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lovetorn · 4 years ago

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nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle.

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here.

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing.

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene.

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one.

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber.

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.”

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target.

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?”

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods.

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.”

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?”

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.”

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.”

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.”

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude.

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer.

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head.

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?”

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.”

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.”

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?”

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie.

“Y/n.”

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly.

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body.

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust.

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home.

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.”

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?”

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.”

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?”

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.”

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust.

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?”

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?”

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?”

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body.

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.”

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths.

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n.

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago.

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water.

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!”

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!”

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive.

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.”

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…”

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.”

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?”

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.”

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.”

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.”

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too.

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush.

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts.

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.”

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.”

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?”

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter.

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it.

“Clay!”

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.”

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it.

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance.

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face.

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before.

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes.

They’re probably just friends.

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm.

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it.

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing.

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical.

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing.

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know.

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?”

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact.

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap.

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.”

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man.

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.”

“Clay—”

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.”

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents.

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him.

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.”

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods.

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.”

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.”

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late.

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge.

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed.

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself.

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard.

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night.

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly.

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!”

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze.

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!”

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.”

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing.

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.”

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much?

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people.

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is.

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.”

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway.

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even.

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise.

“Dream.” A voice says.

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.”

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it.

“I know.”

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.”

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running.

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds.

“Leave me alone!”

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her.

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely.

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them.

“I’ve got you now, Dream,”

“It seems you do.”

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him.

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar?

“But I’ll spare you.”

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?”

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them.

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind?

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty.

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n.

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey.

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son.

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.”

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night.

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?”

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast.

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.”

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.”

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything.

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!”

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around.

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?”

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?”

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles.

“Ha, ha. SO funny.”

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is.

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs.

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—”

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?”

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.”

“What? Really?”

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.”

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.”

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.”

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck.

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon.

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens.

“Clay?”

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!”

“Well, you have to go.”

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?”

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered.

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking?

“Kill you?”

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten.

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.”

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs.

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?”

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!”

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance.

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her.

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.”

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.”

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder.

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her.

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.”

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon.

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking.

“Woah,” He breathes.

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake.

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her.

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.”

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart.

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless…

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.”

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks.

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.”

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth.

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!”

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens.

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes.

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers.

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.”

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night.

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself.

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that?

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.”

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.”

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.”

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created.

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same.

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.”

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues.

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns.

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever.

—

“Dre—Clay.”

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue.

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks.

“He gave me a straight answer; business.”

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?”

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.”

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes.

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it.

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted.

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!”

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it.

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,”

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them.

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks.

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her.

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim.

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical.

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long.

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up.

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature.

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water.

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes.

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice.

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in.

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.”

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!”

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face.

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.”

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you.

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?”

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.”

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!”

“Y/n?”

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies.

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl.

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.”

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle.

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself.

What is going on?

—

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed.

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought.

“You,”

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?”

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides.

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!”

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.”

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!”

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.”

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.”

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face.

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering.

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment.

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.”

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more.

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?”

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats.

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit.

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe.

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am.

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream.

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away.

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?”

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.”

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles.

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room.

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs.

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries.

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down.

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love.

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing.

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden.

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk.

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird.

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden.

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed.

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper.

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not.

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots.

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh.

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks.

“I can’t kill you, Clay!”

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.”

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,”

“Y/n,”

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.”

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder.

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.”

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.”

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too.

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger.

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n.

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices.

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips.

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches.

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity.

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.”

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.”

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence.

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

#dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream au #dreamwastaken au #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #nightmare dressed like a daydream!au #ndlad!au #dream x reader #dream imagine

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

Cracks in the Ceiling

little hurt LOT comfort

my version of Route 66 bc how are you going to cut him open and give such minimal comfort?? like damn

Morgan’s tearing through the open case file in front of him, attention more or less on his teammates debating the case openly around him. His head is pounding, there’s this ache fixated on his right temple that no amount of Tylenol has managed to dull. If it weren’t for the pain he’d lean over and make Rossi aware of the fact that he’s 100% certain that Hotch slept in his office last night. He’s no snitch but this is the second time this week and it’s a pattern of behavior that has never been good in the past. It’s a behavior worth noting. For now, he decides to leave it. The others are gathering, filling into place, everyone’s mostly in their usual seats at the round table. He isn’t alerted or even too worried about Hotch standing rather than sitting, dark eyes darting over them. It’s probably nothing, Morgan shakes his head, not a big deal.

They jump into the work, Morgan keeps quiet. He’s got some things scratched into the margins of his file but he’ll bring them up now. Nothing worth stating just yet, not even proper observations but maybe Reid will have something to spitball. “--as you know, the amber alert is…” Morgan looks up, frowning at the sound of just how breathless Hotch is. As if he’s just run a marathon or taken down an Unsub by himself. Morgan looks the man up and down. The stark contrast of his boss’ pale face to the red of his tie. Morgan frowns, “Hotch?” He’s already on his feet, heart hammering, standing just as Hotch rasps an “excuse me”.

“Aaron!”

Rossi gets to him first. Kneeling right down on the ground, no reservations left for personal space. Anywhere else, anything else and it might have been funny. Rossi is so careful about himself. He won’t get his shoes dirty and he’s not putting creases in his pants let alone kneeling on the ground and risking wearing down the material around his knee and yet here he is. Placing a crease in his shoes at the toes and digging a knee in the, no doubt, filthy carpet. His clothes don’t matter, he’s paying them no mind as he calls Hotch’s name again. Begging-- “Look at me! Aaron? Aaron!”

It’s all snippets, no solidity.

Rossi’s rough palm, his skin radiating an intense uncomfortable heat against Hotch’s cheek. The rings on his fingers biting with their chilled metal, startlingly present in a haze of sensations he can’t name. All too much information for his brain, warmth and the chill, and how heavy his diaphragm feels as he draws in breathes.

Bright lights, rocking, and back and forth. White, bright white dancing from one eye over to the other.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

Drugs. He can feel them in his veins, thick as sludge crawling up his throat.

“Mr. Hotchner, can you hear me?”

Pulse is thready.

He’s not responding.

He can see Rossi-- it’s not worry pulling his face down, it’s hopelessness. A deep realization that he can do nothing, that he’s powerless and clueless. He can do nothing but sit there as the paramedics work, providing no commentary, having generally no idea what to do.

Starting lactated ringers.

Systolic is dropping.

BP is 90/60.

Systolic is his heart, which Rossi knows isn’t good. His blood pressure runs low, he takes medication for that. Maybe… Maybe he just didn’t take his meds this morning. That’s an easy enough explanation. No need to think the worst.

But the worst is what they get.

Foyet returned from the grave. Sometimes it’s like that man never really left. Hotch still looks over his shoulder, wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Catches himself thinking like a trapped animal, reflexively isolating himself. It was only a few months but the paranoia is something he’s never been able to shake. He put his family at risk, lost Haley and Jack for months, and every time he was alone with a team member Foyet could be watching and if Foyet wanted to… he couldn’t even keep a serial killer from breaking into his home. He’s nearly lost all of them to serial killers, what’s he really going to be able to do to stop Foyet from killing them?

Back from the grave?

It’s like he never left.

Garcia approaches the bed slowly, put off by the stark contrast of the bags under Hotch’s eyes, and the intense pallor of his face. The only reassurance he’s even alive is the fog, the oxygen mask flushed with each of his shaky and choked breaths. “Sir?” She slowly reaches down and takes his right hand in both of her own. His hand is freezing, limp, and heavy in her hand. Lifeless. Even his veins look wrong, the colors aren’t right.

Settling herself with a deep breath, Garcia runs her thumb across his knuckles. Trying to draw some sort of stability, some consciousness to the madness buzzing around them. The hospital alight with all the wrong sorts of energy.

His head is turned slightly to her, lips parted as his breathing labors on. Leaving his lungs in harsh rasps. His left arm is curled limply around the light pink basin in his lap. It makes her stomach ache to imagine him alone back here, even if he wasn’t awake.

“Ma’am,” a nurse steps into the room, followed by two men on each of her sides. “They’re ready for him in OR 2. We’re going take him there now.”

Garcia nods, hands shaking a little harder than she’d like at the thought of him going somewhere she can’t watch over. This isn’t the same as the field. There she can hear what he hears. She’s right there with them but… “O--Okay,” she whispers, nodding tightly as she gently lays his hand back down on the bed. She looks him back over once more. Memorizing all that she can and biting back the emotion working up her throat. “Take care of him,” she says, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “He’s really important to me.”

The nurse stops, ignoring the other two men as they place all the machines they can around and in Hotch’s lap. She squeezes Garcia’s arm gently, “he’s in the best hands.” She nods, a small sympathetic smile in place. “We’ll take care of him, ma’am. I promise.”

Garcia nods, “okay.” She has to trust them and she can do that. She believes in medicine. She understands it. He’s going to be okay. Eventually. Not right now but soon and she’ll stay with him for as long as she can.

“Hello?” She answers her phone on the second ring, her hands shaking so badly she misses the answer button the first time. Her eyes stay on Hotch, watching and struggling to keep up with the fast pace of the staff pushing him down the hall. Distracted enough to not even care that it’s Morgan calling her and that she should greet him with their usual luster. She just can’t find it in herself to conjure it up right now.

Morgan greets her a second later, a mind centered on just getting this case over with. He can’t think about Hotch. Can’t get distracted. “Hey, Baby Girl,” he says, pulling the phone back and hitting the speakerphone so JJ can hear. “It’s Morgan. How’s Hotch?”

Garcia really wishes she hadn’t worn heels today. The heels along with her much shorter legs are making it really hard to keep pace with Hotch. “He’s still out,” she informs him. Which kind of sucks. She’d feel really good right now if she’d just seen him awake. To talk to him. He’s always really good at calming her down. “They’re taking him to surgery.”

Morgan sighs, shaking his head. Damn, he’d really been hoping whatever this was to pass over as the flu. “Okay,” is all he says, hoping his disappointment doesn’t write itself all over his body. He clears his throat and tries to shake this awful feeling in his gut. “Alright, well, we need you to look through Samantha Wilcox’s text and email correspondents.”

Garcia nods her head, hoping what he’s saying actually sticks in her brain. She’d hate to have to call back and tell them she didn’t catch a word being said. Not after promising Dave, she would be okay to stay behind with Hotch. “Okay.” She agrees, “what am I looking for? Anything in particular?”

JJ’s voice cuts through and that takes Garcia by pleasant surprise. “She’s been in touch with her dad.”

Oh. Garcia thinks. That’s probably not good.

“And check vicap,” Morgan adds.

Garcia had seen the doors coming and the nurses and doctor’s throwing on scrub caps from down the hall. She’d seen them but she hadn’t thought this was where they part. Nervously, her eyes flicker over to Hotch. Maybe it’s better he’s not awake to see her like this. The last thing he needs is worrying about trying to soothe her nerves. “W-Why,” she stops as a nurse sympathetically directs her to.

She doesn’t hear a thing from then on. Her ears are ringing, words coming from the line but she doesn’t hear it. She just stands there. “They just took him back,” she manages. He’s gone from her sight. The hall is empty. It’s just her standing here.

For the sake of appearances she finds a seat in the waiting room, tries to manage deep even breathes. Remain calm. But Morgan’s request doesn’t take that long, he doesn’t even try to stay on the line with her. The conversation dies the second she tells him Hotch is in surgery and no one’s told her anything.

Out of boredom, unable to sit still a moment longer while her mind replays the pain of the day that it happened. Being forced to stay at her desk while knowing, while having listened as Emily explained the mess in his apartment. The tumbler shattered on the ground. Clear, composed Emily Pretniss’ voice trembling, the shattered glass in her throat. Not enough blood to know he’s dead but not enough to survive.

She goes to the gift shop to distract herself with the signs and clothes for expecting parents, for balloons that wish parents and grandparents a speedy recovery. So that she can stand amongst the aisle of teddy bears and t-shirts and exist in space and time that feels mute, feels non-existent.

She buys herself a sucker shaped like a heart and Hotch a teddy bear with a t-shirt that says “I love you” because he’ll pretend to hate it. He’ll hate the attention maybe but it’ll keep him company. After what Foyet did to him she gave him a troll, it’s all she had on her when was finally able to get to the hospital to see him. He was asleep by the time she got there, the doctor gave him sedatives. He got agitated after Haley and Jack left, tore stitches in restlessness. They set up a schedule, made sure he wasn’t alone after that.

She placed the troll in the palm of his hand, curled his fingers around it. He gave it back when he returned to work. She found it on her desk with a note, a simple “Thank you -H”. What a silly man, she’d meant for him just to keep it. She slipped it back into his go-bag the second he wasn’t watching. He got the message then.

It’s still in his go-bag.

The recovery room is filled with the sounds of heart monitors.

It’s good. Logically, Penelope Garcia knows it’s good but she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Yet she’d fought rather bravely to get here, to be allowed someplace she should not be. Listening to the crowd of heart monitors softly ringing out the promise of ongoing survival, she feels hopeful. She’s not naive enough to feel safe.

She’d watched them extubate him. She’d stepped into the room a little prematurely, seen him attached to all those machines. Watched his chest rise and fall under the guide of the ventilator. Slivers of his eyes present as a doctor talked to him, guiding him through the process. He gags and chokes, still absent of mind as they move him. By the time anyone pays any attention to her he’s already back under the pull of the drugs. Asleep. They move him on the bed, settle his arms back to his sides and pull the blankets up to his chest. He’s no more than a body to manipulate.

“He’ll—He’ll be okay, right?” She’d seen the doctor extubate Hotch and her chest hurts at the sight of him. He’d been so limp as they pulled that tube out, coughing and curling into himself. Unaware of everything around him, he’d wrapped his arms around his chest. He’s as pale as the bedsheets he’s laying on and her protective streak wants nothing more than to gather all six feet of him up into a comfy blanket and cuddle his pain away. “Is he in any pain?”

The doctor clenches his teeth, taking a breath like he’s either uncertain or afraid to tell her the truth. He places his arms over his chest, “there was a lot of internal damage.” But he’s still chewing on what he’s really afraid to admit to, turning it over. Weighing the pros and cons— “We lost him on the table but—” panic strikes the happy blonde like a hand. “We got him right back, ma’am. He’s responding appropriately to the medication. Your friend is tough, his recovery is already coming along nicely.”

Garcia lets out a shaky breath. “Is there anything I can do? You know, until you move him?” They get hurt all the time and she tries really hard to stay objective, to keep coasting along because that’s always what the others do. Emily never loses her head and Hotch always stays in the field, takes care of more than his share of the work. So she can do that, she’s capable of that.

The doctor smiles, “yeah. When he wakes up, his throat’s going to be pretty agitated. Try to get him to drink some water. It’ll help later, make him stronger when the nurses come around wanting him back on his feet in a few hours.” He extends his hand for her to shake, “and I’m sure with you here, Agent Hotchner will make a speedy recovery.”

Garcia blushes and shakes his hand.

“So,” the doctor stuffs his hands in his lab coat. “Are the rumors true?”

Garcia frowns, tilting her head.

“Did he really…” the doctor’s eyes move to the man on the bed. He shakes his head, “was it really a serial killer that did all that to him?”

Garcia pulls in a heated breath, she’s an even-tempered woman. She’s not going to be hot-headed about any old thing but why would he even say something like that. With Hotch right there. Just as she’s about to lay into him Hotch mumbles something from the bed, turning his head and blinking heavily as he takes in the darkroom. She can’t make it out but he shakes his head and makes a clumsy pull at the nasal canal under his nose, trying to dislodge it. She throws the doctor a dirty look and moves to his side, calling his name. Garcia takes his hand, “what? What is it, sir?”

He frowns, tight. Grimacing as he swallows, adam’s apple bouncing as he shakes his head again. He looks at her, eyes drooping before his lips part, his mouth clumsily forming her name. He pushes at the nasal canal again, his discomfort obvious. “Is he here?” he rasps. “Foyet?”

Garcia curses that stupid doctor but she knows it’s not his fault. Old injuries and old scars. “No, honey,” she soothes, her thumb running over his knuckles. If he weren’t so high, so bogged down with the drugs he wouldn’t be so confused. He’d fuss over her endearment but instead, he leans closer. Turns his face towards her, trusts her. “Foyet’s long gone. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe.” The news seems to be surprising at first but she can see the moment he remembers. Foyet is dead. It puts him at some ease, helps but he’s still visibly uncomfortable.

She releases his hand, her heart breaking at the soft sound he makes. His panic swells as she steps to the side of the bed, going to the water pitcher. She pours a cup, holding it up so he can see what she’s doing. He shakes his head, making another clumsy tug at the oxygen canal and successfully moving it this time.

“Take a sip of this and I’ll bring you a strawberry milkshake later,” Garcia promises with a kind smile. “Come on, sir,” she urges. “One sip of water for your favorite milkshake?” She places the straw to his chapped lips and smiles when he takes a tentative sip.

He manages to raise his left hand, struggling to form a good hold on the cup. She lets him have it though, her palm just under it in case he drops it. “I don’t like strawberry milkshakes,” he rasps, sipping slowly at the water working numbers on his raw throat.

Garcia smiles, “I know sir.” She reaches up and lightly taps a finger against his temple, “I was just making sure they didn’t scramble your brains, that’s all.” She takes the cup back, noticing him slowly losing his grip, fighting the anesthesia still coursing through his veins.

He grins sleepily at her, eyes falling shut. “No more scrambled than usual,” he jokes softly.

She grins and takes his hand in her own, squeezing his limp fingers. “Oh, but that’s why we love you, sir.”

He nods, eyes shut as he slips back under the lingering anesthesia. “Garcia,” he mumbles, fingers curling around hers. “You don’t have to stay.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not gonna leave you back here all alone.” She looks around, he may be fighting sleep and will most likely spend his hour back here asleep but it’s creepy and she knows he wouldn’t leave her. “It’s kind of scary back here,” she admits and squeezes his hand. “And you wouldn’t leave me back here all by myself so don’t expect me to leave you.”

Hotch grumbles something under his breath she can’t quite hear but she takes it as his usual self-deprecating, overbearing nature sort of thing and lets it slip. “Get some sleep, sir.”

He doesn’t remember a word of their previous conversation.

A nurse comes in and they run through all the same old stuff. He’s given a pink bucket even though he doesn’t express he’s nauseous, still clutches it to his chest. Pink plastic rubbing against the surgical staples, he’s afraid breathing the wrong way will split him open. The morphine is making his head fuzzy, makes his dreams weird and his thoughts overwhelmingly rippled. But the world distorts a little and he sees Garica sitting there, all of the brightness in the world scribbling away on her notepad so that she can make sure he abides by every word they advise. He feels a little better with her here.

“Mmm,” he’s leaning into his side but he perks up a little when he hears the nurse say something about food. Tells them he can’t eat anything for the next forty-eight hours. His noise draws their attention, the first real reaction he’s had since this all began. “No milkshake then.”

Garcia frowns at him and then the nurse. She reaches over and squeezes his hand, “sorry, sir.”

He clears his throat, pressing the bucket harder into his stomach. “S’okay.” He really doesn’t care about that. The main concern right now is not throwing up. A battle that it feels like he won’t be winning.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

He cracks an eye open and knows that a good stretch of time has just passed. There are no markers for it within the room, the blinds are shut on the one window and there’s not a visible clock within his line of sight but intuitively he knows.

“I need to change your bandages.”

He nods, faintly able to recall this part of the healing from years ago. The constant monitoring, the bandage changes. Sucks. All of it. “Garcia?” they ask him if she can stay. He doesn’t want to do that to her but he also doesn’t want to force her away. “You don’t have to stay.” He finds her in the mix of people, around the sound of gauze being opened, and things shuffled around. “Take a break,” he manages a sliver of control. “Get some fresh air.”

She shakes her head.

“Garcia.” They’re waiting on his permission, to go on or kick her out. “Penelope,” he whispers, “you don’t have to look. You don’t want to.”

She frowns, standing to contest his nonsense head-on. “Sir, you’re one of the three most attractive men I know.” She stands there and dares him to say otherwise. He’s a good bit older than she is but she knows an attractive man when she sees one. She’s not blind.

He smirks, too loosely for it to be entirely of his volition and nothing to do with the drugs. “One of three, huh? That makes me the third?” She rolls her eyes and he waves her off, makes a motion for her to go. “Go eat, Penelope. Call Morgan. Get out of here.”

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want him to ever leave her line of sight again but she nods and listens.

Morgan tells her everything with the Wilcox case went decently. They got the dad and the girl made it out alive. She tells him Hotch is awake, facing this new disaster with his usual stoic ways. They end the awkwardly, neither really in the headspace to play around.

He’s asleep again when she comes back. Gown askew across his shoulders, leaving his collarbones scandalously out in the open. Makes him look naked but she can’t look away. Under all those layers, suits that haven’t really changed in the decade she’s known him, he’s deceivingly pale. She can see muscle, the way it lays, and yet the soft corners of him. Years of fatherhood having worn him down in places softened him in others. He’s gained weight but this has set him back again and she realizes that if she’s looking at his too-thin body here then he’s lost weight before her eyes. How long has he been sick?

Visiting hours are over, she’s supposed to be making her goodbyes for the night. This sullen feeling in her stomach only doubles, makes her feel sick. She can’t leave him. Don’t they understand that? He’s in no state to be left by himself. “Sir?” she whispers. She touches his hand and he flinches.

His sleepy frown deepens but he hears her whisper for him again. He hums, eyelids too heavy to lift fully. “Mhmm?”

“I have to go,” she says. “Visiting hours are over.”

He hums again, nods.

She takes advantage of his current state leans down and kisses his forehead, hugs him while he lets her. “I love you, sir, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She takes a moment, his eyes still closed, to move his hair off of his forehead. “Are you okay? Will you be okay?”

He nods, swallowing thickly against the dryness in his throat. Facing the next few hours alone sounds miserable but he’s more than mastered the art of sleeping off stays in the hospital. It’s going to be a long night but not an impossible one.

“Oh,” she mumbles, “okay.” She moves to gather her stuff when she remembers the teddy bear. “Sir?”

He opens his eyes, just sliver but he’s there.

“I thought… maybe…” she places the bear in his lap. “To keep you company?”

He smirks, “thank you, Garcia.” There’s something about the way he rubs at the bear’s ear, softly and entirely content that gives her hope. He’ll be okay, she knows, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying. He looks up at her, that same lopsided grin she’s seen all afternoon. The drugs will wear off and she’ll be left without that smile again. Having to barter her way into sad grins instead.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“Not until you’ve had breakfast,” he mumbles. “Eat first.”

She can’t help but smile even if she intends to listen. “Yes, sir.” So bossy. He’s lucky he’s cute or she’d have smacked him up the side of the head by now. She leaves, it hurts and she really, really doesn’t want to but she leaves.

He’ll be okay, she knows that.

And he is. There’s no good way to measure the day’s passing but a nurse comes in and tells it’s eight o’clock and that someone called the nurse’s desk asking for him, a name that came with a badge. Which confuses him but that really only leaves a small group of people, he assumes that means the team is back home.

It’s not them.

She gets there at nine o’clock and it’s only her badge and artfully mumbling something about Interpol that gets her back. They know he’s a federal agent and she’s betting on that. She’s always been good at poker.

He’s sleeping when she finds him, the only light in the room coming from the heart monitor. She wishes she knew how to read it, how to understand what the numbers mean so that she might be able to get a better grasp on the situation. All she knows is what Morgan told her over the phone but that seemed crazy. Hotch wasn’t even sick, Morgan said he was fine. Maybe a little off but he’s Hotch, he just simply is off.

“Emily?”

She steps into the room, following the sound of his sleep-disturbed voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

He’s obviously confused, frowning at her more than happy to see her. The morphine always gives him crazy dreams, he’s probably assuming that’s what this is. “I know I’m not your favorite,” she mumbles sarcastically, “but you don’t have to make it so abundantly clear.” With an eye roll, she sits herself down on the edge of the bed. For a moment, as his tired brain processes what she’s said, she fears what she fears every time she comes home-- that things between them have changed. That distance hasn’t made him fond but rather angry or has changed one of them so drastically that they no longer know one another.

He groans at her, shaking his head and grumbling her name in that bothered way he’s perfected over the years.

With a smile, she knows nothing has changed. He still manages to say her name like “leave me alone” meant to be taken as an endearment, an invitation to stay. “It’s okay,” she assures, tapping the back of her hand against his hip. “No hard feelings.”

He hums, not going to even bother with refuting any of her statements. That’s the beauty of their companionship, they never really have to say anything. That’s what she’s so afraid will change because she knows that if one day she comes home and he can’t read the “I love you” hidden in her sarcasm and the “please, don’t scare me like that again” in her playful proximity then that’s it. She can find the words for Reid and she’s always been able to suck up the physical comfort for Garcia or JJ but she just can’t with Hotch. She tried so hard after Foyet to be able to say something, to wrangle up comfort, but she just couldn’t.

But there was a moment, one night when the world seemed to be drowning in a rainstorm, that she woke up sick. His abdomen was still ablaze from Foyet’s attack, too fresh for him to be up and moving around. He’d followed the sound of her getting sick to the bathroom, making his slow way down the hall held upright by the wall. Moving forward only because stopping would cause him to fall. He didn’t leave her once he understood the noise just settled down on the ground beside her, back leaning on the bathtub. Neither said a word but she looked over at him and she saw all the comfort he couldn’t manage to bring to words. His worry etched across his face. She was supposed to be taking care of him and yet they’d ended up shoulder-to-shoulder waiting out a storm on the bathroom floor.

She has a fever-hazed memory of waking up with her head on his shoulder. A glass of water against her knee and the warmth of a heating pad against her stomach. No idea how he did it or when but they never spoke of it. Never had to. Somehow someone she can’t even manage to tell that she loves or that she even remotely feels concerned for turned out to be one of her closest friends. The asshole she once thought untrustworthy. He’s still an asshole but it’s one of those things that you just learn to look over.

Makes him interesting.

“So,” she says with a sigh, “you gonna scoot over or what?”

She gets another blanket out of a cabinet she sees in the corner of the room, distracts herself so that he’s certain she doesn’t see him moving. That’s what she’s talking about, there’s no communication needed. He can move himself over a little bit but it’s painful and he’s weak and he doesn’t want her to see that. She also knows he runs cold and won’t share his blankets with her. Loves her enough to share his bed but she’s yet to encounter someone he loves enough to share his blankets.

“What happened to your arm?” he can see it once she moves away again. A simple sling keeps it pinned to her chest, he assumes she’s either dislocated or been shot. Wonders why she didn’t call, why she didn’t tell anyone.

She sighs, he can’t see her roll her eyes but he knows that sigh and knows she’s done it even if he can’t see. “This prick,” she tosses the blanket on his legs as she climbs up beside him. “He kicked me, sent me down a flight of stairs.” He can tell she’s more embarrassed than hurt, which is good. She puffs out an agitated breath but despite this is very gentle as she gets closer to him. Hyperaware of the wounds she can’t see.

Her warmth is alluring, despite himself he leans closer, and she doesn’t say a word when his cheek comes to her shoulder.

“I’m okay, though,” she finally states. Moves some of her blanket over him, checks again that he’s comfortable. Which she assumes he is, or he wouldn’t be sleeping. “Clyde had given me three weeks off, told me to take a break. That’s why I came. I promise I didn’t take any unnecessary time off.”

He hums, appreciates this addition. She knew he would.

Her throat is sore where it catches the words she doesn’t know how to say. That she’s missed him terribly or that she loves him or that when Morgan told her what happened she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think or move. He takes her hand and she has to pinch her eyes shut so that she doesn’t cry and he squeezes her hand.

He’s missed her too.

He loves her.

He’s glad she came.

“Go to sleep,” she mumbles.

He hums.

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

The others come in at six, pilling into the room in dirty clothes from the day before and sore from the jet ride home. They’re too tired to speak, to do anything more than grumble and shove at one another to get through the door. As they pile in they take stock of the sight before them. Emily’s dark bruises, the black eye that the night had hidden from Hotch. Her hand still holding his. Hotch breathing, laying there entirely whole. Slowly returning to his normal colors.

They have questions, concerns to raise with both sleeping parties, but those can wait for a better hour.

They settle down in the room, squeezing together on chairs.

Morgan sees Hotch wake a little, a soft shift in his breathing.

“Back to sleep,” Morgan whispers, trying to keep the others from hearing. Hotch’s face pinches, mouth opening to ask the question Morgan already knows. “Everything went fine. Samantha is safe, no one got hurt.” He glances at Emily and shakes his head, “go back to sleep, Hotch. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And it settles once again.

Nothing but the soft sound of sleeping agents.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #emily prentiss

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pandajaye · 4 years ago

Text

Todoroki Family Ties (Part 7)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki

Warnings: child missing, dangerous criminals, mention of child murder, family abandonment

Enji and Ivy searched the entire property but Shoto was no where to be found. They called the police, Officer Tsukauchi alerted AllMight and Eraserhead and they were helping find him too. Even with them here, they were careful to keep quiet about the missing child of a Pro Hero. You never know what Villains could be looking for him too. The worst part of it was, the reason they needed pro hero help was because Shoto was the least dangerous person they were searching for today. The news reported that someone dangerous was out on the run and that only made Ivy’s heart sink lower. They figured they were fine since it was a private residence and Shoto was with a nanny, but she was gone too.

“We’re working hard to find him and the missing nanny, ma’am. I hate that this happened on the same day that a criminal broke out of jail. Is there any more information that you can give us about the boy or the woman?”

Tsukauchi must have been in a lot of situations where he had to show calmness towards civilians. His soft voice gave her a sense of peace, it was small but any was good.

“I-I.... I don’t know too much about her. She seems good with the kids. We just recently hired her last week and she’s been an angel. She has a very kind attitude for an older woman with a tattoo.”

“A tattoo? What did it look like? Can you describe it for me?”

Ivy thought hard about the image that was located on the woman’s hand. Enji didn’t agree with it but Ivy convinced him that since she wa so child friendly, the tattoo shouldn’t matter.

“It was a thin black circle with a cherry blossom inside. There was an ‘X’ on the right side of the circle. It was kind of wrinkled a long with her hand but I still thought it looked pretty cool.”

One of the officers that was standing in front of her drawing the description of the tattoo nodded to Tsukauchi. When he looked back at her, she could tell there was more of a hardness to his face. He turned to Enji and Allmight who had been standing next to them to observe.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to just speak to you two alone for a minute.”

They looked at each other before taking a step into the kitchen, away from where Ivy could hear.

“I’m afraid that the nanny may be involved in the disappearance of the boy. The tattoo that Mrs. Todoroki had described matched the same image of another womanms tattoo. They’re believe to be apart of a gang of Villains called the Withered Blossoms. Any crime scene these women have been apart of usually have young men unconscious or dead but with the appearance of someone who is old. Their victims also are left with no money. Apparently they use the youth from their victims to stay alive. There’s no telling how long they’ve been on this earth but we’ve managed to mostly keep them in jail. I’m not sure what they would want Shoto for. Either his youth, or ransom, but I know that we’ll do whatever it takes get him back and those women in maximum security prison.”

Toshinori thanked Mr. Tsukauchi before turning to look at Enji. His gaze was stuck on the ground, thinking about everything that was just explained. He was never one to really show emotion when anyone other than his family was around. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d even get a response, Toshi tried his best to communicate with Enji.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find your son. Everything will be fine.”

Enji scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Who said I was worried? I know he’ll be okay. He’s a damn Todoroki, of course he’ll be okay.”

Toshi shook his head. He could see the worry on his face. It was written in his furrowed brows. The angry wrinkles on his face. No matter how he tried to hide it, this bothered him deeply.

“It’s not bad to have feelings. Your child is out in the big world and could be in danger. It looks more suspicious not showing worry.”

Enji sighed angrily and looked at Toshi. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was speaking some sense. He didn’t know why he was such a hard ass all the time. There was just a lot of frustration and rage inside of him. The expression on his face softened but he looked away from Toshi.

“You’re right. I’m very upset. That’s.... my youngest out there. He could be scared. He could be hurt. Or.... o-or....”

“Hey. We’re not going to think like that, alright? They’re doing everything they can, looking under every rock for these villains and your son. I have no doubt that we’ll get some good news soon.”

Toshi gave him a nod of reassurance and Enji returned it. They may not get along always but he was glad to have Toshi here to comfort him and Ivy.

Especially Ivy....

This family.... Enji.... the kids.... they meant a lot to her. She was the first person in her family to be born quirkless. They hoped she would grow up and eventually gain one, but, unfortunately, it never happened. When she was in high school, she came home that day to her bags packed and thrown out of the door. They constantly hounded her for not being able to become a pro hero so that she could make them rich. Since she seemed to give no value in their eyes, she was kicked out and forced to live on her own.

After years of hard work, she graduated high school, college, got a job, and did pretty good. All on her own. She met Enji when she was fired and found a job at his agency. Apparently his assistant before her couldn’t handle his explosive temper. The difference between her and Ivy was that she could afford to quit, but Ivy was barely making it and this paycheck could change everything for her.

It was hard. There was almost constant intimidation. The atmosphere of every meeting had tension and no one was brave enough to disturb it. And it only got worse after the incident with Rei Todoroki pouring hot water over her son’s face. There were many rumors that floated around. Even when the truth about Enji putting her in a mental hospital came out, everyone said it was a cover up and that he actually murdered her. Luckily, the world continued to go around.

The agency was fine but it was obvious that Enji wasn’t. There was an aggressiveness and darkness to him that no one had ever seen before. Everyone was afraid to speak to him outside of business but Ivy figured that maybe that’s what he was missing. Someone needed to check on him and something inside of her said that it should be her. It was her character flaw. Even though she’d been through so much, she always felt as if it was her job to take care of the beasts of the world. In her mind, all they needed was love and kindness.

One day, she gathered the courage to talk to him and see how he was doing. When she opened the door to his office, the lights were off. He was just sitting in his chair but facing towards the window. That morning he walked in a nice suit but not the jacket was on the back of his chair and his tie was loosened. He was just sitting there, his head leaning against his hand like he was just done with everything.

“Hello? Mr. Endeavor?”

“What is it?

“I-I wanted to talk about something. Are you busy?”

He sighed and dropped his hand, turning to look at her and permit her to enter before turning back to the outside world.

“Come in.”

She hurried in and closed the door behind her, quietly making her way over to the front of his desk.

“I wanted to check on you.... see how you were doing lately. I’m really worried about you, sir. You haven’t burned as brightly as you used to, so I’m here if you want to talk about anything. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you in anyway, sir.”

When he didn’t respond, she walked to be in his line of sight. He looked so tired. There were bags under his eyes and a sad frown that looked as if it’s been there forever and would never leave. It broke her heart to see him so depressed. She decided to leave. He probably was being nice by not telling her to get out immediately.

“I hope your day gets better, sir...”

Ivy only took a single step before she was stopped, her small wrist in his large hand. When she looked at him, there were streaks of tears on his cheeks.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him and hugged her waist. She could feel him trembling.

“S-She’s gone.... she’s gone.... a-and it’s m-my fault-t.”

Enji’s grip on her tightened and she started to relax. He needed her in that moment and it was necessary that she was there for him.

“It’s going to be okay, sir. It’s going to be alright.”

They talked for a long time. He avoided questions about Rei but she didn’t mind. There were lots of emotions in the room. Maybe it was the sudden opportunity to be vulnerable or how she comes off as a trustworthy person, but he was quick to let her in. He admitted that this was one of the very few times that he made a connection with someone at work. He really appreciated her bravery and that she wanted to actually talk to him.

This was the beginning of their relationship. From coworkers to friends to friends to lovers. Oh how sweet it sounds. Even if it wasn’t always sweet, especially after they were married. So quickly at that. However, it was obvious that they were soulmates. The conflicts weren’t because of her, it was his toxicity. A toxicity that healed when they were together, it heals slowly, but progress is progress.

Now here they were. Enji holding Ivy as her emotions were trying to control themselves. That’s when they got the call from Toshinori. Ivy put her phone on speaker so Enji could hear too.

“We’ve found Shoto and the criminal. We’re bringing your boy home.”

A huge weight felt lifted off of the couple’s shoulders. Enji held onto Ivy as she cried into his chest. Since his hands were preoccupied with holding her, he couldn’t quickly wipe the tears out of his eyes and instead just lowered his face to kiss the top of Ivy’s head.

Shoto was back home within a few hours after an interrogation with the police. The woman had never mentioned anything about what he would be used for, she lured him with the lie that she would take him to see Rei. It made Enji and Ivy furious to find out that someone would make up such a terrible lie to kidnap a child and he vowed to find the rest of the group so they couldn’t hurt anyone else.

After dinner, and putting the kids to bed, Enji received a phone call from a number he didn’t immediately recognize and excused himself to go outside to answer it.

“We need to talk about Natsuo and Fuyumi soon. I believe it’s time that they come home.”

He recognized the voice immediately. Rei’s mother. The current guardian of his other two children.

#todoroki family ties #bnha au #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #endeavor #enji #dabi #touya #shoto #todoroki #endeavor x black!reader #endeavor x reader #enji x black!reader #enji x reader #enji todoroki #touya todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha #mha

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

Note

Could I request bleeding through the bandages for TK??

thank you so much for the prompt jillian! very sorry for the wait.

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: bleeding through the bandages

also my submission for day 5 of @carlosreyesweek : “Just, hold on” + hurt/comfort

prompts are still open! please keep sending them through!

ao3

The call comes at the tail end of Carlos’s shift, and he instantly hates whichever idiot decided to ruin his night by mugging someone. It’s in one of the seedier areas of town and apparently there’s at least one casualty; things always get messy in this particular area, so Carlos just knows he’s going to be pulling overtime tonight.

It’s fucking inconsiderate, really.

He and his partner share a look as they pull up, the crowd surrounding the victim visible even in the dark. Medical hasn't arrived yet, so it’s up to them to deal with both the mugger and the injury. Which - just great.

Carlos sighs and gets out, trepidation growing as they get closer. He keeps his hand on his holster but doesn’t draw his gun; people down here don’t tend to be too friendly to cops and he doesn’t want to provoke them any more. To his left, Rachel is doing the same, the corners of her mouth pinched tight.

A woman runs up to them, phone in hand and eyes wide with shock. The witness, Carlos presumes.

“Officers, thank you for getting here so quickly; oh, it’s just awful, isn’t it, I still can’t really understand it -”

“Ma’am.” Carlos holds up a calming hand and she stops mid-rant, breathing hard. He signals to his partner to check on the victim before turning back to the witness. “Let’s all keep calm, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, Caroline, can you tell me what happened?”

Caroline’s lips tremble, and for a second Carlos worries she’s going to launch into another incomprehensible stream of words. But she appears to steel herself, taking a deep breath before nodding. “That poor man was just running when someone came up to him - and normally I don’t pay attention to these things, Officer, but there was something not right about the other man. Anyway, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look too friendly and then, oh it was terrible, he - that poor man over there - moved and the other one just - stabbed him!”

Carlos pushes away a grimace, trying for a reassuring smile. “Could you see what the attacker looked like?”

“No, it was too dark, you see. But he did run off that way” - she points to Carlos’s right - “into those trees over there.”

“Thank you, that’s really helpful.” Carlos relays the information through his radio, then goes to meet Rachel. As long as medical isn’t here, they’re going to have to stay and make sure the victim lives long enough to make it to hospital.

There’s a gap in the crowd, and through it Carlos can see Rachel bent over a body on the ground. She spots him before he gets to her and immediately her face drops, eyes darting between him and the victim.

“Carlos, don’t come any closer!” she calls.

Carlos stops, frowning. “What?”

Rachel looks close to tears, though she’s clearly trying to maintain an air of professionalism for the onlookers. “Just… Please, Carlos.”

And there’s something in the way she’s looking at him - at the victim - that sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes. “No,” he whispers, breaking into a run, because it can’t be him, there’s no way the universe could be this cruel, surely -

Except it is. Carlos drops to his knees beside TK and he forgets all about being professional, his one hand reaching up to cup TK’s face while the other presses against his wound, blood already soaking through the makeshift bandages.

Distantly, he hears Rachel begin to manage the crowd, who have suddenly become very interested to know why a police officer is crying over a random jogger. He pays them no mind, though, attention wholly fixed on TK.

“TK,” he says, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “TK, can you hear me?”

TK breathes sluggishly, his gaze barely meeting Carlos’s before drifting away again. “Carlos,” he breathes. “‘M tired.”

“Hey, no, don’t you dare.” Carlos panics as TK’s eyes begin to slide closed, pressing down harder on his wound. It elicits a gasp from TK which Carlos feels guilty about, but only just - at least he’s still awake. He can hear sirens in the distance, and he prays that they’re the medical team.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Carlos murmurs. “Once they’ve fixed you up, you’re never getting out of the doghouse for the rest of your life.”

TK almost smiles at that. “If I remember,” he slurs, “that was about getting shot. You d-didn’t say anything ‘bout stabbing.”

“It was implied.”

The medical team finally gets to them and Carlos shifts to make room, though he keeps running his fingers through TK’s hair. One of the paramedics looks like they’re about to tell him to move, but one look at his face must make them reconsider. He keeps talking to TK, desperately trying to keep him awake, but Carlos can see the blood staining his hands and TK’s shirt and the grass and even the fresh bandages the paramedics have put on and -

And, it’s not enough. TK’s eyes slip closed.

“We have to transfer him now,” one of the paramedics says. Then, looking up at Carlos. “Officer, we’re going to have to ask you to move.”

Carlos stares. The paramedic sighs and is about to repeat herself when a hand grips Carlos’s arm. He turns to see Rachel watching him, an unbearably sympathetic look on her face.

“Come on, Carlos,” she says quietly. “He’s in good hands.”

“I can’t -” He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to stay put, but he knows that every second he delays increases the chance of TK not making it out of this. He presses a kiss to TK’s forehead. “Hold on for me, love,” he murmurs, then allows Rachel to pull him up, using her as a means of staying upright.

He clambers into the ambulance with TK, Rachel telling him it’s all cleared with the sergeant, and stares into his pale face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up again.

“Hold on.”

Hours later, he’s still in his uniform, having rebuffed all attempts to make him go home. The most he agreed to was washing the blood off his hands, but even then the fear was still present.

Fear that TK would wake up without him, yes, but most off all, fear that he would die, and Carlos wouldn’t have been there.

The 126 have been coming and going, the only constant besides Carlos, Owen. He’s sitting on TK’s other side, the harsh hospital lighting throwing his face into sharp relief. He looks old - older than Carlos has ever seen him, except for perhaps the last time they were in this situation.

Carlos refuses to think about that time. It had taken days for TK to wake up then; Carlos isn’t sure he could handle that this time.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. All he knows is that he hasn’t slept, and TK hasn’t woken up. Owen’s drifted off a couple of times, every time startling awake only to look even sadder when he realises TK’s still asleep.

But, eventually, when even Carlos can feel sleep pulling at him, TK twitches. Carlos blinks, half-certain he imagined it, but, no, Owen’s alert too, both of them rising from their seats.

“TK?” Carlos says, daring to let a little hope into his voice.

There’s an agonising silence which feels like it lasts minutes, and then TK moves again, his eyes slowly blinking open. Carlos sags in relief, sitting down heavily in the chair.

“Oh, god,” he chokes out, grabbing TK’s hand and kissing his knuckles. TK’s gaze slowly focuses on Carlos’s face and a smile creeps onto his face.

“Thought I was in the doghouse,” he manages, his voice weak but still, somehow, teasing.

Carlos laughs wetly. “It’s under review,” he responds, but they both know it’s an empty threat.

Carlos is never letting TK out of his sight again.

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calitraditionalism · 3 years ago

Text

Arc Three: Chapter Nine

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“Fernstar?”

The little leader blinked hard, trying to get the blur of sleepiness out of her eyes, and looked up at Viceroyclaw.

“We ought to rest a bit,” she murmured, her wide head close to Fernstar’s to keep their conversation private. “It’s been daylight for a while now, and…”

“I know.” Fernstar sighed and looked behind her. Her collective of Fleet cats, from the powerful patrollers to the scrawny scouts, were boldly following after her, but she could see that they were just as exhausted as she was.

As clearly as her tiredness would allow, she announced, “We’ll stop for a few hours. Let’s get as much sleep as we can before we continue. The trail is still fresh.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Fernstar stopped a few steps away, where a smooth stone allowed her to climb onto it as a perch. She nodded to everyone, and they all barely took more than a step before curling up where they were, eyes shutting at a record pace. Even Fogpetal only did a quick scan of their surroundings before lying down herself. Viceroyclaw jumped onto the stone with Fernstar, lying close enough that their fur brushed. Fernstar didn’t even acknowledge her guard – drowsiness muffled her thoughts, and she swiftly fell asleep.

When she awoke again, she felt much more alert, but she frowned. Something had scratched at the back of her mind in her sleep, just beyond her hearing, and she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Boarpaw was walking past her and paused to rear up a little and meet her at eye level. “You had a bad dream or somethin’?”

Fernstar squinted, focusing, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. Where’s Viceroyclaw?”

“She went huntin’ with Glorypelt and Newtbite. Said they’d be back soon.”

“Good.” Fernstar glanced sideways. The rest of the Fleet were still asleep in the midday sun, which she could see was slowly drying the dew and mud. The warmth sank through her fur and eradicated the last of her shivers. She stretched and yawned. “If you’re tired, you can keep sleeping.”

“Oh, no, ma’am, I’m fine,” Boarpaw said quickly, standing tall. “I was keepin’ watch, ‘case someone came up on us.”

Fernstar gave him a patiently amused smile. “We’re the ones ‘coming up’ on someone.”

Boarpaw looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet, voice quieter. “Well, just bein’ sure.”

“Rest a little more, Boarpaw,” Fernstar ordered in about as gentle of a voice as she could. “We’ll be fine.”

Boarpaw shuffled again, opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then nodded sheepishly and walked away, lying down with his fellow Fleet members. Fernstar restrained a chuckle when she heard him start snoring mere moments later.

The wind picked up a little, parting Fernstar’s fur and sending ripples through the grass in the flatland they were resting in. Fernstar watched the shimmering waves, contemplating whether to sleep again herself or to wait for the hunting patrol to return.

Entirely too soon, her thoughts turned to the current mission, and that disappointed hurt clutched at her heart again. Memories of Redheart as an apprentice directing adults in hunts or solving disputes for her juniors almost made Fernstar’s smile return. When Redheart’s mother had died, she’d gone through a change in activity. Not that she hadn’t been a hard worker before, but suddenly she was foregoing sleep to handle problems and somehow transforming the rowdy Clast cats into a respectable family – or about as respectful as they could get while still getting to wrestle for fun. Fernstar hadn’t waited more than a month or two after her naming ceremony before appointing her as the new deputy, and no one had been surprised. There had, of course, been arguments that Redheart was too young, but anyone who’d known her for even a week knew that she was the best choice. Everyone expected her to become leader one day. So had Fernstar.

So what changed?

Try as she might, Fernstar couldn’t figure it out. Going from being a loyal member of the Clan, working up the ranks to eventual leadership, to recruiting cats to leave the Territory with no end goal stated… there wasn’t a connection that she could think of. Redheart had always been sensible and collected, and she had always made it known that she believed in building a better future for the next generation. Abandoning the safest place in the known world (small as the world was) with expecting queens and apprentices in tow was the complete opposite. It just didn’t make sense.

What also didn’t make sense was the sudden turning of the spies. Mistface, at least, Fernstar could understand. He and Greyleaf were in a very tightly bonded family – Mistface had only been recruited because he was the one cat Greyleaf would trust above anyone else, except perhaps their mother. But the others had no reason to ditch their post and follow Redheart wherever she had gone. Laurelclaw was a very meek, peaceful boy, and Beetlefoot was dedicated to his role as a member of the Fleet. Neither of them seemed like the types to run off.

The really odd one was Darkpelt. Fernstar was very familiar with the spy. She was crafty and practical, and took great pleasure in her work. She had been used by the leaders plenty of times, dropping by to give them reports of troublemakers or ambitious deputies to watch out for. Any cat that hired her to find out information would find their time well spent and the price of prey and herbs easy to hand over. She barely ever demanded payment anyway; she just loved being a secret pair of ears.

This sort of cat did not seem to be the sort to foolishly walk off after a wanted molly. Someone in Clast had recalled overhearing her mention that she ‘had a job to do’, but as far as Fernstar was concerned, her mission was completed. All she needed to do was give her report and then wait for the investigation to be done, potentially followed by a trial (which was now almost certain, as much as Fernstar hated to admit it). Darkpelt had never lingered on spying before. She’d release her information to the leaders and leave it at that until she was called back.

What had Redheart said or done that was so compelling that this particular spy wanted to follow her? Was there something she hadn’t told the others, or the leaders?

“Fernstar.”

Fernstar flinched out of her contemplation. Viceroyclaw had managed to get almost in her face without her noticing, front paws on the stone she rested on, a ground squirrel in her jaws.

“I brought you something,” Viceroyclaw mumbled around the prey.

“Oh-“ Fernstar sat up. “Thank you. Did you catch something for yourself?”

Viceroyclaw nodded at something on the ground. She placed the squirrel at Fernstar’s feet before ducking down and retrieving a much smaller mouse.

Fernstar managed to not snort. “I think this squirrel would be better suited for you.”

Viceroyclaw blinked, confused, before glancing down at the squirrel which was a third of Fernstar’s size and murmuring, “Ohhh…” She replaced the squirrel with the mouse and climbed onto the stone, sitting across from her leader and tucking in quietly.

The two ate for a bit, Fernstar observing the other two hunters waking up their friends with lunch. She waited until she had finished her meal and Viceroyclaw was slowing down on hers before speaking.

“I just can’t understand,” she said. “This whole situation is so bizarre.”

Viceroyclaw hummed and looked up with her eyes, an indication that she was listening as she continued chewing.

“It seems to have come out of nowhere,” Fernstar went on, half to herself. “Redheart isn’t like this. And Darkpelt and her team leaving with her…” She looked at her high deputy. “Do you have any ideas why this is happening?”

Viceroyclaw chomped once, twice, swallowed, and cleared her throat. “No. But I don’t really think it matters, the ‘why’. She and Greyleaf did what they did. They should be punished for it.”

Fernstar’s face must have fallen, because Viceroyclaw hurried to add, “Or at least handled. Whatever you and the others decide to do.”

“Right,” Fernstar muttered. She looked back at the Fleet cats, who were all chatting while they ate. They were all so tightly bonded together – some would argue for them being even closer than any of the regular families’ members. She had no doubt that if one of them were in Redheart’s position, at least a few of these cats would follow them into the night. They were loyal that way.

But as far as Fernstar knew, there was no loyalty to anyone in the runaway group except Mistface to Greyleaf, and Greyleaf to him and Redheart. The apprentice, Littlepaw, was supposedly followed by her pseudo-mentor, so there was a connection there, but they didn’t have anything to do with any part of this. What part of a former seer’s dreams encouraged her to just walk off after an almost-certain-to-be criminal? Wouldn’t StarClan have told her to stay away from Redheart, if they still spoke with her?

Would they find other cats? Would they attempt to recruit evacuees again? Who would go with them anywhere?

A light flickered in Fernstar’s head.

She could think of at least one cat. Perhaps one that they were already on the way to collecting.

“Fogpetal!” she called.

The Fleet deputy raised her head up from the remains of her vole and stood up, excusing herself from the conversation she was in. She trotted up to the rock and silently stood at attention.

“Do you know if the Vultures have moved from their position?” Fernstar asked.

Fogpetal shook her head. “They should still be there. They have kits to raise, from what I heard.”

“Good.” Fernstar was surprised by her own sigh of relief. “Then I want two of these cats to make their way over to their camp and guard Greyleaf’s mother. Her name is Nettlecloud – she’s a grey, elderly molly.”

“Oh.” Fogpetal’s eyes widened in realization. “I see. I can have them collect more guards on the way there, if you’d like.”

“That would be good,” Fernstar said. “Send whoever you think is appropriate. Whoever can at least hold back a healer and his Scattered brother.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Fogpetal said, joking.

Fernstar narrowed her eyes. “We may be surprised.”

Fogpetal immediately went serious again, dipped her head in respect, and returned to her party. Fernstar heard her speaking to them and giving orders. In a moment, a grey-brown tom named Thrashercloud and the tortoiseshell Newtbite set off at a loping canter, calling their 'goodbye's and 'good luck's to the others. Fernstar could respect that they didn’t waste any time.

Fogpetal looked back at Fernstar. “Shall we keep moving?”

“Yes.” Fernstar got up. “Before this trail dries up. Everyone ready?”

The Fleet cats immediately followed after their deputy, all confirming that they were good to go. Fernstar didn’t waste any time either – she jumped off of the stone, Viceroyclaw right next to her, and looked at an approaching Boarpaw.

“Can you track a scent?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!” Boarpaw brightened up, looking much more awake. “Me and my mentor, we can do it.”

“Then the two of you will run south, ahead of us, and make sure the trail doesn’t turn anywhere.”

“Right away.” Boarpaw immediately took off at a run, his pale ginger mentor jogging after him with a slightly frazzled smile to Fernstar.

“The rest of you, follow me,” she said to the patrol, and walked forward, ignoring a pang of guilt. “We have hunting to do.”

#warrior cats #steorra #arc three #chapter #chapter nine #fernstar #viceroyclaw #glorypelt #newtbite #fogpetal #boarpaw

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captainscanadian · 4 years ago

Text

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 4)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Your high school reunion forces you to relive the trauma of your senior year.

Word Count: 4100+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader

Warnings: HELLA ANGST, Heartbreak, Bullying, Insecurity, Anxiety, Alcohol

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

Perhaps having a Hollywood stylist on speed dial did have its perks, for the woman who had styled you for your multiple red carpet premieres was more than happy to assist you in deciding what to wear for your high school reunion.

Natasha Romanoff had advised you that a pair of blue jeans and a comfortable sweater could really go a long way, and you took her word for it. “Did you bring your boots with you?” She asked you as you were on Facetime.

Rosie had informed you that the dress code was casual, so you need not to worry about having to borrow Nick’s truck in order to drive all the way to Indianapolis and hunt down a designer dress.

But that did not mean you were keeping it simple with your outfit for the night; you wanted to make an impression, and maybe even rub it in a few of the faces that you were going to be coming across. This was your moment now.

“You mean my black thigh-highs?” You asked her as your lips curled into a smirk, and you reached down to grab them and held them up for the camera. “Did you really think I’d leave them behind in LA when you said that I fucking sass walk when I’m wearing these?”

“That’s my girl!” She exclaimed, looking proud as ever. “Add a leather jacket over that and you’re good to go. Keep the hair and make up simple. You’re going to be getting shit-faced anyways. No need to look too pretty.”

You gave her a nod as you chuckled softly. “You cool with me adding a Gucci belt with that? I’d like to show these fuckers that I can actually afford one.”

“Fuck, yes!” She gave you a thumbs up. “You’re going to sass walk in there, look like a million bucks and you’re going to fucking own it, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You were certainly glad that you had a stylist who was also the best hype woman you could have ever asked for. “I’m going to fucking own it.”

“So, now that it’s your ten year reunion… are you and Mr. Hollywood Reporter finally going to get it on?” Natasha asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “I know I’m totally assuming that he’s going to be there, but you did go to high school together. Maybe revisiting some old memories can light some kind of spark between the two of you? He seems like a good catch, Y/N.”

“What?” You shook your head. “No… I mean, yes. He’s going to be there. But no, we’re not ‘getting it on’ or however else you say it.”

“Why not?!”

“Because…” You let out a sigh. “Pietro is my friend.”

Falling in love with one of your best friends had been hard enough. You could not afford to lose another friendship the same way.

Out of all places that your ten year reunion could have taken place, it had to be at The Country Club of Indianapolis; you did not know if you should praise Rosie Bender for securing such a venue for the event, or curse her for somehow convincing you to come here. Not that you had ever been to that country club when you had been a resident of Indiana, but it was safe to say that the place did bring back some horrible memories.

The words ‘Connie Chapman would be there’ made so much more sense to you now, as you were well aware that the country club was owned by her father. Boy, you could never come to terms with how much you loathed Connie as a kid. Her mere existence drove you up the wall.

Ever since you were in elementary school, it seemed as though the two of were forced to compete with each other. From the good grades to the friendships you made; she had everything you wanted. She had a father who had raised her like a fucking princess, while yours had walked out when you were just a toddler. Her birthday parties would always take place at her family’s mansion in Shelbyville, and sometimes at the country club too. You were never invited to any one of them though, not that you ever wanted to.

She was the teacher’s pet, which was most likely a result of her father’s rather heavy donation to the school. No matter how hard you studied, grinding through every assignment by pouring your blood, sweat and tears into them, she just happened to get a better grade than you did. It was frustrating to know that no matter how hard you tried, she just happened to be five steps ahead of you. She was oozing with privilege, and that made you feel quite bitter.

During high school, she was the captain of the cheer leading team. While she was not the nicest person you’d known back then, it did not matter at all when she looked like some Victoria’s Secret model - when Victoria’s Secret was still relevant. It seemed as though she had somehow skipped the awkward stages of puberty and became attractive without ever paying the price for it; or maybe she did pay a price. You could never tell for sure. Every boy in school would fall at her feet, which was something that certainly boosted that ego of hers. She was the most popular girl in school, and you were a complete nobody. It fucking sucked.

Despite the fact that Connie Chapman had everything you would have wanted in life when you were a teenager, you knew that you had something that she could never have, something that you believed that no one could ever pry out of your hands. Oh how stupid had you been. She had taken him right from your cold dead hands.

As much as you hated to admit it, this was not how you had expected your senior year of high school to be. It seemed as though everything was going to shit this year, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of this shit show that was high school.

The year had gotten off to a not-so-great start with your best friend ditching you to hang out with his new friends from the basketball team. While you had found yourself strolling through the hallways of Shelbyville Senior High School all alone during the lunch hours, your vice principal had forced you to befriend the two new students, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff.

Sure, they were both wonderful to hang out with. But deep down, you just missed Bucky Barnes more than ever. He was your best friend, had been for as long as you could remember. You had no idea why he had stopped hanging out with you since the end of junior year, and you hadn’t even bothered to ask. Things just seemed to be out of your control nowadays, you guessed.

“Y/N!” Wanda had called out to you as she was rushing towards your locker, a panicked expression evident in her eyes as she grabbed your arm rather roughly. “Y/N, you’re not going to believe what just happened.”

You set the algebra textbook that you had been holding in your locker before turning towards her, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder. “Wanda, is everything okay?”

“Bucky knows.” She told you, looking at you with wide eyes as she breathed heavily. “He came over to my lab desk during biology and… he told me that he knows.”

Her words had hit you like a freight train, as you found yourself closing your locker in a hurry when you began to feel your heart beating against your chest. “W-What?” You shook your head. “No, no, no… No, Wanda… no! How could that be? How would he know?”

“He said that he… he knows that you like him, Y/N. He sees the look in your eyes when you speak to him.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe you haven’t been all that subtle with him as you thought you were?”

“Oh shit…”

You did not know what to do, for you had not expected for things to get out of control like they had now. You had not intended for Bucky to find out about how you felt about him, not when he had drifted away from you just months ago.

A part of you could not help but wonder if the reason why he had stopped hanging out with you was because of this revelation. Was he distancing himself because of how you felt about him? Was it because he did not feel the same way? Why had he told Wanda that he knew about it instead of coming straight to you?

So many questions had flooded your mind at that moment, and you could not think straight. It felt as though the whole world was closing in on you, and all you wanted at that moment was to be held in someone’s arms and be told that you were loved. It was a simple wish. To feel loved and to feel like you belonged somewhere was a basic need for a human being. It was not meant to be a luxury, though that was exactly what it seemed to be nowadays.

Your mind was telling you to run, but your feet were planted firmly against the tiled floor of the corridor. While you wondered how you were going to face him, you had felt it in your heart to trust him. He was your best friend; he wasn’t going to hurt you.

All it took was that simple trust. That was all it took to break you.

As you got out of the Porsche that you had rented for the remainder of your stay, you noticed a few familiar faces staring out at you in utter surprise. For starters, the car was bound to stir up some attention. But it was your outfit that was to die for.

Just as Natasha Romanoff had suggested, a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt really did go a long way… along with a few other designer accessories that were worn for the sole purpose of making jaws drop. It was mission accomplished.

Not that you minded being the centre of attention this time, but the thought that the people who had once spoken about you behind your back were now gawking at you with utter jealousy sure boosted that ego of yours. You had certainly earned that luxury. Perhaps coming to this reunion was not a bad thing after all.

“Well, well, well…” Pietro Maximoff was quick to rise from his seat as you approached the table, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t you look like you fucking own this place.”

“As ironic as that seems.” Wanda snorted, considering who actually did own the place. “Who would have known that Y/N Y/L/N still had it in her to cause a scene?”

You rolled your eyes at her words, returning a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “It may have been ten years, but some things never change.” You noted, motioning towards the formerly popular crowd who were now staring at you like they had never seen a successful New York Times best-selling author in their midst. “They always fucking stare.”

“Y/N, you made it!” The familiar voice of Rosie Bender caused you to turn around to greet her. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You smiled at her before you noticed the woman who stood behind her.

Connie Chapman.

“I love you, Bucky.” Those three words had come out of your mouth so naturally, that you did not even beat yourself up for having just confessed your love to him. “I’ve loved you for as I’ve known you.”

A part of you had expected him to say it back in an instant, but you knew better than that. His actions during the last few months had been very clear. But the look on his face was not one of surprise, nor did he show any sign of reciprocation. He had just stood there in silence, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment too long before he nodded. “I knew that.”

“I knew that… you knew that.” You breathed. “Wanda told me that you told her… that you knew…” Your eyes glazed over with every second, for a part of you had worried that he was indeed going to reject you. You knew that you were in for a heartbreak, but you could not handle it either way.

“The thing is… Y/N... I like someone else, doll.”

And... there it was.

“Connie Chapman.” You laughed softly as you looked over at her. “I can’t believe it.” God, the years had been so unkind to her.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N.”

“You too.” You lied straight through your teeth, causing Wanda to snort her drink and choke back her laughter.

Pietro and Rosie looked rather amused by this whole interaction, but you had just shrugged it off when your eyes landed on the man who had just walked in. Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, and a bright yellow leather jacket that seemed to match your black one, you could not deny that he knew how to make an entrance.

The moment he entered the room, Bucky Barnes’ eyes landed right on you. Of course, you were the centre of attention; you should have always been the centre of attention. The way you were dressed in your jeans and your top, not to mention those boots; he could not deny how stunning you looked that night.

Not that he had the courage to tell you that you looked absolutely beautiful, but he knew that he was probably the last person you wanted to hear those words from… for obvious reasons. He had screwed things up when he had the chance, so what even was the point anymore.

“Hey Y/N, did you hear?! Bucky asked Connie to prom!” Brock Rumlow hollered at you in the hallway as you walked past him, causing you to break into tears at the remainder as his minions continued to laugh in your face.

It had been two whole days since you had found out that Connie was the one who Bucky had feelings for. As much as it hurt to find out that you had lost the one thing that you had cherished the most in your life to her of all people, it hurt a lot more that you hadn’t found out from Bucky himself that she was the girl he liked.

Instead, the news of Bucky’s elaborate promposal had spread around the school like wildfire, and Pietro had rushed to inform you after witnessing the gesture that had become the talk of the school. While Connie hadn’t even said yes to him, the fact that he had even asked her to prom was reason enough for people to start picking on you. And in a matter of days, you had become the joke of the school.

But what broke your heart the most was not that Bucky had not reciprocated your feelings for him, nor that he did not have the decency to tell you that Connie Chapman was the girl of his dreams. It was the fact that Bucky had been your best friend since you were in elementary school, and he knew damn well how you felt about Connie. The rivalry that you both shared had not been a secret and Bucky had always known that. Even when he did not love you back, you had expected him to be loyal; and he had done the one thing that he probably knew was bound to cause you the worst pain.

Wanda was quick to wrap her arm around your shoulder and drag you away from Brock and his minions, sensing that you were on the verge of yet another breakdown. Ever since things had taken a turn for the worst, she had been trying her best to keep you calm. She knew that you were a sensitive soul, which was all the more reason for her to want to protect you from your bullies.

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you.”

You should your head as you hugged her tight, sobbing softly against her shoulder. “It’s not them, Wanda. It’s not… It’s him. I loved him, Wanda. I loved him so much and he… what is it about her that made him feel that way? What is it about her that made him… fall for her? What is it that she has that I don’t? Because I thought that he was mine, and now he’s not.”

You had to blame your own insecurities for weighing you down like this. After all, you had always envied what Connie Chapman had; and now she had Bucky’s heart too. That was the worst. But deep down, you kept asking yourself over and over again. What was it about her that made him fall for her? What was it that she had that you didn’t?

After a while, you had realized that you could never figure out the answer to those questions. But you wanted the answers, and you wanted them from him. You had been young, stupid, and hormonal. You had been so entitled to Bucky’s heart that you had been willing to fight him for it.

Perhaps going up to him and asking him, ‘can’t you see how much I love you,’ wasn’t the way to go. Because you did love him so much. How could he not see that?

The fact that she had rejected him to his face, and he was still pining over her while all you had for him was true love. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this? Why do you love someone who doesn’t love you back? Why do you humiliate yourself by pining over someone who could care any less about you?

Oh what a hypocrite you were…

“Seriously, what the fuck is it that she has that I don’t?!”

Everything, you should have known that by then.

“Can’t you see?! Just look at her! SHE’S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!”

And that was it. That was all it took for Bucky Barnes to break your heart at once.

“So, I’m... am I not beautiful?! Is that what you’re saying to me?!”

The whole school had been witness to your screaming match that ended up to be the final tug at your heartstrings.

As you broke down in tears, Wanda Maximoff had dragged you away from him for the last time.

Pietro had glared daggers at him before he followed behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around you to shield you from the nosy crowd that had gathered in the cafeteria.

And that was the last time you had ever dared to look Bucky Barnes in the eyes.

You had barely made it through the first course of the meal when you had lost your appetite. Being at this reunion had certainly stirred up your memories and made you relive the trauma that you had been through in senior year.

You were quick to drop your fork and clutch onto Pietro’s wrist, every breath you took feeling colder than the last as you fought the urge to break down once again, just as you had done ten years ago.

“Piet.”

He turned over to look at you in worry, for he was well aware of how uncomfortable it must have been for you to be surrounded by the people and the memories of your senior year. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, the concern so clear in his voice.

You shook your head, grabbing your glass of wine and chugging it down in one go. But no amount of alcohol could ever let you live down that dreadful day. “Take me home.”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda frowned, seeing that you looked quite distressed.

You looked up at her and shook your head. “I shouldn’t have come here.” You admitted, cursing yourself for thinking that being here could be so much as a means of finding writing inspiration. “I can’t do it.”

Pietro let out a sigh as he nodded understandingly, setting down his fork before wiping off his mouth with his napkin. “How about we head to The Tavern and get shit-faced? Every minute I spend in this place makes me want to throw up, and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”

His sister could not help but nod in agreement. “Honestly, I only came back home because Harry asked me to check in on you. This whole reunion business never interested me.”

“And I came because there’s no way in hell I would let the two of you deal with these people on your own.” He admitted, chuckling softly

“I love you both so fucking much.” You smiled over at the two of them before resting your head against Pietro’s shoulder. “What would I have done without the two of you?”

“Oh you would have been so miserable that senior year.” Wanda joked.

From the corner of his eyes, Bucky was able to see how close you and Pietro had been seated. To say that a part of him was feeling a strong sense of jealousy would be an understatement.

Deep down he knew that it should have been him sitting next to you during your high school reunion, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while you laughed about the memories that were meant to be happy ones.

But instead he had ruined it all by doing what he had done, and now he was forced to watch you from afar with Pietro Maximoff in the place of your best friend.

Bucky never had anything against Pietro, not back then and certainly not now. Back when the Maximoff twins were just the new kids on the block, he could have cared less about them.

He and Brock were tight then, so he hadn’t bothered befriending the oldest Maximoff. He had seen you and Wanda hanging around at lunch, but he never would have thought that you had become close friends. That place had always been reserved for him, and you never opened up to anyone else.

Even when he had distanced himself from you, he had felt possessive over you. But now he knew that it was his actions and the twins’ kindness to let you lean on them at that time that led to him sitting at this reunion in jealousy, while the three of you dined together.

“You know, it’s not that polite to stare.” Rosie Bender remarked cheekily as she nudged her girlfriend’s brother. “And it seems to me that you haven’t even bothered to take your eyes off of her ever since you got here.”

“She looks beautiful.” He noted, finally turning over to look over at his friend. “So… radiant. She could always light up the room she walks into.”

“Oh please, you’re the guy who told her otherwise.” She snickered.

Bucky could not help but roll his eyes at the reminder. “You know it should have been me sitting next to her like that, not him.”

“It could have been you, sure. But you managed to ruin that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“Do you think she would ever forgive me for what I did, Bender?” He asked, a little unsure himself. “Would she ever love me the same way?”

“How would I know?” She shrugged. “Truth be told, I hope she won’t. No offence, but… as someone who watched all of your drama for the sidelines, I’ve always felt that she deserves better than the guy who took her for granted and treated her like shit.”

“I never realized how much you hate the idea of seeing us together.” He raised his eyebrow at her.

Rosie was quick to shake her head at his assumption. “That’s not true.” She admitted, sighing. “You know, when I sold you those prom tickets, I seriously thought that you were buying them for her. All of us in the Prom Committee, we all knew that she had a thing for you. We were rooting for the two of you to finally get together and ride off into the sunset.”

Not that she would ever admit it to Bucky, but she had always regretted the part she had to play in your fallout. Even though she hadn’t intended for things to escalate the way they had, she often wondered if things would have been different if she hadn’t sold Bucky those prom tickets. But she knew that if she hadn’t done that, then someone else would have. In the end, it was Bucky’s fault that he had ruined things with you.

“Wow, I guess I was an idiot.”

“That you are.” She agreed, laughing softly before shaking her head. “Bucky, I know that she’s much better off without you. She’s built herself a whole life after she left town and she doesn’t need you in her life anymore. But I’ve had to watch you be miserable ever since she left.”

He wasn’t even going to deny that, for even he knew that losing you had been the worst thing that had happened to him. Not even being rejected by Connie Chapman could ever compare to the pain that he had caused himself. “Rosie, I...”

“Admit it, you’ve always felt like something was missing in your life, and it’s her. She may not need you, but you need her.You fucked up, and I know that you’ve realized your mistakes now. You could either keep sitting here and look stupid, or you could finally do things right. It’s your call, Barnes.”

#kas4kwc #aj writes #hope #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #doctor!Bucky #doctor au

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cakers-2000 · 4 years ago

Note

Ur blog is amazinggggg. I love the way you write💕💕 Can I have Kokichi x Princess s/o?

Thank you so much I’m glad you like my blog and my writing!!!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted like a Princess Ultimate Student type of thing or a regular Princess so I went with the first idea that came to my head!

I hope you enjoy it

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~The Thief’s Deal (Kokichi Oma X Princess S/O)~

Word count: 1.6k

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Kokichi had always been known as nothing more than a shadow. A husk of his former self. He had been reborn into that of a phantom of the night. Stealing hearts and treasures all while evading the police effortlessly. He was, in layman's terms, a phantom thief.

You had heard his name, well the name ‘Phantom Thief’ countless times. Your father had been trying for months to catch him but to no avail he always seemed to slip through your fathers grasp.

As time grew on the King became angry and you were left to pick up the pieces.

You couldn’t hate him, he was under tremendous stress but you could hate that damned Phantom Thief for the hardships he was putting your family through. But you couldn’t hate this almost invisible Phantom Thief. He was stealing from the rich to give to the poor. You agreed with everything that he stood for. You were torn, but you had to find a way to lessen your fathers stress and get your family back to normal. It was your duty as his daughter... right?

As the Princess you had very little control of the country, but you did have a few assets you could take advantage of.

“Um Miss (Y/L/N), I’m not sure your father would agree with you poking through his study like this. This is all highly confidential material and-”

“Then I’ll be sure to take extra care of it.”

You reached for the pink tote bag resting against your side and gently placed the small notebook on the bottom.

“Y-You intend to take it out of the study?? But Miss (Y/L/N) if this information falls into the wrong hands it’ll be disastrous for your father and the country as a whole!”

“Jane nothing will happen to the book, I promise.”

The maid standing beside you had been arguing against your words for the past hour and a half as you scoured the study for the information you had been looking for. She still didn’t seem convinced but you had found what you were looking for. You were on the hunt and nothing would stop you now.

“Miss-”

“Have Mr. Beckman grab the carriage would you?”

She no longer argued with you and instead bowed in your direction. “Yes ma’am.” And with that was out the door, her black dress billowing behind her in the wind.

And you were finally left alone. You trudged your way back to your room, recalling the way through the maze of hallways you called home.

When you arrived in your extravagantly decorated bedroom you made a beeline straight towards your closet. You didn’t exactly hate wearing the dresses the maids left out for you but you sure as hell weren’t going to explore the town in a dress. You wanted to blend in as much as you could.

Though it was difficult to find anything but dresses in your massive closet. Your parents had always been sticklers for rules and old traditions. You manage to find a purple skirt and a black blouse. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it was better than walking around in a dress.

There was a soft knock on your door as you finished throwing on a plain black sweater and adjusting the shoulders. “Come on in.”

You could spot Jane out of the corner of your eye and smiled warmly at her. “The carriage is ready Miss.”

“Thank you Jane.”

“Shall I escort you?”

You were quick to throw your hair up in a rather messy ponytail before beaming a bright smile her way. “Of course.”

A faint smile pulled onto her lips and you followed her out the door, holding idle conversation with her as you walked through the rather silent halls. That was okay though, Jane was like a mother to you she had been around a lot more than your biological mother. For all you were concerned she was your mother.

~~~~~~~

As you sat yourself into the rather large carriage you slipped your hand in your bag, dragging out the book you had grabbed from the study.

The castle behind you was but a distant memory as you slipped away into the reading in front of you.

“Stop right here Oliver.”

The carriage came to a stop almost the second you uttered your sentence. The night was young but the streets were still empty and desolate. The road you sat on was a one way and to your right was a small general store while to your left was a rather dark alleyway.

This was it.

Oliver came around the side and the door opened for you. He attempted to grab your hand and help you out but you were quick to deny his help all while maintaining a sweet smile. “I’m okay thank you.”

You started down the alleyway and you heard his feet follow after. “Please stay here Oliver I’ll only be a second.”

He seemed hesitant to let you go by yourself but knew arguing against you would do nothing.

You let out a shaky sigh before steeling your nerves and walking into the alley.

It was silent. Too silent.

The sound of gravel being kicked came from behind you. You felt your body flinch out of fear and turned to look. But there was no one.

And then the sound came from in front of you. It was a loud thump followed quickly by a swishing sound, like a blanket being unraveled against the wind. Another jump escaped you and you turned around to see what it was.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. You couldn’t exactly see what it was, it was far too dark. The only thing you could make out was its outline, it appeared to be a person. You both stood in stunned silence. You couldn’t say a word and they were doing nothing but staring, occasionally you could see their head tilt to the side like a confused puppy.

Eventually they took slow steps forward until the dim light showed you their face.

It was a boy. With purple hair. Dressed head to toe in a lavish white suit and a white cape flowing beautifully around his body.

And you knew exactly who it was. The Phantom Thief.

“Hello your highness.”

He placed his face only inches from your own, a sly smile curling onto the corner of his lips.

“Y-You’re-”

His hand reached out for your own before he slightly bowed in your direction. “Kokichi Oma. What brings you all the way down here Princess?”

You were quick to pull your hand away from him, trying to hold your tough demeanor. “Kokichi Oma there’s a warrant out for your arrest.” You pointed in his direction, a harsh look in your eyes. “I’m here to turn you in.”

He was silent for a few seconds. You watched his eyes blink and his face contort in clear confusion and surprise. And then he burst out into laughter.

“W-Why are you laughing? You face multiple charges, your life is in serious danger! All of your crimes are cause for public execution!”

He tried to stifle his laughter before straightening his posture and smiling sweetly at you. “You won’t turn me in.”

“What?”

“I can tell just by your face. You don’t want to.”

“I-”

“But why is that?” He slunk his way behind you and rested his hands gently on your shoulder. You could feel his breath on your ear and you shivered at the feeling. “Do you agree with what I’m doing? I’m only stealing what’s rightfully ours.” He moved back in front of you and trailed his finger along your jaw, all the way to the tip of your chin. “I take from the rich and give to the poor. Is that so wrong?” His hand trailed down to the collar of your shirt and you let out a small ‘eep’ sound as he pulled you forward, your chest pressing against his. Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire and you heard a small chuckle escape his throat. “But you wouldn’t really understand that, would you Princess?”

“B-But I do…”

Your words seemed to take him aback but he continued to smile nonetheless. He let out a satisfied hum, sounding almost like a purr and moved to caress your cheek. “Do you now… Perhaps then you’d be interested in a little… deal?”

You tried to pull yourself together, refusing to be putty in his hands. You pulled away from his grasp and crossed your arms, a harsh tone in your voice. You couldn’t fall for his tricks so easily like that!

“What kind of deal?”

“Well, my job is getting a little harder. I’m a household name now, the rich are worried they’re going to be hit next. They’re on guard. But you,” His finger once again fell to your chin and a smirk fell to his lips. “Can be my woman on the inside.”

“I don’t know… They’d figure it out pretty quickly wouldn’t they?”

“Not if you’re careful.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply to his offer. There was the sound of feet approaching and you heard a sweet voice follow behind it. “Miss (Y/L/N) are you alright?”

It was Oliver. You hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by. Kokichi lifted his head at the sound and smiled sweetly at you. “Think about it. Come here tomorrow.” And with that he leaned in and pressed a soft and gentle kiss on your cheek. Oh god your cheeks must have been tomato red. You could hear him quietly chuckling at you as he pulled away. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that he was gone. He moved like a shadow. You hadn’t even seen him leave.

But you didn’t worry. You knew this wasn’t the last time you would ever see the Phantom Thief Kokichi Oma.

#kokichi oma #kokichi #danganronpa kokichi #kokichi x reader #kokichi scenario #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa scenarios

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leavaloo · 4 years ago

Text

Patience, Almyran Rose

Uuuh so I got a little carried away with this one. It’s really long!

Claude Von Riegan x f!Reader

Tw blood, tw death, tw slight gore, angst to fluff!

Listen man fantasy worlds are rough on the whole not-being-dead thing.

Claude could feel himself slipping away. Maybe it was his arrogance. Maybe it was his drive. Or maybe it was the massive gash in his stomach. Whatever drove him to this point, it had been worth it. He could feel his body growing cold, the intense pain turning his body numb. The sky... was it always this bright? When was the last time he actually took the time to look up? Look up from his paper work, his bow, his allies, his port, his life? When was the last time he saw you smile?

In those moments, against the caked, dried blood, his lips turned up. Sure it had been a long journey. Was it filled with turmoil and strife? Yeah. Were there a lot of tears? Oh hell yeah. Would he change it for the world? Never. He could hear voices around him. Was there someone nearby? He couldn’t tell, because his vision was so blurry that he could only see the blue of the sky. Then it was covered by a figure. Who were they? Another joined. A bright light filled his vision. A spell?

He could feel his body being picked up, but just barely. Just enough for him to recognize that he was being moved, but numb enough to feel like he was still floating. Someone was grabbing his hand, and he did all he could to grab back. He prayed to whatever goddess might be out there that it was you. He moved a finger. That’s all he had in him.

The main thing he wished he was able to do was to confess. To tell you how he felt, how he loved you, and how you only knew a false version of him. This mask he had on was to keep him alive, sure, but it was painful. Plus, he had a duty. There was a war, and he was intending on staying alive. Well, that plan seemed to have certainly fall through, huh?

Claude remembered the blackness as he drifted away. He remembered thinking that, if he were dead, that this was a really boring afterlife. Just endless space of black, nothing like the glorified heaven that he was supposed to go to. Or maybe he wasn’t? He certainly hadn’t been any sort of saint in his life, just an imposter of questionable intent.

As he stared on, he thought he saw something. A light. Was this really the light at the end of the tunnel that everyone blabbered on about? He started to walk. But that walking lasted for so, so very long. So he had time to think. What had he accomplished by getting killed? He left a lot of people hanging, that’s for sure. A lot of debts to be owed, he really didn’t want to think about those. People who he dared called friends, they would miss him, right? And then there’s you.

You, who had been his only sanity since you joined the Golden Deer class. You, who was the only one to actually make him smile. Or laugh. Or cry. Not in front of you, of course, but... from a distance. Your antics would make him chuckle, and when you were being flirted with, he would silently cry to himself late at night. Not loud enough for anyone to hear. Just.. enough to get the frustrations out.

Suddenly, the light was a lot closer than he thought, and he looked up to see himself walking into it. And then, his entire body was in pain. Vision was blurry, but he could make out a brown ceiling. He blinked, having it come into focus. He knew that ceiling. All the times he had been sent to the infirmary for doing something stupid, like hanging upside down on a rafter.

A pained groan left his body. He heard some shuffling as a result of it, and in a couple of seconds, Professor Manuella was over him. She gave a big sigh, holding her hand to her chest.

“Claude... You worried us, you know!”

“Man...uella?”

“Yes, it’s me, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“I’m... in pain.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure you are. We almost lost you back there.”

“Where... is she?”

A look of recognition passed over her face. Strangely enough, out of all the people that he knew, Manuella seemed to be the only one privy to his attraction for you. “She’s resting. She was also injured, but she’ll be okay.”

Claude sighed, the action of relief bringing enough pain to make him cough. That caused Manuella to stand up and start concocting some sort of medicine. It was certainly not going to taste good, he knew that much, but he hoped that the pain relief coming with it would help with both the throbbing aching in his side and the intense anxiety he just got.

You were injured? How badly? Apprently bad enough for you to be bed ridden. This anxiety never stopped, not once, throughout the next couple of weeks that he himself was bedridden. His condition slowly improved, between the healing spells of Marianne and Manuella. But they had to be metered out between the two of you. He had eventually been told that you had been speared through the back, and barely made it yourself. It was difficult to get the two of you back into the land of the living.

Claude found himself praying. Praying that you would be okay. Your condition was unstable, while he was the one improving steadily. He had been informed that they had, indeed, won their side of the war, but he didn’t want to be in this world if you weren’t in it, too. It was when he was able to walk that he was escorted to your room by Manuella.

“Now, Claude,” she said softly just before they had made it to your room. “She’s fragile right now. Be careful where you touch her, she can’t move very much right now.”

“I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Sheesh, it’s like you don’t trust me with her or something.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You know, she asked about you a lot, too.”

Claude’s smartass demeanor faded for a second. “...Really?”

“Mhm, she wasn’t concerned with her health. She was concerned with yours. She’s not just fragile physically. She’s emotionally fragile. Be gentle.”

Claude swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Manuella smiled. “Go on then. She’s been patiently waiting to see you.”

Claude took a deep breath, approaching your door. It felt almost like he was breaking in, but he pushed past the rising fear in his chest and slowly pushed open the door. The room was most of what he expected of you. There was a little teddy bear in the corner, a bunch of books on the windowsill, clothes strewn about everywhere, a sword in the other corner, and a rose beside the books. Though, it was a different rose than he was expecting. Thorns along its rough, yellow stem, and orange petals instead of the typical red.

“Claude...?”

A weak voice reached his ears, and his eyes trained themselves to your broken form upon the bed. You looked just about as bad as you sounded; a white robe, disheveled hair, tired eyes with bags underneath them, and several rags with blood on them next to a bucket on the floor. But there you were, a smile on your face and a look of joy to greet him. He couldn’t lie, his heart beat out of his chest a little at that sight.

“Hello darling. Heard you nearly died?”

He closed the door and walked over to your bed, careful not to step on the clothes and the rags. The bed creaked in protest as he sat down next to you. He wondered how many people had been in this exact position since you’ve been here. Almost immediately, you hand reached for something of his, anything. He bit his tongue, fighting the urge to hold it in his. Instead, it clasped onto his arm. It was weak and shaky, but you were here. You were alive.

“Yeah, though I think I’m starting to get better.” Your voice was raspy, like it hurt to talk, but that never impeded your smile. “How are you fairing?”

“A lot better now, but I wanna hear about you! How’s the wound holding up?”

“I... was pierced through, so it’s been a hard recovery. If it weren’t for those healing spells...”

Your voice trailed off and your eyes darted to the side. You would have died. They put just as much effort into you as they did him. He couldn’t help it anymore. He placed his hand on yours. Your eyes darted back up to him, only to see his sad smile.

“I’ll be okay, Claude, I swear.” There was that grin again, always in the face of any danger or pain.

“Khalid.”

“What?”

“My real name. Khalid.”

Manuella probably knew just as well as he did how fragile the both of them were feeling. Seeing you like this, on your last strand of life, smiling at him like nothing had happened? He couldn’t handle it anymore. The mask was coming off now.

“Khalid...?” you got out. Oh it was so nice to hear it in your voice. A foreign word at this point, but in your voice, it came to life again. “That’s an Almyran name, right?”

“As Alymran as it gets!” His voice started to waver as the tears fell. “And you know what? I’ve almost died because of that heritage! Half Fodlan, half Almyran. This lie I’ve been living? I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of it. And I’m tired of lying to you.”

“To... me?”

“Yes. To you. You, who have risked yourself so many times for me, in exchange for nothing. You who have brought me the brightest days and the saddest moments. You who taught me emotion again, taught me longing and drive.” He held your hand to his chest, where his heart beat, and held it in both hands. “You’re smiling at me like it’s the good old days, like you just fell in the yard. But you’re on death’s door! And you smile! I don’t care if you--you hate me, or what I’ve done. I love you with all the fury of the sun and the moon, so please, stay alive. Please...”

There was a silence, and then your smile widened. You pulled him closer to you, and he didn’t resist. Your hand moved from his chest to his neck, and then to his cheek as you pulled him into a kiss. He hoped he wasn’t bothering you with the tears plopping on your cheeks, but when he pulled away, he saw that you had your own tears to worry about.

“I love you too, Khalid. But I think the only way I’ll get better is if you visit me everyday.” You smirked at him, winking. He chuckled, sniffling and planting another kiss to your cheek.

“You’re twisting my arm here, but I suppose I can manage that.”

You giggled. “Good, because I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I’ll stay here tonight, until Manuella kicks me out.” Though climbing was difficult, he managed to make it to the other side of the bed against the wall. It was there that you two fell asleep, holding onto each other for dear life. And he thought to himself that, maybe, just maybe, he would be able to make a life out of this. One that wasn’t filled with so much strife. But that would have to wait until the morning. And until you were better.

He didn’t care how long he had to wait. He would wait until the sun died if it meant that he could stay like this forever. Just like the Almyran rose on the window sill, who waited patiently for someone to love it just like you did.

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ververa · 5 years ago

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Safe in Her Arms

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Words: 1,500

Wilhemina loved you more than you knew. Yet at times she wanted to slap you in your beautiful face. It wasn't because she was mad. She couldn't be mad at you even if she tried. It usually happened when you did something incredibly stupid, irresponsible or dangerous. Mina hated to admit it, but she was just really worried about you. Worried and scared that she might lose you. If she could she would most likely wrap her hands around your waist and keep you close to herself, hidden from the whole world all the time.

But you, of course, were way too curious about the world and everything around you to sit still and let her protect you. She both loved and hated that about you. She couldn't deny that it was what made her fall for you. You were so stubborn and didn't give up on her even though she was pretty awful to you at first. She had tried to push you away, as she usually did with people, but you kept trying and eventually got to her. You were precious. And she was doing her best to show you how much she appreciated you.

Wilhemina loved everything about you, but she still couldn't understand why would you opt for extreme sports. Parachute jumping, bungee jumping, diving, climbing, car and motorcycle races - all that was what you were doing in your free time. For Mina it was ridiculous. How someone right-minded could do all of those things so willingly? Who sound in mind wouldn’t be afraid of getting hurt of even dying doing all those things? Was she dramatic? It was hard to say. But she didn't have time to think about it.

She was on her way to the hospital. It wasn't the first time you ended up being hurt because of your dangerous interests, but regardless of it Mina was worried as much as always. She hated all those negative thoughts that were clouding inside her head, but she couldn't help it. The nurse, who called her, only told her that you got injured and were transported to the hospital. The uncertainty of whatever your state was really bad or no, was killing her. She also hated hospitals as they brought back negative memories of the time when she herself had to spend there a lot of time, because of her scoliosis. Yet you and your well-being were more important than that.

Wilhemina got to the hospital as soon as she could. She immediately found your doctor and got all the necessary information. She sighed with relief when he told her that your state was stable and you only had some minor injuries. He allowed her to go and see you, but before she managed to get to the right hospital room she came across a group of your friends.

They were sitting at the hall, next to the door of the room in which you were, but as soon as they spotted Wilhemina they immediately stood up. They were all scared of your girlfriend after she had yelled at them once for not keeping you safe. They were terrified of what was going to happen this time.

"Wilhemina..." one of them, the one who considered himself brave enough to face her, spoke up

"I don't remember me letting you to use my name" she said dryly stopping right next to him

"I..." he hesitated, in a split second his confidence and bravery were gone

"Will anyone tell me what have happened exactly?" she turned, so that she could face him properly

Your friends explained how you were riding on jet skis and how you noticed a little dog drowning. You loved animals, so obviously, without thinking, you moved to help him. You managed to get him out of the water, but as you were getting on your jet ski you lost your balance and fell down hitting your head on the steering wheel and then falling into water.

Wilhemina rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe all that was happening for real. After her mind processed all the information she actually got mad. Why were you so irresponsible? Why couldn't you find a different hobby? Couldn't you just stay at home and read or play video games instead?

She composed herself, or at rather thought so, before entering the hospital room. There you were - asleep with your head bandaged and a few scratches on your cheek. Wilhemina approached the bed and sat down on the chair right next to you. She carefully took your hand and kissed it. That's when you opened your eyes. Your head was pounding and you were so dizzy that for a while you were seeing double. You didn’t really feel any pain, because of the strong painkillers they had given you. You felt funny, kind of as if you were drunk. It was hard for you to comprehend what was going on exactly and for some reason you wanted to laugh. Yet seeing Mina’s face your good mood disappeared.

"Hi..." you said softly

You could feel that she was angry. You couldn't blame her, she had the very right to be mad at you.

Wilhemina said nothing. She only kept holding your palm with her one hand and squeezing her cane with the other.

"Are you mad?" you asked, but still there was no response "Oh Lord, here we go again. I hate when you do that. I hate when you're giving me the silent treatment... It was an accident. I haven't planned it, neither have I expected it to happen..."

"You might have drowned!" Wilhemina shouted cutting you off at the same time

She couldn't help it and hold it back anymore. She was too worried and scared to remain calm.

"Yes! I'm fucking mad Y/N, because things like that keep happening!" she stood up "I know it's fun for you, but it's no fun for me. It's not funny at all when I get a call from a hospital and hear some doctor telling me you had an accident and I need to come, and I can't get any further information about your state on the phone. The time I spend on getting to this fucking hospital and that uncertainty... whether it's just something minor or not. Like maybe you only have your leg broken, but what if you're bleeding out... This is the worst feeling in the world! I know you love what you're doing, but for God's sake..." she hit her cane on the floor "have some mercy on me Y/N!"

Only seeing your face did Wilhemina realize that she had raised her voice more than it was necessary. You seemed so scared and confused that she immediately felt bad for snapping like that.

You needed a moment to process everything she said. You had never really thought about all that. You had never considered how she might have felt every time you ended up in hospitals.

"I'm sorry" you said and felt the tears springing into your eyes; you didn’t mean to make her feel like that

"No, I am sorry” she began panicking as she saw the tears in your eyes “I didn't mean to yell" she sat down next to you again "I'm just worried about you"

"I know” you sobbed “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t realize it’s affecting you this much”

“Shh. Don’t cry” she carefully embraced you “Just promise you’ll be more careful” she kissed your temple

“I promise” you said wiping the tears “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay. You apologized once and that’s enough”

“I feel like it’s not. I promise I’ll make it up to you”

Wilhemina shook her head.

“You don’t need to make up for anything darling. I just get nervous and worried, because I fail to understand how you’re not afraid of doing all those things? You seem so fearless, but also stupid at times”

“I am fearless…” you hugged her tighter “As long as I’m in your arms” you added

“Such a charmer… Ughh I can’t even be mad at you for too long” she complained

“Well, I’ll make sure you don’t get mad at me at all anymore”

“We’ll see about that. For now you should get some sleep. You need to get better, because I’m not planning on spending a whole week in this hospital with you”

You laughed.

“Of course ma’am” you kissed her cheek “But will you stay with me tonight?” you looked at her pleadingly

Wilhemina rolled her eyes once more. You had her wrapped around your little finger.

“I will, but you’ll be the little spoon”

“Aye aye” you laughed

You knew very well that secretly she enjoyed being the little spoon – and you often teased her about it. But you weren’t going to complain this time. It felt way too good. You felt safe in her arms and nothing could compare to that amazing feeling. You loved it more than anything, even more than the rush of adrenaline.

#wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson imagine #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse

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hayleyarts · 4 years ago

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Broken Without You (Jasper Hale x OC) | chapter 1

Author’s note: Hello! i don’t normally post that many stories or much on here but I’ve been working on a Jasper Hale fan-fiction to try and redeem him and show my favourite cowboy vamp some love. Anyways, this story contains swears and will have some graphic scenes referring to mental health and past trauma. I’ll give more specific warnings where they apply. Also, each chapter is inspired by some music; so if you want to listen to that particular song while you read, you can but you don’t necessarily have to :)

Summary: Eleanor Rae lives in a town where there are seemingly no secrets, but what happens when a certain vampire takes an interest in her. She’ll soon find out she’s not the only one with secrets. Will he be able to put her broken pieces back together? Can she fix him in return?

Word count: 2334

Read Part 2 Here

Track 01 - Eleanor Rigby by Alice Cooper

Forks, Washington; the rainiest town in the United States. The benefits of living in a rainy town is the fact that the forests nearby are some of the greenest you’ll ever see. The cons of living in a rainy town as small as this one is how there are no secrets; everyone knows everyone for the most part. Therefore, when people see me: Eleanor Rae, they immediately know my back story. Of course, you’re not from Forks, so how would you know who the hell I am, or what my story is.

The Rae family, also known as my mother Cecilia and myself, lives in a small cottage on the edge of town. Our small, 2-bedroom place is just close enough to town to be considered still in Forks, but with the town being so small, you’re simply ten minutes from all needed amenities. One such amenity is the hospital that my mother works at and the high school I’ve been attending for 2 years. At school I’m known as the strange girl with headphones glued to their head. Everyone has stopped trying to talk with me and try to become my friend, because I’m just ‘too weird’. Outcasts in small towns are rare; no secrets are allowed. Thus, why I envied the Cullen family.

The Cullen’s were a family that became the talk of the town since freshman year of high school mostly because they broke the unwritten rule of small towns; they had secrets. No one knew what these secrets were, but everyone knew there was something they were hiding. The patriarch was the best doctor Forks has ever seen; Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He and his wife manage to take care of six adopted teenage kids; who in their right mind would do that to themselves? Their kids are a completely different anomaly. Even though they are all adoptive siblings, they happen to look extremely similar; blemish free complexion, model-like beauty, and this sense of grace that normal teenagers definitely don’t have. The thing that bothers me the most is that after a year or so, everyone stopped paying close attention to the strange family, but I didn’t. I mean, it’s hard not to when they’re all so beautiful, especially the brother with the wavy golden hair that frames his face perfectly. He was the one I was the most drawn to, and I don’t really know why. There was something about his presence that calmed me; God I wanted to talk to him. But how does one speak to someone as gorgeous as Jasper Cullen?

I climb out of my Jeep, my feet planting on the cement of the parking lot. I look up at the building, sighing softly to myself; Junior Year of high school. A lot of people tend to stress about senior year, but to me, junior year is the one that matters. You need to figure yourself out because next year you’re applying for colleges. If you don’t have yourself figured out before senior year, then you’re royally fucked. I take my time to cross the lot before entering the school; the white tiled floor already scuffed from the various footwear. The lockers remained the same, even some of the posters on the walls were the same. The only thing that really seems to change is the people; some with different haircuts or new clothing. Different people smiling and laughing with new friend groups, some people missing because they moved during the summer. Growth spurts from the now sophomores, and then the completely new group of people that no one from the older grades recognized; the new freshmen. The one thing that stayed the same among the students, is no matter how much they laughed and joked with their friends; at the end of the day, we’re all lonely people.

I follow the flow of people as I make my way to my first class of the day: history. I always dreaded history class because of the teachers that usually instruct the class. Why is it that every boring and/or almost ready to retire man teaches history class? If someone exciting taught the class, I might actually like it more. I arrive to the room, flags of various countries littered over the open door and students were already finding their seats. Luckily the seat in the far back corner by the window was vacant; that’s where I always try to sit. I like that seat because its far enough back that if you doze off in class no one really notices, and if you want to zone out rather than listen to the teacher, then you have the window to stare out of.

Once I sit down, I take the time to pull my supplies out of my bag. All I tend to use is a notebook and pens while everyone else pulls out tablets and laptops; call me old-fashioned. I flip to a fresh page in the notebook when a voice pulls me away from my task. The accent clearly southern and extremely polite.

“Excuse me ma’am, is anyone sitting here?” I look up and I’m immediately met with the eyes that resemble the most expensive topaz gems; glittering underneath the fluorescent lights. He raises a brow as he gestures to the desk adjacent to me, “Ma’am?”

“Yeah… sorry,” I blush, snapping out of my daze, “There’s no one sitting there, go ahead.” He smiles at my answer as he makes himself comfortable, or well, as comfortable you can on a plastic chair. He pulls out his own notebook and pens, preparing for the class that’s about to begin. I couldn’t help myself from admiring his movements. His pale hands move with more grace than I could ever; placing the pens gently down on the wood of the desk, making sure they were ready when needed to take notes. My eyes didn’t stop there; they wandered from his hands to his choice of clothing. It’s not every day you get to sit this close to a member of the Cullen family, I plan on taking advantage of this rare moment. His clothing was simple but coordinated; his grey sweater with brown buttons matching the brown colouring of his dress pants. The one thing that stood out was his choice of footwear: cowboy boots. They were legitimate brown and black leather cowboy boots, and damn did they look worn in.

I snap my eyes away from him before he could notice my staring, paying my attention back to the rain falling outside. Its then when Mr. Henderson stomps in the room and slams his folder down on his desk. He seemed about as thrilled about the first day of school as everyone else in this room. He began his lecture the same as every other first day lecture; the expectations of the class, the policies and rules and what he expects from us as students in his class. This isn’t what I dislike about the first day of school, what I hate are the icebreaker activities that the teachers force you to partake in.

“Okay class, for the rest of the period I’m going to have you and someone next to you discuss the answers to these various questions.” His monotone voice explains while handing out a worksheet covered in various questions. Students quickly pair off, some actually participating in the exercise while others begin discussing what they did during the summer.

“Would you like to be my partner?”

I raise a brow at the southern voice breaking my observations, “What?”

“For the exercise?” He mimics my expression.

“Right… sure.” I blush, chuckling awkwardly.

“I’m Jasper, by the way. Jasper Hale.” He smiles politely.

“Hale?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, my sister Rosalie and I kept our last names.”

I nod, taking in the new information. I had no idea that he had a different last name. I always assumed that because they were adopted by Dr. Cullen, they all had the same last name.

“I’m Eleanor… Eleanor Rae.” I smile, turning to face him, “But my mom calls me Ellie.”

“What do your friends call you?” He raises a brow.

“Um… I guess Ellie?” I shrug, “I don’t really have any friends.” I look down at the worksheet, reading through the questions. Most of them were related to history class, some were about life goals, and school related questions.

“You don’t have friends?” I glance up at him as he asks his question, his brows furrowed.

“Not really. I like to be in my own little world I guess.” I shrug, “Kind-of similar to your family in that way.”

“How is that similar to my family?”

“Well, you and your family keep to themselves, so do I.”

He chuckles, shrugging, “I suppose,” He looks down at the questions, reading the first one off, “What are your goals for after school?”

“Um…” I furrow my brows thinking about the question. What are my plans? I haven’t really started thinking about where exactly I’ll be in roughly two years; after graduation and when I’m supposed to have my life figured out. I hope one of my goals for after I graduate would to attend college and take classes in psychology or philosophy; wanting to learn more about myself in the process. Another goal I eventually want to accomplish is leaving this small town; starting a new life in a new town where no one knows who I am, maybe take some time off and travel the world. Of course, I don’t say any of this to him, instead I respond with, “Probably go to college or something. Get good grades, you know?”

He nods, “That’s what the teachers want us to say.” His face slowly forms a smirk, “I feel like there’s more you want to say.”

I roll my eyes, my own face phasing into a smirk, “Maybe,” I lean closer to him, “But I’d like to hear your answer first.”

He chuckles, “Well, one of my goals is to settle down eventually. Find someone who understands me.”

I blink, “How romantic.” I reply sarcastically with a chuckle.

“Don’t judge darlin’.” He chuckles along with me. His pet-name catches me off guard, the southern drawl dripping from the word, “Now, give me your real answer.”

“Well I’d love to travel, and maybe start a new life somewhere.” I shrug, “Some place where no one knows everyone else.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“And you judged my answer.” He raises a brow playfully as I blush.

“Well, both of our answers were cheesy,” I glance back down to the paper with a sigh, “These questions are also lame and cheesy.”

“Then let’s make our own questions.” He retorts, “What…” he pauses to think then continues his question, “What is your favourite movie?”

“Really?”

Jasper laughs, “It’s a valid question. Mine is Pride and Prejudice. Either that or The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”

I chuckle, thinking about his answers. They’re both older movies, and one an even older novel. To be honest, those movies seem to match him perfectly. He seems like a gentleman kind of guy, and extremely old fashioned in his mannerisms and in the way he speaks. Not only that, but the western matches his god-awful cowboy boots.

“Well, probably Jaws or The Breakfast Club.” I shrug, “I’ve seen both of them too many times to count so they’re probably my favourites.”

He nods at my response, “Both excellent movies. Very different though.”

I blink, “Well, your mood changes therefore the things you enjoy watching or listening to at any given moment doesn’t necessarily stay the same.”

He narrows his eyes at my words. It was like he was surprised by my answer, and that he knew something I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything to my answer, but I could tell he wanted to. He fell silent as the class continues to have their various discussions; his golden eyes shifting from group to group.

“What’s your favourite colour?” His eyes snap back to me at my question.

“It changes all the time.” He smirks, his answer mimicking mine from previously.

“Well what is it today?” I smirk back, raising a brow. I watch as his eyes look around the room, as if to find the answer throughout the room.

After what feels like hours, his eyes finally land on my own, “Probably green.” I blush, looking away from him, letting my dark hair fall in front of my green hued eyes. I didn’t know why he was trying to flirt with me, I mean… I’m me. Why on earth would Jasper Cull–Hale want anything to do with me? “What’s your favourite?” He tries to get me to look back at him.

“Red or burgundy.” I mumble, glancing up at the clock; only five more minutes of class left, and, in this moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted these last five minutes to last forever, or be finished in seconds. Jasper makes me feel differently and I’m not sure if I can pin-point why.

“Why those?” He raises a brow. I’ve never pondered why I liked the warm colour before. Maybe it was because it symbolized various emotions like passion, love or anger. Maybe I liked the colour red because when I wear red garments of clothing, it complements my pale complexion well. Or maybe it’s because it reminds me of the red flowers in my mother’s garden outside our cottage home; roses, dahlias, and peonies planted in various patterns.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, I only then realized that I didn’t answer the question; thinking of an answer quickly as I gather my supplies so I could move to my next class in my schedule, “Probably because it’s familiar.” I mumble as I leave the class. I only take a moment to glance back at him momentarily; seeing his confused expression before I join the sea of other students in the hallway.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight renessaince #twilight reimagined #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #oc

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lesbiandanhowell · 5 years ago

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killing eve season 1 & 2

okay so, I just finished my third rewatch of the first two seasons and I used it to write out some things I noticed, you may not have paid attention to before.

In 1x02 Villanelle gets a card with the information for her new job and it says “de ville” on it and I found that very funny, because it’s a hint to her name just like the perfume bottle later.

I am still trying to figure out what the colors of the title screens mean, because I am convinced they aren’t random. It doesn’t line up with the color scheme during the kill in each episode, I checked that, but I don’t really have any other idea yet. If you have any let me know, because I would really love to figure that out haha

In 1x04 Villanelle is called out on her crush on Eve after asking “did she say anything about me and Konstantin already then says “you have such a crush” WHICH SHE DOESN’T DENY.

Okay we’re now getting more into interesting things I promise. In 1x05 Villanelle corners Eve and tells her, that if she went high enough she would probably find out they work for the same people. I honestly see that as foreshadowing for the connection between Konstantin and Carolyn, because they are the respective superior of the two and that’s like right in front of them. But I also could imagine that in the end we find out that The Twelve and MI6 are even more connected/ the same, like that seems reasonable if you ask me.

When she tries to fight off Villanelle Eve uses a toilet brush, which is hilarious, but I like to think that with her kill later in 2x02 Villanelle actually gives a nod to that. Like stabbing someone with a knitting needle is so strange that Eve would know it is Villanelle anyway, especially because of the call, but she makes the extra effort with the toilet brush.

The season finale is always charged but 1x08 gave us a lot and I appreciate that. For one we saw Villanelle and Eve getting on Konstantins nerves with the same tick, clicking the handle in his car and that was cute, because “we are the same” as Villanelle likes to say.

When they are in the ballroom thing and Villanelle tells Konstantin not to break her heart, that makes sense, because they have the closest relationship Villanelle has and he is like the one person that cares about her. But WHAT WAS THE REASON for Villanelle to say the same to Eve, like that is proof how much control Eve already has over her at that point. She is so vulnerable in that moment and whenever she is with Eve, like when she offers that they run away together, Villanelle does consider it for a moment, like she actually wants to. And that is also a nice nod, because in season one finale Eve offers they run away and stabs Villanelle after and in season two finale Villanelle offers they run away and shoots Eve after. They both have a short temper, can’t deal with rejection and are still incredibly soft for each other, that’s what we learn from this.

One of my favorite moments was in 2x02 when Carolyn tells Eve “don’t get all giddy and start singing along to the radio in the car” because THAT EXACT THING HAPPENS ONE EPISODE LATER. We see Villanelle singing along to the radio because she is happy and like, that parallel man, I love it. Also Villanelle asking if Eve talked about her, ma’am you are so in love please.

But if we’re honestly the whole episode has chefs kiss moments. “you think she loves you? then make her hate you, hate is something she understands, it’s manageable, look what happens to the people she loves, she loves you to death” Konstantin says that after Villanelle shoots him and he is believed dead and honestly did anyone really think the same thing wouldn’t happen with Eve after he said that? That is such clear foreshadowing and like the exact same thing does happen to Eve. V shoots her, she is believed dead, just like Konstantin. Also we see Eve later on 2x08 saying that Villanelle doesn’t understand love and doesn’t know what it means, because Konstantin told her so. He told her love is something she doesn’t understand and she I think wanted to believe him because it gave her a reason to not give in to her feelings, because Villanelle wouldn’t understand them.

My favorite episode, 2x04 had also one of my favorite things they do. They sometimes mirror scenes between Eve and Villanelle and in that episode they had both of them do something out of character at the same time because they were upset about the other. Villanelle with the drugs in Amsterdam, out of character because she at first didn’t wanna do it, but then did and she doesn’t like losing control, but she definitely does by how she wakes up. For Eve it’s smoking, like she even says she hasn’t smoked in ages, but does it in that scene and I just love seeing these little changes.

The horrible powerpoint presentation about psychopaths in 2x05, sigh. I always wanted to check of the things he says apply to Villanelle and I honestly, don’t think they do. One is dishonesty and Villanelle is honest, she doesn’t lie when people ask her if she is gonna kill them, I think that might be because to her truth and lie aren’t a concept like it is to us. Like she says to Eve she doesn’t really know if she is telling the truth so I could imagine that lying is the same and also I guess she just doesn’t see the point of it, which really considering her makes sense. “inability to form long lasting, intimate relationships” and I definitely partly agree with this, because V doesn’t feel so this one would be hard but we see her feeling around Eve and I would like to believe that she could actually make it work with her. I just think she can’t form relationships because everyone is scared of her, thinks she is crazy and avoids her so really how would she get close to anyone if no one wants her? In that sense I don’t really think it’s her fault she doesn’t have any relationships but more that no one ever gave her a chance, but Eve kind of does. And lastly poverty of emotions, which I do see in Villanelle, because she says she doesn’t feel things, but also she shows a lot of emotions. Like she gets angry and upset with Konstantin when she is told she has to kill Eve and she look happy when she talks to or about Eve and she gets this childish joy, so it’s not like she doesn’t express emotions. Overall in my book V is not a psychopath because she is just a very broke and hurt person that hasn’t been loved enough to be the person she could be, no one can be sane when they haven’t been loved by anyone.

In love Billie and the whole episode 2x06 is such an important one for not only Villanelle but her and Eve's relationship, they both have to work together and are really vulnerable around each other in a way. Something I noticed is when Villanelle kills the woman by pushing her into traffic she makes sure that Eve is watching, like she knows that Eve likes watching her. And when we see Villanelle standing outside in the rain at Eves house it also plays into this because like Eve said to Hugo she likes watching Villanelle but also being watched by her and the episode gives us both. I think Villanelle standing in the rain is a very big love declaration actually because Villanelle is all about comfort and having the nicest things, but she can’t possibly be comfortable out in the rain, but does it for Eve.

Something that is just cute is Villanelle picking up the Alaska snow globe in Nikos storage unit and asking if she can keep it, when she one episode later offers Eve to run away to Alaska together.

In that episode a lot happened, but something that stuck out to me and turns out became important/ foreshadowing was Konstantin saying “almost all of them” when talking about Villanelles family being dead. He always knew the true story about her family I am sure and he was maybe trying to protect her from the pain finding out the truth caused her, because we all know Konstantin loves Villanelle.

Something else in this conversation is definitely one of my favorite moments between Villanelle and Konstantin. The way he asks “What is it about her?” has such incredibly depth to it, like Kim really put so much in this one sentence I will forever be grateful. He doesn’t judge her, he doesn’t criticize Villanelle he just genuinely wants

Something I have noticed about Season 3 that I really, really like is how well the new writers pick up on shows that happened earlier in the episode, like they know their show and give the smallest nods to things that happened in prior seasons. I already wrote something about Episode 1 and Episode 2 and I want to get into the others and the things I noticed as well, but three shook me to the core (and then episode 5 as well), I haven’t been able to pick myself up since, but I will get around to it eventually.

I will soon do another rewatch, paying attention to some things in particular that I want to look at (like the colors of the titel screen and what they could me for example). As always, let me know what you think, any theories of your own and enjoy the episode tomorrow!

#killing eve #killing eve theories #killing eve thoughts #killing eve spoilers #killing eve 3 #villanelle #villanelle x eve #villaneve #Eve Polastri

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allforhader · 5 years ago

Text

Why here?!

Barry Berkman x (F) Reader

Warnings: Blood, Language

Y/N and Barry have been dating for half a year, but secrets weren’t kept very long. When Barry told Y/N about his affairs, she needed space. She didn’t take the space to protect herself, she needed it to process the information. She needed other reasons to cloud what’s been said.

“Please don’t make me do this”

“You promised your fucking word Barry”

“I can’t do this”

“Just fucking do it”

Y/N jolts awake in her bed to a loud crash coming from the main room of her apartment. She grabs the bat from under her bed and braced herself making her way out of her bedroom. She reaches and takes a hold of the door knob quickly opening it about to swing when the silhouette was too familiar.

“Barry?” Y/N questions as she turns on the light and the first thing she notices was the broken window. “Barry I can’t afford-“ she stops talking when she noticed the blood on him. Was it his?

“I’m sorry I-I’ll fix....” Barry felt lightheaded as he stopped talking to process what’s happening internally until he couldn’t.

“Barry-!” Y/N freaks when he passes out on her coffee table, well what was her coffee table.

Fuck...

Why here?

I could’ve...

No I couldn’t have...

I trust her

I love her

She’s my everything...

Barry groans as he woke up eventually after passing out. He sits up in Y/N’s bed realizing his shirt is off and his wounds were taken care of. He looks around finding Tylenol waiting for him with a glass of water on the night stand. Barry tried to get out of the bed when Y/N walks in angrily smacking his legs to be brought back onto the bed. He noticed her hospital uniform and he immediately thought that he made her late, but the worried expression said otherwise.

“Y/N...what are you doing here...”

“I live here and there’s a patient in my damn bed. Who should stay in the damn fucking bed” Y/N’s anger seeped through the worry as she took his wrist doing the regular check of vitals she’d do in the ER.

——

Barry met Y/N in the ER, but it wasn’t for him that time. Sally fell and hit her head during an exercise, and Gene made Barry take her.

“Hello my name is Doctor Y/L/N and I’ll be your doctor this evening. Can you tell me...” Y/N trails off when she locked eyes with Barry. She immediately looked at Sally to bring back the attention. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I fell...”

“Well, you clearly hit your head” Y/N sets down the tablet for keeping charts on the end of the bed before putting on gloves. “You have a head lac. What exactly did you hit?”

“One of the floor speakers. Y’know, on stages?” Barry states as Y/N gave him an annoyed smile for talking to her like she doesn’t know shit.

“This is LA, Mr.?”

“Berkman”

“Mr. Berkman. So please. Don’t talk to me like an idiot when I get actors almost every day. The usual is heat exhaustion or dehydration. What is up with you actors not taking care of yourselves?” She frowns checking the lac as Sally winces. “Alright. You hang tight while I order a CT before stitching up that lac”

“Oh wait. Are staples faster?”

“Why?”

“I have an audition”

Y/N rolls her eyes taking the tablet and ordering the CT before waving over an ER nurse to put a pressure dressing.

“Ms....Sally Reed” Y/N reads the chart for her name before giving her a stern look. “Staples will definitely scar. If you let me take my time with your stitches, I promise there won’t be a noticeable scar”

“Fine...”

“As for you...Berkman. You can wait for your friend in the waiting room” Y/N states as she left to take care of a few things.

The hours went by and Y/N’s shift was over, she always leaves from the ER’s exit/entrance and when she stepped out. Barry sat on a bench outside the ER catching her attention.

“You injured Berkman?”

“No ma’am”

“Then what are you doing out here?” Y/N smiles walking over to Barry as he stood to his feet looking down at her.

“My name is Barry”

“Oh, first name formality is why you came here?”

“Well I thought I’d ask the badass ER doc if she’d like to get a drink”

“This...badass ER doc. Doesn’t drink on call” Y/N smiles. “But Y/N, would happily get tea with Barry this late”

“Then shall we?”

“We shall”

——

“You’ve been out for a week”

“I’ve been out for what...?”

“You lost a lot of blood Barry. I already stole gauze, a syringe, lidocaine, wraps, a few suture kits. I can’t steal blood to replace what you lost. So your body made it natural while you were out cold” Y/N frowns grabbing the clipboard off the night stand seeing the Tylenol and water. “You should take some right now if you’re still in pain” she states writing down his vitals as she’s been charting it down.

“Y/N, you didn’t-“

“What? Didn’t have to? Oh like I totally want my boyfriend dead on the streets for who knows what fucking happened to him” Y/N frowns making him sit up completely so she can check the wounds on his back.

Barry frowns feeling her take off some of the bandages to clean and re-patch.

“Tell me”

“What?”

“How this fucking happened”

“One bad job”

“Details Barry, for fuck sake”

“I was paid. Well. Boss-“

“Fuches”

“Fuches, was paid and then I’ll be paid. To take down this guy in downtown LA for the favor of Hank. I got stuck in a fight. That involved Guns of course. I only got grazed for the most part until I took a metal bat to a few places and well a knife to a gun fight”

“How many people were involved? Was it a trap?”

“It seemed like that. Honestly. You do a lot better job at taking care of wounds compared to Fuches when I fought a guy with a fucking black belt”

“Barry...”

Barry frowns turning around looking at Y/N upset expression only becoming her balling. He tried to move completely to hold her but she stopped him. Y/N got up cleaning up everything before propping Barry up with her pillows.

“I’ll....be back after my shift”

“Y/N...”

“Why here? You have actor friends. Aren’t actors supposed to be great liars? Lie to one of them that you got mugged. Just like New York, there’s a lot of jackasses in the streets of LA.”

“You’re the only one I trust Y/N”

“...it’s hard to believe that love”

Barry frowns watching Y/N grab one of Barry’s jackets on her way out. A part of her still loves him, even if everything is so out of the ordinary.

A few hours into the shift, Y/N sat down in the ER nurse’s station taking a minute as she watches interns freak out when nothing much is going on. She started trailing into her thoughts causing her to think out loud.

“He would’ve died...if he got shot...”

“What?”

Shit

“Huh?” Y/N looks over to find her favorite nurse Ollie look at her confused.

“You said something about getting shot?”

“Oh, yeah sorry. I’ve been thinking about an episode of Greys” wow.

“Y/N how can you watch that stuff when you do most of it everyday?”

“How can you watch that show AND it’s spin offs?”

“Okay. This isn’t about me”

“I just think about it a lot. They over dress a lot of stuff that we tend to see everyday. Can you imagine it being that bad every day? Also...I wouldn’t want to be Owen Hunt”

Ollie laughs at the final comment before answering the call. When he ends it he gave Y/N a look.

“You jinx the ER when you mention Owen!”

“Sorry!” Y/N laughs getting the trauma gown on as she makes her way out to meet the rig.

When Y/N meets with the rig, it wasn’t a big trauma but the person was too familiar.

——

Y/N sat in the middle of the audience waiting for the play to begin.

“Why are theaters so cold...” she whispers to herself as she heard a man laugh at her comment.

“Actors can’t sweat or the makeup will melt off”

“Tsk. Fucking actors”

“Who are you here for?”

“My boyfriend, you?” Y/N turns to look at him as he scoffs a bit.

“My uh. Nephew” Fuches laughs. “I hate acting. I think it’s an excuse of a job but he wants to do it. So whatever right? Support the ones you care about”

“Yeah, so. Your name?”

“You first little lady”

“Y/N”

“Fuches”

——

Y/N frowns putting her gloves on and checking Fuches for any major injuries but for the most part he took a beating. To her, he got what he deserved. But to her as a doctor, no one deserves to be in pain.

“Get an x-ray and CT. Let me know when he’s conscious”

“Should I admit him?”

“If there’s anything on the scans according to radiology that recommends observation, then yes. Please” Y/N states going to order the tests but before she did. She decided to handle all of it.

Fuches groans waking up in a hospital bed but when he looked around. The only one he spotted was Y/N.

“You...”

“You broke a few ribs and there’s a grade two liver lac. We are observing it and if it doesn’t resolve, we’ll do surgery”

“Why...our of all the doctors-“

“Did I help your ass?”

“...”

“I should’ve known that the funny guy sitting next to me during the showing of A Midsummer’s Night Dream, was the guy telling my boyfriend to go kill people”

“Should you...really be saying that out loud?”

“Who hurt you?”

“That’s none-“

“It’s my business if its the same fuckers that almost killed Barry”

“Tsk. So he’s not dead”

Y/N frowns realizing what she admitted as she crosses her arms leaning against the back of the chair.

“You leave him alone, or I’ll call the police”

“They’ll...only arrest Barry too Y/N..”

“The leave him alone or I’ll make it look like a complication in surgery, if there is one.” Y/N got up from her seat as Fuches watches her leave the room.

“Crazy bitch...”

Barry jolts awake when he heard the front door shut. He pushes himself to get out of bed and check on Y/N but she had already walked in when he stood to his feet.

“What’s wrong?” Barry frowns as Y/N just stood there. “Y/N?”

Y/N places her hands on his face giving him an angered look. Barry frowns resting his hands on her hips waiting for her to say something but for the most part all she did was look at him and tear up.

“Y/N what happened?”

“That fucker...that fucking fucker that told me he was your goddamn uncle at the play, was in my ER with semi similar injuries to you”

“Did he say anything? Anything of concern...?”

“No just....“ Y/N lets go of Barry trying to pull away when Barry only wrapped himself around her. She just didn’t want...she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to have to worry to an extreme level. Her job is already stressful enough...now there’s so much more.

“I’m in love with you Y/N...”

“...really? I should be saying that to you...I did just threaten to kill a man to protect you...” Y/N frowns feeling Barry squeeze her in his arms as she gripped onto his shirt. “I’m in love with you Barry Berkman...and I don’t want anybody hurting you anymore”

#bill hader #barry berkman #barry berkman x reader #barry block #barry block x reader #barry hbo #barry x reader #bill hader x reader #I like...writing. a lot

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years ago

Text

It’s A Gray Area

CHAPTER 8

Finished the last episode 9 finally and moving on to more fun stuff. Um. Slight near death experience. Some Smut. Not very detailed but tis there. Some fluff. Secrets revealed. I am still yeeting canon out the door because I can.

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

When they finally returned to Ajon Kloss, she told Poe, “Make sure no one makes our newbie uncomfortable until I return?” As she ran out of the Falcon.

Blix ran toward the med-bay, where Leia was resting on one of the beds, while Ben sat next to her.

“Hi! Okay. Let’s… let’s check things out,” She said trying to catch her breath.

She moved quickly over to Leia and began running scans. Minutes later she was looking over the results and was cautiously happy with what she saw.

“Okay. Okay. Well. Good news, your brain is brightly colored again, and I see no dying areas here,” She reported as she presented them.

“And the bad news?” Ben asked warily.

“Not bad news per se. I don’t know if these effects will last is the main issue. I don’t want you working at all. You are on a stress-free lifestyle indefinitely, Princess Leia. I don’t want anything to aggravate your symptoms. Let’s not… Let’s not waste Luke’s sacrifice to save his beloved sister,” She explained with a sad sigh.

Leia nodded her head understandingly, while Ben looked away clenching his jaw briefly.

“Also… may have turned a baby Sith to our side, no big deal. She’s going to help us find Palpatine and defeat him. I suspect he has some nasty surprises for us in store,” Blix explained, before turning to Ben. “What do ya say? Ready to go fight one last battle?”

Ben nodded his head, determination in his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go work out a plan. Amber, make sure our esteemed patient here, doesn’t move an inch,” She commanded giving Leia a pointed look.

Blix and Ben made their way into the command center, where everyone was discussing the best path to Exegol.

They had a solid plan within an hour, the thing was… they didn’t have the manpower. What they truly needed was the Republic to take up arms and join them, but fear ran deep.

They geared up, and every squadron was given orders to head out. Blix who had her lightsabers and was making sure Rey, Ben, and Maeve were ready, looked around trying to find Poe.

When she did, she spotted him by his X-Wing in his flight gear. She walked over to him after telling them to head to the Falcon, which was going to lead the pack.

“Hey.” She greets watching him get BB-8 ready.

He looked up and said, “Hi. What’s up babe?”

She quietly hugs him, and whispered, “Stay safe Flyboy. You’re not allowed to die remember that.”

He gave a soft chuckle as he hugged her back, “Same to you, Consular.”

She snorted slightly at the title, almost regretting telling him about the Jedi Order.

She presses a quick kiss to his lips, gives BB-8 a pat on his head and moves over to the Falcon.

Soon enough, they were on their way. It was about an hour later when they came to a field of red clouds and lightning. It was a struggle to navigate through for everyone.

When they broke through, what they saw made them all gasp. There was a fleet of Xyston-Star Destroyers before them.

“Finn, set us down and we’ll make our way to Sidious. Stay safe yeah? I still got a lot to teach you, so don’t you dare die,” She warned him as they landed.

“Yes ma’am,” He responded with a laugh.

The four of them made their way down to the platform. Once on it, they were confronted with the Knights of Ren.

“Maeve, Rey, go on ahead. Ben and I will catch up,” Blix ordered, taking her stance with both lightsabers in hand, twirling them.

Ben took out his and stood back-to-back with her. He gave a shrug that reminded her of Han, and she shook her head. The knights surrounded them, and they braced themselves.

One knight to her right, lunged for her and she parried with ease. It didn’t take the two of them very long to defeat the knights together. Once they were all down, they ran forward to catch up to the girls. When they did, they spotted Maeve lying on the ground, and Rey was on her knees trying to catch her breath.

Ben rushed forward to help, and Blix moved to join him but was stopped…. She felt something was off… with Poe.

She reached out to him… her mind racing to find him in the chaos above. When she does, she can see and hear the defeat in his voice.

‘Hey, Flyboy aren’t you always telling me to have hope? Where’s that undying flame?’ She asked him in his mind.

He bit his lip worried, and thought, ‘I don’t know what to d-‘

His thought was caught off as Lando Carlrissian’s voice came over on comms, telling him they weren’t alone.

Blix felt the arrival of hundreds of ships and she broke the line off, cheering him on.

She refocused on the situation at hand and noted that Ben was checking on Maeve, as Rey continued to fight her grandfather. Blix rushed forward as Palpatine sent a bolt of lightning toward Rey. She blocked it with her sabers, pushing it back.

The burst ended quickly and as she gave a twirl of her sabers, Palpatine noted, “Ahh. The Kenobi. Yes. You indeed look just like your grandfather. Think of the power you’d have if you joined the dark side.”

“Thanks, and like my grandfather, I don’t give a fuck. Take your proposition and shove it,” She snarled at him.

He frowned deeply at her, and growled, “Same insolence just like him too. I’ll enjoy killing you.”

He sent wave after wave of lightning bolts at her; she blocked each one as quickly as she could. He snarled before changing his tactic. He sent a bolt directly at Ben and Maeve, who had no way of defending themselves quickly enough. Blix ran forward and dove in front of them taking the bolt.

She gasped hard as the lightning surged through her and her limbs locked. Her vision went black as Rey stood up suddenly. Her mind was numb, and she felt pain just radiating throughout her body. Her eyes clenched shut and when she opened them, she was someplace different.

She was in a temple; she could see large city outside the windows. ’Coruscant?’

“Yes. This is the Jedi Temple in Coruscant. Or at least… when it still existed,” She heard her grandfather’s voice.

She sat up looking at him, confused.

“…am I dead?” She asked slightly panicked.

“No. Not yet. You got very close though,” He informed her as he helped her up.

She looked around, noticing that more and more Jedis were appearing around her.

“She did it. She summoned all of you,” She whispered amazed.

“It wasn’t just her. It was you as well. You are going to be an amazing teacher. If you continue on this course, we feel you will bring the balance back and return the Jedi Order back to its former glory,” Anakin informed her.

“Mh. Former glory? How about… a better version? Because… no offense but… there were many reasons why the Order fell way back when. But I will do my best,” She commented.

Qui-Gon chuckled softly at her, “This is why we think you will do well. You will make an excellent Consular.”

“We will be here for you, just like Rey. May the Force be with you, my dearest,” Her grandfather tells her, pressing a small kiss to her forehead.

They all slowly disappeared along with the room. Her vision was dark, and she eventually came to, looking at 3 very concerned faces hovering over her.

“…Hi. That sucked. Don’t get struck by lightning,” She groaned as she fully awakened.

She heard 3 sighs of relief, and some hands trying to help lift her up into a sitting position. Her head hurt but it was not too terrible. Her chest ached as she breathed; it felt a bit like her ribs were bruised.

“Let’s get out of this hellhole,” She requested gingerly standing up.

Ben wrapped an arm around her, keeping her steady as they walked.

Palpatine was dead. The First Order had been defeated. A ship had landed down near them and picked them up, taking them back to Ajon Kloss.

A medic droid checked over ribs, spritzing some Bacta spray onto them to help begin the healing process.

By the time they had landed, her ribs only lightly ached and she was able to walk without assistance. They looked around through the cheering crowd, trying to find Poe and Finn.

Rey spotted them first, sprinting to them. Ben spotted his mother and rushed over to her. Maeve stood nearby Blix, smiling softly at everyone. One of the other pilots, enthusiastically picked her up, cheering. She laughed at Maeve’s look of surprise.

Blix looked around and moved toward her three favorite people. Poe sees her first and pulls her into a kiss that she gladly returned.

He broke away only to hug her; Finn and Rey joining in. BB-8 beeped and chirped happily at their feet, rolling around in circles.

“We did it!” Blix cheered as they pulled away slightly.

The celebrations went well into the night, with every planet contacting them to send thanks and congrats.

The next day, while still in cheerful moods, they planned their next moves which was to get rid of the last of the Empire’s strongholds.

This process took several weeks to carry out, and while that was done with Poe and Finn in command, Blix continued her training with Rey, Ben, and Maeve. Maeve had gotten a new lightsaber, one that glowed bright orange but was “Infinitely cooler than her old one” as she said.

Her and Poe discussed what had happened within her nightmares and figured their best plan was to go see if there were any clues within her mother’s belongings back on Naboo. However, they had a hard time planning a few days to do so.

In fact, they hardly got to see each other much over the past few weeks. One day, she was working in the med-bay, training some new hires, when Poe walked in. She smiled brightly at him, but quickly scanned him with her eyes to make sure he was okay. She finished up her talk with the newbies and walked over to him.

“Hi. Are you okay?” She checked first just to be sure.

“Yeah. I’m okay honey. In fact… I hate to do this but…” Poe said in a mockingly sad tone.

She looked at him confused until he leaned down to lift her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She shook her head at the ridiculousness, ignoring the whistles and catcalls that were thrown their way as he walked. He stopped, and as she heard a small beep, he began walking again, into his room she swiftly identified.

He sets her down into a chair at his kitchen table, where she sees dinner was laid out before her. Poe lit the candles that he had placed and handed her a red rose.

She takes it with a smile, “Poe… what is all this?”

“This… is us making time for us. I haven’t seen my girl in a few weeks and it’s honestly quite upsetting,” He tells her matter-of-factly.

They eat, telling each other about their day’s and enjoying each other’s company.

“So, I hear you’ve been learning how to take care of BB-8?” Poe asked with a smile.

“Yeah. My padawans are pretty well versed and are good about training themselves. The med-bay keeps getting new nurses, droids, and I’ve even hired a few new doctors to help ease up the duties for me. So, I’ve been trying to learn skills. Bee is one of the most important things to you, so I want to make sure he is in top shape when he goes out with you,” Blix explained somewhat embarrassed.

“Thank you. He’s… he really adores you. Can’t get him to shut up about you,” Poe states even though BB-8 beeped from his charging station that Poe was just as bad.

Blix chuckled at them as they playfully argued.

“I guess it’s a good thing I love you both then,” Blix tells them, cutting them off.

Poe looked at her shocked.

“I’m sorry…. say that again?” He requested as he moved around to kneel before her.

“I love you,” She confirmed looking down at him.

He leans up, capturing her lips with his. She slowly stands up along with him, still kissing.

“Bee. Go to bed yeah?” She ordered between kisses.

She hears him beep, saying we were being gross anyway, before he powered down.

Poe slowly pulled away and after taking a deep breath, stated, “I love you. So much.”

The next few minutes was a flurry of clothes flying everywhere and stumbling blindly to the bed. When they eventually got on the bed, they stopped, breathes heavy, and stared at each other for a moment.

Blix bit her lip, mischievously, and flipped them over. She smiled at Poe’s look of surprise and enjoyed watching it morph into a look of pleasure as she took him in and began to ride him. Her control didn’t last long, as Poe sat up, thrusting in time with her movements.

They were so desperate for one another that it didn’t take long for either of them to reach their peaks. They came down from their highs, pulling away from one another slowly. When they were able to move again, they both cleaned themselves up, before returning to the bed.

She laid down on his chest with a soft sigh. She slowly fell asleep laying there; Poe laid there for a few moments… He gently slipped off his necklace, taking the ring off. He slipped it on to her ring finger on her left hand, happy that it fit nicely. He pulled it off, putting it back on the chain, before gingerly clipping it around her neck.

He fell asleep with a smile.

The next morning, Blix woke up feeling rested, and happy. She got up, stretching, snatching one of Poe’s shirts and slipping it on. She quietly cleaned up the mess from last night. It was as she was moving that she notice something was on her neck. Her hand reached up to figure out what it was, finding a chain. She followed it to the weight and gasped when she saw it.

His mother’s ring. She bit her lip softly, gazing at the ring with awe. She didn’t notice Poe sitting up and watching her fondly. He cleared his throat, and she jumped slightly as she turned to him.

She walked back over to him, straddling his hips, kissing him.

“Does this mean what I think this means?” She inquired as she sat there.

“Yeah. I want to marry you. I’m… hoping you feel the same way?” He was hesitant.

She looked down at the ring and said, “Yeah. Yeah. I wanna marry you.”

She took off the ring that he gave her on their first date, the pretty pink opal one, and moved it to her left hand.

“I think this one makes a good engagement ring, don’t you? Then you can put this one on me when we get hitch,” She explained tapping on each ring.

“Sounds like a damn good plan. I didn’t get to tell you last night, but I have some time off for the next 2 to 3 weeks. Finn and Leia, on light duty, are going to take over to give me a break. Figured we could use that time to get things done,” He offered with a smirk.

“Sounds good to me. When do we leave?” She asked excited.

“I was thinking around noon. Gives us time to get packed and give out orders. Then we get the Falcon and head out with Bee. Rey will probably join us,” He thought out loud.

She nodded her head getting up again, to finish cleaning up. Poe packed up a bag, and hopped into the refresher to clean up, and got dressed. Once he was done, she got in the refresher as well, and got dressed. She ran over to her room to pack a bag of her stuff; making sure to get her proper credentials and such for when they arrived in Naboo.

Blix met back up with Poe, once that was done, and they waited on each other as they gave out orders for the next few weeks, and to contact them if anything came up.

When they walked up to the Falcon, Rey was waiting for them, BB-8 nearby and chirping happily. The trip to Naboo would take about 3 hours so, they got on board and took off.

Blix directed Poe to where he should land when they arrived, having to give her credential codes to the guards that were still posted at her mother’s home. When they were cleared, they set the Falcon down on the landing pad and Blix stepped off first, greeting the staff that had gathered there.

Poe and Rey stared at the house before them in shock. It was a large and grand home, that was surrounded by beautiful gardens.

Blix looked back at them, wondering why they weren’t with her.

“What?” She asked looking at their shocked faces.

“I… forgot that you were an ambassador’s daughter. Not gonna lie,” Poe answered as he moved forward with Rey.

Blix made a small ‘oh’ as she looked around, somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah… Sorry. Is this too much?” She examined looking around, rubbing the back of her neck.

“This is where you grew up? Why would you ever leave here?” Rey questioned rushing forward, her eyes wide as she took everything in.

Blix laughed at her reaction, shaking her head. Poe sidled up next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“So… when you said there was room for your students and our kids, you literally meant… a school and our own squadron. With room for more,” Poe noted with a nod of his head.

She just smiled in response and led the 2 of them forward.

“Dax. Where did my mother’s personal journals wind up?” She asked an older gentleman as they walked inside.

“They went into storage in one of the spare bedrooms,” Dax explained showing her to said room.

“Thank you,” She said as she opened the door and revealed a room that had several boxes stacked on top of one another.

It took a few minutes, moving aside and rearranging boxes to get to the ones marked as journals and photos. They dragged them forward and began to open them up.

The three of them began to read through and look through the photos together. They spent 2 hours going through them before Rey gasped.

“Oh. Ohmy.” She handed some photos over to Blix.

Blix looked at them seeing her mom, at a base she couldn’t recognize. Her arms were wrapped around a man, who was dark haired, and from the side profile of the first picture, he was scruffy. She looked at the next couple of photos and saw a man who had dark eyes and didn’t appear to smile very often.

In fact, the only photo she found of him smiling, was one where he was looking directly at the camera but at her mother, with a deep fondness.

“Ma did always say I got my too serious attitude from him. I can see why,” She mumbled looking at him, as she gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment.

“He was very handsome,” Rey complimented with a smile.

“Yeah. He was. She calls him Cass in these passages,” Blix noted gesturing toward the journal in her lap. “Apparently… they weren’t… exclusive.”

“Ooh. Intriguing. Cass? Like. Captain Cassian Andor?” Poe questioned looking over shoulder.

Blix shrugged not really knowing who that was.

She continued reading long after Poe and Rey retreated to go eat. Her mother tended to be sporadic when she wrote. Either she would write for days or there would be several months gap between entries.

She seemed to stop writing around completely around the time Blix was 5. Her last entry was expressing pride over a podrace Blix had won.

“She did so well today. She was so excited to win. I wish you were here Cass. You would’ve loved it. I know this isn’t the way either of us expected life to go, but I feel you would’ve been so proud of her.”

She remembered that race, it was a smaller race, but it was her first win. It was done on Tattooine and she was aware of the gangs that were there to watch. Her competitors were Huttese gangsters and she wasn’t going to let them intimidate her.

When she won, she was congratulated by Bib Fortuna himself and it was terrifying. She was trying to not let her nerve show, waiting for her mother to appear, to rescue her. When she did, she remembered her mother looking proud but there was a sadness in her eyes that she never could explain.

This entry explained that.

She set the journal down, staring off into the distance. She was vaguely aware of Poe coming back in and urging her to follow him. He dragged her to the dining room, where dinner was being served and she sat down at the table.

She quietly ate thinking about everything, more questions racing around her mind.

They eventually went to bed, and she struggled to sleep. She tossed around a few times, before Poe eventually draped himself over her, to settle her movements. She fell into a fitful sleep in his arms.

The next morning after they woke up and got ready, they were having breakfast when the doorbell rang. Dax came to her a few minutes later.

“Miss Kenobi. Maureen Holdo is here,” He informed her.

“Maker. What? Does she have this place bugged?” Blix muttered annoyed, stabbing her eggs.

“As far as we are aware, no,” Dax answered with a hint of a smile.

They heard the clicking of heels coming toward them, and a moment later, an older woman with white hair, and a gaunt face appeared.

“Hello Maureen,” Blix greeted dully, taking a bite of her food.

“Stop taking such large bites and sit up straight. I know I taught you better,” Maureen said in a snobbish tone.

Blix rolled her eyes, “I am an adult. You are not my mother. I can do what I want.”

Maureen pursed her lips.

“What brings you back here, Blix dear?” Maureen asked in a tone that stated she didn’t approve.

She looked over her companions with a twinge of disgust she failed to hide.

“Just needed to look at some of mom’s stuff. That’s it. You can go now, Maureen,” She dismissed getting irritated.

“You’re not even going to tell me about your engagement? I can see the ring from here, not blind yet,” Maureen stated, looking expectantly.

“General Poe Dameron of the Resistance. Formerly Captain of the Navy for the Republic. Now. Get. Out.” She demanded standing up facing her.

Dax stepped forward and began to usher Maureen out of the house.

“Tell me when you start to plan the wedding, I’ll send you samples!” She called out as she was urged out.

“That’s Amilyn’s mother? Really?” Rey asked staring in disbelief.

“We…. Are not letting her anywhere near our wedding plans. She didn’t even greet us. Looked at us like we were something foul. I see why you don’t like her,” Poe remarked with a frown.

“Let’s.. just get the journals and such and get out of here. Lock up everything so she can’t get back in,” She grumbled abandoning her food.

“Dax. Please make sure that woman does not have access to any of the rooms in the house. I don’t trust her,” She requested as Dax re-entered the dining room.

Dax nodded telling her it was already being done.

They grabbed the 3 boxes of journals and photos and took them to the Falcon. Poe insisted that they go see his father on Yavin 4.

They were there within an hour. As the Falcon landed, Blix noticed an older man who looked a great deal like Poe, but with greying hair and prominent laugh lines. She suddenly felt nervous as they stepped off and made their way to him.

“Blix. This is my father Kes Dameron. Dad. This is the love my life. This is also Rey, our kid sister,” Poe introduced proudly.

The first thing Kes seemed to notice was the necklace she wore. He glanced between the two of them, a smile growing on his face.

“So, this is my future daughter-in-law that I’ve heard so much about? I was beginning to wonder if you were real, he talked about you so much before you started dating,” Kes spoke bringing her into a hug.

She wasn’t expecting it, but she slowly returned it with a shy smile.

“He’s told me a lot about you and his mom. I wish I could’ve met her. I feel like we would’ve gotten along really well,” Blix said nervously.

“Oh yeah. She would’ve laughed at the hard time you gave him,” Kes laughed leading them onward.

He led them to a small, quaint home that was somewhat away from the nearby town, hidden by the forest around them.

They spent some time telling stories about battles and such. Rey had many questions and Kes answered them with enthusiasm. Blix who was curled up next to Poe on the couch, realized something that she decided to ask Kes once they were alone.

Rey slowly nodded off in her chair, and Poe quietly walked over to her and picked her. He took her to one of the spare bedrooms.

While he was doing that, Blix asked, “Kes… Did you… did you know my mother? Willow Kenobi?”

“Yes. I did. She was sweet lady. Wiz at technology, though she never liked to brag about it,” Kes answered after thinking for a moment.

“Did… Was… Did you know anyone named Cass?” She finally asked trying to phrase it properly.

“Cassian. Yeah. She was in love with him. Only problem was Cassian was in love with the Rebellion. He lived and breathed it. He did care for your mom a great deal, but… he wasn’t one to talk about feelings,” Kes explained with a half shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“I… I think he might be my father? I’m not… not sure. I was shown…visions… of a great deal of things. None of which made sense. Scarif being one of them. I know it’s highly improbable that anyone could still be alive… but… but I have to check,” She rambled slightly, fiddling with her shirt nervously.

“Mh. Makes sense. She wasn’t really one to sleep around. She only had eyes for him. This is clearly important to you. So, find your answers. Just know they might not be what you’re expecting,” He cautioned, patting her knee comfortingly.

She nodded in response, and followed Poe to their room, when he returned, wishing Kes a good night.

They spent a few days there, getting to know one another, and making some plans for the wedding. Poe was excited and happy to see his father, and she could tell that when they were leaving, it made him sad. He was trying his best to hide it though.

They stood outside the Falcon, and Blix offered, “So… When we finally figure out where we want to live and such, you are perfectly allowed to visit as often as you’d like.”

“Ooh. I may take you up on that and you may regret it slightly,” Kes said in a teasing voice.

Poe looked at her appreciatively and kissed the side of her head.

“Unless we stay at your mom’s home in Naboo. Turn it into a school for Force-sensitive kids,” Poe stated, before mumbling “Have a squadron of our own kids.”

Blix smiled, feeling her cheeks turn red as Kes laughed and Rey snickered at them.

They said their goodbyes and hopped on board the Falcon. It was going to take a few hours to reach what was left of Scarif. She wasn’t sure what they were going to find there. She simply knew… she had to check it out.

#poe dameron x oc #poe dameron #star wars au

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just-a-quirkless-loser · 5 years ago

Text

In A World of Grey🎶🎼

Chapter One

Grey:

Adj: A color intermediate between black and white

Adj: Pale, as through tiredness, age, or illness

‘Didn’t even notice, no punches there to roll with.’

Grey raced down the sidewalk, popping her hips to the music in her ears, grey hair swinging around her hips. She knew she should’ve left the house earlier but, the music was so distracting.

As always, Grey danced to the beat that no one else could hear. A few people sent her dirty looks but, she was too focused on the voice. Today was the day she was going to take the entrance exam for U.A., a prestigious high school for aspiring heroes. She’s dreamed of being a hero for so long and this is her chance to make this a reality. As long as she’s alive her dream of being “Musicality”, a pro hero of sound, will be achieved.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared up at the entrance of U.A., a few happy tears pooing in her light grey eyes. Grey walked through the entrance, looking around in awe at all the students that came. Some had mutation quirks while others appeared to be normal teenagers.

‘You’ve got to keep me focused, You want it? Say so.’

‘It’s so inspirational,’ she fawns at the lyrics. While a lot of people would hate to have music constantly buzzing, it makes Grey feel happy, almost like she’s never alone. Plus, it’s good for her quirk!

“Get out of my fucking way, extra,” she was pushed to the side by a boy with blonde spiky hair. His fists were bunched at his side as he kept going, leaving the girl to wonder what his face looked like.

“Sorry for being in the way,” she smiles brightly, waving at his back. He seems to go rigid for a second before he continues on his path to the school’s front.

Time seems to blur for Grey because one moment she’s standing outside and the next she’s inside a large auditorium sitting at a desk with a pamphlet as she stared at the pro hero known as Present Mic. She wonders if she’d ever get to train with him, wondering if her quirk can be affected by pitches of voice.

‘It’s been a long time since you, fell in love.’

“...ALSO, THAT GIRL KEEPS HUMMING! IT’S DISTRACTING AND DISRESPECTFUL TO THIS HERO,” Grey came out of a small stupor to hundreds of eyes staring at her. She cocked her head to the side, a lip stuck out to form a pout.

“Sorry,” the shouting boy, she would come to know as Iida, tensed the same way the blonde did earlier. It was almost like he could feel how sorry she was and that made him feel like a monster for yelling at the sweet girl. Before he could apologize, Present Mic asked him to sit down so he could continue with the directions for the exam.

“OKAAYYY LISTENERS! DO YOU BEST,” she looks around as people start to leave the auditorium. She giggles when Present Mic seems to get louder; a fellow enthusiastic spirit was found that day.

“Little listener, what are you still sitting there for for?” Grey waited till everyone cleared out. She was reading over the exam information since she hadn’t heard any of Present Mic’s speech. “Were you the one doing the humming? Great tone by the way but wrong place, mini missy.”

“Sorry,” she’s been saying that word a lot lately; it’s becoming her favorite. “My quirk distracts me alot but, that’s okay! I can do this! Heroes always have to adapt so this must be another step for me,” she sprinted out as she was saying her impassioned blurb. “And GREAT SPEECH...well, I wouldn’t know but I bet it was good. BYYYYE.”

Present Mic watched the girl retreat, entranced by her words and adorable presence. “I’ll be watching out for that one.”

Grey manages to make her way to her designated, her peers already ready as they face in to the fake city scene the school prepared. She didn’t know if her quirk would work on the robots but, she sure as hell was going to try.

She could still feel the music flowing through her brain; the melody had repeated so many times she now had it memorized. This was her chance to prove herself. Now, she just had to find the robots.

“Helpppp,” well that was quick! She followed the wailing voice to find a short, brown-haired girl surrounded by three of the robots. It looked like the robots were closing in quick so, she had to act fast.

‘What if it doesn’t work on the robots?!?! I could get her killed and eaten...well not eaten but killed for sure. Uhhgh no no no, I can’t think this way. I’m going to help,’ Grey runs up behind one of the robots, preparing to use her quirk.

“And we can dance all day around it, if you frontin’, I’ll be bouncing,” Grey starts busting out her funky fresh moves while she sings, the lyrics pushed to the surface of the robots. The girl in trouble notices how as she dances and sings, the robots try to copy her moves, only for them to topple over as she continues to dance and sing, having too much fun to notice how it affects the other robots.

“If you want it, scream it. Shout it, babe. Before I leave you dryyy,” Grey bops to her sound, her round hips swaying in circles, her arms in the air as she gyrates to a rhythm unknown to them all. Consequently, the girl gnaws the attention of some robots (a couple which were almost destroyed by her peers before she caught their attention), the robots trying to copy her but short-circuiting from the high energy that radiated from her, leaving the teachers that were watching the exam baffled.

Grey continues her escapade of dancing, not even noticing as the same girl she saved earlier was being saved by a green-haired boy with cute freckles that almost destroyed his entire body.

The boy smashed the top of the robot, leaving it to topple forward, moments away from crushing both of the students.

“Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment. I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?” the robot freezes midfall, stuck in that position. Why? How? Well, it was all because of Grey shimmying her way up the robots back, eyes closed as she still was unaware of the sheer pressure she gave off. Her eyes were closed and her tongue was lolled out the side of her mouth as she smiled.

“Didn’t even notice, no punches there to roll with. You got to keep me focused, you want me? Say so,” by now? She was on its head, doing an 80’s American disco move as she stomped on its head to the beat of the song. She was stomping so hard, a hole caved in from her foot, the robot falling to its side.

Grey stumbled as the robot fell to the ground, not really knowing what had happened. All she knew was that everyone was staring at her and a robot was shaking its metaphorical ass behind her.

“Hehe, uhh, sorry?”

Meanwhile, the teachers didn’t know what to say. Grey literally danced all over the robot’s ass while still keeping an aura of goofiness. What in the fuck? Why in the fuck did they just witness?

“Mini Missy, definitely didn’t expect that.”

***

‘I know I fucked up, I’m just a loser.’

Grey was antsy for the arrival of the acceptance letter from U.A. It seemed like she already knew she would attend the school yet, she didn’t stop worrying over the facts.

Her eyes strained up to the ceiling, staring at nothing in particular, just listening to the music. She mumbled the lyrics out loud for the universe to hear. It was a song she created herself.

At first, Grey was hesitant to make her own music, scared that she could hurt someone. But, she figured she may as well if she even considered going to the school of her dreams. The song was upbeat yet, the lyrics echoed her somber thoughts.

Yes, she was lonely. Her father had jumped at the opportunity to ship her off to Japan once she told him that she wanted to attend the same high school that Present Mic taught at. She needed help controlling her quirk and he was the only option other than her father that she could think of to help her.

Her relationship with her father had been strained for a long time, both of them never acknowledging what had happened. He tried to be there for her but, the combined tasks of being a hero and dealing with his own emotional baggage proved to be too strenuous for the man.

For the most part, Grey was content with living by herself. She wasn’t happy (then again, she hadn’t really been happy for a long time) but, she wasn’t upset. Although, being alone took a toll on her she often forgot to eat when she got too wrapped up in the music. Sometimes, the music wasn’t pleasant, inducing nightmares that kept her in a coma-like state for hours. She’d scream at what the sounds suggested, trapped in her mind. Blood would pool in her mouth. So, yeah, it would be nice to have someone around to care for her when that happened.

‘Shouldn’t be with ya, guess I’m a quitter.’

This was one of those times. As much as she loved the music, she couldn’t deny the price it took from her. Immobilized by something she couldn’t see, forced to feel what the music chose for her to hear.

As for friends, Grey didn’t have any.

As for family, Grey didn’t have any.

As for emotional support, Grey didn’t have any.

All she had was herself and she had learned to be happy with that; she learned it’s easier to accept the facts rather than deny them.

Eventually, the music dulled from a lion’s roar to a kitten’s mewl but, Grey didn’t move. Her own blood was choking her yet, it felt like a normal suffocating feeling. It seemed into her clothes m, sticking to her skin and assaulting her senses with a copper smell.

‘Now I’m in the bathroom crying, think I’m slowly sinking.’

KNOCK KNOCK

Grey got up to answer her front door and came face to face with the mailman. She probably should’ve tried to clean the blood from her face though.

“M-Ma’am, are you okay? Where are you bleeding from? Do you need an ambulance?” the mailman reached out to touch her. It felt good to be touched.

“Ohhhh, this looks worse than what it is,” she giggled. “I’m actually great. My quirk kinda does this from time to time! I still gotta control it. Sorry for scaring you,” she scratches the back of her neck, sheepishly grinning.

The mailman tensed as many people do when they encounter her, not really knowing what to do as the girl dazzled him. He kinda just pushed the envelope into her hands and dashed to the elevator with a red face.

‘Maybe he’s constipated,’ she thought as she closed the door.

This was it; the moment she finds out if she’s going to get the help she needs to be the hero she’s dreamt of.

“MINIIII MISSSSY, IT’S ME, PRESENT MIC. IM JUST GONNA SAY, you’ve got some moves and that voice,” hologram Mic does a chef kiss and gives her a Cheshire grin. “MUAHHH, DELICIOSO. THERE’S NO QUESTION YOU’RE DEFINITELY ACCEPTED. Between the rescue and attack points, you’ve scored 98 points!!! Some of them weren’t counted, seeing as you stole some points from others but, STILL THATS A LOT. I LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOU. PEACE OUT, MINI MISSY,” she blinked.

“Huuhahwhuahh,” Grey kept staring at the hologram, still not believing what he said.

Seeing as Grey couldn’t even remember what happened during the exam, she didn’t think she did good. Apparently, music once again comes to her aid.

She decides to call her dad, hoping that he’ll answer for once. The first call, he doesn’t answer; he never answers the first time. The second call, he doesn’t answer; she expects that. But, the third call, he actually picks up.

“Hello, Grey. Is something wrong?” Her mouth dries. Hearing his voice makes her throat scrunch, her tear ducts getting ready for the flood. “Grey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I just wanted to tell you I got accepted to U.A.,” she fiddles with the carpet at her feet. “I got 98 points on the exam too although, I did kinda daze out so I don’t remember much.”

“That’s good but, you need to stop blanking out. You need to be more considerate of the safety of other,” what about her? “Hopefully, you can get control of it. Listen, I have to go. I have a mission so, I won’t be answering my phone for a while.”

“WAIT...how is she?”

“She’s fine,” he hangs up.

She stared at the floor, music coming back. The phone’s still in her hand as she drops her arms to her side. She just stands there.

‘While you’re out there drinking, I’m just here thinking, bout where we shoulda been. I’ve been lonely.’

***

‘Snogglefuck, music always has to make me late,’ Grey was running down the sidewalk to U.A., dodging the reporters that stood at the entrance. It’s bad enough she can’t stay in to dance so there’s no way she wants to deal with those paid vultures.

‘Don’t we look good together, there’s a reason why they watch us all night long.’

‘Well, there shouldn’t be any harm in a little bit of music,’ she thinks as she shuffled side to side. Oh, poor adorable dancing bean.

She kinda loses track of time, somewhat aware of the world around her but still, shaking her body. She’s bumbled into a few people that give her a few dirty looks (in their defense, she is dancing with no music or humming) but, that doesn’t deter her from walking into Class 1-B, mistaking it for 1-A.

“Missy, wrong class,” Vlad tries to tell her but, she really isn’t listening. “Aizawa’s gonna have his work cut out with this one,” he corrects his mistake by gently grabbing her and placing her at 1-A’s door. He goes to walk off but sees she’s once again dancing towards his class.

“Aizawa, she’s dancing and she keeps trying to follow me back to my class,” Vlad’s tone may be gruff but, he’s amused. He has to nudge her into her assigned class, all while observing that her dancing is increasing in energy. In all his career, he’s never wanted to dance as much as he did then. “Get your little idol.”

“I APOLOGIZE FOR MY CLASSMATE’S MISTAKE. WE HAVEN’T SEEN OUR SENSEI YET. PLEASE EXCUSE HER,” the same boy that reprimanded her at the entrance exams is bowing before the two of them. Vlad just grunts, sporting Aizawa’s sleeping bag underneath his desk but chose not to mention it.

“Just keep her on track,” he turns and ruffles her hair which pulls her out of her trance. “Don’t go dancing off alone before we have to call a search party.”

Grey blushes once she understands that music once again blurred her. But, you can’t really blame her. It’s so catchy!

“Gahhh sorry,” she bows to Vlad and Iida. “The music is awesome though. I’m sure you’d throw it back to the song if you could hear it. Then again, it’s in my head so it’s not like you can unless I made it but, still it’s good. You know I-I’m just gonna go find my seat,” she scurries off.

“What’s your name,” Iida asks. Vlad left him in charge of watching her for the time being and he intends to watch like a hawk.

“Keenum Grey, yeah I see the look on your face. I’m American,” she twirls, not really for Iida but to the beat again. She’s trying to fight the urge.

“YOU OVER THERE WITH YOUR FEET ON THE DESK, REMOVE THEM,” and Iida’s back to yelling. She notes that his yelling isn’t really to be rude so, she’s knows it isn’t bad. “And Keenum-san, I apologize for yelling at you. I didn’t stop to think the humming was for your quirk. It was amazing how you fought those robots and I have noted you to be a worthy rival.”

“Huah? Rival? I didn’t even do anything,” she pouts and stalks over to her desk, slamming her head into it which effectively drives away the music.

‘Why is a saggy banana on the floor?’ she thinks of getting up to kick it. ‘Noooo, don’t do it. What if it moves? I’m not prepared for that possibility. But, I’m curious...I’m gonna do it.’

“Cutie?!” a hand waves around her face to catch her attention. “Are you ignoring me? Aw c’mon, I haven’t even done anything...yet!”

Grey turns to looks at a boy with honey blonde yellow hair, a fringe in the front with a lightning bolt design. His yellow eyes dance with mischief and it makes the music loud once again.

“Oh! No, sorry! I daze out sometimes but hai,” she waves as she sticks her tongue out for her signature greeting (she knows it’s not proper but since she literally shakes her ass every ten minutes, she might as well do what she wants). “I’m Keenum Grey. I look forward to being friends.”

“Kaminari Denki. Oh my god, you really are cute. You have a music quirk, right? Wanna be my songbird?” she bursts out laughing, making a few people around the two laugh as well. “Woooah, you can control emotions too.”

“Kaminari, you’re hogging her,” a boy with three purple balls for hair pops up on her side. He’s playing with a piece of her hair.

“You must like Dutch braids?...Aren’t they just dutchtecular?” Grey says it with such a straight face that Kaminari tries so hard not too snort. “C’mon, you like em. You wanna dutch with the dutch! Kaminari, you know you wanna laugh at the pun. Succumb to the laughter,” she waggles her brows.

“That’s not the only thing I like,” Mineta’s Hans grazed Grey’s exposes thigh.

“Did-DID YOU JUST TOUCH MY aSsEtS?” Grey gasps. Kaminari sounding like a dying whale beside her. Mineta eases away when Iida comes up to her desk, eyes narrowing in on the boy who tried to touch the innocent girl.

“Are you okay?” He asks her to which she nods. “Good, YOU CAN’T TOUCH WOMEN LIKE THAT.”

“I could’ve handled him. I was gonna yeet him out the window,” a determined look crossed her face as she smashed a fist to her hand. Iida gives her an exasperated look. “Hey, it’s yeet or be yeeted in this world. And, he was empty.”

At this point, Kaminari and another boy with black hair and unique elbows were cracking up. Hell, most people in the class had found the girl entertaining. The class had been somewhat quiet (other than Iida’s yelling or Bakugou’s yelling) before she showed up.

‘When I walk in with you, I watch the whole room change. Shut the shit down on sight, that’s right. We out here dripping in finesse.’

Grey hit her head down on the desk to drive the music away.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that. It’s dangerous,” the black haired boy told her. “Also, I’m Hanta Sero. Nice to meet you.” Grey decided that she liked his smile.

“Keenum Grey! And, sorry, I kinda gotta do it or the whole class may be dancing if I don’t,” that got the attention of the two you were sitting beside.

“I ain’t dancing to shit,” the blonde with spiky hair said. Grey can finally see his face m (there’s no way she could forget hair like that). His carmine eyes make his face seem even harsher but, they don’t hold the same malice as his voice would suggest.

“That’s what she said,” Grey high-fives Kaminari. “But, who are you? I bumped into you at the entrance exam.”

“Bakugou Katsuki; not that it should matter to you, shitty girl. I’m going to be the best,” she nods her head.

“You must be really strong. I hope you’re able to be the best,” the people in the room go steel. She’s so heartfelt and wholesome that they all want to give her head pats. Hell, even Bakugou can tell she’s being sincere.

“Tch, whatever, shitty girl,” he turns to look out the window to hide his soft eyes.

“That was manly,” the redhead behind Bakugou says. His teeth are sharp and remind her of shark teeth, making her want to touch them to see if they’d hurt her. He had red eyes too but his are a bit happier than Bakugou’s.

‘Why is everyone so good looking? And fit? It’s like being surrounded by webtoons!’ Grey thinks to herself. She’s fits as well but she’s always had a thicker frame with wide hips, making her an hourglass shape.

“...WHY THE FUCK IS HE HERE,” and she oops. She hears Bakugou yelling at a greenette that walked through the door. This is when the banana starts to move, drawing a scream from Grey.

“IT’S MOVING!!! SOMEONE PEEL IT, PLEEEEASE. IT’S GONNA...ohh wait, it’s a sleeping bag. False alarm,” Aizawa facepalms. This girl reminds his mmm of Yamada.

“EVERYONE. IN YOUR SEATS,” he proceeds to tell them not to only focus on making friends and that’s he’s going to test them. Grey, however, it too busy chilling with finesse in her brain.

“Whoever comes last, gets expelled,” gasps ring around her and she nods. Now is the time to prove herself. She’ll show everyone she’s a force to look out for. Now, she just has to ignore the jamfest in her heart.

—————————————————————————-

I’m really excited for this new series😁

Chapter Soundtrack: Say So by Doja Cat, SupaLonely by Benee, Finesse by Bruno Mars ft. Cardi B

@sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack

#anime #bnha #fanfic #mha #mha fanfiction #ao3 #bnha fanfiction #sero hanta #sero x oc #bnha oc #bnha kaminari #kaminari x oc #present mic #dadzawa #dadzashi #cute #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x oc #overpowered oc

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