#i didn’t think it would be THAT difficult to find but seems like everyone focuses on the imperium
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THE BEST FRIENDS RULE PART 2-JOBE BELLINGHAM
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Part.1, Part.3
After you walked away, Elena gave Jobe a curious look, watching him for a few seconds in silence before asking, "Hey, is everything okay?"
Jobe nodded quickly, almost mechanically, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, of course. All right," he replied, though his expression and redness on his cheeks indicated a certain agitation.
Elena looked at him for a moment, uncertain. She seemed to accept his answer, but her expression revealed that she was not completely convinced. As soon as he turned to the track, his eyes looked for you in the crowd and found you immediately, dancing and laughing with your friends, drawing everyone’s attention to you.
Your movements were full of energy and charm, as if you knew exactly how much your way of being left everyone breathless, especially Jobe. Elena was watching the scene, unsure of what was happening. He always knew you and Jobe were different, but there was something new in the way he looked at you, an attention that he couldn’t quite explain.
Jobe, meanwhile, tried to avoid Elena’s gaze, but it was almost impossible not to look at you. The way you danced, moving naturally and letting your eyes slide on him every now and then made it all harder. With every smile or laugh, he felt his heart beat a little faster, and could not stop wondering what it would be like if there were no rules to complicate things.
After a few moments, Elena tried to report the conversation on the partners they were talking with, but Jobe was distracted, occasionally casting glances in your direction.
In a moment of pause, one of your friends approached you to talk, and you nodded, laughing, still looking and a bravado that seemed to grow every time you noticed Jobe looking at you. With a light move, you pretended to ignore him, focusing on your friend, but you threw Jobe some brief glance and charged with provocation.
Noticing your look, Jobe let slip a half smile that Elena did not miss.
"Jobe... are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jobe took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders. "What? No... I was just... it’s just that..." He stopped, realizing that he didn’t even know how to explain what he was feeling.
Elena sighed, glancing back at you as well. "Look, I know that Y/N can be... well, intense," she said with a vague smile. "But remember the rule, okay?"
Jobe nodded, though he felt that the rule was becoming increasingly difficult to follow.
---
The next morning, Elena’s family was invited to the Bellingham home for a casual lunch. In his room, Jobe was getting ready, digging through his clothes and trying to find something that was both elegant and casual, something that could impress without looking too much. He was examining a shirt, assessing whether it was too formal, when his older brother, Jude, entered the room with a funny smile.
"Hey, what’s this concentration?" Jude crossed his arms, looking at Jobe with a complicit smile. " You’re choosing the outfit as if you were going on a date."
Jobe turned around, pretending to puff. "I’m not looking for anything special," he replied, trying to seem casual, even if he couldn’t hide the slight anxiety completely. "Just... I want to dress up, that’s all."
Jude raised an eyebrow, amused. "Ah yes? You just want to dress up today as Y/N is coming here." He gave him a slight pat on the shoulder. "Admit it, you have a huge crush on her."
Jobe flushed, shaking his head and trying to defend himself. "What do you say? I don’t care at all. It’s just... just Elena’s sister, that’s all."
Jude laughed, noticing how Jobe avoided looking into his eyes. "Yeah, only Elena’s sister, sure. It’s a shame that every time she walks into a room, your brain seems to stop working."
Jobe tried to ignore the comment, returning to focus on his wardrobe, but he could not deny himself that, thinking of you, his heart beat faster and he got a feeling of agitation. Finally he chose a shirt that he thought you might like, trying to ignore the funny smile of Jude leaving the room shaking his head.
Meanwhile, at Elena’s house, you were also preparing. You were wearing a skirt just above the knee, adjusting it in front of the mirror to find the right balance between casual and chic. Just then, Elena entered your room, leaning against the doorframe with a pensive expression as she watched you.
You noticed her look and turned to her with a mischievous smile. "What is it? Do you think it’s a bit much for a simple lunch?" you joked, fixing your skirt one last time and fixing your hair.
Elena sighed, getting a little closer. "You know, you could stop messing with Jobe like that. He’s my best friend, I don’t want him to think..."
You smiled innocently. "What did he think? That I had a crush on him?"
Elena looked at you with a certain severity, but you noticed a hint of concern. "You know what I mean, Y/N. Jobe is shy and... I wouldn’t want him to get deluded. You know how it can be."
You raised your shoulders, visibly amused. "Elena, calm down. Jobe is your most shy and cute friend, I know. But I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just... chatting, that’s all." You winked at her, which made your sister sigh even more.
"You’re incredible," said Elena, shaking her head. "But try not to drive him crazy, okay? He’s very committed to the rules, you know we said not to get involved with relatives."
Your laughter filled the room. "Oh, sure, the famous rules. But you really believe that Jobe is so respectful of those rules?" you asked with a mischievous smile.
Elena glanced at you one last time, as if she had guessed that maybe, that time, Jobe would have more trouble keeping his commitment. And as she left the room, you stayed with a smirk on your lips, anticipating lunch with an entirely new enthusiasm.
---
After a few moments, you felt the door open, and on the other side was Jobe, who took a deep breath before greeting your parents with a polite smile.
"Hello, Mr and Mrs Smith!" he said in a gentle and respectful tone.
"Hi, Jobe!" they replied as they entered. Elena, immediately afterwards, embraced Jobe warmly. "Hi, Jobe! Thank you for the invitation," he said, with a radiant smile, before going to say goodbye to Denise and Mark.
Jobe watched Elena move with ease, greeting her parents affectionately, but then a different sound caught his attention: the slight ticking of your boots on the floor. When he turned to you, for a moment he lost his voice.
Your simple but flawless look and short skirt inevitably attracted her gaze, and Jobe felt hot. The mind gave him warning signals, reminding him of all the rules and the duty to keep control, but apparently the heart had different intentions.
You immediately noticed his surprised expression and, amused, you let out a flirtatious smile. You let your gaze rest on him, walking slowly from head to toe with a note of malice, letting him know that you noticed the effort he put into his look.
"Well, look who’s dressed up today," you commented in a provocative tone, raising an eyebrow and making him feel even more awkward. "It almost seems like you’ve been trying to impress."
Jobe swallowed, feeling the redness rise to his cheeks, but he forced himself to respond with a shy smile. "Uh... thank you, Y/N. You too... you’re very pretty," she stuttered, trying to mask her own agitation.
You laughed, amused by his reaction, and slightly tilted your head as if to study him a little more. "Just 'pretty'? I’d say you can do better," you replied, giving him a friendly look before passing it to enter the house.
Jobe stood still for a moment, trying to recover, as he watched you walk towards the living room. Inside, he felt a storm of conflicting emotions: between the desire to follow his heart and the commitment to respect the rules of his friendship with Elena.
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enidette · 2 months ago
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HEAVEN BESIDE YOU
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warnings :: both are 18+, no real d/s dynamics, kinda fluffy first time smut stuff, riding, unprotected sex (ill advised in an apocalypse but yolo)
carl grimes x fem!reader
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carl remembers the first time he spoke to you. you lived in alexandria before he did, but had a similar backstory. you lived out there with walkers for years before you were welcomed into these walls. you caught his interest immediately, but the fact you stuck to yourself so much made it difficult for him to even learn your name.
that only piqued his interest more.
he would look for you, especially on watch shifts. he’d follow even, never getting caught. or so he’d thought. until one day he followed you out to the woods, hiding behind trees as you walked. you took a different path this time, leading him to a clearing. a large piece of land with an old, broke down car in the middle.
he watches you go further and further from his hiding spot, eventually deciding to go home when you turn around with a confused expression. your gaze finds his and he stands up straight, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights
“you’re not coming?” your voice had genuine curiosity, making him quirk a brow at you. he emerges from the trees but doesn’t try getting closer.
“what?”
you let out a short laugh, digging in your bag before tossing him a comic you’d find on one of your runs. he watches you turn back around and head towards the car, following you quickly this time.
“you think i haven’t noticed you, cowboy?” he grimaces at the nickname, looking at the comic in his hands instead of you. “i’ve noticed you like reading those.” you grab the car door that’s merely leaning on the car, moving it enough for the both of you to get in.
carl huffs, sliding into the backseat with you and moving the door back in place. “i’m surprised you noticed anything about me. you keep to yourself so much.” you nod at him, head turned facing the dusty windshield.
“i know a bit about everyone,” you turn to him a nudge him with your shoulder. “i could learn more about you if you’d let me.”
ever since, that car had become you and carl’s “spot”. somewhere you both would meet up to just be teenagers again, not ones stuck in the apocalypse. you had both grown so close so quickly, it was hard for carl to not see you in a different light.
it didn’t help that you seemed to treat him differently than everyone else. that you always wanted to know more about him. you remembered the things he liked and he’s not blind either, you’re very attractive.
he found himself testing the waters more and more. doing his best to use the little flirting he’s picked up over the years on you. it usually backfires, until one day the two of you are in the backseat of your abandoned car. you’re on one side and he’s on the other.
his comic is in front of his face but his eyes are peaking over it at you. you look focused as you read, popping candies you had both found in your mouth every once and a while. he sees how your skin is slightly glistening with sweat from the virginian summer heat.
he swallows thickly, trying to turn his focus back to his comic when he hears your laughter.
“you’re not exactly smooth, grimes,” you look up at him through your lashes with a small teasing smile. his mouth falls open a bit before turning into a flustered grin. he shakes his head and throws his comic down.
his breathing picks up a bit as he thinks about what to say next. “seemed i was every other time.” you quirk a brow at him, laying your comic down and sitting properly in front of him.
“oh no, grimes. i’ve caught you checking me out,” his face goes hot at your bold statement, embarrassed at how obvious he had been. not like he had much experience in these situations to go off of.
he doesn’t say anything, just adjusts himself in the seat so he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. his eyes avoiding yours that began shamelessly raking up and down his body. your hand goes to his thigh and he tenses up at the sudden contact, unaware of what to do next.
you pause at his reaction, “do you wanna just.. pretend this didn’t happen?” your hand starts to retract when he grabs it, just holding it in his. he looks down at your interlocked hands and just shakes his head. his eye flickers up to yours before going to your lips. he instinctively leans in a bit but stops halfway. the only sound in your ears were the nervous breaths the both of you let out.
you lean your head towards him, the tips of your noses touching. carl tenses at the unfamiliar contact, but doesn’t pull away. “do you wanna kiss me?” your question has him nodding, he didn’t even trust his voice in a situation like this.
you tilt your head up a little, leaning in all the way. your eyes flutter shut when your lips meet and it’s obvious you’re both inexperienced. you awkwardly bring a hand to the back of his head, playing with his hair as you attempt to deepen the kiss.
his hands find your waist, but the odd position has you hesitantly straddling his lap. “is this alright?” you mutter under your breath. the sudden closeness due to how pressed against him you were because of the small carapace hit him like a truck.
his eye raked over your body, mouth a little agape as he nods. you lean back in and the kiss is a little needier, messier. teeth clashing and heavy breaths mixing. an involuntary whimper slips out of his mouth when you grind against him, causing you to pull away and lean towards his ear.
“you make pretty noises, pretty boy.” he shuts his eye at the name, sucking in breaths harsher and harsher the more friction you provided. he had imagined this more times than he’d like to admit.
but it didn’t compare to how soft your lips felt against his, how perfect your skin felt on his fingertips. you’re breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly. he sees how plump your lips are from your kiss, how pretty your skin looks in the rusted-window sunlight.
he pushes himself against you, chest to chest and reattaches your lips. the rocking of your hips becomes quicker and needier and his hands are digging into your hips. you pull away again, placing your hands on his chest before letting them wander. they trace down his abdomen before landing at the waistband of his jeans.
you look up at him quizzically, the two of you too embarrassed to speak. he nods and you unzip his jeans, tugging them down his legs. your impatience gets the best of you leaving you to abandon them at his mid-thighs. he huffs a laugh at your desperation, helping you pull your panties to the side and guide yourself onto his cock.
you whimper at the intrusion, going down slowly. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back. you can’t help but stare at him, his hair framing the art that is his face, his complex scar he’s so ashamed of hidden from your view.
all the whole carl is looking at you like a goddess, half lidded eye raking along your body. your hands are unsteady on his chest, trying your best to steady yourself and bounce on him properly.
your arms wrap around his neck and you lean down to kiss him. it’s a tad softer this time, carl wants to savor this as long as he can. his arms go around your waist, leaving you to grind on him instead. the kiss is messy, mostly heavily breathing into each others mouths trying to stay as close as possible.
carl leans back, opening his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a strangled moan. you can tell he’s close by how his hips messily snap up into yours. you stop your movements, causing carl to whine at the loss of pleasure. you lock your lips with his and bring your hand up to wrap around his cock.
you lead his hand down and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast causing whimpers to fall from your lips. his brows furrow and his mouth falls agape while he watches your pretty hand finish him off.
your heavy breaths are the only sound that fill the car until your giggles erupt. “we should head back to alexandria and shower?” carl sighs and shakes his head, tugging your body back down into his,
“later, stay with me.”
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taglist :: @carlslvr @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix
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libraryraccoon · 9 months ago
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The Aeon Of Creation : Surprise ?
P1 (here) -> P2 (coming soon)
TW : English isn't my first language, bad english. Spoil Penacony quests.
Gender : Male/GN
Pronouns used : He/They
Info : I was sad when I haven't found any hsr sahsr au, so I decided to write one.
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There was an Aeon that everyone know in the universe.
The first Aeon that have been appeared, The Aeon Of Creation.
It’s said that The Aeon Of Creation was the first being that had appear, that it’s them that have create the universe, the worlds, and that have created the others Aeons. That it’s them that say who can be an Aeon.
But no one has seen them for a while now. Even the others Aeons were worried, even Nanook.
It’s only decades later that a trailblazer saw them.
<----->
His name was Caelus, he was in a dream at Penacony when he meet them.
They seems so familiar, but also they seems like a stranger.
“Excuse me.” Said the grey hair, looking at the h/c hair. “Have we met before ?”
They had h/l h/c hair, e/c, s/c, and they were wearing a white shirt with a sleeveless sweater on top, a trench coat, black pants and shoes.
They had a men body, and they look like a men in every way. But, more Caelus was watching them, more they don’t seems to be human, and more they remember him someone- but he don’t know who.
It was.. strange.
“Maybe yes, maybe no.. Who know ?” ask the person-thing. “I'm sorry, I have a bad memory."
They were lying, Caelus didn’t know how, but he just know it.
He hate when people lie to him.
“I’m Y/N and my pronouns are he/him. Just a person traveling in the universe. Nice to meet you.” He introduced himself lifting his hat a little in a sort of reverence- since when did he have a hat ?!
Caelus ask no question -he was used to things like that.
“I’m Caelus, a nameless.” He said, Compared to usual, he didn't make a joke or show off like he usually did. He didn’t really think about it at that moment.
<----->
Caelus was often with Y/N.
They was what we can called ‘best friend’.
Every time Caelus was in Penacony, he would go straight to Y/N.
Y/N gave off a sort of comforting and familiar aura. One that he found difficult to part with. Maybe the reason he clung so tightly to his friend was to avoid a repeat of Firefly, to protect him. Caelus didn't know, and he didn't search for an answer, focusing on the present.
“Caelus ! Do attention ! I swear one day you will die soon if you continue like that !” His friend swore as Caelus passed on the road to join him, not paying attention to the passing cars, almost being run over by one.
Caelus only give a nervous laugh at that.
<----->
Being the Aeon of Creation for them was boring.
They knew everything, having nothing to learn. That annoyed them. They wanted to learn, to discover things.
But with their creations worshiping them, some much, MUCH, more than others, it was impossible. So they took a human form and visited the planets, the worlds, that they had created from another point of view.
<----->
Humans were very attached to all this gender and sex stuff, so they took on a masculine appearance and he/him pronouns. Like that, they really look like the other humans ! Well, except for their blood. They had a blood that was like the universe, no, that was like their blood was the universe ! Just like their tears. And it's never touching the ground, disappearing in the air. They had to be careful for not being hurt or crying in front of people (but why and how they know their tears colors ?)
They was travelling alone until they meet him.
He was a boy with short grey hair and yellow eyes. His name was Akivili.
They traveled the universe together, in the Express.
Akivili was their first friend, their first best friend,
Their first love.
They were really closed, and the Aeon realized too late that they were falling for him.
The day they wanted to confess, Akivili disappeared.
The Aeon of Creation have done all for finding him, but always in a human form, they didn’t want people to realize who they was.
And, one day, in a dream they meet someone that look like Akivili.
His name was Caelus, a nameless, just like Akivili.
The Aeon of Creation thought that maybe, just maybe, he was Akivili, a reincarnation, or a descendant of him. They were sure the two were related.
Especially that he have the name Akivili wanted to give to his son.
The day before the Creator turn Akivili into an Aeon.
“Hey, if one day you have a kid, what name will you give them ?” ask Akivili.
“Huh- I don’t know ?” said the Aeon confused. They thought about how everyone always gives two names to this question, one feminine and one masculine. “Aether if it’s a boy and Stelle if it’s a girl.”
“Great names. You’re always creatives for names.” Said the mortal.
“And you ?”
“Caelus if it’s a boy and Lumine if it’s a girl.” Akivili answer easily.
Akivili always had something for picking great name.
It’s him who gave them the name Y/N after all. 
So, for knowing who really Caelus was, they decided to stay with him.
Of what they had understood, he lost a dear friend, so Y/N helped him at the same time with all his grief thing.
And that worked ! Well, in a way ?
Caelus was feeling better now that Y/N was here, but he was what mortals called ‘clingy’.
The Aeon found that funny – Akivili was always clingy with them when he was tired. So that make them think of the past.
They was happy to compare Caelus to Akivili, making some theories about it, and not to some creep that prayed them..
Maybe The Aeon Of Creations have what mortals called a trauma caused by a few of their believers.
<----->
The Aeon Of Creation is traumatized of all this Sagau imposter AU/j I thought making the creator having a universe color blood and tears will be funny because, you know, they created it- The Creator thinking Caelus is Akivili is an idea that would hurt when it will be more developed.
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luxesiren · 1 year ago
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𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — h.haganezuka x black!femreader
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(⛧) description: hotaru can stay concentrated for hours upon hours and not let up, he wants to show you that skill — drabble
(⛧) warnings: smut, oral (fem), pussy drunk!haganezuka, praise, fingering, overstimulation, teasing. mdni
(⛧) author’s note: when i tell you that seeing this man’s face on my screen had me (s)creaming like i need him today, tomorrow, in the past, the future, in the afterlife…ALLAT. i need him like air fr. also, @smiley-babe this is for youuuu😋
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how could one person stay so focused and unwavering through every single task? it seemed difficult but it wasn’t difficult for hotaru, it never was and he made it look so easy.
his concentration never faltered with anything he did and you didn’t think it would travel to your bedroom but there you were, laying on the bed, legs spread and mouth open from the onslaught of noises that flowed freely. his hands gripped your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit, drool spilling from the side of his mouth and his eyes lidded in pleasure — practically drunk off the taste of you.
your hands finding purchase in his long hair and pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough, maybe it was you being greedy and wanting more and he was willing to give it to you.
his tongue swirled, licked, sucked and curled throughout your cunt and your vision faded in and out and his name tumbling out of your mouth, “h-hotaru, fuck, please”
he never said anything while concentrating but his eyes met yours and another high pitched moan bounced off the walls of the room. his hand snaking around your waist and resting there as he continued to pleasure you until your legs started to tremble and your juices flowed into his mouth, cum spilling out the side of his mouth and slowly dripping down his chin. the sight was sinful and you wanted the picture framed and hung so everyone could see it.
he licked you clean, his tongue moving up and down making sure not to miss a drop — how could he waste something so delicious and mind-blowing? his tongue entering your cunt for the second time that night making sure to clean every nook and cranny of your walls. your moans basically whines from the overstimulation, too sensitive from the mind-numbing orgasm you just received.
“mm it’s too much, hotaru! p-please, ‘s too much.” he never listened to your pleas, to which he knew you never meant but instead he always had something else planned. his mouth left your cunt and met your lips, his tongue entering your mouth and you moaned at the taste of yourself settling down on your tastebuds.
while on the other hand, his fingers made their way inside of your tight cunt. wet and warm and pulling his fingers deeper inside and he’s obsessed with the way you feel. he swallows every soft moan and low whine you release just because he can, pulling back he looks at you with nothing but focused eyes and small smirk, “feels good? i bet it does, you always liked how good i can fuck you with my fingers. now, be a good girl and let me concentrate, yeah?”
the deep concentration that it hotaru haganezuka will never cease to amaze you.
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© 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | do not steal, copy, or repost to other websites such as ao3 or wattpad
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rose-pearls · 9 months ago
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If you're still doing requests can you do one where clarisse has a really big crush on the reader who is the daughter of Aphrodite. Clarisse tries to talk to her and get to know her more but every interaction clarisse ends up hurting the reader somehow. Nothing super bad just like accidentally hits her or accidentally pushes her or something and she feels so bad everytime. Then capture the flag happens you and clarisse are on separate teams and clarisse was throwing her spear at someone but then it accidentally hits you, nothing life threatening just a bad cut on your arm of leg. She carries you to the infirmary and waits until she knows you're okay. When's she sees you she can't hold it in anymore and just starts saying how she's so sorry and that she just wanted to talk to you and that she really like you. And then it ends with fluff
The request is kind of long I'm sorry 😞
Hi! Thank you for your request, sorry it took so long! I hope you like it! Requests are open for every character I write for!
Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain (open)
Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303
Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads
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Clarisse knew that she was being stupid but she just couldn’t help it or stop it when she came near you. Every positive thing she wanted to say to you turned into something less positive, which always made you frown, and she hated it. It was like you made her brain short-circuit and she couldn’t get the right words to get out of her mouth. 
It was also starting to become a problem at training, every single time she wanted to impress you she accidentally managed to nearly hit you or one of your friends. And yes, it was by mistake, she didn’t want to hurt you.
Her siblings had been making fun of her for it, she usually had the perfect aim but every time you came by, she was a mess, and she hated it. She was a daughter of Ares; she shouldn’t be so affected by you and yet here she was hating herself for telling you the color of your shirt didn’t look good on you. 
Capture the Flag could’ve maybe been her way to talk with you and maybe tell you that she didn’t mean any of it but of course Chiron decided that the Aphrodite cabin should be with the Athena cabin. So now she could only look at you from afar, trying to memorize every single thing about you as if she hadn’t done that already a million times. 
The conch was blown, and everyone started to get into places, she was trying to get her mind back into the game, but it was difficult to make it focus on something else then you. She didn’t have any time to think about you any longer before one of the Hermes kids started attacking one of her siblings and she knew that if there was one of them others would follow.
She had to admit, secretly, that Annabeth always managed to find a creative way to beat the red team, even at twelve the girl could figure out a better battle strategy then Ares himself. But as she fights one of the Hephaestus kids, she sees little Lucy, a new addition to the Demeter cabin, trying to get close to the flag. She doesn’t think about it and throws her spear towards the girl, making sure that it doesn’t hurt her but scares her. The problem was that Clarisse hadn’t been able to watch who was surrounding Lucy and before she knows it, she heard a grown that she knew all too well. 
“Oh, shit,” she says before taking one of her daggers and finishing off the Hephaestus kid that ended on his ass as she pushed him aside to get to you. 
Another Demeter daughter tried to get to her, but she quickly disarmed her, her eyes still focused on you and getting to you.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she says as she finally gets to you, her knees hitting the ground as she looks over the cut on your leg. It didn’t seem too serious, but she just wasn’t sure, maybe an Apollo kid should look at it.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” your words come out a little sarcastic and Clarisse can’t help but blush at them. She knew that she wasn’t the best person in your eyes, after everything she had said and done.
“I really didn’t but we should get this checked out, we never know,” you seem to try and say something but before you can she throws your arm over her shoulder and starts helping you walking towards the med bay.
“Follow the plan!”, she yells at one of her siblings but the only thing she gets in return is a smirk and a wink, making her blush.
“You know it is only a cut, right? I will be fine,” you say after a moment, but she shakes her head in response.
“Better safe than sorry,” she tells you and the both of you don’t speak until she gets you on one of the beds inside. 
An Apollo kid arrives and starts looking over the cut, it does seem small, but Clarisse can’t help but hate herself for hurting you.
“There you go, normally you shouldn’t feel any pain, any longer,” the boy says, and Clarisse can’t help in relief, the boy looks confused at her worries but as she glares at him, he quickly leaves, leaving the both of you alone. She doesn’t know what to say, after all everything she has ever said to you wasn’t really kind and she had just hurt you with her spear.
“You know, I’m starting to think you have it out for me,” your teasing tone falls flat as you seem to see the distress in her eyes. 
“I’m sorry, for everything,” she whispers, and you seem worried as you look at her.
“I’m a bit of an idiot when it comes to feelings, and I seem to put my feet in my mouth whenever I’m talking to you. Probably because you make me so nervous,” she says, unable not to hide it any longer. Deep down she thinks that it’s better that you reject her then that you think she hates you.
“Wait, are you saying-”, she doesn’t let you finish, before blurting out the words herself.
“I like you, like a lot and I know I haven’t handled this in the right way but could you just give me a chance to prove to you that I’m much more than what I’ve said to you and done to you?”, she feels scared, maybe for the first time in her life, because she has never laid out her emotions and let anyone be able to hurt her. You look in shock, before a short laugh leaves your lips.
“I can’t believe Silena was right,” you whisper, and Clarisse feels confused for a moment.
“Wait, Silena?”, she says, trying to figure out what your half-sibling had to do with any of this.
“She told me that what you were doing these past few weeks, weren’t because you hated me but because you liked me. I didn’t believe her at first, I mean you’re a gorgeous girl, why would you go for me?”, you seem shy at the revelation and Clarisse thinks to herself that she should thank Silena but first she had to focus on you.
“You’re kidding me, right? You are the kindest girl in this camp and the way you handle a dagger is seriously impressive and downright attractive. It also doesn’t help that you are the most beautiful girl here, not only on the outside but also on the inside,” the words spill out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she feels breathless for a moment as she looks into your glassy eyes.
“Gods Clarisse, you couldn’t have told me that a few weeks ago? We wouldn’t have wasted so much time,” Clarisse feels unsure for a moment, like she doesn’t believe you are actually saying what she thinks you are saying.
“Wait, so?”
“I like you too Clarisse, I have for a long time now,” you tell her, and she can’t help but let out a sigh of relief at the words. 
“Thank the gods,” she whispers, and you laugh softly at her whisper, making her blush.
“Are you going to kiss me now? Or do I have to wait a few weeks before that?”, the smirk on your lips makes her blush but the teasing edge to it makes her smile turn into a smirk. She doesn’t give you any time to say anything more before cupping your cheek and bringing you into a soft kiss. 
It starts soft and sweet but as you brush your hands into her curls and grip her hair, she starts to deepen the kiss, enjoying the soft sounds you make. You bring her closer to you, the both of you nearly falling down on the bed and she lets her hand wander to your hips, gripping them tightly.
“If you want to make out, please do it in one of your cabins!”, the boy from earlier screams and the both of you jump apart, cheeks red and out of breath but you can’t stop giggling as you leave the med back, leaving the poor boy behind. 
“Where do you want to go?”, you ask, and Clarisse takes your hand and starts bringing you to the familiar path towards the cabins.
“What do you say of visiting the Ares cabin?”, she asks, and you quickly nod in agreement.
“Lead the way,” you tell her with a bright smile.
She had maybe acted like a bit of an idiot but in the end, she had gotten the girl, and she couldn’t be happier, having you in her arms and smiling at her with sparkling eyes. Later on, she would see that she wasn’t the worst one, Percy Jackson was even worse with his obliviousness.  
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moonstruckme · 10 months ago
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Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)
Thanks for requesting!
cw: panic attack
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops. 
“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.” 
“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.” 
Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.” 
You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?” 
“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.” 
You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka. 
As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket. 
“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished. 
“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” 
Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot. 
He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.” 
It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile. 
“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest. 
Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?” 
You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.” 
Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd. 
He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.” 
He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees. 
“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.” 
You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing. 
“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen. 
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” 
You shake your head. 
“Anything I can do?” 
You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?” 
“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes. 
“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water. 
“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.” 
Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material. 
Finally, you lift your head. 
“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage. 
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.” 
“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.” 
Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?” 
You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek. 
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly. 
“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.” 
Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now. 
You look at him interestedly. “Really?”
“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a film. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.” 
“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk. 
“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully. 
“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”
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thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 months ago
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Hello! Could I please request jealous as hell Donna but with a jealous as hell reader? Like, Donna hides her jealousy because she's scared reader wouldn't like it but then she finds out that reader actually loves it and finds it romantic and is equally jealous over Donna? And her feelings being validated just makes Donna incredibly happy/feral haha, they're a perfect match. Your writing is awesome bless you 🙏🏻
Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kindness, bless you too ;)! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))
Everyone has flaws
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Fluff, jealousy
Word count: 5,054
Summary: You know the way she is, but she doesn't know yours...
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))
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“Am disturbing you?” you asked in a soft voice as you settled into the brunette's lap.
Donna was working on her dolls, as always.
She looked at you with a tender smile and shook her head, stealing a kiss from you, one of those that said much more than any word.
Starting a relationship was always a difficult step, a series of tests and obstacles that had to be avoided or endured. It was already that way with anyone, but Donna Beneviento, Lord and doll maker, was not just anyone.
Of course, you didn’t regret having taken that step, of approaching that mysterious woman covered with a black veil, that woman who always caught your attention at mass, that woman who always seemed quiet, absent, but who, at the same time, seemed to look at you in the same way.
Asking was daring, the result was extraordinary. Just telling her that you admired her work, that you liked her dolls, was enough for the shy lady in black to invite you to her house, to a tea, and then to another, and another.
Talking about feelings was complicated, telling that sick and dangerous woman that, in some way, you were obsessed with her, was an even riskier move. But luck was on your side, and you left your old, boring life, to live your own love story, a romance you longed for every day, that you dreamed about every night. You couldn't ask for more from the life of a simple village girl.
It could be luck, or it could be that Donna was as crazy about you as you were about her. Coincidence, luck, or a romance from a novel, what you called it didn't matter, the most important thing was to feel it every day, with every kiss, with every word of love, with every caress.
“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, while she dressed a new doll. Donna laughed, focused on her work.
“Putting a new dress on this new friend…” she whispered, not losing her concentration, even with you on her lap, even with you by her side all day, she never lost her focus, well, almost.
“Ohh…” you murmured amused, earning another one of her tender smiles as she shook her head.
“What do you think?” she asked, showing off her new creation, moving you on her lap so you were more comfortable, watching your expressions.
You nodded in approval at that new toy, one that would surely brighten the life of one of the village children, just like when you were one of them.
“Not bad…” you whispered, pretending to observe every detail, every little detail that Donna never overlooked. “Who are you going to sell it to?”
Donna shrugged, picking up the doll again.
“Whoever wants it, I guess,” she said amused, putting the clothes back on that piece of porcelain. “The Duke takes care of that.”
“Taking his share, of course,” you joked, holding on tighter to her body, being held by her soft hands on your waist.
“Money doesn't worry me, (Y/N),” Donna said, with a disinterested tone. “I just like to do it, it reminds me of… better times.”
“Oh, times when you didn't live with a pretty village girl like me, huh?” you said mockingly, putting a finger on her nose, causing another soft laugh from the brunette.
“I didn't mean that, I…” she said nervously, misinterpreting your irony, as usual. You loved that innocence, that way of understanding everything that only Donna could have.
You interrupted her apologies with a kiss, and then another, until a sigh from her lips told you that the fear had passed, that she hadn't made a mistake. Laughter filled the sinister workshop, as did the sound of your rhythmic kisses, deeper and deeper, more and more… intense.
It could have been a perfect morning, one of many, but the screeching sound of the phone interrupted that intimate moment about to turn into a passionate one.
“How timely,” you said, rolling your eyes and getting off her lap, something Donna prevented by pulling you.
“Angie will take care of that, tesoro… Come back here,” she whispered tenderly, returning the sweet taste of her kisses to your lips.
“Mm, I'm not going to complain,” you hissed with a mischievous purr, letting the subtle rocking of your bodies become rhythmic, the temperature rising little by little.
“Hey!” a squeal interrupted again, an annoying, irritating one, Angie. “Again, Donna? How disgusting!”
“Angie…” you sighed annoyed as the lady in black elegantly lowered you to the floor, looking at the doll with curiosity.
“Che vuoli? Sono occupata,” the brunette said, fixing the hair you messed up with your caresses.
“One day we have to talk about how busy you are since that stupid girl lives with us. I feel neglected,” the doll protested, comically crossing her arms.
“The stupid girl is here, in case you hadn't noticed,” you said, with an ironic tone, the one you always used with the irreverent puppet.
“Of course I noticed, that's why I'm saying it. What's the point of insulting you if you're not there to hear it?”
You laughed with your eyes half closed.
“I guess that's a good point,” you sighed, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair.
“You can't handle my expert verbalization, loser,” the doll mocked again.
“Angie...” Donna sighed, fed up with the little fights between you and her partner, fights that, always, were just a joke. “Enough…”
“Leave her alone, she seems to be having fun,” you joked, kissing Donna on the cheek, only to elicit an angry growl from the doll.
“You Donna-stealer!” Angie protested. “Get away from her and pick up the phone,” she said, comically pushing you away as you tried to kiss her owner again. You raised your eyebrows.
“The phone? Oh, that’s right,” you said with a hand on your forehead, pretending not to remember.
“Who is it, Angie?” Donna asked confused by the doll’s words. The doll simply shrugged.
“A friend of the fool,” Angie explained, pointing at you unpleasantly.
“A friend?” Donna asked, with a slightly more serious look, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.
“That’s what he said, he wanted to talk to the fool,” Angie repeated. You snorted with a smile and walked out of the workshop, leaving a confused Donna behind you.
“Hello?” you asked as you picked up the phone, feeling a chill from being alone in that dark basement.
“Oh, um, yes, um, in life, and in death, we give glory…”
“Shut up, you commoner! How dare you to disturb me?” you said, darkening your voice, exaggeratedly faking the brunette's accent.
“I, I'm sorry, Lady, Lady Beneviento… I… I…” the boy said, frightened. You covered the phone, holding back your laughter at that practical joke.
“You will pay for your insolence,” you threatened, with that same dark voice. “You have disturbed me and I’m very angry. I’m pinching and shaking my hands because I’m angry,” you joked, making the gesture with your hand.
“No, no! Please, have, have mercy… Please…” your friend begged. Poor thing, it was time to enjoy your victory.
You laughed loudly through the phone and the boy sighed.
“(Y/N)…” he told you, relieved but annoyed by your usual jokes. “Don't do that, one day I'm going to have a heart attack.”
“I can't help it, it's very funny,” you said, still laughing, relaxing your breathing and speaking in a normal tone. “Do you want something?”
“I don't know, I'm thinking about it now… Damn, why did you have to get together with her? She's… Terrifying,” he protested, laughing amused.
“Because I love her, and believe me, she's not that scary,” you said in a calmer tone. “Irina in the morning produces more nightmares than poor Donna.”
“Poor Donna? You're hopeless,” the young man laughed.
“You know me,” you said, sighing, looking around. “What do you want? I'm quite busy right now.”
“Oh, sure, I was calling you because this afternoon we're going to the lake. Maybe you'd like to come,” he commented, to which you nodded interested.
“Mm, friends plan at the lake…” you said amused, pretending to think about it. “Sounds good, I’m in.”
“See you, (Y/N),” the boy said before you hung up the phone.
You walked back to the workshop, slowing down to listen to a curious conversation between Donna and her doll.
“But… what did he sound like?” the brunette asked, questioning poor Angie. “Was he really a friend?”
“He was a dumb boy, he almost peed himself when I yelled at him,” Angie said disinterestedly, pretending to whisper.
“A boy? Are you sure?” the lady asked, in a nervous tone.
“Either a boy, or the world champion of dark voices,” the doll joked. “Don't ask me any more questions, Donna, I've told you everything I know.”
“But, but…” the lady stammered.
“Shh, the silly girl is coming,” Angie whispered, just before you entered the workshop again.
“Ok, that's it…” you sighed with a smile, clapping your hands together. “Angie, go away.”
“Kick me out if you dare, you filthy commoner…” the doll said, comically moving her fists.
“Then stay,” you growled, returning to the brunette's lap, wrapping your hands around her neck. “Enjoy the views, you kind of doll with a voyeur kink.”
“Wait,” Donna interrupted, just when you were ready to continue with your kisses. “Who…? Who was it?”
You blinked, snorting, knowing that there would be no way to continue with your actions.
“A friend,” you said simply, getting off again and sitting next to her, playing with porcelain arms, scattered across the table.
“What friend?” she asked abruptly, staring at you, with a serious, worried face. It was strange to see her like that, she seemed angry.
“Well…” you sighed, speaking carefully, as the trembling of her hands betrayed her nervousness. “Dino, my friend… I think you already know him.”
“No, I don’t,” Donna whispered, looking at you intently, searching for something in your gaze, something you didn’t know what it was.
“No? Well, nevermind,” you said passively, playing with those scattered and discarded arms. “Hey, can you give me a hand?” you joked, extending a porcelain limb towards the lady, who didn’t flinch. “Hey, you usually find my nonsense funny.”
“What did that friend of yours want?” she asked, taking the arm out of your hands, nervously. “I don’t like people calling home.”
“Well, yeah, but… It’s the only way they have to contact me,” you said, with a more deflated tone, with the smile already gone from your face. “He just wanted to invite me to the lake this afternoon.”
“To the lake,” she said, blinking incredulously. “What for?”
“To kill huge monsters with a boat and a harpoon,” you said mockingly. “What do you think? To spend the afternoon, nothing you have to worry about, Don... Donna?”
The brunette trembled nervously, with a dark gleam in her eye, avoiding looking at you directly, as if she were controlling her own anger, an irrational one.
“This, this afternoon I wanted, I wanted... To spend it with you, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, thus evidencing her nervousness.
“I spend every afternoon with you, my love,” you said in a soft voice, taking one of her trembling hands, preventing her from clenching her fists too tightly.
“Donna, Donna, danger, danger...” Angie said, tugging at the lady's black dress. Donna seemed to be on the verge of losing control. “Remember what we talked about.”
“Hey, hey, honey, honey…” you said worriedly, getting up from the chair and grabbing her shoulders, studying her erratic expressions. “Donna, my love, calm down… Do you… Do you have a crisis?”
She shook her head, unable to seem sincere.
“Oh, hey, if that I go worries you, I'll call him right now and…” you said carefully, thinking that was what worrying her. She shook her head again, closing her eye to calm down.
“No, it doesn't worry me,” she sighed, being calmed by your soft caresses.
“Mm, you're such a bad liar,” you joked, lifting her chin. “Do you want a glass of water?”
Donna nodded, turning her face away from your caresses. You sighed with a sad look, sad for not controlling her problems, because the shadows of her mind were always lurking.
“That's it, slow down, don't choke,” you said, giving her a drink. She seemed a bit calmer, with Angie replacing your support.
“You, you should go with your friends, (Y/N), it's what a girl like you should do,” Donna whispered, with a calmer voice, with the trembling of her hands increasingly controlled.
“Are you sure? I don't mind staying. You know I love being with you, Donna,” you said softly, kissing her slowly. She, with an exaggerated smile, nodded, returning the kiss.
At least that crisis could be fixed soon.
Donna had an infinite number of virtues, but many flaws too. Her repressed possessiveness was often a cause for concern. You knew she was jealous, terribly jealous, but she always insisted on lying, on hiding her true feelings. Yes, it could be a flaw but, in fact, you didn’t see it as such.
That voracious need to always have you by her side, to growl or snort at anyone who came too close, was even exciting, romantic to you. But Donna was still Donna, she would never admit to feeling inhibited by the irrational fear of losing you. It was something she tried to hide with all her might.
Luckily for you, and unfortunately for her, Lady Beneviento was not skilled in human relationships. She didn’t know how to hide her feelings.
Actually, that was not a bad thing either. If it had been the other way, you would never have been able to kiss her, you would continue with your boring life as a villager.
The afternoon at the lake was funny, it really was. From time to time you liked to leave that dark mansion and remember you had friends, that you would always have them. When you returned home, you wondered what absurd strategy Donna had in mind, how she would attack, what way she would use to find out even the smallest detail of that outing with friends.
“Hi, hi…” you said amused, opening the door, finding an erratic Donna walking from side to side down the hall, waiting for you impatiently.
“(Y/N)… Finally,” she sighed, throwing herself into your arms, covering you with tireless kisses that you laughed at, trying to breathe. It was the expected reaction, after all.
“Hey, hey, come on…” you sighed, gently pushing her away. “I haven't been away for three days.”
“It seemed like it…” she said, looking at you sadly. “It's been an eternity for me …”
“How exaggerated,” you joked, kissing her quickly and entering the living room, letting yourself fall on the sofa.
Donna followed you, nervously playing with her hands, closely followed by the doll.
“Did… did you have a good time?” she asked, sitting next to you, surely dying to ask many things.
You nodded with a bright smile.
“Yes, it was good,” you said passively.
“Do you want, do you want to have something for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a fake smile, holding her sweaty hands so they wouldn't move on their own. “I've prepared your favorite food for you… Just in case you came home hungry…”
“Ufff, I'm not hungry at all, honey,” you said, rubbing your stomach comically. “Irina has prepared so many sandwiches that I think I don't have blood anymore, but bread crumbs,” you joked.
Donna felt disappointed by your answer, looking at you with a dark glint in her eye.
“Who is Irina?” she asked in a different tone, getting a little closer, studying your gestures.
“A friend, the baker's daughter, I think you know her,” you said casually. She hardened her gaze, nodding briefly.
“She's such a beautiful girl,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed a lament, something that made you frown.
“She's not bad, but she wears too much makeup,” you joked, wanting to be funny, failing again. Donna moved, looking away.
“I see…” she murmured, clearing her throat, starting to shake again.
“It's not that bad but… Those sandwiches… They're out of this world. You should stop by her store one day and…”
“Maybe I should,” she said with a proud tone, crossing her arms. “I think she'd look pretty with her insides out, don't you?”
You opened your eyes with a confused smile at that terrible threat, tilting your head in an exaggerated gesture of disgust.
“Donna, that was… Terrifying,” you whispered, amused and scared at the same time.
“Donna, Donna…” Angie interrupted, tugging at her dress again. “Not threats… You're going to scare her,” she whispered, failing in her attempt at being confident. You frowned.
“Do you like how she cooks?” Donna asked, with a calmer tone but the same resentment in her voice. “Does she cook better than me? Do you prefer to eat what she makes?”
“What? Donna…” you said sighing, rolling your eyes. No matter how much she tried to hide it, her jealousy always came to light. “No one cooks better than you.”
“That's what you say now,” she grumbled, pushing away the hand that wanted to caress her. “You know what? If you're going to be talking about how wonderful that cagna is, I'm going to bed.”
“I didn't say she's wonderful, I just…” you said confused, watching the lady get up from the couch, quickly followed by you. “Hey, Donna, wait, hey…”
“Lasciami stare,” she hissed, pulling your hand away from her wrist, growling angrily.
“Don't be jealous, come on…” you whispered with a tender smile, blinking smugly, your heart beating for that dark side you liked so much. “Come here, honey, let me show you how much I love you… Come on, please.”
“Vaffanculo,” she hissed again, turning and disappearing from your sight, leaving you glued to the floor.
“Wow…” you sighed, shaking your head. “What did she say to me?” you asked Angie, who shook her head with a wooden hand on her forehead.
“She said: Fuck you!” the doll said, running after its owner. “Donna, Donna, wait, wait! You're screwing it up again!”
You pointed at yourself, incredulous at such an inappropriate word and frowned.
You had to wait a while to go down to the bedroom as well, letting that jealousy you loved so much fade over time.
“Hey, Donna…” you whispered, joining her on the bed. She groaned, turning her back to you. “Are you feeling better?”
“I'm fine,” she whispered.
“Okay…” you said, rolling your eyes and snuggling up to her. “You have no reason to be jealous, my love.”
“What?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I'm not jealous.”
“Yeah, sure you’re not,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Donna…”
“I just, I just care about you,” she corrected, turning on the light and sitting up in bed. “What if stupida had poisoned the sandwiches?”
“What are you talking about?” you asked amused. “Why would she do that?”
Donna shrugged, with a proud pose.
“Being with me puts you in danger, (Y/N)… Don't forget that,” she whispered, cupping your face in her hands, gently pulling it to kiss you.
“Oh, so that was it, huh?” you asked amused, with a mocking smile. “It wasn't jealousy.”
“It wasn’t,” she answered dryly.
“It wasn’t,” you repeated. “Nothing to do with jealousy.”
“Niente”
“Okay… Okay… Good night, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek, laughing internally at her fear of acknowledging her true concerns.
At least the next day was a normal one, well, almost normal. It was the day of the monthly visit to the castle, one that didn't make you particularly happy, but that you would have to endure so Donna wouldn't worry about leaving you alone at home. You didn't want any more absurd arguments, no matter how romantic their intentions were.
“Tea?” the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with her always kind, but impossibly seductive smile.
“Sure, thank you,” you said, sighing, wanting to end this little meeting as soon as possible. You didn't know why Donna insisted on going every month. She barely spoke.
“Have you heard what happened in the village?” the lady in white asked, serving some steaming tea to her sister. Donna shook her head. “It seems that someone has been destroying the bakery tonight. Apparently that poor girl had a panic attack.”
You turned your head towards Donna, widening your eyes accusingly. The lady in black moved into a defensive position.
“That way she'll learn…” Angie whispered, sitting next to you.
“What do you mean, dear?” Alcina asked, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.
“Donna…” you whispered, nudging the brunette.
“It wasn't me,” she murmured behind her black veil, in a childishly comical way.
“Yeah, sure,” you said amused.
“Did I miss something, ladies?” Alcina asked, laughing amused.
“No,” you, Donna, and Angie answered in unison.
An unpleasant buzzing sound reached your ears. Oh, of course, they couldn't be missing.
Dimitrescu's three daughters materialized with sinister laughter, to Angie's delight.
“Donna, Donna, did you bring it?” one of them asked, Bela, leaning on the couch shamelessly, close, too close to Donna. You shifted uncomfortably.
The lady in black nodded, handing her a bag with a black cape inside, which the young vampire showed off with a gasp of approval.
“It's great!” she squealed, admiring her new possession. You frowned. Unintentionally, your hands began to tremble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Bela shouted again, throwing herself at the brunette and kissing her effusively on the cheek, through her black veil.
You began to feel uncomfortable at this unexpected affection. Normally no one got so close to Donna, everyone feared her. You should have assumed that this was not the case with the Dimitrescu family, but seeing such exaggerated displays of affection for yourself stirred your feelings a bit.
“Bela, leave her alone, don't overwhelm her,” Alcina said, gesturing towards her daughter, who smiled pleased, hugging Donna from behind and rubbing her head against hers.
“I'm just grateful,” the young woman protested. “You are the best, Donna, the best,” she said, shaking her again, kissing her for the last time, dislodging her veil.
You, kindly, wanting Dimitrescu to move away, reached out your hand to arrange the black cloth properly. But Bela stepped forward again, placing the doll maker's veil with a concentrated look, something that only you could do, that only you had the right to do.
Your fists clenched in your dress unconsciously and your gaze darkened. The shadow of jealousy had not yet appeared to torment you, you thought it never would.
“Mm, done,” the vampire whispered, finally moving away from your girlfriend, an occasion that you took advantage of to get a little closer to Donna and kiss her unexpectedly where her lips were, also on the black fabric.
“Oh, I see so much affection,” Alcina joked, laughing amused by your attitude. Donna stammered something incomprehensible, nervous about that stolen and indiscreet kiss.
“(Y/N)…” she whispered scared, embarrassed by such a strange act.
“Hey, you, whatever your name is!” Bela said, pointing at you unpleasantly.
“My name is (Y/N),” you growled. You should know what they were like, you knew them, but on that occasion, an irrational hatred ran through your veins.
“Whatever,” she said, pulling your hand away from the couch. You, seeing it as an attempt to separate you from Donna, pulled away from her grip, sitting back down with your arms crossed.
“Don't you want to play? The maids have taught us a new game,” another of the sisters, Daniela said.
You shook your head, leaning on Donna's shoulder, taking her arm so she would surround your body.
“I'm fine here, thank you.”
It was a somewhat strange afternoon. In your mind you could only see Bela Dimitrescu's gestures of affection, Donna's passivity towards them. She spoke to you as you walked through the forest, but you didn't listen to her, you could only hear the vampire's mocking laughter.
“What do you want for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, closing the door and getting rid of the veil, with an innocent smile.
“I don't know,” you said with a brusque, spiteful tone, one that Donna didn't seem to notice. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I asked first,” she said with a sweet voice, gently grabbing your waist, kissing you affectionately among soft and shy laughs.
“Release me,” you said dryly, pushing those tender kisses away from your face, pushing her by the shoulders. “Do you feel like cuddles?”
Donna looked at you surprised, with her eye wide open due to your rejection.
“Well, I…” she murmured confused, with an embarrassed smile.
“What a coincidence, huh? We come back from the castle and you get tender…” you said in a cold tone, shaking your head.
She remained thoughtful, looking for a reason for your attitude, one that she couldn't find, of course.
“I, I want to make love, (Y/N)…” she said in a discreet whisper, trying not to let those words reach Angie's ears.
“Oh, do you want to do it now? Right now?” you asked with a mocking smile, narrowing your eyes.
“Yes, well…” she said, shaking her head, confused. “If, if you don't want it, I'll…”
“I don't want it,” you snapped, huffing. “I'm hungry.”
“Fi, fine…” she said, looking at you cautiously, searching for something strange in your gaze, something that didn't fit with your normal behavior. “Tell, tell me, what do you want me to do for you?”
“I don't know…” you murmured, controlling your anger, that sea of ​​jealousy that flooded your rational thought. “Something that fits well with white wine.”
“White wine?” Donna asked, searching for an idea in her mind. “I think, I think we don't have any. But red wine will do.”
“Of course, of course... You love red wine, don't you?” you asked, furious again, erratic. She shook her head, taking a few steps back.
“Yes, I, I like it,” she answered fearfully.
“Red, red as blood, right?” you mocked.
“Te, tesoro, what's going on? Have I done something wrong?” she asked, searching for your trembling hand, calming it with hers, with a pleading look.
“I don't know, have you?” you asked, sighing, controlling your anger, that jealousy you felt. “Really, Donna? A new cloak for the fly girl?”
“Cosa?” she asked surprised. “What, what are you talking about?”
“Bela Dimitrescu, that's what I'm talking about,” you confessed, turning your back on her. “Why do you have to make her a new cloak? Can't one of her hundreds of maids make it for her?”
“Um, well, she, she likes the clothes I make,” Donna explained, running a hand over the back of her neck, not being able to help but feel somewhat proud.
“She likes a lot of things about you…” you hissed, turning on your heels, with a crazy look. “Giving you kisses, for example.”
“Oh, well, you know they are that effusive,” she said with an innocent smile, approaching cautiously.
“And you love it, don't you?” you asked ironically, leaning threateningly over her. The lady in black looked at her doll, who shrugged, unable to explain your attitude.
“No, no, I… Amore mio, what's wrong?” she asked, confused and a  bit intimidated by your unusual attitude.
“Look, I thought I wouldn't have to tell you this but... I'm sorry, I'm very jealous,” you finally said, looking away. “I'm jealous to death, I'm dying of jealousy. I can't stand it.”
“Y-You? Jealous?” the lady in black asked, surprised, frowning. “But, but...”
“What?” you snapped, pointing at Donna with your finger, making her back off again. “Of course, I can't be jealous, right? You can make a poor girl hallucinate because she cooks well, but I can't be jealous...”
“But, but...” the doll maker murmured, backing away while you chased her around the living room in a comical way.
“Yes, I am, I'm terribly jealous, I can't stand anyone laying a finger on what's mine, do you understand? Nobody can do that,” you said, poking the brunette with a finger on her chest.
“I, I didn't mean to...” she explained, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist with a nervous smile. “You, you don't have to worry, I'm only yours, you know that.”
“Oh, why does that sound familiar...” you murmured amused. “Don't be confused, Donna, and stop pretending, I know you're jealous even of the air I breathe, and do you know why I know? Because I feel the same.”
“I don't...” she said, closing her eye, controlling her breathing. “Okay, okay, yes, I... I can't stand the idea that someone, someone...”
“Mm,” you murmured, putting your hands on either side of your hips. “Well, at least you admit it.”
“I didn't want to admit it! That, that's not right, I... I didn't want to... Scare you,” Donna said, nervous, confused and hurt by having to admit her biggest flaw, one that you didn't even consider as such.
“The only thing that scares me, Donna...” you said with the softest voice, moved by those words, by the romanticism they evoked for you, the smile they formed on your face. “... Is that you might find someone better than me.”
“I fear the same,” the lady whispered, approaching you, bringing her hands to your waist again, brushing her lips with yours. “I'm terrified, tesoro... I don't want to lose you.”
“I don't want to lose you either,” you whispered, melting into her in a passionate, wild, even furious kiss. “I think the Duke have some insecticides, doesn't he?”
Donna laughed, shaking her head, kissing your neck mockingly.
“There's nothing you should worry about…” she whispered in your ear, caressing your cheek. “You're my first, and my only love. I love you, I love you so much…”
“Donna,” you said blushing, with a silly smile, hugging her to end that stupid argument. “You're very tempting, you know?”
“Do you really think so?” she asked amused, playing with your hands.
You nodded, kissing her again.
“Cheesy fools” Angie said, interrupting, as always.
“Hey, Angie,” you said amused, without letting the brunette go. “Look, we're just as jealous, what do you think?”
“Yes, yes, you make a great couple… You're just as crazy…”
92 notes · View notes
animefreak1145 · 15 days ago
Text
Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Previous Intel
Eighth Intel | Before
Description:
The world ended for Bell after Cuba.
The whole world followed soon after.
Zombies AU | Drabble Format
Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Toxic Relationship, Obsession, Menticide
Words: 4k (What's a drabble again?)
▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚
 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 
Day After Ukraine Mission
16:07 | February 28th, 1981
CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 
“You do that a lot.”
You start from what you were staring at, the codes that are so tricky and you feel so close. The intel from what you have in your hands adding a piece to the puzzle that you’re enamored with—the complexities satisfying a carnal part of you that you can’t name. Your head turns to find Lazar’s curious yet amused smile, close to the television they used sometimes for the news not at your usual spot at the too small desk with the too large computer; at the center table instead is where you chose to haunt. 
“What?” you reply dumbly, too out of your element to say a more snarky reply. The transition from focused on the task to this interruption from the man that is more of an Eema than an Abba due to how hearty he looks and feels and making sure everyone felt the same by also stuffing their face. 
“That.” You were met with Lazar’s finger in your face. You resisted the urge to stare cross eyed and instead gave him a more inquisitive look, eyes searching. Which only humored him more, releasing a chuckle. “You have quite an intimidating stare.”
You push the hand away, scoffing,
“What? At my work? Isn’t that like everyone else?”
Lazar hummed, his eyes glittering at a joke you can’t understand.
“No. You have that type of stare that will freeze lesser men. Or get slapped by someone who thinks you’re looking for a fight. Or get you put into an asylum. Only, when you decode, you have an insane smile on your face. It’d be creepy if we didn’t know you.”
“Uh huh.” You dismissed, eyes glancing at the medical office. “You should work better on your compliments if you want Park to have a drink with you.”
If Park wasn’t in the medical office room along with Adler, you’re sure Lazar would throw his old cup noodle at you. Alas, he only gave you a dry “Ha. Ha.” with a neutral expression but still didn’t leave. He wants an answer. 
You turn to him fully, elbows leaning back against the desk, petulant.
“I doubt I smile like how you describe…” Lazar snorted while you frowned at him, before shifting your gaze back to your papers. “I don’t know. I just…love puzzles. They’re fun to solve.”
“Is that what makes you stare so intently?” Lazar leaned against the television, the stand slightly creaking at the movement, his intrigue seeming sincere. Another question hidden, two subjects being asked for one answer. A wall. “The thrill?”
Is that what love is to you?
You tapped at the papers, biting your lip in thought. 
“Maybe a part…I just have this need to figure things out. To open it up—to find the numbers, the letters, the riddles. In an order that is random but it’s not. It’s just a trick. A shadow on the wall. A reason for each piece. Each hint. Every piece of the puzzle has its purpose. It’s reason for being.” You didn’t notice when you started smiling, the topic consuming you like books and pictures do. But you just kept going as you grabbed your pen and fiddled with it, miming writing numbers or letters. “Like Sims with mechanics, I think. Or you with bomb wiring. You find the hardy wires or broken pieces—and I untangle it all. I even love how difficult it could be if I find a cipher intellectual. It’s fun.”
“Sounds maddening,” Lazar replied simply, brow raising. “And painful. Maybe even obsessive.”
You shrug, staring deeply at your own pen, tone far away. As if you were speaking about another topic than this. Something other. Like a secret.
“That’s love, isn’t it? Pain and obsession?”
“Your books tell you that? Or you come to that conclusion yourself?” You pressed your lips, silent. Only glancing at Lazar(are you easy to read?) who only smiled gently before switching gears and letting out a booming laugh. “With that description of love—you very much implied Adler is in love with our friendly neighborhood Perseus.”
Your jaw dropped, a gasp being released as you sat up rigid in your chair. A defense for Adler and a denial ready only for a startling guffaw to join in.
“What the shit are you talking about, Lazar?” Woods comes from his previous spot practicing with the boxing bag, Mason side by side with his own amused gaze as they come close to the center table. Woods snorted as he leaned back against the table near you instead of taking a proper seat. “Can you imagine our own Robert Redford switching spit with a commie? Ha!”
“Is that what you’re doing?” Mason quips to his friend with a nudge while Woods expression quickly changed to offended with no heat as he pushes Mason back with a disbelieving snort. “What? Sorry I’m airing out your fantasies.”
It was strange watching them. The easy back and forth quips and teases. Lazar felt like a warm hearth and home cooked meals compared to Mason’s steady kindness of a worn animal despite its past and Woods…
You briefly think of the night prior, how charged he felt out in the field. Not eager for it yet…willing to take everything and anything out his way. But his friendly taunts and words to you too. The arcade. The room where you got the intel and the knowledge he had of you, knowing you would’ve loved to play around more with the tech and computers there if the both of you had time and not world ending doom.
You weren’t impressed by his skills. Skills are to be expected in this line of work. People can call you cocky all they want.
But how personable he is? That was different.
It was unexpected.
(Why did it feel like he’s more close to you than Sims right now? Why has everyone been so disconnected from you? Even—blue fire for eyes hidden by the shaded wall, wheat dancing in the wind, artful cracks across a canvas—)
A hand waved in front of your face, your eyes broken from its lost look as you blinked back to the present.
“Hello? Earth to Bell?” Woods was still next to you and you couldn’t help but notice that Mason moved away with Lazar to where Lazar’s station is. Still talking with friendly smiles and easy atmosphere. You blinked again before turning towards Woods, who looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern. “What happened there? Did you even listen to a word I said?”
You didn’t. You’ve been doing this a lot. Getting lost in your head. Your brain foggy and mind distant. Not as quick as you usually are. You thankfully haven’t had this happen in the field. You hope it stays that way.
Instead of giving a straight answer, your lips only rose in a dry smile.
“Sorry, was thinking just how you got the guts to punch Hudson of all people.”
Woods huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, brushing your shoulders as he did. 
“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”
“No,” your smile turns up a tad, more mischief. “Takes some balls instead. Can’t have balls without a prick nearby or there’ll be trouble.”
Woods made a choked sound, as he stared at you dumbly before slapping the table and releasing a loud boom of a laugh. You wonder how he does that. So loud. So free. 
“You got more spunk than I thought, Bell. Guess you need it to even get the idea to escape in a Ruskie tank.”
You huff out your nose, but your chest still lightened at the praise. Your smile coming easy now and tension completely fallen away. You hid it though as you turned back to your work, picking up a stray picture of the Ukraine base you took.
“Did it for you. I figured you would want to run some commie’s over.”
“Oh, I’ve dreamed of it. I would say top five of my favorite wet dreams.”
You couldn’t help it. You snorted, it bursted through your chest and it didn’t stop, only turned to a laugh. You put a hand over your mouth to try to contain it but Woods satisfied expression only made you laugh more.
“Why—why did you say that?!” You try to collect yourself but you couldn’t. Not when Woods waggled his brows as if in answer. “Pfft—should I even ask what’s top one?”
Woods shrugged. 
“No can do. Gotta protect your innocence somewhere. My mind is a crazy place. Don’t wanna scare you off.” You snort again, shaking your head at him and tried to get back to work. Woods didn’t move as you stared around at the different pictures you took with Intel. “Say, where’s the random pics you took of me?”
“Don’t worry, Woods. I didn’t take out a camera with you over the mannequin—“ You stopped when he shook your shoulder, a warning gaze that only made you bite back another smile and only glare at him with no heat as you pushed his hand off. “Calm down,” you say quietly. “I haven’t said anything. Scout’s Honor.” You raise a hand as if to show.
Woods rose a brow dubiously.
“Were you even a Girl Scout?”
“Doubtful. Looks like you just gotta hope I don’t open my mouth about it.”
Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 
“Do you normally take pics of everything and everyone? Even on missions like that?”
“I like it. I like taking pictures. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You did take a few of him before you took a picture of the base. It was nice lightning and he looked good. “I can give you the pictures I took to you, if you want. They were good shots.”
“I suppose I can add it to my scrapbook.” Woods joked before shaking his head, his eyes turning more curious as the conversation went on. Gaze more assessing as he stared down at you. “Nah, it’s fine.  Don’t mind you keeping them. After I take a look of course. I guess I’m just asking…what’s the obsession with the camera? Film is precious right?” At your shoulder tensing, you starting to get defensive, he quickly changed tactics as he rose a hand in calming manner. “I ain’t judging. Just curious. Couldn’t help but overhear Park talk to you that Adler doesn’t like wasting resources. Or some shit like that. I don’t get the big deal. But it must be if you keep doing it despite them having a stick up their asses about some film of all things.”
Your brows pinched together, gazing intently at Woods eyes. You don’t see a reprimand. Or exasperation. Or even amused exasperation, like you were just being cute while doing something disobedient—like a pet jumping at their owners even as they tell them no with an amused smile. (“Always the one who never listens. Huh, Bell? Didn’t I tell you before about the pictures?”) He’s being sincere in his interest. It was his expression that did it.
You looked away, eyes taking in the safehouse around them. 
“Ever feel like a ghost in your own body?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Woods answered roughly. You nodded next to you, him taking that as permission that he can finally properly sit next to you. You didn’t mind thighs or shoulders brushing. Comrades now. Both of you throwing your lives on the line. Getting shot  by a common enemy brings people together no other way can. 
“Well, the coma did a number on me. I don’t remember much. I can’t put a story to scars on my body. My life, my memories—it’s only Vietnam.”
“Fucked up thing to remember. That whole war was a shit show,” Woods provided. “You must’ve been young.”
You only hummed, distant. Eyes straying in the direction of the red room. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, ears falsely hearing shots and napalm strikes. You shuddered but hid it by clenching your fists on the table, eyes on your jumbled words of your work. 
“Yeah…Hue City was just the start of everything going downhill…But I guess my point is…” You don’t know how to properly say it, you can’t find the English word for this. Esurient for memories erased. The feeling of not quite fitting in everyone’s circle, even with Sims. Monachopsis. (Are you even here at all? It’s like they stare past you.) “Life is memories. I don’t have any. What’s a person if not memories? So…I don’t feel…like it. A person.” You shrug casually, mutely. Hand wandering to a picture, thumbing it. “Ghosts don’t seem to remember stuff besides a deep motive. That’s what others believe. But…with pictures…pictures are for memories. If I take pictures, I’m actually taking memories. And if take enough memories…” You struggled once more how to explain but Woods was sharp despite his looks.
“You’ll be a person again.” Your eyes darted towards him, giving him a minute nod as he seemed to consider your words with a tilt of his head. The silence between the two of you wasn’t stifling, just…there.
You felt like something was released from you. 
Unlocked. 
The key was just for someone to ask. 
“Hey, listen—“ you turned at the soft touch to your shoulder, and you noticed Woods looked uncomfortable about the atmosphere you created. Not used to sharing open emotions like this no doubt but still had what appeared like care in his eyes. “You should really talk to Mason, he—“
Your ears honed in on the medical office opening, your eyes quick to follow as your head swiveled. Everything turned silent as your eyes settled upon the body you can recognize even in the thickest of jungles or deepest of wet rice paddies. And as your eyes settled, your thoughts of ruminating toska and the sense of lacuna dissipated.
You were so busy trying to catch what Adler was saying to Park beside him, you temporarily forgotten Woods next to you. You could hear him talking. Some form of advise. 
You turned back to your work and absently nodded with a quick smile to match at him. Your lips moved to say thanks. You think you did.
You didn’t see Woods throw another look of concern towards you, of suspicion. Turning something over his head.
You forced your ears to stretch, as if with force you can have super hearing. With brute force you can have the arcane man with valleys upon his visage, with liquid nectar that bounces with voluminous silk, voice of gravel that leads to the path of victory and makes your mind hazy. 
You still had a pen in your hand, tight as you looked down with a frown at the papers. Your leg beginning to bounce under the table. Impatient. Restless. Athirst.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” Adler called out(Beckoned, Signaled, Enticed—trinket waved like a treat. Your nepenthe.) clearly, more loudly than how he was talking to Park. You didn’t turn your head as he walked out the door near the garage door, too obvious. But you did sneak a look when he exited, stealing gaze right when you saw his back before the door closed.
Except it didn’t. A small rock held it ajar.
A secret.
“What the hell?” Woods was bewildered, staring after Adler while you tried to hide the fact. Waiting a beat. Or two. Your leg bounced under the table, growing more insistent. “Doesn’t he get his fix in here anyways?”
You heard Lazar answer for Woods, something about Adler needing a change of scenery sometimes. You can see in your peripheral his glance. You ignored it as you stood up to head back to your computer desk.
“I’m taking a break too,” you say, quickly picking a book from your pile in the corner after a brief deliberation.
“Uh…” Woods face would’ve made you laugh from how scrunched up it was as he stared as you quickly fixed your work papers back in the center table, book under your arm. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Like fuckin’ a second ago?”
“No,” you answer, organizing the pictures and quickly scanning them before you do so. “Lazar interrupted me from my work. And then you did. It was an interruption. Not a break.”
“You sure turned prickly,” Woods said in answer.
You pause, seeing Woods was somehow offended. He just doesn’t get it.
“Says the cactus,” you quip with a quick smile, twitching up more at Woods huff out his nose. “I…like taking my break the same time as Adler,” You decide to answer the question in his eyes. He did listen. “It’s what we’ve always done. I read. He smokes. And right back to work we go. It works better this way.”
You didn’t wait for his reply. 
You didn’t even bother to see if he was about to.
You have the book in your hand, and you have your tether(Your eyes looks for the sun tanned gold even though it should blind you, but you never cared for your wellbeing. Protect the quiet monster like a demon enraged. Demon for monster. Monster for demon. The coin. You keep it in your pocket, whelve it—the whispered confession—the gravity of your ustulation and agastopia can burn through your pockets and skin all it wish. You keep it in. Like the pain killers Adler gave you earlier for your migraine after their meeting with Hudson about Ukraine.) outside. 
You open the door and without looking, you went to the left side of the door that’s by some unused pallets. Sitting on them and opening your book to your last point, as if you were ignoring him. (How could you?) He was smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the door. You always left of it, him always right. (▞ He’s always right. ▞ He ▙ never ▞ lies. Not to ▖ ▞ ▗ you.)
It was silent. Only the turning of your pages as you focused on reading, and the occasional exhale you hear now and then if you strain your ears. A puff of grey smoke above the two as your audience.
You don’t mind the quiet moments. You take what you can get. The two of you have too long a history for you to be uncomfortable at silence. Or needing something more. 
You don’t.
(The secret coin in your pocket burns, and you try not to flinch nor whine. You must stay sated, ▚ демон ▚ ▛ ▖ ▖.) 
A shot went through the front of your skull, your hand darting up as it seemed to go to the back of your head, a hiss to your lips. You almost dropping the book with your other hand.
“Another migraine?” He was close. You opened your eyes you didn’t realize were closed as you were hunched over your knees, spotting his shoes. 
You only offered a small nod before closing your eyes again, jaw tight. 
“I don’t…” you stop, speaking more quietly to help with the pounding. The sunlight was too much already, you don’t want to add your own voice to your own misery. “Dont know why it’s getting worse. Is this…normal?”
“It can be.” He replied simply, to the point. “Here. Take this.”
You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head to spot he took out some more medicine from his leather jacket, holding it out to the pills in the palm of his hand. At the sight, your stomach curdled.
You felt yourself pale and you don’t know why.
Adler must’ve noticed your hesitation. Tilting his head and lips twitching to a frown around his cigarette. He lifted a hand, taking one deep inhale, embers subtly lighting his face before he threw it off. He exhaled out his nose, smoke flowing smoothly. 
Your throat tightened as you stared. But not in want. It felt more heavy. More heady. Your mouth open more in a wince than for anything else.
“You know this will help. We gotta make sure you’re in shape for this, Bell.” You bowed your head in shame, book now beside you on the pallet as you clenched your hands on your knees. You heard him sigh. And now you see him, closer—he’s kneeling in front of you. One knee down, the other having his elbow leaning against it. “I don’t have to explain to you the stakes currently. You know how serious this is since you and Woods found out Hudson’s dirty little secret about Perseus and the nuke he has. You know it. We can’t fuck around anymore.”
You hunched your shoulders, as if that can hide you from your guilt. Because you spotted his glance towards your book. You can guess what else he’s hinting.
Stay a ghost or try to be a person? A part of your mind asked. You tried to not let your heart crack of no more pictures.
“I know…” you say, eyes down and to the side. Yet… “It’s just…it wasn’t that long ago you gave me them…I don’t—I mean—“ Your tongue is tied again. Like always near him. You didn’t mean to sound accusing or hinting. Adler is trained for medical issues on the field. You tried to take a breath. “I just don’t want to be a burden with all this. Slow you guys down. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You did a tight squeeze of your knees, practically white knuckled grip, a mix of uncaring at your honesty and hating yourself for it.
You felt your chin be lifted up, Adler’s forefinger doing so you can be face to face. He assessed you seriously.
“You won’t, kid.” He’s so close. Breath to your face. So calm too. Your anchor. He believes in you. If you or him leaned just an inch or two forward—he took his hand away from your face before bringing his palm with the medicine again. “Taking these will help. I’ll watch over you. Just like the good ‘ol days.” He tilted his head, a quirk of the mouth up. And you think he couldn’t be more charming. 
You ignored your past nerves, quickly taking the medicine in a dry swallow, gloved hands brushing his bare ones(Damn it all.). 
He nodded at you, the barest thing of it before he stood up. Glancing at your book again with pressed lips before facing you once more with a raised brow.
“Oscar Wilde? Here I thought you only read Dostoevsky and Nietzsche.”
“It’s a collection of some of his poem’s. And a break from existentialism and nihilism is good for the mind. But you’ve always been more of a stoic,” you shoot him a teasing look, an attempt to get your bravado back. “Our very own Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.”
Adler did a small huff out his nose.
“Just don’t start bowing.” Adler did a quick motion of his to the door. “Come on. Back to work, Tolstoy.”
You nod, marking where you were in the book before following Adler back in, your hold on the book tight. Who knows when you’ll get to read again.
Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 
(It doesn’t matter. Adler made the choice for you.)
You tell yourself it’s fine. You instead let yourself be a book for Adler—willing to be read. You imagine how he would do it, a book of you in his hands. Read through your pages, open up your spine and let his fingers run through your creases—how easily can he finish you? How many times could he, until you’re worn and wrinkled from use? Will his touch trace the abuse of a loved book?
The place where he put his finger on your chin burns.
The page you marked on the page reads: “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."
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A/N: Bell is a SIMP. Poor girl. The best way to tell if Bell is in love, is if she suddenly starts thinking in poetry. Bell stares intensely you say? Bell loves intensely too.
I’m also confusing myself with Dark!Adler and Soft!Adler. But again he’s both so 🤷‍♀️ Man so toxic and a red flag, he’s even confusing the author.
Also, I’m planning to write really quickly to finish up For Whom the Bell Tolls. Didn’t want to but I really want to go ahead and write for BO6. Then again, that fic was NEVER supposed to be that long or longer. Sorry if I speed through some stuff, I just want to finish it and move on then torture you all further.
Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin
You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.
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ijwrsmff · 2 months ago
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I would like to request a Riddle Rosehearts x Reader where reader really struggles with studying so he has to come up with a “reward” system :3 - 🥀
Hi hi!!! My first TWST fic! Riddle is good boy, I used to think he was kind of annoying. But that was before I really got much into the story and now I completely agree, that he is precious baby boy. He got some issues, but who doesn't? XD
Here's a cute lil fic for the boy! Enjoy <3
Word: 1,552
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“I’m sorry, housewarden…” You mumbled, looking at the ground ashamed. It was supposed to be a simple test, but you had nearly failed it. Riddle wasn’t one to tolerate lower grades, and wanted to be the best house in the school. At least, that’s what he pretended to want more than anything. He really just wanted everyone to have the chance to succeed. You knew that, and it only made you feel worse when he began scolding you over the grade. 
He sighed, and rubbed his face as if to hide the irritation he was feeling. “This is your first semester here, you need to be able to keep up with your studies if you want to succeed. I won’t stand by when one of my housemates is fumbling on a simple test.” He glared at you, but the glare softened as your face only looked ashamed. There was a twinge of pain in his heart at the look, and he took a step closer. 
“Look, if you’re struggling with concepts, you can come to me or your housemates. There are plenty of students here who have struggled with those topics, but we’re here to help each other.” He straightened his back slightly, and tried to give you a reassuring smile but it seemed almost forced. Riddle almost left it at that, but something was nagging at him. 
“We’ve talked numerous times, you’re exceptionally smart…I don’t see how these concepts are difficult for you.” He turned to look at you fully, his expression curious as he tried to figure it out without you even answering. It obviously didn’t work, but his mind had run through numerous scenarios in the short amount of time it took you to speak up in response to his question. 
You felt a bit embarrassed, and a small blush crept onto your cheeks from his gaze. You shrunk in on yourself slightly, and mumbled a small, “I’m…I’m really bad at studying. I just can’t seem to focus on it for very long at all…” Tears were nearly falling down your face, ashamed to admit that…focusing on things you didn’t like was straight up impossible most days. You hated the fact that you’d made your house warden disappointed in you, and it made you feel like a failure. 
Riddle made a surprised gasp when he saw your tears start to fall, and took a step closer to you, reaching out hesitantly. “H-Hey! It’s alright! We can…we can work on it together, okay?” His voice was panicked, and it seemed like he thought he was the reason you were crying. He’d continue to beat himself up over that, but for now he needed to comfort you somehow. He put a hesitant hand on your shoulder and said softly, “We’ll figure it out. I think I know how to help. Give me some time, I’ll be back.” 
With that, he rushed out of the room and you heard his door slam shut behind him. Your jaw dropped, and you wondered what he had planned. But he just left you here to cry! That’s so rude! Though…he did say he would try to help. You hadn't exactly had an overwhelming amount of conversations with him, so you weren’t sure what he intended to do. You wouldn’t even find out until two days later, since Riddle seemed to be talking to everyone in the door aside from you. 
It kind of hurt, how he said he would help, but numerous other students you considered friends mentioned Riddle talking to them about you. If he had something to say to you, why wouldn’t he say it to your face? Even your friends were keeping the secret on what he talked about to them. You tried to pry the answers out of them, but they all said variations of the same thing. 
“I can’t afford to have another ‘off with your head’”
It was disheartening to say the least, but tonight when you were in the common room attempting to study, Riddle approached you directly. He looked determined, and a little smug, as if he’d solved all the world’s problems. “I’ve devised a plan.” He spoke, and sat down next to you with his phone in his hand. It confused you immensely, considering he rarely used the thing. 
“A…plan…?” You tilted your head and waited for him to continue, and he pulled out a binder the size of three full length textbooks. It had your face turn pale and your jaw dropped, terrified of the thought of having to memorize all of that. Though Riddle saw your look and gave a small chuckle. 
“These are my notes, not yours. But they’ll help.” He opened his phone and showed you the game he’d installed. It was…one of your favorites of all time. You’d play it when you got too stressed over studying, and it gave you mixed feelings. For one, it was relaxing, but the counterargument being that you were wasting your time playing it when you should be studying. 
“Since when did you start playing that? I love that game!” You gasped, and he opened the game. He wasn’t near the level you were at, but you’d been playing for several months. It seemed like he’d been playing for a couple…that or he’s using someone else’s account. You looked at his gamer ID, and bio and concluded this was really Riddle’s account. That or someone is copying him exceptionally. 
“Two days ago.” He spoke, nonchalantly. “I got it for you.” He blushed slightly when he said that, and cleared his throat to continue explaining. “I’ve taken notes on every possibility, enemy, and outcome when it comes to the game, and devised a strategy to get through every story and level in a proficient manner while minimizing time spent.” He looked proud of himself and stared at you until you understood his meanings fully…even though it didn’t work.
“How…is that going to help me study?” You were impressed by his efforts, and you didn’t even know it was possible to have so many materials and weapons in such a short period of time. To say you were confused would be an understatement, and you found yourself mirroring his blush. “You…did all this to help me?” You mumbled, looking at his binder full of supposedly everything you would need in the game. 
He cleared his throat to hide his blush, and tried to look composed as he continued. “It will help because your friends mentioned you enjoy rewards for getting things accomplished. I have three hours of free time within the day, and I expect to see your results and papers on the questions you need help with or need corrected.” He took a deep breath, and spoke with determination in his eyes. “I will be giving you the materials you need based on how you score. And for each time slot around my freetime you work, I will spend my free hour time slot playing your favorite game with you.” 
It blew your mind how much time and effort he had put into his plan…it made you tear up again. No one has ever been that thoughtful for you and your needs like he is right now. You had friends, yes, but Riddle was a busy person. He even said he only had three hours of free time in his day, and he was willing to spend it with you. You sniffled as tears started to fall as he gasped and looked petrified. 
“I-I made you cry again! Is the plan insufficient? I thought it would be enough, I-” He reached out to you to try to comfort you, and you held his hand and smiled through your tears. You effectively stopped his panicked ramble, and spoke with sweetness in your voice despite the shakiness. 
“The plan is perfect. I would have even accepted holding hands as a reward. It’s…really just any time and anything I get to do with you.” You blushed, but closed your eyes from how wide you were smiling at him. The second your eyes closed, you felt his lips on yours. It made you open your eyes in shock to see his eyes closed with a blush that covered his face. The moment seemed to stop, and you both put tenderness into the action, not wanting that moment to end. 
He pulled away, and tried to scowl, but it really looked more like an adorable pout. “I suppose I could do that again for your rewards. But only if you get your work done!” He scoffed, and looked away from you when you looked at him with nothing but enthusiasm and adoration. 
“Okay! I’d…I’d really like that.” 
From then on, you would always study together. He had classes at different times than you did, but all of the free time you both had was spent with each other. Apparently, Riddle had fallen for you the moment you teared up from his lecturing you. He mentioned how you had a form of sensitivity and tenderness he hadn’t seen in a long time. His feelings solidified when he saw you crying, and made a point to never let you get sad enough to cry again. He’d make sure no one hurt you, and even if they did…
He’d be right by your side. 
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keuwibloom · 8 months ago
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It wasn’t easy finding a quiet spot in Kamikou, especially during lunch period.
You didn’t expect your usual place in the garden to be occupied, but there were two upperclassmen (and what looked like… A robot?) already there by the time you arrived. You immediately turned around and left before they could see you, their loud voices echoing from behind as you went searching for another spot.
Eventually, you managed to find a little area behind one of the buildings to settle in. There weren't any chairs or tables, but you sat on the ground anyway and leaned against the wall. You took a deep breath and sighed. Finding this went on longer than you thought it would – there were only about 15 minutes left before the next class started.
‘Just enough time to figure out this chorus.’ You think, opening the notebook you carried to where you had slipped in a pencil as a page marker. Tapping the pencil on the paper, you hum a few simple melodies out loud, occasionally scribbling notes on the pages. With any luck, you can make something coherent enough for your friend to use in the next song.
You’re so focused with what you're doing that you didn’t notice the window above your head sliding open, a surprised sound leaving you as you suddenly heard someone call out.
“Excuse me, is someone there?” You turned and looked up to see another student glancing around before finally noticing you. His two-toned hair immediately caught your attention, one side much lighter than the other. He looked kind of familiar – someone from your year maybe?
You cleared your throat as he continued to stare at you expectantly. “Um, hi?” You began, not really knowing what to say in this situation. His face remained passively blank, a small tilt of his head to the side the only thing showing his confusion. Honestly, you felt just about the same the longer you two stared at each other in awkward silence.
Finally, he seemed to have something else to say. “Were you the one humming just now?”
You blinked. That… Wasn’t really what you were expecting him to mention first. Was your humming really that loud? You hesitated for a moment before deciding to answer honestly.
“Yeah, that was me.” It’s only when you glanced into the room behind him that you realized how he might have heard you. Right, you forgot that the library was in this building. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was being too loud.”
“It’s alright, you weren’t.” He replied, his tone even and his expression unchanging. He paused for a few seconds before continuing, “I don’t usually see anyone hanging around back here.” You saw his eyes look around the area, empty aside from a few unkempt bushes and trees.
You shrugged, turning fully and adjusting your legs into a more comfortable sitting position. “I like how peaceful it is. It's difficult to find a nice, quiet place like this when everyone's out of class.” You’d argue that you did have another nice, quiet place in mind, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful there at the moment.
He nodded, seemingly understanding your point. “Well, if you need somewhere like that again, the library is usually quiet at this time.” He made a small gesture with his hand towards the room behind him. Your mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “Isn’t the library supposed to always be quiet anyways?” You can’t help but ask.
“Ah. You’re not wrong.” He seemed to realize, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” You quickly added, smiling more genuinely to show your gratitude. He gave a small smile back.
Before either of you could say anything else, you heard the school bell ring in the distance. He looked in the direction of the sound as you stood up and dusted off your clothes, tucking your notebook under your arm.
“Looks like lunch is over. Well, I’m heading off.” He turned back towards you as you spoke, nodding. “Likewise. It was nice meeting you..?” He trailed off, and you realized that neither of you had introduced yourselves yet.
You gave him another amused half-smile and told him your name.
“Aoyagi Toya.” He replied. Toya raised his arm for a little wave as he began sliding the window shut. “Until next time.” He said before fully closing it, the small smile from earlier visible on his face even as he turned away.
You headed back as well. It’s not until halfway through class that you remembered you never did finish writing that chorus. ‘Whoops. Looks like the song will have to wait.’
You softly tapped your pen on the desk, lost in thought. It’s not often you get distracted enough to not finish a task like that. You try not to beat yourself up too hard over it though.
Besides, it’s not like you’ll make a habit of running into Toya like that again.
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First full fic I've written in years, and it's another x reader--
Anyways, I hope you guys like this! I know it's a bit different from what I usually post, but I've been working on my writing a lot and I'm hoping to post more of it every now and then!
Don't worry though, more art (project sekai or otherwise) hopefully coming soon
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middle-earth-mythopoeia · 2 years ago
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I just read a post in the LOTR tag titled “You don’t hate Amazon you hate the Silmarillion,” and then it went on to say this:
Here’s my point though, almost every (valid) critique I see of this show [Rings of Power] isn’t a problem with decisions the creative team made, it’s an inherent problem in any adaptation of the Silmarillion (and associated works but I’m just going to refer to the Silmarillion for brevity’s sake). The Silmarillion, as full and detailed as it is, is a shit story.
First things first. If you say things like this, it’s you who hates the Silmarillion. That last sentence tells me everything I need to know. Frankly, that one line invalidates every other thing this person says, but I’m going to explain why they’re wrong anyway. I’m making my own post about it because I don’t want to give the original post more notes.
Other than calling the Silmarillion shit, the main point of the post seems to be that the Silmarillion is unadaptable, therefore it should be understood that the creative team behind ROP had to use some leeway in translating the story to screen. The post finishes by saying:
Basically my point is that before you go and say “well this is weird or I didn’t like this choice” think about what the creative team had to create to make an interesting show out of a story not designed to be told. Sometimes they didn’t make the perfect decision, but if you were tasked with adapting something unadaptable do you think you would do it perfectly?
It’s true that adapting the stories of the Silmarillion is a difficult task, especially when it comes to the Second Age, which is probably the least detailed part of the histories. It’s true that many characters and events are sketched out and that many details (not to mention dialogue) would need to be invented for any screen adaptation to work. It’s also true that no adaptation can satisfy everyone. But this in no way excuses the sloppy way in which ROP adapted the source material.
If the ROP creative team wanted to write a story that was solely focused on their original characters but set in Middle-earth during the Second Age, they could have done that. But when they brought in characters like Galadriel and Isildur and Sauron and totally changed the plot, that’s where they messed up—not to mention compressing the timeline.
I personally do not believe the Silmarillion is unadaptable. If you believe it is unadaptable, that’s fine, we can agree to disagree. But it’s very odd to argue that any bad decision the ROP creative team made is the fault of the source material.
No. It’s their fault for being bad writers. And for biting off more than they can chew. And for having the hubris to say they want to write “the novel Tolkien never wrote.”
if you were tasked with adapting something unadaptable do you think you would do it perfectly?
To tell you the truth, I think I’d do a hell of a lot better than ROP. And I would start by actually understanding the source material, which the ROP creative team did not do. But if I ultimately decided that the story of the Second Age was unfilmable... then I would simply not film it.
As a final point, I think you will find that people who love the Silmarillion do not consider it a “shit story.”
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katakosmos · 3 months ago
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hello primcess talk to me about rosier twins/macaulay twins parallel. and also the incest. lots and lots of incest.
you sent me this ask so casually, i imploded and wrote an essay about it. love you 🤲
so, i would like to start with pandora, because for me she is the reincarnation of camilla. i must admit that pandora started to take shape in my head after reading the secret history, so they have many similarities. what immediately struck me about camilla was her mysteriousness; because we know nothing about her except for what richard tells us, and he focuses particularly on her physical appearance.
"Being the only female in what was basically a boys’ club, must have been difficult for her. Miraculously, she didn’t compensate by becoming hard or quarrelsome. She was still a girl, a slight lovely girl who lay in bed and ate chocolates, a girl whose hair smelled like hyacinth, and whose scarves fluttered jauntily in the breeze. But strange and marvellous as she was, a wisp of silk in a forest of black wool, she was not the fragile creature one would have her seem. In many ways she was as cool and competent as Henry; tough minded, and solitary in her habits, and in many ways as aloof."
one aspect that camilla definitely has in common with pandora is her being apparently sweet, angelic and delicate. even if camilla is more often described as almost masculine (because she's very similar to her brother) it's clear that both she and those around her are well aware of her femininity. she was not the fragile creature one would have her seem. her being a woman masks her true nature (which is what, in the end, makes her part of that group, a boy's club); but, while camilla's femininity is perceived as natural and spontaneous, the femininity that pandora transmits is enormously forced.
she uses her beauty and the desire she inspires in those around her with great subtlety and cruelty. not only does her femininity change the perception others have of her and hide her true identity: she wants to appear the opposite of what she actually is. she has very long hair, she only wears skirts and dresses (no one has ever seen her in pants, except evan), she also wears makeup, smiles often and acts all sweet. and yet, she has a strong personality and a very sharp mind, even if it isn't at all evident.
another difference is that camilla seems to simply exist in the group, and she has a secondary/background role (fuck you richard). instead it's impossible to ignore the presence of pandora in the group formed by her, regulus, barty and evan. she's the center of it, the most important element: the boys would give their life for her without thinking twice. she's pampered and protected by everyone, even if the only one who completely falls into her trap is barty (a perfect richard) who sees her only as a beautiful girl to have the worst fantasies about.
her central role depends heavily on evan. he's objectively the most mysterious and interesting person in the group (a sort of henry) and, even if he voluntarily prefers to close himself off and leave the role of protagonists to his friends, he builds the group dynamics.
i can't imagine evan completely as charles, but one thing they definitely have in common is violence and the desire for obsessive control and possession over their twin. charles's anger develops as a result of bunny's murder, throughout the book he's described as mostly calm. i've already talked about it, but for me evan has been a victim of a constant need for violence all his life, and he suffocates it until he simply explodes. however, if he finds himself in stressful situations like charles, he's also unmanageable. he controls his anger as he controls every aspect of his life, including his sister (and, being so close, pandora is often a victim of his mood swings).
(speaking of mood swings, i realize i often portray evan as a horrible person, but when he's not going crazy he's honestly kind and good, especially with pandora. he loves her with all his heart, and this deep feeling often causes uncontrollable emotions like desire and possession. but caring for pandora is the most natural thing for him. like charles: he hurts camilla several times, but when she gets hurt at the lake he's so scared that he can't even help her ← thanks beth for reminding me of this).
now, one thing that certainly shines through in the incestuous relationship of the macaulay twins is coercion. it seems to us, and it's probably the truth, that camilla is forced by charles to indulge his desires. instead, i believe there was a long period in the lives of the rosier twins where they both started an incestuous relationship voluntarily. evan and pandora grew up in an almost unapproachable environment and, during their teen years, they always detached themselves from everyone. they knew romantic love, but there was no one else they could pour it on other than their own twin.
i've talked about this a bit here, but i like to think that pandora and evan hated the idea of growing up and changing. and this was a start of their twincest, the inability to accept a more detached and healthy type of relationship.
charles doesn't seem to care about the unhealthy nature of his relationship with his sister, and it's something he shares with evan. while camilla realizes it right away, pandora takes a while but there's a moment when she too realizes she wants a different life. and both of them, even if they start to please their brothers under constraint, don't suffer so much because they're forced, but because they're ashamed of it. they are ashamed of being trapped in an incestuous relationship: they are not scared of their siblings' behavior, but they are madly afraid that the people around them might know what is really going on.
despite the love they feel for their twins, both camilla and pandora eventually decide to take their lives into their own hands and run away, without looking back. and they both manage to get what they want, even if it's fleeting, temporary.
in conclusion, this is so confusing (and it's more of a comparison than a parallel). i could say so much more if only i had a copy of this book, because fun fact: when i read the secret history, i bought it and annotated it as a birthday present for one of my friends, so i don't own a single copy of that book.
if anyone reading this has anything to say or add, please share it with me 😣😣
btw: you don't know what i would do to know the story from camilla's point of view...
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effloradox · 1 year ago
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cornelia street; robert m. renfield.
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track nine of LOVER
pairing: robert renfield x f!reader
synopsis: your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your wrist
word count: 3.2k
The modern world was confusing. Renfield had watched the world change rapidly around him during his century as Dracula’s familiar and the way humans had changed never failed to surprise him. It had made life more difficult for him, Dracula’s need for good quality blood was harder to fulfil in a world where the influence of the church was increasingly slipping and sour blood was more common than ever before. His master didn’t understand that, of course, and just berated his familiar for doing such a poor job in attending to his needs.
Finding DRAAG had been a good twist of fate. New Orleans wasn’t quite what he’d expected, slightly more lawless than he’d initially assumed, but it had plenty of derelict buildings that he could move Dracula between if they were to be discovered and people went missing frequently enough that taking victims to his master wasn't going to alert too much suspicion. The group had become something of a lifeline for him after a few weeks in the city. He’d followed Bob inside after thinking he would make a good victim, and five weeks later he was still coming to the group. Everyone was so desperately sad, and a part of Renfield had identified with their stories and that kept him coming back.
It was especially hard listening to the people who had realised they were codependent with their soulmate. To watch them lament that this was meant to be the perfect person for them and they had fallen into destructive patterns with them had hit a sore spot somewhere deep inside Renfield. He’d never met his soulmate, his marriage to his late wife had been one of convenience rather than based on a soul bond, and it didn’t mean he loved her any less but his heart had always ached that he’d probably never meet his soulmate. Him and his master had moved so frequently that he was sure his soulmate had passed him by like ships in the night, or day really since he and his master did all their travelling by night.
If his master had ever noticed him absentmindedly tracing his words, he had never commented on it. His master didn’t have any words, Renfield had checked one time when he’d been tending to his needs, and he was sure if he ever brought up being lonely his master would begin another speech about how he didn’t need a soulmate, that they had each other and that humans were beneath them. The lectures had been focused solely on bringing his master back to full power recently but they had been happening more frequently, like tonight for instance. He’d been ready to go to the DRAAG meeting when Dracula had started another lecture about having to consume sour blood again and wanting Renfield to find him some nuns to eat.
He’d arrived late to this meeting, nervously babbling out an apology to Mark and the others as he took a seat in the back circle. It had taken him a few minutes to realise that there was a new face sitting with the group. She was sitting next to Carol, and the two seemed to know each other based on how they’d moved their chairs to be closer together. They were whispering quietly to each other, not quite loud enough to be audible but enough that he knew they were doing so. He tried not to stare, but there was something about Carol’s friend that had entranced him. He began to trace his words again, a nervous habit he’d developed over the years, only stopping when he saw Mark take notice. He waited for Lawrence to finish his share before looking to Renfield.
“Renfield, do you want to share today?”
“No, I’m good I think.” Mark sighed lightly at the denial, clearly having expected it.
“You’ve been coming here for a few weeks now, and you don’t have to say anything, but you’re always welcome to share. This is a safe space for you to speak your truth.”
“I suppose so.” Mark and the rest of the group were quiet for a moment, clearly waiting for another round of pushback from Renfield but when he gave none, Mark proceeded in a gentle tone.
“Is it your soulmate?”
“No, I haven't actually met them yet.” There were a few sympathetic noises from various people sitting in the circle. If they felt bad that a man who looked to be in his thirties hadn’t met his soulmate, he didn’t want to think about how they’d react if they knew he was almost one hundred years old and hadn’t met them. They’d probably refer him for a psychological evaluation if he said that part out loud though; whilst he didn’t exactly take pride in his appearance, Dracula’s ability to stop his body ageing meant he hadn’t physically aged for almost as long as he’d known the Count.
“And do you think the person you’re in a codependent relationship with is taking advantage of that?”
“Honestly? No. My boss he, uh, he’s blank. I don’t think he particularly minds but that also means that he doesn’t care about me and finding my soulmate.” Being blank wasn’t particularly common, and it always invoked a specific sympathy from everyone who found out. The idea that you were a person without another half in a society where that was the norm always tended to put people on edge. Renfield had always been somewhat relieved that Dracula didn’t have a soulmate, the idea of having another vampire to tend to the needs of and transport around seemed like much more hassle than he cared to entertain. One Lord of Darkness was more than enough, thank you very much.
“That must be hard for him, but that doesn't mean that you have to put off your chances of happiness just because he’s blank. Has he ever taken any interest or even acknowledged that you haven’t met your soulmate yet?”
“I don’t think it’s even occurred to him to be honest. I think if anything he’s probably glad, I think it would be fair to say that meeting my soulmate may influence my ability to do my job the way he expects me to.”
“So what would happen, hypothetically speaking, if you were to seek out your soulmate?” The question drew only a blank in Renfield’s mind, and he noticed the flicker of pity that passed over Mark’s face when he struggled to imagine a world where he prioritised himself rather than his boss.
“What do you mean?”
“If you went off and tried to find your soulmate, what would happen?”
“I couldn’t leave my boss for that long.”
“Well, why not?”
“He has this medical condition you see, it means he can’t go out in the daytime, or much at all. If I’m not there to help him, well it doesn’t bear thinking about really.”
“Oh so you’re like a carer then?” Renfield wasn’t sure who spoke up, but it occurred to him that his relationship with his master would sound very strange if he disagreed with the interjection.
“I suppose you could put it like that.”
“I understand that it’s more complex when there are medical needs involved but listen to me Renfield, you cannot put your entire life on hold for someone else. You are important, you have value, and you are more than what your boss seems to see you as.” Renfield shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wringing his hands together. It was much easier attending the meetings when the spotlight wasn’t on him. He stayed quiet in the hopes that someone would interrupt his share but no one came to his rescue and he was left scrambling for something to say next.
“I guess it’s just hard because if he doesn’t have me then there’s no one else who could take care of him. After working for him for so long it wouldn’t feel right to just leave him.” Mark seemed to notice that he was getting more uncomfortable and mercifully decided to open the discussion back to the rest of the group by talking about the sense of duty that came with being codependent before announcing that the meeting was over. Renfield stayed in his seat as most of the group migrated towards the exit. A few people were still inside when he finally stood and went over to the refreshment table, his throat aching for a glass of water. He made quick work of the glass and stood for a moment, cursing himself for speaking ill of his master. He was so in his head that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until the person spoke.
“I like what you said about your boss.” The world seemed to shift on his axis as he heard the soft voice behind him speak. He turned around and saw the shy smile you were sporting, completely unaware that you had just turned his world upside down in a single sentence. You'd spoken his words.
His words had always confused him slightly, and that had only grown when he's become Dracula's familiar. He'd never been able to imagine a scenario when he'd be freely talking to people about his master, but this made perfect sense in a weird way. He realised that he hadn't spoken yet, and he probably looked like a deer in the headlights and it took him a few beats to come up with a response.
“It’s you.” He watched as it dawned on you what had just occurred between the two of you. The smile that grew on your face made you look truly radiant, like an angel sent directly from above. It felt like he was being saved and being damned all at once and any and all trepidation he’s had about this moment vanished from his mind as he took you in.
“Hey.” The word is soft, you’re clearly still trying to process what’s just happened after all, but it feels like it echoes in his mind, a pleasant change from the way his master’s voice booms through his skull when he deems it fit to communicate like that.
“Hello.”
“I’m, uh, I’m (Y/N).” You gesture to the name sticker on your jacket, and he smiles when he sees a small smiley face drawn next to your name.
“Robert. Robert Montague Renfield.” He holds out a hand to you, trying to hide the slight tremor, and when you take his hand it feels like a shock running through his body. It’s electrifying and relaxing all at once and it’s perfect. You’re perfect.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s funny really, of all the places in the world I never expected it to be at a codependency anonymous group.” It occurred to Renfield that you hadn’t spoken at all during the meeting and he truly hopes you’re not here because of some awful person you can’t escape from. All his anxieties are put to rest when you reply though.
“I’m not codependent actually, I’m just here to support Carol. But, if you’d like help with your situation, I’d be more than happy to listen. Or if not, we can just grab a coffee, get to know each other?”
“I’d like that very much.” You beam at him before turning to the refreshment table and picking up one of the small business cards that had been scattered amongst the snacks. You grab the pen that lay next to the name tags and write something on the back of the card, handing it to him.
“I need to take Carol home but you should call me. We can go grab that coffee.”
“I will. Yes, definitely.” He watched as you turned to face Carol and the two of you made your way to the exit. You turned back to face him, giving him a small wave as you walked out into the cool night, and Renfield was left alone in the gymnasium. It was only then that it occurred to him that he had no plans for people to bring to Dracula to satisfy him tonight. He cursed himself lightly under his breath as he walked outside and began the walk back to the hospital. The closer he got the more anxious he became, and it was only when he passed the church that his luck seemed to change. He spotted a woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, leaning against the wall and looking to be in rather bad shape. He’d been cautious upon approaching her in case she was with someone but when she drunkenly slurred out that her friends had ditched her, her fate was sealed. It hadn’t been difficult to overpower her, the chloroform in his pocket had done its job as quickly as ever and, with the aid of a bug, it had been easy to pull her into a bridal hold and walk the rest of the way back to the hospital.
Luck seems to remain on his side as he makes it the entire walk without spotting a single patrolling police car, and once he got to the hospital it was easy for him to drop the body onto one of the gurneys he always left near the entrance and then push that the rest of the way. He made it through the hospital without hearing his master until finally reaching the room his master spent most of his time residing in.
“Renfield! Where have you been? Where’s my dinner?”
“Right here, master!” He pushes the unconscious body off the gurney to the ground just shy of the makeshift throne his master was currently sitting in. Dracula didn’t look at all pleased by the offering, slowly rising to his feet. His recovery from their run-in with the vampire hunters had been a slow one, but his skin had finally started to grow back and, whilst he was revolting to look at, it meant he was nearly fully healed again.
“Is it a nun?”
“Um, well, no, but she was hanging around outside a church when I found her?” The answer seemed to satisfy his master enough for the vampire to start feeding from the body. It had been fairly easy for Renfield to become accustomed to the blood and gore that came with being a familiar but the sound of Dracula ravenously feeding on some soon-to-be corpse never failed to make him queasy.
“Not as sour as most of the other trash you’ve brought me. Bring me more like this one Renfield.”
“Yes master.” Renfield went about his usual tasks whilst his master fed; moving the depleted corpses to the pile he’d made a few rooms down from the main chamber of the hospital and trying to keep himself occupied until he could move the fresh body. It didn’t take long for Dracula to drain her fully, but his master’s mood seemed to shift when Renfield approached.
“You smell different, Renfield.”
“I’m sorry?” He watched as Dracula rose to his feet, shifting rapidly around him and coming to a stop just in front of him after a moment. Renfield’s eyes dropped to the floor automatically as he waited for his master to speak to him.
“You met your soulmate.” It wasn’t a question, Renfield realised, but an observation. It was all he could do to nod, questioning how on Earth his master could possibly know he’d met his soulmate from his smell.
“How did you-?”
“It changes the blood of a man, meeting his soulmate. Sweetens the blood, makes it sing.” Dracula’s voice lilted slightly at the mere idea and Renfield felt his heart drop. His chance of having a normal relationship with his soulmate seemed to be going out the window with every word his master spoke.
“Oh.”
“I do hope that this won’t change your fealty, Renfield. I would hate to have to…remove any distractions that come your way.” The hand on the back of his neck makes Renfield flinch, and he listens as Dracula chuckles deeply whilst tracing his carotid artery with one of his nails. He never presses deep enough to draw blood, but the warning is heavy in the air. He hates the way he quivers under his master's touch but after almost a century of knowing just how lethal Dracula’s clawed nails are, the reaction is uncontrollable.
“I, uh, of course not, master.”
“Good.” As Dracula slowly shuffled away from him, Renfield was left with the impression that this wasn’t the end of the discussion. He doesn’t move until Dracula tells him to leave, and it’s with a sigh of relief that he realises that the conversation is indeed over for now. He walks out of the main chamber, leaning against one of the walls after a brisk walk, and slides down until he’s resting on the floor. He’s not sure how long he spends sitting on the floor trying to quiet his mind and failing. The only thing that pulls him back to reality is when he slides his hand into one of his suit pockets and feels the business card with your number on it. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, tracing his fingers over your number on the business card in his other hand. He types your number in, toying with the idea of what he should send to you. He types multiple messages before trying something simpler and more to the point.
Hello, (Y/N). It’s Robert Renfield. Would you still be up for grabbing that coffee?
He presses send before he has time to debate whether it’s a good first message to his soulmate, and he locks his phone, letting it flop down onto his chest. He lets out a sigh, and closes his eyes. He only opens them when he feels his phone vibrate, and he looks down to see if you’ve responded.
Hi Robert! I’d love to, how does 9am sound?
The fact you responded so quickly makes him smile slightly, and it almost makes him forget about his master’s threat. Almost.
That sounds perfect.
Awesome, see you outside the gym? I know a great coffee shop nearby :)
I look forward to seeing you.
He shuts his phone off after sending the final message, letting his eyes close once again. He doesn’t have a bed here, hasn’t for a long time now, and he feels the edges of sleep start to close in on him. His last thought before falling asleep is that he needs to come up with a cover story for when you inevitably ask him about everything he shared at the codependency group because there’s no way you’ll believe that he’s a vampire’s familiar.
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echo-bleu · 1 year ago
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shine still brighter (1/?)
On AO3. Deaf!Artanis bullet-point fic.
Here is yet another fic that I started thinking it would be 2k tops (I have almost 5k and haven't even started the main plot). It started as a mix of this art prompt I did, and a post I can't find now that went something like "it's a good thing that Galadriel hated Fëanor's gut, because if they had pooled resources they would totally have taken over the world." And I wanted to write Fëanor being a passionate linguist. The AO3 link has a Quenya name primer if you're confused.
(cw for mentions of difficult birth and post-partum, and mentions of ableism)
Artanis is born in pain and fear.
Her spirit is nearly as bright as Fëanáro’s. She’ll grow as strong and smart and stubborn as her half-uncle, but her birth also takes almost as much of her mother’s vital energy.
Eärwen doesn’t die. But she doesn’t recover very well, either. She’s very, very tired, too tired to really connect to her daughter for a long while.
Everyone is comparing it to Míriel and Fëanáro, and nobody is happy about that, Fëanáro least of all. Eärwen isn’t anything like Míriel. She shouldn’t get to have the spotlight like that.
Finwë is understandably focused on taking care of his youngest son and granddaughter for a while, which just makes it worse.
Arafinwë is very scared for Eärwen and overprotective of Artanis. Her brothers are already enamoured of her but also a little traumatized by the whole thing.
The baby is very cute and very awake, grabbing everything within reach in her tiny hands and pulling. Especially if it’s bright or moving.
Because of all the complications and worry over Eärwen, no one realizes that there’s something distinctly different about her.
Finwë is the one who sees it first.
Mostly because everyone else is dazzled by the strength of her fëa, but Finwë raised Fëanáro and he knows how to look past that.
Artanis has many of the same traits as Fëanáro that everyone worried about when he was a baby: she won’t look people in the eye, she sometimes screams when they pick her up, and sometimes screams even louder when they put her down (and her screams are the loudest since Makalaurë). She’s extremely picky about eating, and it doesn’t help that her mother doesn’t have the energy to feed her.
Those are all fine, Finwë knows how to handle that. Half of Fëanáro’s sons were and are like that too, and his other granddaughter.
No, the thing he notices is that singing entirely fails at settling her.
Fëanáro had a hard time falling asleep, but he would always settle with his favourite lullabies.
Artanis doesn’t even seem to hear them.
Actually, Artanis doesn’t seem to hear. Anything.
By that point she’s old enough that she should be starting to speak, but the only sounds she produces are wordless screams and laughter.
No music at all. Even the most tone-deaf of elflings know how to carry a tune before they learn how to speak.
Deafness is pretty much unheard of for the Calaquendi. There are some hard-of-hearing elves, but they mostly get on fine with speaking louder.
(The Moriquendi have Deaf elves. There have always been Deaf elves, but there’s something about Valinor’s perfection… Well, it’s partly that there haven’t been that many births in Valinor yet, and most of the disabled elves didn’t make it to Valinor for various reasons, from dying on the way to being scared that they weren’t welcome (the Valar were maybe not as clear as they should have been and some things got lost in translation). And some of that misunderstanding carried over into elves taking babies who are a little too different in Lórien to be “healed”. They’re never heard of again. So the number of visibly disabled elves in Tirion is very small.)
(Estë and Irmo take great care of the disabled elves and they find their own community together, but they don’t quite understand why the Calaquendi just leave babies on their doorstep. Some of them need medical care, yes, but many don’t.)
(Fëanáro would probably have ended up in Lórien if he hadn’t been the Crown Prince. And he knows it. The one time someone suggested that some of his sons might benefit from Estë’s help, he threw a fit so violent that no one ever spoke of it again.)
Survivor’s bias (the elves who made it through the Great Journey were the strongest one, and thus we, as a people, are strong and cannot be anything else) led to a good deal of ableism. Finwë has rather vague memories of disabled elves he knew growing up, but mostly as “they weren’t strong enough to make it”.
He’s already certain that Artanis, like Fëanáro, is absolutely strong enough to make it through anything. Also Míriel’s death after she made it with him through the Great Journey rather skewed his own perspective on that.
All this to say that he has some cognitive dissonance there, but his reaction to discovering Artanis’s deafness is more of less the same as his reaction to Fëanáro’s autism:
“Hey, Arafinwë, so your daughter can’t hear, but the good news is that she’s really smart and strong and also a princess, so all we have to do is teach her to be great at everything so people won’t notice.”
Arafinwë, blinking: “What.”
He’s not at all sure about this, but he’s also very much in over his head wrangling four kids on his own and caring for his ailing wife (Maitimo babysits when he can, and Findaráto is old enough to take care of himself most of the time, but it’s still a lot).
He agrees wholeheartedly that he won’t take his daughter to Lórien, because he’s very much not over being terrified of having to visit his wife’s body there and he’s not losing his daughter.
But it’s also a lot to take in and he doesn’t know what the right decision is for Artanis.
He’s also not entirely certain that trusting his father with it is the best idea.
Eärwen is not really well enough to help, and Olwë is definitely not helping by making remarks about Artanis’s strangeness every time he sees her, and maybe it would do her good to seek out help, and also Arafinwë should move their whole family to Alqualondë, can’t you see how much good it would do to Eärwen?
Ñolofinwë has enough work trying to wrangle his absolute terror of a daughter, who is barely more than a toddler and has taken a liking to Tyelkormo of all people.
Fëanáro won’t talk to him. Not that Arafinwë values his opinion. He’s not Ñolo, forever chasing after their half-brother who hates them. He’s not.
Findis thinks he should take Artanis straight to Lórien because a baby taking so much energy from its mother is not natural, and just look at how Fëanáro turned out, is that what you want your daughter to be like? (Arafinwë thinks that it’s unfair. Fëanáro’s a little intense, sure, and his dislike is hard to bear, but he’s not that bad.)
Lalwen really hates babies.
He is not close to his sisters-in-law.
As the youngest son of the King, he doesn’t really have close friends.
Maitimo is incredibly good with Artanis, but he’s barely an adult, he definitely can’t help with this.
Findaráto unconditionally adores his sister and is very distressed about it all.
“But Atar, why does it matter if she can’t hear? She’s perfect as she is!”
“How are we going to communicate with her, though?”
Findaráto takes his hand and leads him to little Artanis, who is playing with blocks on the floor.
“Hey,” he tells her, sitting down across from her. “Are you hungry?” Saying that, he pats his belly, and then mimics eating with his fingers.
Artanis claps her hands and nods, squealing. She puts her fingers in her mouth, twice, and then holds up her arms to be picked up.
“See?” Findaráto says, turning back to his father. “It’s easy.”
These words stay with Arafinwë. Artanis doesn’t go to Lórien, Eärwen recovers little by little, and it is, indeed, easy enough to find out when Artanis is hungry or sleepy or wants something with simple signs.
Osanwë with little children doesn’t really work past sharing basic emotions, it’s not really communicative.
Finwë valiantly tries to get her to speak. Arafinwë isn’t actually sure if she can’t or if she just won’t.
He feels like trying to speak when you can’t hear yourself, and you don’t even know what words sound like, is probably very hard work. Playing with blocks in understandably a lot more fun.
Findaráto is Artanis’s favourite person by far, and they’ve become good at communicating without words, though no one else can understand them when they do. They’re using a mix of basic hand signs and facial expressions. She follows him everywhere, and he lets her ride on his back when she’s tired.
Maitimo, who has five brothers and a father who regularly have silent days (Makalaurë has never had a silent day in his life), is also very good at figuring out what she wants and needs, though they don’t really communicate beyond that.
But Artanis is growing up, and increasingly frustrated at not being able to communicate her thoughts. Her system with Findaráto is good for simple things, but she’s having complex thoughts now.
She’s also old enough to know that she’s different, and to know that everyone else is talking over her.
She’s not going to take that affront lying down.
She turns into a terror.
Not an Írissë-style terror, running away and climbing trees and biting people. No, she’s an Artanis terror. A very focused terror.
She rejects anybody who doesn’t understand her. And since she has no real mean of expressing herself in an understandable way, that’s everybody.
She’s figured out that screaming very loudly in someone’s ear is a good way of getting them to go away.
The Arafinwëans start wearing earplugs while at home.
It gives them a new appreciation of Artanis’s plight, when they try to speak to each other over her screams and can’t understand anything, but it’s also very tiring.
Artanis, in her child’s logic, rejects Findaráto the strongest. Because he’s the one who makes the most effort and he still can’t solve this for her and it’s so unfair.
Findaráto takes it very hard and is depressed for two years straight. He’s been so focused on Artanis that he never really reckoned with the trauma of his mother almost dying and his sister nearly being given to Estë, so it suddenly hits him and now Arafinwë has two children to worry about.
Angaráto and Aikanáro take to spending a strange amount of time with Carnistir and Arafinwë doesn’t like much the sounds of Maitimo’s reports on his sons’ behaviour. But he doesn’t really have the bandwidth to deal with it.
Eventually Arafinwë has had enough. Everyone is trying to give him advice and absolutely none of it is useful. People in Tirion are whispering about Artanis’s behaviour, and what it says about her parents.
(Fëanáro, for all his intensity, was actually a very quiet child, and his eccentricities were dismissed as a result of his motherlessness. Finwë’s capabilities were never put to doubt.)
He only wants the best for Artanis, it’s just that he can’t figure out what that is. His daughter is hurting and it tears him apart.
(Eärwen agrees with him, but she’s gone to stay at her parents’ for a while because all the screaming and stress were making her relapse.)
What he knows is that a) the problem is mostly communication and b) what has worked the best so far was Findaráto using gestures.
What they need is some way to make the gestures more complex.
They need a language made out of gestures.
Who do we know who’s into linguistics and invented their entire writing system?
Arafinwë takes his courage in both hands, fully anticipating a disaster, and goes to talk to Fëanáro.
“You want me to invent an entire language of gestures for your daughter,” Fëanáro blinks.
“Yes. And then I want you to teach it to me.”
“...do you have any idea how much work that would be?”
“Probably not, but I know you’re the only one who can do it.”
He expects Fëanáro to say he’s too busy to do anything for people who aren’t even really his family, or to go on a rant about Arafinwë’s thoughtlessness or his entitlement or something.
Instead, all he says is, “Come back in three weeks. And bring her along.”
Stay tuned for part 2!
All of my Disabled Tolkien Characters posts.
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deakyjoe · 2 years ago
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There Are No Words Left To Speak
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no pronouns used)
Category: unspecified
Summary: Joel watches you from afar and decides he needs to invite you in closer.
Warnings: they’re awkward but none (I think but correct me if I’m wrong)
Word count: 1k (short and sweet)
A/N: Joel Miller in HBO’s The Last of Us has consumed by brain and now every thought is about him. I wrote this with Pedro Pascal’s portrayal in mind but obviously feel free to think about Joel from the game if you prefer that!
Consider buying me a coffee :)
You were quiet, reserved, kept mostly to yourself. But you were never unwilling to help people out if they needed it, you just refused the assistance of others and didn't let conversations last for too long. Joel liked that about you.
You sent kind smiles to people, that were convincing to most but not Joel. He could tell that they were forced, good intentions behind them, but forced nonetheless. It didn't help that whenever you thought no one was looking, the smiles immediately dropped from your face.
When you’d arrived a few months before, no one paid much attention to you - Joel included. You’d stumbled in weak with the plan of leaving again once you’d regained some strength. You were just like many others around these parts, you all came and went. Nothing special. But once you were offered a role in the community, a place to live, guaranteed supplies and a job as a scout, it was hard to refuse.
So you stayed.
But still, people didn’t think much of you. It was difficult to make friends with a group of people who had clearly been through so much together and had trouble trusting outsiders. Because of this, you stayed to yourself.
That’s when Joel started to notice you more. Despite having no one close, no one who really cared for you, you seemed to care for the community as a whole. You always tried to give people your best, even if they didn’t return it. You helped people with repairs, with moving, farming, caring for young children, teaching - whatever was possibly asked of you.
And when you disappeared for hours, on rare occasions days, to outside the community in order to keep everyone safe by keeping an eye out for trouble, Joel couldn’t help but notice your absence. It just appeared that no one else did.
And when Joel asked his kind-of daughter, Ellie, about you to get her opinion, he couldn’t help but be slightly saddened when he was only offered back a “who?”
Joel Miller wasn’t good at expressing his feelings, so he had no plan for this, but he couldn’t stand by and watch you be excluded from a community that was so heavily focused on family. He knew what it felt like to be lost and he’d been lucky enough to find himself again in Ellie, discovering a new purpose for himself as a father figure for her. So, he figured that’s what you needed - a purpose with people. He just didn’t know what that would be yet.
When you returned from your most recent scouting assignment, reporting back that you’d found traces of a group of people a few miles out but no signs of life, Joel approached you. Still, he had no plan.
“Yes?” You’d looked up at him curiously as he stood in front of you but had said nothing. It was clear you wanted to go home, you were probably tired from the last couple days.
He looked at you, his ever permanent frown not shifting. “You should probably get a partner for scouting. It’s not safe out there.”
You’d scoffed and pushed past him, not unfriendly but not nice either. “I work better alone. I can handle myself.”
He didn’t doubt that. “I’m sure you can.”
You rounded on him, scowling. It felt clear that he had some other intentions here but you weren’t sure what exactly. “What do you want, Joel?”
The expression on his face didn’t move, like he expected the slight hostility. “Nothing.”
You didn’t believe him. So you told him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why?”
“People don’t talk to me unless they want something.” You adjusted the bag you had slung over one shoulder, shifting from foot to foot as you grew anxious to go home. The confession was painful to admit but it was true, you both knew it.
“I don’t want anything.” He reaffirmed, noticing you take another step away from him.
You still weren’t entirely sure you bought it, but you wouldn’t question him further if he was going to insist there was nothing. “Then what?”
“Conversation.”
You laughed sarcastically, making Joel note he’d never heard you laugh genuinely. Although that wasn’t unusual around here.
“Conversation?” You repeated in a questioning tone. “I’m not much of a conversationalist.”
Something the two of you could relate on, he realised. “Neither am I.”
“We make a great pair then.” The corners of your mouth curled up and your feet stopped moving.
Joel said nothing more, confirming his statement of not being a conversationalist. You wanted to smile more widely at that but refrained - the man had struck up a conversation with you but was unable to carry it.
“Ellie’s your daughter, right?” You offered, seeing him straighten up at the young girl’s name. If he was going to try then maybe you could too.
“Yeah.” He’d explain the complicated relationship with the teenager to you another time. For now, he was glad you were talking.
“Bright kid.” You commented. “How old is she?”
“Fourteen.”
You nodded, lost for what else to say. “Listen, I should probably be going home…”
“Right, yeah.” He said, watching you take cautious steps away as if awaiting his permission to leave. “I’ll see you around.”
“Sure. Bye, Joel.” You averted your eyes to the ground and went to turn away from him.
“Bye.” He replied, keeping his eyes on your form as you scurried away back to your house and disappeared from his view.
He had no idea what his next move was but he supposed this was a step in the right direction. Maybe he’d ask Ellie to start talking to you. He just knew that he wanted you more involved in the community, this is what the place was for after all. You, on the other hand, were trying to figure out Joel’s game as you rushed back home. Why had he suddenly started talking to you out of nowhere? You vowed to find out.
So that left the two of you - one satisfied with his minute progress and the other confused at the strange event. But both of you determined.
A/N: Joel Miller makes brain go brrrrr
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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 years ago
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Hey!! Could I request a Larissa x reader where reader is new to Jericho and they meet Larissa in the coffeeshop. Larissa likes them immediately but is scared that reader will reject her so she hides her being an outcast to them. When reader finds out by accident, Larissa expects to be rejected and hurt but readers just like “So you’re like Professor X and Mystique at the same time. That makes you cooler.” because reader’s a bit of a nerd, and Larissa just falls for them even more. Thanks
Here you go Anon. Hope you like it.
Larissa knew you must be new in town. You had to be. She would have noticed you before. As it was, she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning just watching you chat to the barista. Your laughter was like music to her ears and she felt a desperation to be on the receiving end of it.
Turning her gaze away she did her best to get her heartbeat under control. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way, and certainly never at first sight. There had to be something wrong with her. No grown woman should be feeling that way.
“Excuse me?”
She looked up from her coffee, having been staring into the depths of her mug. You were standing at her shoulder, smiling down as if she were the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen.
“Sorry, do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, “everywhere else is full.”
“Of course not. It would be a pleasure.”
She gestured over the table to the seat on the other side. You grinned, sliding into the booth across from her. You introduced yourself, and she repeated your name, finding it sweet on her tongue. Your eyelashes fluttered and your smile turned bashful.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” she asked, unable to help herself.
“I am.” You sounded so happy about it, “my aunt needs some help around the house now so I flew in to look after her.”
“That’s rather admirable,” she said.
“It’s family,” you said with a shrug, “what about you?”
And in that question she saw the crossroads in front of her. You were new in town, you clearly didn’t know who she was, but she was certain you knew about outcasts and their reputation in town. She had a choice, and she was desperate to make the right one so you’d want to stay talking to her.
“I grew up here,” she replied, not quite lying to you.
“Really?” You tilted your head, lips pursing, “you seem… different from everyone else here.”
Her heart seized but you were still smiling. She wasn’t sure what you were implying but she knew what she didn’t want you to be implying.
“Classier,” you said, your eyes sweeping over her, “more elegant.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm up.
“Do I get to know your name?” you asked and she realised she had never introduced herself.
“Larissa,” she replied ignoring the flutter of embarrassment. You were turning her head upside down.
“Larissa.” It was like you were rolling around the syllables around your mouth. Heat filled her veins and she couldn’t help but stare, “is there anything about you that isn’t gorgeous?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She ducked her head and listened to your bright laugh. When she looked up through her lashes you were smiling, bottom lip caught between your teeth. She had to fight against images of catching it between her own teeth.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner with me tonight?” she asked, before she could think about it too much.
“I’d love to,” you replied.
Which explains why she spent the next few months going into Jericho more often than she had her entire time at Nevermore. She ignored the whispers amongst the staff and students, only wanting to focus on you.
And she was focusing on you. So much. You were the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing she thought about when she went to sleep. She craved you in ways she never had before. You were making it difficult to concentrate on anything but you.
Her arm was looped through yours as you took a slow walk around the town as the sun was setting. Your cheek was leaning against her shoulder and she was wondering how soon she could spirit you away back to your house for some privacy. She was itching to hear you moan her name.
“Principal Weems.”
Her stomach immediately sunk hearing the familiar voice of Noble behind her. She paused, turning to look behind her. He was looking between the two of you with evident surprise on his face. You were smiling, a little confused.
“It’s always a pleasure to see people from Nevermore mingling with people in town,” he said.
“Nevermore?”
Her head snapped down to you. Your brows were drawn together and your lips were pursed. Her heart stopped. She’d done such a good job of hiding that part of herself so far.
“The school,” he said, “surely you know who the lovely woman on your arm is?”
“Of course,” you replied, a smile replacing the confused look on your face, “we just try to keep the work talk to a minimum.”
“A very smart move,” he said, “well, you two have a wonderful evening.”
She watched him continue downtime street, whatever atmosphere between the two of you now laying smashed on the pavement. She extracted her hand from your arm, taking a step back from you. You opened your mouth then closed it when you saw the look on her face.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re the principal of Nevermore?” you asked and she hated the disappointment she heard in your voice.
“I know how the normies in town feel about us,” she said, “and I didn’t want you to feel that way about me.”
“Right,” you said and she couldn’t tell how you were feeling. She wanted to know how you were feeling.
“It’s alright,” she said, taking another step back from you, “we can just forget this ever happened. You’ll never have to see me again.”
“Wait.”
You grabbed her hand, stopping her before she could turn tail and run. She stared down at it, your thumb brushing along the skin of back of her hand, her breath catching in her throat at the feeling.
“What kind of outcast are you?” you asked, “you all have, like, powers, right?”
“We do.” She was hesitant to continue answering, scared of what the reaction might be.
“So what can you do?” You blinked up at her, all wide eyed and curious, “wait, can you read my thoughts? Please tell me you can’t read my thoughts. I’d be so embarrassed.”
“I can’t read your thoughts,” she said.
“Oh good.” You let out a big sigh, “because I have thought some really embarrassing things around you. So what is it you do?”
“I can…” Her eyes darted away from you then back to your face, “I’m what’s known as a shifter. I can change how I look.”
“No way!”
A spark of hope flared in her chest at how excited you sounded. You were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet and you still hadn’t let her hand go.
“I understand if this changes things,” she said.
“Of course it changes things.” Her heart sunk again at your words, “this is so cool.”
“What?”
“So you’re like Professor X and Mystique at the same time. That makes you cooler.” You shook your head, “I’m just all normal and you’re like a proper superhero. You’re amazing.”
“This isn’t an issue for you?” she asked, trying to wrap her mind around how the conversation was going.
“Only in that now I have to step up my game so much more,” you said, grinning up at her, “you’re so impressive I’,m gong to have to really work to impress you now.”
The laugh that burst out of her chest was so bright and surprising it shocked her into silence again. You were grinning at her, watching her with sparkling eyes. She gently cupped your cheek, light filling her. You nuzzled against her hand.
“Oh darling,” she murmured, “you already impress me.”
You melted against her when she kissed you and nothing had ever felt so right to her. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky with you.
“Now what was that about embarrassing thoughts?” she asked when you drew away.
“Uh uh, not telling,” you said, drawing her in for another kiss.
And just like that she forgot what she’d been asking about.
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