#they only ran away for a hundred years because they had nowhere to stop and fight and nothing to stop and fight with and it hurt them so bad

[harleybeaumont]

Never Have I Ever

Chapter 11 - Demons From the Past - Part 2

Book- TRR

Series- Never Have I Ever

Pairings- Bertrand x MC 

Chapter Synopsis- Bertrand relives his past through nightmares.

Chapter Warnings- language, physical and emotional abuse, child abuse, violence, death

Rating - Mature

Word Count- 3,000

A/N- This chapter is pretty heavy as we get a glimpse into Bertrand and Maxwell's past family trauma. Please see warnings above.

————————————————————

..He turned on the TV in an attempt to drown out his intrusive thoughts regarding a certain woman who was sleeping a mere two doors away, and eventually drifted off into a restless sleep…

Chapter 11 - Demons From the Past - Part 2

Bertrand cowered on the floor of his playroom, looking up into the disdainful eyes of his father. The crystal squid statue in the foyer was in hundreds of pieces, and his father would ensure he’d never see the light of day again. The older man shook his head at his son, “What did I tell you boys about playing your infantile games in the house?! You’re nine years old now, Bertrand! Grow up!”

Bertrand apologized but his father yelled over him. “Enough! Where is Maxwell? I know he had a hand in this as well!” Bertrand didn’t dare to reveal his younger brother’s hiding place. As soon as Max had accidentally knocked down the statue, Bertrand sent him into the greenhouse to hide. 

“He didn’t have anything to do with this.. it was all me. I’m sorry father, it was an accident.” 

Barthelemy grabbed Bertrand’s arm and jerked him up roughly. “You are going to learn, son. All accidents come with a price.”

Bertrand was transported three years into the future, to the night after his mother died. With his arms wrapped around a sobbing Maxwell, he tried to keep a stiff upper lip. He needed to be strong despite the gaping hole in his heart. He had to be there for his brother, because now they had no one else.

Berthelemy staggered into the boy's bedroom, holding a nearly empty tumbler of scotch. “Quit your blubbering, it won’t bring her back,” he slurred as he glared at Maxwell. 

Bertrand immediately stood and walked past his father and out of the bedroom. There was only one way to stop Barthelemy when he started his drunken rants.

“You need to suck it up, Maxwell.. You’re a Beaumont for God's sake! I swear, I don’t know how I ended up with the world's biggest pussies for sons. Although I suppose your mother is to blame for that. It's a good thing she's-” 

Crash!

Barthelemy whirled around and saw a shattered bottle of scotch at his feet, amber liquid and glass covering the surrounding tile. Bertrand’s heart hammered in his chest as his father’s ire turned to him. Rage filled the older man’s eyes and Bertrand ran, knowing he would be close behind. 

“You son of a bitch, get back here!” Barthelemy yelled, running as fast as he could in his inebriated state. Once Bertrand had gotten far enough away from Maxwell’s bedroom, he stopped and faced his father. There was no use running, and there was nowhere he could hide. Barthelemy cocked his fist and all Bertrand could do was close his eyes tightly, thankful that it was him instead of Maxwell.

Four years later, sixteen year old Bertrand sat behind the wheel of his father’s Aston Martin, massaging his sore neck. The driver behind him swore she had put on her brakes, but the enormous dent in his bumper suggested otherwise. Bertrand only hoped that his father would be more forgiving if he found out about the accident in front of the police. Barthelemy pulled up to the scene in his black Rolls-Royce ten minutes later. “Oh, my son.. Are you alright?” he asked with what sounded like genuine concern. 

“Yes, sir.” Bertrand nodded and Barthelemy spoke politely to the police officers before returning to his son’s side. 

“Get your ass in the car,” he muttered under his breath and Bertrand obeyed immediately. Once the scene had been cleared and his father’s wrecked car was towed away, Barthelemy slid into the driver's seat. “I let you take my car, and you decided to go joyriding.” 

Bertrand shook his head, “No sir, I just wanted to get some extra practice! The driver behind me ran into me, it wasn’t my fault!” 

Berthelemy slammed his palm against the dash and Bertrand jumped, “A real man takes responsibility for his actions!” 

Bertrand looked down, not daring to say another word. The engine roared to life and Barthelemy took off like a shot. “Were you racing some other punk when you crashed my two hundred and fifty thousand pound car?”

“No sir! I wouldn’t-” 

His father cut him off with a forced laugh, “You think you’re an adult, is that it? You can do whatever you want? Well, go ahead and take the wheel, son.”

“What?!” 

Bertrand watched in horror as his father let go of the steering wheel while the car continued down the road at an alarming speed. “Go on then.. Take the wheel, Bertrand. Show me how it’s done.” 

Bertrand looked between his father and the road as the car began to drift toward the shoulder. “What are you doing?! I swear I didn’t mean to wreck the car!” 

Barthelemy casually put his arms behind his head and pushed the gas pedal down harder. “Come on, Bertrand. I said, show me how it’s done.” 

The car shook as it drifted onto the shoulder, gravel spraying wildly behind it. They were running out of straight road, and fast. Bertrand’s heart was hammering in his chest. Was his father really about to let them crash and die to teach him a lesson? A turn was fast approaching and Bertrand grabbed the steering wheel, preparing to save their lives. 

Barthelemy slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop, fishtailing slightly as it did so. “You arrogant motherfucker!” Barthelemy yelled at his teenage son. “Thought you’d just take over my car, didn't you?!” He threw the car in park and rushed around to the passenger door, yanking it open and pulling Bertrand out. He tossed his son to the ground and landed a sharp kick against his ribs. “You can walk home since you're such a big man now!” 

Bertrand coughed and held his aching side, calling out after his father who was making his way back to the driver side. “Please.. It’s almost dark out. I don’t even know where we are!” 

Once Barthelemy was back inside, he locked the car doors and cracked the window slightly. “Guess we’ll see how long it takes you to figure it out.” 

Bertrand lunged for the passenger door, but as soon as his fingers grasped the handle, his father sped away, leaving his son laying on the ground in a cloud of dust.

The image melted away, revealing one of Bertrand’s worst memories ever.. years later at his college graduation. His father and Maxwell sat three rows back, smiling at him while he received his diploma on stage and gave a speech. He had graduated at the top of his class and been named valedictorian. Initially Bertrand wasn't even sure if he would be able to attend college, since there was no way he could leave Maxwell alone with his father while he wasn’t there to protect him. Thankfully it hadn't been too difficult to convince Barthelemy to send Maxwell away to year round boarding school. And Bertrand’s college graduation coincided with Maxwell’s high school graduation, so everything worked out. After the ceremony, Bertrand went searching for his brother, who had slipped away with a friend. 

A minute later, he noticed Maxwell’s friend running full steam out of a hallway. Bertrand headed in that direction and heard the unmistakable sound of his father ranting. 

“Smoking pot at your brother’s graduation?! Are you fucking insane?! Do you know how many important people are here?!” Barthelemy berated Maxwell from a room at the end of the hall. “God, it’s no wonder your grades were so piss poor! You know you wouldn’t even have made it through high school if I hadn’t paid them off!” 

Bertrand hurried toward the scene before his father could do any more harm to his younger brother. 

He was too late. Bertrand heard the telltale smack of his father’s hand connecting with Maxwell’s cheek.  

“Dad, I’m sorry! It was just one time!” Max cried, before another slap rang out. 

“Don’t lie to me, boy!” Another slap. 

Bertrand broke out in a run and found them in a janitor's supply closet. His father was dragging Maxwell toward the door by his shirt collar. 

“Father, please,” Bertrand tried to reason with him. “He made a mistake. He’s just a kid!”

“This is none of your business, Bertrand. Get the hell out of here!” Barthelemy shoved Bertrand backwards and he landed on the linoleum floor in the hallway. Barthelemy slammed the supply room door shut with himself and Maxwell inside, locking it with a click.

Bertrand banged on the heavy wooden door, pleading with his father to stop the assault. He threw his shoulder into it several times in an attempt to break it down to no avail.

“You are going to learn not to disgrace our name again!” His father yelled at Maxwell, and a loud crash immediately followed. 

“Stop!” Bertrand cried out, watching through the narrow window with tear filled eyes. “Stop, god dammit!” The door wouldn’t budge no matter how many times he threw his body into it. He pounded on the door in frustration, helpless tears streaming down his cheeks. “I'm sorry, Maxwell.. I’m so sorry.”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t protect him. 

The image before him swirled and transformed and suddenly, instead of Maxwell cowering on the floor, it was Riley. His father struck her across the cheek and she screamed. 

“No!” Bertrand called out, his heart pounding as he threw his entire body into the wooden door, desperately trying to get to her. Yet his father continued, no matter how much he screamed and begged him to stop. With no other options, Bertrand decided to run for help, but found his feet were suddenly impossibly heavy, and his legs frozen in place. There was nothing he could do.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t protect her. 

He swiped away his tears and suddenly it wasn’t his father in the room with Riley- it was Tariq. Bertrand watched in horror as Tariq pulled Riley to him, kissing her forcefully while she squirmed, trying to get away. Bertrand yelled and pounded on the door until his knuckles bled. “Let go of her!” 

Tariq turned back toward Bertrand with a smirk before returning his attention to Riley’s now naked body. 

“I'm so sorry Riley!” Bertrand yelled through his sobs, watching her struggle. She needed help. She needed him.

And he couldn’t protect her.

Bertrand gasped as he was thrust back into wakefulness. He was drenched in sweat, his heart was pounding, his chest hurt, his stomach was in knots, and tears dampened his cheeks.. Yet his body was surrounded by the most amazing warmth and feeling of security. Once he got his barings, he realized that he was in Riley’s room, laying in her bed with his head in her lap. She was rubbing her hand across his back soothingly, whispering something comforting that he couldn’t make out. 

He sat up quickly and saw Maxwell was asleep in a chair across from the bed. The faint orange glow of sunrise shone through a crack in the curtain, slightly illuminating the dark room. Panic began to set in when he realized what must have happened. “How did I get in here?” he asked hesitantly.

“Hey, hey..” Riley whispered, taking hold of his arm and pulling him back down beside her on the bed. “It’s ok, Bert, don’t worry about it.” She wrapped her arms tightly around him and pulled him close to her body again. “I’ve got you. You’re ok.”

Despite the embarrassment at what Riley had possibly witnessed, he was so relieved that she was safe. The fresh memory of his horrible nightmares came rushing back to him and he returned her embrace, letting himself be held and comforted. 

She whispered, “I’ve got you.” The feeling of her fingernails gliding across his back and the steady sound of her heartbeat as he lay his head against her chest, instantly set him at peace. She kissed the top of his head, and used the sleeve of her hoodie to dry his face. 

“Riley?” He asked, breathing in her comforting scent while she continued to caress his back soothingly.

“Yes?” Her hand stilled briefly and she leaned forward to look down at him.

“Did.. Did Maxwell tell you about.. this?”

She sighed and hugged him tightly against her body. “Ya.. a little.”

Three hours prior..

An insistent knocking at her bedroom door woke Riley with a start. 3:00 am. Throwing open the door in panic, she found Bertrand standing in the darkened hallway outside of her bedroom, swaying slightly. “Bertrand!? Are you ok?”

He just stood there trembling with his arms wrapped around himself.

“Bert?”

Suddenly he choked out a sob and reached out to hold her tightly. “Oh!” Riley gasped in surprise. 

His body shook as he sobbed against her. “I’m so sorry, Riley.. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled over and over, and although she was baffled, she immediately returned his embrace.

Riley was speechless as she helped him make his way over to her bed. She turned on a lamp and his eyes fluttered shut but when he opened them again, it was as if he was looking straight through her. Realization washed over her and she helped him sit beside her. 

“Oh, Bert.” 

He rested his head against her shoulder and she wrapped one arm around him, using her other hand to dial Max.

“Damn it.” Max frowned as he entered her room, taking in the sight before him. “I should have known this would happen.”

“He’s sleepwalking, right?” Riley whispered, her arm still protectively wrapped around Bertrand.

“Ya.” 

“I’ve never seen him do this in all the months I’ve been here.. Why did you say you should have known it would happen?”

Maxwell sighed sadly, “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Tell me.. please?” Riley asked. 

Bertrand had settled into what appeared to be a restful sleep, and Max helped him lay down on Riley’s bed. He put a comforting hand on his older brother's shoulder while he spoke quietly. “So.. growing up, our dad was always a real dick. Like a really, really shitty person. Bertrand spent his life trying to protect me from him.. Which means he got the brunt of dads wrath most of the time.”

“Oh God.” Riley’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth, “Did he.. I mean.. hit you both?”

“Emotional and physical abuse were his forte but he was also a textbook narcissist. He never shied away from telling and showing us how disappointed he was in us. Seems fucked up to say, but I’m thankful dad’s in a coma. The only thing better would have been if he actually died. Me and Bert have seen some of the best therapists around and it’s helped a lot, but.. he fucked Bertrand up really bad. It’s taken him years to stop having nightmares every night. Now it just happens when he gets really stressed out, which is almost always right before the court comes for the Bash.”

Riley’s heart ached for both of them, but especially for the grown man who always prided himself on being the stoic leader of House Beaumont, whose body was once again starting to shake from quiet sobs. 

“I don’t know what to say.. I’m so sorry.”

She placed her hand over Maxwell’s, which was still resting on Bertrand’s back. “Thanks,” Max replied with a sad smile.

“Does he remember this when he wakes up in the morning?”

“He does, mostly.” Maxwell nodded. “Although he never wants to talk about it. He usually sleepwalks to my room in tears, and apologizes over and over because he feels like he didn’t protect me enough. It’s also the only time he ever says he loves me. I blame dad for that too.” Max rolled his eyes, “Affection is a sign of weakness according to dear old dad.” He shook his head sadly, “So anyway, when this happens I just put Bertrand in the bed with me and hug him so he knows he’s ok and I’m ok, and he's not alone.”

Riley’s eyes welled up with tears, and she tried to discreetly wipe them away. “Max.. why do you think he came to my room tonight instead of yours?”

“Why do you think?” Max patted her hand sadly, and Riley swallowed down the lump in her throat as more tears fell from her eyes. "You can go sleep in my room tonight, Ri. I’ll take care of him.”

“No,” she swallowed hard while she looked at Bertrand curled up in her bed. “I want to stay with him.”

“Are you sure?”

Riley nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Ok,” Max dropped into a chair across the room, “but I’ll stay too, in case he gets really upset again.”

Riley lay on the pillows next to Bertrand and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ve got you, baby,” she whispered and rubbed his back soothingly until his breathing became rhythmic and calm. After about thirty minutes Maxwell drifted off to sleep but Riley remained awake, occasionally murmuring words of comfort.

Present..

Bertrand cringed in humiliation, knowing that Riley had to witness him in such a pathetic state. It was bad enough when he woke up in Maxwell's room after he had these nightmares, curled up against him like a helpless child. Riley would probably never talk to him again after this. 

“I am so sorry. I’ve inconvenienced you terribly,” Bertrand apologized, and sat up. “I.. I need to go.”

“Wait,” She took his arm to keep him from leaving. “You didn’t inconvenience me. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” That was the last thing he wanted to do. What he really wanted to do was fall into a hole forever.

“Are you sure? Talking can help sometimes, and I’m worried about you.”

“No, I’m fine,” his reply was more harsh than he intended. “Sorry, but I’d really rather just forget this ever happened.”

“You know you don’t always have to shoulder everything alone.”

Bertrand closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. I do.”

[after-witch]

Song of a Broken Heart [NeedleAndDead OC Lucas x Reader]

Title: Song of a Broken Heart [NeedleAndDead OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: You crossed a line with Lucas, and it could never be taken back.  OC belongs to @needleanddead​

Word count: 1700ish

Notes: yandere; kidnapped reader; violence; gore; reader death; you fuck around and find out!

There was blood on your hands. Not a lot. Just a smear of blood that still clung to your skin, despite the fact that you were running through the woods at a speed you never knew you could accomplish.

It wasn’t your blood, though. It was from Lucas. Only a smidge, what had seeped from his shoulder when you pulled the knife out. 

The knife had clattered to the cabin floor as he stood there in absolute shock. And then you ran through the front door, bolting as fast as you could.

You didn’t even have shoes on. The forest floor whipped at your bare feet. Rocks and branches and bramble. But the pain had to be ignored. It had to.

Lucas was behind you. He was coming.  You knew he was, without turning back, without thinking.  You swore you heard him breathing hard; gruff, growling noises that made your bowels  turn icy and spurred you on to run even faster.

It could have been an animal. It was night. It was the woods. But animals did not sound so purposeful. Animals did not let out sounds of rage directed, you were sure, squarely at you.

The woods were dark. The full moon above helped a little, but not enough. You weren’t familiar with them, in the way Lucas was. That was how he’d gotten you in the first place. Stupid, lost little you, apparently ripe for the picking while the rest of your camping party was hacked to death.  

And here you were, back in those woods, this time running for your life all over again.

Don’t stop. Don’t fall. Don’t stop. Don’t fall. If you do, he’ll get you. If he gets you…

You didn’t see the hole you stepped in. You only felt your ankle crack, only felt the wind rush at your face. You hit the ground with a dumb oof sound. Your hands scraped against the ground, rocks and branches, squishy mildew.

But then there was the sensation of someone standing behind you. Gradually, reality came into focus, and you heard him. His breathing. The ground crunching underneath his boots. You pulled yourself along,  scrambling backwards like a crab so you could at least see him from your position on the ground.

You almost wished you hadn’t.

He looked wild, manic, his chest heaving and blood still seeping from his shoulder.

Adrenaline propelled you on your feet, even though your foot dragged pitifully as you took limping steps backward. Back and back until you hit a tree. A big, beautiful tree that had been there for hundreds of years before you were ever born and would be there after your corpse was eaten away.

There was nowhere to go. He had you. And it was then that you noticed the axe dragging in his hand for the first time.

“Oh, God,” you said, eyes darting around wildly. Cornered animal and all. Where could you go? There had to be an escape. There had to be.

But.

There was none.

You were trapped in the woods, and he was going to kill you.

He took another step closer and your stomach clenched. Urine ran down your leg, warm against the inside of your pants.

“Please, p-please--” The begging came out all stuttered, incoherent. Stupid. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t really listening to your words, anyway.

He stalked forward. The scar on his neck seemed to stick out more in the moonlight, making it look shiny, damp with his sweat.

“You…” He said, and oh, there was so much contempt in it. It had nothing of the soft, cooing tone that Lucas reserved for you before. Patient and entirely delusional.

Now? Now he fucking hated you, and you saw it raw and clear in him as he came towards you.

The leaves underfoot crunched, branches snapped, and your nerves jolted with each sound.

He stopped in front of you, and it made it worse. Because up close, you couldn’t hide from the anger in his eyes. Anger and hatred and something worse--betrayal. He looked hurt. But the hurt wasn’t soft. It wasn’t something you could smooth over with some sweet words and a kiss on the cheek.

This was a deep hurt, blood red, pulsing with anger. A hurt there was no coming back from.

“Lucas,” you breathed out. Your throat was so dry. You had no spit left to swallow.  Your chest twinged in pain every time you breathed. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” His spit fell on your cheek, and--

The axe connected with your shoulder before you realized he even swung his arm. There was a startling sound that seemed to come from within your body; a crunching, thudding noise, as the blade broke through your flesh and into the bones of your shoulder.

It hurt in a way you couldn’t comprehend. You had never hurt this much before. And now there was so much pain, concentrated, heavy.

Your body fell forward as you let out a guttural cry, but the blade was stuck into the tree behind you, keeping you pinned by your ruined flesh. You didn’t get far.

You whined in your throat. “Lucas,” you said, barely making sense, half-shrieking the words. “Lucas, wait, wait, I’ll do, I have, I won’t, just--just--” useless, meaningless words came and went as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You cried out again when he pulled against the axe,  yanking it out of your shoulder.

“Oh,” you said, mouth gaping in incomprehensible pain. “Oh--” Blood ran down your skin. You looked at the axe, its silver blade was coated with a thin stream of your blood. A piece of your flesh stuck to it. 

“My… my shoulder…”  You said, whimpering. Your hand went up to graze the injury and it only hurt more. A chunk of your flesh had come out with the blade, and it went deep enough to cut through some of the bone. 

You didn’t quite understand what you were seeing; you’d never been hurt like this. This couldn’t be real. This was something that happened in movies...

The blood that met your fingers mingled with Lucas’ dried blood. You were bleeding. You were bleeding because he hit you with an axe.

When you looked back at him, your eyes were wide with shock and horror and a little hurt of your own.

He didn’t look at you with pity or sympathy. He was breathing wildly, eyes wide. There was blood on his own shoulder from where you stuck the knife in.

Christ, it hadn’t been a carefully thought out plan. It had been stupid and impulsive. He left the knife out for once--and now, you thought, had he done that on purpose?--and you took your chance.

Only you missed his neck.

Only you realized, far too late, that there was no way you could get away from him, even if he was injured.

“Can’t believe I let you trick me.” Lucas was muttering now, his voice hot, low, bitter. His breath hit your cheek, spittle flying. “Just another fake. Liar. Bitch.”

The word stung in the air like a slap.

Not because it hurt your feelings. But because the words confirmed the warm, creeping knowledge that teased and tickled at your chest: you were going to die out here.

You should have known that from the moment your fingers curled around the hilt of the knife, really. But you’d been hoping, stupidly, that you could kill him then. Then you’d hoped, stupidly, that you could run away.

Look where that hope got you.

Your body trembled as pain radiated down your shoulder and your arm. You tried to move it and it made a grinding noise, which did nothing to cover up the pained moan from your lips.

“Wasted my time,” he spat again, and the axe connected with your shoulder again. “Wasted my love.”

The pain was not shocking now, and none of it was masked by adrenaline or surprise. It was sharp and explosive, invasive, sticking inside you like tar.

You screamed and screamed as he hacked away, covering the sounds of his enraged noises, but it didn’t matter. You couldn’t move away. You couldn’t run. You could only feel every last bit of agony as the the blade pinned you each time he swung, precise, strong--until your arm was hanging on by ropes of bleeding tissue. Sharp edges of bone stuck out from the hole.

He swung one more time, and your arm fell to the forest floor. More blood spurted from the wound, seeping, half-gushing out as you stared at the empty, mangled space where your arm used to be.

“My arm,” you said, blank, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Lucas, breathing through his teeth, promptly grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and threw you to the ground without a word.

You tried to scramble away, and there was the dim thought--why isn’t my right arm moving?--before a boot stomped down on your chest.

Sparks exploded behind your eyes, and your chest cracked and split. More pain, this time radiating from inside you, feeling sharp and awful. Something foamy and metallic bubbled up from your lips, and you stopped trying to scramble away. Your arm wasn’t working very well, anyway.

Lucas stood above you, eyes burning with disdain and rage. You could see him so well, despite the pain, despite the blood loss and agony that was starting to make everything so fuzzy.

Your blood was splattered across his face like freckles.

Lucas’s body went all blurry as he moved above you. Turning, pivoting a little and… What was he doing? What was he--

Somewhere, in the distance, you thought you heard chickens.

The axe came down on your face in one swift motion.

There was sudden blackness and untold pain. Hot. Awful. Your nose and mouth split in half, your forehead cracking. There was again the awful inward sound of your bones crunching, like some sort of vibrating speaker that radiated pain. This time that sound blotted out everything else, including the stuttered cry that came from your broken mouth.

He pulled the axe out and raised it again, though you couldn’t see it anymore, couldn’t really think about what was happening other than pain.

Your body jerked reflectively, your arms and legs twitching like a poorly made puppet. You felt only pain and wetness. Blood and urine and tears and something bitter foaming from your mouth.

You heard a sound and there was undoubtedly a final thought somewhere in you, but it was only something half-formed and primal that guttered out as Lucas’ axe came down and severed your skull in half.

Then there was nothing at all.

You were gone.

[random-doctor-on-the-internet]

Ok. So, well, @weirdly-specific-but-ok , I promised you a mafia story for helping my friend. You helped my friend, you'll get a story.

Sorry, I didn't read it again before posting so it's entirely my fault if there are English mistakes. Fuck la grammaire.

I have no idea about what to write so don't expect high quality. Not that you're used to a higher level. Anyways, buckle your seatbelt, open a red bull can (you'll need it), and get ready for

Pulls sunglasses out of nowhere because that is the only thing I can do at this point.

The Bagel Story

(please notice the effort put into the title. I'm too tired to put any effort elsewhere so you can stop here)

Ok, so it all begins in Ukraine (before the war). At the time, I'm kind of free (compared to later. Long story) and spend most of my days exploring the town where I live. It's a nice town. Lots of abandoned buildings. Tom Sawyer-ish vibes, if Tom Sawyer lived in a tough neighborhood from Detroit.

So, this time, I decided to take pictures of one hundred broken windows in a day (little me had weird occupations), and start wandering until it was, what, 4 pm? At some point, I bought bagels. They aren't useful on this story, they're just here for the title.

So I'm kinda lost in an empty street, and the smartest thing I think about is going into the abandoned buildings, hoping to find someone who will help me.

I don't, and spend like an hour looking for someone (who's not drunk/ high/ having more important business than helping a six year old). Noone. I try anyway. At some point, I hear people in a building. Desperate, I enter the building by the window and walk through a corridor, to arrive in a room with actual people. Well, I didn't see, since they were all wearing masks.

And this when shit gets complicated.

To give you a picture of the situation, I've just walked in a room full of masked people who were singing a song in a language I barely know (idk what it was, I assumed it was Ukrainian but don't remember enough to analyze it with my old brain). These people look at me like I was Jesus reincarnated. I look at them like they were all multiverse versions of Jesus wearing wedding dresses.

At this point, there are too many Jesuses in the story and God abandons us.

They point at me and start screaming in Ukrainian (this time, I'm sure it's Ukrainian. But I didn't speak any of it when the story happened so it just sounds like alien metal music for me). I..uh…I smile, yell “no hablo Espanol” with a Hungarian accent and run away. I don't know why.

I mean, I don't know why I yelled in Spanish. Running away was a perfectly calculated decision.

So I'm running. I don't even look to see if they kept singing in their lair, undisturbed, or if there are actually nine masked people in white robes running after me in the streets. I ran to save my life. It's night. I'm still running. I'm tired. I stop. And then, I hear a growl.

I look behind me. Nothing. I look left, then right, nothing. I start walking again, and bam! Sinistros jumpscare.

(For those who are wondering what happened, a giant dog randomly appears in front of me.)

I mobilize all my mental powers and start running. Again. The dog follows me. Did I tell you that I was tired?

Anyways, I run for my guts for the second time in an hour, wahoo. At some point, I throw the bagels at EvilPadfoot 2.0. That doesn't have any effect. I run. I look behind me to see if I have a chance of survival. And pathetically fall in the sewers (Google translate, not sure about the word. Stinky tubes.). At some point, the monster abandons and I miserably find my way home.

That was the last time I got to walk alone outside my house.

Here you go. Is that worth anything? I don't know. But I'm too tired to write another one. Thanks for at least reading it.

[daydream-cement]

Cold Dead Heart Ch. 9

Marilyn Thornhill x OC (Rowan Ali)

You hadn’t known what Marilyn had been up to. She would leave before dawn and return back in the night. Days passed. Marilyn would return in the evening, immediately resting on the sofa, body facing the back of the couch. You wondered if she was trying to deter you from speaking with her. Neither of you had spoken for days. You were being driven mad by all of this. How could you let her remain in your home? She was going to hurt someone and the blood would be on your hands.

Despite all of this, you didn’t want her to leave. You were tearing yourself apart at the way thoughts of her consumed you. There were a million emotions that came to mind when you thought of Marilyn Thornhill. You just wished indifference was one of them.

You wanted her to come speak with you. You wanted her to initiate some form of contact, anything to hold her once more. You knew what you were doing when you left your bedroom door open. Going about your business, you change from your pantsuit, pulling off your clothes and draping them over a chair. You head to the bathroom to shower, leaving the bathroom door open as well.

You kept an eye on the bathroom doorway, peeking out from the shower curtain every so often. You couldn’t deny you were disappointed when you finished your shower and Marilyn hadn’t attempted to join you. You dry yourself off and wrap your hair in your towel, leaving the bathroom stark naked. On your way to your dresser, you peek out of your bedroom door, seeing Marilyn still laying on the couch, facing away from you. With a sigh, you dress yourself, choosing an oversized shirt and underwear.

Beginning your nighttime routine and giving up on the thought of Marilyn joining you, you head back to the bathroom to put on your lotion and hang up your towel. When you return to your bedroom, Marilyn is seated on your bed, knees to her chest, her eyes finding yours. You turn off the bedroom lights, leaving only the light of the candle on your bedside table. Wordlessly you climb into bed, both of you meeting in the middle. She clings to you, her face settling into the crook of your neck. It felt natural, the two of you laying like this. It felt like this was your purpose. Your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly together.

You were surprised when she finally spoke, “I wish I didn’t want to hurt people.”

“Just because you want to… It doesn’t mean you have to.” You repeat the words that had been spoken to you long ago when you were first turned. The woman who uttered those words was the same person who turned you into a vampire and she couldn't stand your impulsiveness. Even over a hundred years later, you still never felt completely in control of your words and actions so there was a small well of empathy for Marilyn in you.

“The-the wheels are already in motion… There is no stopping this now.”

Her response caused you to shut your eyes, pulling her even tighter. Maybe if you held her close, it would calm the demons running amuck in her brain. You didn’t want to ask what she was about to do. Rather, you decided to live in blissful ignorance, hoping that whoever she was planning on hurting wasn’t someone you loved.

—

When you awoke once more, it was due to the buzzing of your phone. You pick up the device and see the text was from Fern: Please come to my room. I need to know what happened at Nevermore before I arrived. You quickly rise from your bed, feeling a sickness in your chest. Marilyn was nowhere to be found and Fern was beginning to ask questions about a time when Marilyn was all too present at Nevermore. Was Fern the person Marilyn intended to harm?

You quickly text her back, Be there in 10. Rushing to dress yourself, you pull on pants and a sweatshirt. You were still putting on a shoe when you ran from your quarters when you ran down two flights of stairs to Fern’s room. Every moment you ran there, you hoped that your worst fears would be proven wrong, that Fern would be sitting in her bed waiting for you. You push your way into her room without asking, “Fern?”

You hear nothing of your friend. You call her name again and again as you search her rooms, but she is nowhere to be found. You feel the panic rising in your chest when you spotted Fern’s phone laying face down on her bed. Where would she have gone without her phone? From her rooms, you race down to her classrooms and search the greenhouses, finding nothing of her once more. Finally, you rush to Larissa’s office and then her chambers, banging on the door until she opens it, “Larissa! Please open up! Is Fern there?”

Larissa opened the door, still in her clothes from work that day. She had been sitting in the living room with a glass of wine, hoping that Fern would be the one who came knocking, “Fern isn’t here.”

Larissa’s eyes grew wide when she saw standing there, breathing heavily from running all over the school, “We need to find her. She texted me, asking me to tell her about what happened at Nevermore before she arrived. I went to her room, her office, and the greenhouses and she was gone, nowhere to be found. And her phone was still on her bed.”

You pushed past Larissa, entering into her rooms without permission, knowing you were going to be working together until you found Fern. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Larissa who you suspected to be behind Fern’s disappearance. If you were to tell her, you might speak it into existence.

“Was there anything left in her room? Anything at all?” Larissa enquired, her hands reaching for her coat before she moved to grab a pair of shoes.

You shook your head. You hadn’t noticed anything else out of the ordinary, especially as Fern’s room had been empty as of late due to her living with Larissa. You hadn’t felt your chest tighten with this much anxiety since you were a human. You had to admit you were happy for Larissa’s ability to take charge.

She spoke quickly, pointing to the door, “Go check again. I’m going down to her classroom and office to see if I can find anything.”

You did what you were told, jogging back up to Fern’s room, hoping to find any trace of her. You pulled her phone from her bed and while you couldn’t read the messages, you saw she had many missed calls and texts from Larissa and there was the text from you that you sent earlier. With Fern’s phone in hand, you run back down to Fern’s classroom.

You had no real evidence that Marilyn was behind this, but deep down you knew it was true. You debated sharing this information with Larissa, but you knew Larissa might try to murder you if you had been harboring the person that was trying to kill Fern. The extreme guilt you were starting to feel was overpowering. Was Marilyn going to kill your best friend? If she did, it would be your fault. For once in a very long time, you debated sitting down to cry.

When you arrived down into Fern’s classroom, there was no sign of Larissa, so you moved towards the greenhouse, hoping you could find the shapeshifter there. What you saw was Larissa on her knees, weeping before a tree that had been chopped to bits, “Larissa, what happened?”

There was no response from Larissa, she could only continue crying. You approached and pulled the note that was pinned to the tree with a small hatchet. It read, The cellar once was used to save the outcasts. Now I will use it to kill what’s yours. Hopefully, you can arrive to save her in time. Don’t worry either way. I will take good care of you. -PL

Was Fern’s kidnapper really Marilyn? Her initials would be MT or LG, neither of which matched the initials on the note. You spoke up once more, hoping to work towards finding Fern, “So we need to find this cellar? Then we find Fern?”

No response came from Larissa.

There was no time for Larissa to wallow in grief or guilt when Fern was possibly still alive and needed your help. You squatted down so you were face to face with Larissa, “Larissa, I’m loving this vulnerability, but I’m going to need you to get your shit together.”

Larissa finally looked up at you and she couldn’t help but give a weak smile at your statement. She spoke, but her voice was thick with tears, “I don’t- I don’t know what to do. Fern is probably dead in a cellar because of me.”

“Larissa, even if she is dead, I don’t want my best friend’s body rotting in a random cellar.” You knew that these wouldn’t be the most comforting words, but you needed to get Larissa to snap out of this to find Fern, “Cellar was once used to save the outcasts. Who has saved outcasts?”

“Plenty of people. I mean-“

“You aren’t getting it, Larissa! Put it all together! The descendent of Crackstone is holding Fern in a cellar where the outcasts were once saved! Who saved the outcasts?” You had jumped to the conclusion a little quicker than her, but you wanted her to work her way there on her own.

“Goody Addams…” Larissa finally was clearing her mind, understanding where you were going, “And she saved the outcasts by surviving the meetinghouse fire and building the school.”

“But how did she survive?” You smiled wide, knowing that the old meetinghouse would be the first place to look for Fern.

Link to Chapter 10

[its-all-a-moonage-daydream]

no i haven’t even reread it once no there is no plot yes it is just a garbled mess of vibes but here we are

(950 words)

places:

cornish castle. where miriam lives in the middle of nowhere with only a small village with a community shop, coffee shop, and pub and some houses within a 20 minute radius. on the coast nearish porthcurno and the minack?

mine engine. has ivy creeping up the walls and underneath the grate into the mine chimney pit thing is a tiny narrow steep staircase which has no light just the fire which miriam summons as she walks down and the walls are wet and grimy and it’s not very nice but it opens out into a massive staircase which leads to the next place…

dungeon. where the summoning takes place a lot of red and bare stone and lit only by fire. completely bare stone floor which is covered in crushed lavender arranged in patterns and swirls and symbols which should direct and channel the summoning.

witch = very old fashioned shuns new technology, demon excited to learn about the modern world as hasn’t visited in hundreds of years as a punishment 

witch’s bedroom is covered in quilts like so many and plants and fairylights and a massive bed with thousands of pillows and loads of books that they like reading not like spell books and a desk buried under thousands of sheets of paper of research and loads of decorations like my moon thing and the moths etc. and sketches stuck up all over the walls and random thoughts and bits of poetry and dried flowers and a gramophone which is the only way they listen to music

witch is an objectively good person who finds comfort in the repetitivity of life  but has done so for a little too long so decided to find a form of escapism so started researching everything and making diagrams of random things until she stumbled across a book to summon demons and is just like oo this will be fun why not so spends months on that etc. a longing for everything to go wrong and to be a little evil sometimes yk? like maybe mum was very strict and made sure everything was perfect everything had to be neat and helping people was a waste of time so became more and more rebellious and ran away and did the complete opposite is a mess but an organised mess and does nothing but help people with potions and remedies and that’s how she makes her income she’s kinda world renowned but in a not everyone believes it works way but it looks cute and in reality it does work. when ran away left behind a younger sister black brothers style who hates her even though mc witch’s door is always open to her. different types of magic mc witch is more potions and physical objects whereas sister is more elemental. at some point on a rainy stormy evening the sister does run away and come to the mc but refuses to actually talk just spends their time holed up drawing architectural designs and blueprints etc.

in contrast demon is a lot more morally grey (not that witch isn’t it’s just less subtle and more in your face) in that they do bad shit and love knives and daggers and stuff more of a barty almost but a little less mad just over excited idk they’re obsessed with technology and becomes a hacker geek incredibly quickly they’re very active and aloof they don’t like the idea of emotional intimacy not because they don’t want it but because they’re scared and also cover up lack of emotional maturity with pure energy like won’t stop moving to cover it up

obsessions to enemies to friends in that at first all witch wants is to summon him and gets a little extreme about it like it’s the only reason for their life and they MUST do it and goes a little insane so when it works tries to learn all about the demon but the demon hates anything that they deem vulnerability including talking about themselves so just jokes around and moves the conversation on quickly and becomes obsessed with finding out everything about the modern world because it’s so different to what he knows but obviously witch isn’t very helpful so they soon get very annoyed and slightly disappointed with each other because they aren’t what they expect and they had quite a lot riding on it emotionally, both viewing it as escapism, from their boring life or their life in general. working on getting the demon to be able to back home means they have to live together and become quite domestic and then after the sister incident demon becomes quite sympathetic and they start being able to begin to patch things up. they then get really close, slowly drawing out the demon etc. and become like an old married couple living together. demon never really wanted to go home in the first place and witch kept delaying the project until he simply doesn’t go home. in the end they become super close friends. think they are supposed to be in love but neither are really interested so drop it. 

witch fall in love with a steady string of lovers from the girl who brings the deliveries (ordered on person not online) to the guy who works at the coffeeshop to the person running the bookshop but never really finds the one and although she enjoys the dates and excitement of first dates and will they call and first kisses they never really see it going much further, like they can’t imagine a future the only person they can imagine a future with is the demon so just grows old with them but platonically.

[dragon411keeper]

Rail line number 6; Kohledrache

a train that is said to pre-date the existing intercontinental train network, when days of heightened technological and magical pathways were a thing of the future, the train that I dare to speak of is rail line number 6; "Kohledrache"

An old train of germanic origin that translates into "coal dragon" the speed of which it carried was like no other, being able to pull along thirty cars in its heyday at speeds beyond that made by stampeding bison.

But during a particularly foggy night at a station whose name was lost to time, it accepted a passenger the like it never seen before, a tall, lankey looking fellow that carried an aura about him, but that was among the normal happenstance the train was known to carry, but why you ask I bring up such a boring detail? well dear reader, they had something on their back, a scythe.

That is right dear reader I speak of death themself, but that is just the thing, he had in tow an iron coffin, they told the conductor that they would like a car all to themselves, the conductor knew better than to ask death themself as to why they would want a car to themself, but did ask about the cargo of which they carried.

What was said was also lost to time, but a passerby reported that all blood drained from the conductor's face when he was informed what the cargo carried, and when the train disappeared he was questioned, all he said was "a soul made of pure malice".

At that point in time they had no idea evil was brought upon the train that night, all we do know is that now, that train is still chugging to this day. With screeches that echo the wastes it roams. With speeds faster than that of what bison ran. Lest you wait with a golden heart, rail line 6; Kohledrache will meet you there and bring you aboard to your final stop.

Look, I used google translate to get the name, ok? I don't speak german.

That is all I have for tonight, I'll possibly have on for next year.

A whistle is blowing in the distance

Ah, looks like my ride's here.

And up pulls a train that is old in make and model, it's paint seems to absorb the surrounding light as if it was a black hole, the whistle looks old and corroded, the wheels themselves are encrusted with barnacles and rust, like it has been chugging since long before the Crackening, but that is impossible, it must be a special train that they bring out for holidays like today you say to yourself, but even then something compels you to look at the side of the engine itself, you could barely make out the lettering but it says "Kohledrache".

When you realize what it is written on the train itself, you notice more features about what makes it, despite the overall rust and barnacles that cover the wheels you can more the easily make out the words "dwarven mining company; bullstrutting", from your historical knowledge you know it went out of business three decades before the Crackening happened because of superstition surrounding the very train that is stationed right in front of you.

Before you call out to the elderly fellow you catch a glimpse of a pale red figure sitting in car number 5, the worst mass murderer to have ever lived, it was said that he could take out entire castle-cities within the night that he decides visit, his only weapon of choice was that of a black and red damascus rapier of unknown origin, Tirg Bloodraven, over three hundred castle-cities were wiped before he was caught.

That must have been the soul that took over the train, and is the only soul that death themself said that got away. it was too late to call out because the train was already chugging away, with the elder nowhere to be seen...

[mspainttaz]

hmmm any hcs for what itd be like if instead of staying and fighting for the world at the end of taz balance they just like. left on the starblaster again. what would that next cycle be like for all of them.

i’d love to play with you in this space anon but i cant get over the conviction i have that, of course they would have stayed. or maybe there would have been a timeline where only a couple of them stayed and the rest fled and the last ones  left would have called for help, would have convinced the rest to return to fight. faerun was their heart by the end. leaving it would have been out of tune for the rest of the podcast imo.

but okay if they left hmm… you know i dont think it would have been possible for them to leave. the bond engine wouldnt be able to take them out of this plane. i can almost hear griffin telling them that davenport, desperate, couldnt get the stuttering engine to speed up enough. the birds have very close, unbreakable bonds but in leaving faerun behind to die? they would actively be breaking or hurting their new bonds and in the course of doing so, hurt their bonds with each other.

i think that taako would have thought about angus being left behind and… he would falter. magnus would look over the edge of the starblaster and see the ruins of ravens roost and would be incapable of rushing away. barry might be able to march forward since he has his family with him finally, but lup would see the restraint in magnus’s muscles and feel the phantom tightness in her own spectral body. they have revolution in their blood. they know how to plant a flag and say ‘it stops here’ and to run away from a battlefield they arent fighting on, after having to do it so many times already… it would hurt.

(merle, beautiful doubting man of faith merle… would he return from parlay with jon to the starblaster and rally them? could he do it in time?)

… im sorry anon i want to think about them dragging the starblaster through incredible odds to land on a world maybe barren, maybe strange, maybe lush and populated and all of them feeling the wrongness of stepping foot on a new planet in a way they havent for over a century. the birds  coming up with a plan to fight the hunger in a year. the birds fueled with regret over something they knew was wrong while doing it, like stepping in a muddy pile wearing expensive  shoes and the swoop in your stomach that doesnt go away just like the stain seeping into the soft leather.

 but the podcast wasnt about fighting another day when today is the day the enemy is at your door, not for me. by the end of story and song i had too much faith in the boys, in the narrative. the birds were always going to stay and they were always going to fight and they were always going to win. this got us through their darkest moments, because it never occurred to me that they would do anything else.

[sondepoch]

No Time Left | Xiao x Reader

Xiao + "Lie to me, then."

Xiao closes his eyes, hating how even now, you stroke his knuckles with the pads of your thumbs, hating more that he'll one day never be able to feel this sensation again.

MASTERLIST

Request a character or a ship and I’ll write an angsty drabble ^^

It’s always been like this.

You, running forward at full speed. Him, desperately chasing behind, watching as you push on further and further away. 

“You’re joking,” he whispers because that’s what this has to be, right? Some sick, twisted joke that can’t be real because if it is—if it is real, then—

If it is real, then Xiao doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, cradling his hands in yours. “But we have time. Baizhu said that I still have two months to live, and I’ll only start to grow weak in the final days. There’s still so much time for us to spend together, so—”

“So much time?” Xiao lets out a broken laugh, turning his eyes towards the midnight sky as if asking Celestia above why this had to happen to him, why this has to happen to you. “For every second you’ve breathed, I’ve lived a hundred years. Two months is nothing,” he spits. “There’s no time left.”

You keep quiet at that.

Xiao closes his eyes, hating how even now, you stroke his knuckles with the pads of your thumbs, knowing that he prefers this physical intimacy to any spoken words. He hates that he, a mighty adeptus, can be read so easily by a human. Hates how he knows he'll miss this same sensation when you’ve been handed to the God of Death in two months.

“I can bring you to Cloud Retainer,” Xiao says, pulling you closer to him. “He has cures that will make you immortal, so—”

“I don’t want that,” you whisper. “I don’t want to cheat death.”

No, of course you don’t. Because ever since Xiao met you, you’ve always refused that kind of assistance, too busy being a stubborn adventurer that declines all help from the magical spirits of Teyvat. You’re the kind of fool who likes to ignore preferential treatment, who purposefully evaded Xiao on your travels so you could experience the real world without the strength of a thousand spears by your side—a brilliant ploy until you ended up backed against a cliffside by enemies, pushed to the brink of death until his golden eyes caught sight of your figure falling to the ground where even then, you refused to whisper his name.

Xiao opens his eyes, and there’s nothing but pain in the twin ambers as they stare at you with longing.

He was fine with you evading him in the past, comfortable with you sprinting away because he knew that eventually, somehow, somewhere, he would find you. There would always be a way to catch up with that godly speed of his, and there was nowhere he couldn’t find you.

But now, you’re going to go to a place he can’t follow.

“Please,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead to yours. “Don’t be stubborn about this. Your pride is nowhere near as important as your life.”

“But my humanity is,” you respond, and when you speak to Xiao in such a voice, strong and confident and determined all in one, the adeptus finds it hard to believe that you’re carrying an illness best known for stealing its host’s strength. “And we promised. When we began this—whatever this is—you promised me that you wouldn’t ask me to give up my humanity to survive. It—it was a contract, Xiao. You can’t go back on that.”

“A contract?” The adeptus laughs a broken laugh, much too bitter and wholly unsweet. “The God of Contracts is dead. My master’s will has no bearing here.”

A long pause.

“He left me, just like you plan to.”

You say nothing.

Your grip is robust as you hold Xiao’s hand, the bones beneath retaining their strength of structure, but now that the adeptus senses the elemental flow within you, he can sense how it moves at a more languid pace. 

The disease is far progressed, he realizes abruptly, suddenly struck with the realization that the two months you proclaimed to have was a gross overestimate. There truly is no time left.

“I love you, Xiao.” You lift a hand to his cheek, and it’s unfair how you stare into his eyes with a gaze so expressive that it seems to capture the whole world within it: Xiao’s whole world, all of it orbiting around the life-filled pupil shining black in the center. “But you deserved to know. Soon, I’ll be gone, and you’ll have to start thinking about—”

“About what?” the man counters, beginning to feel defensive. “I refuse to busy myself with unneeded thoughts while you still walk this land.”

“No, Xiao.” Your lips are pursed and your eyebrows are scrunching up the way they always do when you get frustrated with him, when you’ve made up your mind and you’ve just begun to set on changing his. “You can’t pretend I’m not going to die. It’s—it’s part of life, part of me being human, and I’m not going to let you live a lie in my final months—”

“Why not?” Xiao wants his face to flare with anger, but the way your entire expression abruptly softens tells him that he’s doing a poor job of conveying it. Damn the bloody tears that have begun to stream down his face—and curse them for daring to do so when he’s given them no permission. 

“Listen, I know you aren’t used to death, but—”

“I am used to death,” Xiao snarls, but it makes him look like more of a wounded dog rather than the illuminated beast he is. “Every single person I’ve ever cared about has died on me, but never have they chosen to—”

“I’m not choosing!” you blurt in response, and now you’ve finally begun to look properly angry. “I’m—I’m a human, Xiao, and I belong to a human world. I know you love me, but I won’t be me if I let you give me an adeptal cure.”

And that’s the awful truth of it, isn’t it?

Xiao fell in love with someone he knew would leave him. It would have been too kind if he fell for another immortal, or even a human who could be tempted to obtain the same longevity Xiao has; of course, something in him made him fall in love with you, one of the only humans in the world who was destined to die.

“Please,” he whimpers. Pathetic isn’t it? A distinguished adeptus, slayer of thousands of demons, begging at the feet of a human. “Please let me take you to a healer. You can live. We can live. I just—I just want—”

“I can’t.” Your kiss is featherlight against Xiao’s forehead. “I don’t want to be immortal, Xiao, and—”

“You don’t have to be immortal,” he croaks. “Just not mortal. Just live long enough for me to love you some more. I just want to—”

“No, Xiao. I want to die a human. Deep down inside, I think you want that, too.”

“No!” It’s the first time he’s raising his voice at you, but he can’t calm himself down now. “I want you to be alive! That’s what I want!”

And then Xiao sobs. It’s the ugliest sound he’s ever heard, raw and primal and nowhere near as devastating as the pain he feels in his heart, but you don’t move, simply holding him close until he’s just barely trembling with the aftershocks of his misery.

“We have time, Xiao. We still have time to be happy together.”

“There’s no time,” he responds. “No time unless you take a cure.”

“A magic cure?”

“An adeptal cure.”

“I won’t.”

“Please.”

“I can’t, Xiao.”

“Please.”

“I’ve given you my answer. There’s nothing else to say.”

“Lie to me, then.”

And wouldn’t that be so sweet? For him to get to believe, even for a short second, that you might not slip from his fingers?

A troubled look crosses your face, worried and hesitant and pained all at once—and then Xiao can’t help but wonder if this would even be the first lie because you’ve certainly known about this illness for a long time. His mind races back to when you finally stopped avoiding him, calling his name for the first time and claiming a change of mind that had brought you to want to get to know the adeptus who spent so long chasing you whenever you crossed paths, an exchange that took place right on the brink of Liyue’s border, just outside that awful snake-bearing doctor’s hut where he—

Xiao banishes the thought from his mind.

“I won’t lie,” you say, brushing his hair back. “You love me because I don’t lie to you.”

It’s a true statement, but Xiao can’t decide right now if he hates that or loves that about you. Because for all his affections, the weeks he spent watching over you while you stubbornly declined his help and the months he spent chasing you when you ran from him after and the years he then spent thinking about you at the forefront of his mind, he can’t stop you from dying just like everybody else. 

Pathetic. It’s pathetic. 

When Xiao next looks at you, he understands that you were never the mesmerizing blessing he thought you to be. No, you were nothing but a curse, meant to plague his heart now until the end of time as retribution for everything he’s ever done, everything he will do when this cruel world steals his last sliver of happiness away.

[roger-that-cap]

what a lovely dream it is

english major!wanda x english major!fem!reader

summary: who would have thought that wanda, the self proclaimed queen of reading science fiction, would be just as obsessed with shakespeare as you? 

warnings: one use of the word “su*cide”. shakespeare. nerds quoting lines. bad writing. (i challenged myself into writing this in an hour and a half). cringey writing (there is a difference)

word count: 4k!

You and Wanda connected at first because you two spoke the same language from different regions. It felt like she spoke British English, and you spoke American English. You were on the same wavelength but not exactly the same individual wave, but it was as close as you had ever gotten with someone who you deemed worth your time. 

While everyone else was partying or drinking until they threw up or flaunting around bags with white powder in them, you sat with your back to the wall after studying, reading a classic, knowing that the change of her leaning against the same wall and doing the exact same thing you were was high. 

You met her in the library, on your third day at your university. You were trying to find your group of authors, your little nook where you would feel the safest in the entire school. You had stumbled right into the fantasy section, looked around for a second, and then tripped over a brown boot that was just at the start of the science fiction shelf. 

“I’m so sorry,” a woman’s voice murmured, and you just shook your head and said that it was okay, much more interested in the way that your hands suffered from the fall on the carpet than the girl. Until you looked up. 

It was everything about her that stunned you. The brown hair, the flush of her cheeks, the apologetic look in her pale blue eyes that caressed her features to sit in one beautiful and genuine expression. The moment your eyes landed on her, you swore that your heart stopped and started in the same second, and then took a run for it with all of the parts of your brain that you needed to make a coherent thought. 

 You promised yourself in that moment that you would never forget the way the woman in front of you looked. And despite seeing hundreds of more faces throughout your self-tour, you never truly did forget it. If you didn’t know any better, if you were perhaps any younger and less exposed to the cruelty of the world and fate and its way of not giving you what you wanted, you would have been certain that the universe had finally given you the contemporary meet cute that you yearned for. 

But then, you saw which aisle she was in. You looked at the books and recognized the authors just to be sure, and then you turned to look at her. “You’re into science fiction?” 

 Her apologetic look fell completely into a look of pure surprise, and then excitement, almost as if she thought that she found someone else who liked the genre she did. “Well, it’s the best genre that was ever written.” 

  “Wow, how wrong,” you found yourself saying, and somehow, you knew that the look of offense on her face was all for fun. “It’s definitely gothic literature.” The look she gave you was one that you would never forget. 

  A week later, you ran into her in the cafeteria, holding a copy of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, your beat up one from home that you would put your life on the line for. The cover was torn up a bit and the pages were dog eared, from a time where you hadn’t discovered the way that bookmarks changed lives. It was the copy your cousin got you, and it was your favorite gift to date. 

  She was holding The Martian Chronicles. You nearly gagged. 

At first, you thought she hadn’t seen you, or hadn’t recognized you, which was even worse. You sighed under your breath and said, “at least it’s not Nineteen Eighty Four,” and watched in complete horror as she turned around. 

She locked eyes with you immediately, and her own eyes widened when she saw you, and then she grinned when she undoubtedly recognized you and your disdain for science fiction. “No, it’s even better than Nineteen Eighty Four.” 

“Anything is better than that,” you said, swallowing down your nerves at speaking to the girl again, kicking yourself for being so nervous despite not even knowing her name. 

She gave you that same “offended” look she gave you during your first interaction, and you cracked a small smile. “Um, don’t you voluntarily go into the gothic section?” 

The smile dropped. “The most valid section in the library? Sure do.” 

She smiled too, a genuine grin as she took a step forward and extended her hand. For a second, you just looked at it, the calmness that came with the discussion of literature suddenly washed away so far back into your mind that you panicked for a moment, not reaching for her hand until you saw it shake in just the slightest, like she was regretting even doing it. 

You nearly bumped your elbow on the table trying to stand up and shake her hand. Your hands connected and you grinned so wide it felt like your face had split open. You told her your name and she repeated it to make sure she had heard you loud and clear, and then, she smiled even brighter. 

“Nice to meet you, Dracula. I’m Wanda.” And that was where it started. 

As your library meetups started to become more intentional than not, you learned that not only was Wanda a student that stayed in the dorms, but the student who was next door to you. You learned that she pretty much kept to herself for the most part besides a few other people at the university, and that she kept a small circle. You learned that her favorite book was Brave New World. You learned that she would rather shy away from classic romance novels, even though you didn’t mind them, and that she hated gothic literature. You loved it. Your favorite book was The Picture of Dorian Gray, for god's sake. So, you hated each other’s favorite genres. 

  But you both loved symbolism. And you were both English majors. And for some very odd, very coincidental reason, you both met in what was nowhere near the middle- Shakespearean plays. 

  Now, that was something that you were always made fun of for as a child. No one wanted to hang out with the girl who quoted Shakespeare, especially if it wasn’t even from Romeo and Juliet. Reading normal books just made you look “smart”, but you knew that genuinely enjoying plays would make you look pretentious. So you had always kept it to yourself when you left your hometown. Until Wanda came along. 

Wanda came along, and suddenly, you found yourself quoting tragedies and getting the correct response back. Sometimes, she would even start it first. You would do nerdy things like halfway reenact scenes because even you guys weren’t that nerdy… you supposed. 

One morning, you and Wanda were in a study group (that was hardly productive because it was just Wanda’s little circle that was actually astoundingly close), and she looked over your shoulder to see your computer, where you were hardly typing an essay about the importance of the establishment of places for higher education. She put her chin against your shoulder, sat there for a minute, and then turned her head to whisper in your ear, “nothing will come of nothing.” It was embarrassing, the way your eyes lit up at hearing her voice, and even more so when Natasha, Wanda’s extremely perceptive friend, picked up on what you were feeling. The red head shot you the widest grin ever known to man. 

“C’mere, Frankenstein,” Wanda said one night, already looking over at you while you tried to finish your work for the day.

You held back the smile on your face as you sat on your bed, one leg over it while you typed. “I’m right here.” 

“No, here,” she emphasized, and then she was patting the spot on the small couch in your room, the same look in her eyes that always came with when she asked for any kind of physical contact. 

  That was by far the worst thing about Wanda, and it hardly had anything to do with her. She was touch starved, and touch was your love language. Her asking you to hold her on the couch used to mean nothing to you, because at one point, you just thought she was pretty. But now, holding her hand on top of the table while you both were submerged in your respective worlds felt like a promise ring. Letting her rest her head on your shoulder and in your neck felt like giving your vulnerability over to her, and feeling her hand rub against your back felt like she was taking it and guarding it. But you knew she didn’t feel the same way, not at all. 

She was straight. 

But it did you no good when she quoted back some of your favorite lines. It didn’t help when she said all of the romantic lines towards you at the drop of a hat, almost like she didn’t even realize what she was saying. She didn’t understand the way your heart died and was revived every time she said something like that, something that was so dear and vulnerable to you. And she certainly never would, because you would never tell her. 

Now that you thought about it, allowing yourself to fall for her was the dumbest and most destructive thing you could have ever done. The first bookworm who didn’t make fun of you for your knowledge and love of old plays was the one that took hold of your heart, and now you were paying for being such an idiot. Now you would have to sit through three more years of school with her being your friend, just your friend, while you pined over her. It was going to be hell.  

And was it. You had to sit through her saying the most romantic of Shakespearean quotes every day and act like she wasn’t making your heart shake. You had to listen to her speaking the language that you two shared and pretend that you just wanted to be her friend. You were so attached to her and everything that you two had established together, and you couldn’t ruin it by giving her googly eyes. She was way too important for that. Because now, she was way more than a person who you could talk to about old plays. She was the person that you could talk to about anything, without a doubt. Anything but the intense crush that you were harboring for her, and the way that she made your heart sing and your soul ascend whenever you smelled her perfume or saw her smile. Anything but that. 

§§

 “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” You looked up from your book only to see Wanda looking over at you, lying down on the blanket and just watching you. You swore later on when you were alone that you imagined it, but for a moment you could have sworn that you saw a flash of adoration in her eyes. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” 

You were choking on the inside. Your face was blank, but your mind was going haywire, and you couldn't think of anhytnign besides holding back the urge to say something that you had no chance of taking back. “You’re in a sonnet mood today, aren’t you?” 

“And what mood are you in today, Jekyll?” 

“I’m in the mood to finish this book,” you teased, and she rolled her eyes. 

“What if I’m in the mood to sit and watch a movie?” 

“Then you should do it,” you said, going the way your heart clenched at the thought of her cutting your friendly outing short. “I’ll follow you in an hour or two.”

She gave you a look. “You know I don’t go anywhere without you.”  

“You can go watch a movie, Wands.” You sighed out, closing your book and wedging your pointer finger between the pages so that you wouldn't get lost. 

 “I’ll wait,” she said, and you shook your head at her. 

“I don’t want to hold you back from getting in time with your favorite sci fi movies.”

“Can I go forward when my heart is here?”  

You were hit with such a wave of longing that you had to shut your eyes for a moment, but it looked like it was simply a long blink. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“I want to hear one,” Wanda said, leaning on her elbows as she stared up at you, and your heart pounded. She looked celestial, glowing under the sunlight with growing grass around her and a sweet smile budding on her face. “You never quote any back to me anymore, you know?” 

You knew, for sure. It was on purpose that you didn’t quote back. If you were to continue the conversation in romantic quotes, it was going to feel way too real to you. You could handle Wanda and her touches, but you were not going to be able to handle quoting Romeo and Juliet to her. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled softly, and then you heard her make a sound with her tongue, a displeased clicking noise.

  You looked up at her and lost your breath again, and your mental footing. There she was, looking up at you with her pretty eyes, giving you a look more intense than she had ever given you before. She was… it was almost like she was waiting for something, like she knew something. She was staring up at you and leaning on her hand in a way that was so oddly domestic in your mind, and you could almost see in your mind the way that she would do that if you woke up in the same bed, like she was waiting for you to wake up and trying to memorize your face. It made you warm on the inside, and just like she always managed to do, your brain turned to mush. 

“Conscience doth make cowards of us all,” you blurt, and you saw her brows pull in for a second. You blinked. 

  “Huh?” 

You were panicking on the inside. There were plenty of ways that she could have taken the quote that you had chosen, but you knew exactly what it sounded like. A half assed love confession. “You know, from Hamlet,” 

“Of course I know it’s from Hamlet, Jekyll.” She shook her head at you and sat up, crossing her legs without breaking eye contact. “But why that quote? You know so many, and you chose the one about death.” 

Unfortunately, it’s death by silence in this context, not by swords. “You said you wanted to hear a line,” you said, shrugging as you opened your book, trying to get rid of the embarrassment that you knew would stick to you for hours and hours. 

 “What a line,” she said, and then she rolled over to look up at the sky. Minutes later, you heard her sigh. “What a line.” 

§§

Romeo + Juliet was a classic for your movie night. At first, Wanda showed it to you after you boycotted it for years, despite your male celebrity crush being one of the main characters in it. You had always avoided watching because of the modernism, but one Wanda made you sit down and watch it, you actually found good things about it. For instance, the party scene. 

  “It was done wonderfully,” Wanda would always say from beside you after your extremely predictable comment of the scene being a masterpiece. 

Like always, there were a few moments of silence as you two watched the movie together, shoulder to shoulder on the small couch in your dorm while your roommate was off getting high. You watched the rest of it in near silence, halfway focused on the movie while the other part of your mind was split in two; feeling blessed that Wanda was even there with you, soclose, and feeling cursed that she was so close but so far. It was the perfect moment to hold her close like you wanted to so badly, but the timing wasn’t right. And that killed you. 

“Do you ever think about how they fell in love so fast?” Wanda asked, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’d say that they were encroaching on soulmate territory.” 

“Soulmates, or foolish teenagers?” 

“I hardly know of any teenagers who would die for each other, even if they thought they were in love,” Wanda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes at her. “Don’t give me that face. I’m right, and you know it.” 

“I’ll always let you believe it, sci fi.” 

“But, really, don’t you ever want something like that?” 

You turned your face from the screen and looked at her incredulously, like she had gone mad while completing the process of growing three heads. “A suicide pact?” 

She groaned and threw her head back. “No. A love like that. Take away the death and violence, and look at what they had.” 

“It bloomed too quickly to have much potential later in life,” you countered. “That was infatuation, and that never lasts long.”

“You think that they both died for infatuation?”

“I think that they were young, and it’s hard to tell the difference between love and infatuation at any age, let alone as a teenager. I think they thought they loved each other to the ends of the earth, but I guess they’ll never know.” 

“You’re so cynical. Just like a person whose favorite is gothic literature.” You laughed, leaning forward towards her without even noticing what you were doing. “Do you believe in love?” 

“Of course I do,” you answered, giving her a look. “I’m just saying, Romeo and Juliet were not in true love. They were confused.” 

Then, the playful air that the conversation was flowing on changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash and your heart started racing. The way Wanda was looking at you sent a chill down your spine, and in that moment, you were worried. “Are you confused?” 

You took in a breath. “About what?” 

“About anything,” she said slowly, almost like she felt like she was walking on thin ice with skates on. “Books, people, love, food, sexuality,” she ignored the way that you choked, “writing a paper, how to get  a strike in bowling. Or how to realize that Romeo and Juliet were definitely in love.” 

“You’re so intent on proving that they were to me,” you said, a laugh bubbling over and into your words. “Why are you suddenly so passionate about them now?” 

“The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.” 

Your heart jumped out of your chest again, and your hands clenched into weak  fists as you tried to will yourself into not assuming that she was talking about you. And then, white hot panic struck you at the thought of her being in love with someone else. “Speak low if you speak of love.” 

“Why should I?” Wands asked, shifting from her position on the couch to put a hand under her chin and watch you, her kind eyes afire with something that you had yet to see in them yet. “Really, Jekyll. Why?”

You hardly waited a full second before responding as truthfully as you ever would. “I’m afraid.” Before she could get a word in, you shook your head and finally loosened your lips, letting all of your worries and fears slide right through your teeth. “I’m afraid that I’ve fallen in love with someone who can never love me back. I’m scared to admit that I’ve been in love with you for a long time.  I’m afraid that you aren’t into girls.” You saw her make a face, almost like she couldn't believe that you were even suggesting the things that you were. “I don’t quote Shakespeare to you anymore because it feels too real to have you say lines like that back to me. I think that I’ve latched onto you without even meaning to, and now I don’t know if I can ever let you go.” 

Wanda was silent. She was watching you, as quietly as the sun hovered over the earth while she shone her light. Your heart had never beat so fast before as you watched her watch you with a face so blank that you were sure that she hadn’t retained a damn thing that you pulled from the depths of your heart. Then, the daunting thought that she had heard and understood everything but chose not to act swallowed you whole, and your hands started to shake. You gave a humorless laugh and finally looked away from the woman who had raised your spirits and crushed them all within five minutes. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” 

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, shaking your head and closing your eyes for a second as hot tears burned in them. When they opened, a fat tear sappetered onto your hand. I’m such an idiot. You looked to the screen, and then saw Romeo screaming, on the ground, and you could hear the words even though your ears were rushing with blood. I defy you, stars. “You don't have to say anything back, I know you don’t feel the same.” Your eyes pulled away from the screen. “I can leave- wait, um, this is my dorm. I-” 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” Wanda started slowly, and your brows furrowed as you heard the words fall from her lips. Fuck. You knew what this ended with, and still, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

Your eyes were wide by the end of it, watery and fixed on her. “W-what?” 

“How could you not have known?” Wanda asked softly, and you but your lip to stop from bursting into tears. 

“I thought you were straight!” You accused, and to your surprise, she laughed. 

“No, sweetheart.” Your heart stuttered. “I’m not.” 

Your breathing was still slightly heavy as you tried to get a  grip on everything that was happening. “You… you feel the same way?” 

“Of course I do, Jekyll.” She said, and you found yourself falling for her expressive eyes all over again as she stared up at you.  You reached your hand out experimentally, like she did the second time you ever met, and you waited that torturous moment for her to take your hand in a way that was much different than all the other times you shared a touch. This touch was the moment of truth.

She took your hand, kissed your knuckles, and put your palm on her cheek. 

“The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” 

“This can’t be anything but a dream,” you murmured, feeling her cheek in your hand and the way they were warm and flushed. The softness was bringing you in and out of your head, and every time you went back to reality, you were thrusted into a little sliver of paradise. 

“Well, what a lovely dream it is, then.” Her lips found yours. The movie played on, the clock kept its incessant ticking, and your leg was starting to tingle from sitting on it in the same position for so long. But to you, time absolutely stopped. And as long as a particular science fiction nerd was in front of you, nothing that ticked or clicked or buzzed was ever going to matter. 

*******

i said i wasn’t going to post this, but i did it anyway!! hope you guys enjoyed this fic!! it was a lot of fun to write but it also made me mad nervous LMAO let’s hope this wasn’t absolute dogshit

@teenwonder i know you said you wanted a tag on my stuff so here it is, love!! 💕💕

[justlikeitwas]

Dude! I have not written a fanfic in at least four years. I did not plan to write this. This is entirely word vomit. But I absolutely love your reblog and your addition to it, so here we are.

—

Fifteen years before the events of the little mermaid, six year old Eric boards a ship with his parents, a sailor and his wife. They teach their son all about the gods, the stories behind the constellations, and they pass on stories of mermaids and sirens and sea creatures who are good to you if you are good to them. He is raised with a healthy respect for the sea and it’s ability to help and hurt in equal measure. Unfortunately, some force, be it the gods, creatures of the sea, or simply fate, decreed that young Eric should find himself lost at sea surrounded by the wreckage of his father’s boat with neither his mother nor his father there to hold him.

The storm, whirlpool, tidal wave, he would never quite know what it was, had come out of nowhere. They had been sailing smoothly for two and a half days, with no idea of the looming disaster, when suddenly thunder rumbled over the blue horizon and clouds rolled in. The waves picked up, Eric’s father ran to the wheel and tried to steer out of trouble while his mother adjusted the sails, but nature’s fury came faster than anyone could have expected and they were left at the mercy of the elements. Soon enough, between flashes of lightning and claps of thunder, Eric was tossed over the side and sent hurtling towards the rolling waves. He could hear his mother scream for him, and he tried to think of her and his father instead of the impending death he was sure to face, but with the next flash of light, everything seemed to get a lot hotter and brighter.

He hit the water just as the ship’s mast became engulfed in flame.

Many feet away, under the waves, a woman swam towards the source of the disturbance. A school of fish had come to Triton’s palace to warn them of a storm coming in, right over the expected location of a human’s sea carriage. Triton had been furious, not because he cared about the humans, but because the fish had mentioned a suspiciously hairy squid creature lurking nearby. His sister had been told to stay away from the kingdom and away from the surface, having caused one too many problems already, but this latest news had Ursula written all over it. It was decided that he would arrange exile for his sister while Athena went to see if she could salvage anything from the wreck.

From one hundred feet away, she could hear the storm above the surface, the lightning and fire casting unnatural light over the water. There was debris floating around the remnants of the carriage, and she had to swim fast to avoid being crushed by falling pieces of… rock? She pops her head above the water to look around, and the heat overwhelms her instantly. The sea carriage was missing all of its vertical sticks and the front half of the vessel was completely covered in flames that were quickly spreading to the rest of it. The whole thing was creaking and groaning, and awful cracks would be the only warning before the next large piece of the carriage came rushing down to the water.

Athena’s heart went out to whoever had been on that carriage and she said a quick prayer to Poseidon and Hades. As if answering her prayer, the groaning stops just long enough for her to hear a cry ahead of her. She looks around, swimming through the field of wreckage as fast as she can, and she sees a small body holding on to one of the big sticks that had fallen off the carriage. She picks up speed and she sees that it is a little boy, no older than any of her own daughters, and he looks devastated.

“P-Posei-dan, please help my mama and my papa. Please help me!”

Athena knows the rules, interacting with the humans is dangerous and discouraged, but even her husband would never be able to hear such desperate cries and not be moved to help the young child, and Triton is made of much sterner stuff than she is, so she pushes forward the last bit of distance between her and the boy and hoists herself onto the stick.

The poor child sees the flicker of light dance off her scales and looks up, teary eyes widening with surprise.

“Come child, I must get you to safety.” Athena tries to make herself look as gentle as possible for the frightened boy as she reaches out for him. He’s shaking furiously, but she sees a distinct nod as well, so she wedges her hands under his arms and lifts with all her might to get the boy into her lap. Once he’s there, she covers his mouth and nose and slides back under the water. Trying to keep the human child above water as much as possible, she spends as much time as she believes possible searching around the wreck for any signs of other life forms, but the only thing she sees is a body lying face down in the water and a pile of fabric several feet away from each other on the opposite sides. With a heavy heart, she swims away from both bodies and turns her focus back to the boy and finding dry land.

The boy is young, only a few years older than Ariel, with what looks like dark hair and pale skin. Though it’s hard to tell when his clothes are so wet, he looks fairly well attired. But his whole body tremors and his eyes look haunted, so she starts to sing a song.

-

Though the memories of this awful day and the mermaid who saved him will be repressed or filed away as the imaginings of a traumatized little boy, the lives of the king of the sea and all of his daughters will never be the same, for Queen Athena was unfortunately caught in a fishing net five miles off the coast of the kingdom where the future Prince Eric was left on the beach to be found by palace guards. The Queen did not make it home to her husband, her daughters, or her kingdom, but fifteen years in the future, another little mermaid will stumble across Prince Eric after he is caught in a second shipwreck, and the song her mother sang to him all those years before will be the one to save him once more.

—

I haven’t seen this before, and maybe I missed something that says this timeline does not meet up at all, but I have this headcanon that Ariel’s mother saves Eric from the shipwreck he was in as a baby. She hears or sees the commotion and swims over to see what’s happening and when she breaks the surface, there’s a child clinging to some kind of debris, crying his little heart out. She can’t find anyone else, so she scoops him up and starts trying to soothe him, all the while swimming towards the nearest coastline. She sets him down in the sand and sings him the lullaby she sings to her daughters, the same song that her youngest child vocalizes to the same boy years later, long after she is gone.

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Hollow

Pairing: monster!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: yandere, horror, stalking, kidnapping, death of minor characters.

Words: 2137.

Summary: You were finally going mad. Apparently, it was something in the air, right? Something the management told nothing about that caused hallucinations and all those scary things. Obviously, all those people who worked in the assembly shop #4 before you left because they knew that. That was the reason behind the stupid legend and all those rumors.

_______

There’s a man inside the wall behind you.

This was what the factory workers told you as soon as the manager left, forcing you to question people’s sanity. At first you thought it was a bad joke or something. A man inside the wall in the assembly shop #4? What the Hell was that?

You thought they wanted to scare you away because they didn’t like you: your colleagues were simple people who lived in this godforsaken place for ages and knew each other as if they all were one big family. You, an outsider from somewhere far away who didn’t even look like them, weren’t the same kind, they probably thought. Of course, they didn’t take a liking to you and tried to make you leave so that you wouldn’t become an eyesore.

However, soon you found out they all were pitying you. You could feel their eyes on you each time you left the shop where you worked alone, and all you saw on their faces was fear and regret. A couple of women tried befriending you, sitting at the same table as you during lunch, and the next day they all told you anyone who had been working in the shop #4 left in less than a month. Naturally, you didn’t believe that crazy talk about the man in the wall - it’s not like the factory was built in those times when people were buried alive inside the walls for good luck. Then the women tried convincing you to work facing the wall - you were now standing behind it because of how the rusted pipeline with a barrel shifter was placed. You almost rolled your eyes in irritation: you wouldn’t risk losing your job because you couldn’t stand where you were told by the manager. You desperately needed money.

The day after you received a letter in your locker: somebody asked you to leave the assembly shop #4 immediately if you valued your life. It was starting getting scary. Were these people schizophrenic's? No, there were far too many of them who believed in this creepy urban legend.

At some point you got so fed up with this stupid talk that you headed right to Andy, your manager, to ask him why on Earth people were bothering you with this. The man spent half an hour talking about employees who had nothing better to do other than slacking off and telling silly stories when they needed to work. Yes, rumors had it that almost a hundred years ago there was a man, an talented engineer, who entered the assembly shop #4 and never came back, but it had nothing to do with this ridiculous legend. The wall behind you was all solid blocks of stone that were never moved since the day this factory was built. Even if the engineer was killed - although Andy believed the story wasn’t even real - how would somebody hide the body of a grown man there without dismantling the wall? 

The story should have put you at ease, you thought, but instead it only made you more concerned: now as you knew about a disappeared engineer, every time you stood with your back facing that cursed wall you felt the shivers running down your spine. What if there were a ghost or something? You didn’t believe in them, of course, but the dim light in the shop #4, its rusted pipeline, dirty floors and dust balls were hardly making you feel any better. And that disgusted lunch bell... it sounded almost like Silent Hill siren.

You worked in the shop for 8 hours every day, having no time to literally visit the bathroom. Assembling metal parts that always looked ugly over and over again could make anyone go nuts. By the end of the day your body ached as if you carried a giant stone on your shoulders, your back hurting, arms heavy as you barely kept standing. You didn’t even have strength to smile at Dean, an elderly night guard, but he just nodded to you with understanding, knowing well what it meant to be a factory worker here. This shitty job could kill anyone if you stayed long enough here.

Was it the reason why everyone kept talking about that man in the wall? This was the only way to liven up things here, you guessed and decided to talk about it more with the women who you befriended.

They were happy you finally started asking questions. They talked about the legend of the engineer vanished into thin air: you had never heard so much nonsense, sitting quietly in the bus and waiting for it to bring you home. Somebody said the engineer made a pact with the devil himself and merged with the wall, becoming immortal within the stone; the others claimed the engineer went mad because of his loneliness and buried himself in the wall; one woman argued that the engineer, on the contrary, was a ladies man and got sealed up there by a relative of his former lover who committed suicide. There were far too many rumors for you to remember, and soon you abandoned the idea to use the-man-in-the-wall topic to "liven things up" in the factory.

The two weeks had passed since the time you first started working here. You hated this rusty place with all your heart, but this job kept you afloat. It was still better than nothing. Biting down on your dry lower lip, you exhaled tiredly and lifted a particularly heavy detail, trying to fit it in the right place.

The next moment it fell down the dirty floor as you heard an awful sound behind your back as if the heavy stones were moving. It was just for a second, a mere second, but it was enough to have you on edge as you stared at the wall with your eyes wide open. It was some kind of an auditory hallucination, right? There was nothing different in the wall behind you. It looked just like it always did, a nasty grey stone with a tint of orange from the rusty hooks. The wall couldn’t open up just like some Narnia’s wardrobe, could it? It was far too old for any sort of mechanisms like that. Besides, it wouldn’t be able to close so fast, leaving no traces. It was some hallucination from your lack of sleep.

Your coworkers didn’t think so when you told them about it. It was the man in the wall, of course. It always started like this - with an awful, frightening sound. Soon you would be hearing things and feeling the stare of that man all the time, they said. The room #4 was a terrible place, and you should leave it immediately, they said. One woman even offered you to stay at her place if you couldn’t provide for yourself until you found a better job. Of course, you declined her kind offer.

But you did start hearing all kinds of things while you were working. Stones moving, metal clinking, some weird rustling out of nowhere - it was all making you insane, especially since every time you turned around only to see nothing but the wall behind your back. Everything was as it should have been, but you felt something was happening when you didn’t look. 

You were finally going mad. Apparently, it was something in the air, right? Something the management told nothing about that caused hallucinations and all those scary things. Obviously, all those people who worked in the assembly shop #4 before you left because they knew that. That was the reason behind the stupid legend and all those rumors. Obviously, you - and all those people who ran away from here - lacked money to do all the necessary medical tests to prove anything.

Shit, you really needed to find a better job if you didn’t want to spend the rest of your days in an asylum. 

Now at night you were sending your CV and cover letters, but you couldn’t stop working, nonetheless, forced to constantly look behind your shoulder or turn around just to make sure you weren’t totally crazy. You tried ignoring the noise once, but when it grew louder instead of disappearing in one second just like before, you realized it was a big mistake. Every day was turning into a nightmare.

Grey stone, rusted hooks, dust bunnies on the floor. The same picture you saw over and over again when you were turning back. It was simply unbearable. At one point you even wished to see something different there, something that would prove you weren't going insane.

You had to be careful with your wishes. When you came to the shop #4 the next time, you saw a face of a man cut in grey stone.

You didn't know what happened after that, coming to your senses in the resting room with your coworkers giving your water and some pills, your body shaking so badly you barely managed to sit. Was that a hallucination? A face of a man in the wall? All people around you kept saying it wasn't, describing this face to you so vividly as if they saw it themselves.

You needed to get out of here. Even if it meant becoming homeless and begging for money on the street, it was still a better option than staying in one room with that thing.

It was the next day you prepared to give Andy your letter of resignation, turning back to face the wall nearly every minute. No, you weren't going to stay here and watch how your life was becoming a living Hell - damn, it already was, wasn't it? You no longer slept peacefully, barely eating, constantly trying to keep a bottle of cheap wine you kept in the kitchen out of your reach. No, no, no, you weren't stupid enough to work for a minimum salary in a place like this, risking your own life.

It happened when the lunch bell rang, making you cringe - the next moment something had exploded with such a defeaning boom you almost fell down to the floor. Shit, you knew this sound - an omen of a great catastrophe that certainly disfigured somebody, if not killed. Something went horribly wrong in the assembly shop #3.

The blood drained from your face. Oh God. Were Shirley, Agatha and Simon alright? No, they weren't. Judging by the horrible screams coming from the metal door, they weren’t.

You moved as if in slow motion, your legs suddenly giving up on you, the siren wailing so loud your head could burst, forcing you to forget all the emergency instructions you were given. You needed to open the door. You needed to get this people out of there, those who were screaming in pain, cursing, and pleading for help.

"You can't go." A soft voice somewhere behind you said, and you froze. "You will die out there."

Someone's hands wrapped around you like a rope, making it harder to breathe, not letting you take one more step to the rusted metal door and dragging somewhere back instead until you felt the cold grey wall with your back. It was him, wasn't it? It was the man who had been watching you for a month from inside the stone, waiting for his chance.

When the realization hit you, the fear became suffocating. You couldn't move, couldn't even speak or cry out something to make others know you're trapped here, with a man in the wall who was taking you with him. But nobody would hear you anyway: the unstopping cries of people from the assemble shop #3 were earsplitting, and the siren didn't get silent either, making your efforts futile.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured so gently as if he was your lover, making you want to puke, "I won't leave you here."

The wall behind your back moved with a sound you knew well. Although you expected to bump into cold stones and rusted hooks that would tear your skin apart, instead, you felt darkness embracing you, wrapping around you like a cocoon. The picture of the assemble shop #4 looked so far now, so little as if you were staring at the tiny photo in an old album. It felt surreal.

You were behind the stone wall - or inside of it, you couldn't tell - looking at the real world through the looking glass. They were right. All those people who were constantly telling you about the man living in the grey stone wall were right.

"I was waiting for you a long, long time," the voice behind you said, and you felt somebody - or something - lowering their monstrous head to your shoulder, making a quiet sigh, "but you finally came to share my solitude... Thank you."

________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodie-rin @iheartsebandchris

[azaleavi]

Best Friend

Requested by anon: hi could I request a sebastian x female reader where they have been best friends for years and reader has been in love with him for a while and it hurts her thag hes dating someone else and one day she just blurts it out because its too much??? angsty with a happy ending hopefully???

Word count: 1.8k

Author’s note: I got my first request!! I was so happy that I started writing right away. Thank you so much for requesting dear anon I hope you like it.

Feedback is always appreciated and don't forget to reblog and like if you liked it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

(the texts in italics are either throwbacks or thoughts)

Being the best friend of Sebastian was a challenge. It wouldn't have been, normally, but you had fallen in love with him and that made things a hundred times harder for you. But how could you not, when he was the most charming man you have ever met. He was the sweetest human being and he was always there for you when youu needed him. You met when you worked on a movie together and immediately hit it off. Thankfully there were more than one projects you worked on alongside each other so you became even closer. You thought there could be something more between you than friendship, but Sebastian never seemed to look at you like that. You got your hopes up multiple times, only to be let down again and again. So now you just learned to not expect any romantic feelings from him.

I want to tell you something the text read from Sebastian. You heart leaped in your chest at the thought of him wanting to talk to you about something seemigly important. It had to be important. Right? Maybe he would tell you, that he sees you as more than a friend. You texted him back saying that he could come over right now if he wanted to. He sent you a thumbs up, meaning he was on his way so you got to cleaning up your apartment. It wasn't necessarily messy, but there were a few things out you had to put away. Living in different cities or even countries all the time never left you with enough time to completely clean up the only place you called home. A knock on the front door shook you from your thoughts. You walked to it with a deep sigh, excited, but also afraid of what Seb wanted to talk to you about. Opening the door you met with his beautiful face.

"Hi" he smiled as you stepped aside to let him in.

"Hey. Come in." you greeted back. He walked in and took off his shoes as you closed the door. You walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He fidgeted with his hands, a sign that he was nervous. "What is it Sebby?" him being nervous made you even more nervous so both of you were just a bundle of nerves.

"It's just... I just..." he sighed, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands. Something was wrong.

"Hey, you can talk to me" you reassured him, putting your hands on his back and rubbing it.

"I accidentally told Chris that you are a virgin" he finally blurted out. Your hand froze on his back. He looked back up at you, only to see you trying to hold back a laugh. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, confused.

"He already knows Seb." you let out the laugh you've been holding in. His face lit up in realization and he relaxed against the back of the couch. "This is what you wanted to tell me?" you continued to laugh.

It was after he left that you let yourself feel the sadness of not getting the confession you were waiting for.

You loved having him as a friend, but you wanted more. You wanted to be the one that wakes up next to him every day, who gets to kiss him every chance you get. You could dream about it how many times you wanted to, but it would never happen. Especially when he had a girlfriend. You remembered when he told you.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he grabbed your elbow as you were walking away from set, done for the day. You turned around, noticing how your face was closer to his than it probably should have been. He seemed to notice too as he stepped away from you. Your heart broke a little at his movement, but you knew that it wasn't his fault. He didn't feel the same as you did. You couldn't blame him, really. Why would he love you? There were so many better people out there whom he could choose. You understood, no one ever noticed you, so why would he be different. It was your fault for falling hopelessly in love with him. You tried to stop, you truly did, but it was no use. You couldn't tell him either, your friendship would be forever ruined. Of course he would be nice about it and say that he would want to keep being your friend, but you knew that it would never be the same.

"Yeah, sure we can talk" you smiled at him. The two of you walked to his dressing room, that was empty. You sat down on a hair as he did the same. "So?" you urged him to talk after a few second of silence.

"I met someone" your world stopped at his words. He looked up to see your reaction, but your face was blank. Your thoughts were a mess as you tried to come up with a response, trying to not show how your heart just broke into a million pieces.

"That's..." you cleared your throat, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears that started gathering in them. "That's amazing Seb." you froced a smile on your face, praying that he wouldn't see through your mask.

"She is actually working with us so I want you to meet her." he smiled, excited at the thought of his best friend and girlfriend meeting. You wish you could be happy for him, but right now you couldn't feel anything else but pain.

That was 8 months ago and they were happier than ever. Well... were before she decided to break up with him out of nowhere. He has been heartbroken for a long time, but he had you helping him through it. It was hard on you, but he was still your best friend and you knew you had to be there for him.

You were currently at his house, having a movie night. He was feeling much better now, your presence helping him through the worst of it. He was eternally grateful for you because of it. You were cuddling on his couch, becoming much closer in the last few weeks. You didn't use to do things like this, but when he started initiating the touches you didn't object. You thought it would be only for a little while, just because he needed someone to be close with after the breakup, but it didn't stop and your feeling were only getting stronger and stronger with each passing day. The movie was playing, a cliché romance, as he ran his fingers up and down your arm, your head on his shoulder. The man on TV was confessing his love for the woman and it made you think about what it would be like if you told Sebastian how you felt. He doesn't need a girlfriend right now you reminded yourself.

"This is so dumb" he rolled his eyes.

"What is?" you asked back, not understaning his problem.

"They were friends before this. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship with these feelings?" he felt your whole body stiffen at his words so he moved away to look at you. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing" you tried to brush it off and go back to cuddling, but he wasn't having it.

"No, something is wrong, I can feel it" he pushed.

"Seb, seriously, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, you have to tell me when something is wrong, we are best friends and I don't want you to keep secrets from me-"

"I love you" you blurted out, your mouth moving without thinking. No, no, no, no this cannot be happening right now. He immediately stopped talking and just stared at you, frozen. You stood up from you place and started walking back and forth in front of him." I know you don't need this right now and I didn't even want to tell you, but you just kept pushing and I-" stopping your rambling, your eyes filled with tears. You let out a stuttering breath, your hands on your mouth. I've just ruined everything. I'm so dumb. You looked at him, still sitting in the same place, his mouth open in shock. "Please say something." you pleaded moving your hands to your sides, not being able to take his silence anymore.

"You are in love with me?" he whispered, eyes boring into yours. Heart sinking in your chest you looked down.

"Yes" you sighed, feeling like a ton has been lifted from your chest, the truth you've been holding in had finally been revealed. Two legs appeared in front of you and two hands grabbed your arms. You didn't want to look up, already knowing the rejection, that was coming.

"Look at me y/n" he asked quietly. "Please" he said when you didn't oblige. You finally looked up at him at his request, face now soaked in tears.

"I'm sorry" you whimpered, your heart fully broken. You valued his friendship so much and you didn't want to lose him over this, but it felt like it was already over. He pulled you into a hug.

"Do not be sorry for your feelings" he tightened his grip on you, making your tears fall faster. You let out a sob at his affection. This might be the last time you get to hug him like this so you gripped his waist as strongly as you could. He pulled away enough to look into your eyes. "Don't be sorry because I feel the same way." your heart skipped a few beats, your eyes widening. You couldn't believe your ears so you just looked at him confused. Sebastian smiled at your cute impression and swiftly pressed his lips to yours. You couldn't even close your eyes considering how shocked you were. Sebastian realized you weren't moving and pulled away, worried. He called your name in question which shook you out of your frozen state.

"What did you say?" you finally spoke.

"I said I love you too." he laughed.

"But you... you were... you... what?" you stuttered, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you" he chanted as he pressed his forehead to yours, still laughing, which was cut short when you pressed your lips to his. You kissed for a minute, but you had to break away from the other for air.

"Why didn't we do this sooner?" you laughed, wiping away the remainer of your tears.

"I don't know" he leaned in to kiss you again, smiles on both of your faces.

Permanent taglist: @byatomoe

(let me know if you want to be added)

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

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

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[radiant-flutterbun]

    The Ramose Kingdom

His mother was sick. His father too. Soon his uncles and aunts. His cousins. One by one. They all fell ill. Was it the Shade? The mysterious creature had established a foothold in the royal land long ago. Or was it another illness? Just a week ago the crops had all died. Whatever it was, it took Jentu’s family away when he was only a hatchling.

    And the horrors just continued. He didn’t know that an imperial’s body must be separated after death. That it must not come in contact with any other imperial, especially not that of another dead one. But his parents died beside each other, in the same bed. And he was only a child. How was he to know what an Emperor was?

    He watched as his parents rose from their bed, their bodies twisted and malformed. Fused with one another. For a brief moment he thought maybe they were still alive. But they bared their teeth at him, and he felt blood run down his face from their claws striking him.

    He ran. He hid. He did what he had to do to protect himself from the horror that was unfolding. He remembered shaking in a broom closet, unable to see out of one eye and feeling blood drip down his face as what were once his parents roared and tore down walls.

    When the Emperor was finished with its carnage and left the ramose kingdom, now fused with eight other imperials, Jentu finally emerged from his broom closet. The palace was destroyed. The citizens were terrified and angry. And Jentu was alone. His family were dead or missing.

    He was a child, and now he was a king. He took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of the traumatized kingdom.

    “We will rebuild. We will survive. This is our home. And it will always be our home.”

    ***

    Years later, Jentu stared at himself in a mirror. He touched the scar on the side of his face, and where had once been an eye. He patted down the black feathers growing from in between his scales, it was a side effect from repeated Shade infection, and took a deep breath. He placed his mandible helmet onto his head. He had a big day ahead of him.

    He stepped onto the cracked balcony of the royal palace. Half of it was still covered in tarps, unable to be rebuilt until the lumber finally arrived. If it would ever arrive. He stared out at the dragons lined up below him. It wasn’t a large crowd. Maybe around fifty dragons. That was around half of the dragons that resided in the kingdom. He remembered when he was younger hundreds of dragons, and his parents told him of the days when there were thousands in the Ramose Kingdom.

    “Welcome, my kingdom,” Jentu spoke, his voice rough and not used to speaking. “As we know it is the 20th anniversary of the massacre. I would like to take a moment of silence for everyone we had lost on that horrid day.”

    The dragons below him were already quiet, and simply waited for him to continue.

    “Rebuilding has been slow, and the Shade has not been kind to us. But we stay, because this is our home, and it will always be our home.”

“We stay, because there’s nowhere else to go!” One angry dragon shouted.

“Yes. Exactly. You leave the kingdom, and the Shade will claim you. It is safe here.”

“My son died from the Shade last week.”

“And I am sorry for your loss. It is a tragedy to lose any citizen of Ramose.”

“And when are we going to stop losing people?”

Jentu bit his tongue. “As soon as the medicine arrives. Which will be soon! We will become a powerful Kingdom yet again. Now I think that’s enough for this anniversary. Please, visit the graves of the fallen and think about how lucky you are to still be here. I, as your king, will be hard at work rebuilding and making sure medicine and food is on its way. Thank you.” Jentu turned away as his people shouted behind him.

He entered the empty palace when out of the corner of his eye he saw something move. His ears went back and he snarled.

“Who dares to approach me in my royal chambers?”

Another imperial stepped out from a ruined door frame. She was black like midnight and sparkled like the night sky Jentu had only read about in books. She was dappled with patches of gold and green, which matched her Wind eyes.

“Sorry, I think I’m lost.”

“You must be,” Jentu said. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Sorry to just intrude. But I heard you’re the king here. I figured if there’s anyone who can help me, it’s you.”

“Let me guess, you got lost in the Hewn City?”

“Yes.”

“And my Kingdom has been the first sign of life you’ve seen?”

“Uh huh.”

“And now you want to leave?”

“Well yeah. I need to go home.”

“Well, welcome home then.”

“What?”

“This is your home now.”

“Uh. No it’s not.”

“You can’t leave.”

The other imperial bristled, “What you’re trying to trap me here?”

“I don’t have to do that. The Shade already has,” Jentu sighed “If You try to leave you’ll only get lost again, and you won’t find another break in the darkness like my kingdom again. But I promise you, i’ll take good care of you.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me! I need to go home!”

“I won’t stop you from trying to leave. But please consider my warning. My name is Jentu, what is yours?”

“Zesiro.”

“Would you like to join me for tea? It’s nice to see a new face. And another imperial.”

Zesiro looked around the ruined palace. “What happened here? Are you the only one who lives here?”

Jentu smiled sadly. He removed his helmet, and Zesiro gasped.

“Damn. That’s nasty.”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you join me for tea. I’ll have to warn you though, it’s not a happy tale.”

Zesiro shrugged. “Eh. Sounds better than nothing. And I could go for some tea after wandering that wasteland.”

Jentu led her to the kitchen and placed a pot of water to boil himself. He refused to accept servants, and did all of his own cooking and cleaning. He wanted to humble himself, like a proper king should.

He sat with her in the sitting room and told his tale. At the end, a tear fell down his remaining eye. Zesiro curled the tip of her tail around his.

“I’m so sorry. That’s horrible. I… I’ve met my own Emperor. My brother was a part of it. He was prince, and he was murdered.”

“Prince? So you’re a princess?”

Zesiro shrugged, “I guess? I’m not exactly a girl.”

“Oh you’re not? My apologies.”

“I mean I kinda am? I don’t know, gender is weird. I just feel like ‘girl’ doesn’t entirely capture what I am.”

Jentu nodded. “I understand. I go by king because it sounds… powerful. But I’m not entirely a boy either. I’m nonbinary.”

“Oh cool.”

“But uh… I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Eh, he was a bit of a prick. Still, it’s fucked up he became a monster.”

Jentu sipped his tea. “It is. Do you know why it happens to our breed? I’ve always wondered.”

“You don’t know? It’s because the Lightweaver’s an idiot.”

“But she’s our Goddess of Knowledge! How could you say that?”

“She made us from corpses. Our entire being is coated in nasty shit. Created from death, so monster we become.”

Jentu shivered. “I would like to change the topic.”

“Sure. Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the Shade. There’s plenty of empty houses you can move into.”

“No I mean. Here. In the palace. With you.”

“But it’s in ruins. My bedroom is the only bedroom that has been repaired.”

“Sounds perfect then.”

Jentu blushed. “I-I mean only if you’re comfortable with that…”

“I feel quite comfortable with that, Jentu.” She wrapped her tail tighter around his.

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

could I request a story where Loki and the reader are both magic time variants captured by the TVA, and they become closer and plot to escape together, but even though the reader wants to help him they're afraid of getting too close or opening up about their past because in the past they had been really hurt by the alternate Loki in their timeline? I'm sorry that's very long, you don't have to write it if you don't want to I just love your work so much and Reality Check is so perfect :')

I'm sorry this took forever! Honestly, I should've just made this a whole miniseries to really flesh it out, but with MOM I wasn't sure if I wanted to dedicate all my time for that. Hope this is alright! <3

You watched the man before you smirk once he recognized who you were. "Y/N L/N, I never expected you to wind up here," He commented, scanning you. You scoffed, turning your head away to look at Mobius.

"You expect me to work with him?" You asked, pointing lazily. Mobius nodded.

"You two are the best of the best. He never seems to die and you have the ability to control him. Not many can say they can do that," He responded.

"I don't want to work with him," You replied, sharply.

"And why is that? I want a better explanation than he hurt your feelings a while ago," Mobius said. You rolled your eyes, knowing Loki must have grinned at his statement.

"No hard feelings, promise! I'm not the same Loki you knew after all," Loki said.

"No, but the sacred timeline forces it to be exactly the same. I know you haven't done it yet, but you will. Eventually. If you ever decide to stop being a little shit and go back to your timeline." You walked closer to Loki, trying to seem intimidating.

"Ouch," Loki winced, stepping forward, "I see Midgard taught you some vulgar language."

"Seemed only appropriate for a man who killed 80 people in a matter of two days," You suddenly realized how close you were to him, eyes widening as you backed off. Loki rose an eyebrow at this.

Mobius chuckled. "This is going to be interesting."

~

"I need you two to go to a small town in Oklahoma from a few hundred years ago to inspect something," Mobius said, pulling up a file on the desk in front of you. You sat next to Loki (Though it was not willingly) and waited impatiently to hear more about the mission.

"Oklahoma?" Loki questioned.

"It's on Midgard. It's a lot of farmland. Prone to tornadoes." You briefly stated.

"Seems like you know the place quite well."

"I lived there for a while. Until the TVA decided that I messed up something in their precious timeline. I mean, really. Do you guys think another war would happen when most people don't even know this place exists?!"

Mobius chuckled. "See, that's why I like you. You're realistic. But, unfortunately, rules are rules, and the timekeepers aren't ones for breaking tradition."

You shook your head in response, leaning back in the chair. Loki leaned forward towards the desk to get a better look at the file. It had several reports scattered across it, all describing the deaths of several minutemen from the T.V.A. "What happened?" He asked.

"Someone supposedly time traveled to the 1800s and broke the timeline. When our minutemen arrived at the scene, they set fire to the surrounding grasses and burned them all to crisps. We suspect the variant is another timeline's you, Loki." Mobius explained, showing several photos of the scene.

Your eyes widened. "Another timeline of him is running rampant and you imbeciles can't catch them?" You asked.

Mobius shook his head. "Loki is hard to catch. This one," He pointed to the man before him, "Not so much. The other one? Different story."

"And you expect us to just find Loki and bring them back?" You asked, leaning your head against your hand.

"It's either that or being reset by the woman who wants your heads on a silver platter."

Both you and Loki looked at each other for a brief moment, nodding slightly. Looking back at Mobius, you spoke at the same time.

"We'll do it."

~

You arrived in Oklahoma with Loki, taking a look at the burned farmland around you. Several bodies laid around the area, their weapons scattered. "God, these men didn't stand a chance," You said, crouching down to take a closer look.

"And neither do we if we can't find a trace of myself," Loki replied. He used his magic to trace where the fire started. "Over there," He pointed.

You looked over, seeing nothing special. "Looks just like everywhere else," You said.

"No, it's an illusion. I must have cast an illusion to make sure only those with magic would be able to find it. Or, well, another me did it. Why would he have done that though?" Loki asked, contemplating it for a moment. You walked up to him, showing him the collar and remote you had stolen from the agency only moments before arriving in Oklahoma.

"If anything goes wrong when we see them, I've got backup."

Loki grinned. "You're always so dependable. That's why I love you." You knew it was a weak attempt to make you soft. You shook your head, walking away from him.

"Not the same Y/N you know."

"The Sacred Timeline makes you the same."

"The same to an extent, but for me you're in the past. A lot changes in the upcoming years." You mentioned.

"Oh come now, old feelings can't die that easily, can they?"

"No, but you sure can."

~

You made your way to the Loki pointed to. The spot seemed to be as burnt up as the rest until Loki unveiled the illusion. It didn't take much of his magic to lift it, probably because the universe recognized it as the same signature. When it was revealed, the area hadn't been burned by the fire at all. The grasses were tall, reaching up to your shoulders at times. One spot was completely flattened though, with a singular note on the ground.

You picked it up, unfolding the paper carefully. Loki stood directly behind you, looking over your shoulder. "What does it say?" He asked.

"Meet me where we once called home," You read it out loud. The note crumpled as you tightened your hold on it.

"What does that mean? Once called home?"

"It means this Loki is in fact my Loki."

"Please tell me I don't have any hard feelings that you clearly harbor for me."

"That depends on whether or not you forgive me for the incident."

Loki quirked an eyebrow at this. You shook your head. "Not here. Let's find a place to stay. I know where home is. We're not far from it."

"Then shouldn't we go there first?" He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder to ensure you didn't walk away. You shook your head.

"No, I can't go there yet. There's a lot to explain before you see Loki."

~

You found an inn close by and decided to rest there. Because it was the 1800s you had to be careful about what you did. In a different century they wouldn't have minded you being in a TVA shirt and jeans. Now, they would.

Luckily for you, Loki was able to cast an illusion so that only you two knew what you were wearing. He even had to cast an illusion on himself to blend in more. He used fake currency to buy the room, which was about as small and cramped as you expected.

With only candles to light the room, it would've been considered quaint and cozy by most. A single bed with comforters, a drawer and chest, and a small desk. It was all you needed for your journey after all.

You sat down at the desk as Loki sat on the bed, feeling the comforter. "Softer than I expected," He commented.

"You lived through the 19th century, you should know it wasn't as bad as history books make it out to be."

He nodded in response, relaxing slightly. "Well? You said you would explain it to me. I should know what's going on before we go face off against myself."

You sighed, fiddling with a pen you had found in your shirt pocket. "Time travel isn't as uncommon as people may think. You and I both know that."

"Of course. You've time traveled a few times yourself."

"Exactly. Well, in my timeline, after the events in New York in 2012, you went to prison in Asgard and were eventually freed during the Dark Elves attack."

"I know what happens there," He said, sharply. You knew he must've known what happened to his mother.

You looked down at your hand, placing the pen down on the desk. "Well, you know what happens in the Sacred Timeline. Remember, you're a variant in this timeline too. In this timeline, you ended up going back to the 1800s, to this time."

"Why would I do that?" He tilted his head.

"To see me."

"What were you doing in this time?"

"I was running. I got into some nasty trouble with not only the Avengers but the federal government as well. It was just easier to go back to a time where I wouldn't have to worry about it. Plus, I didn't know what I was doing, so I wanted to hang out in a place where I knew I would never run into myself. I didn't account for you finding out." You sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

"And what happens after that? We were just fine before I... Well," He hesitated, "Tried to take over Asgard and then Midgard," He said, sheepishly.

A soft smile graced your lips as you thought about what had happened next. "We shared a life together. We were married, secretly of course, but we were happy. We moved into an old farmhouse around here and decided we would start a family here. It was in the middle of nowhere. No one was going to find us after all. We could be happy here."

"What changed?" He asked, leaning in. He couldn't understand where it would've gone wrong.

"The T.V.A," A scowl corrupted your smile as you looked up at him for the first time in minutes. "We were variants. What happened between us should never have happened."

Loki shook his head. "I can't believe that's what divided us. What did they do?"

"You gave me a chance to escape. You kept them off me and I ran off. See, I ran off and you went into the T.V.A to be charged for your crimes. They were going to prune you. Unless you told them where I was," You scoffed.

"Did I?"

"You did. Because no matter what you would always do everything in your power to save your own skin. Even if it meant ratting me out when I was protecting the child we had just taken in." Your tone quickly turned to ice at the thought.

Loki stayed quiet at the revelation. He didn't know what to say. "What happened next?" He asked quietly.

You shrugged. "I went in, you got out. You were reset. I don't know how you became a variant again. I guess they couldn't wipe your memory if you were able to remember our home."

"I don't understand. I don't understand how I could do that," He said as he stood up from the bed, pacing the room.

"The version of you in this timeline is different. He changed after escaping. I just hadn't realized it until it was too late."

Loki stopped in his tracks suddenly, staring you dead in the eyes. "Is that why you're with the T.V.A? To get revenge?"

You nodded. "The T.V.A, while I despise them, are my one way of getting to him. I want to make sure the agency brings him in once and for all. I'll prune him myself if I have to. And then I'm out of there. I have a plan to escape."

"And what will you do after that?"

You looked out at the window, "Find my little girl, I suppose. Make sure she's okay."

"Then perhaps you would like a partner to join you," He grinned.

"No."

~

Making your way to the farmhouse, Loki decided to stay back a little. The plan was for you to make sure Loki was in a vulnerable state, giving you just enough time to alert the T.V.A. Then, your partner Loki could capture the criminal Loki using the collar and remote you brought. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was enough for you to feel comfortable facing off against him.

Loki stayed outside, watching from a patch of wildflowers that sat outside the house. They were your favorites.

The house was cold and creaking from weight and pressure it hadn't felt in years. It looked abandoned. No one must have moved in after you did. The sight sent shivers down your spine. All seemed quiet except for a single door opening across from you. There stood the man that ruined your life - Your version of him.

"Hello, darling," He greeted you, a small sheepish smile plastered on his face.

"Loki."

"I know these are probably not the circumstances you would've wanted for this-"

"Not the circumstances?" You interrupted harshly. "I never wanted this situation to ever happen. You're lucky I haven't tried to shoot you in the face with a magnum."

Loki raised his hands up in mock surrender. "What I had done was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?! You exposed me which put our family in harm's way! I have no idea where Rose is! None!"

His expression softened at the mention of Rose. You knew it struck a chord in his heart. It had to. Rose was adopted just like he was. All he wanted was to be a better father to her than his own was. If he were a better person you may have cared about hitting a sensitive spot like this.

"That's unfair. I had no idea she would possibly be reset by them," He said.

"Oh come on! What else did you think would have happened?! They were after us and so they were after her too." You moved your finger slightly to the communicator in your jacket pocket, signaling for the T.V.A to arrive and for Loki to step in.

"I never meant for her to get hurt," He said, his voice shaking slightly.

"No, but you meant for me to get hurt."

"I never wanted either of you to get hurt. It's just that-"

"Just what?" You grit your teeth.

"I was scared. You know how I am. I'm a coward!"

"That's no excuse for what you've done," You glanced up, seeing your partner sneak up behind the man. He wrapped the collar around him and quickly backed away, holding the remote up.

"What are you doing?!" Variant Loki exclaimed.

"Getting justice. Revenge. Everything I've wanted for years from you," You glared at him. The other Loki smirked, proud of you for what you had done.

The minutemen from the T.V.A quickly stepped in, arresting Variant Loki as soon as possible. Mobius followed them, looking the man up and down. "So you're the one who's caused all this trouble. And all because of a girl you crumbled. Gotta admit, it's not a good look for you," He said. You nearly laughed. "Take him away."

The minutemen began to drag Variant Loki through the portals, though he didn't go through without one last word to you, "Y/N! I will get out of this!"

You scoffed. "Sure you will."

~

Mobius decided to allow you and Loki to stay behind, giving you a moment to examine the home around you. He trusted you two enough to have a few minutes of peace alone. "So what's the plan, love?" Loki asked.

"Mobius has given us this much. If we gain his trust for a little while longer then we'll be able to have far more time and perhaps even a way to travel through the multiverse on our own. I hate to say it, but I'll stick with the T.V.A a little while longer. The endgame is long-term here."

Loki nodded thoughtfully. "It's smart. But I'm smarter," He held his hand up, revealing one of the portal remotes in his hand. Your eyes widened.

"How did you get that?!"

"I stole it from one of the men as they went through. I'm sure they won't miss this, but if they find out we have this when we go back it won't be pretty," He said, walking up to you, grinning.

You stifled a laugh as you looked down at the remote in his hands. You shook your head looking back up at him. "You're insane."

"Perhaps I am," His grin widened, "But I know you want this as much as I do. So, what do you say?"

He held his empty hand out to you, waiting for your response. Instead of giving it a moment's hesitation, you held out your own, taking his.

And with that, you never looked back.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Everybody Talks (Ethan x MC)

Summary: At a conference hosted by the American Medical Association, Ethan stumbles upon an unpleasant conversation about his girlfriend.

Warnings: None

~v~

Ethan watches as his girlfriend owns the room. At the American Medical Association conference in their own city of Boston, in the large ballroom of The Ritz Carlton, he quietly observes from the corner as she excitedly chats with a Dr. Catherine Stanley, a renowned surgeon from Columbia, while everyone within an arm's reach of her is drawn in by the sheer magnetism of her presence. He’ll never get tired of watching her like this. Naomi is completely in her element. Whenever she’s in a deep conversation about medicine, her posture loosens, her nose crinkles, and her voice takes on a pitchy breathiness the more and more excited she gets.

So caught up in thinking about her, Ethan doesn’t even notice that she’s walking up to him until she’s within a few feet. She smiles brightly as she leans against the bar. “You’re not mingling.”

“You’ve known me for over three years now. I’m not one to mingle.”

“Come on, there has to be someone here you want to talk to.”

“You.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Mhm-hmm, you’re so charming, Dr. Ramsey.”

“I’m being very serious. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to the keynote speaker?”

When Naomi found out they wanted her to speak at the conference, she was almost certain they meant to speak to Ethan and that she accidentally answered a phone call meant for him. But they in fact wanted her, the newest and youngest head of the diagnostics team. Her meteoric rise up the ranks of Edenbrook had made quite the splash in the medical community, where everyone knew everyone. Whether she realized it or not, Naomi had become a wunderkind and everyone wanted a piece of her.

And while she was nervous, Ethan couldn’t be more proud of her. Naomi is brilliant, and it’s about time more people were rewarded with being in her presence long enough to see it.

Naomi groans and runs a hand along her midsection. “Don’t remind me that I’m giving a speech soon, my stomach is already in knots.”

Ethan holds up his tumbler of whiskey, angling the glass towards her. “Want some liquid courage?”

“No, eating or drinking might make it worse. I won’t feel better until I’m on the other side of it.”

“In the three years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen a shy bone in your body. Where are the nerves coming from?”

“I’ve never done something like this,” Naomi responds. “I’ve never given a speech in front of hundreds of people–maybe even more, this place is packed. Public Speaking is the only class I ever got a B in in college.”

Ethan gasps teasingly. “The horror.” He chuckles softly as Naomi pokes him in the rib. Moving closer, Ethan clasps a warm hand around Naomi’s shoulder, massaging gently. “You’re going to do just fine. Better than fine, even, you’re going to be amazing. You’re smart, charming, funny, and eloquent, and the directors knew what they were doing when they chose you to speak. And besides, nearly all of Edenbrook is here to support you. Lahela might’ve even snuck in a camcorder.”

It's a slight exaggeration, but a lot of physicians practicing at Edenbrook belong to the prestigious association, and did not want to miss the chance to see one of their own speak.

“Ugh don’t remind me. It’s easier speaking to a crowd of nameless, faceless people. What if I forget my speech? What if my accent becomes super obnoxious and no one can understand me? What if I trip on stage?”

“You could always picture everyone naked, I’ve been told that it helps.”

Naomi blanches at the suggestion. “No, I don’t want to picture all of these people naked.”

“Good, because that was a trick suggestion,” Ethan murmurs. He rests his forehead against Naomi’s, his lips hovering mere centimeters from hers. “The only person you should ever be visualizing sans clothing is me.”

“Lucky for me, I get to do a lot more than just visualize.”

The happy couple share a kiss before Ethan nuzzles his face into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck, whispering quiet words of encouragement and affirmation.

On the other side of the bar, a group of women watch the jarring public display of affection play out. Ethan Ramsey was notorious for hating medical conferences, never engaging or interacting with people. He was also known for being perpetually single, so to see him so open with another person felt like foreign.

“I still can’t believe the two of them are together,” Dr. Nicole Harrington whispers to her group of friends as they gawk at the pair. While she works in New York, it’s hard to not be aware of the story behind Dr. Ethan Ramsey and his young protege Dr. Valentine, especially since she’s in touch with so many Boston-based doctors. “I can’t believe Ramsey is so open with her.”

“I think they’re cute,” Nicole’s friend, Monica coos. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”

The third member of the party, Greta stays silent. She’s one of the two people within their group with actual ties to Edenbrook, her husband having been attending there for almost 8 years now. Her husband Ashland keeps her up to date on all the ins-and-outs of hospital gossip, and she knows all about Ethan’s messy entanglement with his former resident.

“He wasn’t even like this when he dated Harper Emery,” their last friend Angelica whispers. As a neurologist herself, she’s worked alongside both Ethan and Harper for a long time, and while the hospital knew of their relationship, if you weren’t looking for the extremely subtle signs, you’d never know they used to be together. For years, at that. But for some reason, Ethan can’t seem to go 5 seconds without being near Dr. Valentine. Within the walls of Edenbrook, it's becoming harder and harder to see one without the other. “And she’s Harper freaking Emery for Christ’s sake.”

The conversation pauses as someone on stage taps the mic, gathering everyone’s attention. Out of the corner of her eye, Greta watches as Ethan plants another kiss on his lover’s forehead and she disappears in the crowd before she’s introduced as the evening’s guest speaker.

Ethan doesn’t know why his girlfriend was ever so nervous because as soon as she accepts the microphone and starts to speak, he’s transfixed.

His tunnel vision is split when he hears an aggressive whisper from a few feet away. Frowning, he turns around, fully prepared to demand that whoever has the gall to interrupt Naomi’s speech should shut the hell up, but he stops when he realizes that they’re talking about her.

“She’s been a member of the AMA for what, 3 seconds and she’s already giving speeches? Are we in the freaking Twilight Zone?”

“I guess it pays to keep Ethan Ramsey’s bed warm.”

Greta scoffs, finally acknowledging the conversation. “Ashland tells me everything about the two of them, and it’s all so messy. She’s been leading him around like she’s dangling an apple in front of a horse since she got to Edenbrook. He gave her preferential treatment her intern year, and miraculously she gets the coveted fellowship on the Dr. Banerji’s team. He gets promoted, and surprise, surprise, he gives her the team, wrapped up in a neat little bow. Never mind the fact that she should be nowhere near leading a team, she killed a patient her intern year. So for him to be...parading that young girl around is tawdry and disrespectful to the hospital.”

If this was a cartoon, Ethan is almost positive his face would be very red and steam would be wafting out of his ears because that’s how angry he is. The audacity of these women to stand a mere 8 feet away from him and trash talk the woman he loves is disrespectful on so many levels.

Obnoxiously, he clears his throat, garnering their attention. The only one with the decency to look slightly embarrassed is Monica, as Ethan catches her cheeks flushing under his harsh attention.

Angelica stands up straighter, “Chief Ramsey, we were just–”

“Participating in a misogynistic diatribe against a fellow doctor,” Ethan finishes. “Question, did any of you graduate at the top of your classes from a top 10 ranked medical school?” No one dares respond. “Out of the 4 of you, did you guys save Naveen Banerji’s life while he was dying of sepsis? Have you spent your after hours holed up in the NICU with your patient’s newborn baby? Any of you face a near death experience and come back to the scene of the crime in order to help more people?”

Ethan’s eyes narrow at Angelica and Greta in particular. “When Edenbrook nearly shut down, I don’t remember seeing your face as we worked tirelessly in the free clinic Dr. Banks, nor do I recall seeing your husband Mrs. Park. I don’t remember him lobbying to politicians or attempting to secure funds during fundraisers, but I do recall seeing him show up at parties without you to flirt with nurses.”

Greta balks at Ethan’s words, clearly not expecting him to unleash such anger. “Dr. Ramsey, I’ll have you know that my husband–”

“Is spreading vicious gossip and lies about a doctor with higher ranking than him. Dr. Valentine got her spot on the diagnostics team fair and square. She was the number 1 intern so Naveen picked her. When I left the team, she was the last tenured member at the time, with the most experience in how a team of such magnitude ran. She was the best pick for the job.”

“Over the course of her time at Edenbrook, she has more than proved that she earned her seat at the table, and to suggest anything else is an insult to her strengths and talents as a doctor, as well as my judgement. To suggest that I do not know to remain professional while I’m at work and the only reason she’s in the position that she’s in is because of our private relationship isn’t just a lie, but a dangerous and slanderous one as well. And if someone so much as ever implies it again, I will slap them with a lawsuit so fast their head will spin, and the closest they’ll ever get to practicing medicine again is slapping Band-Aids on kindergarteners.”

The group of women receive a threat loud and clear And they remain silent not wanting to be at the receiving end of anymore of his wrath.

Ethan sighs heavily. “Well, now that this pesky conversation has come to an end, I’m going to continue to listen to Naomi’s speech. The one that she was hand selected to deliver, while the rest of you are in a position to do nothing more than watch from the crowds.”

With the catty group of women stunned into silence, Ethan smiles, his work complete. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.”

They watch as he downs the rest of his drink before sauntering off. Once he’s gone, Monica huffs out a shaky breath. “Well...I’ve always said there’s nothing more attractive than a man defending the woman he loves.”

~v~

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