#he loves it when you send him the most intrusive and impulsive thoughts ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpingwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Cameron Monaghan

Bailey Baumbach

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'Method Acting

and

Intrusive Thoughts'

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It being my Impulsive thoughts that led to this being written. Depending on how it gets taken by you, my precious audience, I might write more oneshots for them. But not a whole book, I don't have creative capacity to hold up two books at once-

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.630 Words

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You were nothing but a middle tier – but rapidly growing – streamer and YouTuber when he was made aware of you via a clip from a fan that had watched your stream, tagging him on a Retweet after he jokingly wondered if there was just about any fucking talent left in his Generation – knowing very well that there was, enjoying the chaotic waves of people that had the joke fly higher over their head than an airplane.

In the Twitch Clip you were talking about your own "small" Video Project, and how – now that the last episode had come out – you wanted to try yourself with something bigger after the project was received very well by the YouTube Community, specifically the Analog Horror Community, but even by some horror movie critic Content Creators. Your series has incorporated the same style of an all-time classic under the Webseries genre, Marble Hornets, while back then also becoming the stepping stone of the modern ideas of the now newest, most hyped content trends on the site, like the Mandela Catalog or the Backrooms.

It was a well planned Q & A with something very special to you included at the end, your very first official video audition for movie studios to send to…

After all, you didn't have an agent like a real, established actor that helped you find your first opportunity. You had to do everything yourself.

The first thing Cameron absolutely fixated on with you, even before the Audition Video, was your uncanny talent for controlling your facial expressions, you could talk about the most gruesome things that inspired your series with a near constantly straight face – only deviating when reading chat and cracking a equally gorey joke, catching some first time viewers off guard – while boredly fiddling with a burned, ripped Bible. It was a original prop, a real Bible you bought on Ebay and "messed up" yourself to be used for the series, it turns out.

From the audio of a child crying that he was hungry and that nobody loved him to stomach twisting snuff, you went through the darkest corners the legal web could spit out to constantly stay at that right level of depravity only known to be done by humans, needed for not just writing the plot but also for staying in your very own character, who slowly was written to lose more and more of her sanity and humanity.

Method acting, he had noted, at her explanation of how she figured out her character's personality and her quirks. She started out as the victim and slowly the story turned the tables as her character began to act just as twisted, the events of her life, past and happening on camera, slowly turning her brain into 'Hot Fudge Brownie Batter', in Bailey's own words.

"Once, while practicing my lines during breakfast, obviously having to stay in character the whole time, I actually threw a bowl of perfectly well porridge against my newly painted walls…fucking hell, it was such a mess and i just...went about my day, leaving it lying on the ground..." and your Chat quickly went to ask basically 'Why the FUCK would you do THAT?!', mourning the bowl and the food she wasted as she chuckled before also chugging the burned prop somewhere to the side, a deep thump from the impact on the carpet of your floor.

"Why? Easy enough…Do any of you ever just…let your intrusive thoughts win, like taking said cereal bowl and instead of chugging it at the wall, you just throw it out the window full fuckin' force, perhaps hitting a pedestrian?! No, most, about 99%, of us fucking don't, a huge amount of people had or has these thoughts blip into their everyday thoughts once at least, sure, but most of the time they are absolutely the worst or at least most stupid shit our gray cells can produce! NOW…make all that into a character and you got half a Hannah already, near the end she's almost solely controlled by these abominable thoughts."

The description of your Character made him check out your web series, wanting to see just how well you actually put those thoughts and ideas into action, already intrigued after your Video Audition. You were absolutely brilliant at portraying a mentally…unwell…character, and that put Hannah's Personality and general acts lightly.

After that, he ended up watching your streams almost always after work or studying his lines for the next scenes for his own role. It was obvious that you didn't always talk about your career dreams, but it was brought up regularly while you played various games for almost hours sometimes. Even after your normal 8 hour shifts, sometimes even longer ones, you still managed to keep the chat entertained with your incredibly out-of-pocket comments – the clips of the best moments on your Youtube channel – for certain moments on stream.

He found out that way that you were a massive fucking nerd, not a nerd for Maths though, you say you're horrible at that. Horror Movies, anything with the Words 'Star Wars' and Horror Games. You couldn't stand scary shit, in reality, you had confessed multiple times by now, but it never stopped your morbid and natural curiosity. And absolutely a good chunk of all this was Masochistic, you hated and loved getting scared.

Then one day, a viewer of yours called him out. Cameron wasn't very well versed in Twitch, since he never really had time to get into watching streams, and just simply made an account with basically his name...nothing else. So when he once finally decided to make an incredibly humble donation of 300$, you know, the usual for a total normal, not even a simp, viewer that was probably between 13 and 25 years of age-

'Yo wtf, Cameron Monaghan??? Ian Gallagher???'

And you, the absolutely brightest crayon in the box, at first had brushed it off as either, a) just someone ALSO called Cameron or b) also, just like you, a fan of him and his small roles AND his role as Ian. After all, isn't he busy with the new Season of Shameless? Or maybe a Movie you don't know of yet?

No normal person that busy would waste their time on Tw-

'I think someone shared your recent Q&A on Twitter and tagged him in a Retweet??'

'Ya, was me.'

'Just a coinky dink trust me that's NOT the real Cam lol!'

'yeah...but what if…???'

'SUS MUCH…'

'Wait, I am getting major Inception vibes'

'Yeah wtf a celeb watching one of their fans…acting like a simp himself lol'

CamrMonaghan donated 10$:

'What the hell is a simp lol'

Yeah, this couldn't fucking be Cameron, you both are literally two years apart, you 18 and him 20, how can a Millennial NOT know what a Simp is in these times of the Internet. This is probably some poor itty bitty grandpa getting lost on some foreign App after their grandkid left their phone on the table to take a shit-

'BITCH LOOK AT HIS FUCKI TWITTER WTHA HELL??'

And you did.

Would you believe it, the same question but on Cameron Monaghan's Twitter…w-weird coinky dink indeed, JogaLungoFTW…

At that point you incredible hesitantly did something you always held yourself off from doing because you knew how weird it was to receive them from some fucking stranger. You tried sliding into his DMs.

You remembered all the times you thought about telling him privately that you were a huge fan of his current work in Shameless, Prom and – despite them being just one-off stunts, his roles in your favorite crime shows, The Mentalist and Law & Order. But unlike your Character, you didn't let your own regular not intrusive but instead impulsive thoughts win...not always at least, you yourself always felt absurdly uncomfortable at some fans with their walls of text of weird confessions. You really didn't want to stoop to their level of weirdness, your methods to get into Character sometimes already had gotten you to question your sanity more than once on their own alone.

So it all started very simple as you gave one last glance towards the Webcam on your main monitor and the chat before looking back down to your phone, beginning to type, only the classic typing sound of your Android heard.

Bailey: I don't want to sound weird, trust me I know the feeling, but…are you watching my Stream right now?

Not even a minute later...

Cameron: Yes :) Didn't think they would realize that soon tbh…

Bailey: The Chat has more keen eyes than us, unwritten streaming rule.

And you hit it off quite well after the short introduction, soon having switched from the unconventional and difficult way to write in the DMs of each other to an actual Messenger service – which took a while to find one, you using Android and him Apple.

But in all that time, you not once let it slip that you were such a big fan of his, hoping he didn't catch the one viewer's message in Chat those days before.

You wanted a friendship that didn't build on each other's work and success, knowing the risk of the other thinking they might be getting used for a career lift. Especially after he mentioned having seen your Video Audition. After that, you watched your words even better, trying to talk about your dream as few times as possible without it looking odd.

How hard it was to not squeal like your little past self getting the main role in theater class when he, Cameron Monaghan himself, told you on your very first actual Phone Call together how natural your type of acting was to him and that he really believed in you for hopefully getting cast for an actual show or movie in the near future.

Oh it was the hardest challenge by now, using every inch of self control you had in you.

And months passed. You had actually become really good friends with the ginger, to a point you Video called regularly and you made it your job to teach him how some internet things he somehow never learned worked, including getting him a Discord Profile and how Twitch actually fucking worked – for example, a more unique Username that didn't blow his cover the moment he was getting active in a chat. Everything had been going on like always even with his sudden addition to your small, very small, rooster of close friends. Unfortunately you never heard back from any of the studios you send your Audition to.

But it was nothing to lose hope over, he told you. And he should know best of course, as he is literally right in the middle of the acting business…

Until one day he made a completely new request.

"Hey, you think I can join you during your next stream?"

While it was odd at that point of time, he had been very much alright with staying a regular spectator in the chat, usually communicating with you via the messenger or Discord DMs, laughing at your growing and very entertaining misery of getting jumpscared or killed in the games you played, you agreed without a second thought needing to be wasted on it.

That Friday morning, it was a normal stream you planned, playing some chill Lego Star Wars instead of the next potential candidate for a heart attack, Cameron listening with the patience of an angel as you ranted and vented about probably your favorite fucking franchise. Especially about the various news getting leaked about 'The Force Awakens' , how excited and through the roof you were that the Story was finally getting continued, how you wished other older Star Wars Fans weren't literally gatekeeping Star Wars from fucking Star Wars itself…

And he just sat through everything, worrying you that he was probably bored beyond belief until he suddenly began asking his own question regarding the franchise with deep, serious interest. He was just listening to get a grasp on your overall opinion...

But then the door bell had rung, a stupid habit of your local mail service, forcing a very annoyed eye roll and sigh from you as it interrupted your by then very intense discussion about the Jedi and their views. Could've almost made that into a Star Wars Podcast, to be fair.

The useless advertising papers were thrown aside and onto your bed the moment you came back through your single room apartment's front door, kicking the door behind you back shut as you shuffled through the various other letters. Sitting back down, you just came to the last one, stopping quite confused at the address it came from. It wasn't a German Address…

"Is everything alright, Bailey?" You didn't hear the suspension in his question, like he knew what it might be as you silently yet very urgently ripped the suspicious letter open. The other letters and the now empty envelope had been haphazardly thrown behind you on the floor as you unfolded the small stack of papers.

It was from a studio, they received your audition and you had left a positive impression with your range of uniqueness and your talent for adapting in highly emotional scenes.

But it was a studio you never even wrote to. Because they seemed so far from your league – it can't even be called one, you're that low – that you didn't even dare thinking about sending it to them…mother fucking Warner Bros and DC Entertainment.

How…how had they gotten their hands on your lowly Video Audition?!

"I...I hope you like your gift?"

Your reaction wasn't the best at first, wide eyes snapping up to the camera he and everyone else watched you through, even the chat silent as they awaited your answer. You ended the stream abruptly, didn't answer the worried wave of questions on Twitter from your fans and viewers that had witnessed everything while Cameron desperately tried to get you to respond to his calls and even more worried texts, but with no result.

This had been exactly what you tried to avoid like the plague with this unlikely friendship! You never wanted this kind of help, it wasn't your own success…you would've never gotten this chance if you hadn't become friends with him, this felt so...wrong.

Two weeks after that stream, you sat at your Desk, so close to finishing writing back to the one responsible for contacting future Talents at the Studio, that you unfortunately wouldn't be able to accept their offer due to..."personal reasons"…when once again your doorbell rang. But it was the middle of the night.

Being as always again the brightest crayon in the box, you went to press the button to open the front door two floors down, equipped with your painted aluminum bat – also a past, and well beloved prop from your web series – as you cautiously opened the door when you heard them knock against your own actual front door.

Who it was…you would've never expected in a million years.

"C-cameron...?" And you nearly passed out, only his quick reaction stopping you from hitting your head against the hard wooden door frame before he helped you back inside, holding you by your shoulders. No matter how close you got as friends via chat or phone calls by now…seeing your literal celeb crush – that felt like so much more once you got to know him – in your shabby apartment's hallway???

"Careful, can't have you falling for me a second time, can we now?"

Turns out he did know about your at first innocent crush all along, which was only kept at bay due to you knowing from terrifying personal experiences how toxic parasocial thoughts can become if you're not careful with how you interact with fans, two actually psychotic stalkers later very stern about that subject with your own fans.

But Cam and you knew each other more than that now…he was no longer just an unreachable Celebrity on a screen. So with that line crossed by both of you, your crush grew to more as well, something you made 100% sure to hide from everyone that knew you, personally and not.

"Why…why are you here?! Don't you have to shoot more scenes for Shameless?" You had asked, initial shock keeping your questions surprisingly grounded as your heart began to hammer against your chest…he was sitting directly next to you…on your squeaky old bed!

And he answered with a small frown, "I was way too worried for you to concentrate on them, even the director and Noel noticed…you became such a staple to my breaks – if i couldn't watch at least a recap of what i missed with my usual sandwich, i would've been grumpy all day – evenings and sleepless nights, not hearing your voice complain about your boring day job at this warehouse, your horrible grandmother…I needed to know that you're alright.". Something that caused you to almost shut down fully then…he worried so badly for you that he couldn't sleep right. You fucking made your friend worry with your stupid, egoistic behavior, you really did everything wrong.

You really ruin everything, just like she always tells you…

"I'm sorry, Cam. I just, I…I never wanted to start my career this way, by the help of someone else. What…what would others think if they–" "You're already an actor, you're not just a "content creator", as they call it, you should know yourself that you only really lost once you let their criticism get into your head and poison your thoughts. Don't let such a once in a life time opportunity get ruined because of what potentially could get said."

And he was right...painfully right. You couldn't let them win before they even started. Before you were able to get started. You didn't show your full potential yet, so why should they all try to bash your head in...

You apologized profusely him that night, for your incredible stubbornness and stupidity, for him ending up all they way in some stupid suburb of Munich just because you refused to act your fucking age for at least once in your life.

That he ended up with someone as useless like you as a sad excuse of a frien-

Your list of apologies were cut very short that night, the unfinished email forgotten on your desktop as it went into sleep mode and he shut you up with his lips on yours.

"Fuck, don't friendzone me again, please, Bailey…"

The night went past you like a blur, you only remembered the articles of clothes that suddenly began reducing themselves onto your beige carpet floor – joining other objects you threw onto it over the course of the day – hasty and needy hands grabbing, scratching and latching onto pale skin, thin layers of sweat on you and obscene noises – much louder than allowed in Germany after 10PM – in the entire apartment, a sure guarantee to wake some people up.

It had built up in both of you with every chat you shared, every call he or you initiated and especially the video calls he always wanted so badly. He said he really liked watching your expressions change, sometimes abruptly and sometimes so subtly and smooth when you were truly passionate about a subject…you could've caught onto him so much sooner if had just once watched HIM closer, how his own expressions changed. You were good at reading them, ever since you were a child, but it set out entirely with him.

Because of that you never had, too concentrated and busy with hiding your own infatuation at those times. Keeping yourself from falling asleep to his warm, calming voice when the timezones ended up with you calling him in the middle of the night while he just got back from his lunch break and he had finished a clip from your latest stream, dying to ask questions…

After that…very special night…it didn't take long for him to convince you to take probably the biggest step in your life yet.

Moving to America, permanently.

He had told you about everything, there would be no stones left in your path by the time you're really ready after he talked to the Studio and his own Agents. They would even be ready to sponsor your Green Card application if you really had been ready to accept their offer, one you didn't know for what show or movie it was until you had stood on the set with your script. Thankfully Warner Bros. doesn't produce Porn...

"They could with you as their model– owww, dammit Bailey…" he had mumbled with a cheeky grin next to you on the plane – cursing and whining out under his breath as you lightly smacked him upside the head for the comment – having come back down to Germany just to help with your few things once the date was set in stone, just two months later. The application had been sent already a day after he convinced you, helping you to pull through with it.

"Did you tell your parents by the way?" Oops.

At least you finally gave your grandmother a real good reason to despise you. But your mum didn't deserve your sudden decisions…so you had called her as soon as you reached New York's airport. And boy did she yell your ear off – you could almost call yourself Van Gogh – but not without telling you over and over again to please be careful with whatever your plans were, you were an adult with her own mind and thoughts, but she would never stop worrying for you. In the end, she always wanted the best for you and in her eyes that was you following your dreams. She had started to support you and your web series dreams when no one else in your family had your back – they didn't budge even when the first views brought in the real good bread – she said she would now as well.

She believed in you and was happy for your incredible opportunity, that had been the main points she tried to bring across in her motherly almost 10 minute long rant.

"I need…to meet her…someday, she sounds really nice..." Cameron had only left for a breathless response when he heard you finally finish your call, coming to help him as he fought with the luggage cases you two had to drag all the way from Germany to the US. The important and much bigger stuff was getting collected together by a full-service international moving company, the time it took to ship them to the LA Address Cameron provided you with while placing the "order", so you would be separated from your Main Computer and Desktop.

But you still had your Gaming Laptop, constantly with you with the rest of your stuff in your scary big backpack, keeping yourself mobile even in the first weeks or so.

On your way to his own currently rented apartment, something he sheepishly told you mid-flight – that he forgot to talk to the Housing Agents like planned and gave you his own main Address for the Moving Company – he grew more anxious with every silent minute that passed. While you weren't a fan of now also having to occupy his own home after he already got you this job opportunity and everything else, you wanted to freak out on the inside, most preferably have a secluded, isolated five minute temper tantrum on the plane's toilet stall, but he gave you the window seat, boxing you in...

You would be living under the same roof as the Cameron Monaghan! The dream of any fan…but you had to play it cool. You two are not strangers, you have been friends for months now! This is not just a celebrity and a stupid fan that somehow found themselves in this situation, it's two friends that…kinda have been pining for each other without the other knowing and ended up fucking bare back for three whole hours from their equally high frustration.

Not really just friends anymore, right? This was slowly becoming much more and neither of you knew how or wanted to stop that development of your relationship. Something made obvious when you both fell asleep and woke up, somehow, on his lap, snuggling into his chest and him about to start drooling onto your head, only bothered by a flight attendant when she woke you two up, since the plane was about to land.

Now you're in the present, two months later…

"Cammmm, sooner or later your phone is going to fall off the dinning table! They don't seem to be giving up, just take the call!" You shout upstairs, cupping your hands around your mouth to try and be louder so he couldn't say he didn't hear you again. A few moments later the ginger popped his head over the railing, leaning onto it with his arms. He was sweaty all over from his workout routine, a sight to behold and it took all the willpower a girl your minuscule size could conjure up to not beg him to fuck you silly right where you stood, so the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't wanna talk to that asshole, I already told him what I thought about their stupid idea, I wouldn’t even watch that in the theater." His – and now your – agent was currently trying to talk Cameron into a new movie deal, filming planned for next year, but from the things he told you, it apparently had so many requests that were against his – not even that outrageous – morals as an actor that he immediately refused when he first heard of it, not doing it unless the writers changed at least some of the details that deterred him. And of course the writers of the script were not exactly happy to hear that, which you sorta understand from their perspective.

Writing a good, smooth script that didn't sound like it could be used as toilet paper when it was tried to be brought to camera was hard enough…but having to possibly rewrite the whole thing because changing multiple scenes would fuck over the whole flow and plot? You went through that with your web series' script TWICE because of YouTube's disgusting Demonetization Kink and your Patreon had not yet given the needed monthly revenue to depend on that alone.

"Can you at least throw me my headphones from the Bedroom? I need to tone that shit out while cooking or we got a pasta-disaster at hand…" He quickly nods, disappearing for a minute before returning and letting your mint green headphones drop over the railing and into your waiting hands. "Thanks! And don't overdo yourself again today, please. Last time was bad enough."

Two weeks ago Cam for whatever reason didn't feel tired as quickly as usual and kept going and suddenly for much longer, from his memory, exhaustion caught up with him in not even a minute and he just barely got caught by you as you heard his shout when he collapsed.

"I won't, I promise. Just half an hour anymore anyways, then I'll take a quick shower and help with cooking!"

'I'm long done with cooking when you finally get out of the shower, you joker…literally.'

If anything, you would probably be quick enough to still jump under the shower along with him…and then get to help with washing his sore, fit body, hmmmm~

Fuck, what exactly did you do to deserve this amazing life? You were nothing special and yet…you're probably one of the few people that actually had all their wildest dreams fulfilled.

An actual, official acting career, your first role under one of the most famous studios there is and in a big budget show at that.

A beautiful and caring roommate that turned more and more into your boyfriend with every kiss, sensual touch and of course sharing a bed, never ending without one on top of the other…

A nice house shared with said "roommate"

Money far beyond your average-Joe needs, just for SIGNING the contract for the first season…

Now you just had to find some local friends to hang out with, your others all scattered across the globe, most of them left back in Germany.

Well, two of them did live in the States…you should ask if they want to meet up, for the very first time too. You had always talked about it, but never had the time, especially since you were busy with your series so you had to stay in Germany for filming everything.

When you had them as well, knowing you wouldn't be almost alone in this country, next to Cam and his own friends that would hopefully eventually become yours as well, everything would REALLY have become perfect…

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* (because that's how the internet works with people in the entertainment trade, despite them being nothing but people as well...)

#Cameron Monaghan x OC #cameron monaghan #Cameron Monaghan Fanfic #real person fiction #real person x oc #This is what happens when no one stops me-

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

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The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished.

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would.

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that.

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable.

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here.

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days.

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!”

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast.

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down.

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there.

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be.

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you.

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly.

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn.

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground.

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead.

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything.

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to.

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room.

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings.

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness.

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet.

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away.

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you.

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino

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lostysworld · 3 years ago

Text

My dar(k) ling – The Darkling × reader

Part 13

Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: Another fete, another challenge for you and Aleksander. Another person between you and the man you love.

– What the hell is that?

You step on the training ground that you usually keep during archery trainings with young grisha. But seems this time your today's training started without you. Instead of empty space on your usual place a tall young woman is standing next to the line of targets with children not far from them.

Unfortunately, Baghra is here too.

– I found a replacement for you for this day, - the old woman waves her hand and a dark-haired woman sends a suspicious glance towards your side.

– Once it's for a day, and then for a life.

Baghra only rolls her eyes on your barely audible mumbling. When she brings you closer to that woman, you realize you've seen her before during trainings.

– It's Zoya, one of the best grisha in the Second Army.

You trace her slim figure in navy blue kefta with critical glance, waiting patiently for her any reaction. Not that you are against new people, but definitely not today, the day after your latest conversation with the general.

– Zoya Nazyalensky. A Squaller, - she extends her arm for a handshake, and you notice familiar pattern on her sleeve and smirk.

– Yes, I can see that.

Nevertheless, you extend yours in response, with a blank expression.

– She will train them, - Baghra nods towards kids. – While I am dealing with you, young lady.

– What else? - you grit your teeth in annoyance. You still have some lessons with Baghra, but usually they are about one and the same.

– I'm not done abusing you. Not yet.

– I am done.

– What? - the woman raises her brow and stops, turning to you.

– I don't need your lessons anymore. Though I'm grateful for the things you taught me, Baghra.

– Did my son brainwashed you with his teary puppy eyes-

– He has nothing to do with it. I just learned everything I wanted.

You already turn to leave her on the gardens' line, but the old witch doesn't intend to let you go.

– Your ancestors could do incredible things, and you only learned how to summon two elements and think, that you can outdo those grisha, who are here from the childhood.

You freeze on one spot, slowly exhaling and inhaling to calm yourself down. With one swift movement you are standing in front of her again.

– Air I can summon is still in your lungs, so be careful with your words, Baghra.

The corner of her lips twitches, as if she's waiting for a reaction like this. When the first wave of rage passes you relax a bit and you step back.

–And I still think that you are wasting your time here.

– What should I do? - you throw a glance to her, throwing arms to the sides in grim surprise. – To destroy the Fold with my hands?

– It's time for youto decide whose side you are on, girl. Are you with Aleksander, or you are helping to destroy him from the inside.

Your blood turns cold. No wonder, Aleksander became so impulsive with a mother like that.

– As far as I know, the boy still trusts you, Y/N.

– It is the perfect reason for me not to trust you.

The woman shakes her head, seeing the girl in front of her as a lost one for her to save. Worse that her son's influence is her own stubbornness and youth.

– What was Aleksander like? - you draw her attention. – Before the Fold.

– He laughed... A lot.

– Well, he seemed to do this with me either.

– That's what I am talking about, - she comes closer to you making you flinch. – You may bring some light to his life, but you won't change him.

Nonsense. You shake your head. Every new conversation with Baghra leads both of you to her attempts to turn you against the general. Every time. Always.

– I would never ask him to change-

– But it doesn't mean you won't want him to, Y/N. He is used to ruin people who are dear to him.

You lower your gaze, observing the ground. Loud noises from the training ground reach your hearing. Seems Zoya entertains young grisha more than you.

– Well, - you take a step back to show the woman, that your conversation is over. – Seems, my life has been already ruined before I met Aleksander.

The woman scans you with a mixture of judgment and motherly adoration in her eyes.

– There will be no happiness between you, if you are so alike on this point.

– Be that as it may, - with only one sentence Baghra gets to set your mood up and down.

As soon as she nods towards your side, you turn away, heading to the palace, passing by the training ground. Your head is full of useless information and whirlwind of emotions, so you at least can be used as a bad example of a trainer now.

When you get closer to your room, where Genya should meet you to try the fete dress on, you notice a familiar figure behind you. Even not turning your head, you know who it is.

– That's what the general meant, when was talking about constant pressure.

Ivan smirks smugly to himself.

– Oh, shut up, please! - you reach the door and halt to face the intrusive heartrender behind you.

– I am not a little girl, I can cope with it.

– And I am glad to hear it, - his face just perfectly shows how he enjoys himself at the moment.

– Shouldn't you look after your husband, hm?

– He is not my husband-

– Well, he should be.

With that you slam the door in front of Ivan's face, making him drop this mean smile from his face. If you two go on with communicating like this, you will become besties for sure.

You have never felt yourself so stupid and uncomfortable in your entire life like right at the moment, standing near the wall of the ballroom.

Genya abandoned you about a half an hour ago, and you are standing looking at the only one person here, that may draw your attention.

Aleksander spends his time discussing something with lieutenants on the opposite side of the room. Seems he is not interested in the fete or, what's most important, in you.

Not this gorgeous dress you are wearing, not your hairstyle, nothing can make the man turn his glance on your. After your last conversation none of you dared to speak with each other or look at.

Most of dates to the dance are already preoccupied with their partners, and you have only to throw sympathetic glances to Fedyor and Ivan, where one of them sometimes salutes you with a champagne glass by turns.

Not that you are just standing alone, some of familiar grisha join you from time to time having a small talk. And you may even easily escape from this party, but the chance that Genya will catch you somewhere in the corridors is pretty high and unpleasant.

But one small detail doesn't go unnoticed for you. Only couple of seconds ago the music becomes quieter, and you casts a quick glance towards the orchestra. There from their side, Aleksander is looking straight at you.

But it is not a problem at all. This detail doesn't seem to you; as soon as you follow others' glances with yours you notice a person coming to you.

The one you don't expect to see next to ever.

White coat with golden epaulettes, blond short hair and unusual charming smile instead of dull glassy glance.

Vasily Lantsov is walking straight to your side.

People around are not used to see the part of the royal family dancing with someone at parties like this one, so even musicians slow down a bit.

You are not nervous, but the whole scene is like not happening with you, so you just watch.

– Miss Y/L/N, may I have the pleasure of the dance?

His voice pitch is not high, not low, but something in the middle, although not unpleasant to hear.

You hesitate, but feeling of the general's burning glance on your figure makes you smirk slightly and nod, laying your hand in prince's one.

The music halts, but when the young man leads you to the center of the ballroom, it starts again with new force. The constant thoughts, that you are the only couple now and everybody is looking at both of you vanish as soon as Vasily's hand lays on your waistline, pressing you closer to him.

He doesn't talk, but the man is always looking at you, attentively, with the hidden interest, and you unconsciously compare this dance to your first one with general. It is stupid, because, honestly, it's nothing compared to the first fete.

You were kind of in love, charmed by a handsome stately man, who you trust with your life, and what's now?

Lost, without direction, still in love, but more love than in love, you are dancing with the prince, but not enjoying it. Though the dress is charming. With long waves it waltzes with your every movement, black and red.

Your lips touches a one sided smirk and you can only imagine what an impression this dance has on Aleksander. Surely, his subordinates will have a hard day tomorrow.

Fortunately for you, the music stops soon and the man, as a perfect gentleman, lets go of your palm and smiles in the end. You curtsy and step towards another wall, closer to the exit. One dance is pretty enough for tonight.

But when you intend to leave the room, someone's hand wraps around your wrist, slightly squeezing it, and you turn around immediately.

Lantsov doesn't go away, but stands still peering at you.

– Would you like to join me this evening, miss Y/L/N? - your eyes narrow in suspicion. Carefully you try to take your hand away from him.

– Don't think me to be rude, your Highness, but you are not known for spending time with ladies.

The young man smirks to you and you literally feel that burning gaze from another side of the room.

– I am not, but you will rescue me, if do that, - you clearly don't understand his intentions and wince.

– Otherwise, I will be sentenced to never-ending grumbling of my mother about searching for a bride.

– Oh...

– "Oh" indeed.

You barely hold yourself from chuckling, but the the prince steps closer to you, and suddenly you think that this scene can be used as a motivation. Of course, not for you.

– What do I get out of it? - you take his hand, that Vasily gladly offers to you.

– A way out of your difficult situation.

His words lit a sparkle inside of your mind, your thoughts find a common point, and you switch your interested gaze on him.

He waits for a second and casts a glance on that side where the general should be, but you decide not to test your luck, and keep staring right at the blond man in front of you.

Suddenly you remember that the ring Aleksander gave you with the letter is left in your room, on a night stand.

A nasty rotten feeling crawls inside you and all your previous thoughts vanish away.

When you turn to the direction where Kirigan stood, you see no one. There is definitely not a good sign, and you quickly look around to sneak out of the hall without Genya noticing you.

You excuse yourself and runs out of the ballroom. All this evening leaves your head full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, so you just need more fresh air.

Usually it's Aleksander who comes to your room either to make up or to take his time alone while your sleeping. But something is telling you that this day is not one of them. You need to talk to him first.

The door behind general's back slams loudly, he can even hear some of the pictures on the walls shaking. Everything in the war room is left like it was before he left for the fete. But the man isn't the same.

He ruffles his hair, exhaling tensely, marching from one corner to another in strange mix of helpless rage and jealousy.

He doesn't know, what is going on with him. All these day it was not so hard not to pay attention to this girl, and now, when Lantsov shared a dance with her, the Darkling is furious.

He unconsciously registers his own shadows crawling to his figure from the darkest sides of the room. If he goes on like this, he will surely have troubles with controlling his powers in future, leaving it to his anger.

The full moon is in the night skies and millions of glittering stars are shining radiating a slight pale light. The sudden thought of leaving the palace and having a night stroll dies with a barely audible knock.

Not many people afford themselves a luxury of disturbing the general so late at night, but anyway he heads to the door.

He opens the door rapidly and he blesses himself for wearing a usual cold mask, the general doesn't give his surprise away.

– Zoya? To what do I owe your esteemed company?

The girl's hesitating, but determined expression almost makes him smile, but he holds himself back.

– You left the fete so soon, I was afraid something happened.

Aleksander steps aside inviting her in. Honesty, he may even use this night visit to forget his predicament, but something holds him back. Something is telling him, it is not his way out.

Unconsciously his hand slips into the pocket of his kefta, fingers find the ring of black metal and green stones. He knows the similar one is somewhere here, in Y/N's room.

But when the squaller walks in further into the room, straight to the table, both of them hear one more knock. Loud, clear one. Aleksander will never mistake him for any other.

– Come in!

He doesn't busy himself opening the door, and when it's opened by the woman he is afraid to see, Kirigan finds himself enjoying the moment.

– Am I interrupting? - the witch's cold voice rings in the tense silence of the place, as she cocks her head to the side. Zoya straightens her shoulders.

– I was just keeping company with the general Kirigan, - the man follows Y/N arching a brow without any other visible signs of displeasure. – People tell it helps when you are alone. Isn't it convenient? You should know about it.

Venom in Zoya's voice is clear, but it's not enough for freaking the young woman out.

– Yes, I'm forgetting all my troubles the moment someone breaks into my chambers in the middle of the night.

Kirigan presses his lips in thin line, trying not to smile or smirk. Despite this difficult situation and visible intentions of Zoya towards him, he can't not to admire his forest witch. The little girl turns into his queen. It's just her character, that doesn't let her admit it.

– Zoya is already leaving, - Aleksander pushes himself from the wall, attentively looking at the squaller.

The dark-haired woman passes by you, not even sharing a last glance, and when the door behind her closes, you feel like finally relaxing.

– Don't like the company of the royal family?

The general locks the door and comes back to you, eyeing your figure with a silky arrogant gaze.

You, in turn, don't leave his eyes too, but with completely different expression. The man, who adored you so much, when we first met and developed your feelings towards each other, who worried about your opinion about him, now only pushes you away as hard as possible and even harder.

You indeed are not recognizing the same man you loved. But maybe you should learn to love him again.

– What was that? - your quiet voice seems to shake him to the ground. This strange calm power on the bottom on your eyes frightens him.

– What was what?

– What made you what you are? - you come closer to the man knowing that he won't go away. There are no more places where he can hide from you. – Tell me, Aleksander, what have burnt the heart out of you?

His glance is a mix of shame and disgust. He can't just not look at you and solve his problems with that. With the woman who sees through him.

– You don't want to know, Y/N.

– Well, I'm here..., - you throws your arms to the side.

Kirigan turns away and comes up to the table with maps leaning on his hands. His glance is slipping to the documents and plans, but he feels you're coming with his back.

You can't wait anymore, come closer to your lover. Lean with your hip on the table to face Aleksander, desperately staring into sharp lines of his features, trying to find that very young man he was once, so long time ago, beyond all the darkness that surrounds him.

– What do you want to hear? I was killing people in their backs all these years. I have terrified them, terrorized using my shadows, I was Ravkan punisher. Fouler than death itself.

– I understand, - you say quietly, wondering if there is still soul inside of this man. Burnt down black desert. That is all he has instead of it.

– Do you regret?

You flinch, when low voice rings in complete silence after a pause. Instead of answering you just shake your head.

– Not a minute of it...well, - Kirigan's gaze switches to yours, when you highlights last words.

– Aside from the moments when you tried to send me away.

One-sided light grin touches his face.

– Don't tell me later, that I didn't warn you.

– Even if I ever regret about my decisions, I will never blame you, Aleksander.

Something in him clicks and he straightens turning his head to you. Need in the glance only softens you more.

– Call me that again, - everything inside you clenches, as you hear his broken voice.

– Aleksander-

– No, not like that.

On a short moment you don't understand his words, but then you are finally lighted up with an idea. His hand that lays not far from you appears under your gentle touch.

– Sasha.

The walls he was building for so long are crushing down at this very moment. You make a quick move to embrace him tenderly and tightly. The man immediately hides his head in the crook of your neck.

– Has the darkness in me won over the light, Y/N? - you feel these words as he touches your skin with his lips while speaking.

– I don't know, darling. I don't know.

– Maybe they are right, - he raises his head, and you see these two burning pools of pure madness in his eyes. – Maybe the beast should stay with his own kind-

– Shut up!

Kirigan blinks and fever in his glance vanishes. He definitely doesn't expect this outburst from you.

Your hands laying on his shoulders and chest before, now are cupping his face, making the man look you in the eyes.

– Stop talking nonsense, - his eyes are searching for something on your face, something that gives up your true feelings. – I love you, Aleksander. And you are not even close to a monster. Don't you dare taking about it again.

You bring his head a bit down so your foreheads touch. Only a moment before you notice tears gathering in his eyes.

– I thought I had lost you, Y/N. My dearest love.

You move closer to finally connect your lips, savouring the perfect moment of peace. Your name sounds like a lament from his lips.

– How can you still stand me after knowing who I am?

Kirigan steals one last kiss from you touching the tip of your nose with his. This tension he felt before slowly leaves him.

– I choose to love you for the things you have control over. Yes, I may not approve your methods, but I know that you want the best for your people. That's enough for me.

– If I knew that you become the only thing I needed, I would not come into that forest.

You chuckle and this turns into light laughter, that Aleksander catches too.

– I'm taking it as a compliment, dear.

When you two stop, you realize that it is pretty late already. You won't forget yourself tomorrow's morning for the lack of sleep.

– May I stay with you? - you are searching for the answer on his face.

– Come.

Aleksander leads you to his bedroom where you stayed a couple of times, laying his broad palm on your back.

He gets rid of his own closer and changes it, handing a new clean shirt for you to change as well.

Honestly you have a small collection of his shirts in your wardrobe now, and the whole palace will probably know about it, if you ever done wrong with Genya.

When you take you places on the bed you notice, that the man is still restless.

– Just try to fall asleep, - his hand twitches under your soft touch. – Don't think about anything else, okay?

He is silent, and you go on.

– I see how you talk to your people, Aleksander, I know that you are trying for them. Grisha are dedicated to you, because they know you care about them, - your fingers start brushing circles on the back of his hand. – Though, as I said, your methods are questionable for me.

– I want grisha not to be afraid anymore. Anyone.

– I know. But I can't advise you anything. I'm sorry.

He shakes his head, covering your hand with his.

– It's okay. I'm grateful, that you are here at all, and...

Emotions overwhelm him, and the general falls silent. Suddenly you move closer and hug him tightly, placing a chaste kiss on his brow.

– Shh, sleep. We will think about this in the morning

@aleksanderwh0r3 @all-art-is-quite-useless @carlywhomever @cynthianokamaria

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x you #grisha trilogy #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Koala Girlfriend w/ Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita and Ushijima

Request: Can I request Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita and Ushijima with a girlfriend who loves to cling to them like a koala while they are doing things around the house?

A personal favorite, even though I don’t have a s/o if I had one this would be my go to cuddling position. Sorry for not posting the last couple of days I just wasn’t feeling very well and I didn’t have motivation. Hope you like it. Love ya 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: fluff.

Akaashi Keiji

-Oof pretty boy comin through.

-This man, this godly man, oof.

-He is usually very tired and loves recharging with some cuddles.

-He would love it if he could just stay wrapped around you for the rest of eternity but alas his editor duties sadly call him and he has to get up at some point.

-You always felt iffy disturbing him while he worked so only when you were very touch starved you would give him a small peck as you passed by his desk.

-But lately you felt so needy and clingy with him, wanting to sit on his lap 24/7, no sexual intentions whatsoever.

-So you just wordlessly pushed his chair back and took your seat in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck and legs hanging loosely around his waist.

-He didn’t even question it, he kissed you on the forehead before resting a hand on your waist and going back to work letting you doze off on his shoulder.

-When he wanted to get up though he contemplated whether or not he should let you go, temporarily of course.

-He decides against it, nudging you lightly with his chin and whispering you to hang on as he got up and went to the kitchen, fixing you both cups of hot cocoa and caring them back to his study.

-It became a routine after that.

-No matter what he was doing, if he wanted to cuddle you he would.

-You never complained of course, nuzzling into his chest as he relaxed in his chair, giving him kisses as a sign of gratitude every now and again.

-Boy really wouldn’t even ask you before picking you up.

-If he knew you weren’t busy he would just come up to you and grab your hands, bringing them around his shoulders while you wrapped your legs around his waist knowing exactly what he was asking for.

-Sometimes he would ask you to move to his back, especially when he was doing something that wanted his undivided attention.

-That happened when he wanted to cook or cut something and baby didn’t want to accidentally hurt you.

-This cuddly habit rarely turned sexual, like 1/20 of the time.

-He liked the warmth and the familiarity that your cuddles provided and he would prefer to fall asleep rather than get frisky.

-Bokuto caught you two once and he couldn’t wait to ask his s/o if they could do it with him.

-He came crashing through your door, taking advantage of the spare key he had, after one failed practice game.

-Since his s/o was out of town, he needed someone to get him out of his emo mode.

-He came face to face with an Akaashi and a koala you, getting a glass of water from the kitchen, both of you caught like deer in headlights at his sudden intrusion.

-He wouldn’t shut up about it for months after that.

Kuroo Tetsuro

-This little shit.

-He is very affectionate with you.

-He treasures you, words cannot describe how much love he has for you.

-But he is a tease so when you try to initiate things he will get that stupid smirk on his face saying how can’t resist him.

-This always leads to you staring at him with a dead expression before getting up and leaving the room, making him run after you.

-You are not mad of course.

-He knows though when you really need him, when you really need cuddles and comfort so when times like that roll around he won’t say anything to you.

-He’ll just sit back and hold you close to him, running his palms up and down your sides, kissing the crown of your head every few minutes.

-He found out about your koala nature when he got up with you in his arms during one of those times.

-You immediately hugged him closer and nuzzled your face in his neck while he made a snack for the both of you.

- “You like that don’t you?”

-You just left a kiss on the column of his neck and went back to nuzzling your boyfriend.

-He let out a chuckle and he knew that this would become daily because he too loved it.

-Things will turn sexual most of the time.

-He knows when to not initiate anything like that while you clung to him so don’t worry my mans has restraint.

-If he’s not sure if you wanna do the do or not he will kiss you on the spot right under your ear and that will determine the outcome of the night *lmao*.

-He is the one who will ask you to wrap around him while he does some house work.

-You will be chillin in your room scrolling through your phone when he will storm into the room and spread his arms wide open saying a single “up”.

-Before you know it you are in his arms, your phone still in hand as one of his arms has circled your waist supporting you.

-He is muscular so he won’t ever get tired of having you in his arms.

-He answers video calls with the team, he will be in a zoom meeting with you still in his arm and will open the door to the delivery guy to pay him with you still wrapped around him like a sweater.

-Even falls asleep with you like that, back pressed against the couch, his head resting on his shoulder as he dozes off, feeling the safest he has ever felt.

-Yall can see how much those news I got from tik tok have affected me, like shit.

-Kenma says that it’s disgusting but he does it with his s/o in secret so he be LYIN.

-His s/o let it slip at some point and Kuroo has been rubbing salt on the wound ever since, RIP Kenma.

Kita Shinsuke

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

-THE LATEST EPISODE OF HIM CRYING GHOQHROD.

-Anyways.

-Baby is respectful.

-Above all he wants for you to be comfortable and relaxed so even if he really really wants to cuddle you he will wait for confirmation.

-So don’t expect anything like the other two idiots.

-He won’t just pick you up and go about his day, no no.

-Kita will ask for a hug, he will ask if he can hold you no matter how weak or worn down he feels.

-He doesn’t want to burden you with his worries so when days get hard he will ask you for some comfort but you have to sense it for yourself so you can cuddle him more.

-He likes having control over his life and when things pile up on him and he feels like drowning he thinks that he shouldn’t worry you with it.

-You can feel it though.

-His aura changes and he has that little wrinkle in between his eyebrows.

-So you will slowly wrap your arms around his waist and squeez, trying to pass on to him all of your love and reassurance you think he might need.

-You start your koala acts when you two were in bed and you didn’t want to get up because it was just so warm and comfortable.

-Who would want to get up?

- “Y/N, angel, I need to get up.”

- “But you are warm Shin….”

-So he just sighs and wraps his arms around your waist.

- “Hold tight then.”

-With the ease of a greek god, he stood up with you in his arms and went to make breakfast.

-You giggled all the time, hugging him tighter and leaving multiple kisses on his neck, cheeks and shoulder, making him let out a few chuckles.

-You might have exchanged some more passionate kisses as he made breakfast and I don’t blame you, he is irresistible.

- “Shin, I know that things get hard for you sometimes and I want to be there for you at every turn. So please don’t hesitate to ask for comfort or ask anything from me in general. I love you and if hanging onto you like a baby koala means I’ll get to see that smile on your face then so be it. I like it here.”

-He was left speechless after that.

-He followed your advice after that day, coming home in a bad move and just asking for koala time.

-His grandma caught you two once and she squealed so high you thought she pierced your eardrums.

-She was beyond happy for her little boy, seeing him so loved and appreciated warmed her heart.

- “Young love warms my old bones.”

-It’s all chuckles and giggles and lovestruck looks after that.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

-Big boy hours.

-He is tall and muscular so how could you NOT want to climb this tree.

-He doesn’t get your infatuation with his height and muscles and your impulse of wanting to climb on him but he will allow it.

-Because you are cute and he loves you and he would do anything to make you giggle and smile like a five year old.

-He will be standing in the kitchen making coffee or something when you sneak attack him from behind.

-You cling to his back, your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and legs around his waist as you try to balance yourself on his back.

- “Good morning to you too darling.”

- “Mhm”

-He will continue with his morning routine as usual, moving you from his back to his chest and sitting on the living room couch, opening the TV and chillin for about an hour.

-When he has to go out for his daily run you have to let go of him although begrudgingly.

- “Don’t pout, Y/N darling.”

-You do though and he has to kiss the pout off your face.

-He likes picking you up on his own, without having to wait for one of your attacks.

-He most likely just came home from training and he is tired, he’ll immediately pick you up and take you into the shower with him, having a lovely bubble bath with you.

-He is silent most of the time but he likes humming your favorite songs while he has you in his arms.

-He knows it calms both of you so of course he will do it.

-Tendou loves teasing him about this cute coupley(?) habit you two have.

-He visited you one day and Ushijima was just standing in your living room with you wrapped around his torso while he watched a match.

- “Wakatoshi-kun I didn’t know you got a pet.”

-Tori is a little shit so of course he would call you that, what else did you expect?

- “That’s Y/N. Satori-kun.”

-Clowned you to your old friends from school by taking a pic and just sending it to everyone and their mothers.

-Semi photoshopped it and put Santa hats on your heads and sent it to you as a christmas card.

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @storage11037 @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @letscheereachotheron @ezoyscorner

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fafulous · 5 years ago

Text

Take Me Home (1/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I hope you guys like it. We all know Andy deserves some softness :’)

The one thing you cherished about your neighbourhood was its calming silence.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the 21st century fast pacers. It did not give you any force to lead a rush life. No matter how hard life was you enjoyed this serenity, just like your neighbours.

You were the only one relatively younger in your neighbourhood, for this place was normally owned by retired elderly after experiencing everything life had to offer. But for you and your three-year-old little son, it was a second chance at life. All your neighbours except for that one loner house beside you was occupied by retired veterans and war heroes.

But that soon changed.

A man by the name Andrew Barber had moved to the house beside you. You got to know one day when you saw a huge truck with people going in and out of the house with clean and neat furniture.

Seeing all that, your vivid imagination went running and tried to picture how this man would look. Judging by the furniture (which made no sense), you thought your new neighbour was someone who would be simple and felt it wasn’t going to be someone who was, you know, old.

Oh boy were you right.

Once those packers went by, you saw him.

Andrew Barber was nothing what you thought out to be. Tall and broad, his back muscles would tell you its own tale. From afar you noticed his biceps never failed him too, for his arms screamed whenever he went in and out with a huge piece of cardboard boxes. His facial hair was a bit messy, like he is just moving into his new abode right after a sloth nap. You weren’t sure but his blue eyes had a dull finish that were deep embedded in his sunken face.

You also took notice of his sleek black Audi A6 which was parked by his driveway; It was not easy to peel your eyes away from its beauty.

This was wrong. You’re a single mother with the most adorable kid you could’ve ever asked for. After a struggle of six months your son Nikolai and you have found a hint of stability; single parenting is never easy unless you get the hang of it.

And you did.

Before you could offer any refreshments, your neighbours beat you to it. They were too kind. They were the elderly parents whose snobbish kids only visited once a year. Hence you decided to fill the gap in their lives. They loved you and you loved them back.

So now you decided that maybe when the time is right, you could meet him in a day or two and get to know each other.

Right?

—

This was new for Andy. Very foreign too.

To live a life without Laurie and Jacob was something he never expected to happen after the trial. It’s been a good handful of weeks since it happened. He did not even have the heart to think more about his son. His eyes would cloud with tears and the whole day would go wasted in drowning himself in sorrow and liquor.

He was still mourning after all.

So he decided to move. Move away from his house that reminded of his 17 years of a marriage that only seemed successful, only for it go wrong in an impulse. Move away from all of the local tabloids that hinted at himself being a next murderer.

Move away from his unsuccessful lineage.

Scattered around him were boxes of his stuff at his new house, his stuff alone. Laurie’s stuff was nearly packed and sent away to her parents’ home, the last time he’ll ever associate himself with her family.

Yes, her family.

Andy did file for a divorce while she was in prison, but that was a long procedure until it became official. However hard it was to sign those papers; it was as hard to let go of Laurie. Because if he lets her go, he has nobody.

A lone sunken soul.

The packers truck got in half of his belongings, the remaining which will come tomorrow. It was difficult moving especially with one single person. His neighbours were all elderly, so surely, he could not ask anyone for help. Also, it was another reason he chose this locality, he could be alone while he knew he lived in a tightly knitted community filled with respected war veterans.

He was extremely taken aback when many of his neighbours offered him freshly cooked food and refreshments to get over the day. He was thankful. They knew about his past and still they accepted him and asked him to reach out if any help was needed.

Andy’s day went ahead unpacking his clothes first, which took his time. He wondered if he’d ever need the fashionable suits and ties, he wore to work. There was a job opening at a swimming instructor at the local community gym; all he needs are those Speedos. But nevertheless, he kept then all back, trying to keep his mind preoccupied in cleaning.

But all that effort seemed futile for every memory crashed down when he unpacked his wedding tux.

He felt too claustrophobic, buried his hand in his face. He no longer had a marriage. He no longer had anyone to look after.

He no longer had anyone to look after him.

But amidst all this chaos in his foggy mind, he hears a lovely toothy giggle of a child.

He peeks out of his window to see a young mother and her small son sitting in their backyard with a picnic spread in front of them, while the little boy kept tripping over the grass purposefully just so he could laugh and make his mother laugh too. Andy had no idea he had a middle-aged family living nearby.

Seeing you and the son spread this familiar warmth inside Andy, reminiscing how he had this. It reminded Andy of a happier time.

Soon to be replaced with anguish. He would never have that again. He missed feeling the warmth of family, the love of a wife. Life never really gave second chances he believed.

He noticed you, a caring mother placing the little one on your lap while you fed him all the scrumptious food. He didn’t fail to miss how your eyes shined with happiness. A happy woman is always a pretty woman at heart; it is something he used to tell himself. A soft chuckle left out of Andy’s lips as he saw the boy eat the food messily, but you seemed to be patient, responding lovingly towards his naughty antics.

Her husband is one lucky son of a bitch.

He could watch you two all day, but that would be extremely inappropriate. Right now, Andy wanted his newfound house to look like a home.

Next day went by and it didn’t seem like he was getting anywhere near getting his house ready. He was waiting for another truck to get more of his stuff while he sipped on some bear till the movers arrived. They unloaded most of his stuff at his lawn and went away.

“Need a hand moving those boxes?”

Andy turned around to a gentle voice of the same woman who had he had seen yesterday with the small child.

You.

A chilly afternoon, he wasn’t surprised you sporting a loose, fluffy knitted woollen pullover with black leggings. Your hair was tied up in a bun and then noticed that he was probably staring at you for a long time.

“Uh- No. I’m fine, thank you.”

But you kept standing there looking at him smirking. He was literally struggling to carry all those boxes “Your body language says something else.”

When he looked up you saw his sunken eyes with even more detail as though the man hasn’t slept in days, “Would I be desperate man if I said yes?”

You chuckled, “Not at all. I’m Y/N Y/LN.”

“Andrew Barber”, he stretched out his hand for a warm greeting with a firm handshake. The feeling of his rough palms sends small jitters to you, but you ignored it; and just like that you resumed.

You helped him lift the bigger boxes to his house even though you knew he carried most of the weight. Two could always get the work done sooner. Both of you didn’t talk much for these 20 minutes but it was a comfortable silence while both of you took sneaky glances at each other’s features.

When you neared him, you realized he was lot more than just handsome. Sunken face was holding two blue eyes that would be enticing if he had put any effort to put any life in them. His beard was neatly trimmed although scruffy, just like you saw yesterday.

Andy on the other hand was just too despondent to, you know, check you out. He thought you to be a beautiful woman with a kind heart, especially after seeing you and your son yesterday.

He even thought of asking you about your son and family, but that would be too intrusive he wondered.

Andy thought you’d leave after moving the boxes but you insisted you’d stay to help unpack his stuff and maybe cook some lunch for him since he didn’t even unpack his kitchen utensils out. He was ready to accept the help only for a second.

The Andrew Barber he knew before the events of the trial would have gladly accepted, maybe even made lunch for the beautiful lady, instead of you, who graciously offered him help. He was divorced now so there was nothing stopping him.

But do you really deserve a fresh start with a lady Andy?

Would she be here if she knew who you really were?

His mind was plagued. He moved here with the intention of a fresh start but, he wondered if anyone would actually accept him. He decided for himself that they wouldn’t.

“It’s alright Y/N. Thanks for your help.”

There was no way a man could set up his home all alone you thought. “Mr. Barber, are you sure? I really have no problem. I’m completely unoccupied at the moment. Besides Nikolai-”

“No.”

You blinked at his curt reply.

“I’m good Y/N. I can take care of the remaining stuff here. You can go now.”

Looking at him made you realise how conflicted he was. His words likely meant that he didn’t require your presence but his whole demeanour looked like just wanted some god damn company. He didn’t mind your help at first, but at the same time now he was pushing you away. What changed?

So much for making acquaintances with the new neighbour, you thought.

Without saying anything you stiffly nodded, Andy realizing the offence written all over your face, and saw you walk away from his abode closing his door politely.

It was probably for the best to keep distance from a kind woman like you. He knew you were trying to get acquainted with him like any normal person would, but Andy was firmly grounded that he and normalcy would never go back again.

The minute you left he opened another beer bottle to sink himself. This fresh start for Andy was just bullshit.

–

You rushed back the minute you closed Mr. Grumpy Cat’s door and made a beeline to your home, only to see your son playing on the countertop with one your elderly neighbour.

“Thank you, Mr. Arthur, for taking care of Nikolai. I hope he didn’t cause much trouble.”

“I’d do anything for you sweet pea, Nikolai was a sweetheart.” The old man chuckled and turned to leave, “By the way last weekend’s pot pie was delicious. I had to make it up to you.”

Returning a hug, you thanked your neighbour again and leaped your son in your arms, attacking him with kissed while he spurted giggles. “Mommy it tickles!”

“Guess what happened peaches? I met our new neighbour”

Nikolai clapped his hand “Mista Wandew Bahhba?”

Your son was hell bent on knowing the name of the newcomer after he laid his eyes on the stylish black Audi. Boys always know their toys.

You nodded, “He’s a grumpy man peaches. I have no idea what to do with him.” And just like that you began speaking with Nikolai. He was your only company to talk. He never really understood anything, but your talented son did a fairly good job of putting up a pretense to hear.

“I offered him help and he says yes. Then I kindly ask him if I can help him more, you know like cook homemade spaghetti. But instead he becomes snippy with me?”

“Woh no,” your son whispered to your exclamation, which in reality was for his superhero figurines falling on to the floor. “I like his cahr mommy.”

“So do I Niko, but I so do not like him,” you paused and gave him a kiss on the forehead, “Guess we’re the only sunshine in this neighbourhood peaches.”

—

Days went by and you rarely interacted with your new neighbour.

Oh and when it did, it really never went well for you.

The first time was when a few standard posts under the name of Mr. Barber arrived at your doorstep, since he wasn’t available at his house. Like any other hospitable neighbour, you signed the post and made sure to drop it by him when he gets back.

"Uh Mr. Barber the post man dropped this by at our doorstep since you weren’t available. I thought I should give it to you.”

Andy opened the door with a few knocks and saw you standing with a few posts in a fluffy cable knit sweater. He took the posts from you, gently brushing over your hands. He perused through them quickly and gave you that conflicted stern look.

“I appreciate it Mrs. Y/L/N, but next time I’d like to collect my own posts irrespective of its nature. You can tell them I can collect it from the post office”

Was this man for real?

You crossed your arms and gave him back that stern look too. He wasn’t going to get away without you throwing shade. “Oh you know Mr. Barber I was just trying to be a good neighbour. It’s not like I’m dying here to get associated with you.”

He gave you a nasty grin which triggered you to make you leave away from his threshold.

Andy thought for a moment that he already crossed the line with the wrong woman.

The next time you met him was probably the last time you would ever meet him.

Your shift at the library got too late, for you were the Librarian of the local Library. You didn’t have to worry much about picking up your son late for he was at Mr. Arthur’s.

But coming home realising that he was sitting on the front porch of Andrew’s house made you park your car haphazardly in your driveway and run up to your child, ignoring Andrew’s presence.

“I’m so sorry sweetie. What are you doing here Niko?”

Andy interrupted, “Mr. Arthur had to visit the hospital. He was catching the flu and he didn’t want to give it to Nikolai here.”

You didn’t want to meet his gaze, but you forced yourself for you were grateful for this kind gesture. Maybe this Grumpy Cat has a kind heart after all.

“Mr. Barber, thank you so much for taking care of Niko. My phone must’ve been on silent if Arthur wanted to contact me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me Mrs. Y/L/N. I am just filling in the gaps of irresponsible parenting.”

It felt like a blunt hit to your heart. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” he whispered so closely that you could smell his musky deodorant with a hint of beer. Your son was out of earshot, sipping on a glass of lemonade that was probably offered by this man. “Trust me I know what happens to a child that is always kept away from their caretakers.”

He quickly went on to say how Nikolai was a special child when your son came near you both and how your family should take more care in your child. You never really listened for your eyes threatened to pierce with tears. No way were you going to cry in front of this man.

“Thank you Mista Wandi.”

“Anytime buddy.”

He went up and shut the door, like it was a personal aimed at you.

And you just stood there feeling numb while Niko tugged on your work coat.

“Let’s go home Mommi.”

The audacity to tell you how to be a parent. Did he even have a child? Does he even know how to it is to take care of a child single handed?

But those questions never mattered. No matter how positive you are in life, its never nice to hear someone spew your flaws on to your face.

Meanwhile minutes passed when Andy soon realised how he had royally fucked up. Everyday around 5pm you and your child would come along to the backyard and have a snack ritual while both of you played or read story books. For Andy, though he chided himself for his stalking behaviour, it brought him a sense of peace to see your son scream with shrills of laughter when he ran around the lawn.

He had nothing against you, yet he was being selfish.

I be mean to her; I stay away from here. Simple.

Today however, Nikolai sat facing away from his ypu munching on freshly baked cookies while you sported a tear stained face. He felt a twinge when he saw you staring straight ahead with a blank stare while tears rolled down. His heart successfully sunked when he saw Nikolai trying to wipe your tears and hug you. Andrew then sat down dramatically on his chair when he saw you breakdown into your son’s fragile shoulders.

Apologies wouldn’t fix this. It would, but Andrew Barber the resilient thought that being obnoxiously rude to someone he wants to be close to will make them hate him.

He never thought it would hurt you.

He decided not to take any efforts in an apology; or it could take more than an apology.

—

A few weeks passed by and you tried your level best and succeeded in avoiding banters with Mr. Grumpy Cat. Whenever you saw him, a flurry of rage fell over you. Was it your mistake you were trying to be friendly to your only attractive neighbour?

Strike out attractive. A mean soul was never attractive.

Andrew Barber on the other hand dreaded what had happened; he was a little too late to the party to realise that your house had no male inhabitant, except for that one man who had made a visit.

He soon deduced that you were a single mother.

Too late rather Andy.

And when he recalled what he had said to you, he wanted you to slap him in the face. Hard enough to have a bruise that lasted for a year.

Nikolai and you always woke up late on a weekend morning. Both of you always shared and slept in the same room for Nikolai had regularly occurring nightmares.

You never realised but you and Niko woke up a small commotion outside your house, or probably his house.

Plus, the other day it so happened Nikolai’s father paid a terribly long visit, pleading you to take him back into your life. He felt apologetic for what he did. But that lingering memory was soon cut off by Grumpy Cat’s voice.

Knowing his tendencies to irate his neighbours, (or maybe just you exclusively) you ignored it and began serving late breakfast pancakes for your son. But you soon stopped when you heard a loud, hoarse bellow.

“GET OFF MY LAWN!”

You looked outside of your window to see a bunch of vans and the reporters standing outside Andy’s lawn. Niko ran up to you and carried him over your hip for the little one heard the scary yell too.

Andy’s car was parked haphazardly on the pavement. A pair or more of reporters were taking pictures of him and his vandalised garage door.

“Oh my god.”

You put down Niko and asked him to play with his toys. Yes, you hated Andrew but what you saw on his now tainted garage door made you want to retch. It was such a distasteful thing to do. It appeared as if a spray can paint was used to write whatever it was on the door:

MURDERER, YOU WILL ROT IN HELL TOO.

Andy crouched down on his knees, his hands covering his face and ruggedly running his hands through his hair, while he kneeled down in front of the vandalism.

The very reason he moved away from Newton was now on his garage door.

You wanted to go out and help him, but your ego wouldn’t let you. Why should you help a man who was nothing but mean to you all this while?

Luckily enough you saw Mr. Arthur and a couple of his old friends admonishing the press. They threatened that this community was filled with retired war veterans and that they would charge them for community trespassing and disrupting the lives of people who have lost a limb and more for this country.

Hearing that threat made the desperate amateur reporters leave from the vicinity as soon as possible.

Andy stood up and tried to process this whole situation, looking around for any sort of help, only to lay his eyes on the faint image you from your window.

You expected him to shout and rage and ask you to fuck off from staring at his pitiful state. But he didn’t. You would never forget those embarrassed sunken eyes, silently pleading for help.

He didn’t deserve this. You have no idea about his past or who he was to garner such attention, but this was just cruel. He soon averted from your gaze and went on to thank his fellow elderly friends and made his way inside home.

Later in the evening, you caught Andy scrubbing the ugly writings with cloth and soap water. After a while, he took a few steps behind and saw that they words were still there but faded.

“I had some grey paint for Nikolai’s nursery, but never got the chance to do it.”

Andy turned to that sweet voice of yours and hesitated in meeting your gaze. He was embarrassed, for you stood there, giving out an arm to help him again despite his foul behaviour. He saw little Nikolai standing behind you with his shabby brown hair that reminded him of Jacob, clutching onto your legs while he peaked at him. He didn’t understand what you mean by the whole nursery thing, but he stood up and finally, both of you took in each other’s gaze.

Andy’s eyes were even more sunken than he had when he arrived, his blue orbs sunk in a sea of red. He must have been crying. He saw you were missing your feisty eyes that you always sported. Maybe it’s because you despised him so much.

“It’s not the exact colour of your garage door but it can do the trick I suppose.”

The second you handed over the paint to him, you quickly turned around to head towards your home. But Andy didn’t want to push you further anymore by being a dick. He was ready to apologise.

“Hey please listen up! I really am s- “

“No no no,” your voice trembled; this habit of crying while you were angry was just exasperating you wondered, “I think its best we don’t hold conversation Mr. Barber. This will be probably my last interaction with you; what happened to you was horrid and ugly. You don’t deserve that. That much I know”

Andy was hesitant, embarrassed. “Mrs. Y/L/N- “

“Quit calling me a missus! I am not even fucking married anymore-” you said drawing quotes in the air, to be interrupted by a little tug at your coat. You realised that your kid was standing next to you. And you swore in front of him. Great parenting.

“Oh Niko,” you picked him up and peppered him with a few kisses, “Sorry for that language. Mommy won’t swear again okay. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah”, the kid nodded and buried his head into your neck and hugging you tightly.

"Let’s go, sweetie. I’m done with this man.”

As you went away the little boy who was wrapped around over your shoulder waved with his short hands to Andy. To Nikolai, Andy was the one who had the coolest car and made the best lemonade (which he had when he was made to wait for his mom). He never really understood the intensity of adults’ arguments. He was just a grateful child.

It was only then Andy realised he had to make it up to you by any means for he stood there alone feeling like a real douchebag with a paint can in his hands.

—

Part 2

—

Taglist (IS OPEN): @sinner-as-saint @captainscanadian, @kakakatey @bluevelvetsam

@mrsbarneswillseeyounow

@anqelicstarc @lcandothisallday @https-bucky @readermia @chrisevansforever @ruthyalva96 @thedarkplume @sammyfresh @bloglovelylady @stuckys-dirty-girl @rindaastridfreakinreign @buckys-plums3 @marvelouspottering @sweetlittlegingy @emilykjhgsj @poppunkdork @bval-1lovepeacefood

@captainchrisstan @hista-girl @xlanawriter

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#Andy Barber #defending jacob #Andy Barber x Reader #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #defending jacob spoilers #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #chris evans #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #andy barber angst #defending jacob finale #jacob barber #andrew barber

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amelialincoln · 4 years ago

Text

Haunted

“I’m not good at secrets,” Link complained as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Especially when it’s good news.” He glanced at Amelia with a wide, boyish grin on his face that made her chuckle.

“I know, babe.” She rolled her eyes. “You were telling Jo within seconds after I told you last time and we weren’t even sure that was good news yet.” Link’s eyes widened as his best friend’s name was mentioned.

“Shit, that’s gonna be hard.”

“Avoid her,” Amelia groaned, grabbing her work bag and opening the car door.

“Hey!” She glanced back to find Link waving a banana and a bottle of water.

“Not this again,” she muttered, remembering the constant nagging she received during her pregnancy with Scout. “We found out last night, Link, I don’t even qualify as pregnant yet.”

“And that’s where you're wrong. I put the prenatals in your purse. Remember the folic acid. We don’t want neural tube defects.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Amelia responded, grabbing the banana and water bottle from his wavering hands. “Wipe that grin off your face, everyone’s gonna know the moment you step into the E.R.”

“We’re having another baby,” Link sang, jogging a couple steps in front of her and glancing back with amusement.

“I hate you!” She called, trying to wipe the grin off her face as her husband waved goodbye without turning back.

Unlike Link, Amelia wasn’t paged for the upcoming trauma. Something she didn’t necessarily mind so she made the quick trip to her office instead. The room seemed stale from the week of time off they’d taken for their honeymoon. Scout’s face was priceless when the couple walked into the house last night after spending the week with Link’s parents. She wished they’d been able to spend more time with him but she promised they’d visit him at daycare, which Mer was dropping him off at for them midday. She fished through her bag finding that Link had gone a little overboard on snacks.

“Classic,” she muttered, knowing he’d probably end up eating half of them anyway. She took the prenatals easily, washing them down with the water bottle that her husband had provided and internally wishing she had a thermos full of coffee.

“Hey, are you not coming?” Maggie, stuck her head in Amelia’s office, breathless from running. “Big trauma? I’m sure you’re needed.”

“I didn’t get a page.” Amelia replied, now understanding Link's inability to keep good news to himself. Staring at Maggie’s happy expression made her want to blurt out the news so bad.

“Probably a mistake since you were off for the week. We need to catch up later over dinner or something. Just come with me now.” Her eyes flicked to the desk. “Whoa what’s with all the vitamins? You always made fun of my ‘bullshit’ morning routine.”

“Uh, Bali inspired me I guess,” Amelia sputtered.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous!” Maggie squealed. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.” Amelia nodded, following her sister as they joined the mass of doctors that were heading to the E.R.

[][][]

“Did you page, Amelia?” Was the first thing Link said to Bailey after their week off. Bailey stared at the ortho surgeon blankly, trying to control the chaos that E.R. was descending into. “Wha--”

“I made sure she wasn’t,” Webber affirmed, seeming to come out of nowhere. People were staggering around like zombies and Link swallowed uncomfortably.

“She can’t get near this today. Can we send a resident up to her office to distract her? Or just ask her to take the day off? Are you okay with being here?” He asked Webber, glancing around the room.

“I’m fine,” Richard affirmed to him and Bailey. “More of a drinker.”

“Amelia says it’s all the same.”

“If I wasn’t fine I would make that clear,” Richard shook his head. “I’ll find a resident for Shepherd. You’re needed in trauma four.” Link nodded, glancing around the E.R. once more before following the general surgeon into the crowded room.

[][][]

It was the smell that hit Amelia first as she and Maggie entered the E.R. It wasn’t like she hadn’t treated patients who reeked of weed before but the entire wing seemed to be exuding the smell of marijuana. She stumbled back slightly.

“What happened?”

“Train slid off the rails over that skate park on Elm where all the stoners hang out,” Teddy yelled over the commotion. “The majority of those injured are completely out of their minds. One of my guys tried to shoot himself up with saline. All the nurses are complaining about veins.”

“Oh,” Amelia swallowed, Teddy nodded and turned back to her patient who had begun to seize. “Little help, Shepherd?”

“Just a sec,” Amelia answered blankly, turning the corner abruptly to try and get away from the smell that was seeping into every pore of her scrubs. She pushed an intern aside before stumbling over to a waste bin and throwing up the contents of her breakfast. She tried to push the intrusive thoughts entering her mind away with no success. Her arms covered in needles, her head in a peaceful daze, Ryan. Every part of her wondered what her life would be like if he were still here, holding her, every night.

“Amelia!” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts before strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her up from her place against the wall. “Can you hear me?” She willed herself to answer, trying to focus on the familiar face that was shaking her shoulders forcefully. “Get out of the way!” Link shouted as hospital staff parted to allow for him to lead her out of the E.R. and into an on call room. “Amelia.” He pulled her into his chest, running concerned hands through her hair.

“The smell is covering me,” she mumbled, Ryan still flickering in her mind. Link nodded, pulling off his scrub top before removing hers, along with the rest of their clothes and tossing them into a waste bag.

“Go shower,” he motioned to the small bathroom connected to the room. “I’ll grab your clothes and be right back.”

“Don’t leave,” she begged, knowing that if he did she might find herself back in the E.R. surrounded by the very thing her mind was aching for. Link nodded, texting a quick message to Maggie before guiding her into the bathroom and turning on the shower head. Amelia’s thick hair absorbed smells quickly and he cleansed it until all that was left was the light fragrance of spring flowers before doing the same to his own. Maggie knocked on the door as Link wrapped Amelia into a towel and led her towards the bed.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Maggie exclaimed as she handed Link their clothes through the crack in the door.

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known,” Link assured the worried cardio surgeon. “Bad day to come back,” he tried to joke, the worry in Maggie’s eyes didn’t lessen. “I’ll keep you updated,” he finally said. Maggie nodded, slowly shutting the door.

“Do you remember when we had that conversation after Scout was born?” Amelia’s voice came numbly from behind him. Link turned, making his way to the bed and placing a hand on her thigh before answering.

“Yeah. The one after I tried to propose to you the first time?” He willed his voice to be light.

“When I told you about wanting to get high before I went to bed and when I woke up and every so often when I was feeding Scout.” Link waited as her voice wavered. “It’s gotten better. Now it’s usually only right before I close my eyes at the end of the day. Just a little rush of euphoria I get that begs me to sneak out of our apartment and drive to a dispensary. And then I really think about it and I realize how much that would fuck up everything that I love the most. But the thought never goes away. It just lingers and waits until something like today happens. And then that little voice is suddenly screaming and I’m stuck trying to convince myself that my love for the people in my life trumps the love I have for the feeling of being high.”

“Does it?” Was all Link could think of to ask as he carefully slipped a tank top over her shivering chest.

“When there’s an E.R. full of people who have devoted themselves to feeling exactly what my body craves for every day, I’m not sure.” She answered truthfully, relaxing as he guided the tank top over her flat stomach. Link nodded, trying to suppress the impulse to yell at her about the condition she was in. “But then I remember that I’m a mother...and that I owe it to my kid...kids to be stable enough to bring another life into the world. Even though I know they’d be fine with just their dad.”

“We would not be fine,” Link acknowledged firmly, wanting to shake her out of the daze that she was in. “I would not be fine.” Amelia nodded blankly.

“Can you hold me?” Her voice was soft. “And can you describe our baby again? Like you were doing last night?” Link nodded, rolling up her shirt carefully and placing a gentle hand on the bottom of her abdomen.

“Mhmm,” he held back any tears that were threatening to fall from the thought of ever losing her. “Our baby is going to be a splitting image of her mother. With long chocolate curls and ocean blue eyes. Oh and stubborn, to the point where you can’t bother arguing with her because she is also always the smartest person in the room. She’ll have my nose and skin that actually sunburns. Which means she’ll have to learn to apply sunscreen like her dadda and not like her brother or mom. She’ll be upset about this first, wanting her mother’s perfectly tanned complexion but she’ll get used to it. She’ll have her mother’s body type, slim and athletic, but her dad’s height and, like Scout, she will…”

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelink fanfiction #amelink fanfic #amelinkfanfic #atticus lincoln #atticus link #greysanatomy #atticuslincoln #myfics #fanfiction

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silkylious · 5 years ago

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I Am in Love. Fuck. (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Dancer!Bakugo Katsuki x Dancer!Reader Warnings: swearing and just some tooth-rotting fluff! Prompt(s): #35 “Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.” + Dancer AU

A/N: Thank you so much @1-800-callmekatsuki for the request, this was super cute and fun to write. I hope you enjoy this! yall i know nothing about dancing so for any dancers out there please bear with me lmao

Squeaks of sneakers against the waxed floor echoed throughout the studio, overshadowed by the rhythm blasting from the speakers. Heavy puffs of air mingled with the surrounding noise to create a ruggedly enchanting symphony. Crimson irises peered at you as your hand delicately held him by the neck, moving up to caress his sharp jaw all while you kept up the movements of your feet and the saying of your hips. Katsuki's hands perched stop your waist guiding your motions, grip tightening as the song playing in the background built up to a final crescendo, preparing to support you for the finale of your dance number. As the last notes of the musical piece sounded through the closed space, you struck a final pose, surrendering your body to Katsuki's grasp. You stayed in that position for a second too long, your figure hanging with the help of his strength in an exaggerated dip, his pointy, upturned nose brushing against yours and his muscular arms holding you securely, saving you from an inevitable fall. Your lidded eyes bore into his soul, daring him to go further. He wouldn't give in to your teasing gaze so easily, though. With a painfully audible gulp, he pulled you upright, detaching his body from yours.

A sharp whistle crashed the tension between you two, followed by overly enthusiastic clapping.

“That was awesome, guys! You're totally gonna win the competition with this,” Kirishima hollered from the other side of the room, his keen stare watching with amusement as you and his best friend stiffly walked to your respective lockers. He found it infinitely humorous how you could have such palpable chemistry on the dance floor, then act like awkward middle schoolers once the music halted.

Your skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat; the choreography was exhausting, despite how effortless you and your dance partner made it seem. It surprised you when Katsuki approached you with this particular sequence, he wasn't one for sensuous moves (much less a pas de deux for that matter), and quite frankly you doubted he had it in him to be so intimate and flexible. But as usual, he surprised you with his adaptability, Katsuki really was a natural at many things. What was completely out of left field, however, was his intensity. It was just a duet, you knew that, but fuck did his eyes send you hurtling to other worldly stories with just his glare, the sensuality of his touches immersing you in a fictional forbidden love. The way his lips ghosted over your shoulder as you rocked with your back to his sculpted pectorals. He was doing it on purpose. And you'd be damned if you didn't play his game too, returning his lingering touches with just as much vigour, passion. The plastic bottle in your hand protested under the unnecessary pressure of your clutch, your bottom lip catching behind a row of teeth. Shit, he was getting to you–

“Oi, you're gonna spill water everywhere, dumbass,” Katsuki's gruff voice snapped you from your reverie, making the baby hairs on your neck stand at attention. He chugged his own water in one gulp before successfully throwing the plastic container into the recycling bin from a far. By the time you turned around, he had gotten alarmingly closer. “Overall, you’re not as shitty as last time. Your footing is still fucking abysmal, though. You call that a pirouette? My grandma could do better and she has arthritis.”

Of course he wouldn't let you celebrate, you were convinced he was physically incapable of giving non-backhanded compliments. You shook your head with a light chuckle, his creativity really shined through in his insults. They never really bothered you, you were aware that hidden beneath the layers of unwarranted cussing and borderline rude comments, lied genuine, constructive criticism. Grabbing a change of clothes, you slammed the locker before heading to the public bathroom for a quick rinse, barely sparing him a glance on the way there.

“Duly noted.”

Vermillion eyes observed the way your hips swayed gently as you walked, completely unaware of similarly colored eyes watching him with gleaming mirth. “You’re so whipped for her, dude.”

Previously relaxed features pulled taut in an agitated grimace. “No, the fuck I’m not.”

“Mhmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, man.” Kirishima escaped the premises before he could experience his best friend’s wrath, a jubilant bounce in his step as he thought about his two friends. He was the common denominator between you two. That’s how you met, at one of Kirishima’s frat parties, and even though Bakugo wouldn’t ever say it out loud, an instant connection sparked between you two. The mutual love for dancing brought you together.

Thoughts of you fogged Katsuki’s mind for the rest of the day, practice that day had been exceptionally sensual, both of you getting progressively more daring. He fruitlessly tried to go about his day without having intrusive thoughts blocking his focus, but to no avail. He found himself aimlessly staring out the window, hyper-realistic sensations buzzing along his skin, it was almost like you were still there, still touching him. He sat there on his couch, trying (and failing), to elude any thought of you. He huffed at his inability to get you out of his head, he had one last resort to aid with his problem.

That damn porcupine wouldn’t stop reappearing in your mind, it was so surreal, the way he looked at you as you forfeited your body to him, his minty pants of air, his natural musk. All of it was too much to handle. Uncertainty stopped you from pursuing the man that had unknowingly snatched your heart, each session with him felt like a shot of fireball running down your throat. So sweet and addictive, yet the repercussions left you impaired. He was a drug to you, making you chase the gratifying high of his touches, but once the endorphins dissipated you were left to battle with the symptoms of withdrawal. Your plans of having a relaxing evening were thrown out the window, you needed anything but alone time to overthink, and you had the perfect getaway from visions plaguing you. Unbeknownst to both of you, you shared the exact same idea.

Drowned in the music provided by his ear buds, Katsuki failed to hear the sounds of someone else in the studio as he rounded the corner. The sight before him momentarily made his heart halt, only to beat twice as fast as his eyes raked over your twirling figure. Dim light peaked through the blinds, casting an elegant, pastel halo over your features. You looked so in your element here, so at peace. Your expression gentle, eyes soft and lips pulled into a preciously small smile, despite the strain pulling at your limbs, begging you to rest. Your body alone made the muscles in his heart clench and unclench rapidly, made his otherwise focused and composed mind a reeling, fiery mess. But what affected him the most, provoked an itching desire in him to be as close to you as humanly possible (a desire that he had refused to acknowledge) was the simple fact that you were doing pirouettes. He’d figured that your comeback to him earlier that day had been pure sarcasm. Seeing you take his advice, practicing all on your own, having the courage to fall and learn, failing and bouncing right back up again over and over until sweat dripped from your temples, all to make both him and yourself proud with the fruits of your labor, that’s what set him off.

“Oh shit... I am in love. Fuck.”

The date of the competition came faster than either of you could comprehend. The days preceding it were filled with hard work, sweat and augmenting tension. With his feelings for you finally recognized and accepted, Bakugo couldn’t help the pink tone frequenting his face whenever you went over the dance together, which he defensively dismissed as a byproduct of heat each time Kirishima brought it up, a knowing look in his eye. That last dip always made his stomach churn. When he was that close to your face, he had to restrain every atom in his body from doing something impulsive, but oh did his lips plead to mold with your own, did his fingers beg to tangle with yours. He’d never experienced anything like this, it was almost like all his body parts had a mind of their own, whenever he was by your side he consciously had to shun his whole being from twitching as it wished desperately to entwine with you in every way possible.

“This is it.” You said, more to yourself than to him, reminding yourself that this was the time to reap all the exertion and time you’d sowed. Your mind was slowly trickling into anxious territory, but a calloused hand interlacing with your own stopped you from straying too far. You gaped at the sudden act of reassurance, a familiar giddy feeling bubbling in your veins. He grinned at you. You grinned back.

“This is it.” He repeated, words coming out strong, resolute. His cadence conveying all the encouragement he didn't know how to voice, his hand anchoring you in what was here and now.

“And last but not least, please welcome our last competitors, Bakugo Katsuki and (last name) (name)!”

That was the cue for the both of you to emerge from backstage. As you took your starting positions, you inhaled and exhaled uniformly, Bakugo sending you a look of slight concern which you returned with a smirk, telepathically telling him let’s win this thing.

The music kicked in and you lost yourselves between the melodies. It was like Pavlov’s conditioning almost; as soon as your ears heard the starting notes, your bodies moved on their own, muscle memory taking the front seat and grabbing hold of the steering wheel. And yet it was anything but a blur. You saw everything in blinding clarity, minutes seemed to slow for your perception. The way he moved was etched into your brain in overwhelming detail. The dance was as amorous as can be. Your gaze remained attached to his throughout the whole number, only leaving when you twirled or turned around. This time around, you didn’t dance as mere partners, no you danced as lovers. There was no teasing involved, only unbridled adoration. Applause fell on deaf ears, anything that wasn’t him was mute and colorless to you, and vice versa. You danced like nobody was observing, like you were a married couple swaying around your kitchen.

The final notes brought you two back to reality, and through the unease in his gorgeous, crimson irises, you knew he had a decision to make. Your palm skimmed across the expanse of his neck, trailing the unblemished column before moving up to his jaw. With practiced ease, your feet skidded along the stage while your hips moved in tantalizing waves, his sweaty hands gripping at your waist tightly, a clear indication of his ongoing, internal debate. You gave him a last glare, one that ultimately made him settle on a choice he vowed to never regret, then your body slackened in his hold, his arms dipping you backwards in a closing pose, concluding the exhilarating choreography.

But he still had one more thing to do.

As his nose pushed up against yours, he made a final push, lowering his lids in preparation. His slightly chapped lips puckered against your soft ones, prompting your eyes to grow wide. Obnoxious cheering erupted, but neither of you could hear it. Shutting your eyes, you moved your lips in a sensuous rhythm against his own, not too dissimilar to the number you’d just performed, basking in the sensation that you’d daydreamed about during endless sleepless nights.

For once, Katsuki couldn’t give less of a shit about achieving an indisputable first place in a competition, because no matter the outcome of this dance, whether he swooped all the medals or not, he considered this to be the biggest win in his book.

#katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo imagine

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5t0ryt1m3 · 5 years ago

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Remus’s Suffering

Remus’s mind is a bitch to him in more than one ways.

A note: Bold words in Deceit’s speech are meant to be taken the opposite

Tags: @chatladybugaboo @angelicblackwolf

Warnings: Mentions of character deaths, cannibalism, and a lot of angst

Word Count: 1440

It was just one of those days for Remus. His mind was not shutting up as idea after idea came by. Maybe one of them could stick if he went to see everyone else.

Ever sense he got turned into a giant, Remus had to live a little ways away but the others made sure that he was either included in activities or just visited as so he could have fun. He loved playing with Patton and Deceit the most. Patton loved being tossed into the air only to land in his massive hand. Deceit was more for being chased around like a mouse. Like a game of cat and mouse but more like a game of octopus and snake. It was fun. Roman liked to create stories with him like before but more with giants and tiny people now. Virgil would hide away with the giant side to watch some Nightmare Before Christmas and cheesy horror movies. Logan liked asking him questions about how his new size and body were adjusting.

Of course he himself was very happy to get the attention. And -

Chew up Roman and feed his guts to Deceit.

The intrusive thought but(t)ed in like most of his own. But this, this wasn’t good intrusive no no no no no no no no no, this was a bad kind. Thomas’s intrusive thoughts were nothing compared to the detail of Remus’s. Remus made sure to dial Thomas’s as not to scar him. But Remus couldn’t do that, no no no, Remus was stuck with -

Shove a thumb up Logan’s ass and than stamp on him.

What would be like to tear Virgil’s arms off as he gets steamrolled over?

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!

He couldn’t see them now! He wouldn’t see them! His own impulse was worse as he is now and his own strength could any of these thoughts happen!

Before Remus knew it, he was in a small corner of his room with his hands under his arms, head down, knees to his chest. He just….needed to let this pass, like the other times. Stay still, don’t move. Don’t react, don’t think.

A mantra that Remus came up with to help him through these moments. It was wishful thinking that the others could help but again that was wishful. If anything it would make them fearful of him if his impulsiveness kicked in around them. Remus just let the thoughts keep coming, one after another. Just let it pass.

Like the other sides, he had his own anxieties too. His were of himself, especially now. Hands that could flattened humans like pancakes, strength to make another pop like a zit, teeth that could skewer a person. A poke could kill someone if he wasn’t careful. Normally, he wasn’t because it wouldn’t be any of his family on the receiving end.

He was rough, yes, but he did his best to not even use 1/100th of his strength. He was scary, yes, but he never means to scare anyone unless they gave him their consent first. He was huge compared to the other sides. They were like itty bitty figures to him. He was roughly 150 feet tall as measured by Logan. If he squished them, they be nothing but red on the floor and he didn’t like it.

His mind was racing with these thoughts. Thoughts of torturing the other sides with his strength, his hands, his feet, and teeth. Mashing them up and eating them or feeding the dead sides to each other before he takes them all. The worst ones were of Thomas - not him! They always physical hurt Remus when those thoughts came up.

But he kept up his mantra and didn’t give into his impulse. So long as none of them came to him, they would be fine. Time pasted with what seemed to be a crawl. The thoughts hadn’t let up nor had they gotten worse. Luckily, thoughts about Thomas hadn’t appear yet.

“Remus! Hey, bro what - oh dear.” FUCK! Roman walked into the larger twin’s room. Remus forgot to lock his room! Roman stayed away from Remus, his twin had seen him like this but never this huge! Gods he was going scare Roman away again! Unfocused eyes were halfway trained on Roman and halfway trained on nothing. The thoughts shifted to being Roman centric and it wasn’t pleasant for Remus.

“Shit, Remus, you having an episode? Of course he is Roman, don’t be an idiot.” Roman berated himself before coming close to Remus. Remus reacted by squeezing himself inward. He didn’t want anyone close to him. Roman could help but his impulse was screaming for him to bite of a leg of Roman’s! Roman didn’t get closer than 30 feet but that was still too close for Remus. Roman began to speak about different ideas that he had for Thomas’s videos and how Remus could still be in them. It be hard but Roman was more than willing to help his brother out. Roman simply just talked, and talked, and talked, and -

“Kiddos! I am coming in!”

“Oh no!” Roman gasped, Patton would want to comfort Remus with hugs. That could send him into a panic that no one wanted, “Wait Patton!”

“Yes?” Patton had opened the door just a bit and the amazing sent of Patton’s home cooked meal wafted into the darker twin’s room. It smelled like ribs, Remus’s favorite, for how messy it was -

Crunch on Patton’s ribs.

Remus went rigged again, listening but not hearing Roman talking to Patton. Patton’s cry followed by Roman holding him back only made Remus realize that Roman told Patton!

‘Patton please leave! I don’t want you hurt by me!’ Remus internally screamed as Patton struggled against the fanciful side. The struggles only stopped when another voice spoke up,

“What isn’t going on in here?” Deceit, with Logan and Virgil coming through. Deceit’s eyes widened upon seeing Remus’s stated. The half snake cused softly and explained to the other two.

No Thomas, good. No need to traumatize his host with this.

Patton took this opportunity to get out of Roman’s grips and sprint to Remus. Only to be tackled down by Deceit, Deceit held tightly as Patton yelled about ‘needing to tend to his dirty son’.

If anyone was the dirtiest, it was Roman. His room was an organized mess. Remus and Logan were tied for most cleaned and organized rooms.

Remus burly watched as the others talked and began to work their own magic. Logan would give some kind of fact, some random and off the top of his head. Roman would make up a story with the fact some where in there. Patton would add something as Virgil would point out inconsistencies or give a different point of view. Deceit watched Remus, Deceit waited. Deceit was very good at waiting. He would update the others if anything changed with Remus. Virgil made sure that Remus didn’t hyperventilate and Logan and Roman continued to fill the air about nothing and everything.

Remus began to feel confident.

“Remus, you aren’t fine now?” Deceit asked, not moving. He had let go of Patton, only for Patton to be grabbed by Roman.

“Tired…..”

“You know we are scared of you right? We will leave.”

“I know….sorry you guys had to see me like this.”

“We are a family Remus. Family must look out for each other no matter what.” Logan stated, looking up at the giant side. Virgil nodded.

“Remus, you’re my brother, I love you and I won’t stop loving you. No matter what happens!” Roman grinned before letting go of Patton. The fatherly side ran straight to Remus’s feet and hugged his ankles. It felt like a dam had been busted and tears started running down his checks. Remus unfolded himself to pick Patton up. He held the smaller male on his nose as Remus keep crying. Soon he felt more tinies climb his pants up. His family, as tiny as they may be compared to him, they were his.

“You will hurt us Remus, I don’t know that.” Deceit spoke as he and the others got up on his knees, “You shouldn’t give yourself more credit. You don’t have the strength to resist those impulses.”

Remus felt another wave of tears stream down his face. He picked the others up, with a little hesitation, and held them to his chest. He moved Patton to his chest as well as he cried. He was lucky to have them as a family.

#thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #infinitesimal!sides #my writing #sympathetic remus #sympathetic deceit #giant!remus #gt sander sides #g/t angst #gt fluff #the duke

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jacklyn-flynn · 5 years ago

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It’s finally here! The new chapter of Space Trash! You can find the full chapter here on AO3!

It’s a little on the long side, but hopefully worth it. Also, smut next chapter 😉

Jules and the crew heads to Redcliffe to finalize the alliance with the rebel mages but things go, per usual, spectacularly wrong.

Jules couldn’t help but notice the occasional, curious gaze from the elf behind the bar in the Officer’s Club. It wasn’t necessarily intrusive but since they were the only ones in the room, it was hard not to notice. Jasoom was lounging lazily across her shoulders, his tail occasionally flicking across her cheek. His very presence was soothing and helped her not feel anxious about being the center of someone’s attention.

The woman busied herself behind the bar and then walked, or rather sauntered, over to Jules with a drink in her hand. She was rather unlike any of the other elves that Jules had met. Her hourglass figure was a sharp contrast to her usually tall, lithe brethren. Black pants molded to her legs, rising high on her wide hips and accenting her slim waist. Jules wondered if she knew that she had a wide rip across her right knee. She wore a navy blue flannel shirt with thick black lines that was mostly unbuttoned, showing a black shirt beneath with a lacy neckline.

Her hair was dark green and perfectly straight, falling to the small of her back. It swung from side to side slightly when she walked. Silver rings adorned the tips of her ears, which was common, but the decorations in her lobes were completely foreign to Jules. There were wide circles through the lobes that she could see through, beyond the light mandala pattern that capped the front.

She had a cute button nose under upturned eyes that were framed in dark liner with flicks at the corners. If it wasn’t for the friendly smile on her black-painted lips, she would have looked suspicious of Jules.

“Can I sit?” Her voice was low for a woman but in a melodic way that harmonized well with her attire’s inclination toward black.

“Please, help yourself.” Jules couldn’t help but smile back at the elf.

“My name is Elbereth. Or El.” She slid gracefully into the seat and set the drink she’d prepared in front of Jules. “On the house for the lost Trevelyan.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it but I don’t drink.” Jules said with a gentle smile.

“I know. You can’t get drunk. That’s what makes you a bartender’s best friend. I can get you to try all of my best experiments and get an unbiased opinion, “ Elbereth said cheerfully.

Jules’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I suppose that would make me quite the useful asset.”

El’s laugh was low and musical. “You aren’t a tool, dear. First of all, you can say no. Second of all, I’d like to give you companionship in return. Ya know, be friends.”

Feeling a blush on her cheeks, Jules covered it by lifting the glass to examine the drink. It was in a small, square glass with very distinct layers. The bottom was a rich reddish-brown color. The next layer was more of a warm amber while the third was more of a bright gold. On the top was a very thin layer of something creamy. The entire thing smelled of hazelnuts and was vaguely woody and spicy.

“All at once?” Jules asked, looking through her lashes at the elf who nodded, her smile broadening. With more hesitation then El was used to seeing when people drank shots, Jules brought the glass to her lips and drank it slowly. She was pleased to see Jules take some time to evaluate the flavor before swallowing the concoction.

“That’s-that’s actually really good,” Jules said after a moment of contemplation. Her smile widened slightly. “I don’t get them often, but I’m quite fond of hazelnuts.”

“I have some chocolate that you’ll love then.” El laughed, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll bring it with me on my next shift so that you can try some.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be back for a while. We’ll be arriving at Redcliffe soon to meet with the leader of the rebel mages. She wants to talk more before she agrees to ally herself with the Inquisition.” Jules’s eyebrows furrowed. “Everyone just wants to talk. It’s exhausting, saying the same thing a dozen different ways. They make it so difficult and I don’t understand why. It should be easy.”

El nodded sympathetically. “Politics require a unique form of communication. It’s one that not even the people who speak it fully understand. Honestly, I don’t know if you’ll ever get the hang of it.”

Jules frowned and looked up at the elf again. “You don’t think so?” She sounded disappointed.

“No, but that isn’t a bad thing.” Elbereth sat up again, leaning toward Jules. “Sometimes they get so lost in the talking they forget what they’re supposed to be working toward. A new voice is a disruption and sometimes disruption is what you need to break the cycle and get results. You aren’t a politician or diplomat, but that’s a good thing, Jules.”

“I don’t even understand why they want me there. I’m just a Flea.” Jules reached up to scratch Jasoom’s head when he pushed it against her cheek.

“You aren’t ‘just’ anything.” El gave her a smile. “You are a marvel, and we’ve only begun to see what you’re capable of.”

()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()o()

Jules adjusted the belt of the holster that carried Zevran’s, or rather her, blades. The harness wrapped around her waist and then around each thigh, keeping the short blades tight against her legs, moving as she did. She smiled at her teacher as he disappeared into the transport with Cassandra. Cullen's smile was the one that caught her attention though. He reached out to her and she grasped his hand, letting him pull her closer to him.

“I’ve seen how far you’ve come. You’re fast and lethal. But-” he hesitated, brows furrowed, “-I feel like I should tell you that it will be completely different when you’re in a real battle. It’s loud and it’s bloody and it’s scary.” Squeezing her hand, he brushed his fingers down her cheek. “Don’t lose your head. Breathe, stay calm, and stay close to everyone else. Most of all, be careful. I want you-I need you-to come back.”

“I’ll be surrounded by very dangerous people. I promise I’ll be careful and that I’ll come back. Besides, we’re just going to talk.” She pointed out.

“I hope so.” He didn’t want to scare her any more than he probably already had. She was right. Jules would be in very good company. “Could I kiss you goodbye?”

Immediately, Jules felt a flush spread on her cheeks. They had talked about their spontaneous kiss in the hallway. She’d been so relieved that she hadn’t driven him away. Jules had surprised herself with her impulsive gesture. They’d both agreed to take it slowly. Her to adjust to the feeling of attraction she’d never felt before, and him to ensure he didn’t take advantage of that. Other than that talk, it hadn’t been brought up again. Until now.

“I would like that.” Her admission came with a hesitant smile. The confidence in his smile, however, made her shiver though she didn’t exactly know why. He bent his head, closing his eyes as he drew near. Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her lips to his. He was so warm and so inviting. She could do this all day long. She let out a hum of disappointment when he pulled away, her lips chasing his for a moment. “Will I get another one when I come back?”

He laughed, sending warmth through her. Maker, he was gorgeous when he laughed. “Absolutely.” He walked her to the shuttle door, squeezing her hand before he released her. “Be safe.”

With a nod, she turned away and mounted the ramp. Heading to the front, she rested her hand on the back of the pilot’s chair. “Cassandra, I-” With a start, she took a step back. “You aren’t Cassandra.”

“Nope!” A pale silver-skinned Qunari woman grinned up at her. “Sure aren’t!” Small spiral horns peaked out of her mauve hair, their color a blend of her hair and skin. She wore black and grey leather pants and jacket, the Inquisition logo stitched on the breast. “Catch!”

Jules’s hand shot up to catch the object that was thrown at her face. “Nice reflexes!” The woman complimented as Jules opened her hand to see what it was. It was a small dracolisk figure. The protruding horns and spikes were replaced with shiny little jewels. Even bejeweled, they were truly ugly creatures. When she handed it back, the Qunari set it on the console in front of her, affectionately turning it just so. “Thanks. My name is Sonja Trygvassen. Most people just call me Tryg.”

Cassandra moved past Jules to take the co-pilot’s seat. “Ms. Trygvassen is a pilot that I’ve worked with extensively in the past. She’s quite good.” The Seeker was reserved with her compliments so Jules knew she meant it. “Since I am needed elsewhere, I thought she would be an adequate replacement.”

“Adequate? I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me, Cassie.” Tryg grinned. Jules saw Cassandra’s jaw clench at the nickname. She got the distinct impression that no one else was allowed to call her “Cassie.” Perhaps not even Tryg.

“Did you need something from me?” Cassandra asked, clearly hoping she wouldn’t ask about the nickname.

“I-um-I don’t remember,” Jules admitted. “I’ll just go take my seat. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Tryg gave her a nod and then turned back to her console.

Shaken by the odd encounter, she returned to the back of the shuttle, taking a seat between Morgan and Zevran. Varric sat across from them, his precious Bianca cradled in his lap. His head was resting against the back of the seat and his eyes were closed. “Are you okay, Varric?”

He didn’t even open his eyes when he responded. “Oh yeah, Precious. I’m just peachy. Nothing like hurtling through space into an atmosphere that sets you on fire in a tin can propelled by highly flammable fuel. What could possibly go wrong?”

Jules frowned and looked at Morgan, unsure by Varric’s reply if he was okay or not. “He’s being sarcastic. He’s scared of flying.” Morgan translated with a chuckle.

“I’m not scared of flying,” Varric said indignantly, “I’m afraid of crashing.”

The hydraulics of the shuttle door whirred as it closed. The solid thunk of the locks engaging was reassuring. To Jules at least. Varric looked like he was walking to the gallows. When the shuttle left the Herald’s dock, she noticed his knuckles turn white as he gripped Bianca. Jules couldn’t imagine being afraid of flying. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked quietly.

“Only if we do not die.” Zevran's laugh always made her smile.

“In other words, yes, he’ll be okay.” Morgan joined in the laughter. Varric made a mocking face, silently mimicking them and making it clear what he thought of their ribbing. “Let me know if you need someone to hold your hair for you.”

“Stow it, Beefcake.” The dwarf grumbled.

#Space Trash #jules trevelyan #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #zevran arainai #morgan trevelyan #dorian pavus #that bitch alexius #redcliffe runaround #beefcake #precious #zexy #seeker #meeting elbereth and tryg

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renaroo · 5 years ago

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Super Brothers (3/12)

Disclaimer: Superman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: Child Abuse, Gender Dysphoria, PTSD and Anxiety, Character Death Rating: T Synopsis: Jon Kent knew he pretty much had the perfect family life, but something still felt wrong with himself. At the height of feeling like an alien in his own skin, however, his world got turned upside down when his parents took in a troubled child who embodied everything he felt he lacked. However, becoming a brother ended up being the smallest of the trials brought by adopting Christopher Kent. And being best friends with Damian Wayne has not exactly helped keep a neutral perspective on the matter.

A/N: Apologies for taking a bit longer to update this one, I had some extra work to get done in the last week and that cut into my writing time rather than my Animal Crossing time (who could have seen that coming?) and all my fics got a slight push, though I tried to get back on track by this one’s update. Ah, partial points for effort I suppose!

As always, I need to thank everyone. for the wonderful support that this story is receiving. It means so very much to me and I wouldn’t have the motivation to keep working and improving if it weren’t for those of you who promoted and commented on it! Shout outs to @mirrorfalls, @secretlystephaniebrown, @thistleknight, and @karagordon.

Chapter Three: The Runaway

Lor is in immeasurable pain.

He can feel his skin taut and broken across his back, too painful to lay on overnight. He can feel his cheek inflamed and pressing up against his eyelid. He can feel his ribs sensitive and cracked, aching against his every breath.

And the worst of it all is the way the rage against him has still not diminished.

In the past, Lor has been disciplined. It is not an unfamiliar sensation. But his parents finished with the consensus that a lesson of some sort has been learned. Lor even finds himself in agreement with them.

Not this time. Not today. He is hurt and they finished the discipline without any commentary or any softness to their expressions.

No, though, that is still not the worst. Not as Lor lays on his bed in hysteric contemplation alone in the dark.

The worst thing of all is that he cannot shut his eyes, cannot sleep, without the hideous cracking of Ti’ahl’s arm sounding off between his ears. The echos of her cries and the horror of the crowds reverberate throughout Lor’s body and send cold shivers through him.

His family is not loved when the masses of Jakuul bow. And Lor’s entire universe is turned upside down knowing this.

Before this terror in his life, Lor still did not have a full understanding of his world or his life. He is, after all, a child. But he thought he understood what he was to his father and mother.

He is the Last Son of Krypton. He is the future of the House of Zod.

But he also knows that not living up to such things means that his parents’ approval is gone. And if it is gone, bad things will happen.

Now, as he understands with the display involving Ti’ahl, those consequences are far greater than anything he could have imagined beforehand.

Suddenly, horrifically, Lor understands that his life is not the most valuable part of him.

And he is scared.

In the middle of the night, alone in his room, Lor feels the strongest impulse he has ever had in his short life.

Lor-Zod knows, without a doubt, that he needs to leave.

The instinct comes from deep within him — thoughts of the Phantom Zone and its endless prison, how escaping it meant never staying somewhere he didn’t want to again. He can see it, his old dreams of leaving for different worlds the moment he was scared or unsafe.

The only home he had ever known had been the promise of leaving the places that were wrong and painful.

And, now, Lor needs to go. He’s scared. It isn’t safe.

Thinking of his lessons on the sunstones, Lor moves, sluggishly and painfully through the palace toward the transportation lab. What little Kryptonian equipment and weapons they have managed to gather and to create — or have the Jakuul create — rests in there, including the Phantom Zone pod.

The spiral pod is bronze in color with no seeable thrusters, only a thin screen that allows its occupant to see outside the pod. It does not steer, does not operate as a ship in any way, but as a bullet to be fired in a singular direction. Once someone is inside of it, outside of a Phantom Zone Projector, nothing will be able to tear the pod off its course. It will phase through matter, it will burst through time and space. And whoever is within it will sleep until they are released, heal until they are done.

And that is all Lor needs. Peaceful, forceful sleep without interruption. He needs comfort and rest, to heal up his ribs and his back and his eyes so that when he is done, he can return to being what his mother and father need him to be.

So that he is not treated and left in pain that someone like Ti’ahl experiences.

He can’t imagine there’s something better, something in between.

Lor loads his burdens onto the pod and begins setting his coordinates. He has not lived out of the Phantom Zone long and can only think of a few places he can go.

One is Krypton, his home he never knew and is no longer there.

One is Earth, his father’s enemy, and his only other point of contact.

If he can make it to Earth and back, perhaps Lor can make it through anything else. Including his parents’ anger.

At least, that is his sincere hope.

Just like that, Lor leaves his family’s palace.

***

Father doesn’t look surprised by Damian’s intrusion on his meeting with Cassandra. He barely acknowledges that it means Damian is missing school and instead asks him if there is anything Damian would like for him to know.

Within Damian’s heart, he feels the judgment, knows the look of his father searching him for something Damian isn’t giving. It’s frustrating. It’s painful. And it’s a look he’s never seen given to Cassandra.

Damian has nothing to say except for what he feels is obvious.

“I am better than any of you see in me,” he informs his father haughtily.

His father gives him a sigh and waves him off, dismissive and annoyed. Like swatting at a fly.

“We’ll talk about it later, Damian,” Bruce Wayne says in a voice that is distinctly lacking Batman in it. It’s weary and light. Others in the family call it the Brucie Wayne voice, but for Damian, it’s something far worse.

It’s basically baby talk toward him.

Cassandra doesn’t get that treatment either.

“I doubt it,” Damian glowers, crossing his arms.

When Damian looks back up toward his father, he is met by sharp blue eyes piercing his own gaze. That is more like Batman. It sends a shiver down Damian’s spine.

Much better than baby talk, that is for certain.

“I have something important I need to discuss with Cassandra,” his father reminds him darkly. “Give us some privacy.” He gives a purposeful pause before continuing, “Please.”

For a few long moments, Damian stands cross-armed beside Cassandra, facing his father’s large executive desk. The entire suite is large and deceptively slick and modern. Devices and trick switches are hidden behind the ostentatious decor and smatterings of family photographs framed and preserved seemingly forever. Newspapers are mounted with new stories of interest over the decades.

Everything is large, squared, and imposing.

Just like their father.

When it reaches the point that Damian feels as though the silence is threatening to eat them all whole, he finally relents and turns around. It takes him nearly double the strides it would require his father to make to exit the room, just as it would take him twice the height to meet the same reach his father does.

Logically, Damian knows that the unspoken part of his father’s request for privacy was for Damian to continue from his way out of the room down to the street level where Pennyworth and the car would be waiting. Then Damian could receive a whole other lecture on manners and family and general behaving that he has received over a dozen times before.

He’s tired of it before he’s even done processing the thought of it.

Making an executive decision of his own, Damian does not leave for Alfred and the car but instead takes a hard left at the elevator shaft. Having memorized the blueprints — the actual blueprints — for Wayne Tower, Damian knows that in the blindspot of the stairwell security camera is an always taped off custodial closet. In that custodial closet is a secretive shaft that will lower into the bowels of the Tower itself.

Once a part of the robust subway tunnel system beneath the streets of Gotham, the old junction now serves as the open space for research and development of their nightly activities. At least, one of the spaces for R&D at least.

It is also the one place where Damian can open up the Oracle Network safely in Wayne Towers and check in on others without causing too much of a fuss.

Anyone who notices will assume it is Batman and everyone leaves Batman alone to his devices for the most part.

Stepping up to the large silver monitor screen, Damian watches as everything in the room begins to activate — light by light, display by display. It is a very sleek and intimidating presence.

His father is good at maintaining certain aesthetic sensibilities, Damian will give him that, at least.

Looking around, Damian sees the computer chair, built for the size and magnitude of Batman, and immediately jumps into it. His body impressively slumps into the cushions, leaving him staring straight ahead in annoyance.

Recovering from the momentary sag of his body, Damian scoots the chair up, hands gripped to the armrests so tightly his knuckles whiten. Then he leans forward to the keyboard and begins typing.

Using spy satellites is an unfortunate habit that Damian has picked up from his father, but he assures himself it is for good reason.

There is still something so wrong and disconcerting about the way that Jon reacted to Professor Pyg.

Few things dig themselves into Damian’s guts and leave him unsettled. His friend being hurt somehow by the madman was one of them. Whether it was Damian’s sense of guilt or genuine fear for Jon, Damian is still working out.

Either way, he wants to hone in on Metropolis and see how his friend is doing for himself.

It isn’t a difficult maneuver. There is already a preset coordinate to the exact location Damian needs.

Damian expects no less from his father, after all, there are a myriad of reasons to keep watch on the family and wellbeing of the most trusted and power being in the world, if not the universe.

He watches with vague interest as two figures — Superman and Superboy — approach the balcony of the Metropolis apartment in question. One has a suitcase, the other a backpack beneath his cape. Then, in a dash of color, they are both gone long before a less accurate or powerful satellite or camera would be able to capture them.

At least, Damian would hope so.

Leaning his head forward, chin sharply balanced on his palm, Damian tries to think of the expression on Jon’s face. It’s hard to tell, even with Wayne Tech advances, the nuances of someone’s face at that distance. The pixelation hides the crevices and intensity.

But Jon seemed to be smiling. Which is, really, all Damian wants to make sure of.

At the end of the day, Damian does not have many friends. The ones he does have are important to him.

And he’s still not sure that allowing himself to be in the equation frees his friends to have good things happen to them.

The thoughts are still heavy on his mind when the monitor and all of the Oracle Network change in an instant.

A red flash comes across the screen with a blare of a signal. Then again and again. It continues.

Damian jerks into sitting upright again. His shoulders drop as he looks around wide-eyed toward the different monitor screens.

Something is happening in Metropolis.

Reaching for the keyboard, Damian zooms out from the tiny apartment and widens his view to the city. Even above the city, there does not seem to be anything he can see at a distance. But, as he begins to wonder if he should switch to news coverage, Damian sees that the sky is the source of the danger alert.

Heading directly for Metropolis is a fireball the size of a car.

Before he even thinks about contacting his father or anyone else, Damian is leaping for the closest plane his father has been working on.

He knows he might not get there before the crash, but Damian is definitely going to be there to help his friend with the aftermath.

***

Jon still feels off-balance in the air. His leg wobbles a lot, the plank-like rigidness he needs to maintain for a smooth flight can still tire him. He’s working on it.

And it always feels easier in the morning with his dad.

When his pa smiles down at Jon, he feels like no matter how weird his thoughts for the morning, the whole world is going to be okay. That Jon is going to be okay. Because how can the world be anything less than perfect when Superman himself smiles like he means it at you.

Holding onto the straps of his backpack, Jon readies to part from his dad and head down to the Siegel and Shuster Middle back gym entrance, but his ears begin thumping.

Just like when he listened for his mother’s heartbeat earlier, Jon can feel every noise, every vibration of all of Metropolis at once. His jaw tightens and he tries to push the noises out. The screech and scream and bark and cry and pop all at once, but he knows that there is something still off about them. There’s something different from normal if he can hone in and direct himself to it.

He halts in the air, raising his hands up to his ears and begins mashing the heels of his palms into the ear canals. It does nothing to help him out, but he tries it anyway.

“Ow! What is that scratchy noise?” Jon can’t help but whine.

Ordinarily, Pa’s soothing voice would put him at ease, explain everything away. But it’s different this time.

Instead, Jon glances over his shoulder and sees his father also stopped in the air. Superman stares, wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a long moment before tensing up.

“Stay here, son,” Clark orders before disappearing in a dazzling whirl of red, blue, and yellow.

The whiplash of it all nearly makes Jon go crosseyed. He regains his position in the air, hovering with far less security than his pa manages to. Then he looks around in concern.

With a simple scan of the surroundings, Jon can see what got his father’s attention and it nearly makes him gasp.

Falling from the sky, seemingly from nowhere and at ludicrous speeds, is a flaming ball of metal aimed right for the city.

“Where did that come from!?” Jon asks clouds around him.

As to be expected, he doesn’t get an answer. But Jon does know what he needs to do next, even without an omniscient reply to his questions.

At full speeds, Jon pushes himself forward, his fists held out in front of him as he aims for the exact place in the sky where his father is lining up with the mystery object.

Even at his highest speeds, Jon is too slow to get there when his father first makes contact with the object and begins flying back, resisting with all his might despite the hurdling force. He is engulfed in the flames, slowing, but still heading for the skyline of Metropolis.

There needs to be more force on Pa’s side and Jon intends to provide it.

He swoops down between the city buildings and positions himself just like he saw his father do before him. He holds his arms out wide and holds out his hands to catch.

It feels like only a blink before his hands are filled with his dad’s cape, and Jon is suddenly falling back through the skies as well.

“Jon!” Superman chokes out between gritted teeth, straining with all his power.

“Pa!” Jon manages to get out alongside him

The particulars of their conversation are forced to wait as they buckle underneath the heavy metal and flames. Jon pushes into his father’s back, his father pushes into the machine, and they progressively slow as they drop through the sky.

“Feet! Flatten your feet!” Pa orders before showing Jon with his own.

Jon obeys, the soles of his tennis shoes directed toward the ground. It still shocks him when his feet hit and the air nearly leaves his lungs, or when he skids backward with the asphalt crackling beneath them. They keep moving, backward, with the space between them getting tighter and tighter as the broken roads rise up and push Jon into his father’s back.

When they stop at long last, Jon full bodily collapses against his dad and breathes a sigh of relief.

People are already on the streets, looking on in awe, which limits the conversations they can have out loud. That doesn’t keep Jon’s pa from turning on his heels, hands on his hips, and looking at Jon very seriously.

“Son,” he says sternly. “Go to school.”

“What, no way, you’re not going to let me even look in it?” Jon asks, circling around his father as widely as possible to get to the hull of the copper-colored machine. “It’s so weird and looks like a snail shell, I bet it’s an alien!”

His father is about to continue with words of wisdom or some all-important notes on responsibility, but Jon cannot hear them. He looks instead at the strange screen on the machine they stopped together and tilts his head. It’s fogged up, like the mirror after he uses the shower, and he can’t see in it. But he can see a strange, blue glow from within.

Squinting, Jon taps on the glass-like structure only to jolt as the metallic shell opens up.

A thick fog hisses out of the opening and forces Jon to wave it away from his face.

And when it’s gone, Jon looks into the face of another boy, no older than him, with strangely cut brown hair and a swollen eye and lip.

“Whoa!” Jon exclaims.

Then he is punched in the face with more force than he has ever felt in his life.

It hits so fast, so hard, Jon is sent soaring through the air backward, headlong into his father’s chest as the larger than life superhero moves in to catch him.

“Superboy!” Pa yells out in code that still can’t hide his horror or anger.

“Ow,” is all Jon can manage to get out, feeling like stars are still busting behind his eyelids.

By the time he’s set back on his feet, Jon can see that the boy from the pod is floating above it, eyes wide and confused. He turns to run.

Suddenly, Pa isn’t behind Jon holding him up anymore.

Jon realizes his dad is in front of him now, next to the boy, stretched out so his large, kind hand is wrapped almost gently around the boy’s wrist. It keeps the boy back, but he isn’t fighting, isn’t resisting. He’s looking at Superman with terror, tears in his eyes.

But Jon can feel his entire face swelling, he grabs at it and looks frantically to his dad. “Dad! He punched me!”

“Hold on, son,” Superman says without looking Jon’s way. He lowers his arm, the boy slowly dropping with it, head bowing and shoulders jerking uncomfortably. Then, Superman pulls the mystery boy to his chest and holds him. “Hold on.”

Confused and more than a little betrayed, Jon shakes his head at the nonsense and rubs at his aching face.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t even contemplate it. But he’s hurt and he has a bad feeling it’s going to get worse.

#Chris Kent #Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #Clark Kent #writing #super fic #Super: Super Brothers

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specialpatientedna · 5 years ago

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This isn’t canon to my RP blog, but I thought I’d share a dark fanfic AU I’ve been working on for a retelling of Edna & Harvey: The Breakout. NOTE: this is only the first chapter and it’s not finished yet.

Outside, two children were playing. One, a shy and mostly quiet boy who often read books, kept a butterfly collection, collected stamps, but most of all, loved to follow the rules and do as he was told. The other was a girl no more than eight years old, who on the other hand, seemed to have a disdain for authority and rules, often finding ways to stir up mischief for the day. She played with firecrackers, smashed up her toys, tinkered with sharp objects, skipped school, blew up frogs in her backyard she’d catch, wandered abandoned buildings late at night while her father slept, but what really fascinated her, was fire.

The young girl loved to watch the flames dance around and crackle, it’s light so beautiful, bright, and hypnotic, consuming whatever it burned, the flames so full of life. She loved to burn wood, books, insects, toenail clippings, blades of grass, action figures, broken chair legs, leaves, trash cans, jars of old marmalade, broken old toys, scraps of clothing, marbles, bushes, almost anything within her reach. The girl wasn’t sure why or how she came to have this morbid fascination with fire, she just knew it was always there.

And so were those ugly and impulsive urges buried deep inside the back of her head that would worm it’s way up, turning into intrusive thoughts.

“Children! Dinner is ready!” a voice called from inside the house.

“Awww! But it’s too early dad!” the girl whined.

And she was just about to win at a game of marbles too. The boy stood up from the ground, picked up his bag of marbles, and ran up ahead, playfully laughing.

“Race you first!”

The girl brushed stray blades of grass and dirt from her skirt, picked up her half of the marbles that were left on the ground, grabbed her blue ragdoll rabbit she called Harvey, and began walking up the porch towards the backdoor.

“Oh boy!, oh boy!, oh boy! I can’t wait for the dessert Mattis will serve! All the cake! All the ice cream! And cookies! Yummy! Heehee!” an unusual and hyperactive voice giggled.

The girl’s violet eyes gazed at her ragdoll. There it was again, the voice that spoke through her rabbit. She smiled and hugged it close to her chest, it’s warm terrycloth feeling comforting. As a small child she always talked with her ragdoll rabbit Harvey, confiding in it whenever she needed to, seeking comfort when her father was busy working late night shifts again. One day when she was five years old, she was surprised to find her ragdoll had spoken back, greeting her cheerfully as if they had always known each other. The young girl felt she and Harvey were destined to be great friends, and they had remained close friends ever since. Laughing, playing, talking to one another, stirring up mischief together, cracking jokes, finding amusing ways to make her father swear, and, lighting fires.

The young girl opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside for dinner, gently shutting it closed behind her. The girl’s father, Mattis, had prepared an early dinner to welcome the boy and his father, Marcel, in their neighborhood, having just recently moved in. The girl took her seat, served her plate of food, and began to dig into her potato salad and sausage. Mattis and Marcel were busily blabbing about boring grown up topics the girl couldn’t be bothered to listen to, and the young boy was eagerly eating his sausages. The girl started to feel uneasy with a strange feeling in her gut, and a bizarre sense of deja vu.

“Hey! Edna! Alfred’s pretty boring, huh?” Harvey snickered as he sat in the young girl’s lap. “Shhh!” Edna shushed the ragdoll rabbit, glaring at him.

“Be quiet Harv, you know dad can’t see us talking, he’ll think I’m a loon.” “Sorry Edna...” Harvey apologized.

Alfred, Marcel, and Mattis looked up from their meal and stared at Edna with concern. Edna awkwardly stared back before her eyes slowly gazed over to her dinner plate again and she resumed eating her meal.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

Alfred, Marcel and Mattis went back to chatting away, but Edna could barely touch her food. She tried to listen in on the parent’s conversation but she couldn’t focus well. Their voices felt so distant, so far away.

“Hehehe! Edna!, Edna!, Edna! Look at this!” Harvey exclaimed in twisted delight.

Edna froze in her seat, but felt her arm slowly raise up over her head. When did she hold a glass of water? She didn’t remember grabbing it. Edna struggled to put it down, trying not to spill it all over Alfred.

“Harvey! PLEASE!” Edna angrily shouted, but it was too late.

It happened so fast. Her hand, as if being puppeted, attempted to pour the water all over Alfred, but spilled it all over her head and clothes instead. Everyone was now staring at her blankly.

“Is your daughter….always so maladjusted?” Dr. Marcel whispered.

“I’m so sorry for her behavior Dr. Marcel. Edna, go to your room.” Mattis scolded her sternly.

“But it wasn’t my fault!” Edna protested.

“Edna, I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

Mattis reached in a cabinet, grabbing a bottle of prescription medicine. The label was marked as Chlorpromazine, for Edna Konrad.

Edna felt so humiliated, angry, and scared all at once as she tried hard to fight it, crying, shouting, struggling in her father’s tight grip as he grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to take her medicine before sending her off to her room. And then the world was spinning, pulling her away from consciousness.

She woke up in a cold sweat as her eyes opened in darkness. Gently, she pulled a thin white sheet off her and sat up. Where was she? What did these nightmares mean? Why was she in a locked bedroom in a hospital bed?

She wearily rubbed her eyes. Everything felt so confusing and disorienting. She moved her hand and felt around her bed before feeling a familiar soft material. Touching it, she picked it up, who turned out to be her ragdoll rabbit. At least she still had Harvey to get her through these awful nights. Edna softly stroked his blue terrycloth fur while humming to herself before she lied down in bed covering herself with her thin sheet, shifted into a comfortable position, and went back to sleep.

***********

Edna awoke at 5 AM the next morning to a needle rudely stuck in her arm as the nurse began drawing blood and taking samples, looking over test sheets and paperwork on her clipboard. Edna hadn’t slept well the night before and had dark circles under her eyes, her long violet hair an even bigger mess more than usual, those nightmares and odd visions plaguing her and still fresh on her mind. The nurse smiled sweetly, a genuine smile and turned to face her.

“Good morning Edna, how are you feeling today?” nurse Gretchen asked kindly.

Edna sat up in bed, clutching Harvey by the ears and hugged her knees. She didn’t look up at the nurse, but mumbled something the nurse couldn’t hear.

“It’s alright dear, we all have our bad days.” nurse Gretchen gently told Edna, soothing her like a mother would to her child.

Edna kept hugging her knees, rocking in her bed quietly, but turning to face the nurse, would slowly glance up at Gretchen now and then with one eye, still rocking herself holding on to Harvey with a tight grip. When she was finished getting Edna’s blood sample, nurse Gretchen cleaned and bandaged the wound, tending to it carefully. It reminded Edna of when she was a child and she scraped her knee after a kid pushed her at the playground, her mother Helene patching it up. The memory always felt comforting even though her mother vanished from her and Mattis’s life years ago when she was just five years old. Gretchen leaned against the wall and sighed.

“You know, I can’t even begin to imagine how you really feel. Losing your parents like that.. It must have been so awful for you, and so young. Eight years old..” the nurse murmured.

Edna stopped rocking. Still she spoke nothing, but she studied the nurse carefully with her eyes, moving her long violet locks of hair out of her face. She wanted to speak up, to say something, but she couldn’t find it in her to. Nurse Gretchen moved away from the wall and placed a hand on Edna’s head, gently rubbing the girl in comfort like she was her own daughter, if she had one.

Changing the subject to something more lighter, Gretchen said “Dr. Marcel will be seeing you in two hours, so try and get ready, okay? He’ll be taking you and the other patients to the cafeteria for breakfast. It’s free choice day, I know how much you like that. I’ll be on my way now dearie.”

Nurse Gretchen gathered her medical equipment and strolled out the room, shutting the door behind her, and Edna heard the lock click.

If anyone looked at her right now, they’d see Edna smiled for the first time in years.

***********

#✂️out of sanity (ooc post)#edna bricht aus #edna & harvey #edna and harvey

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zap-writing · 6 years ago

Text

The sun sets on another day - TRSNS fanfic

@redstone-sun‘s fic fucked me up so I did what I know and wrote about it to cope asdfghjhgf

the basic summary of this fic: Mumbo has a Bad Day(TM) and we stan Good Guy Iskall

AO3 Link

On days like these, Mumbo felt his guilt like concrete weights tied tight around his throat.

The actual impulses and desires to obey that sanguine call no longer affected him as often as they used to―perhaps out of sheer necessity rather than true recovery, but the fine details didn’t matter. Not to Mumbo at least. The intrusive thoughts and feelings, however, were another story.

Sometimes he wished he could just press a button and fix all of his problems like one would a faulty machine, force him through some kind of psychological reboot. His prescribed process was tedious enough as it was; exposure therapy was a snail’s race by nature, and the transitions were mind-numbingly gradual. From mentions of redstone, to discussions of redstone, to looking at redstone, to touching redstone, to holding redstone, to――

And so on and so forth.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and the process was anything but linear and orderly. For a long while it felt like every step he took forward, something would send him three steps and a stumble back. One moment he was setting up semi-complex circuits from memory in his obsidian home, the next Grian would make an off-hand comment about a test contraption one of the hermits built nearly killing him and Mumbo would find himself involuntarily wishing it had.

Those moments scared him. He knew that it wasn’t really him thinking then, that it was just some heinous, corrupted part of him, some deep innate brand of the Red Sun festering behind his eyes. But it wasn’t any less terrifying to catch himself tempted by the crimson voice in the back of his mind that told him he didn’t belong in the overworld, that he needed to continue wiring in the quartz covered plains or he’d never be satisfied, to beg and steal and lie and cheat if it meant getting back to the Sun’s dimension, that if anyone got in his way he had to kill kill kill kill kilL KILL KILL KILL KILL K―

. . .

Those nights, Mumbo felt pain beyond anything he’d known before, from the crescent welts of his fingernails dug deep into the meat of his forearms, to the once-foreign hopelessness that left him wondering why anyone thought he was worth saving anymore.

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

On days like these, Mumbo found himself convinced that he’d never be released from his blood-stained binds.

It hurt more than he cared to admit, having redstone so intrinsically ruined for him. Sure, he had brute-forced his way into standing it enough to look over blueprints with Iskall and play with it like a child when he was alone, but it was never the same. Nothing compared to the satisfaction of improving on an existing design, nor the pride and excitement of inventing something entirely new.

Inventions. Redstone was such a progressive material, a resource far beyond any of the hermits’ understanding. It was able to do just about anything if only someone could crack the code to get there. Most of them already knew of the wonders it could provide--plenty of the hermits used redstone-based bionics, or at the very least a form of enhancement.

Iskall was no stranger to them, obviously. Perhaps Mumbo shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when the man came to him amidst his wallowing with a stack of crudely arranged notes in hand. He was somehow more chipper and cheeky than usual if the bright smile on his face was anything to go by. There was a proud sort of flourish as he handed the papers to Mumbo, who sat with wariness and confusion. That apprehension, however, was quickly replaced with curiosity.

Blueprints and notes regarding the conception of redstone-powered contraptions and devices would typically be a quick read for Mumbo, but even having been friends with Iskall and Grian for quite some time, there was no way to scan through the chicken-scratch handwriting and less-than discernible doodles in a short amount of time.

Mumbo’s initial attempt at cracking the code that was Iskall’s notes was interrupted not ten seconds in when two loaves of bread, an apple, and a bottle of water was set down in front of him, making him flinch slightly. He stared at the selection for a moment, mouth suddenly dry, before nodding his thanks and reaching for the apple. It was in that instant that Mumbo realized he didn’t remember the last time he had something to eat and swallowed down his embarrassment.

The two men soon fell into silence as Mumbo worked through the notes bit by bit, often pausing to right papers that had somehow folded or flipped upside down in Iskall’s attempt to organize them. Though it took a while, a careful read through informed Mumbo of Iskall’s plans to research a possibility of mechanically repairing his vocal cords.

There was a prominent section on the usage of prismarine crystals and diamond powder to color match the box with his eye prosthetic, and another that explored the possibility of controllable pitch and volume settings.

(In a better scenario, Mumbo would have been terrified at the possibilities that would come with giving Iskall such power, and even now he wondered who the first prank victim would be.)

All of it was quite clearly in the early stages of development, but Mumbo could help but brighten up at the thought of Iskall being able to talk again. It wasn’t something he liked to think about for long or often, but he missed Iskall’s voice. Before the incident, his friend’s laughs and sly comments were one of the things that helped the days go by, and Mumbo knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so. The man deserved his voice and more for what he’d gone through.

But information on Iskall’s voice-box plans came to an unexpected stop halfway through the stack of notes. Suddenly Mumbo was reading through two different handwriting styles about mechanical joints and synthetic muscle fiber and artificial nerve endings and――

He stopped reading. This section contained far too many things he knew too little about.

Head spinning from unfamiliar jargon, he looked up at Iskall in question.

“F...f-for Gri..ian,” came the harsh rumble from Iskall, startling Mumbo in the process. Both of the men stared at each other for a moment, each sheepish in their own right, before Iskall pulled out a relatively new-looking book and began writing.

[Doc let me take a look at his arm a bit ago and helped me out with the technical stuff. I’m hoping that we can replicate a pair for Grian. Took much more work comin up with this blueprint than it did for my voicebox plan lol ]

Mumbo went from bemused to ecstatic as he read Iskall’s explanation, feeling surprisingly hopeful for the first time in a long time. The sheer thought of his friends getting back what he took from them made his heart swell with guilty joy.

The technician’s part of his brain fired off a million different inquiries about how they could get these plans to work, but his heart ached knowing this was a project he wouldn’t have much part in if any. He didn’t specialize in bionics for one, but even if he felt like dabbling in the expertise for the benefit of his friends, Mumbo didn’t want to get too involved out of fear of relapse.

Especially not after today. He just wasn’t ready.

“These plans are incredible, Iskall.” Mumbo whispered in awe, flipping through both sections of the packet thrice over. A part of him yearned to add notes and suggestions of his own along the margins of the already messy prints, but he swallowed down the eagerness and handed the papers back to Iskall with a shaky hand. Far too fast for him to subdue, bubbling apprehension rose into his chest again as a presence beneath his ribcage scolded him for not ripping the notes to shreds when he had the chance and Mumbo turned away from Iskall in shame. He didn’t even notice himself staring off into the corner of his room until the scratching of a feather pen against paper got his attention again.

[I was hoping you would say that. Wouldn't be Architech patent-worthy without your approval :) ]

Mumbo gave a half-hearted as smile his dear friend stored the notes away in a light blue shulker box he hadn’t seen get brought out. As Iskall packed the box up, a red hot silence burned within the room and Mumbo flushed at the uneasiness of it all, hating the fact that he couldn’t enjoy the company of the people he loved anymore. It made him feel like an ass when he was so unresponsive and caught up in self-pity, but at the same time it felt like acting as if nothing ever happened would be a slap in the face to everyone he wronged. He was halfway through a mental reprimand when Iskall huffed through his nose and came to sit beside him at his birch wood table.

A beat or two passed in silence before a steady hand reached out to fix the uneven part in Mumbo’s hair, smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, and pat him gently on the side of his face. The warmth of Iskall’s hand damn nearly drove Mumbo to tears. With cloudy eyes, he watched as Iskall tilted his head, expression a melancholy mix of fondness and sorrow.

[It’s bad today, huh?]

With a sharp intake of breath and clenched teeth, Mumbo glanced away from Iskall. He’d rather pretend he was fine than admit to the Red Sun’s influence holding strong sway over him today. But before he could come up with something to say, Iskall was already shoving his book back into Mumbo’s hands.

[Don’t try to lie to me, I can see it in your face. And in the stubble on your chin.]

“I…“ Mumbo started, cotton-mouthed and ashamed, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from glossing over his vision.

Sweet scarlet whispers pricked at the back of his head and swirled behind his eyelids, reminding him the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets, and he tensed his jaw to try and drown out the words with a high-pitched strain. The world around him grew warm and tight and dark, and despite his best efforts, the voices seemed to just get louder.

All at once, Mumbo realized that Iskall was pushing at his shoulders and letting out determined, wordless noises as he tried to bring the man from his panic. Mumbo brought down his hands from where he found them pressed firmly against his ears, noticing that his face felt warm and wet. He silently wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, defeated.

“...Yeah. It is.”

“I-I...It’ss oh-k-kay.” Iskall offered gently, releasing his hold from his friend’s shoulders and sliding them down to his arms as he scanned Mumbo for any more signs of distress. As soon as his hands were free, he reached for his book again.

[It’s a nice day out today. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll shoot Grian a message to meet us in the shopping district.]

Before Mumbo could begin to read, Iskall plucked the book from his hand and began writing frantically, leaving Mumbo to wipe at the heavy tears that pooled over the edge of his eyelids once again.

[Let’s not tell him about my plans yet. I don’t want to get him excited for something that could take months or more to even start on. Promise to keep it a secret for now?]

Mumbo couldn’t help but flash him a warm smile. This man has done so much for both him and Grian even in wake of his own obstacles and responsibilities. There was nothing in this world or the next that Mumbo could offer as retribution.

“Sure thing. You have my word.”

Iskall huffed a laugh, grabbing and immediately shaking Mumbo’s hand with unnecessary earnest.

[Jolly good cheers mate! Let’s get you ready for our stroll, shall we lad? Pip pip!]

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Mumbo stood from where he’d been sat since early that morning, bones audibly popping from inactivity, and made towards his room to change into a clean white button-up and dress pants, leaving his coat on the bed. It took him a moment to brave the mirror in the corner of his room, but once he could stand to look at his reflection, he made an honest attempt to make himself presentable. After smoothing out the folds and wrinkles in his shirt, Mumbo pulled at his mustache a few times in an attempt to style it, lamenting that he didn’t have the time to shave the shadow from his jaw.

There was a soft, gentle hum from Iskall that got Mumbo’s attention as he exited his room, and he walked closer to read what his friend was saying.

[Handsome.]

Bashful, Mumbo blushed and shut the book. Compliments always made him somewhat embarrassed before, but it hit him much harder nowadays, especially when he felt bad about not being able to clean up as much as he preferred. Despite his self-consciousness, Mumbo was grateful for Iskall’s encouragement and offered a small smile in thanks.

As he and Iskall locked up his house and began the journey towards the shopping district, Mumbo watched him message Grian and shake with silent laughter―probably at something stupid Grian responded with, knowing them, but he was too engrossed in thought to catch what was said―and noticed that for the first time in a while that he couldn’t hear the honeyed song of the Red Sun, nor could he feel its pull deep within his bones.

Truly, Iskall and Grian were gifts from the universe he didn’t deserve. It was a bloody wonder that they still stood by him after all they went through. Despite everything, his friends still cared for him. Still loved him. There was nothing he could do to repay them for that. And nothing could compare to the outpour of adoration he felt for them in return.

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

On days like these, with his best friends at his sides, Mumbo felt free.

#the red sun never sets #trsns #mumbo jumbo #mumbo #iskall85 #iskall #grian #grian and mumbo and iskall #architech trio #hermitcraft #I am likely to and probably will be looking for errors so Blease let me know if u see any

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1-1snailxd-art · 6 years ago

Text

Sides of a Hero

Chapter index -------- Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Looking over the horizon

Summary: Roman visits the edge of the mindscape for the first time. Virgil knows this is neutral territory and core sides aren’t meant to go there, but it felt like the right place to talk. Hopefully it was the right decision.

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

"What glorious part of the kingdom is this? I have never seen something so terrifyingly beautiful." Roman looked out over the cliff in total awe.

"This isn't part of your kingdom, Princey." Virgil was lying near the edge of the cliff with his feet dangling over the edge, swinging gently. "This is the edge of the mindscape. Neutral territory."

"What is in the darkness?" Roman looked down into the endless black.

"Dunno. Why don't you jump in and find out." "Very funny."

The two sides sat in silence on the cliff for a while. Roman marvelling at the beauty of the scene in front of him, and Virgil collecting his thoughts and enjoying a silent Roman.

I guess I made the right choice bringing him here.

"I gotta say," Roman conjured a large pillow and laid back, staring up at the sky that was slowly being decorated with fluffy, white clouds. "I am quite surprised that you did this. Never thought you would choose me to have a heart to heart with."

"Don't feed your ego too much. You were the lesser of four evils."

"Meh. A win is a win." "Whatever." Virgil glanced sideways at Roman. He's surprisingly less annoying when he hasn't got an audience. He hasn't even called me any names yet. That's because he doesn't know you caused the storm.

Virgil inhaled sharply and clenched his fists at the sound of Depression's voice.

Roman noticed Virgil's sudden discomfort but chose not to react. He may have been slightly self-centred, but he wasn't entirely heartless. Virgil had chosen to talk to him and trusted him enough to bring him to a part of the mindscape he had never visited before. He would do his best to be patient with the side; he would talk when he was ready.

You caused the storm that damaged Roman's kingdom. Why would he trust you after you tell him that?

I didn't cause it. You caused it. You're the one that was manipulating me.

You are still the one who made the storm.

Nightmare made it. Not me.

You can tell yourself that, Anxiety, but that doesn't make it true.

"Roman." "Still here."

"The storm... It was... It was my fault." Roman didn't move, so Virgil continued. "Nightmare... He..." He is a part of me. "He was in my room." Not a complete lie. Bet Deceit is happy. "I had a bad dream, which isn't anything new really, but... Nightmare must have... Taken control of my dream to craft the storm. That's why it didn't come from any of the imagination realms. It came straight from my room. Straight from me."

"Is that why you were panicking when Thomas summoned you?" Roman kept his voice level and as calm as possible to encourage Virgil to continue.

"Yeah. What Thomas described. How he felt..." Virgil's breathing pace increased slightly, but he still had control. "That was what I was feeling... I couldn't wake up. Not even when I felt myself fall... I hit my head in my room. I kind of remember that... I just couldn't wake up, Roman... He wouldn't let me wake up and... And it's all my fault."

"Ah, no it isn't." Roman was sitting up and looking down at Virgil. "You can't blame yourself for that. Did you want Thomas to have a nightmare?"

"No, but..." "Were you trying to attack my kingdom?" "No, but I caused..."

"Then you are NOT to blame, Virgil. YOU didn't want any of that to happen." "Yeah but it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me."

"So? Did we blame Patton for when Deceit tricked us?"

"No, but that wasn't Patton's fault." "No? Didn't Deceit pretend to be Patton? Deceit manipulated me, and Patton didn't show up. He would have known that we had gone up to see Thomas. If he had shown up, Deceit wouldn't have been able to trick us."

"You can't blame Patton. It was Deceit who tricked us, not him."

Roman gave Virgil a knowing look, "maybe you should listen to your own logic, instead of being such a Negative Nancy towards yourself."

Virgil contemplated Roman's words in silence before turning to him and smiling. "You are surprisingly smart." He snapped his fingers and a pair of glasses covered in black diamonds appeared on Roman's eyes. "You sounded like Logan for a moment there."

"OH, HOW DARE YOU," Roman feigned offence in the most dramatic tone he could muster. He conjured a handheld mirror to review his reflection. "I am way better looking compared to Nerdy Quinn. I do appreciate these specs though."

Virgil let out a small laugh and sat up, watching as Roman tapped the glasses to tint the lenses and enhance the general look and quality. "Stylin' glasses, Ro."

"Thanks. I stole them from some emo kid."

The two sides looked back out over the cliff; the darkness seemed to have dropped lower.

"I could get use to a view like this," Roman commented, leaning back on his hands.

"Don't make a habit out of visiting here."

"Afraid I would make the view even better?"

Virgil made a sound of disgust. "No… It isn't really a place for core sides."

"You're not meant to be here, Anxiety."

Virgil and Roman turned to see a chubby looking Thomas in a red and black striped shirt.

"Greed." Virgil locked eyes with the impulse, "I would love to say it is good to see you..."

"But that would be the truth." Deceit entered the clearing, "Right, Anxiety?"

Virgil stood and moved in front of Roman. "Seeing you guys is always a highlight of my days. I write about it in my journal."

Roman stood but found himself speechless. There was an energy in the air that he hadn't felt before and he was uncertain of how to respond.

"Bet you wrote a lot in your journal the other day, Anxiety." Rage appeared next to Deceit.

"Oh, he did." Deceit responded. "I read it all. It was fantastic. A true work of literary art."

"Virgil, what are they talking about?" Roman asked.

Virgil ignored Roman's question, focusing instead on the many other impulses he could sense were heading towards the cliffs edge. "Sorry. I didn't realise the impulses were having a mothers meeting here." "You didn't get an invite, Anxiety?" Mocked Deceit, acting overly apologetic. "Oh, I must have missed you when I was sending out the invitations. I am very sorry. I will endeavour to ensure it does not happen again."

"Well, it was great to see you all but I'm going to take Roman back to the kingdom now."

"Don't go now, Anxiety." came an unknown voice.

"Yeah," another voice came from behind the two sides, and they turned to see another impulse had appeared behind them. "Let's reminisce about old times. We have a lot to catch up on."

"Alright!" Roman said firmly, conjuring his sword into his hands. "You all need to back up a bit." The impulses voices came from multiple directions. "Why?" "You don't hold power here." "This is neutral space." "You have no influence over us." "Where are the others?" "Let Anxiety stay. We have questions." "Conjure something else for us, Roman." "How is Depression?" "Let's play a game with Roman." "How's the room going, Anxiety?" "Did you ever find Guilt?" "Where is Patton and Logan?"

Roman tried to sink out but found he couldn't. He had never seen so many impulses outside of the kingdom. In his realm his imagined creatures and citizens outnumbered the impulses. Despite these impulses not having much power, Roman still felt powerless and confused. Why were they all using his name, but only called Virgil Anxiety?

"Virgil? What is happening?" Roman's voice came out small. That scared Virgil more than the whole scene.

There are too many of them. Where did they all come from?

"Close your eyes." Virgil hissed at Roman, who complied despite his confusion.

"That is enough!" Virgil's eyes flared purple and a circular shadow stretched out from around his feet, surrounding him and Roman. The other impulses quickly backed away. Virgil's arm burned where Depression's seal was, as he used his old friend's energy to cancel out the impulses influence. I'll deal with the consequences later. I need to get Roman away from here.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion; that's on me. I shouldn't have brought Roman here. We're leaving, now."

Virgil, Roman and the shadow all vanished. Deceit dropped to his knees and majority of the impulses vanished. Illusions he had crafted. Rage moved to sit next to his friend, providing him with something to lean against while he caught his breath.

"That was very unexpected," Vanity commented, only glancing at the others through the reflection of his handheld mirror. "Anxiety shouldn't be able to do that." "Yes he should." Deceit took a deep breath in, "He made me lie in his room. He's too weak and it makes perfect sense."

"Do you believe us now?" Rage asked the two impulses. "Do you agree to help us?"

"So, let me just make sure I fully understand this again." Greed moved to stand in front of Deceit and Rage. "Anxiety tricked you into helping him seal this 'Depression' impulse away. Then he used that stored power to make himself a core side before eventually kicking you out of the safe space. But you're not jealous or anything, you just think he is getting too powerful; which I admit I agree with, and you think he is going to harm Thomas."

"That is it in a nut shell." Rage looked up at Greed, "You saw what he can do."

"Are you sure you're not just jealous of what you can't have," commented Vanity. "The mindscape has been fine all this time and the other core sides don't seem concerned."

Rage felt heat rising inside of him. Everyone said he was jealous, but he couldn't be jealous. Envy was GONE. He couldn't be envious if ENVY didn't exist.

"You saw that storm in the kingdom last night! Anxiety lost control and Thomas was stuck in a Nightmare! He was the one that said Depression needed to be locked up because he wasn't safe, now he is becoming just as dangerous. Just think of what he could do if he keeps getting stronger. Maybe Depression wasn't the dangerous one. It could have been Anxiety the whole time. Anxiety probably isn't even his real title."

"Chill out, Rage. It really just sounds like you're reachin' a lot. I don't see how releasing Depression will change anything. I certainly can't see how any of this will help me at all." Vanity put down his mirror and looked at Rage with disinterest.

"This isn't just about us as individuals, this is about all of us impulses. Anxiety stole the room that was meant to be ours. That was our place." "Sorry, Rage, but I'm not buying what you are selling. It was fun to watch you play with Prince Roman, but I am happy with my place in the kingdom. Toodles." Vanity waved and vanished back to the kingdom.

Rage looked at Greed, waiting to hear his thoughts. Surely Greed would jump at the chance to have more influence in the mindscape.

"I'm with Vanity. I don't see any harm in all of this. From what I've heard, it sounds like messing with Depression and Anxiety is only going to cause trouble. I've got my place in Patton's section of the mindscape. You two are just taking greed and jealousy to a whole new level. Leave this alone, guys; before you turn into the danger."

"We didn't need you anyway," Deceit spat.

"Ain't that the truth." Greed vanished.

All the fire left Rage's body at Greed's words and he started to question his own motives. The other impulses did have a point and he was generally happy in the mindscape; until Deceit inevitably found him with a new plan to gain attention.

"Maybe they have all got a point, Dee. Do we really need to pursue all of this? Maybe letting Depression out isn't such a good thing." "Do you like feeling weak and being connected to that traitor?"

"No! I hate it. I can feel that part of me missing. But..."

"So lets not let Anxiety hold up the seal on his own." Rage looked at Deceit questionably. "Are you stupid or something? I just said I don't think we should let Depression out. The other impulses are against it and even the two sceptics have both agreed it's a bad idea." "We will break all the seals. Ego and Lust's seals don't exist... Right? Three seals won't be enough. You've seen how weak Anxiety is."

"So, we only take back our seals?"

"Anxiety won't be able to hold it with three seals. Sure, the cage may be a little bit stronger; but that will affect us."

Rage pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate you. I truly, truly hate the way you speak." "Oh, you hate it." Rage growled. "Are you sure the cage won't break? I don't want to be on the receiving end of the other impulses anger if something goes wrong. They have all made their thoughts perfectly clear."

"Rage, would I lie to you?" "All you can do is lie... Guess that makes you the most truthful... Fine. I'm on board with breaking our seals. But..." Rage looked directly into Deceit's eyes, “if it looks like Depression is getting out or Thomas is in danger, I am out! Got it?" Deceit shook his head, a smile on his lips. Despite all the setbacks, he was still going to get what he wanted.

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

Virgil and Roman appeared in the hall of the common area. Virgil slumped heavily against the wall between Patton and Logan's doors; arm burning, head swimming, chest aching as he heaved in big breaths of air.

"Virgil?!" Roman called, still brandishing his sword in front of him. "Can I open my eyes?"

"Y.. Yeah," Virgil breathed.

Roman opened his eyes in time to see Virgil's legs give way and he slid to the floor. Roman dropped his sword and moved to help Virgil just as Logan's door opened.

"What is going on out..." Logan saw Roman leaning over a semiconscious Virgil, sword discarded nearby. "Shit! Roman, what did you do?"

"Shut up and help me," Roman growled, offended that Logan would ever assume that he would hurt Virgil. He would have loved to question Logan's comment further, but Virgil was more important in that moment. His ego could wait.

Chapter index ---------- Chapter 8

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misssophiachase · 6 years ago

Photo

For Klaroween Bingo - Witch - A Practical Magic/Klaroline fusion with new twists. Also, thanks to @livingdeadblondequeen @littlebirdofthenorth and @klarolinesbuttons for some mythology lessons along the way.

Sisters Caroline and Katherine Pierce have always been considered ‘different’ but when FBI Agent Klaus Mikaelson comes to town in order to solve a mysterious death in Washington DC things get complicated (opening quotes in italics from the film and title from the soundtrack).

If You Ever Did Believe

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah, he’s...nice...in a very penal code sort of way, yeah.”

Caroline felt herself blush. The question was pretty much typical of her older sister, even in a budding crisis, but it wasn’t it that had gotten under her skin.

It was him.

And, yes, he was cute. Scratch that he was gorgeous, and not just in a penal code kind of way.

An irresistible mixture of dimples, curls and crimson lips housed in a navy henley and dark jeans. But his physical appearance wasn’t the only thing getting under her skin, she could sense something wasn’t right but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Time seemed to stop, for whatever reason, and she’d almost forgotten he was an FBI Agent until he flashed his badge in her direction and asked to speak with Katherine about the suspicious death of a Russian National.

Suddenly he wasn’t quite so attractive and she was going to kill Katherine for whatever mess she’d embroiled her in this time. She’d turned up on her doorstep a few nights ago and suddenly things were falling into place. Especially given she vowed never to return to San Juan because it was apparently too ‘small town’ for her liking.

They were polar opposites. Katherine was impulsive and unapologetic about her supernatural status and with that came an abundance of reckless behaviour. She’d been travelling for years but they always kept in touch through letters. The stories she told were always wild and she wouldn’t have believed them if she wasn’t Katherine Pierce.

Caroline, on the other hand, always tried to keep her identity on the down low, even with the rumours swirling in town, there was only so many insults she could take about her supernatural status. All she really craved in life was some semblance of normalcy. But trouble tended to follow her, especially when Katherine made an impromptu visit.

“Sounds like someone has a little crush,” Katherine teased, now limbering into cat-cow pose.

“Seriously, Kat,” she huffed. “Stop dodging my questions.”

“You should really try yoga, Care, it’s a good way to relax and unwind and we all know you could use some of that.”

“You’re the only person I know who doesn’t care that a federal agent is in our backyard brandishing a firearm as we speak.”

“Are you sure it was his gun and nothing else, Care?” She blushed again, damn it. “Hey, I’ve got an idea, how about you seduce the guy and he’ll forget all about his line of questioning? It would be a win-win. I mean you haven’t gotten any in a while so really I’d be helping you.”

“Wow,’ Caroline growled. “You have not changed. And, by the way, this obsession with my sex life is unhealthy.” Maybe it was true, but given the fact she couldn’t fall in love due to the centuries-old family, death curse, there wasn’t any point.

“I’m only looking out for you...”

“What exactly have you done, Kat?” She interrupted, ignoring her comment. Caroline knew exactly what was going to follow. Katherine could separate her feelings from sex but it was something Caroline could never do which is why she stayed celibate for the most part.

“Nothing,” Caroline gave her a weary look. “Well, nothing much.”

“This murdered Russian is an attaché at the Embassy in Washington DC, it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Fine,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly. “I knew him, we spent some time together...well you know...”

“Those particular details are not necessary right now,” Caroline shot back.

“But he wasn’t a gentleman, far from it,” she shuddered, lowering her sweater to reveal numerous bruises on her skin. “I was only trying to defend myself and then suddenly he was on the floor and I was fleeing the hotel.”

Suddenly Caroline felt bad for her sister and would have been more sympathetic but the fact Klaus Mikaelson was still in their yard was weighing on her mind.

“Was he dead?”

“I didn’t stick around to check, Detective,” she growled. “Anyway, all I did was put some belladonna in his whiskey, it’s a sedative.”

“Only in small doses,” she murmured, knowing its full potential if used in excess. “We need to get downstairs, he’ll suspect something is up if not.”

xxxxxxx

Patience wasn’t a trait that Klaus Mikaelson possessed. But when he arrived in San Juan, it seemed to become a little easier to wait, to observe, to take everything in.

To take her in.

He knew what she was, the town was rife with rumours after all, but he wasn’t expecting to feel so bewitched so soon.

Blonde waves, creamy skin and expressive, blue eyes that matched the colour of the nearby ocean. He’d faltered, albeit momentarily, and then regained his composure and asked for her sister. He noticed her once sunny expression darken and suddenly he wanted to take it all back just to see her smile again.

Standing in the garden after she’d gone to fetch her sister, Klaus tried to ignore just how good her toned backside and hips looked swinging from side to side in those dark, denim jeans.

She seemed familiar, almost like they’d met before but that would be impossible, right? That’s what he told himself anyway.

Katherine Pierce was everything he imagined. Poised, charming and flirtatious, she obviously had a way with men, Aleksey Romanoff included. She’d rattled off a story about their turbulent relationship, his violent tendencies and not seeing him for weeks. She even mentioned a weakness for men in suits, he all but stopped in recommending his older brother Elijah.

Klaus could tell she was lying. But he hadn’t pushed, mainly because her protective sister seemed to be sending him death stares from the kitchen sink. Was it wrong to feel so turned on? He left but with the promise of further questioning.

His restlessness grew at the nearby bed and breakfast he was staying at and Klaus found himself gravitating towards ‘Nourish’ the store owned by one Caroline Pierce. Klaus told himself it was for intelligence, nothing else.

“I didn’t take you for an organic moisturizer kind of guy?” She asked as he perused the shelves. If he thought she looked stunning yesterday, she looked beautiful in a flowing, white dress. And it didn’t help her floral perfume was messing with his senses.

“I moisturize,” he shot back, defensively. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to cup his chin and caress his stubble, her blue eyes regarding him seriously.

“Daily?” He was a bit taken aback by her intimate gesture to respond at first but eventually found his voice.

“When I have time,” he murmured.

“The life of a high flying FBI agent is never done I assume?” She guessed, finally letting go but all Klaus wanted was for her to keep touching him and never stop. His arousal was confirming that very fact.

“Something like that,” he rasped, knowing the real reason he couldn’t keep up his daily routine. “So, what do you recommend?”

“If this is your way of interrogating me then…”

“I’m on some rare downtime,” he said, even if it was a lie. Caroline Pierce was doing something to him and Klaus wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to end anytime soon.

“Peppermint.”

“Excuse me?” She gestured behind him.

“Your skin is on the dry side so I’d suggest the peppermint facial cream.”

“Dry?” He suddenly felt self conscious. No one had ever done that, until right now. He wanted to hate her for voicing a physical weakness but for some reason Klaus just wanted to prove her wrong and hastily picked up the bottle to pay for it.

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” she teased, packing his purchase. “I’m sure this will clear things up straight away.” But would his feelings follow suit? He wasn’t so sure.

“Promise?” He grinned.

“Or your money back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Ms Pierce,” he joked, making his way from the store, every fiber of his being willing him to stay but he knew that wasn’t wise given his mission.

“He came into the store, like obviously he’s never heard of boundaries, Bon,” Caroline hissed, taking another tequila shot. She forgot how many that was but didn’t really care as she sucked on the lime wedge.

“And why exactly are you so bothered?” She asked, wiping down the bar as she peered at her best friend curiously.

“Well, obviously all the Kat drama,” she rolled her eyes.

“Maybe but you do realise I can see through you given we’ve been best friends since you put a spell on Jimmy Hall in the playground? I’ll never forget how he just happened to fall off those monkey bars and break his arm after teasing us all relentlessly.”

“Says the girl who could have cast her own spell,” she joked, albeit quietly. Bonnie Bennett had arrived in San Juan at the age of four and she, Katherine and Caroline had become fast friends, mainly because they were all witches. And for that reason outcasts at their school.

“I can also sense a mystical connection a mile away,” Bonnie offered. “He’s the guy, isn’t he? No one could get you this riled up.”

Caroline was hoping she wouldn’t ask but Bonnie had a sixth sense that rivalled even the most powerful witches. She couldn’t explain the connection she felt towards him but that explanation seemed to make sense. “I don’t know, well not exactly, I mean I not sure…”

“He is!” She exclaimed, piercing the general bar din as she said it and earning curious glances in their direction.

“I did that spell so I would never fall in love,” she mumbled. “No one is that unique or perfect.”

“Who’s perfect?” His low growl was causing foreign sensations to take over her body. How did this man make a simple Henley look so damn delectable? And was he stalking her?

“Well, not you,” she shot back at the intrusion and took the opportunity to down another shot for courage.

“Nobody’s perfect, love,” he agreed. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Bonnie was momentarily speechless before pouring his shot.

“Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, including Washington,” Caroline coughed, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her throat from the last shot. “I would have thought as an FBI agent you’d be familiar with the law.”

“I’m not stalking you,” he promised in that crisp accent that could lull her into a false sense of security. “It’s a small town. It’s kind of difficult to not run into anyone as I’m sure you’d know about.”

“Why are you still here then?” She bristled. “My sister said she hadn’t seen him in weeks.”

“And given yours and her body language that doesn’t seem true. The townsfolk seem to think you’re hiding things and I can’t say I disagree.”

“I never took you for the hanging committee,” she shot back, placing her lime wedge on the bar. “But it’s not like we’re not used to it.”

“I believe in innocent ‘till proven guilty,” he smiled, startling her by rubbing her lips softly. “Salt.” He offered by way of explanation, his gaze never leaving hers. She was rendered speechless, even Bonnie’s knowing look wasn’t enough to break her from the trance he’d created.

Beautiful bastard.

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, buddy,” she slurred, the effects of the tequila suddenly making her sight blur and the room start to spin.

“I know that,” he murmured, his hand finding its way around her waist to keep her upright. “I think we’ll take the cheque.” Caroline could barely register what was happening until she woke hours later disoriented in her bedroom fully clothed and extremely dehydrated.

Then snippets of her memory came flashing back.

Klaus Mikaelson guiding her towards the house, his arm supportively around her waist. Klaus Mikaelson removing her shoes, placing the blanket over her and putting her to bed. Klaus Mikaelson rubbing her forehead and placing a chaste kiss on her temple and murmuring, albeit quietly.

“I dreamed of you too, love.”

She sat up with a start, trying to ignore the pain ripping through her head and work out whether it was really a dream. What did she say to him to make him say that?

xxxxxx

He didn’t mean to reveal that fact, but given she was practically sleeping Klaus thought it was safe. He ran his hands through his curls distractedly, this mission was supposed to be easy. It was anything but given the feelings she’d conjured inside him and not just because she was a witch.

When he placed a kiss on her temple, it took all his willpower not to stay the night and pull her into his embrace under the covers. What was happening to him? Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do emotions, it was always easier that way.

He’d been lying to her but usually it didn’t matter who he deceived, until now. He’d barely awoken before he saw the door fly open and she was standing at the foot of his bed, blue eyes blazing.

“Knocking wouldn’t go astray,” he smirked, stretching his arms. “Unless you purposely wanted to see me naked, Pierce?”

“You wish,” she hissed, but he couldn’t miss the blush spreading across her cheeks as she regarded his naked form. “What do you want from me?”

“I told you…”

“Who are you, really?” He was taken aback by just how direct she was being and for some reason he felt like he couldn’t lie given her penetrating stare.

“How about if I share with you, you share with me too?” He suggested, sitting up and allowing the sheet to pool around his waist revealing his bare chest.

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” she shot back, but he couldn’t miss the way her eyes were devouring his toned chest. “You first.”

“I’m not really an FBI agent...”

“Wow, you don’t say?”

“I’m a werewolf,” he admitted gingerly, noting her surprised expression and he was sure she was mentally kicking herself for not making the supernatural connection. He did all he could to mask his identity, it wasn’t her fault.

“He can howl at the moon,” she groaned loudly, flopping onto the nearest chair. Klaus wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this. “I really should have known.”

“Aleksey Romanoff is the alpha of a rival Russian pack. He killed two of my siblings Finn and Freya. He’s dangerous, like with your sister. I think he’s still alive, that’s why I came here.”

“So, you used me for revenge? Pretended you were somebody else because this was all a ruse.”

“I never intended on involving you or your sister,” he confessed. “If anything I felt drawn to you and being here has only amplified that fact.”

“Well, how about I leave and then everything between us will be severed for good,” she whimpered. He couldn’t miss the hurt in those blue eyes, before she fled.

Suddenly revenge didn’t matter at all.

Caroline Forbes had managed to capture every brief emotion he’d felt and it wasn’t many given his thousand year existence.

He needed to get her back. Now.

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