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feverinfeveroutfic · 2 years

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like blood from a stone | chapter thirty-three

(ao3 title: silver springs)

“crossed the walls, excelled, further along through their hell. all for my heart, i watch you kill: you always have, you always will. so ride your wings and sail out to me.” -“lucky you”, deftones

My ass ached me so much as I made my way to class. That whole entire part of my body ached as a matter of fact.

There was no way in hell on Earth I could tell anyone about that, and it was perhaps more so the case after I had slept with Joey in his car as well.

I did this awkward walk along the walkway where I kept my knees pinned together and my thumbs tucked down into my belt loops. I called it “a casual walk to the way to the bathroom without wetting my pants”, but then again, I didn’t think anyone would buy that, should I ever have to provide any sort of explanation to anyone. I had never been late to a class before, but I also had no intention on not being late to class. It was getting to the end of the day, and therefore, I was willing to let go for a bit.

Lucky for me, I was alone in the hallways, except for the truant officer at the far end. I bowed around the next corner before I could be caught. I leaned back against the wall, out of breath and almost out of time.

I needed a plan. I had to get out of that wedding somehow. It was going to drive me up the wall if I didn’t do anything about it. Chuck was my brother, but I couldn’t go through with any of this. There had to be more to life than this.

I leaned forward for a peek around the corner, and I was alone in the corridor for real that time around. My hips still aching, I made my way further down the hall until I spotted the classroom door on the side. I ducked in there with only seconds to spare.

So, that was two guys who fucked me silly and hurt my ass, and yet somehow, Jeff managed to outshine Joey with it.

I took my seat, and I swore that I saw Larry lurked behind me with a smirk on his face, like he knew where Jeff and I had been before. I let out a low whistle and ran my fingers through my hair.

I had to pay attention. I had to pay attention.

Come on, Alex, you can do this, I told myself at one point.

But the pain had built itself up from in between my legs, all the way up to the base of my spine. The only way I could really describe it is akin to pressure, as if something built up inside of me. I shifted my weight and spread my knees apart to ease some of it off of me.

Maybe I was just making too big of a deal out of things. Maybe I genuinely did have too much mountain in my molehill. There was something about the pain in my legs that struck me, however.

I wanted to have more fun, like a lot more fun. I wanted to be with my soulmate but I also wanted to move around a lot more. I wanted to fuck more. I knew that if I could, then I could dig myself out of things more often. I wouldn’t have to be such a milquetoast and a bookworm.

There was something inside of me that wanted me to indulge myself in the finer things in life, to cut loose after I had grown up the way that I did down in Berkeley. Ascending to royalty could allow me to do that, something that I had known since this whole entire thing started, but there was something else to it, however.

I wanted more than one soulmate. There had to be more than one soulmate for me, one that united me to the pain in his head as well as his heart. One who was a lot like me.

Although I had showed up to class with mere seconds to spare, I was asked to stay afterwards for a couple of minutes minutes when school was let out for the day.

It felt like eating Froot Loops before my death sentence.

I had to do what I had to do, however. I went to my final class of the day, where I took to the desk at the back of the classroom. I leaned back in the chair again, and once more with my legs open to ease the pain off my ass and the lower part of my back. It was difficult, given the desk was much smaller and I sat next to a girl who acted as though I was hitting on her. At least, that was the impression I got from her, like she was afraid to look over at me.

I knew I had to put my money in my mouth at some point, but I couldn’t exactly do it there, especially when she looked uncomfortable sitting there next to me with her legs crossed and her head turned away from me. If only I could properly explain as to what had happened without actually saying what had happened.

It wasn’t until I had almost laid down in the chair when I finally found the comfort spot. Something inside the desk in front of me caught my eye. When she paid no attention to me, I reached inside of there for it, this small silver ring with a white interior. I took a second glance at the pale white interior at the engraved words: “Pain draws us, love unites us, eternally yours, heavenly mine.”

I held it down to my waist so no one in the class would have to see it, especially since I had to be paying attention to the class lecture for that day. I kept it in between my fingers as if I held the key to life itself. Once my teacher’s back was turned, and the girl next to me leaned over for her pencil bag, I slipped it on over my ring finger.

Too tight of a fit, and thus, I tried my pinky finger, where it fit with utmost perfection. I flexed my fingers and straightened them out so they would adjust to the feeling of that smooth titanium ring on me. I was sure that it was titanium, given a narrow band of rainbow appeared on the edge underneath my knuckle. I closed my fist, and then I picked out my planner from my book bag.

In fact, I barely paid any attention to what was happening at the front of the class because when I put on that ring, I could actually feel something inside my hand, as if it was made for me.

There was something sexy about wearing that ring, too, something a little on the slovenly side, like I was about to write something for Penthouse magazine. I had had sex with a guy in a dress in a hallway in a chapel after a wedding took place, and then I had had sex with a friend of mine outside of the school building, right out there on the grass, and I yearned for a boy who looked like me but he was all the way over in Florida. Something about this ring made sense to me.

I was in no way a playboy, but wearing that ring woke up something inside of me.

And then I realized I had no way back home, especially since I didn’t have a bus pass on me anymore and the buses never went beyond the San Francisco limits, either.

But I also had to meet up with the other teacher once school let out. Apparently Jeff had been asked to join, too.

I walked in there to find him right before the desk with a look of concern on his round face. I once again walked in awkward fashion to the front of the room, and I once again took my seat in the most uncomfortable, awkward way possible, and with my legs wide open.

I had no memory of what Jeff and I had been asked, but it had nothing to do with what he and I had done outside together. If anything, we had gotten lucky out there: we were alone and quiet enough that no one noticed that we had even left the building for a time.

But the next thing I knew, I walked out of that classroom with my bag over my shoulder, Jeff at my side, and an orange sheet of paper in my hands to indicate that we had a senior project set for the end of the year. Apparently, the two of us had the highest grades in the class, much to my surprise, too, and thus, we could do whatever we wanted to do for the end of the year and also our tenure in high school.

Froot Loops before two death sentences, then.

I looked over the surface of the paper when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, Alex, you need a ride home?”

Jeff showed me that little smooth smile on his round face, accentuated by the thick, stout shape of his neck and those long light waves on either side of his head.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I told him as I tucked the paper into my book bag. I balled up my hand so he wouldn’t have to see the silver ring on my left pinky finger, because I knew he was going to ask me if he ever saw it.

We walked outside to the crisp afternoon, and it seemed rather surreal that that morning, we were all in Santa Cruz together. If I had to make my way back down there to see if my soulmate Chuck was down there before the week had finished, then I had another nuance to the plan. The mere thought of him next to me give me such a deep feeling within me, right where it hurt between my legs and onto my dick.

I was feeling lucky.

I stayed there in the back seat with the sun off to the right side as it hung low over the ocean.

I kept the ring on because I knew I would have to need it at some point along the way, and especially with the minutes ticking away all around me, and especially with the wedding band that awaited me on the big day. The tension was killing me if I leaned on it too much, but I also needed to relax for a bit, especially since it wasn’t the only thing I had to take care of while I was still of high school age.

At one point, we took the next exit off to the next gas station in Hayward, and I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.

There was telling Chuck about my finding the ring at school, but then again, I could always tuck it away in a place that I knew he wouldn’t be able to find it if he tried. There were a couple of places at the house that were like that, too.

I moved my head up and gazed out the windshield to the blacktop before us. Larry drummed his fingers on the inside of the “oh, shit” handle, and Jeff was still in the minimart. I could only assume he was getting the three of us each a little something as an incentive for after school.

I glanced out the window, at a couple of passersby right outside of the minimart, both of them with short skirts and little handbags, and I hoped they would be alright there in the eastern side of the Bay Area. Not every place there had its frown cast upon us, but also not every place there had limits as to where we could truly be ourselves.

Add to this, there was something about that gas station that troubled me. Something I couldn’t exactly put my finger on, especially since it was in a nice neighborhood and we weren’t too far from the water’s edge, either. But as I watched Jeff stride on out of the minimart with a can of tea in hand, I had this inexplicable feeling inside me that something bad was about to happen there at some point, if it hadn’t already happened of course.

I sank down in the seat with my arms rested up on the top, and I stayed that way even when Jeff handed me a can of iced coffee for me. Every time I took a sip, I managed to look at that ring on my pinky finger.

And I had just the right place to hide it as well once we rolled into mine and Chuck’s driveway.

I was a bad boy, a naughty boy who slept around the place before he became the crown prince. And I was more than willing to let that title hang over me more than prince or anything having to do with royalty.

#like blood from a stone #like blood from a stone fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 33 #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #alex skolnick #possessed band #jeff becerra #larry lalonde #fic writing #writing #also on ao3 #ao3fic #text

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mostspecialgirl · 7 months

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beast tower.

oc rambling under the cut

I ATE THIS SHIT UP !!!!!!!!

ahem. Sorry. I meant. I think i did a good service to iris’s team. or, i guess, Novekhrys’s team, but WE KNOW WHO’S PULLING THE WEIGHT AROUND HERE !!!!!

okay. There’s actually a bit i want to say about cementing these designs.

Gráinne was an easy design to nail. i’ve wanted her to be loosely sparkledog scene adjacent from the get. and that’s what i did. i dunno if i’m satisfied with her color scheme but she canonically dyes her hair something completely different every so often like ramona flowers so it’s cool to just. Have this for now. i’ve been dying to use that pinterest hairstyle i saw a few weeks back and i finally got a nice opportunity to use it. also i gave her a name. she’s gráinne now. because i used to want to call her diarmuid. any fenian cycle fans in the chat

IRIS!!!! she’s the same as last time i drew her properly BUT like Oh My GOD she looks pretty here i was blown away by my own ability. iris is like. one of my first relicverse oc’s to be made in mind with the fact that the Relicverse Is A Thing so she’s always sort of been a benchmark character for me even moreso than demi or any of the sinai have been. i’m glad to have fully assembled a picture of her leg of ninestrike today seeing as i’ve been teetering back and forth on who exactly should lead it, and who’s fitting for her to serve under. novekhrys should have been the obvious choice from the start and i have no idea how i never saw it

like, are you seeing this???

and MY GOD. this is one of those times SETTING 1000 LOOSE THREADS pays the FUCK off because i needed one more admin and OBVIOUSLY it ONLY MAKES SENSE for it to be Kumbhakarna, seeing as Ravana has long been serving under Novekhrys (shoutouts to ravana i dont draw him enough but hes genuinely one of my favorites to write) and the two of them have always gone through cyclical incarnation hell together. i can’t break up the band. AND. Because of course, Ravana’s contract with Novekhrys making him into the Nameless Asura… That means Kumbhakarna must also have entered a similar deal. but i can’t call them both the nameless asura! sure, i can call him the nameless rakshasa instead BUT !!! BUT !!! I HAVE BEEN IN NEED OF CHARACTERS WHO HAVE INHERITED THE ROMAN GOD TITLES POST-DEVILS MANNER !!! and so, of course, he is MORS!!!!! why is that? of course, because of kumbhakarna’s curse… and because of the Somnus Title… what does that mean for Somnus…? Only time shall tell !!!!! Kuahahahahaha !!!!!!

lastly. of course. novekhrys ainzbury. demiurge’s son-in-law. husband of astaphe and father of lucille. I’M EVER SO GLAD TO BE ABLE TO START LOOPING HIM BACK INTO RELEVANT LORE!!!!!!!!!

I FUCKING LOVE THIS MAN!!!!! I’VE EVEN REINSTATED HIS STATUS AS A DRAGON!!!!!! FUCK IT!!!!!!! GIVE HIM THE WORLD!!!!!!!!

previously, in novekhrys’s lore, he existed at a time where magic was a very contentious existence for me in relicverse lore. and if i’m really coming down to it, he was technically the first proper magic user. it completely slipped my mind until literally like a few weeks ago that i realized he’s a tower master within the mage society. i often find myself forgetting astaphe exists, much like everyone seems to forget about the much less powerful children of the demiurge. But voila. my problem was solved. who better for iris to work under?and obviously, who better to be the much needed FREAK of the unraveling division than the FREAK tower master of the beast tower, the very man who fucked demiurge’s only daughter and had a child with her.

letting the pieces slide together was the most satisfying shit in the world. This is why i write. I live for these moments where all my loose threads come together. Good lord. Good fucking lord. And good god man does him being the beast tower master ever serve as such a great rational support to ravana’s existence. I KNOW my ass was not thinking about that at all back then. But like. Fuck yeah dude.

i tried to base his design off of demonic sect leaders in those cultivation novels combined with his draconic origins and it all worked together nicely. he looks better than ever! or maybehe just has long hair. I love long haired men. And horns. He’s lost a little of his signature “pathetic disheveled shell of a man” but i’ll be sure to draw plenty of that when he ISNT posted up for a beauty shot with his admins.

ALSO. holy HELL has his relationship with hana slotted in PERFECTLY. she’s always received funding from an unnamed tower master, and of fucking COURSE having it be novekhyrs the disciple hunter would only make sense. she’s a rare deviant species. his FAVORITE. and it’s never really made too much sense why hana would ever take any particular interest in expanding her leg of ninestrike and joining the union BUT IT ONLY MAKES SENSE IF IT WAS NOVEKHRYS WHO DRAGGED HER INTO IT. bringing in the Small Rewrite that the beast tower was built upon the remains of Hermes’s NinthSpire, and with enough bullshit backstory on the fly lore drawing inspiration between the old lore links between him and Father and BOOM!!!! he’s got his own ninestrike invitation with absolutely zero conflicting changes to established lore!!!! Oh my god and this is why hana takes the name of ninestrike as her own after novekhrys tells her about the history of the science tower

AND i get to write him again. It’s like christmas morning for me. This is nonsense to you all but this is PURE genius at work. This is why you leave everything 85% done because the remaining 15% will come to save your ass in the future. God Bless the Mage Society !!! Long live the Phenomena White Tower !!!

okayi. Have to sleep now. Seriousky. Im insnae

I have to do eight more drawings in this style cor eaxh division now

#leastspecialgirl #mostspecialgirlarttag #oc art #oc #ocs #relicverse #ninestrike #mage society #novekhrys ainzbury #gráinne #dr iris #nameless rakshasa

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one-night-story · 3 years

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Can We Dance? (Matthew Tkachuk)

A/N: oh wow we’re doing this, okay. hi hockey fandom. I don’t do this often, I lurk but I don’t post. unfortunately this fic has been my tell tale heart for several months and so I figured I should just finish it. it’s a labor of chaos. hope y’all enjoy. incredibly loosely based off of “Can We Dance” by the Vamps (Main character is as gender neutral as possible, but could best be explained as raised culturally female)

word count: 4.9K

“How’d you say you knew this guy?” I asked as we stared up at the apartment complex that we couldn’t even afford to look at the Zillow for.

“He’s a friend of my brothers,” Stacy, my closest friend since I started university two years ago, said as she glanced down at her phone and started texting someone, I assume whoever was going to let us in, because I imagined the doorman would’ve taken one look at both of us and just said “nope”, thus leaving us to freeze. I rolled my eyes. I would be the first to admit to not knowing Stacy’s brother that well, outside of his dynamic with her.

“Ah of course, a friend of your brother’s means no drinking.”

“Only for you,” Stacy said, well aware that my rules about party drinking didn’t apply to her.

“What can I say, I like not dying.” I remarked with a shrug.

As I said this, her brother came out and gestured to us to come into the building so we didn’t spend all night ominously standing in the parking lot like some sort of ghouls from a bad horror movie. We walked over and into the elevator just off the lobby and he punched in one of the upper level floors. I tried not to raise too much of an eyebrow, who’s party were we going to?

“I’m so glad you could make it, Johnny’s gonna be too,” he said, directing it at his sister. Ah, that explained it.

“It’s a hook up’s party?” I asked.

“No,” Stacy went to explain

“Not yet,” he cut in. “He’d like it to be, but you know my sister,” he said. “I need more than money and reputations.” She sniped. That was true. Despite her appearance and persona as a flighty party girl, Stacy was known to lock in serious boyfriends for extended periods of time and depending on the circumstances she was either testing this guy or she had a genuine interest and needed more data. Remarkable either way, I commended her.

“Is this a wingwoman night?” I asked, trying to mentally prepare a role and angle I was going to play for the evening.

“No, no, it’s a data gathering night.” Stacy said looking up from her Twitter feed. The elevator door opened, saving her from further interrogation from me or her brother. Her brother led us down the hallway and came to a door that was thumping from the bass already.

“If the house is rockin’?” I asked with a chuckle. He nodded as Stacy rolled her eyes at my incredibly dated reference. He opened the door and invited us into the most expensive apartment I’d ever been in and the first thing that caught my eye were the massive windows that were looking pretty tempting to throw myself out of should the night go awry. There were some scattered cheers from around the room at his reappearance which was followed by the siblings disappearing into the throng of people.

“Cool, yeah I guess I’ll find a way to occupy myself in a house of strangers!” I yelled as they walked away with humor in my tone. The audacity… I thought with a mental chuckle. I wandered into the kitchen and started scoping the drinks. There was a cooler that had seen better days filled with cans of White Claw and beer. Several liquors sat on the counter with a couple of two liter bottles for mixing. “Cool, cool, cool,” I muttered. I dug in the cooler and found a mini bottle of water, I’m assuming so deep down because that’s when people would need it, so I snagged it and downed it in short order. I listened to the music to try and tell how hard I should be judging the DJ for their taste. With a quick toss, I discarded the empty bottle and went to pull out my phone when I heard a yell.

“Hey Doc!” A male yelled. I poked my head up, half scanning to see who was being addressed and half trying to figure out where the voice was. Standing at a long table in the middle of the room was a dude looking directly at me. I spared a cliche glance behind me. “No, you!” The guy yelled with a laugh. I furrowed my brow and tilted my head trying to figure out what he was trying to ask for.

“What?” I asked with a chuckle.

“We need another player!” He said. My curiosity got the better of me and so I wandered over. There was a brunette across from the table built like a house who had initially called me over and a guy with blonde curls that seemed to go everywhere staring at my approach.

“What about my everything screams “I’m good at beer pong?” I asked, gesturing to my outfit of black jeans, black shirt, and Doc Martens. What Stacy called an “anti fun, anti party” outfit.

“Nothing, but Chucky needs the handicap.” The guy said. This resulted in the blonde rolling his eyes. I looked at the blonde, who if I dared to admit it to myself, was pretty cute by white boy standards.

“I mean…”

“C’mon Doc,” the blonde said with a smirk that was laced with humor, adopting his compadre’s nickname for me immediately, “one round.” He proposed. I let out a small sigh and tried not to physically show that I’d given in.

“Alright Chucky, but you’re drinking,” I said. The guy across the table cackled and they reset the cups. Beer was poured and a guy came to the middle of the table.

“Friends, Welcome to the third round of Beer Pong. To my right,” he said, gesturing to the brunette across the table, “Is the one with the cash, Sean Monahan!” He made a grand gesture as the few spectators cheered. “To my left! The Ex Pat from St Louis, Calgary’s resident shit starter, Mattew Tkachuk!” Wait what!? Matthew flipped off the guy doing introductions with a chuckle. “And his gracious partner for this event running solely under the name of their shoes, Doc!” Wait what? How the hell did Stacy and her brother get us into a hockey house party. On the one hand, that explained the way too nice apartment. On the other who the fuck was he friends with? I must’ve looked spooked, because suddenly there was a warm hand on my lower back and my touched starved ass tried not to melt at the slightest bit of contact.

“You okay Doc?” Matthew asked. I snuck a glance at him and his way too blue eyes and gave a short nod.

“Not used to the spotlight,”

“Me neither,” he said and I tried to not snap my head in his direction too quickly.

“Let’s get ready to RUMBLE!” The announcer friend yelled. A coin was flipped and it was decided that our side was going first. Matthew handed me the ping pong ball as his other hand lightly rubbed the small of my back. There was an electric current making itself at home up my spine as his thumb moved and I kind of never wanted to be without it.

“Alright, you just have to sink a cup,”

“You guys play no bounce I’m assuming?” I asked, finally looking at him dead on while immediately trying not to drown in his eyes in front of hundreds of people where the rumors would swirl and spin. He smirked a little at my question, which while being reasonable was also a direct contradiction to my earlier assertion.

“Sure you’ve never played Doc?”

“When I was a kid, we swapped beer for water.” I said.

“No bounce,” he said. I rolled the ping pong ball between my fingers. I held it out for him with a chuckle.

“Blow for luck?” I asked, fully joking. Matthew smirked, but did so, blowing lightly on the tiny piece of plastic and by extension the tips of my fingers. I nodded once hoping that the heat of the room and surrounding people would be enough of an excuse as to why my cheeks were probably the color of the home jerseys. I looked at the cups on the far side of the table and steadied my breathing, then aimed and took a shot dead center.

Plink

The ball went in and the table audience let out a cheer as Sean picked the ball out before downing the cup. The ball went into one of the cups closest to the table and Matthew briefly untangled himself from me to drink the cup in question. I tried to visibly not miss the contact too much as Matthew set up for his shot. He held it out to me with the dirtiest smirk I’d ever seen.

“Blow for luck?” He said with a chuckle. I laughed and rolled my eyes but complied, figuring we’d be even. I gave a quick puff to the plastic ball and he tossed it for the tip of the pyramid set up. After a brief spin around the rim of the cup, where it was hard to tell if it was going to sink or not, it dropped in with ease and Sean was left drinking again.

The game went like that for a couple of minutes and so far Matthew had been decent about not having me drink, which was a surprise change of pace all things considered. I was so used to guys or other friends trying to shove drinks into my hand and me coming up with every excuse in the book as to why I wasn’t. Though, as soon as he and I fell into a rhythm while playing, his hand fell back to the small of my back and the electric current returned to my spine as his thumb ran up and down with ease.

Down to one cup each, it was my turn to throw the ping pong ball. I carefully rolled it between my palms as I tried to commit the plastic to memory.

“Doc, just throw it!” Sean yelled from his side of the table.

“Go to hell Mony!” I replied with ease, even without the booze. I had relaxed while playing, not as on edge as when I first got called over, sort of a natural fit. Matthew chuckled beside me and shifted his hand to a grip on my hip, the current that came with his touch moved with it.

“Don’t worry, you’ve got this,” Matthew said so quietly, I wasn’t certain I heard it. A quick glance out of the corner of my eye was met with a smirk and blue eyes to kill for and that was enough confirmation that I had. I sighed and rolled the ping pong ball into my fingers as I aimed for the last cup. I could almost feel the room move in slow motion as with ease, the ball plinked into the cup. The spectators cheered as Sean downed the last cup. Matthew was quick to sweep me into his side and pull me closer than I already was, laughing at the victory. I found myself in the same boat, trying my hardest not to giggle, but grinning up a storm. “Way to go Doc,” He said as he pulled me into a proper hug which I accepted in the excitement of the moment, ignoring the nagging logic in the back of my brain that was basically slamming my usual way too hot guy giving you attention, suspect prank button that had been instilled in me since I was a kid. Matthew released me with some reluctance and was about to say something when I was tapped on my shoulder. I whirled around and found Stacy smiling at me and silently glancing at Matthew.

“Mind if I borrow my friend for a bit? Top secret chat, you know how it is,” She said with a smile that usually could convince anyone. Matthew smiled slightly but I tried not to read into how it wasn’t all there.

“Yeah totally,” he said. “Just find me after yeah?” He added looking at me. I hesitantly nodded as Stacy grabbed my wrist. We weaved through the people and she eventually pulled me into a hallway and to the surprise of exactly no one, dragged me into a bathroom where she promptly shut the door and locked it. I quickly popped up onto the counter like I lived there; I called it my consulting position, considering that’s probably what I was about to be doing.

“Stace, we cannot hog the bathroom so you can have like… your seventh relationship based existential crisis.”

“It is not my seventh,”

“Yes it is, you only drag my incompitant ass into the mix when you hit seven. Once when you were on sixth, but that was because you were feuding with Elaine at the time,” I said. “I still don’t understand anything about what happened there,”

“This is not my seventh!” Stacy insisted.

“Then give me your phone,” I stated as I held my hand out. Stacy groaned as she sat down on the floor and stretched out, effectively blocking my out and admitting defeat. “Stace,”

“I’m overthinking everything again,”

“How so?”

“Johnny’s really sweet, like unbelievably so…”

“I’m gonna preemptively remind you that you deserve good things, and good people in your life,”

“Yeah but,”

“No, Darren was a jackass and a bitch and I’m not totally convinced I shouldn’t track him down and kick the shit out of him for all the shit he’s somehow instilled into you.” I remarked. Stacy chuckled at that, it was a sentiment that was a frequent presence in these sorts of conversations. He was a boyfriend, and he’d been in my opinion, a piece of shit from minute one, but Stacy was stubborn and at the time was more doubtful about her ability to love than she was now, so she stayed. Eventually she couldn’t take the fighting anymore and left him, which saved my sanity by ten percent.

“So what you’re saying is,”

“Go get your hockey player,” I said. She turned to me as if to ask how I knew. “Oh c’mon, you know I’m a fan, and I’ve been playing beer pong against Mony for the past hour.” I added.

“Speaking of that, what’s with you and the blonde?” Stacy asked as she stood up and gave herself a look over in the mirror.

“Matthew? Mony just needed to give him a limiting factor while playing beer pong.” I said not moving from my spot on the counter. Stacy turned to me and gave me a look that dripped with unimpressed energy.

“Try again,”

“What!”

“Listen, I love you, but that boy was practically coiled around you and you weren’t squirming out of your skin trying to get to the opposite side of the room, so I think you’ve passed being simply beer pong partners.” Stacy said as she messed with her hair briefly. I rolled my eyes.

“You’re reading way too much into it,”

“Hey, don’t make me give you your own pep talk back,” She said. “Listen, if you were just beer pong partners, then A) he wouldn’t have looked so disappointed when I pulled you away, and B) wouldn’t have asked you to go find him when we were done here,” she added, giving me a scolding finger point, that I jokingly tried to bite as she put it in my face. “Oh my god,” she said as she yanked her finger away at the last second which caused me to laugh.

“Okay, okay, whatever, we should probably stop hogging the bathroom,” I said.

“Probably a good idea,” Stacy said with a dramatic nod and a laugh shared between the two of us as Stacy unlocked the door and we walked out.

The party had gotten no less chaotic since we stepped into the bathroom and I resisted the urge to dive out the window again. I sighed and looked over to Stacy who nodded and disappeared back into the crowd of people. I looked around when I heard a noise that sounded strangely like a sliding glass door and scanned for the direction, finding it off to the side with a couple of people going in and out. I weaved my way through the crowd and pulled the door open to be smacked by the air from being so high up. Despite there being a handful of people out here, they were still fewer than the crowds inside, and that I could live with. The balcony practically called my name, and I wandered over to lean against the railing. The city looked beautiful, but I was a sucker for cityscapes at the best of times. I took a deep breath and let the breeze wash over me. I heard the door slide open and close, but didn’t think too much of it until someone stood next to me and the electric current came back to my hip. I looked over at Matthew giving me a smile and offering a small unopened water bottle.

“Did Stacy send you?” I asked.

“Something like that, she mentioned you’d appreciate the water.” He said as I accepted it and he took a sip out of whatever concoction was in his Solo Cup.

“That I would, thanks for taking all the beer earlier,” I said as I twisted the lid off.

“Not a fan of beer?”

“No, it’s wheat piss and we as a society are fooling ourselves by thinking otherwise,” I said which got a laugh out of him and I thought that was a minor success in my head. “But it’s mostly I don’t tend to drink at parties with more than a degree of separation between me and the host,”

“So…”

“So, I’m here because a friend of Stacy’s brother invited us. That puts me at 3 degrees of separation, meaning that the likelihood of anyone at this party giving a shit about me in particular is low as hell and should anything go awry, I have very few people to lean on. It’s a safety measure,”

“Got it, guess that makes sense,” he said as if having that elaborate of a safety measure hadn’t occurred to him. Not that I blamed him, he was a guy and didn’t have to worry about these sorts of things. I took a sip of water as I tried to figure out what to say next. My inner cynic was still slamming the “this is a prank, order an Uber and run” button, but I was fighting to ignore it.

“Did Mony really need to give you a handicap playing beer pong?” I settled on asking just so I could avoid asking if anyone had paid him to take an interest in me, and that included Stacy. Matthew chuckled and offered half a shrug.

“Only kinda,”

“Should I be worried?” I asked. Matthew furrowed his brow, which still made him look attractive and that felt like a universal injustice, before shaking his head.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just beat him the last seven times we’ve played, and I —“ he was cut off by someone coming out of the sliding glass door and yelling for him. I looked over and watched the frustration creep onto his face.

“Guess it’s my turn to ask you to find me later?” I proposed. Matthew sighed and gave a slightly apologetic look.

“Would you?”

“Yeah, find me later Chucky,” I said. Matthew grinned.

“Will do Doc,” he said as he went inside to deal with whatever the hell was going on. I finished my second tiny water bottle of the night and wandered back in so I could throw it out. The less clean up the host had to do, the better. Besides, I liked to imagine I was a decent person 90% of the time, allowing ten percent wiggle room for off days and shorter tempers. The kitchen was packed with people, the open floor plan not really allowing for the traditional use of “kitchen as quiet space” but still a space to congregate around the alcohol. There were a couple of women in dresses that looked great but I had no desire to wear myself chatting about something and discussing if they could get away with another round of tequila shots without wanting to be completely dead in the morning, a couple of guys talking hockey shop, and thankfully not a single discussion of politics. I eventually found the trash can, overflowing as it was and precariously balanced the tiny water bottle on top of the growing pile of cans and Solo cups. I couldn’t tell if the flashbacks I was having were from lived experiences, set hours, or too many 80s movies.

I fished my phone out and found a text from Stacy

Left with Johnny, thanks for your help, i’ll pay your uber

I was going to kill her.

Fuck!

I scanned the crowd, looking for one person who looked decent enough who might help, or Matthew whoever came first.

Eventually, I spotted his mess of curls and weaved my way through the crowd, tapping his shoulder in quick succession. He turned around and grinned when he saw me.

“Hey, I was just about to come back over,” he said. I tried not to let myself melt at that because I was easy and the alarms were already blaring.

“Yeah, about that, do you mind waiting with me downstairs while I wait for an Uber?”

“What’s up?” He asked, concern dripping from his words and even a quick read from body language that had grabbed onto my biceps lightly, and his far too expressive blue eyes told me was sincere.

“My ride just left and,”

“Degrees of separation says that you’re now a stranger in a strange land?” Matthew concluded and I felt myself smile at that.

“Basically,” I replied. “If you can’t, that’s chill, I’ll just--”

“No, no, I’ll come. I’ll just tell Mony to hold down the fort. Wait by the door?” He asked. I nodded and he squeezed my arms before we waded through the crowds in different directions. I headed for the door and curled my toes in my boots, pulling up the Uber app before remembering I did not know what this place’s address was.

“Fuck,” I mumbled tapping my leg and fiddling with the change I had left in my pocket. Why did she have to take my advice tonight? I was talking metaphorically! Okay maybe not completely metaphorically but mostly! I tried to even my breathing so I didn’t completely curl into a ball in the doorway, but the doormat was looking more and more tempting by the second. A small wave of people left and on the tail end of them was Matthew, tugging shoes on and smiling at me.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Almost, it occured to me that since Stacy ordered the Uber, I don’t actually have the address for this place.” I said.

“Don’t worry, I can order it,” Matthew said.

“No, Stacy’s paying for it, I can’t--”

“Relax, least I can do is pay for your cab. No sweat,” he said as he opened the apartment door and allowed me to slide into the hallway, as we walked away from the noise of the party and the safety of witnesses, I felt myself stiffen up again. C’mon self, don’t be stupid, you went looking for him. Maybe it was the silence.

“Wait, you told Mony to hold down the fort?” I asked with a slight head tilt.

“Yeah, considering it’s my party,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh,” well, at least I felt a little less awful about him having to pay for the Uber. “Well, that explains the apartment,” I finally said with a slight chuckle. Matthew grinned at that.

“Trust me, it’s usually nicer without half the city packed into it,” he said as he pushed the button for the elevator. “Quieter too,”

“I can imagine, but I was more thinking about the price range. I don’t even think I could afford to look at the Zillow listings for this building, I think I would click on it, and it would immediately ask for my credit card score and my last major purchase as well as possibly my family tree.” I said laughing as I got more and more ridiculous, Matthew joining in willingly as the elevator opened.

“Oh yeah, they wanted my blood type before I could sign the lease,” Matthew managed to get out through the laughter of the both of us. We stepped in and I hit the button for the ground floor as the doors closed and the urge to go back on high alert swept over me. Dammit why the fuck was I so god damn paranoid? This was fine! Absolutely and totally and completely fine. “Hopefully you at least had fun visiting,” he added, trying to fill the silence.

“As you can tell by my everything, I’m not much of a houseparty person. But this was one of the better ones I’ve been to,” I said with a smile. The truth was I hadn’t really been to many at all but this one didn’t make me want to murder an attendee with a baseball bat so that was a big plus by my standards. Matthew laughed a little at my comment.

“I don’t know, your beer pong game suggests there’s a potential to make a party animal out of you yet.” He said and I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Let’s not get carried away shall we?” I said. We were running out of floors and there was a part of me that wanted to keep talking to Matthew, even if everything about him made my anxiety and false self preservation instincts screamed to just run.

“Oh c’mon, imagine it: Mony would lose his shit, you’d be able to drink, and I’d get to see you again. I see that as a win all around.” Matthew said, looking over at me from his side of the elevator car. I felt myself exhale a little.

“You’re suggesting I get around my rule by taking away the degrees of separation, is that it?” I asked, trying to not sound hostile but it definitely escaped a little if Matthew’s face was any indication.

“I meant… fuck that came out awful. I think you’re neat, and I’d like to hang out again.” He said as the elevator settled onto the ground floor. The doors opened and we both stepped out and I mulled over his question over in my head. On the one hand: I needed friends. On the other hand: he was an incredibly rich stranger who reeked of mischief. On my foot, there was the fact that he was nice and was decent enough to humor all my eccentricities, even if there was any part of him that thought them odd.

“I mean, I’m terrible at socializing at parties. However, I am pretty funny over coffee.” I said. He laughed a little at that, nodding once as he fished out his phone. He then passed it to me and I gave him my number, still stuck Doc as my contact name. When I passed it back to me he laughed a little louder.

“I’m not even gonna get a name?”

“At this stage of the game, would you even remember it?” I asked with a tilt of my head. “You’ve still got a party upstairs and it’s only midnight, call it incentive or knowing my audience.” I added. Matthew shrugged, conceding my point, before passing the phone back over with the Uber app open. I plugged in my apartment address and watched as the driver came for the building. “I did have fun, by the way.” I conceded as I gave him his phone back.

“Really?”

“Really, I didn’t have to hit anyone with a baseball bat, and the cops weren’t called, and no one broke their toe. I call it a win.” I said.

“By those standards, that must be pretty tame.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. I just have incredibly argumentative friends and my friends sometimes have shitty partners. All in all, I have not actually hit anyone with a baseball bat, just threatened to.” I quickly clarified. Matthew nodded as we saw a car pull up in front of the building. He checked his phone and nodded as we both walked out of the building. “Thanks for everything,” I said as I shoved my hands in my pockets and did a quick scan of the license plates and car model.

“No worries,” he said with a smile. “I’ll text you when I’m back upstairs so you have my number and we’ll negotiate coffee.” He said.

“Then I guess I’ll see ya around Matthew,” I said.

“Have a good night Doc,” he said. I got into the car and he waited until we’d pulled out of the complex before disappearing back into the building. We got about half way to my apartment when I got a buzz from my phone.

so… about that coffee doc

I resisted the urge to start cackling, instead typing back

I presume not tomorrow, but my monday is clear.

no no, tomorrow works.

Then tomorrow, I’ll text you the locale in the morning.

sweet. did you get home?

I got out of the car and thanked the driver as I walked into my building and into my elevator, heading upstairs to the measly fourth floor.

just unlocking my door.

good. see you tomorrow doc.

I grinned a little and echoed the sentiment as I untied and kicked off my boots, stretching a little as I wandered into my room and got ready for bed.

Maybe parties in houses I couldn’t afford were okay actually.

#nhl imagine #hockey imagine #Mathew tkachuk imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #here take it #this fic brought to you by my enby ass not really Vibing with a lot of fics due to a lot of things #mostly: fem does not automatically mean long hair #if I were to go to a party I would not be in heels and a mini dress #and I'm an arts major not a comms major #not knocking you if you enjoy these things but they really pull me out and I wish to be the change I want to see in the world #if you actually read these tags: sorry for the manifesto #have a cookie: 🍪

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heniareth · 3 years

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I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

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And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

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cqlfeels · 3 years

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@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

#drinking game #take a shot every time i say 'finally'#this post refused to let me get to the end of it lol #i think because i'm extremely salty about fanon stage mom meng shi #(to not say tiger mom meng shi which crosses into outright racism. but i'm giving people the benefit of the doubt)

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shes-a-gryffindor · 3 years

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Of Apples and Psychological Lapses

A @jilytoberfest submission. Prompt #12 - One overhearing something they're not supposed to.

That day, on an otherwise uneventful morning, it started with an apple, of all things.

James Potter sat straddling the bench at the Gryffindor table, poring over what Lily supposed was a textbook, elbow on a knee with an apple in his hand.

Only half listening to Mary’s recitation of the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death that they were supposed to be brewing later that day, she chanced upon another look at him…. the muscles in his jaw jumped as he bit into his apple, and as she watched him laugh at something she couldn’t hear, Lily found herself wondering whether he’d always had that dimple in his cheek… before she’d had the chance to mentally scold herself for her apparent loss of self-control, James caught her eye; grinning roguishly, he winked at her before taking another bite…

“You’re doing it again,” said Mary,

Lily’s neck snapped so quickly away from James she thought she might have whiplash, “doing what?”

“Making love eyes at Potter” she sniggered.

“Don’t be daft,” responded Lily dismissively, “I was not giving him love eyes” she added, silently cursing the blush now creeping up her neck, “…anyway, the ingredients…for today, you were reading them…” a lame attempt at a change in subject.

Mary smirked at her for a moment before returning to her textbook; relieved that she’d been let off the hook, Lily focused intently on Mary’s recitation, despite already knowing the ingredients from memory, she was determined not to look over again at the group of boys sitting only a few feet away from them.

Thinking they’d get a head start on the swarm of students that would soon be filing out of the hall, they packed their books and downed the last of their pumpkin juice. As she stood, Lily glanced quickly over at James again, he was in animated conversation with Sirius, the apple hanging loosely from his fingers at his side… and a ridiculous idea crossed her mind.

Deliberating over it in the seconds it took them to reach the spot where he was sitting, before she’d even really decided upon it, she’d snatched the apple out from his hand, twisting her head round to wink back at him, before taking a bite of what was now her apple.

“Shut up,” she smirked at Mary, who was looking at her with raised eyebrows.

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion; she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head during Transfiguration, then found herself loitering after class, trying to chance perhaps walking out at the same time as him… before realising she was behaving like an idiot and walking quickly out alone.

History of Magic was, in particular, a challenge. It was, as usual, rather impossible to focus on the monotony that was Professor Binns' lesson.

Serenely unaware that no one seemed the least bit interested in his thorough breakdown of wand legends through time, he droned on… “The Death Stick, The Wand of Destiny…” and by the time the lesson was over Lily and James had shared several silent exchanges across the classroom.

Potions that afternoon was perhaps, although short-lived, her only reprieve. Lily was quite comfortable in her element, happily brewing her Draught of Living Death. Having already reached the ideal halfway stage, she smiled contentedly down at the smooth, black currant-colored liquid in her cauldron.

Just as she was about to start chopping her roots, she caught James, brow furrowed, curiously observing her potion, before looking back at his own - which appeared to be eliciting a sort of blue-ish haze, not horrible but certainly not what it should have been doing by that point… better, if nothing else, than Peter’s… who was looking more distressed by the minute at the now foul smelling, brown concoction bubbling in his cauldron.

“Care to share your expertise, Evans?” Asked James, grinning over at her. With his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, his forearms were tense as he shifted his body weight onto them, leaning over the table toward her… and Lily thought quietly, that the dimple in his cheek was obviously not the only thing she’d failed to notice.

“Afraid not, Potter,” she responded, “see If I told you, I’d have to kill you… although, could be doing myself a favour there,” she added, smirking at him.

“Better not then, otherwise you might actually get some peace and quiet… can’t have that,” he said seriously.

“Merlin forbid,” she mumbled, in mock exasperation.

“Merlin forbid,” began Sirius, “all this terrible flirting makes me throw up in my cauldron.”

Mary and Peter burst into a fit of giggles, even Remus, it seemed, found it amusing, while James just grinned down at his cauldron.

“Your potion can’t get any worse than it already is Black… I say try it,” Lily mocked.

Sirius, however, had cast his attention elsewhere.

From the corner of the next table over, having apparently overheard the entire exchange, Severus was looking darkly over at them. His eyes flickered briefly between James and Lily before returning to his potion. She knew she’d been shamelessly flirting with him, for days, weeks really… what she hadn’t realised was how blatantly obvious it was becoming, to everyone even beyond their friends; blushing furiously and feeling rather sheepish, she scowled at Sirius, who was still grinning smugly over at Severus, before returning to her own potion.

As she made the last of her rounds that evening, her mind once again wandered to what was fast becoming something, or rather, someone, she thought about much too often. He’d looked a little too smug after catching her at dinner - watching, as a Hufflepuff in the year below them asked for his help with a Transfiguration essay that weekend… in addition to self-control, she was now apparently also losing her common sense… it was perfectly acceptable that he help another student with an essay, why should this bother her…? But honestly an essay over the weekend, she thought… ask the bloke out and be done with it, what a stupid excuse… Surely he knew the girl fancied him.

The sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of them, tucked away in a quiet corner of the library poring over an essay together, was extremely disconcerting, this sudden interest in who he was spending time with… He’d made his existence impossible to ignore for the better part of six years, perhaps now that he wasn’t asking her out at every turn her mind was playing that stupid game, the one where you only want something because it’s not as easy to get anymore, not because you genuinely want it… some psychological lapse in judgement… yes that must be it; so trying to force her thoughts back into some semblance of order, Lily resolved to get a grip.

She met Remus in the dungeons and together they checked the last of the corridors before heading back up to the common room, chatting about weekend plans, their upcoming exams and whether they had anything planned for the summer holidays before their seventh year.

Lily was careful to steer the conversation in another direction anytime it got a little too close to James, so she wasn’t exactly thrilled (maybe a little bit) when they stepped through the portrait hole to find James, Sirius and Peter sitting alone in the common room. With a warm smile, Remus bid her goodnight and went to join his friends in front of the fire.

“All right, Evans?” Asked James, grinning that lone-dimpled grin as she walked past.

Shooting him a quick tight lipped smile, she trudged up the staircase to her dormitory with an infuriatingly pink face; she had just reached the top of the staircase, however, when she heard Sirius snigger -

“Reckon she might actually prefer you to the giant squid now.”

Failing in her resolve to get a grip before she’d even begun, and apparently not above eavesdropping now either, Lily stopped and stood there at the top of the staircase, dead silent, craning her neck to listen to them.

“What?” Asked James, “What makes you say that?” In his voice, Lily heard a hint of what she thought sounded like hope.

“Are you daft? Or do you just want to hear it all back?”

“A bit of both I think,” chuckled Remus.

“Did you not see Snivelly’s face in potions? Even he can tell she fancies you mate,” said Sirius, dryly.

“Looked a bit put out, didn’t he?” Chuckled James.

“A bit? Looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or hex you,” chortled Peter, “d’you reckon him and Evans… you know-”

“What? Asked James, cutting him off, “went out?”

“Nah,” answered Sirius quickly, “who’d want to go out with that? Didn’t they know each other from before school, or something?”

“Yeah… they were friends,” said James, with finality in his voice.

“‘Till he showed his true colours,” scoffed Sirius, “…bit naive of her though, don’t you think? To think that he’d be anything but the slimy git he is.”

Lily had half a mind to go down and give Sirius a piece of her mind, until…

“Nah,” said James, “I reckon she knew who he was the whole time… she just chooses to see the good in everyone, y’know? Even a slimy git like Snivellus.” When no one said anything, he added, “Personally, I don’t think she should change that about herself.”

There was silence… and then someone made a dry-retching sound like they were throwing up, followed by scuffling and a series of thuds, “gerrof!” Came Sirius’s muffled voice, over Peter and Remus’s laughter.

Deciding she’d heard enough, Lily tiptoed quietly into her dorm; and as she pulled the scarlet hangings of her four-poster around her that night, she thought perhaps her interest in James Potter wasn’t a psychological lapse in judgment at all.

#jily fic #jily love #jily fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders and lily #marauders era #the marauders #james potter x lily evans #pining #mutual pining #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #jilytober fest #jilytober

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early20sfailingplenty · 3 years

Note

It’s gushing time!

I’m a firm believer that Bo has a praise kink, though he’d never admit it. I feel like any mundane little compliment would have him low key preening for more.

Also this is sweetbird-sinclair from my main blog lol

Do you... do you want me to gush about Bo? I?🥺💖

I agree so much omg this ^ is when no one's looking at him so there's no act to play; which means he really is feeling this fear, worry, sadness... sweet man.🥺I have to wonder what would have happened if Vincent had turned at that moment and caught that look on Bo's face. Maybe he would've been more insistent in helping Bo.

I go full gush under the cut - all those thoughts of Bo I channel into my writing because obviously I can't... say them to Bo. Would that I could (and that I was brave enough lmfao)💀🥺.

Please feel free to gush as well in a reblog if you want to!! <3

Okay so, I hate to say it, but for a few weeks after I met Bo, he scared me so badly I would jump and my heart would be pounding. It's the shouting and loud noises, I'm... not good with that for irl reasons I won't go into. But! I didn't want to be scared of him because of moments like ^ that GIF and I spent a lot of time watching him, reading fics, analysing him, and I quickly grew to love him!!!

He's just so pretty and beautiful and I love his eyes and the way his sarcastic smiles don't reach them but then when he smiles genuinely, it's with everything in him. The way he knows what he's doing and he knows he's good at it too, the way he's in control until the moment he isn't and then he's so bad at physically defending himself that it all goes to shit so quickly. When no one is looking at him, his facade crumbles and you see the sadness, the pain and the raw vulnerability and I just wanna cup his face in my hands and tell him this, exactly this:

"You deserve love. What happened to you when you were a child was awful and they never should have done that to you. It wasn't your fault and I want you to know that you deserve love and you are loved. You're so beautiful, Bo."

And then I wanna smother his face in kisses. And maybe give him some wrist kisses too.

Would he let me? Hell no. He'd probably rip out of my hold for both of those scenarios, but that doesn't mean I don't wanna.🥺

He just... he fascinates me where he used to scare me and I so often just want to go out to the old sugar mill with him and beat the fuck out of a beaten truck and jam out to heavy metal together and just let absolutely loose and be free in myself. Even just for five minutes. But at the same time, I'm a softie and I wanna go all uwu on him.

I love his face, his voice, the way he clearly loves his brothers to death, the way he works hard (the town is so clean on the outside, though there are neglected pieces of rot just beneath the facade), and if he was a swimming pool, I'd wanna jump in at the deep end without testing the temperature first. I wanna cuddle him and go all uwu on him and jhhhhhhh please I'm love him.🥺🌸

Pretty, beautiful Bo.

^^^ My own personal nickname for him. He'd murder me if I called him that to his face.😂

Thank you for this! I needed to let loose.🥺🌸

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peachy-inserts · 4 years

Text

𝕙𝕢 𝕓𝕠𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝

✉︎ request: n/a

✰warnings: none. fluff!

✎a/n: please i made myself cry over asahi during this i love him so much

➳ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, ᴀꜱᴀʜɪ, ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ, ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ, ᴛᴀɴᴀᴋᴀ, ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ, ꜱᴜɢᴀᴡᴀʀᴀ, ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ, ɴɪꜱʜɪɴᴏʏᴀ, ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ

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✰Daichi loves to bake with you. He hopes on the pumpkin spice wagon just because it means there’s an excuse for the two of you to make something together in the kitchen, but there are times when he just wants you to feed him. He’s an absolute glutton this time of year, both for sweets and for you. Also, coffee dates! Loves taking strolls with you in the crisp fall weather and warming up with a hot drink, though one time he spilled his latte all over his lap because he was so focused on the way your nose scrunched in delight and fingers tapped against your styrofoam cup at the sweetness of the beverage that he completely missed his mouth. Of course, this only ended with you spitting your drink out all over his front and the table

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✰Asahi always makes sure you’re warm. The sudden and drastic change in weather makes his bones ache, maybe it’s because of his old soul, or maybe (as you tease him) his body just can’t keep up with its own size. When you leave the house together, he takes his time to wrap the scarf his mother knit for you around your neck with care, tucking it gently into the folds of your jacket so the scratchy yarn doesn’t irritate your skin, already dry and chapped from the cold. He’s a human radiator, though, and often goes out with as little as a sweatshirt with nothing underneath, to which you call him a hypocrite for. You know, though, that you’ll end up clinging to him against the wind while he laughs and comments on how he isn’t at all cold while you shiver under his hold

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✰Iwaizumi takes you to pick out pumpkins. He drapes his heavy tan coat over your shoulders as you stand idly with your arms crossed and tucked under each other for warmth, him taking far too long and being far too picky in his selection process. He looks like a dad with the way he insects every pumpkin, knocking on it a few times before shaking his head and moving on. You can’t help but admire the way his biceps flex as he struggles to carry the numerous pumpkins you had chosen, despite your efforts to help him. You only carve a few of them, though, and the rest are placed around them. When they rot, you break them apart to discard and jokingly mention that he should chuck the pieces at Oikawa, but he takes you a little too seriously

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✰Tanaka takes you to a corn maze. On the way there, you take a tractor ride and he lays his coat down before you sit so that the hay doesn’t poke through your jeans, although he looks panicked in doing so, and practically rips his entire outfit off in his eagerness to be a gentleman for you. The ride is faster than anticipated, though, and now missing his outermost layer, he clings to you for warmth. You get lost in the maze and end up being yelled at by an old woman for cutting through the crops, so he hoists you onto his shoulders to scout for an exit. The two of you end up speedrunning the whole maze, and you laugh hysterically while teetering back and forth and clutching the top of his head for support, stealing his beanie for yourself.

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✰Oikawa takes you on a shopping spree. You both indulge in the latest fall fashions, and although he intended to choose a few pieces for himself can’t help but search frantically for items that you’d enjoy, and that he’d certainly enjoy to see on you. He doesn’t let you leave the shopping mall without a new waist coat, one that matches his but doesn’t clash with your shoes and compliments your eyes, two pairs of boots, and a comfortable hat that you look absolutely adorable in, the cinch of it’s fabric material drawing your hair down flat beside your cheeks and accenting your nose, which he can’t go a day without peppering soft kisses onto; usually in the morning when the sun has just hit your face. He loves to see you glow like rudolph, and it’s one of his favorite features

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✰Tsukishima invites you to his family’s thanksgiving. It’s a big deal for him, who usually separates his interpersonal relationships from his home life, and although he’s flustered, does the best he can to make you feel welcomed in his house. Despite his typical cold attitude, something that you are not spared from, it’s better to be kind to you than be publicly lectured by his mother for not being courteous to you, especially when most of his family is meeting you for the first time. Not that he doesn’t mind being kind to you in the first place, but he’ll save the teasing for another day; right now, this is a test for him. When he walks you home after you’ve stuffed yourself full, he’s extremely relieved, and thanks you for coming along. You know this is a big step for him, and that it can only mean you hold a special place in his heart

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✰Sugawara learns to crochet, just for you. He stays up late watching youtube videos, and although the awkward positions he twists his hands into just to finally get a yarn over on the hook make his joints ache and cramp, he works vigilantly at making you a matching set consisting of a scarf, headband, and pair of mittens. The stitching is loose and uneven, and you can’t really tell if he actually used a pattern or not, but it’s so heartwarming and thoughtful that you simply can’t get by without wearing it at least once. The same night he presents you with this set, you go out to a haunted maze, and you’re wearing each piece proudly. He spends the whole time creeping behind you trying to get you to scream, though, with a phone in hand, and you’re reminded of his pesky duality and the tendency to wreak havoc and stroll away carelessly

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✰Bokuto takes you on a ghost trail. He takes you here with the intention of being your knight in shining armor, but you swear he’s going to break your hand with how hard he squeeze it every time there’s a particularly loud gust of wind, the kind that whispers behind your ears and rustles the trees. He’s caught off guard by its low hissing, and when a crisp red leaf falls on top of his head he yelps, hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and breaking into a run before you lower yourself and stop him in his tracks. You decide to leave, after that, and stop by the vendor at the entrance for candied apples. Hey, at least he took you with him instead of using you as a shield, right?

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✰Ushijima arranges a ride through the countryside. You clamber into the back of an old, rusted pickup truck with him, and he lets you use his hand as leverage to hop into the bed, which has been covered in hay. You pass by fields of corn, and excitedly point out every horse you see to him, and although his only response is a low hum, you can see the way he smiles softly, genuinely, at you out of the corner of your eye. You lean over the wheels a few times to get a better look at the scene, and he instinctively reaches out to steady your legs so you don’t fall over

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✰Nishinoya goes trick or treating with you. He’s planned out several routes in case someone calls him out for being so old and asking for candy, so you always have another place to go and start over. When he’s rejected too many times, he has the ingenious idea to drag Hinata along with you two and tell people that he’s your son. It doesn’t work out exactly that way, though, and you find yourself being asked if you’re really just babysitting the two. Hey, at least he got what he came for though, right?

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✰Kuroo goes apple picking with you. When you mention how they would make a good pie, he somehow ends up rambling on about the chemical properties in the pie crust you find on pinterest, and how it’s more likely to burn, how you shouldn’t add that much brown sugar, and on and on and on until you finally find something to distract him. He pulls the branches down for you, but only after you’ve hopped up towards it a few times. He pulls a twig off and uses it to smack your head, teasing you for being so short compared to him

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ichbinspeedo · 4 years

Text

Part 3 Dio x Reader (Smut)

Warnings: GORE/BLOOD, NSFW, Marking, Biting, Degrading, Heat, Vaginal/Anal Penetration

So like, I h a t e Dio with a passion. He hot and all but just s t o p. Buttttt I'm also horny soo, Vampire Heat. Why not. It's like Omegaverse heat but for vampires, I dunno if it's thing but here it is folks 🎊

It had been 6 months since you joined Dio on his quest to eradicate the Joestar bloodline. You were somewhat of a maid at the mansion. Keeping the large estate clean and cooking food for the array of talented servants was part of your daily routine. Not much to aid in the fighting, but enough to feel helpful.

You were working on cleaning up after tonight's dinner when Enya, a close servant of Dio's, showed up. "Miss (L/n), Lord Dio requests your presence in the Library. I suggest you hurry, it seems urgent." The old woman told you, holding the door open as you walked out with a 'thank you'.

As you approached the large doors leading to the library's main area, you could hear scratching. The sound sent fear up your spine, and you held your breath as you reached for the doorknob. As soon as your hand came into contact with the handle, the scratching stopped. You slowly opened the door, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness and searching for your master.

"L-Lord Dio? You needed me?" You called out. To your right, you heard someone breathing hard. It sounded distant and somewhat strained. You quickly moved over to the sound, finding Dio in a leather chair. His face was flushed and sweaty, breathing ragged as he looked over at you. "Sir are you alright?" You asked, genuine worry in your voice.

"Hmm" He let out a low groan, "Tell me, (Y/n), do you know what 'heat' is?" You gave him a slight nod. "Well, with my powers has came... something similar. Quite the inconvenience if I do say. You seem like a tough girl, I believe you can take me?" He questioned with an audible huff, looking down his nose at you.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, watching his subtle squirms as he stays seated. "I-I'm not sure, my Lord. I've never done anything like this before.." You responded meekly, fumbling with your fingers. He let out a chuckle and stood up. Stride after shaky stride, he made his way over.

"Well I'd hope you hadn't. I want you to be all mine~" The vampire whispered in your ear, taking his hand into your hair. "Now, you'd better be ready cause I won't hold back" He strained the end of his sentence, pressing himself onto your front. You were lost for words as the giant of a man tilted your head up and ghosted your lips. He smirked and leaned down further, sinking his teeth into your neck.

He wrapped his leg behind yours and tripped you to the ground, following you down and climbing on top of you. Gripping your jaw tightly, he forced his lips onto yours. Your head fuzzy with newfound pleasure coursing through your veins, you kissed him back. Mindlessly, you started to run your hand through his hair.

He instantly pulled away and smacked you. "Did I give you permission to touch me? If I were in an worse of a mood you'd have lost that arm, love." Dio caressed the mark he had left on your cheek. You didn't dare fight against him, knowing that if you'd said something you might end up dead.

"Hmm, I can't have you going around thinking you run this place, now can I?" He said with a grin, pressing a manicured nail into his bottom lip and chuckling. "Now, should I strap you down with leather, or plain rope? It's a hard choice if I do say so myself" Dio leaned in close to your ear, spreading your legs and rubbing his clothed member on your thigh. He let out a shaky breath, leaned down and whispered in your ear "Or maybe I could just fuck you so hard you can't move~"

With that, he took a razor sharp nail to the dress you were in, slicing it off of you. He dug his thumb nails into the sides of the underwear you wore, cutting both the clothes and your skin. You let out a quiet whimper, feeling a warm liquid spill down onto the floor. "Tsk tsk, you're making such a mess" Dio said, forcing your face onto the floor. He rubbed it onto your freshly spilt blood. "Clean it, bitch."

You immediately stuck your tongue out and lapped at the smear of blood, frantically trying to please your master. His large hands gripped your thighs and lifted you so your ass stuck out in the air, and your face was pressed into the ground. Once you finished cleaning the floor with your tongue, you felt a pair of lips on the cuts Dio had just made. "Mmnh, you taste just like I'd imagined~ Now lets see if you taste as good here.."

Your eyes widened at the realization of his words, feeling the man behind you shove his face into your now bare pussy. He got right to work lapping up your fluids, pressing his chin into your throbbing clit. You let out a surprised moan, quickly biting into your arm to keep quiet. This earned you a smack onto your ass, Dio digging his claws into the flesh. He pulled himself away from your core for a moment.

"Don't you dare cover your mouth. I want everyone to hear you. I want them to remember hearing your moans every time they look at you. They need to know how lucky you are~" He planted a kiss onto the mound of flesh that yearned for attention, but left it at that. "You know what? Let's make it even better"

He rolled you over onto your back, and brought his thumb nail up to your chest. "Scream for me~" Before you knew it, your master had plunged his now unclothed dick inside you. Him pounding into you at a fast pace from the start had you breaking instantly. Screams of pain poured out from your mouth uncontrollably, and Dio started to drag a nail into your skin. It stung like a bitch, but you knew not to complain.

"Ahh, Lord Dio please!" You shouted out, feeling him carve lines into your chest and between your breasts. The pain focused up to the new cuts rather than the pounding in your abdomen, letting pure pleasure take over. Dio leaned in further, lifting your hips up into the air. You felt your orgasm approaching fast, and apparently Dio did too.

"Ngh- Gonna come already? You little fucking masochist, you like this don't you!" He yelled, bringing his hand down on your bleeding backside. After finishing whatever he decided to carve into you, he stopped his movements. "Answer the question, brat!" He spat at you, causing you to wince.

"Ahh please Lord Dio! I love it so much, I love you Dio please keep going!" You shouted, clawing at your head. The cold floor under you left as he picked you up, sitting in a chair facing a mirror. He had your back facing him and pressed your legs up to your shoulders. You could see what he had written on your chest. 'Dio Brando,' the letters splayed across your chest and stuck out like a sore thumb. You'd been claimed, and you loved it.

"Watch." He plunged himself into your backside without warning. The sudden intrusion made tears spill form your eyes, feeling like you were being torn in half. "Fuck you're so tight back here! I could use this more often, you'd like that wouldn't you? Don't you want your master to fuck you raw everyday?" You let out garbled moans and nodded quickly. "This is gonna be your new life. You're gonna be my little slave you slut~" He scratched down your thigh, using one had to hold your legs up and the other to reach down and rub your clit harshly. You leaned your head back into his body and turned your head towards him. You wanted so badly to kiss this man, but you knew better to ask first.

"Master please let me kiss you, please! I want you to ruin me please!" Your shouts echoed throughout the loud room, and your master granted your wish. He tilted his head towards you, connecting his lips to yours in a passionate kiss as he fucked you from behind. You could feel your own juices acting as somewhat of a lubricant, knowing that the pain could've been much worse.

The more you moaned into Dio's mouth, the faster he went. It was like he couldn't help but use your pleasure for his own. You knew he could kill you at any second, so that small surge of power within you makes you burst with happiness. His thrusts almost seemed desperate inside you, needy grunts and pants being absorbed into you. With one more thrust into your tight hole, Dio released his seed deep inside of you, pulling away from your lips to let loose a heavy sigh.

Your face turned into one of dissatisfaction, having not reached your high yet. The man behind you let out a low chuckle, grip loosening on your hips.

"Why the sad face darling?" He cooed into your ear, scratching lightly on your bloody stomach. "The night's only just begun~"

#dio x reader #jjba #jjba x reader #reader insert #dio brando #jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #smut #jojo's bizarre adventure

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Full Disclosure

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

In which Sam and Valerie clear the air between them.

Word count: 5176

READ ON AO3

Before we go in, I just wanted to say that I hope I did the characters justice. Really, it’s all I ask because I’m still fairly recent in the fandom (as in, actively participating rather than fangirling on my own) and I’d hate to make a travesty of characters that mean so much to me. Oh, and this one-shot can take place in whatever timeline you want: you hate PP with a passion? Don’t worry, it didn’t happen. You actually think it’s a good finale? That works too. There shouldn’t be anything that indicates this story takes place in anywhere in particular other than Amity Park, so... All you need to know is that Valerie knows.

Please, enjoy!!

As an intense throb manifested itself in her right side, eliciting an involuntary groan to escape her throat, Sam was more frustrated at herself than aching from the hit. It had been two years already since Danny had the accident that gave him his powers, consequently beginning the constant battles against ghosts that made their teenaged life significantly harder, and, as they came to appreciate their lifestyle, significantly more interesting, too. Once Danny gained his ghost powers, she and Tucker took it to themselves to make sure their friend was always supported and aided when fighting his ghostly adversaries.

And with that came the injuries.

They certainly didn’t get hurt as often or as gravely as Danny, since he was usually the one facing the mischievous spirits head-on, but they still had to get used to their own fair share of beatings. The teachers were understandably surprised when they effortlessly completed their first aid training in Health class.

All in all, Sam was used to getting hurt.

Which made the fact that Valerie had landed such a perfect kick that it literally left her breathless all the more humiliating.

Valerie Gray, a.k.a. the Red Huntress. Danny Phantom’s longtime pursuer and Danny Fenton’s one time girlfriend. The once popular girl was now their trustworthy ally. And, as much as Sam hated to admit it, she was thoroughly kicking her butt. Perhaps she should have expected as much from a ninth degree black belt.

“Had enough, Manson?” Valerie taunted with a raised eyebrow.

Getting up slowly, Sam sent her a smirk alongside a challenging, determined look. “Never.” And with that she leaped on the ghost huntress, using her momentum to connect a punch to her face. But Valerie was faster, blocking the Goth girl’s attack with her forearm before sliding her leg under Sam’s to make her lose her balance. Seeing what her opponent was up to, the violet-eyed girl quickly got out of her way, widening the space between the two to give herself some time to think up a new strategy.

Smirking at Sam’s maneuver, Valerie appraised her with pride. “Not bad, Sam,” she said before changing her stance, ready to pounce, “but the extra space won’t save you from this.” Leaping into the air, the Red Huntress didn’t waste a moment to knock Sam to the floor with a roundhouse kick boosted by her movements.

Even if the Goth blocked the attack by keeping her palms up in front of her face, the sheer force behind it was still enough to knock her down. That was gonna bruise in the morning, she was sure of it. Glancing up she noticed Valerie looking down at her with a smug look on her face and her hands on her hips. Sam barely resisted the urge to scowl darkly at her. Panting, she conceded, “Alright, alright. Maybe now I’ve had enough.”

Chuckling at Sam’s proud nature, the green-eyed girl bent down slightly to offer her friend a hand and lift her up from the floor. Once Sam was at her eye-level, she looked down on her watch, now serving as a chronometre. “Five minutes. That’s a full round! Congratulations, Sam. So far, you’re the one who’s lasted the most against me.” She applauded her, but her face betrayed her. She was about to burst out laughing.

Snorting, the Goth girl elbowed her slightly on the arm. “Knock it off! Even if I lost, I still managed to land a few hits myself.”

“Yeah...Trust me, you don’t have to remind me.” Valerie complained with a pointed look as she rubbed her lower back. Early on in the match, Sam kneed her there. Thank goodness she wasn’t tasked with unloading the Nasty Burger’s products that week. “I’m serious, though. Danny without his powers lasts a minute and a half, tops. And Tucker...well, let’s just say that taking one hit without passing out is already a victory when it comes to him.”

“Yeah, he and Danny really should do more exercise.” The two girls laughed at that. These past two years Danny’s skill when using his powers had skyrocketed. Enemies that used to give him a hard time were now more of a headache. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the fight to get rid of the Ghost Box. Now, as Danny Fenton… He’d gotten taller, that was for sure. But he still had the nasty habit of relying on his powers a little too much, which didn’t do his P.E marks any favours. And Tucker was still far more interested in whatever his PDA had to offer than the wonders of physical exercise.

In truth, everyone had changed during that time, if only a little.

Sam was still as Goth and ultra-recyclo-vegetarian as always. Her raven hair was slightly longer, now reaching her shoulders, but she still wore it mostly loose and framing her face, except for the one strand she kept in a high ponytail. Her fashion sense hadn’t changed much either. She wore a black crop top with Danny’s logo on it instead of the old purple ovalーthe town began selling merchandise of its hero to attract, and basically rob, tourists. Since she created the logo herself, she made her own outfits and nobody was none the wiser. She also stuck with plaid skirts, but this time she favoured a purple and black one instead of her old black and green. But her combat boots, accessories, and make-up were sacred. Everybody knew impending doom was near if Sam ever changed even the tiniest detail in her appearance when it came to that.

She was still outspoken and an avid defender of animal rights, individuality, and most importantly, of Danny Phantom. Even though most people celebrated the boy and thanked him for his services, there were still some who criticised him and believed Amity Park was better off before him. Needless to say, Sam was always at the front of the line in any protest to defend Amity Park’s greatest protector. The fact that he was not only one of her best friends but also her boyfriend may have something to do with it. But even if they weren’t together, Sam knew Danny. She’d always known him. She would always defend him from those who couldn’t even begin to grasp just how noble, responsible, and compassionate he was.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly when she remembered she’d just been sparring with what once was one of Danny Phantom’s greatest detractors.

In a way, Valerie had probably changed the most out of everyone she knew while simultaneously not changing anything at all.

In terms of appearance, just like Sam, she’d only modified her look slightly. She cut her long, dark brown curls so they now barely reached her shoulders instead of cascading down her back. According to her, long hair just got in the way with her suit. She originally wanted to get an undercut, but her dad almost had a cow so they compromised with short hair for now and leaving the undercut for when she was a little older. The huntress still favoured spaghetti-strapped yellow t-shirts, but now she completed her outfit with dark blue jeans or shorts (depending on the temperature) and white sneakers. She also dropped the headband due to her hair, but she kept the earrings.

The most obvious change, though, was that she was now an ally rather than an enemy after Danny Phantom’s head. Sam feared for the worst when Valerie found out her ex boyfriend was the very same ghost she’d vowed to destroy (could she really say she and Danny were exes, though? Sure, they went on a few dates and they genuinely liked each other, but Valerie pseudo-broke up with him right when he was about to ask her to make things official... Ugh, the wonders of the teenaged heart... Always bound to give her a headache. This is why she preferred her Goth indifference...most of the time). As much as they wanted to trust Valerie was going to be sensible about it, her track record wasn’t the best, forcing them to keep an eye out in case she decided to send her more positive opinion of Danny Fenton to Hell and shoot him with her ecto-bazooka.

Thankfully, one day Valerie just sat down with them at lunch, and when Danny tentatively asked her if they were okay, she just smiled and said, “We’re okay.” So they ate lunch in peace...until the Lunch Lady showed up and they had to send her back to the Ghost Zone. At least that time the Red Huntress was there to help them out. Ever since then, the girl sometimes fought alongside them, but for the most part she did her own thing.

And that was something about Valerie that hadn’t changed; her hatred of ghosts. Valerie was still hellbent on getting rid of all the spirits that haunted Amity Park, with half-ghosts being the sole exception ーexcept for Vlad, Valerie held a huge grudge against him for having used her as his pawn; not like the team could complain, they all hated Vlad, after all. And that made her ruthless, determined, brutal… More than once Danny had tried talking her out of her grudge against the paranormal, explaining to her that, albeit not as numerous as the troublemaking ghosts, there were still some that just wanted to be left alone. But Valerie would not budge. She believed all ghosts lacked the humanity and self-control necessary to resist whatever crazy obsession that tied them to our world and would eventually attack.

To Valerie, ghosts were ticking bombs.

Seeing as, so far, most ghosts they faced were malicious or seriously causing trouble, Tucker suggested they just let her be, but the moment she actually targeted an innocent ghost (say, Wulf), then they would have to get serious with her.

All in all, Valerie was their friend. A friend who had agreed to help her train so Danny wouldn’t have to worry so much about her safety when they were out fighting spectres. Not like he really needed to worry, she could take care of herself, but the more prepared they were, the better. And Valerie was helping her with that, and yet, the air still hadn’t been completely cleared between them.

As much as Sam would’ve loved cutting to the chase, a part of her still wasn’t prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Not gonna lie, Valerie, I wiー” she stopped mid-sentence. The last thing they needed was to have Desirée roaming free around Amity Park just because she hadn’t been careful with her words. Clearing her throat, she went on. “I mean, I would do anything for your fighting skills. You must have every ghost shaking in their boots...or whatever they have to shake in.”

As Sam sat down on the floor of her family’s private gym, which Valerie still couldn’t get used to being in, the green-eyed girl made her way to the other side of the room far away from the training tatami, where a middle-sized fridge was located. Pulling the door open, she grabbed two water bottles before going back to Sam. “Yeah, what can I say? I am pretty awesome.”

“And don’t forget modest.” Sam replied sarcastically.

“Girl, when you’re as good as me, you don’t need to pretend to be modest.” She joked as she handed Sam her own water bottle, which she accepted gratefully, before sitting down on the floor next to her. “Believe it or not, though, I became a ninth degree black belt long before I started hunting ghosts.” She looked at the floor, a pensive look on her face, “...we couldn’t have afforded the classes otherwise.”

Sam did her best to suppress the urge to do a spit-take at her words. Valerie almost never brought her financial situation up. The most she used to do was remember Danny why she hated him back when she still was after him, but the topic was dropped altogether once the secret was out. Looking around her ridiculously lavish house, Sam felt like facepalming herself. How could she have been so insensitive as to remind Valerie of the life she lost?!

“Valerie...I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to meet up at the park to train, but I…”

“Sam, don’t.” The huntress cut her off with a stern tone. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“But it was insensitive of me toー” Again, she was interrupted by Valerie, who silenced her by raising her palm up in front of her.

“Please, let me talk. You don’t have to apologise for anything because you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll admit, it’s a bit paradoxical finding out that while I was mourning my losses you’d been hiding the fact that you’re stinking rich all along. But I’m not offended by it. Actually, I think I understand.”

“You do?” The Goth girl asked in disbelief, her eyes wide open.

The African-American girl just shrugged. “I think so. I didn’t realise it until my so-called friends kicked me out of the group, but having money attracts a lot of fakes and shallow people. People who’ll only be there when it’s convenient for them and who’ll throw you away like a used tissue the moment you have nothing else to offer. I know that better than anyone…” When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Sam smiling kindly at her, doing her best to get out of her comfort zone and offer her some comfort. She returned the smile. “Bottom line: you want real friends, so you never talk about your money ‘cause you don’t want to attract the wrong people. I get it.”

“You really do.”

“And I guess I’m also flattered.”

Sam blinked slowly at her. “Wow, Valerie. It usually takes a lot to take me by surpriseーwith the ghost fighting and allーand yet, here we are!”

The huntress just chuckled softly in response. “What I mean is that I understand that it takes you a lot to let people inーand quite literally tooーbut you still invited me. That means you must trust me, if only a bit.”

Sam couldn’t help but blush at her earnest words. It was true, wasn’t it? She trusted Valerie. She would have never invited her to her house if she didn’t. And, now that she thought about it, Valerie had to trust her too if she was willing to show her vulnerable side to her. Somehow, the thought made her smile. Knowing she would have to bring up uncomfortable topics soon, the violet-eyed girl decided to alleviate some of the tension first. “Well, I’m glad you could at least get your black belt first! Otherwise we would be in for a major asskicking from some ghosts.”

That comment actually made Valerie laugh. “Oh, hush, you flatterer! Or I’ll tell Danny his girlfriend has been hitting on me.” She could only snort when Sam gasped in fake shock. “Seriously, though. I personally would love to be as genre savvy as you are. I mean, you always know what to do or have some obscure knowledge about whatever we’re facing. From the Fright Knight’s legend to how to train your dragon ghost.”

Sam merely shrugged with a lazy grin on her face, “What can I say? Obscure knowledge sort of comes with being a Goth.”

The two girls started snickering after that. As their laughter died down, Valerie noticed Sam’s smile fading from the corner of her eye, concerning her. “Sam? Is everything okay?”

“Valerie...I’m sorry.”

That took her by surprise. After a few seconds of shock, the Red Huntress rolled her eyes good-naturedly before gently nudging her friend with her shoulder. “C’mon, Sam. I told you already. You don’t have to feel sorry for inviting meー.”

This time it was Sam who cut her off. She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m sorry for the way I used to act towards you when we were fourteen,” she admitted before softly adding, “especially when you and Danny were beginning to connect.”

One would think that a semi-professional ghost huntress would have seen it all, and honestly, so did Valerie, but she was genuinely shocked at Sam’s apology. The shock didn't last long, though. “Are you seriously apologising for that? Sam, that was two years ago!”

Of all the things she could be apologising for...She just had to pick that one, didn’t she?

Sam groaned, frustrated and clenching her gym shorts with her hands. “I know it’s been two years, but that doesn’t change that I wasn’t the most pleasant person in the world to you for reasons that weren’t...completely pure.”

“So what?” Valerie insisted. “Neither was I for the longest time! You and Tucker were right when you called me out during Pariah Dark’s attack; how could I expect to be treated like one of the group when I used to be such a brat to you? You still eventually forgave me.” She pointed out.

“You don’t understand…” Sam whined as she rubbed her face with her hands. “While it’s true that part of my animosity towards you came from how you used to treat us, and another good chunk came from your eagerness to vaporise one of my best friends,” the Red Huntress actually had the decency to blush embarrassedly at that, “I really, really disliked you because I was...well, I was jealous. Plain and simple.”

There. She’d said it. After years gritting her teeth and burning with envy whenever Danny and Tucker (mostly because of Danny, obviously) drooled over Paulina or any other pretty girl, she had finally admitted she was mostly jealous instead of simply not understanding what the fuss was about. Hanging out with girls more often, namely Valerie and Jazz, instead of only spending her time with the guys had really helped broaden her horizons. Especially when it came to her opinion on other girls. She was proud to say she was finally moving on from her “not like other girls” phase.

Even if Danny’s crush on Paulina had driven her nuts more than once, it was his budding romance with Valerie that truly pushed all her buttons and caused her deepest insecurities to rear their ugly head. Even if dating her was dangerous, Danny still wanted to be with her! He was willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant they could be a couple. And he was so protective of her when Technus attacked… As much as Sam hated to admit it, as much as she wished (to Hell with Desirée) she could ignore it all and just focus on protecting Danny from being hunted by his new girlfriend, that hurt.

That hurt a lot.

Albeit annoying, Danny’s crush on Paulina was safe. Paulina only liked Danny Phantom. Danny couldn’t really get closer to her as his alter-ego without putting her in danger, and Danny would never put an innocent person in danger. And just like that, Paulina became unattainable. But Valerie…

Valerie liked Danny Fenton. She and Danny often just wanted to have a normal life, away from ghosts and burdens that no 14-year-old kid should shoulder. Even if the Red Huntress wanted to kill Danny Phantom, Valerie genuinely liked Danny Fenton. Despite the danger, she was closer than Paulina. And despite their close bond, she was closer to Danny than Sam herself. Because Valerie wasn’t afraid to admit her feelings, unlike her.

In fact, hadn’t Valerie put her job before her love life, Sam knew without an ounce of a doubt that she and Danny would still be together. Because she had been too afraid to tell Danny how much he meant to her sooner.

Yes, she had been jealous of Valerie.

She had been jealous of the attention she received from Danny. She had been jealous of the fact that they went out on several dates and nothing could embarrass them or ruin their little moment. She was jealous because it would’ve meant things would change.

But most importantly, she was jealous of Valerie’s guts.

And she finally confessed it.

...which made what Valerie said next all the more jaw-dropping.

“Yeah, I know.”

Her jaw hanging low and eyes as wide as saucers, Sam slowly turned her head to look the huntress dead in the eye. “You know?” She asked, completely flabbergasted.

Valerie snorted. She actually snorted at her question! And while Sam was looking at her with the most comically astonished expression on the face of the planet, Valerie just regarded her with a coy smile. “No offence, Sam, but it was kinda hard to miss. I think only Danny wasn’t aware of it.”

Sam had nothing to say in response to that.

“Besides, didn’t I tell you before I even started going out with Danny? When you like someone, if you don’t make a move, somebody else will. What did you think I was referring to other than your feelings, chess?”

“That...is true.” The Goth admitted quietly.

Seeing her usually outspoken friend acting so despondent all of a sudden didn’t sit well with the green-eyed teenager. She sighed, “Look, Sam. I understand that you were...difficult because you were jealous. I can’t deny I once or twice acted petty towards you because I was jealous, myself. But even if I hadn’t decided to just stay friends with Danny, I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the end.”

Not for the first time that day, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last time either, Valerie had taken her completely aback. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Sam insisted, “What are you talking about? You two are the best ghost hunters in Amity Park, you guys would have been the ultimate power couple!”

Leaning back on her elbows, the Red Huntress sent the Goth a smirk, “Ah, but you’re forgetting I would’ve had to know Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same first. And I…”, for the first time since their sparring lesson began, Valerie found herself hesitating, “I don’t know how I would’ve taken that.

“Sure, I really, really liked Danny, but I had spent far longer hating his ghost half. Ever since the Cujo-related incidents I blamed him for the turn my life had taken. And even when I was growing fond of Danny Fenton, his actions as Danny Phantom still drove me nuts! I mean, he literally unmasked me right before my dad! He forbade me from ghost hunting until I got that upgrade in my suit. Could I really put all that aside in favour of having a relationship with him?

“That’s why it took me so long to face you guys once I learned the truth; I was trying to make peace with it all. I figured I could learn to forgive Danny, maybe even trust him with my life...but never with my heart again. There were too many imbalances between us for me to be comfortable in a relationship with him...and you guys are honestly better together anyways.” She winked at the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.

“You really think so?” Sam could feel the heat making its way to her cheeks the moment Valerie nodded at her question. “I-I mean!”, ugh, how she hated stuttering!, “Danny’s always been super important to me...obviously! And we’ve always done our best to be there for each other and have each other’s backs, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder if perhaps we’re just making a mistake and we were better off as friends…” She finished with a defeated sigh.

At the sensation of an arm wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to look at Valerie. “Sam, trust me. This is no mistake. You’re one of the very few people who understand there’s no difference between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom; they’re both Danny and you’ve always known that and done your best to show him just that. And unlike Paulina or me, even if you hadn’t known his secret from the beginning, I’m willing to bet my right arm that you would’ve accepted both sides of him equally either way.”

At her words, Sam could only smile warmly, “You really think so?”

Valerie returned her smile. “I know so.”

Still replaying Valerie’s words and organising her own thoughts in her head, Sam turned to face her, one hand resting on her lap and the other on Valerie’s shoulder, “For what it’s worth, I still think that after a, very understandable, initial bump in your relationship, you two could’ve made a great couple too. I meant what I said when I told you that, if Danny liked you, then we would only have to make room for you at our table. I can’t think of any girl I would be willing to do that for but you, Val.”

Valerie almost gasped at Sam’s words, but she recovered rather quickly, “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot coming from you.” Resting her own hand on top of the one on her shoulder, she winked mischievously at her, “And don’t worry; I don’t go around stealing my friends’ boyfriends.”

The Goth girl snorted at that. “Glad to hear that.”

They remained like that for a moment, just enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them and their secret understanding. They were friends. They had similarities and differences. But that would never change the respect each felt for the other.

Finally, getting up from the floor and dusting herself off, Valerie broke the silence, “Come on, there’s still many moves I haven’t used to kick your butt.”

Sam smirked at the challenge, “Oh, you’re so on!”

................

The Fentons’ Emergency Ops Centre had, ironically, become their safe haven.

Whenever they wanted to enjoy some alone time before they had to part ways or a ghost attack took place, they would simply climb up the roof and enter through the door leading to it. Although Danny could just phase or fly them there if they were really pressed for time, which was their usual way of getting there because they were always pressed for time.

The Ops Centre was really just an excuse to spend some time together, really.

It didn’t matter what they did. Sometimes they would make out because they were a couple and couples made out with each other, didn’t they? Especially when said couple consisted of two hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe if they’d been a pair of octogenarians, the fuss of the relationship would have been elsewhere. Like how incredible it was that they’d survived that long in the first place.

Other times they just talked about nothing and everything at the same time. Sort of like what they usually did, but without Tucker. Sam would often talk about the latest hideous monstrosity their parents had intended she wore ー”Oh, you’re laughing now! But trust me, Undergrowth had much better fashion sense than my parents!”ー, or how rapidly the poles were melting and nobody was doing anything about it, or how her latest poetry reading went ー“Kwan’s getting better, actually. This time he wrote about the new scabs he got during the last game”ー, and how they could defeat the villain of the week who was somehow harder to beat than the previous one because, really, they always got harder to beat.

And Danny would recall his parents’ latest shenanigans, or Jazz’s newest psychological experiment with ghosts that she was sure was going to work because it was just flawless; or he’d warn her about the food in his house ー”I know you don’t eat meat anyways, but don’t open the fridge. The ecto-weenies are back and this time they’ve brought BBQ sauce.” He would also complain about the workload of homework Mr Lancer had assigned them; sometimes because he didn’t think he’d have the time to finish it all, and sometimes he just didn’t know where to start because what the Heck is irony anyway? Didn’t anyone realise that what they often called irony was actually more of a paradox? How could they be teaching something wrong in English class?! And, sometimes, in those rare moments where Danny finally realised, only to forget his lesson all over again the next day, that he could count on her, Tucker, Jazz, Val ーand his loved ones, damn it!ー and confide his deepest secrets, he would open up about how being Danny Phantom was taking its toll on him. How being famous was more often than not more suffocating than flattering. How he was getting tired that his enemies only ever came back, or became stronger, or multiplied. How he feared, no, how he felt it was never going to end until he was 100% dead and not just 50%... He even still had trouble understanding what truly happened to him the day of the accident.

And maybe they just would never know.

And then, there were days like today. Days where they would just stay in silence, watching Amity Park since the makeshift observatory his zany but genius parents had built all on their own. Because, sometimes, watching the sunset in silence with that special someone was just enough.

While Danny leaned against the railing, Sam was sitting on top of it, enjoying the soft breeze blowing around her and caressing her skin. “Today I trained with Valerie.”

Perking up at the sound of her voice suddenly breaking the silence, Danny turned his head slightly in her direction. “Oh?” He let out, “How did it go?”

“I managed to last a full five minutes and land a few serious hits myself.” She stated proudly.

The ghost boy whistled appreciatively, “Five full minutes! Now that’s impressive.” He sent her a sly look and a smirk, his admiration turning into amusement, “And how many hits did you cushion?”

Curling her lip in annoyance, Sam muttered, “The fact that I’m even sitting here is a miracle in itself.”

That had Danny snickering like crazy, before a sharp pain in his arm stopped him, “Ow!”

To his surprise, instead of a smug Sam as he expected, he found his girlfriend gingerly rubbing her arm, a pained expression on her face. “Okay,” she panted, “that was so not worth it.”

“Here, let me help.” Gently resting his fingers on her arm, he used his ice powers to send a chilly sensation across her limb, effectively alleviating the pain. “Anything else I should know about? Did the training turn into a battle to the death?”

“Actually, we talked things out and we finally buried the hatchet.” She said seriously.

Danny furrowed the brow in confusion. “Uh, Sam? I was kidding. And I thought you already did that when she found out the truth about my powers.”

Chuckling softly, Sam could only roll her eyes with a smile on her face as she leaned close to leave a tender kiss on his lips before whispering, “Clueless.”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #dp fanfic #sam manson #valerie gray #danny fenton #tucker foley #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #paulina sanchez #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #most characters are just mentioned though #amethyst ocean #danny/sam #my fic

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g0dspeeed · 4 years

Text

Liar, Liar

For @constantzeigarnik

"V unabashedly flirting with Viktor, just laying it on real thick for the ripperdoc, and Viktor just not being prepared for it in the slightest."

“Liar, liar.”

The words came out in a tired sigh with a voice that hopefully sounded as indifferent as V intended.

The pair was laid out on the hood of Panam’s latest wheels, eyes closed, and cold drinks in hand. After helping the Aldecaldo get the ride from a locked storage yard, V had offered to relax beneath the shade of a highway overpass while they waited for the client to arrive. Panam accepted without a second thought. Between the two of them, a break from daily survival in Night City seemed in order.

Supposed to be chill.

Just two friends sippin’ on a dry afternoon.

No worries.

No stress for an hour.

That was before their present conversation, one that V was trying desperately to avoid.

“Yeah, I’m the liar here,” returned Panam. “And Night City is family friendly. At least I’m not the one in denial that my ripperdoc has the hots for me.”

V turned to shoot her friend a dark look. The nomad smirked as the warning fell flat. Despite V’s best efforts, Panam could see right through her: She was absolutely fuckin’ right.

“Think ya’ got it all wrong,” V maintained in a cool tone.

“Oh, do I?”

V cringed.

“Only met the guy one time,” Panam said. “Felt like a third wheel between the two of you eye-fuckin’ each other. Almost walked outta there see what that psychic girl was sellin’.”

A new warmth began stinging V’s cheeks and Panam frowned at her friend’s lack of response.

This was new territory. Seeing V react this way was beyond strange. One of the most capable people Panam had ever met was turning red over a man. Borderline bizarre. Truly, the entire conversation was out of the norm.

“Shit,” muttered Panam. At her best efforts at being soft, she added, “Don’t feel bad, V. The guy’s stacked like a fucking truck.”

At that, V finally let her guard down. She grinned as Panam gently shoved her shoulder.

“There she is. Just let that denial fade away-”

“Fuck off.”

“What the hell are you afraid of?” asked Panam. “Rejection?”

V looked at her energy drink, swiveling the liquid around before relenting.

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

An eye roll and a heavy groan came from the woman beside her.

“Yeah okay,” said Panam. “Like he’d reject a woman half his age, much less a badass like you. V, I saw it for myself. The guy thinks you’re hot. Caught ‘im lookin’ at your ass. Not only that, he cares, like genuinely cares about you, which says a lot for people like us. Next time you see him, just lay it on thick and be done.”

V scrunched her eyes shut at her friend’s advice. Just talking about openly pursuing Viktor Vector made V’s stomach twist into knots. As much as she was the badass that Panam knew her to be, for V to explore an actual romantic relationship outside of ‘eye-fucking’ and the occasional one-night stand with some rando from Afterlife was not something V was familiar with. Her days were chaotic. Her lifestyle was that of constant motion. Viktor, in all his edginess, was stable, consistent, and secure. Also, she enjoyed the subtly they shared, the skirting around the topic of their flirty friendship, or whatever it was, from the safety of fleeting looks, suggestive undertones, and the occasional wink.

Then again, if V were honest with herself, it never seemed to be enough. V couldn’t deny that each time she left his clinic she wanted more. Craved more. More time, more privacy, more touch. She was her own worst enemy in all of those categories, always the first to shy away, to change the subject, to wander off.

“Worst case scenario,” breathed Panam. “He’s not interested in dating someone younger. Or just wants to be friends. That’s fine. Whatever. Should that happen, you delta outta there, lay low for a few weeks, find a new doc, and move on.”

“I can’t just delta out of his life,” groaned V. “He’s been my ripperdoc since I came to Night City. He’s also one of my closest friends-”

“Ok, then suffer. Fuck! Just do something. You’re killing me with this in between bullshit.”

Hours later, their conversation from under the overpass played on repeat inside V’s head. Panam cannot sugar coat anything. She might be physically incapable of doing that. Her words came straight from the heart and that’s what made what she had to say so sincere.

That is at least what V was telling herself as she steadily made her way down the steps to Viktor’s clinic, hands clammy, and body keyed up.

Part of her hoped that he was out or tied up with a patient. Maybe he would tell her to come by later.

She scoffed.

What a stupid thought. She was too quick to forget how often he invited her to stick around if he were operating, how she would wait at his workbench or nap on his crusty couch in the back. Sure enough, she could hear the man whistling below, the cheery sound echoing to where she hesitated. She swallowed.

With a final deep breath, V summoned up the bravery to walk through the metal gate.

Hunched over his operating chair, Viktor appeared to be wiping down between appointments, his rich voice humming along to some song in his head. V watched for a moment, taking in the serene sight before approaching the ripperdoc.

“Surprised you’re not watching a match,” she said.

The humming stopped. His head cocked at hearing her voice.

Without turning he responded, “Aren’t any on right now or you know I would be.”

The rag was tossed down and Viktor shifted to look at her.

V’s stomach flipped. His blue button-up was stained with a dark, oily substance all over the front. The top buttons were either missing or dangling from bits of string, leaving the shirt partly undone and exposing his undershirt. V’s eyebrows furrowed as she noticed a small crack that cut in the corner of his glasses just above a small nick on his cheekbone.

“You look-”

“Like shit?” he finished with a grin.

Viktor crossed his arms, drawing V’s attention to his thick biceps in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Bet so,” he continued. “Someone brought in his friend after a run in with the Tyger Claws, all blood clots and broke teeth. The gonk was scared out of his goddamn mind. Took a toll just to sedate ‘im.”

His smile had turned into a smirk, something confident and full of swagger as he told his story. He wore it well, mastering the balance found only in seasoned residents of Night City, of those who earned their street cred by way of blood, grit, and never backing down. V’s lips pursed at how his eyes looked to hers past those dark lenses.

Here would be the part where V ran away, ran from opportunity, from her feelings. He dared to look at her the way he did in that moment, so smooth, so confident. The man had to know. Viktor had to recognize how he affected her, had to notice how her eyes appreciated his physique, how her complexion warmed when he touched her. His frame had turned to face hers, all broad shoulders and aftershave.

She could step back.

Look away.

This was where she could coolly suppress her attraction and change the subject.

But not today.

“Here,” she said warmly.

V stepped close to the ripperdoc, shrinking the gap between their bodies as her fingers gently plucked the man’s glasses from his face. Viktor blinked in surprise and swallowed as she studied the damaged lens with a critical eye, her own smirk pulling at her full lips.

“Gonna need new ones, doc,” she told him.

Next, V carefully folded the glasses and slid them onto the collar of her top. Viktor’s eyes tracked her movements before quickly glancing away. Ever the gentleman.

“But don’t worry,” continued V. “The rest of you I can remedy.”

He chuckled.

“The rest of me?”

V looked up. She nearly gasped. For Viktor to wear those damn shaded glasses was a sin. The bluest blue that V had ever seen, his eyes were deep like ocean water. There was longing in them. Desire. He adored V for standing so close and showing such concern for his wellbeing. Christ, she could get lost in those eyes if he kept looking at her like that.

To answer his question, V tugged at the hem of his soiled shirt. He stiffened.

“Are you tryin’ to say that you like being covered in… whatever this is?” she mused.

“Well, no-”

In a near whisper, V begged, “Then come on, Vik. Let me play doctor for once.”

Fuck.

The way she was looking up at him with that smile, those bedroom eyes, leaning close like that with her fingers tugging on his shirt and talkin’ in that sweet, sexy voice.

Who was Viktor to deny her?

He sighed out a ‘Fine’ and nodded in agreement. Consent confirmed, V went to work. V’s fingers moved to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, but Viktor stopped her hands. His own hands were warm, a little rough with scars and callouses on the tips and knuckles. In response to V’s questioning look, Viktor grabbed his shirt and ripped the buttons loose with a jerk. They pattered at their feet.

“Trash,” he stated as he slid his arms free from his shirt. Like the buttons, it went airborne and landed in a nearby biohazard bin.

“Hey now,” warned V with mock annoyance. “I said let me play doctor.”

“Oh am I being a bad patient?” returned Viktor.

To his surprise, V placed her palm at the center of his chest. Her fingers flexed gently against his undershirt, making Viktor’s heart race. She then gave a gentle shove.

“The worst,” she teased as Viktor let her push him back into his own operating chair.

Even if he wanted to, there was no way that Viktor could hide his smile. He was at a loss. What in the world had gotten into V? Not that he was complaining of course, but he was so used to waiting. The flirting, the winks, all those playful innuendos had been going on for such a long time. By now, Viktor simply accepted that she wouldn’t push it further, that their friendship or whatever they had, consisted of only those teasing moments. Nothing more. In the end he believed that V didn’t want anything deeper with the ripperdoc. And that was fine. A bummer, but fine. Didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t resent her. She was younger, a wild one who made a hobby out of recklessly injuring herself doing God knows what in the city. The man wasn’t new to women or intimacy, and with a woman like V he thought it best to let her set the terms, especially considering that she was after all his patient. A patient who ate his food, slept on his couch, completely ignored his work schedule, and called him ‘pretty boy’ on the regular. A patient no less.

So imagine how fast his heart was racing as her fingers softly cupped his cheek, at how her body leaned in close as she inspected the small cut beneath his eye. Viktor tried his hardest to look off into nothingness rather than at her breasts. Tried to ignore how delicious she smelled. Was she wearing perfume-

“Breathe, Vik,” she mumbled. “Can’t have my first patient black out on me.”

She fucking winked and that goddamn smirk of hers graced her lips.

“I, uh,” he began. He laughed, a bit too nervously for his liking. “I’m sorry, just, just distracted. It doesn’t hurt that much, ya know.”

“How’d he get ya?” asked V.

To Viktor’s disappointment, V stepped away from the chair and walked towards his workbench. He didn’t miss how her hips swayed or how she bent over to grab his medical kit in a nearly exaggerated manner. The way she looked into his eyes while she straightened, all slow and sensual with those curves of hers, went immediately to his dick. He swallowed.

“Um,” he said stupidly. “He, uh, headbutted me. With his head.”

“Ouch,” she replied.

Before she returned to the flustered ripperdoc, V shimmied out of her bomber jacket and tossed it on his workbench. A tattered crop top pulled against her skin as she shook out her dark hair.

Viktor had the decency to rest his hands in his lap to shield the effect that the merc had on him.

Her tongue wet her lips as she fished through the kit for what she wanted. The glance she shot in his direction proved that there was no innocence in the act.

What the fuck was happening?

That question repeated itself over and over again in his mind as she again bent closely towards his body to apply a Q-tip to the wound, offering another delicious view of her ample breasts.

“Can I get some feedback, doc?” she asked quietly.

Viktor swallowed, his mouth dry like sand.

“Yeah, kid,” he replied lowly.

V paused her work to truly look at him, to gaze into those gorgeous eyes of his. Then, all calm and collected, V perched herself next to him at the edge of the operating chair. Viktor allowed her some room as she cupped his cheek with her other hand, her breasts resting on his torso as she leaned into him. Her thumb ghosted his skin, tempting. Teasing. Viktor ignored the urge to press against the throbbing hardness in his pants. The cut long forgotten, his attention was caught up in V’s eyes, the warmth of her skin, her smell, the sultriness of her voice.

“Do you want me?”

Her mouth was so close to his. The warmth of her breath tickled his skin like static. Viktor’s eyes shut in anticipation as V slowly drew herself to his lips.

He felt nothing, but heard the soft tear of paper. Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, brow crinkling in confusion. V had sat up and was unwrapping a small bandage, her eyes fixated on the task while he gaped at her. When it was open, she reached out and carefully applied the bandage to the cut on Viktor’s cheek.

“All done,” she stated in a chipper tone, a wide smile stretched from ear to ear.

Viktor smirked.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned. “Think you’re hot shit giving this old man a heart attack?”

“Think I gave you more than that, pretty boy.”

Her eyes flickered to his lap and back to those ocean eyes. Viktor sat up in the chair, his hands not budging as if his life depended on it.

“You never answered me,” said V, the playfulness gone from her voice and replaced with a feeling that Viktor found it hard to describe.

There was no mystery, however, to how he felt in hearing it. His heart melted at her words, at how the game was finally over and that she, beautiful V, wanted to know if he wanted her. A stupid question, really, but an important one all the same.

“Ah V,” he said with a sigh.

Panic alit her eyes like fire, but it was quickly doused as Viktor took her by the hand.

“Of course I do,” Viktor replied earnestly. He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’d be a fuckin’ liar if I didn’t.”

For whatever reason, Viktor saw V blink as if there was something odd in what he said. The moment was short and quickly forgotten as V embraced him so hard that the pair fell back in his operating chair, his arm wrapped around waist and his lips pressed into her hair.

#viktor vector #cyberpunk 2077 #im tired af #ripperdoc

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duskandstarlight · 4 years

Note

Hi! I hope you are doing well :) I absolutely adore your writing. Could you do a POV of Nesta waking up in the latest chapter of E&L? :0 or anything else haha, I'm just gobbling up any Nessian content I can <3

Hi! Thank you for this lovely message! I can’t give you a POV of Nesta waking up in the latest chapter of E&L because you get a similar perspective in Chapter 24, but I have written you a (too) long POV from Nesta of when she was in the bath with cramps and Cassian was looking after her. It originates from Chapter 15, which you can read here.

I hope you like it and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it :)

Nesta’s POV - Chapter 15

The pain was indescribable. Not as bad as the Cauldron, when Nesta’s bones had been snapped and reshaped, but then again, Nesta knew nothing would ever amount to that torture. But it was a close second. Pain lashed like a lightning fork through her abdomen and down the backs of her thighs… until Nesta was gritting her teeth and panting from the agony of it all.

Through the suffering, Nesta could feel wet blood on her thighs, but the agony that ripped through her was enough to keep her in her protective ball in bed rather than seeking out the bathroom to clean up. Even the thought of moving made her want to pass out. Or vomit. Nesta wasn’t sure which one would come first.

And then he started to knock.

Through the crippling waves, Cassian’s voice floated through wood and brick and plaster. The way he said her name was not the way others said it. Nesta could not explain how a word could be so loaded, so full of panic. How it always, somehow, seemed to come in threes even if he only said it once. As if he were moaning it; Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

The final time he said her name it was laced with such unbridled alarm that she found herself snapping, “Go away.”

It did not come out fierce as she had intended. It was weak and broken. Enough to tell him that something was wrong. Not that Nesta didn’t doubt he could sense that anyway.

He should be asleep. Should not have been able to sense her pain from across the living room. Yet here he was, arriving in a whirlwind of pine and musk, the door crashing open and slamming into the wall to reveal a wild Illyrian, his hair in sleepy-mussed tangles, a pair of loose pants slung low on his hips. Too much skin. Too much black ink. Too much.

It was all too much.

Nesta’s ovaries twisted and tightened. She curled tighter into her ball. Felt the sweat beading on her brow.

A trickle ran down her temple and onto the pillow like a tear.

“What is it?” Cassian ordered, his wings flinging out so they were half-stretched, his eyes scanning up and down her body for an obvious sign of injury.

He pressed a hand to her forehead before she could stop him. Not that she could have moved to bat him away, anyway. That would mean moving from her position — the only position that felt safe.

She did not want him to touch her. Not now. Not when she was like this. Not for such a personal matter that she had been raised to be ashamed of.

She wanted to snarl and hiss and scream at him to go away, but the only let out a strangled moan as he demanded, “Where does it hurt, Nesta?”

Clinging onto her knees, Nesta dared to roll onto her back. It was a deliberate movement to try and distract her from the pain, but it didn’t work. She moved her hands to her lower abdomen, pressing her palms over her ovaries in the hope that the warmth would do something to make the pain lessen.

It didn’t work.

So she waited. Waited for it all to click into place as she saw Cassian’s nostrils flare again, no doubt scenting the shameful tang of blood. The smell that had no doubt brought him into her room in the first place.

Even now, he couldn’t reign in that urge that told him to protect.

The mattress dipped as he sat beside her, and unwittingly, her body sunk towards him, her hips and legs resting against his side.

But rather than relish in the warmth of another body touching hers, Nesta only closed her eyes. She kept them tightly shut, hoping that the force of the action would distract her from the feeling that her womb was being wrenched from her body by invisible hands.

“Nesta, what usually helps?” Cassian urged. His voice had dropped into something softer, even though she could still detect the panic lacing it deep in her stomach, lined with the scent of him.

Nesta supposed she could feel him so keenly because she had let her guard down.

It was not a purposeful move. The pain was so wrenching Nesta didn’t have the energy to keep her icy shields in place. They had cracked and collapsed an hour ago when the pain had jolted her awake; freezing water rushing through like a dam onto hot, scalding sand.

“What helps?” Cassian demanded again.

This time the panic won out, wrangling his voice hoarse.

Nesta shook her head at him. She wished her refusal to speak would make him leave. Wished he would go back to his room and stay out of her private business. Wished she wasn’t a female who had to deal with a menstrual cycle while males put their cocks where they pleased with little to no ramifications.

A deep, slow, calculated breath from Cassian, as if he were checking himself. “Your sister has a really hard time with her cycle, too,” he said softly. “Is there anything that helped you last time?”

The nerve of him bringing up her sister had Nesta opening her eyes. It felt as if he had ripped the stitched from a closed wound, but his genuine concern was so rampant that Nesta couldn’t help but force out, “I don’t know what will help. I—”

She broke off to inhale sharply. To breathe through the agony. The slightest of whimpers broke free from her throat. She hated herself for it. Hated the vulnerability, even as she admitted, “I haven’t had one as Fae yet.”

That dark brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t eat,” Nesta managed to choke out, partly because of the confession that she had never said out loud before, but mostly because of the cramping. Cassian’s bright hazel eyes watched her knuckles turn white as she clutched her knees tighter to her chest.

She watched his expression change as he digested her words. As the realisation hit. As his features became both stricken and soft.

She knew he was thinking of how ill she had looked when she had first arrived in Illyria: the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, her skeletal figure. His eyes had taken on a haunted look.

When Cassian raised his hand to push the hair back from her face, Nesta nearly flinched in surprise. His touch was warm but not unwelcome. For a moment, the pain soothed and quieted, but then it roared again.

In the far distance, she heard him speak. Heard him ask if she wanted a bath. Heard the thoughtfulness in his low, rumbling voice as he wondered if ginger tea might help.

All that comment did was make Nesta wonder if he’d brought ginger tea for Mor. If he had cared for the chirpy blonde as he was trying to do for Nesta now.

So when he tried to remove the blankets, she snarled with such ferocity he raised his hands in immediate surrender.

“I’ll leave you to get up then,” Cassian clipped matter-of-factly, his impossibly broad frame rising above her as he stood, “but if you haven’t made it to the bathroom in five minutes I’ll carry you myself.”

***

By the time Nesta made it to the bathroom, the tub was full of steaming, hot water and bubbles that smelt of chamomile.

She was practically on her hands and knees, but she did not have it in herself to care. In an effort to remain as upright as possible, she clung to the door and stared at the water, wondering how she was going to remove her clothing, step into the tub, and clutch at her ovaries at the same time.

Cassian was studying her in that unnerving way of his, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, his arms crossed firmly across his bare chest.

“I don’t need you to help me get in,” she snarled weakly.

A raised eyebrow but no cutting remark, and to her surprise, Cassian left the room, only murmuring that he’d bring her some tea.

Nesta had not long been in the water when Cassian’s knuckles rapped on the wood of the open bathroom door.

He had left it purposefully ajar and she had not had it in her to spit at him to shut it close. It was probably for the best. Now she was in the tub, she had a sinking feeling that she was not going to be able to get out without his help.

The thought was mortifying, but she pushed it away, determined to focus only on the hot water that bit into her skin.

The warmth helped — a bit — and the chamomile helped to cut through the nausea for a short while. It didn’t stop Nesta from writhing when the worst of the pain hit, the water sloshing onto the tiled floor with a smack as she ground her teeth and tried not to cry out.

Through the pain, Nesta heard Cassian murmur something about tea, but she kept her eyes shut tight.

She only opened them when a hot mug was pressed into her palms. It burned but she welcomed the distraction and she wrapped her hands around the porcelain as if it were a life line.

“Here,” Cassian offered, his voice a low rumble — a balm.“Sip this, it might help.”

He had crouched so he was eye-level. The movement was a gentle breeze of pine resin and musk. And best of all; fresh, unfettered air that cut through everything for a fraction of a second.

Cassian’s hazel eyes were ringed with dark shadows, his features tired but alert despite it. Nesta knew he had not been sleeping recently. Had heard him settled onto the couch in the early hours of the morning more often than not, the rustle of papers the only sound for hours as he gave up on sleep and buried himself in work instead.

“You can go back to bed,” she said; the words her way of saying thank you, even if he didn’t know that.

But Cassian only shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. Call me if you need me, I’ll be in the living room going over some paperwork.”

***

The next hour was full of grunting pain and whooshed, low moans. Nesta tried to be quiet, tried to contain it all inside, but in the end, it was all too much. She conceded to the agony, allowing it to rip her apart as the water sloshed around her.

And on top of it all, Nesta felt Cassian’s worry. It was palpable, growing and growing like a rising tidal wave, threatening to crash into... Nesta wasn’t sure what. Her probably.

When he finally dared to push open the bathroom door again, her name was soft on his lips.

Nesta was huddled over her knees, her arms wrapped tight around her knees. Her forehead had collided with her kneecaps a few minutes prior, the jolt of pain barely registering with the rest of her suffering.

All concern about baring her skin to him had vanished as the hours ground by. Nesta did not think of the water tainted by her blood or the way in which her posture exposed how shamefully thin she had become. Instead, she focussed on the depth of his voice as he said lightly, “The water must be cold by now.”

A long, ragged moan was dragged from her throat. Her arms tightened around her legs so that her knees knocked together hard enough to bruise.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cassian coaxed from behind her. “I’ve had the burner going in your room. It’s nice and warm in there.”

Nesta did not turn — could not turn — but she sensed that cock-sure grin that never failed to make her snarl. That made her want to shatter everything.

“Actually,” Cassian mused, “you needn’t bother putting on any clothes—”

That power which had been so quiet since last night thrummed through Nesta’s veins, promising… but then a fresh hit of pain pushed it down. Distracted her from making the threat of it an actuality.

So Nesta panted, “Don’t call me that. And you’re a pig. I can barely move and all you can think about is getting your dick wet.”

Satisfaction wound through her as a sound caught in the back of his throat. She had surprised him. Good.

As if she didn’t know that word. As if she hadn’t bedded male after male in Velaris. As if she didn’t know what it felt like to wrap her hand around a cock... her mouth around one.

She was not a naive virgin any longer with only her books for reference. It served Cassian well to remember that. That she was not the girl who went into the Cauldron. That someone fiercer and more hostile had emerged.

Someone worse.

Cassian’s voice dropped into that deadly calm of his that even had Illyrian’s doing his bidding, but it didn’t work on her. It never did. “I was teasing. You know that I was. Now get out of the bath or I’ll haul you out myself.”

Nesta did not move. Pain lashed through her again, down the backs of her thighs and a streak of nausea came with it. She bit back a moan, sinking her teeth so hard into her bottom lip she drew blood.

“If I move I’ll be sick.”

Somehow she got the words out.

She screwed her eyes tightly shut as it became hard to breathe. In the background, she heard Cassian stride across the bathroom. Then she heard the sound of a window opening and bracing air — Illyrian air — rushed around the room in a gush of freedom.

Nesta lifted her head. Cassian was wearing a crooked smile, his dark features full of shadow in the gentle faelight.

“Fresh air might help,” he explained.

She watched him step towards her. Heard the creak of his knees as he crouched beside her. His wings stretched out and then pulled back in to balance him as he lowered himself down to her height.

This close up she could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw. The white scar that slashed through his eyebrow. The slight crook of a nose that had been broken one too many times.

Raggedly, undeniably handsome in that wild, untamed way of his.

Cassian’s hazel eyes did not move from her face, as he asked, “May I take your hands? Or will you punch me in the jaw?”

Nesta frowned, an action which deepened as his mouth quirked into an infuriating grin.

“I haven’t decided—” she started to bite out, but then a fresh wave of pain twisted through her and the words died in her throat.

Cassian waited until her breathing regulated, and then he quipped, “A risk I’ll have to take.”

Warm fingers coaxed her arm from her knees. To Nesta’s surprise she let him. Her body felt malleable and light, the nausea so stark she wanted to fade into the dark.

His touch was gentle, even as calloused hands turned hers so her palm was facing upwards.

“There are pressure points in the wrists that can help to suppress nausea,” Cassian said quietly, placing three gentle fingers just below her wrist line. “They are just here, between the tendons.”

His touch was like a brand, and for a moment, Nesta jolted awake, as if a tether had tugged her back to reality.

It was so startling that she let his thumbs push lightly into the middle of her wrists on both arms. Let the touch ground her, a sensation to focus on through the pain and nausea.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Long breaths, that’s it,” Cassian ordered, his voice not unlike the tone he adopted in their training sessions, even if it was softer… shaped just for her.

She felt his whoosh of breath as she let out a low, agonised moan, as if he too, were in pain, but she tried to focus all of her attention on his touch as Cassian pressed a little firmer.

“I found those males last night.”

Nesta knew what he was doing. Knew that he was trying to distract her. But she did not care. Needed him to do it for her. Needed him, not that she’d ever admit it out loud.

“Good,” Nesta breathed out. Her voice shook, but there was still enough fervour in it to convey how she felt about those brutes.

She would never forget the sound of Durkhanai’s head as it cracked against the mountain rock. The way the male had spat at her and delighted when she cowered.

“I’ve posted soldiers at the bottom of the mountain as part of the general patrol,” Cassian continued.

Somehow, Nesta managed to nod. She was glad. None of those females deserved to fear how they got home. Their trek up the mountainside was bad enough.

“Those males are a pain in my ass,” Cassian added, his voice laced with sudden irritation and anger. “They’ve been spitting shit and spreading dissent in the camp about the war. Ragar is the worst — the one with the scar — the other two follow him like castrated puppies. Ragar is the son of one of the local lord’s so he’s been born with a stick of entitlement shoved up his ass.”

Nesta’s huff of breath was supposed to be a snort, but it faltered as pain wrangled through her. Despite that, she summoned enough strength to say, “If you can’t control them, I’d be happy to burn them to cinders.”

Cassian laugh was loud and delighted. The sound rang around the titles, chasing away the shadows. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

A pause, and then he asked, “How’s the nausea?”

Nesta found herself grimacing, yet she felt well enough to lift her head. Cassian was staring at her, his head cocked slightly to the side, his expression hopeful.

“Horrible,” Nesta admitted, because the cramps were still intense enough to make her stomach roll. Cassian’s face started to fall and immediately she felt bad, because she could breathe a little easier. So she added, “but a little better than before.”

A short, satisfied nod. Then Cassian drew away, rising to his feet. “Let’s get you out before it gets worse then. Do you need any help—”

“What and make your day?” Nesta snapped, the thought of him hauling her out of the bath, his eyes roaming the entirety of her naked body, unfathomable. “Absolutely not.”

“A male can only try,” Cassian quipped wryly, and then, as if he knew she would fling her fire at him, he backed out of the room with his hands in the air.

Tagging those who might want to read this:

@arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @hatemecozuaintme @lovelynesta @heymelphs @nestalytical @nestable @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @sjm-things

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

Refuge

Spencer Reid x Reader

Hello! This kinda took a while to write but I’m proud of the final draft :)

Reader is in an abusive relationship and starts an affair with Spencer. (Loosely based on Jim and Pam from The Office)

Warnings: domestic abuse, implied smut, mild language

Just a lot of fluff and angst:))

One look at my face in the office, and Spencer could tell something was wrong. He didn’t ask me right away, but during lunch he pulled me aside gently.

“What’s going on with you?”

I desperately tried to keep tears back. “It’s Landon… he’s drinking again. He hasn’t hit me, but I’m just afraid if he keeps drinking he will. Last night I tried to talk to him about it… he just screamed at me and passed out on the couch.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and pulled me into an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry you have to go through that, YFN. I’m always going to be here for you if you want to talk.”

I sniffled into his shoulder. “We’ve been engaged for two years, and he keeps dodging the conversation of setting a wedding date… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled away to check.

Hey babe I’m sorry about last night. Could we talk about it at dinner later?

Spencer saw my phone and gave me a smile. “See, he wants to work through things. It’ll be okay.”

I smiled back at him and tried not to dwell on the tinge of sadness I saw in his eyes.

A few weeks had passed since my conversation with Spencer, and things with Landon hadn’t gotten any better.

“You bitch! My drinking is my choice! Why do you control everything I do?” The beer bottle smashed against the cabinet near my head, and I flinched away from him.

“Please, stop. You’re scaring me.” Tears bit the corners of my eyes, and Landon calmed down.

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Please stay.”

It came to the point where I had no idea what to do, and I was constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing around him.

Spencer could tell, hell, everyone probably could tell. But he didn’t say anything for a while, and I appreciated that.

Every so often we all go to Rossi’s for a nice dinner, and Landon refused to come with me.

“Why do you always choose them over me?” Landon asked as I was getting ready. The classy dark green dress I was wearing hugged my figure, and he grabbed my hips and spun me around to face him. “I just wanna stay in with you. Have a few drinks, spend some time together?”

I pulled away from him and smiled nervously. “I rarely have a night out with the team, I’ll be back before midnight.”

His easy smile faded and he left the bathroom fuming. “You better be.”

The team sat in Rossi’s backyard, laughing and drinking and having a great time. I sat next to Spencer, who spoke on and on about anything and everything.

Emily put her hand on my shoulder, smiling. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Where’s your fiance?”

I tried to not let my smile falter. “Um… he’s not feeling too well.”

Spencer cast me a glance, but didn’t say anything. “We would love to meet him sometime, YFN.” For some reason, his voice sounded almost sad. Maybe it was just in my head.

The night stretched on, and we all went onto the makeshift dance floor Rossi keeps in his backyard. I stayed on the side, watching and laughing as Derek and Penelope broke out some scandalous dance moves. I felt a presence next to me, and Spencer cleared his throat.

“How’s Landon?”

Only constantly drinking, angry and full of hatred. “It’s… rough. At home. Landon’s been having a tough time at work, and feels the need to take the edge off when he gets home. It’s been happening more and more over the past few weeks. But once things settle down at his work it’ll be okay.”

Spencer didn’t look too convinced. “I just want you to be okay. Just… remember you can always talk to me, alright?”

I looked him in the eyes. He was genuinely concerned about my well being, and for some reason that touched me in a way that made my heart flutter. A kind of feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you. That really means a lot, Spencer.”

He smiled. That damn beautiful smile. “Um, do you wanna dance?”

I lifted my head, slightly confused. “What?”

Spencer looked out into the crowd of our team, dancing away happily. “Well, everyone is dancing, so maybe we should too?”

I smiled shyly. “Yeah, sure. Let’s dance.”

The tune turned into a slower song, and Spencer rested a hand on my waist and held my hand against his chest. I placed my other hand on his shoulder, and rested my head against his heartbeat. We swayed softly, and I timed my steps to the beat of his heart. I could feel him smiling as he looked down by my shoulder.

“What’re you smiling about, Spencer?” I asked softly.

“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

I smiled to myself, and couldn’t help the thought that came to me.

I can’t remember the last time Landon said I looked beautiful.

Landon was going to be pissed. I pulled into our driveway just before 2 AM, and I had called him at 11 to let him know I was going to be late.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw him, hammered and fuming, sitting at our kitchen table. He didn’t say a word as he slammed his beer bottle on the ground and shoved me into the closed front door.

“Do I mean nothing to you! I deserve better than a lying bitch that blows me off for her coworkers!”

His nose was touching mine and the scent of alcohol on his breath was nearly suffocating. “Landon, get off me so we can talk about this!”

“Oh, now you wanna talk? You didn’t wanna talk when you called me to say that you would be late!” His rough hands gripped my shoulders, and after a moment he slammed his knuckles against my cheek. I shrieked as he punched me in the stomach and kicked me to the ground while I was off balance.

I couldn’t remember the number of times he kicked me, but the first chance I got, I was running into my car and started driving.

After a while, I ended up at Spencer’s apartment. I knocked on the door weakly, and he answered in his PJs, looking very confused. “YFN…” he trailed off when he saw my swollen eye.

He let me change out of my dress and gave me one of his CalTech sweatshirts and old sweatpants. When I came out of the bathroom I saw that he had a bag of ice sitting on his kitchen counter next to a bowl of ice cream. Spencer was looking through his many shelves of books, seeming to search for one.

“What are you doing?” My voice was soft, like I was afraid Landon would hear if I spoke too loud.

“One time you mentioned that you liked Harry Potter, and I know I have it on my shelf somewhere… Aha!” He walked over to me with a very worn copy of the first Harry Potter book in his hand. A tear fell down my cheek and I smiled up at him, and he blushed. “Reading always helps me escape.”

“Thank you.” My lip quivered, and more tears fell down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Spencer.”

At that moment, he looked so sweet and loving. The complete opposite of Landon. Messy brown hair, a cut glass jawline, and the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I kissed him. It was quick, and impulsive, and stupid.

But it felt good.

When I pulled away, Spencer seemed to be in a daze. I immediately tried to backtrack. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-’’

When he kissed me again, it didn’t feel stupid anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands moved to my ribs, which had already started to bruise. When I whimpered, he pulled away instantly.

He took a step back, looking at me questioningly. “I thought he just hit you. What else did he do?”

I gulped. “He shoved me into the wall and knocked me down. Um, he kicked me… a lot.”

Spencer looked sad, but there was something else. He was angry, angry that someone hurt me. “Are you really going to marry him?”

My answer came to my lips and didn’t even have to think. “No.”

Spencer just looked at me, extremely relieved. “Good.”

He kissed me again, with a hunger I had never seen from him before. I realized I was kissing him with the same hunger, like I had been deprived of a needed sustenance.

In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t kissing him because Landon hit me. I was kissing him because I love Spencer more than I ever loved Landon. Spencer knew me better than anyone, he knew my fears, he knew my strengths, he knew the big things and the little things. And I knew the same things about him.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation.

Spencer Reid was my refuge.

I didn’t go back home after that.

The next few days at work were quiet and relatively uneventful. I had decided to let Landon cool off before going to break off the engagement.

What I didn’t think would happen was him walking into the BAU with a gun and a temper.

The second he pulled the gun out, the team immediately aimed every weapon we had at him.

“YFN! You’re coming with me, let’s go!” He didn’t raise the gun in his hand, so we had no reason to shoot… yet.

Spencer answered before I did. “No she’s not. She’s never going home with you again, Landon.”

Landon glared at Spencer. “What do you know, you son of a bitch?”

Spencer’s lips curled ever so slightly, a devilish look coming to him. “Where do you think she would go all those lonely nights you were drunk?”

I saw what he was doing, and I hated him for it. Spencer was taking Landon’s attention off of me, trying to get Landon to point the gun at him. I shot Spencer a warning look, but he didn’t pay attention.

A look of angry confusion crossed Landon’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Spencer huffed a laugh, never once lowering his weapon. “She told me all about your inability to perform. I thought I would show her… in my kitchen, in my car, in my bed.”

None of this was true, at least not the kitchen or car part, but I couldn’t help but admire Spencer for putting himself on the line. At the same time I was terrified of what would happen if Landon raised that gun.

Landon was fuming, his face turning red. “You shut up!”

Spencer continued, a hint of a smile on his face. “She told me she’s never screamed so loud for anyone else.”

“I said shut up!” Landon raised the gun ever so slightly, and I didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his shoulder. Morgan cuffed the pathetic excuse of a man cussing and shouting on the floor of the BAU.

Spencer’s arms came and wrapped around my shoulders, and I hugged him back in a daze.

“Holy shit.”

Spencer laughed into my shoulder. “I know. You’re okay.”

I pulled away and cupped his cheeks with my hands. “Thank you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “For what? I was just trying to protect you.”

I smiled, tears in my eyes. “Thank you for always being my refuge, Spencer.”

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