#like are we forgetting that he’s seen her die in front of him?? why would he joke about her getting hurt because of him… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonlyqualitytrash · 2 months ago

Text

Memento Mori - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Do not forget that you will surely die someday, and as such, that is the more reason to live now. Fyodor returns to St. Petersburg, where a compassionate ballet teacher’s acceptance of life and mortality quietly transforms his jaded soul.

Warnings: fem!reader used, heavy themes of existential dread, mortality and religion, some russian words used, spoiler to Fyodor's ability (even though everyone and their mom is probably up to date with the manga)

A/N: I always found it weird for an immortal being to be religious, so I wanted to imagine a reason for Fyodor's faith. Anyway, this was a good outlet for all my existential thoughts, and I hope I did the character justice

Words: 3,900

Our existence is quite fascinating: we are born from death and return to death once we are finished stealing breaths from the world. Our existence has two parts—the physical and the bodiless. The first represents your autonomy, your biology, while the latter represents the mind, the consciousness.

19th century, Russian Empire

It was not uncommon for Fyodor to return home every five to ten years. Not out of homesickness, but there was something about the cold climate that always brought him back to St. Petersburg. He often found himself revisiting the same cathedrals and dark alleyways.

Over the decades, places had changed, yet he remained the same. And circling around him were the same filthy, grotesque people—sinners with empty human souls, their hearts filled with religion and vodka. Religion to keep them fearful, and vodka to keep them compliant.

Religion was a coping mechanism to manage the fear of death. And it was necessary because it thrived on fear. And what, he would ask, is the most primitive emotion in our brain? Fear. Fear is indeed primordial, clinging to us since the moment we are born.

As humans, when we take our first breath, our first instinct is to cry and cling to our birth-giver. Why? Because we feel fear.

The pavement was wet with snow that had fallen a few days prior and still plagued the stones. The sound of distant bells tolled in the background, marking the passage of time, but to Fyodor, time seemed irrelevant, like a vague murmur beneath the weight of his thoughts. The cold seeped into his bones, but it barely registered—his ushanka perched comfortably on his head, his coat keeping him mostly warm. Besides, he had a specific place he wanted to visit this time around. He had always enjoyed the fine arts, and ballet was no different.

So there he stood, in front of the Mariinsky Theatre—a grand green-washed building. The architecture, coupled with the color of the opera house, reminded Fyodor of mildew. He entered and had someone take his dark coat, doffing his beloved hat politely before walking to his seat in the mezzanine. The seat loomed over the ground floor, giving him a perfect view of the performance as well as the people attending.

He took a moment to observe and take in everything. The paintings on the ceiling were slightly more discolored than the last time he’d visited, and the people were the same cookie-cutter elites he saw every time. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they, too, didn’t age and that the same people came to the opera house each time. Everything was quite boring and dull, and he was tired of it all, but he still wanted to see the show. Giselle was one piece he had seen before but kept returning to. Why?

It was probably the tragic story that began with Giselle’s all-consuming love that lead her to madness and death. Her transformation—from grief and heartbreak to forgiveness and redemption as she forgives Albrecht—it all leads Giselle to spiritual liberation, demonstrating the healing power of selfless love and the importance of moving beyond bitterness.

He didn’t understand that.

Giselle, in his eyes, was a naïve fool. The man didn’t deserve her forgiveness or pity. If a woman’s heart is moved to pity, it becomes more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to save him, to bring him to his senses, to lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness. And yet, such dreams were futile. Fyodor knew all too well how far that kind of idealism could lead.

As the orchestra swelled, the soft, lively melody of the second act began, pulling him from his thoughts. The dancers took their positions, and he settled back into his seat, his gaze fixed on the stage. The performance resumed, the air thick with the delicate balance of art and emotion.

He remembered everything that was supposed to happen, from the slight movements of each ballerina to the clicking of the wooden pointe shoes on stage. So it struck him when the lead—a fairly average-looking woman—came out in the second act with a violin. His usual disinterested gaze followed the ballerina.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about her; she moved with the same elegance as any other ballerina, wore the same costume he’d memorized. But the fact that she decided to depart from tradition and bring an instrument on stage while also dancing made him almost reevaluate his opinion of her. On one hand, it was a pleasant surprise to see something different, opposed to the harsh rules of Russian ballet; on the other, why would she feel the need to defy tradition?

With a few simple inquiries, he soon found out that the woman was a teacher at the Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet. It was expected—being the only relevant ballet school in St. Petersburg, many ballerinas who graduated from this academy went on to perform at the opera house.

The academy had the same sickly yellow walls he had grown accustomed to; almost everything in this city was like this. From the faces of the people walking the streets to the wood holding up and supporting the buildings, the color of decay that seemed to seep into every corner of St. Petersburg.

The woman’s name was (Y/N) Agafonov. As stated, she was a teacher at this academy.

The porter let him in without fuss, seeing the polite, respectable man as someone who belonged there, and he oh-so-politely nudged him toward the room where you held your dance lessons. The door was open, almost inviting him to glance inside.

You stood in the middle of the grand dance room, your eyes soft yet stern, focusing on the girls before you, helping and correcting them. You didn’t notice the eyes that were on you the whole time. He quietly observed everything—the way you stood and walked, the way you spoke to the young women so gently, as if afraid to break their hearts and confidence.

As Fyodor observed the class, a peculiar thought flitted through his mind. How can such a gentle creature, such as herself, be stuck in such an unclean, unrighteous world? His gaze lingered on your soft yet commanding presence as you guided the young dancers. There was a part of him that expected you to break—to succumb to the world’s nature or fall in line like everyone else. But there was something in the way you held yourself, something almost fragile but resolute. He couldn’t look away. And so he stayed—silent, watching, unable to understand why someone like you seemed immune to the harshness of your surroundings.

Not long after, the class ended, and you let the girls stretch and leave. What caught your eye was the stranger standing outside the doorway. He could have been mistaken for a statue, as he stood so still and stoic. You took a step forward and gestured for him to come in. Without hesitation, he approached, his steps quiet, like a cat’s. When he stood at arm’s length, you offered him your hand. He stared at it for a few moments, contemplating, before slowly, and surprisingly gently, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles before releasing it.

What he saw surprised him further—the subtle or not-so-subtle marks around your nail beds. Probably signs of stress and overthinking. He pondered the question: How can I relate to this woman? He believed he was nothing like you; you held a strange humanity about you, while he hadn’t felt human in a long time. He couldn’t relate to your gentle nature or soft gaze. Of course, he wouldn’t voice any of this.

“Privyetstvuyu, Miss Agafonov, my name is Fyodor Dostoevsky. Apologies for intruding during your lesson,” he spoke, his voice low and almost quiet, as if sharing a secret.

“Dobroye den, Mister Dostoevsky. It is quite all right; my lesson wasn’t disturbed, so there’s no need to worry. May I ask what business you have?” you said, your voice quiet and warm, as if still speaking to the girls. It filled the room in a soft echo. A quiet part of Fyodor admired your bluntness and need to get to the point, but this forwardness clashed with your way of speech. Your honeyed voice was calming, while your words were stern. It was obvious that you had a sharp mind, but your quiet, almost lamb-like demeanor contrasted with it.

Fyodor cleared his throat softly before speaking again. “I had the pleasure of being at your last performance, so if you have time, I’d appreciate it if you would answer some questions about it.”

You observed him for a moment, unsure of his intentions. Checking the ticking clock on the wall, you saw that it was late—past noon, with no more classes to teach. Perhaps you would indulge his curiosity.

“I happen to have the time. Yes, we may speak in my office.”

Fyodor hummed in acknowledgment before quietly following you. You entered the room and gestured for him to sit. After he took a seat, you soon followed, facing him. “May I offer you some tea?”

“No, thank you,” he replied, his tone polite but detached.

There was a moment of pause between you two. The man you came to know as Fyodor struck you as rather odd. His thin frame made him look as if he were swimming in his long black coat. His eyes, often described as windows to the soul, betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking or feeling at that moment. He looked pale and almost sick, faint bruises under his eyes likely from lack of sleep. He had an overwhelming air of fatigue, and yet he still looked elegant and put together.

“You came to speak to me about my last performance, da?” you asked.

“Da,” he replied slowly, his voice calm and measured, taking one more moment to choose his words carefully. His dark eyes held an intensity that could make any stone wall crumble. “I haven’t seen anyone perform Giselle’s part in the second act as you did.”

For a moment, the thought flashed through your mind: Was he a critic here to berate me for choosing to go against the traditional interpretation? No—perhaps you were jumping to conclusions. He would speak, and you would discover his intentions. “Ah, you mean where Giselle enters the world of Wilis, where I played the violin?”

“Da.” That was all he said, though something about his tone invited you to continue.

“I took some creative liberty with that part, as it was my last performance,” you explained, pausing to consider whether you should delve deeper. “It may sound silly, but I often think about death—not because I wish to die, but because I know we are temporary. My small act of rebellion was a way for me to exercise the free will given to me by our Lord.”

This intrigued Fyodor. The woman before him hadn’t made her choice for attention or acclaim. It was more humble and personal, a way to come to terms with her mortality. This was a new perspective to him. As a man who had lived many lifetimes, he had grown desensitized to death and the fleeting nature of those around him.

“That is an interesting perspective,” he finally said, though his tone didn’t convey approval. “You think about your own fragility and thus want to escape it by exercising your free will?”

“You are partially correct, sir. I don’t wish to escape it; I want to come to terms with it. I know my death will come at one point, and I am not afraid of it. But perhaps...” There was a short pause, your eyebrows furrowing as you searched for the right words. “...perhaps, I don’t wish for my consciousness to be erased, to lose who I once was.”

Sometimes, Fyodor wished his consciousness could be erased. The weight of his own memories—the unrelenting flood of time—pressed down on him, crushing his bones. He envied those who lived in blissful ignorance, their minds free of the burden of awareness. But perhaps that was the nature of existence, he mused. We all find our peace with it in different ways.

Quiet eyes flickered as you watched him, your gaze momentarily distant. You, too, had once wished for a simpler life, one where you could close your eyes and not feel the weight of the years pressing in on you. Your body had once moved with the grace of a child, unburdened. But now, as time wore on, you saw your own fragility—your inevitable decline.

He offered a small, contemplative nod. It was not in his nature to find kinship with another person, yet you stirred a faint echo of familiarity—a kindred desire for understanding amidst the ephemerality of existence.

"So, you wish to accept death, but not to be forgotten?" Fyodor asked, his voice carrying a tone both curious and heavy—perhaps judgment, perhaps something else, something deeper, impossible to name. “You believe we can make peace with it, despite knowing it will come?”

You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his question. A quiet hum of approval escaped your lips before you replied, your tone calm yet resolute. "Da, death is something unchanging, constant. Something that will come either way. And a part of me finds comfort in the fact that something is predestined to happen in this chaotic world."

As you spoke, there was a moment when your eyes met his, and in that fleeting instant, neither spoke, yet something passed between you, an unspoken recognition—neither pity nor empathy, but an understanding that was both intimate and alien. Two souls, caught in the same current, yet separated by different shores. Before either could name it, the moment was gone, leaving only the quiet air between you.

After a few more quiet inquiries about religion and philosophy, you parted ways—but not for long. Fyodor was left perplexed; he sensed that you were something rare, something he hadn’t encountered before.

---

“You cannot age,” you murmured quietly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled between you.

Fyodor had anticipated this moment. He’d chosen to stay by your side through the years, knowing that eventually, you would notice—the ageless stranger who never changed while you did. He placed his teacup gently on the table, meeting your gaze as he prepared to respond.

“That is correct. I wondered when you would bring it up.”

The silence returned, heavier now, pressing down on you both. You stared down, your hands fidgeting under the table, unconsciously picking at the skin around your nails, almost trembling. Your mind seemed to whirl with questions—how many years, how many lifetimes had he endured? Decades, centuries, millennia? You could only imagine the pain he must have felt, watching the world around him age and fade while he remained unchanged. After a moment, you looked up, your gaze softer, almost pained.

“Fyodor,” you whispered, “aren’t you tired?”

Another pause, this one stretching unbearably. Fyodor could feel your empathy radiating across the table—a kindness he had never allowed himself to indulge. He’d always regarded empathy as a weakness, an opening that could be easily exploited. And yet, something about your simple, compassionate question stirred something long-buried within him, something vulnerable he instinctively wanted to bury again.

“Da, ya ustal,” he admitted softly, letting the words slip out like an exhale, as though he were surrendering a truth to the night.

At this, a single tear slipped down your cheek, glistening in the low light. Your sorrow made him shift uncomfortably; he’d always hated tears, a visible testament to human frailty. But this time, he hated it for a different reason. This tear was for him. It unsettled him because you were weeping for him. It made him feel bare, more vulnerable. He almost wanted to pull away, to get up and leave, and never speak another word to you again, but he didn’t.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice suddenly low and tense, “there’s no need for that.” His hand almost rose, hovering just above the small round table, as if he might wipe the tear away. But he stopped, uncertain. You raised your head, meeting his gaze again, your kind eyes searching his.

“Pozhaluysta,” you said, your voice almost pleading. “I want to know. I need to understand.”

And that you did. He spoke more words about himself at that table than he had in all his years of living. His silver tongue felt rusted, each word pulled up with effort, forcing him to pause often as he searched for the right ones. It was uncharacteristic of him, and yet it made you somehow happy that he was willing to share the burden.

Speaking of burdens: his gift, he explained, had been a cruel joke. He remembered the first time he’d been killed—how young he was, how his lips coughed out their last breath, how cold his body felt when his soul was leaving. And yet, moments later, he was drawn back again, but into a different form, his chest still throbbing from the wound that should have ended him. He had gasped for air like a newborn, his body wracked with pain and confusion, holding his own lifeless body in his hands as he shivered and wept. He’d only been a child.

Your face remained soft, solemn, though quiet tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable. Your cold tea sat forgotten on the table as you listened, your heart aching. Only a child, you thought. He was only a child. Children, the purest part of humanity—the ones who needed to be protected and cherished. How could anyone harm a child?

When he finished, another silence fell over you, but this one felt different—lighter, calmer, as if a weight had lifted from his heart. You felt an urge to comfort him but knew he wouldn’t accept words or gestures. Instead, you rose quietly from the table and crossed to a narrow yellow wood cabinet. You opened it and drew out a silver cross necklace, holding it close to your heart before you returned to sit across from him, holding it out for him to take.

“I know you don’t accept faith, but perhaps... wear this as a reminder. If you can, bring fortune to the world, Fyodor, maybe even a blessing for the children who will follow.”

But he did not accept. He politely declined the cross from you. “Perhaps there is a divine being out there, something out of this world that we cannot see. But faith left me long ago, so I cannot accept this,” he had said. What soon followed was a quiet apology for his heresy, a glance away as he spoke. You did not blame him and hadn’t pressed him further, only nodded as though you’d expected it, though a glimmer of sadness flickered in your eyes.

---

What he thought would be a short visit to his homeland stretched from a few days to a few weeks, then to a few months, until it bloomed into decades. At first, he assumed this was a fleeting curiosity, one that would fade in a matter of days. But as years passed and he still couldn’t get his fill of your company, he began to wonder: Perhaps I misjudged the situation. Perhaps I was crass and too quick to dismiss her.

He had found someone who brought him a rare peace and understanding, despite your clashing mentalities—a connection he never grew tired of. Every time you met, you found some new topic to discuss, and each time he left feeling more alive.

As we have come to realize, life is fleeting, and time is a cruel mistress who waits for no one. Each second slips away, unnoticed and irretrievable, like sand through open fingers. We may comfort ourselves with the thought that existence after death is peaceful—just as existence before life was peaceful—as though one could simply slip away into sleep. And as all things, good and beautiful, must come to an end, so too did your life.

---

You had held the cross out to him once before, fingers delicate, your gaze full of quiet insistence. Now, in the emptiness you had left behind, he found himself holding the small cross in his palm, its edges warm from your touch alone. He slipped the chain over his head, feeling its slight weight rest against his chest. He didn’t know if he could fully embrace your faith, but he wanted to feel a part of your presence linger. And maybe, in this quiet act, he was allowing your wish to come true, as your memory lived on in him.

Fyodor stood in the dimly lit church, his eyes resting on the flickering candles. He had never understood this before—the way the simple act of remembering someone could tether them to the world long after they were gone. But now, as his thoughts drifted to you, he realized that you—your soft gaze, your gentle words—had become the anchor to his humanity. The strange pull he had felt toward religion, the gradual acceptance of mortality, it was all for you. Your belief, your grace in the face of death, had become his guide. He wasn’t just remembering you now; you had become a part of him. And in some way, by carrying your memory, he was keeping you alive.

Rising slowly from his seat, Fyodor moved toward the coffin, his steps heavy. His cold, detached gaze softened at the sight of you, lying there in stillness, your expression almost peaceful. Was that the shadow of a smile on your lips? Reaching out, he clasped your hand—soft, motionless, yet warmer, somehow, than his own.

He lingered in silence, his breath catching. How strange, he thought, that even here, in death, you still have the power to warm me. A sharp ache bloomed in his chest. For years he had watched you, a steady presence that grew unexpectedly precious, but had he ever told you? Had you known? The question hung there, unanswered, filling the quiet with the weight of all he’d never said.

The cold silver lay heavy on his heart, like a whisper. ‘Remember me,’ it seemed to say, and in his silent acceptance, in the quiet solitude he vowed that he would. Fyodor closed his eyes.

You wanted to be remembered, he thought.

And I will remember you, dearest. But more than that, I will live by the lessons you taught me.

#bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs #fyodor bsd #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor x reader

38 notes · View notes

epickiya722 · 5 months ago

Text

"Had Yuji listened to Sukuna---"

ABOUT WHAT?!

What exactly had Sukuna ever actually said to Yuji that would make Yuji trust him?

Yuji may have had the choice to eat that Cursed Finger (mind you, to save people and we know damn well Kenjaku would have found some way for him to consume a finger regardless), but nothing from that point Sukuna actually proved himself to be someone for Yuji to trust.

Let's not forget Sukuna also made choices that he himself could have not made.

He may have been an unwanted child, but does that excuse him in present day to torture Yuji? Does it?

Him waking up in Yuji's body and immediately going "I wanna cause a massacre" is a trauma response? HE LAUGHED ABOUT THAT! Sukuna was ready to kill innocent people! And later did so!

What's the excuse for the Hasaba Twins? "They ordered--" They begged! They begged him for him to help and he chose to kill those girls when he could have just ignored them and walked away. They didn't attack him! They were literally bowing to him!

The Shibuya Incident?! Oh, so some of you are going to forget he showed Yuji the destruction left to break the kid? I could have sworn Sukuna was smirking in that scene.

Is there an excuse for him to kill Tsumiki (while Yorozu possessed her body)? He did that to break down Megumi's soul, who he is practically holding hostage!

Sukuna is downright evil! Let's acknowledge that!

Sukuna responds to his challengers and does however he sees fits, but there are times he had no excuse to do whatever he does to Yuji, who only challenged Sukuna once because he ripped out his heart.

Of course, Yuji would ignore him! And it's not like Sukuna actually tries to talk to Yuji in a way that would get Yuji to like him in the slightest. We all seen and heard what Sukuna has said and done to him!

What would be the "sad reason" behind Sukuna ripping out Yuji's heart right in front of Megumi? Laughing in his face after Yuji begged him to help with Junpei?

If Hana and Angel could have a mutual respectful relationship, why couldn't Yuji and Sukuna?

Because Sukuna is pure evil. He chose to treat Yuji the way he does.

We don't know much of Sukuna's past but what we do know is that people were terrified of him. He killed many. People held festivals for him. He got the name "King of Curses" that he doesn't even deny unlike Yuji would doesn't care for the title "Tiger of West Middle".

I'm a Sukuna fan, but I say he does deserve whatever is coming to him by Yuji's hands because Yuji Itadori is the person he has wronged the most ever since Yuji swallowed that finger, which is the only wrong choice Yuji made (but Gojo... could have been faster, just saying...).

Also, uh... Yuji was born to be Sukuna's vessel... he was practically cursed since before he was born and Yuji didn't ask for that! So regardless, Yuji would have suffered somehow because Sukuna's involvement (and Kenjaku's).

Like, ain't no way Sukuna's misdeeds are being watered down like that and Yuji is being blamed for "not listening" to him and wanting to kill this man. Same kid who is willing to die just as long as Sukuna is dead.

Him bringing Yuji back to life that second time wasn't even prompted by Sukuna himself, in Shibuya. Jogo and the Hasaba Twins fed an unconscious Yuji those Fingers.

Sukuna never brought Yuji back to life without some selfish reason.

You're telling me him saying this isn't worth trying to stop him?! Keep in mind the new Tengen was supposed to be Tengen and humanity combined... Sukuna pretty much said he's going to kill humanity. People who don't even know what's going on? Families, children... that doesn’t make you go "Oh, he gotta go"?!

#sad backstory or not does that excuse what he has done to YUJI?#Sukuna hates Yuji being his very existence challenges Sukuna's own beliefs #he's cruel let's not act as if he isn't #he gets challenged by others but that's between him and those challengers #yuji is doing what he has to because he has to save megumi and we know damn well sukuna is going to try to kill all of humanity #let's stop with the 'watering down' the bad guys #sukuna chose to abandon his humanity so guess what? he's been treated like the monster he acts like #yuji is just reacting #just kiya's thoughts #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #itadori yuji #yuji itadori

59 notes · View notes

angstywaifu · 7 months ago

Text

The Lost Sister - Part 30

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Ophelia Riorson)

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

As the middle of May arrives, so does War Games. Meaning we are fast approaching graduation. Something I had tried to avoid thinking about too much. But it was fast approaching. Meaning Garrick and Xaden leaving was fast approaching. This year was going so fast. It felt like only yesterday I was crossing that parapet and being shoved in front of the stairs in the rotunda. Being reunited with my brother and Garrick. And now we had to face the prospect of being separated again for who knows how long. And with our line of work, there was also the reality we may never see each other again. I shake my head to clear the thoughts from my head. I needed a clear head today. Today was War Games. If I went into this distracted, there was a very real chance I could be killed. It wasn’t uncommon for riders to die during war games. None of us were safe.

”What do you think our assignment is going to be?” Liam asks as we stand in formation in the middle of the courtyard with the rest of Fourth Wing. “Deigh thinks we’re on offense. He won’t stop going on about getting to kick Gleann’s ass-” Pausing as his dragon clearly butts in to say something. “Guess dragons hold grudges.” He whispers.

We certainly do. Mealladh adds, causing me to chuckle.

Anyone in particular you want to get revenge on? I tease.

Mealladh chuckles. No, not yet at least. Though Cath might be tempting to teach her rider to pull his head in.

We might have to get in line for that one.

Ahead of us leadership are gathered, getting their assignments from Xaden. He had know about the task since yesterday and he used his spare time to plan who was going where.

”We’re definitely on offense,” Rhiannon answers, “Otherwise we’d already be in the field.”

I nod in agreeance. “I don’t think I’ve seen a single rider from First Wing since lunch.”

Which did not bode well for us. Out of all the wings, First Wing liked us the least. Mainly Jack Barlowe and his squad. He wasn’t going to forget that Violet had put him in hospital for four days after their challenge a few weeks back. Meaning she would be the most likely target if our squads crossed paths.

”I think you two might be right.” Violet adds as she fidgets with the collar of her uniform. It was a particularly warm day, and we we’re fast approaching summer. I suddenly envied the other quadrants who had far better uniform options than the black leather we wore. “Why do you think riders wear black anyway?”

”Because it’s badass,” Ridoc states from behind us.

”So it’s harder to see if we bleed,” Imogen adds.

”Forget I asked.” Violet mumbles as she turns her attention back to the front.

Any hints as to whats to come? I ask to Garrick who startles slightly as I speak in his mind.

I’m never going to get use to that. He replies as his eyes flicker up to meet mine.

You love it. But you didn’t answer my question.

You’re getting nothing out of me sweetheart. He tells me bluntly as he turns his attention back to the squad leaders in front of him.

Nothing? I can’t tempt you anything? I tease.

I watch as his shoulders tense and his nostrils flair. No

No? Not even me getting down on my knees, my mou-

Stop it! His eyes meeting mine again, desire and need heavily evident in them.

Make me. I tease before severing the connection as the leadership meeting ends, Dain and Cianna heading back to us.

”Which is it?” Heaton asks. “Offense of defense?”

”Both.” Dain states as he stops in front of us. “First Wing has taken a defensive position in one of the practice fort in the mountains, and they’re guarding a crystal egg.”

The older riders in our squad murmur with excitement. Obviously this challenge is far more exciting than ones in the past they have encountered.

”What are we missing?” Ridoc asks as he looks around at the older riders. “Because you guys seem thrilled about an egg.”

”From past years, we know that eggs are worth more points,” Cianna states as she grins enthusiastically. “Flags have statistically been the lowest, and captured professors rank somewhere in the middle.”

As exciting as it would be to try get an actual human out, if it was Carr I would leave him there as long as possible just to make him squirm and suffer.

”But they like to switch it up,” Dain adds. “The same way we could be going for a real objective on the line only to discover its not as valuable as we thought.”

”So how is this both offense and defense? If they have the egg, then clearly we should go get the egg.” Rhiannon adds.

Dain’s excitement peaks with Rhiannons question. “Because we’ve also been given a flag to defend and no outpost to do it in.” He grins widely.

”And we’re carrying it.” I state as a grin of my own spreads on my face.

Dain looks over at me and nods, his grin faltering slightly as our eyes meet. He still wasn’t sure of me, and I don’t blame him. But right now we had to be on the same page.

”And who is going to carry this flag?” Imogen asks.

I don’t know how but Dain manages to smile even wider. “That is going to be the fun part.”

Immediately we jump into formulating a plan. Dain drilling into us the strategy he wants us to follow. It seems Dain had taken something away from out time in Monsteratt with Mira. But our plan was simple and easy to follow. Anything too complicated would have us too focused on trying to remember what to do. All we had to do was play to our individual strengths and pass that flag often, never giving First Wing a chance to spot who was carrying it. An almost perfect chance for me to try use my signet. But could I cast a believable illusion while moving and on a large group of people? That was going to be my test. With two whole wings out there it would be a massive test to see if I could. But if I messed it up, part of my signet would be known to the entire quadrant. Something I did not want.

It’s a risk worth taking. It will not be easy, but if we focus I have no doubt you can pull this off. Mealladh states as I meet her eyes as we walk into the flight field.

One way to find out then. I state back as I smile at her.

”We’re going to win.” Rhiannon states confidently as she puts her arms around Violet and I.

”What makes you so sure?” Violet asks nervously.

”We have you two, Tairn, Mealladh, Riorson and Sgaeyl. And obviously me.” She grins. “There is no way we’re losing this.”

”You are certainly-” Violet’s words die as Tairn comes into full view.

He’s standing proud and tall at the front of the section next to Mealladh. Dain’s dragon Cath pushed easily to the side to accommodate them. A glint on Tairn’s chest catches me eye. A buckle. On Tairn’s back is a saddle. A saddle made to help Violet keep her seat. That sneaky bastard.

”That’s…. That’s a saddle.” She stutters out.

”That’s cool, that’s what that is.” I tell her.

”Yeah, and it looks way more comfortable than Feirge’s bony spine, I’ll tell you that. See you two up there.” Rhiannon says before pushing past us and heading off to mount her own dragon.

I turn and walk over to Mealladh, leaving Tairn and Violet be to have whatever conversation they are having.

She’s not going to be happy with you. I tell Xaden who is walking over to Violet.

He meets my gaze and shrugs. It will keep her alive and let Tairn do what he needs to do. She will learn to like it.

I shake my head at him. Fucking mated dragons.

He gives me a vulgar gesture before walking past me to Violet who still looks shocked at the saddle that now adorns Tairn. I have to give it to my brother, he had thought of anything and everything to keep that girl alive. And honestly this was the best one I had seen yet. Hell I kind of wanted one, but I had not problems keeping my seat and I doubt Mealladh would tolerate it.

You would be correct. But if it kept you alive I would do my best to tolerate it. She states as I run up and mount her.

That might be one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.

I don’t have to look at her to see she’s rolled her eyes at me. As I settle in my seat I look forward to see Garrick mounted on Chradh looking over at me. I can tell from here how excited he is about this War Games. It would be challenging to do offense and defence, but we could pull it off. I feel his presence reaching out for me, clearly wanting to communicate before we take off.

You’re going to use your signet aren’t you?

Of course I am. It’s going to give us the upper hand with that flag. I tell him sternly. I was not backing down on not using my signet. I needed to learn to use it in real life situations.

I see him nod his head slightly. I know there’s no point in telling you Riorson’s not to do something, but please be careful with it. We can’t have everyone knowing what you can do.

If it means winning, I’ll do whatever it takes. And I know you will to.

I don’t doubt that. You just keep that flag safe sweetheart, and I’ll make sure Xaden or I get that egg.

How about this. You make sure you get that egg and you might just get a reward tonight. I tease, knowing he will do anything and everything to make sure he gets that egg.

A reward? What kind of reward? He practically growls in my head.

Get that egg and you’ll find out.

And with that Mealladh and I launch into the air, leaving a very shocked and dumbfounded Garrick down below.

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel @wolfbc97 @just-an-ace-elf

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc #fourth wing x reader #the fourth wing #the empyrean

62 notes · View notes

wander-lustrous · 14 days ago

Text

summary: old habits die hard, and vash’s protective instincts veer on overbearing.

1.1k words. not sfw. angst. smut in the last 1/4th.

Vash doesn’t greet you at the front door this time.

You expect a stern reprimanding, a caustic comment. That’s the only way he knows how to care, after all. With sharp words, a tight-lipped stance.

You really shouldn’t stay out so late.

What if something happened to you?

My door might be locked next time.

Of course, it never is. He’s offered his home to you, given a piece of himself up, and it can’t be revoked. That’s just the way he is. He rarely opens up to anyone, but when he does, they’re forever in his favor.

You slip into his house in the early hours of the morning, the sky still streaked with twilight. On your way to his bedroom, you make sure to check on Lili, who sleeps soundly in her own room. You crack open the door quietly but you’re not surprised to see he’s still up. You’ve told him he doesn’t have to wait up for you, but old habits die hard, especially for old nations.

He doesn’t say anything as you change into more comfortable clothing, but when you slip into his bed, the tense set of his shoulders faced away from you is all you need to know.

“Had fun?” he asks, and there’s a bite to his words, the kind that has your hackles raised.

“I did, actually.” You shoot back.

He whirls around to face you, and there’s a serious set to his brow. His green gaze roves your face, as if searching for something.

His mouth settles into a thin line.

“I suppose that’s good.”

Terse.

He doesn’t mean it.

You exhale in frustration. “You know, you could always… come with me next time.”

Even before the words leave your lips, you know it’s a moot cause.

Vash frowns. “I’m not interested.”

“Are you ever?” You can’t help but snap back.

The two of you stare each other down before eventually he sighs, a haggard breath through his nose, that of a man resigned to the inevitable. “I can’t stop you if that’s what you want.”

“So why don’t you join me?” You press. “I... it’s been ages since we’ve gone out for a date.”

He makes a face again, and you know what he’s going to say. I don’t like people very much. It’s better to stay at home, safer even—even though he's literally one of the safest nations in the world. You wonder for a moment: if Vash wasn’t a nation, would he still be the same? Keeping people at rifle’s length, always watching his back.

“You know why.”

You sigh roughly, turning your back to him. It’s quiet again. You wonder if he’s going to just turn his back to you as well, fall asleep. Looking at you cautiously tomorrow while offering an apology breakfast, a meagre sign of truce.

His voice cuts through the quiet like a bandaid being ripped off.

“Do you not… like staying here?”

With me? The last few words in the question go unspoken. Vash is a man of resolve, but right now he stumbles over his feelings, laid clumsily before you.

“I—of course I do!” You blurt out, glancing back at him. His gaze meets yours, his eyes cautious, guarded. You recognize that look. It is the same look, after all, he presents to the world.

You roll over to face him. “I just haven’t seen my friends in so long, and I really miss them, you know? We were catching up. Sometimes I do miss the city. The scenery here is gorgeous, but…”

You falter at his expression.

His mouth is pulled into a grimace, his brow furrowed. He looks pained.

“Sorry.”

You blink a few times. “What?”

“I’m… sorry.” You look at him expectantly, and Vash has to fight the urge to flush. Right. He needs to… talk. Explain himself. The words feel stuck on his tongue. “I assumed. I forget sometimes what it’s like to be…young. I’ve never missed people, much.”

“It’s not right of me to expect you to adjust to such a big change. If you want…” He hesitates. “We can—I can take us out more. To Lucerne. Or Bern. Wherever you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. As long as it…” He swallows. “If it makes you happier.”

You beam, throwing your arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you for trying.”

Still unused to just how affectionate you can be, Vash slowly wraps his arms around you, patting your back awkwardly.

“I like being here with you.” Your voice is muffled into his shoulder. “Your home is beautiful. But I’d love it if we could both explore the cities, too. Your country is gorgeous, you know.”

He nods, unable to stop the rush of pride at your praise. “It is.”

“And I want to experience that with you.”

Vash pulls back, staring at you long and hard. Then his lips are crashing against yours, the intensity near bruising.

He pulls away, breath harsh. Your lips ache with his efforts—Vash has always been quite clumsy in the bedroom. A stark contrast to the meticulousness he uses to make his watches, assemble his guns.

It usually ends up like this. Emotions running high, Vash loses his composure. His hand brushes against the band of your pajama shorts and when you lift your hips up, he slips them down your legs. He wastes little time in deftly undoing his shorts, freeing his own aching need.

He cages you to the bed, his hands planted on either side of your head. The thick head of his cock slides against your folds, and you sigh wistfully. He continues to rock his hips, the friction causing slick to build between you two. Your eyes flutter shut and Vash curses, reaching for the lube on the bedside table. He warms it between his hands, tensely pumping himself as he continues to rut against you. On your next gasp, he slips into you.

He curses softly, his gaze fixated on your face, scrunched in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp, deep. Sweat drips down his temple as his hips clap against your ass cheeks. He leans forward, onto his elbows. His face buried in the crook of your neck as he pumps you.

Instincts die hard. Vash wants to cage you in his arms like this, shield you from the rest of the world. He’s selfish when it comes to you. When it comes to his family.

Only he should be able to hear your gasps, feel your tight, wet heat sucking him in deeper, swallow up your moans with his own raspy breaths.

His fingers meander down to find your pert nub, which he begins stroking intently. You shudder around him, and just like that, he's gone. He grunts, his balls tightening up as he spills deep inside you. He's never lasted long after an argument.

He sags against you. For now, he’s content with this. You in his arms, his cock softening within you.

#hetalia x reader #hws x reader #hws switzerland #hws switzerland x reader #vash zwingli #vash zwingli x reader #wanda writes

28 notes · View notes

moxxpoxx · 4 months ago

Text

there is so much horror that comes with being marty mcfly.

in one night he sees his best friend get shot down and die in front of him. then when he tries to get help for him he’s blasted back thirty years and is like instantly shot at. he ends up fucking with his family history by getting hit by a car and his own mother falling for him. the only man who can help him shuts him out at first because he doesn’t know him yet. marty must’ve been terrified to be stuck in a nightmare of a life and scared doc would be gone from his life in more ways than one. if doc hadn’t told him about how he made the flux capacitor that very night and had gone back to the exact day doc came up with it he never could’ve gone back. but even with docs help he has a week to force his parents together and needs to time the delorean to get powered by the lightning PERFECTLY! not to mention how he starts fading from existence on stage and just barely survives. (and that’s only the first movie)

the boy almost dies so many times within the span of a few weeks!!! it’s just a little over a few weeks that he’s jumping through time to try and not die and not lose doc and his universe. he’s shot at so much, jumps off a building, is almost hanged, hit by cars and barely avoids being hit by a car, is locked in a trunk, AND ALMOST FADES FROM EXISTENCE!!! (absolutely forgetting some things because it’s been a bit since i’ve seen the sequels) throughout all of this he’s barely getting rest and is in near constant stress. if he messes up even a little, either he’s dead or someone he loves. marty is still seventeen and has gone through more than any adult ever should. he has so much he needs to work through but who would even believe him besides doc and jen?

marty can never go home. everyone he knew is gone and now he’s in the shoes of a boy he doesn’t know. he has to be the boy that everyone around him knows and not the actual guy he is. his home is gone and marty is all that’s left. his house is full of strangers that don’t know their son is gone and that marty is in his place. even if his home life is better now there is not really a way for him to get back what he lost. he’ll remember it for the rest of his life (unless we have the fun idea that his memories are slowly rewritten to fit the current timeline. but THEN we have to deal with the horror of knowing your memories are going away and being replaced and you can’t do anything to stop it and someday everything you knew is gone and you’re a whole other person).

and don’t forget about the people around marty. the twin pines mcfly family has lost their son forever. we don’t know if another marty ever comes home, but it still won’t be their son. if no marty ever comes then he’ll never come home and they’ll never see him again. he’ll be missing or presumed dead. to them he just went to bed one night and was gone. that combined with docs death and knowing he was close with him wouldn’t seem like great odds. jen will have lost her boyfriend and can never see him again. nobody will ever know what happened to him or where he went. and if someone like lone pines marty ended up in the twin pines timeline somehow it would still be just as tragic. his good homelife is ripped away and doc could still be dead.

his parents don’t have their son anymore, doc won’t have his friend anymore, jen won’t have her boyfriend anymore, but they have a stranger in his place playing the part until he adapts to the timeline. he’ll act off for a while and they won’t know why since they don’t know the horrors he’s gone through in the past two or three weeks. and jennifer finds out about time travel later and marty would probably tell her about everything and letting her know he’s not the same guy. what could she even think? she loves marty, she always will, but something about knowing the man you loved is gone (even if there’s another marty in his place) is still awful to think about.

it would be so strange for doc too. when he first meets marty (in lone pines marty’s life) he’s met him before but also hasn’t. he met twin pines marty thirty years ago and is now meeting a slightly different boy thirty years in the future. he can’t act like he knows him because that could fuck with the timeline. he has to pretend he’s never met him and never missed him so that the timeline can continue smoothly.

i’m including the video game because i want to. marty is barely older and doc has been gone for a whole six months. he loses his best friend for months and then docs stuff is being sold since he’s presumed dead. then the delorean shows up and aparently he’s dead again, putting marty in the position where he needs to save doc yet again. he gets attacked and is almost shot (again) and is held at gunpoint. then when all seems safe and they’re heading home he starts to disappear again. i can’t stress how horrible it would be to see yourself being erased in front of your own eyes, your flesh fading from this timeline and barely holding you together.

episode three of the game has always stuck with me for how frightening it would be to see your best friend fade from existence and you end up in a hellish timeline where you never knew him. he crashes into a billboard (the amount of head trauma is another big thing he goes through) and jen is the only one who can get him down but she hates him. marty’s two friends, the closest people to him either hate his guts or doesn’t even know who he is. he truly loses everything in that timeline. the delorean is wrecked yet again and hill valley is some dystopia disguised as a utopia. the man who helped marty through everything is gone and doesn’t even want to see him, dogs are fucking banned from town so einstein (the most helpful guy in the game istg you couldn’t do it without him) is also gone, and the smallest things can get him in trouble. he can’t even give jen a quick kiss without being given a lot of demerits.

of course he gets out, but he leaves with citizen brown, not doc. citizen brown is forcing emmet to be what he wants and is endangering everything for marty. it gets to the point where marty has to almost suffocate emmet so citizen brown finally gives in and emmet gets away. and even though citizen brown was not doc, he still kind of was to marty. when the timeline is fixed yet again citizen brown fades from existence right in front of marty’s eyes but not before getting hit by a car to save marty. he stays there beside him in his final moments nearly crying and holding his hand desperately trying to assure doc he’ll get him to a hospital and that he’ll be fine before he eventually fades fully. even though citizen brown doc caused so much trouble for marty, he was still doc. his friend. and he lost him again. (until a different doc comes back for marty but he still has seen the death of his best friend WAY too many times)

TL;DR marty will never have his life back and no therapist can help him <3

#moxxtalks #back to the future #marty mcfly #doc brown #jennifer parker #george mcfly #lorraine baines mcfly #long post #this is so long i'm sorry #i can't put my thoughts into something pleasant to read so bear with me #thinking about back to the future too long makes me severely unwell #i left out stuff like most of the second and third movie bc i haven't seen them recently enough to speak confidently on it #also left out a fair bit of the game because i just forgot some of it and haven't played episodes four and five recently #if i got some stuff wrong or went against the rules of the series i'm sorry #it'll probably happen again unintentionally

33 notes · View notes

willalove75 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi im the anon who asked for Rebecca x Pregnant!reader. Now looking back I feel I didn’t give detail to my request so if it’s not a problem. Would you be able to write Rebecca with pregnant!reader and she visit Rebecca at work and they meet ted and the team etc. or they watch a match together and reader goes into labour. Your writing is amazing💕

Hello again anon!! Thank you so much for adding some details to your request! It's absolutely not a problem at all!💕 I hope you enjoy!

Gif source

"Good mornin' boss!" Ted says, happy as ever on his usual morning stroll into Rebecca's office. "I got you your favorite!"

"Good morning Ted, thank you!" Rebecca says as she eagerly grabs the little pink box from his hands.

"I also got a little extra today for that beautiful wife of yours!" Ted places a second pink box onto Rebecca's desk.

"Oh Ted, how kind! She is going to love them!"

"Don't mention it boss. Although I gotta say, I know we were all at the wedding and all, but I'm beginning to think the whole thing was just a ruse and that she don't actually exist." Rebecca gives Ted a look and he chuckles. "You two have been married for how long? And I've only met her twice, including yall's nuptials."

"Well Ted, we've been very busy, and now that the baby's due date is coming up things have been even busier."

"Ya'll should come to the game this weekend! I know the baby is due soon but it'll give you both the chance to hang out and have some fun before the real fun starts!"

"Ted, I don't know-"

"I ain't takin' no for an answer unless she calls me and tells me no herself!"

"Alright Ted, I will speak to her about it tonight."

"Alrighty then! Catch ya on the flipside, boss!"

As you're laying on the couch, flipping through channels, you're beginning to realize that there's nothing good on tv anymore. No more good shows to just throw on when you're bored. Luckily, right before you feel like you're about to die from boredom the front door opens.

Rebecca walks into the house and closes the door, immediately kicking off her shoes and hanging her coat on the coatrack. Looking up, she sees you slowly sitting up on the couch.

"Hello there my love." She says with a warm smile.

"Hi baby, how was your day?"

You go to stand up and it takes you a few tries before you can even begin to pull yourself up off of the couch.

"Be careful! Here, let me help you." Rebecca says, rushing to your side.

"I'm okay baby, don't worry."

Rebecca helps you stand and cups your face in her hands.

"I know my love, but I can't help but worry."

Even without shoes on, Rebecca towers over you, so you get up on your tip toes and softly kiss her.

"You're adorable."

"Never more adorable than you."

A slight blush creeps across your cheeks and you wrap your arms around her and hug her tight. Damn hormones.

"How was your day?"

"The usual, busy as always. Oh! Before I forget-" Rebecca walks away from your grasp and you pout. She grabs her purse and walks back over to you after pulling out a little pink box. "Ted made an extra box of biscuits just for you."

"Aw! He shouldn't have-" you open the box and the sweet scent of biscuits fills your nose. "Oh my god." You moan and your eyes roll back a little. "These smell amazing."

Rebecca looks at you with a smirk on her face.

"What?"

"I've never seen anyone or anything other than me make you make that face before." She says with a wink.

"Rebecca Welton!"

Rebecca laughs and pulls you in for a kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Oh, and Ted was on my case once again about meeting you and invited you to the match this weekend, but I told him it probably wasn't going to happen."

"Why not?"

Rebecca looks a little surprised.

"Well I know how tired you've been and the baby is due soon and I don't want to overwhelm you."

"You're adorable, but I would love to go see a match. It would be nice to get out of the house for a little while anyway."

"Are you sure? You don't think it'll be too much?"

"Baby I'll be fine, I promise. Let's go and have some fun."

Rebecca gazes into your eyes and you feel like you've fallen in love all over again. Her emerald green eyes pull you in so deeply you forgot where you were for a moment. You're brought back to earth when she leans down and gently kisses you.

The rest of the week flies by and before you know it, it's game day. It's also two weeks before your due date, something that both you and Rebecca are so excited about, but you can tell her anxiety is starting to sky rocket.

"Are you sure you're okay with going? There's some stairs and a little bit of walking, the seats aren't comfortable and we'll be in them for a few hours." She rambles on while pacing back and fourth.

"Baby," you say, trying to pull her out of her spiral, but she doesn't stop. "baby!" Rebecca finally stops and turns towards you. Walking up to her, you cup her face with your hands and look deeply into her eyes. "Everything will be fine, don't worry, okay? We're going to go, have a wonderful time, come home and go right to sleep, okay? I'll be fine, I promise."

Rebecca stares back into your eyes for a few moments before nodding her head. You pull her down and bring her in for a kiss. Her body relaxes into yours when your lips meet and she lets out a peaceful sigh.

"Ready?"

"I'm ready when you are my love."

The two of you get into the car and head to the stadium. You both decided to get there a little early to say hi to everyone since you've only met most of them once or twice before.

Rebecca leads you into the locker room and the room goes silent when she walks in.

"Good afternoon boys, good luck out there today! I want to introduce you all to my wife, y/n."

As if it was rehearsed, all of the boys greet you at the same time.

"Hi everyone, it's great to finally meet you all!"

"Well I'll be darned! You sure do exist!" Ted says as he walks out of his office. "You owe me 20 bucks." He says to Coach Beard who pulls out a £20 and slaps it into Ted's hand.

"Hello Ted, you remember y/n, y/n, you remember Ted."

"How could I ever forget my favorite boss' wife?!" He says as he pulls you in for a hug. "How're ya feelin'? You're due soon, right?"

"I'm feeling really good. I feel gigantic, but good. And yes, the due date is two weeks from today actually!"

"Well how about that! Coach Beard, get over here!" Coach Beard walks over to the three of you and he nods at Rebecca, who nods back. "Coach, you remember y/n, right?"

"Could never forget her. How are you?"

"I've been good!"

"Hey! Roy! Nate! Get your butts over here and welcome our guest of honor!"

Roy and Nate walk over and you all greet each other. You only met Nate one other time, at your wedding. He's sweet but very nervous, but in a cute way almost. Roy you've met a bunch of times, you, Rebecca, Roy and Keeley have gone on your fair share of double dates over the last few years and you've gotten to know him quite well.

Rebecca introduces you to some of the players, some of them comment on how you're glowing. One player, Jan Maas, says something about how large you look and every one of his teammates groans and throws their towels at him. That made you laugh so hard you almost peed yourself.

After mingling for a little while, Rebecca brings you out to the stands to your seats. Keeley and Higgins eventually join you and before you know it, the match it starting.

As the boys play, the crowd goes wild. Both teams are giving it their all and it quickly turns into an intense match. Richmond shoots and the other teams goalie just barely knocks it away. The other team takes the ball across the pitch and shoots. Zoreaux dives, catching it in a perfect save.

Just before half-time Colin has the ball and is running down the pitch, he passes it to Jamie who looks like he's about to kick the ball into the goal but instead kicks it across to Sam who sinks it into the net.

The crowd goes wild, all four of you jump out of your seats in excitement as chanting rings out into the stadium.

Half-time comes and goes and the match starts up once more. Both teams come back with a fire in their hearts and play with even more passion than they had in the first half. Jamie gets possession of the ball and sprints to the other end of the pitch, right before he's about to score a player from the other team slide tackles him and kicks the ball away to his teammate.

A collective "ohhh" echoes through the crowd and you feel a cramp in your abdomen that causes you to bend forward a little.

"Are you okay?" Rebecca says, her eyes instantly filling with worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine baby, I promise."

A few minutes later, another cramp appears and you take a deep breath as you breathe through it. Rebecca looks at you with concern and you give her a reassuring smile. The two of you turn your attention back to the intense game and she grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze. You can tell just by the way she's gripping onto your hand that she's nervous, when you look over at her you can see her thoughts going a million miles a minute.

Just as you're about to comfort her, another, much stronger cramp hits and you double over gasping for air. Before anyone can react you feel a gush between your legs like you just peed yourself.

"Oh shit."

"What? What's wrong? What happened?" Rebecca says in a panic.

Looking over at Rebecca you see worry and fear painted across her face. It breaks your heart a little seeing her so scared.

"I'm okay, but don't panic, alright?" Rebecca stares at you silently and you grab her hand. "I'm fine, however, I'm pretty sure my water just broke."

"WHAT?!"

"NO FUCKIN WAY!" Keeley yells.

"Rebecca! Baby, calm down, it's okay!"

"I knew we shouldn't have come here, god damnit."

"Hey, hey, listen to me." You say, cupping her face. "Look at me, it's okay. Everything is okay. The match isn't why this is happening-"

"But you're not due for another two weeks!"

"It's okay, remember what the doctor said? I can go into labor as early as 38 weeks and that's totally normal. Okay?"

Rebecca nods her head with her eyes still filled with worry. Another cramp, which you're pretty sure is a contraction at this point, hits.

"Shit!" You say, grabbing Rebecca's hand. Breathing through it, Rebecca rubs your back and gives Keeley a worried look. Once it passes you look back up at Rebecca. "Everything is fine, however, we should definitely go to the hospital now."

"Yes, you guys go, we'll take care of everything else here, right Higgins?" Keeley says.

"Yes! Of course!"

"Right, yes, okay. Come on, let me grab your things, uh- my jacket, shit, my purse-" Frantically, Rebecca grabs both of your things and helps you stand up. She leads you out of the stadium and into the car and the driver takes you to the hospital.

The labor was long and painful but once they placed the epidural the pain was much easier to deal with. After the doctor came in to examine you again she said it was time to push.

With your legs in the stirrups and Rebecca's hand in yours, you begin to push. Every time you felt that now familiar pressure you pushed, you felt like you were going at it for hours, even though it had only been thirty minutes.

Exhaustion begins to take over and you feel yourself losing steam. You lay back for a minute to take a breath and Rebecca looks into your eyes.

"You're so close my love, she's almost here. Just a little more. I'm so proud of you, you're doing such an amazing job." She gently brushes a strand of hair out of your face and smiles at you. After a minute you feel the pressure again and push harder than you have before.

Just when you think you can't keep going, the most beautiful cry rings out into the delivery room. As you lay back the doctor places the baby in your lap and they dry her off. Carefully, you bring your hand to her head and caress her with your thumb. Rebecca's grip on your arm tightens and you look over at her to find that she has tears streaming down her face.

The nurse whisks the baby away and you reach up and wipe Rebecca's tears away.

"She's perfect." She whispers.

"She is." You say with a smile.

After a few minutes the nurse comes back with the baby and hands her to Rebecca. Moving over to Rebecca can sit next to you, she claims the spot and looks down at your daughter with wonder in her eyes.

The next few days were a whirlwind, learning how to breastfeed and to get the baby to latch, recovering from giving birth, just adjusting to the new life the two of you stepped into. It's been chaos but also beautiful.

As you're laying in bed with the baby in your arms, Rebecca is sitting on the recliner reading her book. Everything is peaceful and for the first time since giving birth, you're both actually relaxed. A knock on the door takes your attention away.

"Knock knock!" You hear, accompanied by a distinctive southern accent.

"Ted! What are you doing here?" Rebecca says, getting up from her spot.

"Well I heard we got a new member to our Richmond family and Beard and I couldn't say no to givin' 'em a visit!"

Coach Beard steps into the room along with Keeley, Roy, Higgins and a few other players from the team.

"How did you manage to get so many people in here?"

"Southern charm goes a long way in these parts." Beard says.

The baby gets passed around a little, Beard and Roy both declining the opportunity to hold her. The second the baby is placed into Keeley's arms she sobs and sinks into the chair Rebecca was sitting in. It came as a surprise to no one that the second Keeley got her, no one else got to hold her for the rest of the visit.

The team brought lunch, something you were grateful for because you were sick of hospital food at that point.

Beard comes into the room with extra chairs, where he got them from, you have no idea but no one dares to question it.

Everyone takes a seat and you all eat lunch together. This is the most one-on-one time you've spent with everyone. Even though it's kind of weird that it's happening in the hospital after you give birth, it was nice really getting to know everyone finally.

As everyone was finishing up their lunch, the nurse comes back in and it taken back by how many people were in the room.

"Hello everyone!" She says.

"Howdy, I'm Ted Lasso, great to meet ya!" Ted says, getting up to shake her hand.

"I'm Rose, y/n's nurse, there are a lot of you in here, wow."

"Yeah, well, ya know, southern charm still goes a long way overseas."

"I can see that! Unfortunately, the lactation nurse will be here in a few minutes so I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave."

"Oh sure, not a problem at all, right team?" Everyone nods. "Well, we'll get outta your hair."

Everyone starts to say their goodbyes and Keeley tries to walk out with the baby before Roy stops her. Reluctantly, she turns around and hands you your daughter.

"Auntie Keeley loves you so much." She says with tears in her eyes and gives her a kiss on her head. "You guys made the cutest fucking baby I've ever seen."

"Congratulations boss, y/n, she sure is a beauty." Ted says.

"Thank you, Ted." Rebecca says and gives him a hug.

"Thanks Ted, she's perfect." You say, looking down at the infant in your arms.

"I'll catch ya'll later!"

After another day in the hospital, you're finally discharged and able to go home.

Rebecca carries the car seat inside and the two of you take the baby up to the nursery.

After you take the baby out of her car seat, you sit on the rocking chair and feed her before laying her in her crib. After the baby is fed, Rebecca takes her and lays her in the crib. She fusses for a minute and Rebecca starts to softly sing.

You wrap your arms around Rebecca while she sings to the baby and you rest your head on her chest. With on hand gently caressing the baby's cheeks, Rebecca wraps her other arm around you and pulls you tightly into her. As she sings, the baby calms down and within a few minutes she's asleep.

Standing there with your wife, watching over your new daughter as she sleeps, you're the happiest you've ever been.

Rebecca brings her hand to your chin and tilts your face up towards her.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Rebecca."

She leans down and places a soft but firm kiss on your lips. Nothing could ever take away the love and joy that's filling your heart right now.

#willalove75 #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #rebecca welton x reader #wlw fanfic #ted lasso #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

217 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 1 year ago

Text

Beauty and the Beast - Nightshade

The moment you've been waiting for, the answers are here :) sorry this took a literal year (and then some)

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive content!

wc: 6.3k

warnings: not many warnings in this one, just a reference to character's death

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

This wasn’t his plan.

Harry never wanted her to see this room. At least, not yet. This was… an escape from his past. One he was slowly starting to try and move on from now that he and his love had finally expressed emotions and been able to give each other the proper reactions… but no.

He had never forbidden her from it, so he couldn’t really be angry. It did flare up in him, mainly because he was scared. Terrified of these memories and his past making her want to leave and forget him because he had held on to it for so long, but nothing was making sense lately. Not a single thing.

The only thing that made sense was how good it felt to hold her. Kiss her. Fuck her. She was what he wanted, and his head had never felt more clear in terms of what he wanted.

Her.

Finding her in the room, shaking like a leaf, he was terrified that she was going to leave. She wasn’t as sneaky as she would like to believe.

He had arrived earlier than he’d planned and as if he had a 7th sense, he heard her leave the bed. The moment she opened this door, however, he sprinted up the stairs.

It seemed… off. To see her in this room. Like it was a long time coming and yet, still a kick in the face. It obviously affected her, and he wasn’t sure how.

“My love?” He approached cautiously, not sure how to handle this fully. Did he touch her? Knock her out of it with his words? Why was she staring into the mirror in such a daze? And why was she shaking? “Beloved… what is wrong?” The rasp of his voice echoed in the large room.

“Do you know her?” Y/N asked, her voice calm despite how her blood ran cold with fear. She was in a daze and everything felt slow. It almost didn’t feel real.

Her eyes were still locked on the figure in the mirror, analyzing each feature as if her life depended on it. Millions of thoughts rushed through her head, meadows and laughter, images of sharing a loaf of fresh bread in secret, swimming in lakes… her focus blurred for a moment, thoughts became memories and her head snapped from the mirror to look at him.

“She…” his voice paused as he tried to word it the right way. She wasn’t yelling yet, which was a decent sign but he also knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

He completely would understand her anger at him for having a room full of a woman that wasn’t her, but he was going to take it down. Move on, because he had her… it just happened so quickly. He had hundreds of years to dwell on the past and only a few months in the future.

“She was why I had believed… that I was going to die.” He cleared his throat. “That was who I believed to be my beloved… and she was taken from me, years ago. I loved her very much. Usually, you die when your beloved does.” The voice in his throat felt rough, still not an easy topic to approach. Let alone to his new lover.

“So I thought… I was slowly losing it. And we lose ourselves to madness eventually, when our beloved are killed. However… all of the madness seems to be gone for me.” He was still confused on how that happened. He could have sworn that she was. But seeing Y/N standing in front of him now… he wasn’t sure at all.

The connection they had felt incredible.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept the things so long. I know it must be difficult to look at.”

“I’ve been seeing her in my dreams for months, Harry…” Y/N spoke, still too startled to express any emotion. “She practically lives in my brain.” She shook her head.

It was an odd feeling. Nothing Y/N could ever explain in words. He had loved her… truly enough to think she was the one. This woman who had been living in the shadows of her mind for months.

It seemed like she was the one going insane, not Harry.

“I’ve seen her at least once every week since I moved here… I feel like she has my eyes— don’t you think?” She asked timidly, swallowing the dryness in her throat to try and make sense of this. “Do you see her in me? Is that how I got here?”

Harry felt his already cold body freeze over.

Months?

“And you haven’t… you haven’t been in here at all?” He questioned wearily. When she shook her head, he swallowed.

Christ.

The vampire was positive there were no other hints of her around the house. This room was the one he came in when he wanted to think about her. It was how he kept sane for a good while. But the idea that she had constantly been seeing her… it startled him.

“I… I never really thought about comparing you to her.” The cool hands cupped her warm face, taking a look. Though, now looking at her… there were some uncanny similarities. The eyes. The lips. He knew them.. for far longer than he had known Y/N. “You are different. In most ways. I never thought of her in you, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re.. a very different person but you share some things. Some phrases… mannerisms. But I never put you both in a mirror.”

He liked her all on his own.

“I don’t know how this is possible.” He tilted her head up and stroked her heated cheek with his thumb, trying to wrack his mind over how it could happen. “Is she… what happens in your dreams, love?” His voice softens immensely, trying to coax out more of her thoughts.

“She doesn’t hurt me or scare me,” Y/N spoke, lips more in a pout now that he was holding her face. “She just… she knows something I don’t and she’s trying to tell me,” Y/N explained and closed her eyes. She needed to ground herself.

Knowing Harry had never compared them brought her a lot of peace. That still didn’t change the fact that it felt like looking into a mirror.

“You spent lots of time with her outside…” Y/N spoke quietly, humming with her eyes still closed. “You would pick her flowers… you swam… she really loved you.”

If it was possible, he knew his heart would stop.

“How do you know that?” He asked, considering just how she knew his antics. How she was aware of the fact that they’d pick flowers and swim and kiss in the sunlight. When he would risk it all to be outside with her because the sunshine made her happy and warm.

“She’s trying to talk to you?” And she wasn’t trying to rip Y/N to pieces? That was unusual for her. Possessiveness was a main personality trait for her and he didn’t mind it at all, but he was curious as to how the hell she didn’t seem to mind if she was inside of her head.

“What is she trying to say, angel?” He placed his forehead on hers. “Hm? Is she just telling you what we used to do?” That would be incredibly peculiar. How was she even communicating with her at all? And how was a human capable of receiving those sorts of messages?

If he didn’t know better, Harry would have assumed she would read his journals. But he knew where she was at all times, and never had the girl ventured into this room or opened a book that didn’t belong to her.

“You went somewhere earlier…” She decided to skip over his comment, choosing rather to focus on how the hell she was recalling this information. “When I woke up Ida said you’d be out for longer—”

The thoughts in her mind seemed to relax and she was able to open her eyes and look at him again.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Y/N searched his eyes for something to hold on to, she felt like she could give him more answers if he was fully transparent with her.

“No more secrets.”

The man took a breath, closing his eyes this time as he tried to figure out just how to explain this part to her.

“Okay. No more secrets.”

His hand took hers and led her towards the velvet green couch, sitting her down on it and sitting far too close next to her. Clasping her smaller hands in his own, he took a moment to compose himself.

“I went to see if I could find the contact information for a witch. Someone who knows far more about the soul-bonding process and could explain to me what had happened, why I was feeling the way I was…” he paused, throat drying slightly as he squeezed her hands. “Why I feel the way I do when I thought we only have one chance at love.”

His green eyes met hers, showing that he genuinely was confused but he cared. He cared for her so much, he loved her. It shouldn’t be possible, but Harry knew what he was feeling.

“You know… I thought maybe I was actually dying. And I wanted to spare you from it. But when I woke up, I knew I had to dig for answers. I couldn’t just allow you to suffer along with me as we had gotten attached. So I went to a frequent spot for the… otherworldly.” He chuckled lightly at the words he used. There probably were better ones, but it would make the most sense to her.

“When she died… I felt myself mourn. I was in so much grief and pain and anger... I've never physically hurt that badly before and yet…” He licked his dark pink lower lip, eyes searching hers. Recognizing bits of them. Now that he was thinking about the connection… It was true.

“I never felt the snap. I never felt… like I was going to die. That's what I’ve always been told. For soul bonds to break, for one of us to have died, the other should have felt the severing. And I never did.”

“Did you meet the witch?” Y/N asked as if that was a normal question for a human to ask a vampire. It seemed like for the time being Y/N wasn’t entirely there at the minute.

She tilted her head and waited for his answer, eyes taking in every bit of his appearance. Y/N had a feeling that he knew something that would make sense of the messages in her head. The feelings she was feeling as her own.

“I… Didn’t.” He grumbled, letting his eyes fall again. Another area where he had failed her. Truly, he wanted to be good to her. He wanted to give her the best and he couldn’t even figure out why he had gone crazy.

“I put in an inquiry. They’re busy people and while I may have a lot of pull in this world, they’re the ones with the answers. I was told I’d have someone show up to give me some, but I didn’t want to pour my story out to a witch that wasn’t going to help.”

He let himself relax slightly as she didn’t seem to get angry at him now. She just looked like she wanted answers… answers that were very valid. He knew he had been a bit of a dick for not giving them to her right away. He should have been transparent but… how?

It was difficult, usually, to work humans into this world. It was actually a bit… strange how well adapted she was.

-500 years prior-

The worst day of Harry’s life had started just like any other.

Summer was quickly coming to a close and while he himself didn’t mind the shift to cooler temperatures and shorter days, his beloved seemed to mourn the summer. Celeste believed that there was nothing that would ever compare to the feeling of dunking yourself into the lake on a warm day. She believed that there was nothing that brought her more tranquillity than gazing up at the stars while the warm humid air hugged her skin. Even when bug bites adorned her legs Summer reminded her that she was still human.

“My darling, wake up. We have to go.” The familiar sleepy voice of her lover woke Celeste from her slumber. With a firm yet gentle shake, she allowed her eyes to flutter open and adjust to the darkness of their cottage. “Please, we haven’t much time.”

The sound of footsteps quickly approaching from outside left Harry in a panic, but he couldn’t let her see. And while he felt Celeste was blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited her, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Celeste never thought her worst nightmare would actually come true. She had spent years protecting her home and the land around it. Her enchantments attracted nothing but positive light and all those who crossed her path were destined to meet her. All the animals knew they were welcome and always rewarded her for her efforts to enrich their earth. Celeste had spent her whole life here in the forest, only venturing into town when she urgently needed something. It wasn’t safe for witches in town, the common folk were terrified of magic and the creatures and spirits that fed off of them, but it was the job of her and her sisters to keep the city safe from any harm in secrecy.

She had met Harry by chance, she remembered the day so vividly. She stumbled upon him on her way home– She remembered the dazed look in his eyes and the blood on his collar. He looked so ashamed, crying against the back wall of the local bakery. Never had Celeste seen a vampire show so much remorse after feeding, but then again she hadn’t seen many vampires with her own eyes, to begin with. The Vampires upheld their deal of peace and ethics, as long as the witches protected them from the hunters.

The very hunters who were now trying to take her love away from her.

They’d been so careful. She knew that the safest place for Harry to be was with her. But it seemed that even her powers weren’t enough to overcome the evil that possessed humankind. The universe would always find its balance somehow, even in the cruelest of ways.

“Harry, they cannot know– I should not follow you, I fear they will question why I am not in my home at this hour should they find I am not here…” Celeste whispered, motioning down towards the tunnel in her cellar. They had talked about this plan before, but Celeste always knew she could never convince him to go on his own. So she never told him that part of the plan.

“My love, I refuse to leave you here alone–” A shout from the outside left his words to die in his throat. Harry shook his head, taking her wrist and pulling her with him without another word. Harry was cautious. Though he was aware that these men were after him and not his beloved, he couldn’t bring himself to trust those who have brought his kind nothing but shame and suffering. The hunters were everything but fair and if they had any reason to believe she was living with a fugitive, he knew she would be as good as dead.

He had dreams of them running away and rebuilding a home elsewhere, somewhere they could be truly safe. There were vampires who lived in the north who had mastered the art of camouflage. Rumors spread like wildfire saying they were mated and bonded, that they lived with humans who let them feed in a mutual exchange. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but Harry would give up anything if it meant he could have the life he dreamed of with her. He just needed her there with him.

“My love, they shall not bring me any harm. The tunnel, it will bring you to the lake, you know your way from there. I promise I will find you once they see there is nothing for them to find here.” Celeste’s voice was soft as she reached to smooth the worry away from his brow. “Such a worry wort.” She giggled though she knew her fate was much to worry about. There could only be one reason the hunters would be suspicious of her. If her enchantments broke, it meant the fates had decided it was their time. Celeste, however, would never give him up, she knew he would wait for her forever. No, she could and would not let them find him.

Harry’s head turned quickly as he saw an orange glow begin to creep through the windows. He chose to be selfish in the little time he had left, pressing a kiss so full of love and longing that he hoped that it would somehow change her mind. The way her lips melded over his with a hunger she only saved for their most intimate moments, he swore they would be etched in his mind forever. He knew she wouldn’t let up.

“You must find me.” Harry breathed, his words a command as he pressed another desperate kiss to her lips. “My love, you are the only thing worth living for.” He hesitated, not wanting to leave this precious moment in fear that it would be their last.

With each second, he could hear the footsteps growing closer and closer, his eyes memorizing her form till he couldn’t anymore. A final stolen kiss was all he left for her as he disappeared into the cellar and ran like hell.

He shouldn’t have left her there, he knew that now.

In a sick and twisted way, he thanked the gods for sparing him the piercing sounds of her screams as she begged for mercy, for when he returned, the bloodied sight left him feeling hollow. She put up a fight, the way he always knew she would, but it seemed that the hunters came with no remorse. How could they claim that they were ridding the town of evil when they had done such cruel and horrible things to the purest creature he had ever known?

“It should have been me.” He thought, swallowing down thick tears, but as he looked around he realized that this evil would not have stopped at him.

-end of flashback-

He hadn’t taken the death of Celeste well.

He had avenged her the best he could. Ripped the hearts out of every single person he could trace to her death, letting them die the way he felt every day without her. It felt like he had little to no emotion, feeling only pain when he woke up.

It continued like that for years until he became comfortably numb. Still questioning why and how. Living without her was worse than any death, worse than anything he had ever could have imagined. But there was always this little light that never fully smothered. Her voice in the back of his mind saying she would find him again. His own recurring dreams that he figured were just a comfort to his psyche. The hope.

Once he met Y/N though? It had gone away. Completely. No more dreams. Almost any yearning was gone. He felt like a patch had been placed on the gaping wound and it had made him feel very, very guilty at first until he realized that maybe she would want him to be happy.

Y/N was so familiar. Like a piece of him in her that had stolen his breath when she had walked into the estate. Sure, she resembled Celeste more than some others did but she was her own person. He had fallen for her knowing that.

Y/N’s thoughts were running wild in her mind, attempting to connect the pieces of the story that she herself didn’t know. The longer she looked around the room the calmer came over her body where normally she’d expect rage and sorrow. Another woman adorned his walls, but Harry was only really focusing on her.

“Y/N tell me what you’re thinking of. I wish you would have told me about these dreams sooner, but there isn’t much we can do now except wait for–” Harry’s sentence was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Sir, someone is here to see you–” Ida began her introduction, but the woman behind her seemed to feel right at home.

“Oh goodness!” The woman exclaimed, stopping to take a look around the room. She didn’t look to be that old, but her spirit was far older than Harry and Y/N both. “I had a feeling you’d honor my sister, but with such commitment? I see the fates wanted some entertainment. Bless your no longer beating heart.” She smiled, placing a hand over her heart before approaching the two. “My dear, how are you finding your new body? It’s good to see you again. I’ve been awaiting your call.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at the woman, cocking her head as she tried to figure out why she looked so familiar. How did she know her? Where did she know her from?

Oh god.

This was not the way he wanted it to go- nor did he fully understand what exactly was happening. His brows furrowed, tucking Y/N into his body in slight protection as he stood up straighter, keeping a hand on her. As if she would slip away.

“Harry? What is she talking about?” Her voice peeped behind him, her hand tangled in his shirt. A resounding ache echoed in his chest as he stared at the witch.

Astrid.

Celeste’s sister. One for who Harry harbored a lot of resentment for not warning them. For not protecting his beloved back then. She had been somewhat nonchalant. Telling Harry that Celeste would meet him in another life. Her lack of care had ruined their goodwill, making Harry feel as though she didn’t fucking care that the love of his life - well, past? It confused them- was gone.

“I don’t know, darling.” His grip on her was firm, making Astrid scoff.

“Calm down, Fangs. I’m not going to hurt my sister… though- I have a feeling based on the incredibly confused faces, you haven’t actually figured it all out yet?” She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to peek around Harry. “Should probably listen to messages all the way through- just got excited to see her again. Tell me.” She paused, growling slightly when Harry kept her from view. “What’s your name in this life, sister? What did you choose? Y/N or Violeta?”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat before attempting to speak.

“How did you– Y/N. My name is Y/N.” Y/N looked between Astrid and Harry, waiting for one of them to tell her what on earth was going on. It seemed Harry was hesitant to accept the help of this woman, but she knew her name. “What is going on?” While her heart was beating a million miles a minute, she tried her best to sound strong. She was angry that Harry once again was hiding something from her, he clearly knew this woman and this woman knew him.

“Darling, I feel as though this is something you should take on with your… well since you haven't bonded I’m not sure what he is to you.” Astrid chuckled, “Always cautious you are, Harry. So respectful of my sister, but still haven’t learned to trust now did you?” She smirked seeing the anger flare through Harry’s expression. “No need to get angry at the truth, Harry. You mustn’t lie to the girl any more than you have.”

“Look, if you came here to laugh in our faces, you might as well make your way out.” Y/N felt her jaw clenching. “I’ve been having dreams of this woman since I’ve stepped foot in this home, your sister? You think I’m her?” Y/N asked in a pointed tone, she refused to have any more time wasted.

“I didn’t lie.” He snarled, baring fangs. He didn’t want to make this any more painful or weird than it already was for them! “I wasn’t sure. That is why I called to ask!”

“Blah, blah. Harry, you’re dense. Y/N- I apologize if that’s how it seems. Harry and I have always had our differences since your passing.”

Y/N blinked.

What?

What?!

“I know you are. It’s adding up.” She began softly, lowering her tone. The poor thing didn’t actually know, and Celeste was trying to pop through and this humanity she had been raised with was something that was trying to push it back. “The dreams you’ve been having aren’t dreams. They’re memories.” She sat on the armchair opposite where they were standing. Astrid was overly comfortable and it made Harry irritated, but Y/N could feel a seedling of fondness creep into her tummy.

It felt like she knew her.

“When Celeste died- I saved her soul.” She began, kicking her feet up on the table. “She- aka, you- always had an issue fitting in. It’s why she was targeted. A vampire and a witch… everyone could see it. Harry was struggling at the time, still adjusting to coming into vampiric adulthood. You both were so in love, you couldn’t see that people were noticing things. The way she never got sick, the things she could conjure up… it was incredible for the time period.” Astrid rolled her eyes slightly.

“And Harry? He abused conjuring. He got whatever he wanted whenever you batted those long eyelashes. Whipped to the tenth degree.”

Harry winced because as crude as she sounded… she wasn’t wrong.

“Two fools in love. I found out too late about the plans. I couldn’t save your physical form- but I saved your soul. Unfortunately…” she had the grace to look a bit bashful.

“Someone stole it. Vanessa- she had always been jealous of you and Harry. She had broke through an enchantment and stole the bottle I had your soul in. I got it back only a bit ago. That’s why it took so long. And Harry, here.” She gave him a glare. “Ignored my letters for a good few centuries. Rude.”

It was all a bit much to take in.

Y/N wasn’t sure what she was expecting, after all, it did involve vampires and witches. This certainly wasn’t on her list.

“So, you have my soul?” Y/N asked as if it was normal. As if she had any idea of how she ended up here. This whole time she thought she was her own person but this was a part of her. It didn’t make any sense, there was still a piece missing to the puzzle.

“Well, when I got it back, I drove up north because it seems all the bloodsuckers moved— and I released it.” Astrid continued, “About… say how old are you?”

“Almost 23.” Y/N swallowed, noticing how Astrid seemed pleased at her answer.

“23 years ago sounds about right.” Astrid hummed, “You know Harry, you should be thankful I brought her so close to you— who knows what would have happened had I not come up here.” It was clear that she was teasing, just getting the vampire riled up for her own entertainment.

“Any who… If Harry had opened my letters, he would have heard all about it. I’m glad you two found each other, I know how deeply you care for him… always knew you’d try to outsmart the fates— but you better not mess about this time!”

“Astrid.” He growled, feeling the rage inside of him brewing. “This is not funny.”

“I mean.” She waved her hand. “It’s a little funny. You’ve got each other now, don’t you? She isn’t gonna stick out so much. I figured you’d have that stick out of your arse since you’ve gotten her back butttttt…”

“You could have rang! Found me! Told me so I didn’t live in misery all these years. Of course, I’m ecstatic she is back, but you played me. Made me think there wasn’t a chance.”

Y/N could see him bristling, stiff as a board, with hair standing up on the back of his neck. Truly, he looked a bit monster like as she looked at his bared fangs and the veins that blackened beneath his eyes.

Her favorite show hadn’t been too far off.

“Harry.” She whispered, placing her hand on his chest. “Please. You’ve got to relax. I’m upset too. I’m confused. But getting combative isn’t going to give us answers.” She wasn’t afraid of him. Despite what most humans would feel, Y/N wasn’t worried about him hurting her. He would never. His hands were meant to nurture her. Soothe her. Pleasure. Not hurt.

Harry felt the warmth of her hand on his chest, the stiffness of his body relaxed a little. The veins and fangs remained, but his gaze softened as it laid on her.

“I’m sorry.” He gently pulled her to lean into his side, hand cupping the back of her head and letting her be pulled into his embrace. “I know you don’t like to see me like that.”

Harry was confused, because despite Celeste’s soul being inside of her… he fell in love with Y/N.

Her laugh, her giggle, her cinnamon sugar toast. Her painting, her cadence, and the way she preferred rubies to diamonds. The way her hair fell into her face even when she placed it up into that sleepy, messy bun. Her stories from school and how she always wanted to save any animal she saw outside.

It wasn’t just Celeste’s soul, but the personality she had gained here.

“She said she’d find you did she not?” Astrid asked with a chuckle, “and she’s here! You should be thanking me! It’s your own fault you haven’t bonded with her yet.” She rolled her eyes, though the sight of her sister in her new form warmed her heart.

She was different now— it seemed that the time in limbo had done her some good. Y/N seemed more free, almost innocent, it felt like she had found herself again. That sweet little girl that found joy in the peculiar, had found her way back home.

“Look, it’s quite simple— you love each other no? Harry, if you weren’t such a coward you would have already figured all of this out but it seems I must spell it out for you.” The woman grumbled as she stood up to leave.

“Celeste is alive and well, she’s found a home in Y/N’s soul the day she was born. Of course, they aren’t the same person, but when Celeste died her essence got a fresh start in her.” She started, looking between the two. “The second you bond with her, her memories will come back— but it won’t be Celeste. Unfortunately, well I guess fortunately for you, unless I recovered her body I wouldn’t be able to resurrect her fully. But she lives on within Y/N.”

Y/N was at a loss for words.

It was a bit disheartening, to think that her whole existence was just merely a part of some witch's plan for immortality. But if Astrid was telling the truth and that she was just a part of her, then it couldn’t be so bad right?

Surely it would hurt to see Harry get excited about seeing parts of Celeste in her, but if she was her then surely not? it all seemed a bit confusing. She wasn’t sure how it would work, but she was scared, to say the least.

“I….” He swallowed.

It was complicated. A weird mix of relief for finally having her back with him, but sadness because he knew how this was going to look to Y/N. The situation was quite literally one that had never happened in history books before.

“I fell in love with her. As much as Celeste will always be a part of me… I’m a little bit confused.” He turned slightly to Astrid. “She’s going to be… she will be aware of those memories?” He tried to soothe Y/N, his smooth hands running down her back but he could feel the unease oozing off of her.

“Oh, yes. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Y/N, you’ve always been a bit confused about the missing pieces, haven’t you? Why you always feel as though Harry is so familiar to you? He’s literally made for you. Your body is a different vessel, but you’re still having the same feelings. It’s always been right.” Astrid paused, thinking of a good example.

“It’s why when you first moved in and Harry was probably his cold self and kept you at an arms length, it probably hurt, didn’t it? You felt a bit weird internally but shut it down because you’ve always been a bit too rational. Knowing you didn’t have a ‘right’ to feel upset but you did. It’s your old memories, old feelings. Harry wasn’t one to ever skimp on attention so it probably felt odd.”’

Y/N wasn’t going to bother asking how or why she knew that. It seemed that Y/N was just better off keeping to her ignorant bliss. Astrid had proved to both of them she knew far more about this than they did and she wasn’t going to fight— especially when they knew nothing about this soul bonding process on their own.

“I-I… if you’re saying I’m Celeste then are you saying I’m a witch as well?” Y/N asked curiously, though, she was uncertain about how she would feel about her answer. It was entirely possible. Were there rules she had to follow? Was there anything she had to do once she came into those powers?

Y/N was overwhelmed, to say the least, allowing herself to fully lean on Harry for support. She felt like this new information called for a long nap and a delicious meal immediately after she woke up. Nuzzling her face against Harry’s side she closed her eyes, waiting for Astrid’s answer. She didn’t care if she was being rude. Poor girl was feeling a bit lightheaded.

His cold body was a relief to the flush of heat that was through her at all of the intense information she had just received. She could have moaned as he placed his hand on the hot skin at the back of her neck, clutching onto him in a way that made the vampire a bit stressed.

“Yes. You absolutely are. Come on, girl. Do you really think that people can get things as easily as you? The manifesting thing on steroids? The things you chant to make yourself feel better…” Astrid laughed at the pure ignorance. The poor thing had been blissfully ignorant of everything up until now. “The powers are mostly dormant, I’m assuming. Considering you haven’t burnt the place down with rage, my sister, you have been held back. My assumption is that when Dracula bites you, the powers will start to come back as the bond strengthens.” She could feel Harry blinking at her, making her toss her hands up in a ‘whatever’ gesture. “I’ve done my reading. Deducing. Much better than that Sherlock did.”

He hadn’t known this would be the outcome and he had mixed feelings about it all. His old love was his new love, vice versa. He felt like his feelings were a betrayal to both of them.

The good thing was, though, his beautiful Y/N wouldn’t age the way a human would. She could truly be with him. It would be a matter of the soul mate bond snapping back into place instead of this constant edging between their souls and hearts.

“Fates.” Harry closed his eyes, massaging the back of Y/N’s neck soothingly. “Alright. Astrid- get out of my house. She’s feeling faint. Stay around the area, I’ll need you to return or at the very least, send one of your own to help her soon. She needs to be aware before I bond her fully.” He wanted Y/N to choose. Not just the older part of her soul.

“Alright, alright… but don’t wait too long, you don’t want to her find dead one morning.” Astrid sighed, half joking but there was some truth to it. Now that she was aware of the fates plan, there was only so much time left for them to decide. “You’ll know where to find me.” With a wave of her hand, Astrid was out the door.

Y/N was far too in her own mind to have heard her last comment, but Harry heard it crystal clear. While he may be a vampire, he was no stranger to the way the fates worked.

The fates were fair and just— it was their job to maintain balance here on earth, both for humans and the supernatural. At times their job led to making harsh decisions, if anyone broke the laws of the universe then they would see their fate flash before them.

Harry had never met someone as pure and kind as Y/N surely she was on the fates good side. He simply couldn’t see Celeste in her the way it seemed Astrid could. Though he loved Celeste dearly, he knew that their relationship was bound to end in a bloody disaster— he’d expected himself to be the one to break but the fates clearly had other plans.

Y/N let out a shaky breath against his shirt, clinging to him to find some stability. She needed to ground herself.

She needed to lay down.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #one direction one shot #one direction fanfic #one direction smut #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction blurb

301 notes · View notes

figuringitoutasigoalong · 1 year ago

Note

Could you tell us your favorite iteration of raph and why

Oh that's an easy one! That would have to be 2003 Raph!

I mean, look at this boy! Do you see him? Do you see this boy? Do you?

I mean, yes, all of the other versions of Raph are nice too, don't get me wrong. 87 Raph is a funny little dude, who can have a short temper here and there, but is mostly there for the sarcasm and I love it. 12 Raph does have some anger issues, but he also can be very caring and to me is just trying to find a way to balance all the parts of himself out. Rise Raph is a sweetheart and a teddy bear and took on so much. 90s Movie Raph loved life and just wanted his brothers safe and alright and wanted more for all of them. 07 Raph still wanted to do good, and was able to realize and learn from mistakes. Bayverse Raph would die for his family, and was upset when he was left for dead, because he felt like he'd failed them. Even Next Mutation Raph, as goofy as that show was, was still good, sticking up for Venus a couple of times, if I remember correctly. And Mutant Mayhem Raph is passionate and clearly cares about his brothers, he just covers how much with some tough-guy attitude.

But 2003 Raph? Oh, he's top tier to me! I mean, look at this guy!

He's protective.

Like, how many times have we seen him jump in the way to protect a brother, or be outraged on a brother's behalf? There are so many gifsets of him being protective to Don, and that's just one brother. There's so many other instances of him being protective towards Mikey and Leo too! Like when Mikey runs into that other prisoner when they're in the Triceriton prison, and Raph gets in front of Mikey--of all of them--and is ready to fight the dude.

He's got his brother's backs.

I mean, this ties in with being caring, but the dude is constantly backing up his family, and getting upset when things aren't fair or right for them. Look at how upset he got in season four, when Mikey had to face Kluh down again, and the magic was messed with. Yeah, he was ready for Mikey to get taken down a peg or two, because of Mikey's bragging, but the minute it was clear something was wrong, that Mikey was getting hurt, Raph's first words were "That's not right!" And in the City at War arc, even when he didn't agree with Leo's decision to involve them, he still ended up getting Splinter and going back to fight alongside his family.

He obviously loves his family.

Have you seen the affection this boy pours out? Worrying about Don when he's overworking in Return to the Underground. Clearly worried out of his mind when he thought Mikey was seriously injured in The Shredder Strikes. Helping Leo reforge his swords after the Shredder broke them. How upset he was that they couldn't find Splinter after they took out Foot HQ. And there's no way we can forget Tales of Leo. And that's not counting all the little physical things, like touches, helping brothers with things, and just so many small ways.

He's respectful.

Just go watch Touch and Go. Like seriously. Random old lady mistakes him for someone else, and he's all just like "yes ma'am" and "sorry ma'am" and helps her move boxes. Like, he is just the most respectful and I am so, so, so here for it. And it's not just with her. He's respectful with April, with Splinter, with anyone, unless he thinks they don't deserve it, and even then, he'll not go out of his way to be intentionally rude to him, although he's definitely not one to let opportunities slide.

He's caring.

Again, this ties in heavily with most of the above, but he genuinely cares about others. Helping Mrs. Morrison, trying to get Tyler to safety and then helping him get his mom back, being kind to the cat, Lucy, looking after April and Casey, trying to protect Cody, and, again, all of the moments with his brothers.

And yet he's still a goofy teenage boy.

I mean, looking all of this. Noogies, silly faces, pranking Casey with his brothers--he's just having fun! He's still a teenager, still just a kid, but he's got such a complex character and is just so, so, so good!

And we can't forget the SAINW hug. Like, that's a must.

Like this boy is just so well written--I think all of the characters in 2003 are, tbh--and I just absolutely love how complex and deep they make them. This Raph, to me, has layers that the other Raphs either don't have, or were executed not as well. Even with 2003 Raph's hot-headedness, we can clearly see how it effects him, and how he eventually learns to use it, even if it still does get him in trouble sometimes.

Like, 2003 Raph is my favorite Raph, and so far no other Raph has come close, and if I wasn't about to run off to church I'm sure I could articulate why better. But hopefully this'll be enough!

#TMNT #TMNT 2003 #TMNT Raphael #TMNT 2003 Raphael #TMNT 2k3 #TMNT 2k3 Raphael #Answered ask #character analysis #AllyKatie's Analysis #I love this boy okay?#Answered Ask #feel free to reblog

139 notes · View notes

mesillusionssousecstasy · 6 months ago

Text

House of the Dragon 2x03: Review

I think the episode was very interesting even if it was the "worse" so far. Nevertheless the devil was in the details in this episode.

First of all, it was such a pleasure to have seen the conflict between Bracken vs Blackwood. Because I believe that those two houses are important for the ASOIAF's history.

We also have seen the aftermath of a war, with blood and bodies lying very where. It was perfect. To the liking of GRRM.

Rhaenyra is combing her hair with Visenya's braids.

Rhaenys would have been a great queen (but maybe also a bit weak), but I didn't like that she took Alicent's side. That didn't make sense at all.

The detail of the Hand's chair. Incredible.

I hate more and more Ser Criston Cole.

Aegon is still throwing tantrum during the council meeting.

There was a focus on Aemond's hand and the piece of money he was playing with (foreshadowing?).

It was some incredible picture when Seasmoke was flying in the sky during Mysaria and Rhaenyra's conversation.

Interesting does Mysaria's knows about dragon? And their loneliness after their rider's death?

There is the mention of two new dragons.

It's confirmed that Rhaena doesn't have a dragon yet.

Was it the God's eye showing before Harrenhal?

Speaking of Harrenhal, the castle is so devastated. It seems that everything in Harrenhal needs to die eventually.

The presence of weirwood trees is impressive.

Could you notice the sound or more likely the scream of burning people in the background when Daemon was inspecting the castel.

The visual of the castel was stunning.

Daemon was left with himself.

The detail of the different fire were incredible, for example with the lord's chair.

The place is so terrible.

I like this new Strong character, especially when he said to Daemon that Larys killed his father and brother.

This Strong mentioned again the battle between Bracken and Blackwood, and forgetting the why they hate each other so much.

It was a very interesting discussion during the supper at Harrenhal.

We meet Ser Gwayne Hightower finally, Alicent's brother. I thought he was younger in the book.

Alicent and Ser Cole are so hypocrite.

The hanged men are still at the same place.

I didn't like the dynamics about this episode, meaning it was men vs women.

There is definitively true love between Corlys and his wife Rhaenys.

It was interesting to see four dragon's eggs.

Did you notice that they put the song for kings while Rhaenyra told goodbye to her legitimate sons (foreshadowing).

I like very much Rhaena and Baela's sisterhood.

Did Helaena make a foreshadowing about baby?

Helaena's braid was incredible too.

She shouldn't have forgiven her mother at all.

Interesting to know that Aegon's armor still exists.

Layrs is a fucking liar.

Aegon II put a Maester of whispers inside the council.

Even the White Cloak are laughable, reflecting Aegon II's picture.

We are shown a lot of smallfolks' life in King's Lading.

Was it truly the son of Bealon the brave? Or more likely a foreshadowing of the dragonseed.

We know more about Aemond's fondness for Madam Sylvi. She was his first. Strange that they didn't put the theory of him and Helaena's forbidden relationship. Did you notice that they don't have any scene together.

I wasn't expecting this full frontal.

Sorry but Rhaenyra is so fucking weak in this episode. She is definitively not like the Rhaenyra in the book.

I loved seeing Baela taking some actions.

Finally, some high valyrian with Baela. She was the revelation in this episode.

Harrenhal is such a dope.

I really liked Daemon with loose hair.

And it's very interesting that they confirmed that Harrenhal is a magical place.

It felt so good to have seen young Rhaenyra again.

Daemon had a vision in front of the weirwood tree and then after the lady said that he would die here, said in front of a lake (prophecy).

Even the chandelier in Dragonstone are incredible.

Finally, the confrontation between Rhaenyra and Alicent never happened in the book. They weren't the same age and they were friend at all! Because it is completely stupid, unwise and foolish.

Or maybe it was a way of showing us how easy it is to enter to King's Lading.

Is it me of there is a Kristen Bell ressemblance when Rhaenyra was wearing the uniform of a septa.

This is something in the picture with all the candles and the rond.

Also the two characters were so in contradiction with each other. Back to the beginning but with inverted role.

Who's Alicent's mother? We never knew her.

I didn't understand Alicent suggesting to Rhaenyra concerning Aemond : "You know what Aemond it?" Meaning a monster ? a bastard?

But in the end it is such a terrible and sad story with an inescapable ending.

#hotd #hotd 2x03 #house of the dragon 2x03 #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd review #hotd reaction #hotd thoughts #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targeryan #interesting #bracken vs blackwood #harrenhal #dragonstone #king's landing

24 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Note

Rowan with a pregnant mate☺️

He’d just be so overprotective I’m living for it

Also I feel like the rest of the cadre would be so involved and protective as well bc that’s their baby niece/nephew!

Oh I liked this...

Dad to be

Let's get one thing straight - Rowan would be petrified and I doubt that would even cut it. I think the moment the word "I'm carrying your babe", would leave your mouth he would go pale. That male has seen some raw, brutal battles and walked out unfazed by it but those four words make him forget how to breathe for a moment.

Without a doubt, the first thing Rowan would picture would be Lyria's lifeless, brutalized body. That not that long ago was full of life and carried their unborn child as well. Now instead of her face it's you who lays their dead. And Rowan is pushed face-first into the same suffering that he thought had healed decades ago.

"Rowan", you would mutter all scared, thinking that this was indeed something that he never wanted. He had only mentioned Lyria scarcely to you and you had respected that but now you knew that this had opened the door Rowan never wanted to open again.

I think he wouldn't say anything. He would reach for you though. Pulling you closer to him so you could stand between his legs and he could rest his hand on your still mostly flat stomach. His heart aches that much more when he picks up on the baby's heartbeat.

That night Rowan would sleep with you tightly pressed against his chest while his hand resting on your stomach.

And when I tell you that overnight he would snap into a father role, I mean it. I doubt you would have a proper conversation straight away because he would need time to process but you would be woken up with two trays of food on the side of the bed, full of fresh vegetables and fruits of all sorts. And you best believe that you ain't getting out of bed until he sees you at least take a bite of half of the things in front of you.

When the morning sickness hits, he is by your side through it all. Never have you spent a moment bent over a toilet by yourself. Rowan is always there, cooler hands soothing the nausea. A gentle breeze of wind hits your damp forehead, as he mutters all sorts of praise for you.

There's no way in hiding the pregnancy as well. Gavriel would know before even you knew of it, old enough to sense it and feel it in the first days in my humble opinion. And Fenrys is too noisy so he would just splatter a question of why your sent had shifted.

They would be delighted. It's the first baby to enter the family so you best believe they are already fighting over who would be loved the most.

I also doubt that Rowan would be territorial around others. Sure, they might earn a snare if they got too close or smothered you too long but he would feel a sense of peace knowing that he has the best worries protecting you as well. Because he knows that they would rather die than let you get harmed, knowing that Fenrys pulled a sword at a caterpillar who fell onto the picnic blanket.

With your bump getting bigger Rowan would get more and more cuddly. You always were a rather affectionate couple but now there isn't a moment he isn't touching you in some way. Side hugs, hugs from the back, you on his lap, him reaching for your hand. He needs you close. Hearing both of your heartbeats is all that he needs.

And I think eventually, one night, with you both cuddled up together beneath the furs Rowan would finally admit how scared he is and how if something was to happen he would want to die himself this time around. There was no way he could go through losing the most important people in his life.

"But we are here. I want you to live in the moment. Experience this", you would mutter, pressing your hands onto his. He would nuzzle his face deeper into the crook of your neck, "I love you both but...", "No, buts, we are here and now, and we are well".

And Rowan let himself believe that for the first time. That he was going to get his happy ever after. Because a father. Watch his child grow beside you. And for the first time, he let himself smile, truly, from within his heart.

#rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn #rowan x reader #rowan imagine #thrown of glass imagine #throne of glas x reader #tog x reader #tog imagine #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #gavriel #cadre

344 notes · View notes

lavender-butterfly-cookie · 2 months ago

Note

I have something on my mind when I was watching the cutscene. You know the part in Timeless Kingdom(PV Arc) when Dark Enchantress said the cookies were made to be eaten and then the story/fight continue. BUT what if Gingerbrave asked DE about her backstory during the Witches's Banquet and he ALSO reveal that he and his friends(Strawberry or Wizard Cookie might say smth too) also witnessed the horror and escaped from the Witch(could be a little bit angst if you want to include GingerDozer and GingerBright demise). What would DE and PV do after that revelation? Can you write a fic about it? (Love your writing!)

Aww, thank you butterfly.

The truth about the witches

Dark enchantress cookie and pure Vanilla cookie were staring at Gingerbrave, Strawberry cookie and Wizard cookie, both justifiably shocked at what he had just revealed.

"What did you just say?..." Dark enchantress asked, though her voice was... softer than usual. Pure Vanilla cookie was also thinking the same question as his gaze never left the three. Had they just confirmed what he thinks they confirmed?

"The witches do eat cookies, we saw it." Gingerbrave repeated, earning a nod of agreement from his companions before Strawberry cookie spoke up.

"It's true. We only barely managed to escape. It was really scary."

"I... didn't really see it myself. But I got the feeling they weren't lying. Especially with how shaken they were after leaving." Wizard cookie admitted, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

For a moment, there was silence. Not something that happens a lot on the battlefield. Pure Vanilla cookie was shocked. Part of him wanted to think Dark Enchantress cookie tricked them, or maybe they weren't thinking straight. But he could tell the three were telling the truth.

Dark Enchantress was... well, a mix of emotions to say the least. One part was shocked she wasn't the only one who knew the truth. The other part wanted to celebrate that she finally had proof that the witches ate cookies and she was right all along. Then the last part was...

Concerned... confused...

They had seen what she had seen all those years ago. She was older than them and still that sight at the banquet had shaken her to her core. So much so that she had fallen into the cauldron. But she refused to die... she refused to die and wanted to destroy the witches for what they've done. Creating living, sentient beings only for the purpose of devouring them? That could never be forgiven. And that's why she became like this, right?

But those three... they were practically just kids in her eyes. They were just kids and they had to witness that? How haven't they turned against their creators? How aren't they broken?! Were they lying?- NO! That'd be ridiculous. But... but... now she was unsure. If they had witnesses such, shouldn't they have been traumatized? Disturbed? Had they not understood the full extent of what they had supposedly seen?

Seeing her uncertainty, Gingerbrave felt like he owed her and Pure Vanilla cookie an explanation. How though? How could he explain what he saw? How could he-

!...

His eyes widened for a moment before closing. He took a deep breath, catching his comrades attention before he spoke.

Gingerdozer... His brother. The same brother who perished long ago. Gingerbrave still can't et the sight out of his mind. As he speaks about it, Strawberry cookie looks down and Wizard cookie takes the front of his wizard hat and tilts it down a bit to cover his eyes. Neither of them wanted to hear this.

Both Dark Enchantress cookie and Pure Vanilla cookie were stunned into a deadly kind of silence.

What on earthbread had they just listened to?

Gingerbrave let out a shaky sigh, unable to keep himself composed. He tried to forget that memory, but it still haunted him. Nobody knew what to say, if anything could be said at all. Pure Vanilla cookie was more shocked than before, he didn't know GingerBrave had endured such. Strawberry cookie and wizard cookie were silent, but both wanted to comfort him. Even if they didn't know if there was any way to comfort this type of pain. Dark Enchantress cookie felt...

Bad... Far worse than she did before... For once, she had nothing to say.

15 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 11 months ago

Text

she runs a tight ship

rated t | for @strangerthingsocweek day 1 "introduction" | 1,573 words cw: mentions of illness (just a cold), mildly suggestive language | tags: future fic, corroded coffin, original character, robin gets to have a girlfriend because i said so

author note: a lot of meg's original backstory also revolves around OCs that other people have created, so I've doctored it up a bit to fit in without pulling the other OCs into the mix.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Meg rolled her eyes the moment she walked onto the tour bus.

The boys, and they were in fact boys since they refused to act like grown men, had left clothes scattered across the floor and couch, empty beer bottles and bags of chips on the table, and a pack of cigarettes on the counter.

Unbelievable.

But actually, totally believable.

They weren’t always like this. It’s just that the first night of the tour was always a celebration when they got off stage and Meg had the unfortunate task of making sure they were alive and prepared for the rest of the tour.

She wasn’t their manager, or security, or really anyone of importance in the grand scheme of things. All of those people were just not good at the job, and she took over quickly to ensure the members of Corroded Coffin didn’t end up ruining their careers before they even got started.

“If I see a single ass cheek when I come back there, I’m quitting!” She yelled towards the back of the bus. It was an empty threat, and they knew it, but she’d seen enough ass cheeks to last a lifetime.

She leaned over to pick up the pile of pants and pair of boots right in front of the door, face crumpling into disgust as she caught a whiff of sweat and weed.

“Meg, good to see ya!” Gareth said as he came from behind the curtain leading to the bunks. “Are we in Cinci already?”

“Yep.” She popped her mouth and continued picking things up off the floor. “Soundcheck in two hours. You guys have to at least try to get your shit together for it.”

“We will! You doin’ okay?” Gareth started gathering the trash on the table, throwing it all in the trash can without even seeing what was full and empty.

“Yeah. Good show last night. Didn’t think you’d do the new one on your first night,” Meg admitted. She’d worked on the song with them for weeks in the studio, curating it exactly to their tastes while still staying true to her own style. She didn’t think it would make the setlist at all, especially since they hadn’t even decided if it would make the next album yet, but sure enough, they performed it last night.

And they’d given credit to their “amazing songwriter friend who made sure they didn’t die or forget to eat.”

She would never admit to the tears that fell when she watched them perform their song.

“Ed and Robin agreed it should be a surprise. I think they both just wanted to see you cry,” Gareth nudged her on his way over to grab the guitar on the couch to put it into its case. “Steve told them not to.”

“This is why Steve’s my favorite,” she joked. Well, half-joked. She considered Steve to be the other half to her Keep Corroded Coffin On Track Team. Without him, Eddie would have been left at a rest stop the first time they went on the road.

“Yeah, that’s no secret.” She could hear the eyeroll in Gareth’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “He was snoring so bad last night, I almost had to consider kicking him off the bus.”

“Wait. Snoring? Steve doesn’t snore unless he’s-”

“Fuck.”

They both realized at the same time what was coming. Gareth looked back at Meg, eyes wide.

“Not now! It’s the beginning of tour!”

“Maybe if I load him up with vitamin C? I have a whole vitamin kit in the van and Robin has that nebulizer for her breathing treatments.”

A round of sneezes came from the back and Meg cursed under her breath.

“He’s gotta get away from everyone. He can take the van with Robin and I’ll bunk on your couch for a few days. Did he have a fever?” Meg was known for being dramatic over small inconveniences, but this wasn’t small. It had the potential to ruin tour dates. If anyone in the band got sick, it could ruin a concert.

“Don’t know. I don’t think so? He seemed fine when we went to sleep. He passed out before all of us though.” Gareth quickly set the guitar down and opened the cabinet closest to the bus door. “We’ve got cold meds. Some cough syrup. Tylenol. Cough drops. You think that’ll be enough?”

Meg nodded. “For now. Let’s see how bad it is first.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Eddie and Jeff came out at the same time, panic written all over their faces.

Meg sighed. “Bad?”

They nodded.

“Okay, stay away from him. It could already be too late, but you guys have to stay healthy.” Meg grabbed the basket of meds and a bottle of water from the fridge. “All of you get outside, tell Robin what’s up, and go with security into the building. I’m gonna get him settled in the van and scrub this place from top to bottom.”

“But I’ll miss him,” Eddie pouted. “How long does he have to stay in the van?”

“Until he can breathe through both nostrils.”

“Can any of us ever really breathe through both nostrils?” Eddie wondered.

Meg blinked at him. “Get a shirt on and get out of here before I make it impossible for you to breathe out of one nostril.”

Eddie threw his head back and groaned. Jeff patted his shoulder and turned to grab a shirt that was still on the couch.

“It’s okay man. Might just be a little cold. Could pass quick!” Gareth tried to reassure him, but Meg could already see how this was gonna go.

She was surrounded by slightly codependent idiots. She loved them all dearly, but she needed them to function individually sometimes.

The door banged open and Robin came up the steps.

“I swear, I sleep in one time and my girlfriend abandons me for her harem of idiot men.” She glances between everyone and tenses. “What’s wrong?”

“You stupid soulmate is sick,” Meg grumbled. “Everyone is in the process of leaving this bus before it happens to them.”

“I’ll wake up Frankie. He’s gonna be pissed,” Jeff sighed. “He got his pillows just right.”

“I’ll get him, you guys go,” Meg shooed them away, waiting for them to all leave before turning to Robin. “Hey, Robbie. Sorry I didn’t wake you up, just wanted you to get plenty of sleep.”

Robin leaned her head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, babe. Steve gonna make it?”

“Haven’t put eyes on him yet. Think you could go check? I gotta avoid getting sick, too. The less I’m around him, the better,” Meg handed her the basket and kissed the side of her head. “Get him to the van so he can contaminate that area instead.”

“But then I’ll get sick.” Robin pouted.

Meg couldn’t resist leaning down and pulling Robin’s bottom lip between her teeth, smirking when she let out a yelp.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve got a strong immune system. Promise I'll make it up to you in a few days. Maybe we could convince them to let us have a hotel room so we can-,” Meg said, pulling away when she heard shuffling behind the curtain. “Oh, good, it’s you. The rest of the guys are gone. Steve’s sick. Don’t come back in here until I give the go ahead.”

Frankie yawned, scratched his head, and nodded. “Got it.”

He was slowly becoming her favorite just by the fact that he never really argued with her. Maybe that was because he was terrified of her, but she could enjoy her power a little if she wanted to.

He walked out of the bus in his pajamas, probably not awake enough to realize he wasn’t properly dressed, but also probably not caring at all that he wasn’t. Frankie was a chill guy.

“Eddie?” Steve’s pitiful raspy voice came from behind the curtain. “Eds?”

“I’ll go,” Robin gave one final kiss to Meg’s lips before walking behind the curtain.

Meg only caught a glimpse of Steve, but a glimpse was all she needed to come to the conclusion that he was miserably sick and she needed to air this bus out immediately. She could hear Robin gently explaining where everyone was and trying to bribe him to put some comfy clothes on to move to the van.

She looked around and wondered what he’d touched last night before going to bed.

She opened the window behind the couch, and propped the window by the sink open to get some fresh air in the bus.

“Sorry I’m sick,” Steve suddenly said behind her, his eyes glassy and nose and cheeks bright red with fever and congestion. “Don’t know how.”

Meg smiled sadly at him. “Not your fault, bud. Just make sure to keep your distance from the guys until your fever’s gone. Don’t need them all getting sick at once and having to postpone a concert.”

Steve nodded sadly. “Okay. Can you tell Eddie I love him?”

“‘Course I can.”

Steve was acting like he was dying, but Meg didn’t say anything. Robin had been honest about a lot of her past, their past, but couldn’t say everything. She knew why they were all a bit codependent on each other. Sometimes small things like the common cold felt like a monster they couldn’t fight.

As Robin led Steve out of the bus, Meg made a checklist in her head of everything she needed to do before the show tonight.

Taking care of her boys was always top priority.

#stranger things #strangerthingsocweek #writing challenge #original character #corroded coffin #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington #side steddie #gareth emerson #jeff #frankie or unnammed freak who i have decided is frankie

36 notes · View notes