yer body didn’t reject me and you haven’t gone crazy yet.” Yet Levy interjected in her mind and the shadow scowled.

“Yes. I said yet. We share a body and a brain and I ain’t gonna let ya forget it because you really need ta shut it sometimes.” Levy watched him talk, partly fascinated and partly...angry? Was that what she was feeling.

“So you just expect me to let you live in my body?” Levy said feeling brave for a moment and staring the figure down. It again scowled deep and opened its mouth to say something but froze then snapped it’s head to her left, which for Levy was a wall but led towards her door.

“Wha-” She didn’t finish the word as her voice was drowned out by the sound of her apartment door shattering.

________________________________________

A.N.: Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. If you have any comment or questions about this fanfic, another one I wrote, or just me in general feel free to contact me :)

I’m hoping to post again soon but I’m not to sure. Let me know what you all think of this one please. If it’s not popular enough I’ll try to focus my attention and energy on another story but we’ll see.

Anyhow, I hope to see all of you in the next fanfic! :)

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ghostbustermelanieking · 7 years ago

Note

Could you write something about William spending this first birthday with Mulder and Scully? Post s11 or his actual first birthday

i cheated and incorporated parts of an old s11 spec fic i wrote because i liked the idea of it.

5/20/19

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be visiting his parents, like he planned, the way he did on Christmas. He should sneak out and go have a day to himself; it’s his eighteenth birthday, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t be doing this, wallowing in a past he doesn’t remember. He doubts Dana and Mulder even know it’s his birthday. But yet, here he is rummaging through the boxes in Mulder’s office.

This impulse, whatever it is, is likely spurned on by seventeen years of wondering about his birth parents on his birthday. Who they were, why they’d given him up. Sometimes, he’d seen the woman he hadn’t known was Dana yet; when he was a kid, he’d always loved that. When he’d gotten older, he’d resented the fact that he’d wondered, that he’d always had to wonder. And now? Now he doesn’t really know what to think. He knows the truth, what happened, but that doesn’t get rid of the curiosity about the whole thing. What happened to him before he was Jackson Van de Kamp.

After Lily was born, he’d asked and Dana had told him about what it’d been like before she’d given him up for adoption. He can’t remember half of what she said, the words jumbling up in his head, but he knows it was filled with sentiment, a deep affection he’s only seen in bits and pieces from Dana and Mulder. (Either because they are holding back and giving him the space he asked for, or because he isn’t looking hard enough.) She talked a lot about the danger, reiterating that she did give him up for adoption because she was scared for him, but they were all exhausted then and, as much as Lils has grown since, it feels like forever ago. It feels like he still knows nothing. He wants to know. He knows he never made it to a birthday with Dana or Mulder (including the seventeenth birthday he spent sleeping under a bridge, freezing cold and trying to convince himself to go and ask Dana and Mulder for money, which he did the following week), but he wants the details from the first year of his life. If he can find them.

Jackson pokes at the stack of boxes on the shelves. The most outward one is old baby stuff that Lily has outgrown—why they don’t just sell that shit, Jackson doesn’t know, it’s not like they’re going to have another one—but behind that are old X-Files, a box labeled Stuff from the office—Scully and several labeled Mom. Jackson swallows uncomfortably, lugging a heavy stack off of the shelf.

His elbow bumps a box and sends a box tumbling to the ground. He swears softly, preparing himself for footsteps or the earsplitting cries of the kid. Dana and Mulder had fallen asleep on the couch last night during the movie, Lily curled on Dana’s stomach with Mulder’s hand on her back, and they were still there when Jackson came downstairs. But he hears nothing. Dana and Mulder used to be some of the jumpiest people he’s ever seen, but since the kid was born, they’ve slept like the dead. He breathes out a sigh of relief and stoops over to pick up the box. And that’s when he sees the label: William—2001-2002.

Jackson gulps, his throat suddenly dry. Why the hell did he think this was a good idea? He crouches on the floor besides the box and pries off a layer of packing tape, digging in deeply with his fingernails. He opens the box gingerly, like it’s the box from Se7en or something, like it’s going to explode. There’s a layer of dust over the whole thing like it hasn’t been opened in a long time. Jackson rummages for his phone and turns on the flashlight; it’s dark as shit in the curtained office and he doesn’t want to turn on the light.

Inside is a hodgepodge of baby stuff that’s at least as cheesy as the stuff Mulder picked out for the kid: an ugly hat, an uglier doll that makes Jackson laugh, a stack of onesies that seem to have the expected space theme (although some are the sensible ones he’d expect from Dana and a few are the overly cutesy kind that are neither of their styles). Jackson pokes at some toys: a bear who’s ear is a bit chewed, a robot thing that looks like it’d make noise. And at the bottom of the box, he finds a stack of Polaroids of a baby who has to be him.

A sudden lump rises in Jackson’s throat. He’s never seen any pictures of himself this young. They’re all labeled in Dana’s precise handwriting, slightly faded: William, 8 months and 7 days; William, 7 months and 18 days; William, 6 months. He thumbs through them with a overly careful hand, like they’re not super old photos and will shatter on impact. This, he thinks, this is when he was a different person. When he was William Scully (or Mulder, or whatever), before he was Jackson Van de Kamp. He wonders how different he’d be if Dana and Mulder had never given him up. If he would be any different. If these pictures would be framed somewhere and not stuffed in a dusty box they can’t stand to look at.

He lifts up the stack of Polaroids and uncovers two that are paperclipped together, that make an unexpected lump rise in his throat. The one on top is of him and Dana, a surprisingly young version of Dana. She’s sitting on a striped couch in front of a Christmas tree. She’s smiling, and Jackson knows Dana well enough to know that kind of smile is unusual. (He sees it sometimes with Mulder or Lily, or occasionally with him, but never often.) She seems to be a muted sort of happy, like something is missing. (And it didn’t take a detective to figure out who; Dana is wearing a worn Oxford sweatshirt that is clearly too large for her, the same one he’s seen in Mulder’s closet.) But there is an unquestionable amount of love in her eyes as she looks down at the baby (him) in her arms. He’s dressed in the dumbest UFO onesie and chewing on a teething ring. Dana is cupping his head in one hand and has the pointer finger of her other hand captured in his tiny fingers. She actually looks like a mother to him, the way she does with Lily. Jackson swallows painfully. It’s hard to look at; he yanks it off of the stack and finds one that is even harder to see. Dana and Mulder curled up with a baby (with him) on a bed, so similar to how they fell asleep last night. He’s asleep on Mulder’s chest and he looks extraordinarily small, the way Lily looked when she was a newborn. The three of them look like a family. The picture is captioned Dana, Fox, and William, 5/25/01 in an unfamiliar looping handwriting. Five days after his birthday.

Jackson lets the photos drop back into the box and wipes his eyes. They’re wet, which shakes him. He hadn’t expected this. He puts things back in the box too quickly, before he changes his mind and reaches in to retrieve the two smudgy Polaroids. He wants to keep them. With the pictures of Lily that Mulder has tacked up on the corkboard, he deserves this.

Putting the boxes up on the shelf somehow doesn’t wake the kid up, but hitting a squeaky floorboard on his way down the hall does. She erupts to life from the living room, wailing like a banshee. (Jackson went through a spell of calling Lils Banshee, and Mulder found it hilarious.) Jackson grimaces and shakes his head affectionately. He can hear Mulder and Dana coming to life groggily, murmuring comforting things. He slips the Polaroids into his pocket and goes out into the living room.

Daggoo, curled up in a dog bed in the corner, yips with excitement when he sees him. Lily seems to wail louder, her face red. "Hi, Jackson,” says Dana, rubbing Lily’s back. “Happy birthday.”

Jackson’s neck grows hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t expected them to remember. “Um, thanks,” he says awkwardly. “I... I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course we remember,” Mulder says, stretching a bit as he sits up. “It was an eventful day. You were born, we rode in a helicopter...”

Jackson makes a surprised choking sound. “A helicopter?” he repeats.

“Yes,” Dana says in a dry voice. “Your birth was a little more... exciting than I would’ve preferred. A hospital would’ve been nice.”

“I can confirm that sentiment,” Mulder says, standing from the couch. “Should I grab her formula, Scully?”

“Yes, she sounds hungry.” Scully kisses Lily before passing her over to Mulder; she snuggles into her father (their father, Jackson thinks with a strange, half-guilty pang as he thinks of the Polaroid in his pocket, and then of the father who is buried miles away in Norfolk), her tear-stained face rubbing against his shirt.

“Hey, banshee,” Jackson says to the kid in an attempt to lighten the muddled confusion in his brain. He reaches out and she grips his finger in her hand, their semi tradition. He thinks she’s going to be a strong one.

“I picked up a cake for you last night,” says Dana off-handedly. “Oreo cheesecake, right? We could eat some for breakfast.”

Jackson blinks in surprise. “Wow, Dana, that seems a little offbrand for you.”

“It’s your birthday, kid,” Mulder says from the kitchen as he warms Lily’s bottle. “Scully is serious about birthdays.”

“Not a kid anymore,” Dana says with a quiet sort of fondness. Jackson thinks of the Polaroids again with a pang. Dana smiling under the Christmas tree, Dana asleep with him and Mulder on the bed, a peaceful look on her face.

He considers bringing it up. Changes his mind, tells Lils very seriously, “You lucked out, Lils.” Lily gives him a serious look in return overtop of the bottle she is drinking hungrily from.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Mulder offers, swaying with Lily cradled against his chest. “We could hike somewhere, if you want, I know some good trails... or we could go into DC for the day.”

“I dunno,” Jackson says, sitting in the overstuffed armchair he likes. The last time he actually had a proper birthday celebration was when he turned sixteen. Dinner with his parents, and then sneaking out to the sugar factory with a few friends. He’d gotten drunk off his ass and kissed Bri for the first time. The memories burn now; remembering his old life is too hard sometimes. He can recall almost every birthday he’s had, through real memories or through video tape, but the one he can’t remember, the only one he didn’t spend with his parents. The very first one, spent in a dusty house in Georgia. He’s heard the story before, but he can almost picture it now: Dana frightened and protective, holding him to her, Mulder bursting in like the hero in an old action movie. He almost wishes he could remember.

Dana takes the cake she’d gotten out of the refrigerator and slices it with a butter knife. Come to think of it, Jackson can’t remember repeatedly mentioning that he liked that kind of cake. He thinks he said it was his favorite once last summer when they met him at the Cheesecake Factory in Richmond, but he had no idea she’d actually remember. He sits at the table as Dana puts a slice on a plate for him. “I know it’s a Monday, but you’re not technically in school yet,” she says. “Maybe you could see if your friends from work want to meet up later or something...”

“I found something,” Jackson says in a rush, and they both look at him in surprise. Lily’s head lolls on Mulder’s shoulder, but Mulder and Dana are both watching him expectantly. Maybe even nervously. He reaches into his pocket before he can change his mind and lets the photos drop on the table.

Mulder’s breath catches in his throat as he sees them, leaning closer to get a better look. Dana looks at them with a reverent sort of expression, a little sadly. “I’d forgotten where these were,” she says softly, touching the one with the three of them gingerly. “I wanted to find them last year, but I couldn’t remember...”

“They were in the box of my stuff,” says Jackson. “In Mulder’s office.”

Mulder reaches down with one hand and scoops up the one with all three of them. “I didn’t know this existed, Scully,” he says in a quiet tone as well, so quiet that he could be whispering. “How did...”

“Mom took it,” says Dana in an emotion-choked tone. “She gave it to me.”

“So that was before you left, Mulder,” Jackson offers up gingerly.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, running his thumb over the glossy front. “This was the night after you came home from the hospital.”

“And this was Christmas in San Diego,” Dana adds, touching the corner of the other photo. “With your Uncle Bill, the one you met over video call on Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. He knows who Bill is.

Dana smiles a little wistfully as she looks down at the picture. Jackson clears his throat and offers, “I look a little like Lils, don’t you think? Like, minus the hair.”

Dana laughs quietly. “A little bit.”

Mulder laughs a little too, runs his thumb over the photo again before handing it back to Jackson. “I never forgot those three days with you and your mother,” he says. “I always regretted leaving you. I never got over the guilt of it.”

Jackson gulps, looks away. Looks down at the photo again, the peaceful looks on Dana and Mulder’s faces. He doesn’t know what to say. “Could I... could I have these?” he asks tentatively.

“Of course,” Dana says. Mulder’s free hand comes down on his shoulder and squeezes it comfortingly.

“Thank you.” Jackson tucks the photos in his pocket and looks back up. “Thank you for... the cake, and for... thank you.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, takes a deep breath and adds, “I’m glad... I’m glad I’ve met you. Gotten to know you. I always wondered about my birth parents on today, and now...”

He can’t finish. He doesn’t think he needs to. Mulder squeezes his shoulder. Lily’s tiny foot kicks him in the back of the head, which makes Jackson smirk. Dana smiles at him, covers his hand with hers briefly.

The photos sit heavy in his pocket, proof of a life other than the one he is used to. Proof that his birth parents loved him, the proof he was always looking for as a child. That feels like enough.

#i dont even know #happy birthday jackson u deserve it #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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chokememrstark · 7 years ago

Text

The Soulmate Sam Never Asked For // Part 7

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2746 (Chapter 7 / 12)

Fic Summary: The next day, Sam returns to the hospital hopefully, only to be faced with the horrors that the last night brought for Lucifer. He never thought he would see his classmate the way he does now, but it makes him realize that his decision to help him was the right one.

college!AU, human!AU, soulmates!AU, dysfunctional families, abusive parents, dramatic romance, or romantic drama, your choice, big brother!Lucifer, soulmates hating each other, referenced alcoholism, death and abuse, some violence, and lots of feels, fluff and cuteness, some drama but not too much, lots of bickering, and two damn stubborn soulmates (!!)

Note: My lovely beta reader @brieflymaximumprincess called this a rom-com and even though I don’t believe it is, in my eyes, it does have certain elements of it. This is not the angst you know from me, not at all.

Yes, there is some drama, but there is also a lot of sweet and cute moments, much more than the dramatic ones. I guess you could say I accidentally wrote cute fluff? Because it was not intended, but here we are.

This fic is already completed and will be posted by the regular schedule from now on: Thuesday, Thursday and Saturday! So, enjoy ♥

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @spnyoucantkeepmedown @brieflymaximumprincess @multifandomhcsforinsanity @etysky @justasmalltownsuperwholock @humongouscandycoffee @daddycasstiel @nnegann @blakechaos08

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

Sam would have loved to just stay in his bed forever and not think about anything other than sleep anymore, but he couldn't do that. He had promised Lucifer to come back today, and Raphael too, and he knew he couldn't break this promise. Too much depended on it, if he just stayed here he would be a total coward and an awful human being. So, when noon came closer, Sam pushed himself off the bed and got dressed properly.

With a duffle bag full of clothes and other necessities, as well as his laptop and the hope he was making the right decision, Sam locked the door to his room and made his way outside. He called a taxi to get to the hospital again, this time the ride was much shorter because they didn't stop to buy flowers. At the hospital Sam walked up to the info counter again, luckily facing the same young woman from the day before.

“Hello there!” she greeted him surprised. “Back for a visit?”

“For starters,” he smiled and showed her his bag. “I might stay a while, we'll see.”

“Right, doctor Francis told me! I’m really proud of you for offering your help, you are truly a wonderful young man.”

“Thank you, but it’s nothing,” Sam smiled awkwardly. He did not expect this kind of reaction.

“It’s more than most people would do,” the woman smiled back brightly. “Lucifer instructed me to let you through when you arrive, same way as yesterday.”

“Thank you.”

Sam had expected Lucifer to pick him up again, but he still remembered where they went to before luckily, so he easily found his way alone. He knocked at the door, hearing a quiet voice asking him to come in after a moment. When he did, he saw Raphael sitting upright in his bed and Lucifer laying half on his blanket, head on his arms and visibly asleep. He had to smirk at this sight. He closed the door as quiet as possible and walked over to the bed.

“Hey, Raph,” Sam whispered as the boy grinned at him. “Did your brother have a long night?”

“Dad was mean to him again,” Raphael scowled and looked at Lucifer. “He didn't get any sleep I think.”

“That's awful,” Sam said sadly and carefully carried another chair over to the bed to sit down. “Where's your little brother? Didn't he bring him over today?”

“Luci said he'll stay with friends for a while,” Raphael answered very quietly and visibly sad. “He didn't wanna tell me why. Maybe he was too tired.”

“I'm sure he'll be fine,” Sam assured the boy, but deep down he feared there was more behind it than just that. There was no reason to upset Raphael though, so he decided to ask Lucifer later and focus on his little brother for now. “What are you doing right now? Do you wanna play a game maybe?”

“Yes!” Raphael's eyes lightened up at the question. “But we have to be quiet so Luci can sleep.”

“I think we can do that,” Sam smiled.

After a bit of searching through one of the closets near the door, Sam found a memory game and a card game they could play and the two actually spent the next two hours with quiet laughter and silent victory cheers. Sam really enjoyed playing with Raphael. He was obviously really happy and excited about this new experience. They were in another round of playing cards - Sam tried to explain the basics of poker to the boy because he had asked and Raphael turned out to be a very good student - when Lucifer finally moved and slowly got up.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Raphael greeted his big brother, who looked at the two in front of them rather confused for a moment.

“Sam?” he asked before quickly hiding a yawn behind his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting destroyed by your brother,” Sam laughed and put his cards down. “He's just too good for me to win.”

“I told you, I learn fast!” Raphael grinned and put the cards together to shuffle them. “Another round?”

“Later, okay?” Sam said and looked back at Lucifer. “I hope you don't mind, we didn't wanna wake you up, so we played some games.”

“It's alright, no worries.” Lucifer yawned again, rubbing his eyes. “Do you wanna grab a coffee?”

“Sure, do you mind Raphael?” Sam asked, but the boy just shook his head.

“I still got my book, I'll be fine.” Raphael smiled.

“We won't be gone for long, promised,” Lucifer said as he got up. Sam smiled at Raphael quickly before following the blond outside of the room.

“Your brother is really sweet,” Sam said as he followed Lucifer down into the cantina, to which the other simply nodded. Only after they got two strong coffees and sat down somewhere, Lucifer spoke again.

“Sorry for that, the sleeping thing, I mean.” Lucifer groaned and gulped down a huge sip of steaming brown liquid. “I didn't know you were coming over so early. I was just so damn tired, I guess I passed out.”

“Don't apologize, you needed some sleep,” Sam assured Lucifer and took a sip of his coffee too. “Raph and I had quite some fun together, it's alright.”

“Thanks for entertaining him a bit, I think he really misses company sometimes.”

“He got you at least, I'm sure he appreciates that.”

Lucifer sighed, but didn't answer. Sam thought he knew why. A brother was nice, but it was different from actually having friends and that seemed to get to Lucifer quite hard. He didn't want this for his brother and Sam understood. Just the thought of Dean being in a similar situation without him being able to do anything was more than just a little depressing.

“I talked to doctor Francis yesterday,” Lucifer eventually said without looking up. “He told me the tests were all positive, only the blood work needed to be done.”

“I know, I'm glad it all went well,” Sam nodded. “I made sure I can still keep up with school if I'll stay here, the counselor said I might be able to copy someone else's notes who keeps them online and reschedules a test I have, so it won't end in total chaos.”

“I never thought of that,” Lucifer chuckled deeply. “I'm already weeks behind again because I just said I'll be gone for a while. I already lost two years because of this, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to drop out completely this time.”

“You have more important things on your mind than classes for now,” Sam smiled knowingly. “When this is all over I can help you catch up with everything if you want to. I mean, it’s just a few weeks now, right? I’m sure you can still make it.”

“I'll manage somehow, but thanks.” Lucifer shook his head, but more to himself than towards Sam. “I'm more worried about Gabe right now, I'm not sure if Raphael told you.”

“He said he stays with friends for a while because your dad was mean to you again.”

“That's the light version of what happened,” Lucifer scoffed. “I didn't want to scare him more than I had to, but he asked about his brother of course.”

“It's much worse, right?” Sam asked and Lucifer nodded sadly.

“CPS took him,” he said with the most heartbreaking shame in his voice. “One of the neighbors finally had enough and called the cops when my old man lost it again last night. Gabe woke up from the noise and he has a huge bruise on his arm from falling a few days ago, they saw it of course didn't believe me when I told them about it and called CPS for his own safety. I saw it happen, even comforted him, but they didn't seem to listen. They thought dad beat him up and said they had to do it.”

“I'm so sorry, Lucifer,” Sam whispered and laid a hand on the other’s. “Is there nothing you can do? I’m sure they want him to be happy and well, right?”

“I might've made it worse when they said they'd take him… dad didn't give a shit about the news and somehow my hand and his nose had a small meeting. His nose lost.”

“Ouch.” Sam felt awful, but his lips still jerked at the thought of Lucifer breaking his dad's nose.

“He launched at me and they arrested him because I'm still a minor,” Lucifer smirked with a hint of pride. “But it'll be hard to get Gabe back, they told me. I talked to the CPS lady for a few hours and she said they won't let him go back to my dad. She believed me when I told her that I would do anything for him and that he never hit him, but if I want him back I need to file for custody and to do that I need a place to live and money and, of course, be a legal adult…”

“Fuck, that sure is a mess...”

“Yeah,” Lucifer huffed unamused. “They can't stay at the house because it's dad's and I can't work because Raphael needs me and I need a job to earn money to get a place to live with them. A dilemma if I ever saw one. Right now he’s in a very nice family with two other kids his age, the woman told me, but it’s just not his home, you know? It’s not his family...”

“Well, for now Gabe is safe, right?” Sam tried to point out something positive, to which Lucifer nodded slowly. “Your dad can't hurt him and maybe things with Raphael will get better soon. One problem at a time.”

“If that idiot who calls himself our father would just die, a lot of our problems would be solved.”

“I guess you don't have any other family members around?”

“No, no one. I don't know where the hell Michael is and I don't care, all we got is dad and he's a useless piece of shit,” Lucifer sighed. “I'm sorry, I keep bothering you with all this crap, it must be really annoying.”

“Well, you have to talk to someone and I'm here. I’m glad if I can help somehow, even if it’s only with listening.”

“And you feel obliged to listen because of some dumb coincidence, don't you?”

“Do you really think that?” Sam wondered and gave Lucifer a curious glare. The blond shrugged.

“You don't know me, I don't know you, we're not even friends, even if everyone here thinks that,” Lucifer said, looking at Sam. “The one I am out there, the asshole that scares everybody by just looking at them? That’s a mask I'm wearing to protect my brothers. It stops people from talking to me and from stealing my time and attention, but you still didn't stay away. Why else if not for this dumb soulmate thing? Oh, don't look like that, do you think I didn't feel the same way you did?”

Sam felt his face heat up and looked away to hide his blatantly obvious blushing.

“So, I'm not making this up,” he said and bit his lip. “It’s true.”

“Yes and it's why you're here, why you want to help my brother even if you don't know him at all and why you listen to me rambling. It's not because you want to do it, it's because you have to.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but you're wrong,” Sam said and turned back to face Lucifer with a stern glare. “I'm not a cold-hearted monster, I would help your brother even without this shit going on.”

“But you wouldn't know him if it wasn't because of it, right?”

“No, I…” Sam blushed again, but this time kept his eyes on the other. “I wouldn't. But that doesn't change a thing, I'd still help him if I knew he needed it.”

Lucifer sighed. He looked into his empty cup, shook his head and got up to get himself another. When he came back he still had this very concentrated expression on his face that made Sam feel miserable.

“I'm not saying you wouldn't, don't get me wrong,” Lucifer continued, stirring his coffee. “But it's a fact that this soulmate thing exists and neither of us likes it. I don't have time for this, I can't afford thinking about it or allow it to consume me. My brothers need me, they don’t have anyone else they can count on. If I give into this I will be distracted and can’t be there for them anymore the way I have to anymore. I can see that you try to fight it yourself and you're starting to lose, that’s not good. It won't end well, it just can't. Soulmates or not doesn't matter, I can't afford these kind of things.”

“Do you know why I fight it?” Sam asked and Lucifer shook his head slowly, looking up from his coffee. “My parents were soulmates too and I saw what happens when you let it consume you. Mom got killed and dad just… he just stopped caring. All he does anymore is drink and yell and pass out in random places. I never knew what it's like to have a real family, a place you come home to and where you are loved and can just be happy. I only had my brother and the knowledge that soulmates destroy people. I don't associate them with love and compassion, just with coldness, anger and hate. If they were both still here, maybe things would be different. I’m the little brother in your story, the one that only ever had his big brother… it didn’t help strengthening my faith in soulmates.”

“And you're scared you'll end up like your dad, don't you?” Lucifer assumed, unknowingly hitting very close to home. “You're scared that you'll be unable to go on if something happens to your soulmate; that if they die, you won’t manage to live your life without them anymore.”

“In a way," Sam mumbled ashamed. "But that's not al, not reallyl. I don't know why I shouldn't be able to choose the one I spend my life with alone, you know? It's just not fair, I never asked to get a soulmate, I never asked to be played with like a puppet on strings. I have plans, I don't want my life to depend on someone I don't even know. It’s a selfish reason, I know, but it doesn’t change that I feel this way.”

“You're not as shallow as I thought you were,” Lucifer smirked at the other. “You know what you want, you're stubborn and determined. I like that. Kinda makes you less appalling.”

“T-thanks?” Sam didn't know what to think of this. Lucifer didn't try to flatter him right now, did he?

“I'm glad you want to help Raph, really,” Lucifer continued after nodding. “But I don't want to use you like that. You don’t owe me or him anything because of fate or coincidence, it would be wrong to ask you for it. Just don't do it because you feel like you have to, I guess, that's all I'm saying.”

“I don't do it because I have to, I want to do it,” Sam answered immediately, without hesitation. “Raphael deserves better and so do you and Gabe, soulmates or not. Even if we’d shake hands and never see each other again after this day I'd do it, because it's the right thing to do.”

“I can’t say I’m not relieved to hear that;” Lucifer sighed. “It’s just all too messed up, no matter what I do, it won’t work out. Meeting you was weird and kind of scary, I admit that. I didn’t expect something like this to happen anytime soon, it just wasn’t on my radar.”

“It wasn’t on mine either, in case that helps,” Sam smiled weakly. “I just wanted to study and become a lawyer to finally get away from my dad, you were not part of the plan.”

“Yeah, sorry for that,” Lucifer smirked. “I tried my hardest to throw you off at least, you gotta give me that.”

“Oh, I do,” Sam laughed. “I was so creeped out I whined to my brother about why I had to be punished like that.”

“Thanks.” Lucifer returned the laugh. “I guess he found it highly entertaining.”

“Yeah, he suggested a bullet to the head as the alternative of talking to you. Not really what I wanted either, so I decided to just talk to you.”

“Regret your decision already?”

“Meh,” Sam shrugged, not without a slight grin on his face. “You’re not what I expected, but I guess I could have had it worse.”

“You know,” Lucifer smiled, for the first time not only weakly. “If my brothers wouldn't suffer from it I'd actually consider to drop my thoughts on this whole soulmate topic. You're rather interesting.”

“You mean because I'm a stubborn idiot with daddy issues too?” Sam joked and Lucifer’s smile got a bit wider.

“Something like that, yeah,” Lucifer laughed.

#samifer #sam x lucifer #sam winchester #spn lucifer #soulmate!au #college!au #human!au #multi chapter fic #myfics

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tyler-games-hard · 7 years ago

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Buckle up for a life story!

I’m not sure how much I’ve talked about this, but here’s how I figured out I was gay and what christian school taught me and how its okay to be gay!

Trigger warnings: Suicide, self harm, derogatory terms

This school was hard core Christian. It was run out of a church, small town based, very much so had that bible thumping redneck agenda going on. Most of the kids going to this school also went to church there and their parents worked for the school, church, or both, and EVERYONE knew each other and who they were and where they stood on the totem pole. If your parents worked for the school or church and you went to church there, you were automatically higher on the pole, and sad for me, being an outsider, parents didn’t work for the school or go to church there, I was smack bottom. Between the totem pole and the typical private school cliques, it was social hell for poor me. I was a California avocado swimming in a pool of southern sweet tea sat atop a mountain of bibles, with no end in sight.

So as a 10 year old 4th grader, moving from a Californian private school that was relatively laid back to a southern private school with strict uniforms and even taught Latin, it was a huge culture shock. At this same time I was also beginning puberty, and that’s about the time you start discovering which gender you prefer, if any at all and let me tell you that first year of being questioned which boy I liked when I really was starting to take a liking to the girls, was weird. I felt ashamed of it, but at the same time not. The stuff I was taught growing up that I should get married to a man and give him kids and be a home maker was telling me it was wrong, but something deep inside was telling me no, this is right, you don’t need to marry a man, you don’t like men (to be found out later I’m actually a bit more flexible lol), and it was deeply confusing. I saw my fellow classmates and saw them all expressing interest in the opposite sex, and I really was just hiding the fact that I took a preference to the girls by saying I really didn’t care. To be noted, though, I had been struggling with my gender identity since I was very young, before I even started kindergarten, so whether at the time I was straight or gay, it was changing most definitely.

Around this same year, 4th grade, I was introduced to an instant messaging app called Palringo after I got an iPod touch for Christmas. A quick overview of this app, at the time I got in to it, all you needed was an email, and you could have an account, and you could join whatever group you wanted. The age restrictions at the time were technically 13+, but hey look at me, rebellious 10 year old. I ended up joining a group for teens and lied, saying I was 16, using a fake picture and everything. I posed as this very girly girl in my online persona, I was somewhat flirtatious, “dated” a mod from the group (dating being we had each others usernames in our profiles with hearts) and learned way too much, way too soon. I was 10 years old and the people in this group thought I was 16 because I lied and were telling me about sex, anatomy of both sexes, and teaching me slang and phrases one would find in urban dictionary.

I became obsessed with this app. It took over my life. I didn’t really talk to people at school anymore, I didn’t talk to my one friend on my block, and basically my last couple years of elementary school disappeared on this app where I learned about sex, sexuality, gender, and drama. By the time I was 11, I had become pretty solid in the fact that I didn’t like boys, but pretended I did at school. Instead I was open about liking girls on Palringo, since people didn’t judge me there. I eventually found a group of people who I consider to be my high school friends. When I met them, I came clean about my lie with another lie, just not as far fetched. I told them I was 13 instead of 16, yet in reality I was still just 11 or 12. And I got along well with these people. I even met my current girlfriend during this time in these groups. But my real life in person social life was dead. I connected with no one, I became severely depressed, and by the time I was 13 or 14, I was self harming.

My depression came on about the time I was 12 or 13. I was t this Christian school that I didn’t belong in, I couldn’t be myself there, and my social life was dead between that and palringo taking over my life. I was also dealing with gender identity issues and being scared to talk about it with anyone. I certainly couldn’t talk to my parents about it, I had attempted to tell them about liking girls and being gay and they told me I was going to hell and took all my electronics and went through my private possessions. I couldn’t talk to anyone at school about it because that place was the same way, Christian and frowned on it. It’s not like I can change who I’m attracted to. So again I turned to palringo, which was fine communication wise, it just lacked that physical aspect. I couldn’t hear them say the words, or I couldn’t feel them hug me, and I really thrive off human touch in all forms, romantic, platonic, etc.

I quickly spiraled into being suicidal at the age of 14, already been self harming for about 8 months, at that point. I still have horrible scars from it that I’ll probably have forever. I had been seriously dating my girlfriend (who I’m still with!!) for a year by the time I was 15. It was long distance and text based, sometimes we could talk on the phone but had to make sure our parents didn’t find out, so that was very limited. She has talked me out of suicide a few times now, but the most notable time was the very first time. After living in Alabama and going to this Christian school, my dad’s job moved back to California, so we picked up and moved again. I was about 15 I believe, or 14 about to be 15, and we moved in the last third of my 8th grade year. My parents, for financial reasons, decided to put me in public school for the last third of 8th grade. I had never attended public school at this point. I’d only ever attended private Christian schools. Oh man did this public school almost kill me. I experienced outright bullying like never before. I’d experienced it before but it was always subtle and underhanded. At this public school, it was very direct. I was called fag, fatty, fat lesbian, and more of those in other variations, along with bullying in the form of the popular girls wouldn’t let me change in the bathroom because they didn’t like the fact I wouldn’t change in front of them. They would harass me and physically push me around. And of course I didn’t fight back, I was taught my whole life to turn the other cheek.

That small span of 3 months, I almost put a bullet in my head. I couldn’t talk to my parents, they disapproved of the fact that I was gay, they didn’t like the people I hung out with because they were also gay, I wouldn’t have gotten sympathy or help from them. I knew where my dad kept the guns. We were in a small apartment that my dad’s company was providing us and my dad stored his guns in the closet in his room. I planned it for a week. Grocery day, I would come home from school while my mom and sister were still out, I’d grab the hand gun, load it with one bullet, and stash it under my bed, which I did. It sat under my bed for 3 days. Every night, I sat in bed thinking about pulling it out and finally ending it. For all I knew, high school would just be another 4 years of this bullying. One night, I was sitting in bed after a particularly bad day. They bullying had been extra bad and I was beyond reasoning. I finally pulled that gun out. I was talking to my girlfriend, Jali, and telling her my goodbyes. I told her goodbye and was talking to her, trying to calm my storm and get the balls to just end it. She had nothing but soothing words for me. Somehow she knew I was serious, despite me not actually telling her what I was doing or about to do. I remember putting the gun in my mouth, loaded and cocked, all I had to do was flex that index finger, and I would be gone. Jali had sent me a message saying “I will miss you. You have been nothing but a light in my life and I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Please don’t do this.” I remember it vividly. I can see the screen in my head to this day as if I’m reading it all over again. I put the gun away. Unloaded it and stashed it back under my bed. And I cried. I cried so hard my eyes hurt for days. I bottled so much up and hid so much from everyone in an attempt to be the person my parents want me to be and to be strong for all my friends and for Jali that I was being broken from the inside out. I forever thank her for keeping me alive that night and the other couple times I was close to ending it. She kept me around to finally meet her beautiful self and finally find peace and acceptance.

This was a tough post to write, and it didn’t even really scratch to surface of the things I experienced in middle school and high school. Christian school showed me that even in extreme peer pressure to be like everyone else and in strict guidelines of who to be, you can still pull through and be your own light and be yourself. The internet and Palringo have shown me things my parents haven’t even talked to me about yet. I’m 20 years old and my parents still have not had a sex talk with me. I learned it from the internet and my internet friends. They taught me it’s okay to be me and who I am and that I am my own person, not something to please my parents.

Don’t fall down the same hole I did. Talk about your feelings. Be happy, be yourself, and don’t let anyone tell you who to be, from your parents to your friends to your partner, you’re the only person to tell yourself who you are

#gay #trans #ftm #lgbt #christianity #christian school #internet #palringo

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c0c0-puff · 7 years ago

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And so it begins...Chapter 2: The Paladins

Wow I am terrible at this. I was originally going to post this earlier but I got caught up in Big Sister Duty. Anyway, I really hated this chapter compared to the others,but what am I gonna do? So sorry if this isn’t good! I promise the later chapters will be much, much better

Let’s get a move on this is really, really short

After weeks of fighting the Galra nonstop, relieving planets and destroying bases, the Paladins of Voltron finally had a long needed break. No worries, no alarms, just a few days to themselves.

After leaving Earth a year ago, the new Paladins of Voltron came into play, partaking in a raging 10,000 year-old war against the Galra Empire.

Before the war, the now gone planets Altea and Daibazaal were great allies. Their rulers, King Alfor of Altea and Zarkon of Daibazaal, who were also the first red and black paladins, were best friends and help build the Voltron Lion from an ancient comet. But after an incident and both him and his wife were considered dead, Zarkon comes back and declares war on the Alteans and the universe, destroying Altea, and destroying everything any one in his path in order to get Voltron back.

As for Voltron currently, the new paladins consist of five who are worthy to fly the lions, Shiro, Keith, Lance, Hunk and Pidge, who all fly each one of the five lions and have an important role to play.

Takashi Shirogane is the leader of Voltron and flies the black lion. He was one of the best pilots back on Earth in the Galaxy Garrison and was the pilot for the Kerberos Mission. However his journey was cut short after being captured the Galra and held prisoner. One year later he was able to escape and arrives back on Earth with a robot prosthetic and painful trama from his time held captive. He now works alongside the other paladins as their leader, and the one who keep Keith and Lance from getting at each other throats.

Keith, the pilot of the red lion, may seem like hothead broody person, but he’s really just a softy who likes watching conspiracy theories. But he’s also temperamental in some cases, especially after finding out he’s half galra. Having been alone all his life living in a shack in the middle of the desert, he doesn’t give in easily, being more on closeted side. He was one of the best pilot students in the Garrison before getting kicked out for discipline issues after Shiro’s disappearance. Now he has the paladins, Allura, and Coran as his family, even if Lance drives him over the edge sometime, and is the best at hand-to-hand combat.

Lance is the blue lions pilot and was learning to be a pilot back in the Garrison working alongside Hunk and Pidge. After Keith got booted, he moved from cargo to fighter class, for him and Keith were neck and neck in the ranks. Besides being a pilot, he’s also Team Voltron’s Sharpshooter ™. Though he may not seem to take stuff seriously (and may talk down to himself) he always wears smile on his face and overall really lovable, but stays focused and serious during missions. Since he comes from a big family he really misses Earth and has homesickness sometimes.

Hunk and Pidge are the team’s mechanic and hacker and the pilots of the yellow and green lions. Hunk is also the official castle chef along with creating gadgets for missions. As for Pidge, also known as Katie, she went to the Garrison undercover in order to find her brother and father who were also on the Kerberos mission along with Shiro. Later on in space she was able to find her brother Matt, but their father is MIA. But in general, Hunk is the Voice of Reason and Pidge is the little gremlin.

Princess Allura is pilot of the castle and daughter of King Alfor while Coran is her advisor. Together they are the only living Alteans alive and is currently leading the Voltron Coalition Resistance against Zarkon. After Altea was destroyed, King Alfor put them both in cryopods to keep them safe. 10,000 years later they woke up to the new paladins of Voltron and is determined to stop the Galra Empire once and for all

After getting a good night's rest after weeks of missions and training, everyone was gathered around the table eating breakfast, which was usually food goo, not bothering yet to change out of their pajamas.

“Good mornin’ everybody.” Lance yawned as he walked in greeted by the others. His tan caramel skin shimmered in the castle lights after having doing his morning face routine.

“Well someone slept in. You’re usually the first one in here along with Hunk.” Pidge acknowledged, typing lazily at her laptop. Her glasses reflected of the screen, showing an algorithm of some kind.

“Hey, it’s our first free day in weeks, so I thought I give myself some well deserved sleep.” he said while filling up a plate with goo.

“Well at least you woke up before 10. Princess Allura would’ve probably sound the alarms again if we weren’t up by then.” commented Shiro, who was scrolling through past mission reports on his tablet.

“Yeah, the first time Allura did that we were all scared the crap out of us.” added Keith. Everyone agreed.

Breakfast was full of conversations and light laughter, followed by the occasional bickering between Lance and Keith. By the end everybody headed to their rooms to change out of their pajamas and headed towards control bay. In there were Princess Allura and Coran, making repairs to the ship after the last battle with the galra.

“Good morning everyone. You came just in time.” greeted Princess Allura.

“For what?” asks Hunk.

“We just got an incoming message from the Blade of Marmora,” explained Coran “here’s Kolivan now.” A screen popped up in the room showing Kolivan, the leader of the galran rebellion group.

The Blade of Marmora is a rebellion group of runaway Galras who work undercover in Zarkon’s inner ranks to gather intel. They were Team Voltron’s first major rebel they’ve encountered and the start of the coalition. Sense then, the Blades were able to assist in important mission and free planets from the empire.

“Hello Princess, I’m sorry to disturb after a long day of fighting yesterday, but I believe I have some… deeply disturbing news.”

“Go on Kolivan, we’re listening.” said Shiro with a concerned look on his face.

“One of our spies is located on one of Zarkon’s larger command bases. Over a 15 month period he started sending us info on a classified project created by Haggar.” Pictures and files popped up next to Kolivan’s face.

“What is this?” asked Pidge who was getting a closer look on one of the files from her chair.

“It’s apparently called Project White Lion.” explained Kolivan.

“Woah wait, hold on. Are you saying that the galra are trying to make another lion?” asked Hunk who stood up at the sound of the name

“Not exactly. Fortunately, he was able to get some clear pictures when he had the chance. If you look closely at the pictures you’ll see it’s not lion at all.” A picture appeared on the screen and all previous emotions felt by the paladins, Coran, and Allura were replaced by fear, disgust and anger. It showed a girl, no younger than a teenager in a tank. On her arms and legs were white markings, cords and plugs all over her body.

“Is that-”

“It’s a human. From your planet, Earth.” said Kolivan, solemnly

“But- but how? I thought the only galra closest to Earth was Sendak’s ship, that we lured out when we found the blue lion?” questioned Shiro. Everyone now in the room sitting in their chairs, flabbergasted at what they just saw.

“I don’t believe it. How were they able to take her? Isn’t Earth still safe from the Galra.” asked Lance, his voice was getting shaky.

“And it still is. However Haggar was able to send her own spies undercover to Earth to find a human subject for her tests. And this young being was apparently the perfect test monkey. She’s been in that tank for 13 months, recently being taken out not too long ago.” said Kolivan.

“And she looks really young, about my age.” said Pidge, who was out of chair standing next to Coran.

“Between 15 and 16 years to be exact. There’s still a lot we haven’t uncovered. I’ll send the files we have to you so you can look in on them as well.”

“Thank you, Kolivan, for this information.” Allura thanked Kolivan and he disappeared from the screen. The silence was filled with anger and disgust.

“How? How were they able to kidnap her from Earth when they’re billions of light years away just as we are?”

“This is deeply concerning, knowing that Galra are capable to do such a thing, to a young girl nonetheless. I’m so sorry, for all of you.” said Allura, voice shaking with anger.

“Hey guys, I’ve found a little more info on the so called ‘White Lion.” announced Pidge, pulling up file appearing in the control bay.

Name: Echo Suzuki

Age: 15

Gender: female

Date of Birth: December 15, 2702

Height: 5’6”

“Based on the reports from Earth the Galra were able to pick up on before going out of range, her name is Echo Suzuki from San Fransokyo, California. She was last seen on December 19, 2717 Her mother Amaita Suzuki told investigators she saw her daughter being pulled out of a car wreck they were in. She described the man who took her as unnaturally tall and had purple fur with cat like ears.” Shiro read out loud.

“So, if she disappeared in December, around her birthday, and then held in a tank for a year, she would be around 16 now.” Keith added.

“Congratulations Keith, you can do math.” Lance remarked, doing jazz hands. Pidge sighed and Keith just glared back.

“Pidge, do you mind helping me find more?” Shiro offered, ignoring the silent glaring contest going on behind him.

“Already on it.”

For the rest of the day everyone did their own thing. Keith went to the training deck, Lance off to his room, Hunk went to the kitchen to experiment with new foods for lunch. Coran and Allura worked on repairs while Pidge and Shiro continued trying to find out more about the girl and Haggar’s project.

And they all had one thing on their minds,

Echo Suzuki, The White Lion.

I really, really dislike this

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manonblckbeak · 7 years ago

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Temptation: Part VI

wow. whoa, what? Gin’s actually finally posting another part of temptation?

okay, kidding aside, i just wanted to say how sorry i am about the time it took to post this. i explained before that i was going through some weird things in my life and i wasn’t feeling any of my writing and to be honest i didn’t want to post anything for you guys if i didn’t actually love it. i’m better now, and i managed to write something i’m really proud of and i hope you guys like it! Thanks to @nightcourthighlordrhysand for everything really.

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

As winter grew colder and Christmas drew closer, Feyre dove into her art projects like they were her only means of survival. She knew she should use this time, this magical time of year to get closer yet to her friends, but after that day at Hiems… she just didn’t trust herself around Rhys. Didn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to be strong, to keep her heart safe.

So she did homework, practiced her drawing and her painting and her sketching, but never, not even as she realized the very thing that was supposed to keep her mind off of him had betrayed her once more—not even as she realized she had drawn his face, his body, his lips—thought of him.

It was for the best. This, all this, was for the best. She knew where the road that lead her to him would take her, and it was not a peaceful or pretty place.

And it was not selfish, she had come to realize. Because she was no longer thinking about herself, no longer thinking about how much she would hurt and bleed and suffer. No, not at all. She thought of him, of how she would ruin a… piece of art. Rhys—Rhys was so pure, so perfect—like a painting: splashes of colors and feelings and pain. And she couldn’t add up to that. Couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to…

No. She wouldn’t go down that road.

Feyre sighed, dropping the charcoal she had been drawing with. She could start to make out an elegant face on the paper beneath it, the lines on it beautiful and strong. Again. She had done it again. With a growl of irritation, Feyre ripped out the page off her drawing pad—which, if she was to be honest, had seen better days. She had been doing this too much lately.

Dropping the balled up paper in the trashcan beside the desk, Feyre stood up, arching her back in an effort to stretch cramped up muscles. She wondered for a moment when Mor would be back, if she would find her asleep again, if she would complain the next morning about how they never got to spend time together anymore.

Things between her roommate and her had been… complicated since the visit to Hiems. She’d tried at first. After all Mor had told her, after what she had shared as well, it had seemed like they would be stronger than ever, but—Mor could relentless in trying to make things right. And right for her wasn’t the same as it was for Feyre.

So she had started to avoid her, avoid her plots and plans, her matchmaking, her efforts that, despite seeming well-intentioned and harmless, could hurt her so deeply. And with avoiding Mor, came avoiding Azriel, Amren, Cassian and, of course, Rhysand.

And she had never felt so lonely. This, this was what she had expected her life at Prythian Academy to be like. It was like the world was collapsing in on itself and she couldn’t help but stand in the middle of the crossfire.

She sighed again, checking her phone for the time. 7:30. Too early to go to bed yet, but definitely too late to go to the cafeteria for any remnants of dinner. Gods, what was she doing with her life? Mor was probably somewhere with the gang drinking the expensive wine she’d bought at Hiems—a never ending amount, it seemed, for she was always taking more and more and more from the bottom drawer of her closet. And yet, here she was: alone, unhappy, and fully aware that this—all of this—was her own choice.

She was about to put her phone away when the ringing tone sounded.

***

Feyre had come to fear the ringing of her phone. In the bitter, lonely weeks that followed Hiems, not once had Tamlin called, and yet, every time the damned thing buzzed, it was a near heart-stopping phenomena.

It was not that she disliked having the thing with her. The phone was a commodity, a privilege. It kept her company when humans did not. But even when said nightmare did not happen, the phone itself, old and battered, held so many memories. Photographs and messages and even a makeshift love letter typed into the notes of the phone, signed with “much love, Tamlin”.

It was a constant reminder of a life she did not want, did not need, did not deserve. But a reminder she kept close, for it let her know, with each touch of her skin against the cold screen, that love could be a poison. That love could be dangerous. That love could be wild and hurtful and tricky.

So when her phone rang, the buzzing sending shivers up and down her spine, she jumped. Because she wasn’t ready to keep the reminder that close to her heart. She wasn’t ready to talk to Tamlin again, especially not alone, not after everything she’d done to bring herself up from the blind panic he’d set her upon at Hiems.

But her fast breathing slowed down to a stop when she saw the number on the screen. For it was not Tamlin calling… But Nesta.

“H-hello?” Feyre said, hands trembling with the fear of yet another heart-breaking moment, another piece of news that could change her life as she knew it, another slap in the face. You know, figuratively.

“Hey, Feyre.” Her sister’s voice was as rough as she remembered. But oh, it was so nice to hear it. If not for the feeling of being home, for the simple reason that she had not talked, properly talked to another human being in so long. Weeks. It’d been weeks since she’d last had a conversation that hadn’t involved how absent she was or how her projects were going or what the fresh hell she was doing with her life. So, yes, the roughness and familiarity and just the fact that this was a simple, non-Rhysand related conversation was… nice. Very nice. “I trust you’re doing well?”

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall out into the planes of her face. Oh, how simple it would be to tell the truth. How simple it would be to confess that everything had turned, most definitely, to shit, and she was not well, not in any way. But things were not simple. Life was not simple.

And so, she simply said, “Yes.” Feyre reached over to turn the light of her drawing table off, leaving only the room light on. She stood and walked over to her bed, throwing herself at the linen sheets before adding, “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad. But Feyre,” Nesta said, voice sharp. “You haven’t called in months. Dad’s been worried sick. You don’t call, don’t answer our texts, even Dean Falsum seemed helpless trying to get ahold of you.”

Guilt buried itself deep inside of Feyre. She’d been trying so hard to make it all bearable for herself that she had forgotten about everyone else, it seemed. But she guessed she couldn’t pin it all on Tamlin or even Rhys. This was months of carelessness. This was just her avoiding her family for the very reason she was avoiding Mor: they, too, thought they knew what was best for her and she knew what was best for herself. “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She said quietly. “It’s just been… hard.”

“Yes, well,” Nesta seemed angry at her. Not that she could really blame her. Her sister could be a bitch sometimes, but she was nothing if not protective of her family. “It’s been hard for us, too, you know? Dad’s rarely ever around, and since you aren’t here anymore…” she sighed, as if reminding herself that that hadn’t exactly been Feyre choice for starters. “Since you aren’t here anymore, I have to take care of Elain.”

“How’s—”

“And your beau,” Nesta ground out. “He keeps coming around. Begging—begging for us to bring you home.”

Feyre trembled. Oh, Gods.

“I can’t take it, Feyre.” She said, and Feyre could swear she heard some desperation in her sister’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Elain’s scared to bits. The last time I had to call the cops on him.” There was a sigh here, and it sounded so tired, so distraught, that Feyre wondered for a second if it had been herself that had breathed it out. “I don’t deserve this, Elain doesn’t deserve this. We can’t keep suffering the consequences of your mistakes.”

“What—what are you saying?”

“It’s time for you to come home.”

***

Breakfast came all too soon.

But Feyre didn’t talk as she picked up her food. Didn’t speak as she tried, and failed, to eat, and stared out the window beside their usual table, and blatantly ignored everybody. Her mind was still reeling with Nesta’s words, with the promise in them, with what the future now held for her.

She went about her day as if everything was still the same, walking the halls of the Academy like a zombie out for brains. It had taken its time, but by now, the confusing halls made some sense to her. It wasn’t like she could trust Mor to be her guide anymore.

Art class was usually the one joy in her life these days, Alis being the one support she needed most. The teacher was so giving, so kind… But her mind was elsewhere today. Miles away, actually. Back where she could still hear Nesta’s voice calling, as if a hair’s breadth away, I don’t deserve this.

And she didn’t. Not really.

Nesta had never been the best sister, had never cared for her as she had obviously cared for Elain, but Feyre loved her all the same. She was her sister, Gods damn it. And she was right, she didn’t have to keep paying and paying for what was surely Feyre’s momentary lapse of judgement. No matter that it was much more than that. No matter that it was haunting her, turning her life into shit.

Because that, well that Feyre could deal with. She could deal with Tamlin ruining her life if it came to that. But her sisters… She had done too much to keep them healthy of mind and body and soul to lose them to him now. She had simply done too much. Tamlin could take her pride and her innocence and her youth, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t take her sisters.

She knew what she had to do. Because she knew how his mind worked, knew how guys like him ticked. It was simply a matter of how to do what was necessary, because she had pushed everyone away and now… now everything had just turned to shit. And she couldn’t do this alone. She knew this now. Together we stand, alone we fall and all that shit, right?

Right.

***

I need a favor.

Feyre didn’t look as Rhysand unfolded the note she threw at his desk, her rushed calligraphy shaky with the thought of what she was about to ask him. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see one groomed brow tilting upwards at the words before he wrote something down in his own notebook, ripped it out and threw it back at her.

So, you’re talking to me, now, are you?

Great. This was going to be phenomenal if this is how it was going to start out.

Rhys… Just, meet me in my dorm room after class. Please.

This time she did look. She stared deep into those violet orbs as they read the words scribbled into the note and the smirk on that exquisite face faded—just a tiny bit. Yes, they seemed to say to her. I will.

As the bell rang, Feyre didn’t bother getting a written confirmation that Rhys would show, trusting him out of pure will. She would have to trust him, or this wouldn’t work. Or this would just crumble into dust.

Gods, maybe she should’ve asked someone—anyone—else.

But, alas, now it was too late for that.

And she wouldn’t regret it. This was the obvious choice. She had something with Rhys, be it something she wanted or not. And she could work with that. That spark, that flame that sprung to life every time they touched… it would save her. It would save her sisters. Because if she knew something about people like Tamlin, if she knew something about territorial, abusive bastards was that they didn’t touch what was someone else’s.

***

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Nine words. The first nine words that she said to him in weeks and they were… a mess. Gods, what was she playing at? What was she thinking? But no, she knew what she was doing, she reassured herself.

Still her gut felt like it was hanging out by a thread, and her head spun and she couldn’t think besides the feeling of second guessing every decision she had made since coming to Prythian Academy. She couldn’t help but think about how badly this could end, how incredibly wrong. Still she needed it. Needed it to work. Because if it didn’t… well, that wasn’t a choice.

“What?” Rhys was caught between laughing and staring incredulously at her, hand messing up his blue-black hair.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She repeated, walking her way around him to sit on the bed. She patted the space next to her for him to sit down and, when he didn’t move, sighed impatiently.

“No, I—” Rhys said. “I heard you the first time. I just can’t understand you around all the crazy of what you’re saying.”

Feyre laughed bitterly. Rhys thought about how much it didn’t suit her, that laugh, and for a second they were just two people having a normal conversation, before he remembered what they were actually talking about. “Well, the situation is a bit… crazy. So, what is it they say?” Feyre smiled sadly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Oh? So dating me is desperate, now, is it?”

Feyre punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

“Feyre, I—”

“No,” She said, begging him with her eyes, all blue and sad and woeful. “Please, Rhys. I need this.”

“But why?” Rhys finally sat down next to her, taking her hand in his, holding it tightly, like it would spill all her secrets. “What could you possibly gain from this? Everyone here at the Academy already kind of thinks of us as an Item. What could come of this?”

Feyre sighed. “That’s just it. I need you to come home with me.”

Rhys stared at her with his violet eyes, understanding and not. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

Feyre sighed, looking down. This—this was where it got complicated. If this didn’t work—and she had to be practical about this, because these were her sisters and she couldn’t leave any room for the unexpected, she had to work, had to think and feel and plan strategically—well, if this didn’t work, it’d come down to Feyre going back. For good.

She didn’t want it to come to that. She didn’t want to leave. As lonely as Prythian Academy had become, as much as she’d never wanted to come here in the first place, the thought of going home—going anywhere else besides right here, right next to this man besides her had become unbearable.

“Yes.”

Feyre was distracted. It was all Rhysand’s fault, really. All his damn fault. His damn eyes, and his damn lips, and his damn hands. She followed the lines of his face and how the light illuminated each inch of his sun kissed skin, down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the planes of his chest and the tattoos that lay beneath his shirt just a hair’s breadth away. Her breath trembled.

“Feyre?” He said, waving a hand in front of her face, startling her out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” Feyre sounded sheepish, almost shy as she blushed deep red, betrayed by her own thoughts. Her feelings were everywhere, it seemed. Splattered out into the world and crashed into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and full all at once. She felt so afraid. For her, for her heart—for Rhys.

“When do we leave?” Rhysand asked. It was the first confirmation he’d given her that he’d actually go, and she could’ve sworn she had actually felt her heart skip a beat. So selfless, this man. So—giving. He had asked her nothing in return as she told her the story of her life with Tamlin. How they had met—in a school camp out in eighth grade—and fallen deeply in love, and how that had been lovely and warm and good for a while. And how bitter it had all become, how sad.

She smiled, “Next weekend,” grabbing both his hands in hers, she squeezed them tightly before saying, “You have no idea how much this means to me, Rhys. I won’t forget this.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let him see just how much he could affect her. “Thank you.”

“I would go to the stars and back for you, Feyre Archeron.” He simply answered. “This is nothing.”

***

The week went by without much incident. Feyre wished she could somehow apologize to Mor, but she didn’t know how—didn’t know what to say, how to say it. She was just lost, broken. And perhaps it was just too late. Mor had opened up to her and she had closed down. She had shut her out completely, and for what? The fear, constant and unwavering, of being hurt, of hurting, of everything in between. Feyre had been a terrible friend, and she knew it.

It was Saturday morning when Feyre decided that she had to put an end to this. She could not stand the silence anymore. This room, their room, had been a safe haven for so long and now—now it was a cage. It contained her, it provided her with a place to hide and sleep and draw but she could no longer be happy in it, no longer laugh or share any sort fond memories here.

So as she prepared for the day, hauling a simple red sweater and ripped jeans over her head, and put on some mascara and red lipstick, Feyre made a decision. Today, she was ending this miserable phase of her life, be it for good or for bad.

She shook Mor awake. It was early, earlier than her roommate would probably like to be woken up on a Saturday, but she didn’t have much time before she had to leave for her trip with Rhysand and she had to do this before she left—had to, or she wouldn’t have the strength, wouldn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You see, your courage didn’t lie in your actions, not really. You gathered it up in every one of your bonds, be it with family or friends or lovers. That’s what gave you courage.

“Mor,” Feyre said, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. One brown eye opened to look at her sleepily, brow furrowing. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Feyre?” Mor wiped a hand over her face, blinking the sleep away. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back, looking at Feyre confusedly. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Oh—yeah. I’m fine.” Feyre didn’t know what to say now. Mor was still looking at her with a confused look in her eyes, like Feyre had grown an extra head. It was weird, for Feyre to wake her like this, after weeks and weeks of silence and avoidance, she knew. But she also knew that her roommate deserved this, even if she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Mor deserved so much better than her, so much more. “It’s, um—can we talk?”

“Um, sure,” Mor patted the place on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

“I wanted to talk to you before I left…” Feyre sat down, wondering what on Earth she could say to make this better, what she could say that wouldn’t sound completely selfish and cruel and self-centered. She came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve been distant. I—I was trying to protect myself, and you, and everyone, but I just made a mess of things.”

Mor put a hand over hers. “Feyre,” she looked into her blue eyes, trying to capture some semblance of meaning in those words, trying to understand. “We would never hurt you, not on purpose anyway. And don’t you know by now?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, the ride is worth the risk of getting hurt.”

***

The drive home went smoothly.

Feyre had met Rhys outside the gates of Prythian Academy since, for once, she did not feel like meeting everyone for breakfast. Patching things up with Mor had gone okay, great even, but it was all she could take for one day, she guessed. She had texted him and gone outside, barefoot once more, to feel the wind on her skin, the earth on her feet, the sun on her face.

She was happy right now. Right now—because time, for her, was a very fragile thing. At any moment things could change. And they probably would, too. She just hoped it was for the better.

Feyre hadn’t explained to Mor what exactly her and Rhys were going to be doing. She could only guess her roommate would be questioning him at breakfast, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything too incriminating. She couldn’t take it if she knew how dangerous her situation was—Mor knew about Tamlin, about how he had treated her, or rather, mistreated her, and how he still thought she was something of his to just take as he pleased. And her friends, well… if she knew her friends, she knew that they would stop at nothing to keep her from going home when she didn’t want to. Because they were good people, and that’s just what good people did, even when the people they did it for didn’t really deserve it.

She didn’t say much to Rhys as he arrived, hurrying inside the car for the long journey back home. But she wondered if he had told their friends about what they would be doing, what lay ahead for them. It would be easy to ask him, to just say the words, but the silence was so welcoming, so simple that she did not dare break it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhysand’s eyes were on the road ahead, his voice low and smooth, like a stream of warm water.

Feyre blinked, shaken out of her reverie. She’d been watching the plains of trees outside the window, how they blurred into splashes of greens and browns and blacks, doing anything she could to ignore the warmth that radiated from the man beside her. The smell of citrus and the sea. And the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind, those dangerous, betraying thoughts of how those arms had felt wrapped around her, how those lips had touched and burned and kissed, how those hands had marked her. “Oh,” she tried to think of what to say, what to do besides tell him the truth, and came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I was just thinking—I haven’t told you much about my sisters. I think I should prep you for this meeting.”

“I need… prepping?” he smirked, aware of her blush, and put a hand on top of hers. “I’m kidding. Prep me up, darling.”

“Prick.” Feyre laughed. She slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes. But her mind was reeling, wondering how to do this, how to begin explaining things. Her relationship with her sisters was so—complicated. So strained. And she didn’t want his pity, and didn’t want him to think she didn’t love them or that they didn’t love her either. They did, they all did. It was just—complex. And weird. And hard.

Relationships, Feyre had come to realize, took work. Especially when the people in question didn’t fully trust you with their heart. And Nesta—well, Nesta didn’t trust anyone with her heart, not even her own sister. There was only one person that truly had hold of her soul, and that was Elain.

But even with Elain’s help and the years of building up trust, after Tamlin, there was too much anger, too much disappointment, too many secrets between them. You see, for Nesta, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. And she wished she could fix this, she wished Elain could stop walking on eggshells and Nesta could stop her quiet bravado, but there was nothing she could do. Nesta wouldn’t listen, not to words or promises. But actions—well, actions were another thing.

And that was her plan. Not only to stop Tamlin—though, that was the most important part. But these months of being alone at the Academy had taught her one thing, and that was that alone, she was nothing. She was just a shell of a girl. Without friends, without family, without the loving of those around her, she didn’t have a reason to live at all.

So, yes, she did want to scare Tamlin away. But her plan, well, it consisted of more than that. She wanted to show Nesta that she was not weak, she was no longer the girl Tamlin had strung along and hurt and fucked up, over and over and over. She was her own woman, she was strong and smart and worth something. She had friends that would fight for her, friends that would be with her as she fought for herself—friends that would even pretend for her, it seemed.

And it didn’t matter that Tamlin still haunted her, it didn’t matter that everything he did and everything that happened the following months was still embedded deep within her, because she was all the more valiant for it. All the anxiety it had caused was just a misfortune of fate. And she would show them, she would show them all.

***

It was about midday when Rhysand pulled up at the Archeron driveway. He stretched his neck to look at the house, his violet eyes focusing on the creamy walls and clear windows of the property.

On the drive here, Feyre’d told him everything there was to know about her sisters. He categorized what she’d told him, or, at least, what he’d gotten from it. Elain Archeron—sweet and gentle, worked at a dog pound and could always be found gardening. Nesta Archeron—hard as steel, cold as ice, book andstreet smart.

He was not sure he was ready to meet them. The people that had so completely undone Feyre, the people that had told her she was not enough, that she was entirely to blame for whatever mistakes she had made in the past. But he had to do it. For Feyre, for himself, for a future where her family was united and strong. So he said, “You ready?” He looked at Feyre, violet eyes flashing with emotion.

Feyre took a deep breath, looking at the house where she had grown up, where so many memories and so many emotions had occurred. She blinked, “Y—yeah.”

He seemed to read the nervousness in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, because he put a hand on top of hers as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Feyre.”

“No, I—I know.” Feyre shook her head, seeming to shake away some kind of thought as well, and he didn’t think he should ask what had been on her mind. Her eyes looked sad, forlorn. Like she had been remembering a life not so long ago.

Rhys sighed, stroking her hand before he let it go, moving out of the car and around it to open her door for her. “Milady,”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling that swept over her when he called her ‘milady’, as if she were his, as if she were more than just a girl that had nothing at all to offer him other than hurt and poor excuses and unhappiness.

As they walked to the door, Feyre’s hands trembling with nervousness. He grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath before moving forward and into the doorway. “Are you sure you want to involve your sisters in this lie?” he finally said, before Feyre could ring the doorbell. “It’d be easier to just tell them we were involved as well.”

She seemed to think it over, even though they’d talked about it before, but eventually said, “No, I—I want them to know the truth.” She looked at their hands as if she were about to let go of his, but, for his surprise and wonderment, didn’t. “There’s too much between us—between Nesta and Elain and me, for me to lie to them. They’re my sisters, Rhys. As easy as it would be to just lie, I need them to support me.”

It was his turn to nod.

Feyre rang the doorbell, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Just a minute!” comes a voice from inside that she recognized as her sister’s. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a breathless Elain, holding her cat, White Socks, in her hands. She smiled widely and said, “Feyre!”

“Hello, Elain.”

***

Feyre could tell how uncomfortable Rhysand was.

Nesta held him under an unwavering stare, eyes steely and cold. “So,” she said, moving her gaze to his hand, currently intertwined with her sister’s for some kind of comfort in this strange, somewhat hostile situation. “You’re not together?”

“That’s right.” Rhys answered, all business. Feyre squeezed his hand, as if to say Relax, you’re safe, and nodded her agreement to her sister. Nesta didn’t seem much convinced, not with their weird displays of affection, but then again, nobody ever was. They had a—special connection. A bond that most people would think went beyond friendship and maybe—maybe it did. But it didn’t exactly mean the opposite either. They weren’t lovers, weren’t anything but two people who would fight for each other no matter what, even if it meant that they wouldn’t be together at the end of the day.

“You seem pretty chummy to me.” Nesta drawled out, eyes still on their hands.

Feyre sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand to bury her face in it for a moment. She recomposed herself as she said, “Look, Nesta,” she looked at Rhys for support, and he smiled encouragingly at her. “The situation is this—Tamlin won’t ever stop. He won’t ever give up chasing after me, not while he thinks I’m still his.” She gave her friend a little grateful smile, because she was so thankful, so incredibly thankful that he had agreed to do this. “And that’s why Rhys is here. My relationship with him has nothing to do with it.”

Nesta snorted deprecatingly before saying, “So you admit,” she drawled, “There is a relationship?” her gaze was studious, as if she wanted to pick apart any and all information she could from the sight before her. But there was nothing to see, nothing to discover—was there?

No, Feyre was clear on one thing and that was that her relationship with Rhys was just friendship and nothing more, no matter her feelings. No matter how much she—no. She wouldn’t go there.

Feyre sighed once more, exasperated. “No,” she ground out. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?”

“Fine.” Nesta moved her gaze to Rhys again, exploring the planes of his face with that careful mistrust, “And you?” she asked. “What’s in this for you?”

“I’m sorry?” he spluttered, looking at Feyre for help, unsure of what to say, how to explain that while for her there was nothing in this, no feelings, no relationship, no love—well, for him it was different. Rhysand was deeply embedded in his friend’s life, for better or for worse and he wished, oh, how he wished, there was more for them, and he would do anything for her. He loved her, he was in love with her, he had fallen and she had not caught him, but that was okay, too, because he was more than equipped to deal with pain.

“Well,” Nesta said, studying him once more, that fatal curiosity filling her steely eyes. “You come here to help us having nothing offered to you other than friendship. What is your angle here?”

“I think you undervalue your sister.” He said, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He figured it just got to him, seeing the very people who were supposed to protect and provide a home for Feyre treat her with such disregard, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge. He’d come to help, to make amends between them, not to harm their relationship further. “I do what I must to keep my friend where she wants to be.”

“Can I—” Elain finally quipped up from where she sat at the end of the living room, propped up on a chair with White Socks on her lap. “Feyre, why don’t you just come home? You didn’t even want to go there in the first place—you say you want to keep her where she wants to be, but isn’t that with us?”

It seemed to pain Feyre to answer the question, seemed to burn her with every breath she took, but she gathered herself up and said, “I wish—I wish that I wanted to come home. But home, for me, home is elsewhere now.” She begged her sister to understand with her blue, deep eyes, and continued, “I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first went to the Academy, I thought it was going to be hell. But I found the best friends I could ever wish for and—Elain, I can’t begin to explain or apologize or—”

“Then don’t.” Nesta interrupted, softer this time. “Just—fix this.”

***

“Are you sure about this?”

Feyre couldn’t think. Not with him standing so close to her, not with the smell of him, the citrus and the sea, the overwhelming sureness that this was wrong, so wrong, yet—it just felt right. Rhysand let out a breath, leaning over to put a hand on the tree trunk behind her as she stepped back, not allowing her an inch of detachment from him. She could almost laugh at the irony, almost feel the mockery of how alike this was from the first time they had kissed. It mimicked the very surroundings, the feel of the bark against her skin, the wet grass under her feet, the warmth of his body against hers.

“Yes,” she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep her eyes from his violet orbs, staring at her with a hunger she almost wished she didn’t know. This is just for show, this is just for show, she reminded herself over and over, gulping. “I’m sure.”

Rhysand nodded, finally looking away to the building in front of the small park they stood in. “When does he get off again?”

Feyre exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the presence of him, feeling like she could not stand on her own, without the tree, without his arm around her middle, without the grass supporting her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of him—as if that were possible. She’d been trying for months now. Sighing, she took her phone off her back pocket and checked the time. “In about five minutes.”

He nodded again, still looking at the building.

It was a law firm, one of those that never did pro-bono jobs unless they had to because that never led to any “progress” for the firm. Or, as Rhys liked to call them, douchebags in suits. Feyre had explained to him that Tamlin’s father had worked there all his life and finally bought out a part of the company a few years back. He’d wanted his only son to continue his work once he retired and so, he’d managed to get him an internship. At the time, Feyre’d found it wonderful.

But that’s when it’d started.

Tamlin’d screw up or drink too much with his office buddies and his father, being the proper, old style kind of guy he was, thought he could beat it out of him. He’d changed so much in a matter of months. Become hollow, and angry, and sad. And then there had been the drinking.

Tamlin had never been one to drink too much. He’d liked beer, sure, but never gone for vodka or anything like that. But afterwards, Feyre would find him outside her house with a bottle of scotch, mumbling about how much he loved her and how she could never leave him and how he would tear apart anyone that dared come between them.

After a while it started to scare her. And she tried to break things off, she did. But he just kept coming around and calling and making these damn threats and promises that she wasn’t sure he would keep and was honestly scared he would because he had become scary and she was now so unsure of how exactly she had fallen for him. But she knew, she knew that this—this was a different person than she had once knew. Occasion and fate and terrible choices had made him into a monster and she did not deserve him. Not anymore. Or maybe—maybe she did, because she didn’t help, either. She’d just run, scared. She didn’t call the cops when she’d seen the scars or the bruises on him, she didn’t do a thing.

“Feyre?” Rhys’ voice shook her out of her reverie. She noticed how wet her eyes had become, and shame swept over her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not right now—not ever. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I know,” She shook her head, “I just—I wish I could just forget all this.” Feyre sighed, wiping at her eyes, before saying, “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” he said, hand coming up to cup her face. He stroked her cheek gently, like he was going to lean in and kiss her at any moment, but just whispered. “You don’t deserve to suffer. You don’t deserve to have your past follow you around wherever you go.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Because this, this wasn’t for show. This was the two of them—the two of them against the world. “You are a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, Feyre Archeron. And we will set you free.”

“Here he comes.” She whispered, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

Rhys studied her face, looking for any trace of doubt, of fear, of second guessing. She tried to convey certainty, but she could only guess her eyes were as sad as she felt as he hesitated.

She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t unsure or confused or afraid. In fact, she wanted this, and her reasons for wanting it were quite selfish. But she knew how much it would hurt him, how much it would mean to him to have her and then not.

And yes, Feyre knew how self-centered that sounded, but that was simply true. She was aware of his loyalty and his affections for her. And that’s what made this that much harder. To dangle herself in front of someone who could never have her. At least, not while she was so broken. So sad, so unbelievably unfixable.

She glanced at the man approaching, tall and blonde and muscular. Before Tamlin could notice her looking, she turned back to Rhys, cupping his face, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She said, resting her forehead against his and closing her eyes, breathing deep. She took in the intoxicating smell of him, the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against her as she added, “Set me free.”

And then, it was just the feel of lips against lips, their tongues clashing and claiming, and the taste of each other, the touch of his hands to her hips and neck as he pushed her against the tree trunk, the pulsating heat of their bodies as they moved ever so slightly. She forgot where she was, who she was, why she was here. She forgot just why—why on earth this couldn’t be.

Rhys let one hand wander under her sweater, feeling the warm, creamy skin beneath, and Feyre let out a low moan. As another mimicked action from the night in the woods, she came up for air and he didn’t stop kissing her, trailing a line down her throat, to her neck, to her collarbone. He licked upward and nibbled on her ear and Feyre giggled—a strange new sound. “Ticklish,” she whispered, smile visible in her voice.

He just engulfed her in another kiss, biting down her bottom lip, running his tongue through her teeth, the roof of her mouth. She had to remind herself that they were in public, that they were here for a purpose besides this—whatever this was. Because she was not sure it was a ruse anymore at all. And maybe it hadn’t been for a while now. Maybe she felt for him, maybe—

“What the hell is going on here?”

Feyre pulled back as if burned, Tamlin’s very voice scaring her beyond measure. But she wasn’t paying attention to him at all, didn’t care for once that he was here because the man before her, because Rhys, still had his arms around her and his eyes on her lips and—

She almost gasped as the realization ran through her, as it hit her.

Feyre was in love with him.

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fallingforsincerity · 4 years ago

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massive brain dump

it’s been a while since i had these thoughts resurface. Maybe because I had some more free time thanks to covid19 to think or maybe because it’s also Pride month. who knows. have a lot of rambling to get out of my head.

As someone who is trans but has not transition, sometimes you get many feelings and you need validation. what better way to get that but by watching youtube videos lol. There is something validating to hear someone say that your experience as being trans is valid no matter who says otherwise. Like how can it not when we all live in so different circumstances and environments. I get it, being passing to cis people feels good but not every has that opportunity nor cares. End of the day the moment some shitty cis person finds out your trans, nothing and I mean nothing can make them look at you the same ever again. Watching that youtube video, I didn’t realize that there are trans people out there that if you don’t experience dysphoria that the way they felt then your feelings and experiences aren’t validated. Like I’m sorry are you the gender police??? Like life is hard already trying to get cis people to understand and now I gotta deal with people who stand at the same side, who’d you think would understand the struggle, be part of the struggle. Like i’m sorry I didn’t get the gender handbook when I was born, didn’t know there was rules to follow in order to be considered trans. Not to say their feelings of dysphoria and needing to pass aren’t valid, of course they are. But doesn’t mean i agree with the one track mindedness about being trans. Because my experiences and environment shaped that. Does it mean I’m less queer or less trans than other people? Heck no! There is no lgbtq+ scale where you step on and you get a rating. like ah yes you are a 5 out 5 trans because you met all our trans criteria. Does this not sound like the stupidest thing???

rambly rambly rambly rambly

i don’t often talk about being trans....just because for me it’s kind of an uncomfortable topic. To the general public I look like a “feminine/ pretty boy” and don’t have to deal with the whole “oh you’re trans” situation, so for me to go out of my way to be out as trans to people I know, is very awk and makes me uncomfortable. Luckily because this tumblr and I don’t necessarily mention my tumblr to people I know, I’m not as scared or uncomfortable talking to strangers on the internet who may never know me in real life about this kind of thing. It’s pretty freeing tbh. I think the hardest part is because I haven’t fully transition that as an adult having to deal with workspaces and paper work gives me anxiety. The one thing I deff loved about being in art college was that I was able to live my life and because there are so many different people with such open minds, that I didn’t feel weirded out about having tell people my pronouns or minding too much about people knowing I was trans. But that took getting used to. As someone who is super closeted about this, it takes so much effort to release all that anxiety that is built up over the years. I didn’t even tell my closest friends and family until part way through my college life when I was finally able to come to terms with a lot of things. Bless my roommates who were so encouraging, understanding, and loving. I don’t think I would have been able to live my life as really who I was and being affirmed without them.

Having to come back to live at home is a whirlwind of emotions and anxiety. At one hand I enjoy the comfort of financial stability and seeing my family, but on the other hand it brings back all the anxiety and forces me back to a point of life that I had lived before my college years. I’ve talked about this before, but from quite a young-ish age I knew deep down that I am a boy. Simple case, always been uncomfortable having any relation to being a female. To this day because I’m not out to everyone, I get so uncomfortable when someone goes “oh you are such a tomboy.” The anxiety and stress about fearing whether or not you can come out as trans and not knowing the reaction of those people is so deeply rooted in me it’s unreal. I just want to live a quiet life as a boy and not have to deal with any of that. Pretty sure many if not all trans people feel the same way, they just want to live as who they are and not be bothered by it all the time.

Being Asian especially a 1st gen Asian American makes navigating being trans and queer really hard. These type of topics aren’t spoken about in the Asian community. I can probably count on my one hand people who I know personally who are asian + trans and have come out about it or spoken about it before. In Asian communities, being part of the lgbtq+ community is taboo. It’s almost seen like a disease. Sometimes I’m just so envious that my western counterparts have a bit more freedom in able to express or talk about being lgbtq+. Not saying it’s all sunshine and rainbows for them but like the way Asians (especially the older generation) act its like that doesn’t exist. Like there is no such thing as being trans, no such thing as being gay, no such thing as blah blah blah. That’s the struggle, if it is out of the norms, it does not exist. I keep thinking back to this one clip where the guy talks about how it’s not that they don’t want to acknowledge that it exist, they just don’t want you their child to have it so they deny it. What I’m saying is, this “taboo” of speaking of lgbtq+ and whatnot really made it hard for me to understand what was going on in my mind. I struggled for years to come to terms and even find the terms to describe myself. It was only when tumblr kind of took off roughly in 2009, when I first even heard of the word trans or bigender and yada yada. Having to navigate thru everything all at once was like a beginner level swimmer being thrown in to the middle of the Pacific ocean blindfolded and told to swim to America. I’m surprised I even made it to the land when tumblr at that time was a free for all, the amount of posts exploded, so different as to right now (which is kind of quiet).

If I, who was the trans person, didn’t understand all this, imagine my environment. Not saying I had a bad time, just a very uncomfortable and stressful time. The one thing I found solace in was that in games, I didn’t need to present my trans-ness. I was able to escape who I was brought up and seen as (aka female) and live who I was in my games. I didn’t have to be labeled as trans, I was just me being a boy. I’ve mentioned this all before, but even in things where i used to role-play with my friends I always presented as a male. I hated the way I felt when I was referred to as she/ her when I was a kid, still uncomfortable to this day but given the circumstances I have to live with it. There are some moments in my life looking back that if I could change the way I had to present as a female at that time I would 100% redo that moment. But this isn’t those reincarnation manga’s i’ve been reading so live and forget, i’d say.

Going back to being Asian, I’m very lucky that my mom because of her experiences shaped her to be opened minded, my father on the other hand while may be open to some things is still deep down the conservative south east asian. Though I’ve come out to my mom, she doesn’t understand me being trans nor does she really acknowledge the fact that I am a male. I’m always going back and forth with her having calling me her daughter in her mother tongue and me having to correct her every time and her saying no your my daughter. Shit gets fucking old real fucking fast. It’s a hell lot to navigate when you have to move back home. I miss my college life because of that freedom from that denial, freedom to really express who i am and able to figure that out in a safe welcoming environment. Coming all the way back to my point lol i’m just deeply uncomfortable outing myself as trans. It was affirming to hear in that youtube video I was watching that many trans people don’t want to be outed, that it’s okay to stealth because bringing up being trans is tiring. Like I am a male, i don’t want to have to bring up me being trans all the time, makes me really understand the want or need to be passing. Like do people not realize that if there was a magical change your gender button, we would not hesitate to press it? If i could had been born into a male body i’d be a regular cis male, no question about it. But life doesn’t work that way. I honestly, wished I had the knowledge and money back when I was younger. Maybe i’d be able to navigate and live my life as who I am earlier. Now i gotta figure things out, and present myself to those who already know and not want them to look at me as a trans person but as just a normal regular person. What a difficult matter this is. One could only wish. That being said still trying to navigate my way on transitioning and whatnot. Living in a dominantly Asian community made up of older folxs doesn’t lend itself to give you resources to access on these kinds of topic. When this whole pandemic thing and we get the whole nation reformed I’ll go searching for some resources. As long as I live here back home, i don’t think i’ll be able to live freely.

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lately i’ve been consuming a lot of josei manga especially those harlequinn mangas. god damn are those manga one shots so infuriating like COME ON JUST LEAVE THE MAN, DON’T GET BACK WITH HIM. Every goddamn manga is the same, the girl meets the greek tycoon/ rich british snob/ arabian prince gets pregnant, gets her heart broken and leaves him, guy find out he has a kid and forces her back, goes thru misunderstanding for 2 pages, then kiss kiss fall in love. Like it is the same every god forsaken time and yet I still get all angry lmao. I should know it by now why am I still silently screaming at 4am reading these mangas. I know what happens yet i’m still screaming LEAVE HIM, DON’T TAKE HIM BACK, BE YOUR OWN WOMAN WHO DOESN’T NEED NO MAN. I find myself laughing at myself because I put myself in that situation when I read it and then I get angry when I chose to read it lol. If I wasn’t so camera shy I’d have great reaction videos and livestreams of me when I read manga. Cause I talk to myself a lot when I’m reading manga, it’s kind of funny.

On that light note i’m just gonna end this rant. I’m sleepy and I think i dumped out all the thoughts that’ve been accumulating at the back of my head out. Till next time!!

#random life post #just getting out my thoughts and feelings i've been holding since last year #this is super duper long like so long

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