#cause it would be ruse of me if I call her and fall asleep on her I dont want to do that...

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 8

Charles Vane x OFC

Turmoil leads to certain truths being confessed into the dark.

Words: 2246 Content: angst with a side of angst; contemplation of betrayal, unexpected fluff (is the slow burn finally catching?)

It’s approaching midnight, and Hope’s still pacing the deck. She’d already resolved she doesn’t give a whit about keeping up the ruse for Mr. Fellows anymore; tonight she’ll sleep in her rightful place among the crew. Now that she knows what awaits her in her captain’s quarters.

The only thing that’s stopping her from going down to her hammock right now is that she knows she won’t sleep. Too many thoughts are swirling in her head. All she can do is pace, and take measurements she doesn’t even need, and pace again.

Her worst fears realized. Hope feels sicker than she did when Charles Vane disbanded her crew, and she had to beg for her brother-in-law’s life to be spared. Sicker now, because at that time she hadn’t expected anything better from the fearsome brute. Everyone knew Captain Vane’s reputation, and that of his whole crew for that matter. When had she let herself believe that him, and Jack Rackham for that matter, were somehow more noble than any other of the black-hearted men that turned pirate?

She forces herself to take a breath. If she’s now maligning the entirety of her own profession, then certainly her emotions have taken away all rationality. And yet—had seducing her truly been his plan all along? And had Hope actually been falling for it?

Perhaps Stevens and the boys have it right. Something deep within her heart breaks to hear that thought, even if it is only resounding through the inside of her own skull. Avenge the Starling and run. There’s a certain justice to it. The bird flies the cage, but takes everything with her on the way out? Marvelous. Hope feels her heart turning as black as the inky waters look this night, and allows herself to sink into that feeling a little deeper. If they got free with it, they could easily run right back to Nassau. Certainly Eleanor Guthrie would give them haven after they crossed Charles Vane, merely on principle.

Hope feels her guts sicken even more.

Just a few hours ago, she’d been pondering what had felt like the very real possibility that she was in love with Captain Vane. Distraught that her feelings weren’t returned. Now all she can hear is that ugly edge in Jack’s voice as he taunted their captain to take her. They don’t see her any differently than the women back on shore, after all. Prizes to be captured, warm bodies to be used, the luckiest of whom could only hope to become a cherished object kept locked up and secreted away.

That would never be her. Hope simply would not allow it.

Should she go talk to Stevens? Her feet carry her to the ladder, and then away again. She remains furious, but she can’t yet commit to that course of action. There is a difference between capturing a prize on open waters, and stealing a treasure right under the noses of men that trust you. Hope had only supported the scheme that ended the Starling because they had truly planned to hold the cargo safe until a beneficial, fair negotiation had been reached. She would not want Vane to think her a liar, if she proved herself capable of turning around and doing just the thing he had accused her of.

And yet. What else is she to do? Carry on as if nothing had changed? This ache in her heart demands satisfaction. She could leave without causing any trouble; she could think of several other captains that would have her, but even that more reasonable thought leaves her feeling itchy. Slipping away without making some sort of statement just won’t do.

~*~

She’s on her way down to the berth deck, finally ready to set her swirling thoughts to rest, but she doesn’t get very far. Stevens is coming up the other way. She’s surprised; she thought this was his shift to sleep. His pace slows when he sees her, and his eyebrows raise in silent question.

She’s leaning toward conspiring with him, but she has not yet made up her mind. A bolt of panic flashes through her. If she speaks with him, her hesitancy will show, and she may ruin her chances of playing this situation in either direction. Might not be able to help him or stop him.

He’s almost reached her. His mouth opens to speak a greeting. Hope realizes they’re right in front of the door to the captain’s cabin. The one “Mrs. Vane” sleeps in too. To her own horror, Hope finds herself taking the coward’s way out, giving Stevens an apologetic smile and stepping right in through that door as if this was her intention all along.

Vane is sitting on his bed, half-undressed, because of course he is. But what is she to do, step right back out into the hallway again? She shuts the door quickly behind herself, then whirls to face her captain so that she does not look the coward.

They stare at each other for a long moment. What is she to say? She didn’t even plan to come in here. And she certainly can’t explain why she did. “I’d given up on seeing you tonight,” he rasps up at her. He eyes her and she says nothing and so he continues. “After you stormed away without giving me a chance to explain myself.”

“I still don’t want to hear it,” she growls. How could she know what words to trust, coming out of his mouth? She doesn’t want excuses. She doesn’t want this smoothed over with half-truths. She can’t bear to feel the crack in her heart widen.

His brows lift, then converge in an angry crease. “Then why did you come in.”

A good question, Hope. She’s not even certain why the sight of Stevens made her feel such panic in the first place. She had convinced herself up on deck of her new resolve, hadn’t she?

And now Vane is sitting here right before her, looking up with poorly-disguised pain in his eyes. In his eyes? He growls again before she can formulate an answer. “You’d better not tell me that you intend to berate me without hearing my side. That’s not how this is going to work.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

She tries to turn away, but when her captain makes a scoffing sound she can’t help but look back. “So you came in here, what, because ‘Mrs. Vane’ needs to go to bed?”

“It is late,” she says. Too early to step back out again, and risk Stevens wondering why she ducked in here in the first place. She settles for an easy lie. “I thought I’d find you already asleep.”

“The only time you’re content to rest beside me,” Vane says bitterly, looking away. “When I’m unconscious.”

Hope barks a laugh. Does he really think she’d climb into bed with him after what she overheard? “This time, I will gladly sleep on the floor.”

He flops back in the bed, turning on his side so all she can see is the broad expanse of his scarred back and his hair spilled across the pillow. “Suit yourself.”

She tries to. Pacing across the short space to her trunk, she sits down on it and takes her boots off. Noisily. She doesn’t want to talk, but she doesn’t want to let the man rest, either. He shifts positions when she all but hurls the second one onto the decking beside her, but that’s the only reaction she gets.

She looks around for anything soft to lie down upon, but it appears that the only blanket in the room is trapped underneath Vane’s inert form.

She’s not going to ask for it.

Instead, she puts out the light, loosens her belt, and lies down on her back, fully clothed, on the stretch of decking beside Vane’s bed. A porthole lets in a little moonlight, just enough to outline the hulking form of his shoulder above her. She closes her eyes, tells herself she doesn’t want to look at him. Now is the time for sleep.

Her mind won’t rest. Now that the man is right here, willing to talk to her, she can’t help but imagine what she might say to him were she inclined to let that conversation happen. A bird in a cage. That’s what Jack had called her. She’d certainly felt that way when she got here; has she been lying to herself since then? Getting comfortable with the crew, becoming friends with Anne, and even with Vane himself. Was all that just gilding on the bars?

He was willing to let you go, she tells herself. You just didn’t take it.

Still. The things she’d heard Jack say don’t sit right. We didn’t have to come down so hard on the Starling, he’d said. She’d been approaching them ‘round the corner, and of course her feet had slowed when she heard them talking about her, and her “value.” A part of her wishes she hadn’t. It hurt to know this side of the story. That the dismantling of the Starling had been her fault, that she’d inspired a lustful eye just waiting for an excuse to crack that ship and steal her like a prize. Jack’s words are burnt into her memory: You saw what you wanted, and got control of her.

Vane releases a heavy sigh above her, laced with the frustration of being unable to sleep.

It pisses Hope off. Why is she laying here blaming herself? Jack may have said it, and Vane may not have disagreed with it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true, that she’s responsible for this man’s brutish choices. She’s glad he’s still awake, glad he’s just as troubled as she; if anything he should be the most troubled. He’s not even offering to make any amends.

“The least you could do is give me that blanket,” she barks into the darkness above her.

She hears more than sees Vane roll in her direction. “The least you could do is let me speak.”

“Is this a negotiation? Withholding comfort until I consent to hear you out? Because if we’re talking, you are the one who is going to listen to me.”

“Fine.”

But Hope doesn’t know what to say. The silence stretches between them. As her eyes rove around in the dark, she realizes Vane is peering down off the side of the bed. The angle of the moonlight is likely illuminating her face more clearly than his. He’s just watching, and waiting. But she doesn’t know where to start.

“How much did you hear?” he asks softly. Is it defensive, or is he trying to give her a place to begin?

“Enough,” she barks back.

Vane sighs. “Jack—” he begins, but Hope cuts him off quick.

“You think you can blame this on Jack? I didn’t hear you disagreeing with him.”

“That’s not—”

“You said that I would talk first. I’m not going to lay here listening to you make excuses. The truth and a lie are so close, aren’t they? So close,” she seethes. “After all your talk about ‘liberating’ me from a crew that I was ‘too good for.’ I remember what you said, the last time this ship was likened to a cage around me.” She glares up at the beams of said ship, although she can barely see them in the dim. “You did it for me, yes, but not for my own good. And not for my skills, apparently, either. After all we’ve been through, the truth comes out. I am only here because you want to sleep with me.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Vane grinds out through his teeth.

Hope is too surprised to interrupt him, this time. Even as the silence stretches out a little longer. She no longer knows what she wants him to say next. This morning she was disappointed at his lack of interest, and this evening she was enraged at the spectre of his lust. Which is it? What does she want from him?

“I want,” Vane says slowly, words rumbling even deeper than usual, like rocks deep in the earth grinding together, “to share my life with you. I want you with me every morning when I wake. I want to work with you, seize prizes with you, and sometimes even be the reason that you smile.” Every word is measured, thoughtful, and as true as the very roots of the earth. “That is more important to me than anything else. Anything.”

Hope wishes she could see his face better, as he confesses these words into the dark.

“So I hope that you can forget what you heard Jack say, because I already have everything that I want most.” Is that a stubborn set to his jaw? “And I would never want to lose it over the matter of lust. I was handling my feelings just fine before this,” he pauses, “and I will continue to do so, quietly, and respectfully. As you certainly must admit I have been doing so far. Do not let it trouble you.”

He stirs in the bed above her, and it takes her a moment to work out what he’s doing. His whole body lifts, and then settles, and then his arm extends silently down to her, proffering a fist full of the requested blanket.

In stunned silence, she takes it.

Next chapter

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[selkiesblog]

The ruse(DracoX OC) Chapter 1- The plan

"mooom please, does she really have to spend the summer here???" The little boy with white silverish hair said pulling on his mother's robe ends, hiding his head over her kilt

Every June until September Saphira Jones would come to his mansion to spend the summer over the Malfoy's

It started as a tradition, the two families were quite fond of each other. Since Voldemort first vanished and the rumors of his return started. The Malfoy's needed to reassure their family's safety and economic stability in case of things gone wrong during the rise of death eaters and late battle. So they made a pact that neither of the children would know: for every year until they turn a majority age, they would unite their families in expectation of a great match. And not until then deny or agree with a marriage proposal, that should be made

Draco utterly despised every second and Saphira knew it, so she would try to make his life just as miserable as hers, the only problem is that the game they both plays of twisting and pulling each other until one or another give up or break was never-ending

He would bark she would bite

As a child, they would fight over toys

"Mooom!!! Saphira stole my broom!!" He cried

"No, I did not!!"

Sometimes she would indeed steal his toys and hide in the most inconvenient of places cause at the very young age she would be more advanced in spells than he, a fact that she would- till this day- constantly remind him.

"You did!! Stop lying!!"

But this time she didn't

Oh no, he was just having fun getting her in trouble.

"Safira, give him his broom!" Her mother stepped in the light

before she could deny his allegations or make any more of her comments she heard a snap and by pulling her hear she was dragged into her room "that's it!! No wand for a week!" He smirked through his fake tears

And it got worse as it got physical. In school he will do whatever it takes to provoke her, pulling her long brown braids, pushing through the halls, calling her names until she snapped over him with her hand in a fist. She got -10 points to Gryffindor's he got a red-eye

Summer came and there she was again cuffed to him like a second skin

"Kneel," he said

"No you kneel" she pushed him

"No, I'm older than you"

"And I'm richer than you"

"Enough both of you!!!" Narcissa said "now Saphira, kneel" she took a large breath, she went down reverencing like a Princess only less charmingly. He puffed his chest with pride and kept his back straight smirking with victory "now you kiss her hand" they both looked at Narcissa who seemed with her patience on the edge, both hands in her temples. Draco not into hearing more of his mother's speeches on how the Yule ball was a very important event and that he was going to make a fool of himself if he didn't know the proper steps. Soon he raised her hand to meet his lips and planted a kiss there

The music started, slower. Saphira still taken by surprise with his action crumbled over his pace, stepping on his foot. The music started again and again until she got it right, only when it was time for him to spin her and catch he let her fall

Fifteen and It was time for pranks that she learned from the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Colorful bombs in his dorm room or shoes that would fart every time he walked, name it she has it

"Never heard of it?"

"What does it do?"

"It tickles the skin non-stop until the person breaks in laugh"

"Rather harmless..." Fred started

"But very affective" George finished

"Okay!..." She whispered to herself "Rictumsempra"

In the tall estate of the games, missing one point to Slytherin score 150 and Draco catch the golden snitch. He started twisting on his broom, having a pit of a contagious laugh. Everyone started to making fun until he lost balance and crush in the dirt of the ground

She was shaking when they took him to Papoula Pomfrey, he had hit his head but the problem was in his broken arm. He was still conscious when they asked him what happened, he just looked at her, and said "I lost balance and fall"

He lied?

It didn't make sense, he knew it was her and he wouldn't tell her off? He would always tell her off. Draco was the boy who would do everything in his reach to get her in trouble, wasn't he? Did he beat his head so hard that he has forgotten he hates her? Was he gonna use it to his advantage, just waiting for the right moment to strike like a snake?

While he was asleep she stayed up all night on his side, guild kicking in, anxiety keeping her awake, looming at his facials expression as he slept. That night Saphira discovered many things...

first one: Draco talked in his sleep

"No, No I won't fail you"

he woke in shook in the morning, sweat dripping from his forehead, breathing heavily

"Are you feeling better?" She asked ready to question why didn't he told dumbledore it was her who cursed him

"Yes" he simply said

Second one: don't trust the Weasleys with spells

"It was a really hard crash" she sighed "unfortunately I have some bad news" he positioned steadily in the bed frowning "you fall so hard and ground that your face fractured" he quickly turned to the mirror on his side " now you look normal"

His delicate lips had a small cut in them, nothing scandalous, but he looked angry as he turned at her, his serious serious expression turned into a grin. They both laughed immensely for a couple of seconds and stared at each other not knowing what to say, or do.

"Draco?" A small voice echoed in the corner of the room

"H-Hi pansy!" He said

Suddenly it was a weird atmosphere that broke through the windows as she had just crossed nearly headless nick for the first time

"I'm gonna live your two alone" heading out the door, leaving space for the both to talk she realizes the Third one: she was completely head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy

And every time she would catch him snogging pansy in the corner of the halls, kissing the length of the neck, or overheard them talking, she would get this feeling of nausea on the bottom of her stomach

"You're jealous!" Hermione said

"Why would she be jealous?" Ron asked with his mouth full, she never so gentle smacked his head with her hand pointing at the way pansy would play with Draco hair

"He doesn't even like it in the middle part," Saphira said playing with the vegetables on her plate with her fork, not hungry at all

"You gonna eat that? " Ron asked

"Wait...you like Draco? " Harry asked, "why?"

"I don't like him!!!"

"Okay...But you spent every summer with him, it's a little suspicious"

"It's because of my family you know that"

"Have you ever considered confessing your feelings to him?" Hermione again asked

" I don't like him," she said again loudly "even so, he doesn't see me that way"

But the thought lingered in her mind for a couple of weeks, weeks-long enough for the students already know that Malfoy would keep his Summers busy with her. Suddenly everyone knew and assumed the same thing that Hermione did

"Are you dating Malfoy?"

"How long are you guys together?"

"What about Pansy?"

"Is he a good kisser?"

Overwhelmed by the random questions and thoughts she went to talk with Draco personally until found him talking with Blaise and his friends "come on guys, I'm not dating her" he laughs "she not even my type" he said making an ugly face "I am just is stuck with her through the Summers cause she so annoying and boring that even her parents don't want her around" he quickly realized the words that had just come out of his mouth and shut

There was so much truth in those words, the truth that she never wanted to admit nor she could. She was adopted, it's true, people didn't know and those who knew certainly didn't talk about that.

When two purebloods decide to adopt a magic muggle-born, the elite society doesn't take it very well, first of all, it's illegal. Second: the chance of dishonoring the bloodline and status of the family by polluting their legacy mixing their divergence with a "mudblood", it a risk that no one should take, even a mother who lost her child at early birth; a bare family in an empty nest; a tree rotten in its core. She was embarrassed, only for a couple of seconds, soon she was filled with the very familiar feeling that emerged in her mind of angst

She got a suspension when the school heard from her that she had used a spell against a student and wounded him during a game of quidditch. Sitting on the bench Draco looked at her stiffed

"Why did you tell them?"

"My parents are going to move me to

Beauxbatons school" he looked worrisome that she almost felt pity "then I won't have to trouble you with my annoyingly boring behavior" she was about to get up when she felt his hand on her wrist twirling her body close to his, too close even

"Is this what you want?" She felt his mint breath in her cheeks and shivered over the wooden cologne

"W-what I-?"

" You wanna ruin everything don't you?" Her stomach filled with butterflies "our parent's plans, the secret, you found out and now you wanna ruin it"

Instantly the short moment went away, she stepped out of his intense gaze and unlocked her wrist

"Secret?"

"Why do you think you would come every summer to my house?" He said

"obviously isn't because we're so friends"

"Our parent's plans all along were that we would be more than that, I guarantee you" the words hissed against her thoughts, it was all so obvious now "marriage, Saphira, they want us to be wedd"

She felt like crying, run away like a little girl who just found out that Santa isn't real. She felt like breaking. Draco was bounded to her, stuck with a girl that he doesn't want

Making his life miserable as hers

"Draco, hear me, loud and clear," she said crying out, he never saw her tears, but that day it poured like a stormy rain

"you will never, never marry me. I give you that" alone with his thoughts, he builds his first wall

You're free

That summer she didn't come. It was his darkest summer, that gloomed into his mind like clouds over a parade

_____

"Will you fail me, boy?" Voldemort whispered

"No, my Lord"

[kryptsune]

Till Death Do You Part {Part 2} (UF Frans)

🌼Part 2 of this little drabble. It does get a little 😏 but it’s completely SFW. Enjoy! Let me know if you are looking forward to the next part! 

Her young Lord made her happier then she could ever express. In that moment as her eyes met his, letting the veil of her brilliant white wedding dress fall away, that was the moment she knew she had fallen in love with him. Her soul fluttered just basking in that gentle smile. Even after the ceremony she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. 

The festivities were rather lavish but instead of presenting her to the crowd she felt his arms around her waist. He pulled her away to bring her to the veranda where the sun slipped behind the mountains beyond. They both watched as the the sky shifted from soft blues to deep pinks, “May I have a dance with my beautiful bride?” 

She turned in his arms as the temperature began to decrease, “You do not find it too cold?” Her eyes fell closed as the skin of his palm met her cool cheek. The cold had always been more harsh for her than it did for others. It did not take much for her dainty form to begin to shiver but his hands were warm, soothing.   

He found himself feeling more relaxed as he stared down at her, an amused grin playing on his lips, “Hardly. I find the calm and serenity of the night far more pure than the harsh light of day. It holds its own beauty. None of which can compare to your own.” A gentle hand worked to brush a few strands of stray auburn hair from her face. What was he saying that was truth and which was deception? He could no longer separate them.   

Instead of dwelling on his sudden spark of emotion he slipped his hand into hers and swayed along with the violins playing in the background. He wanted his privacy with her since he knew far too well that the eyes of his siblings would be on him. 

As a lady of status under her fathers name, Frisk, had been taught to dance with as much grace and poise as royalty. At times her governess was rather harsh but that did not stop her from enjoying the time she had with her new husband. She ended up in a twirl as he pulled her back against him, “I find the evening to be peaceful but I tend to feel its icy bite rather quickly I’m afraid.” 

Red slipped his hand to her shoulder before removing his coat. Ever the gentlemen. He draped the garment just over her porcelain shoulders making sure that she retained the warmth she needed. A vampire like him certainly had no need for outerwear and the magical blood that coursed through his veins gave off that supernatural warmth. It was one of the reasons why no humans had suspected his rather rare affliction, pale or not. 

He brought his hand to adjust the cravat resting at his neck to loosen the fabrics hold. The styles had changed little over the centuries but he could without a doubt say he would much rather be comfortable, “I do not wish for you to catch a cold. Shall we retire for the evening?” Red could feel her shivering just beneath the layer of his coat. 

So fragile. 

His instinct was to bring her back to the celebration so he would prevent his brothers suspicions but he let this moment linger. He leaned down letting his lips nestle into the crown of her hair. A vampires sense were heightened but why did he just now capture that sweet scent of honeysuckle and lavender? Her scent,  "Now we begin our life together Frisk." Their “life” together. It was a shame he didn’t know how long that would be. 

That was never his way to just take his time. He was very much a fast mover, gentlemanly in the all the ways that mattered but a demon inside. He had torn through bodies, bathed in blood, and far more horrifying activities. And here... here was this sweet intelligent young woman that looked up at him with the most tender smile. Her eyes sparkled in the flickering gas lamps. Those dainty soft lips parting to speak something he was barely paying attention to. 

“I would not want it any other way.”

He found himself pulling away from her enough so that he could tilt her chin up to look at him. A part of him wanted to tell her of his 400 plus year ruse but alas he could not bring himself to do so. Instead he found himself tracing those pretty pink lips with the pad of his thumb, leaning forward and brushing his own against hers. 

His eyes fell closed, sliding his fingers into that lustrous red hair, pulling her closer to him. A kiss that was meant to last. It had to have been the sweetest kiss that he had ever given anyone, perhaps, the only one. He could not stop himself from deepening it only to be forcefully yanked out of the moment. 

Frisk had pulled away from him now nursing a bleeding lip. He let his glamor slip during that one moment of passion. His eyes blazed bright ruby before returning to their faux chocolatey hue but his bride did not seem to notice as he caressed her cheek, “Are you alright?” He produced a white cloth from the inside of the coat she was now wearing, dabbing at the wound. There were many things he could have done, erase her memory, use his own abilities to heal her, or try to explain it away. It wasn’t clear if he could even do so in the first place. Never had he once used his abilities on her.

She giggled softly, “No need to worry I am perfectly fine.” He could practically feel the love radiating off her as she adjusted their position to touch his platinum, nearly white, blonde hair.  He didn’t have to use compulsion at all, “It is a simple cut and nothing more.” 

Why did she not question it? She may have been fine but he began to struggle with his more heightened senses. He could feel her pulse fluttering against his fingertips. How that sweet scent of her blood lingered in the air. His control was impeccable but she was not just any meal. It forced him to swallow thickly as he swept her off her feet, “Shall we retire for the evening, my Love?” 

It was pure instinct when he scooped her into his arms. That only made his hunger far worse than before. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t. Not yet. He decided to make up some excuse that his bride was exhausted from the evenings events and that now it was time for him to return home with her. No one seemed to question it, not even her father.

They returned to his estate only to find her relaxing peacefully against him. Her sweet blood still was branded in his senses but he no longer struggled to prevent himself from sinking his fangs into her jugular. It was not like he did not want to but after as long as he had been living he knew how to control it. The reason others ended up staked or worse was because they chose not to. Many vampires had a superiority complex. 

Her skin was no longer cold to the touch as he set her down to see her new room, their room. Tomorrow he would take great care to show her around the estate but for now he wanted her to get some rest. 

Frisk was nervous. As wonderful as the day was and as much as she adored her new husband the idea of post marital obligations caused her cheeks to flush in embarrassment. She was sure that he would expect that of her but she didn’t know. A young lady was supposed to please her husband on their wedding night. 

They of course were alone in the bedroom and she truly was tired. There was no way that she would be able to remove this dress by herself. One could not sleep in a wedding dress. She had to ask him for help which painted a darker blush over her pale cheeks, “May I ask for some help?” He obliged her request as the zipper slowly gave way to her smooth porcelain skin. She could feel his presence behind her. 

His hands just rested on her shoulders brushing his fingers the length of her spine. When it came to his self control in this area he had always failed. Her skin was so soft, nearly as pale as freshly fallen snow. He wanted to be gentle with her unlike his usual escapades, trailing kisses along her neck. Even though she didn’t breathe a word he could tell she was scared. He mused that it was far from the true reason she should have been but he found is sweet nonetheless, “You need not do anything that frightens you. I feel it’s better for you to rest.” 

He had picked up on her nerves it would seem. It was embarrassing especially at how much she wanted to give in after feeling his mouth on her neck and shoulders. Most would remind her of her “duty” but he did the opposite. She didn’t quite know if she was ready for that yet. He understood. He always understood her, “I... know my vows... what is supposed to take place but I...” 

Red had a difficult time placating that side of him but he couldn’t deny the sweet voice that wavered as she spoke. It reminded him of a frightened little kitten, “You need not worry about it. If you wish I shall draw you a warm bath and we can simply enjoy each others company before slumber takes us both.” There was no pressure on her from him. Was that what love was?

She did as he suggested, taking a warm bath, slipping into something comfortable for evening wear, and then fell asleep next to him. Unbeknownst to her, however, she ended up snuggling up to him in the middle of the night. In her mind it was the perfect night to end a perfect day.

He could have fed from her, taken that precious life blood as his hunger grew but he abstained. In more ways than one. She was not a doll, yet her kind and gentle nature filled him with this indescribable protective and possessive instinct. The call of her blood was strong so much so he found his face buried in the crook of her neck later into the night without realizing it. 

Just a taste...

That sweet taste lingered on his tongue and it was driving him mad. He shouldn’t have to hold back who he was. It was something he did not care about then. His thoughts drifted to their moment on the veranda. This was no longer about a stupid game or a simple meal to him. No, this was a hunger he had barely known before and feelings he thought died with his final breath. 

She stirred next to him, feeling his warm breath tickling the side of her neck. His arm was wrapped around her waist pressing her flush against him as his lips worked over the skin. They were sweet kisses at first only for her breath to hitch. A sharp pain pricked her throat before it dulled and eventually numbed. Did he just bite her?

Her blood was the single most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life. The moment he sank his fangs into that supple flesh a warmth spilled into his mouth. Most humans blood tasted just fine but hers was like drinking straight from a well of dopamine. The power that just resided in her blood was incredible. He could practically taste the magic on the tip of his tongue as he pulled back to look at her. 

A thin line of ruby dripped from the corner of his mouth,  glamor now gone. She saw what it had been hiding all along. His canines were far sharper than any humans were, his eyes a gemstone ruby that contrasted her sapphire. Her eyes were wide as she gazed upon him. She watched, petrified as his thumb slipped over his mouth to wipe at the excess of life he had taken from her. 

He, however, just looked down at her not saying a word and in the end he wouldn’t let her say anything either. After a meal like that his powers would be at full strength and he could easily wipe that memory away. 

His fingers slipped under her chin, having her look deeply into his eyes as he used his abilities to suggest the scene away. She simply had a nightmare in the throes of the night. That was all he had to do, quickly healing the puncture wound that marked her nearly perfect flesh so she would be none the wiser. 

He was glad it had worked without a hitch. The worry that her magic would have made her a touch resistant was but a musing that seemed unfounded. His fear was not of her physical harm but rather her emotional... her mental harm. He was what he was and there was no changing that but here she was sleeping soundly next to him. This is where he wanted to be. He rolled to his side to peck her cheek before wishing her a good morning, "hmm.. good morning my Love."

The following morning she did not utter a word about the nightmare that had come to her. Her body felt a touch weary but when she received that gentle kiss she turned to him with a soft smile. Nothing could change her view on him, not even the fears she had been gripped by the previous night. Her hand came up to play with some of the hair at the back of his neck, "Good morning."

He nuzzled into the side of her keeping her close to him, "Did you sleep well?" A little test, surely.

She nodded still half dazed from the sun now filtering through the curtains, "Just a little tired." A soft chuckle came from her as she looked up at him lovingly, "I think my happiness of being wed to the finest gentleman took quite the energy from me." Her eyes fluttered closed comfortable in his arms. She honestly could not be happier, "I love you."

He returned her declaration with one of his own, “And I you.” 

----------------------------------------

That's how it was for months though the poor thing started to feel more light headed, weaker. It grew worse but she still tried to keep up her carefree personality even though she was in pain. She rested on the bed, propping her back up with a pillow and reading a book. Her husband had told her to rest regardless of her physical state and so she did. It couldn't be helped but she felt bad that she couldn't do the things she used to. The things that were expected of her.

He played the worried husband, but knew for a fact that it was because he was feeding from her often, just enough to keep her weak but not enough to kill her. It would soon be half a year since he slipped that wedding band on her finger. It was far longer than any had lasted before but could that be to his own doing? This was common now. A young woman so full of life and love wasn't meant to be bed ridden like this.

He came in with hot soup, tea, and the medicine that her doctor had prescribed to treat her aliments that morning, "My dear? I've made you soup and tea as the doctor advised..." he replied softly, setting the tray on the nightstand with a light clatter.

Even her once gemstone vibrant eyes seemed more pale. The very thing that spoke to his very soul. She tried her best to smile at him softly when he came in the room but there were days when the pain was far too much to bear, "Thank you." 

 I’m sorry.

Their unspoken bond allowed him to hear her thoughts if he so desired and he accidentally let that fact slip from his mouth, "There is no need to feel sorry my Love. We cannot help that you fell ill... And I believe you will survive and begin to thrive again soon.” His voice was soft, loving, caring exactly how he felt in that moment. It was his own doing after all that had made his blushing, lively wife bed ridden. If his brothers came to call and found her perfectly healthy then they would not hesitate to be rid of her. 

She tried to keep it together not realizing she had not spoken her apology out loud. Her eyes had began to water, "I've been such a burden." Every time that she blinked another trail of tears were carved onto her already stained cheeks.

Red knew he had finally gained a heart because it was breaking, "You have not. Now dry those tears my love." He brought his lips to her forehead to place a chaste kiss there, "I love you all the same. This moment shall pass. You have my promise."

She nodded gently after that sweet little kiss, "I love you too." It was so hard for him to see her like this. In her mind she had failed and all those sweet promises from so long ago seemed impossible now, "I pray I get better soon."

Once again she fell asleep unable to keep her consciousness in the waking world, "You will my dear.. I have faith” he whispered softly when he knew she no longer could hear him. While she was asleep his brothers showed up with a soft ring of the doorbell. This was far from the time of entertaining those two. It caught him off guard as he hadn't been expecting them.

He continued to let her rest before heading to the main foyer and swinging open the door. Naturally he would be excited to see his two older brothers but his mind was filled with his wife's misfortune, "Crimson? Gered? What are you both doing here? Is there some sort of occasion I have become unawares?" He knew damn well why they had appeared at his doorstep.

Crimson had his arms crossed as he glanced at his brother, "What? We can't see how our baby brother is doing? I feel as though I should be offended in some way. Are you going to invite us inside?"

He had no choice as he gestured toward the living area. The same in which just months before he had joked about his beloveds end, "But of course. Be quiet, lest you wake my wife. She is asleep with illness." His tone was firm as he shut the door with a soft click. He had to restrain himself from growling as the eldest spoke up, "Why do you care about her at all brother?" Gered asked with raised brow.

Crimson stepped inside still ever with an amused smirk plastered to his handsome face, "Ah yes... illness. How... unfortunate. I wonder why that is." He just waved his hand gently before heading toward the formal sitting area.

Play the game, "Yes... a terribly dreadful thing. The doctor hopes for the best but he cannot seem to find the source." Red followed them to the sitting area playing the dutiful host, "Wine, brothers?" he offered, pulling out a special bottle. 

Gered snatched a glass from the tray, crossing one leg over the other, "Yes.. Now I wonder... we've both done away with our little pets brother.. but what of your little... fancy?" There it was and he could tell Gered was suspicious before he was even allowed to explain himself.

Crimson could not help the smirk on his face, "Is that even a question? It has been months. You are usually finished in days. It's rather odd." The middle brother eyed Gered who he was sure had the same question.

Red poured a few glasses giving him time to think, "Ah but you see she has mage blood and the amount of power I receive from just one feeding rivals any other empty headed fool I should have misfortune to stumble across in the coming decade.” His finger tapped at the glass of ruby liquid he was now staring into, “I take all the necessary precautions of course. I wipe her memory each time. She is none the wiser." He said the words flatly with barely any hint of emotion. 

His brother seemed placated by his response. Gered took his glass, swirling the contents before taking a sip, "Curious... so you toy with her then?"

----------------------------------------

Frisk's eyes fluttered open just catching voices. Who was downstairs? Even in the grip of physical pain she was as spirited as ever. She got out of bed slowly before making herself presentable and heading down the steps. When she was close enough she stopped. He rarely talked about his family. What were they like she wondered.   

Crimson swirled his glass like he usually did, leaning back into his chair as if he were a king, "So you are keeping the human alive due to her being special. Is that correct brother?"

Red removed himself from the decanter and stood before enjoying the vintage he had picked out for himself. It was actually wine this time though there was that hint of a distinct metallic tang to the human senses, "Of course. She is quite delicious for a human, rather enjoyable. She will end up falling eventually anyway. It is the way of their fragile little bodies."

Crimson just laughed, "Indeed though I much prefer the fear that flows through them when they find out vampires exist and now they are going to die by the fangs of one.~" He had always been the sadist.

Frisk froze solid listening to them talk. Delicious? Human? Fragile? VAMPIRE?! Her soul sunk into her chest. It hurt but nothing like the physical pain she had been in these past months. He... the one she loved not only was using her but he was a vampire. The night of her wedding she finally realized that her nightmare was no figment at all. It was the truth. That was why she was so weak.

He was killing her, slowly. The heartbroken girl couldn't keep the tears from her eyes as she placed a hand over her mouth holding back any noise that might alert them that she was listening. Her soul felt as though it had cracked in two and so did her heart. 

Why? She was so stupid. The worst part was... even knowing what he was she would have offered to ease his hunger but no. He lied to her and pretended that he cared. 

That was so much worse.

She wouldn’t be able to see that the words he had spoken in an effort to deflect his siblings, pained him. He looked down at his chest now tight with anguish. Frisk. Why do you hurt so? Even he did not know she was hiding just beyond the thresh hold so near to him.

[megatraven]

I was reading through your Zeus asks and I saw a post mentioning a Ares route. He is an ABSOLUTE piece of shit but I'm scared to ask what if he had a route?

LMAOO yeah he is tho vuv

okay

ares route, ares route....... season 1!

it starts when he arrives back at Hera. security doesn’t recognize him, but MC- well, she knows he’s a god, at least. and she knows what most gods look like, crosses their names out in her mind, until she’s left with Ares’. so she swoops in and calms the situation down by acknowledging him as the god he is

satisfied that he’s known by at least Someone, and that he’s terrified the people who didn’t know who he is, he leaves without causing a bigger scene

MC figures that’s the end of it, only, when she comes back from her lunch break later, she nearly walks right into Ares. Ares, who was looking for her, because he’s learned who she is at this point- the daughter of the woman that stole Aphrodite from him- and he’s choosing her to work alongside him to find him a new Hero. at the very least, he can make her miserable- or make her respect him, which would be some sort of justice to how her mother acted towards him.

so it goes on, MC working her ass off to find Ares a suitable Hero even though she’s never even really met one before, save for seeing Hercules or Perseus in passing.

maybe she ends up working too hard, and it starts to be detrimental. she gets sick, or exhausted to the point of collapse. it’s not in Ares to care about humans, let alone this particular human, but he knows her work was honest and despite how he acts, she put her entire self into the job. (granted, she’d snark back at him from time to time, but he thought it was funny. he could respect a mortal that talks back to him of all gods). she’d even found some good candidates, surprisingly. 

so he gives her a few days off to rest and recuperate and when she comes back to work refreshed, he’s just a little nicer, doesn’t push her quite as hard. 

(that, OR she gets so angry at him for being a humongous douche barrel that she snaps and yells at him before storming away and normally he’d get angry right back, but she shocked him silent. she comes back the next day and ignores him as much as possible, and is otherwise Very Professional and he realizes that he actually feels a little bad, and gives her a crappy apology that, while crappy, softens her anger enough that working together isn’t so awkward, which leads into a Real apology from him.)

now, maybe one of the candidates for his hero is one that seems just.... too perfect. MC doesn’t like them, but Ares is almost thrilled to find someone so close to what he wants. it’s what ends Ares’ search, and he has MC send out messages to all the viable candidates they’d found, saying that in a week’s time, they’ll all come to olympus to be tested.

and within that frame of time, MC- who doesn’t really have to do anymore work for Ares until the trials come- puts her nose to the grindstone and digs for any information on the Perfect Candidate. there’s just not something right about them, and she knows she needs proof before she can bring it to Ares or the other gods, before he can make a mistake and choose that person as his Hero.

she discovers the candidate is actually someone working for Athena, who has always had a rocky history with Ares, and she finds out the morning of the trials. the trials, she notes, that she’s going to be late to if she doesn’t leave immediately

she rushes out and manages to make it to HERA just in time to meet Ares for final preparations. he takes her up to Olympus, and she’s about to tell him what she knows only to have her voice stolen by the beauty of Olympus. she’s never been there before, and it’’s gorgeous. 

Ares would never admit to it, but he might have been preening a bit, puffing up his chest in pride for him home and how wonderful MC thinks it is. somewhere along the way, he came to respect her opinion, and the realization of it surprises him.... but he’s okay with it. he’s especially okay with how big she’s smiling, and how he can see that she’s restraining herself from gushing (which he almost regrets- he kind of wants to hear what she has to say. it’s not often you see olympus for the first time again, after all)

by the time they get to the throne room, MC finally gets a grip on her amazement and she pulls Ares aside to tell him what she’s learned.

it gets Ares angry. not at her, per se, but that’s how it seems, and she shrinks back from the heat of his aura. he notices, of course, and never would he have thought that he’d bend to a mortal’s feelings, but he makes a conscious effort to calm himself down before reassuring her that he’s not angry with her.

he’ll take hold of her hand and ignore the spark that seems to travel between them, and tells her to stay behind him during the trials, so that she won’t get hurt.

they go in and go through the motions, all the way down the line of candidates until it reached The Perfect One(tm), wherein Ares calls out their ruse and starts an Actual fight between them and Ares. 

the candidate proves to be more difficult an opponent than Ares had been prepared for, but worse, they know Ares’ biggest weakness just then: MC

they lunge for her and it’s the image of them with MC struggling to get out of their grip that turns Ares’ aura up a notch, forcing itself between them and MC. (it’s the moment where Ares’ aura isn’t so blisteringly hot to her, but an oddly comforting warmth, instead)

he’ll hold his hand out to MC and say something stupid about how they should take down Candidate together, and she’ll take it, their auras working in tandem to overpower the candidate. (Ares realizes she has Hera’s potential at this point, but elects to say nothing)

they win!!!!! and then Ares picks his real Hero, who happens to be the person MC thought was most fitting. (what can Ares say? he trusts her judgement of people.)

the gods celebrate, they go through the binding ritual, and then it’s so late that MC is practically falling asleep on her feet, and though she says she’ll make it home just fine, Ares insists that he bring her.

in the privacy of her apartment, he thanks her for her hard work and saving him from Athena’s candidate.

she smiles at him, but it’s a Little sad and she’s like “guess this means we won’t be seeing each other much anymore” 

and that’s something that Ares finds he doesn’t want.

so instead of letting everything end there, he suggests that he could use someone’s help to uncover Athena’s plot against him. And, sure, he has a Hero now, but he needs someone with experience, who already knows what to look for....

MC teases a little, and she’s like “Oh? Ares, are you possibly asking me to help you?”

and Ares laughs and- wow when did MC get so close?- says, “Me? Ask a human for help? I would never.”

MC knows he’s teasing back and laughs and then whoops they kiss! surprise! Ares got attached to a human!

he stays the night at her apartment :)

season 2 would be like, Ares and MC and his Hero working to get proof that Athena is working against Ares, but also it’d be Ares being faced with all the shitty things he’s done or thought, which would lead to apologies to Aphrodite and Alex both, which in turn (eventually) leads to something almost friendly between them. it’s a lot of coming to terms with the fact that humans aren’t weak or lesser than those of godly descent while he juggles with the information that MC doesn’t have to be human. (i think he’d tell her that early on in the season, and her want to stay human is what moves Ares to rethink his opinions of them)

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 8: Ch 3

Previous 

Summary: Syco’s insanity is explored and the mind of the unnamed Space Explorer is as well.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

From head to toe, they’re green. That’s because their outfits are made out of leaves. Their cloaks, pointy hats, bandages that covered from wrist to elbow and ankle to knee are torn pieces of what was once an enormous leaf. They bowed before the four of us. Syco and Saamuki followed, leaving Shiitakee and me to look at each other and wonder if we’re supposed to bow as well. By the time we decided to join they came back up, having the two of us shrug at each other. The one with the sharpest hat, who is in line with Syco and manages to have an even pointer face than him, raises their arms. Their cloak is raised with this action and with it I can see red symbols all over their chest. It’s a sight I’ve seen before.

“Syco, it is a pleasure to have you return after all this time. We have heard so many great things about you since your departure. What brings you here again with new faces, I must add?”

“I want to do the trial again, but this time with her,” he nudges in my direction. 

“Ah, with the human. What a fascinating choice, Syco.”

Syco didn’t say much when we reunited. He didn’t comment about how I was avoiding eye contact with him. He only said two things. The first thing he said was to remain human. No disguises. The second thing was a question and it was directed towards Shiitakee and his black eye. 

“I’d rather not discuss it, but this wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to me by dropping me off on the next planet over.”

This planet is just like Earth only things are comically massive. Even Syco is an ant compared to it all. A pebble on Earth is a boulder on this planet. The grass ahead is like skyscrapers and the trees around us are like mountains. This meant the walk to the treehouses, their village, was long and tiresome. I should’ve used the time to ask Syco what the trial is, but I didn’t. That dream had become my focus. I played it over and over again and each time I drifted further and further away from Syco’s side. 

I was the last one to leave the thick greenery and step foot on the makeshift elevator, which is a basket that was meticulously created by intertwining—nearly rubbery—tree bark with a long rope triple knotted around its handle. After Pointy Face latched the door behind me, they clapped once and the basket began to lift. I could hear the string’s tension as the ten of us were being pulled up. The wind began to brew the further we went up, causing the basket to sway. We must’ve been fifty feet in the air when what looked like a butterfly flew past us. If I had to guess its wingspan it was double Cala’s, which meant as it flapped its wings all too close to us the basket’s swinging quickened a frightening amount. It got reactions from Saamuki and Shiitakee, a few grunts and groans. Pointy Face called for the two to calm down. They said that anything breaking is near zero percent. Not quite zero and not quite the comfort they needed. I was quiet while this happened because I just needed my hands to show off my emotions. They hooked onto the railing. There’s no way I could die from this, but the thought of the rope snapping and me turning into a pile of mush once I hit the ground made me uneasy. The pain would be unimaginable. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m scared. Surprisingly, I’m not. Syco must’ve read me wrong because he placed his hand onto my shoulder, hoping to comfort me. I flinched and he retracted his hand. I turned to him with my now seasick face. He looked back at me. I could see the hurt and a hint of something else in his eyes before he looked away.  

Our feet stepped foot onto the ground. The Speaker’s voice comes out of Saamuki for a moment. From the looks of everyone’s faces, no one noticed but me. Shiitakee muttered a prayer. I take another look at Syco, but his back is facing me. He places his arms behind his back as Pointy Face, who’s now our tour guide, leads us away from the tallest of his people. That broad-shouldered cluster of muscle was the one pulling us up. The scowl on his face makes our reactions justified. He notices my stare and I scamper away before I can cause our concerns to become the future. 

The tour guide, the architect behind this entire village and has repeated so about a dozen times in the past five minutes, points out way too many unnecessary details. They point out everything about the bystanders in eyesight from their occupation to their hobbies and the patterns carved into every inch of the village, which was in itself another, but obviously, much larger carving. The trees around us have been carved into to make homes, a library, our tour guide’s office, and the building we’re heading towards. It’s on the other side of this bridge, meaning we get another chance to gamble with our lives. At least now there aren’t any freakishly large butterflies, but the creaking with every step we took across the bridge is worrisome. This all has been quite something to be prideful about. Still, the three of us aren’t as animated as last time. Shiitakee is calm, but I imagine hundreds of prayers going through his head. The Speaker once again comes back, but their voice dies soon after. I, on the other hand, am focused on Syco’s calm demeanor as I walk in his shadow. He can be so composed publicly, but behind closed doors be so broken. Is that why I had that dream? No, there was more to the dream besides him and there is more to him than I first thought. That hidden expression in his eyes frustrates me because I can’t determine what it was. 

The tree’s rings slope down to its center. At its center, which a single ray of sunlight beams onto, is a shimmering bowl filled with red paint. The annoyingly, prideful founder of the village is the first to take a step towards the ominous spot in this dim room. Syco and I follow. The other two do too, but both only take one step forward before they’re halted by one of the other leaf people. “Only those that wish to run the trial shall proceed,” the one that stopped them disclosed firmly.  

I looked back at them. I was going to give them a thumbs up and an awkward smile to let them know they just have to wait for a little bit and nothing bad will happen once whatever the trial could be is over, but I didn’t want to lie and be hopeful on the outside but worried on the inside. So, I simply turn back around and continue towards the light. 

Syco and I sat right across from each other. I’m looking into the bowl rather than at him. In the reflection not only do I see him looking past me, but I also see the leaf people that’s been following Pointy Face spread out throughout the circular room. They began to sing. It’s heavenly, almost as good as the gondolier, but they don’t get the same reaction out of me. It gets me more anxious.  

“Relax,” Syco murmured to me. 

Again, I look at him, but once again he’s not meeting my eyes. It hurt me more than it should’ve. 

With the background vocals coming to a close, the officiator announces with the bowl of paint now swishing in his right hand, “It has been more than fifty years since one of our own has done the trial, but five years since an off-worlder asked to do the trial. That very off-worlder sits before us. Syco and human, I pray that by the time you complete the trial your results are what you desire.”

Several things I wanted to say about the whole desire part, but I kept my mouth shut. I hate how much I’ve gone soft for Syco. I’ve become submissive to the one I wanted to murder. 

They go on to paint the same symbols on their chest onto Syco’s upper body using their left hand. A simple red dot is pressed onto his forehead. Syco then closes his eyes. When Pointy Face turns to me, my heart drops. Thankfully, I don’t need to change out. The paint is placed on my clothes. That's definitely going to stain. When they place the same dot onto my forehead they continue, “Let the trial commence!”

Opening my eyes, I find myself on a bed that feels familiar but I can’t figure out why. It’s soft and fluffy, but I know I shouldn’t focus on unnecessary things. I call out for Syco, but instead of his response, I hear two sets of voices that make me feel as if someone is tugging my heartstrings. I touch my face to see my hand is wet. I’m crying and when the faces behind those voices come into the bedroom, I find myself sobbing in their embrace. 

“Mom? Dad?” My voice cracked. 

My memories of them had long been erased, but my body moved for me. It knew them while I didn’t. Does that make me a terrible daughter?

Apparently, I voiced the concern out loud because my dad responds with, “Of course not.”

I grab the back of their shirts and squeeze them. I didn’t want them to leave. I wanted a family again. I wanted to feel love again. 

I knew they died, but I don’t remember how. Again, my body did. 

“You’re alive. How? The fire. The accident.”

My parents looked at each other then looked at me as if I was crazy. 

In this reality, I had to have been because as my mother is caressing my cheek and wiping away the rest of my tears she tells me, “What are you going on about, sweetie? Did you have another bad dream?”

Her voice is soothing. Her touch is soft. My body told me this is a ruse. This isn’t the mother I had. She was cruel. She treated me like a dog rather than her daughter, but is it wrong to want the angel before me? Is it wrong to want the lie that I’ve desired?

I place my hand on top of hers and melt into her touch. I smiled when she placed a kiss on my forehead. This moment I’ve longed for is cut short when my dad scolds my mom, “Honey, she has to go to school in a few hours. She needs to get some rest. You don’t want her to fall asleep in the middle of her exam again now do you?”

She lets go of me. It hurts. “I know, but we don’t get to see her all that much anymore. She’s always studying.”

My dad replies, “She’ll still be here in the morning. Now come on. Let's go back to sleep.”

After a sigh, she pecks me on the cheek, and the two head out. They tell me their goodbyes right before they shut my bedroom door. 

Rolling away from the door, I shut my eyes. I try to get some sleep, but the fires and the screams make me restless. I toss and turn, but with each attempt to brush them off they get worse and worse. The next one is more gruesome than the last. 

A scream bellows out of me. Everyone in the room looks at me. Two students a row behind me whisper to each other, they mock me, causing the only adult in this room to remind everyone that we’re taking an exam. Everyone needed to be facing their test and especially do it silently, or it’s an automatic zero. His voice sounds familiar. It’s condescending. The sounds of pencils scribbling paper, bubble sheets to be exact, tell me they do without hesitation. As those around me continue doing their tests, the teacher takes a knee in front of me and hushes to me, “Is everything alright at home?”

Past him, the words on the board begin to mesh and eventually blur together. Shaking my head, they become readable once again. According to the board, we have less than an hour left. 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I can tell, but if you want I could write you a note for you to see Dr. Verr-”

“No, it’s fine. Really.” That name caused the hand holding up my pencil to twitch. I mark outside of the answer key.  

“Okay. I just worry you’ll slow us down.”

I could’ve snapped my pencil right then and there, blast out my disbelief over how a teacher could say that so nonchalantly, but someone taps my shoulder. I turn and see a cute blonde girl. Knowing me, I’ve probably become as red as a tomato. This gets her to giggle and in return gets me to smile awkwardly. 

“Eyes on your test, Ashley,” our teacher snapped. 

“Ashely,” I repeated under my breath. 

[thenoblehouseofdayne]

Daughter Dearest 5 {Robb Stark x Bolton!Reader}

Series Masterlist Here!

{Warnings: mentions of mental illness, mentions of manipulative behavior, argument, some language.}

{Sorry for the long wait! I’ve been darting around on vacation for a few weeks, and haven’t had time to settle and write. To make up for it, here’s a lengthy Robb sequel! Kisses, TNHOD.}

Tensions were high inside the Stark encampment. It seemed that the men had forgotten that there was a war to be fought outside the village of tents, and were content to argue and dispute amongst themselves. Robb was the King of the North, but he was also your husband, and he was visibly worried for your safety at all hours. Ramsay, your half brother, was having a grand time being a pain in the ass, making comments about Robb’s feminine approach to ruling and his gentle touch. Roose was staying out of the argument all together, and had more than once suggested you do the same. 

You didn’t care, Ramsay could choke and you’d dance on his grave. He was a dirty rotten bastard, and he caused nothing but trouble. It was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing, and your ruse would be through. 

That was another matter entirely. Was it a ruse? It had to be-- you were insistent on the fact. You didn’t love Robb, he was a means to an end, a position for your father, and a safe bed for the rest of your life. He could’ve been old or cruel or ugly, but the Gods had seen fit to give you the perfect husband. He wasn’t perfect for you, but he was perfect. 

Robb was pouring over maps, trying to find the perfect ground on which to engage the Lannister army. And more so, where he could hide you during the bloodshed. He was the King in the North, and he didn’t have to bend to the Boltons and their archaic customs. The bastard unsettled him, but he said nothing of it, other than a few snide comments to you in the privacy of your bedroom. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are more interested in those maps than the men who made them,” you quipped from the bed, resting your chin on your elbows, observing his admirable ass with a half-smile. 

“I’m sure,” he replied dismissively, though a smile came to his face at the sound of your voice. He was deep in thought, scratching the comings-in of a beard that he hadn’t had the time or luxury to remove. “It’s late. You’re usually asleep by now,” there was an edge of concern in his voice, but he didn’t chide you. 

“You’re usually asleep by now,” you returned, pulling the heavy furs closer around your shoulders to shield you from the cold. “And I can’t sleep when I can feel the tension radiating off of you like heat waves,” you complained, lifting the edge of the blanket and offering an enticing smile, hoping to coax him to your side. “You need to rest-- or you’ll fall asleep with your sword in hand.” 

It was an amusing image, and it conjured a matching smile at his lips. Sighing, he extinguished the pair of candles on his desk, and began to shrug off the heavy layers of clothing that adorned him during the day. There was no grace or seduction to the movements, but they were done hastily, to close the distance between himself and you. 

Finally, he slipped beneath the offered sheet, and wrangled you closer to him, effortlessly sliding his arms around your waist. He stilled soon after that, his nose buried in your hair, breathing evening out as he allowed the tension to slide out of his shoulders. “Can I ask you something?” He murmured, almost lost in the sound of the wind howling outside. 

You nodded, fingers carving soft grooves in the plains of his chest. 

“That first night, after we...” he paused to allow you to fill in the blank, “you swore that you would never love me. You wouldn’t touch me. Called yourself my prisoner. What changed? You went from feral to docile practically overnight, and I just--” he sighed, “I don’t understand.” 

You felt like he’d just dropped a massive weight on your chest, and squeezed all the breath out of your lungs. You’d thought you’d been so careful... “I--” your mind reeled for a way to rectify the situation. “I don’t know.” You answered honestly, fidgeting in his arms so you could turn to face him, and see those hauntingly beautiful eyes. “My father used to love my mother, more than anything in the world. He was stiff, but he was happy. When she got sick, and when she started to lose her mind...” you hesitated. “I watched him fall out of love with her. Secluded her away to a tower, a few servants to care for her, and told me never to visit. Said it would only hurt more when we left.” You couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the pity in them, and the adoration that still lingered. “I didn’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry. I didn’t want to be her, loving a man who would end up confining me to a little room to rot.” 

“You don’t have to--” his voice was softer now as he tried to pull you back to his chest, “I am never going to be your father, Y/N,” he insisted, metal in his voice. 

“You’re so lovely,” you continued, ignoring the sympathy in his tone. “And soft and sweet, and you want so badly to believe in love... and I took advantage of that.” It felt like a cool rush of relief to admit to the guilt that had been weighing on your conscious. “My father was worried that you would lose fondness for me, so I embellished a little-- just to give me time to truly grow fond of you.” 

He was very still.

“Robb?” You asked, wiggling in his arms to catch a look at his face. “No, that’s not what I meant!” You insisted, once you saw the hurt and color draining from his face. “I do love you, there was just a moment when--”

“That first time,” he asked quietly, “when you told me you loved me, that was him?” He didn’t release you, his eyes searching your face for truth. “Your father?” 

You were speechless, heart aching as you realized what jeopardy speaking the truth had landed you in. “He didn’t--”

Robb unwound from you at once, scrambling away from you like you’d burned him. “And when we made love, was he pulling the strings? The puppeteer, feeding you venom to spit back in my face?” He was indignant, snarling, hurting. “I loved you!” He spat, not even bothering to don clothes as he retreated to the far side of the tent. “You knew how much I loved you-- and you lied to me!”

“I do love you, Robb, please!” You pleaded, curling up on the edge of the bed, and watching his expression twist in disgust. 

“How do I know this isn’t another trick?” He demanded, cheeks flushing red with anger. “That these aren’t your father’s words leaving your lips?”

You opened your lips to respond, but saw the far tent-flap peek open, and a grinning Ramsay peer inside, seemingly close enough to have overheard the obvious spat. 

“My King,” his voice was oozing with smug pride at having caught his rival in a compromising position, “is everything alright?”

Robb, a fire burning in his chest and his heart-shattered into more pieces than he could count, looked to you. His love, the sweet woman that he had grown to adore-- tears shining in her eyes as she begged for him to forgive her... and he couldn’t hate her. He wanted to, Gods did he want to hate her, cast her out and remove the thought of her from his mind. But he couldn’t. Your brother, however... “everything’s fine,” he insisted, his voice low and testing. “We were having a disagreement.” 

“I’m sure half the encampment knows at this point,” he entered the tent without invitation, his eyes sweeping over to you and taking a look of lechery at your disheveled state. “Is there anything I could do to ease this?”

Robb’s jaw twitched, watching your half-brother ogle over you with shameless lust. He hated Ramsay. Without a word, he stepped forward, a fist curling at his side, and a cruel look in his eyes. “Yeah, actually,” his movements were sharp and predatory, “eat shit.” And Robb’s fist collided with his jaw in a brutal cracking motion. 

[greekowl87]

Fic: Weight of the World

A/N: I wrote this within a day with very little editing. I guess bad anxiety and insomnia make great muses for writing. Sorry for any typos. No beta as I rushed to write this. Post IWTB before the separation in season 10. P.S. Smutish if not smutlight. Just a heads up.

Scully was not one to let her anxiety or nerves show. 

As a child, she kept her emotions inward and was a private person. In college and med school, she kept her head down to excel at the top of her class. At the FBI academy, she stood head to head with her male cohort and continued to excel with her own merits. At Quantico, no one questioned Dr. Scully. It wasn’t until Mulder that something changed in her. At first, she tried to show him that she was no spy and she was more than capable. But things evolved and shifted and she was his equal. She was simply Scully and she found her emotional armor chinked away over the years. She could finally be herself with him. Years in the field battling alien conspiracies, years on the run, and years living together had not changed them. So she thought.

Ever since Mulder regained his freedom after they helped the FBI, Scully began to see him less and less. A part of her was happy that he was no longer a prisoner but another part of her envied him. It was as if him being a fugitive was the only thing that kept him from running off and forgetting about her.

There it was. That feeling of being left behind. That anxiety that had been growing over the past month that she was struggling to keep hidden away. It gnawed at her and ached like an insufferable pain that could not be cured. She found herself waking more and more in the night. Mulder’s insomnia had somehow transmitted to her once he regained his freedom and she began to feel trapped. Work no longer held the same enjoyment it once did. She started to come back to an empty home with Mulder finally chasing down leads and meeting the contacts from his MUFON forums in person down in Richmond.

When Scully was first assigned to be his partner, it took months to keep him from running off without her. Now, sixteen years later, it was happening all over again.

Despite all this, everything imploded after tonight. She came home to an empty house that evening after a disastrous dinner at her mother’s house. Bill announced in anger over Tara shouting at him, Matthew trying to hush his younger siblings, that Bill was being transferred to Germany to get away from all the family BS. His words, not hers. Charlie and his wife were shouting right back. Maggie Scully caught hopelessly in the middle trying to placate her feuding sons. And that left Dana Scully, somehow silently caught up in the family fight, alone (because Mulder was elsewhere), listening to the random barb dropped in regards to her life choices. Her mother watched helplessly as her sons and their families left in a whirlwind and the sad smile Maggie Scully gave her remaining daughter, wishing her a good evening and not to worry. That night just made her feel even more alone.

By the time she drove back to Virginia, Mulder’s truck was still missing in the driveway. Their house was eerily silent. And that was what caused the dam to break. The ache in her chest, the anxiety that made her want to claw at her skin, came out with silent tears. 

She climbed the old wooden steps, the third step from the top creaking loudly, as she ascended to disappear into their bedroom. She thought about maybe taking a bath but decided it was too much effort. Instead, she changed into a large t-shirt and soft cotton pajama pants and crawled into their bed. Scully pulled a frayed cotton quilt around her like a cocoon and just let herself cry.

A physician in the 18th century would have diagnosed her was pangs in the chest. Pangs. Suffering. To be sorrowful. Was she said.? Or was it the anxiety? She balled her fists, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, as she tried to force herself to breathe. This was not something Dana Scully did. Her rational mind recognized the signs of an anxiety attack but she was also angry and hurt. Why did she feel this way? What the hell was causing it? She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, her heart drumming in her ears, and counted silently to four. She tried to ease her breath out slowly but it came out too quickly.

She couldn’t breathe. In a last-ditch effort, she hugged a pillow to her chest and willed herself to steady her breath. This didn’t happen to her. She didn’t panic. She didn’t have anxiety. She was stronger than that.

When she opened her eyes, Scully didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard the downstairs door slam shut and Mulder’s voice calling for her. Did she fall asleep? How much time had passed? Was it already night?

Scully willed herself to move, to get out of bed, and pretend everything was a-okay. That’s what Mulder expected. That is what the rest of the world expected. But her body rebelled and she stayed right in bed. She could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. That loud third step from the top sounded like an alarm. 

Panic. 

Fear. 

Pretend you're asleep, she thought.

“Scully?” His voice was soft. “You awake?” She didn’t respond, trying to keep the ruse going. But something must’ve given it away. “Scully, have you been crying?” Another pause. “I know you aren’t asleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, twisting her back to him.

“That doesn’t sound like your regular fine. How was your mother’s?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Typically that was enough and he would leave her alone but not this time. She felt the bed dip and he sat on his side so he could look at her. Scully huffed and turned her back to him so she faced the window.  “You’re cute when you are angry but it’s painful to see you hurting.”

“I’m not hurting.”

“You know, once upon a time, I used to a profiler at the FBI and they used to pay me to do this work,” Mulder joked.

“Stop profiling me then.”

“It was a joke. Scully, look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mulder traced her cheek and she closed her eyes, feeling fresh tears. He gently peeled back the blanket and traced her arm. “Nothing’s wrong.” She bawled her fist again in frustration. “Mulder, please. I’m fine.”

He ignored her and pried open her fist to take her hand. Like a small child, she tried to pull away. “This isn’t you,” he whispered. “Scully, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head defiantly. He took a deep breath and curled up behind her and drew the old quilt she had been using around them. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he whispered. “We can just lay here.”

At that moment, whether it was just the sensation of Mulder surrounding her, not being alone, or both, she cried harder. He pressed his hand to her chest over her heart. “I’m here. Scully, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. What happened at your mother’s tonight? Is it work? Is it something else? More than once you pulled me together, let me return the favor, but I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

One of the longest minutes of her life passed before she answered. “No, I’m not okay, Mulder.”

“Tell me.”

“Work. My family. Us. Me. Everything.”

She wished the bed would open up to a hole to China so that she could fall into it. Maybe from China, she could travel to Australia and live a different life. “Everything,” he repeated.

“Everything.”

He took a deep breath and her anxiety dissipated slightly feeling him around her, safe and secure. “Well,” he sighed.  “Let’s begin with your mother’s dinner.”

She laughed bitterly. “A clusterfuck. I don’t even remember what the argument was about. Charlie and his wife stormed off. Bill started yelling as Tara stood by terrified. He’s getting transferred to Germany. And me? It was like I didn’t even exist.”

He nuzzled behind her ear. “I don’t know about that but I’m sure it’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t think so,” she whispered. 

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I don’t know anymore, Mulder.”

“Okay. What about work?”

She shrugged weakly. “Okay. The thing I have avoided: us.”

“It’s nothing, Mulder.”

“It’s something to cause whatever this is,” he whispered.

In the silence, they lay together. Scully closed her eyes trying to memorize the sensations of being held by him and just feeling safe for a moment. “Do you remember at the beginning of our partnership? When you tried to always run off without me?”

“I didn’t trust you then,” he whispered. “But yes, I remember.”

“It feels like that again.”

Scully’s confession striked him as odd. He rubbed her arms and kissed her again. “What do you mean?”

“It sounds selfish.”

“Try me.”

She shifted and turned to face him. “When you were home,” she started, “well, still a fugitive...I always knew you would be here. Maybe I am being selfish but I miss knowing you are going to be here when I get home. When I come home, the house is empty. Lonely. We talk but we don’t talk. Does that make sense? It feels like we are living two separate lives. You are running off without me.”

“I thought you wanted to keep the darkness out of our life.”

“Not at the expense of losing you, Mulder.”

He closed his eyes and bent his forehead to rest against hers. “If I could take away this anxiety and pain that you have, I would in a heartbeat. You aren’t going to lose me. It’s going to be okay. You have to trust me.”

“You know what I miss most of all, Mulder? This. Just this moment with us.” She sighed as if a great pain had been relieved as he began to run his hand up and down her arm, over her face, and then under her shirt. She closed her eyes. “At the end of the day, it’s just us against the world.”

“Hasn’t it always been like that, Scully?” He rolled her gently onto her back and kissed her gently. “You’re starting to relax.”

She closed her eyes despite herself. “You were always the best drug. But this feels like a band-aid at best. I’m still scared. I am worried.”

“Don’t be. We have a life together.”

“Do we?” She opened her eyes and blinked lazily. “Mulder?”

“It seems we both need a reminder.”

Scully relished his touch as he pulled her shirt above her head and began to kiss her breast bone. She relaxed into the pillows and closed her eyes praying that nothing would take him again from her. The anxiety she had festering for the past month vanished under his lips and she shivered. “Mulder,” she murmured. 

Her fingers raked through his hair slowly as he found her lips again and, unrushed, enjoyed his ministrations. This was something that a couple did after many years of being together. Unrushed and unhurried, they relished their closeness. For once, their unspoken communication reigned supreme and she pushed against him. Scully felt her anxiety falling away. 

“This isn’t a band-aid,” he whispered between kisses. “This is real.” His hand snaked downwards and she became jelly under him. “All this is real. If the world feels like it is shattering around us, we’ll still have us, Scully.”

Scully found it odd that her body felt so ready after so little. Her anxiety must've run her down to nothing. “Shirt off,” she ordered softly.

He arched his bag as she tore off his shirt with practiced ease. Skin against skin, they sighed in contentment. “All or nothing, Scully.”

What an odd turn of events, she thought. A simple reunion of their bodies and spirits and all was well. Was that how it worked? As she let her thoughts drift, Mulder stripped away the remains of their clothes. With a few quick strokes, he entered and joined her. Any doubt and anxiety Scully had left evaporated in a fiery death as she hugged him close and wrapped her legs around his waist. It did not take much as both cried out in unison and sheer emotion ebbed away. He held her close and continued to kiss her leisurely. “You don’t have to be Atlas, Scully. Let me be your Heracles and carry the weight of the world for a while.”

Scully smiled. She let her anxiety go and decided, yet again, to just enjoy the moment. It may be just a band-aid but Mulder was the best drug. “Love you,” she whispered sleepily.

“We’ll be okay, Scully. Just you see.” 

Mulder’s voice was heavy with sleep. Emotionally exhausted, she let herself forget and sleep as he kissed her lovingly and whispered they were forever.

[katlyn1948]

On My Way: For the Gendrya Gift Exchange

@thereluctantbadger this is for you! I enjoyed doing this for the @gendrya-gift-exchange

I hope you enjoy!! 

Also I wanted to add, I left the story quite open ended, so don’t hate me if you don’t like open ended stories!!! 

On My Way

Katlyn1948

Summary:

Based off of the prompt: Gendry is trying to get to the hospital before Arya gives birth.

Notes:

For TheReluctantBadger.

So...this is my submission for Gendrya Gift Exchange. I am not going to lie, I had a hard time with this prompt and this story is REALLY dialogue heavy. I had a lot of different ideas of what I wanted to do, but they all just seemed meh. I finally came up with this alternating POV's idea and what Arya and Gendry are doing individually. I didn't have time to edit this as well, I've been really busy at work (it is always like this at the end of the year) and have hardly any time to write any of my WIPs. The deadline for this was tomorrow and I wanted to post it today because I know I wouldn't have time to do it tomorrow. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!!

Work Text:

ARYA

Arya was uncomfortable.

She was more than that; she was miserable.

It was two weeks well past her due date and she was sure that her child would never come into the world. Why she even agreed to have a child was beside her. Sure, Gendry had begged and pleaded and gave her the cutest, stupidest puppy dog eyes known to man. However, the fact that she actually caved still astounded her. She never considered herself the motherly type, yet as her pregnancy progressed, she found herself falling in love with the being growing inside her.

She was ready, that she was sure of; she just needed to get it out of her womb.

Restless nights began the beginning of her third trimester and eventually kicking Gendry out of the bed was the only sure way she could get a moderate good night’s rest, but when the end of her pregnancy (or so she thought) approached, sleep was the last thing she could get. Her swollen stomach and the constant somersaults her baby insisted on doing kept her up most of the night. Not even the kind presence of her husband could soothe her insomnia.

“Maybe we should walk the neighborhood. I heard it could help induce labor.” Gendry stated three days after her due date.

Arya was sitting on the couch opposite him, fiddling with crochet needles and yarn. She taken up the hobby the moment her OBGYN put her on strict bed rest because of her petite frame and sheer size of her over grown belly. She wanted to make a simple hat of the baby, but it was turning more into a sock, despite her constant efforts.

“Gendry, I’m fine. The doctor said that these things are normal. I’m sure the baby will come in a few days’ time.” She said as she struggled with the current row of stiches.

Gendry snorted, “Watch it come so unexpectedly, not even you nor I will be prepared.”

Arya’s eyes snapped up to meet his, a very distinctive glare pooling from her irises, “Don’t you dare jinx me. I have been prepared since the doctor put me on bed rest. I am ready for this baby, are you?”

“Of course I am! I just finished setting up the crib and the walls of the nursery are pained that soft pale yellow you wanted.” Gendry pretended to be insulted by Arya’s words, gasping with feigned innocence.

Arya scoffed, “It’s more to it than that.”

She shook her head at him, returning her attention to the pile of yarn sitting on her lap. It really was futile effort, for she was never one for such crafts. She knew how to sew a button on shirt of course, but crocheting was an entirely different feat.

Arya struggled with the last few stiches before finally throwing the needles across the living room with a resounding clank.

“Is everything alright?” Gendry asked as he moved by her side.

“No.” Arya whimpered. “I really want this baby out of me.”

Gendry sighed, pulling Arya into his arms so she could rest on his chest. “The baby will come and she will be perfect just like her mother.”

“She?”

“I feel like it’s a girl, don’t you?”

Arya groaned, “I don’t know, maybe it should make its way into the world so I can find out!”

She poked at her belly, trying to get a ruse out of the babe within her. A few moments passed before a noticeable kick protruded, causing Arya to grunt in discomfort.

“I don’t think she liked that.” Gendry teased.

Arya turned in his arms, punching his gut a little more forcefully than she intended, “Shut up, stupid.”

GENDRY

He had fallen asleep on the couch with Arya nestled in his arms.

She has been so uncomfortable as of late, that he tried to do anything he could to help with her ever growing stomach, even if it meant giving up his bed.

The first time he was kicked out of their room, he was sure that he had done something stupid. There were plenty of times where Gendry would do something without thinking, causing Arya to completely ghost him, even if he was two feet away.

But that night he knew that there was nothing that he had done that day that could have caused her to be upset with him, so instead of marching off to the couch without question, he huffed and barged into their room, with the lights on full blast.

“What in the bloody seven hells is wrong with you!” She barked from their bed.

“Why are you kicking me out of our bed. I know I didn’t do anything.” Gendry countered, his lips pursing in annoyance.

He could hear Arya’s muffled groan from under her pillow as she threw their duvet off her body, “I know you didn’t do anything, you stupid bull! I kicked you out because you’re uncomfortable.”

Gendry looked at with confusion, “I’m…uncomfortable?”

“Yes! With this growing baby and your sheer size, I cannot find a comfortable position to sleep in, so I kicked you out. Surely, you don’t want your pregnant wife sleeping on the couch.” She questioned.

Gendry’s cheeks went red, “No?”

“Good answer. Now, if you please, shut of the damn light and let me sleep!” Before Gendry could understand what was going on, a white pillow came flying towards his face. He dodged it easily but complied with his wife’s wishes and made himself comfortable on the couch.

Three months had gone by and he was still confided to the couch, unable to get a decent rest since. He didn’t complain, but his back sure was screaming from the lack of a proper bed. He knew how miserable Arya had been, considering she was nearing two weeks past her due date, and anything he could to help appease her uncomfortableness, he would gladly do.

This night, however, she had fallen asleep right with him, and he was sure that this was the first night she truly had a good rest since kicking him out of their room.

He groaned a bit as he shifted from under her, being mindful not wake her. He reached to the couch side table and clicked his phone, watching as the screen illuminated to read the time. It was nearing 7 am and he was surprised that he already had four missed calls and six text messages from Clegane.

“Shit!” he whispered as he read one of the messages sent.

Two of their mechanics had rang sick and the shop was behind on appointments.

Although Gendry was out for the rest of year, considering Arya was about to pop, he knew that Clegane would need the extra hands. He may have been co-owner, but he still had a responsibility to their clients. So, with a defeated sigh, he gently shook Arya to wake her from her slumber.

“Arya, love, I need to get up.”

He watched as she crinkled her face in annoyance, letting a yawn escape her lips, “Why? You don’t have to go to work.”

“But I do.”

That got her attention. She sprang up from his chest and gave him a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. Clegane called and two of our mechanics rang sick, I have to go.” He countered.

“Gendry, Sandor can call any of your other mechanics; let one of them come in.”

Gendry shook his head, “I can’t do that. Lem is out on holiday; I doubt he is even in the country, and Anguy his with Beric on a supply run. It will only be for a few hours and I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone.”

“It’s three days before Christmas, Gen. It is one of the busiest days of the year for travel. Everyone is trying to get their car maintenance before they leave on gods know what kind of road trip. Imagine the traffic out there now; you won’t be home until late.”

“Isn’t Sansa supposed to stop by today and have tea? Spend some time with her, I’m sure there is lots you two need to catch up on.” He smiled.

“I’m not some gossiping house wife, but it would be nice to spend time with her.” She said with a defeated sigh.

Gendry smiled, “Great! Now I have to get ready.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips before shuffling out from under her.

“You tell Sandor that if you’re not home by seven, I’ll castrate him!” Gendry heard her yell as he ran off into their bedroom.

He chuckled under his breath before yelling back, “As you wish, milady.”

ARYA

It was nearing 10 AM and Arya was bored out of her mind.

Gendry had left her to do the right thing and Sansa was 45 minutes late due to the ridiculous amounts of traffic that had transpired, leaving Arya alone and miserable. She had given up on her crochet hat, unable to take the painstakingly precision it required to make such a thing. She opted out on buying a light-yellow knitted hat on Amazon three minutes after she threw the yarn and crocheting needles in the garbage bin.

There were so many Nintendo Switch games she could play and the stupid computer players on Super Smash Bros. were not taking it easy on her.

Being bed rest, or as she liked to call it, ‘House Arrest’, was becoming more an issue for Arya than she thought it would be.

For three months straight she had to ‘take it easy’ and ‘be mindful’ so that she didn’t put her baby or herself as risk. Arya understood that she had to be careful, but she wasn’t expecting bed rest to be so restraining. Sure, she could get up and walk about her house or even make her way to the back yard for some fresh air, but anything else seemed like a big no-no.

Her OB-GYN gave her the go ahead to do some light exercises, but not at the gym and certainly nothing that she used to do before getting pregnant.

It was suffocating, and she was beginning to hate being pregnant.

She wanted her freedom, or a least a trip to the grocery store without having to get permission. She couldn’t wait for the baby to be here and in her arms, for at least she would be able to get out of her house when it did finally arrive, even if it is a trip to the hospital.

She grumbled in frustration for a few more minutes before her doorbell rang, indicating that Sansa had finally made it through the traffic.

Arya struggled a bit to lift herself from the couch, huffing for a breath as she finally got her bearings. She waddled over to the door and swiftly pulled it open, immediately pulling her sister into an awkward hug.

“Oh, look at you! You’re so-”

“If you say big, I will punch you.” She deadpanned.

“Radiating. You’re so radiating.” Sansa quickly recovered.

Arya stepped aside from the entryway and allowed her sister to enter the house.

“So, where is Gendry?” Sansa said as she shrugged off her coat and draped it across a dining chair.

“At work. Apparently two of his mechanics rang sick and he had to go and cover the shift.”

“But he is supposed to be out until the new year. What was Sandor thinking?”

Arya shrugged, “I tried to convince him to stay, but you know how Gendry is. He wouldn’t be able to leave the shop like that.”

“He is such a good man; you really did get lucky with him.” Sansa sighed.

“I did, didn’t I?” Arya chuckled.

The two sisters enjoyed the comfortable silence as Arya made her way into the kitchen, pouring two mugs of hot tea. She shuffled her way back to the dining table and gently placed the mug on the table for Sansa to grab.

“So, how have you been?” Sansa asked as she took a sip of her tea.

“Tired, irritable, cranky…I mean the list goes on.”

“Well, you look like you’re about to pop.”

Arya scoffed, “I wish! The baby is nearly two weeks late and it won’t stop kicking me to death!”

Sansa’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she hears her sister’s words, “Two weeks! Arya, have you told your doctor?”

“Of course, I have!”

“And?”

“They will induce on Christmas Eve, if the baby doesn’t come before then.” She admitted.

Sansa sighed, “Okay, does Gendry know? And that is just in two days, It won’t be long until you have your baby in your arms.”

Arya groaned in frustration, “No, he doesn’t know and that’s not the point, Sansa.”

“Then what is it?”

Arya took a breath in order to gather her bearings, “I don’t want to be induced. I want this baby to come when it’s ready, not because some doctor had to make it so. I want to do this the right way.”

Sansa looked at her sister. For the first time in her life, she saw Arya vulnerable and afraid and all she could do was sweep her little sister in her arms and hug her.

“It will be alright. You have two days, right. That gives this baby plenty of time to come on its own volition.”

Arya embraced her sister tightly and was thankful for her visit.

She hadn’t seen her Sansa since last Christmas, and she was sorely missing sister constant advice. They may not have gotten along when they were younger, but now as adults she was grateful for Sansa.

“I hope you’re right.” Arya whispered as they pulled away from their hug.

She hadn’t realized that Sansa’s tea mug was sitting on the edge of the table when she knocked it over with her elbow, causing it to shatter on the hardwood floor.

“Shit!” She cursed as she bent down to pick up the mess.

Arya was no more than halfway over when she felt an immediate pressure in lower back, along with the steady stream of liquid running down her legs. She gasped and pulled herself straight before placing a hand over her protruding stomach.

“What is it?” Sansa asked as she rose from her dining chair to aid her sister.

“I think…I think my water just broke.”

GENDRY

The normal fifteen-minute drive it took to get from his house to the shop turned into a 45-minute obstacle from hell. To Gendry, it seemed as if everyone on the face of the planet was trying to get out of King’s Landing, making it near impossible to get to the shop any sooner.

He could already hear Clegane’s mouth and would have to brace himself for a whole slew of profanities that was sure to come his way as soon as he entered the shop.

Why he went into business with the famed boxer, Sandon ‘The Hound’ Clegane, was beyond Gendry. He knew he had a soft spot for Arya, considering he trained her for nearly decade in competitive boxing, but Gendry never believed that he would agree to open a mechanic shop with him.

It was a desperate move on Gendry’s end, that turned out to be rewarding. Sure, he had to suffer constant verbal abuse from the man, but it could have been worse, or at least that’s what Gendry tells himself.

For three and half years they’ve been in business. One would think that after spending all that time with one another, they would grow to become friends, but that was far from what happened. If anything, their constant bickering has only gotten worse, making for interesting work days.

Gendry rounded the corner, seeing his shop come into view.

It was modest; no where near some of the other mechanic shops that were around King’ Landing, but it had a welcoming feel that invited all types of people from around the area. In the short time they’ve been open, the shop has grown quite the clientele. Everything from high politicians to working class citizens; they all came for the services that Gendry and Clegane had to offer.

“Gendry? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice stopped him on the way to the back of the shop.

He turned as was greeted by the same blue eyes that he possessed. His sister, Mya, was seated at the receptionist desk with a large cup of coffee and a half-eaten cheese Danish. She looked exhausted and hadn’t expected her brother to walk in.

“Clegane called me in, considering we are two men down.” He said with a shrug.

“Fucking Clegane! I told him not to call you. He knows that Arya can pop at any moment, besides you are on holiday for another three weeks!” She scolded him.

Gendry rose his hands in defense, “Hey, don’t take it out on me, tell the other boss man.”

“I’m going to kill him.” She huffed.

Gendry chuckled before realizing that she shouldn’t have been there.

“Wait, what are you doing here? Don’t you have today off? Where is Bella?” He threw questions at her.

Mya sighed, “Bella had an audition today, so she asked me to cover her shift. She should be here in a couple of minutes to relieve me. I must get back home to the girls.”

“How long have you been here?” He asked as he wandered over to the desk, placing his elbows on the desk.

“Since one in the morning. You know, you should really re-consider this whole 24-hour thing.” She said with a yawn.

“And who is with the girls?”

“Edric.”

Gendry scoffed, “You left Edric alone with children? I’d say you have a better chance at keeping them alive here at the shop.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will be hiding away in a corner when I get home.” She chuckled.

Gendry smiled before turning back to head to the back of the shop.

“Oh wait! Before I forget…Edric told me that father wants to spend Christmas with us. I really don’t want to and I’m sure you and Arya want to take it slow, with the baby and everything.”

“Actually, the Starks are coming for Christmas, so Arya and I will be spending the holiday with them.”

“In your tiny house?”

“Gods no! The Starks have a manor here in King’s Landing, we will be there. You’re welcome to join. I’m sure the girls would love it and Robb’s boys are going to be there.”  He admitted.

Mya nodded, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. The girls loved spending time with them at Sansa’s wedding last summer. They will be glad to see them again.”

“Good then it’s settled. Now, I have to hurry to the back before Clegane rips my head off.”

Mya chuckled and waved her brother off, “Go.”

Gendry smiled and jogged off towards the back, preparing himself for the worst.

He managed to slip into the break room without Clegane seeing him and pulled on his work overalls. Every inch of the grey-blue suit was covered in grease spots. There was a whole in the front left breast area and the seem of one of his sleeves was coming apart. The overalls had been with since his first days as a mechanic and Mott’s and he wasn’t willing to part with them just yet. The zipper still worked, and for the most part, it was in one piece. Clegane had called is a piece of shit, and Gendry couldn’t argue with his sentiments, but they were nostalgic for Gendry and so long as they still did their job, the overalls were staying on his body.

He pulled on his steel-toe work boots (he learned from his past mistakes) and laced them tight to keep them in place. Slamming the locker closed, he made his way to the work floor where three of his workers were working on two different cars.

“Oi! If it doesn’t need two people, then one you lot get our arse working on that back car.” He yelled, pointing to the mini van across the shop floor.

One of the newer mechanics, Oliver, scurried over to the minivan and began assessing what needed to be done.

“Well its about fucking time you showed up!” Clegane staggered over to Gendry with a very distinguished glare.

“Sorry, Clegane, the traffic was horrible.” Gendry tried to reason.

“Cry me a fucking river, Baratheon. We have appointments back up to fucking Winterfell and not enough men to cover it. I’ve already got bitched on by some snooty politician’s wife and a butcher nearly severed my head. I don’t have time for your sob stories. Oh, and turn off that fucking phone of yours, yeah? I don’t need you distracted.”

“But, Clegane, I can’t do that. Arya is-”

“I know the she wolf is about to pop, but if she hasn’t given birth now, she ain’t going to in the next couple of hours. Now, turn it off before I break the fucking thing.” He turned on his heel and stomped off towards the other mechanics on the floor, barking out commands as he did so.

Gendry cursed under his breath, praying to the gods above that nothing happened while he was working.

ARYA

The pressure in her back began to increase as Sansa weaved her way through the horrible traffic that had descended upon King’s Landing. She could feel the throbbing pains hit her every five minutes and she was sure they would never make it to the hospital on time.

She tried to focus on her breathing and not the buzzing world around her, but Sansa’s constant screaming at people who couldn’t even hear her made it near impossible.

“Have you tried calling him again?” Arya asked through gritted teeth. Sansa had been trying to ring Gendry for the last hour, but the call would go to voicemail every time. It was becoming annoying and Arya swore that if Gendry missed the birth of their child, she would string him up by his testicles and never sleep with him again.

“There is no answer-move out of the fucking way!”  She yelled once more.

“Well did you try the shop?”

“The line is busy. Probably all the last-minute people trying to get their cars fixed before the new year.”

Arya groaned as another wave of pain hit. “Uh…try Mya. I think she has a shift today-ahh.”

Sansa nodded and began dialing the number on her phone and placing it to her ear.

“Uh, Mya?...Hi! this is Sansa Stark-yes, Arya’s sister. Are you at the shop?....Oh, well is there a way to reach them?....Well the line is busy…..Arya is in labor….yes, and we’ve tried his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail….he what?!....My sister is going to kill him…..will you?.....that would be great!....see you then, bye!”

“Wha-what did she say?” Arya huffed.

“Well, she’s not at the shop. She left about fifteen minutes ago, but she doesn’t live far and is headed back over there. It seems Sandor made Gendry shut off his phone.”

Arya groaned and she clutched her stomach, “WHAT! I’m going to murder them both! Oh my gods! Are we there yet?!”

Sweat was dripping down her face and the pain was becoming increasingly unbearable. She wasn’t sure how long it would be until the baby finally did come, but she hoped it wasn’t until its father made his appearance.

“We should be there in about two minutes, maybe five.”

Arya grimaced, “For your sake, I hope its two.”

GENDRY

Work came easily for Gendry and he could easily find himself distracted with it. He enjoyed the pastime and found a real comfort in doing what he did. Since he was a teenager, he had been working in shops across King’s Landing, picking up skills from other mechanics along the way.

It wasn’t until he reached Mott’s shop that he realized he could do this for a living.

Mott taught him almost everything he needed to know how to do the trade and when it was time for him to leave and try to make is own way, he took all that knowledge and made it into what his shop is today.

There was something about working with steel and metal and all the intricate little parts of car that intrigued Gendry. It was like a puzzle that he couldn’t wait to piece together.

He was working on a very expensive car with a very expensive engine problem.

Tyrion Lannister had used it for street racing…again and ruined the engine by doing so. It wasn’t an easy fix and it sure wasn’t a fast one, but Gendry new what the problem was and could easily have it done before the end of the day.

He had quoted the play boy for two days work, but if he managed to stay on schedule, then he could be a full day ahead.

He was under the car, so anything going on around him he could hardly hear. He was trying to patch through some wires when he was dragged out from under the car with Sandor Clegane looming over him.

“What the fuck, Clegane! I was working!”

“Not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Clegane threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a person behind him.

Gendry groaned as he lifted himself up, wiping his dirty hands on his overalls. He thought he was about to meet with another client, not his older sister who he last seen just two hours prior.

Her expression looked grim and her face pale. It looked like she had received bad news. Gendry swiftly made his way over to where his stood, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, “Mya, what’s wrong? Are the girls okay?”

Mya nodded, “The girls are fine, but you’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Arya is in labor and she nor Sansa have been able to get ahold of you! Why in the seven hells would you turn off your phone!”

“Well Clegane made me-wait, what? Arya is in labor!”

Mya scoffed, “Yes, you daft buffoon! Now come on, we have to go!”

Gendry nodded and scurried after his sister, leaving the shop and Sandon Clegane behind.

ARYA

The steady beep of machines echoed around the hospital room.

As soon as Sansa pulled up to the ER, the nurses were able to get Arya situated into a room, with everything she needed to be settled.

The epidural was less than pleasant, but the effects the medicine was giving was like heaven to Arya.

Sansa had been making phone calls to all the necessary people, letting them know that she was due to give birth at any hour. Of course, she may have been over exaggerating, considering Arya’s OB-GYN put her at seven centimeters dilated.  

“Well, Arya, it’s a good thing you came in when you did. You very well may have had this baby in the car if it wasn’t for your sister’s driving.” Her doctor, Margaery Tyrell, explained.

“I didn’t realize she has such road rage until today.” She laughed.

“Yes, well you were-are in labor.” Sansa countered.

“Let’s hope your husband is able to make it through that unruly traffic.” Dr. Tyrell assured.

Sansa nodded, “Yes, let’s hope.”

Dr. Tyrell gave a small smile before exiting the room, leaving the two sisters.

They had tried to call Gendry four more times since settling in, yet there was still no answer. Arya was beginning to worry and hoped that he would make it. His lack of communication was not comforting, and the last thing Arya needed was the added stress of not knowing where her husband was.

Gendry was never late…for anything, yet he decides that today would be a good day to be.

GENDRY

Gendry was a timid man, for the most part, but now he was keeping true to the nickname Arya had given him. Like a bull, he was forcing his way through the traffic, trying to reach the hospital before his child entered the world. His hand was on the horn more than it was on the steering wheel, and his anger flared anytime someone decided to cut him off.

“Gendry, brother, maybe you should slow down? The last thing you need a speeding ticket.” Mya tried to reason with him, but he was unstoppable.

“Mya, I have to get to the hospital. Arya could be giving birth as we speak!”

“Okay, she’s not. I just texted Sansa, and the doctor puts her at about eight centimeters. I’d say we have an hour or two tops before she ready to push, that is if she is progressing normally. But if she’s progressing faster than normal then…”

“Then what?”

“Then maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Shit!”

ARYA

“Where is he!” Arya exclaimed. She was becoming increasingly paranoid, and it did little to help her current situation.

“I told you he is on his way. Mya said they should be here in ten minutes.” Sansa said calmly from across the hospital room.

“Sansa, I’m not sure I have ten minutes. I am eight centimeters, probably nearing nine. I can feel the pressure and I’m sure I will have to push here soon.” The tears began to stream down her face, and she was sure she looked like a blubbering idiot. This shouldn’t have made her emotional, but between her missing husband and the impending birth of her child, she couldn’t help but let them flow.

“Arya, he will be here, and if not, then I am right by your side.” Sansa crossed the room and bent down to give her sister a hug.

Arya smiled and returned the embrace, hoping that Gendry made his appearance soon.

A ding from Sansa’s phone interrupted their sisterly hug.

Sansa grabbed the phone from the small table and huffed in frustration.

“What? What is it?” Arya asked.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Well, where are you going? Sansa? What’s happening?”

GENDRY

He wasn’t sure how he made it to the hospital in under twenty minutes, but he did. His truck was parked haphazardly and his paces to the front desk were large. Mya was struggling to keep up with him, but he didn’t care. His main goal was to find Arya’s room and be there for his wife and child.

“Excuse me?” He said to the receptionist at the front desk.

She was chatting with several nurses, completely unaware of his presence.

He cleared his throat and said once more, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” The receptionist asked with a very snooty voice.

“I am looking for Arya Stark’s room number.”

“Name?”

“I just said it was ‘Arya Stark’.” He deadpanned.

The receptionist sighed, “Your name.”

“It’s Gendry Baratheon, I’m her husband.”

“Then why isn’t she under Arya Baratheon?” the receptionist stalled.

“Because she kept her maiden name…look that is besides the point. I need to know what room number she is in. She is about to give birth to our child, and I need to be there.” He said a little frantically.

“Sir, there is no need for hostility. Please be patient while I look her up in my systems.”

Gendry gave a curt laugh, “Hostility? I am not being hostile. If anything, you are the one being hostile! I just need to know my wife’s room number!”

“Sir, please calm down before I call security. Now we have to verify who you say you are, that could take a couple of minutes. So please be pati-”

“Fucking hells!” Gendry yelled as he slammed his fists against the desk.

He grumbled in frustration as he fished his forgotten phone out of his overall pocket. He quickly turned it on and typed frantically on the keyboard, waiting for a reply. A few seconds later and his phone dinged with a response.

“Sir, we need your ID.” The receptionist cooed from the desk.

“Look, I forgot my wallet in the car, but my sister-in-law is coming down and I’ll go up with her.” He assured.

“We cannot allow th-”

“Is there a problem?”

Gendry’s lips curled into a smile as he saw the familiar red flame of hair make her way to the desk.

“Ma’am, please give me a moment.”

“No, you see, this is Gendry Baratheon. Maybe you’ve heard of his father, Robert Baratheon? The famed political power house that nearly became Prime Minster? Or perhaps you’ve heard of my father, Eddard Stark? Councilman of the north? How do you think they would react if I told them that Gendry here had to miss the birth of his child because of silly nonsense?” She smirked.

“I-I, well…”

“Exactly what I thought. Now, please excuse us.”

Gendry smirked and followed Sansa up to the maternity ward, where Arya’s room was now filled with doctors and nurses alike.

“Just in time, Mr. Baratheon. Mrs. Stark here is about ready to push.” Dr. Tyrell smiled.

Gendry smiled and pushed his way through the nurses in order to get in Arya’s side.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.” She huffed.

“And miss this? You’re crazy.” He gave her a small kiss and prepared to meet his child.

[svmmerdays]

( 01 / muse 2 / cis male & he/him ) contrary to what the campers might tell you, that’s not timothee chalamet. that’s kc thain! this is their 6th year working here and they’re a counselor. they’re 23, and i just found out during ice breakers they’re a sagittarius. at first they might seem pretty oblivious, but they’re actually really creative. when they have down time, you can usually catch them getting high on the roof. try to get to know them for yourself this summer!

MEET THE MUN.  i expect i’ll be able to solve a lot of my problems once my baby brain falls out & my adult brain grows in

hello all, my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything in my life skjsdkj i feel like all my intros start that way but it’s simply a fact, i cannot tell time. that said i just got off from work so !!! this time i have a bit of an excuse. but omg Anyways, i am v excited for this rp, like i’ve already said in the gc,,, your girls never been to camp so i am LIVING FOR THIS! a bit about me ~cAmP tHEMED~ kinda, i have never actually gone camping but i really wanna go glamping one time so hit me up if you’re interested, whenever i am in the wilderness bugs like to try to fly directly into my eyes and idk why although i do have a theory i was an exterminator in a past life or something and now they’re getting their revenge for the their fallen ancestors yk?? i hate marshmallows because when i was like six some girl told me that gelatin was made of horse hooves and i believed her and i have not really eaten a marshmallow since with the exception of the one time i microwaved a smore in my microwave when i was like eight? but then again when i was really young i used to think god looked like king triton so i’m a gullible hoe y’all i’ll believe anything. but okay i think that’s enough, moving on to the man of the hour, kronk child thain!

BIO. what do people do when they’re not stoned?  drug tw !

 kc was an accident. and honestly, he was probably a bit too aware of that way too early. to start, when kc was conceived kc’s father was married to his mother’s best friend. and well, that’s not usually the kind of thing that you do on purpose. furthermore kc was conceived in a bounce house at his half older brother’s first birthday party. again, not the kind of thing you plan. you might ask how and why kc knows this information, and that would be the third reason why kc knows with absolute surety he was an accident. because his mother has been telling him all of this frankly intimate and scarring information with absolutely no shame pretty much from the moment kc could comprehend the words coming out of her mouth, and honestly likely before that. and well, that isn’t exactly the behavior of a woman who planned to have kids is it. at least not in kc’s mind. 

frankly moira thain has been treating kc like more than a pet than a son pretty much from the moment kc can remember. she didn’t treat him badly by any means. she just wasn’t really a mom. she was a weird older friend who whined until kc made her breakfast and left for days on end to go to music festivals. she was the kind of friend who teased you ruthlessly rather than offering any good advice and embarrassed you just for fun. the kind of friend who shrugged when you asked them for help with your homework and who none of your other friends (or their parents) really liked. honestly, she was kind of a bad friend if kc was honest but he doesn’t know what else to compare her to. for a long, long time his mother, as unusual as she was, was all he had. that was until kc was about seven and he didn’t even have that anymore. 

when kc was seven a lot of shit went down at once. to start, his mother nearly overdosed, and that was the big thing. it was a traumatizing experience overall as that kind of thing would be for a seven year old, but kc would like to think he handled it like a champ. called the police, made sure his mother didn’t choke on her own vomit, and all that. but CPS was called and kc was promptly shipped out to live with a father had never met, which went as well as could be expected (refer to how and when kc was conceived above). kc stayed with them for all of six months, but well, all kc really had to do was breathe to completely ruin their marriage. even if kace was a bit dull at times even he understood that. so he wasn’t surprised when 'the boys trip’ his father took him on ended up just being a complicated ruse to dump him at his grandfather’s house for as long as he could get away with. considering it was near the end of the school year, it was a while.

now at that point as you can imagine kc was pretty drained emotionally. his mother was officially in rehab. his dad didn’t want him around. his stepmother and half siblings treated him like some kind of leper. and all of this happened within less than a year. that’s a lot for anyone to take let alone a seven year old. little kc was filled to the brim with a lot of emotions he didn’t know what to do with so for the most part he had shut down. barely spoke unless spoken to. very rarely smiled or expressed any sort of emotion really. his grandfather played a big part in fixing that. 

grandpa thain lived in a cottage in the forest and worked for a camp not too far from his cabin. he dealt with the upkeep of the grounds during the school year as well as some handyman duties when needed. and for the most part he dragged his grandson along with him as his ‘assistant’. which mostly meant that kc pulled out the weeds his grandfather told him to or passed him the tools he asked for. just simple things like that. but to kc’s surprise he really liked it. he also really liked living with his grandfather in the middle of nowhere and being able to hear the birds in the morning or take naps in fields. 

kc’s father paid for his first summer at dagwood. his half siblings came to the camp as well, in fact they had been coming longer than kc had. however, at the end of the summer, unlike his eager half siblings, kc didn’t want to leave again. dagwood had become this safe have for him of sorts, a place where he was slowly able to heal at his own pace, and he knew the moment he went back to his father’s house he would be returning to an environment he was unwanted. his grandfather made it so he didn’t have to return at all by offering to take kc in permanently. 

it took some time and a lot of legal paperwork but kc’s grandfather ended up becoming his legal guardian. his grandfather home schooled him to the best of his capability during the school year, and during the summer’s kc attended camp dagwood and helped out his grandfather in whatever way he could. he continued to do so even after he turned eighteen, even going as far as to help out in between the online art school classes that he decided to take on a whim. his grandfather regretfully had to retire from dagwood, after working every day since the camps opening day. he retired with a lot of pride and kc is really proud of him honestly, and he has every plan to take his grandfather’s place once he gets promoted from counsellor. his grandfather insists that he doesn’t need to, and that he wants kc to do whatever he wants to do but kc is too stubborn and loyal to hear any of it. he’s determined to continue the legacy his grandfather is so proud of, and stay at the place that brought him so much comfort and peace, even though honestly it’s probably not the best thing for him. it’s honestly probably time for kc to move on to bigger and better things but he hasn’t realized that yet so until then, dagwood it is. 

PERSONALITY. me as a hotel receptionist: *greets guests by playing hotel california but cutting it off right before they say california*

LOYAL. listen if you’re kc’s friend he would die for you and that’s just a fact. he is honestly loyal to fault. he will screw himself over for his friends because he’s dumb. theyt won’t even ask him to do it! he’ll do it anyways! he’s a fool 

STUBBORN. not in an obvious way like generally kc is very flexible, go with the flow? will generally not hold an opinion in most arguments and is pretty happy to follow rather than lead. but when it comes to things that kc is passionate about?? oof. a bulldozer couldn’t move him. he’s a pain in the ass.

OBLIVIOUS. he’s a fool. kc will be the last one to know about his own damn feelings. kc will be the last one to know about anyone else’ feelings too. it could be so obvious. SO SO DAMN OBVIOUS, and yet kc??? has no idea. he’s that scene from juno where juno’s like ‘i like you’ and michael cera’s like ‘as a friend?’ jkdsdjk

CREATIVE. the only thing kc’s good at is creating things. he can make pretty much anything if he puts his mind to it. probably makes his own clothes honestly. can mend and repair yours. just as a weird brain tbh, if you ever want a different perspective on something go to kc because he’ll say something so wild sdjkdfkj 

COMPASSIONATE. a kind boy tbh. wouldn’t hurt a fly. catches spiders in his hands and takes them outside. is a vegetarian. will listen to your problems any time and at least offer help even if he has no idea what to do. 

LAZY. will fall asleep standing up with his eyes open. has fallen asleep on buses and ended up in different states. is terrible when it comes to getting up in the morning. eats his breakfast half asleep every day. like he’s a hard worker when it comes down to it, but if the options are playing with the campers or taking a nap in a warm patch of sun kc knows what he’s choosing... honestly kc is good with little kids but he would vastly prefer his grandfathers job, cause his gramps just worked by himself for the most part, and working with kids is so much more exhausting rip. 

HEADCANNONS. you’re in her dms im daydreaming about her on public transport we are not the same. 

loves all branches of art honestly, is also a big fan of music. can play the guitar, the drums and bass, all skills he mostly picked up on his own while being home schooled by his grandfather. tends to be rather humble about it but he’s actually pretty talented. will play the acoustic guitar by the campfire, is one hundred percent that guy 

when doing art activity counselling kc has the energy of that one pottery guy from tiktok always. like that’s kc straight up. 

has a bunch of tattoos that are mostly doodles that he made himself, sometimes doodles his friends have made too if he likes them enough. will put pretty much anything on body and tends to think of it as his canvas. wants to be that old man covered head to toe in tats by the time he’s ninety. 

has been stung by wasps on fourteen different occasions over the years. literally kc has been stung every summer since he’s come here and it’s pretty much tradition at this point. like he hates it, but if too long goes by without him being stung he starts to get paranoid. 

loves to climb things like trees and buildings. chills out in the branches/on top of roofs a LOT. would be the guy to fall asleep in a hammock and get a mustache drawn on his face by the campers. honestly that has probably happened. 

jewish! kc’s religion wasn’t really a big part of his life when he was living with his mother but by the time he moved in with his grandfather that changed. they go to the synagogue together and everything even if it’s a bit out of the way. 

might be narcoleptic honestly. is sleeping 99% of the time. if you don’t know where kc is check his bed tbh

will never tell anyone what kc stands for honestly, he thinks it’s amusing for people to guess. will answer to any version of k____ c____ you call him though. also accepts kace which is just a nickname for a pair of initials but skjsdm still he will answer to it 

a hard worker even if he doesn’t look it. weirdly functional while working high? kc is one of those people who you never know is high cause he just acts as he normally does for the most part. 

that said he is the most focused and like alert when drawing or painting or doing anything with his hands. takes his art incredibly seriously. has probably drawn up a mural for the camp, and literally stayed up three days and three nights to do it. very talented but doesn’t really think he’s talented enough to do anything with it? could get into art school if he tried, but he’s too loyal to ever leave his grandfather or the camp behind to do it. 

very good at wood working surprisingly. this boy will make you a sexy ass chair. honestly kc is one of the those frustrating people who like you show him how to do something creative one time and he’s got it, his brain has tapped into it, he remembers. but don’t worry, give him one math problem and he completely shuts down sdkjsdjk 

hates wearing shoes. will take his shoes off the moment he has the opportunity. straight up leaves his shoes places and then’ll be like ??? fuck where did i put those ??? 

can cook surprisingly well. makes bomb weed brownies but like just in general kace makes good food. always forgets to grocery shop until his fridge is empty though

dresses like a hippie. his general aesthetic makes it look like he was in nineties movie. wears wire rimmed glasses because they were his grandfather’s and he’s too broke to buy new frames. most hipsters see him and are like !!! cause they think he’s one of them but kc knows nothing about movies or coffee or like... anything but art really so they’re pretty quickly disappointed. 

used to have hella long hair when he was younger, like he was usually picked on for looking kind of girly because of it. didn’t really care that much, or at least convinced himself he didn’t really care that much eventually. was glad when he got home schooled though cause at least then he didn’t have to deal with that anymore, 

has a scar through his eyebrow from when he fell out of a tree his first summer. 

has several ear piercings. 

i forgot to mention, kc’s mother used to be a drug dealer before her overdose but he doesn’t really know what she does now. he doesn’t talk to her very often but he talks to his dad even less. whenever his mom contacts him it’s cause she’s gotten out of rehab and needs money. kc will usually give it to her because he’s soft. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.  it takes me 3-7 business days to process my feelings

i am so tired so we’re doing this in a blob but i would love LOVE some exes from summers past, some ex flings, his first bf/gf, idk his first kiss would also be cool, someone who hates him like maybe an enemy or an old rival of some sort? an old stupid rivalry from when they were campers that they still can’t let go of now? just sayin. uh, an fwb or ewb situation maybe, another childhood friend would be cute, an opposites attract situation like i would love for kc to have a dynamic with someone who really has their shit together yk like completely different from his sleepy ass, a smoking buddy maybe! a family friend! godsibling! first love! someone who kc accidentally set on fire with a flaming marshmallow when they were thirteen! anything and everything please and thank you. 

[fvckyouimaprophet]

Contrast

Summary: Part 9 of the color verse. You see in black and white until the day after you sleep with your soulmate. (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8) Author’s Note: It’s been over 3 years since I updated. Even though it’s been ages since I’ve watched the show, this has always been one of my dearest fics. So, without further ado, here’s the update. (@like-shipsinthenight I know you’re out of the fandom, but maybe you’d be interested.)

“Hey, sorry about that. I had to go through some case files at the last minute, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.” When no one responds, Connor steps toward the bedroom. “Oliver?”

He’s about to call his name again, but when he opens the door, he sees Oliver splayed out across the bed, fully dressed but fast asleep.

Connor can’t blame him. He was supposed to be home hours ago. He sighs, making quick work of brushing his teeth and getting undressed. When he sits down next to Oliver, and the bed dips a little, Oliver lets out a small whine but doesn’t wake up.

For a moment, Connor takes him in, his heart twinging a little. He’s still dressed in his work clothes — a button-up and slacks. His hair is messy, half on his face, and Connor reaches out, gently pushing it back. “Oliver...”

It takes Oliver a moment to come to, but after a moment, his eyes open. “You’re late,” he croaks out.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Again.”

Connor leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, but Oliver groans and shifts away fractionally.

“I’m really sorry.”

“What time is it?”

Connor looks at his watch. “1:27 A.M.” Oliver doesn’t say anything, and after a moment, Connor can feel him drifting off again. It takes him a minute, but he gets Oliver’s shirt and pants off of him and frowns when he sees the little dip on his stomach where the belt buckle has left a mark. He presses a kiss to it, and Oliver shifts again.

“I don’t wanna have sex,” he grumbles.

“Good thing, ‘cause neither do I.” It isn’t easy to get the blanket pulled out from under Oliver, but he does it anyway and curls up next to him. Typically, Oliver moves back to be flush against him, but this time he doesn’t, and Connor suspects it has little to do with how tired he is. “I love you.”

He’s just met with heavy breathing.

- - -

It’s after ten when Connor wakes up, and it takes him a moment to realize that Oliver isn’t in bed. He stumbles out, still half-awake, to find him on the living room couch on his laptop.

“You left me hanging in there.”

Oliver doesn’t look up. “I figured I’d let you sleep since you came home late.” Nothing about his tone reads as cold, but Connor knows there’s something there.

“You’re mad.” He makes his way over and falls back on the couch next to Oliver. “Talk to me.”

“I’m not mad.” A but lingers unsaid.

“Then you’re upset.” When Oliver says nothing, he adds, “Or frustrated.” Connor’s stomach knots.

“A little yeah.” Oliver takes off his glasses and sets them on his knee before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I should sleep at my place tonight.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be bad at communication. We can’t both be bad at it.” That finally manages to crack a small smile from Oliver, and he turns to face him.

“You said you were going to be back at ten. Then you texted and said eleven.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just new to the firm, so they’re throwing everything at me.”

“It’s been like that for four months now. I know you can’t help it, but I want to spend time with you. It’s been—” Oliver stops himself from finishing the sentence, and suddenly, despite the fact that they’re sitting right next to each other, the gap between them feels impossibly large.

“It’s been like that with Michaela too since she started at Caplan and Gold. It’s why she’s been spending all her nights with Aiden. Honestly, I think they’re going to move in together any day now. If you moved in with me, maybe that would help.”

Oliver shakes his head, and his gaze drops down to his lap. “Let’s get through this, and then we’ll talk about it.” The knot in Connor’s stomach feels tighter.

“I don’t like the sound of that."

“Why not?” Oliver asks.

“Because it makes it sound like you think there’s a chance we won’t get through this.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Oliver picks up his glasses and slides them back on. “I think we will. We just need time.” He moves his hand on top of Connor’s and gives it a light squeeze. “And besides, what’s wrong with my apartment?”

The small joke is enough to break the tension — for now, at least. Connor knows better than to keep picking at it, and the knot in his stomach loosens a bit.

- - -

“It’s not going supposed to be easy. It’s still a relationship.” Michaela adjusts the pillows on the couch and frowns. “Give and take is still part of the package.”

“But I thought that was the whole point of soulmates! What makes it any different than any other relationship, then?” Connor steps out of the way as Michaela moves past him to the end table and starts flipping through the envelopes.

“Throw these away.” She hands him the whole stack after a moment but continues to talk as Connor makes his way to the kitchen to toss it. “What makes it different is that you’re inherently compatible. That if you both put work into it and nurture it that you’re guaranteed to succeed. And that your souls are connected, which you shouldn’t discount – especially considering how that worked out for you last time.”

Connor comes back and collapses on the couch with a groan. “Can’t something be easy, just for once?”

“Get up!” Michaela turns around and frowns. “I just fixed those.”

“I can get the cushions, Michaela.” He sighs and stands back up, fluffing the cushions before setting them back in place. “Besides, won’t people be sitting when they get here?”

“I thought you came here to help me clean.”

“It was all a ruse to talk about Oliver.”

“Isn’t it always?” She disappears into the hallway for a moment and comes back with a Swiffer. “Please just make yourself useful if you have it in you.”

Connor frowns and starts making work of cleaning her floors. “I don’t know what to do. It’s been seven months, and they still have me working almost twelve hours a day.”

“Tegan says—”

“Oh, here we go with the ‘Tegan says…’” When he turns around and sees Michaela’s withering look, he gives an apologetic half-smile. “Okay, fine, what does Tegan say?”

“Never mind what she says.”

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“Connor, I’m just saying that you need to make some choices and find ways to make that balance happen. No one but you can do that for you.”

“You sound like my astrology app. ‘As Mercury goes into retrograde, beware not to complicate your relationship. Don't get caught up in—'” A pillow whacks him in the face, cutting him off. “Hey! What will your guests think if your couch cushion is on the floor? What kind of a housewarming party would that be?” Although he smirks, he sees Michaela grab another cushion and ducks before that one can hit him too.

- - -

“What do you have against the new place?” Oliver asks. “I think it’s cozy.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t say cozy. That’s code-word for small.”

“That’s not how I meant it.”

Connor looks around the boxes and frowns. There’s so much to do, and after several hours of moving, he just wants to lay on the ground. Instead, he turns to Oliver and says, “Thanks for helping.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when Connor Walsh got his hands dirty.”

“Don’t count on seeing it again anytime soon.” Connor knows better than to say anything, but before he can stop himself, his mouth opens. “If we had moved in together, we could have kept the two-bedroom. One of those could have been an office space and guest room.”

Oliver presses his lips together in a tight smile. “It’s just not time yet.”

“You moved in with Matt pretty quickly.”

“Yeah and look how that turned out for us.” He steps forward and kisses Connor’s cheek. “I love you. I do. You just have to have faith.”

Connor knows that he’s not so good at that, as much as he hates to admit it. Faith has never been his strong suit. It’s a large chunk of the reason why he’s been agnostic, despite being raised Catholic – and agnostic not atheist, since he can’t even find the faith in him to not believe in a God fully. But the look in Oliver’s eyes tells him not to push it. He has enough lately, and considering that Oliver didn’t budge before, Connor knows he won’t now.

“Okay, fine. I’m just saying that you don’t need to be cautious with me. I’m not going to disappoint you.”

Something in Oliver’s face stiffens. His eyes become a little glassy, and his cheeks tense. It’s subtle, but Connor doesn’t miss it, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

- - -

“He doesn’t trust me,” Connor whines, throwing back another shot. “It’s been almost a year since we got together, and he doesn’t trust me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of an ass, and you were really an ass to him, so I can’t really blame him.”

Connor isn’t entirely sure why he agreed to meet Laurel at the bar for drinks. Pep talks have never been her strong suit, and Connor isn’t sure if he’d even categorize her as a friend. They only ever spend time together around Michaela.

“What?” Laurel asks.

“I get that I fucked up, but c’mon. I’ve been trying. You can’t say that I haven’t been trying.”

“You’ve ben trying. I just think that’s not always enough.”

“How are things with Kan?” he asks, trying to change topic.

“We broke up.” She grabs her gin and tonic and takes a large sip. “About two weeks ago, actually.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. What happened?” He flags the bartender and turns to look back at her.

“Nothing. Just didn’t work out the way we wanted it to. I’ve been pretty busy, and I’ve had some family shit lately anyway.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Laurel takes another swig of her drink and waves her hand dismissively, but Connor can tell there’s more than she wants to share. Before he can ask another question, the bartender comes over.

“What can I get for you two?”

“An Old Fashioned, and—” He looks at Laurel, who finishes her gin and tonic with one more gulp.

“Whiskey Sour,” she says.

“Coming right up.” The bartender looks Connor up and down and smirks before disappearing.

“Well, if things don’t work out with Oliver, it seems like you might have some options.” She elbows Connor, and Connor rolls his eyes.

- - -

Connor (7:09) Sorry I’m running late. I should be there in five.

Oliver (7:11) Ok.

Connor (7:11) Don’t okay me. Are your parents with you?

Oliver (7:13) We got here fifteen minutes ago.

Connor (7:14) Ah shit. Sorry. I’m right around the corner. Please don’t be mad.

Connor tucks his phone into his jacket pocket and smooths down his hair before walking in. He spots Oliver and his parents before the maître d’ approaches him and tells her before walking over and trying to steady his breathing. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s 7:17.

Oliver stands up as soon as he sees them and smiles anxiously. “Here he is.”

Connor’s heart beats in his throat as he stretches out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Hampton.”

“Oh, you can call me Lisa,” she says, beaming at him as she shakes his hand.

“And you can call me Mr. Hampton,” Oliver’s father says, laughing at his own joke. “Kidding, of course. You can call me William.”

“Dad…”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” Connor says, offering one last smile before sitting down next to Oliver. Underneath the table, Oliver reaches out and squeezes his hand.

“It’s been a while since we’ve met one of Oliver’s boyfriends. But we’re told you’re special,” Lisa says, meeting her husband’s eye before looking back at them. Oliver lets go of Connor’s hand, and Connor doesn’t have to look to know that he’s blushing.

“When he told me you were coming to visit, I didn’t give him much of an option,” Connor teases. “I just made sure to book a reservation.”

“You know, we tried to get a reservation here last time we came, and we saw how fast it fills up,” Williams says.

They make it through dinner without any hiccups, and by the time they order dessert, Connor feels mostly at ease. That ease, however, evaporates with one question from Lisa.

“So, have you considered any next steps?” The implication is clear, even though she doesn’t say it. Connor sees the color drain from Oliver’s face, and he’s sure his looks the same.

“You don’t need to answer that,” Oliver says before shooting a frantic look at both of them. Lisa smiles, but her expression is hard to read.

“I just want to know that my son is being taken care of.”

“I am!” Oliver insists, and when he starts tapping against the table, Connor lays his hand on top of Oliver’s.

“I think we’re trying to take things one step at a time after everything.” He knows that Oliver’s parents know about what happened. He had made sure to ask Oliver ahead of time. He can feel the anxiety bubbling up in the pit of his stomach at the mention nonetheless.

When Lisa doesn’t say anything for a moment, Oliver breaks the silence. “It’s not because of him. I’m trying to take it slow.”

Connor wishes it were possible to sink into the ground. He imagines the chair getting lower until the floor swallows him whole and tries to avoid thinking about how unbelievably hot his face feels.

“We shouldn’t have asked,” Lisa says after a moment, her voice softer than it was moments before. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Connor clears his throat and puts on a smile that he hopes looks more real than it feels. “I’m sure you’d be the first people that Oliver would tell.”

“You know, when Oliver was little, he would ask us to tell him the color of everything in the house. He’d memorize it all, and when we’d have people over, he’d try to tell people that he had met his soulmate. When they’d laugh, he’d tell them they could ask him the color of anything in the house.” She smiles apologetically.

The waitress comes up before anyone can say anything, and Connor feels grateful for the interruption.

The rest of dinner passes smoothly, and despite minor protests, Connor manages to pay for the check. Oliver kisses his parents good night, and this time, Connor gets a hug from them both before they say goodnight.

“Well, that went mostly well,” Connor says. “You know, outside of wanting to die for a brief second there.”

“You were also late.” Oliver shakes his head and presses a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “I had to stall for you.”

“Your mom tried to ask us when we were going to get married, and you’re mad that I was fifteen minutes late?” Connor wraps his arm around Oliver. “You’re lucky that I love you.” As he sighs, he feels the tension start to leave his body. “So, Lisa said I was the first guy she’d met in a while. Matt didn’t make the cut?”

Oliver pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was complicated.”

“How so?”

“Well, you see, there was this guy I was also interested in and was hoping things might work out, but he was a bit of a jackass.” He gives Connor a lopsided grin before pulling out of reach.

“And did they?” He feels a strange flutter in his stomach.

“I’m still figuring that out, but I’ll get back to you soon.”

- - -

“She asked you when you were going to get married? And I thought meeting Aiden’s parents was terrifying,” Michaela says. She turns to look at Aiden. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Aiden calls from the kitchen. He comes out after a moment carrying a Dutch oven. “Coq au vin’s ready. When will the others be here?”

“Soon,” Michaela says. “Connor, help me set the table.”

“Hey, I brought a pie. I did my share.”

“You’re insufferable. Help me set the table.” She gets up and heads toward the kitchen, and Connor catches Aiden’s smirk.

He follows her and grabs the silverware and napkins that she hands him. “So why isn’t Oliver joining us today?” she asks. “Laurel’s bringing her new boyfriend, and I think even Wes might be bringing Rebecca and Lila.” Her nose scrunches as she says it. She’s always erred on the traditional side.

“It’s a friend’s birthday, but he might drop by after he leaves the bar. He said he was going to text me. He was pretty upset about it when he smelled the pie, and I told him that he couldn’t have any.” Connor laughs and moves back to the living room to start setting the table.

Michaela follows shortly with plates.

“He knows he’s always welcome.”

“Sometimes I think you like him better than me.”

“You better be careful what you say, Con,” Aiden says, placing the bread that Connor brought on the table beside the Brussels sprouts. “I think she might.”

They all make their way back to the kitchen to grab glasses. “So what did you say when she asked if you were going to get married?” Michaela asks.

“Oliver said that it’s because of him. That he wants to take it slowly. And I wanted to die because his mom knows what happened between us, so I’m sure that’s probably why she asked.” He sees Michaela open her mouth and cuts her off preemptively. “And before you give me your spiel about how I deserve it and blah, blah, blah – I know. It was still horrible.”

“As long as you know,” Michaela says, handing him three glasses.

- - -

“I’m surprised you didn’t have anything elaborate planned for your birthday,” Oliver says, stretching as he pauses in front of the bed. Connor props himself up and wraps his arms around Oliver, tugging him back down.

“It’s on a Saturday this year, so I just wanted to stay in. Enjoy my day off. What fun is going out when you and I could spend the whole day—” His hand runs down to the front of Oliver’s boxer briefs, and Oliver swats it away.

“Hey! A gentleman always asks.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “May I fuck you, Daddy?” He throws the last bit in as a joke and gets a well-earned look of disgust from Oliver.

“Don’t be gross. But maybe. You’ll have to work for it, though.” With that, he jumps up and runs out of the room. They chase each other around until Connor pulls him down onto the couch and falls on top of him.

They pant for a moment, their noses touching before Oliver bridges the gap and kisses him. Perhaps Oliver tastes of morning breath even though he can’t taste it. He’s sure he does, but since both of them do, he feels like it cancels out.

He runs his thumb up Oliver’s jaw to just behind his ear, and Oliver rolls Connor’s lower lip between his teeth. It’s messy, but Connor can feel Oliver’s cock pressing against his thigh, half-hard, and he can’t find it in himself to care.

His hand drops down again, and he tugs at the elastic as Oliver lifts his hips. They make short work of it, and he tosses Oliver’s underwear to the side before kissing his way down. Oliver whines as he makes it to his hips and pushes upwards, and when Connor laughs, he can’t help but notice the way that Oliver squirms, restless.

“Are you going to blow me, or are you just going to tease?” Oliver asks. His cock strains against his stomach, leaking and red.

“Who’s birthday is it?” Connor asks.

A small whimper leaves Oliver’s hips as he pushes down against the couch. “Yours.”

“And yet you’re making demands like it’s yours.” He presses a kiss to the head, and his breath catches in his throat as he watches Oliver’s face flush.

They wind up back in the bed after Oliver comes, and somehow Connor ends up on all fours, clutching the headboard and rocking as Oliver’s tongue presses in, and his hands runs up and down his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to come as well, and he barely can find the energy to clean himself and the sheets up before collapsing.

Oliver follows suit, and drift in and out, legs tangled together. When Connor wakes up, Oliver is at the desk typing. He watches for as long as he can, taking in all the small things that Oliver does when he doesn’t feel he’s being watched – the way he mouths his words when he rereads his sentences and the hand he places at the back of his neck, rubbing small circles as he thinks.

“You really aren’t attentive, are you?” Connor asks, and Oliver jumps, taken out of his trance.

“Sorry, catching up on some work. I’m surprised you don’t have to today. If you keep it up, this may be the first time I’ve seen you go a full twenty-four hours without it since we started dating.” He turns his chair to face Connor.

“It is my birthday, after all.”

“You worked on Christmas.”

Connor waves the comment away dismissively before sitting himself up and yawning. “I’m pretty hungry. Do you want to order something?”

“I ordered food already. I was planning on waking you when it came.”

“Well, if you don’t already know it, you should know that you’re amazing.”

“I do, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” His eyes run down Connor as Connor stands up and walks over.

“You’re amazing,” Connor repeats. His eyes close as he wraps his arms around Oliver, and he lets out a content hum. His apartment feels quiet, and he’s not sure when he’s last felt this calm, this warm.

“I have presents for you. Do you want them now or after lunch?”

“How about now?” Connor asks.

“Let me go get them. They’re in my coat.” Oliver motions to the living room, and Connor makes his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. By the time he’s done, Oliver is patiently waiting on the bed, an envelope and a small box placed neatly in front of him.

“You better not be proposing to me with that thing.”

“Oh, shut it.” Oliver rolls his eyes and pushes them forward. “Open the bigger envelope first and then the box.” Connor sits on the edge of the bed and carefully opens the envelope, trying his best not to make a torn mess. It’s halfway open when Connor can see that they’re tickets.

He fishes them out and lets out a whoop. “Future Islands?”

“You know I had to.”

“Well, thank you.” Connor leans forward and kisses him. “I’m intrigued and terrified what’s in the box. I’m assuming you’re not saving the worse present for last.” He grins and tears the wrapping paper off of the box. The small white box looks unassuming, as if it should have jewelry in it, and Connor gives it a light shake. “Am I going to break it?”

“Probably not?”

“So mysterious,” Connor says, tutting and shaking his head before taking the lid off.

The silver key to Oliver’s front door rests on top of an index card. His head spins as he takes the note out and reads the message.

Connor Walsh, will you move in with me?

[devilgirl101]

My Dirty Angel–reader x Yourboyfriend fanfic by devilgirl101

Author:Your boyfriend belong to @invertedmindinc/@yOurb0yfriend Also

Warning:this fanfic contains graphic Themes as suicide,stalking and sexual content noncon/con if you are tiggered by the following or you're underage do not read viewer Discretion is advised!

Chapter 1: my hell is a virtual novel nightmare/follow the light of...the tv?/hhhhuuuuhhh!?

Part:2

and then like i wakeing from a dream i got yanked forcibly backwards causeing me to fall right on my ass on the grassy curb i then heard a loud honk of a bus and the babel of people " THE FUCK ARE YOU CRAZY" the one that pulled out of the street yelled followed by "are they alright ?" and " should we call somebody?" i was preoccupied catatonicly shell shocked, dead ? Angel of death? Key, key to what? And who's 'they'? What do they want , And what do they plan to do to me?

"Oh my god....(y/n)? (y/n) is that you?" said a brown haired man interrupting my internal questoning he was faceless as well except he wore a dark green apron it had some kind og logo of a coffee cup followed by the words 'woke up' and a tag that said 'manager' he rused over to and crouched down

"are you okay (y/n)"

"y-yeah i-i-i'm fine"

and that was roughly my first day of purgatory at least i think it was, depends on how souls are processed i guess cause i really don't remember

fun fact time here runs really slowly to where the months feel like years so i guess technically i've been here for three years

for the first mouth i work on blending in and not sticking out cause trying not to notice that the people around you are faceless, is hard specially when they kept asking you what's wrong like you're the crazy one i'm happy to say now i'm some what numb to the faceless

"Hey (y/n) are you alright, you look more surly then usual"

"i'm fine sir,and what ya mean surly?" i said feeling a little indignant

"i wish you'd call me Jess , and you do, quit being a grumpy face" and if he had a face i'm pretty sure he'd wiggle his eyebrows at me This is Jess my boss essentially for a guy who is without a face he's rather expressive

i rolled my eyes and sighed and before i know it he got behind he began tickling me "s-s-stop ha ha ha i---it i ha ha c-can't ha b-breath"

he hands finally ceased their movement releasing me i fall forward on the counter panting "w-what a-are you five?"

"Aha my plan was a success" puffing his chest out triumphant i could punch him right now "are you really okay those circles under your are more noticeable today" his voice sounds worried

"I'm fine really i just ain't sleeping well" i lied, my wild goose chase is the reason for my sorry state who know trying to find a angel would be such hard work for last couple of weeks or so every time i was so close to finding that angel just missing him by a hair i thought i might have better luck at night so i started sneaking out when sally falls asleep but it proved to be fruitless i'm up shit creek and i've got to go on is a stupid two toned heart, thanks for nothing fuckin' glowing girl, stupid convoluted hearts, hearts are now my least favorite thing right now

"hey how about you take off early" patting my back comfortingly

"you sure?" tilting my head at him

"yeah i got, this but you so owe me" with a playful tone for a guy who lacks a face he really is a sweetheart

i nod at him and walk to the changing room after i changed i powered walk to the door and waved goodbye

"take care of yourself (y/n)"

i walk along the walkway to the park i didn't feel like going 'home' just yet i went passed the popular areas that were littered with faimilies of faceless to my favorite secluded spot it's the only place that doesn't feel artificial and it's the only place where that damn box can't follow me i think it's cause there's less reception here i'm not too sure

i flop right on to the bench and leaned my head back close my eyes and just let my mind drift and i listen to the sounds around me and for a moment i can pretend that everything's alright and i'm at peace and that tiny piece of tranquilly is enough at least for right now

I nearly fall asleep till i felt a weight shift on the bench and a hand touch my shoulder i sanp my eyes open and whacked the unknown hand away nearly jump outta my skin "the fuck?!"

"whoa! Hey, take it easy, it's just me." holding his large four fingered hand up defensively, the unknown individual was definitely male he was skinny really skinny lanky even he had grey skin not just grey either but the literal color maybe he's sickly and oddities didn't stop there, his face or rather his head it was as round as a vollyball he had two large expressive eyes a large mouth with very sharp canines but no nose to speak of his voice and expression gave off the impression being timid or docile he was wearing a vest like hoodie a dark blue half sleeved shirt and black pants and black shoes to match

"you're a jumpy one, aren't ya?" a slight worried smile crosses his features,

how the fuck did i not hear him coming i would have at least heard foot steps, i kept my eyes on him unsure of his intentions he seemed to have a simpiler idea,his eyes not once not straying a inch from me i noticed his eyes had such dark circles around his eyes jeez does this guy not sleep or something maybe it's eyeliner

he continued to stare at me for what felt like hours, not standing for this deafening silence anymore

"sorry you uh startled me" sitting myself up right so i wasn't dangling on the edge

He gave a relieved smile "soo" he drawled out as he casuallly inched a little closer

"Are you waiting for a family member or a friend?" he asked scooting even closer

Is he getting closer to me, and why is he talking to me like he knows me i forced myself to remain calm, it's okay (y/n) calm down i'm sure there's perfectly reasonable explanation for this over friendliness from a complete stranger

"seems kind of odd for you to be sitting here all alone like this and far away from the jogging track."

i rise my eyebrow at him, is this 'normal'? i've been in this virtual novel version of afterlife so long i can't tell anymore

"no, just relaxing, got off work early"

my tiredness has been replaced by paranoia, he doensn't seemed to have any malicious intentions but i've been proven wrong before my dear 'darling brother' taught me that the hard way, maybe it's a little unfair to judge him right off the bat, he hasn't even done anything.....yet

"hey are you okay? you look really tried."

Look who's talking

"i'm fine, *sigh* it's been a couple disappointing weeks" Stupid wild goose chase i use to be great at finding people

he gaves me a pitiful look like he's sorry for my troubles

i give him a slight smile to put him at ease it seemed to have worked as his shulders relaxed and a sweet sincere and real smile crosses his face.

My heart slightly fluttered Ok he's kinda cute for a guy who's head could pass for a beach ball, a grey beach ball

"L-look i know this is sudden, very sudden but if your free time extends through out tonight, can i have the pleasure in takeing you out to dinner?"

he scoots himself right next to me now our hands practically touching, nope this is weird, he is weird.

"huh? What, why?" i stammered out i don't know what kind of explantion i would get for this blod yet idiotic request, he doesn't even know me.

"Well i'm your boyfriend ." he said matter a factly looking more bold all that timidness that was there seemed to disappear a wide smile on his face giving me a better look at his fangs

Boyfriend?! My eyes wide as dinner plates

"isn't that why you're here?" looking at me like i was the one confusing him

i had a good feeling that things were about to get even more complicated from here on out

Side note: i did it i did it yay if someone could give me some feedback that would be wonderful

Yourboyfriend belongs to @invertedmindinc cheack her other @y0urb0yfriend

[whumpster-draganies]

I DID A THING

I found this ficlet in some old notes of mine and polished it up a bit. It is a My Hero Academia fanfic snippet thing but you don’t really need to know the characters to understand it. For those who do, Midoriya is reflecting on a period of captivity in which Toga tortured him. He was unable to use his quirk either due to quirk-cancelling handcuffs or (if I decide to continue this) they implanted a related piece of quirk-cancelling technology as part of a ruse to convince him they’d stolen his quirk.

For those who do NOT know the fandom, the only name mentioned is Deku. Deku is Midoriya’s nickname.

TW: hospital setting, captivity, torture, knives, blood, LOTS of blood, scars, creepy whumper, nightmares, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I NEED TO TAG ANYTHING ELSE!!

It's surreal, being among normal people again. He's alone now, in his hospital room, all his guests having left hours ago. In the quiet, he almost feels normal himself. He can almost forget. Except for times like this, when he's accidentally caught his reflection in the window or the mirror of his hospital bathroom.

He reaches up to touch his face with trembling fingers. Four long, thin scars on either side of his face.  He almost can't feel them but they're visible enough in his reflection.  

"Oh! You're going to be my kitty now. Kitties have whiskers you know, you'll need some soo.." She grabs him by the hair, pulling his head back so that his face is turned up to her. He sees the knife in her hand, descending toward his face. He cries out in alarm, yanking his head away but her hold is firm and he is chained in place anyway. Even if he succeeded in breaking her hold, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere.

"Now don't struggle, don't want to mess it up." She carves the lines in his face with a giggle. She is careful not to cut too deep and risk damaging a facial nerve; she still wants his cute Deku face after all.

He does his best to hold still through the terror and the pain, afraid of causing additional damage. He thinks he was mostly successful.  

He has been very careful not to look at his other injuries but now he feels compelled to compare them to the scars on his face. Watching himself in the reflection is like watching someone else entirely. It doesn't feel like he's seeing himself at all as he carefully draws his arm out of the long sleeved hospital-issue robe he wears.  

"And Stripes! I love tabbies the most. You seem like a tabby, did you know they're known for being 'talkative'?" She rambles as she carves long lines across his arms from shoulder to wrist.  

"So cute!" She squeals as he pants and cringes from the pain. He can't stop the groans that squeeze through his teeth or the tears that slips through his tightly closed lids. He opens his eyes when it's over, hoping to see her walking away. Instead she is standing, twirling the blade playfully as she examines her work.        

Something hot runs down his cheeks, cooling as it trickles down his neck. 'I'm bleeding again,' he thinks in a strangely detached way. His eyes are fixated on his arms in the reflection, he doesn't see that it isn't blood he's feeling. Instead he feels along his ribs through the thin hospital gown but this time he can't bring himself to move the fabric and look. He doesn't have to see it in the reflection though, because he can see it in his mind still.  

"I need more.." Her voice is husky with arousal and her eyes don't seem to see him anymore as she steps close again. He cringes back, twisting to keep his other side from her, expecting that she is aiming to add matching stripes to his other arm but instead he's only made her job easier. She lashes out at his exposed side. What started on his arm as careful, deliberate marks that one could almost call artistic, devolves now into feverish disorganized slashes along his ribs until she reaches his waistband.  

He snatches his arms away from himself, shoving the one back into the robe sleeve and retreats to his bed. He tries not to think of the feeling when she dropped the knife in favor of using her hands. The way it felt to have delicate fingers caressing his injuries without regard for the additional pain it caused. He doesn't think about the sticky hand-print she left on his sternum, made of his own blood. Or the way her tongue felt on his still bleeding cheek. He doesn't think about how afraid he'd been that he would bleed out right there, with someone perfectly capable of helping but instead choosing to delight in his injuries.  

He doesn't think of those things. He falls asleep. He relives them in his dreams.  

[rosecolouredash]

Querencia CH. 2

Previous Chapters // PROLOGUE ONE

Summary: A prince and his sword reunited with his knight best friend.

Warnings: Insinuated violence and death.

Notes: I’ve been heavily inspired to write as of late so another chapter it is! This was the last full chapter within my Google docs (before I abandoned it.) I do have random dialogue and scenes written out (ie. Luke’s story in this all.) Now to fill in the blanks, haha

—

CHAPTER TWO

King of the Wastelands, Michael Clifford and his family of unruly bandits—plus one gryphon—were able to drive off the invaders that set fire to their fortress. In the process, they saved the ousted Prince Calum from the wrath of, who they discovered to be, the Easentis Army. Left with nothing but a burnt husk of a stronghold, they decided to join the prince on his quest to return to his homeland and to defeat the Empire—on the promise that they received a new homebase.

They allowed themselves a couple of days to recuperate from the battle before they journeyed North of Veodia, setting their course towards the capital city of Waiburne.

Michael and Calum walked side-by-side, at the center of a ring of bandits. The group chatted animatedly amongst themselves, around the two young men. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

“How’s it look up there, Dionne?”

From her place in the sky, on her beloved gryphon’s back, the russet-skinned girl surveyed their surroundings. They had made great progress—travelling past the silver sands of the Veodian wastelands into an area less barren and with paved, though rocky, paths. Dionne pushed the dark curls that had fallen in front of her eyes while flying.

“Nothing to see for another ten miles.”

Arnie the gryphon let out a squawk, in agreement with his rider.

“All right, thank you!”

Calum watched as Michael waved her off. 

Dionne and Arnie, flew ahead of their group to continue to scout.

“I don’t think she likes me much.”

Michael whipped his head towards his new royal friend. “What makes you say that?”

The prince pursed his lips, “she doesn’t seem comfortable around me.” Calum then let out a sigh. “She never speaks to me unless absolutely necessary and when she walks with us, she keeps her distance.” The frown on his face deepened. “Even the gryphon, gives me quite the glare.” 

Michael chuckled at the last comment. “That’s just Arnie for you. I’ve known him since he was a hatchling and he still gives me the side eye, sometimes.”

The bandit kept a watchful gaze on his oldest friend as she weaved through the clouds on her gryphon. “As for Dionne? Well...she’s not the biggest fan of you royal folk.” 

“But you’re a king too, aren’t you?” 

Michael let out a loud bellow. He grabbed the prince by his shoulder—successfully bringing him into a one arm hug. “They call me king—yes but I have no royal bloodlines to back it up.”

Calum looked towards the wild-haired man who continued with a soft smile. “Look, if it’s something you’re concerned with, you should ask. S’not my place to completely talk for her.”

The prince then shifted his gaze towards the sky. “I just—a number of people have already made sacrifices to keep me safe.” 

The bandit watched as Calum’s eyes seemed to cloud over.

“I wouldn’t want to hold anyone to the same fate if they were unwilling, which is rightfully so.”

Michael let what Calum said linger in the air before he offered some reassurance. “If it’ll help you sleep better at night, I did ask them if they wanted to do this.”

The leader of the bandits thought back to the night they met—when Calum had fallen asleep from exhaustion before Michael and the rest of his crew. 

“I gave them the option to back out and to stay in our wastelands but they all agreed. This is a cause we can’t not help with.”

A warm feeling enveloped Calum’s chest—he was grateful for his newfound allies. 

“Your dad—King David—he was a good man and from the little time I’ve spent with you, I can tell. You’re following in his footsteps.”

Calum smiled at the kind thought. He hoped so.

“It’s only right that you take back what’s yours and bring peace back to this kingdom.”

They continued to walk side-by-side, the bandit’s arm wrapped tightly around the prince.

“Michael?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

—

“So your main force is at Clare View Point?”

The travellers neared the aforementioned area. Calum nodded at Michael’s inquiry while they picked up their pace. When Dionne had flown ahead, she quickly returned with news that she found a group of knights under attack by the Empire. 

The prince could only hope they were Saerean knights. “They offered themselves as a decoy to cover my escape to safety but Lorian’s army must have seen through the ruse.”

From above, Dionne signaled for the men to slow down. They took her word and found cover behind a large rock. When Michael peered around it, he happened upon the battle that raged ahead. “That’s your main troop? They’re not looking so good.”

Calum too had a look, only to be saddened by how right Michael was. 

“I don’t believe it. It was quite sizable before…”

The bandit gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “They won’t be able to hold out for much longer so we need to devise a plan quick.”

Dionne had Arnie bring them back down to earth. She hopped off the gryphon, once they landed and she joined Michael and Calum. 

“The royal army is nearly sunk but I think I heard someone cry that the third cavalry was still putting up a fight.”

The prince let out a sigh of relief. “The third cavalry? That’s Ashton’s unit.”

For once, the gryphon rider regarded the prince but her face stayed neutral. “Well, whoever he is, his men are doing their best but they’re definitely short on numbers.”

“We might be able to help then, if we hustle.” Michael quipped.

He turned towards the rest of the group. “All right, everyone. Prepare for battle.”

—

“Sir, we’re surrounded.”

Ashton Irwin, leader of the third royal cavalry of Saere, gave Remy a tired smile. Or maybe it was Rome? He was usually very good at telling them apart but unfortunately, he was currently in a weakened state. 

The Abal twins watched from their stallions, in concern, as Ashton picked himself up from falling off his white mare. He used said horse—affectionately known as Margaret or simply Peggy—and his giant lance to steady himself. When Ashton was suddenly flanked by the twin knights, he looked ahead to find the woman that caused him such pain to begin with.

“We’ve got you now.” 

A rich velvet covered her body—cascading to the ground in the colour of fine wine. She approached the knights but stopped when the boys on their horses took a step forward—in warning. 

“You can’t hold out forever.” Her hands began to glow—sparks of electricity crackling around her nimble fingers. “So, if you surrender now, I might just spare your lives.”

The head knight paid no mind to her threat. She could have sworn she heard him giggle too. “Surely you joke, witch. A royal knight never surrenders.”

He gave her a charming smile though winced at the sudden pain of his face, likely from being electrocuted moments prior. 

“I say, I’ll give you one last chance to withdraw.” Both Remy and Rome smirked at their captain’s offer—if Sir Ashton wanted to fight to the bitter end, so would they.

“Well, aren’t we brave? May lady luck see you through because you’re going to need it.” She made a grand gesture when turning around so her full skirt kicked up dirt into their faces. She looked towards her troops when her body started to dissipate. From the hem of her dress to the tips of her long, blonde hair—she fell away like smoke.

“Finish them.”

—

“Boss, it looks like the enemy can use magick.” Michael regarded the comment as they neared the battlefront. 

“We’ll just have to keep our guard up then.” the bandit king replied, cracking his knuckles.

Calum looked over his allies, unsheathing Zephir from its scabbard. “Don’t worry about the magick.” The wind suddenly whirled around the prince and his sword. “I’ve got your back.”

Michael smirked as he felt something in the air shift. He should have known—the legendary spellblade was not named in farce.

They entered the fight, Michael bringing out his Chasm to deal damage onto the Empire’s troops. 

Dionne and Arnie made waste of Easentis’ men—the gryphon grabbing onto them with his talons and tossing them out and away from the fight. The rest of the bandits helped to defeat many of the soldiers but what was most surprising was the prince himself.

Calum, ever quick on his feet, moved with his sword around the battlefield with ease. He slashed down enemy after enemy—sometimes casting a harsh wind to knock them away.

Eventually, they ploughed through the troops enough to find three knights and their horses at the center of it all.

“Who are you?” One of the young knights questioned. Remy had dismounted from his horse and held onto his captain, who did not have the strength to keep himself up.

“What do you mean, who are we?” One of the bandits responded.

“We’re here to help.”

Rome looked at his twin and then back at the bandits. “Help? You’re allies?”

The King of the Wastelands stepped forward. “I’m Michael, the leader of these knuckleheads.”

Dionne scoffed at the statement.

Grinning at her, he turned his attention back to the knights and continued. “Which one of you is Ashton?”

“I am he.” The royal knight, with some help from Remy, approached the group. “Brave bandit, what is it that you ask of me?”

Michael stepped aside so that Calum came into view.

“Ash!” The prince rushed to his best friend—looking him over. Though he was concerned with the minor burns that littered the knight’s skin, Calum thanked the gods that Ashton was, at least, alive.

“Cal, you’re safe.” Ashton engulfed the royal in a tight hug that was immediately reciprocated.

When he pulled away, Calum frowned. “What happened? When I left?”

The head knight recounted that Lorian’s Court Magician, Estelle appeared soon after they let Calum run away. She caused a storm that decimated the royal army—quickly and violently. Ashton let out a shaky breath, thinking back to the horror of it all. “My ranks have been thinned, considerably. Remy and Rome are the last of our unit.” 

Calum regarded the brunet twins as they bowed their heads, in respect to their prince. These boys were young—barely the age of adulthood. They had much life to live. How fair was it that they must go through this war because of him?

“Don’t feel bad.” Ashton was versed in reading his best friend like a book. He recognized the expression that settled on Calum’s face. The prince was tenderhearted—so much so that the knight believed he would likely be as benevolent a king as his father before him.

“You are the throne’s true heir. The kingdom’s last hope.” Ashton nodded to himself and the twins. “The royal cavalry will fight alongside you—” Then he gestured towards the bandits, “—all of you, until the very end.”

The twins eagerly agreed, both responding simultaneously, “we are at your command, your highness.”

Calum thanked the twin knights. 

He took a moment to gaze upon their group. From the bandits to the lady gryphon rider. From his best friend to his newfound friend from the wastelands. Calum then grinned as he remembered his conversation with Michael, earlier that day, so he addressed his allies with absolute determination.

“To defeat the Empire that took our homes and our families. To bring peace to our kingdom of Saere. I, Prince Calum, hereby form with you, the Royal Liberation Army.”

—

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @americanhorrorstudies @lovableah @cals-eyebrows @quintodosuniversos

[the-canary]

In Moderation - B.B (2/2)

Summary: Bucky is afraid of a lot things since coming back -- loving was one of them. (Modern!Reader/Bucky Barnes).  

Prompt: “It’s not that complicated.”

A/N: This is for @moonstruckhargrove ‘s writing challenge. Welcome to the 2nd part of Signs of Love! I am sorry that you have been waiting so long and while I promised no second part, Kacey Musgraves’ Happy & Sad really got to me and here we are. Special shoutout to @softhairbarnes who told me about this lovely musician. 

Feedback is always welcomed.

It’s not that complicated.

He remembers telling her with a crooked smile and coldness to his heart that he has felt for years -- since he came back from the war, since he lost his arm, since Dot crushed his heart. He doesn’t expect this to be but a quick fake date to the festivities that force him to see his ex from time to time. A hug here and there, while sharing a laugh and drink with a person Wanda and Sam consider to be their good friend.

“I understand,” is what she states with a soft smile and nod, like she can handle the weight of the world and and then some. Maybe, it’s that hidden strength and patience that he feels from her that causes him to say it.

Just make sure you don’t fall in love with me.

Bucky states it so that she understand that there is nothing coming out of this in the long run for them, but deep down he knows... Bucky knows that he is saying it to protect his own heart.

It’s not that complicated.

However, Bucky always finds a way to fuck everything up in the end. He end up falling in love.

James can’t help wonder if his feelings blossomed during their time together or even before them when he got to see her talking to their shared friends when she had time to see them. He knew that she worked a hectic schedule that had her leaving the city for months at a time, so maybe that’s what made it so special when she came to get a drink with them or had a late brunch with them.

She’s always distant but polite, always manages to say hello and goodbye but never pushes Bucky further than that. He’s grateful, but he’s also very curious about the type of person she really is -- how she giggles with the twins and manages to match quips with Sam when need be.

Bucky wants to more know about her, but he knows how dangerous that can be. He shouldn’t go out reaching for stars when he is only going to crash and fall in the long run, but he always had a bit of Icarus in him.

“A sandwich and coffee latte with skim milk and two sugas,” he declares to the cashier without a second thought, though with a brief memory that she had ordered once or twice before when they had late coffee nights with everyone else.

Bucky can’t help but curse at himself when she sees her eyes light up as she sits down. She smiles and he swears that the warning signs are already flashing in his back of his head, but he doesn’t really seem to mind as she ends up talking more about herself than he has ever head. She even laughs at one of his corny jokes, and Bucky knows right then and there that he is done for.

Bucky is a fool in thinking that he might no fall for her old tricks again -- that laugh and that conceding nature that Dot was so used to handling him with in towards the end of their relationship sets out an irrational anger in him that makes him want to punch something, anything. She’s laughing at something with her date, Brock from Sales when he feels it. A soft hand on his right one.

Painted lips but with a patient smile accompanied with bright eyes stop all of Bucky’s angry thoughts.

“Are you alright?” she questions. Blue eyes are trained on her completely as Dot is completely forgotten. His anger begins to calm down as she rubs smooth circles over his knuckles and Bucky lets out a sigh that he didn’t know he was holding onto -- for so much anger, she knows how to temper it out of him in seconds.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, as she pulls him to a more quiet part of the party as they keep trading stories about Steve, Sam, and Wanda for the rest of the night.

If he sees her in his dreams the following nights afterwards, well he never tells a soul.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve confirms his initial suspicious after a month and half, “If you like her so much, just ask her out. Stop using this facade that it’s to hurt Dot.”

You’re just hurting the both of you in the long run, is left unsaid though Bucky knows that there is where his best friend is trying to go with his speech.

However, this is the only way Bucky knows how to move forward without screwing things up, because as the anger that he feels towards Dot leaves him, the love that he is feeling for her is growing. He finds herself looking at her for hours on end, listening to all she has to say about her work or something that happened that day -- James Barnes has fallen in love once again, but he knows that nothing good ever comes from being happy. It is a momentary thing that is always taken away from him in the end.

He knows that when it all goes down hill, which it always does, it will hurt more than ever before because he has dreamed of having her asleep at his side, of kissing her and simply spending the day with her. But, he can’t have it because he doesn’t deserve it, so he acts a certain way when need be -- like a cold shower to remind both of them that this is fake and can end at any minute, whenever he chooses.

“I know, Stevie, I know,” he lets out in a desperate groan, like a dying animal in thought of the last time they had gone out. She had tried leaning in a bit too close to his metal arm and he pushed her away -- the hurt evident in her face as she said sorry and moved away completely for the rest of the night.

He hates himself for, but Bucky is just doing his best to protect his heart in the end.

He fucking fails miserable.

“I’m sorry,” she states after he tells her the story of Dot and his metal arm, of the war that never seems to leaves his mind and how he just hates being touched by others sometimes. And instead of complaining or anything negative of the sort, she simply apologizes for moving forward with such an intimate thing without his permission.

“‘S fine,” he murmurs, drunk off of something sweet he dark and the tenderness in her eyes, as he cups her cheek and brings her in closer, because Bucky would never mind if it was her and her alone that touched him for the rest of his life.

“Could I?” he asks softly, trying not to break whatever is in the air that has him staring at her eyes and then her lips. She doesn’t say anything, but she does lean in a bit more and cups his cheeks for easier access.

He pretends not to shudder as she moves in closer to his body and doesn’t shy away from his metal arm. Bucky pretends that he doesn’t get a rise from just how breathless he makes her or how perfect her body seems to fit with his.

He’s a fucking failure, but he doesn’t mind it for now.    

Eventually, Dot must had realized it, that this wasn’t about her anymore but more about Bucky spending time with the gal that laughed at his corny jokes in the corner of the bar during her couples’ events. They stop getting invited and Bucky comes to realize that the time for ruse is up and there are really two ways that this could go -- he can pretend that his heart wasn’t already hers or actually ask her on a real date.

“How is it so hard to ask the gal you were already dating out?” Sam berates Bucky in annoyance, as said man takes another drink of his beer. His cellphone in his other hand, as he keeps looking at a familiar phone number.

He hadn’t contacted her in two weeks. Now, he was doubting whether everything they had real or not, because under all those pretenses James knew that he had fallen in love but maybe it was just a ruse for her -- the little laughs, the kisses, everything they shared.

“You’re overthinking it too much again, Bucket,” Sam complains once more, dragging Bucky out of his thoughts, “She’s not Dot -- that girl wears her heart on her sleeve too damn much, especially around you. If you can’t see the way she feels about you, then you’re a goddamn fool.”

Deep down, James knows what Sam means and with his own heart calling to the possibility of falling in love again, he sends his message.   

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Dot. I’m in love with someone else now.”

Those are the words trapped in his throat when Dot comes to his apartment a few minutes before his first official date with her, at least in his mind. All hell breaks loose when he sees her standing there, he doesn’t get a word in before she is running down the stairs and out of his apartment building.

Bucky yells at Dot to leave and tried calling her over and over, worried sick of her getting caught in the weather and even more so of what she had seen.

But, she never answers. Instead, he gets a call from Wanda telling him that she is all right, but would rather be alone for the time being. James ends up letting a frustrated but pained groan at the result of all this, he drinks until he can’t coherently think anymore before passing out completely.

Bucky knows that he should had never tried reaching out for his own happy ending.

However, it isn’t until much later (when she has left for another job detail and Wanda isn’t angry anymore) that James realizes that he had been playing a game of self-sabotage from the very beginning. She was constantly questioning his motives and how he really felt towards her. His hot and cold attitude sent her into an emotional loop that she wasn’t used and even if he tried to explain himself -- she had already created a picture of him in her mind that Bucky was sure he couldn’t beat.

“If you’re still moping on about her,” Wanda states offhandedly two months later during their shared lunch hour, “You should go check out that cafe she likes, she might be there.”   

“Wan,” James exclaims at the hook his friend as given her, but there is brief flash in her eyes that tells him that if he messes this up that he will play for it dearly.

He grins before getting up, happier than he has felt in months.

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, thank you sir,” she states with a nod to the gray-haired man, as he gets up with his coffee and leaves.

James hadn’t been expecting to see her with anyone when he got to the little cafe where they first meet-up when this fake dating scheme started. He had brought sunflowers and had even gotten her favorite pastry, his feelings running nervously but it all left him feeling numb when he saw her sitting with another man -- had she really moved on?

However, James isn’t one to run away especially when their eyes meet and she almost gets up, but stops when the gray-haired man turns to look as well. Blue clashes with blue as the older man turns back and asks her a couple of questions that in a language he doesn’t understand, though James walks in a few steps closer -- near the table before the man gets up and give him one last good look, though with a permanent frown in his face.

“You hurt her again,” the older man states in a jovial but threatening sort of way, as he pats Bucky’s shoulder,”And I know how to make men like you disappear, son.”

The man laughs at Bucky’s widening eyes because even though James had been in the military most of his youth, this man (Chester, she exclaims in disapproval but he just waves goodbye) was something else and Bucky knew that. However, all those threatening thoughts are erased at the sight of her becoming to sit down.

“Was that your--”

“My boss,” she explains, saving them both the awkward embarrassment, “I wasn’t exactly in the best headspace during our last trip and he wanted to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Bucky lets out before handing her the flowers and sweet, “For you, if you want them.”

“Thank you,” she states with a smile and grabs said items from across the table, “Though, I have to ask: are these meant as a sorry or something else?”

Her eyes meet his and at that teasing quip at the end Bucky can’t help but feel that there is a chance, but before anything else he wants to clear the air. He wants a clear slate with her, as best as it can be, before moving forward with what he had been wishing for for months.

“It’s meant as an apology and a start,” Bucky starts explaining, “I know were just started as a fake date sort of thing, but somewhere along the line...I feel in love with you, how kind and sweet you could be towards someone like me, but I was scared too. I didn’t treat you the best I could and I am sorry for that.”

“James,” she whispers while rubbing the yellow petals with a soft look in her eyes. Because while she was still guarding her heart, she couldn’t deny that she had missed him in her time away and that she was willing to try anything if he was willing to change, or at least be a be different then when they were “playing” in front of Dot. 

“It’s not that complicated,” Bucky states with a grin at the familiar term that he had used, “But, I wanna have a shot with ya and I swear it won’t be like all those fake dates we went on. I’ll wine and dine ya like no one ever has.”

She grins at his declaration, love and excitement in her eyes as she declares: “I think you owe me a movie night first, that would be a good start.”

“Anything you want, doll.”

“I think you’re digging yourself into a hole if you say that.”

And at the sound of her laugh and excitement, even after everything that they had gone through, Bucky knew he was willing to fight for his happy ending if it had her in it.

[digressfromreality]

The Future Is Upon Us

All For One asked for a favor that only this villain can provide for his successor. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5... Part 7 

PART SIX

She did not need Tomura’s keen intellect to know that someone, more than likely several pro hero someones, were trying to silently box her in.

Vigilantes were more...secretive... perhaps more rash with their intentions, at least the green ones would be more prone to. She would expect a Vigilante to corner her at nighttime rather than the middle of day in a public space.

Whomever bid their time, slowly escorting or blocking pathways in the park that led toward the one she was strolling through. It was apparently strategic and well executed. The population density seemingly decrease in the last 15 minutes, more so than it had over 3 hours. Even as the sidewalk became clearer and less cracked, she began to encounter less vendors and less animals.

She began to wonder if she had found herself in the wrong side of an illusion. But she removed the covering from her daughter’s face. No one’s quirk would be able to fake her daughter’s eyes without seeing them themselves.

She decided to wait it out. Either they would approach her, or keep their distance to spy. If they had wanted to harm her, they had missed their chance, she had caught onto their ruse.

She sat on a bench, cradling her young daughter in her arms. The heroes knew to come cautiously, and without causing immediate alarm. If she decided to shout a command, they would be in peril.

A warm body sat down next to her while a woman dared to reach-

SLAP!

She slapped the foreign hand in mid reach, “you touch my baby, I will have pedestrians within spitting distance, gouge their eyes out just for having the misfortune of seeing you,” she turned and gestured nonchalantly to the person next to her, “even the hero next to me.” She knew Eraserhead had taken a seat next to her.

There wasn’t many pro heroes bold enough to saddle up next to a potential threat. Besides she could remember the smell of his aftershave, it was stained into her memory like the lingering remnant of a nightmare.

That familiar scent had foiled more than a fair share of her extortion attempts.

“Fiesty. Kitten has some claws. Meoooowwww.” Midnight teased, giving the irritated mother a foxy smile.

Aizawa’s banding cloth wrapped around her wrist, a warning. She sighed, he had seen the ear muffs cradling her daughter’s head. She thought the head covering would have been enough.

His hair flowing and eyes unblinking in her direction. “No need to threaten, we are here to talk.” It had been several years since she had seen Aizawa out in the field. He had been a nasty deterrent when she first started out in the game. The only reason she could keep a step ahead of him was because of her quirk… (they can’t convict someone who could make them forget their own mother with just a few simple words.) Eventually she would seize the moment, he had to blink at some point. 

“Eraserhead, still dry and blunt as ever.” Her tone as frosty as a blizzard in winter, “What is it that you want?”

“Persuasion, where is Shigaraki?” She snorted. There was no use in denying that she knew Tomura, they obviously had enough information to know they have had contact.

But definitely not enough to get her into too much trouble. If they knew she was part of the League of Villains they would have hauled her away already.

She grinned, twirling her hair, “What about that man child?”

“How do you know him?” Aizawa quickly countered, he knew well enough her flirting was part of her distraction. Whether she had information or not, it was her go to defense. It was hard to read when she lacked an obvious tell. He hadn’t observed her in so long, his insight to her flaws were lacking to say the least.

“How do you think? Most people that I have met have something dark about them. The ones with the most to lose tend to pay the quickest,” she fluttered her eyelashes at Eraserhead, “Right Shota?” She attempted to caress him with her bound hand.

“Taking advantage of the desperate?” Her gaze viciously changed directions, this slut hero had a nasty mouth. Her smile curled, much more than a simple simper, but outright cruel grin.

“Difference in an opinion. Much like your superhero attire. Were you a stripper in your past life?” Shota could literally see twin twitches of rage on both their faces. Shock and awe.

“Who’s your daughter’s father?” Was that question supposed to offend her? Or were they really fishing for information? Either way she wasn’t an idiot. Only 4 people knew and it was going to stay that way.

She snorted, “Whomever wants to pay the most child support. Want a daughter, Eraserhead?” His unimpressed face, didn’t change. “I’m accustom to rich, well-groomed men, but my preference is a relaxed man.” She leaned toward him, to whisper, “I hear you keep a sleeping bag on hand most the time. I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Shota blinked, whether from dry eye or disbelief, it left her an opportune moment.

“LEAVE MIDNIGHT.” The scandalous hero turned on a dime sauntering off in the other direction.

She grinned, when several policemen appeared from their hiding places, uncertain of what the pro hero was commanded to do. Guns raised high, until Eraserhead shook his head. “You understand that I could have done...much worse. I don’t get why you bring such trash as back up.” Midnight continued her journey without intervention, making Persuasion relax, knowing she had gotten her way without a fight.

She could see his jaw tense, indicating his tolerance was waning in terms of her antics.

“Well if you don’t approve of my behavior, you shouldn’t have come to bully a new mother.” She answered flippantly, why trying to ease her hand from his cloth. “And let go of my hand, I need to readjust.” She gestured toward her baby. Holding her with one arm was slowly making her arm fall asleep.

Eraserhead acquiesced to her request, eyeing her other arm tremble, “Bully?”

She rolled her eyes, who did she really believe she was talking to? Although, an underground hero, Eraserhead was still a hero through and through. Even his newest class of disciples had even stirred up trouble for her master. His influence and protection were sorely missed.

“If multiple villains approach a hero it’s bullying, but if multiple heroes ball bust a suspect its teamwork. It’s disgusting how hypocritical that is.”

“Investing in Stain’s ideology?”

“It’s a matter of truth, whether you acknowledge it or not. The system is messed up.” She paused, while Mira made the cutest yawn. Her poor baby was sleepy.

“Someone’s sleepy like her daddy.” She joked, to which Aizawa’s face remained unchanged. She pushed her hair behind her ear after placing Mira back in the covered stroller. “We’re leaving unless you have plans to take our daughter and me out for late lunch?” This time a hint of frustration tensed his jaw.

She stood, fixing the visor. Eraserhead cleared his throat, hair raised.

“Now Shota, either you have enough to hold me or this interrogation is over. I do have friends, with big lawyers on retainer.” She gave him a dead panned gaze, “what will it be?”

He produced a piece of paper, holding it for her take. “If you hear anything about Shigaraki or the League of Villains, call this number.”

“And if I just want someone to cuddle me at night?” She could swear the pro hero was grinding his teeth. “Fine, you’re no fun.” She took the card, and memorized the number. She would dump it as soon as she left the park. She would be fine, but she hoped Tomura was doing well. He was finally gaining the fame he had always wanted.

[katymacsupernatural]

The Other Side of Reality Part 6

Dean Winchester x Reader

1100 Words

Story Summary: Y/N is a patient in an Asylum. Each and every day she noticed a handsome man sitting in the same place. Holding the same tattered book. Mumbling about ghosts, ghouls and vampires. Almost two months later, she finally gathers up the courage to go up to him. To listen to his stories. Little did she know her life would change forever as she began to wonder if there was a hint of truth to his stories.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Slowly blinking your eyes, wondering exactly when you had fallen asleep. Your arms were shaky, your body extremely sore and weak. “What happened?” You whispered, rubbing your head, trying to rid yourself of the terrible pounding headache that tormented you.

It took a moment to realize that the loud pounding was not completely in your head, but was coming from your closed door. “Go away,” you muttered, turning to curl back into a tight ball and fall back to sleep.

“Y/N?” Dean called out. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly the memories from yesterday came slamming to the front of your mind, reminding you that Devon had come close to raping you last night. But that wasn’t the part that confused you. It was the power that had run through your fingertips, saving you when you had needed help.

You also remembered how the voices in your head had changed. Chanting a single name over and over. A very familiar name. The name of the man currently banging on your door.

Stumbling to your feet, you moved the short distance to the door, struggling to pull it open.

Dean slipped inside, shutting the door before putting his back to it. “Y/N, are you alright? You’ve been locked in here for over a day.”

“It’s been that long,” you whispered, returning back to your bed. Sinking down onto the thin mattress, you patted the spot beside you. “I hadn’t realized.”

“I saw Devon locked away in the staff room, looking grumpier than ever,” Dean explained. “He had a huge bruise on his cheek, and I immediately knew it had something to do with you. Are you okay?”

“Why do the voices in my head keep saying your name?” You blurted out, Dean’s eyes widening. “They went from such negative and cruel thoughts to a language I couldn’t understand. And now they kept repeating one name over and over again. Your name. The same time this power rolled through me, shooting from my hand.”

“My name?”

“Yes. You’re the only Dean Winchester that I know. How are you connected to the voices in my head, and do you know anything about this power that’s somehow coursing through me?”

“Y/N you are the only one who has sat and listened to my stories,” Dean spoke slowly. “You never treated me like I was completely insane even though we’re both in a mental hospital. I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you freaking out.”

“Dean, I’m in a mental hospital. There is staff who want to attack me, and I’ve been hearing voices for quite some time. I’m pretty sure I’m already freaking out.”

Standing up, Dean peeked out the window, before turning back to face you. “I think I’ve told you my brother and I hunted monsters.”

“Yeah, you told me. That’s how you lost both him and your best friend.”

“Well, my best friend was an Angel. And he had what we called Angel radio in his head. He could hear Angels talking in their ancient language. I believe that’s what you’ve been hearing. But I have no idea why you, and why we are both put together in this place.”

Clasping your hands together, you stared down at them. “I don’t know what’s going on. But it’s scaring me. What if people are really out to get us, and this is just a place...Wait! I remember something!”

Hands on his hip, he stared at you. “What? What did you remember?”

“Devon, and someone else. Their eyes both flashed blue. What does that mean?”

“That means we’re surrounded by Angels,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You could easily see how frustrated he was, just as you were. “I wonder if…,”

Before he could voice his thoughts your door was thrown open, an angry Devon stepping inside, quickly followed by the Doctor and an unknown nurse. “I see you two have been busy. Dean, it’s good to see you again.”

“I don’t…,” Dean started, but with a wave of his hand, the Doctor muted Dean. “No, this is where the two of you listen.”

Devon came to stand beside you, an angry bruise on his face, his eyes full of hate and loathing. But also lust, which scared you more than anything. “I had hoped this little ruse would have lasted a little longer. But you and Dean, you always seem to figure things out.”

“Dean and I knew each other before?” You whispered, turning to stare at Dean wide-eyed.

“Oh sweetheart, you and Dean definitely knew each other before. Very well,” the nurse sneered. “I just can’t believe how easy the two of you find each other. No matter how many times we run this little gig, the two of you instantly seek each other out.”

“We’ve done this before?” You asked as Dean struggled against the invisible hold against him. “Why?”

“To show you,” the Doctor answered cryptically. “You and Dean have been a pain in our sides for a long time, and we needed you out of the way. Now that you’ve started to put the pieces together, we’re going to have to think of something else. Say goodbye to Dean. Again.”

Devon reached down, grasping your arm and roughly pulling you to your feet. “Why do you always have to cause so much trouble?” He muttered near your ear. “At least where I’m taking you, you’ll never see Dean again.”

Struggling against Devon’s hold, you could barely see Dean out of the corner of your eye. He was frozen in his spot, the Doctor staring gleefully down at him while the nurse held a syringe to his arm. “Wait! If this is all a ruse, what about Dean’s brother? And best friend? Are they really dead?”

“That my dear is none of your concern. Devon, take her away. Don’t have too much fun with her while we get Dean all situated. Y/N dear, say goodbye to Dean. I daresay the two of you will ever see each other again.”

Kicking back at Devon, you tried to get away. Tried to harness the power that had rolled through your fingers not so long ago. If only it would come back, then you could save both of you. But you remained powerless. “No!” You screamed, getting an elbow to his face before he slammed your head against the wall, knocking you out.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @15wiishes @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @all-will-be-well-love @anokhi07   @biawol @bebravekeeponfighting  @brindz30 @colette2537 @crusadedean    @haelyn @ikeneasul11 @imascio08 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @keikoraventeller @lauren-novak @librarygeekery @mirandaaustin93 @mlovesstories @msimpala67 @pisces-cutie @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice​ @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @thegrungequeer @thewinchestergirl1208 @torn-and-frayed​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester 

The Other Side of Reality Tags: @crazysocklovingfangirl @letmedrainwiththestars @raven1aris @spnbaby-67 @karouwinchester @demondeanismybaby @wxxnks @closetspngirl @omnia-pod @soullessdemontrap @musiclovinchic93 @pie46733 @yes-this-is-doggo @maydayfigment @choosemyname @nervousmemzie @bi-bi-winchesters  @flamencodiva

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