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j-graysonlibrary · 1 year ago

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Silverfalls Court Chapter 2

Title: Silverfalls Court

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 50K

Genres: drama, suspense, who-done-it, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: A young girl, lost in the bliss of her first relationship, will do anything in the pursuit of what she believes is true love—even sneaking out of her house in the dead of night. Unfortunately, she is met by someone she didn’t quite expect. Her fight or flight instincts kick in but she in no match for the killer in the woods.

And her death won’t be the only one.

The once peaceful and quaint neighborhood of Silverfalls Court is thrown into chaos and upheaval when bodies keep showing up in the woods. When it becomes apparent that the murderer must be one of them, suspicions grow thick and trust is shattered.

Some, like Lisa-Marie Castel, want to play detective and solve the case on their own while others, like Dominique Pulmer, want to keep their heads down and wait for things to return to normal. Some might even wish to capitalize on the bizarre nature of the story while those who have been personally affected are left to pick up the broken pieces of their lives amidst the chaos.

Full chapter 2 under the cut:

2. Cold Air, Cool Atmosphere

Across the street, in a brick two-story house partly overgrown by ivy, Polly Rosello lost herself in her current project. Even if all of her kids were running about, talking and laughing with one another, she barely heard it. Tucked between her lips was a sewing needle and across her lap was her youngest son’s Halloween costume.

He’d busted one of the seams impatiently forcing his arm through while trying it on. It wasn’t a large hole but it was noticeable and Polly couldn’t deny his sad face when he came to her and asked for help.

Miguel was her sweetest baby so she couldn’t stand to see him cry. Especially not with his big eyes and round, baby face. He and his older sister, Claire, were still under thirteen and, while Polly wouldn’t say it aloud, she dreaded when they breached their teenage years. She still loved her two oldest children but they required a different kind of energy to keep up with.

All of the noise in the background was probably due to Serena and Peter teasing each other. They were only separated by a year and a half and, by Polly’s personal experience, she found siblings close in age had a hard time getting along.

She’d speak up if she picked up anything malicious in their bickering but she kept her eyes on the costume for the time being. At the moment, there was no screaming or hitting so they were fine.

Back when she was growing up with her two older siblings, their parents would let them get into actual fights—only interfering if they broke something in the house or if blood was spilled. The house rules were strict but when it came to sibling disputes, there was never anyone there to keep her from getting tossed around by her brother and sister.

Part of her wondered if all of that fighting helped build her character but, even if it were true, she wouldn’t sit back and let her own children go through the same things. A little bickering was fine but the second insults were hurled about or hands started to fly, she’d stop it.

Polly finished up the sewing job and ensured it wouldn’t easily rip again. She tucked away all of her supplies into the small case she kept on hand and then looked around to find her children.

“Serena?” She called for her oldest.

It took but a few seconds before the young woman was running into the room. Serena had just recently started her junior year in high school yet she still looked like a baby to her mother. The biggest reminder that she was nearly an adult was that she was taller than her now.

“Yes, mama?” Serena blinked.

Polly smiled at her before handing her Miguel’s colorful shirt. “Go put this in your youngest brother’s room, will you? I’ve got to clean up before dinner.”

“Need help?” she asked as she took the shirt, holding it between her hands.

“No, thank you.” Polly shook her head. There was a lot of work in front of her but she didn’t want to keep her kids from their plans. She was the mother, after all. It was her job to care for them, cook for them, and cleanup after them.

Serena gave her a distant look as if she didn’t believe her. But then she tilted her head to one side, her high ponytail shaking from side to side as she did so. “Okay…”

Polly practically shooed her away before looking about the kitchen and sighing. She went through a mental checklist of things to do before getting started.

First was the refrigerator. It was time to clean it out and throw out anything that was no longer good though she doubted anything like that was left behind. With four kids, there was never an issue with having too much food, only not enough. Still, she needed to wipe down the shelves and rearrange the items to her liking.

A few moments in and, much to her frustration, Polly did find a half-eaten tube of yogurt stowed away in one of the drawers. She frowned and tossed it into the trash, wondering which one of her kids was behind it.

Because of that, she combed through the cabinets for other partly eaten or disregarded snacks. She found a half a candy bar and some old, stale chips that had been stuffed all the way in the back of a cabinet.

“I’m going to have to have a talk with them,” Polly mumbled to herself as she brought the trashcan over and threw everything out.

The old snacks brought the trash to its limit so she tied the bag up and hoisted it out of the can. It wasn’t too heavy but she did have to set it down on the ground before opening the front door.

As she walked down the driveway to her outdoor trashcan, she spotted her favorite neighbor doing the same.

It wasn’t that Polly disliked Lisa-Marie who was to the right of her house but she simply felt she had nothing in common with the woman. She was grateful for all of the big holiday parties she hosted since it always gave her kids something to look forward to but Polly just couldn’t imagine ever having the amount of time or resources the woman seemed to. Plus, there was the minor issue with the fact Polly once called her “Lisa” instead of Lisa-Marie and she gave her the cold shoulder for over a month.

To the left of her house was Mabel Conner. Mabel had no husband or kids but she did have a fortune from her old fantasy novels that were hugely popular in the early nineties. But, due to a deteriorative genetic disease, Mabel ended up disabled and slowly stopped writing until she eventually stopped altogether and settled down into the neighborhood to simply live the rest of her life out in peace. She was still young, in Polly’s opinion, but she supposed she could see how, with the uncertainty of her medical condition, she would want to just relax for however long she had.

Polly was on a friendly basis with Mabel but it was really her live-in caretaker who she was close to. Ilene Gias was only a few years older than Serena but she’d been working with Mabel practically since she graduated so she gave off an air of maturity that made her seem older to Polly. Plus she was so fun to talk to that Polly often forgot that she was practically old enough to be Ilene’s mother.

“Good evening, Miss Rosello,” Ilene greeted with a wide smile. They threw their trash out in a synchronized fashion before she set her hands on her hips. “How is everyone today?”

“Alright…all things considered.” Polly wasn’t sure if Ilene had heard the news seeing as she and Mabel had no personal connections to the matter and Mabel wasn’t the type to read the paper or watch the local news. “Have you heard about what the police found the other day?”

“I saw it in the paper,” Ilene said with a heavy sigh, “I talked with Miss Mabel about it some and we shared the same sentiment. It’s such a shame someone so young was just…taken away like that. It’s not fair.”

“Definitely not,” Polly agreed, “The girl went to school with Serena and Peter as well…Serena seemed confused and a little sad. I know I need to talk to her more about it but…” she paused with a frown, “what do I say?”

Ilene closed her eyes and let out a long exhale. A small crease formed between her eyebrows, visually signifying her stress. “I’m not sure, honestly. That’s a tough topic—even for a teenager. It’s a senseless act of violence, that’s for sure. I’d almost say there is no proper way to explain something like this. Good people can’t and shouldn’t understand, you know?”

She could see where she was coming from. Polly nodded slightly as she thought of it that way. Perhaps the reason they were so bewildered by the news of a murder was because they, themselves, were incapable of thinking of doing something like it. Though she didn’t think she’d ever care to understand, even if understanding took some of the scary parts away.

“Some people are just…monsters on the inside, I guess,” Polly said after a moment.

“It’s crazy to think it could be someone close to us,” Ilene went on, “Though the police think the body was moved after the girl was killed. The killer is still too close for my liking.”

“I agree. I hope they find who did it and fast.” She chewed on her lip for a second. “Do you…think it is too distasteful—or safe for that matter—that I’m still going to the Halloween party next week?”

Both women glanced to Lisa-Marie’s house and all the décor that was already in place. By the time the weekend rolled around, the entire block would certainly be filled with her decorations.

“I think it’s fine. The kids don’t need to be worried about anything and it will be a good opportunity for them to have fun and not think about all the dark stuff,” Ilene said, “I won’t be there though.”

“Mabel’s staying in?” Polly guessed.

She nodded. “She hasn’t been feeling too good and there isn’t much of a reason for her to go out anyway. I’m still planning on making her a pumpkin pie and watching some old horror classics with her but…” Ilene shrugged. “You won’t see me out.”

“That’s alright. It will probably be too lively for Mabel anyway.” Many of Lisa-Marie’s parties could be quite rambunctious—especially Halloween. It was the woman’s favorite holiday so she always went over the top with it.

“Maybe I’ll bring over some candy for the kids before I lock us in for the night,” Ilene suggested with a smile.

“You don’t have to, Ilene. Really.” Polly dismissed her with a wave of her hand. Though, as she caught sight of the time on her wristwatch, she tensed. “Oh, I need to start dinner.”

“Me too,” the young woman agreed with a quick laugh. “See you later then.”

They walked back to their respective houses and waved one last time before walking in. Polly smoothed out the front of her shirt and continued to the kitchen.

Luckily, all of the ingredients for dinner were already gathered together and prepared so she just had to cook and assemble everything. She placed the chicken in the oven first thing before starting on anything else. The cheese sauce was next since it required pretty much constant surveillance and she found herself wishing she had a third arm to help out as she whisked it together.

The kitchen grew hot while she rushed from one counter to the other, setting up all of the plates and side dishes in a flurry. And, as expected, the smell brought all of her children into the room before dinner was actually done.

“How much longer?” Peter asked as he leaned over the island counter, putting his nose a little too close to the guacamole. If his wild and curly hair were any longer, some of might have touched the surface.

“Stop trying to sneak a bite,” Serena fussed and smacked him on the back. “Either help mama or go sit down.”

“I can help,” Miguel suggested and walked to the stack of plates. Like Peter, Miguel had very curly hair but he still let Polly cut it so it stayed out of his face. He could never stand his hair touching his glasses anyway. “Mama, I’ll set the table, okay?”

Polly smiled down at him. “Of course. Go ahead.” She glanced around at her children and saw Claire was the only one not salivating over the side dishes but only because she was buried in a book. Polly could only make out the perimeter of her daughter’s short bob and the mismatched bow that was clipped atop her head—the rest of her face was hidden behind the book. “Claire, honey, no reading at dinner.”

“Yeah, why you wanna read anyway?” Peter asked as he pulled the book from her hands. “It can’t be that interesting.”

“You only think that because you can’t read,” his little sister remarked before attempting to snatch the book back but he lifted it higher into the air before she could make contact.

“Just go put it up before dinner,” Polly said as she pulled out the chicken. It was perfectly golden brown so she began shredding it with a couple of forks.

“Give it back, Peter,” she heard Serena say followed by an “oof” from her oldest son.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded and Claire’s sneakers squeaked out of the room. “So, mama, I saw you talking to Ilene outside earlier.”

“Mhm,” Polly hummed as she continued to work.

“Peter wants to know if she’s coming to the Halloween party,” Serena said before he could get to it and then let out a snicker.

“She’s not,” Polly answered and set the forks down with a sigh. Her arms were tired but she was done so it didn’t really matter. She grabbed the plate with the chicken and moved it closer to the tortillas so she could start assembling everyone’s food. She only gave one glance back at her children—just in time to see Claire re-enter the room without her book. “She and Mabel are staying in.”

“Awww, really?!” Peter slumped down into his seat at the table. “Lame!”

“She’s not going to date you, you know,” Serena said and crossed her arms.

“Well maybe not now but when I’m older,” he argued and flipped his hair from over his eye, “All these precious memories we make now will be important later though. I’ve gotta convince her to wait for me.”

“No way that’s happening.” Serena laughed.

“Why do you only like old women?” Claire asked afterward, making Serena laugh harder.

“Miss Ilene isn’t old,” Miguel spoke up, “She’s only a few years older than Serena…”

“Yep. Old,” Claire didn’t back down.

“You little—!” Her sister snapped.

“Stop fighting,” Polly said without having to turn around. She knew Serena’s hand was in the air, ready to strike. She could feel it.

“Sorry mama,” her oldest apologized. “Anyway…Peter…don’t look so depressed. Other people will be at the party.”

“But not Ilene…” He sighed.

“Vitoria will be there. And Suri,” Serena said, “If you promise to be cool, you can hang out with us and Jumin.”

Peter perked up. “Really?”

“Don’t sound so excited. It’s not cool.” Despite her words, she still smiled at her brother and didn’t seem to have any intention of rescinding the invitation.

While Polly had planned on bringing up the murder of Leigh Duval either during or after dinner, she wasn’t sure she could now. Not with all of her kids smiling and having a good time. Maybe later, she told herself again.

“Should I make drinks, mama?” Claire asked, breaking Polly from her thoughts. She took a second to respond but nodded.

In the meantime, she finished preparing everyone’s food and started to place everything on the dining table. Serena helped Claire out as Peter and Miguel sat up in excitement for their dinner.

Polly watched them with a smile. As much as they all bickered, it was always heartwarming to see them get along. Especially Serena with her younger siblings. She wasn’t fully related to all of them since she had a different father and it was always something Polly worried about.

But they acted like full-blood siblings. All of them.

“I saw you fixed my costume, mama,” Miguel said with a wide, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Polly patted the top of his head, tussling his curls about. “If any of you need anything before the party, let me know.”

Each of them nodded and smiled before taking the food they wanted. The first half of dinner was always silent—no matter how wound up or rambunctious the four of them were. They always focused, at least for a couple of minutes, solely on eating and enjoying their meals.

It was one of the moments—guaranteed in every day—that Polly looked forward to.

#silverfalls court #my novel #writeblr #lgbt writers

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kunosoura · 4 months ago

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okay!

my larger framework for how i interpret ER largely hasn't changed. I still think the entire game is effectively Marika and Ranni's joint plot to have a tarnished take out all the other claimants for the title of elden lord and take the Ranni simp ending (and pretty please maybe scam the 3 fingers so her daughter/reincarnation doesn't have to sacrifice herself but she was willing to settle on that) because her dalliance with the Carians planted too much doubt in her about the Golden Order. Essentially a blanquist and also sorta buddhist scheme to deal with allegorical state power.

SOTE gave a lot of context for Marika's character, both because we see where she came from + the hangups that gave her (the bigotry towards omens and the crucible, her aversion towards The Maiden Sacrifice that causes her to nudge the tarnished, via guidance of grace, towards both the frenzied flame and its cure), and because we see Miquella making basically same mistakes she made (embarking on a quest towards godhood inspired by compassion and a sense of justice that mutated into a xenophobic crusade).

People argue that Melina and Messmer are very directly related as siblings (almost a miquella-malenia situation), but I think there's more to it than that. I think they're meant to be foils to each other - Marika's first child and her last child. Both marked by flames from birth, but where Messmer was born to an arrogant young Marika who sought to control everything and seal what could not be controlled, a Marika who ripped out his eye and sealed his serpent and his flame with grace, Melina was born of a Marika who had come to regret everything she had built. The metaphysics get a little mumbo-jumbo-y, but I still think it's notable that in a game which stresses mind-body dualism over and over again, we meet Melina as a "burned and bodiless" spirit while Radagon is the burnt, mindless remains of Marika's sin. At the moment of that sin, embrace the destruction, the flame she had so long tried to keep out of her golden order, and when her spirit was (re)born at the foot of the erdtree, she carried gently sealed within her the flames of that destined death, accepting (but not quite resigned to) the prospect of one last sacrifice.

Furthermore, I think they foil each other more personally. Messmer was stuck as the Impaler, the Hornsent's oppressor and the monster of the Land of Shadow, because he could never escape Marika's bidding, never convince himself to seek some other purpose or abandon the task he was given, due to millennia worth of sunk cost fallacy. Melina, on the other hand, never directly received her charge, and could only piece it together by traveling with the Tarnished and piecing together Marika's memories; once she had gathered enough to realize what Marika intended, she basically move on immediately, formed her own opinions, took full responsibility for what she sought and left Marika in the past, either gladly embracing her death if it means true life can return to the world or shunning the player character should they be willing to unleash the frenzied flame, even if it's just to stop her sacrifice.

Miquella is an interesting point to me - people are STILL pissed about the whole Radahn thing, and while I've gotten endless joy out of the smug flame of I-Told-You-So I've been nurturing inside for two years since I clocked him as both A Gwyndolin and also the person missing the point the hardest, I do think a lot of players are also missing the point of why he was written this way in the audience. He was never going to be the perfect vessel of compassion able to drive the other outer gods and their influences out of the world because as has been the point since dark souls, The Gods Are Literally Just Some Guy. His attempts to cast off his body, his love, his gender dysphoria didn't perfect him for godhood; instead, they made him less human, less able to relate to others, more idiosyncratic, more arrogant and controlling. He cast off the best parts of himself mistakenly believing that it made him less human and more godly, but at the end of the day he was a dumb noble with selfish wishes who could not conceptualize that someone might disagree with his lofty and tightly-controlled plans, because his pursuit of perfection killed the best parts of him.

Miquella was Beloved as a Demigod, but his plans never came to fruition. I cont remember where but I saw someone convincingly make the case that in addition to perpetual childhood, Miquella was cursed to be unable to finish anything. His haligtree is a rotting husk, the eclipse ritual he sought to bring peace to Godwyn came to nothing, his experiments with unalloyed gold sat unfinished until the Tarnished came along, his Radmohg scheme sat in waiting for god knows how long for someone to come kill them, and he's killed right as he claims godhood. The only thing we see of his that can be counted a success was his time as St. Trina, where he had no goal other than to wander the land anonymously and soothe the pain of those most hurt by the cracks in the golden order.

I think it's all circling a thesis of the Elden Ring being an allegory for state power and how the best thing to do with it is Get The Fuck Rid of It (Ranni's ending) vs Lets Change Things In Increments :^) (any of the elden lord endings) vs Miquella as, to put it crudely, an authoritarian absolutely convinced he can make the best use of that sort of absolute power.

The rest of the lore is mostly piecemeal to me and none of it shines as bright. Lot of "heyy remember that part of the lore :D" like a greatest hits album. I think the whole thing with Metyr is to point out that the Greater Will has never been that unique from the perspective of divine influences on the land, certainly not uniquely having its shit together, and that Ymir was making it sound worse than it was because he was insane. Midra was just that, mid, did nothing for me. Rellana really could have used a little more pizazz, a cutscene or some dialogue or something, cool swords though. Bayle was fun :]

just came so close to beating the final boss of sote that i couldn't even see the final pixel of the health bar

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skxllz · 2 years ago

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𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕

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pairing 〉 eddie munson x fem! harrington! reader

length 〉 7.3k

warnings 〉 cheerleader reader. being friends with chrissy. putting up a front (kind of). mentions of anxiety, fear, being a coward. a tiny mention of a gay slur somewhere in there. eddie having a bit of an insecure moment. admiration from afar (at first - from both ends). extreme hatred towards jason. hiding away true feelings and trying to fit in. a bit of angsty, personal information slid in. easily angered reader (sort of?). physical violence, punching. swearing. annoyed thoughts. reader being a bad bitch (is that even a warning?).

summery 〉 when jason calls eddie a freak in the cafeteria, you get fed up with the bullying and give him a piece of your mind. ends with eddie comforting you, after realizing what you had done.

requested here 🖤

the ending is a bit rushed so.. rip to that. but I hope it's enjoyable, otherwise? this also went in a different direction from where I originally wanted it to go lol. ps - I got lazy on proof reading, so sorry for any errors!

8.11.22

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highschool. a funny word, a funny thing, a funny setting. a strange experience in life. also a stressful thing to obtain for most - all teenagers and young adults, actually. in a typical highschool, clicks were displayed; jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, outcasts, rationalists and so on. the most notorious groups seemed to be the popular and well portrayed opposite, seeing as they were always at each others' throats like people at war. it made sense in the eyes of society, because there could be nothing cool if it didn't have a polar opposite; loser worthy. but that's what destroys the mind of young individuals, isn't it? thinking you had to act a certain way, dress a certain way, look a certain way just to be considered likeable? it was ridiculous and quite frankly, broke a person's spirit.

in the harrington household, it was well known that the family held a strong image of being perfect and porcelain. they were high on the food chain; held stealthy on the outfield. for that reason, their reputation was made to be outstanding and everyone was meant to see them as the elvis presley as high class. steve harrington, the eldest child, had a big newsflash though that even if his family had the impression they needed to be spotless, he didn't. he was his own person - and perfect didn't exist in a world full of poorly kempt stick ups. it took a little help for that mindset to blossom, but it got there and he was thankful for it... however; his sister didn't catch the drift of that quite yet.

time and time again, you were given a meaningful speech by your brother about how you looked in the eyes of others, didn't perceive who you truly were. your self image is what mattered - who you saw yourself as. who you presented yourself as. who you accepted yourself as. but the words never really... imprinted into your skull. sunk into your brain. instead, you only ever stomped your foot about it and told the older of you two to butt out of your personal life. deep down you knew steve only worried, wanting what was best for you and for you not to become like your parents.

although your mother meant well when she was present, she still wasn't the best at affection nor showing efforted support. it wasn't in her algorithm to be a... mother figure. however, you still loved her, as did steve - if was just difficult to accept the fact that you'd never really receive a loving hug when you're upset, or a look of praise when she was proud. and your father? he was a different story. your father was never upfront about things, but his words were always passively straight forward. he'd be nonchalant about things, act like some shit he said wasn't a big deal or even just.. not care, for what he'd say. but it'd hurt you. it'd hurt steve. he was easier on you given you're his daughter, but the way he treated your sibling bothered you. alas though, you couldn't say anything; your fear of being targeted and being the center of attention, negatively, impacted that. plus, steve would never let anything happen to you, even if you two weren't the closest.

in the back of your mind, despite being stubborn about everything, you knew acting preppy and perfect and pushing people who were considered below you, away, was wrong. you knew wearing pristine, perfectly stitched skirts that reached mid-thigh and pressed white socks were not you. you knew sporting a snobby, push-away, shouldered off personality wasn't the way you truly were. you weren't... you weren't fake. being apart of the cliché upper class and wine glass clinking crowd wasn't you, isn't you, and knowing that killed you because the anxiety that constantly settled in the pit of your stomach stopped you from displaying your true nature. It was tiring, frustrating... but you weren't sure what to do of it. seeing steve being swept off his throne and being tossed around like an abused volleyball battered you enough. you didn't know what'd actually happen to you if you decided to say ‘ fuck it, I'm leaving this crowd and moving onto higher aspects ’.

your emotions were easily shook, to put it into clear terms. although you were never diagnosed with high anxiety by a professional, you suspected for some time that you had it, which is why you could never speak up. always followed along with the crowd in fear. never stood your ground, truly. wore what people wanted, acted how people expected. it drained you though, mentally and physically. and.. well, seeing it done to other people just seemed to spark unknowing feelings within you.

since your sophomore year, you started watching everything around you. while you weren't really deemed as quiet, you still never spoke as much as the crowd you stuck yourself with; thus, leaving you with the inner status of the kid that observed and noted small things - attitudes, habits and so on. it only happened because of your father snapping at steve rather aggressively because of something he did, and unintentionally you had taken notice of his body language and the way he reacted. the mind can do crazy things, hm?

due to being so observant, it didn't take you long to pick up on the pattern of the basketball team and the majority of the cheer squad thinking they were better than any other click. or just person, for that matter. they picked on other individuals, whether it be by a snide comment or unnecessary shove of the shoulder, and it highly disgusted you. again though, you never said anything; never spoke up verbally, or even slid an anonymous note to the principal. getting involved in the business of others, even if it could end up helping them out, was a disaster waiting to happen in your mind. steve knew better, knowing that bullying of any sorts wasn't okay, since he himself partook in it before, but you? you were clueless. It was pathetic, really. knowing it wasn't okay for people to do that to another, but having it locked in your brain that interfering was wrong - and being so utterly, selfishly afraid you'd become the new bullseye.

but your view began changing, one day. usually, no one would catch your eye, even your brothers' past friend tommy h or that fleabag billy hargrove. they were too arrogant for you - thinking rather with their dicks and egos, rather than the brains they were given. boys, nor girls in hawkins ever peeked your interest, but one day you just so happened to let your eyes wander onto the opposite crowd a little too long.

eddie munson. you laid eyes on him his second year of being a senior, which made you a junior. you knew he was older than you, heard about him being a freak and the labels of cult leader and devil worshipper surrounding the very government name he was given. heard the rumors that he liked both boys and girls, and people found that disgusting. even eavesdropped on a conversation that the guy was a complete sadist. so much shit bled into just his last initial alone, and yet you found yourself slowly becoming infatuated with him.

although he had a rep of being rather ballsy when it came to telling people off, or being a guy that had too much attitude for one to handle, it didn't start until the end of your junior year where he began shoving insult after insult into the face of every student that didn't accept him - or the other outcasts for that matter. while everyone else hated it, found him irritating and quite frankly wanted to tear him down bit by bit, you couldn't help but look up to him. stars would fill your eyes everytime he gave one of his society ridden speeches, or everytime you'd hear him shout excitedly from his lunch table about the new campaign he was hosting. simply throwing his head back, mouth dropping open with laughter would leave you feeling dizzy. he was such a charm and you didn't understand why you didn't see him sooner.

this carried all the way to your senior year, which was currently. everyday your eyes would follow his sauntering figure as he walked past the cheersquad to slip his way into o'donnell's room. everyday you'd throw small glances at him in the cafeteria, watching him either make snarky comments on one of the other social groups or mess with his new found friend, dustin henderson. everyday you'd watch as his hair would swish off of his shoulders and sway side to side down his upper back, as he ran off to the hellfire club's room. every weekend... you'd spot eddie outside from the mayfields’ front window, gathering the fact that you took time to hang out with max, one of your brothers’ little brats, since you took a liking to her. you always saw him, always had his figure in your view, always dreamed that maybe one day you could gather up the courage to swallow down your nerves and just take that big step. say a big fuck you to the popularity, and just greet eddie with a small ‘ hi ’. that day didn't come, though... not in november. not in december. not in january.

but, it did come in february.

unknown to you, the male returned your feelings. he was never one to eye up a minor, given he was going on the age of twenty one - and he definitely wasn't one to ogle the opposite party, no matter how pretty they were. richy’s just weren't his crowd, and although he’s found quite a few of the basketball players and party-goers attractive, along with one or two of the cheerleaders, and was some-what acquaintances with chrissy cunningham, it just wasn't in his nature to drool over people that wouldn't — won't give two shits about him. they disgusted him, with how they pranced around thinking they were so perfect and above anyone else - him -, when nobody was a perfectly polished peach. since they were the type of people to be two-faced, and only like you for your looks and if you followed by the standards of the world, and put on a fake facade, he just couldn't bring himself to look at one of them more than four seconds. even that was pushing it. but, shit.. when he saw steve harrington's younger sister, freshly eighteen, at the beginning of the school year, his eyes couldn't help but pop out of his skull.

legs have never looked so good and smooth to him. a skirt, a cheer skirt, had never stuck out so boldly before - in a good way of course. plain white vans never looked so pretty before, let alone a person. hair in nothing a low ponytail never looked so interesting before. and god, your face? he swore it was sculpted by an actual array of those little pixie dust carrying creatures, it was so beautiful. the best thing is that he knew you were amongst the it crowd, too, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. you seemed so... different. although your eyes held an innocent, mocking look like every other plastic, pom-pom princess, he knew you weren't like that. your nails were manicured and painted a soft lilac, but he knew that wasn't you. even the smile you put on all the time just seemed... not you. he had never even taken time to notice you before september sixteenth, a week and a half after school started back up, yet the feeling in his hut told him everything about how your personality really was. how you really were.

now, eddie munson was not one for intuition and superstition, but the man just knew that listening to the gut feeling was his best bet. and he's glad he did. following you around with his curious orbs made him realize a lot of things about you - such as your favorite color, your nervous habits, the little lip twist you do when you don't agree with somebody. so many things that the never paid attention to in anyone else before. ridiculous, right? he's never even spoken a word to you, and when your brother still attended hawkins’ high, the two didn't even get along. so how on earth did he become infatuated with not only a cheerleader, but a harrington child as well, that he didn't even really know?

the real funny thing, though, is that you had no idea about his staring. his curiosity. his admiration. his love. but chrissy did - your best friend, and also the girl that secretly bummed a smoke off of munson once in a while. it was discovered when one day, she reached under the table for her bookbag to retrieve a tube of lip gloss, only to accidentally let it roll off upon dropping it. she had to reach behind her, underneath the bend because of it, and she just so happened to look up and catch eddie staring at her table. when following his gaze, her own eyes landed on you. it wasn't hard to put two and two together, especially because she knows the twenty-year-old wouldn't willingly look at the jocks’ unless it was for a good reason.

and you just so happened to be a very good reason.

but, chrissy could be a bit foolish sometimes when it came to secrets. In december, the last day before winter break would hit, she happened to slip up to jason about the fact that eddie had a growing crush on her best friend — the confirmation coming from eddie himself, last time they spoke. this set jason off, unfortunately. it wasn't for the fact that he secretly liked her - that wasn't a thing -, or even for the fact that she was close with his girlfriend. it was because eddie munson was a freak. a devil worshipper. a cult leader. a fag that swung more than one door - he shouldn't even swing for more than the opposite team.

point is, he didn't belong with you of all people. a cheerleader. a popular. a harrington. someone who actually mattered and could make it in this world. no — someone like eddie didn't deserve happiness. at least, not in jason's eyes; in his eyes, munson was evil.

the passing weeks that followed once everyone arrived back, after new years, were very weird and worrisome for you. you'd often catch jason staring down eddie, a harsh look in his clear blue's and threats lingering on the back of his tongue. it wasn't odd to see him like that towards any of the hellfire club members, especially eddie, but it also wasn't like jason to constantly neck at the munson boy as if he committed murder. it bothered you to no end - but, once again, you couldn't say something. couldn't do anything... you could only sit there and watch, with a stomach full of raging moths.

but, everything began to get tiring. frustrating. began burning you out, because the same chit chat was constant and the glaring was simply annoying. you wanted to do nothing more than scare carver shitless by holding your little spork to his throat — maybe then, he'd fucking quit the shit. ‘s not like you'd actually do that, though, because the thought of being in a rusty jail cell was not appealing. all for a boy that probably despised your existence? no.

though.. then again.. that same boy made your insides flutter like a freshly born butterfly. that same boy made your brain melt with his pretty smile alone. that same boy left you to feel as if you were floating, just because he was himself... and you were not. that's why, a month later when eddie took it upon himself to toe across his lunch table in one of his world improving speeches, only for jason to target him with the same degrading insult, the empty milk carton in your hand was crushed absentmindedly.

the few cheerleaders that saw fell silent from their conversation they had. the others’, that appeared oblivious, only took notice when the awkward atmosphere drifted their way. then, new eyes were on you after that. very little were concerned, while others were creeper out and one or two were disturbed — because they knew why you were suddenly mad. the fact that you were too in your own head to even notice your heated glare portrayed on the basketball captain, or that you caused a small scene of disruption, was kind of scary to chrissy. you looked so out raged, just over a name that everyone heard again and again. while she knew it was much more than that, she still failed to comprehend why exactly you got so pissed. just moments ago you were picking at your food, then finishing off your drink, and now you look like as if you want to rip her boyfriend's head off.

scary. but not as scary as you standing up and stalking over to the blonde.

“ hey, carver! ” you shouted, stealthy legs carrying you over to the male that was obnoxiously eyeing up the brunette you came to adore. your posture was confident, as was the look in your eyes - pure fire. so when jason turned around, confusion evident on his facial features, you didn't miss the look of shock you received right before your balled fist made harsh contact with the curve of his jaw.

stumbling back, sharp intake of breath being taken as both hands flew up to press over the ache that now split over the left aide of his face. jason hunched over, knees semi bent while his small tuff of blonde hair shadowed over his eyes; shielding his clenched lids from being displayed. that didn't matter, however - by his body language alone, you could tell you did a number on him. and, although your hand was now throbbing, knuckles slightly cut and hand reddened, you couldn't being yourself to care that you just made everyone in the cafeteria fall to quiet. your reputation was now ruined, and you most likely just made an ass of yourself in front of the man you really liked, but it didn't kick in until after the sourness of your flexing finger became aware.

specs dropped down to look at your digits, briefly examining, before widened eyes of realization darted up to drift around the student body. some people looked at jason, who was now slowly straightening himself, but a majority of the people were looking at you - including eddie. his wide, alarmed brown eyes and open mouth of shock immediately made you think you fucked up. you couldn't stop the negative whirlwind of possibilities that circles your chambers, which is why it was an instinct to turn on your heel and flea to the outside world.

as soon as you slammed the back door to the school, shut behind you, your back pressed to the sleek metal hard. muscles tense, mind running around fifty miles a second. your breathing was slightly ragged from straight bolting, and your hands shook from the anxiety clouding your senses. calming yourself down when panicked was always hard, but now all of your emotions were hitting you at once - the loss of your popularity. your friends. your good reputation. your perfect image. possibly your cheer position. the fact that everyone will be disappointed in you. the plummeting in take of the fact that you just humiliated not only yourself, but eddie too... it was all too much.

you didn't physically comprehend the hot, slow tears rolling down your cheeks, but you knew mentally that wetness was gathering under your eyes. your mind was zoned out, as was your vision, but you were also painfully aware that your back was sliding down against the closed door - stiff body following along, until your bent legs were being pulled to your chest out of habit. pressing your forehead to your flushed kneecaps, a shaky inhale was taken as you attempted to stop your racing heart. it didn't help, however; all you could think about was the fact that you finally screwed yourself over.

too busy with clogged ears, you didn't take notice of the male clad in black clothing rounding the corner of the school and rushing to your fallen figure. your body trembled, arms wracked with bouncing shakes as silent sobs left your curled lips. fat, pain filled droplets of water dropping from your face to the squish of your dimpled thighs, exposed from the fallen fabric of the balled cheer skirt. Inward creases of the arms folded, while elbows angled to press into the sides of your legs. it was sad to look the way you did, all because of the fear that nobody would like you anymore because of you being your true self.

but eddie was there. he was hesitant, not wanting to invade your personal space and upset you even more, but eventually his leather covered arms made their way around your shoulders; palms crossing over your upper back to pull you closer. due to being out of it, you don't comprehend who he is or that he's even there, at least he thinks that, since you immediately lean into him and bury your head to the hellfire shirt he sported. the heavy material of vest brushed against the sides of your face, which he winced at since he rather you not be uncomfortable, but you didn't mind - your absent state refused you to be bothered by the scratchy fabric. in fact, it smelled like him - the scent was nice. that, combined with the sturdy, safe hold the person placed on you, helped with you to focus on your wrecked state.

while eddie was not good with comforting, since he was never really around anyone like that, he still tried his best efforts. the tips of his fingers circled light shapes into the lining of your shoulder blades. his nose buried into your hair, pressing into your scalp to let you know he was present. small, barely audible gestures of kindness left his lips. and best of all, he informed you of where you were, and the sounds around you, and coaxed you into opening your eyes so that you could see that everything was real.

the low rumble of his vocals and his burnings touch kept you afloat, leaving you to come to your senses in a small amount of time. with his persuading for you to open your eyes, you did... lids slowly lifting, only to be met by dark shades - black, red, grey. the littlest bit of white. your hues dragged upwards, cascading over light blue, washed denim, before traveling further up. black leather; strong neck muscles and pale skin; full lips; caring brown eyes.

it was no lie that seeing the person you clung onto, relied on to help you unknowingly, was the very guy you stuck up for. punched jason carver in the jaw, for. was very much startling. body instantly froze up, lids lifting fully to mirror a child that got caught stealing a lollipop. it was bad to be in munson’s arms, but also.. good. that's why you couldn't move, but could still very much feel the rush of heat spreading over you.

“ hey, hey... ” eddie silently panicked, but tried to keep himself chill. moving to sit you up, and to separate your bodies, but still choosing to stay close enough where his hand rested on the junction that displayed between your shoulder and neck. “ it's alright - I won't hurt you. ” he paused for a few seconds, to look over your reaction. when no difference was shown, his words contained to roll out slowly. “ you're okay... just had a little bit of’a panic, kay? ‘t hurt t’see you like that, i couldn't just let you... ” his sentence came to a wavering halt, brows pushed together. eddie wasn't sure how to speak.. his next set of words.. without sounding weird. but he couldn't just suddenly go silent, so he opened his mouth once more, “ cry like that. ‘specially over some shit that was helpful towards someone else. ”

twitch of his lips, before a small, sideways grin grew onto his mouth openly. “ for me. ” his eyes flickered over her eyes, slightly scaling downwards... before he looked away, a nervous chuckle leaving him. the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks. “ thank you for that, by the way... never pegged you as the type to go around slugging assholes, but I appreciate it. ” his orbs met your own, after he managed to calm his inner anxieties. “ it was very metal of you. ”

beings as though you didn't have the most expanded music taste, confusion rattled your brain from the lack of acknowledgment on the term he tossed out - but you shook it off. instead, letting a small smile of your own graze your lips; a tiny sniffle sounding from your now clogged, nose. “ thanks, eddie.. ” you rasped, raw throat making the tone very evident. you didn't care, though, head too caught up in other things. “ I'm- ” you lowered your head, only to wipe off one of your mascara stained cheeks on the shoulder of your white and green cheer top. “ I'm sorry you had to see me like that... have to see me like this. ” a shaky sigh left your lips, once your chin lifted upwards again. “ this is really... humiliating. ‘n probably bothersome for you.. so I get if you wanna- ”

“ no- ” legs shift, so that knees can lower in a bend. one of his jean-clad legs lower to the ground, so that he's balancing his forearm on his angled down thigh. “ no no no. don't say that shit. you're not bothersome.. ” his chin dipped down, while his other hand reached to slide one digit under your own chin; giving a light push to to the underside, so that you're looking at him. face serious, lips lightly parted and brows raised, eddie continued, “ nor am I troubled with the fact that you punched, ” brunette emphasized the word, leaning forward dramatically to show you he means it. “ lord jackass of the ignoramus lineup. ” a bite of a giggle left you from the specially worded insult, making eddie grin widely in return. “ so... we alright? y'doing okay, now? everything's clear? ”

“ yes. ” you teasingly threw back, voice unusually quiet and gentle. “ everything is clear... thank you. ” it takes you a single beat longer, before you intake that the atmosphere turns slightly awkward - at least on your end. due to this, your head turns and your eyes settle of your van clad foot, which is now stretched outwards; dumbly rocking side to side. “ I'm... y/n, by the way. ” nervous irises shoot over to connect with munson's own. you spotted that his cheek lifted, just a twitch, while his lips rolled inwards, as if he was suppressing a smile. though, you said nothing about it; choosing to blink innocently. “ y/n harrington. ”

a canine-baring grin finally split across the male's face in crystal amusement. “ I know who you are. ” he spoke, a teasing amusement in his tone; the underline of joyfulness lying beneath, which made you know that eddie wasn't mocking you in anyway. “ the word of the harrington family spreads like wildfire, sweetheart. it was no secret that your presence lingers in the building, trust me. ”

tilting your head to the side, a slight narrow of your eyes took place - suspicion. yet playfulness. “ if that's the case, then why are you helping- ” she uses her hand to gesture between the two hurriedly. “ me, of all people? surely you know who my brother is. ” it wasn't that you wanted to drive the metalhead away, but beings as though your reputation perceives you, just as it does wonders for you, it seemed pretty odd that an outsider from society wanted to be nice to a girl that was spotlighted as a snobby princess. there's no way he just helped you out of the kindness of his heart.

“ well... ” eddie diverted his gaze elsewhere, preferably the pavement, clearing his throat that started to get clogged by unspoken words. “ I.. don't think you're too bad.. for a harrington. ” orbs switch back to you, momentarily. “ and a cheerleader. ” teetering, until his other knee finally falls into the hard ground, he leans forward; both palms now pressing to his jeans. “ and a spoiled brat. ” though his voice held a child-like, trading tone, along with the smile on his face, you couldn't help but gasp in offense.

“ I'm not a spoiled brat! ” you hiss quietly, cheeks puffing up in a pout; eyes slightly pudging out from forming into slits. “ if anything, you're a disastrous outlaw, munson. ” while you were somewhat serious, the smallest pinch of your own playfulness seeped through. leaving eddie not to take the words to heart, but instead, to pat a single thump of his hand to the left side of his chest. “ you wound me. ” eyebrows fall into sarcastic hurt. “ truly do, dollface. truly do. ”

a small snicker leaving your now upturned lips, you guide forward to give the male a light shove. but, that leaves him to fall off of his unbalanced knees, and onto his ass - which dampens due to the rain slick ground. “ hey! ” eddie scoffs, looking down to his behind, which he can't even actually see. “ thanks a lot, ms popular, now ‘m gonna have ta’ lay out a towel on my seat. ”

“ in that rickety van you drive? ” you choked out, attempting not to laugh. “ pretty sure a little rain water is the least of your worries. that thing is centuries old, it's bound to break down soon! ”

eyes widen in actual astonishment. “ a harrington? judging me? and my van? ” the stare between you two is held, before his face falls into a neutral expression. “ not really surprised - but I'm aware, that I need to get a new ride. just, ya’ know- ” a balled hand lifts to shield his mouth. “ don't really... have the cash right now. ”

a pin dropping could be heard through the silence that fell.

“ if you need help with.. ya’ know.. ” your head tilted and hues drifted away, as you spoke. “ I don't mind. I do.. like you.. after all. ”

was that a confession? was he hearing you right? because, absolutely no way in hell, in god's graciousness, did he just hear the words ‘ I do like you after all ’ bounce off of your tongue towards him. the cheerleader, liking the outcasted cult leader? very unheard of. that shit only is made to happen in fairy tales.

“ sorry, uh.. ” he let out a dry laugh, uneasy smile tipping while his gaze failed to meet yours; eyes, instead, settling on his dirty sneakers. “ could you-could you repeat that? don't think I heard you right.. ”

“ Ilikeyou. ” you quickly blurted, so fast that it was impossible to catch if one weren't actually listening. how eddie managed to snag up what you said, you'd never know. but... by the way his brows shot up, nearly blending into his hairline, and his cheeks bruised over with red, you could only assume that... it was a good thing you finally said that. what you've been dying to say for a while.

“ ... you're- ” his eyes bounced between.. whatever he was looking at. the ground, his shoes, the pebbles littering the ground. it was just difficult to know what he was thinking, with the uncertain but flattered but perplexed but honored look, painted on his visage. “ you're not pulling my leg? ” the quiet question finally met open air, and instantly you melted. not from the words, even.. but the way his puppy dog, glossy eyes met yours. “ you're not joking around about this? ”

jesus, you felt horrible suddenly. In no way were you lying or trying to toy with him, but it was clear it's happened to him in the past. when? you were unsure, but from what you knew, eddie started gaining his reputation as a freak sometime in seventh grade. so, from then to now, a whole whirlwind of shit could've happened. you just hoped, with the way you're perceived and all, that... well— that you don't give him the interpretation that you'll use him or humiliate him. you could be a bit of a bitch, be a brat in public - but behind closed doors you were nothing like that. hopefully, hopefully eddie could see that, if socking jason in his face wasn't enough.

“ eddie... ” angel mirrored eyes stare at the metalhead in solicitude; wobbly irises, oppositely slanted brows pushing up in deep worry. a hand reached forward, just enough for the tips of your fingers to brush over the skin of his wrist where his chain bracelet sat. gently dragging down, slowly, before they were moved to delicately curl around the side of his hand. “ I promise you, I'm not kidding around here. ” swallowing quietly, you tucked in your still-slightly-sticky-from-lip-gloss lips while pondering over how to go about your second confession within just twenty minutes. “ I.. ”

although munson looked slightly frustrated, just wanting the truth out, he didn't say anything, for he knew what it was like to have difficulty collecting your thoughts and speaking them. clearly he had faith in you, despite your social image. like before, he just had a feeling, that you're different. listening to his gut has got him this far, so depending on it one more time wouldn't hurt.

“ —it's just.. it's hard having rich parents. ” you shakily breathed, voice beginning to shake - though, you tried incredibly hard to keep your nerves at bay. “ it's hard being a harrington. my parents have such a big reputation here in hawkins; in Indiana, in general. steve has already... ” testing your lips to gulp down building tears. “ he's already disappointed our father. our mother isn't as bad, but she's been more distant towards him... and I just — I don't want to be in that same position. and I know! I know.. It's cowardly of me, but I hear the way my brother sometimes cries in his room at night, when he thinks I'm not awake.. ” taring your eyes from eddie's, who's face was now slack in slight disbelief, you turned your chin to the concrete ground. “ — it breaks my heart.. I don't know how to help, because I'm so obsessed with being someone perfect, when clearly I'm not. and I'm obsessed with it, because I don't want to end up like steve. I'm already... ”

as soon as your hands started to shake, eddie knew your walls were falling again. pushing off of his backside, he rolled onto his knees, only to shuffle closer to you. pressing a splayed hand to the ground, he maneuvered himself to sit beside you — ‘ stupid damn rain.. ’ was muttered under his breath when almost slipping, but he disregarded it a second later. wiping the same hand on the thigh of his pants, before slowly slipping that arm around your shoulder. your form was now raked with harsh, bouncing shakes as you attempted to swallow your cries. It was pathetic, you thought, how you fell apart in less than an hour in front of you crush - twice. but eddie didn't care, he understood... you just needed comfort. that's why his fingers gently rubbed up and down your shoulder, while he leaned your figure against him; his head tilting to touch against yours in minimal affection.

“ it's alright, sweet thing, ” the munson boy whispered in a light tone, coaxing you into finishing at your own pace. “ take your time - ‘m not going anywhere. ”

although your lips were being bitten into, pain filled noises threatening to spill, you inhaled deeply through your nose the best you could because you wanted to finish your explanation; let eddie know you truly weren't... this. some fake. you needed at least someone to know, and beings as though eddie was the one to come see if you were alright, it just happened to be him. no complaints from your end, though.

“ I'm.. ” another shaky take of breath. “ — already sad, and - and feel horrible because I can't be myself. at least, not without a hassle.. ” your teeth grabbed the inside of your cheek, pinching it in anxious habit. “ the idea of everyone hating me, even my parents, is just unbearable. I've always been used to having friends... ” twisting your head so that your face gently, comfortably nuzzled into eddie's jawline. his face was beginning to heat. “ or.. at least attention, and people all over me. meaning I'm not used to being alone. I guess you could say, being abandoned and not having anyone terrifies me.. ” your voice managed to crack at the end, while your brows drew close together. eddie felt the tickle of movement, making him slide his hand to the back of your neck; thumb circling to brush into the crook, drawing shapes. “ it's scary, eddie.. not knowing what can happen. I don't like it, and I - I don't like not knowing! ”

the small raise of your voice, coated in frustration, had the male's heart aching in every corner. someone sounding so in need of security made his stomach drop — and since it was you, of all people, to feel this way, he definitely didn't know what to make of thr negative emotions dishing around inside him. he wished he could just help, somehow.

“ I understand you. ” when eddie finally spoke after a beat of silence, your head rolled so that you could look up to him. tired, puffy eyes staring up at him in question. “ I have very few friends, even my uncle.. ” a bitter smile crossed his lips while an unhumored chuckle left him. “ but I still feel alone, always. ” eddie tried his best not to look at you, because... he just knew he'd be the one crying next. “ ‘s not a nice feeling, knowing if you're going to wake up one day and you have absolutely nobody. ” tongue swiping over his lips nervously, his brown hues finally flickered to meet yours. “ but I always remind myself that, that can't be the case. there's over seven billion humans in the world.. at least one of them is bound to care. ” the corner of his mouth quirked; rough smirk forming. “ just have to find ‘em.. ”

you didn't even take notice of the fact that you had calmed. body nervous system calming down mere minutes ago, while your mind, surfing my, was at ease for the first time in a while. you didn't feel the need to hide behind your hair, and look away out of fear that you were being strange. no, no.. you felt warm. mellow. content. safe. just eddie's presence draped a blanket of solitude over your shoulders — and, it wasn't until you caught yourself staring at him as if he owned the universe, that you took note of it. the blossoming buds of sparks spreading in your chest were now much more noticeable, leaving your cheeks to boil. even though you wanted to look away, since you were now embarrassed internally, you just... couldn't bring yourself to.

his eyes were so pretty...

but so were yours. the munson boy was at a loss for words; any thoughts that perked up, quickly dying to a simmer in the back of his head. his lips slowly parted, as his orbs flickered down to your own lips, watching as you absentminded rolled the bottom between pretty canines. the breath in the base of his throat hitched at that. while thw moment was supposed to be comforting and relieving... eddie just couldn't help but to think, god, I want to kiss her.

and it's as if you suddenly grew a rush of confidence and read his mind, because your shoulder was sweeping his; the fabric of your cheer uniform pressing into the leather of his jacket, while your cushioned lips pressed to his own. it was a peck of three seconds, barely even counted as a kiss. you were pulling away way sooner than eddie wanted.. desired.. but he could understand - he himself was shocked, so the man could only imagine how you felt upon realization.

only, you already knew what you were doing. you only lived once, and eddie's past speeches of equality and being yourself were just suddenly kicking in. why not make the first move? this was you guys’ last year of high school, after all... might as well make the best of it, since you never know what could happen.

“ shit.. ” the mop of curls adoring his forehead were pushed aside by a movement of his hand, breathless words fallen from tingling lips held in the air. “ that — you can't just take a guy off guard like that, princess. y’know how greedy we can get. ” his orbs, which has switched off of you, looked back - only to see you looking up at him in panic. obviously it was fear of rejection, bit he quickly soothed your worries with a teasing grin. “ ‘specially me... ” it was quick — him turning, only slide a hand over the wall of your jaw. hand spreading, so that his middle finger slotted under your ear lobe; rest of his finger tips gripping into the skin behind in a feathered manner. pulling your face closer to his, eddie's head tilting to a side angle, he let lips capture yours again. the tip of his tongue toppled to your upper lip, his need for your clouding the fact that he'd normally ask for permission for such intensity - but you didn't mind, instead inhaling through your mouth. thus, inviting him to slip his bottom lip down yours sloppily, while his tongue slithered to knocked against the roof of your mouth.

the kiss was no where near uncomfortable. not light and airy, nor soft and sweet, but it wasn't awful - more sexily laughable.. free. you loved it. your fingers, shyly raising to press into his jean vest, guided upwards to hesitantly curl around the coolness of the chain of his guitar-pick necklace. you felt his fingers twinge, before his hand was sliding to fully cup the back of your head; fingers avoiding any visible tangles to bury into your scalp. such raw dominance, that was still very much available to pull away from had you whimpering.

eddie heard the sound, clear as day, making his other hand that had slid to grip the bottom spread of your skirt, curl around the fabric temptingly. fuck, we're your sounds already addicting... and he hasn't even really heard anything.

you made the move to withdrawal from his oral hold. licking your, now wet, lips and humming. fluttering eyes open, just enough to meet the dilated pupils of eddie's own. his beautifully filled lashes dipped in a half loaded gaze, while his irises dotted across your face; simply taking in, admiring how your facial expression was gleaming. your lips now puffy, practically covered in his trail of ownership. it made the slightest of grins, tug at his mouth.

“ guess it's safe t’say I like you, too.. ” eddie finally mumbled, his eyes of plush rose pedals never seizing to break away from your own; so full of positive emotions. it didn't take a genius to see it was much more than liking you. eddie munson was in love with the cheerleader. but, alas, those words would be spoken too soon; it's better to wait.

“ yeah.. ” you let a small giggle spill, your sparkling orbs bouncing between his. “ guess it is, munson. ” but, as quick as your smile was to form, it fell. this made eddie frown too. “ unless my reputation is still a problem? ”

he scoffed. “ are you kidding me? of course it— ” his eyes fell deadpan, when coming to realization. “ you're messing with me, aren't you? ”

you grinned widely; the smallest indent of an almost dimple, forming. “ of course. I know you're not like that. you're different. ”

a scowl forms on his face. “ fucking brat, don't scare me like that! ”

“ you know I can't do that, eds! It's in my job description to give the old man a heart attack. ”

“ sweetheart, trust me, you'll be eating those words. ”

#stranger things #st #stranger things s4 #st s4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

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love-toxin · 4 years ago

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king of the castle - kaeya

a/n: i had some other fics in progress but this concept had me in a chokehold the entire day. enjoy

warnings: female reader, dom/sub, hard dom kaeya, sadism, degradation, dirty talk, roleplay, spanking, whipping, impact/temperature play, choking/belt choking, bruises, unprotected sex, threats, jealousy, possessiveness, sibling rivalry, i guess you can call it a cuckholding kink, praise, pet names, aftercare

word count: 4.3k

"So you're gonna whore yourself out to my brother, huh?"

Kaeya slapped his open palm with the belt. The sound alone made you flinch, and he just seemed to revel in it rather than shy away.

"Answer me. You love Diluc? You want him instead of me?"

"K-Kaeya-"

He brought it down even harder this time, the leather leaving a harsh-looking splotch against his toned skin. Your punishment was growing closer with each one, but he didn't seem at all fazed. He seemed excited.

"Just tell me, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you."

Liar. You could see it in his eyes--he had a lust for pain that overwhelmed all other warning signs in his brain. Kaeya was the definition of a sadist, his pleasure derived entirely from seeing you suffer, and he seemed to constantly be coming up with new ways to do so that would humiliate you even more than the last. He slid the leather down the raised flesh of his hand, and ripped a yelp from you when he smacked you on the inside of the thigh with it.

"Clamming up, are we? I think that's enough of an answer."

Finally, he climbed up on the bed he'd shoved you into, his stance predatory as he crawled towards you slowly and nudged your legs apart. Not once did his grip loosen on his weapon of choice, though his pants slid just slightly down his lean hips from the lack of support, revealing even more of his stomach that sloped down into an illustrious 'v'. With a gloved hand, he reached up to grab a handful of your arm and yanked you over on to your stomach, his strength just an afterthought for him but a terrifying obstacle for you. Kaeya could throw you around however he wanted to, if he wanted to, and you were just a delicate little toy that would break once he decided to play a little too rough.

"Tell me all the things you like about him. One for each swat."

Kaeya grabbed your hips to hike them up, your knees lifting up to prop you into a face-down position. He liked you the most like this. Vulnerable.

Even better was when he yanked your bottoms down, flimsy as they were, and in his haste tore through the middle and tossed the shredded remnants aside. He spoke and you listened, he gave his orders and you obeyed--but this was something you couldn't do. Kaeya made you swear that you would never lie to him and you had kept to that, as much as he used it to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

"I-I don't...I don't-"

The words just barely spilled over your lips even as you tried to push them out. It was just too hard, but Kaeya didn't care. You earned an even harder spank for that, right on the inside of your bare thigh where he knew you'd be the most sensitive.

"Speak up. Or else I'll mess up that pretty face of yours instead."

As if to hammer that point home, you felt the dig of his fingers into the back of your skull as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, and shoved your face deeper into the sheets of the bed. They were soft, fortunately, but it was so degrading that you just wanted to melt into the bed and disappear. You even felt the dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he ground his hips up against you from behind, your top sliding up your back far enough that he could drag the expensive leather down your skin, from the top of your spine all the way to your cheeks that trembled when he landed a smack on one of them.

"You're pretty stubborn, aren't you? Is it really Diluc, then? It's not someone else, is it?"

With the belt gripped tight he swatted you again in the same place, the skin there already growing so hot you could feel it radiating off of you. But while your attention was drawn to the stinging pain that you knew was only going to get worse, the hand that had tangled itself in your hair had started trailing downwards, fingertips light and cool as he left little splotches of frost in his wake that melted just as quickly. Once he found that little spot between your legs, however, he didn't reserve the same gentleness and pressed the pad of a freezing cold thumb firmly against your clit. You cried out, squirmed, struggled to vocalize anything more than a gasp--but Kaeya held you in place, and his smirk burned into you from behind like a brand.

"Tell me, doll. You can't keep your little secrets from me anyways, so you may as well fess up."

He ground his thumb in harder the longer you went without speaking, but soon enough he switched to an easier method to have you talk--he pinched your clit between two of his fingers and squeezed, the tips even colder than before to the point that it made your mind blank for a moment or two. Just to add to the humiliation, he forced you up with his other hand and ordered you to take off your shirt, your chest on full display for him to watch your nipples pebble and your skin prickle at the cold chill that he was responsible for.

"Mondstadt? Liyue? Give me some clues. You're not trying to get in with the Fatui, are you?"

He laughed but not from joy, rather in a mocking way that mimicked a childhood bully or an egotistical villain. If you could see him from your position, you had no doubts that he was grinning in that devilish way when he had something he wanted in his grasp, but with a slight twist to your tingling little bud your thoughts snapped right back to the present. A soft groan slipped from you, and unbeknownst to you, it made his cock stir into an even harder arousal than he already had going. At this point he was in danger of popping a button off those tight pants.

"You just can't keep your legs closed, can you? I think they'd like you, actually. That redhead seemed to love watching you walk away, huh?"

Evidently his attention waned for the moment and he released his stifling grip on your clit, only so that he could drag his fingers up your slit and part your lips just enough to feel for the soft flesh beneath, his fingers quickly growing sticky as your juices leaked all down his hand and towards his wrist. Kaeya's most precious desire was his affinity for abusing the softest, most sensitive parts of you, and so you knew for certain that this uncharacteristic gentleness would soon make way for pain that you wouldn't recover easily from, both physically and emotionally.

"...No? Then what about the bard? You want him to write some love poems for you, princess?"

No matter how you answered it would be used against you--either Kaeya would take it the wrong way or he wouldn't believe you at all. So you kept your mouth shut and tried to bury your noises into the sheets below, his fingers lithe and skilled enough that he had the power to draw some rather unsavoury sounds from you if he really wanted to. And when he plunged two of them inside despite how tightly you squeezed around him, he exercised that power quite easily to the point that the shame burned your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

"How about this? You tell me exactly who it is you're trying to run away with, and I won't drop you naked into the nearest hillichurl camp."

The threat rolled off his tongue so easily as to be criminal. The icy chill that surrounded him already made you shiver, but the thought of him throwing you to the wolves both literally and figuratively turned your thoughts to panic. Perhaps he wouldn't really do something so horrific, but the way he talked you through the scenario with a smugness lacing his words certainly made it feel so, each sentence punctuated with a curl of those dastardly fingers into your sweet spots.

"No vision, no weapons, no defenses...how long do you think your precious little body will hold up? Five minutes? My bet's on five seconds."

To prove his point, he spread his digits inside you without warning and listened for the muffled keen that erupted from your throat, his efforts rewarded with a gush of slick, syrupy arousal that clung to your skin as he pulled away and left a trail behind. You expected him to wipe it off with little regard, but instead you heard a strange noise from behind, and turned your head out of curiosity to see him sucking your mess off of every finger. With his half-gloves thoroughly ruined he yanked those off too, and like a true sadist, he took the chance to savour your pathetic expressions and beat your ass again with the thickest part of his belt, a welt surely already rising to your skin as you cried out in pain.

"You think the Dark Knight Hero would save you then? Or would he take advantage of a shivering little crybaby who owes him her life in exchange?"

Another smack, and then another still, and you were certain that you wouldn't be able to sit properly for the next few days. Kaeya dragged you deeper and deeper into his fantasy, and it was only then that you truly worried that Diluc might somehow hear the two of you and come to investigate. Your thoughts even drifted to the scenario Kaeya proposed, about the possibility of Diluc taking what he was owed from you...about taking you away from Kaeya, who you should've known by now owned every piece of you. Even your thoughts, which he always seemed privy to--and now was no exception, his nails teasing down your spine so you'd have no choice but to pay attention.

"Why don't I just carve that into your skin for him, hm? 'Diluc's loyal whore', you want that on your back? What about your legs, where everyone can see?"

The moment his fingers crested over the hill of your poor, beaten behind, he whipped you again with the belt hard enough that you were already starting to bruise, and this time the tears finally spilled out when you'd been trying to hold them in. He rubbed one of his palms over the sore, swollen globes of your ass, the skin-to-skin contact soothing your aches with the chill and causing you to push back against his touch--and he just snickered and made a passing comment about your neediness, to which you responded by whimpering his name under your breath with a plea for mercy.

The wrong name. The name that didn't belong in your mouth, that caused your eyes to widen and a fresh set of tears to plummet down your cheeks as you hurried to try and backtrack. 'Diluc' this and 'Diluc' that, it wasn't your fault for stumbling over your words--but did he care?

Of course he didn't.

"...I knew it."

Kaeya's grip became hot and painful once again, a handprint stung into your skin as he slapped you with an open palm across the cheeks. It didn't look like he needed his tool anymore--because he leaned over to wrap it around your neck, the leather sliding hotly over your skin as he tightened the buckle to keep it in place. To keep you in place, exactly where he decided you should be.

"Does it hurt?"

With words failing you, you nodded your head as much as you could--the leather dug into your skin and you already felt as though you were going to suffocate, and your tears were a clear giveaway that the cocktail of both pain and pleasure was starting to overwhelm you.

"Good, you deserve to suffer a little bit for being a slut. Especially if it amuses me."

As he spoke he fiddled with the makeshift collar, the peg loosening two holes more until it sat more comfortably--and once he was finished you felt his lips against the back of your neck, his grip on the belt growing taut only when he felt you take a deep breath against his touch. Kaeya straightened back up and fiddled with something else this time, his pants sliding easily down his legs to free the beast he'd been restraining within, and with a sigh on his lips you jolted against something stiff prodding at your vulnerable little opening. He took his time in making a move, maybe to tease you or maybe for his own enjoyment, but he made sure to wet the tip generously with your slick, before sliding himself up your slit one last time and slowly spreading you open on his cock that was cool to the touch. Only about halfway in did he release the breath he'd sucked in through his teeth, and by then he had tugged on your leash hard enough for your head to tip back and your lips to part enough for him to steal a kiss from you.

"Filthy little cocktease...you don't have the right to be so tight. You'd think all your little boyfriends would've loosened you up-!"

He cut himself off with an unexpected gasp, his legs shaking almost unnoticed as he halted himself to steady his breathing. But once he had collected himself he was right back on top, your cheeks flush with new tears as he yanked on the belt hard enough to drag you back further on his cock. With one hand grasping at the sheets you brought the other up on instinct to grab at the collar, but even getting a finger underneath it was impossible as he started rocking his hips into you from behind and choking you with his belt in harmony with each thrust.

"I can't wait for him to see you when I'm finished. You think he'll give you a bath and clean your wounds, babydoll?"

All at once the air escaped from your lungs, but all you got to replace it were desperate coughs and foolish attempts to try and catch a breath. Meanwhile Kaeya pummeled you from behind regardless, his wicked glee only rising the longer he watched you struggle for air as he ripped every breath from your lungs with his thrusts. At the very least his preparation ensured a smooth drag of your walls around him, but the fact that your stomach churned as he reached depths further than he should didn't help in the least--especially when he moaned out his humiliating comments about how your body needed him so much it was sucking him in even deeper.

"Nah. He'll use you just the same as I will. He'll take advantage of you the second he gets the chance."

Somehow he seemed to have regained his composure, and returned to taunting you with a hand resting threateningly just above your hip, daring you to say something back so he could spank you again. But you clung to the spare moments of reprieve when his grip loosened on the belt, and you were afforded a quick breath of air before he pulled it taut again and yanked you back to meet his punishing thrusts. Slowly you were growing dizzier, and Kaeya's voice floated about your head like he was speaking right next to your ear.

"You wanna be Diluc's little slut? You want him to cum all over your cute face like I do?"

No, you wanted to say. You wanted to speak but he made it impossible, all you could do was take his hips bruising your behind and his feverish tugging as he choked you, your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of Kaeya making you his.

"He's nothing like me. He'll never satisfy you like I can."

With his voice reduced to a growl in his chest he yanked on your impromptu leash again, but this time it was to tip your head back far enough to kiss you again, and so he could taste your tongue on his before breaking off so messily he left a string of spit connecting your lips.

"Settle for your second best, then. As long as I get to fuck you, I don't care--he can have my sloppy seconds all he wants."

The force was unneeded at this point, your body to the point of collapsing on its own--but with the heel of his hand on the small of your back he shoved your hips down to the bed, using his own as leverage to keep you there while his thrusts grew even more erratic. Whatever else he had to say got jumbled up with whines and groans peppered in, and just when you felt your own consciousness start to slip away from you, he shoved a hand beneath your hip and searched until he found what he was looking for. With the pads of two of his fingers Kaeya rubbed up against your clit again, though this time was with skin cold enough that it shocked your system into an orgasm you weren't ready for.

Your mind whited out within moments, the heat in your belly swirling into a cool feeling that rose all the way up into your chest, and your fingers twitched and curled to bite into your palms with your nails while the rest of your body shuddered underneath him. Kaeya himself seemed to be reaping the rewards on his own end, your cunt spasming wildly around him and clenching him like a vice until he felt that same warmth wash over his body. Leaving himself to bask in the feeling until the very end, he pulled out just before it was too late and released his hold on the belt, instead replacing it around his cock to aim where he wanted. His cum jetted out in thin ropes as you anticipated, yet you still flinched weakly at every spurt that landed against your back, the cold chill of it still unusual enough to take you a bit by surprise.

Your focus continued to waver as you lay there prone, your body so worn out that he could do as he pleased without hassle. But a rush of warm shivers raced up and down your spine as Kaeya laved his tongue against your sweat-soaked flesh, each sticky glob of his love either licked up or sucked off of you until you were as you were before, mostly. Afterwards he unbuckled the belt from your neck, and it was then that the mood finally turned and he flipped you over on your back so you could catch his smile as he leaned over you.

"Nice to see you again, princess."

He dipped down to take another kiss, though this one was a hundred times softer and not liable to leave a bruise this time, his lips like the petals of a mist flower as he slowly broke away.

"C'mere, come cuddle with Kaeya, baby...you want some water? Your throat probably hurts after all that.."

His tone had come down too, so much gentler and with an obvious tinge of sympathy just above a whisper. As he settled back in bed and tucked you into his side, he brushed his fingers over the bruises already blooming across your throat, taking great care only to use the most sensitive touch as he cooled your skin down just enough to take some of the pain away.

"You made me feel so special, little one--you're such a precious little treasure, aren't you?"

The love in his voice and in the way he looked at you was a complete turnaround from a few minutes ago, but you were glad to cling to the change in your Kaeya--though your body was still working a little faster than your mind, and a few words fell from your lips before you could think twice about them.

"I-I don't...I don't like Diluc, Kaeya...I promise.."

You finally croaked out your reply and Kaeya was on you in seconds, his fingers running through your hair as he kissed the corner of your mouth, just where he could reach without straining you too hard in your vulnerable state. Under normal circumstances he liked to coddle you on occasion, and right now was no exception.

"I know you don't, honey. I know. You're such a good girl. You're my good little girl."

He brought his hand back up to rub the top of your head, and had you lift it up just enough for him to lay his arm underneath so you could use it as a pillow. And while you caught your breath and came down from such a shaky high, he took your chin into his hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, his mouth parted in awe shifting into a genuine, toothy smile. He kissed you again, and this time you swore the world paused for just a moment.

"I love you more than the whole world. You're the little shooting star in my heart--you're my everything."

Kaeya touched you like you were glass, like you were a precious piece that he feared breaking, unlike the façade he'd put up just a while ago. This was your favourite part of the experience...Kaeya doting on you as he loved to do, and never wanting to let you out of arm's reach.

"You're Kaeya's little princess, understand? And since you were such a good girl, I'm gonna get you a present. Whatever you ask for."

Such an offer wasn't something you came by often, and at once your mind wandered to what you might ask of your lover as a reward for being his. But there was only one thing you wanted at the moment, and you murmured it just loud enough for him to hear and have a little chuckle about it.

"Wine? Well of course you can, but we won't count that as your gift. I'll go fetch us a nice, big bottle--you just wait right there for me."

As loathe as he was to leave you, and as much as you didn't want to watch him go, he heaved himself up off the bed and reached for his clothes, the uniform out of sorts and messy in a way that he didn't really care about at the moment. Leaving his coat be as it would only be a brisk walk, he buttoned his shirt up halfway and stepped into his boots, before turning and leaning over you one last time with a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, my princess. Be right back."

With that you bid him a brief goodbye, and while you rested your weary bones he sauntered out the corridor and down the steps into the night air, a warm haze settled over Mondstadt in the late evening when most had gone to bed.

But there were few places that were still open and Angel's Share was one of them, the tavern so close that he pulled on the door within minutes and took a step into the soft chatter of the tavern. Only a spare few patrons still milled about, all having spent more than enough to be too inebriated to pay attention--and at the counter was an all-too-familiar redhead, washing a glass with little purpose while he caught his gaze as he walked in. Diluc said nothing even as he approached the counter, and just turned away with a soft grunt when he picked out the perfect wine to take back to you. No small talk needed. Neither of them wanted it anyways.

"While I'm here, I'll give this back."

As Diluc set the bottle on the counter, Kaeya couldn't miss the sudden flash of emotion in his eyes at what he'd set down in front of him. The letter with a very familiar seal stared back at the bartender, and he just couldn't help himself from digging it in just a bit more while he had the chance.

"Shame she didn't see it in time."

He would've had to be an idiot not to know exactly what it was when he found it tucked inside your coat pocket, the well-placed gift going totally unbeknownst to you as Kaeya snatched it up when the opportunity presented itself. He hadn't really planned on telling you his own feelings until later--but love always managed to find a way, didn't it?

"Don't worry. I'm sure she would've let you down gently."

"...I think you have somewhere to be, Kaeya."

Heat radiated off of Diluc, and it wasn't the normal aftereffect of his vision that most who possessed them experienced. He knew well enough when his brother was furious, if the way he turned his grimace towards the floor wasn't proof enough.

"I do, in fact. Have a splendid night."

With the bottle in hand, he spun on his heels and strolled right back out where he came, the open door making way for another breeze of pleasantly warm air through the stale musk of the tavern.

"...Oh, and before you go, there's something else."

He only just found the energy to lazily turn his head back over his shoulder, and was met with one of the most fiery glares he'd ever seen in his life, Diluc's hand that had come down on the counter setting the letter ablaze and reducing it to ash in his fist.

"Never come into my bar again."

With one last smirk, Kaeya let the door shut behind him as he stepped back out into a lovely Mondstadt evening, the sounds of glass shattering echoing his footsteps as he wandered back to the one he always knew he deserved.

#yandere kaeya alberich #yandere kaeya x reader #yandere kaeya alberich x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere lemon #love-toxin #4k

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years ago

Note

Cassandra and Bela strike me as the siblings that Fight 24/7 (and poor Daniela is just 🧍‍♀️) but would highkey die for one another and Cassandra is super protective (of both of her sisters but Bela especially because of her anxiety)

Like I imagine when Cassandra finds out that Ethan killed Bela she just goes absolutely FERAL.

Oh Absolutely.

They may bicker Constantly, but they love each other deeply, despite the constant nagging.

It’s just sad, you know? All that time spent fighting, when Cassandra could have used it to tell Bela how wonderful she was. How those voices in her head, so determined to bring her to her knees, were never true. How she was the best big sister she could have ever asked for.

How much she loved her.

But it doesn’t matter now, does it? She could slash at Ethan all she wanted, she could bite out his throat with her teeth or rip out his guts one by one or tear him limb for him, but it would not bring her back her big sister. It would not bring back the stories she would share at dinner because she just couldn’t wait until after they finished eating to tell them about her latest creation. It would not bring back the genuine comments and green-tinged blushes whenever Cassandra and Daniela teased her because she insisted on eating fruits and vegetables in between her meat-based diet. It would not bring back the laughter and the smiles and the hand holding.

It would not make any difference at all.

Should have caught him in the hall. Shouldn’t have let him get away. Should have been faster.

None of it mattered anymore.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing mattered because Bela was gone and she failed and she was so cold. Was that awful chill from winter slipping in through the broken window or from the heavy loss weighing in her heart? Did it matter what it was?

Cassandra was crumbling, piece by piece, her very soul being consumed by that endless black void inside of her. Everything was shutting out, folding inwards, wrapping her in an abyss.

However, right as everything disappeared, something appeared to her.

Bela.

Bela was there, smiling despite her pallor, hands outstretched to her.

“Come on, Cassie? What are you waiting for?”

Tears flooded from Cassandra’s eyes. She took her sister’s hands and warmth filled her. It was okay now.

Of course, this scene could have just been the final hallucinations of a slowly-dying girl.

#ask #it appears my hands slipped #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #resident evil headcanons #mini fic

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gallavictorious · 3 years ago

Text

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,�� Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Move

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight mentions of drug and physicall abuse (If you squint, but lets just be cautious, shall we?)

Author’s Note: I am once again killing two birds with one stone. This was submitted by the lovely @emmice9 for my 1500 follower challenge. And I’ll be using this for @hellotvshowtrash ‘s #february2021promptchallenge. I would also like to say that this is A BRIEF LOOK into a new series that will be coming later on in this year. All because my brain cant keep ideas to one shots. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things.

The world has changed drastically over the centuries. The world people used to know had changed when the creatures that roamed the darkness had come out of hiding. Vampires became the superior species, creating a completely different hierarchy within the world. Those that came from money were free from the torment and slavery of the Vampires. Werewolves and witches were far and few between. And when they emerged they were a force to be reckoned with that the vampires let them be. So long as they weren't attacked, they never retaliated and stuck to their own.

For the L/N family, they had come from money. Their wealth bought their freedom from the vampires. For the two children in the family they'd never have to fear being human. For the eldest, Alexander, he wished to continue their bloodline to ensure there was a truce between the vampires and the humans of their family. But for the youngest, Y/N, she wished to become a vampire and when she was younger, her parents made a deal with the Mikaelsons to ensure her status would carry over as a Vampire.

While most girls in her age dreamed of becoming something of themselves in the world that was created around them, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be a vampire. One that wanted to change things for the better. And the way the L/Ns had it, their children were going to mend bridges.

Unfortunately, the matriarchs of the L/Ns were killed in an accident that left them as orphans. Alexander being the eldest was given the burden of being the head of household and he uncovered his parents' secrets. Before their death, his parents made a deal with another Vampire. And with their death, it broke the deal between them. It left them on the verge of bankruptcy and being tossed in with the other humans.

Y/N stood outside the double wooden doors as she listened to the muffled sounds of her brother arguing with a vampire. Alexander was in there for more than an hour speaking with the vampire that held the deal with their parents. Seeing as it was a matter for the head of house, Y/N couldn’t be in the room. But where she stood she could pick up on her fair share of things.

Most of it had been about money, or the lack thereof. Being in debt to a vampire left any human feeling unease and Alexander was no different. Especially as he looked across the table at Tristan De Martel. If there was one thing they learned, the De Martels were the downgrades of the Mikaelsons. Where the Mikaelsons held their deals in good faith, the De Martels could find a loophole within the contract to work in their favor. And that was what happened with their parents.

Y/N’s heart dropped when she heard her name being brought up in the conversation. While She couldn’t hear what was being said, she knew it had upset her brother. His voice had raised while the vampire’s remained calm. The longer her brother yelled, the more worry filled her. And the words she picked up on hadn’t made anything easier.

When the doors opened, a chill ran through Y/N as she looked over at her brother, attempting to ignore the way Tristan had gazed at her as he walked passed. The look on her brother’s face had told her this wasn’t the end of things. That the conversation he just had wasn’t an easy one and he was left with hardly any choices.

“Were you able to come to an agreement?” She asked as soon as she knew Tristian would be out of earshot, even for a vampire.

Alexander nodded as he ran his hand over his face. “One that I do not fully agree on.”

“Well?” She asked after a moment of her brother not saying anything. While she may have been able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, it wasn’t everything she needed to know. And when her brother hesitated once more fear filled her.

“What did you promise the De Martels?” She asked as she took a step towards him. He didn’t know how to answer her. Not when it had to do with her. But the guilt she saw written on his face had told her everything, causing her to shake her head. “No.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said as he kept his eyes on hers, even as they filled with tears.

Y/N took a step back in disbelief. “No.” She repeated. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had no other choice.” He said as he watched the tears form in her eyes.

“I have a deal with the Mikaelsons, you can’t just go and make a deal with the De Martels to hand me over.”

“If it means keeping our family name in good standing, I’ll do what is needed.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But they had been true. Tristan had offered a deal and Alexander jumped on it. Tristan would clear the family’s debt and void out his parents contract if he got Y/N in return.

“You’ve sentenced me to die.” Anger began building within her. “Tristian’s humans never last.”

“You were going to die anyway.” He responded quickly, earning a hard slap across his face.

“On my terms!” She yelled. “Not by the hands of a vampire that keeps his own psychotic sister locked up! When Elijah finds out-”

“Your ties with Elijah no longer matter. Yes he gave our parents his word that you would join them. Your infatuation with each other sealing that deal. But this decision can’t be easily taken back and you know that.”

While they both know going against either families was a risk. But with the De Martels, there was a deadline that was fast approaching them. Y/N ran her hand along her face and shook her head as she turned away from her brother. She couldn’t handle this.

“Elijah might know how to get-” Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, her brother knocked her over the head with the nearest object he could reach, leaving her unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said as he crouched down beside her. "But I refuse to become one of them."

_____

The De Martels knew what Y/N would ment to the Mikaelsons. She was to be their saving grace. A chance to mend the world with siblings as a Vampire and her Human brother. She was also Elijah’s soon to be wife. Tristan knew he was playing a dangerous game. And because he knew her worth, he kept her hidden, away from any prying eyes that could possibly leak where she was.

Much like the other humans in De Martel's care, she had been drugged, used and abused by those within Tristan's circle. As she laid in the dark damp cell, all she wanted was to die. Her colorful dreams of the future faded to black and white wishes of death and peace as time passed.

Anger had filled Elijah the moment he stopped by to see Y/N and Alexander told him what happened. While furious with her brother he knew he'd always keep his word to Y/N to not ever harm him. It took him over a month to find Y/N's whereabouts. The moment he had her location there was no stopping him.

Elijah stormed through the De Martel home. Anyone that dared to stand against him had their hearts ripped out in a split of a second. Bodies and hearts had been left in his wake as he made his way through. Each one brought him closer to finding Y/N.

When the door keeping her in was forced open, Y/N whimpered in fear at the sound, unable to see who walked in from her position. She hadn't even begun to heal from the last time that door opened. But even as the footsteps neared, she couldn't get herself to move, her body too weak to try. Panic filled her as the footsteps ceased right next to her.

"Shh, shh," Elijah began, trying to keep Y/N calm. "It's me."

As he did, it wasn't hard to see how beaten and bruised she had been. Bite marks covered her body in several places. He had never felt so much anger before at seeing her injuries.

"'Lijah." It had been a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

"I got you. I promise I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He had every intention of never letting her leave his sight. He even made the promise to himself that he'd kill the De Martels with his own two hands.

But before the comfort and relief of being free set in, Y/N was rudely awakened by the sound of the door opening and shutting by the unwelcome guest.

Always and Forever Tags:

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#xxwritemeastoryxx's 1500 follower celebration #February2021promptchallenge #the originals #the vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson #reader insert #elijah mikaelson x reader #series preview #elijah mikaelson one shot #brief Elijah cause hes only in this at the end #dont hate me #tvd #to #submission

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kationella · 3 years ago

Text

Next in the list we have:

Tatsuya Suou

And I thought the others had it bad.

A family consisting of the working father, the housewife mother, the intelligent older son and the spirited younger son. A happy, textbook family. Tatsuya himself used to follow Katsuya around, showing that the two brothers shared a close relationship.

However, kids grow. Even without the events that would follow, Tatsuya and Katsuya would begin to distance themselves as Katsuya finally adopted the role of the "older brother". Everyone can testify that children hate it when a sibling tries to boss them around.

The events that would mark the rest of Tatsuya's life took place when he was ten years old, the day he met his best friends. I believe that Tatsuya didn't have any "close" friends before he met the Masked Circle, which would explain why he latched onto the three kids he met that day so fast.

Jun took a special place in Tatsuya's heart, at first because he was the first friend he met, though later they would click and compliment each other in everything. However, unlike Jun, Tatsuya would never place Maya in a motherly role. She would always be Big Sister for him.

After all, he already has a loving mother to fill that role. And isn't that what big siblings do? Take care of you whenever you go out to play and teach you stuff? Big Sister Maya would come to stand in the same category as Katsuya. The difference between the two would be Maya's gentle hand that would make Tatsuya listen to her easier than Katsuya.

At this point, Tatsuya already developed his dislike for people getting into his business.

We all know what happens next. Alaya Shrine Incident. Tatsuya gets lightly stabbed and traumatized. Lil boy blocks his memories of his childhood friends as self-defense.

The Suous would suffer another tragedy when, in his search for the arsonist, Dad Suou gets fired. Little Tatsuya looks up to his mother to do something. And what does she do?

Nothing.

This would become a changing point in Tatsuya's personality. We can guess from his dialogue that he sees "passive attitudes" in a negative light. If people see an injustice, they should do something about it. I feel that this would be what made Katsuya stand a little higher in Tatsuya's eyes: Unlike their parents, Katsuya immediatly set to work and did everything he could to support their family and at the same time take care of his little brother.

Ironically, this would be the beginning of the strain in the Suou brothers' relationship.

Whenever Katsuya asked about his schoolwork or grades Tatsuya would think him strict. Whenever Katsuya inquired about any friends Tatsuya would think him overbearing. Whenever Tatsuya would try to set some distance Katsuya would get more insistent, making Tatsuya lash out and Katsuya to discipline him. Both get angry and stop talking for a while.

And repeat.

In his eyes, Katsuya took a role he shouldn't have, becoming a third parent instead of a sibling he should have been able to confide in.

Imagine if Makoto talked back to Sae in P5 and didn't do everything she was told. You get the Suou relationship.

The biggest concern is that Katsuya is the closest relationship Tatsuya has at the beginning of Innocent Sin. Without his childhood memories, Tatsuya has no reference of how to make friends while staying as himself, so he doesn't even try. His anti-passive view in life has caused more than one incident which made Tatsuya develop a Bad Boy reputation in Sevens and Kasugayama, which alienated him a bit more.

With no friends or expectations, Tatsuya slowly became indifferent when it came to his future. His parents hadn't moved on from their family tragedy years ago. Katsuya would forever dictate what was right and wrong. He had no other close companions to hang out with or impress. No view of the future except keep living.

Of course, a Bad Boy reputation will always attract certain kind of people, including admirers or people looking for a fight.

Innocent Sin brought an emotional rollercoaster for Tatsuya. He develops a wider support system and has things to look forward to (even if those things are taking down a shady cult).

Then the memories come back and Tatsuya has a purpose. Slowly, he's coming back to life.

In an instant all is ripped away due to two gods' game. Nothing mattered at all and he was just a chess piece in a wider scheme. They lose.

This revelation tears open an old wound that leads to Tatsuya to refuse to forget. He doesn't want to return to his aimless life. After punching Philemon in the face, Tatsuya's mentality changes once again.

By the time he recovers his memories in Eternal Punishment, Tatsuya decides to do things his way. Never again will he play by another god's rules. From now on he will do his best to make up for breaking his promise. And then... well, he will focus on his current goal.

What Tatsuya forgets is that there's people who care about him in this timeline as well. In his mind, Tatsuya is back in square one, so there's no one who would care if he went MIA for a few days (this isn't remotely true, Katsuya was always there).

Hovewer, now there's Katsuya, Anna, the friends he made in this timeline and recently Maya as well.

There was probably a small part in Tatsuya that believed he wouldn't survive this personal mission. He would die making up for his mistakes.

This mentality almost costed him his life at the hands of the Metal version of his friends.

As the game progresses, Tatsuya begins to trust his well-being on other people again, that there are still reliable adults out there and that there will always be something to fight for. Tatsuya must find his own personal purpose beyond his loved ones. Something that is solely his.

We won't see the end of his personal journey anytime soon, since that Tatsuya was sent back to the Other Side. At least now he has a plan in mind to help the Other Sumaru City and make up with his Other brother. He may thread this new path alone, but

Tatsuya cares now.

#persona 2 #tatsuya suou #analysis #meta

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arllenn · 3 years ago

Note

Hey there, I rarely check on Tumblr nowadays due to work and stuff but I've played Dragon Raja for a while now so if it's not too troubling, I would like to request a fic of MC giving Osho and the others a well deserved verbal smack down during the final showdown (the MC didn't blame the Gen siblings for what happened to them and managed to save Erii from Osho). Bonus if MC cut ties from everyone after the mission... Sorry, I'm a huge fan of angst.

Tags for this chapter: angst, violence, all bitter no sweet, respawn system gets abused for angst Tw: cannon typical violence, graphic-ish descriptions of death, blood, suicidal thoughts and almost actions, wounds and the like

You’re clutching yourself as you shake knees getting weaker by the second, hiccuping and heaving the flood of tears that decorates both your face and the street under you with the weight of your emotions are the only constant for you. You’re drowning in your own emotions, phantom pains of all of your recent deaths and revivals clawing at you demanding your attention, demanding your time. You’re hugging yourself trying to mimic the comforting action that you remember from your childhood. “Why isn’t it working.” You choke out sobbing harder as you grip your arms. It’s too tight yet not tight enough, your limbs responding to your pleas is a sign that you’re still alive yes, but, but this is, this isn’t what you want.... this isn’t what you want at all. Your nails are far sharper than you remember them they tore through the flesh of your arms lightly. You could feel Herzog’s claws ripping through your flesh as well, everything hurt, you want to go home, you want to go home, you want to go home.....

But you can’t. Everyone was dead, at one point Caesar had said that Black Swan Bay had sunken, so the actual land was probably gone too, nothing left to remember that place but you Zero and Z. God you wanted to see them right now, the area on your head that he had patted earlier seemed warm giving you a small amount of comfort but also dealing even more damage to your psyche. You wanted to go back to those warm days in your childhood when none of this was known to you. When you weren't running around matchmaking and doing everyone else's work while also getting nothing in return, not a thanks, not even a small indirect amount of appreciation or encouragement. Your legs buckled under you your arms reching out as if to grab onto something to stop you from falling. Your knees met with the ground violently scraping at the skin there. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, youcantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreathe, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts, why is he doing this to you didn't he love you? That man, Herzog, had raised you. You had spent so much time at that orphanage, you were so happy. So why. whywhywhywhywhyhwhywhy. You recalled warm winter nights spent in front of the fireplace curled up with Zero on one side and Z on the other.

You remembered one day specifically. Back then you lot were young, so, so, so, young. You chuckled choking on your tears, that day Z and you had spent a solid hour arguing over who would run over to get Zero, that day it had started raining, then the rain had turned to hail mid hide and seek game. Z had found you moments before the storm started. You two ended up huddled under the ice bridge. The orphanage in sight but seeming miles away due to the storm. Zero had been caught first and had gone back to the courtyard as per the rules so she was probably fine. You needed one of you to go and get her so that she could bring back an umbrella for the other. Then you had heard it, the sound of thunder wolves nearby. Then Z, with no hesitation had, scooped you up put your head under one of the flaps or his jacket and ran back to the cottages. All while you could hear the heavy ‘thunk thunk thunk’ of wolf paws behind you. Looking back on it now those wolves were probably the result of Herzog’s experiments and not a naturally occurring species. The souring of your childhood memory made bile rise in your throat, the thought of looking at your early life through that lens rather than just christmas day made you want to scream. Z and Zero were so different from your seniors. If you had been with any of them back then you knew for a fact that they would’ve sent you to deal with the wolves, only coming in when you were a hairs breath away from dying.

But that hadn’t save you before, you can’t count how many times you’ve died sense meeting them. From your flesh being torn from your bones by death servitors to bleeding out in some nameless alleyway after being shot by hydra’s soldiers. You had also drowned at one point, that death had been the worst. You remembered clawing at the water begging for the chance to live once again, you remembered feeling your legs tear off after the submarine had exploded, you remembered reaching your mangled arms out, out, out towards the light that came from the surface of the water. You remember feeling the water force itself down your throat and into your lungs, it burns, it hurts, it burns, it hurts. You had been seeing flashes of reality as well as the last time you ended up in cold waters like those. It didn’t matter because in the end you had died. It never matters how hard you try, how many times you die, because you always end up failing.

You lay on the sidewalk screaming, there was no one nearby nor anything that you could hear other than the pounding of rain on the sidewalk and your own sobbing. Your hand burned with the new blood that flowed inside you. Your mind burned with the scars of the past that it never got to address, your heart burned with the open wounds this mission had left you with. You wanted to die right here, sink away into nothingness. Stay in the room with the grand piano and flowing waters. No one could bother you there, no one could make you do meaningless tasks without your say, there was no matchmaking, no pointless errands, no suicide missions, there was nobody but yourself there, just you, just you. Luminous wouldn’t be there to make you do his work, he wouldn’t be there swearing to be by your side to help you while simultaneously doing nothing at best and dragging you down at worst. There wouldn’t be a Caesar there to send you on every reconnaissance mission with no backup and no direction. Johann wouldn’t be there to demand information on your past like he had even earned the right to know it, like he didn’t need to earn that right because it should just be given to him. Just you in a place where no one could hurt you.

You looked up from the ground that you had been staring at, bringing your hands up to your neck you squeezed. It wouldn’t work in terms of killing you, you knew that, but it worked as an easy substitute, feeling the pressure of your own hands on your neck, the shortness if not complete lack of breath, the light headed feeling, it served as a less drastic solution for now.

“It’s great to see you all safe and sound!” Eva’s voice cut through the momentary peace that you had found, your hands reflexively letting go of your neck.

“Safe and sound?!” You repeated in disbelief, “What part of any of me seems to be safe and sound?” It felt like she was mocking you. The memories of Herzog’s claws slicing through your spine, through every part of you, flashed then the words ‘It’s great to see you all safe and sound!’ Played over them, those words were the last thing you wanted to hear right now. Why,why,why,why,why is your pain always ignored like this? Why is it always your job to make everything right? You can’t do this anymore! You won’t do this anymore.

Bringing your fist up you smashed at your communicator, “Cassell- will...turn th-this into- into no-nothing more th-th-th-then a dream for every- every- everyone” Eva’s voice though distorted still managed to snake its way out of the thing despite all the damage you had done to it.

"AGH, SHUT UP!" You yell slamming your fist down harder and harder, each time screaming, begging for her to "JUST SHUT UP" You're crying even harder now. The glass that made up the outer layer of the screen. The rest of her words came out broken and jumbled, and even if they hadn't been due to the damage your screaming and shouting would've drowned it out anyways. "STOP. TALKING. JUST. SHUT. UP."

"Caesar helping you to-to-to destroy- criminal underworld.... true story- believe." Your fist paused midair at those words. Caesar had helped to destroy the criminal underworld? That was the story that they were going with? Not even the whole team, just Caesar what kind of absolute bullshit was that. You had done 100 times more then the supposed hero of the story, hell Luminous had done more, fucking Erii had done more. So where did they get off on this- this- you didn't even have a word for it it was so stupid, so stupidly infuriating. Herzog had said that the people from Cassell had experimented on you, and while he wasn't one to be trusted you sure do feel so fucking dumb for defending them. At least Herzog had the common decency to put up an air of kindness. These people just treated you like a convenient tool, something to be used and dealt with as they pleased. Something that didn't need thanks or praise or a break because it was an object meant to be used and thrown away as they saw fit. "Re-re-re-return to takamagahara to say-say-say-say-saysay goodbye-bye-bye to-" Your fist swung down with overwhelming strength shattering the communicator completely. Broken pieces of metal and glass embedded themselves in your hand bringing a fiery pain that slowly destroyed all of you in its wake. You fell even further onto the concrete clutching your hands one in the other relishing a bit sickly in the pain that it brought. Your right palm glowed with the same light it first had when you had accepted Erii's blood. Then it started rejecting the pieces of metal and glass in both of your hands. Slowly pushing them out and healing the cuts instantly once they were out.

Chuckling you flipped over your hands looking at both perfectly healed sides. It was like you had never been hurt in the first place. You marvled at them, twisting them over and over again, bringing them to your neck once again you smiled and closed your eyes. You had no idea what you were. Had you always been like this? An undying freak with special powers? Had Herzog's experiments done this to you? It was obvious that your new healing ability came from Erii's and the light king's combined blood but what about everything else? Had you been born this way? Was it Herzog's half baked evolution pills? Had Cassell truly experimented on you? Z said you had the capability to become a dragon lord now, but what did that mean? What did that make you? Your chuckles turned into full of peels of laughter, your cheeks stinging at the feeling of both the semi dried tear tracks being pulled at as well as the force of your laughter. The peels of laughter soon mixed with pained sobs and you were once again back to crying. You weren't going to put up with this anymore. Dropping your hands you slowly stood up like a puppet on strings. Walking at a slow pace one second in between each step you started walking.

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

Anjou is in one of the VIP rooms with a man dressed like a pastor. You don't care what they're talking about, stepping in front of the pastor you look over at him. He takes steps back on his own, unprompted, it's a first but then again you suppose that you probably look like the walking dead, and in a way you were, not to mention that you also felt like it. A lukewarm apathetic haze settled over your emotions as you looked down at Anjou. He's the second person you met after waking up, he's the whole reason you, a freshman at his wacky school that you hadn't even been asked if you wanted to join, were on this mission. How stupid is he? He had sent you, a person who had what he described as 'little control' over your extra skill and who had just woken up after a freeze bath in Siberia on this mission, an SS ranked one that he was hesitant to even send his best students on already. So why had he chosen you? Why did you have to die over and over for a cause you didn't understand and people you don't know. "Freshman." he nodded as though prompting you to speak. He never broke eye contact or even showed any emotions other than a laid back and relaxed expression. It pisses you off. Why is this old dingbat relaxing, kicking back and enjoying his time while your'e such a mess? He gestures for the priest to leave and he does. Leaning forward elbows on his knees he looks you up and down before going back to making eye contact. "What has you so worked up?"

You want to cry, its the closest you've gotten to an 'are you ok' sense waking up but at the same time you wanted no part of a wellness check led by the man in front of you. "Herzog said that Cassell College experimented on me. Is that true?" You can almost make out a hint of surprise in his eyes before he starts laughing. You bight your lips pulling them into your mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back your anger wanting to get your answer first before you rip him a new one.

"Goodness no, why would you ever believe anything that old snake had to say, and here I thought you were a once in a decade genius. I suppose that title still belongs to Johann then." You ball your hands into fists. Its more than obvious that he's making light of the situation. Didn't he know that you had been raised in Black Swan Bay? Didn't he know that Herzog, a man who you had trusted, had experimented on you? Is he incapable of connecting the dots between your trauma and your current situation combined with Herzog's words? No he did know, he knew and he still chose to make light of everything you had gone through. Insinuating if not blatantly saying that you were an idiot for believing that what happened to you once could happen again. Slamming your hand down on the table you levied on him the worst glare you could, the burning behind your eyes letting you know that you probably looked less menacing then you wanted to.

"Where the fuck do you get off saying something like that to me." It's phrased as a question but its really not. It's a challenge for Anjou to defend his words, one he unfortunately takes you up on.

"I understand that this whole mission and especially today has been taxing on your team but that doesn't mean you should and can snap at everyone like that freshman. Take sometime to cool off, go outside and talk to your seniors, hopefully they'll be able to reach you in ways I cannot." He's getting up to leave after his mini lecture, essentially passing you off to be someone else's problem but you wont let him leave that easily. Your hand grabs onto his forearm stopping him in his tracks. For a millisecond you consider punching him. Beating him over the head with one of the glasses on the table, but the part of your brain that still, despite everything, says that you ca't do that to him because he had pulled you out of Siberia's ice who knows how long ago says not to. And it wins.

"I'm not going to apologize for my language-" He cuts you off with a tut of his tongue, now you have no regrets for the words you planned on saying next. Letting go of his arm you continued. "I'm entitled to be angry when an asshole says asshole things. And I'm allowed to curse said asshole out however much I want." You step in front of the exit crossing your arms, you catch a momentary glimpse of your face in one of the metal outlinings of the wall as you do. You truly do look dead, eyes lifeless and lightless, face twisted into a painfully weak version of the you that you wanted to portray. You know that in this position you run the risk of your conversation leaking out of the room but honestly you don't care, like at all. At this point you want to just scream and cry your emotions out. But you can't because you don't want to, you don't want to be any weaker in front of anyone than you already are.

"Freshman-"

"I was raised by Dr. Herzog for so so many years and the whole time he was experimenting on me and everyone I knew. And-and-and you expect me to just trust you when you say that you didn't do anything. You expect me to rule that out as a possibility when you've given me no reason to, not in terms of character or proof. So why would you say that me believing that random strangers who I've known for less then a month and who I, if I'm being honest don't trust, experimenting on me is a dumb fear?" You clutch at your heart bunching up the cloth that protects it. "I just- do you see why thats dumb? Do you see why it makes no sense to me? One day I'm celebrating christmas as normal with my friends the next minute I'm smacked in the face with the fact that the man that I considered a father," you gag a bit on the word, "has been experimenting on me and everyone that I love, that he's been killing all of us as soon as we turn 18 because we wont survive to 22 because of his experiments? Finding out that he thought of us, children he had been raising for years as nothing more then science experiments who had outlived their uses. Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurt? I had to watch everyone die around me while I wasn't able to do anything! Zero even sacrificed her life to save me and I still ended up dying so many times anyways." You're clutching at yourself again, seeking comfort in the only arms that you can trust right now, your own. You're glaring down at the floor trying to blink the tears away. It doesn't work. You're basically two steps away from dry heaving and sobbing. Anjou reaches out his hand, most likely to guide you to sit down but you slap it away. "Don't fucking touch me. You sent me, a freshman who hadn't really even enrolled in your school or been given the choice to do so on a suicide mission with other students and no adult supervision from the college itself. I've died so many times sense waking up. It always hurts, it's never been painless, I've never been thanked and yet you expect me to just what- put my blind trust into you? I spent more time around Chime then I did you and he spent half of the time as Ruri Kazama."

'"Freshman you're hyperventilating you need to calm down."

"I WONT CALM DOWN" You're yelling now, its not the same kind of painful shouting that you had done earlier on the street, this is loud as well yes, but its from a frustrated sadness rather than a devastated anger. "Why did it have to be me? Weren't there other students you could've sent? Adults? Why did it have to be me? You had no reason to trust that I wouldn't kill the others. I had justwoken up and you decided that I was your best choice? You didn't tell me anything you just threw terms out and expected me to understand. You didn't even give me time alone to breathe let alone ask questions." Your chest is tight, you can feel each of your deaths, piercing pain of claws slicing through flesh, the burning heat of bullets, the singeing of fire, being torn to pieces. You can feel it all and it all hurts so much. You want it to stop, you need it to stop. You don't want to hear these people talk like they're your friends like they care anymore. It's all too much, you're almost sobbing now, curling in on yourself to try and mitigate any pain that may come.

"Newbie whats-"

You turn eyes catching onto Caesar, Johann, Luminous and Finger standing behind you. When did they get here, how much did they hear. It burns and it burns devouring everything in sight. All the memories that you have with them that you've been trying to view in a happy light, all of them crumble to the ground in front of you the moment you see them. "SHUT UP, USE MY NAME FOR ONCE WILL YOU?! NEWBIE DO THIS, FRESHMAN DO THAT, YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN ONCE USED MY NAME!" Full on sobbing you bulldoze through every thought that comes to mind yelling them out at the people surrounding you. "YOU'VE NEVER ONCE ASKED ME IF I WAS OK. YOU;VE NEVER ONCE SENT ANYONE WITH ME WHEN YOU SEND ME ON THOSE STUPID SUICIDE MISSIONS. I'M A FRESHMAN A NEWBIE YOU HAD NO REASON TO TRUST ME WITH ANY OF THIS. WHAT WOU;LD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD DIED AND STAYED DEAD? WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD BEEN CAPTURED? WHAT THEN?" You clutch onto yourself harder, seeking even the smallest bit of comfort from the feeling. Your voice has lowered in volume, you no longer have the emotional or physical strength to do anything other than keep your voice above a whisper. "Do you lot remember when Ruri had specifically said that even two of us couldn't handle Herzog alone? And yet you still thought that it would be a good idea to send me up alone, acting like you were tough for taking care of the death servitors at the entrance." You sigh, there are so many other examples you could go through but you also don't want to be here any longer. "What about you Luminous? I get that you had to watch Erii, but making me do everything and anything you could think of by myself while knowing that Johann and Caesar were constantly sending me on missions as well? You even complained that I took too long to do things. Maybe if you did something for yourself for once instead of just saying that you will then running away and hiding like a coward these things wouldn't happen. Maybe then Erii, Chisei and Chime would still be alive and I wouldn't have to deal with- with this fucking guilt!"

"Look I'm sorry about the Erii thing but listen, we had no idea you were feeling like this. You should've come to us-" Finger is trying to mediate, trying to comfort you, but it only makes things worse.

"And how could I have," You croak out, "How could I have trusted that you would listen, that I would get a break? You never even presented the option for me to have any kind of choice in how I carried out my missions let alone not do them at all. I had nothing I still have nothing. I'm presumed dead at best and no longer exist at worst in terms of my original legal documents. And even if I had access to them I'm still 20 years younger then I'm supposed to be." With a watery chuckle you continue, "Even if I did tell you if I was thrown away I wouldn't have any papers to do anything, to get a job, to live a life, I'm completely reliant on the college for everything. Not to mention the fact that I know nothing about the world. If Cassell had deemed me" You shudder at the word "a failure, then I would've had nothing, not information on the world at current, not even an identity." You shake your head walking in between them and towards the exit. "I don't care I'm not doing this anymore. Find some other freshman to be you dog."

You walked out and onto the streets of Tokyo. You glanced back once lamenting the fact that you hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Zero. You turned away glancing in the direction of the convenience store that Luminous would always make you go to to buy Erii's milk. You trudged down the streets of Tokyo back to that place. Hopefully you can buy paper and a pen to leave her a note with what little money you have.

The bell on the store door jingled when you opened it. The man was standing behind the counter as he always was. You're experience with father figures have been lack luster this far but you've always thought that this man gave off the air of one. It made you relax, seeing someone that while familiar wasn't from the orphanage or Cassell. He looked up at you wearing that same smile that he always did. You knew it wasn't for you specifically but rather something that he probably gave all of his costumers but still it made you feel a bit warm inside.

"Hey kiddo you look a bit rough, everything ok?" You take a few steps forward and nod a bit

"I think it will be now. Or at least I hope so." He hums and nods his head at your answer deciding not to pry, a decision you appreciate.

"So then you here for the usual?" You look back at him and glance around the store, you don't see paper or pens of any sort. It's a bit of a let down but you suppose asking wouldn't hurt.

"Ah no actually," Your voice is still raw, and a bit choked up from all the crying and yelling that you did earlier, you hope you don't sound weird." "Do you sell like, um... paper and pens or something like that? I want to write a note to a friend before I leave."

He scratches at his chin mumbling under his breath as he thinks for a few seconds before getting up and going around the store coming back with a bottle of warm milk in hand. He then returns to his spot behind the counter pulling a note pad and pen out from under it. He places the milk next to the writing utensils and pushes them towards you. "Here, milks on the house, I don't sell paper or anything but feel free to use that and leave the note with me. I'll give it to your friend."

You give him a small smile. It's all that you can manage right now. Your eyes burn with tears again. "Thanks, my friends name is Zero she's blonde has blue eyes and is about," you place your hand were Zero's head is about as accurately as you can, "This tall. She has a flat affect and seems kinda emotionless but she really is a sweet girl. Um, her hairs long and she has a big black bow tying it back." The man nods his head repeating your description back to you. After gaining conformation he sticks his thumb up and takes the letter from you promising to hand it to her the moment she walks through the doors of his shop. You thank him one last time and promise to come back there if you're ever in trouble before leaving.

As you walk through Tokyo's streets aimlessly, you repeat the words in your letter, speaking them into the rain. "I hope that we can meet again in a more peaceful time, preferably away from the bay and Cassell as I don't have the best impression of them. With lots of love, your best friend..." You laugh a bit, your words were supposed to be a parody of what Z said to you. You think its fitting for a farewell letter.

You meld into the raindrops after looking back one last time.

#me when respawn #dragon raja #dragon raja mc #caesar gattuso #johann chu #luminous lu #finger von frings #fanfic #writing #major character death #but they dont stay dead #its just alluded to #angst #hurt no comfort

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shegairowmyamo · 3 years ago

Text

the younger sibling of the cheshire cat pt 2

Sometimes when you fancy yourself a treat and don't have the energy to steal from the Queen you head over to the March Hare and Mad Hatters tea party and sit in one of the chairs and wait until one of the hooligans notices your presence. And the one to realize that you are there is surprisingly the Dormouse, they could smell the steans of a mistuves felin from a mile away. The Dormouse was hesitant at first but when they saw your wicked smile they let out an ear piercing scream alerted the previously singing fools and chaos erupted. You however watched in amusement at your work as the Mad Hatter and the March Hare tried to catch the Dormouse. After a while it got quite boring, so you took the treat you came for and left with a peap in your paws. You and the Cheshire cat were never really invited to their tea party because of this reason, but that didn't mean that it didn't leave a salty taste in your mouth. The Cheshire cat knows that look in your face and scolds you in a joking manner but he couldn't be any prouder. Like brother, like sister I guess.

Sometimes you will end each other's sentences, whether that is on purpose is anybody's guess.

You both love playing mind games with anyone you meet, no one is safe, not even the Queen but that should be obvious by now.

Believe it or not both of you are great listeners but the way you convey your opinion on the matter sounds like you don't have a clue.

The residents of wonderland are lucky that you both have limits to your chaos, but yours is much more flexible. But sometimes Cheshire doesn't have the same energy as you do when it comes to this.

You like to sleep on the open gras as the sun shines down upon you but be expected to be rudely woken up by someone that got caught in the crossfire of your chaos.

Cheshire would never expose your weak side to anyone but that doesn't stop him from being annoying about it, unless it's serious. Like I discussed in the previous headcanon thingi.

As much as he would sacrifice his life for you he would also just as much sell you soul for a cornchip.

Often in big gatherings when one of you is spotted the other is close nearby. Both of you are inseparable when among the many residents of wonderland. half of them being victims of your trix.

Remember when I compared you to the orange kitten? Well I've got some insight on that. The moment you find a room full of art supplies and paint, oh this place is gonna be in ruen. RIP to whoever owns the place. Knocking buckets full of paint off of high places is so satisfying, just watching the bright color splatter across the floor making the concrete (or whatever floor tile thingi) stand out more. Making a water slide out of paint and sliding down it while getting paint all over your furr. You walk on the sealing, on the walls, brush yourself against multiple pieces of furniture and role yourself on the floor. If your brother is there then he will definitely use you as a paint roller. It makes you all dizzy but it's fun. And to end your terror you finish off by planting your face in a multitude of colors and make the Cheshire cat™ stampe on the wall, with a grinning face and all.

None of you have a coherent sleep pattern which means that sometimes you will be so cunfertibole that you will sleep through a whole day(s). Your brother, however, has a bit more control over his sleep schedule and won't hesitate to rudely wake you up if it's an important event. Or just for shits and giggles.

You are the equivalent of Chaotic neutral and your brother is true neutral.

Sometimes yet not often you will visit the library (or whoever has one) and try to read. But you have the attention span of a goldfish and the next few hours will be spent just looking at the pictures and making a story out of that. Or zoning out and just making a world in your head from the first thing that popped into your mind. It makes you frustrated however and it can lead to you ripping the pages and feeling kinda guilty afterwards. The Cheshire cat notices this and tries to come up with ways to help you but in a subtle way, you know how he is. Like reading the stories out loud to you before sleep, or try to reenact the scene from the story into real life.

If both of you had your own theme songs then yours would be “excited troublesome little calico cat theme”. And the Cheshire cats would be “Ghost Story Cat Theme” on youtube. Or like his actual song that got cut out of the movie called “i'm odd”.

As a creature of the wild hunt it's natural for your instinct to kick in now and agen, for example, marking territory via scratching on trees. Or pounding at fast moving things, like tree branches or someone's tail. Guess whos. These things don't happen all at once but rather as bursts of actions. It's like when I flap my hands when I get excited or bounce my leg under the table when I look at something that makes me happy.

Sometimes, but not often you will use your cuteness as a kitten to your advantage. Like if you get in an argument or when you get into trouble, most people's response is to aww at your cuteness but Cheshire has seen it so many times that it's more of a reminder of how young you are compared to him. (he's kinda jealous that you can get away so easily)

Both of you have a ball trying to one up each other with how bizarre you can change your shape or see how far you can go without your head. Cheshire is a master at this but he enjoys making you think that you have a chance against him. Just when you think you have done it. Cheshire will come up with an even more ridiculous way to change his body's structure to look like nothing you've seen before, it's creative and a terrifying sight, like a creature out of a fever dream. The first time he did it, it scared you, kinda but after a few hundred times you've become familiar with it.

Sometimes both of you like to sing your hearts out in the moonlight, not caring if all of wonderland hears you.

The world is your playground and you're going to make it known to everyone >:)

link to my Quotev https://www.quotev.com/story/13799094/The-colorful-ferris-wheel-of-my-writings

#Alice in wonderland #Cheshire cat #siblings #my writing #cheshire cat x reader #Alice in wonderland headcanons #cheshire cat headcanons #platonic

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giantroboticplatypusbutt218 · 3 years ago

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Okay so I was looking at the Loonatics Unleashed fandom wiki for no particular reason I swear and I have come across some mildly interesting discoveries about the content of said wiki. I guess this is like... kind of a weird partial wiki review? Is that strange? Under the cut, some spoilers, yadda yadda yadda.

1. Something I couldn’t stop thinking about after watching the show was the fact that Ace and Lexi have like... no interesting personality. Since the wiki was right there I figured, “Hey, there’s usually a personality section on their character pages, maybe I just didn’t notice something.” So I looked at Ace’s page.

His personality section is tiny. And what is there is stuff like, “he may have a sweet tooth,” and he’s, “cool, calm, and collected,” three words which basically mean the same thing.

Next I checked Lexi’s page... which... hilariously... did not even have a personality section. But don’t worry guys! She’s got a section unique to her called, “fashion sense,” which goes into great detail about her not wanting to look fat.

Curious, I checked the other characters pages as well.

Slam, unlike Lexi, has a personality section, which is incredible, considering he’s on screen for a fraction of the time she is. But Lexi is not alone in having no personality(according to the wiki) as Rev apparently doesn’t have one either. Like, come on. Nobody editing the wiki could think of one trait that he has? Even Slam got a line about having great battle strategy. Nothing about being enthusiastic or fiddling with Tech’s things or desiring his dad’s approval? Uh, okay then. Speaking of Tech... he got one line about being warm hearted and protective of his inventions... Yep. That’s... definitely all his traits... Totally... Ugh...

Duck has a fully fleshed out personality section, which, makes sense since he has a very well defined personality and most interesting interactions with the rest of the cast. There are still problems with it though, like talking about his powers in the wrong section and another thing I’ll go over later.

2. Also along the lines of the “Ace is bland” thought I had, his Powers and Abilities section is pathetically short. I mean, he has four tiny bullet points: One is about having great agility which isn’t needed because another point is that he’s skilled at martial arts which requires great agility. There’s his laser vision, and then apparently he has infrared vision? I mean, I’ll believe the wiki this time but I straight up do not remember that. It must have been one of those things that wasn’t brought up much. (Also it didn’t mention his swordsmanship which is strange.)

Most of the other characters’ sections of their abilities are pretty standard, but I have to note that Rev’s section is MASSIVE. One of his listed “abilities” is literally the ability to talk which uh... is strange. It’s noted that he talks fast, but that just seems to be a common trait of roadrunners as far as I can tell. Rip was the strange one for talking at a slower pace. Either way... I guess the ability to speak is an ability. Strange to put it side-by-side next to things like “super speed” and “flight” though...

3. There is straight up incorrect information and strange assumptions in a few places. A lot of those things come from Rev’s page and specifically his Trivia section.

Small complaint first, the page mentions the sound the original Roadrunner makes a couple of times and spells it as “meep, meep,” which the actual sound is “beep, beep,” an imitation of a car horn. Pedantic, I know.

Okay first true complaint, the wiki assumes Rev’s the youngest solely based on the fact that he’s hyper. Uh... he could also be hyper because, and stay with me here, his power is super speed... and also some people are just hyper? IDK. I have to mention he seems like someone that would’ve gone to college given his family’s wealth and history with being engineers, along with his own technical knowledge, making him similar in age to Tech and Lexi. But odds are all members of the team are college aged and none of them are notably older or younger than the others. (Wait the Trivia page mentioned him being hyper but he still didn’t get a personality section with “hyper” in it???)

Another incorrect “fact” in the trivia section is that Rev’s the only character whose family is shown in the show. It was brief, but we saw Duck’s parents in the flashback of him and Pinkster in the orphanage. Yeah they’re just some boring humans but they’re still his parents.

I guess this counts as a complaint? Uh, maybe I’m missing something, but the wiki claims Duck has sibling relationships with both Ace and Lexi, which... like... I swear I don’t recall from actually watching the show. I do recall him calling Lexi “sister” at least once, but like, in a sassy friend sort of way? And I just... straight up don’t recall him and Ace having any interactions that would denote them as being brother like. Is this just someone deciding that being Good Friends that learn from each other constitutes a sibling relationship again? I’ve seen it happen before. (Don’t ask, it’s stupid.)

Lastly, whoever wrote Lexi’s page seems desperate to ship her with Ace, but like, as professionally as possible. The section on her relationship to Ace is like “their relation is unclear, but she could possibly LooOOoove him~” Then it goes on to scrape for every time she showed concern for him, but also says she keeps her emotions hidden? Guys there’s a word for when someone is in a mutually caring relationship that isn’t a romance. It’s called being friends. Best Friends if it’s a little deeper than normal. Shhh. It’s okay. I know a man and a woman being friends is scary but it can happen. Everything will be fine.

4. As I’ve ironically noted a few times already, there are a bunch of redundant pieces of information on some of their pages. Most of the time I think it’s just due to padding. Like, Lexi has 4 bits of trivia and one is, “she likes video games,” and another is, “she’s good at video games.” You uh... couldn’t just make those both one point, huh? I’m not gonna count information being repeated through sections because sometimes context is important.

Yeah so reading the wiki was... something. I mean I don’t blame the wiki of a 2005 Looney Tunes spin off for not being the most well loved and complete, and I’m sure it’s probably been vandalized a few times for lols, but I just thought this stuff was worth noting nonetheless. Mostly it means I can’t entirely trust the wiki when it comes to information regarding the show.

#Loonatics Unleashed #Random Thoughts #Complaining #I think the P&F wiki spoiled me. It comes with full episode transcripts and references.

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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Miles Between Us Chapter 8 ~Light vs Dark~

Previously in All in a Day's Work ...

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down.

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips.

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Jamie reached over to the other side of the bed and stilled when all he grabbed was air. His eyes instantly flew open, and he wondered why he was in bed. He jackknifed into a sitting position, his muscles tensing against the sudden alarm that spiked through his nerves, but when he saw the sliver of light under the door and heard Claire's movement in the bathroom, he eased back onto the mattress with a sigh.

Memories from earlier suddenly came rushing back to him. He'd arrived home, reeling with the need to expend energy, but not in the healthiest of ways. He'd ran from work after Willie had sent him home, and when he'd arrived to find Claire in the kitchen, the rush of adrenaline had buzzed through him like mad. Though he'd made up with his sister after their confrontation, the run to the cottage hadn't relieved the buildup of anxiety and guilt, but one thing had been clear throughout ...the need to see Claire had been paramount. She'd sensed something was off, but he hadn't anticipated her reading what he'd needed at that moment when he'd himself had no words for the volatile sensation raging within him. Ever since she'd arrived in his life, she'd been unintentionally rearranging everything, and all the painstaking layers he'd patched together over his broken parts were slowly being stripped away, little by little, to reveal what he'd buried underneath.

Earlier, she'd ripped another layer off when she'd offered her body for his own release. Despite rebelling against it, his body had a mind of its own, taking his fill like a starved man and pacifying the storm within. It had troubled him to see her pleasuring him on her knees and not had been able to reciprocate back, but she'd soothed him with words and her hands. He recalled the shame and fear that had shot through his bloodstream when he thought he'd hurt her with his rough play, but the moment she'd touched him, he'd lost track of everything, the mind-bending pleasure obscuring all reasons, making him feel depleted and whole at the same time. After she'd bathed him as if he was a bairn, she'd towelled his body dry and massaged his back until his limbs had gone pliant and heavy. And just before he'd dozed off, she'd whispered into his ears, "Rest now, my love and later we'll talk." He couldn't argue, even if he'd wanted to. Because, in her, he found his equilibrium, and his skeletons didn't rattle as much whenever she was around.

He'd just switched on the bedside lamp when the bathroom door opened, and Claire walked in wearing his bathrobe, the sheer size of it almost drowning her small frame. He couldn't help the smile forming his lips. It looked ridiculously too big on her but at the same time too adorable for words. He pushed himself up and patted the space next to him.

Watching her climbed the bed and crawl on all fours, he extended his arm out in an invitation to nestle against him. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"An hour tops," she replied, kissing him on the lips. Instead of huddling into his arms, she sat cross-legged, facing him, a touch of worry dimming her eyes. "You were knocked out."

"Really? Only an hour? I had no intention of falling asleep. I must have been tired. I feel like I've slept the whole night." Feeling slightly disappointed he couldn't put his arms around her, he took her hand instead and twined their fingers together.

"Willie dropped off your car, and I have your keys here," she said, pulling them from the pocket of the bathrobe and placing them on the mattress. "How are you feeling?

"Relaxed."

"That's good," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. "What ye did earlier ..." He felt a stirring in his loins when he remembered her mouth around him. "I would like to verra much do the same for ye if ye'd allow me."

"Jamie ..." she sighed, giving him a small warning look.

He shrugged, his mischievous smile telling her, Oh well! I tried. They eyed each other for a few heartbeats, a silent understanding passing between them. Jamie knew she was patiently waiting for him to initiate the talk. There was no way around it. Not even sex was going to get in the way. It had been a long time coming, and he owed her some explanations. "So ye want to talk ..."

"Would you like to have your dinner first? You haven't eaten yet."

"No, I'm good."

"Good. Let me know if you need anything."

"Aye ..." He moved into a more comfortable position. "Let's get this done and over with."

She gave him an encouraging nod. "Take your time. Whenever you're ready."

"Just a wee warning, Sassenach." He winked at her when he noticed her frown. "If this starts to feel like a therapist appointment, bear in mind I've noted all the available exits," he joked to lighten the mood.

It worked. The corner of her lips twitched. "I'll try my utmost best to keep that in mind."

He settled against the headboard and took a couple of cleansing breaths. It cleared his head a wee bit, allowing him to formulate the right words. Words that wouldn't sound like he was losing his mind. "Guilt," he began. "I told ye already before ...I have a bad case of it." His throat closed up. "It's what keeps me awake most nights, replaying all those things I didnae do right. As most insomniacs would know, nothing solves sleeplessness like a nice warm glass of despair and regret."

A flicker of worry flashed across her face. "Jamie, you told me you were feeling better." She scooted closer to him. "Have you been keeping the truth from me? Because if you are, it's not helping matters."

"No, Sassenach." He shooked his head. "I was telling ye the truth. I was feeling better, but there have been many strange things happening in the past that's just coming to light. The more I try to piece things together, the weirder it gets." He massaged his temple with his fingers. "Christ! Where do I begin?"

"Alright, one thing at a time." She paused, and he saw the cogs behind her eyes, turning. She appeared to be contemplating the best way to make it easy for him. "Did something happened at work earlier?" she asked.

He sighed. "Aye. I blew my top at work. It's unlike me to lose my head like that, especially in front of the other workers. It's kind of frightening when your emotions are beyond your control."

"Did it have anything to do with your episodes?"

"Probably. I'm not sure anymore."

"When you came home earlier, you really looked stressed, Jamie."

He stared at her and thought of the events that day. Ah, shite! Why is this so fucking difficult? They're only in the early phases of their relationship, and already she's tangled up in his web of messed-up issues. Surely this wasn't what she'd bargained for when she decided to take a chance on him? She only had a few days before she returned back to London, but here they were, it's early evening, cooped up in his bedroom trying to sort out his fucked-up head when they could be out on romantic dates. No one, except for his family, had really seen the true depths of his issues, and he'd coped fine for a long time without talking about it. Man up, Fraser - get to the bottom of it! Think of Harry!

"My sister and I had a fight," he finally said. "But I dinnae think the fight triggered anything. Or maybe a little. Ye see, it's no' the first time we've had a squabble like that. I think the beginning of the episode has more to do with something that has been building up for the last few days. Odd dreams, memories coming to the surface and such. And the sibling bicker was the last straw."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Has this something to do with your dream the other night? You told me you had a strange dream and you had trouble sleeping."

His heart lurched as he recalled the dream. "Aye. But it goes way before that. Partly, it has something to do with that ..." He hesitated for a moment. "...and with ye."

"With me?" She visibly braced herself, a worried frown appearing on her brows. "Jamie ...if you're concerned about me not being able to cope with your condition and leaving you, you thought wrong. I care for you, and I want to help. But I can't help you if I don't understand what's going on. Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together."

He felt encouraged by the hopeful look she gave him. "But ye dinnae ken half of it."

"No, I don't," she agreed. "But we'll get through it together. Painful as it is to talk about what's hurting you, suppressing it will only make it worse, and there's a danger you could lose yourself and forget the person you are and all the good you have done in the process. If you're waiting for time to erase all those emotional pain, it's not going to happen, Jamie. I know this because I carry a lot of pain, too, and time has done nought to erase it. You just have to acknowledge it and learn to let it go."

His heart pounded. "This can open up all sorts of hurt, Sassenach ...for ye."

She studied him closely. "Why are you so worried about me getting hurt, Jamie? Ye're the one suffering from this condition."

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and a throbbing began underneath his collarbone. He wondered how much he could reveal about her parents' death without him disintegrating in front of her and scaring her away for good. This is the part where the room would normally close in on him, and then he would start to fidget and eventually clamp up. An uncomfortable pressure stretched against his rib cage, making it difficult to suck in a breath. They were already at the point of no return. But Claire's eyes instantly grounded him, turning the chaos in his head from a bright, blazing red to a cool, soothing blue.

He swallowed his mounting anxiety, focusing on healing what had been damaged inside of him. "Before anything else, Sassenach ...what do ye remember about yer parents' death?"

"Wot?" Her voice sounded throaty. "Why is it relevant?"

He loathed the sudden uncertainty sneaking into her expression. He wished he could go back and take back the words. "I'm sorry, but it's pertinent that I know."

She let go of his hand and rubbed her palms repeatedly along her thighs. "I -I was with my parents when the accident happened. I never told you this part before."

The image of young Claire trapped at the back seat of the car flared to life. His head fell forward with a groan, and when she touched his shoulder, he waved a hand and motioned for her to go on.

"I don't remember much except for the feeling of being very frightened and wanting to be with my mother. After that, everything was a blur."

"Have ye ever talked to your uncle about it?"

"Sort of," she said, scrunching up her shoulders. "When I was old enough to understand. But never in-depth." She stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "Jamie, what's with the questions about my parents? Are you trying to change the direction of this conversation?"

"No! No' at all!" He shifted position and squeezed his eyes shut for a beat. When he opened them again, he puffed out a breath. "Your parents ...the car ...I was there when it happened." She looked bewildered, but he didn't stop. "I was on my way to see my godfather. I-I was ten. And I had this ..."

"What do you mean you were there?"

Oh, God, give me strength. "I saw yer parents' accident," he said rapidly. She gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. Shaking his head, he continued. "I ...I always thought my condition began right after my best mate died in the war zone. But it was way before that. I saw something that a child should never have to see, but I did. I would have told ye all these sooner if I had known. The dream ...I had the other night brought back all those horrific memories. Christ, Sassenach ..." He dropped his head into his hands. "I wish there's an easier way to say this. I'm so sorry for bringing this up, and I just cannae ..."

"Jamie ..."

Then the dam shattered, and everything came pouring out of him. He told her how Harry had first appeared into his life, coming to his aid in Glasgow when he'd fallen down onto his knees while going through an episode. And the mysterious ways the older man would pop up whenever he was in dire need of help. He spoke of his suspicions of what or who he'd thought Harry might have been after his family had questioned his friend's identity over New Year's Eve lunch at Lallybroch. And how his theory had been further validated the moment Murtagh had mentioned having known Claire's parents. Then his voice faltered when he told her what his godfather had told him the other day, about him being witness to her parents' accident as a young boy. And how seeing uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry had triggered the dream and brought back all the suppressed memories. He told her how he'd held her that fateful day and how the memories of that event changed him forever, vowing to himself nothing like that would ever happen again under his watch.

By the time Jamie finished, he felt weightless. Like he'd been lugging around sandbags on his shoulders all his life, and they'd just been ripped open, dumping their contents onto the ground.

When he finally glanced up, Claire was immobile, staring at the wall behind him. The unfocused expression he'd seen the other night when he'd asked about her parents was back, only this time she appeared more thoughtful.

"Sassenach?"

Her gaze cut to his. "So you knew my dad."

"I did." She must have sensed his sincerity because she closed her eyes and her lips quivered a bit as if she's trying her hardest to keep her emotions in check. Christ, he wanted to drag her away from all the pain he'd just brought up. He didn't like seeing her like this. He'd told her more than he'd been prepared to, and they should call it a wrap for now. But he needed to know if there were any mental scars she'd been nursing and if so, he wondered if he'd made it worse. If he did, he'd never forgive himself. "Sassenach, please tell me ye're alright."

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she hugged herself close. "I think so," she whispered. "Just give me a few minutes to let it all sink in, alright? Don't give up on me just yet." They simultaneously took a deep breath, making her smile at the realisation. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap and focused on what she had to say. He'd already said his bit, and now it was her turn. So he listened. "That moment at the pub, when I first laid eyes on you, I had this strong feeling we've always known each other. I even said to myself, maybe we did ...in another lifetime. All this while we had no idea we were both connected through my dad."

"Aye, I felt the same way, Sassenach, and I put it down simply to a strong attraction between us. I even thought it would pass, but the more I got to know ye, the more I wanted more of ye. It frightened the hell of me, firstly because of where ye live. I didnae think our relationship could work with my condition. And secondly, because I didnae want my burden to be yer burden. It would kill me if ye had to go through what I've been going through almost all my life."

She seemed transfixed as she made a move towards him, reminding him of the way she'd looked just before they're about to make love. Pressure rolled off him the moment she straddled his lap, leaving him almost light-headed when she tenderly placed a hand against the side of his face. "Do you realise what an extraordinary man you are?" She tunnelled her fingers through his hair, making his eyelids fall to half-mast. "You see, Jamie ...only good men feel the load of their burdens. And exceptional ones like you persist on taking more. Because of you, I want to be a better person and take some of your burdens. The same way you've carried the burden of my parents' death all this while." She laid her head into the crook of his shoulder, snuggling into his neck in a way that somehow mended a broken part of him. "Growing up without them has been hard, and it still pains me a lot when I think of what could have been. But I realise now, sometimes death has a heart, and we can't beat ourselves up for recognising it." A few heartbeats passed before she met his gaze. "Out of tragedy, we found each other, and that means their death must count for something, don't you think?"

The simplicity of her words, her acceptance of their past, the vulnerable girl he saw underneath the confident woman she was today reached every damaged corner of his being. There was no choice but to press their bodies together.

He pulled her closer and gently combed his fingers through her curls as he brushed his lips against hers. His thumb caressed her cheek before cupping it in his hand. When she smiled, his fingers tugged her chin to bring her mouth back to his. The kiss deepened, his fingers fumbling with the ties of the bathrobe she's wearing before pushing it down over her shoulders. Fluidly, never breaking contact, his lips travelled down her throat, her back arching to offer her breast. He was about to take a nipple to his mouth when he noticed a band of bruise circling her arm. He jerked back and realised there was an identical one on her other arm.

A sick feeling settling in his gut, he touched one of the bruises with his index finger. "What's this?" he asked, even though deep inside, he knew the answer already.

She rubbed it with a hand as if it was nothing. "Jamie, don't worry about it. I have pale skin, and I bruise like a peach."

He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I did this earlier, didn't I? When I came home from work, right after the fight with Jenny."

When she flinched, he felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over him. He lifted her off his lap and got out of bed, and went to stand by the window.

"Jamie, it was nothing. We were playing rough, and these things happen."

He could feel the darkness coming back again, trying to shroud him. He needed to concentrate on his breathing. When a woman like Claire loved with such fierceness, surely that love should have enough light to push the dark away. But he was coming down hard and fast, and the sick feeling in his guts was trying to make its way up, making him want to gag.

He heard her approach, and he steeled himself when she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on the centre of his back. "Jamie, you didn't hurt me. You have to believe me."

How could he want Claire's love and feel the unshakable compulsion to run away at the same time? Her arms were circled around him so tight, he thought she might be trying to join them together as one. A huge part of him wanted them joined together, but the darker side of him was scared to death. He'd allowed her to soothe him with every word, every touch. But now it was high time to get rid of the blinders. His chest hurt, and every fear he'd succeeded to overcome throughout the last few days poured down on his head.

Claire shouldn't want the man he'd become, who had a tendency to inflict pain and bruises on her skin when under the influence of his episodes even if it wasn't intended. He thought of Jenny earlier and the frightened look on her face, his fists curled, ready to cause injury. This relationship with Claire would be over as soon as she realised she'd saddled herself with a sick man with the potential to be violent, and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it when that day came. It was up to him to make sure she didn't make this mistake because she deserved more, and he loved her too much to allow her to be blinded by their love. He didn't want her to make that error.

"Claire ...I need to go."

Claire turned him to face her, weariness dimming her normally bright amber eyes. He'd done this to her, snuffed out the light in her. But she was so beautiful, her curls, wrecked and wild, mouth puffy from their kisses. "I'm not letting you go, Jamie. We're in this together. You have to believe me when I say you didn't hurt me and that you are a good man. You don't have it in you to hurt anyone."

Her words were hot irons branding his insides. "Dinnae say those things in the heat of the moment. Ye're too good of a person to realise when something bad is standing right under yer nose."

"You're not making any sense Jamie. Come back to bed, please ...and we'll talk it over." She was close to tears, and it was breaking his heart to see her like this. "I meant it when I said I love you and nothing ...not even this condition that you have will drive me away from you."

Jamie exhaled a sharp breath. "I need to clear my head." He walked away from her and grabbed the jeans, hanging neatly over the chair.

"I know what you're trying to do, Jamie. I can see right through you. You want to leave me because you think you're a danger to me. You're wrong." She tugged his arm and attempted to pull him towards her, but he remained still, looking anywhere but into her eyes. She grasped his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Look at me! I want you to know I'm not afraid of a fight. Just tell me what I'm up against so I can knock it down for you."

It took a lot of willpower to remain upright and resist the urge to voice out his fears. He knew she would be able to defeat his doubts, but for how long? Those fears would grow back even bigger and more persistent once time had passed and the outside world began to encroach on them. "Let me go, Sassenach."

"Never, Jamie. You said on the day before I left for London we were in this together, you and I. I'm holding my side of the bargain, and I will not let you go. So you better get used to that."

He turned away and started to scramble for the rest of his clothes. When he finished pulling up his jeans and putting on his t-shirt and shoes, it took him what seemed like an eternity to face her. Her face was ashen as she drew the bathrobe around her. "I'm done talking, for now, Claire."

Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.

She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.

He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.

He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine.

Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you."

"I love you, Sassenach. I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath as he jerked his car into gear, reversing from his driveaway. The wheels spun and screeched as he pulled away, his body shaking and his heart shattering into tiny pieces.

Claire's safe now, he reassured himself, gripping the steering wheel tight, safe and far from the stifling darkness closing in.

..........

Claire watched Jamie's car disappear into the darkness. She wanted to scream and crumple to the ground out of sheer despair and fear. But she realised her presence of mind was needed at this moment. She needed to call someone and alert them to what happened. Jamie could be in danger. Willie!

She ran back to the house and grabbed her phone. With shaking fingers, she wiped the tears from her eyes and tapped on the screen. She'd just managed to find Willie's name when her phone rang. She saw it was her uncle Lamb. Oh God now's not the time. Though frustrated, she answered. "Hello?"

The line crackled before uncle Lamb spoke. "Sweetheart, it's me. I hope the Scottish weather is holding up because I'm on my way for a visit. We had another setback at work, and I didn't want to hang around, scratching my arse doing nothing. I'll be arriving in four days. I hope you'll still be there; otherwise, I'll change my flight ticket to London."

Not wanting to alert her uncle with her worries about Jamie, she cleared her throat and tried to sound cheerful. "That's great! I'll be here, and I can't wait to see you! But I really need to run along. So many things going on." It wasn't a lie, but she would call him back once she'd sorted out this mess she was dealing with. "I'll call you later."

"That's fine, darling. I can't wait to meet, Jamie ..."

Oh, dear, God, please help me.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, I'm sorry if this took slightly longer to update. My excuse: my computer has gone funny on me. I need to buy a new PC, and I've been busy looking on the net for one, hence the delay of this update.

Moving along, I'm asking you to please bear with me with this chapter. I understand it's a bit heavy and slightly dark, but it had to be done because it is necessary if the story is to gel together. Despite the heavy undertone of this latest update, I hope you've enjoyed it, and you get what I'm trying to put across. On a much brighter note, thank you so much for your feedback from the previous chapter. I love it when I read your thoughts about a scene or plot. They are so appreciated, and I'm already looking forward to what you think of this latest instalment. Meanwhile, wishing you a great start to the week. Take care of yourself always and be safe. Much love.X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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