#ive tried not to get into the mood of never answering comments but i always am like 'god i did these but not the others'

[sapphire-wine]

If you've ever left a comment on one of my fics and I didn't answer it know that I live in so much shame but it's also been way too long and I don't want to bring attention back to it

[elephant-in-the-pride-parade]

I’d be interested in your answers to all of these fic writer asks! But sticking to just a few: 

🍚 What genre do you have the toughest time writing?

🍘 Is there a fic or idea for a fic that you've abandoned?

🍜 Do you ever feel pressured to write?

Thank you!

Thank you for the asks!!!!

🍚 What genre do you have the toughest time writing?

I cant. with Fluff/Romance. i just get too twitchy if i cant throw some super angsty shit in that plot. And also I. Am. REALLY. Bad. At. sticking to a genre. Like I never can hold to the beats of a romance or a comedy or a mystery/horror or action adventure. Its always several at once. I just genre-blend all over the place. (I also cant write a oneshot to save my life. im sure these flaws are related).

🍘 Is there a fic or idea for a fic that you've abandoned?

I abandoned like... 5 or 6 fics that I actually did more than write an outline for. lots of others dont get that far or they become something else later. Sometimes I just get the inspiration before I can grasp the real, full shape of it and so sometimes those ideas just need to be buried awhile before they sprout up again as something i like better.

I also have a graveyard of original story ideas that I just have no incentive to write because I know no one will ever read them. And like whats the point of storytelling if you can't make a connection with another human?

🍜 Do you ever feel pressured to write?

I have in the past and I hate itttttt.

I had a particularly bad time with this a few years ago - like a combination of stresses. Loneliness and isolation from the pandemic, a lot pressure and well meant but ill received update requests from readers and you know just feeling unmotivated to write (side note: really frustrating when you know youre just burnt out and you need to give yourself a break but your brain just continues to whisper that its you being lazy or selfish or stupid and generally notgoodenough. brains just suck like that).

I digess, the last time i felt pressure to write, it was all those things  just piled up and i felt horrid about myself anytime i couldn't get a chapter done. And of course when you feel horrible about yourself it makes it even harder to write anything. And since then I've tried hard to walk myself back from that mindset and like insulate myself from it.

I've turned off comments/notifications when this gets bad.

I've held off updates until fics are done.

I've intentionally banned myself from writing for certain stretches of time while i do things to rejuvenate my mood.

I still get like that sometimes. certain super busy months. certain stories. certain super old WIPs that i just cannot finish in any sort of timely fashion. but ive got that tool box of strategies now and Ive gotten better at freeing myself from that pressure before it gets bad.

[e17omm]

Alright, Genshin Natlan Act 4. Same as before, Im gonna be writing things as I play through it.

(This quest went from me practically losing all faith in Hoyo, to returning to me having Hope that they can stop their fake tension bullshit)

Do you know how much of a ( -_-) face Im having right now?

I fucking hope Mauvika is wrong. I am so tired of every region being the same. Fatui bad. Archon good. Everyone's fine always nothing bad ever happens to anyone on the "good" side.

If they dont change how the Fatui is potrayed now, the writers are going to implode when we get to Snezhnaya and we gotta help the people but the people are all Fatui and Fatui bad so we cant help the country but thats all we've been doing and there cant be good people coz all of them are loyal to the Fatui or... Is Snezhnaya secretly going to have an underground rebellion with people that dont like the Fatui?

Its been the same for 4 years now. Can these writers write anything else?

2. what was the point of Ororon, a character Ive barely met, to have an internal struggle with a person Ive never even heard of? Well wonder if theyre gonna butcher Capitano or if they'll keep writing him well...

3. I am hoping, from the bottom of my heart, that Mauvika's plan fails.

If it doesnt fail, and it succeeds, the Hoyo I am a fan of is dead, because this new one can only write the same, very limited, repeated plot points.

Why, do you write tension into your story, if its never realised?

If tension is not going to happen, then dont write your story to have tension.

For FOUR. YEARS. Hoyo has repeatedly written plot points that asks "will they make it?" or "will they be fine?" and the answer has, without fail, been "yes."

You can do that here and there.

You cant repeatedly ask that question for four years.

You have no idea how badly I want to be proven wrong. I want to be proven so wrong that people link my posts and comments about this and laughs at me.

Because the alternative is that the Hoyo I am a fan of is no more.

And this new Hoyo can only write stories that never has any real tension, but also cant embrace being a fun lighthearted story.

This new Hoyo wants to go down the middle, where their story is lighthearted yet tense. Tense, but nothing bad every actually happens.

Go one way or the other. Please. Either realise the tension, or dont have it.

You cant write happy fun stories where characters DIES and then they just come back like nothing's wrong.

You cant write tense stories where things can go wrong, when every time something saves them.

This isnt just in GI. Its all their games lately.

I need a moment to come to terms that this company that has thrashed my feelings and made me connect with fictional characters, a company which has crafted worlds and stories that I enjoyed so much that I think about them almost daily, may be no more.

Please just commit to write a fun story or a story where tension is real. I cant take this repeated overuse of fake tension where nothing bad can actually happen and its all an illusion for much longer.

what number was i on...?

5. at least we are now working with the Fatui and they genuinely want to help.

I disagree with the statement that the feeling of dread is getting stronger, uh, because, you know, Hoyo has refused to act on the tension they've tried having for the past 4 years.

AHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA THEY REALLY JUST SAID THAT DEATH IS A RULE

FUCKING FUNNY JOKE HOYO. That actually made me laugh, they actually said that. Im not joking, that was funny. That is so rich of them!

Oh yeah that was note 6.

7. Okay, this whole war map thing actually looks interesting.

Im thankful the music is completely missing the mark on the mood. Oh yeah, upbeat tunes and calm tones, thats what I want to hear when Natlan is facing its biggest Abyss attack yet.

I hope my sarcasm shines through on that previous statement.

8. Okay, idea of the whole war map vs abyssal corruption is really cool... But the execution is bad. Nothing corruptive on the map, and the gameplay is short bursts of fighting with about 3-4 minutes of travel time by air balloon which you are forced to do.

Alright they started teleporting me after forcing me to ride the balloon twice. Thank god.

9. Pretty cool cutscene. Would have been better if this wasnt the 6th nation and there was still tension in the story. But you know, Mauvika waved her hand and the crisis was pushed back.

I kept thinking through the entire cutscene "yeah this looks bad, but will it stay that way?" and the answer appears to be a pretty standard "nah" nah it wont stay that bad. Nothing ever does.

10. Ooooh so now we can see the abyssal corruption on the map!

But will it stay that way?

11. Okay. They actually have the guts to show things getting dark. By killing a bunch of NPC's we've never met, but you know, its something! Things are bad! The Abyss is invading! Of course people will die but they're still nameless numbers I've never met or heard about before.

But still, its something!

Still fully expecting Mauvika to destroy the Abyss orb thing and save the day forever. That's basically what Hoyo has repeatedly been doing for years now.

But hey, at least they can stick through things getting dark and not fix it right away after shying away from doing just that for so long.

12. Wow Chuychu just died. I didnt know her for that long but at least she was unique and had a distinct personality.

Im still expecting this crisis to be over by the end of the quest so it doesnt stick, but also like, where the fuck was this 2 years ago? Sumeru and Fontaine would have been so much more tense if this was the status quo!

If this was the tension/precedent set when I entered Natlan I would have been so much more invested in this story!

Aaaaaaaaand there it is. Will Hoyo prove me wrong and Mauvika's plan will fail? I hope but we have all the heroes now

13. That was a good scene with Cisca. Chisca? carrying in Chychu.

But also, like, "this was is about to end" and I've barely seen any of it. So unless the plan fails, this crisis wont stick for any interesting amount of time and will be completely contained to Natlan with no impact on any of the other nations or characters. Which is a massive shame.

14. yeaaaaah this is about to end isnt it? Resurrection is back, hopeful music is playing.

This was a good quest. I hope Hoyo can relearn what they have lost from it.

Im fully expecting them to defeat the Abyss and have a bright happy ending where everything is fine. The quest will still be good despite that, I'll keep some hope that the Hoyo I am a fan of isnt entirely gone and that they can recover from their fake tension dump.

The absolutely worse scenario is that Chychu is resurrected. That will make me throw my controller into my monitor.

15. alright, looks like Hoyo does understand that just pasting a character back into the story after they showed said character dying is a really bad idea for tension and stakes!

The result is expected - nothing except this specific quest is impacted, which is a shame, but baby steps! Things went bad and lots of people died and it wasnt quickly solved and the dead stay dead.

I would have liked to see a more gradual war over several quests rather than in a single quest that took place over like, a few hours, but again - BABY STEPS.

I hope they learn from this and stops doing their fake tension shit in every one of their games.

16. Okay, "task of wiping out the Abyss" thats jumping the gun, isnt it? Dont we have that whole thing with the Abyss Order and Khaenri'ah to see first?

17. BOOOO they couldnt even add the broken sky into the game? Come the fuck on, even Mauvika spoke about it as if it was permanent.

They'll make you solve problems in world quests that makes the world look less interesting, but after the "fake sky" was revealed, they dont make it permanent and only give us a short glimpse of it, even if the characters treats it as a possibly permanent thing in the sky?

Come on.

Quest was fine. I hope Hoyo learns from it and stops doing their fake tension bullshit - in all their games.

[ekaterinatepes]

Hello everyone and welcome to a new update. Thank you for your support. Please know comments are appreciated the most and do motivate me to keep writing. Thank you once more

<————Chapter 3

IV.

A month… a full fucking month went by. 30 days where you barely spoke to Satoru except for the sporadic text message here and there. He was losing his shit! Why won’t you call him more often? Why won’t you pick up all of his phone calls like you used to?

He tried to make sense of it and be ‘reasonable’; you were in a foreign country, working and living in a rural area… Maybe you were a little busy? Yes! That must be it! Because you would never avoid Satoru on purpose! No, you would never just shove him to the side when he has been Number 1 in your life for the last 10 years.

“Calm the fuck down! Would you?” Suguru asked from his seat on Satoru’s couch already feeling a headache coming. “If you keep walking back and forth so frantically you are doing to drive a hole beneath your feet!”

“Why!? Huh?! Why wasn’t she called me?! Why won’t she pick up my phone calls?! Why the fuck is she staying there TWO MORE fucking weeks?! Huh?! What the hell does Romania have that she can’t find here?!” The white haired sorcerer growled.

Geto sighed and rubbed his temples “she said she wanted to do some tourism. Y/N wanted to see other areas of the country before she came back! I don’t see what’s wrong with that?”

Satoru stopped only to glare at his best friend “you fucking serious right now?!” Huffing he retook his pacing “she refused to have me meet her there to explore around together!” Passing a tense hand over his hair he continued “why would she do that?!” The raven haired sorcerer chuckles and answers “she is a strong and independent woman, the fact she is not a sorcerer has never stopped her from doing whatever the hell she wanted. You gotta have some faith in her! Two weeks aren’t so bad!”

Once again Satoru stopped “easy for you to say!” Huffs “what am I supposed to do for 2 weeks?!” Geto can’t help but shake his head “why are you so worked up? It’s not like she is never coming back!”

Yeah! Well… uh… that’s a very good question.

Why was he so angry?

Because… because he is your best friend! He has always been there and… you have absolutely always been there for him, through thick and thin. Thick as thieves! Through his drunken nights, hangovers, his shitty taste in one night stands. Through the aftermath of his bottled childhood trauma that he has never breathed a word about to anyone other than you. Through hell and back! Ride or die! After all these years you have always been his… one and only. 

Despite how much of a shit bag he was in everyone’s eyes. He was the person ‘you admired’ the most! Those were your words! You can’t just up and vanish from his life! You can’t leave him! You can’t put him aside when he was used to always come first in your priorities list!

“Imma go get her myself!” Announces Satoru determined only to have Suguru stand up and place a hand on his shoulder “don’t do it, she told you she would be back… let her have her freedom, like she has always done with you”. Gojo frowns, he is already looking for a million excuses why he should go to fucking Romania and drag your ass back home “don’t even!” His best friend lifts his index finger in warning as if he could read his mind “I know what you are thinking Satoru! Don’t do it, you will only piss her off!”

What other option did he have? Just…. Wait?

He had not even been in the mood for any hook ups in the last few weeks. Attempting to pick up chicks in bars and clubs simply held no appeal when his mind was solely focused on you.

“I’m losing my mind Suguru…” finally admits in a whisper. Fuck! It was so hard to say.

“And why do you think that is?” Geto questions arching a brow. “Because she won’t fucking call me! What the hell is so important she doesn’t have a minute to spare for me!?” Looking into Geto’s hazel eyes Satoru tried to make sense of your behavior “what if… she met someone?!” whispers uncertain to then proceed to feel unnecessarily angry.

“Shouldn’t you be happy for Y/N then? That she met someone? She wouldn’t be alone anymore”. Finishes Geto with a salacious smirk, he knew what he was doing.

“SHE IS NOT ALONE! She has… ME!” Geto doesn’t even flinch at Satoru’s adamant and loud response. “What if she wants a relationship… or a lover? You are none of those.” Retorts the brunet sorcerer.

“BUT I COULD BE!” Gojo all but screams back immediately. Suguru smirks then adds “and why are you telling me this and not her?”

Good question. Why hasn’t he told you this before?

It wasn’t a secret that Satoru found you absolutely fucking desirable. He was always making inappropriate comments and jokes about how hot you were, how good you look, or in general how he would ‘tap that’ if you let him. But you never took him serious.

Here and there when you went clubbing only the two of you he would pass an arm around your shoulders and you both would pretend to be a couple just so people wouldn’t approach either of you. He loved that. He loved the feeling of your small body shielded by his towering form, like a barrier against anyone who might dare to want you. Making sure others knew you were ‘taken’; maybe he enjoyed pretending you were together way too much for his sanity.

Technically, the answer to this question was simple actually. In short, he was scared shitless that if he said something you wouldn’t take him serious because of his man-whore ways and then you would distance yourself from him. But above everything… he didn’t tell you because didn’t want to lose you; he didn’t want to hurt you and then have you hate him. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if you looked at him like all the girls whose hearts he had broken through the years.

“I am fucked… Suguru… I think I… I am in love with Y/N…”

“You don’t say!” the black haired man quipped with a chuckle. Satoru frowned “what the fuck man?! I just told you I am in love with Y/N and you won’t even react!?”

Geto rolls his eyes and flickers Gojo’s forehead “you seriously think this is news to me? Why do you think Shoko and I give you so much shit when you are with Y/N?” Satoru squinted his eyes “you are trying to tell me… you guys knew all along?” Geto laughed “you are about as subtle as a fucking train wreck Satoru!”

“Do you think… she knows?” He asks shyly and a little anguished. Suguru takes a minute before answering “I think… she has feelings for you but because she knows how you are with women she has chosen to completely ignore the fact that you are a man altogether so she can see you as a friend only” that made Satoru feel even worse. He wasn’t even a man in your eyes! Fuck!

“I gotta do something… Suguru! What do I do? You have to help me! I am not good at this shit and I don’t wanna fuck it up” he didn’t notice he had been shaking Geto until his friend stopped him and said “first of all, calm the fuck down! Rattling my brains inside my skull won’t help you get your answers.” With a sigh he continued “there is no easy way to do this and you have to be willing to lose her if you hope to gain her love. You have to tell her and you have to be willing to accept whatever she answers”.

“You fucking dead ass right now?! She will never believe me Suguru! She will kick my ass to the curve so fast, my head will spin!” Satoru was convinced you would never give him a chance. You made that very clear since you met and that is why your ‘friendship’ has endured so long. Things were different now, he wanted you to reconsider and give him the opportunity to make you happy. To be THAT MAN, the one to step up, sweep you off your feet and make you fall in love with him as much as he was with you.

“Fuck me!” Satoru bemoans before sitting on the couch giving it a rest; he was a fucking lovesick puppy.

“There is not a formula for this, there is no guaranty you will get her but if you don’t try then you will never know what could have been. Living with regret would be much worse, don’t you think?” Gojo nods; Suguru was right, he couldn’t be a coward! Not now!

“Alright… what do I have to do?” He asks making Suguru laugh. He was enjoying this a little too much in his opinion. “First of all you need a plan!”

-

(Romania, Targoviste Fortress)

The bright morning light creeped in through the cracked red velvet curtains. Two bodies lay curled in bed. A handsome golden haired man, with a lean but athletic physique, ethereal features, sensual plump lips, small perky nose, angular cheekbones and long eyelashes. And a woman with h/l h/c hair laying in his arms; both naked in a lovers embrace. They are the perfect picture of lazy mornings spent in bed in the arms of a paramour.

You moan softly, stretching carefully and opening your eyes when you find yourself delightfully restricted by a pair of strong and pale arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You smile feeling Adrian’s tender breath on your neck, slowly turning around you find his amber gaze already watching you in adoration; you giggle and ask “how long have you been awake?”

He closes the distance between your lips and kisses you “long enough to admire my beautiful woman waking up in my arms” his words immediately cause butterflies in your stomach. There was just something about how possessive he was that made you weak on the knees.

With a mischievous grin he climbs on top of you and between your thighs, kissing your neck with little licks making you a shivering mess in anticipation.

This has been going on for the last three weeks. After Adrian saved you from the storm and you spent a magical evening in his library just talking about each other it has been as if you had known each other since forever. Something just clicked between you two and it was fascinating how he reciprocated your feelings.

Adrian, ever the gentleman would take you out on dates, visit you at the church during lunch break and even arranged for better transportation for you under the pretense that he was financing this project and wouldn’t have his Master Artist driving around a piece of shit that would eventually die on her at the worst moment.

He would take you to the museums and cathedrals of his home country, sometimes explaining the fascinating history, some others sharing your knowledge and becoming even more enamored by it. After the third date in his home something seemed to snap within you both. That night you made love until the break of dawn. It had been like a fairy tale.

And honestly, everything seemed so surreal! From the fact that Adrian was a fucking actual honest to God Prince basically since his ancestors once held such title; to the fact you both were so compatible in every aspect. Being with Adrian was so… natural and effortless.

And the sex… oh god, Adrian might seem like a stick in the mud from the outside, a little snobby and aloof but in reality he was tender, caring and a fantastic lover. He made sure you never left his bed feeling disatisfied. As if such a thing was even possible!

In short, life was good.

You missed your friends back home, specially Satoru but with work and Adrian consuming all of your time you haven’t really had the time to talk to him more often. You assumed he would be busy with his missions or his hook ups to even notice. I mean… He had much more going on in his life than little ol’you.

So when Adrian asked you to stay a little longer you didn’t hesitate to accept. He wanted to take you traveling around for two weeks and be able to show you more of what Romania had to offer.

-Three Days Before your Flight back to Tokyo-

It’s true what they say, time goes by so fast when you are having fun, much more when you are in love. You could see Adrian didn’t want you to leave but you had responsibilities and a life back in Tokyo; you couldn’t just up leave everything behind.

What you didn’t expect was for him to take you back to the Targoviste Fortress and during a romantic dinner under the moon light on the roof top to drop on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Time stopped right there for you, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of mouth. You couldn’t believe it but his sincere and loving eyes telling you:

“I am in love with you Y/N, I have never met a woman like you in my entire life. I cannot very well live with myself if I let you go. Please my love, do me the honor of becoming my wife”.

This was a fairy tale, you never imagined you would actually ever meet a man like Adrian. Being friends with someone like Satoru and sometimes Suguru (yeah, he a player in a lesser scale than Satoru but a player nevertheless) gave you little to no hope for the male gender, until you met Adrian.

“Yes!” Your answer came back after a few seconds, once you digested the surprise. This was… a dream come true.

Jumping off your seat you threw yourself in his arms and kissed him deeply. He slid the ring on your finger and gave you a second surprise “remember I told you I also have a business in Tokyo?” You nod “well… I will be going there to take over the main Branch of the Fahrenheit Conglomerate so you won’t have to go back home alone”. Kissing him breathless you almost cried, he had been so perfect; all the grand gestures just served to fuel the flame of the burning love you had for him.

-

-The Night before your Return-

You are coming back tomorrow, the flight schedule you sent Satoru a week ago showed you arriving at 4pm. He would go to the airport with an insanely expensive orchids bouquet, your favorite of course; and then he would confess to you when you ran into his arms to greet him after so long. He planned to kiss you breathless and twirl around. The cheesiest and most romantic shit you could ever imagine. He wanted to give you the best.

After that he would take you out to dinner to Narisawa, the most expensive and beautiful restaurant in all of Tokyo. He had completely rented out the venue just so it would be the two of you in an intimate dinner at the candlelight.

He had even prepared what he was going to tell you and how he was going to open his heart and offer it to you.

Then, to close the night and only if you accepted he would take you back to his apartment that he would have decorated with rose petals and candles to make love to you all night long like he has been dreaming about for years.

Everything was perfect… on paper. Now he just had to wait.

——————> Chapter 5

Tags: @sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@okkotsuoasis

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

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@tampon-earrings

@actualdeemon

@janenks

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART IV

Chapter 4

“It’s healing nicely,” Alucard hums, nimble fingers gently tracing the puckered scar on your shoulder, looking for any problematic signs. “I still get some stiffness in it,” you acknowledge with a small laugh, “but at least I can use my arm again!” It's been a long, tiring road to recovery, but you have finally completed it. Your arm is no longer useless, wrapped up in bandages. Now it’s almost as good as before. You can even use a bow, which means that you are now ready to leave the castle, and Alucard, behind.

A frown darkens your expression at the thought; you’ve become quite fond of him in the time you’ve been there and he seems to have warmed to you too. “Is something wrong?” Alucard’s voice is gentle, his brow furrowed. He’s pulled back his hand, probably assuming that he’s the source of your souring mood. “Oh,” you force a smile, waving your hand dismissively, “no, not really. It’s fine.” Alucard sees through the flimsy lie easily and embarrassment colours your cheeks a dusty pink when he fixes you with a deadpan stare. You tug your sleeve back into place, looking away from him. You press back against the counter top you’re leaning against, distracting yourself by staring at a cracked tile on the wall. Soft afternoon light filters through the kitchen window, painting him in beautiful golden light; it does nothing to help you in that moment. “You know that doesn’t work on me,” he chides, circling around to face you. He’s grown bolder around you as of late, challenging you more often, and though it forces you to confront your emotions you rather like this side of him. He’s healing just as much as you are and you feel content knowing that you’re a part of that process. Rolling your eyes at his remark you cross your arms sulkily over your chest, eyes turning to stare at the floor in one last ditch attempt to make him drop it. It could really use a scrub, you think. It only delays the inevitable as he stands unmoved, shifting in his stance to lean against the counter too. He’s in it for the long haul, so you have no choice but to give in. “What’s wrong?” He asks again when you look at him miserably. “Now that my shoulder is better, there’s no real reason for me to be here anymore,” you murmur wistfully. You knew it would come to this eventually, yet you never seemed to make peace with it. You thought you had, but it turned out to be nothing more than a silly facade to try and hide the fact you didn’t want to leave. Alucard is silent, but the look of shock on his face speaks volumes. He hadn’t even considered the idea that you would leave. Like you, he had fallen into the routine of navigating around you and your ways, as if you had always been there at the castle. It’s just so easy and even when he had tried to fight it he found himself becoming even more compelled by you. “I suppose so,” he answers finally, crestfallen. A lump forms in your throat when you look at him, seeing how dejected he appears. “I’m sorry.” It’s pitiful, but you don’t know what else to say. To impose yourself further on him and his hospitality after he had already saved your life just seemed selfish and yet it felt as equally unkind to simply abandon him. He chuckles, a sad, sardonic sound beneath its silken lilt. “There’s no need to be,” he states, oddly cold despite the softness of his voice, “after all, there’s no reason for you to stay anymore is there?” It hurts. You don’t want it to and you know that you have no right to be but it penetrates deep, twisting and taking root inside. “No,” your whisper, scared your voice will break, “I guess not.” Confused, Alucard regards your drop in mood. He had anticipated that you would be happy to finally be able to continue on with your life, no longer bound to him or the castle for care of your injury. Yet here you stand, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking. Your eyes glisten and you catch your lip between your teeth; all telltale signs. Alucard realizes with alarming clarity that he’s upset you, because you don’t want to leave. Just like he doesn’t want you to go, either. It was defensive, to lash out, and all it’s done is serve as further reasoning for you to remove yourself from his life. He’s such an idiot. “Wait,” he suddenly says and it breaks his heart, as dead as he had considered it to be, when you look at him with such a forlorn expression. You aren’t sure what to expect but you force yourself not to hope, knowing that it could and most likely would bite you. So you’re pleasantly surprised when it’s not what you anticipated at all. “Do you,” he starts, awkwardly, voice alight with

trepidation, “not want to go?” With wide eyes you regard him, startled. Hearing it out in the open so brazenly has your mind stuttering, your body stiff. Of course it was true, but that wasn’t what had you shocked. It was the fact that, for a brief moment, you saw relief flash in his eyes. But maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he was wrong. You stare at one another in silence, neither able to break the stalemate of truths exposed. In such a relatively short time you’d both grown accustomed to each other's presence and, if you were being completely honest, you were scared to leave the safety of the castle. Out there you were just one woman, no allies, no home, nothing. It’s sobering to know that your situation hadn’t changed since the first time he had asked you about leaving, what you would do and where would you go once you were healed and you’re not quite sure you’re ready to admit how pathetic it made you feel. “No,” you swallow thickly, blinking away stubborn tears, “I don’t.” You remind him of a child, afraid. You’re trying to make yourself as small as you can, no doubt hoping that the ground would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole. It stirs something in him, the memory of a feeling brought on by your plight; the night that his mother was burned alive and his father turned his back on humanity as a whole. The same feeling he felt when Sumi and Taka betrayed him. Lost. A sorrowful, imploring look flits across Alucard's face and his fingers itch, wanting to offer you comfort. His mother would run her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement to help lift his spirits. “Then you don’t have to go anywhere.” Alucard offers instead, afraid of what such tenderness may invite. Your warmth still set him on edge, but slowly and surely he was coming around to the idea of being as he once was; open and inviting without the need to guard himself. If there was anyone he could see himself opening up to again it would be you. “I have been ignorant to your situation,” he sighs, looking away in shame, “I should have known how difficult it is to pick up the pieces of one's life after they’ve been shattered, especially without help. I’m— I’m sorry.” It’s a quiet admission, shrouded in misery and mystery. He had yet to reveal much about himself, but you could fathom that he had been the receiver of much sorrow in his lifetime so far from the darkness he carried with him like a ball and chain. It tugged at your heart to see him so isolated from the very world itself, threatening to tear it apart. You quickly swipe at your eyes, trying in vain to banish the tears that broke free, warm trails lining your cheeks. “Don’t be, Alucard,” you inhale deeply, trying to ground yourself. You can’t stand the sudden look of guilt on his face for making you cry. “I should have told you about how I felt,” your voice trembles and you scowl at yourself, feeling silly, “I should have been honest instead of hiding it away like an idiot.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest you try to focus on something else, though it’s hard when all you can see blurs with your tears. You angrily wipe at them, frustrated, until your hands are gently taken away by his, the grasp warm and comforting. “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he murmurs, looking over your face with a gentle expression. Your mouth is slightly parted with shock and your eyes, rimmed red and shimmering, are wide and locked onto him. “I think you’re so very human.” The tenderness in which the words are said, and the endearing meaning behind them, sends your heart soaring and you can’t help the smile that comes to your lips. A soft, breathless laugh passes your lips with ease, the tension leaving your shoulders. Your tears start anew and for a moment Alucard thinks he’s done something wrong, but from the way your laughter mingles with your shaky breaths he knows that isn’t the case. He, too, smiles at the warmth seeping back into you, the dark melancholy that had hung over you like a veil lifting and he lets go of your hands slowly. Neither of you comment on the way

you long for the contact to return; the simple, fragile bond inspiring a sense of yearning. “Are you alright?” He asks once you seem to have regained control of yourself, your tears having stopped and your gentle peels of laughter melting away. “I am,” you hum, looking at him with an intense fondness that he had seldom seen before. You are so bright in that moment, all because he has given you a place to belong, and it gives him hope. If only his father could have had such a chance, perhaps things may have turned out differently for him.

[dcforts]

[monday 4: bet]

ao3

Four times Eileen thought Dean and Castiel were more than friends and one time Sam (finally) saw it too.

i.

Eileen likes the bunker. As a hunter you learn to be grateful and appreciative of things that others give for granted. Like waking up feeling safe, knowing that nothing can jump right through your window and attack you. Like pressing your cheek on a soft pillow without having to worry about bed bugs and filth. Like opening your bedroom door and smelling coffee.

She smiles and follows it right to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect to find Castiel standing next to the coffee machine. He is in his usual attire, looking exactly as the last time she’s seen him. He looks up as soon as she enters and smiles politely at her. “Good morning” he says, “Would you like some coffee?”.

She smiles back, nods and waits for him to fill her a mug. 

Then she sits at the table and watches as Dean appears on the door, his eyes sleepy, his hair messy, the belt of his robe loosely tied. He waves lazily in her direction then goes straight towards Castiel, holding out a hand to grab the mug that he was already offering him. No words between them, just soft smiles, as if it’s a thing they do every day. She has not been around the Winchesters that much but she is fairly sure she’s never seen a more content expression on Dean’s face.

He sits down next to her and closes his eyes, lost in the smell of the coffee.

“Good morning to me” she reads on his lips, with his eyes still closed, as if he’s talking to himself.

*

 So, you know, Eileen is a very good observer. It’s a crucial skill for a hunter, especially someone who hunts alone and has no extra pair of eyes to rely on.

Later that day, Eileen and Sam are pressed against each other on a couch, both ignoring how “sharing a laptop” is a such a lame excuse for two adults to sit closely together. But whatever. Sam is showing her a restricted online archive about lore in European historical findings that he was able to crack into when she catches Dean passing by the door and she remembers about that morning.

“Sam,” she interrupts whatever he was saying on some magical old stones. “can I ask you a question?”

He nods. “Sure.”

“Castiel and your brother,” she signs, hoping that that’s enough input for Sam.  Clearly it isn’t, because he keeps looking as if he’s expecting her to go on. “Are they… together?”

He frowns and ask: “Together? As in…?”

In response she signs: “Love.”

Sam has the funniest reaction. His face goes blank and he starts staring into the distance as if he’s processing a word he is not used to hear. He snaps out of it right when Eileen is wondering if she should wave a hand in front of his face. “No,” he says, “it’s not like that.”

She gives him a look as if to say “Please”.

“Really, they – they are like brothers.”

Eileen makes a disgusted face and signs: “Brothers?”

He makes an annoyed face back. “Yes. It’s not like that,” he repeats.

“They act like a couple,” she signs.

He shakes his head. “You are wrong.”

“It looks like there’s something more between them,” she insists in the face of his blunt denial. “Wanna bet?” she signs raising her eyebrows.

Sam frowns and signs: “I’m not betting on my brother.”

“Come on.” she says, then signs “If I win, I want you to cook for me.”

Sam laughs. “I can just do it. No need for any of this.”

She shakes her head and smiles: “Don’t worry, you will. When I win.”

 *

 ii.

They’ve been working like crazy, taking all kinds of jobs up and down the state. It’s tiring but as a team of four they can get it down in a fraction of the time it would take if they were on their own. Plus, it’s definitely more fun even if it feels like they barely have the time to put down their bags before something else comes up and they’re out of the bunker again.

This time, it looks like a simple enough job that could take two days top. Sam is checking their supplies once again and Castiel is sitting at the map table flipping through a magazine when Dean finally appears in the room.

“Alright, let’s go” he says clapping his hands together.

Sam looks up and makes an horrified face: “Wait. Dean, what are you wearing?”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s a cowboy shirt.”

“You can’t wear that. With that thing on your shoulders. We are not going trick or treating.”

“Hey! Don’t insult the shirt.”

Eileen laughs at the exchange so Sam addresses her. “Eileen, please tell him.”

She just shrugs amused and Sam looks betrayed so Dean keeps going: “It’s not my fault we’ve been out all week and I didtn’t have time to do my laundry. This is the only clean thing I have left.”

“Well, you can’t come dressed like that. Just take one of mine.”

“You have freakishly long arms, Sam, I’m gonna look like I’ve shrunked in my clothes.”

Eileen turns to Castiel who seems engrossed in his magazine that has titles on the cover of the kind “Top 10 poisonous plants you can find in the jungle” right next to “What colours should you paint your garden shed”. It looks like he is used to it and knows that staying away from their arguments is the safest strategy to survive with the Winchesters. She taps him on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she signs, interrupting Dean and Sam who are still going at it.

Castiel looks up but Dean cuts him off before he can open his mouth: “Why are you asking him for? He has never changed once in his life.”

Castiel shoots him an annoyed look but doesn’t respond to the provocation. “Did you check the laundry room?” he says calmly instead.

Sam glances over his shoulder to look at him.

Dean just stares, seemingly confused.

“You always forget your clean clothes in the laundry room. There should be a red one that you haven’t wore this week yet. I assume it’s still there.”

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, then nods: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Be right back.”

Castiel sighs and goes back to his magazine without another word.

Sam’s gaze meets Eileen’s. She raises her eyebrows and signs “Cute”.

Sam mouths back. “It means nothing”.

She just laughs and takes the stairs.

 *

 iii.

It’s a rainy afternoon and they are keeping busy cleaning their weapons and filling shotgun shells of rock salt. At some point Sam looks up from where he is sitting right next to Eileen.

“Hey Cas,” he says “remember that book that you were reading last week about sigils? I wondered if I could borrow that. I wanted to scan it and send it around to other hunters.”

“Sounds like a good plan. I’ll give to you later.”

“Oh, no, there’s no rush if you are still reading it.”

“It’s not bother. I’m not reading tonight anyway. I’m watching a movie with Dean.”

Dean, on the other side of the table, lifts his gaze for a moment at the sound of his name then goes back to his gun.

“O-okay, thanks.” says Sam.

Eileen meets his gaze briefly and holds back a smile.

Only when they are left alone she nudges him with an elbow and Sam knows immediately what she is going to address.

He grumbles: “They watch movies together all the time, they are friends!”

Eileen shakes her head. “But why haven’t they invited us?” she signs, then answers her own question: “Date night.”

“No, you don’t understand. Dean has been showing him all the stuff he doesn’t know.”

“I understand very well that I won the bet” she says challenging him.

Sam sighs and signs. “There is no bet. And it’s not like that.”

 *

 iv.

They are on a hunt. Well, actually they are at some kind of fair. The spirit they are chasing has shown up in all the towns that the travelling fair has hit in the past few months, so the safest bet is that it’s somehow hunting the place.

For now, they are just walking around in the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They have a duffel bag full of salt, shotguns and blades but from the outside they just look like four people that have come out to enjoy the fair on a fine evening.

Dean is in a very good mood. “I can’t believe they still do these things” was his comment on the way there and since they’ve arrived he has been complaining that he can’t stop at none of the games before the job is done. Eileen finds endearing the way he manages to protect that part of him that makes him excited for things like that even with the life he has. It’s not easy to reconcile the image of that man with sparkly eyes with the one she has seen swaying a machete a couple of days before.

“Hey!” he shouts at one point, jogging a few feet ahead of them and waving to get their attention. “Guys, look, it’s Cas!” He stops at one of the stands and grabs a tan teddy bear with a blue tie that is on display. Sam snorts and Dean keeps grinning like it’s the funniest thing ever and points at Castiel who has an expression on his face that seems to say Did we really stop for this? “It’s you!” Dean laughs again “I bet you didn’t know you had a twin, uh?”

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam tries to get them moving again and Dean jogs back up to them and falls in steps with Castiel.

Eileen looks his way in time to see him put his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pull him close. His lips read: “What? It was adorable. Wanna win it for me later?”

She turns her face to look at Sam and finds him next to her.

“Adorable” she mouths at him. He rolls his eyes. “He just likes to joke”.

*

v.

It happens again and again. Eileen looks pointedly at Sam when Dean pops into the kitchen to say “Me and Cas are going out. Need anything?” or when they find them engaged in a serious conversation or sharing a drink. She looks at him whenever Dean calls Castiel “Sunshine” and whenever Castiel asks “Where’s Dean?” before he even gets both of his feet in the room.

Sam dismisses every moment, finds every excuse for them. They’ve always been like that. Can’t two friends do it? Does it have to mean something? It’s just the way they are.

Now, Sam is in a sticky diner with his brother who is across from him and can’t seem to sit still. A couple of days before they got two calls in a matter of hours and they’ve gone north while Eileen has gone south. Coincidentally Cas has been contacted about a lead on God’s position so he’s gone too.

So it’s just the two of them again and Dean is tapping on the screen of his phone every two seconds as if he doesn’t trust that it will let him know if he has a new notification.

“Dude, what’s up with you?” snaps Sam when he can’t take anymore of his fidgeting.

“Cas.” he grumbles. “I texted him last night and I got no word back yet. We said we would check in with each other every night, so...” he frowns.

“I’m sure he is fine” Sam says, before thanking the waiter that brings them their food.

Setting down his plate his gaze falls on his own phone, and he is reminded of the last time he texted Eileen and she has taken a long time to reply. How he worried, how he needed to know she was fine. How he feels on his fingertips the need to type something to her right now. How he can’t wait to see her again.

He looks up at Dean who’s taking a bite of his burger.

“What?” he says with his mouth full in response to his staring,

Sam smiles a little. “Nothing.”

Dean takes another bite, still watching him so Sam sighs. “Dean,” he dares, “with Cas. I mean… is there…”

He gets interrupted by Dean’s phone lighting up with an incoming call. His brother drops his burger and picks it up without a care for his greasy hands.

“Finally.” He says, then presses it against his ear: “What did we say, uh? How many times I gotta tell you?” he barks in lieu of Hello.

Sam watches him while he listens to whatever Castiel is saying on the other end. He sees his forehead striped with worried lines relax by the second.

When Dean speaks again his voice is definitely softer. “You are an idiot, but alright. Yeah, we just got here,” the frown disappears and his voice goes quieter still, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you at home.” his eyes flicker to Sam and he clears his throat so when he speaks again his tone is back to normal. “Remind me to kick your ass for making me worry.”

Castiel says something back that Sam assumes sounds like You can try because Dean’s eyebrows rise comically. “What? You don’t think I can take you?” he says. “Yeah tough guy, anytime. Wanna bet?”

Sam tunes out. He touches his phone and opens up his conversation with Eileen. He types:

Alright, what do you want me to cook?

I am participating in the spnstayathomechallenge by @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen @helianthus21

[procrastinatorimagines]

Secrets

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Characters: Ethan Choi x Reader

Warning/s: inappropriate sexual comments, sexual harrassment

Word Count: 1,374

Request:  Hi there, can I get an Ethan Choi x reader imagine, please? Where the reader is a nurse and they keep their relationship a secret as reader is afraid of being accused of favouritism until one of the patient's she was treating gets rude and aggressive and Ethan loses it when he finds out. Thank you x

You took your own car to work when you left Ethan’s in the morning, you always did. He didn’t see why you needed to bother going through all the trouble of keeping your relationship a secret, but he respected your wishes. 

You’d tried to explain it, he was a doctor, you were a nurse, if people knew about your relationship he’d be accused of playing favourites whenever you took a case, and it would be hard for your achievements to ever be taken seriously, especially since you were the woman too.

So you drove to work, noticing Ethan’s car occasionally in the mirror, wishing it didn’t have to be like this, but you loved your job, and as much as you cared about Ethan, even if your relationship ended, the reputation you would gain would stick with you.

Pulling in to the car park you saw Ethan get out his car on the other side, smiling at him briefly as you spotted Doris nearby, giving him one last look before greeting your friend and heading in to work.

“Morning Y/N, Doris,” Maggie smiled to you both as you approached the nurses station. 

“Hey Maggie,” you replied, taking off your coat as you watched Ethan come in, eyes on you a little too long as he wandered past and headed for the doctor’s lounge. 

“Oh hey, April’s out sick today, do you mind taking this patient in two with Halstead?” Maggie asked and you shook your head, letting her fill you in briefly before heading to the treatment room.

“Ah nurse Y/L/N, morning,” Will said as you entered, introducing you then to the middle aged man on the bed. “Mr Anderson, this is nurse Y/L/N, she’s a pro trust me, you’re in good hands, I’ll go check on your labs now,” he excused himself and left you with the man as he grinned at you.

“Hi Mr Anderson, how are you today?” You asked him in your professionally friendly tone, checking his IV as he continued to watch you.

“Doing okay sweetheart, pleasure to meet you,” he said and you resisted the urge to grimace at his tone, keeping your face neutral and pleasant.

“That’s good to hear,” you replied. You never wanted to judge a person so quickly, but given his suit and demeanor, you figured was one of those rich corporate types, entitled and privileged if his tone with you was any indicator.

“You been a nurse long darling?” He asked.

“A few years,” you replied, trying to keep your answers as short as possible so that you could leave, this guy was making you a uncomfortable, though you hoped you were just being paranoid.

“If you ask me you’re wasted in here, too pretty to be working in a hospital,” he told you with a grin, like he’d just offered you an amazing complement, when in actual fact he was making your skin crawl. 

“Everything looks good here Mr Anderson,” you said instead, brushing off his words like he’d never even said anything, “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” you smiled tightly, turning to leave when he dropped his phone. It slipped to the floor but didn’t sound like it had broken, he shrugged apologetically, clearly expecting you to pick it up. 

With an internal sigh you bent down to retrieve it, feeling a hand grab your butt as you did. You jumped back up, whirling around in shock to first the patient with a slimy smirk on his face. “You should stay a while baby, you look like all the medicine I’ll need to feel better,” he said suggestively as your face screwed up in disgust, swatting his hand away as he reached for you again and running out of the room.

You were disgusted, angry and upset, you just had to get out of there. You were in such a rush that you didn’t even see Ethan walking past until you barrelled straight into him. He caught you as you stumbled, still shaking from the interaction.

“Hey- hey what’s wrong?” Ethan’s face changed in an instant as he took you in. You swallowed, unsure of how to answer as your eyes darted back to the room.

“I- er-” you fumbled, trying to get out the words. Ethan’s hands were still on your forearms, keeping you steady as you took a breath. “That patient- he dropped- and I went to pick it up- and he grabbed my ass and said-” you told him in broken and messy terms, noticing that Maggie and Doris were listening now, heading over to you.

Maggie reached you, putting a hand on your shoulder as you watched the anger rise on Ethan’s face.

“He did what?” Ethan practically growled, moving away from you and towards treatment two, the purpose in his steps clear. 

“Ethan-” you tried to stop him, knowing he’d be the one to get in trouble in this situation. But Ethan was determined, pulling away from your hand, only stopping when Will got in front of him.

Will looked confused, having just got back, he must have got the tail end of the situation, or maybe he just saw the look of murder in Ethan’s eyes. 

“Get out of my way Halstead,” he demanded but Will shook his head, looking back to where you were stood being comforted by the other nurses, still puzzled, “he assaulted Y/N. Now move.”

Will blinked in shock, caught enough of guard for Ethan to start to walk past him, but you moved quickly and grabbed his arm. “This isn’t the way,” you pleased, “please Ethan, let’s just talk to Goodwin.”

He looked back to you, “Y/N he-”

“I know what he did,” you cut him off, speaking softer now as you continued, “but the right person has to get in trouble, and that isn’t you,” you tried to explain, uncomfortable with all the attention you were now getting. 

Ethan sighed through gritted teeth, but you didn’t back down, hand still on his arm as he finally, but reluctantly, nodded. “Are you alright?” He asked, realising that he hadn’t even asked.

“Not really, but... thank you for not doing anything,” you squeezed his arm, temporarily forgetting where you were as you drew back. Before anyone could say anything, Goodwin appeared, someone must have called her.

Ethan left to cool off in the doctor’s lounge as you went to talk to Goodwin, aware of the stares and raised brows around you about that public moment with Ethan.

But you had bigger things to worry about right now, so you pushed that aside in your mind and followed Goodwin into a more private room to talk.

-

You welcomed the cool air as you sat with your legs to your chest on a bench outside. Goodwin was handling it from here and you’d given a statement to Burgess when she arrived, now you just needed a minute to collect your thoughts and feelings. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you said to the shadows approaching, Maggie and Doris taking seats on either side of you on the bench. They looked like they wanted to say more on the matter but respected your wishes. 

Maggie smiled, trying to change the mood. “Any reason why Ethan took that very seriously?” She asked instead, Doris nodding her agreement as you felt your cheeks go red. 

“He was just looking out for me,” you attempted, never having been a very good liar.

“Uh huh, is that all?” Doris chimed in, neither women looking convinced. 

“Come on y/n we’re not blind,” Maggie added, nudging you as both woman laughed.

“Oh shut up,” you shook your head, knowing you weren’t fooling either of them. Ethan’s defensiveness of you earlier had made it very obvious that there was something going on with the two of you, not that your grabbing his arm had been subtle.

“You and Ethan...” Doris teased and you gave her a soft shove.

“Shut up!” You told them as you all laughed. 

You’d think about what it meant that your relationship with Ethan was out later, but right now you were just glad to laugh, and glad you had friends who knew how to make you feel better.

[justcallmenikki7]

Retaliation

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: “Are you sure?” Yoongi asked seriously, his mafia, bloodlust self-taking over. “I do not want you to regret this or feel like you’ll be caring a burden on you after this.” “I’m sure.”

Warnings: Mafia au, angst, mentions of character death, mentions of killing and the act of it, anything that comes with mafia, language (ive now realized that I never put this as a warning for any of my works lmao), yoongi being soft just for you.

W.C.: 900+

Notes: Three updates in one day? This is new lmao, thank you quarantine life.

You Asking Them To Murder Someone Masterlist

“Blake Y/L/N, you are sentenced to ten years of prison with no bail or probation on the murder of Michael Bennet. You will be taken to Rykers in the morning to start your sentencing.” The Judge ordered, slamming his gavel down onto the table, causing you to jump in your seat.

“No!” You screamed, racing towards your brother, trying to get to him. “That’s not fair! He did not do anything! He didn’t kill the man! He’s innocent!” You yelled, trying to convince the cops and judge. But to no avail, they did not listen or believe you, only believing the lies that are framing your brother for murder.

He is innocent! You know this because he has been living with you and your boyfriend for the past year, trying to get back up on his feet and quitting the gang he used to be in. It is ironic that you are in a relationship with mafia leader that runs the underground world all over the world. Yoongi did try to tell Michael what kind of gang he was in and how they are known for betraying their own, but Michael tried to convince your boyfriend that he is wrong and that his gang is like his family. Oh, how naïve he was…

You felt the familiar warmth that belongs to your boyfriend envelope you, pulling you into his chest, trying to move you away from the now angry cops. “It’s going to be okay; I’ll make sure he gets out of there.” Yoongi tried to reassure you, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Let’s go home, baby.”

On the way home was quiet, besides your sniffles and sighs of sadness. Yoongi made sure to keep a hold of your left hand, softly caressing the top of your hand with his thumb while occasionally bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back of your hand. The reassurance that your boyfriend is giving you is helping you calm down, but there is a dreadful feeling taking over you and you do not know what it is.

“You have that look on your face, baby.” Yoongi commented as he pulled into the long driveway that led up to his mansion home.

“I have a bad feeling, Yoongi.” You stated, “Something’s going to happen, and it isn’t going to be good. And I’m scared.” You admitted, not phased by the blank look that your boyfriend always held whenever he is thinking, plotting, or even killing.

“Whatever it is, or happens, I’ll make sure that you are safe and I’ll be there with you through it, okay?” He reassured.

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that he is speaking the truth.

It was midnight when your phone began to blare its ringtone, waking both you and Yoongi up from deep sleep.

“Shut that thing up, will ya?” He spoke angrily, allowing you to move to get your phone, making sure to keep one arm around your waist.

Seeing that it is an unknown caller, you answered it anyways – only to be met with the worst news of your life. Yoongi sensed the change in your mood, softly asking if you are alright.

“No!” You yelled, voice broken and raw. “No!” You threw your phone across the room, throwing yourself out of the bed. “Blake!” You scream your brothers name, repeating it like a mantra, believing if you say it enough it will bring him back. Feeling your boyfriends’ hands on you, shaking you to get you to focus on him. “He’s dead Yoongi! Blake is dead! There was a bomb attached to the bus and it was sent off and killed everyone! Blake was on that bus!” You explained, holding on to Yoongi as if he is your lifeline. “They killed him! They killed my brother!”

Not knowing how to calm you down, being bad during these situations, Yoongi brought you into his chest, holding you tightly against him, allowing you to kick, scream, and cry. After close to an hour, you finally calmed down. Your breathing was finally going back to normal, but your shakiness was still there, concerning Yoongi to the max because he has never seen you like this before.

“Why would they do that?” You asked, voice broken and rough from the crying and screaming that you have done.

“Because they’re pieces of scum who deserve to—”

“Die. They deserve to die, Yoongi.” You stated calmly, a look of vengeance in your eyes.

Yoongi is shocked to hear you say this. His sweet angel, his baby girl, his innocent girlfriend who loves with all of his heart. His Y/N who would put herself in front of a bullet for a stranger. The one who believes in forgiveness and second chances, who would never dare harm on anyone, wants to get payback that results in death.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked seriously, his mafia, bloodlust self-taking over. “I do not want you to regret this or feel like you’ll be caring a burden on you after this.”

“I’m sure. They framed and murdered my brother; they just can’t get away with this without any consequences. I want all of them dead. Anyone who was apart, or even knew of this to bed dead. But most of all, I want him dead.” You declared, wanting the man responsible for all of this to be nothing but dead.

The look that you are familiar with was Yoongi’s eyes, and the look meant death. Leaning down, he kissed the top of your head. “Anything for you, my princess.”

[malereader-inserts]

How Art Thee, Romeo?

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Derek Morgan x Male!Reader x Spencer Reid  Summary: How are you Romeo? Well, now you’ve mentioned it - not good. Word Count:  1,042 Request: “hello! its been a minute, ive been stressed lately but im ready to resend my ask for a spencer × mreader × derek! since spencer is nicknamed pretty boy, could mreaders nickname be romeo? i want something like the two of them trying to calm/destress the reader since hes been acting really distant lately, and when they go to comfort him he just breaks down bc hes so exhausted,mentally and physically? something angsty w something fluffy? also keep up the great work with your series!” WARNING: EVER HEAVY TOPICS BRIEFLY MENTIONS SUCH AS SEXUAL ASSAULT, TRAFFICKING, MURDERS, KIDNAPPING

“How art thee, Romeo?” 

It was a common phrase that’s thrown around the bullpen, at first it was teasing but at this point, you figured that it was genuine asking if you were okay without being too serious. You were the youngest of the group and overly protected, not that you minded. You can be serious, but it’s mostly you being neutral, and most often not you’re more chilled out and a little playful.

But, recently, there has been a change of your presence. That even your boss and your boyfriend has not approached you. Your relaxed vibes have turned into stressed wavelengths. Your peaceful and playful aura had swapped with grumpy and stern. It was weird to see you not crack a smile or jokes, lighthearted comments and such to keep the mood a little uplifted.

You have been distant from your boyfriends, you used to get lunch together or even join them on coffee breaks, but you don’t do that anymore. You come home late, usually stripping and getting into the shower. Derek no longer hears you blast music whilst you perform a concert in you shower. Spencer no longer get his half an hour cuddles in the morning from you because you’re usually in the shower and out the door before he wakes up.

You just became distant, even sometimes sleeping on the couch rather than the shared king bed in the bedroom. Missing lunch breaks, coffee breaks, even carpooling. It came to a point that you were missing dinner as you were staying late in the office.

Then, your days doing paperwork had changed as Morgan and Spencer started to notice that you would have a bag in your car constantly, they tried to rule out you were cheating because you were never the type to do so - you were too genuine and sweet. 

“Didn’t you hear?” Garcia asked, reassuring the boy, “Our Romeo wouldn’t hurt you like that, I heard director Strauss put him on training rookies out on the field and getting their level fitness up for their test - he’s been on 100% as I heard Strauss was gonna have a word with him.”

Spencer and Derek tries to reach out to you, but you were dismissive, snappy and grumpy most of the time. Even JJ and Rossi has stated that you were unpleasant to be around.

“I doubt he’s getting a good night sleep,” The team, minus the boss, was gathered at Emily’s and Spencer’s desk as they look at the silhouette of yours and Strauss in her office, “Would explain his behaviour.”

“I don’t even know if he sleeps, he comes too late in the evening and gone too early in the morning,” Derek responded.

“Think about it, our sweet young agent being rude to his elders, he respects us as we respect him - it’s out of character for him. I mean I would probably be worst if I got his caseload.”

“What’s his caseload?” Spencer asked as JJ shrugs her shoulders as did Garcia.

“I heard they were homicides,” JJ replied.

“I heard they were robberies,” Garcia answered afterwards.

“Well, I took a sneak peek on one of his case files,” Emily hummed, “Child trafficking, sexual assault, even necrophilia. Seems like heavy cases.”

They see you exit the office, looking tired as hell, and it seem you were about to have a caffeine crash as you held a few files in your arms against your hip. Thick ones, but you tried to smile to a passing coworker as you rubbed your hand against your eye then through your hair.

It seemed, on your journey to your desk, you were stopped one after another colleague. Before giving up as you went to the elevator to go get lunch.

“I’m worried for (Y/n),” Hotch states out of nowhere, the group jumping at his voice, he took had sneaked behind the team and observed you, “I’ve warned Strauss not to put too much effort on him but she’s putting too much on him.”

Derek and Spencer looked at each other. You needed help and you had no energy to even call for help.

You were expecting the house to be quiet, really, it was eleven and your boyfriends try not stay up too late on a work night. So, you were momentarily surprised to see them awake, with a movie on. The moment you had clicked the door close. Derek had got up and came towards you.

You’d like to think your eyes widen in surprised at sudden movements towards you, but you really looked unphased. You were expecting yelling, you had replayed many things that your two boyfriends could say to you and you have come up with a thousand responses. 

“Are you okay?”

It was something you haven’t heard for a while, and at the moment, you let your guard down as you just broke down. The aches from training rookies had taken you out as they started to deactivate as you crumpled, Derek catching you effortlessly. As Spencer comes along and hugging you from behind. 

“Hey, why don’t I take some of your caseloads?” Spencer asked, running his hand through your hair, “I’m sure Derek will happily help you with training too. You know what he’s like, that athletic freak.”

“Hey!”

You managed to smile, even chuckle as Derek and Spencer hold you up, not letting you fall and crumble, a way to tell you that you will always be picked up by your boys if you ever fall behind. 

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat and we’ll help out on the case whilst you eat. Then, we’ll run you a bath, and you are going to get nine hours sleep, you hear?”

You chuckled at Derek’s sternness, “Alright, alright.”

“So, for dinner, it’s Chinese because both Derek and I are terrible at cooking without your help and supervision, so hope you don’t mind.”

“Honestly, I haven’t had a takeaway for a while so, that’ll be great.”

Derek pulls you the kitchen island seat, as you allow Spencer to rummage through your bag and grab the first file case of the night as Derek prepares your food for the night. You smile to yourself, you’ll find yourself feeling better, Romeo.

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

Chapter VI: Blurry truth

This moodboard is just woww! Thank you to the moodboard-goddess @flowers-in-your-hayr.

a/n: This is the last and also the longest chapter.I want to thank everyone who read, liked and reblogged Hidden Desires. It was my first time writing and I really enjoyed it. THANK YOU so much for the great feedback, that motivates me a lot.

Pairing: ALEX x Reader x MARCO

Spotify: Kiana Ledé & Jacquees- Only Fan

Words: 5541 (omg, I hope you read it anyway haha)

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, smut & dom/sub in the middle, again fluff and a lot of sadness in the end.

Tags: @heavenly1927 @ivarhoegh

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V

Summary:

Marco disappoints you again, Alex takes advantage of the situation and you doubt if you really know them. Will you give them another chance or leave Denmark forever?

You had your last day of work before your holidays and could leave earlier. You were very happy because you knew that the boys would also have free time the next week. You were hoping for a trip through Denmark.

You nervous and opened the apartment door, excited about their reactions.

"Hej, surprise, surprise, I'm at home." You said almosr singing it. You immediately noticed the beautifully set table. The white candles and gold-colored cutlery sprayed a romantic touch. The boys are usually very simple and plain, so this creativity really impressed you.

"Elskede, how nice that you are already here." Alex came out of his room. He always kissed you so soulfully, even when the kisses were short. You hugged him and put your arms around his neck and looked into his blue eyes, which enchanted you every time. He pressed your hip against his and rocked you slightly.

"I missed you. The table is so nicely decorated...-” You started but were interrupted.

"Hey Y / N, I didn't even know you'd come so early." It was a female familiar voice. Alex rolled his eyes and was clearly annoyed. You turned your head slightly and saw her from the corner of your eye. Clara. You were seething with anger. She was like a fly that keeps coming and you can't get rid of it.

"So nice that you can celebrate with us." She offered you a champagne.

"Thank you" You accepted the glass out of politeness.

"And what do we have to celebrate?" You asked confused and had to force yourself to smile.

" Our engagement, of course." You raised your eyebrow and had absolutely no clue what she meant. But you pretended you did, because you wanted to know what she had to say.

"Oh, exactly your engagement" Alex giggled. Your fake smile went away when you looked into Marco's face. He saw your anger, but didn't comment on anything.

,, Marco said he had already told you two about that. Don't you dear?” She looked at Marco with full conviction. You would have loved to tell her the whole truth and tell her what an asshole he is, but you kept silent and kept lying.

"I must have forgotten, I'm sorry. I congratulate you on your engagement. It's a shame I didn't notice anything about your deep deep love. But…you don't always have to be able to see everything. or not Marco?” You put particular emphasis on the word anything Your gaze was full of irony and you wanted to embarrass him.

Alex patted his shoulder and grinned. "You finally made the right decision, brother. Now everyone has what is theirs." Alex seemed to be enjoying the situation. He realized that your relationship with Marco was finally over. It was never the intention that Marco would fall in love with you. You put your hand on Clara's upper arm but kept distance.

“I wish you the best. But be careful sweetie, you know how charming our boys are. That would be tragic if he suddenly has another girlfriend and you don't even notice it.” You wink.

“I'm very lucky with Alex. He never lied and was always loyal.” You cuddled up to him and stroked his chest.

"I love you so much elskede" You kissed him deliberately, slowly and long, so that Marco sees it.

"I think we should sit down and eat." Marco felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject of conversation.

The mood was tense throughout the evening and Alex couldn't stand Clara talking anymore. He never liked her. Her childlike behavior annoyed you too.

Alex slid backwards with the chair and patted his thigh. "Elskede come and sit on my lap, I miss you when you sit so far away." You didn't have to think about the answer. Alex put one hand on your butt cheek and the other hand slipped under your skirt and placed it on your thigh.

,,So Clara you could stay here for the next few days. Y / N and I will go to see my parents tomorrow. " Alex smiled at you and stroked your cheek.

“I want to introduce them to this wonderful woman, my woman" He kissed you and his tongue gently brushed your lip. You didn't know anything about this plan, but the idea was great. Marco looked frustrated. He knew if his parents met you, you would become part of his family. And he ... he would lose you forever.

"You didn't tell me anything about your trip" He said briskly to Alex.

"It's not that relevant. We just tell each other the important things, right brother?” Alex looked at him angrily because he didn't know about the engagement either. Also, because Marco has never mentioned her lately. He didn't even know they were still together and now they are suddenly engaged. Alex looked at you like you were a goddess.

"I hope you are happy to see them too, elskede"

"It would be an honor." The joy could be seen in your face. For the first time you had the feeling that Alex was really serious about your relationship.

"Let's go into your room, I want to prepare my things for tomorrow and choose my clothes.” You drew circles on his chest with your finger and your gaze was directed to his crotch.

“Maybe we can spend a little more intimate time together.” Your hand slowly slid down his abs and your teeth sank gently into your lip.

"Can you remember the surprise when you blindfolded me? Maybe you can show me more of it." Your hand slipped under his shirt. It was a long time since you last felt his warm skin.

“Maybe you can tell me more about Ivar. I heard he is dominant and a little rude." Your lips were like magnets that attracted each other.

"He is much more than that" He whispered into your mouth. Clara moved closer to Marco.

"That seemed to have been a great surprise.”

“Oh yes, it was. It was very intense, I liked it. But Alex was definitely the best part of the whole surprise, I assure you sweetie." You looked briefly at Marco and noticed how he actually wanted to say something, but he couldn't.

"Honey, ask Alex what surprise that was, I want one too." She looked at him hopefully.

"Oh Marco knows exactly what surprise it was. He was there. You could really do that brother. You know how it works and you can definitely do it without me." You had to pull yourself together so that you didn't start laughing. Marco noticed exactly how malicious you were but did not allow himself to be provoked. You got up and leaned against the edge of the table.

“Let's go and leave them alone" You pulled his hand to make him stand up. He stood in front of you and and spread your legs with his thighs. Your skirt slid up. He grabbed your ass cheeks. He wanted to pick you up and carry you into the room.

"I think we should eat the cake now." Called Marco to stop him.

"I have another better candy in my room." Alex didn't look away from you and bit your lip. You had to giggle.

"We don't mean to be rude. Let's share a piece, okay?" You took the plate that Marco gave you. Your finger ran over the cream and made sure that Marco is watching you. Your lips wrapped around your finger licked the cream off.

"This taste reminds me of something." You said provocatively. Alex wanted to kiss the cream that fell on your thigh away, but you lifted his chin and rejected him.

"Not here, I can do it myself, thank you elskede".

You walked to the kitchen where Marco was standing. You hiked your skirt up and stretched your leg forward so that he could see your black lace panties and slowly wiped the drop away. You let your skirt down again and went close to his face, almost like you wanted to kiss him.

"You like to watch when I touch myself or not?" You whispered and touched his earlobes with your lips. You walked back to Alex and took him by the hand without a word and pulled him into the bedroom. You thought about whether you should close the door or whether you should leave a crack open. But you wanted to enjoy the time with Alex alone, so you closed it. You pushed him and he fell on the bed. You let your clothes slowly flow over your skin onto the floor. You removed your hair clip and your hair fell over your shoulder, lightly covering your nipples. Alex propped himself up on his elbows and admired your beautiful curves.

"So dear Ivar, show me your skills". You said demanding.

"Lie down here." He patted lightly on the middle of the bed.

"Put your arms up and stretch your legs" You followed all of his orders. He pressed his knees between your thighs. He took off his shirt and undid his zipper. You splayed your hands across his abs, feeling every single muscle. He lay down on you and pinned your wrists against the mattress.

"I said you should keep your arms up". He said firmly. His hand slid down your arm across your breasts and over your navel. He bypassed your pussy and touched your inner thighs. He reached around the back of your knee and knelt up your leg. You automatically lift your other leg and hooked both around his hip. He put his hand on your neck and gently choked you. His lips touched yours, but he didn't kiss you.

"Did I tell you to lift your leg?" He whispered against your lips. You tried to shake your head, but you couldn't.

"Lie face down and keep your arms up" You obey his orders without contradiction. Your pussy started to tingle. Not knowing what he was going to do, turned you on.He took your hair aside away from your face, so he could see your expressions. His warm skin on your naked back felt like a blanket.

"Say my name, slave!" His lips brushed your ear.

"Ivar" You mumbled against the pillow.

"Ivar what?” He said in a stern voice.

"My king Ivar"

“Good girl" He liked the way you submitted.He marked a trail of kisses on your back and bit your ass cheek. The slight pain made you moan briefly. Alex took off his pants and lay naked on top of you. His tongue ran over the back of your neck while his cock slide slowly up and down between your ass cheeks. You wanted it to slide into your pussy, so you lifted your ass up. Alex pulled your hair with one hand so that your face rose from the pillow.

"Are you disobedient again?"

"Fuck me". You begged him. He got off you and you thought it was over. You really wanted to have sex after the drama with Marco. You turned around and try to convince him, but he was faster. You felt the force of his hands on your ankles. He pulled you down until you were bent over the edge of the bed. You trusted him completely, so you were only frightened for a short moment and then immediately relaxed again.

“Now I have to punish you, slave” He knelt behind you and slapped your right butt. Your adrenaline level rose. He stroked your pussy with his cock and only sank the head of his dick into you. You closed your eyes and got goose bumps when it touched your entrance. You would cum quickly if his cock touched your walls. He wanted to tease you but actually he also teased himself. Alex bit back his moans every time when he felt your wet pussy. You tilted your head to one side, but he didn't see you. His gaze was directed up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and bite his lower lip to control himself, at the same time he pressed his fingertips against your hip. You lowered your head and felt the tension in your muscles even more, it was so strong that it almost hurt. You just wanted to feel him, now, right now. You pressed your ass against his hip and his cock disappeared into your body, Alex groaned briefly but intensely. He held your hip firmly so that you couldn't bounce.

"I know you want that too." You reached under his palms and took his hands away from your body. He hardly gave any resistance. You knew if you stayed in this position, he would keep control of your movements. You turned around and pulled him back onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and rubbed his dick. You crawled on the bed until you sat on his lap. You moaned at the same time as his cock stretched your walls and you began to ride him slowly. You hold on to his shoulders and tried to set a rhythm. You got warm and started to sweat but you didn’t care. Your ass cheeks pounded on his thighs and your pussy pulsed. Shock waves hit your body and you cried out his name like you never did before. You tried to keep the pace to made Alex cum too. You raked with one hand through his hair and felt his hard breathing on your throat. Your legs started shivering and you were slowly getting dizzy. His hands on your waist helped you keep the speed. His tongue brushed your hard nipples and you noticed how his moan got louder.

"I'm cuming" He mumbled softly against your chest and you increased the pace. He flooded himself into you. Your knees were already grazed and hurt a little. You stopped moving. He leaned his head on your chest and gave you a little kiss. You stroked the back of his head and gave him the kiss back.

You got off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going? Come back here!" He patted his chest muscle.

"I'm all sweaty" You were ashamed.

"I don't mind, get here immediately and show me that you love me too." He grinned and held out his hand.You lay down again with your head on his chest as he wanted. You were tired even though it wasn't late. You could have fallen asleep easily, but there was something you had to talk about.

"Can I ask you something?” You stopped caressing him.

“Yes of course, always” He was still drawing circles with his fingers on the back of your hand.

“Did you plan the trip to your parents in advance? Or did you decide that spontaneously today?" You were very happy about the idea, but at the same time it made you feel as if Alex only wanted to take revenge on Marco. It confused you and you needed to clarify it. You didn't want to stand between them and even less be the reason for arguing.

"You know, I've thought about this several times, but I never dared to ask you, because of Marco. I didn't want to be rejected, so i didn't bring it up. I already told my parents about you when you were in Copenhagen for the first time and they keep asking for you too. Marco is my best friend, but you belong to me and I don't want to share you anymore. I want you to be happy and I want to be the one who makes you happy.” A tear ran down your cheek and you were just speechless.

Alex noticed the silence.

"Hey elskede, why are you crying?" He wiped away the tear with his thumb and kissed your forehead.

“I love you” You were touched by his honesty. Would your relationship have been different if Marco hadn't been there? How would it have been if you hadn't had sex with Marco? You remembered as Alex looked you in the eyes for the first time, you were immediately enchanted by those piercing blue eyes and after the first kiss you felt a firework of emotions. You just never admit your feelings. Maybe the situation with Marco blinded you, maybe… But now…you were quite sure…Alex is the man you love, and nobody will be able to change that.

"I love you too" You smirked, and it went quiet for a few seconds.

"Ah elskede, one more thing…” You looked up at him.

“That was a very gentle and empathic Ivar" You giggled.

********

His parents lived in a small village outside of Copenhagen. The way there wasn't too long, but you got up early because you decided to have breakfast out. You already knew Marco's trick. As soon as you are alone, he would jump at you like a hungry lion. You didn't feel like seeing him, nor did you want to hear his excuses again. Alex couldn't stand Clara anyway, so you left the apartment quickly.

You arrived at your favorite coffee house. You always got your caramel-chocolate capuccino there before your shifts.

"I think we should move in together; we should have an apartment to ourselves. We could live a little closer to the hospital. The airport would also be closer." Alex commented with his mouth full.

"You know apartments are more expensive in this area, but we could have a look at a few when we get back, if you want to" You were a little skeptical, but it would be the best you could do to strengthen your relationship.

"Elskede, I've been crawling in the mud for years now and I didn’t do it because I was bored and you have one of the best paid jobs in Denmark. You know we can afford it". He raised his eyebrow and hoped you meant that as a joke.

You were never cocky, on the contrary, you were humble before you met him and wanted to stay that way. You were proud of Alex and what he had achieved, but you never bragged. There were few people around you who knew who your boyfriend was and that was on purpose.

Alex paid the bill, just like he always did when you were out together. You got in the car and drove off. You drove through a cute village with small brown houses as he slowed down.

"Our house is up there." Your heart was pounding and your ears whizzed. He parked in front of the entrance and got out. Since you arrived, he couldn't stop grinning, his joy was huge. Alex opened the car door for you. Your legs felt like jelly and you didn't dare to get out. You were sweating even though a cool wind was blowing.

"Come on elskede, they don't bite." He held out his hand to you.

"Oh, my boy, haven't seen you in so long." His mother came out of the house, she saw you through the window. She hugged him tightly and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You didn't know how to greet her, so you remained silent and waited for her to speak to you.

“Mom, this is Y/N.” He spoke in Danish, but that didn't intimidate you. You took his hand and got out of the car. You saw in her face how she considered whether she should speak English to you.

"We usually speak English, but if you speak slowly, she understands Danish very well.” She looked relieved. She hugged you and welcomed you. Your hands were still shaking and sweaty. She accompanied you into the house and you met his dad too. A very warm man with a lot of charisma. Now you knew where Alex inherited it from. Alex took the bag from your hand and carried the suitcases inside. His sister wasn't home. You felt good and your nervousness slowly disappeared. Alex went to his room to deposit the bags and you followed him. You were still too shy to stay alone in a room with his parents. There were a few photos on his desk when he was younger. Always these beautiful blue eyes, you thought.

"How long are we going to stay here?"

"Do you want to go again? Don't you like it?" He grabbed your chin and stroked it with his thumb. He looked sad.

"No, not at all, I didn't mean that. I want to see everything. Where you went to school, where your favorite places are, just everything." You approach him without leaving a centimeter free between you, your lips almost kissed.

"I told my best friend that we would be arriving today. He has invited us to his place tonight. What do you think?" He grinned at you.

"We'll be there. I love you." You gave him a quick kiss before you heard his mom calling.

"The meal will be ready soon." Your lips almost kissed. You went the stairs down. Alex was holding your hand, but you weren't too comfortable with it, so pulled it away before they could see it.

"It smells lovely, thank you for having me" You smiled at her. You all sat at the table together and you got a little homesick. You missed your family and your friends, but the warmth of his family covered that feeling for a brief moment.

"And how do you like Vikings?" She asked and was curious about your answer.

"So ... uhm ... shall I be honest?" You looked at Alex. You were hoping for a sign from him, but he was only focused on his food.

"I only watched a few episodes.” You blushed.

“But Alex told me what the series is about." You commented and hoped that they are not disappointed. You wanted to make a good impression, but you didn't seem to succeed.

"Really? So, you don't know him because of the show?" She seemed surprised.

"No. Maybe I really have to watch the series."

"You have to know that he kisses other women on the series. So, if you get jealous you have to skip those episodes." Her honesty intimidated you. You knew from Alex that his previous girlfriend couldn't handle his fame and they often argued because of it.

"I think I should get through that; we didn't know each other at that time." You said confidently. Alex told them, how you met each other and how you emigrated to Denmark. Of course, he skipped the Marco-part.

His dad patted Alex's shoulder. "She is a tough woman. I like her." You blushed.

The conversation was cut off by Alex's phone. You were relieved because his mom's questions made you more and more nervous. They got more personal and you didn't want to say anything inappropriate.

"I said we'd be there in an hour, is that okay for you?" asked Alex, who had previously spoken to his best friend on the phone.

"Yes sure." You hadn't heard Alex speak Danish very often, only when he was alone with Marco. Hear him speak longer sounded very erotic. His voice was just perfect for this language.

"Maybe from now on we should always speak Danish, even when we get home.” You were ready to fully integrate into the culture, you wanted to feel like a Dane and act like a Dane.It would probably be weird at the beginning, but Alex seemed enthused about it and that made you feel good.

You helped clear the table and clean up the kitchen. His father stood with you at the sink. He put the clean glass in the cupboard and stepped closer to you.

"You are always welcome here, consider us as your second family. Alex is a good man, treat him well." He spoke in a low voice. It seemed important to him to tell you that in private. You looked into his eyes and realized that Alex means a lot to him. A tear gathered on the edge of your eyelid.

"Tusind tak..." Your voice was suppressed by your emotions so you couldn't pronounce it clearly.

"Elskede, are you ready, shall we go?" His father smiled at you one last time. You took a deep breath, nodded slightly and left.

"Have fun and drive carefully." His mom stroked Alex’s back and closed the door behind you.

******

Alex had such a big smile on his face when he saw him standing at the front door. He got out and they hopped towards each other. They hadn't seen each other in months. You didn't dare to join them, so you leaned against the car door and waited.

"Heeey, who is that?" He leaned back slightly. He patted Alex hard on the shoulder once, that made him take a lunge.

"That's Y / N, my girlfriend" He waves for you to go over to him.

"She's really hot, good choice"

"Nice to meet you". You shook his hand and ignored what he said.

"Dude, why don't you tell me that she understands Danish." He said grumpily to Alex."I'm sorry for my rudeness, my lady, please come in." Alex laughed. "He has always been a very honest person". Alex put his hand on your hip and let you go first.You sat on the sofa and he brought beer. You're going to drive back, so you just drank a coke. You didn't say that much during the evening because they talked about video games or about other friends you didn't know or about things from the past."Let's have a cigarette." Suggested his friend. Alex was a casual smoker, so he went with him on the balcony. You didn't like the smell, so you went to the bathroom. You didn't hurry, so you checked your cell phone and saw a message from Marco."I know you're mad, but I can explain it. Everything I've told you is true, please believe me." You deleted the message without replying and walked out of the bathroom.

You went back the corridor and noticed the beautiful pictures on the walls. The drawings were silhouettes of naked women. You stop at each picture to look closely; they were very aesthetic. The guys hadn't closed the balcony door completely so you could overhear the conversation, while admiring these pictures.

"... maybe; but believe me she's not the right one. I know you Alex. Talk to Alicia againand the problem will be resolved. Alicia loves you, she was here once and asked for you.” Your heart started pounding, and you didn't want to believe what you heard. You were frozen and couldn't move or say anything. Tears ran down your cheeks without you being able to control. You felt a pain in your chest and a pressure in your stomach. You were determined to confront Alex with it, but when you stood in the room and saw them outside, you got scared. You tried to listen carefully again.

"You once told me that your kisses on set were real. Then go and show her that." His friend continued to encourage him.

It got worse and worse with every word. You took your jacket and ran out of the house. You don't know where to go but you just wanted to get away. A bus drove to the bus stop. Maybe that was a sign.

You got in and bought a ticket back to his parents' house to pack your things. Your eyes were red from crying and your scarf was wet from the dripping tears. The knot in the throat kept pressing and you felt like you were suffocating. You rang the doorbell and hoped that they wouldn't ask any questions.

"Hej Y/N, come in, where is Alex?" His mom asked surprised and looked over your shoulder.

"He's not there. May I go into the room for a moment?" You answer briefly without looking her in the eye. She took a step to the side to let you in. You quickly tossed your clothes in your bag and walked back down the stairs.

"I thank you so much for your hospitality, I felt very comfortable. It was an honor meet you." The tears in the eyes made you see blurred. You remembered his father's words and worried about what he would think now.

"But dear, where are you going? What happened? Why are you crying?" His mom stroked your arm and was concerned about your miserable emotional condition.

"It's time to go back home…my real home." She knew immediately what you meant.

You went out and looked back one more time. Her sad face made you intensify your feelings and feel worse. A taxi picked you up and drove to Alex's apartment. Fortunately, you had the key in your handbag. You went in and tried to ignore Marco, who was having sex with Clara on the sofa. You packed the rest of your things. Marco followed you through the apartment and tried to stop you, but you didn't want to talk to anyone. You left the keys on the kitchen table and closed the door behind you.

You wanted to get to the airport quickly, so you paid the taxi driver to wait for you. On the way there, you tried to cover up your grief with make-up. Your fingers feel paralyzed, you couldn't hold the brush properly.

You were standing at the check-in when Alex tried to call you for the fourth time, you ignored every single call, but he kept trying. You passed the passport control and you knew it was over now. It was a good time in Denmark, but you couldn't take it anymore. They both lied to you, several times. You never loved anyone like you loved Alex, but you just seemed to be his time- waster to forget Alicia.

Someone knocked loud on the glass partition. Since everyone was looking there, you had to turn around too to see what was going on.

“Y / N don't go! Please come back! Y / N! I love you! Do not get on the plane!”. It was Alex. He knocked the pane so hard that it could easily break in. It was difficult for you to just walk away and ignore him. The desperation on his face could not be overlooked. You sat down in the waiting area in front of your gate and watched how he tried to gain access to you. But it didn't seem to work. He argued loudly with the security guard and saw how he often pointed to the departure screen and tried to explain something to him.

The man stayed relaxed and that seemed to work.

He went up to you. “Excuse me ma’am. There is someone who needs to talk to you urgently. He said he won't calm down until you go to him. Do you know this man?" You didn't want to attract more attention and followed the security guard.

"What are you doing? Where are you going? Why are you leaving me?" He wanted to take your hands, but you pulled them away.

"Ask Alicia". You said it callously. You wanted to start crying again but you had cried so much before that you didn't have a tear to spare.

"Forget what he said. He likes Alicia, that's true. But HE likes her, not me. Yes, we had a relationship during the shoots, but that's history. I don't have any feelings for her anymore. She wanted to be with me again, but I didn't want to. Believe me, if I had wanted that, I would have done it a long time ago. " He wanted to stroke your cheek, but you turned your head away. You didn't want to be blinded by lies again.

“Well she’s still asking for you”. You insisted.

“Yes and after that she fucked with him.”

"When I saw you in the pub for the first time, I immediately had the feeling that you were special. There was another completely empty table that night, but I wanted to sit next to you. If you get on that plane now, I'll follow you. I'll go to the counter and buy a flight ticket. And if I have to sit on the floor, I'll fly with you. I can't let you take my heart with you. I love you. Please, we can build a new life together." He held back a tear and it was the first time you saw him cry.

He took your hand and bowed his head. "Please.." He said weakly as his tear fell on your hand.

You turned away from him and took your suitcase and Alex realized how you had made up your mind. He covered his face with his hands so that no one could see his sadness.

You took Alex’s hand to look into his icy blue eyes. “Let’s go home.” You squeezed his hand and he understood that you will never let him go again.

[nowhereclosetoit]

Even More Gay Shit in “The Goldfinch”

Specifically, Chapter 6: i-iv, because that showcases some of Theo’s finest internalised homophobic hours and some of the gayest shit surrounding Boris.

So, I was rereading “The Goldfinch” and I forgot how fucking gay Theo’s dumbass is in parts i. – iv. at the beginning of Chapter 6, like, it fucking SENT me. After reading some of Theo’s finest examples of internalised homophobia and general headassery, I decided that I needed to collect the gayest selection of quotes from this specific part and analyse them and their gayness accordingly, because once again, it’s lockdown, God is dead and I killed Her with this fucking essay.

Theo’s internalised homophobia and feelings towards Boris are depicted especially strongly at the beginning of Chapter 6 – The Wind, Sand and Stars due to the introduction of Boris’ girlfriend, Kotku. Theo clearly portrays Kotku as a threat to his and Boris’ relationship, without ever giving a valid (heterosexual explanation) answer why: a) she poses such a threat to their “friendship” – oh no wait sorry their “there was not exactly a word for Boris and me”-ship, or b) why he’s so upset by her being in a relationship with Boris. He tries to rationalise this by saying that it’s just Kotku that he has a problem with and that there were “Lots of other, better girls our own age [that] liked Boris”, however, it’s clear that he has a problem with anyone taking Boris away from him.

Theo is overly harsh of Kotku and we never receive an unbiased presentation of her. He’s always trying to make her come off worse than she probably is and make it sound ludicrous that Boris is in a relationship with her, specifically. To try and justify this behaviour, he often follows comments like these on with something that sounds reasonable and rational – this also helps to highlight his ignorance to his feelings for Boris as this clearly depicts his jealousy towards Boris being close/in a relationship/spending time with someone that isn’t him.

Theo’s problem with Kotku can only be explained through jealousy, there is literally no other way to interpret why he hates her so much, after all, if she treats Boris well and makes him happy, why should Theo, his supporting bestest friend have a problem with that? (Because he’s fucking jealous).

I’m going to work through each segment of the chapter through quotes I’ve picked out to fully show how fucking ridiculous this part is – it sends me every fucking time I read it so I need a log of all the gay shit.

Summary of the points I’m trying to make by showing you all this:

Theo clearly presents his relationship with Boris to have grown closer since the last chapter, so close in fact that they “were so attuned to each other” that they didn’t need to talk to each other to communicate properly, and that Boris knew “just where [Theo] was weakest, the spot under the blade where he could dig his fingers”. He’s set the scene to depict this intimate and intense relationship they now have after spending almost a year living together and spending all their time together. The closeness of their relationship can clearly be paralleled with that of a romantic relationship from these descriptors alone but are intensified by the following.

The quotes highlighted above in green clearly show Theo’s jealousy towards Boris now spending more time with Kotku than he is with Theo. Obviously, it’s natural to miss your friends and to want to spend time with them if they’re spending more time with other people or their partner, but the way Theo depicts his feelings here can only be read as jealousy.

If this wasn’t enough, Theo makes Kotku seem like she’s really boring (“The name Kotku…makes her sound more interesting than she was”, “she’d lived in Clark County, Nevada her whole life”), a horrible person (“the glare she slid over me was anxiety provoking”), and unattractive, despite not really getting to know her and give her a chance.

Theo also tries to tell us that he cannot remember Kotku’s real name and puts her down so that it comes across like she meant and her presence in his life meant nothing to him. He does this constantly throughout the chapter. (We should keep a running count of how many times he says something like “Kotku…or WHATEVER her name was, I can’t remember because she was so BORING and INSIGNIFICANT to my life, that I just simply cannot remember her name! Oh but I can by chance remember the exact outfit Boris was in a whilst proclaiming his undying love for Kotku, he was also running his hands through his hair which I totally don’t have a boner for!”.)

He even goes as far to hit Boris “hard” because he was “in no mood” to hear about Boris’ feelings for Kotku. That’s jealousy, baby!

ii. – And this is over 3 pages

Summary:

He’s pretending not to know Kotku’s name again, and also reinforcing that “or whatever” part,

Shows his #jealous streak again as he says Kotku “virtually assumed ownership of Boris”, like bitch, calm the fuck down,

Shows even more jealousy,

Key word – “embarrassed”, keep note for later as this appears when Theo has to head on deal with some gay shit and does not want to deal with said gay shit so he feels embarrassed and that’s on internalised homophobia,

Says he found Kotku “disturbing” and the reasons as to why he did find her disturbing, Boris liked – shows how he’s gay! Because he hates women! Unless they’re Pippa or his mom! Jokes! Or is it…

And there’s even more bullying towards Kotku who is yet to do something offensive to Theo.

iii. – 1 page

Summary:

I think these ones are pretty self-explanatory,

AND!!! There’s the last quote which I think is really interesting because it’s an example of Theo comparing activities he does with Boris that he would, hypothetically, do with a girl on a date, like…ok bro. That’s fucking gay. He does this again somewhere too, but I can’t remember where.

iv. – Ok, so, this is the big one where he owns up to his totally no homo shenanigans, there’s a lot to unpack from this entire part, strap yourselves in.

(For the key in this part, assume anything unhighlighted corresponds to the yellow on the chart, as there was too much of it and it looked really ugly so I removed it.)

Mini Summary Before the Really Gay Shit:

Theo is an oblivious dumbass who totally likes Boris in a very homo way, so much so that he fucking despises our queen Kotku. He also is obviously clouded by internalised homophobia because he cannot realise that he does in fact like Boris.

v – What I’m going to look at here is what the fuck is going on and why Theo’s explaining it in the way he is.

My thoughts are going to be in bullet points here because there’s SO much to analyse.

Theo clearly shows how he’s fucking head over heels for this Boris bitch. Just read like all of it.

He tries to describe it like he doesn’t care that much, and I mean, you can just tell that the motherfucker’s lying. Like seriously, dude. Like the whole part where he’s like “I didn’t want BORIS to get the WRONG IDEA! Wouldn’t that be fucking gay? HAHAHAH, not me! I’m heterosexual!”. He’s saying he wants to “make things clear” with Boris to “make absolutely sure he didn’t have the wrong idea” and personally, I think this is either because he’s completely fucked with internalised homophobia or he’s just dealing with the “rejection” from Boris because Boris is from Kotku. Maybe he’s saying this to make rejection hurt less?

I also want to talk about Boris’ possible side in this whole thing. We never see Boris’ point of view of this shit because this entire book is just Theo wallowing in self-pity (dude, get a fucking therapist, I’m begging you). Do you think that Boris maybe got with Kotku because he knew Theo was fucked with internalise homophobia and thought that maybe meant that Theo didn’t vibe with the shit they were doing? Or, do you think he did it because HE was dealing with shit like, “Oh, boy! Do I like girls? Or….like what’s happening here?”

IN CONCLUSION:

This was just an excuse for me to gather all the gay shit and write down some thoughts. That’s IT! I am ILLITERATE at this point tbh.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Nest.”

Finally guys, some fluff! Based on some comments made by @beckitty and @digitalmagpie on Compromised Earth.  I was inspired by the idea and thought it would be fun to write, and would totally make sense, so. I hope I did the idea credit.

Enjoy the fluff, and thank you all for reading.

Sunny was mad.

Sunny was also worried, but that was mostly overshadowed by just how pissed she was. Adam was being an idiot, the biggest idiot, the king of the idiots. If he kept this up any longer he was going to upgrade himself to the god of all idiots, and it seemed like it was up to her to get something done.

Adam was in a bad way.

He could be fine, she thought, if he was given the time he needed to rest and recuperate. He was exhausted, and short twenty minute naps were going to do nothing to help that exhaustion. She knew enough from Krill to know that the human body required sleep to recover from injuries, and the Steel Eye armor had practically destroyed his body. There was muscle strain, extreme inflammation, the overdose, internal damage, nerve damage, stress fractures etc. etc, and despite all that he was still answering the call of the UNSC.

The stress of his job, and his inability to say no to other people and their needs was going to kill him. He felt obligated, by his job to make sure that everything went well, he assumed because of who he was that he was in charge of protecting earth, even the entire universe if he had to. He was taking on weight that he was not obligated to take on.

Even the UNSC was well aware of how sick he was, and despite taking his help, they seemed concerned about him, and she had no doubt they would be ok if he decided to take time off to recover. There were other men and women in the universe who would be willing to take on the weight he was trying to bare.

Yet he wouldn't listen to her.

Sitting on his chair in the UNSC command room, fighting back sleep, and no ability to walk, he was running himself into the ground.

She needed to find someone who could rein him in.

And she thought she had just the idea.

She left him, though she didn’t want to and made a quick call before walking into the room and quietly whispering to some of the Admirals standing off to one side of the room during break.

“I will not be accepting no, but I thought you should be aware.”

They looked at her and nodded, “We can take it from here.”

“Thank you. I hope you understand that this isn’t a reflection on him.”

“The reflection on him has to do with the fact that he refuses to leave. Do what you have to.”

She nodded turning and walking over to where Adam was sitting slumped in his chair half asleep pale as a ghost. He had insisted the IV be removed so he wouldn't be so distracting. She had argued, he had been stubborn

She walked over putting her arms around him and hauling him to his feet. His head lifted in exhaustion bright green eyes glazed over with exhaustion,”Sunny?”

“Just relax. We are going to go get you some sun during the break.”

He was too tired to be sceptical, and just walked with her.

She could feel his feet dragging, and occasionally his legs would give out under him, but she wrapped one arm around his waist and the other arm around his chest to hold him upright until they finally made it outside to the front of the building. In comparison to the inside, where the lights were dark and the mood was darker, the day was bright and warm. The sky overhead was blue and the ground before them was lush and green. Overhead the sun was warm and bright.

An automated lawn mower was roaring in the distance filling the air with the sound of freshly cut grass.

It made sunny mouth water.

She let Adam sink onto the curb, his head in his hands and lifted her head looking this way and that for signs of life, for the people she was expecting. She heard them before she saw them, the screeching of rubber on pavement, a sound that wasn’t exactly common in a world where everything could hover.

Sunny turned her head and watched as the ancient, four door pickup roared around the corner and skidded through the parking lot. Sunny could feel the aggression spilling off the thing in waves, and when it gunned towards her, she almost worried that she was destined to be roadkill.

However, the tires came to a screeching stop just before them.

Adam lifted his exhausted head and blinked eyes focusing blearily on the front of the car, and as soon as he did, his eyes widened.

Sunny peered through the front windshield where a small, blond- hair woman in a red flannel was hunched behind the steering wheel eyes narrowed face contorted into a predatory snarl that made sunny think twice about having made that call. In the seat just next to her, a greying human male was white knuckling the crash handles.

A door was thrown open and then slammed shut.

“Mom?” 

Martha Vir stormed around the front of the ancient truck, whose engine popped and rattled as it cooled down.

The look of anger fled from her face at one moment, to one of concern as she knelt on the curb looking over her son with piercing blue eyes wild with concern. Mr. vir wobbled stiffly from the cab of the truck forced to pry his hand from the crash handle.

“Mom… what are you doing here?” Adam said in confusion as she tiled his head this way and that, pressing her hand against his forehead, grabbing his hand to examine the inflamed wounds still evident from the steel eye implantation.

It was clear by her expression that she knew exactly what had caused those scars. 

“What-did-they-do. They made you wear the suit again! I swear to the lord above I am going to kill every last-”

“Mom!” his voice was weak, “No one made me put it back on….. I…. asked them to.”

She stared at him in confusion, “What?” “I had no other choice.” His voice quivered a little though he tried to choke it down. Clear evidence that humans were more likely to drop their guard in front of a caregiver, no matter how long past.

She rested her hand on his cheek, “But why… Adam….” 

“It’s what I had to do.”

“And the drugs….”

All was silent for a moment, and he lowered his head.

The stormy expression on her face grew thunderous. 

“I’m sorry…. I couldn’t…. Take the pain.” 

Sunny was surprised to see she didn’t even look mad. Instead she hugged him holding him to her chest his head resting on her shoulder for a long moment. Jim came to sit next to them one hand resting on his son’s back.

“It’s alright, we’re here to take you home.”

He lifted his head, “Home, no, I can’t I have….”

“I don’t care what you have. You aren't in any kind of shape to be doing any kind of work.”

“But mom the burg could attack earth at any-”

“I don’t care if the burg is attacking,I don’t care who is coming. I don’t care if it’s the rapture, and Jesus is descending from the sky on a chariot of fire, you are coming home.”

“But-”

“Adam you are not the only thing standing between earth and eminent destruction, now argue with me again…. I dare you.”

Sunny had never experienced such intense eye contact in all her life. And she thought her own mother had had a mean glare. As soon as Adam made eye contact with his mother, it was over, Sunny saw the fight drain out of him and he simply nodded his head.

He glanced over at sunny, “You called them didn’t you.”

Sunny lifted her head, “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t listen to me, but I knew who you would listen to.” 

His father leaned down, and with one strong calloused hand, he helped Adam to his feet, “Come on Kid, let's get you home before your mother levels the UNSC.” He chuckled, “Thought she was going to drive the truck through the front door.” Adam snorted, too tired and weak to actually laugh.

His legs gave out before he made it to the car. His parents caught him, doing their best to hold him up.

Sunny intervened, lifting him easily off the ground and into the back of the truck, she then followed after allowing him to rest his head on her leg as he lay across the back seat.

Jim and Martha got back into the truck, Martha grudgingly allowing her husband to drive. 

After a moment she reached a hand back holding a water bottle out to adam.

“Drink, this better be done by the time we get home.”

“But-”

“Drink your water!”

He shut up, finishing the water in a few minutes. It wasn’t a second later that the water bottle clattered to the floor, and Adam was out. Sunny sat in somewhat awkward silence as they drove down the highway.

Jim glanced at her in the rear view mirror, “You alright, Sunny.”

“Yes, sir. 

“Enough leg room?”

“Yes sir, just fine, sir.”

“My name is Jim, Kid, you can use it.” 

Er, “Of course, Jim.”

After another few minutes of awkward silence, Martha turned around in her seat to look at sunny, “What happened?”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what she was and was not allowed to tell them, but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she didn’t, “The Burg declared war on the GA, and then proceeded to attack the Gromm homeworld for the warp codes that would give them access to the rest of the GA. They landed on the planet and were dug in inside an energy field with a plan to attack and charge our line within a day. Adam and his advisors determined the best course of action would be to attack them first and detonate their ship’s engine. Adam made a call…. I had no idea what he was doing. Both Krill and I tried to stop him when we figured it out, but he made it clear that he would find someone else if we didn’t do it. He….. he wasn’t doing so well, but he began the battle without any drugs….. Halfway through…. Well he just couldn’t handle it. He took them, and we finished, but he overdosed. Krill saved his life, but, he just hasn’t slowed down since. I can’t get him to, no one can…. So that’s when I called you.”

She stared up at martha worried that she would be blamed for not stopping Adam.

It seemed as if it might tilt in that direction, but Jim piped up, “Thank you for taking care of him, Sunny. Adam…. He’s always been stubborn. A weird mix of stubborn and not being able to say no.”

They turned off the highway and cut through the suburbs finally pulling up to the familiar house under the unassuming blue sky.

Sunny stepped out pulling Adam with her, who only partially woke up.

She carried him to the door and into the house following Martha back to a guest bedroom,where she set his hat on the nightstand, and woke him up long enough to get him to kick off his shoes and pull off his uniform jacket.

Then and only then was he finally allowed to lay down. Sunny wasn’t sure if he was even awake for the following few minutes where, like a mother bird, the human proceeded to construct a nest out of pillows and other soft things. He had a pillow under his head, and a pillow under his legs, and if that wasn’t enough, he was then surrounded on all sides by pillows. That done, she took a moment to check the sounds left by the Steel eye armor, cleaning a few of them up and bandaging over with clean gauze. She lay a hand on his forehead checking for fever, and by extension, and infection.

He shifted in his sleep.

She then went hunting through a closet which was hoarded at least two dozen more blankets. 

She left the window open allowing the warm sunlight and cool air to breeze into the room, covering his legs with the blanket, but leaving his arms and chest exposed to the warm sunlight.

Finally done, She then ushered Sunny out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly, where it could be seen from down the hall in the kitchen. Sunny stood awkwardly in the living room for a time her back facing the window where sunlight was beaming through onto the floor. Dust moats churned and rolled in the sunlight.

Martha sat at the table while Jim stepped outside to get some work done.

Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly before.

“Thank you for…. Coming so quickly.”

Martha looked up at her, her bright blue human eyes cutting and cold.

“I would do anything for my kids.”

Sunny shifted her feet and looked down quietly and before realizing what she was saying, “I wish my mother had been more like you.”

There was silence.

Martha worked her jaw for a second before curiosity got the better of her, “Are…. Drev mothers not protective of their children?”

Sunny shook her head, “No…. not at all…. Just not…. Mine.”

“Oh…. I’m sorry…. What…. Happened?”

Sunny looked away and shrugged, “Oh I was a disgrace. A crippled abomination that should have been tossed into the fire at birth.”

Martha stared at her, “Don’t you think that’s a bit exaggerated.”

Sunny turned to look at her, “No… That’s what happens if you are born crippled. You are tossed into the fire.” 

Martha stared at her mouth open, “They what!.... But how…. Why… why would anyone do anything like that….. And you. You look fine.”

Sunny turned to look out the window, “My mother was a great general. She won land in all directions of the compass, but after my brother, she was never able to produce another child…. It is very important in Drev culture to be able to produce kits.” She turned to look at martha, “Drev mothers give birth near the mouths of volcanos, and if the kit doesn’t hold up to standard they are thrown into the fire for their spirits to be recycled. My mother was…. Unable to get rid of me…. I am very small. I think she hated me because I was a symbol of her weakness, and she just couldn’t handle that.”

Martha had gone very quiet staring on at Sunny in surprise and….  a hint of something else in her bright blue eyes.

“I tried for her to be the best warrior I could. But in truth, I am not talented in battle. When the Drev war came, I thought I could win her love through valor, though I should have known better by then.” She looked at Martha feeling a horrible clenching feeling rising up in her chest and stomach, “What I did to Adam…. It isn’t excused by any means, but at least now you know why I did what I did.’ She looked down at her hands, “But instead of winning my mother’s love, she blamed me for my father’s death.”

“Your father…. Died during the war?”

“Yes, he was killed by a Steel-eye soldier during the last push.” She raised a hand, “Don’t worry, my father died an honorable death in battle…. I was happy for him. Once again my mother went against our customs and turned her sights on revenge.” Sunny siged taking a seat at the table resting her hands together atop the polished surface clasped lightly together.

As she sat a sudden touch of warmth on her hand made her look up.

Martha Vir had a hand over hers and was looking at her with an expression Sunny had not seen on the human’s face before.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Sunny chirped half heartedly, “It’s past me now. “She glanced towards the door, “Besides, I have people who care about me now, and they make it pretty clear that I am worth far more than what my mother said.”

There was another silence. The distant sound of laughter reached them from outside, “I am sorry, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sunny chirped again, “I hurt your son, you would have to be crazy to trust me, or even like me all that much.” “Still, I should have been willing to trust his judgement…. He’s my youngest, and sometimes I forget he’s his own man.” She laughed, “Every time I picture him he’s still eight years old.”

“Are you sure he isn't” 

The two of them laughed.

The door creaked open just then, and Jim stepped into the house a handful of dandelions in one hand. He seemed surprised to find the two of them laughing with each  other, but just as pleased, “What did I miss.”

Martha smiled, “Nothing important. What do you have there?”

“Well, I was just getting rid of these from the lawn, and I was going to throw them away, but.” He glanced at sunny sheepishly, “I thought I heard Adam mention that you liked eating them, so…. I bought them inside instead. Forgive me for overstepping or mishearing.”

Sunny perked up a bit at the sight of the little yellow weed, “You heard him right.”

Jim looked relieved, handing Sunny the flowers and coming down to sit  at the table. Sunny munched on the flower rather happily. 

“Please eat them all. I hate those little yellow bastards.”

Martha looked over at Sunny, “Adam ever taught you how to play cards?”

Sunny shook her head, “I’ve seen him play, but we usually do other things.”

“Might as well do something while we pass the time.” Jim reached out to open a drawer revealing a few decks of cards. “Prism, turn on the sports channel.”

A blue light flashed around the upper edge of the ceiling, and a projection bloomed to life at the center of the room.

Martha began manipulating the cards between her hands adding a pleasant shuffling sound to the air.

Sunny growled at the screen.

“What, you don’t like the Strikers?”

“No, their coach is a D bag and Marcos can’t throw to save his life.”

Jim laughed, “Finally someone who gets it. Only Jeremy was ever into football, but they’re his favorite team.”

“Schmuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

Sunny chirped happily, and Jim laughed.

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part IV

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: Did you forget about this series? I wouldn’t blame ya LOL Please drop a comment if you’d like to be part of the tag list! 😚

PART I || PART II || PART III

PART IV of X

Translations + Transliteration Пьетро - Pietro

Count: 1497

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Honestly, you need to get out more.”

Wanda huffs as she tries to refocus back on her painting. Pietro has decided to come visit her during his lunch hour from work and he seems to be in a mood of harassing her on her social skills—or really lack of.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Pietro, but considering that my form of a 9-5 job includes me sitting in this studio all day painting solo. There’s not much I can do about human interaction.” Wanda dabs her paintbrush in the blue of her palette, coming back up with a steady hand as she continues her work.

Her brother admires the unfinished art his sister is creating, but he grins when he hears her reply.

“If that’s the case, I can totally introduce you to someone. They would seriously be perfect for you; hopefully, help you loosen the stick up your—”

“Пьетро!” She yells, accent thick as she glares at him, a slight blush on her cheeks. She rolls her eyes as she hears his laughter.

“Alright, but seriously, Wanda. I could introduce you to someone.”

Wanda focuses on painting again, absently noticing how she’s got the color green on her thumb, but she’s pretty sure she didn’t take out green today.

“Not now, I’m pretty busy with work.”

She whines when she feels Pietro flick the back of her head.

“Look at you, all grown up and busy with work.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You’re about to leave Wanda’s after doing her dishes and sweeping the floor. You’re seemingly checking to make sure you have all your things when you notice for the first time that’s heavily pouring outside.

There’s thunder and lightning, you can barely see in front of you when you look out the window.

You hum before Wanda appears beside you, looking out the window as well.

“How did you get here?” She asks softly.

“Driving,” you answer absently, still staring at the harsh rain pouring outside. It’s not like you haven’t driven in this weather before. You’re quite adept at driving in harsh conditions being overly cautious when on the road. You’ll quite often take the back roads knowing there won’t be other cars.

“This is going to be a bitch driving home,” you sigh, turning around to leave when you feel something pull at the end of your jacket.

You turn around to see Wanda looking at you seriously.

“It is too dangerous to drive,” she tells you plainly.

“It’ll be fine,” you tell her with a wave, but Wanda doesn’t let go of her hold.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to pour for, and it’s already getting pretty late,” you purse your lips.

“You can stay the night.”

You think Wanda would be more reserved about you letting her invade her space. After all, she had been quite clear about wanting you to leave and that you were a nuisance, but then you see the look in her eyes and the seriousness in them.

She won’t say it, but you don’t need her to.

“Okay,” you agree gently.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You find it kind of hard to fall asleep on Wanda’s couch. Not that it’s uncomfortable because her couch is weirdly better than your bed at home, but you can definitely hear the walls expanding and contracting and the drops of water from the sink.

You’ve probably lain in bed for hours now, wide awake. You sigh quietly, getting up and moussing your hair. You’re probably not going to get much sleep at this point, so you get up and to pour yourself a glass of water.

And then you hear it.

It’s quiet with Wanda having her door nearly shut, but the sound traveled through the small crack.

It was a groan.

And no, not a sexy groan, but a groan that indicated she might be in pain.

You bite your tongue, debating if you should go check because you’re not sure if Wanda would appreciate you entering her bedroom, but you hear her groan again and immediately go check. Opening the door slowly and quietly, your eyes try to adjust to the dark room. You do see a mass of hair in the bed and vague figure tossing and turning.

Making your way in, you kneel on the ground beside the bed, looking over at Wanda. Her face is scrunched up, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, and lips trembling.

“Пьетро…”

It’s comes easier than you think it would to brush your cold fingers against her warm cheeks, watching as her face settles and unconsciously rub her face closer to your hand.

Honestly, it feels like someone is slamming a hammer right into your chest because you never thought seeing a stranger hurt like this could hurt you too.

Because she looks lost like you do.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wanda can always tell if she’s had a nightmare. She wakes slowly, blinking in the dark. She feels different, but Wanda cannot exactly explain why.

Slowly getting up, she felt a weight drag on her hand.

Looking down, she noticed you sitting on the floor, hunched over her bed with your hand intertwined with hers.

Her eyes traveled over your bare shoulders and arms, noticing the lack of blood and tiny goosebumps, a sign you’ve been there for quite some time.

Wanda wriggles her fingers, feeling the warmth, and thinks about how hard it must’ve been to sit there as long as you did.

She can’t help but think how stupid you are.

But stupidly kind.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

You watched Wanda’s face, dazed and stoic and pursed your lips as you finished up cooking.

Perhaps she was mad?

It felt like you did cross a line.

“Listen, Wanda—I’m sorry about the…hand-holding—”

“I’m hungry,” Wanda cuts you off, and you say nothing more but licking your lips as you bring the dishes to the table.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence until Wanda decides to break it again.

“Why three months?” She asks, stopping your spoon from entering your mouth mid-air. You put the spoon back down in your bowl and look over at her.

“I hardly think a month will change you, so I asked for three,” you say simply.

“Three months won’t change anything either,” Wanda argues back.

“Then I will just ask for more,” You scoop more food onto your spoon again. “If you’re so sure you’ll want to die, then it doesn’t quite matter if it’s a couple months later, does it? You can spare me more time, can’t you?”

Wanda bites her tongue.

“Why are you doing this?” She’s gripping her spoon harder then she means to, but she just doesn’t understand.

You look over at her thoughtfully.

“I want to know you.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Are you warm enough?” Wanda asks unsure as she looks at the blanket and pillow you’ve got on the couch.

You hum, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Somehow, you’ve negotiated to living with her because if you want to help her, then you need to be with her. Less time together means more likely you’ll begging for more time in the end.

That’s what you told Wanda anyways, and she seemed to reluctantly agree.

Wanda walks back to her room, settling in her familiar bed and sighs as she looks at the ceiling.

All this eating together, sleeping, talking, and sharing…it was only for three months.

After three months, she can say no to more time and everything would go away.

Even though that’s what Wanda kept telling herself, she kept tossing and turning in bed. Her hand kept clenching and opening, and she already knew what she was missing—or wanted, exactly.

Wanda liked holding hands. She wanted the handholding. It felt good, the warmth and steady pressure.

It was a mix of both pride and fear that stopped her from getting out of bed to ask you. So, she lied there, thinking about with family you don’t get a choice. She would hold hands with Pietro when he cried the first time he was rejected from his dream job, or when his long-time girlfriend moved to another city. And while she was always willingly there for Pietro, she did realize one thing.

Wanda liked having the choice.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wanda woke through the night again, she knew right away it was different.

She sat up and hesitantly wriggled her fingers, feeling the familiar warmth and pressure. Looking down, she found you sitting on the ground by her bedside again, the similar lack of blood and goosebumps on your arms.

The wriggling seemed to wake you slightly as you hummed quietly, eyes still closed before you intertwined your fingers more intimately. Your thumb pressing into the back of Wanda’s hand and fingers lacing together.

She lay back down facing you, watching you as your head rest on your free arm, unaware of anything.

How stupid, Wanda thought.

You were going to catch a cold like this.

But Wanda was already smiling.

PART V

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Blood In the Rivers: IV

A/N: I’m sorry. (But, on that note, chapter V will be out soon, because I had parts of that written long before I thought of actually posting this fic.) Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, and read the last chapter. You deserve nice things.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: T for brief suicidal thoughts, canon typical sexism, my overuse of italics

Word Count: 7k (I have lost my chill, apparently) 

Read Chapters I-III here! Or on Ao3!

Chapter Four: A Pentoshi Heart

Her mother once said, “You may have your father’s name, little one, but you have a Pentoshi heart.”

“What does that mean, Mother?” Y/N asked, eyes wide in childlike curiosity. Her little hands had grabbed fistfuls of her mother’s deep blue skirts as the wind rushed by, carrying the scent of evergreens.

“It means,” she paused and cleared her throat, words warbling on her tongue in her beautiful, Pentoshi accent, “it means that you fling yourself into adventures without thinking of the consequences. That you destroy what you cannot control.” Vaella bent and held her daughter’s face in her hands. “You must take care, little one, that you do not lose yourself to someone who will drive you to your worst impulses.”

The words meant little to young Y/N, but she nodded and smiled at her mother. “I will try, Mother. To not lose my heart.”

Perhaps she had been given too much time to think. Or maybe thinking was the only thing from teetering over the edge into despair. It had been almost two weeks since Tywin had announced that Loras had been raised to the Kingsguard. The second royal wedding was the day after tomorrow and she…hadn’t seen Oberyn since he’d kissed her in the Small Council chamber.

Ellaria had been scarce in her visitations, too. They’d met only twice in the gardens for a few brief moments. There was something Ellaria was hiding, Y/N was sure of it. But she was too sad to question it. To ask for answers. To ask where Oberyn had gone.

And the last time Ellaria had held her close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against her lips, she whispered, “you must be strong, My Tully.”

The sound of the nickname on Ellaria’s tongue almost relieved the weight she felt on her shoulders. She was Ellaria’s. She had been Oberyn’s, too. But that had been nearly a week ago. She’d only caught a glimpse of them at Tommen’s coronation celebrations. A single view of their golden and yellow skirts and robes and then they were gone and she was left to swear her fealty to the new king by herself. Little Tommen seemed too kind to really be king—but she knew he had been king before that silly crown was placed on his head. As soon as Olenna had shared the news of Joffrey’s death, she knew Tommen was king. Everyone had referred to him as king the day after Joffrey’s funeral anyway, the ceremony seemed redundant.

Y/N was suddenly brought back to the present as something sharp sunk into her shoulder. The Maester had the good grace to look apologetic as he continued to haphazardly pull the stitches from her skin. “Nearly finished, my lady.” Daisy was standing at her back as the maester worked, trailing comforting fingers up and down her spine to distract her from the strange ache the procedure created. “These have been some of my finest work. The scars shall be minimal compared to what it could have been.”

Y/N wanted to tell him that the scars were still ugly no matter how “fine” his stitching may have been. It twisted from the edge of her collarbone to just under her arm, raised and discolored like a beacon of her misstep. There was a matching scar on her back. They’d had to cut her open to clean the wound properly, pouring firewine into her flesh to stop a possible infection. It was a small solace that she had been unconscious for that.

To keep her mind from focusing on the pincers in the feeble hands of the Maester, she tried to think of anything else. It was a bit of advice her Uncle Hoster had taught her when she was still a girl and she’d fallen off her horse and into the rocky bed of the Tumblestone river, earning herself a nasty cut along her leg that required stitches. Uncle Hoster, she thought, dead and gone now—he’d died when she was on the kingsroad to represent the Riverlands at court and ask for the Crown’s protection against the raiders. Word only reached her after she’d settled into her chambers at the Keep. Gone. Just like that. Then there was Eddard Stark, calm and strong and if not a little sullen at times. He always had a kind smile for her. He was gone, too. Bran and Rickon killed by Theon in a coup at Winterfell. Catelyn and Robb dead as well. Arya was in the wind, as was her father. Edmure was a captive of the Lannisters and Sansa was in hiding in Dorne. Jon was at the Wall. What a mess. They’d been scattered like sand in the wind.

This obviously was not a productive train of thought so she tried to focus on the dark but happy reality that Joffrey was dead. Dontos, too. Dontos who had tried to lead Sansa away from her teachings and plan.

“Dontos said he has a plan to get me out of King’s Landing,” Sansa whispered as they pretended to pray. She had told her of the note Dontos had placed beneath her pillow, swearing his fealty to Sansa’s cause as recompense for her saving his life. “He says he has a friend with a ship that will get me out. Take me home to Winterfell.”

“Do you believe him?”

“He seems to believe it.”

Y/N pushed out a long breath through her nose and tightened her clasped fingers. “Has he said anything else to you? Mentioned who this friend is?”

“No.” Sansa shuffled closer on the stone.

The older of the pair paused for a moment. The knight-turned-fool was easily manipulated. There was no possible way he could formulate a plan—the fact that he managed to smuggle a note beneath Sansa’s pillow was suspicious enough. “Tell me what else he says.” She reached out and tugged at the end of Sansa’s loosened braid and a small smile finally touched Sansa’s pretty, pink lips. “But you trust me to get you out of here, don’t you?”

“You’re my family. The only family I have left in this terrible place. Of course I trust you.”

The maester finished and she thanked him before he toddled out of her chambers. Silence stretched for a few moments, tense and sad.

“What can I bring you, my lady?” And poor Daisy continued to fret, noticing her lady’s dour mood. “There are fresh lemon cakes in the kitchens. I watched them bake this morning.”

Y/N nodded and stood from her chair. “That sounds lovely. And any juice you can find.”

Daisy nodded and scurried away, happy to see that Y/N was eating. Her meals had been sparse the last handful of days and had taken to only drinking water. It would be good for her to have something in her stomach.

As the door closed, Y/N caught Daemon watching Daisy as she walked away and smiled despite her own melancholy. They would make a handsome match—and as Daisy was the fifth daughter of a Landed Knight, it wouldn’t be a preposterous one either. Perhaps she could speak to Daisy when she returned. But, for now, she rolled her shoulder and felt the pinch that came with disuse and the presence of new scarring. The blades she once sewed into her dresses and hid throughout her chambers had been hidden away at the bottom of her chest and covered with chemises and underclothes to keep any prying eyes from discovering them. She pulled two from the depths and carried through the familiar steps Ser Maegyr had taught her. One position into two and then the third and then back again, swinging and stabbing the blades through the air. “Aim for the eyes, the throat, and the upper thigh, My Lady. All men bleed.” 

Her shoulder continued to pinch and quickly ached as she persisted in her steps.

“Move fast and sure. Indecision will cost you your life.” 

She turned and did the steps across the floor, moving with each new pass. Thoughts trickled by as she tried to think of only Ser Maegyr and his training—but the thoughts came just the same. Of Tywin and his proposal. Of Ser Gregor and his threats. Of all the ways her family had been betrayed. Of Oberyn and Ellaria and their soft lips and beautiful words. She arced the blade in her left hand down and buried it into the soft wood of her vanity. The wood cracked and splintered as she yanked it out.

She hadn’t meant to do that.

A knock at her door had her stashing the blades beneath a pillow and throwing on a dark blue dressing gown over her chemise before she opened it just a crack to see who was there—it was just Daemon. His light eyes searched her face as it was revealed, worry coloring his features. “My Lady? Are you well?”

He must have heard the noise and thought something was amiss. “I am, Ser. I am sorry to have troubled you.”

His dimpled smile appeared and he ducked his head. “You are never any trouble, my lady.”

Before she closed the door, she briefly thought of asking Daemon of Oberyn and Ellaria’s whereabouts. Daemon had been knighted by Oberyn himself—and of course, there had been whispers that Oberyn then took the young knight to bed. And where Oberyn went, Ellaria always was. Could she ask him? But her proper manners reared their head and quieted her tongue. “You are far too kind, Ser. Daisy should be back soon with lemon cakes. Please, take some for you and your brother in arms.”

His smile widened. “Thank you, my lady. They’re my favorite. But are you sure Daisy will not mind?”

“If you ask nicely and say I gave you permission, I suppose she’d be agreeable. Your dimples can work wonders, I’m sure.”

A pretty pink filled his cheeks and she laughed for the first time in almost two weeks. She smiled at him and they said their goodbyes before she shut the door again and she picked up her blades and started to resume her steps. But then there was another knock at her door and she once again hid her blades away under her pillow. She smiled, thinking it was Daemon again or Daisy with the lemon cakes, but her face fell when Bernadette, Cersei’s handmaiden, stood in her doorway.

“My lady, the queen has requested your presence in her chambers.” Her dark eyes slid down Y/N’s hastily tied gown and chemise. “Shall I help you dress?”

“No. I can do it myself.” She closed the door and scowled before pulling open one of her chests and retrieving a simple, pale blue gown that tied at the sides instead of the back. She dressed before pushing her feet into soft-soled slippers. Y/N opened the door to see Bernadette eyeing Daemon and his counterpart with unmasked contempt and she stepped in front of them. “If you’re done eyeing my guards, you may escort me to Her Grace.”

Bernadette flushed and dipped her head. “Yes, my lady.”

The walk was tense and quiet and Bernadette’s heeled shoes slapped against the stone floor and the sound echoed through the halls, grating on Y/N’s last nerve. It was a strange relief to see Cersei’s apartment door.

Bernadette knocked and glanced at Y/N before opening it, “Lady Tully, Your Grace.”

Y/N cast one last look at Bernadette before stepping inside and making sure the maid stayed out in the hall.

“Sit,” Cersei said, pointing at the chair on the other side of her desk without looking up from the parchment and ink she was focused on.

Y/N did as she was told and watched Cersei write, scratching away at the parchment with a subdued flourish. It was a silly little power play. One she knew well. But she still knew how to play the dutiful loyalist and could sit still for hours while Cersei pretended to not see her.

After a few moments, Cersei set down her quill and looked Y/N over. “You are healing well.”

“Yes, Your Grace. The maester relieved me of my stitches this morning.”

Cersei hummed and sat back in her chair. “There has been such whispers about you, Lady Tully. You just cannot seem to stay out of harm’s way.” Cersei’s cold green eyes stared at her shoulder, knowing where she had been injured. “It seems being aligned with my family has given you scars.”

“Nothing that can’t be covered up, Your Grace. Scars fade with time.” 

“Indeed they do. But, you have been remiss in keeping your maids beside you. Wandering the halls like a servant, unaccompanied.”

“I only have Daisy, Your Grace. I found it more timely to have her run to the markets or the kitchens for me than to follow me around the Keep. I did the same at Riverrun. I have never cared to have a shadow.”

“But you care for the Dornish guards outside your door?” Cersei asked, head tilting just so.

Y/N offered an easy, sad smile. “Prince Oberyn insisted, Your Grace, after the…wedding.” She pressed as much false sadness into her tone and dipped her head. “I have tried to tell him it was not necessary—that the Keep is safe. But who am I to argue with a prince? And the one that helped save my life, at that. I’m sure they will depart soon. I am terribly sorry if they have caused a fuss for the Kingsguard.” 

“I would have them replaced. Two of the finest knights from the Westerlands outside your door.”

Another scheme, it seemed. Another move across the board. “That is a very kind offer. But I am afraid I must refuse. The finest knights should be guarding King Tommen, should they not? But I shall send the Dornish knights away today. It is not a matter to me.”

“His Grace has the King’s Guard.”

“Of course, but surely his protection is paramount to mine. Dontos-”

“Is dead, Lady Tully. Have you not seen his head on the spike at the gate?”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m afraid my injury has left me inside the Keep’s walls aside from the coronation and funeral. I’ve not had the opportunity to venture out otherwise.”

Cersei took a sip of her wine and arched a blonde eyebrow. “I offer you a great service, Lady Tully. And you refuse it. Father told me you tried to refuse sitting at our side at the wedding. Have we done something to insult you so?”

Cersei’s hidden meanings and loaded questions had not dulled with the death of Joffrey. If anything, Y/N saw that the queen had started to lean more heavily into thinly veiled insults or threats. A tired game, to be sure. “Of course not, Your Grace. Your family has been far kinder to me than I feel I deserve.”

“And you feel you are not right to marry my father?” Cersei asked point blank.

“I am not sure if I would be a worthy Lady of the Rock,” she said simply. “I am the only daughter born to a second son and a foreigner. One is dead. The other is a traitor. I am not quite the match a man of your father’s station should require.”

“And yet, he’s inclined to choose you still. Despite your…shortcomings.” Cersei almost smiled and took another drink of wine. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Y/N stayed silent, watching Cersei watch her over the rim of her chalice.

Cersei set down her chalice and steepled her fingers atop her desk. “I’m going to give you advice. The same advice I gave that bitch Sansa before she disappeared.” She leaned forward in her chair. “The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll do things for them that you know you shouldn't do. You'll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” 

“I do, Your Grace.” And she did. The advice was cruel but kind in equal measure, a way to survive the perils of marriage to man you could not love in any capacity. It was easy to see that bit of advice had seen Cersei through her marriage to Robert Baratheon. It was another crack in her armor.

Cersei nodded and sat back and took another gulp of wine. “It’s just as well, you know. Father loved Mother with a fierceness that can never be replicated.” The Queen Regent fixed her green gaze on the younger woman. “He will never love you. All the stories you’ve read in the dark of your rooms as a girl, of dashing knights and love, they do not exist.”

Y/N straightened her shoulders. “I never cared for fairytales or love stories, Your Grace.”

Cersei smirked. “And of what did you care to read?”

“War.”

Cersei pushed out a short laugh through her teeth. “Perhaps you are more suitable than you think, Little Lamb.”

A knock at the door broke the tightly wound atmosphere of the room and Bernadette stepped in. “Lady Olenna, Your Grace.”

Olenna then barged into the room and her dark eyes swept from Cersei to Y/N. “Ah, I was told you were here. I need to speak with you.”

Y/N turned to Cersei who had pursed her lips. Of course, seeming to look to the queen regent for guidance was just another way to masquerade as someone who cared about what she said. Cersei paused and then nodded.

“Come, Little Fish. I don’t have the virtue of time.”

Y/N sighed and rose and followed the Queen of Thorns back out into the hall after quickly curtseying. Bernadette started to follow when Olenna turned and eyed her up and down. “You can stay here.” Olenna looped her arm through Y/N’s. “We are perfectly capable of walking on our own. Thank you.”

The handmaiden essentially shriveled up into herself at that and curtseyed before retaking her place outside Cersei’s doors, red in the face. But all Y/N could see was the hulking mass of The Mountain now standing guard in the shadows. His dark eyes raked down her form as they had hundreds of times before and he actually licked his lips like a hungry dog. Thankfully, Olenna didn’t seem to notice or did not care and continued to pull Y/N along. Two Tyrell handmaidens followed several paces back.

“It is as if they don’t trust me,” Olenna said loudly.

Y/N wordlessly thanked her companion with a gentle squeeze to her arm and let the older woman lead her out of the Keep and into the godswood without much passing between them aside from trivial conversation about the preparations for the second royal wedding. As they were firmly planted within the shade and greenery of the godswood, Olenna pulled them both to a stop. The two handmaidens had stayed at the gate, surreptitiously turning their backs to give the two high-borns privacy and to keep others away.

“You are quite the challenge, aren’t you, Little Fish?” Olenna chuckled and they settled on the stone bench Y/N and Sansa used to favor. “Everyone thinks they want your loyalty. Everyone thinks they have it.” Olenna patted her hand. “You would have made a fine Lady of the Reach.”

“No longer wanting to marry me to Lord Willas? I’m almost insulted, Lady Olenna.”

Olenna chuckled. “The Lions have their games, we have ours. But, no, Little Fish. It seems as if you are not meant to be a Tyrell.”

“A shame. I have heard Highgarden smells much more pleasant than King’s Landing.” She bit back a sigh. “Why have you requested my presence? We no longer have anything to offer one another.”

A titter escaped Olenna’s lips. “Abandoning hope already? I must have mistaken you for a fighter.”

Y/N turned and tried not to glare. “Tywin Lannister has essentially proposed marriage. There is no fighting him. No other man in this damned city would dare stand against him.” But the anger she’d felt bubbling slipped out of her like a wave and left her sagging in her stone seat. “I’m going to be his broodmare and provide him with another heir and then I can only hope that my second son will become Lord Tully. My home in the clutches of lions. I’m almost tempted to leave it to the Freys. They’ll never hold it.” Y/N closed her eyes and sat straight to angle her face toward the sun, trying to feel its warmth instead of the turmoil in her stomach. “It’ll be besieged and seized over and over again until they abandon it. It will become a mess of rock and rubble in a handful of years.”

“Are you a witch, too? Such terrible visions you have, Little Fish.” The tone of her voice was as close to sympathetic as Y/N had ever heard it but she did not pull away from the sun. “But I, too, would rather see Highgarden in ruins than in the hands of the lions.”

Y/N nearly startled as Olenna gently touched her cheek. Her eyes opened to see Olenna smiling softly at her, a look she had thought reserved for Margaery. “You offer something very precious. In time, you will see.” She tapped Y/N’s cheek and then stood. “It seems you will make allies of us all.” Olenna paused and fished something from the pocket of her dress and handed it to Y/N. “For your scarring.”

It was a small, green jar about the size of her palm. Y/N twisted the top of the jar off and the scent of mint and roses hit her nose, filtering from the white paste carefully spooned into the jar’s depths. That was the closest thing she would get to an apology for being maimed.

“Let us get you back to your rooms. You need your rest.”

Y/N stood and let Olenna once again wrap an arm around hers and they walked back into the cold shadows of the Keep. As they neared her chamber door, Y/N noticed that only one guard was standing sentry—and her door was ajar. The guard’s eyes widened just a fraction as she neared with Olenna at her side. Y/N arched an eyebrow as she stepped from Olenna’s hold and pushed the door open completely, letting the hinges squeal.

Daemon and Daisy were half dressed on the silk rug beside her bed, obviously in a heated embrace. Crumbs of lemon cakes and droplets of juice littered the rug as they continued to kiss and tug and haphazardly try to get each other’s clothes off.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Olenna said, fighting a smirk as she peered into the room. Her handmaidens were on their tip toes behind her, trying to steal a look, too. She waved them back and patted the remaining, fully dressed, guard on the shoulder before the door closed.

Even then Daemon and Daisy did not separate.

Y/N tilted her head to the side as she watched them, half amused that they hadn’t noticed her, half heated at the sounds they pulled from each other. Little gasps, muffled moans, as hands slid across skin and slipped under armor and cloth. It took Y/N a moment to gather herself before clearing her throat.

That was what finally did it.

Daisy’s eyes opened and she gasped and shoved Daemon off of her and he flopped onto the stone with a slap. She shot to her feet and curtseyed, “My lady.”

Daemon was slower to rise, a smirk already pulling at his lips as he bowed, uncaring of his bare chest or half-tied breeches. “Lady Tully.”

Y/N reached out and righted the strap of Daisy’s chemise. “Did you at least save me some lemon cakes?”

Daisy’s shoulders dropped. “No, my lady.”

Y/N turned to Daemon before bending and grabbing his tunic from the rug and handing it to him. “When I said to ask her if she’d share lemon cakes, this isn’t quite what I had in mind, Ser Daemon.”

He pulled the tunic on and then reached for his outer robe which had been rolled into a ball near her vanity, as if it had been shucked off in haste and then forgotten. “She is a master negotiator, my lady.”

Daisy looked like she was trying to scowl but a giggle slipped out instead. “I am so sorry.”

“You both are very lucky no one else noticed your indiscretions. Will you be a bit more cautious in the future?”

“Will there be a future?” Daemon asked softly as he looked to Daisy, eyes open and hopeful as his small smile pushed his dimples to full display.

Y/N felt the urge to look away and she was thankful she did as she heard Daisy whisper, “perhaps, Ser.”

Both of them redressed as Y/N settled on the soft blankets of her bed, a little selfishly happy that they hadn’t used her bed. The pair avoided eye contact with each other (and Y/N) before Daemon slipped out. It was quiet for a beat and then two.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“My lady, I am so sorry-”

“You deserve to be happy, Daisy. I’ve told you that. If Ser Daemon makes you happy, I am pleased.” She reached out and touched Daisy’s hand with a smile and fought the urge to tease. “But please, take care to be a bit more discreet next time.”

Daisy’s blush continued and she nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

                                                       **

The ceremony came and went and Y/N felt her cheeks hurting with how long she had to press a fake smile to her lips. Kevan Lannister and his wife were once again at her side during the ceremony and Lady Dorna had taken it upon herself to link arms with Y/N as the group walked from the Sept of Baelor toward the Keep for the festivities. Dorna prattled on about her life in Lannisport and Y/N managed to interject a time or two to make it seem like she was listening but she begged off as they reached the grounds.

“I must admit I’ve worn the wrong shoes, my lady. If I am to dance, I must change them.”

“Oh, you must!” Dorna agreed. “But do not be absent too long. Your presence shall be missed.”

Y/N smiled again, teeth near rotting, and hurried away. But she did not stop at her chambers. Did not stop at the Holdfast. She raced as fast as she could to the top of the west turret and only drew in a full breath as she touched the rusted railing and the door slapped shut behind her.

Sleep had evaded her the night before. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw Tywin’s face, Gregor’s face, Cersei’s face. All of them snarling and slobbering and growing pointed teeth to devour her whole. The fleeting happiness she had found in teasing Daisy or Daemon for their newfound fondness for each other was short lived when she realized that she would never be held like that, kissed like that. The Prince of Dorne and his Paramour had not looked at her as they walked by when the ceremony was over. Ellaria’s arm had been tucked into Oberyn’s and they spoke softly to one another as Y/N craned her neck to try to get them to notice her. They didn’t.

And as much as she had said that she had not cared for stories of romance or fairytales, she did. She had wanted what her mother and father had: an all-consuming, passionate type of love that stretched into the grave.

It had been a childish dream to think she had tasted it on the tongues of the Dornish couple. She realized that now. All she had been was a game to pass the time. Surely that was all she had been. A childish game.

And it had been childish to run up here, thinking the air and wind could ease the pain in her chest or the slow constriction she felt about her throat. All it did was give her a view of the city she hated and a small reprieve from the stench.

“Lady Tully.”

She turned at the sound of the voice and was surprised to see Jaime Lannister standing near the door leading down into the Keep. The wind caught his white Kingsguard cloak and it fluttered in the wind, giving him the appearance of some roguish prince. His golden hand glinted in the sunlight. “Ser Jaime.” She dipped her head. “I thought His Grace would have you at his side.”

“It is for His Grace that I am here. King Tommen has asked where you were.”

Sweet Tommen. And the small smile the knight gave her reminded her of the smiles the prince, now king, had happily shared at Joffrey’s wedding. “I just needed a moment, Ser. Just a moment.” There was no chance she was going to start confiding in the Kingslayer—even if there had been rumors he’d been much changed since his captivity and the loss of his hand. He was still a Lannister. 

And it was because of his refusal to leave the Kingsguard that she had even come into this position.

A future at Casterly Rock. Unloved and used for the prize between her legs.

“You are standing close to the edge, my lady.” There was actual concern in his voice. How preposterous!

“I would not give anyone the satisfaction of throwing myself off a turret. And I would not spoil another royal wedding. Air, Ser, is all I needed. Away from…this.”

“Then I shall stand here until you are ready.”

And it was said with such soft conviction and that damned concern that it snapped in her chest. Maybe she should throw herself from this turret and be done with her warring emotions and the frivolity of wanting to be loved or thinking she could make a smidge of difference in this wretched world. To end it before it began. It would be a hollow victory, to be sure. She’d rob Tywin of another wife for a moment but he would find another. The Freys would hold Riverrun for a time but it would be destroyed and returned to the mud from whence it came as the riverlands devolved into infighting. The Crown would have to deal with that, again. But she would not see it happen. And Sansa would still be alone in Dorne, without an outside ally.

She was crying in earnest before she could stop it and the metal groaned under her tightening grip. Y/N heaved under the weight of it all. How stupid she had been. How optimistic. The only good thing she had done was save Sansa.

And, as she looked up into the clear, blue sky, she knew that had to be enough.  

Y/N sucked in a breath and calmed her tears, wiping the salt away from her skin with the dark blue cloth of her bell sleeves. The wind dried the rest. She took a calming breath, then another, before turning and looking at Jaime. “Shall you be my escort to the festivities, Ser?”

He looked like he wanted to say something, mouth open and expectant, but he closed it and nodded. “Yes, my lady.” He held out his arm for her and she took it and let him lead her back into the fray.

“I would…I would prefer if no one else knew of what transpired on the turret, Ser.”

“No one will.”

She nodded, almost believing him, as they entered the grounds. Once again, it was awash with Lannister red and gold and filled with food and people and entertainers. The famed knight led her through the throngs of people and toward the head tables reserved for the Tyrells and Lannisters and her stomach sunk at the sight of the empty chair at Tywin’s side. The smirk on the old lion’s face when he saw her only confirmed it: she would be sitting beside him.

“My son, you are kind to deliver Lady Tully to us.”

“I needed to change shoes if I was to dance, My Lord.” She smiled. “I apologize for my absence.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady.” Tywin stood from his seat. “If you would join me.” He held out a hand toward her as he reached her side.

And she left Jaime’s hold and slid into Tywin’s without blinking. There would be no fight. “Thank you, Ser Jaime. For escorting me.”

Jaime dipped his head and glanced at his father before standing beside the other members of the Kingsguard, hand over his sword’s hilt.

Tywin wordlessly led her out into the couples already dancing and pulled her close as he began the steps. The familiar scent of leather and clove swept under her nose and it took a concentrated effort not to wrinkle her face in an attempt to get away from the smell.

“Cersei has said you refuse to send your Dornish guards away.” The tone was reminiscent of Hoster scolding her as a girl when she would not eat the fish on her plate for supper.

“I only thought it polite.” Thankfully, the steps of the dance were easy and the turns kept giving her opportunity to slip from his grip, if even more a moment.

“Yes, you seem very polite with Prince Oberyn.”

“He saved my life, my lord. I would not repay his kindness with enmity.”

Tywin pushed out a long breath through his nose as he stepped back to let her turn under his arm. “You are overly concerned with politeness.” 

“It is a woman’s duty to make sure guests are respected and cared for. Prince Oberyn has a seat on the Small Council and is a renowned warrior, I would not deem myself above him in any circumstance. If he feels the need to put guards at my door, it would be rude to refuse him, would it not?”

Tywin’s thin lips pulled into a smile and she had never been so terrified. “A fine lady you are, Lady Tully.” The dance ended and they clapped but Tywin did not move from her side. “But Prince Oberyn has said he will no longer fill Dorne’s seat at the Small Council. He leaves in three days’ time to return to Sunspear. He has promised another will be elected to fill the seat.”

Tywin did not care if House Martell filled the Dornish seat on the Small Council. She knew it. He thought he had won the game against Oberyn and his quest for vengeance against the Lannisters and the Mountain. Perhaps she did not know Oberyn as well as she thought. But how well did she, could she, have known him? What were a handful of conversations and stolen kisses?

Nothing. They were nothing. And something cold and broken settled in her bones then. They were leaving. Even if they had not spoken to her in weeks, she still felt the news like a slap to the face. And perhaps that is what it was. She was tossed aside in the end, a sad little thing to be scooped up into the paw of a lion.

After another dance, Tywin excused himself to speak with Mace Tyrell and Y/N curtseyed as he left her side, thankful to see Margaery waving her over. It was an easier distraction, the fake smile was almost real. Tommen was smiling beside his new queen and their hands were clasped together, nearly hidden under the table cloth.

“It is good to see you well, my lady,” Margaery said.

“I am happy to be able to fully enjoy the festivities, Your Grace.” She turned to Tommen. “And you look happy in married life.”

Tommen’s cheeks pinked and he looked at Margaery who smiled sweetly at him. “I am. The Seven have blessed me with a fine wife.” His blush only grew as Margaery pulled their clasped hands up and pressed a kiss to his hand.

“You must ask your fine wife to dance then, Your Grace. Keep her happy.” Y/N winked as Tommen paused and then scrambled to his feet and held out his hand for Margaery to take. She did with a wide smile and the crowd parted for them as they made their way closer to the bard and minstrels. Y/N watched them dance, Margaery smiling as she coached Tommen through the steps. They were a pretty picture.

Tyrion stepped to her side and handed her a full chalice of wine. Y/N took it with a soft ‘thank you, my lord,’ and quickly drained its entirety. “You are not well, Lady Tully?” He took the chalice from her and signaled for it to be filled again as he led her closer to his table at the far end of the raise dais and away from some of the crowd.

“I’m waiting to be shot again, my lord. The last wedding I attended was much bloodier.”

Tyrion’s brow furrowed. “You are safe here,” he murmured.

“Is anyone truly safe anywhere?” She took the refilled chalice and took her time sipping on the burgundy liquid as she turned to look out over the crowds, half-hoping to see the Dornish prince and his paramour. She took a hearty gulp when she didn’t see them, in relief or sadness, she did not know. “But my feelings should not spoil your fun, Lord Tyrion. I thank you for the wine.”

Just as his brother did before, Tyrion looked as if he had more to say. But he didn’t and dipped his head. “I am at your service, Lady Tully.”

The rest of the festivities slipped by. Tyrion danced with her twice and then Kevan Lannister asked for a turn, too. Margaery pulled her from her seat when the minstrels played a tune and called for a dance for only the women to enjoy. She ate roasted boar and honey-coated carrots and drank wine and smiled when she needed but kept quiet in her seat for most of it. Tywin did not offer any conversation and she glad for it. Simply sitting beside him was exhausting. It was as if she was constantly waiting for him to do something, say something. But, as the sun started to set and painted the grounds a soft pink, a knight from the Westerlands approached their table and whispered something into the Hand’s ear.

Tywin’s lips pulled into a thin line and he stood. “Excuse me.”

Y/N watched him go and briefly wondered what had caused him to leave so abruptly. But soon calls for the bedding filled the air and Margaery and Tommen were carried away by a riotous crowd and the festivities were quickly devolving into more lecherous frivolity as they usually did at weddings—the dances were closer, the music faster and heady. Wine was gulped and kisses stolen as the shadows grew darker. Y/N let herself enjoy being a voyeur for a moment and waited until the sky was a beautiful, deep purple before she excused herself. Daisy was waiting for her near the gates to the grounds and they quietly walked back into the Keep, both tired for different reasons. They spoke softly of their time at the festivities, vastly different experiences glaringly apparent. Y/N thought Daisy must have managed to sneak away with Daemon by the blush still touching her cheeks.

They rounded the corner toward her chambers and froze as they watched servants carrying her belongings out of her room. “What are you doing?” She reached out and pulled a dress from a bundle in a girl’s arms. “Where are you taking my things?”

“Lord Tywin has said your rooms are to be moved to the Tower of the Hand.”

“No!” Y/N barked out, pulling more and more of her belongings out of the strangers’ arms and Daisy quickly followed suit. “I have not accepted this move. You cannot just take-”

“Of course they can. I ordered them to do so.”

Y/N spun to face Tywin, clutching her chemises and dresses to her chest like armor. “You overstep, My Lord. I have not accepted your proposal. It would be indecent of you to put me in such a position.”

“Accept my proposal and it would not be indecent.”

“I must have time to think.” She hated how weak she sounded, how desperate. “I have to speak with the Grand Septon, for guidance and prayer before I can make such a decision.” She didn’t and she never would but she hoped playing to his sense of chivalry, no matter how skewed it had become, may work in her favor. She felt her arms starting to shake with how tightly she was holding her mess of fabric to her chest. It felt like there was a hand over her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs as she stared at him.

Tywin stared at her, eyes hard. Then, he held up a hand and the flurry of movement ceased. “Bring Lady Tully’s belongings back to her original room.” There was a murmur of acknowledgment and she watched as they filed back into her room, like a group of soldiers from the corner of her eye. But she did not take her gaze away from Tywin as he stepped closer. “This will be the only time you defy me.” He then stepped away and disappeared into the shadows.

It wasn’t until Y/N was alone in her room with a chair against the locked door, did she collapse, struggling to pull in air as she wept into her blankets. Daisy had quietly left after helping her to refold her dresses and chemises and placing them back in her chests. Y/N curled into a ball on her featherbed and tried to remember something Oberyn and Tywin and Cersei couldn’t touch. Everything was slipping from her grasp.

“Let me be your champion!” Jon’s voice echoed, followed by Robb, “I am your Dragonknight!”

But where were her Dragonknights now? Dead or wearing a cloak of black. She had no knights. Not anymore.

“You must be your own knight,” she whispered into her pillow. But she knew she wasn’t a knight. She was a fish out of water. Surrounded by lions.

A/N: The next chapter will probably be up some time this weekend. Please let me know what you think! 

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