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wizkiddx · 4 years

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worst case scenario part 3

umm so, never ever intended it to be this long but here we are. again this is v dark so please please read the warning!! also [and obvs] this is very medically inaccurate and just a work of my head aha

[part 1] [part 2]

warning: mentions of death / hospital / mentions of childhood abandonment too- please don't read if this could affect you <3

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His heart was thundering in his chest, so much so it drowned out all other sounds making all the doctors words fade into the background. Conciously, he really was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying; consciously he knew she was trying to prepare him to see Y/n; consciously he knew she knew he wasn’t okay. But really? It didn’t matter, and as they drew closer to his fiancé Tom felt an urgent sense of relief purely know she was there. She was there and she wasn’t dead…yet.

Only two people were allowed to go up, just because the nature of the ward - everything was meticulously controlled, including the comings and goings of visitors. If you’ve never been in an ICU it’s a pretty hard environment to describe. Really, it’s just another hospital ward, with capacity of about 20 beds. Each bed has much more equipment surrounding that the average and a nurse is stationed per patient, monitoring every possible variable that the machienes are measuring, so any trend (either positive or negative) can be identified at the earliest point. Though in everyones head, it seems as though ICU is a common place ending up for some unfortunate sod when something bad happens, it’s actually really rare for someone to be so ill and dependant on medicine to maintain normal body functioning. Only the most severe trauma, infection of the most dangerous microorganism, surgery of such high stakes normally make an appearance on the ward. And ,on average, between 8-20% patients that are admitted to an ICU never make it out.

And those grim figures were unignorable to anyone. As soon as you walk through the doors, the atmosphere is intense and ineffable. It’s not spoken, but is so incredibly morbid it makes anyone shiver.

Dom felt this, squeezing his sons shoulder as he followed Tom and the doctor, just a pace or so behind them. Having offered to go with Tom, whilst Harrison took Nikki to see the baby, Dom was now feeling just as clueless as his son did. Except he was actually listening to what the doctor was trying to warn them about and it scared him. The three, made it to the door and with a swipe of her ID card the doctor admitted the Holland men in. Gratefully, none of the staff took any notice of who was walking in, they were much too busy for that - Dom was incredibly relieved, had someone recognised Tom when he was in this state, god knows what would’ve happened.

The doctors pace was with purpose, perhaps so that the two couldn’t spend too long ogling the other patients in the beds - who all looked almost unhuman with the amount of tubes and wires coming out and into them. But then, she slowed up, halting infront of a bay about 5 or 6 down the ward. Spinning on her heel and with a subtle nod to momentarily release the nurse from her post at Y/n’s bedside, to give them a bit of privacy, she looked at the two men.

“You can touch her, just be gentle with the wires.”

Shellshocked and terrified, Tom was frozen those 2 metres away from the bed barely able to see her face over all the equipment. Yet undoubtedly, it was his finance’s delicate visage lying on the white pillow, with a thick white mouthpiece and tube covering her mouth and stuffed into her nose. Not able to move, both Dom and Dr Goodwell sensitively waited - it was an adjustment to say the least, seeing someone you knew so well look so different. With quiet tears starting to roll down his eyes, Tom eventually started to inch toward the bedside, taking his time to try and absorb everything of this frankly ridiculous situation. He couldn’t get over how, even considering it all, above her nose it just looked like Y/n. Like she was asleep in their bed, eyes closed as if she had once again fallen asleep infront of a random Netflix movie Tom had bugged her enough to watch in bed. And it was, ever so slightly comforting. That was still her, that was still the love of his life lying there. And she was still alive - which given the last few hours, was enough.

Reaching the bedside, Tom naturally reached out and stroked the top of her head delicately, pulling into place a few rogue strands that seemed to have a mind of their own - she had always hated when her hair got frizzy. The picture had Tom’s mind casting back to their first holiday, a serene if quick few days in Fiji- though Y/n didnt know this , that holiday had been one of the most important times in their relationship for Tom. Until then, given the nature of his job, the couple had only ever managed brief periods together. They spent time together as and when they could in between Tom’s busy schedule but it was never as long as they’d like. Somehow though, he’d managed to squeeze a few days away to surprise Y/n with the trip.

It was everything he’d ever hoped it would be and more. In fact it was then Tom was oh so sure he would be spending the rest of his life with her. This thought crossed his mind on the last morning, when he had for once woken up before Y/n - her head mere cms away from his on the pillow. Just like now, her hair had been all over the place and her sparkling green eyes locked shut. Contrastingly though, in Fiji the sight had made him smile softly; now it just made him cry again.

“Would you like a minute alone Mr Holland? We will just wait outside?” Not even turning round to properly respond to the doctor, Tom just nodded violently, not taking his eyes off his fiancé - waiting till he heard his Dad and the doctor leave the bay; then the curtains be completely drawn to a close, before he shakily cleared his throat to whisper.

“Hey darling… you um-you’ve scared me shitless today… and… and I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the relationship.” Chuckling wetly, Tom clasped his other hand in Y/n’s - still mindful of the IV port coming out of the top of her wrist. Not that he was expecting any sort of response, yet the lack of her squeezing his hand back still had his heart sink. “Look I…I love you so bloody much and I really need you to get better okay? You’ve never listened to me before but I really am begging you to now, I just.” Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes momentarily and delicately rested his forehead on hers - his touch feather light. Just needing to feel her. “I just really need you and I really love you., okay?”

Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a response. The rhetorical question hung in the air alone, safe the mechanical whir of the ventilator and various chimes of the machines and monitor, till his Dad came in. Grasping and squeezing his shoulder lightly, Dom provided the stimulus for his son to unfold from over the bed, standing upright, as both men just took in the sight of Y/n lying there for a minute or two.

“I need her Dad. I-I-“

“I know Tom.” Speaking so quietly it was barely audible, Dom’s eventual agreement at what Tom was saying was in a way a relief. Haz and his mum had both either been saying or implying that they would be okay no matter what - which came from a good place but was so infuriating. Because god forbid, if this situation got worse Tom knew it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. So his Dad’s simple acknowledgment meant a lot, causing Tom to turn round and embrace his slightly shorter father.

Dr Goodwell silently watched the exchange for a short while and once the men eventually pulled away she stepped forward to give some more information. She went through what all the biggest and scary looking tubes and wires were doing for Y/n, before explaining the next steps.

“Now as I said before we are sedating her at the moment, while we wait and see if she gets any complications from the surgery that are better treated while she is asleep. By this afternoon we will have a clearer idea and by that point we may choose to withdraw that sedation. It’s important that you are aware though that she might not wakeup immediately. Sometimes some people that have suffered similarly to your fiancé will be unconscious for a while in what I’d presume you’ve heard of as a ‘coma’. Now it’s not as dramatic as you see on TV shows, it’s just Ms Y/l/n’s brain giving her body a chance to recover. It’s often a longer process, which I know is something you don’t want to hear, but I have to be honest.” The doctor was stern but in a softer and from-a-caring-place. “These patients are suggested to possibly recover quicker if they have a steady support network behind them, which it seems like she does. That means that you need to look after yourself so you can help her sir, especially in what could be a long process. It’s not going to be helpful for Yn if you’re killing yourself trying to be here all the time… It seems like Y/n already has quite a big group of you here for her, so please remember you’ve got all of her care team here and everyone else to help you too….Does that make sense sir?”

“Tom” His Dad, in a gentle but firm warning tone, urged Tom to speak and to listen. Properly listen.

“Yeh… I-yeh It’s just all a lot right now.”

“Of course… and we promise that if anything changes with her condition, you will be phoned straight away. You are welcome to stay as long as you want - the only rules are two at a time, no flowers, sign in and out and then sanitise your hands pretty excessively. If you need anything, Ms Y/l/n’s nurse will be your first port of call.”

“Thanks for everything” Dom nodded in a gracious manner, which the doctor seemed to massively appreciate - apparently, for the job they do not receiving a hell of a lot of thanks.

“I’ll pop back in a little bit.”

And for a couple of hours everything everything felt like a bit of an anticlimax, nothing happened, not a lot changed. Just Tom and Dom sat next to Y/n’s bed in silence; Harrison and Nikki downstairs with the baby, till Dom got a phone call from Nikki asking them to meet at the neonatal unit - which was limited by visitor numbers unlike the ICU. Thinking it’d be simple, the elder man gained Tom’s attention with a call of his name, explaining they should go down to meet up.

“I’m not going down there.”

“Son, I know you’re worried by Y/n isnt going anywhere right now. The doctors said they’d call you if anything happens.”

“It’s not-“ Tom stopped himself, biting his tongue and looking away from his Dad. “I just don’t want to go down there.” Slowly, Dom was more and more realising Tom’s thought process and honestly… it scared him. In the hopes this was just a big misunderstanding he offered a different option - hoping Tom would equally refuse that. Dom suggested going down to the cafe instead, which most unfortunately Tom agreed to. It wasn’t leaving Y/n that was the issue, it was being near the baby.

Tom’s daughter. Unnamed and apparently abondoned by both parents.

Anyhow, Dom resigned to playing into Tom’s choice, perhaps Nikki and Harrison would be able to swing him round, to see sense. It still took Tom getting the nurse to triple check they had his correct number on record , just in case, before Dom could tear him away from the bed. Fortunately the pair found a quiet and secluded corner table, where Tom was still yet to be recognised, while Nikki and Haz found them too.

What followed was Tom answering all his mum and Harrison’s questions about Y/n’s condition, in a blunt and emotionless manner - without Tom returning fire by asking any questions at all about his beautiful little baby girl. Eventually Nikki braved it, someone had to bring it up.

“Well it sounds like littles going to change for a while… maybe you should head home for a bit? You’ve been up half the night and you look shattered love. You don’t have to go back to yours… you could stay in your old room for a bit?” Tom being by himself at the moment sounded like the most incredibly stupid idea ever, Nikki was offering it as a choice - when in reality there was only one option.

“Maybe later this evening I will? Just don’t want to leave her alone yet.”

“It’s already 7 love, you’ve not eaten all day, you got to look after yourself too.” Harrison and Dom sat awkwardly while Nikki tried to delicately encourage Tom into what was the only sensible plan, watching him nurse the small hot choclate in both his palms. Time really had lost all meaning at this point, for him it felt both years since he’d first arrived with Y/n and at the same time barely 10 minutes ago. It felt weird.

“We can take shifts? If-if you want someone with her I mean… I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if it means you head back to your parents.” Harrison really truly didnt mind, in fact he sort of wanted to. He wanted to see Y/n’s face definitely alive, wanted to feel reassured by the monitors. Shockingly, Tom slowly nodded his head, surprising everyone with his lack of argument. None of them could work out whether it was a good thing him not putting up much arguement ; either he was heeding everyones advice of taking care of himself - or he had just given up. Harrison, as much as he didn’t want to, was favouring the latter.

“Okay” Nikki declared optimistically “So maybe you and Harrison go up so you can say good night to Y/n, then we can all go and pick up the baby?” She opened the plan to the floor, allowing for input but got nothing - except maybe Tom’s jaw unconsciously tensing uncomfortable at the latter part of her statement. Dom noticed.

Not one noticed but knew what it meant. His son blamed his granddaughter. His son, right now in that moment, hated the unnamed and totally helpless baby girl.

part 4?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tomholland #tom holland angst

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years

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HELLOOOOO!!! I have a request for Draco x Hufflepuff reader post war where they both go back to Hogwarts to finish their studies and she helps DM move on and accept what happened (maybe get Hermione’s forgiveness) and helps him with his career choice (Healer, which obvs Lucius doesn’t accept) and just them being a very fluffy and lovey couple trying to move on from being in a war and help each other 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 After reading your last fic I HAD to make a request

Acceptance - Draco Malfoy x Reader

There were so many thoughts running in my mind as Draco and I were taking our baby steps back in Hogwarts. It really had been a while since the war happened and I was pretty sure that everyone was still not emotionally settled yet. I felt really refreshed from the small break Draco and I took when we ran away to Malfoy Manor to emotionally, physically, and mentally recover from everything that had happened.

This traumatic event was an experience that really distressed and made us upset. It aroused powerful and disturbing feelings in us which took a while to settle in time. The massive, ultimate war in Hogwarts might be the most chilling event that will ever happen in our lives and I’d like to keep it that way. I wouldn’t want to be a part of another war because whether it would be concerning Harry and the Dark Lord, everyone would still be somehow a part of it all.

The whole situation frightened Draco and I. It caused lots of stress as both of us felt extremely helpless in our own ways. With Draco being used as a puppet for the Death Eaters, he was a boy with no choices in his hands. Then there was me, on the opposite team.

Even if he was on the opposite team, I knew in my heart that the only reason he was with them was that he was choiceless. It wasn’t possible for him to swerve to my side as he was forced to be carried with the most difficult tasks a 17-year-old could ever imagine. I was aware that if he didn’t comply with it, there would be countless serious consequences from the Dark Lord. He and his parent’s lives were at stake. They had to play convincing puppets which was something I couldn’t imagine doing so easily. I had to let these facts slide. This was something Draco loved about me. He called this accepting trait that Hufflepuffs had admirable.

When the war ended, I wanted to immediately drop on my knees and cry. I was too overwhelmed with the fact that the war was finally over. With the team I stood up for one, there was no jumping for joy seen. It was just too depressing. Seeing the castle damaged and familiar faces passed away as they helped fight for the greater good was a sight nobody wanted to be seen celebrating on. There were just so many lifeless bodies around the castle that sickened me to the bone.

What stopped me from crying and dropping to the ground was the strong arms of Draco, wrapping tightly around my body from the back. I could only hold onto his arms, back facing his front as I started whimpering. The silent hug we were having lasted five minutes as Draco whispered into my ears soothing messages, telling me that everything is okay now. But how could it be? Everything was just a disaster. There was no possible way that I could emotionally, mentally, and physically recover from the trauma in the place where I got hurt. Fortunately, Draco coincidentally proposed the idea of retreating back with him and his family to Malfoy Manor. He figured that it would be ideal to take a break from academics from Hogwarts and stay at home for a while and sort our emotions out.

I was still hesitant at first even if a part of me wanted to run away to Malfoy Manor. The feeling of running away from Hogwarts right after the war felt so wrong in many ways. My loyalties were for Hogwarts but walking away from the place I stood up for to go to the home of a person whose loyalties were for the opposite team would have been understood differently, in fact wrongly by others. I was starting to get scared of what they would think of me for doing this. But I had my sense of right and wrong. I knew what was right and wrong but even if they didn’t, I realized that their thoughts couldn’t bother me.

So I comfortably walked away from Hogwarts, knowing that I would be back.

It was just a bit difficult for everyone at Malfoy Manor. Of course, it was understandable for us to feel shocked, numb, and unable to accept what has happened. I and Draco had emotionless days and sleepless nights. We attempted trying to comfort each other but were just both stunned and dazed that there were times where we cut off from their feelings and what was going around us.

While I laid down in bed, looking up at the ceilings above me, trying my best to concentrate on sleeping, there was Draco who actually fell asleep. But with every sleep he could get, he would wake up every night, from the constant terrifying nightmares that felt so real and lifelike. It would give him headaches, giving him a hard time thinking clearly when he was around his parents.

But when it was time for me and Draco to continue our remaining time in Hogwarts, it was difficult for him to accept that he had to return to school, the place where he left horrible memories. He at first strongly refused to continue his studies. It made his parents, especially his father, enraged. Lucius had to lecture him on why it would be wrong to discontinue his education. For him, it would be seen as a disgrace to the family name if they allowed him to stop. But for me, I wanted him to continue, well for different reasons. I didn’t care if it would be a disgrace. I believed it was for the greater good of everything. I believed that if he wanted to have a clean slate, he would return to Hogwarts and face the music, ready to rebuild himself as he and I continued the remaining time we had there.

The first few weeks were unimaginable and very hard to forget. Draco was certainly uncomfortable and was so close to facing the ground every time he had to leave his dorms. I was the only person in his life that was able to place his chin up and erase all the looks people gave him in his sight. Helping him transform into a different person through his actions really sparked a change in him. He was willing to be different, it was just challenging for people to see it. I felt like some people had a tricky time figuring if this was temporary or permanent. But when time allowed itself to be apart of Draco’s change, there were more people that believed in his transformation. This made Draco feel so much better in himself. There were fewer stink eyes shooting at him, making Hogwarts feel like a happier and safe environment for everyone to be in.

There was just one particular person that couldn’t see eye to eye with the new Draco. That was, of course, Hermione Granger. It had to be her. Not Harry, not Ron, but her. Harry and Ron were more forgiving with Draco. Sure, it took a while for them to see the change, but Draco was really surprised that the two were quicker to forgive him compared to Hermione. The damages he’d dropped on Hermione were far worse. That was one of the reasons why it was quicker for Harry and Ron to forgive him and longer for Hermione to understand and let it go.

Hermione Granger. She was that one person that Draco awfully tortured for years. She was different from Harry and Ron. She was a Muggleborn. A No-Maj. A nonwizard. The kind that purebloods like Draco despised the most.

But since he wanted to move on, Draco asked me to support him with what he had in mind with Hermione. I without a doubt gladly supported him. He was a little nervous but that was really understandable. He was going to talk to the person he despised for her status!

I brought Hermione along with Harry and Ron to the Black Lake, where Draco was patiently waiting for us. If I wasn’t second-guessing, I could see how Draco started breathing in and out so quickly as we walked towards him. There was fear in his eyes while there was a glint of anger in Hermione’s.

She crossed her arms, standing in front of Draco. It was silent at first. I was guessing that she assumed Draco would first speak up but after waiting for a few minutes she was the first.

“Well, what is it, Malfoy?”

I really wanted to hold Draco’s hand tightly and nudge him in the shoulders but he had to do this on his own. I just needed to be a spectator, merely watching from the sidelines.

He sighed at first, looking down at the ground. But when he looked up, there was more confidence in his body language. I could feel it. I don’t know what made him feel less nervous about it. I was glad something helped him.

“Hermione Granger,” he stated clearly as it was the first time in his life to call her by her first name which widened her and Harry and Ron’s eyes, mine too, “It’s about time you heard that… I want to give you my most sincere apology for the actions I have done over the last years. With the bullying, tormenting, slurs, and insults, the damage strokes you painfully in so many different ways, meanings, and levels. I do not have any excuse for all the things that I have done for you. I would have been powerless, scared, and about to give life up if I was in your shoes. I never really had the chance to figure out how life would be if I was in your place. Thinking about it now made me realize how painful life must have been for you. I was deeply ashamed of my actions and I believe that this apology is not enough for everything that has happened the minute I met you. If I could turn back time, I would do it without second-guessing and fix things the minute we all entered our first years. It would be hard convincing my past self to change but for you, Harry, and Ron, I would give my best to start things fresh. Knowing that I can’t before, I hope at the bottom of my heart that today can be the start of a new beginning. A new beginning for friendships and hope. I’d be the luckiest man on earth to start a clean relationship with you all, along with my girlfriend Y/N who has been the most accepting, loyal, and dedicated person that I have ever met in my life.”

And that speech impacted the lives of the Golden Trio. It was a surprise for me to see Hermione quite moved. Just when Draco ended his speech, he started breaking down slowly. There were tears unhurriedly flowing from his eyes. I started rubbing his back, about to hug him until Hermione slowly walked towards him more, opening her arms to hug him. She patted his back and there was a small smile on her face growing. It was something I wanted to capture in my head for life.

Draco was astonished by her hug. He stopped shedding his tears to look up, looking at me with a hopeful smile. I gave him a reassuring nod as I smiled with happiness. He didn’t hug back at first. Maybe it was because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. But somehow, he changed his mind and hugged her back.

“Draco,” Hermione said pulling away, “You’re forgiven. Thank you for this.”

He nodded in respect as Hermione turned to me, now hugging me. She whispered in my ear that I was lucky to have someone who was willing to change for the better and she told me to continue being the light in his eyes. I was really honored by this, it was really nice to hear from someone else’s mouth that I was somewhat an inspiration to Draco.

With a big accomplishment completed, Draco and I celebrated by spending the entire night ahead of us by wasting ourselves away with stashed liquor that the Slytherins managed to hide in their dorms. We didn’t want to cause a mess in the common room so we stayed in his dorm, dancing, drinking, and talking from the bottom of our hearts.

The conversations we had were so light and easy. It mainly revolved around how happy he was that Hermione forgave him that he could jump off the Astronomy Tower with the biggest cheer he can do. Me, being the drunkest I’ve ever been, told him that doing a flip would have been better but it would be hard to heal him since Madam Pomfrey would have snitched on us if she knew the real reason to his injury.

That was when the conversation changed.

“Speaking of healing,” he spoke, “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, have decided to pursue being a Healer as my career choice after Hogwarts.” he proudly said.

“Well, Draco LUCIUS Malfoy,” I laughed, “You better owl your father LUCIUS about your decision. We all know how he expects you to take a job in the Ministry, so better start writing him a letter.”

Draco nodded in agreement, trying to get his balance and walk over to his desk to grab a parchment and quill. As he was writing, I walked over to him, watching him write. From what I remembered, I could see him write that he wanted to meet with his parents in Hogsmeade tomorrow. It didn’t say anything much but that he wanted to talk about his future.

Right after that, he carried me to his bed and we snuggled until we fell asleep.

We could barely remember what exactly happened the night before. Draco groaned, waking up with a serious headache. That resulted in me waking up right after him. I looked over to him as he was groaning in pain. Hugging him, he placed kisses on my neck as he asked me if I remembered him failing to jump off the Astronomy Tower. Before I could reply, his eyes widened.

I looked over to where he was looking and we were both looking at the mail that was recently brought in by his owl. Knowing who he sent it to, he jumped off from his bed as he quickly opened it. I hopped off as well, peeking at the letter. Draco started muttering, ‘Oh no’s’ as he read the final phrase at the end of the letter which was ‘We will see you at 11 o’clock in the morning.’ We only had one hour to freshen ourselves.

Draco told me to run back to my common room as he started looking for his black suit to wear. When I returned to my dorms, all I could feel was nerves, running through my body. I wasn’t the one who was about to meet my intimidating parents but I couldn’t stop thinking about every possible consequence as I started remembering why he wrote the letter.

Making our way to the Three Broomsticks, all I could do was hold Draco’s hand tightly, trying to squeeze out the tension in his system. He wasn’t exactly prepared with a speech the way he was with Hermione. But I constantly told him on the trip out of the castle that speaking from the heart would be our best and only option. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have that as the only option. That way, you can train yourself to truly speak what you want.

It was just unfortunate that Lucius and Narcissa arrived earlier than us and reserved our seats. Seeing how uncomfortable they looked considering this was not their choice of the venue wanted to make Draco turn around and forget about the plan. But I twisted him around and gave him a serious look. “Draco,” I said, “We need to get this over with. It’s now or never.”

Draco thought that he could open up the conversation by conversing about light subjects such as how classes have been going for us and how his grades seemed to be improving as he caught up with most of the things he’s been missing. But Lucius grew impatient from this. He did not leave his Manor to go all the way to Three Broomsticks just for a small chit chat as that could have been done through mailing.

So he stopped Draco from talking.

“Son, I believe you have a better reason for calling us here. You should get to it already, time mustn’t be wasted,” he demanded.

Draco turned to me, looking for the same reassuring eyes I always gave him. I squeezed his thigh under the table, signaling that he could do this. As he felt it, he took a deep breath and looked back at his father.

“Father, when I graduate, I intend on being a healer. This is something I’m not asking from you but-”

“No Malfoy has even been a healer, Draco. You know that. I thought we already discussed you carrying the family name and joining me in the Ministry? Don’t be absurd, Draco. You should know better.” Lucius sneered.

“Perhaps it’s time for a change, Lucius.” Narcissa pleaded.

“Father, could you please hear me out?”

I could feel that Lucius wanted to stand up and leave but he didn’t. Seeing the sadness in Draco’s eyes, he decided to stay where he was sitting and let Draco out.

“So be it.”

Draco exhaled in relief as his shoulders started to loosen up.

“Father, I’m not asking your permission for me to be a healer. This is something that I have been thinking about for so long and I plan on doing it. There’s a deep meaning behind this particular line of work. With everything that has happened recently in our lives, we were all damaged, I was damaged and to be a healer, is something that would make me feel better about everything that we left behind. To heal someone, to restore, to put someone back on their feet, to put someone on the road to recovery, to alleviate the pain and things people have gone through, don’t you think that means something? To me, to Y/N, and to you both? I want to change my, father and to do so is to start something different in our lives. Change is good for everyone and I think you should consider doing the same.”

“If I may,” I inserted myself, “I agree with Narcissa and Draco. Change can teach us to adapt and help us develop resilience, but only if we understand our own capacity for growth and learning. Luckily for Draco, he completely understands his own capacity for expansion and learning. Change makes us better because we have learned how to turn a challenging situation to our own advantage not merely because change happens. I believe in Draco and I think we should put more faith in him.”

“Are you saying I don’t, Ms. Y/L/N?” Lucius asked.

“Oh, no-”

“Good, thank you for your input. I suggest you can leave it things from there,” he said, giving a small yet cold smile on his face.

I didn’t think it was wrong for me to stand up for Draco but I didn’t really have a place in the conversation. So, I stood up, making my way out of the booth. Draco pulled me back with a longing expression on his face but I let go, “It’s okay Draco. I really didn’t really have the right to place myself in the conversation. I’ll be outside.” I turned around and walked away quickly enough for Draco to have no time in replying back.

It was just unfortunate for me not to hear what would happen next the minute I left. Apparently, there were really good things happening after my leave. Lucius was really amused by what I had to say. He found it really striking of me to defend the person I was loyal to, which was Draco. Despite being in a house he did was not really fond of, he always took a liking in me ever since Draco introduced me as his girlfriend. I didn’t have the cunning and ambitious traits that he wanted for Draco’s girlfriend but he was intrigued by my values in hard work, dedication, and strong moral code.

“She’s good for you, Draco.” Lucius finally spoke, “I like her.”

“Then why did you send her out?” Are you mad?”

“So I could offer you my blessings if you ever planned on asking for her hand in marriage.” he nonchalantly said, turning to a smirking Narcissa.

“I’ll only take your blessing if you don’t mind me taking a job as a healer. If not, I’m going to marry her without any of you being there.”

“Very well, son. She’s a keeper after all. Take care of her and don’t let her slip through your hands.” Lucius and Narcissa stood up, signaling for Draco to do the same. He shook Draco’s hands while Narcissa opened for a motherly hug as she whispered, “I love you, Draco.”

As Lucius and Narcissa walked out of the Three Broomsticks, they bumped into me as I was literally waiting in front of the entrance. Narcissa placed a hand on my shoulder, making me turn around to face them. I didn’t know which expression to wear on my face as they stood in front of me without a word. It was only until Narcissa started smiling warmly as she rubbed my shoulder.

“I’m excited to be seeing more of you, Y/N,” she said, trying to contain her joy. I was really confused because I left the booth when it was really tense. But they came out really calmly. Lucius looked at Narcissa with a warning look as he saw how confused I was. Then he looked at me and nodded, “Y/N.” I awkwardly nodded back till Draco arrived, wrapping an arm around me as he was surprised to see his parents still there.

“Mother, father,” he said, “See you soon.” Then they smiled and started walking away.

I turned to Draco with a puzzled look, “How did the conversation soothe itself with me gone?”

“Let’s just say I healed the conversation.” I shot my eyes at him with sparks of joy and jumped. “Merlin’s beard! Did you? Did he? He’s okay with it?”

Draco chuckled as he planted a kiss on my forehead and wrapped his arms on my neck now. “I am so happy for you, love. Why don’t we celebrate?”

“Anything but drinking.”

“Okay,” I smirked, “Shall we go and jump off the Astronomy Tower? You know, start practicing your magical healer hands?”

“I suppose we can do that.” he playfully said as he motioned for the two of you to start walking. “I’ll do whatever you want. As long as I’m with you.”

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nightashes · 5 years

Text

We’re Monster. Isn’t It Fun - Chapter 2

Previous - Masterlist - Next

A/N: So I decided to turn this into a mini series. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Spiders. Poisonous Plants. Slight unsympathetic Roman (pre-AA sdes).

Summary: Remus demands an apology. Things go downhill from there.

AO3

“The light sides are here” Virgil says as he cups a spider close to his ear, listening carefully. The little arachnid’s legs brush gently against his face in affection. “They’re in the meadow.”

Remus bubbles up from the lake, his tentacles splayed out around him as he watches his brother sitting on the shore, surrounded by his spidey brethren. The ones in the trees behind Virgil are weaving a web, creating a halo effect around the brooding dark side. “That’s still their territory, Vee Vee. Just ignore those dorks. Unless you were planning on giving them a scare!”

“We can’t leave the forest, Remus.” Virgil speaks softly as he watches the spider crawl from one hand to the next. The huntsman’s tan coloring making his skin seem paler by comparison.

“Didn’t stop them that one time.” Remus spits out a large spray of water. Watching his brother and the spiders on the shore hiss in agitation. Virgil’s fangs flash at the rancid octopus in the lake.

“Remus!! You know I don’t like water!” He hisses as darkness swarms around him in warning.

“Chill, bro bro. Hey, maybe we can lure them back in here. I found a new poisonous mushroom in the Death Cave! Won’t that be hilarious if we could trick them into eating it.”

“Oh so they can call us monsters again!”

“Ugh! Why do you even care! We are monsters, Vee!” The water rolls off of the foul side as he stands. His tentacles fading away to reveal his human limbs. He bounces over to his brother’s side. The spiders scurrying away to make room. Virgil looks up at his brother.

“I know we are, Ree. I just… The way they said it. It hurt.”

Remus purses his lips in thought. His eyes glinting with something dark and venomous. “Virgil.” He kneels in front of the shadowling. “Those morons wouldn’t know a poison from a venom. Let alone a monster from a villain.”

He takes his brothers hands in his own. “Vee Vee, what they said was wrong.”

Virgil pulls his hand back with a shrug. “I… We scared them. And apparently that hurt them. Maybe we are villains. It’s probably best if we just stay away from each other.”

“Well, that’s a load of bull. If you think we hurt them, then obvs. we should apologize!”

“What? Remus!” Virgil calls in shock as Remus stands from his crouching position. Remus ignores his cry. He stomps off through the woods, only slowing down long enough to shout over his shoulder. “C’mon slow poke. We got some groveling to do!”

Virgil scrambles after him. “Remus, are you crazy? It’s been like five years! They’re gonna think we’re insane.”

“I am INSANE!” Remus chuckles back unperturbed.

“But. But… Remus, we can’t just walk up to them out of nowhere!”

“Sure, we can! I always appear from out of nowhere!”

“Remus, But they’re in their territory! We can’t leave the forest. Unless you plan on yelling at them from the forest’s edge!”

“Nuh-uh. Apologies are done face-to-face. You taught me that! Remember when I ate your hemlock and Dee insisted I plant you a new one, But I couldn’t seem to make it grow right and you didn’t speak to me for a whole month. Not until I apologized face-to-face. And then you helped me plant an Audrey II that I had created!” Remus rambles on. He pauses as if a thought had just struck. Softly he continues. “You know that’s one of my favorite memories.” Remus sighs fondly as Virgil walks silently beside him. His eyes widening in awe as he stares up at his brother.

“Remus…” He whispers gently.

“Now, c’mon, Vee! You’re moving too slow.” Remus turns grabbing Virgil’s hand. “We’ve got an apology to say!” He says, picking up pace, pulling Virgil along as the two pre-teen sides travel through the forest.

Remus breaks out into song, a Rick Roll, completely unconcerned with Virgil’s mini crisis. The shadowling walking numbly beside him, trying to figure out how insane this is going to seem. The thoughts racing through his head, wishing for a way out. But Remus was determined. And it was impossible to get the Duke to change his mind once he was set on a course.

The forest edge appears. Virgil’s heart begins to race. A smile breaks out onto Remus’s face. The creative side not even slowing as they enter into the light sides territory. Leaving the shadows of the forest behind. Virgil flinches as the sun hits his face. Remus spots the light sides sitting on a picnic blanket across the meadow. The two light sides staring in shock. Their jaws wide open. Patton sitting beside Roman. An arm wrapped around his shoulders. And Roman. Roman sat there with red puffy eyes. Oh no… Something was wrong. This was not a good time.

Warning bells rang in Virgil’s head. Roman had been crying. They shouldn’t be here right now. Remus didn’t even seem to notice. He dropped Virgil’s hand, waving over to the light sides.

“Well, helloooooo, lighties!” He loudly proclaims. Striding across the meadow to meet them at their picnic.

“Ummm… Hi.” Patton speaks hesitantly.

“Lighties?” Roman questions, offended. “What are you two doing here? Did Dee tell you too. Come to rub it in?”

“Rub it in that I’m great at apologies? Sure! Virgil and I are sorry we scared you all those years ago. Who knew some people don’t like being scared? I thought it was pretty funny! But I guess it’s been bothering Vee Vee. So here.” Remus waves his hand through the air. And a small potted deadly nightshade appears in his hand. “For you. It’s super poisonous!” Remus shoves it towards them. A wide cheshire grin on his face.

“Oh.. That’s great. Um.. Thanks, Remus for this.”

Patton hesitantly takes the plant. Roman remains silent beside him. A thousand emotions crossing his face. None of which Virgil can read.

He shuffles forward to stand beside Remus. “Hey. We are sorry. And I know it’s been awhile but like it was crappy. And I felt bad for making Patton cry. So yeah...”

Patton smiles tentatively up at Virgil.

“Okay, now your turn, Roman. “ Remus announces proudly.

Patton stares at the dark sides. “His turn?”

“Uhhh. Yeah! We apologized. Now you have to say your sorry for hurting Vee Vee’s feelings. Where’s the adult one? He should say sorry too.”

Roman seems to snap out of his stupor at that. Standing up to face off with Remus. “We hurt his feelings. You guys mortified us! We were little kids!”

“Yeah. yeah. We already covered that.” Remus waves him off. “Now it’s your turn.”

“For what exactly!”

A dark expression crosses Remus’s face. Stepping onto the plaid blanket he stalks up to Roman until he is inches away. Noses almost touching. “You made him feel bad for being a monster. Apologize now or I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.” He speaks quickly with a menace Virgil didn’t know he was capable of.

“I made him feel bad for being a monster? You do realize how that sounds?” Roman seems to be unable to control his voice as it warbles. His fist shaking. “I… I don’t care what Logan says. You are not my brother!” His voice raises in volume until he is shouting.

The dark sides stand their silent. Staring. Remus begins chuckling. Bending over as he clutches his sides. His laughter rising to histeria. “YOUR BROTHER? Oh that’s rich.” He giggles out. Wiping away a tear. “Obviously that’s a lie. And we would now.”

“Logan doesn’t lie.”

“He’s telling the truth. “ Patton speaks up. Setting aside the plant as he stands beside the two arguing sides. “Logan told us that he wasn’t our real Dad and that the only sides that are related in any way are you two.”

“Welp. He lied. Me and Vee our bros. And our Dad is Deceit and he’s awesome.” Remus shakes his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh c’mon. You really think that Deceit is the honest one in this situation!”

“Listen, Remus, you’re creativity right.” Patton breaks in.

“You bet your kneecaps I am.’

“Well so is Roman. You are both Thomas’s creativity.”

Virgil stands this listening. Listening to the light sides claiming that his family isn’t his family. That his brother isn’t his brother. He grinds his teeth.

“NO! No no no! That’s wrong. This is wrong. Why? No! Why would Thomas have two creativities? That makes no sense.” He rambles venomously. His fangs flashing in the sunlight.

“Hey! Back off. We’re telling the truth.“ Roman bites back. “You think I want to be related to that.” He gestures to Remus. Remus who is staring daggers at Roman. But before he can follow through Virgil shoves at Roman.

“Don’t you dare.” He growls out. His voice low and dark. The darkness of the forest leaching into his words. As the smoke of fear pours out of his mouth. “You do not get to speak to him like that!” Roman stares in horror as the smoke reaches out for him. Whispering his deepest fears into his ears.

Patton shoves Roman away from the smoke. “Stop it! Stop fighting. We can all talk about this like civilized sides. Thomas does have two creativities. The creativity he sees as good and umm…” He trails off.

“The creativity he sees as bad?” Virgil finishes. His teeth bared.

“No. That’s umm.. It’s not like that.”

“Patton. Don’t lie. It’s exactly like that. We’re the light sides because we are good. And you.. You guys are dark sides. You hurt Thomas. You hold him back.”

“Roman!” Patton chastises.

Virgil growls. Full on lunging after Roman. His fingers reaching towards him. Tentacles wrap around Virgil, jerking him back. Pulling him away. Remus holds him tightly in a hug. Whispering into his ear.

“Virgil, calm down. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“Let me go!!” He shouts, struggling against the sinewy muscle

"I love you, Vee. I don’t want you to regret scaring them. So this time I’m stopping you.”

Virgil relaxes in his grip. His breath heavy and his face wet with tears. The tentacles retracting back into arms as Remus lowers him to the ground. “You good, bro?”

Virgil says nothing.

“Vee Vee, you are my bro. No matter what anyone says.”

The shadowling looks up at the eldritch abomination. A watery smile on his face. Launching himself into his brother's arms, Virgil squeezes him tightly. “I love you, Ree.”

“Awww.” Patton coos behind them. Virgil flinches at the sound, withdrawing from the hug in embarrassment. Remus, however, grabs onto Virgil’s hand, refusing to be separated completely.

“You hurt Vee Vee five years ago. Apologize and we’ll leave.”

“Fine. We’re sorry. Now get out of our territory.” Roman’s voice is cold.

“I… I didn’t know we hurt you too. I’m sorry. I guess it was just a real bad first impression. But you two don’t have to leave. We can work this out.”

“Patton, they’re villains.”

“No. We should go. Dee will be wondering where we are. And we really aren’t supposed to be here. C’mon, Remus.” Virgil pulls his brother along.

“Well, come back sometime. We can talk.” Patton calls after their retreating backs.

Virgil scoffs. Not even turning. How could they work something out? They were just too different.

“Hey, Vee. Do you want to see Audrey II. She’s gotten really big.”

“Sure thing, bro.” At least, Virgil still had his brother.

taglist: @stop-it-anxiety @rainboots-are-for-snobs @hexatrash

#sanders sides #spiders tw #sander sides #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #My writing

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scottybrock · 5 years

Text

Arzaylea Who? - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a beautiful anon: “If you feel comfortable would you be able to write something about this whole situation colbys going through, but he actually has a gf already but no one knows about her and maybe the whole thing is just colby curving arzaelya (i don’t know her name tbh) and not wanting to talk to her because he loves his gf (you obvs dont have to write it, but I just thought it would be cool)”

Colby usually had quite a good judge of character, but he really missed the mark on this one. This one being none other than Arzaylea. You had heard some things about Arzaylea. Things that were pretty bad- like she’d supposedly gotten the lead singer of the band 5 Seconds of Summer hooked on cocaine. That she’d cheated on every single partner she had. That she tried to profit off of Lil Peep’s death, and how truly manipulative she really was. Her beef with Bella Thorne. The evidence was there, and it was impossible to ignore.

You respected your boyfriend’s decisions normally, respected that he was his own person. After all, he was a twenty-two year old man, who didn’t need anyone to handle him with kid gloves. But this? This wasn’t good. Colby had a heart of gold. His generosity and his kindness knew no bounds, and that’s what made you the most nervous.

You knew that this Arzaylea chick, when she got too comfortable, would try to drain Colby dry. Half of his fanbase had already tried to warn him, but Colby was the type of person to give someone the benefit of the doubt. You, however, were not. Things just seemed too fishy; she seemed almost too nice. She also seemed just about ready to ride Colby’s dick for another five minutes of fame, but that could’ve just been your inner green monster talking.

However, you knew that it was something that Colby would have to experience himself. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, wanting to believe that people could change for the better. You had a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, that she was going to dry and suck Colby dry. You appreciated the fans trying to warn Colby, and you knew that he did as well. What neither of you appreciated, was the fans calling him stupid, or a dumb ass. He was neither of those. He was the kindest, most generous person you’d ever met. He wasn’t stupid. He saw everything, but he wanted to hope for the best, for everyone.

It infuriated you, that the fans were calling Colby names in earnest. You shook your head when you thought about it. If Colby was their “fave,” then why would the Twitter stans want to hurt him? Why would they want him to feel like less than what he actually was? Colby was one of the best people you’d ever met, and it broke your heart to see him treated like he wasn’t a human being.

The two of them were standing in one corner of the kitchen. Colby kept glancing at you, offering soft smiles and subtle winks. You grinned back at him, tossing him an overdramatic wink, making him snicker quietly. The thing was, you weren’t intimidated by the clout-chaser standing in front of your boyfriend. You knew that if Colby wanted someone else, he wouldn’t be with you. The thing that bothered you was that it was obvious that she was just going to use him, just like she did with her previous partners.

Katrina and Tara glanced over at you, rolling their eyes at Arzaylea’s theatrics, the way she seemed to be permanently glued to Colby’s side. You, Devyn, Kat, and Tara had met up for dinner the night before, and the topic of what Arzaylea did, allegedly. The four of you agreed that none of you were her biggest fan. Katrina had informed you that Sam wasn’t a fan of Arzaylea, either. He could see that she was using Colby, just like she did to her previous partners.

Unfortunately for her, you were Colby’s girlfriend. He loved you, wanted you, and no one else. The fans had no idea that you were dating Colby, but you had been with him for almost two years. Colby wanted to keep the relationship a secret, because he was terrified about what his fans would do. He knew that you would get waves and waves of hate, from some of his more, uh, self-proclaimed future girlfriends of his. You agreed to keep the relationship a secret. You were ready when he was, content to go with the flow.

The two of you weren’t into PDA. Subtle touches and sweet smiles from across the room was enough for you. You didn’t want to be one of those couples who was all over each other, even in front of your friends. Much to your amusement, some of your friends had no idea that you and Colby were dating.

You wandered over to the two of them, offering Arzaylea a frosty smile. She smiled back at you just as frostily. Well, at least you think she did. Her face contorted into a weird grimace. It looked like she was holding in a fart.

Colby’s expression brightened just at the sight of you. He stepped away from Arzaylea, holding his arms out for you. You stepped into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his chin on the top of your head, his lips brushing against you softly. “Hey, baby,” Colby murmured, his voice soft and sweet. You nuzzled your face affectionately into the soft material of his hoodie. “Hey,” You replied, your voice muffled from where your face was nuzzled against him.

Colby gave your waist a gentle squeeze, then dropped his arms from around you. “I’m gonna go get another drink,” He told you. You nodded in response, then stood up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his jaw. Colby’s cheeks flushed, and he smiled at you happily. His eyes never left your face as he walked away, nearly running into the fridge, much to your amusement. You watched as he walked away, a soft smile on your face as you ignored the sound of the clout-gobblin clearing her throat in front of you.

“You’re a lucky girl,” Arzaylea smirked at you, her eyes twinkling with ill-intent. Your expression turned into one of smugness, and you raised an eyebrow at her. “I sure am,” You replied. Arzaylea scowled briefly at your confidence, but then rearranged her features back into the fart-smile. “It’d be a shame if someone were to change that.” It was her turn to look at you, her expression smug. She lifted her cup to her mouth, trying to hide the smug smile on her lips

You simply smacked the cup out of her hands, smirking as the red liquid sloshed all over her over-priced white shirt. Arzaylea’s eyes widened in horror as the sticky red liquid spread across the front of her shirt. You swore you heard the sound of faint laughter behind you. You leaned in closer, ignoring the daggers she was glaring at you, as she tried to dab at the red stains on her stupidly priced white shirt. Your smirk widened. “Stay in your damn lane, honey.”

#colby brock #sam and colby #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #cole robert brock #xplr #traphouse

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tintinwrites · 5 years

Text

tonight | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Six (The End)

A/N: I told you this was loosely based on West Side Story, didn’t I?

Rating: T

Warning: Character (?) death. Naughty language.

Word count: 2,332, apparently!!

Summary: You, a First Order officer, and Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance, are drawn to each other from the moment you meet. Very loosely based on West Side Story, which is obvs based on Romeo and Juliet.

Masterlist

GIF credit: I have no idea, but it’s not mine.

Tags: @yana-versio @bobateaandchocolatepudding @yeeterbenjaminparker @aroseamongthestars @unicorntrooper @helaintoloki @marvelous-revengers @moonflowersandsparkles @myrabbitholetoneverland @ayysexual-armitage @kaliforniacoastalteens

You knew exactly where you were and who you were with when you woke up in the morning, having dreamed of it all night so your mind wouldn't let you forget.

The hum you gave was as happy as it was sleepy, and you rolled over in search of the man you'd spent the night with. Your hand met wrinkled sheets that were warm enough to tell you someone had been laying there not too long ago.

You opened one eye, then the other one, finding Poe standing near the bed and putting his clothes on.

His gaze met yours the moment you looked at him and he grinned, moving to lean across the bed so he could give you a sweet kiss.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." You stretched and put your hand to the rough stubble on his cheek.

He gave you another quick kiss and pulled away, continuing to get dressed.

You rolled onto your back and, suddenly aware of your chest bared to the world as you watched him put on more and more clothes, pulled the sheet up to cover yourself. "What are you setting out to do?"

"I called for reinforcements." He could see the slightly panicked look on your face out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry, one of them's Finn. I want to make sure nothing happens on the way back to base, you know? I gotta go meet up with them and let them know what the plan is." He sat at the edge of the bed, tugging his boots on.

"I should come." You moved to get out of the bed.

"I don't think so." He looked at you, his brow slightly furrowed with concern. "It could be dangerous. I want you to wait by my ship around back until I come to get you, got it?"

"Got it," you submitted easily because you would be pretty angry if you came all this way to fuck it up at the last minute by walking around like the First Order might not be looking for you.

He gave you another kiss and then another. "I'm gonna be ten minutes tops. Then I'm coming back to get you, we fly out of here, and if all goes well, you're a member of the Resistance."

You smiled, watching him walk to the door and cautiously walk out, shutting it with a soft click. There was no sound of a struggle or anything, so you laid back down for a moment.

You were so happy to have Poe and to be gaining your freedom, but you were a little scared now that it was really happening.

It would be worth it when you had him and the galaxy all to yourself.

Perhaps the First Order didn't consider you important enough to go after anyway, and the trip would be entirely normal.

You decided you may as well get dressed rather than lay there doing nothing.

After putting your clothes on and tightly securing your boots, you carefully made your way out of the room and around the hotel. There was a ship model you'd never seen before, big enough for more than two if a handful of people needed to squish in there for some reason.

You ran your hand over the worn metal, wondering if the Resistance had the ship for a long time or if it was gotten secondhand.

"The First Order would never own something so broken and pitiful." That thought had been running through your head, but you heard it in General Hux's voice.

Eyes widening, you spun around to see him standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, and you stumbled into the side of the ship.

"Are you truly afraid of me?" He asked incredulously as if he hadn't threatened you before and as if you didn't know how cruel he was. "Why would I ever hurt you?"

"I...I..." You wanted to say because he cared about nothing more than power, because you knew you didn't matter, but you were too terrified to lash out at him.

"You didn't think any less of us until he put ideas into your head. What did he ask for in return for saving you?" It almost seemed like he knew every detail of what you'd been doing with Poe, like he had known about this all along and had been listening in somehow. "Hm? Your innocence?" The look on your face changed enough to tell him he was correct. "Oh, and you gave it to him, didn't you? Foolish girl. You were warned all your life about those scum! They're selfish creatures who act based on their primal urges."

"They aren't," you managed to say with a little bite, though your eyes still held absolute fear in them.

"You were being manipulated from the moment he laid eyes on you." Hux had slowly been advancing towards you, distracting you with his hurtful words. "And you gave into it like a desperate whore."

"You sure about that, Hugs?" A new, familiar voice had you both looking over to see Poe standing there with his blaster at the ready. "Or are you thinking of yourself? I don't really get off on manipulating girls like you do."

Before either of you could even blink, Hux grabbed your arm and yanked you to his side, shoving his own blaster against your ribs. "I dare you to take a shot, scum."

Poe was visibly worried about your well-being, but he kept his composure like the professional he was. "If you think I'm afraid to kill you, guess again."

"I believe I should do the killing. Rid the galaxy of such a nuisance."

"Let her go and live a normal life, and you can kill me in whatever way you want to."

"No!"

Hux smirked at your protest and mulled over the idea despite the fact that he had intended to turn it down with a laugh at first. "Is that so?" He hummed. "I could always just kill you both."

Poe tightened his grip on his blaster; he didn't dare to shoot in fear that the man who held you would react too quickly and you would pay for his attack. "I don't think your mom would be very proud of you for that. Whoever she is."

You could feel Hux's anger as he held in your arm in a bruising grip.

"I advise you not to mention subjects which you know nothing about!"

"Did I hit a little nerve? Maybe you should kill me for it."

Poe was giving you these looks of I'm distracting him, run, and you might have had a chance to shove your ex-general away and take cover behind the ship while they fought.

But both men had equal chances of winning, and if Hux managed to get the perfect shot in first...you couldn't leave Poe to die when you were the reason he was doing any of this. He was doing this to save you.

"Don't kill him," you whispered, looking away from Poe's frustrated, begging gaze.

"Perhaps I will."

"You keep saying that, but you're not doing anything to me. Thinking about your mom and how disappointed she is?" Poe seemed to struggle slightly with mentioning moms and disappointment in one sentence.

"You are treading a dangerous line, rebel!"

"I don't know, maybe you're just more sensitive than you let on, Hugs."

"That's enough!"

"You're just a regular mama's boy."

A shot went off and the look on Poe's face changed from false smugness to absolute horror.

Your pain was hardly anything at first, before it bloomed into a sharp burning so intense that you were slumping in Hux's grip.

He released you and backed away to let you fall to the ground, looking at you in shock at his own actions.

Poe lowered his blaster for a moment. "No, no, no! You said you would kill me!" The desperation in his yells would have broken your heart if you weren't struggling to catch your breath in between surges of pain.

"I...believe I just did." Hux's voice was as surprised as his face, and perhaps there was a hint of self-reproach somewhere beneath his tone. He looked up in time to see Poe lifting his blaster again. He dodged a shot expertly and ran off around the building, leaving the pilot firing uselessly at a target that wasn't there.

"Damn it! Y/N?" He was on his knees beside you, dropping his blaster to the dirt. "Fuck, baby, let me look at you."

It wasn't as if you could stop him from pulling you closer.

He tugged at your shirt, trying to get the best look he could at your wound.

"It's not..." He hesitated. "It's not bad. If we can get you back to the Resistance, we have really good med droids that can patch you right up."

"It hurts." You grabbed onto his shirt as you searched for any sort of comfort.

"Hey, Poe?" Finn, BB-8, and a few pilots had stepped around the corner of the building, having been told by Poe not to intervene unless he gave them a signal. Finn only had to survey the situation for a second before he realized what had happened in connection with the commotion he could hear, and he quickly held his arms out to keep the pilots back.

"I know it hurts, but I gotta get you in my ship so we can get out of here." He slid one arm under your legs and the other under your back, starting to lift you.

"I can't!" Your cry of pain made him quickly set you back down, though he hadn't even lifted you an inch off of the ground.

"You can. It's gonna hurt for just a few seconds and then you can lay down."

"Poe, I can't." You emphasized that word with meaning that he could easily understand, tears in your eyes.

"No, baby, you can't give up on me. I have to show you the galaxy. I'm gonna show you every single thing, all the things you don't know to ask for."

You released his shirt with some effort, spreading your palm to feel his heartbeat quick against your hand. "You've shown me more than I could ever dream of. I didn't know there was so much..." You smiled, and winced, and looked up at him with questioning eyes. "What does love feel like, Poe?"

Your question seemed to surprise him in the current moment, and he gave a soft, teary laugh in his confusion. "I don't know, kid."

"I think...it feels like you." You pressed your hand harder into his chest, struggling to feel the hard beating even though you knew it was there. "Selfless. Caring. Warm. You are made up of nothing but love."

"I'm sorry." He lowered his tear-filled gaze.

"Don't be sad." You weakly cupped his cheek to bring his eyes back to yours.

"I was supposed to save you." He reached up to grasp your hand. "Aren't you sad?"

"I'm angry."

"Why angry?"

"Why was I destined to meet you and love you when I would barely get any time with you?"

"I don't know."

You closed your eyes, smiling slightly. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Poe moved his hand off yours to stroke your face, making you look up at him. "Don't go?" He asked in such a soft voice that told you that you were not the first person to leave him.

"I wish...I could stay." Perhaps you were a bit sad, as a tear fell from your eye. "Thank you for helping me live."

"I'd do it again." Your hand slid down his face, then it fell completely. "Y/N?"

You were staring at him as if he weren't there. He touched your neck where a pulse should be found, and felt nothing.

He immediately gathered you up in his arms and pressed a kiss to your head, burying his face in your hair to hide his tears. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

BB-8 rolled up behind him and gave a series of sad, low beeps. Poe made it well-known to those closest to him what you were like and how he felt about you, and the little droid heard the most of it.

Finn heard second most of it, and had his own layer of sadness since he had known you a little before Poe even did. You were the one person in the First Order who didn't scare the hell out of him. You deserved to get out of there and while he supposed you did, this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Hey, Poe." He knelt down, placing a comforting hand on the pilot's shoulder. "We can take her back to the base and...I can take her if you need me to..."

"I can take her," Poe interrupted. He looked down at you and shifted your position, standing up carefully so he wouldn't jostle you too much. "I was supposed to save her."

"You did. She's free."

"I guess." He carried you into the ship and laid you down in the safest spot he could find, gently stroking your hair.

Maybe you were free.

Or maybe you were just dead.

He didn't really know how it all worked.

All he knew was that he wanted you there and he wanted to show you everything.

He wanted to kiss you a hundred times.

He wanted to thank you for making him remember there was more to life outside of the war.

Most of all, he wanted to tell you that you were wrong.

He wasn't made up of nothing but love.

You were.

There was so much darkness and yet the smallest light broke through all of it, even if it was destined to be snuffed out eventually.

He took his time flying back to the base, looking at the stars differently now.

Looking for you.

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #poe dameron fic #tonight #did you like it #romeo and juliet and west side story aren't very happy #I had this planned #sweet baby Poe tho #I wanna hug him #thank you for reading!

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spartanguard · 6 years

Text

savage garden, 2/?

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

3.9k | rated T | AO3 | part 1

A/N: Here’s the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who read/commented on the first! This thing keeps running away from me but I can’t wait to share the rest with y’all. Thanks again to the organizers of @csmarchmadness for getting me going on it again and to @optomisticgirl for looking it over/letting me ramble about it.

The title comes from "The Lover After Me" by Savage Garden (obvs). We’ve got some backstory in this chapter! And a new/familiar face arrives at the end...

chapter 2: am I alone in the universe?

“Well, well, seems like you finally found the family you could never have with me,” the creature jibed.

Killian couldn’t call him a man, though he clearly had been one at some point. But he wore the effects of dark magic on him like a second skin—scaly in texture and a mottled green-gold color that made him think of a crocodile or some other reptile. Whatever he was, all he knew was that Rumpelstiltskin was not anyone to take lightly; the captain’s corpse bleeding out on the quarterdeck was evidence of that.

Milah was standing in front of Killian, not quite shielding him but close enough that she could if needed. She did that often.

From what he’d gathered in the blur of events, this monster was after a magic bean, which their captain always seemed to have on hand—and was also the husband Milah had fled from a handful of years ago, when she joined their crew. He could see why.

From a pouch on her belt, Milah pulled out said bean and held it up for inspection, then tossed it to Smee, the bo’sun, before her former spouse could make a grab for it.

“You asked to see it, and now you have. Do we have a deal? Can we go our separate ways?” Her tone was commanding, but he supposed that was appropriate—not only did she possess the fiercest spirit Killian had ever encountered, but she was technically in charge: she’d worked her way up to first mate after she’d been discovered as a stowaway. With the captain gone, the title was hers.

“Do you mean, do I forgive you? Can I move on?” Goodness, he had a flair for the dramatic. “Perhaps, perhaps. I can see you are truly happy.”

“Thank you,” she answered tersely, then turned away from the monster and found Killian’s eyes. She was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t read if her expression was relieved or concerned.

“Just one question,” the Dark One continued.

Milah faced him again. “What do you want to know?”

The air began to crackle as the wind snapped the sails; dark clouds came from nowhere and Killian could feel the static pricking at his skin.

“How could you leave Bae?” the Dark One snarled, taking a calculated step toward Milah. Even Killian got goosebumps at that; Milah had told him all about her boy, and how much she had hated to leave him. “Do you know what it was like walking home that night…”

Gasps came from all around as lines began to break and fly. One snapped next to Killian, making him jump; he would have yelped, too, were he not trying to hold his breath.

The villain continued his monologue as he approached Milah, who was edging closer to Killian, a protective arm held out in his direction. Killian wanted to step away—to run, dive, anything—but he was frozen in place, watching the scene unfold.

He hadn’t known much love in this life, and what little he had was but a faded memory. Except Milah—he had her now, little as he probably deserved her. She showed him a level of care and camaraderie he hadn’t had in years, if ever—a lone beacon of light in the seemingly endless drudgery of servitude. And his greatest fear right now was that this monster was going to take it all away.

“I was wrong to lie to you. I was the coward. I knew that.” He’d never heard Milah beg like this; not even when she was first discovered on the ship, seeking asylum.

“You left him! You abandoned him!” Rumpelstiltskin spat; he was mere inches from Milah, close enough for Killian to see the eerie yellow color tinting his eyes.

“And there's not a day that goes by that I don't feel sorry for that.” He’d held her while the tears came over that subject more than once; for that reason, he’d never quite told her about his own history with parental abandonment, though he was certain her reasons were better than his father’s.

The storm continued to build as tension mounted between the two figures arguing at middeck. An attempt was being made my crew members to right the rigging and prepare for the magical tempest, but most had their eyes fixed on the quarrel.

Everything seemed to go quiet when Milah let spew her final curse. “Because I never loved you.”

The entire world froze for a moment as that statement washed over the Dark One. The man must have had some semblance of a heart left, because his face fell for a moment.

But it was gone as soon as it appeared—a blink of humanity in the soul of someone who’d given themselves over to darkness long ago. Malice took hold, rage twisting his features, and he thrust a claw towards Milah’s chest.

“No!” Killian screamed, finally coming unglued from his spot on the deck and rushing to her. As she started to fall, he slipped under her in time to catch her.

He’d heard a rumor that the Dark One possessed the ability to take hearts but had prayed it wasn’t true. Those prayers fell on deaf ears, apparently, because there hers was, red and glowing in Rumpelstiltskin’s scaly palm. Up close, he was able to take in the way everything about this man oozed danger, from the rough texture of his clothes to the various weapons hanging off his belt.

“Oh, isn’t this precious,” he sneered. “Looks like someone has a little…crush.” Dramatically, he began to do that to her heart, squeezing it in his hand.

Milah convulsed in his arms. Killian tried to hold her close and keep her still, but it was to no avail. “I love you,” he murmured as her eyes closed for the last time and she fell limp in his embrace.

The only sound to be heard was his own stifled sobs as he set her body down on the deck. She looked peaceful, like she did in sleep, but gone was the light pink of her cheeks, or the gentle rise and fall of her chest with breath.

“You may be powerful, demon,” Killian cried out in a rare moment of boldness, “but you're no less a coward than I am.”

If he heard the outburst, he made no indication, instead turning his sights on Smee. “I'll have what I came for now.”

Killian stood and put himself between the men. “You'll have to kill me first.” For the first time ever, he held his hook aloft as a weapon, and not just the tool it had been for years now. In any other situation, it surely would have earned snickers from the crew; no one said a word now.

“That can be easily arranged, dearie,” the Dark One said. “You don’t look like much of a fight.”

Before the other man could make a move, Killian ran at him, plunging his hook into the creature’s chest. Milah was all he’d had left; he wouldn’t take her death lightly.

Rumpelstiltskin took a step back from the impact, but didn’t seem all that affected by the hunk of metal stuck in him. In fact, he started laughing. “Killing me is gonna take a lot more than that, sonny boy. My advice? Forget the whore and find a new one.”

White hot rage like he’d never known bubbled up inside. He couldn’t think of anything other than destroying this monster. Without looking, Killian reached for one of the daggers hanging on the Dark One’s person, pulled it from its holster, and plunged it into the man’s other breast, where his heart should be (if he still had one).

The shudder that came from his body shook Killian, connected as they still were by the two weapons. Rumplestiltskin coughed, sputtered, and fell on the deck, dragging Killian with him.

Then he cackled—a maniacal, shrill thing, almost comical in its intensity. “Oh, dearie—you have no idea what you’ve done, have you?”

“I’ve killed you and that’s all that matters,” Killian threw back. He was straddled over the dying man, watching as his breaths became more erratic with each passing moment.

“I just wish,” he wheezed, “I wish I could see what comes next.”

“What?” Why would the Dark One care about Killian’s fate? If he was lucky, he’d be free of the ship; if not, he supposed he’d spend the rest of his life on it.

“Humor a dying man.” He coughed violently, blood coming to his lips. “Pull out the dagger.”

Killian did, slowly, doing anything he could to drag on the man’s suffering.

“Tell me: what’s it say?”

An ornate design was embossed in the blade on the side facing Killian, so he flipped it over—and gasped.

Engraved in the steel, in an ornate block print, was Killian Jones. And to his horror, a glimmering blue sheen had taken over the skin of his hand, while dark tendrils of black ooze were trailing from the dagger and winding around his arm.

“No, no—I don’t want this!” Killian screamed. “Take it back!”

“No can do, dearie,” the apparently former Dark One breathed back. “Enjoy immortality.” And then he took his last breath, and drifted into dust.

The black magic continued to flow around Killian, wrapping itself about his limbs and constricting around his chest and body. He could feel it seeping into his veins and clenched his eyes shut to block out the images it was pulling from his mind—all the traumas, all the tragedies were playing out in front of him.

Fresh meat, an unfamiliar voice purred.

Too bad—I really liked the last one.

Hey, I’m still here!

Oh, he’s so pretty.

Yea, but he’s weak. What do we do with him?

Same as all the others—we corrupt him. He just might be the strongest Dark One yet.

“No!”

Killian startled himself from his stupor by shouting. Evidently, he’d drifted off. Not in the way most people did, considering he hadn’t truly slept in nearly a century now—but every so often, he’d find himself so deeply lost in a trance-like state that memories would start to play on their own, as if they were a dream.

It was never the pleasant ones, of course; only the traumatic ones. Yet another way for the Darkness to play mind games. By now, though, he was used to all of them.

Still—that memory always unsettled him: that he was capable of that kind of malice. As deep as his love had been for Milah, and still was, he hated the idea that he’d been able to murder in cold blood, even if there’d been a few more added to his body count in the interim (all accidental—or at least, he thought they were).

He sighed, rubbed his face, and stood and stretched from the chair he’d been reclined in on his back porch. The evening had drawn cold, and while he didn’t necessarily feel it, it seemed like a good night to read next to the hearth.

Where’s the fun in that, though? We could go recreate that day, eh? Murder some slavers?

“No,” Killian said sternly, like a tired father scolding a rambunctious child.

Oh, oh! Or we could go start a bar fight and watch the chaos unfold!

“Let’s not.” He set the kettle over the fireplace to brew tea, then stoked the flames.

We could just light this whole place up and start again somewhere else. Find the looters who’ve probably gotten lost in the castle—just a bit of light torture!

“No, thank you; I’m quite fine here.” He stood once the fire was going strong again, and was going to go find a novel to read when the reflection in the mirror above the mantle caught his gaze—and horrified him.

“We’ll break you yet, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin hissed at him from the other side of the looking glass.

“You won’t. I’ve made it this far; and I can keep going.”

“Sure, sure...but for how long?” The image in the mirror flashed and changed, and he was staring at himself once more—but his skin was covered in reptilian scales and his eyes glowed a freakish blue. The perverse smirk and hungry gaze were not expressions he’d ever worn, but—and he hated to admit this—they didn’t look entirely unnatural. In fact, he looked far too comfortable like that.

He squeezed his eyes shut and contracted in on himself, like he had all those years ago before waking up in the Dark One’s vault. “Enough!” he yelled, and the whole house vibrated.

Things got eerily quiet then. He opened his eyes, and his reflection was back to normal. But his entire body was quivering. He held his hand up for inspection, and the dark magic swirling in his veins was boldly visible through his palm. He had to get out.

Even in the middle of the night, there was only one place he’d find any solace. He grabbed his thickest cloak and left, running out in the forest and taking the meandering path he’d memorized to the garden.

He moved as smooth as a shadow and likely cast an imposing figure, with his cape billowing out behind him. But he’d discovered over the decades that the more intimidating he looked, the more likely it was that people would stay away. He was no longer scared of what they might tempt him to do; no—he’d rather not tempt the Darkness.

You never let us have any fun anymore! it would pout. He’d gotten good at ignoring it, though, save for the outbursts like tonight.

The garden came into view, shining like a beacon of hope in the dark night. He’d taken care to keep the outside as clean as possible; he could do that without damaging the inside.

Although—was it gleaming just a bit brighter tonight? True, it was the full moon, but it seemed exceptionally effulgent at the moment.

The door was ajar when he reached it. That wasn’t uncommon—his carpentry wasn’t that stellar—but there was a different presence in the garden, beyond its usual ethereal aura. He pushed the door open—and his breath was stolen. (Good thing he didn’t need it.)

Someone had definitely been here, because the garden was completely renewed. Lanterns placed at varying spots around the space gave off a warm, gentle glow that could only be magical in nature. Everything was clean and crisp, and the fountain gurgled happily. And all the flowers were in bloom, despite the approaching autumn—roses, violets, lavender, orchids, all manner of lilies, and more filled the garden with their soft colors and light fragrance.

Just like his first visit, he absorbed it in awe. He refused to touch anything because whoever or whatever had done this clearly put love into it; he daren’t be the one to bring further harm.

After he’d made the full circle, he took a seat on one of the restored benches; it was firm and warm beneath him, and the surrounding rose bushes enveloped him with their delicate scent. More than ever, the garden was the haven it had been all those years ago when he first discovered it, and more so than in any time since.

He lost track of how long he spent just sitting there, at peace. Either the Darkness had nothing to say, or the light magic of the place was keeping it away. The sky overhead was lightening and he was contemplating just staying in there forever; it wasn’t like anyone would miss him, and perhaps he could meet whoever had brought beauty back in.

What will they find, though? A hermit with few to no social skills, one hand, and a demonic possession he barely tolerates?

“No one asked for your opinion,” Killian muttered back, but he’d had the same sort of intrusive thoughts. He hardly understood what Milah had seen in him—what was even left at this point for anyone else?

That’s right—nothing.

“Bugger off.” He shook his head; he’d fallen for it again—the Darkness trying to convince him that he was worthless, and to give into it. To be fair, he didn’t have much hope, but if protecting the world from the Darkness was his one purpose in life, he’d do it.

That said, he was shaken enough that he didn’t want to press his luck by staying around any longer. Half-heartedly, he rose to his feet and proceeded out.

Near the door, a rose bush hung over the cobbled path, heavy with blossoms. He did his best to skirt it, but still his hand grazed a bloom. It wasn’t a surprise when the petals shriveled up and died, and then the whole plant after it. He hung his head in shame—but did note that at least he hadn’t wrecked the whole garden this time.

Still, that was sign enough that it was time to leave, and he began the trek home, letting the morning dew cling to his boots and cloak as he traveled. He hid from a caravan on the road when it approached, waiting for the people—and the Darkness’s calls for blood—to pass before finally retreating to his cottage.

The garden wouldn’t be forgotten, though—not that it ever truly was, but something in that magic had taken root in his mind, just like whatever it had done to the flora. He found himself humming more often; adding some windows to his home to let the light in more; and getting lost in more romance novels than he ever had before. He’d even ventured to the book shop in town for some new ones; the proprietress gave him several sideways glances but his gold was good, so she made no comment.

He didn’t wish to tempt fate by traveling there every night, but his visits did increase in frequency. On his first trip back, he noticed that the rose bush he’d killed was thriving once more, perhaps even bigger than it had been before. The Darkness still jibed and taunted, as it was wont to do, but he was able to tune it out better there.

Each time, he considered staying. But each time, he took the coward’s way out and left before dawn. Whoever it was working their magic here was certainly far too good for the likes of him. (And that wasn’t the Darkness talking.)

He seriously considered stopping his visits after the third one in a row where something caught on him, just a brush against his skin, and promptly withered. But he wasn’t that strong, and on the following visit, it was always reborn. He simply took to wearing a glove over his hand and keeping the hood of his cloak up to minimize the chance for contact.

Armor in place, he got a bit bolder, staying later and later into the early morning. The rising sun was his companion on the journey home, which seemed to get shorter each time he made it. A path was starting to wear from his frequent visits, though it was still only visible to the trained eye.

One particularly nice morning, when the breeze blew warm, he was especially loathe to leave the garden. He watched the line of sunlight as it crept down the far wall, and the flowers in the vines that covered it opened to the rays. How he wished that was all it took to shake off his own burdens and the things keeping him closed off—just a bit of brightness to burn away the dark.

The sun shined on half of the wall by the time he rose to leave; it was the latest he’d stayed yet. But given that he didn’t have any pressing appointments (ever, really), he wasn’t too worried about taking his time.

With his gloved hand, he paused to cradle a gorgeous blossom on a hedge. It was a rich fuschia and sweet in scent, and he liked to imagine he could feel the velvet of the petal through the leather. But that was enough for today; he stepped back, carefully letting the flower go, and pulled his hood back up before taking long strides to the exit.

He’d hardly taken a few steps, though, before he was colliding with something—no, someone.

“Uf!” he groaned at the same time a feminine voice gasped “Oh!”

Instinctively, he kept his hook away from her, but grabbed her shoulder to stabilize her. Once she was steady, he took a step back, and anything he might have said died before it could reach his lips.

She was an angel. Or a siren. Or some other creature of ethereal beauty. Blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders, framing a soft face set with eyes a shade of green so bright, it made the garden seem dreary. Her lips perfectly matched the flower he’d just held. And the furrowed set of her eyebrows made him realize she wasn’t as taken with him as he was with her.

Immediately, he took a step back. “My apologies, ma’am,” he stammered, ducking his head to avoid her suddenly intense gaze.

“Who are you and how did you find this place?” she demanded.

He could tell by the sharpness in her voice she was not to be trifled with. “I’ve been coming to this garden for years; discovered it ages ago. But I usually only come at night.”

She took a step towards him, and he hazarded a glance up. She was still studying him, eyes aflame as they assessed him. The closer she got, the harder his heart beat, and he could almost feel the static tension in the air.

Standing in front of him, she looked him up and down, and that’s when he realized his hood had fallen back in the collision, allowing her to truly see him; he gulped, knowing that the sun was surely glinting off his shimmering skin, letting her know that he likely wasn’t as innocent as he appeared.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in some level of shock. She pointed an accusatory finger at him and exclaimed, “You’re the one who keeps killing my plants, aren’t you?”

“Aye,” he nodded, hanging his head. It came as no surprise that someone as radiant as her was the source of the garden’s transformation, and even if he’d just met her, he felt ashamed at already letting her down. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry’s not enough. Is that why you’re here?”

“No!” he protested. “I don’t do it on purpose—I swear—”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she cut him off. “Don’t try to lie to me, buddy. I know your type, and I know dark magic when I see it.”

“No, it wasn’t—it’s not—”

“Yes it is; don’t deny it! Why can’t you people just leave the few beautiful things in this world alone?”

“I promise you, that’s all I w—”

“Don’t.” She silenced him with a word. “Nothing good can come from you and your darkness being here. Just...just go.”

Despite the fact that she wasn’t touching him, he felt like she’d punched him in the gut and knocked his wind out. Because she was probably right—he’d been fooling himself to think he belonged there.

Without saying another word, he nodded his head, carefully stepped around her, and walked out. But as soon as he was outside, he practically sprinted home.

The Darkness cackled in his ear the entire way.

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cs march madness #dark killian #deckhand hook #fic: savage garden #my ff

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foreverbeingthunderbuddy · 6 years

Text

In My Blood [song fic|one shot]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Angst, little bit of fluff, cute father-daughter relationship – but, my dudes…

Request: “Could you do a song fic for “in my blood” by Shawn mendes for peter parker x stark!reader?” by anonymous – I won’t use every line of the song obvs. (My first request as a writer y’all!!)

Summary: In which Tony Stark and his daughter have a deal to never close each other out, promising one another they will always be there for each other, until one day he can’t and Peter can. (gif credit to the owner!)

Masterlist

Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in,

Sometimes I feel like giving up.

“You are a Stark. We don’t give up.” He resolutely looks into your eyes while one of his hands softly brushes over your hair and comes to rest on your cheek that is wet of tears. “That’s our thing, little one, we don’t give up. And you won’t either.”

You stare at his face that you have known your whole life. That face that holds more wisdom and kindness than anyone you have ever met. His eyes know a way of calming you and his smile always welcomes you home, no matter how far away you actually are from the Tower.

“I don’t know” You say helplessly, your eyes filling with tears again. He presses a light kiss onto your little forehead and lays both of his hands around your face.

“You won’t. I know it. You can do it, I just know it” He says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Just imagine the look on Happy’s face when he sees how fearlessly you take that stage, the guy saw you crying but he won’t see you giving up. Show him what a Stark can do, little one.”

You smile at the thought of Happy’s baffled face when he sees you up there, going onto the stage, radiating self-confidence and giving the audience your best smile. He thinks he knows you, just because he was there since you have been born but you are almost eight now! That was a long time ago. He thinks he knows you well enough and he probably expects you to surrender…

But I just can’t,

It isn’t in my blood.

Oh, what fun it would be to prove him wrong! A grin starts to form on your face, overshining the tears you have cried just half a minute ago.

You look up to the man in front of you and reciprocate his crafty smile. “Okay, dad, I’ll do it.”

---

Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing,

I'm overwhelmed and insecure, give me something.

“Y/N, open the door please! Talk to me, little one, don’t close me out. Please” A muffled voice comes through the bathroom door. It hurts you to push him away and hear the worried tone in his words but you just can’t bring up the strength to pick yourself up from the cold floor and open the door for your dad.

You want to cry your soul out and you don’t want to be watched doing it. You love him more than anything in the world, but there are things that you have to go through on you own.

“N-No, I’m s-sorry, Da-ad” You whimper, not bothering to hide your sobs, “I-I want to b-be alone.”

You see the handle being pushed down once again. “Y/N, please. Please.”

You close your eyes and grimace a smile, so that your voice sounds less sad. “I-I’m sorry.”

You hear a deep sigh and then everything goes quiet on the other side of the door. Staring at the light wood, as if you could see through it and find out what he’s doing, you wait for him to say something.

He doesn’t. He remains completely silent. You start to regret pushing him away.

Did he leave? If he really left, you think your heart will break entirely.

You wait another ten seconds before you can’t stand the uncertainty anymore and get up as quickly as you can. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry you think in your head. Everything looks blurry through your tears but you don’t care as you stumble to the door, unlock it with shaking hands and tear it open.

He never left, he waited for you. You see him stand in the hallway, two feet away from you, leaning against the wall, head sunk low, arms crossed. His face looks so incredibly sad, you could kick yourself. The second you appear in the door frame he looks up and scans your puffy, tear-strained face.

“Dad” You mumble.

Keep telling me that it gets better,

Does it ever?

He pushes himself off the wall. Immediately, you get pulled into a tight, comforting hug. Two strong arms wrap themselves around you, making you the safest kid on the planet. You feel him rest his face on your head and you close your eyes.

No medicine is strong enough,

Someone help me,

I'm crawling in my skin.

“I thought we had a deal, little one. We never push each other away. I’m here for you and you are here for me” Tony says into your hair. You don’t trust your voice yet so you just nod and press your face into his chest. Home. This feels like home.

“And now tell me what’s wrong, so I can make it right.”

---

I'm looking through my phone again, feeling anxious,

Afraid to be alone again, I hate this.

“It’s just a small party, dad. Please, can I please go with him? I promise I won’t do anything stupid” You say as you, him and Peter stand in your kitchen – like a face-off of some kind. Your dad looks above displeased but he is not able to give you a good reason why you can’t go. Peter looks a little uncomfortable being responsible for this mood drop, seeing as he was the one who suggested going to the party together. He adores Tony almost as much as you do.

“Hrmpf” Your dad says while eagerly trying to come up with an excuse why you should stay home. Though, at the same time he knows how hard it is for you to find friends, being Tony Stark’s daughter, and now that he recruited Peter (well kind of, he’s not an Avenger but he’s always around) you seem to finally have found someone that you click with.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. This never happened before. You’ve never gone to a party and he didn’t expect it would be this hard to let you go. Anything could happen. Teenagers are pretty crazy and very dumb, who knows what situations you could get into.

No medicine is strong enough,

Someone help me.

“Dad, please. I won’t stay too long and I will text Happy as soon as I want to go home, so he can pick me up. Also, Peter will be with me the entire time.”

He sighs deeply and looks up with tired eyes just to give Peter the death glare. The boy next to you uncomfortably shifts and tries to crack a smile to sooth your dad’s mood. At that Tony’s eyes narrow.

Ten minutes later you’re sitting in the car with Peter, Happy is driving. You think you’ve never been this nervous before. Not only are you on your way to your first ever party but you’re also your crush’s plus one. Or are you not? You throw a quick glance at Peter sitting beside you.

He’s looking out the window with fidgety fingers in his lap. Is he nervous, too?

When you first met him, you’ve been shy and restrained. You had watched TV in your room when suddenly there was a knock on the door and your dad came in saying he wanted to introduce you to someone. That’s when you first saw Peter. Or Spiderman, how he accidentally introduced himself while shaking your hand, blushing in the process.

It makes you smile just thinking about it.

You may have been shy and restrained, but he was shy and awkward. He’s still awkward but fortunately he is losing his shy side a little bit when he is around you. You want him to feel comfortable and not like he has to hold anything back.

Naturally, it didn’t take you very long to develop a crush on him, he is just too cute with his messy hair, his unfiltered babblings and his blushy cheeks. Despite your introverted nature you don’t try to hide that you like him. That you like him. Simply because you don’t want to waste any time.

He is Spiderman after all. Anything could happen to him any day.

I’m crawling in my skin.

Your obvious showing of liking Peter did cause a couple of awkward situations with him and your dad, though, not gonna lie.

Does he like you, too?

Sometimes I feel like giving up.

---

“Hey, Y/N, I think I saw you with a boy yesterday. Near Central Park? Or somewhere in that direction?” Steve blurts out in the middle of a nice little coming-together in the living room area in your Tower. Your dad was there, Steve and Peter, Nat and Sam, too.

The others call him Cap but he has always been your Uncle Steve. He doesn’t let it show but you suspect, secretly he likes being called Uncle Steve. He bears the teasing about it by his fellow Avenger friends silently and always shows this little smile when you call him that.

Right now, though, right now you could kill him. At his words Tony and Peter have both frozen in their movements and started staring at you, both wearing the same expression, a mixture of surprise and displeasing. Sam lets out a whistle and Nat tries to hide a grin.

“Um, yeah. I hung out with a friend from school, he’s in my German class. We, um … went for a walk and then worked on a project for school together” You say, trying to sound confident, not being successful at both that and supressing the heat that is crawling up your neck.

Just have a drink and you'll feel better,

Just take her home and you'll feel better,

Keep telling me that it gets better,

Does it ever?

“A school project, for sure” Sam teases without looking up from the UNO-cards in his hands. The game was your dad’s idea. To bring back the good old memories. Or something like that.

“I, um, yeah. It was a project for school, nothing more. This isn’t any of your business actually” You try to defend yourself. You meet eyes with Peter, he looks … well, like he bit into a lemon. You two are not together, you never brought up the courage to tell him how you feel and he never did as well, so seeing his open feel of annoyance pleases you immensely, if you are being honest. He has female friends that he meets up with, Michelle and Liz for example, so why can’t you hang out with male friends, too?

Just because you never confessed to him, doesn’t mean your crush has vanished. It’s quite the opposite.

“I didn’t know that, you didn’t tell me you were meeting with a boy” You dad says in a slightly dangerous tone. Oh, come on, overprotective Tony is so uncalled for right now. Yesterday was nothing even slightly close to a date, but of course you won’t tell them that with Peter being in direct earshot.

I'm trying to find a way to chill, can't breathe, oh

Is there somebody who could

Help me, it's like the walls are caving in.

“I told you I was hanging out with friends.”

“Yeah, friends. Plural. You could have just said you were meeting with a boy, Y/N” Tony says while laying his cards down to fully face you. That’s a lie, you couldn’t have just said you were meeting with a boy, he would have interrogated you about the boy’s personal info and then he would have assigned one of his men to follow you. Which is, quite frankly, something you really don’t need anytime anywhere.

“Anyway, yesterday didn’t mean anything, we’re just friends, so please relax. I’ll go into the kitchen, does anyone want anything?” You say while standing up from the sofa, putting your cards onto the little table in front of you. You see your dad give you a look that says Don’t close me out, little one before you turn around and walk to the kitchen. You don’t even wait for anyone to answer your question.

You go directly to the fridge and stare at the bottles inside of it. You didn’t intend to take anything, you just wanted to escape that embarrassing conversation. You hear someone come in behind you, so you wait for the person to say something. When they don’t, you turn your head, only to see Peter standing five feet away from you, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. His eyes are on his feet but as soon as he feels your gaze he looks up and meets yours.

You always thought he was beautiful but right now right here in this modern high-tech kitchen you think you have never seen anyone more beautiful than him. You break your eyes from him and look back at the products in front of you.

“So…” You say, just because it’s so painfully silent between you two.

Why can’t he be yours.

Sometimes I feel like giving up.

You straighten up, close the refrigerator and turn to look at him again. He shifts at that but doesn’t say anything. Both of you wait for the other one to start to speak first. This is a perfect summary for your friendship, you think, from the point you met ‘til now. Both of you have something to say, but neither of you wants to make the first step. And that cost you so much precious time.

You know exactly what you want to do but you don’t know if you are brave enough to actually do it. Giving up is so much easier.

But I just can't,

It isn't in my blood.

A Stark never gives up.

Your heart starts beating faster as you internally make a decision. Just do it! Just do it! Don’t think about it!

Before you can change your mind you jerk forward and walk towards him. Your hands start shaking, your knees feel suspiciously weak and you don’t dare to look into his eyes but you don’t stop until you stand right in front of him. There are at least a million butterflies in your stomach who are apparently fighting wars right now, otherwise this feeling can’t be explained.

You wait for a second before looking up at him. Peter’s wonderful brown chocolate eyes have widened and his cheeks have a pink glimmer to them.

You’ve never been this close to him. You can even feel his breath on your skin, you can see the golden sprinkles in his eyes that you have never seen before and sense the warmth he is radiating.

I need somebody now,

Someone to help me out.

Oh god, are you really doing this? Oh god oh god oh god. The butterflies are rioting.

You are about to lean in when suddenly Peter brings down his face to yours and puts his lips on your lips. That takes you completely off-guard, your eyes remain open for two seconds out of pure shock. It’s not until he hesitantly lays his hands on your hips that you close them and start to kiss him back.

You’re both quite hesitant at first and need time to warm up, he’s very careful with you, very soft. But it doesn’t take you long to become more vigorous, wanting more than just light pecks, wanting to taste more, wanting to feel more. You put your arms around Peter’s neck and press your whole body against him and he wholly wraps his arms around your hips.

How often have you dreamed of this? How often have you imagined this to happen when you sat in the kitchen opposite Peter, talking about unimportant stuff while trying not to stare at him too obviously?

Your heart is beating in a rate that you didn’t know existed. The butterflies in your stomach have stopped communicating with you and got replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that starts to build up. You tilt your head a little to try a different angl-

“What the hell is going on??” Your father’s voice booms behind you, making both of you jump into different directions. You try to catch your breath and you can see Peter do the same, his panting being accompanied by a cute blush. God, you could kiss him again.

It isn’t in my blood.

---

The news reach you in the morning.

The sun has already risen and the streets are as busy as you’ve ever known them. You sit on the couch in the living room area, alone. Only Happy is here, probably somewhere on the lower floors doing God knows what.

You are incredibly nervous. So, so incredibly nervous.

You fidget with the cute bracelet on your wrist; it is made of red and blue pearls representing Spiderman’s suit colours, a gift from Peter to celebrate your one year anniversary as a couple. It had made you choked up when you unwrapped it and saw it for the first time.

You had glanced up into Peter’s face. He looked so insecure, his brows were furrowed into a frown, he was constantly biting down on his lip and his eyes were scanning your face closely.

“Do you like it? I wasn’t sure, if you would like it. If not, that’s completely fine but I thought maybe you would, well, I mean, do you like it? Or should I get you something else?” He had asked, like the cute bean he was. Of course you liked it. Your dad had rolled his eyes at him but you could still see a small smile on his face. He did like Peter after all, even though the boy was romancing his boss’ daughter.

But now … not even that memory can ban the pure anxiety you feel right now.

Help me, it's like the walls are caving in.

Peter and your dad are on a mission. That alone isn’t anything out of the ordinary. The thing is, they should have been here by yesterday. It was just a small mission, nothing to really worry about and small missions never make them late.

Even worse, any contact you had via phone and other communication devices has completely broken off five hours ago. You don’t know what’s happening to them right now and that’s the worst feeling in the world.

All that’s left for you is pray and hope that they are okay, that your dad and your boyfriend are not hurt or if they are, not hurt badly. You don’t even dare to think about the possibility of one of them not being here anymore. You can’t bear to lose the two loves of your life.

Your dad had hugged you before he left. A tight one, he had kissed your temple and told you not to worry, they would be home sooner than you could have said Welcome back.

“And now tell me what’s wrong, so I can make it right.”

That’s what your dad would tell you everytime you were hurt and didn’t know what to do. He always wants to make everything right for you, make everything perfect, keep all the evil out of your life.

Now you’re the one who wants to know what’s going on, so you can make it right.

You hear Happy enter the room. You don’t dare to look up, too scared of what you might see in his face. You hear him walk to you until he is right in your eyesight, right in front of you. He crouches down to get to your eyelevel and lays one hand on your shoulder. You already feel the tears welling up.

Sometimes I feel like giving up.

“Y/N.” The miserable tone and the cracking in his voice cause your heart to sink to your knees and your hands to start to shake. Please, God, no!

You take a breath before you finally build up the courage to look up and meet his eyes. His face looks wet and his eyes are bloodshot. You don’t need to hear him say the person’s name out loud, you already know.

At that moment you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces.

Afraid to be alone again, I hate this

I'm trying to find a way to chill, can't breathe, oh.

Tears start rolling down your face, your throat tightens, a silent cry desperate to come out. You put your hand over your mouth, shocked, sink to the ground and curl up. You feel yourself breaking down.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” The hand on your shoulder starts brushing over your back, almost clumsily like this is a first for him. You finally let out a scream, only interrupted by sobs.

I need somebody now.

You don’t know how long you sit there, head on your knees, curled up into a ball, on the floor in front of the couch. You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear other voices coming in and leaving soon after, trying to talk to you and giving up eventually. You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear someone say “They’re here”, followed by several mumbled answers.

I need somebody now.

It could be days, weeks, months after Happy told you, after you realized what happened – it could also be just hours, when you hear the voice that pierces marrow and bone. The voice whose owner you love with all your heart and who is probably the only one who could catch you right now.

Like he always did.

You feel two very familiar hands on your shoulder, you hear someone knee down and then you get pulled into a tight hug. It makes you cry all over again.

“I thought we had a deal, little one. We never push each other away. I’m here for you and you are here for me.”

You don’t know if you will ever be able to put the pieces of your broken heart back together.

“Shhhh, i-it’s okay, it’s ok-kay. He- I- Y/N, I’m so s-sorry.”

“Peter, I-I can’t… “ You sob into Peter’s chest.

“I know.”

A Stark never gives up.

Sometimes I feel like giving up.

That day, for the first time in your life, you utterly, completely, entirely give up.

---

Tag list: @izzy-the-teawitch @wowpeterparker @brightcolorsoffendme

(I tagged you because you guys said something like you wanna be tagged in everything I write/in my future works, I apologize if you didn’t want to be tagged :D)

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zenmister · 7 years

Note

P1) Hi, I wanted to ask you for some advice bc there's something thats been getting me down for a long time and nothing really seems to make it better. When I talk about it to friends I end up feeling worse because they just tell me what i don’t want to hear. Basically I've been talking to this guy for 7 Months now, things started off really well, he came to see me regularly and asked me out and seemed to be into me. He's always been slow at replying to my texts and

...its always frustrated me bc I take it personally as he is ridiculously slow at replying. As time went on he gradually seemed to become more distant, and it would go weeks before he'd come and see me, then when he did he'd rush off suddenly. I started to get more & more insecure bc I wanted more attention off him & the more I wanted it, the less I seemed to get. I started to confront him and instead of making me feel better he’d get angry or just ignore me until eventually I'd stop asking him and apologise.if i didn’t he’d just not speak to me. He always makes me feel bad for having feelings for him as if I'm being 'too much'.I saw him on nye for the first time in 3 months and he arranged to get a hotel with me - but made it seem like it was just convenient rather than saying he wanted to stay with me, sometimes he’d make plans to see me and then never show up. we spent the night together on nye but when we was out he kept wandering off or saying he’s not the type of person to show affection in public, we slept together that night, and i thought everything would stop being confusing, but then the next day he slipped back into his ways of ignoring my texts, and when I questioned him he just replied ‘what’ which i read as blunt and cold. I told my friend who met his best mate on the same night (and is in a relationship with him now) that he was confusing me again, &she told me I needed to just ask him if its going anywhere, so I said to him, "I dont wanna annoy you but the reason I’m saying this is cos its been a long time n its confusing not knowing where I stand with you, Ive obv got feelings for you now and I just want to know if you can see things going anywhere with me? I’m not tying to pressure you but I can't let things play out forever without knowing if it ever will, or if I'm just being played. I just need to know if its something you'd want eventually, cos the longer you don't talk to me the more i start to think youaren’t interested, but then other times it seems like feelings mutual, it’s just tiring for me trying to figure it out, you’ve not once said to me how u feel about me and you kept saying something like' don’t make it obvious' which is playing on my mind, idk what to think." He didn’t reply for another day and i was worrying myself sick thinking i should never said anything, then I ended up spending the next day consumed by regret, trying to get him to reply, and the more he didn’t the more desperate and distressed i was becoming. I confessed that i was in love with him and he read it and didn’t even reply.Eventually i gave up and just said to him "please can we just forget about this, i knew it was a bad idea to ask you and i should never have put pressure on you bc its not fair, i won’t ask you how you feel about me again, please can we just go back to being friends? i don’t want you to be mad at me."then he replied straight away: "I’m not mad at you you’re just too much sometimes'. Id had anxiety for 2 days straight worrying about what i said, and the only thing that made it better was him replying, The reason I’m telling you all this is bc even though we’re still talking, which is what i wanted, the insecurity is still there and nothings really been resolved bc he treats me the same and doesn’t do anything to make me feel better. now if he doesn’t text me back, which he hasn’t done all day, i start to feel like I’ve done something wrong, and all the doubts resurface. I feel like i have no control and I’ve settled for anything bc I’m scared of losing him all together and ending up with nothing, but theres nothing i can do about it without pushing him away more. I just wish he’d start making more of an effort and making me feel like i meant something to him rather than it being just me that cares. i don’t know how to get my self- esteem back or how to get out of this situation, I just feel exhausted i feel bad about myself no matter what if he doesn’t speak to me.I don’t know how to stop being affected by it.I feel deeply insecure and like I’m not good enough for him, and I’m not sure if it is all just in my head. i feel like he doesn’t reciprocate my romantic feelings towards him, but has never actually denied liking me or verbally rejected me, he just lets me think he doesn’t care. Im just so confused and upset about it all, i feel like its never ending and that i need to be validated by him. I don't know how to break the cycle and stop worrying about it, i just feel trapped. please give me some guidance, sorry its so long i just wanted to give an accurate representation. thank you:(

That is a pretty comprehensive description of your situation. I can imagine that your friends tell you to forget about him and move on. You probably wish that it were that easy, but you would rather that he behave as though he loves you instead of you doing all the work of the relationship and him just participating when it is comfortable for him.

The relationship is causing you a lot of distress. Every time you text him you create an opportunity for you to be more distressed. You have given him many opportunities to let you know how he feels and is completely incapable expressing those feelings. It would be nice of him to put you at ease and answer texts regularly but he refuses to do that. He will probably never do that.

What you can expect from him is that he will be in touch with you when it suits him, and stop communicating when it suits him. He does not take your feelings into consideration with any sense of kindness or compassion.

You can probably find somebody else who will be nicer to you. When that person comes along you won’t have any problems breaking up with this person. As long as you choose to continue this relationship, you should be clear with yourself that he will not behave the way you want him to. He will not come around and start caring for the relationship. He will not start talking about his feelings and demonstrating a commitment to you. He will not start answering your texts with regularity. He will not engage with your feelings. As you continue the relationship take care of your own feelings. You can love a plant without caring how the plant loves you back. All the feelings you have are powerful and moving. Those feelings are all real and important. Unfortunately, they are mostly painful.

Your friends probably don’t want to see you suffer for this person so they give you advice that you don’t want. If you absolutely want to continue the relationship, work on your self-esteem separately. This man is not going to help you feel good about yourself. You can practice reminding yourself that you are a good, loving, and feeling person who deserves a healthy relationship. You can also remind yourself that you love a person who isn’t good with feelings and won’t take care of a relationship.

I would recommend that you practice working with all of the difficult feelings that this relationship brings up for you with awareness and compassion. Don’t think of this as a committed relationship and keep looking for somebody who can treat you better than this person does.

If you love a pair of shoes that are thee sizes too small they are better on the shelf. They will only hurt your feet if you wear them. You can’t dance in them.

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renaroo · 8 years

Text

Twisted Legacy (14/25)

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.

It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

A/N: Chugging on along! I should note that rather than being 5 chapters, part III is actually six chapters so this is just the second to last chapter for Part III. Just a head’s up to those who care about the structure of this silly thing lol

Special thanks to Isame, Snozzlefrog, and @secretlystephaniebrown for the feedback! I really appreciate it!

Part III: The Risk of Saving the Guilty Chapter 3.4: One Hand Tied Behind the Back

Drift watched from his cell, leaning against the wall to get the best angle he could to watch as Ratchet and First Aid dressed the wounds of an uncharacteristically silent Rodimus in the cell diagonally across from him.

Having been a former criminal as well as a former Decepticon, Drift had already concocted multiple ways to break out of his cell the moment something was sketchy or Starscream sent someone to take out Rodimus. He was so confident it was going to happen he hadn’t settled down for a recharge the entire time.

It hadn’t happened. Yet.

“Move your fingers,” Ratchet ordered Rodimus.

The captain’s hand remained limply in Ratchet’s servos, his head bowed enough that Drift couldn’t even make out an expression through the shadows.

“Are you trying to move your fingers, Rodimus, or are you ignoring me?” Ratchet asked impatiently.

“Ratchet,” First Aid muttered, drawing both Ratchet and Drift’s gazes to his side of Rodimus.

The fingers of his left hand twitched, as ordered.

“It could be the cable damage, they’re pretty exposed on that side,” First Aid suggested.

“No, it was much worse on his left side,” Ratchet replied gruffly. “I want some sort of analysis done on his neural net. But so far they’re being mum about allowing us to take him back up to the medical bay.”

First Aid shook his helm. “As if putting him under guard there would be any different from having him under guard here--”

“It’s different, all right,” Ratchet growled. “It’s inhumane to have a hardly functioning bot held in a dungeon cell under the evidence that he blurted out half in hysteria.”

Slowing his own pace of doctoring Rodimus’ limbs, First Aid looked worriedly toward Ratchet. “We’re certain that’s all it was?”

Having had enough, Drift slammed his fist against the field of his cell, ignoring the shocks that rode down his limb as a result. It got the doctors’ attentions. “Stop talking around him like he’s still in a coma. He can hear you. Can’t you, Rodimus?”

Looking to his friend, Drift held a vent, waiting for a response. But none came. He just twitched his left fingers again.

Ratchet got to his pedes and looked toward First Aid. “Keep doing what you can, I need to speak with Drift.”

“Wasn’t going to stop just because you were walking away,” First Aid fired back as he continued his work.

Drift grew quiet, watching as Ratchet came his way. The old medic regarded the distance of the guards before looking more fully at Drift. “It was kind nearly to the point of foolish for them to put you in a cell this close to Rodimus.”

“That was Ironhide,” Drift clarified.

“Good bot, always was,” Ratchet mused.

“Good bot working for Starscream and allowing us to get locked up to begin with,” Drift snapped in return. “Hard to make the argument that any bot’s a good bot in those circumstances.”

“For taking the opportunity to do what you can in a bad situation?” Ratchet asked. “I suppose the only good bots are the ones who are stubborn enough to be locked up for being unyielding then.”

“If more bots did it, they’d run out of cells,” Drift replied crossly.

Rolling his optics, Ratchet just vented and leaned in closer. “Well, from your choice seat down in the dungeons, have you been able to see anything? Has anyone tried to speak to Rodimus? Is there a reason he’s basically putting himself in reserve mode?”

Alarmed, Drift glanced back across the cells toward Rodimus. He still hadn’t moved since Ratchet left him. “He is?”

“Basically, he’s catatonic compared to his usual self -- compared to those outbursts he was giving us a while ago,” Ratchet explained.

“No,” Drift answered. “No, no one’s come by. No one’s done anything since throwing us in here.”

He didn’t mention the near-pity that the guards seemed to have when they were putting Rodimus in his cell compared to the half-throw that tossed Drift into his. Drift was still too mad, still too protective to allow any sort of positive thought toward anyone involved with the grand conspiracy against them.

It was short sighted for someone who had been on every end of a war and back. Drift found he didn’t care about the hypocrisy.

“What about anything else?” Ratchet asked. “Have you noticed anything?”

Thinking, Drift glanced to a different cell from Rodimus’ for the first time in hours.

“The delegate,” Drift said lowly, bringing Ratchet to look toward Windblade with him. “The one who was close with Optimus Prime when he was here. She’s been treated to the same hospitality we have. She’s not done anything, but she’s been pacing. Thinking. Her field is basically a hum of open energy--”

“Of course you immediately jump to field readings,” Ratchet muttered.

“She knows more about what’s going on than we do,” Drift continued. “When Optimus gets here, you need to tell him to press her for the real answers.”

"Alright,” Ratchet said with a nod. “I did find it suspicious that Rodimus’ outburst got her arrested, too. I’ll ask around with people I trust to see if there’s anything else on her I can figure out before Optimus arrives.”

“Before he arrives?” Drift asked critically. “Why aren’t you calling him now and getting him sooner!? They’re going to keep Rodimus down here as long as they can, Ratchet, you know that. I’m already hearing rumors about some kind of trial because Starscream wants all of this done before Prime has time to straighten it out!”

“I realize that, but I also know that any message I send out to Rodimus is going to be used against us,” Ratchet said pointedly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Drift said, listening as the doors down the walkway opened. “Here they come.”

Starscream was holding himself proudly, strutting like he had accomplished something. It made Drift want so badly to knock him down a few pegs. Which, given, was something Drift had felt even when he was a Decepticon.

“Are you almost done in here, doctors?” Starscream asked.

“No,” Ratchet answered before First Aid even had the chance. He stepped away from Drift’s cell to stand between Starscream and Rodimus’ cell. “And it is a complete violation of agreed ethical standards to have a severely injured patient retained in custody when medical services are available.”

“Yes,” Starscream agreed. “But last I recall, those were ethics of wartime, Ratchet. Those were terms agreed upon for enemies. We are in a time of peace. And this is not a rival side of a skirmish but perpetrators of a crime against all of Cybertron -- acts of terrorism.”

Drift gritted his denta. “And what exactly is your evidence?”

“You shall see it at trial,” Starscream said with a wave of his hand. “Since this is an event that involves multiple locations within the Council and has victims of all colonial and homeworld origins, that evidence is about to be presented at trial before a tribunal from the Council of Worlds.”

“Fat chance,” Ratchet snapped.

First Aid joined Ratchet’s side. “Rodimus is too injured--”

“I’ll go.”

Drift joined everyone in looking toward Rodimus in shock. The bot’s head was still hanging, his body rested against the corner of his cell. But the blues of his optics was looking up at them. “I’ll go before the Council. I deserve it.”

Starscream knew he was making a miscalculation.

There was nothing more difficult to deal with than a sympathetic opposition, and having been there from the start of the Decepticons’ rise on Cybertron, Starscream had made a point of not underestimating sympathies and the court of public opinion when it came to his rule.

That was something that Megatron had never taken fully into account. In his savage drive to do what was righteous by old slights, he didn’t see how the story evolved from being his as triumph to Autobots’ story of a tyrannical force that undid all good he had managed eons ago.

No one knew how to spin stories better than Starscream, it was how he had managed to reach the position he had as leader of Cybertron.

So he knew that putting a hardly functional, hardly able to stand for himself Rodimus on trial before the Council was very likely not going to play well.

He could too easily be seen as the victim no matter what accusations were made.

But, should he wait, Starscream’s careful balance of power and his window of opportunity to get rid of all to do with the cult and Error would erode away. There was no doubt that Prime would be on his way, and once he arrived, he would take at least half of Starscream’s current loyalty on the Council.

To speak nothing of Prime’s sway over the general public.

“Rattrap,” Starscream said, glancing to his assistant as the Council began to fill in the room.

“Yes, Lord Starscream?” he asked back with some unsteadiness in his voice. His possible exaggerations and lies as to the story about seeing Rodimus and Windblade as cultists were obviously making him uncomfortable.

“Talk to the guards,” Starscream instructed him. “Tell them that there will be no reporters or cameras allowed in these proceedings, understand?’

“Yessir!” Rattrap said before scurrying off.

Starscream folded his hands before his eyes and took a long vent. He would announce the verdict and explain Rodimus’ vain treachery soon enough, and the less sympathetic the images he could give the press for Rodimus’ identification would shift opinions their way.

“Done, Lord Starscream,” Rattrap chirped up as he came walking back from the short trip to the guards. “Everything’s taken carre of.”

Humming to the news, Starscream leaned his jaw into an awaiting hand. “Tell me something, Rattrap. I’ve been trying to figure it out for myself,” he said lowly, carefully. “If Rodimus and Windblade were instrumental in saving you from Error’s attack... why would you turn against them now?”

"What’d’ya mean?” the beastformer asked almost nervously.

Starscream tilted his helm. “It really is a rathe straightforward question, isn’t it? Though, I suppose, you do have difficulty with answering those.” He crossed his arms as he continued to leer at Rattrap, making him squirm in place. “If you recall, when you first gained my confidence, I told you that I was familiar with the game you wanted to play -- that I had played it myself and it had gotten me to where we are now. And I meant it when I said that I admired those who joined me in playing. But that doesn’t mean my suspicions lessen or that I can’t know when my supposedly loyal supporter is overextending the trust he’s earned.”

“I’m not--”

Shaking his head once, Starscream got Rattrap to immediately close his mouth. “I’m merely curious, Rattrap. What’s the play? What are you earning from this, turning on those who, in your own statement, saved you from Error’s wrath.”

There was a gulping noise from Rattrap and he teetered in place slightly. “I just...”

“Are so loyal to my claim to Cybertron, I’m sure,” Starscream mocked.

“It’s hard to explain, Sir, but if even if they saved me, working for that cult, for those terrorists, they’re endangering all of Cybertron,” Rattrap said decisively. “I can’t overlook that. Even for my own aft!”

Humming slightly, Starscream couldn’t hide his disappointment in the answer he finally got. “Very well then,” he sighed, walking forward past Rattrap and toward the hall. “I’m disappointed, my friend. I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

“What do you mean?” Rattrap asked, aghast.

“I thought for certain that you’d be more on my level, that you would know when to cease power as it was available for you to take,” he sighed. “Ah, well. I suppose I should just accept gifts without looking them in the engine.”

While Rattrap sputtered behind him for a response, Starscream refocused his concentration on the so-called trial ahead.

He had fantasized about sentencing some of the main Autobots to tremendous sentences before. Little fantasies he allowed himself in some of the more boring processes of ruling Cybertron. Rodimus, one of Optimus’ right hand bots, was of course one of those but also one of the least realistic before that day.

After all, there was a charisma factor and a war hero factor that had garnered him quite a bit of a reputation even despite his known hotheadedness and consistent mistakes.

In almost any circumstances imaginable, Rodimus would have been able to conjure up some support for himself among the greater Cybertronian community -- much like he had managed to do right under Bumblebee’s nose in order to start his Lost Light quest to begin with.

The Rodimus who stood before the Council at the end of the hall was not that adversary though.

If Starscream could overcome the irony of such a statement, he might have even called the pathetic wreck of a mech before him a shell of his former self.

Starscream crossed the room, not daring to take optics off of Rodimus until he found his seat at the head of the Council. He knew that the vast majority of the delegates on their ruling body would have struggled with some suggestions of dignity and sympathy under normal circumstances -- which would have made a trial with such a pathetic looking accused less favorable to Starscream’s means -- but fortunately fear was an excellent motivator for what were usually rational and moral mechs.

Windblade stood not far behind Rodimus, handcuffed and still looking bewildered at the fact that she was in her current predicament.

There were many things to do and little time to do them, but fortunately for Starscream he could always find time to revel in an adversary’s horror and confusion.

Keeping face, Starscream folded his hands together and sat back in his chair at the head of the Council. He hardly got more than passing judgmental glances from the fellow council members, which meant their attentions were properly on the defendants.

Fair enough.

“Lets get this ghastly business over with,” Starscream said, rolling his wrist. “While we had all hoped that such an unprecedented event as a cross-jurisdiction crime, we also all can agree that, in truth, there was a certain amount of expectation we all held for this possibility. And that it was always going to fall upon this very council to deal with these heinous crimes. So, today, I ask my fellow delegates if you are prepared to set the precedent for prosecuting severe crimes perpetrated by one of our citizens upon citizens of another jurisdiction and, complicated further yet, by its occurrence in yet another. Can we all put aside personal stake and perspectives to rule fairly here?”

“There is no need for presentation, Starscream,” Obsidian said grimly. “We have all come today. Now let us hear the cases.”

“Killjoy,” Starscream muttered under his breath before venting and looking toward Rodimus. “Hot Rod of Nyon,” he noted how the very mention of his home caused a full body flinch, “In charges against you involving the assault and demise of several fellow mech including two Eukarians, one Cybertronian, one Velocitronian, and a Camien, how do you plead?”

The shell of an Autobot looked dazed by the question. “I... where’s Optimus?”

An uncomfortable shift moved through the Council and Starscream did not at all miss it.

Annoyed, Starscream leaned forward. “This hearing does not acknowledge any legal authority you may claim in the name of a Prime,” he said clearly. “As you may have noticed, I used your initial designation. Not that given to you after your time falsely holding the Matrix--”

“If Optimus isn’t here you have to put me back,” Rodimus said, still not even remotely on the same page as the rest of them.

A murmur erupted among the Council, and Starscream could feel the energon surging through him boiling.

“Is that an admission of guilt? Requesting to be locked up?” Starscream yelled loudly, attempting to regain control of the conversation.

“Please,” Rodimus pressed.

“What is this, Starscream?” Knock Out asked, turning on Starscream with a suspicious glare. “This bot is clearly not in his right mind, and on top of that, I verified his stasis condition, which means the testimony of Rattrap is inadmissible.”

"How much more evidence would the Council need besides the confession of one of these terrorists and the word of one of its own members?” Starscream asked, though, of course, the question was rhetorical.

He simply needed them to remember the fear and anger that had been inspired by Error’s attacks against their very senses of safety and efficacy.

That was more than enough to convict.

“The connection is vague, but Eukaris demands answers,” Tigatron announced stiffly. “If we could perhaps postpone actual sentencing while assuring that there is extreme measure taken to keep suspects under watch.”

“Carcer is also concerned with anyone suspected of betraying its trust in particular,” Obsidian announced, focusing his dark gaze on Windblade. “After all, it is honesty we value. However, there is nothing to hold delegate Windblade other than Rattrap’s word.”

“And that’s not enough?” Rattrap asked critically from Starscream’s side.

“No,” Obsidian answered brutally.

“Fine,” Starscream snapped angrily. “We will release Windblade under extreme scrutiny, and with the condition that if she pokes her nose in our investigations any further it will be deemed suspicious behavior and she’ll be back in a cell.”

“I think it’s curious that you seem so dedicated to assessing my part in this somehow, Lord Starscream,” Windblade fired back.

“There is nothing on Windblade,” Moonracer argued. “And your continued angling this around her is highly suspicious, Lord Starscream.”

“Fine, then she’s free to go and Hot Rod will be returned to his cell until adequate information is gathered. As the Council wishes,” Starscream replied sourly.

“Until Optimus is back,” Rodimus persisted.

“His authority is not recognized!” Starscream snapped.

“We shall see about that, Starscream.”

Starscream cycled his optics and dropped his head back in defeat and blinding hot rage. Because it truly was only the voice of Optimus Prime entering the chamber that could have possibly caused him that much more of a processor ache.

Rodimus couldn’t believe it -- finally! At long last! Optimus was there, he came. It was later than Rodimus had wanted but praise Primus he could finally talk to Optimus about what happened.

The trial didn’t concern Rodimus, the mechs on the Council of Worlds didn’t concern him.

Optimus was there. And then Optimus was leading him back to the medical bay. Rodimus didn’t think twice about why, didn’t question why he was still in restraints, he followed to the best of his ability, ignoring the way his pedes wavered without properly working stabilizers.

Ratchet was there already, as was Rung and Drift, but none of it mattered.

“Optimus, I have to talk to you, please,” Rodimus begged as the door closed, leaving all of them in the room without any of Starscream’s guards.

There was no softness in Optimus’ gaze as he looked at Rodimus.

“Yes. You do,” Optimus said lowly.

The tone of the Prime was apparently enough to cause alarm between Ratchet and Drift as they began to move closer to Rodims, almost between him and Optimus.

But again, Rodimus didn’t care. He was there to confess.

“It was my fault. All those bots died, and it was due to my hand,” he explained. “I’m ready to stand on trial for what happened at Nyon.”

At that point, Ratchet and Drift shifted their concerned looks from Optimus to Rodimus. It was utter disbelief between the two of them, but that could not have registered less with Rodimus.

The only one who didn’t seem surprised was Optimus. And why would he be? He was there. He already knew.

When Optimus pulled his gaze from Rodimus, it felt like a sentencing already, like judgment had already been passed. But Optimus looked at Rung. “I have a recording that I am going to share with only you and Ratchet. Megatron and Ultra Magnus believe it’s essential toward helping Rodimus--”

“I don’t deserve that name anymore, Starscream was right. I should go back to going by Hot Rod,” Rodimus continued to confess.

“Is this what I think it is?” Ratchet demanded. “We didn’t look for any signs either on his neck or on his processor. There was so much other damage -- dammit! Stupid mistake. A sparkling would’ve known better That’s one of the first thing they teach you in medical school -- for every diagnosis you miss for not knowing, you miss ten for not looking.”

“I suspected but I was apparently too optimistic given the increased odds of recovery,” Rung sighed, cleaning his goggles with a long vent. “Truly, we are dealing with real monsters.”

Growing impatient and confused, Rodimus waved his good hand toward his chest, flinching at the feeling of metal clinking against his half exposed spark chamber. “Why do you need recordings? I’m confessing to you right now! I need to be stopped before I cause anymore damage. Like when I trusted Doubledealer and then Swindle and...” His processor began throbbing. He knew the points were connected, but he couldn’t quite string them together. Not out loud in any case. He reached up and gently held his helm as his optics cycled off. “You were there, Optimus. I trust your judgment. I saw you take the Matrix.”

“Rodimus--”

“I don’t deserve that,” Rodimus announced stiffly.

“Hot Rod, if that makes you more comfortable then,” Rung continued gently. “Hot Rod, you are very confused at the moment. Someone has possibly damaged your processor, interfered with your memories. We’re going to need Ratchet and some other doctors to examine you again and then start reconstructing your frame -- actually reconstructing it. Not leaving you exposed as you are now.”

“No,” Rodimus refused angrily. “If I have my arms I’ll hurt people again--”

“Rodimus,” Ratchet made a point of grinding out, ignoring the displeased look Rung gave him, “the events you’re talking about? They’re different things. They’re millennia apart from each other in some cases! Scrap, the thing with Swindle you’re talking about took place on Earth, and that was over fifteen years ago. I know, because I was there.”

Scowling, Rodimus shook his head and cycled his optics back on. “I know what I remember! And it doesn’t matter because Optimus was there and he’s the only one who has a right to make a judgment call on it.”

“You need to calm down, Rod,” Drift said almost gently reaching out toward Rodimus. “You’re worked up and very hurt. You’re not making a lot of sense.”

“The only thing that matters is that I killed people with my own hand!” Rodimus snapped in return. “I don’t deserve whatever sympathies you’re trying to give me--”

"Rodimus, that’s enough,” Optimus said, causing Rodimus to snap his misaligned jaw shut as quickly as he could. There still was no softness in the Prime’s gaze, even as he looked at the bot on proverbial trial, but he also had purposefully used the name he had given Rodimus himself. “This is not about Nyon. I was there for Nyon, but not for this. This is about Eukaris.”

The name sparked some familiarity to Rodimus’ senses, but not much.

“I killed--”

“I have listened to the recordings,” Optimus said. “My order is for you to get help. To do what Ratchet and... Wrang tell you to do after I have allowed them to listen to them. And then we will determine what to do from there.”

“It was my hand,” Rodimus pressed.

“I know,” Optimus replied.

A wave of shock went off around them, Optimus receiving confused looks from Ratchet, Drift, and Rung. But Rodimus didn’t care. He was relieved. He could see that Optimus knew what had happened.

“I was too weak to stop, Optimus, I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize, but Optimus held up his hand.

“We will discuss it after you’ve been fixed up more, Rodimus. Now that Ratchet knows the source of the issue, I’m sure straightening it out will be simpler,” Optimus replied. And Rodimus accepted. It made sense.

“Optimus, you know that undoing Shadowplay isn’t that simple,” Ratchet snapped at him. “And after I took Chromedome’s needles, we don’t know a professional surgeon for it--”

“I wouldn’t allow it either way,” Rung announced. “I may not consider myself much of a practitioner anymore, but I will remain ethical, and that is not a solution to Shadowplay -- more undergoing the needle. He needs therapy.”

Nothing they were saying made sense to Rodimus, he wasn’t even sure they were talking about him anymore.

“Which is why you two will be working together,” Optimus announced. “You can sort out how that’ll be managed, I need to speak with Windblade and some of the delegates to manage what I can there.”

Alarmed to see Optimus turn his back on them, Rodimus reached out with his good am. “But... Optimus--”

“I’ll be back when you’re... better, Rodimus,” Optimus assured him, but he couldn’t even turn around to say it to Rodimus’ face. Instead, he kept walking toward the exit.

Rodimus stood among the bots who, for reasons beyond him, were still calling themselves his friends, and watched as the Prime left without fully judging his sins. He couldn’t find the words, but he knew deep in his spark that he didn’t need Optimus later, he needed him now.

#writing #tf fic #TF: Twisted Legacy #Drift #Starscream #Rodimus #Ratchet #First Aid #Windblade #Rattrap #Knock Out #Optimus Prime #Rung

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mrsrcbinscn · 5 years

Text

BDRPWriMo Task #16: TV Soundtrack

Task: Jukebox Musical/TV or Movie Soundtrack - come up with a playlist of at least 10 songs, write a scene summary to go with each one.

AU: The Robinsons is a hit multigenerational Netflix show featuring an ensemble cast, chronicling the lives of main couple Franny and Cornelius Robinson from childhood all the way through their marriage, and the lives of their families. Rated TV-14 some episodes, but some have mature content rated MA.

These aren’t in chronological order, I was too lazy to fix everything because the ideas came to me out of order.

tw: violence, marijuana use, underage drinking (in the US anyway), abuse of prescription medication (ADHD meds), mentions of abortion (a side character), sexual themes, car accident

tagging my husband because lots of these involve him @nottomsellecksorry

[ooc: these events all happened, just obv not with cool background music]

Episode Title: Song

1. The Mugshot: Oh, Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison

(Inspired by the use of Istanbul in the diner fight scene in The Umbrella Academy)

Background: Since the beginning of the series, Franny Robinson has had a framed mugshot of herself throwing up the rock n’ roll hand gesture with a cut on her face on the wall of the Robinson home. This episode is where the mugshot’s origin is revealed.

Franny and Cornelius had only been married for a little over a year when they visited Franny’s parents in Georgia for her mother’s birthday. One night during their stay, they went out drinking in the city (Atlanta) with Franny’s youngest older brother (Art) and a bunch of Franny’s hometown friends. A man at one of the bars, one with a gorgeous outdoor bar, where the scene takes place, wouldn’t leave Franny alone even after she flashed her wedding ring. The situation quickly got heated and before Franny’s brother or friends could step in between them, the man shoved Franny back into a table.

[background noise is edited out in post-production, there is no sound but the sound of glasses falling and shattering on the bar’s patio as Franny looks down at her sandaled feet, now bleeding from glass cutting them a little.]

And then;

[the first notes of Oh, Pretty Woman]

“He put his hands on me first. He shoved me first, you all saw that, right?” Franny said, holding out and index finger and pointing it at her husband, at her friends, at Art, and at strangers who had long since begun to spectate.

“He touched me first. So this is self defense.” She said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before launching herself at him. All five feet five inches of her came at him like a missile and absolutely knocked the crap out of this guy. Her big brother didn’t even need to throw a punch, she had this all on her own.

[Mercy!!] As Franny slams the man’s face onto a table.

As they were both clearly fighting, both Franny and the man were arrested and taken to the police station, and while they took her mughot, Franny threw up the rock n’ roll gesture with a bored expression.

2. Payne Lake, Georgia: Blue by LeAnn Rimes

Background: Cornelius’s first EVER visit to Franny’s hometown of Payne Lake, Georgia. The first time she introduced him to her family.

Neil and Franny join some of Franny’s friends at the little town’s bar on karaoke night, they’re hangin’ out, munching on the bar’s specialty - Irish Nachos; waffle fries with melted queso, scallions, ground beef, salsa, and black beans - with her regular hometown crew. But then her high school voice teacher (who is a bartender too because ‘Murica) is like “Franny Framagucci, it is KARAOKE night!!! Sing!!!!”

And Franny’s all like “Noooooo” because Neil’s only heard her sing in musical productions through NYU, or at showcases for jazz studies. So meticulously practiced and critiqued performances. She’d yet to invite him to any open mics she was going to or anything like that. This man thought she was perfect!! ! ! She needed to make sure he kept that myth as truth.

So Franny was all “no, I simply CAN’T” but then her teacher started chanting ‘sing, sing, sing’ and her friends joined in, and then people around them recognized Franny - small towns, gotta love ‘em - and someone shouted out “Do Blue, Franny!”

“Haha, no way”

“Come ooooon”

“Well, if you inSIST”

When Franny was in high school, she’d learned to yodel to she could knock Blue out of the park to show up some bitch she hated at the county fair. Very South, Much Georgia, wow. So naturally, she stood on stage and rocked Blue in all her Georgia glory in front of her very Yankee boyfriend, exposing her very uncool country bumpkin side to him for the first time.

Except, it only made him think she was even MORE wonderful, he just got even bigger heart eyes than usual.

3. Am I A Crazy Bitch?: Science vs Romance by Rilo Kiley

Background: Earlier in the episode, Franny had gone off on Cornelius because she was insulted he’d offered to pay for part of her tuition for the upcoming semester so she wouldn’t have to work as much. Because the last episode, he found out she’d been abusing Adderall on a semi-regular basis to be able to stay awake long enough to juggle school, work, a social life, and seeing him. And confronted her about it. So this episode, he was like “let me make it easier for you.” And Franny went off on him because she was A. insulted, and B. so mad at herself, because his response to his girlfriend abusing Adderall shouldn’t be ‘give her money for college.’ He should be!! Disappointed in her!! He should!! Hate her! And she felt disgusted with herself that he didn’t.

SO.

The song plays while it flips between scenes of

A. college-aged Franny sitting on the bathroom floor of her apartment smoking weed #hating herself after she went off on Neil before he left for a business trip to Europe. She can be heard muttered “stupid bitch, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you” as she moves to straight up laying down on the bathroom tile.

B. scenes of Neil in Berlin; in the back of a car halfheartedly listening to his assistant reading off the agenda for the day, pretending to listen to what his German nerd counterparts are saying as he’s just spaced out and sad, only picking at his food across the table from his assistant

C. Art (Franny’s youngest older brother) typing an e-mail to his parents because he’s too afraid to tell them in person he’s dropping out of university for the second time

D. Sophie (Franny’s mother) sitting alone in the kitchen of the Framagucci home after having woken up from a nightmare about her life under the Khmer Rouge, drinking hot tea

E. Delia Weiss, one of Franny’s closest college friends and eventually lifelong friend, smoking a cigarette and standing outside of an abortion clinic that opens the next morning, after having found out earlier in the episode she was pregnant with her shitty ex’s baby, hinting to the audience she planned to come back tomorrow to terminate

4. Cambodian Independence Day: I’m A Cuckoo by Belle & Sebastian

Background: Franny, who had up until this point in her life, never cut her hair more than a few inches, was told she would need to bob her hair to star as Millie in NYU’s production of Thoroughly Modern Millie. Long hair is a cultural thing for many Cambodian women and while it didn’t carry too much significance to Franny personally, it very much mattered to her mother, Sophea (”Sophie”). The episode happens to be set on November 9th, which is the day Cambodia became independent from France.

I’m A Cuckoo plays as Franny’s standing in the kitchen of Cornelius’s NYC apartment, scissors in hand, just chopping off her hair that went down to just a couple inches above her tailbone. She keeps repeating, “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m so dead.” Then says “Mak’s gonna skin my hide alive then use it as a lampshade, Ed Gein style.”

When Cornelius laughs at her joke she whines, “It’s not funny, I’m serious! When my mother kills me say somethin’ nice about me at the funeral.”

Scene skips ahead to Franny examining her hair in Neil’s bathroom mirror, biting down on her lip and whimpering. He slips his arms around her waist and kisses her cheek, “I think it looks nice.”

“I’m going to be buried. Alive, most likely.”

“Shh.”

“Mak’s going to kill me, revive me, then kill me again.” *whines* “I look like a Boy Scout.”

*Neil turns her away from the mirror to face him. “You look beautiful.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

Aaaaaand some more kissing later, they’re having Hot Sex against the bathroom counter. They’re horny 20-somethings, what can ya do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5 & 6. Am I A Manic Pixie Dream Girl?: I Held Her In My Arms by Violent Femmes // Prove My Love by Violent Femmes

Background: Franny decided to give Cornelius a glimpse into what poor people do for fun. When she couldn’t afford concert tickets, she and her friends both back home and in NYC would go to parking decks overlooking amphitheater venues to see concerts. So she took Neil to a parking deck to watch a Violent Femmes concert - and planned to, for the first time ever, open up about some parts of her life.

I Held Her In My Arms plays and Franny’s dancing, having a great time, and tbh this is sUCH a manic pixie dream girl moment, I’m ashamed. She’s ashamed. God is ashamed.

Fast forward, and she’s back to sitting down, her legs fit under the barrier between the parking deck and the drop to the concrete below, so her feet are comfortably dangling in the air as she-- know what, lemme just copy-paste a selection from our Discord DMs

mckala 10/26/2019 Oh wow wanna know the first time Franny was Purposely vulnerable in front of him vs. he-caught-her-at-her-worst-moments

mary 10/26/2019 uuhh yes pls, i say knowing i will regret

mckala 10/26/2019 OH the good news is, it's not SUPER sad, but it's #revealing SO

She opens up about how poor her family is, and how much she'd been bullied for being Asian, biracial, having an immigrant mother and Swiss immigrant stepdad and their funny accents, and how she puts all this pressure on herself to succeed since she couldn't be smart in the "right" way (STEM), so she HAS to do well in the arts against all odds to make her parents proud, and to make enough money so that her mom and dad don't have to work past retirement age. "So my mom can enjoy her life after what she went through in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge."

But she does it...lowkey romantically, like

Franny takes Cornelius to the parking deck overlooking a lil amphitheater concert venue to watch a Violent Femmes concert, and now Franny has like a part-time job while in school so she CAN afford tickets -- and she has a rich boyfriend -- but she purposely took him to the parking deck to listen to the music and at one point she turned to him and said "When I was in middle and high school in Atlanta, we'd do this a lot. It was the only way we could afford to go see live shows."

And then she's like "We were - /are/ poor. Really poor. Not like you." Bc she assumes he was always decently well-off once he was adopted since his mother probably made at least six figures by her estimate.

And she's monologuing pretty much until her eyes water without her really REALIZING. Just monologues about how much pressure she puts on herself to BE perfect, to BE the best, to not make mistakes because she already made the big mistake of not "Being smart enough to be a doctor, or an engineer, or a lawyer, or half as smart as you."

mary 10/26/2019 oW, my hEART meanwhile neil is just like, "there is no right way to be smart. and you're smarter than me in a million different ways, so we're going to put an end to that line of thinking right here and now." because he didnt look at music as anything other than white noise until she came into his life

mckala 10/26/2019 OHHH MYYYY GOD

SO. They’re all snuggling and kissing for a bit, then at one point Franny’s like “We need to go to the car right now so we can ;)” and he’s not picking up what she’s putting down because he is far less sexperienced than her lmao, so he’s like “...what? Wait, but - oh. OH.”

And Prove My Love plays as Franny gets nerdy, newly sexually active Neil to have sex with her in a his car in a public parking deck, SMH. At [special favors come in thirty-one flavors] the camera pans to Franny’s face as she’s receiving oral ASDFGHJKL; and at [third verse, same as the first] the episode goes to end credits.

7. I’m Twenty-Two Years Old: I’m Sixteen Years Old by Ros Sereysothea

****TW: CAR ACCIDENT*****

I’m Sixteen is a running musical theme throughout the episode

Background: The previous episode, Franny and the rest of the cast that were NYU students have graduated from NYU. Last episode ended with Franny and Cornelius celebrating her graduation with both of their families, and plenty of nudges from both sets of parents ‘sooo, can we expect a summer wedding, orrrrrr does Franny want to take the summer to think about masters’ programs?’ A lot of Franny and Neil hissing at their mothers ‘Mak/Mom, stoooop’ but earlier that episode Franny and Neil actually talked about getting married next spring, once they figured out whether or not they were staying in New York now that Franny was done with NYU.

The episode I’m Twenty-Two Years Old begins with Franny driving at a comfortable five over the speed limit on the interstate at night. A cassette tape of Cambodian 60′s and 70′s psychedelic rock is playing in Franny’s car as she’s finishing up a phone call on her good ol’ Nokia 5190. (Remember, this was 2002.)

[I’m Sixteen begins to play in the background during the phone call when it was on Franny’s end]

“Yes ma’am, I should be at the house in about an hour.”

[camera shows Lucille Robinson in her neighborhood finishing up a night jog]

“Franny Framagucci, you know I told you to call me Lucille. You and your manners.”

“I can’t help it, my mama would kill me if she knew I let Lucille slip sometimes.”

“If you marry my son you can just call me mom.”

“What d’you mean if? It’s when. It’s for sure when, we just- we want to sort a couple things out post-NYU first.”

“So you’ve talked about it?”

“Mmhm. I’m going to talk to him about it again when he’s back from Beijing. I’ll tell you everything when I get to the house. Thanks again for lettin’ me crash a couple days. I dunno, I just feel kinda melancholy about graduatin’. Didn’t wanna be at the apartment all alone for a whole week.”

“You’re family, you’re welcome anytime.”

“I know. Love yoooou, see you soon!”

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and turned the music up. [I’m Sixteen is now playing loudly.] Soon, a car going the wrong way comes speeding at Franny and Franny screams shrilly above the music as she’s aware there’s no avoiding impact. The scene fades to black and a countdown clock appears on screen.

9:00:00. Nine hours, zero minutes, zero seconds before the accident.

Franny’s dancing around their apartment in one of Neil’s shirts and her underwear listening to that same cassette of Khmer 60s and 70s music. [I’m Sixteen is playing.] She’s singing along and when Cornelius steps out of the bedroom wheeling his suitcase behind him, Franny briefly interrupts her dancing to wave at him before she grabs a handful of Swedish Fish gummies (her favorite American candy) from an open bag on the countertop and pops one into her mouth while dancing.

She dances her way over to Neil and shoves a Swedish Fish in his mouth and asks him. “Got your deodorant?” He hums an affirmative. “Backup underwear and pants in case you spill stuff on your lap thrice in one day again?”

“Must you have so little-” he’s given pause when she shoves another fish in his mouth. “-faith in me?”

Franny grins. “My love, I have all the faith in the world...in your clumsiness.” Commence some cute kissing before Franny’s like “hey, heeeey, no getting handsy. Because then I’m going to take your clothes off and you’re going to miss your flight, and Tanya [Neil’s assistant at the time] is going to kill me.”

Scenes between several of the cast of characters happen, yadda yadda.

Eventually when the clock strikes 00:00:00, Neil’s plane from his first layover at Dallas-Fort Worth touches down at LAX at the same time of Franny’s car accident.

The scene cuts to the wreckage of the two cars, it is out of focus and shaky with occasional flashes of clarity to show important actions. Franny’s car falling into place upside down, Franny’s neck not supporting her head anymore because she’s unconscious and her head the rolling to one side, other drivers leaping out of their cars and running to the wreck.

Cut to what can be assumed to be a couple hours later, at LAX. Neil’s still waiting on his flight to China and just chilling, humming the tune of I’m Sixteen because it was in his head from this morning. He begins to mumble an approximation of the lyrics, but he’s immediately disgusted with his lack of ability to speak Khmer. He turns to Tanya.

“Do you think I should learn Khmer?”

“Huh?”

“Khmer. I should learn it.”

“Oh, that language your girlfriend speaks? Good luck. It sounds rough. Every time she’s on the phone with her mother I think they’re fighting.”

Cornelius shook his head. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“You’d think it was beautiful if it was just high-pitched screeching because it’s to do with her.” Tanya poked affectionately.

Neil’s phone rings. Caller ID says Art, Franny’s middle brother.

[I’m Sixteen plays over the background noises of the following scenes spliced together]

Cornelius shooting out of his seat and listening with wide eyes before running to the nearest counter to find the first flight back to New York, Franny in surgery, Bud and Lucille (who were the first people Franny’s family in Georgia called to ask them to go to the hospital since they’re in New York, they’re in Georgia) scurrying out of the house, and poor Tanya looking frustrated as fuck as she realizes Cornelius is about to just throw away important investment opportunities to fly back to New York for a situation he has literally no control over.

8. Brothers and Sisters: She’s Actin’Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles) by Gary Stewart

Two years before Franny even met Cornelius, she was an eighteen year old high school senior and her oldest brother was Going Through Some Shit. Specifically, a breakup.

He was laying on his bedroom floor listenin’ to sad cowboy music and she was like “fuuuuuck no” so her 5′5 ass grabbed her over six foot tall big brother up off the floor and hissed “We’re going to Uncle Lemmy’s garage right the fuck now!”

In one hand was the cassette Gaston was listening to, tucked under her armpit was a bottle of Maker’s Mark she swiped from their vati’s (father’s) collection on the way out, and she had an iron grip on Gaston’s hand with her other hand.

Unlce Lemmy was a Vietnamese man actually called Tất Văn Hữu Liêm in proper Vietnamese naming custom, but to the neighborhood kids he was Uncle Lemmy.

“Bác Lemmy!” Franny called out in Vietnamese as she let herself in after knocking. “We need to use the garage. Gaston’s girlfriend just broke up with him.”

“Oh, dear. Do you kids need anything?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any goi cuon laying around would you?”

“I can roll some!”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Bac Lemmy.”

“Nonsense. Gaston is in crisis!”

In Uncle Lemmy’s garage was a karaoke machine. Franny popped in the cassette of sad cowboy music and shoved the mic into Gaston’s hand. “Sing it out, you sad bastard.”

She opened the bottle of Maker’s Mark and took a swig, handing the whiskey out to Gaston, too. The songs you listen to in your sad cowboy hours? They covered them all. All My Ex’s Live In Texas. Neon Moon. Long Gone Lonesome Blues. (”Whooo, fuck that bitch!” shouted Franny at some point during Hank Williams.) Misery Loves Company. I Told You So.

The highlight of Framagucci siblings drunk karaoke at 2:30 in the afternoon? She’s Actin’ Single.

[I've seen men look at her before And they think, I don't see] “God,” Franny slurred, very, very drunk. “How fucked is that? Fuck off, partner, that ain’t your woman.”

[I know she'll be lookin' back The minute I'm not there While she pours herself on some stranger I pour myself a drink somewhere] “Daaaaaaamn, bitch.”

By the chorus, Franny and Gaston were just wasted scream-singing the lyrics at each other.

9. Go Ahead: Go Ahead by Rilo Kiley

Basically, the song the soundtrack team put over the scene where Franny took Neil’s virginity lmao. You can tell I stayed up til 6:30 am yesterday working on this task, and now it is almost 4 AM the next day and I’m still trying to finish, so I’m very much trying to stop being Extra now.

It was v soft and giggly and the most wholesome sex scene in cinema mmkay

10. That Damned Penguin Song: Papa Pingouin by Sophie & Magaly

One week when Wilbur was very small, Cornelius and Franny made the mistake of letting Franny’s Swiss Italian-French-German speaking father be the main one to watch Wilbur for a four-day period when both Franny and Neil were insanely busy. Adrien was a godsend, really. Whenever Wilbur was being fussy he would sing and dance to the 1980 absolute BOP that is Papa Pingouin.

But when Adrien Framagucci left Swynlake after his visit?

“Muuuuummy, Daaaaaaaddy. Penguin! Sing penguin!”

Except, neither of them knew what the actual fuck Wilbur was talking about, until Franny suddenly remembered from her childhood. When Adrien, who wasn’t her biological father, was trying to convince Franny to like him so she’d let him marry her mother, she vaguely recalled a French song relating to a penguin.

In her memory, six year old Franny had demanded Adrien do something stupid in public and he obliged by singing a French song and acting like a penguin.

Slowly, tentatively, Franny sang the first few bars

Le papa pingouin, le papa pingouin Le papa, le papa, le papa pingouin Le papa pingouin s'ennuie sur la banquise...?

“Muuuuuummy noooo, you gotta do dance! Pépère does the dance.”

Franny inhaled sharply and turned to Cornelius. “How much do you love me, dear?”

“Huh?”

“You married me. It’s not like a Wal-mart where you can just return me if you bring the receipt, yes?” “Uh...”

“I’ll explain after the little guy is satisfied.” With that she turned to Wilbur, sighed, and did Papa Pingouin with full enthusiasm. If French wasn’t Cornelius’s best second language, it was by the time Wilbur outgrew Papa Pingouin.

The penguin song was Wilbur’s favorite until he outgrew it. For years. Years. Y E A R S, Neil and Franny were in a loop of Papa Pingouin. Cornelius is now 45 and Franny is about to be 40. Papa Pingouin still haunts their dreams.

IT IS 5 AM ON DAY 2 OF WORKING ON THIS LMAO FINALLY DONE

#&&...hc #bdrpwrimomckala

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sethkate · 5 years

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Wren A-Z

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

if it’s like a one night stand or a casual thing, she probably lays there for a little bit anxiously awaiting until the guy falls asleep and then she’ll sneak out of bed to get dressed before raiding the fridge for a snack to eat on her way home lol. if it’s someone she’s in a relationship with, i think it’s hit or miss because it depends on the guy. if he wants to cuddle or whatever, she’d be down for that. but if not, she’s fine with just rolling over and going to sleep.

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

wren’s favorite body part on herself is her lips and her favorite body part on her partner would probably be their hair. she likes a lot of thick hair that she can play with or tug on. and also their torso. the more abs the better tbh.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

wren has to really like a guy to swallow his cum. i mean reeeaallllllly like. so unless they would prefer her to spit it out, they’d be smart to put it elsewhere. she doesn’t mind inside of her since she’s like really neurotic about taking the pill @ like the same exact second every day. but if a guy’s not into that usually on her chest or stomach are fine.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

she has a sex position bucket list... like a ton of different ones, some that are whack as hell, some that are probably going to result in an accident, some for only her pleasure, some for only the guys, etc.

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

wren is definitely well experienced and has been around the block a few times. she’s had her fair share of boyfriends, friends with benefits, one night stands, etc. so she knows what she’s doing.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

it honestly depends on the guy because some are incapable of performing well in certain positions lmao but if all the circumstances are right her favorites are probably (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

i feel like with most guys, it tends to be a little bit more on the serious side because she knows it’s only happening for like one purpose. so she doesn’t see a point in being funny when she just wants to get off and then get out lmao. but if the right guy came along and got her to crack her shell open a bit, i definitely think she’d be a little bit more willing to be playful. hint hint @ theo

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

wren’s very big on good personal hygiene like to the fact where she might shower even twice a day??? so everything’s always maintained well because of that.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

usually not very intimate. even with her boyfriends, there’s a certain level of trust that has to be there in order for her to behave this way and most of the time, she’s just not there. a guy can be cute and sweet to her and she’s fine with it (might only throw up in her mouth a little), but it’s usually not reciprocated fully.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

one way to tell if a guy is actually doing a decent job of pleasing wren in bed.... if she isn’t simultaneously trying to masturbate while a dude is inside her. like if she puts her hand between her legs to take the situation literally into her own hands, then you better try a little bit harder because what you’re doing isn’t cutting it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

nothing too out of the ordinary. hair pulling, scratching, biting, sensory deprivation, food play, mild choking. stuff like that.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

she doesn’t mind hooking up in cars if they aren’t super small and offer enough space to get the job done without getting injured in the process. but mostly she’d prefer just a bed or the couch. the place itself doesn’t need to be super exciting because there’s sooo many things to do that make the act far from boring.

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

a good, long make out session featuring lots of grinding, rough grabbing and maybe a lil dry humping. she also likes to have her neck kissed/sucked on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

other than nasty bodily fluid stuff, wren’s not really into the whole daddy kink. she also doesn’t like to be blatantly disrespected. getting a little rough is fine and sometimes encouraged, but if you’re hurting her and she tells you so, if you don’t stop, she’s calling it quits. wren also isn’t big on getting called misogynistic names during sex (dirty slut, filthy whore, dumb bitch, etc.)

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

welllll since she’s a lil bit selfish, she def prefers receiving lmao. but if she’s into the guy enough, she’ll be generous to give him a little action too. and if she ends up with a guy who like refuses to eat a girl out, she’ll probably lecture him for a solid five minutes while getting dressed and then never talk to him again. bc it’s 2019 i mean come ON

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

usually fast and rough. slow and sensual most of the time for her is too much like ‘making love’ and she’s just like ehhh about that whole bit lmao.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

wren doesn’t mind them as long as everybody gets to orgasm. if she has a quickie with a guy and he cums real fast but then literally doesn’t do a damn thing to help her finish, she probably won’t ever see him again needless to say. she’d prefer a more drawn out experience though for obvious reasons. sometimes if guys feel under pressure they have a tendency to rush and have poor performance so....

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

i think wren is fine with experimenting to a certain extent, but it would only happen with someone she’s truly comfortable with. the idea of making herself vulnerable to certain things that she doesn’t know the outcome of how it’s going to go gives her too much anxiety. i also think she’s risky, but knows when to dial it down. she’s not trying to get fined or thrown in jail for doing something that’s completely foolish.

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

most guys are lucky if they get more than 1 round out of her cause she can lose interest pretty fast lmao. but if she’s into you, she can definitely do multiples. as for how long she can last, it’s never been an issue.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

she only has one... and it’s like the holy grail of vibrators. obvs to use on herself when she’s annoyed with the male population and needs a release. sometimes it’s just easier to do the job yourself y’know??/

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh wren loves to tease. she’ll do absolutely everything she can to make sure that you’re pretty much begging for it before she gives it to you. she likes to push people’s limits so she teases as much as she can get away with.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

i wouldn’t say that she’s loud, but she’s definitely not quiet. she’s vocal, but not to the point where she would wake up the whole house. as long as her partner can hear her, that’s enough for her. usually, it’s a combination of moaning and a few dropped curse words. nothing too vile though. sometimes there’s whining a bit if you’re special enough to have that kind of effect on her.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

wren’s never had sex with someone that she loves... mostly because she’s never been in love. usually because she shuts herself off emotionally whenever things even start to head in that direction. so all of her experiences that she’s had have been purely physical, and very shallow and superficial when it came to connecting with the other person on a deeper level.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

(x)

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

i’d say moderately high?? like if she’s not having sex at least once a day, she’s probably using her vibrator so

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

this usually only happens when she’s dating someone and she can fall asleep pretty quickly depending on her exhaustion level. sometimes it’s easier than others. but again, also depends on how comfortable she is around you.

#ch: wren matthews #tayymuses #i love my trash child

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