#word count: 1806

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

Northern Dawn - Prologue

The waters of time flowed through the cosmos, branching off into a thousand different directions, with a thousand different possibilities. Mighty rivers carved through their set paths, unable to escape their ancient way. The tiniest of streams could waive, but it would be inconsequential. Though, content.

Draped in golden wings, watching the flow of time, was the Great Chief of the Divines. It has always been, it will always be, his sacred duty. He must look after time, after these rivers. It was his fate, carved for him long before he could agree to it. He had been so blessed to have had a fate chosen by the gods. 

One in particular was of interest to him. The waters of this time, of this family, were stained with the Dragon blood. It glowed in ribbons suspended in the water, dancing like the great auroras that arched through the sky over the land She would have to protect. 

The glowing, golden blood was rather selective in who it chose to bless. Like the dragons themselves, it favored the firstborn more often. And it seemed only one or two in each branching generation would bear the curse, carry the blessing. The world had no need of it, of people with it. Until soon. Until now. 

A delicate hand, made of ethereal light, crossed over the newest stream. The water and blood and light smeared into Aetherius. This child will be the last member of their family. The Goddess of Families and Fertility has chosen not to bless her so. Chosen to make sure that she had to be the last one.

“Mara.” He spoke, or what mortals would perceive as speaking. The Divine ways, the way they see the world, the words that leave them, can and is only truly known and understood by them. Still, his tone was even, if it contained a bit of sigh. Mara already knew how he felt. 

“She must be the last of her kind.” Though Mara’s voice was typically kind and gentle, it was firm. She would not and did not undo her action. She was correct, after all. 

The Nine gathered around the stream. They watched as the water and blood and light bore into a new soul, blessing Nirn with new life. The newborn baby cried, as they all do. Akatosh smiled, he couldn’t help it. Her parents named her, so proud of what they had created. It was bittersweet, they were doomed to leave her life, all too soon. Before she could even get to know them, before they could get to know her. 

Arkay was saddened by this, feeling the same sympathy for the girl and her parents as he always did. But it was the way it had to be. He watched as her parents became sick, as he called to them, leading them away. 

“Her name is her own to make.” Zenithar seemed to understand what the others were thinking and feeling. He glanced downstream, just a bit, to the moment everything will change. 

Akatosh could not look away. The girl was sent to an orphanage, but ultimately ran away. She was more fortunate than most, to have had the opportunity to learn to read, write, and learn basic spells. The teenager, now a young woman, drifted. She went from city to city, place to place, forest to forest, just trying to get by. 

He would have wanted a better life for her. For her parents. For her parents’ parents. For their entire bloodline. He knew as well as anyone that her suffering would shape and guide her, even if she would not always understand that. 

“I wish she had told me.” The god whispered, not for the first time feeling his humanity conflict with his divinity. 

Akatosh felt Mara soften, but he couldn’t care. She was usually unpleasant. “She didn’t know.” She spoke gently. 

He restrained himself. He wanted to curl his claws in frustration, but the waters of time were bound to them. And his lack of divine control over his mortal emotions would cause needless mortal suffering. “It would have changed things.” Even the gods can lie. 

Julianos, the fountain of advice that he is, spoke to Akatosh. “Go talk to him. He wants to see you.” 

“She was mourning.” Stendarr spoke, distracted more by the living woman than the dead one. He was unhappy with many of the choices she was going to make, but still understanding. Still merciful. 

Kynerath was neither understanding nor merciful. “She acted recklessly.” 

“She acted blasphemously.” Nor was Mara. 

Akatosh had to change the subject, lest his heart broke all over again. He watched as the woman came to a split in the river of her life. All possibilities sprawled out before her, a million directions she could take her life. Yet, further down, all streams lead into the ocean of her destiny. Mortal sympathy panged his divine heart. She could not escape it. 

“We’re too shallow.” He said, trying to follow her possible lives. “This is not what we’re looking for.” He looked downstream, following the blinding light of her blood, of her destiny. But he was looking for the long, dark shadow it cast. 

“The light blinds even us.” Talos felt that he, of all gods, was the only one who could ever understand what the woman would go through. Akatosh would have heartily disagreed, if either of them had voiced their opinions. 

But he didn’t want to start that fight again. Instead, he said. “You are unhappy.” 

“She wants to fight my empire.” Talos looked up at him, still acting much more human than the rest of them. 

Akatosh understood that very well. Understood why Talos was upset. Although the light blinded him too, he still tried to peer closer. He finally saw what he was looking for. The dark shadow, casting its wings over the land. The light rising up to meet it. The two locked in battle, with uncertainty beyond that. The lights and streams of space and time fading and drying. None of the gods could see beyond that. Whatever would happen after that could only reveal itself if she could fulfill her destiny. 

“She will have to fight.” Talos frowned. “All her life. No rest. No way to gather her strength. There is no being strong for war when all is war.” 

“Are you not the god of war?” Dibella didn’t care nearly as much as her fellow gods. Instead, she was painting some lavenders, breathing violet life into the flowers. 

“I am the god of warriors.” Talos sounded offended by what she said. Akatosh wished he still had eyes to roll. “She is blessed under those stars, my stars.”

“Guide her.” Arkay was also disinterested, still counting deaths, looking through lives. He glanced at her, wondering of her death. It would either be to the world eater, or after she defeated him. It was unknown, even to him. He looked back to the spirits. 

“No.” Akatosh spoke before Talos could, not that he expected him to have agreed. “We cannot intervene. Her destiny was written long ago, in the scrolls.” 

Julianos peered even closer. “She will be lonely.” He whispered. “A terrible thing for a mortal to be.” 

Akatosh looked upstream as it flowed through Aetherius. He smiled. “No.” He whispered. “Look.” Each of the gods who cared peered closer, into the auroran light shining from the water, into the tiny lives of the mortals. 

To see a body being pulled from the harsh, dangerous waters of a dark river. An exhausted man spotted her, the blood from the wound on her head having caught his eye. He ran over to her, grabbing her, trying to understand where she even came from. “General Tullius, sir!” He called. “There’s another body!” 

“Leave it.” General Tullius didn’t look up from what he was doing. He tied the fabric around the other man’s head as tight as he could, making sure the knot was unbreakable. “We don’t have any more room on the cart for dead bodies.” He was distracted, focused on the man in front of him. He had to make sure he couldn’t use his Voice, or they could all suffer. 

The first man frowned, laying the unconscious woman on the dry bank. He hoped the locals would at least give her a proper burial. To him, those who died without names were the saddest. He moved to leave her, but then he noticed the movement. Her chest was rising and falling. She was breathing. She was alive. “By the N-! Eight.” He cried out, catching himself, just in case. “Tull- uh- General! General Tullius, sir!” 

“What is it now, Hadvar?” Tullius sighed. 

“She’s alive!” Hadvar picked the woman up, carrying her in his arms. He brought her over to Tullius, who was still more focused on his captive. He lifted her just a bit, trying to show that she’s alive. 

Tullius yanked Ulfric to his feet, but gestured in the vague direction of the last cart. “Put her in this one. We can figure it out in Helgen.” 

Hadvar placed the woman on the inside, close to the driver. He was worried she’d fall out, still having not woken up. He was sure to keep his eyes on her, and not on the man sitting across from her. Hadvar couldn’t look at him. As Tullius’ bound and gagged prisoner was unceremoniously thrown in the same cart. 

What none of them saw, truly saw, was the Great Dragon of Time, looking down upon them. He looked at the woman, feeling a sorrowful joy for her. She would suffer, there was no question in it, she would suffer. But it’s what she was chosen for. It’s her fate. She built for it, able to survive. Able to thrive. Still, he wished a better life for her. He wished the miracle of ordinary days for her. 

“Know this.” He spoke gently to her. She would never hear him. She wouldn’t even think it to be a dream. His words would only be a fleeting feeling to her, at best. “You are loved. You are loved by your ancestors. You are loved by your family. You will always be loved. There are people you haven’t met yet who will love you, whom you will love.”

Her face shifted. She could hear him, after all. But only within the deepest parts of her draconic soul. The part that could understand draconic words in a draconic way. “Use this love.” He whispered to her, he wished he could hug her. “It is stronger than any sword, more powerful than any spell, louder than any shout.” 

“You are the last Dragonborn. Your soul is that of a dragon, but your heart is that of a mortal. Wield your light, your love, and you will prevail.” 

[impostorsshow]

Another rant about my "YHS Grian gets time travel-kidnapped to participate in an MCC" daydream/au, with a focus/reflection on how permadeath worlds would affect skills, except it's not a rant it's a 1.2k - 1.8k oneshot

When Grian finds out the future version of himself got signed up to...whatever this is, he has enough to be surprised at - they're on a series of floating islands, and use a portal to travel between islands that are larger apart, something Grian's only ever seen when he traveled between England and Japan.

He saw that when [Jimmy? Timmy? Did he have to check his hearing after all this time of using firearms?] was injured after being turned from a 27 year old into a teen, he got disqualified since he wouldn't be healed by the time this whole championship started, Grian decided to not share the bullet wound at his hip [Timmy was more than eager to tell him where one of the "admins" had stored some bandages once he figured out where the clinic was].

And then they got their first round of training, courtesy of Scott wanting to make the team's more balanced to skill level when the event was closer - it was a simple game in his opinion, fill in 9 blocks with your teams color and kill your opponents before they get you [Grian wished he could say that he wasnt used to death matches being considered training.] A kid named Tommy, about 11 years old was [incredibly reasonably] distressed about murdering other kids and was disqualified, so Grian was glad he learned to keep his mouth shut.

He wasn't the best by any means, but he was more than good enough to avoid dying, his team having 3 people that were on wool duty with him and a girl named False being the only ones confident in their fighting ability. False got injured, and Grain thought she died if not for the fact she reappeared without any injuries after the round was over. Grian didn't find the time to ask and False didn't catch any of his questioning expressions, but his teammates kept getting injured and were praising him on not getting hurt [how would he have gotten this far in the Yakuza otherwise?? How did you get cut across the abdomen with an iron sword and survive? Why is he the only one freaking out ?] So Grian played it off and accepted the compliments as best he could.

The last round they didn't get the wool capture, and the other team was out for blood. Grian saw False get shot in the head by an arrow and somehow survived a 3 v 1, shooting two of the players with a shot in his shoulder and watching the last player run to place the wool, ending the game with 1 loss for his team.

He felt dizzy for a moment and closed his eyes, opening them back up to see he was teleported back onto the main island, a leaderboard infront of him. Grian felt his shoulder, confused that the blood that had stained his blue uniform [he really needed to ask for a comfier change of clothes at some point] was gone and his shoulder was just fine, even if he felt the phantom pain of the arrow, quickly fading.

The leaderboard placed him in the upper middle of players, which was worse than he expected. Everyone around him was talking to each other excitedly though, so maybe MCC was only a place where seasoned professionals played and he wasn't as numbed to death as he thought. The Yakuza in his town weren't really high quality, nothing in that town was anyway.

"Hey." Grian jumped, startled at the voice and turned to his right to see False [he made eye contact with her forehead more than her eyes, not quite able to understand how she was alive. No one could survive that, he knew that much.]. Awkward silence made itself known for a few moments, False clearing her voice and snapping Grian back to reality. "Good job. You only got hit once."

"....Yeah."

"I'm saying that it's impressive. Where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh. Uh, death matches are common where I live, you kind of just..." Grian looked away from False entirely, glancing over at people in the crowd he could have sworn were dead and another count of blood on his hands. "Have to know how to survive that, or you learn the hard way."

Grian heard False mumble some agreement and walk away, narrowing his eyes at the leaderboard. He needed to figure out which adult was trustworthy enough to ask about this without getting a target in his back, as soon as possible.

In the end, he decided to ask Timmy. He was still in the clinic so surely some adult would have shared something with him, and he didn't rat out Grian for having a bullet wound ["What's a bullet?" "...a piece of metal that's used in a gun." "What's a gun?" "No wonder your in the infirmary"].

"Do you know anything about people dying and coming back?" Grian stated out of the blue, the first 5 minutes of his visit being pure silence on Grian's part to make sure an admin wouldnt come by to check up on Timmy's wounds anytime soon.

"What? Whaddya mean, Gri?"

"I mean that people keep dying and coming back. Injuries in games disappear randomly. I've seen at least like, 8 people die in the past week multiple times and all of them seem to be fine. No one's questioning it at all and-"

"waitwaitwaitwait-ow-" Timmy started waving his hands to motion for Grian to stop talking, flinching when it stretched his injury and stopped to hold his stomach where the injury was, but still eyed Grian as if he was insane. It made Grian immediately regret asking. "Are you seriously- do you not know about respawning?"

"No, unless you mean it in terms of the Gamecrab."

"I don't know what that is but -oh my god, I never thought I had to explain this ever -respawning is what happens whenever you die. Most of the time the only thing that happens is your inventory gets wiped, and you might feel like however you died for a bit or whatever injury you had last."

Grian deadpanned, getting his thoughts across very clear and making Timmy throw his hands up in exasperation. "I'm serious! How is it you've never heard of respawning, did you live on a hardcore world or something?"

"define hardcore."

"....oh my god you cannot be-" Timmy took a breath,pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering to himself for a few seconds before talking louder at Grian. "-Hardcore is used to define permadeath worlds with added difficulty to them. If you die your done forever, and even a shot to the arm can be bad enough to kill you."

"..oh,-"

"but I KNOW your not from a permadeath world because that was made illegal, right?" Grian heard a tone in Timmy's voice that sounded like Sam when he was about to snap, and decided to not ever bring this up again, responding immediately and eyeing the door.

"yup, I cant even imagine what that would be like -when was that made illegal, out of curiosity?"

"1337? seriously what-?" Grian was up from his chair and out the door before Jimmy could finish his sentence.

—————————

My version of YHS Grian is much less prone to questioning things than actual YHS Grain, and that's because this daydream is A. Made by someone who never finished YHS and B. Because it emphasizes to me the skills you would need to learn to survive living with a delusional serial killer and being in the Yakuza in general, much less a town with adults that aren't doing anything and at some points actively putting students in danger with zero consequences except for maybe getting murdered by the students.

Alot of fanfiction I see that follow the YHS -> Hermitcraft Grian timeline make him the god of combat/PVP and the most traumatized skrunkly in the world. I'm not going to deny that I may be doing the second trope can you blame me it's good content but humans learn from making mistakes, and knowing you'll survive combat gives you a hell of a lot more confidence to be more aggressive and taking risks that pay off later. I imagine children in Minecraft are just kind of thrown outside and taught how to deal with a creeper by blowing up and crying to their mom about how much it hurts to die until they stop dying or are old enough to learn to move past the pain of dying, which would have it's own psychological consequences but like. Psychological consequences of a world without death is for another post this is about how said world would compare against a world of mortality and the fear of death being less equivalent to a spider and more equivalent to the fear of being forgotten.

Anyway what im getting at here is that I think when YHS Grain is written he needs to stop being written as a PVP god, he needs to instead be written as the god of survival. It's not that he knows how to most effectively use a weapon or he can find weak points in an enemy quicker or any of that, what makes him Grian Dreamslayer is that he has the skill of dodging and misdirection, of near misses that give him just enough of an upper hand that it doesn't matter if he doesn't know how to use a sword because he thinks that if he gets hit in his stomach or chest he's not coming back, and he knows to aim for the chest of his opponent. He's absolute shit at hiding, but he knows when to identify that you've found him and when to run.

Can you tell I have a hyperfixation anyway if you read my last post I have become aware that cannibalism doesnt actually happen the way I thought it did so just like. Ignore that bit that's been vanished and if you didn't read my last post uh. I don't watch MCC and I don't watch Falsesymmetry so like feel free to critique my characterization or give me ideas this is fully self indulgent so any advice is only going to help me make up more silly things while I'm daydreaming and I might make another post about this [i have more than enough content to make like 3 similarly sized posts of this i just don't have any knowledge of who is in MCC and how they act ive literally had to search up "MCC competitors" every time i post about this]

[wndaswife]

just a shoulder to cry on

「 Wanda Maximoff & gn!Reader 」

Tags: heavy angst, unrequited love, jealousy

Word count: 1806

Summary: A breakup leads you to Wanda's doorstep seeking her consolation. She attempts to put her own feelings aside to comfort her closest friend.

There were problems, of course, like there were for every couple.

Normal — just normal.

That’s what you told yourself for the past few months.

It was normal, then it was an argument, and then a breakup. 

Whose fault must it have been but yours? 

But even still, you found yourself at Wanda’s front door, wiping harshly at your eyes in a poor attempt to clean yourself up before she opened the door to see your tear-streaked cheeks and eyes rimmed with the harsh chafing of your sweater’s sleeves.

About three seconds it was between the opening of the front door to having her arms wrapped around your body, embracing you at the sight of your fresh tears. She felt her heart break watching you cry, completely broken down in front of her. She hugged you tight.

Like an idiot, you cried even harder while being held by her.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s alright,” she whispered.

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head and Wanda guided you into her place. She closed the door behind her and led you into the living room, an arm wrapped around your hips and her free hand running up and down your furthest arm, your body tucked against hers.

The two of you settled on her couch.

“Shall I make something for you?” she asked, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Do you want tea or water? Coffee?”

You wiped your cheeks and stuttered, “N-No, I don’t… I-”

Then you looked up at her, the sight of her face blurring as you kept crying. 

“She broke up with me,” you said suddenly, then looked down at your lap to see how your hands were trembling while resting on your knees.

“Y/N, I… I’m so sorry,” Wanda responded quietly. She placed a hand on top of yours and squeezed supportively. “Did it happen very long ago?”

You shook your head, speaking through shaky breaths, “It happened twenty minutes ago, probably.”

When she listened to the way your breathing became rapid and panicked, she wrapped her arms around you again and had your head lay against her chest. 

“Shh,” she comforted, speaking softly against the back of your head. She squeezed your shoulder. “Just take big, long breaths.”

You did as she instructed, inhaling deeply and exhaling steadily in spite of how your breathing shook. Wanda rubbed your back soothingly as you continued to breathe. Slowly, your breaths stabilised. Your shoulders ceased their trembling.

Wanda’s hold around you loosened when you straightened and tried to clean up your appearance a bit, pulling your sleeves down and adjusting your hair. She cupped your face with warm hands and wiped at your tears with her thumbs.

For a moment, in a bout of selfishness that Wanda would soon come to feel guilty for, she looked over you in detail. She felt her heart quicken as she held your face in both hands, feeling your warm breath against her wrists as she took careful consideration in tending to your broken heart. 

She stared at you for much longer than she needed to, then cleared her throat to release the tension there when you rubbed at your eyes and looked away from her. She ran her hands down her legs and took a breath.

“I didn’t even know things had gotten that bad…” you mumbled, looking down at your lap.

Wanda never liked your girlfriend, if she was being honest. She thought she always spoke a bit too loud and she hated when she referenced jokes only the two of you could understand, and she hated, most of all, that she had nothing in common with her.

In your earlier months of dating her and before you’d officially begun dating, Wanda had to weather listening to you gush about her, talking about all the things you loved about her that Wanda did not see within herself.

Did you truly love her so much, a woman who was nothing like her?

Soon she came to detest your partner. She came to hate the characteristics and traits she did not share with her, and what she hated even more was the rare case in which there was a similarity between the two of them, for Wanda felt she was in every way better than her. 

She had to be better.

If she wasn’t better, if she was not the one you loved more than any other, then what was she?

But months passed as your relationship continued to thrive, months passed as you fell deeper in love with a woman Wanda could not even say looked like her. She knew you didn’t think about her when you embraced her nor kissed her.

When selfishness overtook her again, a debilitation that jealousy often brought about, she entertained what would happen if the two of you broke up. She’d show you how much better she’d be for you, she’d show you that you’d only just gotten it wrong, that she was the one for you as you were for her.

But it felt terrible watching you suffer the breakup now that it'd really happened.

She hated herself for ever wanting something like this for you, even if it had been a desire she felt she couldn’t control most days. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Wanda counselled, leaning down a bit to see your face. “Relationships can be tricky, can’t they?

“I have nothing without her,” you said, your voice weak and barely audible.

“You have me,” Wanda replied and squeezed your hand, her voice gentle and hopeful and meant to comfort you. But in the midst of the soft coo of her voice, there was a twinge of doubt, a pang of sadness that squeezed at her heart. 

Her company did not mean to you what she wished it did. She wished you’d have realised just then that she was all you needed and that you could place your heart in her hands and trust her with it. She wanted you to decorate her face in kisses, to ask if you could stay with her through the night then wake up and have breakfast with her.

But she watched as her words only seemed to pass through you.

Tears pricked at Wanda’s eyes. 

You stared at the floor, sniffling occasionally with indiscernible thoughts running through your mind.

“You… you’re wonderful on your own, Y/N,” she told you. “You don’t…”

She chose her words carefully, feeling as though she was dangling from the precipice of confessing her feelings for you and inadvertently offending you.  

Wanda’s eyes ran down the curve of your nose, the twitching of your lips as you were deep in your thoughts, the scent of your apartment that was still on your clothes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” she said quietly.

Delicate fingers tucked your hair behind your ears in gentle adoration. You were the most precious thing in the world to her.

You wiped your face from your tears and took a deep breath, finally coming to the resolve that you just needed a break from the day. “I think I’m gonna go home and get some sleep,” you replied, standing up and stretching your arms.

It hurt Wanda that you didn’t have much response to her words that were perhaps some of the closest she’s ever gotten to confessing how she felt about you. But she couldn’t blame you; you were grieving, after all. 

It wasn’t the right time.

It was never the right time.

“Oh,” she uttered and stood up alongside you. “A-Are you sure? You could stay here if you want, and I’ll keep you company so you don’t have to go through this alone.”

You pushed your hair back and looked at her in a way that managed to express to her how grateful you were for the way she comforted you.

It made Wanda’s heart skip a few beats.

“I’m sure,” you said. “I… think I just need to sleep and think things over.”

She followed you to the front door then said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done more.”

“You really did help a lot,” you reassured and smiled at her, though Wanda knew you were still burdened with the weight of your breakup.

You stepped close and wrapped your arms around her. 

“You’re a really good friend, Wanda. Thank you,” you muttered against her shoulder.

Wanda raised her arms and hugged you tight around the waist, almost pleading for you to stay with her, to make you see how much she loved you in the way she held you close. After a moment she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her nose in your hair.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

You replied, “I love you too, Wands.”

Your words only shattered her heart further for she knew you didn’t, and never would, love her the way she loved you.

“Call me when you get home safe, okay?” Wanda called to you when you were eventually on your way to your car. 

You gave her a small smile over your shoulder in response and soon drove off down the road.

A painful hold tightened at Wanda’s chest and crept up her throat. Her eyes welled up with tears and once you were finally out of sight, she broke down.

She was such a fool.

Wanda sat on her couch after you left, crying into her hands, hating herself for thinking only of herself when it was you who was going through something.

Could she not even learn to be a good friend?

A part of her said that her life was long and that there would be other people she was yet to meet, love not yet reciprocated, a grand world out there with someone who’d love her as she did you.

But that would be the problem — love, in every form, would always circle back to you. She’d think of you in the arms of someone else, she’d see you in every prospective lover. You were the only one she dreamt of, the only one her heart longed for.

To Wanda, you were love.

It hurt terribly to be called a friend, to be the place you came to when you didn’t want to be reminded of romance. It hurt her to love you, to want you so much. But it hurt her most to know her love would be nothing more to you than a shoulder to cry on.

But if it came to it, Wanda would choose to be unloved by you in a dozen multiverses if it meant she could fall in love with you over and over, to be in your company even if you never looked her way.

She’d choose you until the end of her days.

She truly would.

[littlemissaddict]

Sick Day - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie notices that she’s not at school and goes looking for her. 

Word Count: 1806

A/n: This came about within about the space of an hour and yet again it is completely self indulgent as apparently I’m now craving hugs from Eddie when I’m sick. 

To say Eddie was surprised when she didn’t show up to school that day was an understatement. She had never missed a day of school since they had become friends way back in middle school when he’d first moved in with his uncle, he still remembers that first day he’d shown up in second hand clothes and his hair was buzz cut, some of the kids had tried to make friends but when his lack of interest in playing soccer or whatever else it was they had wanted him to do was known they had given up pretty quickly.

She hadn’t, she’d waltzed up to him with a warm smile on her face and asked him about the book that was clenched tightly in hands as if it was some comfort blanket. She’d sat and talked to him for the whole lunch period until the bell had gone and she left him with that same warm inviting smile with a hope of seeing him tomorrow. Awkwardly he had agreed, thinking she had meant that she’d see him around school so he thought nothing more of it until there she was, dressed in a cute skirt and white button up with pink cardigan yet there in her hands was her own tattered copy of Lord of the Rings. After that they had become quick friends and, despite a little resistance from her parents the first time he had come over to her house, they had been inseparable ever since.

Parking his van at the end of the driveway, he ignored the looks the neighbours gave him as he made his way up the pristine path towards her front door, knocking on it as soon as he was within reach. The door opened revealing her mom who gave her the same warm smile that her daughter gave him everyday.

He greeted her politely as he always did, despite her previous protests for him to use her name. “Is she okay, I noticed she wasn’t at school” he said, hoping it explained him unexpectedly dropping by.

“She’s fine just a little sick is all” her mom told him, her heart warmed every time she saw him show just how much he cared for her daughter and despite her friends always telling her of their displeasure with her association with him, she always ignored them and moments like this just goes to show she was right to because he was nothing like they said.

Eddie sighed in relief, everyone got sick he told himself but she was sick enough not to come to school so it must have been bad, right? “Can I see her?” he asked, his voice sounded feeble even to himself even though he knew she would be okay.

“Let me just see if she’s up for visitors” her mom nodded, letting him into the hallway and as she closed the door behind him she told him to wait there and she would go see. Two minutes later she was back in the hallway, nodding her consent to him, smiling when he thanked her. It wasn’t often her daughter was sick but after seeing the tiredness in her daughter's eyes disappear just that little bit at the mention of Eddie’s name then his visit would do her the world of good.

Climbing up the familiar surroundings of her family home, Eddie made a beeline straight for her room and even if he didn’t know which one it was the coughing he could hear would lead him straight to her. When he opened her bedroom door he could see just how tired she looked. She was propped up against the headboard with god knows how many pillows and the many blankets that covered the bed were pulled up just under her chin but despite all that she smiled as soon as her eyes found him.

“Eddie” she croaked out his name before dissolving into another coughing fit, her body shaking with the force of it as she buried her face into the blankets.

“Hey shh, don’t get yourself all worked up for little old me” he joked, trying to lighten her mood and he guessed it worked as once the coughing had subsided she looked a little brighter, although her eyes were glazed over with tears from all the coughing she’d just done. Bringing a hand out from her little blanket fort, she dried her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt before she opened her arms to him.

He knew exactly what she was expecting and he couldn’t turn her down at the best of times, let alone when she looked so small and vulnerable when she was sick. He sat next to her on the bed as she practically launched herself onto him, pulling him in for a much needed hug as she let him wrap his arms around her middle and rub them softly up and down her back comfortingly. “Jesus sweetheart your nose is like ice” he chuckled as she nuzzled her face into his neck causing him to flinch at the coldness.

“Mhmm” she hummed as she pulled away and bundled the blankets up around her again, “can’t get warm” she pouted, her body shivering as if on cue with her words.

He hated seeing her suffering, it always broke his heart when she was upset. Didn’t matter whether it was when they were kids and she fell over on the gravel outside his trailer and grazed her knees or when she turned up on his doorstep, makeup running from her tears when her first boyfriend broke her heart or right now snuggled up in bed with wet eyes and pouty lips shivering under a pile of blankets. The truth was he loved her, though he still hadn’t figured out if it was a protective brotherly type of love or the romantic kind but it didn’t matter, the statement still stood true.

“Hey I uh have an idea” he said as he toed his sneakers off, leaving them neatly at the end of her bed and shrugging his leather jacket off which he draped over her desk chair before coming back to the bed. “Scoot forward a little” he instructed and she did as he asked, shuffling forward and whimpering when the air hit her back leaving her feeling colder than she already was.

“Eddie, what’re you doing?” she asked, confused as he settled on the bed, directly behind her with his legs on either side of her so that she was now sitting in between them. 

“Cuddling duh” he teased, motioning for her to lean back. She hesitated for a second, sure they cuddled often, hell they had even shared a bed plenty of times but this felt different, intimate in a way that she couldn’t describe. However the allure of his body heat was too much for her to resist for long and she sunk back against him, letting him pull the blankets back up around her and he cocooned her in when he left his arms on top of the blankets so they rested under his armpits.

“This is nice” she hummed, snug under the blanket with his warm chest pressed against her back as she let her hands rest on his knees under the covers as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Warm enough?” he had started to ask when he felt one of her cold hands dip under the rip in his jeans to rest against the bare skin of his knee and it ended with him hissing at her icy touch. The giggle that came from her was worth it though, until like before her body was racked with coughs and all he could do was hold her until they passed.

“Sorry” she muttered when they’d passed, feeling sorry for herself again as she tucked her face into the crook of his neck.

While he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was fighting back tears as he could hear how her breathing changed, the slowly steady breath now irregular and the rise of her chest confirmed he was right. “No, no you don’t have to be sorry at all” he spoke quietly in hopes of soothing her as his hand awkwardly came up to run through her hair and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. “You know there’s no place I’d rather be than with my favourite girl” he added, in hopes that it would make her smile but also because it was true.

Favourite girl? If she was feeling herself, she would have pushed the topic and teased him until he revealed what it meant because she knew he couldn’t keep anything from her even if he tried but right now she was too tired so she settled for a weak, “Even when she’s ill and stealing your body heat”

“Even then” Eddie had replied with a smile that she could hear in his voice rather than see and it settled her self loathing for now. “How about I read to you, Uncle Wayne always used to read to me when I was ill and it helped take my mind off being sick” he suggested, his arms squeezing tighter around her and tightening the hug until she was nodding and then he reached over onto her nightstand for her copy of Lord of the Rings that she always kept there instead of on her bookcase with the rest of her books.

“This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history.” Eddie begins, his eyes focused on the page as he reads the prologue and he hears her hum in content as she melts further against him as he reads on.

Two hours later, her mom comes into the room to see how they’re doing and is only half surprised to find her daughter asleep in Eddie’s arms and Eddie himself asleep with his head lolled back against the stack of pillows. Her eyes finding the book that lay face down on the bed, she smiles as she gently picks it up and soothes down a couple of the bent pages from where it fell as she knew how much it means to her daughter before she deposits it back on the nightstand. She turns the light off as she closes the door behind her, wondering to herself as she always did when she saw the two of them together how long it would take them to realise their feelings for each other as it seems that they were the only two oblivious to their feelings. Either way whatever they chose she knows that as long as her daughter has Eddie in her life she will be well looked after and loved.

[renren-006]

The Hearts Want | Daryl Dixon x reader

Summery: you just cant get him out of your heart. good thing he likes you too, maybe more than you thought

word count: 1806

warning: smutttttyyyy

a/n: ahhhh i just love daryl so much!!!

It was another hot day in the Prison. The heat of summer makes your skin crawl with sweat. You sat out by the picnic tables in the common area. You sat watching the man that was constantly on your mind. 

“He's older than you,” Carol pointed out. You knew this, of course you did. It was the one thing that constantly went through your mind whenever you looked over towards the archer.

“I know” You answered, already knowing that some of the members from the other community would rag on you for ever being with him, not that you were.

 Daryl had found you in the woods back on the Green farm, you were paranoid, lost and convinced you were going crazy. You were a little older than Beth and just around Maggie's age, but you stayed away from the older Green. Beth became your best friend, saving you from yourself more times than you can point out. While you may be older than her the two of you lived in your youth around each other. 

“He's Daryl, he’s harmless plus the world did kinda end” Beth said from beside you at the table. It was just the three of you today, Sasha and Michonne being off somewhere. 

“You girls know I trust Daryl, he’s my pookie but he’s weird with feelings”' Carol defended, knowing we only meant to point out the obvious about Daryl. He was a recluse, only hanging around a few and you had only just started to crack his shell.

“He's just so stubborn but so…” You started, your words drifting off not being able to fully say the rest of the sentence out loud. 

“Attractive?” Beth supplied for me, you nodded your head. He was handsome and lord did you want to know what he could do with his hands.  “Omg stop” Beth squealed from beside you. 

“What?” you asked, shocked by your friend's outburst. 

“You are thinking about what he would do to you” Beth exclaimed loudly, followed by your hands covering her mouth. The two of you continued to wrestle with each other until the man in question approached the table.

“You girls fighitn’ ov’r here?” He asked, the southern drawl coming out heavy.. You swallowed slowly. Beth kicked you from under the table, you hissed and clutched your leg. “You good darling?” he asked, using that damn nickname again. 

“Oh…yea im fine” you told him hesitantly, a small blush crept up your cheeks, making it look like the sun's heat was getting to you. Beth snickers fom beside you. Carol was here to save the day, and more importantly save you. 

“I think the girls should go help out Lori with the laundry, hm?” she questioned. You both shot up from the table, saying a small goodbye and dashing back inside the prison to a little bit of cooler air. Carol still sat, and Daryl joined her. He didn't say anything at first, still wondering why you had been acting weird around him.

“It's not my place to tell you so don’t ask'' Carol started, “but the girl has a special place in her heart for you, so don't be mean to her pookie." She stood up from the table, leaving a startled Daryl and walked away.

The days following Carol's words to Daryl he started over thinking many things, the way you looked at him, the small touches, even the way you walked. Every single thing you did clouded his mind till he knew he was in trouble. He figured that it was some sort of cold, then he realized it wasn't a cold that was making him hot it was you. For a week he let his feelings be mulled over, and after having many conversations with Carol and Rick about it he knew he had fallen hard for you. The two of you had not hung out in a while, courtesy of Daryl avoiding you, but you figured he was busy and not that he was grossed out by you. Daryl also avoided you knowing that he was older than you and thinking that it wasn't a good thing to be attracted to a woman significantly younger than himself, but Daryl continued to watch you. He watched you leaving the prison, watched you enter all the while you didn't see any of the looks he gave you. He did this for weeks, just watching you still afraid of the things going through his head. 

“Oh pookie” Carol said to her best friend. Darly shook his head. 

“Ah! how could i ‘av been so stupid?” Darly asked her, she smiled at him.

“Your not stupid Daryl, just a little blind” She told him, when you walked out of the door to the prison Daryl's eyes immediately found yours. You smiled over at him, someone probably Sasha called your attention away from him and you walked down the gravel path towards the gate. He trailed your body with his eyes, watching the shape of your ass walk away from him. Carol got up and stood beside him, pushing him in your direction. She nodded, giving him a bit of encouragement.

“She’s not going to reject you,”Carol assured the man. 

“What if she does?” he asked

“She wont” Carol said, giving him another push. Daryl kept his eyes on you watching the way your hips moved or the placement of your hands. You were talking to Sasha about another potential run for supplies further out, you were willing to go with but needed to check in with Beth and the others in case you had another job they wanted you to do. You didn't want to admit it but you hoped Daryl would be going as well. Daryl walked down the path towards the two of you, Sasha waved him over.

“Hey, I'm trying to get some people to go on another run further out tomorrow. I need you man, your good out there” Sasha told him. He glanced at you.

“You goin’?” he asked, you looked back at Sasha who had some sort of mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Yea, I was planning on it” You told him, he nodded.

“Good, ill see ya’ tomorrow then” he said, walking back up the hill towards Carol.

When the sun rose Sasha, Daryl, Michonne, Bob and yourself met up at the gate. You had on your jeans, a tank and a flannel shirt to keep the sun and the bugs off your arms. The heat of the morning was variable, seeing as the sun hadn't gotten to peak height just yet. You carried your bag with you, loaded with water and a few cans of beans, your hip had your gun holster and an assortment of knives on your belt and boots. You could never be unprepared going out into the world you lived in now. Daryl took in your appearance, turned on by just the sight of you standing there with all your equipment. Once the car was loaded Daryl offered for you to ride with him. 

“I don't want to be a burden, I can just ride with everyone else” You told him, he shook his head.

“Nah” Daryl said, “I want ya’ to ride with me.” You hopped on the back of his motorcycle, and hugged his middle, once you got comfortable, and felt the flex of his mussel under his shirt. He didn't flinch, and he didn't move when your hands roamed a little. When the journey started you didn't realize how much the rumble of the motorcycle engine could entice you, or even the way he felt while you were hugging him. Daryl knew that if you stayed on the bike long enough he may have you unraveling. He knew what he did to you, because he watched you too often to know about the hungry looks you gave him. Beth would often slap your arm or flick your head when you were lost in thoughts about him. It made him want you closer, just thinking about the way your eyes looked at him, or the way your mouth contorted when you thought about him long enough. When the group had stopped for the night, in one of the town they had scavenge everyone stayed in the two closest houses. Daryl, Michonne and yourself in one ad the other had Sasha and Bob in the other. The whole night you wished you were next to him, drawing a straggled wine from your mouth. The room you were in was cold, no one else was staying with you since the only bed was yours.  Michonne took the room downstairs while you and Daryl took the rooms upstairs. You heard one of the bored squeak outside your door, and a soft nok came from it. You walked over to the door and opened it to find Daryl standing outside your door. 

“Daryl?” you asked. Before any more words could leave your mouth he kissed you. It was needy, sweat and a little rough. You felt him move forward making you cling to him and follow his movements. He shut the door behind you before continuing the kiss he had started. You didn’t question it, your mind to hazzy now from the breathless kisses with Daryl. He moved to lay you down on the bed, his hands came to roam over you.

“Woman, you have any idea how many times a day I wanted to do this?” he asked you, feeling his hands all over your skin, he started a trail of kisses down your neck till he found your sweet spot. “How i wanted to see you unravel on my bike, make you ride it out behind me?” His words sent a moan out of your mouth and shivers to travel down to your core. You felt hot in your clothes and attempted to rip them off. Daryl however stopped you, taking the lead by taking them off you himself. “I want to see you squirm, Y/N, I want to see you unravel underneath me as I take you” he told you, and you only nodded our heads. “I need confirmation sweetheart or ill stop right now”

“Yes! Please Daryl” you moaned, you wanted all of him, his mouth, his voice, the throbbing feeling of your core didn’t stop and you couldn't take it. Cloths ended up on the floor and Daryl crouched over you watching you breath. You nodded your head, waiting to feel him inside you. Both of your breathing increased and the moans coming from both of you filled the room. He helped you ride out your orgasm and you did the same for him. His hands fell from your hips and the two of you collapsed on to the bed.

“God Darlin, you really are somthn’’” Daryl said to you.

[armagnac-army]

Antiphony

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·— ( 1 ) @beausoleil-de-bellune —·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

The vulgarities that erupted from Lannes upon seeing his aide so injured- or altered- would have made a statue blush. He very quickly orders Thomières to the infirmary. Then, he and Soult inspect the letter.

Soult: Some of the words are smudged.

Lannes: just because youre paranoid after those fucking riddles!

Soult: It pays to pay attention. Former viscountess, aides-de-camp, domestics, stable... and he wants to know about where you are.

Lannes: so this is clearly some enemy bullshit

Soult: We will need to tread carefully. Ceasing communications would be prudent... but we must assess the situation.

Lannes: THEY TOOK HIS FUCKING MOUTH

Lannes: ... he was with victor a little before he was with me

Lannes: thats probably why he was well received

Soult: You will not like what I have to suggest.

Lannes: you fucking asshole.

Soult: We need to send him back with the reply. We can't risk this happening to someone else, and perhaps it is because of his preexisting connection to Marshal Victor that your message was received more positively.

Lannes: fuck you.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Date: 17 Decembre, 1806

Dear general,

You have sent my ADC back to me in quite a state! i know that he was once one of yours, but i will have to ask you to not mistreat him so! Or perhaps it is not your fault if the roads between you and I are so perilous and they are very perilous with all this damn snow and cossacks about!

I've been forced to collaborate with Marshal Soult with our corps stationed as close to the enemy as we can get, theyre trying our defenses and we think they're plotting something, but we're managing to hold the line against them. We've been blessed with the patronage of the locals, which is a surprise in this damn desolate place! Making connections is vital in this war that we fight.

Do you remember the poems that you sent me earlier this year from denmark, written by your secretary to the glory of our Emperor? "What is your hope and your ambition?" For some reason i find myself contemplating that line.

What do you take of this?

You can always count on my esteem,

Maréchal Lannes

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

Lannes: lets see if he calls bullshit because you were nowhere near me at that time.

Soult: He can ascribe it to your illness.

Lannes: you know how fucking shitty the situation was at the time

Lannes: no bread all my men gettin sick napoleon getting shitty with me about the stettin funds.

Lannes: victor should be glad im not bitching about all that to him now.

Soult: What is that about the poem?

Lannes: were trying to get more information any way we can

Lannes: arent we?

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

[sleepiexx]

The Love of my Life and my Worst Enemy Pt.2

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Link to Pt.1

Note: if I get so much as one person interested in another part of this I will write it, do not tempt me or so help me god

Summary: Valeria and (Y/N) escape prison and live happily ever after mwah

Warnings: guns, wound cleaning, kinda angsty at some parts, prison escape, Valeria kills a few people whoopsie

Word count: 1806

The plan was carried out without a hitch, not that (Y/N) knew that, she wasn’t sure exactly what the plan was. All she knew was her own role in it; a countermeasure Valeria had in place just in case she was double crossed.

She didn’t even know when it would happen, just that she needed to be ready. Valeria woke her in the middle of the night, whispering quickly, “Come on, (Y/N), it’s time.”

She shuffled off the top bunk and to her feet quickly. She dug into the underside of Valeria’s mattress, pulling out a small device. It wasn’t the best hiding place but Valeria had somehow found out that there wouldn’t be a room check for another few days, enough time for them to set things in motion.

The device was a makeshift service jammer, something of (Y/N)‘s own design. It would cut comms between the prison officers just long enough that Valeria could lead the both of them to the control room and cut the power. That wasn’t the endgame, however. That was just to buy (Y/N) time; in the dark, Valeria would make her way back to their room where she would “distract” the guards with a shank she’d acquired. In the mean time, (Y/N) would work diligently to get the prison gates open. It took some time but she managed, waiting patiently in the control room for Valeria to come get her.

A rhythmic knock sounded at the door, one she and Valeria had agreed on. She opened the door to be greeted by the blood-soaked cartel leader on the other side.

“Did you do it?”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Of course I did it.”

Valeria grinned and patted her shoulder, leaving behind a bloody handprint, “I knew you had it in you. Now come on, my men are waiting for us.”

(Y/N) nodded and followed Valeria.

“You know how to use a gun?” Valeria asked.

“Aim and pull the trigger?”

Valeria exhaled through her nostrils, holding up the gun and messing with the safety.

“Safety on.” She switched the lever, “Safety off. Use it wisely, it’s a pistol so there isn’t a lot of ammo to waste.”

(Y/N) nodded and reached her hand out for Valeria to pass it to her, but Valeria didn’t move, she had more to show.

“This is how you reload your weapon, time it out so you always have a bullet in the chamber when you need it. Don’t shoot me, don’t shoot any of my men. Understand?”

(Y/N) nodded her head, something that displeased Valeria.

“I need words. Do you understand?”

“Yes- yeah, yeah I do.” (Y/N) stuttered out in response, taken aback by her cell mate’s menacing demeanor despite having experienced it many times in the short span they’d known each other.

Valeria nodded and passed her the pistol.

(Y/N) watched Valeria’s back as she mowed down seasoned prison guards like they were nothing but a bunch of rookies. (Y/N) had never been so scared yet so turned on by a woman in her entire life.

She never had to shoot anyone, by the time Valeria took down all the guards in their immediate vicinity, her men in the cartel had appeared to back them up.

They were escorted to two separate aircrafts waiting outside the prison for them. The men loaded up on the large cargo plane, (Y/N) went to follow but was tugged away by Valeria.

“They aren’t wanted people, they’re going back to Las Almas. You and me, however, need to wait this out elsewhere.” Valeria explained, pulling (Y/N) toward a helicopter.

They sat in seats lining the wall. It was just them along with the pilot and co-pilot. (Y/N) fiddled with the seat belt, unsure of how exactly to fasten it.

“Never flown before?” Valeria questioned.

“Well, uhm, not in a chopper.” (Y/N) admitted.

Valeria unclipped her seat belt, walking towards (Y/N) to fasten it for her. (Y/N)’s air caught in her lungs at the proximity, feeling Valeria’s knuckles graze her torso as she fastened the belt.

“There,” Valeria muttered, raising her voice shortly after to speak to the pilot, “We’re ready for takeoff!”

The flight felt like hours, it likely was. The wind whipped through (Y/N)’s hair as the loud noise of the chopper whirring rang in her ears. As they finally touched down, (Y/N) took in her surroundings. Large trees, mountains, signs with English on them. It looked like they were in the U.S., probably somewhere in the Rockies.

She followed Valeria’s lead as they walked towards a car. Valeria sat in the drivers seat, (Y/N) in the passenger side, neither said a word as they drove away from the private aircraft hangar.

Finally, they reached their destination. Tucked away in one of Valeria’s lavish safe houses, the two were alone.

Valeria tossed her some clothes, they were fairly plain and a size or two larger than what (Y/N) was used to wearing.

“Put those on, can’t stay in the jumpsuit forever.”

(Y/N) wondered if she should ask where a bathroom is to change but shook that idea away when Valeria herself started stripping in the middle of the living room. She hesitantly took off her clothes, wincing slightly as her sore body finally felt the full extent of the torture she’d endured.

In prison, she was almost in a state of shock, still hardly feeling the effects of what Katya had done to her. Now, though, the adrenaline of the break out slowly wore off and everything hurt.

She slipped on the pants quickly, tying the drawstring so they fit. As she reached for her shirt, she was stopped by a gentle caress. She turned, meeting eyes with Valeria.

“She did this to you?” Valeria seethed, gently tracing the dark purple bruises, inflamed cuts, and burn marks along (Y/N)’s torso.

(Y/N) was at a loss for words, mortified that Valeria had seen her like that, had seen her weakness. In prison, she’d made sure to never change in front of Valeria. No one needed to know exactly what had happened, how she couldn’t fight back, how weak she’d been.

(Y/N) saw no point in lying, dejectedly nodding.

Valeria’s eyes softened before hardening once more into a glare, filled with rage.

“I’ll kill her.” She muttered, not a threat but a promise.

She tugged on (Y/N)’s wrist, pulling her to another room. She led (Y/N) into what looked like the master bedroom of the large house, continuing into the bathroom.

(Y/N) watched as she rummaged through the cabinets for a first aid kit. As she wet a cotton pad and dabbed it on one of the wounds, (Y/N) flinched away.

“What- what are you doing?”

“You do not want those getting infected, trust me.” Valeria said, pressing her to the counter so she couldn’t squirm away and returning to cleaning off (Y/N)’s wounds.

As (Y/N) winced and whimpered at the stinging pain from the alcohol entering her cuts, Valeria showed compassion for the first time since they’d met. She grabbed one of (Y/N)’s hands, rubbing circles into her knuckles.

“Squeeze my hand, it’ll make it hurt less.”

So she did. She sat patiently as Valeria cleaned and dressed her wounds, frequently squeezing Valeria’s calloused hands. It wasn’t like she had any other option than to sit still, with Valeria’s hips pressed firmly against her own, keeping her in place. It was tough love, something Valeria had mastered.

(Y/N) felt vulnerable, weak, exposed. Shame soaked her to her very core. As if it had been her own fault that everything had happened. If she hadn’t been so stupid, so trusting, so naive, maybe, just maybe she could have foreseen Katya’s betrayal. Her eyes watered in utter embarrassment.

Valeria patted her hip, pulling her out of her stupor, “I’m done, you can go put on your shirt now. I’m going to clean all of this up.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Thank you,” she muttered, afraid to speak any higher at the chance of her voice breaking.

She walked all the way back to the living room, where her shirt had been left on the couch. Finally alone, she couldn’t stop the flow of tears from coming down. She tossed the shirt on quickly and tried hard to calm herself. Rubbing her eyes in hopes they’d stop crying before wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her sides. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lip so she wouldn’t let out a sob. A hand touched her back but at this point, she was too far gone to care about Valeria seeing her cry.

She expected rejection, expected Valeria to see her tears and scoff at how weak she was. And yet, Valeria’s touch was nothing but gentle and soft, pulling (Y/N) into her arms, allowing her to sob into her shoulder. After a long silence with no noise but the sounds of crying, Valeria finally spoke.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

(Y/N) sobbed harder, half out of raw pain and half out of relief.

God, it felt so nice to feel the loving caress of another human being for the first time in nearly a month. (Y/N) unwrapped her arms from around herself and wrapped them around Valeria’s waist, pulling her in tight.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” She whined.

Valeria moved her hand up and down her back, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

(Y/N) stood there for a long while, tear stained face buried in Valeria’s shoulder as her body was wracked with sobs. Valeria muttered hushed reassuring words, which eventually soothed the other girl to a calm state, still hiccuping, but no longer sobbing.

“So strong.” Valeria whispered, “Everything that vile woman put you through and you’re still standing. I’m proud of you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. She lifted her head from Valeria’s shoulder and gazed into her eyes. She felt a hurricane of emotions brewing, in the eye, longing. She went with her gut, leaning in slowly, giving Valeria time to pull away if she wanted, before meeting her lips in a tender kiss. It was slow, and soft, but it lasted. Lips moving in sync, speaking a million words that they hadn’t dared to utter. Even as they broke apart, the touch of it lingered on either girls’ lips.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight, but fuck I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.” (Y/N) murmured. Valeria silenced her with another kiss.

The rest of that night was passed exchanging kisses on the couch, forever altering the course of both of their lives.

[thatfragilecapricorn30]

Fic Friday (23)

Title: Eating Palms

Author: sculderandmully

Word Count: 1806

AO3 Description: mulder and scully put together a puzzle after a hard case. fluff, so fluffy.

My thoughts: A precious fic of our two favorite agents de-stressing after a tough case. It's short, but sweet, so go read it!

Enjoy! Tagging @today-in-fic

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Late Night Comfort

Summary - Part 6 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic)

Warnings - mentions of periods, nausea, smut, mild swearing

Word Count: 1806

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. This one gets a little emotional, I literally cried while writing it. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

You wake up to an empty bed, and a spread of crackers, soup and an electrolyte drink on your nightstand. As you slowly try to fill your stomach your mind drifts back to when Dean was holding you and feeding you this same meal just days ago. You reach for your phone and call your caring, green-eyed fiancé to thank him for the meal; he answers on the second ring.

“Hey baby, where are you?”

“Just out … I thought I’d uh give you some space. But uh, make sure you eat and drink as much as you can. I’ll come back soon and pick you up and we can hit the road again,” he says before hanging up.

You really were pushing him away, you wonder just how long before he leaves you completely.

What if he asks me to move out of the bunker? Where would I go? I’d literally be barefoot, potentially pregnant and on the street with all the evil. At least if grief doesn’t kill me something else will. I wouldn’t suffer long. 

It’s not long before Dean walks in, interrupting the voice in your head. He notices you’ve barely touched the food or drink and almost slips onto the bed beside you, but he stops himself a few steps short.

“You ready to go?”

You look down at the food and drink in your lap hoping he’ll take the hint and come and hold you like the other day, but when he stays put you just nod and move it all back to the nightstand. 

“Where’s Sam?”

“Waiting in the car. Get dressed and you can meet us out there, and you’re riding shotgun so I can keep an eye on you. You can push me away all you want and I promise I’ll try to stop being so smothering, but you can’t ask me to stop worrying about you.” 

You look up just in time to see his red-rimmed eyes before he turns around and walks outside. Leaving you naked, nauseous and alone in the cold room. You quickly stand up and get dressed, grabbing the drink and crackers along with your bag before leaving. 

You curl up and lean against the window, cradling the drink and crackers in your lap as you let the classic rock music and steady purr of the engine wash over you for the next few hours. You keep your eyes fixed on the road ahead of you, not daring to look at your concerned fiancé. But you can feel him looking at you every so often, but he never makes a move to touch you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s well after dark when Dean finally parks the car in the bunker’s garage. You’re slow to get out, stretching every one of your stiff, sore muscles as you do. You toss the empty packet and bottle in the bin as you pass, moving to your and Dean’s room. You almost stop a door short debating whether to sleep alone. But you can’t pass up the comfort of having the older hunter beside you, even if he refuses to cuddle. When he joins you in your room moments later the tension in the air is thick. You can tell there’s so much he wants to say but like you, he’s too scared to open his mouth.

You turn to grab one of his flannels and a clean pair of underwear from the drawers when he finally breaks the silence. “Please, just tell me where I went wrong?”

Your heart sinks at his words. Dropping the clothes you rush over to him with tears in your eyes, taking his hands in yours. “Nothing, nowhere, baby.”

“Really? Because you can barely look at me anymore, let alone talk to me. I had to all but beg you to touch me. I know I suck at the dating thing, and I’m obviously even worse at the fiancé thing. Just tell me what to do. Please … please just tell me how to fix it.”

Tears fall down both of your cheeks. “You can’t …” As the words leave your mouth he tries to pull away but you tighten your grip. “You can’t fix it because you didn’t break us … I did. I’ve been so scared of losing you that I didn’t realise how much I’ve actually been pushing you away.” You lead him towards the bed urging him to take a seat beside you. You turn to face him as he follows you, never letting his hands out of yours. 

Unsure how else to fix the rift growing between you, you breathe out, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Dean looks up at you but stays silent, giving you a chance to elaborate. 

“I’ve had this feeling for a while now, and then the morning sickness started, and the mood swings … and I am just so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do. I’m not ready and I don’t want to trap you into something you don’t want …”

“Trap me?” He can’t stop himself from pulling you into his lap, his hands wiping away your tears as they continue to fall. “No, sweetheart, a baby would be a blessing, not a trap. Sure it’s sooner than expected but it’s on the path we planned to follow eventually anyway, right?”

“I don’t even know for sure. I mean, I haven’t tested or anything, it’s just a hunch.”

“Well, how about we do that first thing in the morning then? Once we know for sure, we can start moving forward accordingly.”

You nod and Dean picks you up and carries you into the bathroom. He sits you on the counter while he moves swiftly around the room running a bubble bath. Once the tub’s almost full he helps you strip before setting you down in the water. You watch as he strips himself and slots in behind you. You just sit there enjoying the warmth and comfort in silence for a while, until Dean breaks it quietly.

“How long have you known, or suspected?”

“A few weeks.”

“Before I proposed?”

You nod as you play with his fingers under the water.

“We talked for hours that night, we even talked about children and our future. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I … I guess I was just scared. I didn’t know for sure, I still don’t. And I was really enjoying the night and your company and I didn’t want to ruin it. In hindsight, if I did, you probably wouldn’t have proposed.”

“I disagree. I think I would have. It just would have given me even more reason to.”

“You would have done it for the wrong reasons. You would have done it out of duty.”

“I would have done it because I love you. The same reason I did do it.”

You turn around in the tub, straddling your fiancé’s sexy bow legs. You bring your lips to his as your hands roam his body from his head to his waist, his hands doing the same to you. You make out until the water starts to feel cold against your skin, and then Dean lifts you out and carries you back to bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies barely separate as he lays you both down on the soft memory foam mattress. His lips start to explore your neck searching for your sweet spot as you grind your hips against him. When he sucks the skin right below your ear you let out a moan, causing him to suck harder and rut his hips against yours.

He whispers a groan by your ear, “I’ve missed you, baby. I’ve missed this. You’re so perfect.”

He continues his journey down your body, leaving wet kisses along the way: over your chest, paying special attention to your tender breasts before moving down your stomach and hips, he skips over the place you want the most and trails down the inside of your thighs, calves and even your feet before moving back up to your throbbing core. He leaves a few tender kisses there before moving back to your lips. 

“I love every inch of your body, you’re so beautiful and perfect. And you taste amazing! I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he says as he reaches for the nightstand drawer blindly. You run your hand along his arm bringing it back to your body.

“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that. I just want to feel all of you tonight, Dean. I need to feel you.”

He leans down and catches your lips in a deep kiss and he reaches down and lines himself up and smoothly enters you in one move. You let out a low moan against each other’s lips as he starts to move. You both know this won’t last long; it’s been too long. 

It’s not like anything you’ve ever shared before: it’s slow and tender and each movement is filled with all the love and devotion you feel for each other. You’ve never felt so in love or connected to the man above you. 

After a while, his movements start to stutter. “Come on, baby, I need you to cum with me.”

You let go at his words, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you as he rides you through it before joining you. You’re not used to the sensation of him exploding inside you like this, the only other time it’s ever happened you were too drunk to remember it, but you know you’ll never forget tonight. When his hips come to a stop he rolls you both over, laying you on his chest as you catch your breath. Feeling fully content you drift off to sleep in his arms.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up naked in Dean’s arms. You glance up at his sleeping features as you reminisce on the passionate night you shared. And for the first time in years, you actually let yourself believe that everything is gonna be alright. No matter what curve balls life throws at you, you know you and Dean will catch them and ride them out together. 

After a while, you start to leave kisses along his chest causing him to stir. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says without opening his eyes. “Are you angling for a round two? Or are you gonna let me take you out for breakfast?”

“This feels like Deja Vu… except this time the answer is yes.”

“To which option?”

“Both?”

“That’s the perfect answer, let’s take a shower and then we can head out.”

“Perfect.”

Dean kisses the top of your head before tilting your face so your lips meet his. He lifts you swiftly, his lips barely leaving yours as he carries you into the shower, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308

[tropes-and-tales]

Rematch

December 9:  Coat/Bundle - Blind Date (Frankie Morales x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Slight angst; slight fluff.  Squint to find the “coat” and “bundle.”

Word Count:  1806

AN:  A sequel to this!

AN2:  Requested by anon!

Frankie tries to move on.  He goes to work, he goes home.  He takes his daughter on the weekends and tries to create memories with her even if she is so young.  He takes her to parks, plays with her, snuggles on the couch when she’s drowsy.

Those are just the weekends.  His weekdays are lonely and bleak, but he drives forward.  He keeps working at his recovery.  He doesn’t let the darkness push against him too much.

It’s a month later when Tom and Pope try to make plans with him.  There’s a new brewery in town, and they cajole Frankie for a guys’ night out.  It takes a lot of convincing; Frankie’s not feeling especially social, but he finally agrees to it.

He realizes way too late that he’s been set up.  He should have known better.  Tom was just a shade too eager to go out, and Pope was just a shade too curious about Frankie’s arrival time.  

When Frankie arrives at the brewery, he doesn’t see the guys.  He stands awkwardly near the entrance and cranes his neck to see if he can find them…but he finds you instead.  You’re sitting alone at a table, and you’re looking right at him with an expression of resigned dread.

Frankie’s phone pings:  a message from Tom.

She wanted to apologize, Fish.

Then one from Pope.  Wouldn’t hurt to hear her out.

Frankie may be a lot of things, but he’s a nice guy.  Other men, egos wounded, may have turned and walked out or stayed and made a scene.  But Frankie offers you a small smile from across the room and then goes to join you.

****

To say you feel terrible would be an understatement.

You feel awful.  You feel like the lowest, rudest piece of shit to ever walk the earth.

You never meant for Frankie to overhear you, but that’s the thing—the lesson your mother tried to instill in you:  never say something behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t be willing to say to their face.

At the party, after Frankie left, Tom was the one to chew you out.  He pulled you aside, let you know that Frankie overheard your unkind words.  He gave you an exhaustive list of why the man was a good one, one of the best, and when you got home that night, you cried.

You hated to hurt people, especially perfectly nice, perfectly kind people like Frankie had seemed to be.

And he does seem perfectly kind, because he has no good reason not to turn around and leave or to march up to your table and yell at you, but he doesn’t do either of those things.  He walks over and sits down, and he even manages a smile.  It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s something.

*****

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for the subterfuge.”  You pause, swallow nervously.  “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again, so I asked Tom to set this up.”

“You could have just texted me.  Gotten my number, you know?”

You nod.  “Yeah, but I wanted to apologize, and a text apology is lame.  Or a phone call.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Stop.”  You hold up a hand to silence him.  “Yes, I do.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard from a woman.”

You frown.  “It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize to you though.”  You reach down into the empty seat beside you, and you pull out a mixed bouquet of flowers.  You lay them gently in front of him, the little bundle of cheerful orange and yellow flowers.  

It’s absurd:  flowers as an apology, flowers gifted to a man from a woman…Frankie’s never gotten flowers before, but he finds himself touched by the gesture.  Charmed by it.  He reaches out and touches the velvety petals and wonders at the warmth of someone who would buy flowers for the person who could serve them a helping of crow.  He murmurs his thanks, and you murmur back that it’s nothing, it’s the least you can do.

He sits back in his chair and fixes you with a curious look.  “You know, just setting this up is more than enough.  I appreciate the gesture.”

“Can I buy you a beer?” you ask, looking around the room for your waitress.  “And something to eat?  Can I at least do that?”

He looks at you a beat longer and then nods.  “Yeah, sure.  That’d be nice.”

-----

There’s a moment early on when Frankie looks at you, and you gaze back at him so earnestly—pleading for a chance to apologize, so sincere that it seems like you might cry…he actually feels ashamed of himself.

That this entire thing became a thing.  That you stewed for a month while he wallowed.  That Tom and maybe Molly too gave you hell.  It wasn’t like you’d said anything overtly rude.  You had just expressed a desire to not get involved with a recently-divorced father.  Who could blame you?

He’s ashamed that this got blown up on his behalf, that you felt like you needed to trick him into a blind date (though he’s not sure it counts, since it was only blind on one side) to apologize.

But when you each get a beer in you, and when you split an order of loaded nachos, the tension between you eases and he finds that he’s enjoying himself.  Against all odds.

And he finds that he can listen to your apology, finally.

“I am really sorry, Frankie,” you say, and you look him in the eye when you say it.  No blinking, no glancing away.  “It was unfair of me to say those things about you.”

“You just said facts, though,” he replies softly.  “I am divorced.  I am a single father.”

“I put a value judgement around those facts with my tone.”

“Eh.”  He shrugs, reaches for another tortilla chip.

“Frankie, I hurt your feelings.  I feel terrible about it.”

He chews, swallows.  Takes a sip of beer and shrugs again.  “It’s okay.”

“Look.”  You lean forward, hands on the table and you look at him.  “I really enjoyed our conversation that night.  But when you told me that you just got divorced, that you have a baby at home, I sorta panicked.  I’m not saying this as an excuse, because I did hurt your feelings and it’s inexcusable.  But I did the whole “date a single father” thing before, and it ended really badly.  He was military too.  It just felt like…”.  You trail off, shift your gaze towards the ceiling as you try to put it into words.

“It felt like history repeating itself?” Frankie offers, and your eyes snap back to him as you nod.

“Yes!  Exactly.”  You reach for your glass and take a deep swallow of beer, then continue.

“It just got overwhelming in the span of…minutes.  You and I split up for a bit—you went off to get more drinks—and it was just…runaway thoughts.  Like, here I am talking to this cute guy, and he’s super nice but he just got divorced and his daughter’s still a baby so his ex-wife is still in his life, and it just…felt like I’d be signing up for more heartache.  So I panicked and pulled Molly aside, and that’s what you overheard.  You overheard me reliving the past and thinking it was about to repeat itself.”

Frankie’s head gets a little big, hearing that you think he’s cute, but he nods seriously and asks, “what happened with the other guy?”

You drop your eyes down to the table, and you trace your finger through a ring of condensation there.  “He got back together with his ex-wife.  I did…oh, about two years with him, playing second mom.  I did the sleepless nights and diaper changes and that really shitty period where the baby’s molars were coming in rapid-fire…and then he just up and got back together with his ex.”

Frankie clucks his tongue in sympathy.  “And he was military too?”

“Army.”

“Ah.”

You sigh.  You glance at him and then drop your eyes again.  “That was a year ago.  I finally thought I might be ready to date again.  I asked Molly if she knew anyone and she mentioned you.  She didn’t give me much about your situation…”

Frankie sits back in his chair and studies you for a moment.  The misery is written all over your face as you gaze fixedly at the tabletop.  Molly gave him none of this backstory.  Not a single bit of it.

“Well, shit.”  He chuckles, and it pulls your gaze to him.  “No wonder you panicked.”

You smile ruefully.  “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s fine.  Really.”

You shake your head but the smile stays on your face.  “Can you just say you accept my apology?”

He smiles back at you, leans forward in his seat.  “I forgive you.”

-----

The rest of the evening is nice.  Maybe it doesn’t qualify as a date; maybe it was just a chance for you to apologize in person, but it’s still a nice evening out with a woman.  

The two of you commiserate about your failed relationships—you and your ex, Frankie and his marriage—and he feels that filament of hope flare up bright in him.  He understands how your past hurts drive you.  He thinks you maybe understand him a little bit too.

When the waitress brings the check, you reach out lightning-fast and swipe it from Frankie’s hand, and when he grumbles about it, you laugh and say “don’t you fucking even think about paying, buddy,” which makes him laugh too.

Frankie laughing with another woman.  The filament of hope burns brighter.

You each stand to leave, and when you struggle to pull your coat on, Frankie takes it from you, shakes it out.  Holds it for you, and it’s the briefest bit of touch—his fingertips against your shoulders—but it’s touch.  He hasn’t touched another woman since his ex-wife left him.

Outside, he walks you to your car and you linger, unsure how to part.  You kick at the gravel of the parking lot and then mutter, not quite able to meet his gaze, “so, you wanna meet up again sometime?”

Frankie’s been in plenty of scary situations with the military, but it occurs to him how terrifying this night must have been for you.  Despite Tom and Molly’s reassurances to his nature, this could have gone terribly.  You’re brave, he decides, to have wanted to make amends face-to-face, and you’re doubly brave now to put yourself out there and ask him out.  Now is the moment he could have his revenge if he wanted it, but he’s enjoyed his evening…

“Absolutely,” he says.  “Let me give you my number.”

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dead of the Night - Diluc (Part 4)

Author Notes: The fourth and final part of my Halloween/October fic series for Genshin Impact! Much of what applied to the other parts applies to this part as well. I wrote and edited this Vampire! AU series exclusively to "Is this Love" by Whitesnake which did kind of influence how this series came together. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Vampire! AU/ pining/ romance/ some drama/ fluff with a touch of angst

Word Count: 1806

{Part 1}, {Part 2}, {Part 3}, {Part 4: You're Here!}

Also available on AO3 (link deleted due to glitches)

Trigger Warning: Reader does get attacked by a vampire, but all is well.

“So what do you want to know about first, Y/n? His eating habits? Whether or not he sleeps in a coffin? Or perhaps how he’s still keeping the winery business going even though he can’t be out in the sun?”

Kaeya took the lead as he grinned at the two of us, who were now sitting side by side with only a slight bit of awkwardness.

Diluc, for his part, looked perfectly annoyed, and I couldn’t really blame him. He practically growled out Kaeya’s name, which didn’t seem to phase the cavalry captain in the slightest bit.

“Well this is important, Diluc. They have a right to know these things, and you can’t blame them for being curious,” Kaeya’s visible eye was filled with utter delight as he glanced towards me knowingly. But then he’d known that the rumor about my feelings for Diluc was far more accurate than I pretended it was for quite some time. Longer, in fact, than the rumor had been in circulation.

Diluc let out a sigh, which seemed to be a common thing for him when around Kaeya, before he twisted to look at me, “I don’t drink human blood.”

I stiffened slightly at his words. Surprised that he’d chosen that topic to start with, but I nodded slowly, “You aren’t starving yourself, are you?”

Diluc’s gaze softened from a mildly annoyed one to an expression that spoke of a certain degree of fondness. The same way he’d always looked at me, and that had never helped the feelings that I held for him.

Kaeya, for his part, was silent as he watched the two of us. But then he often was. 

Ever since we’d been young and he’d first found out how I felt for his brother Kaeya had, in his own way, been a sort of helper to me when it came to interacting with Diluc. 

Diluc shook his head, completely focused on me and ignoring his brother, who already had a smile starting to creep across his face, “No, I’ve been drinking animal blood.”

“Boars are a big issue for the farmers here, and, after Adeline pointed that out, I’m afraid they’ve been having a rough time,” Kaeya broke in with a grin that had Diluc looking over at him with an almost impatient expression.

But I looked between the two of them with no small amount of surprise, “So Adelinde knows too? Does anyone else, like Jean, or-”

“No. Everyone at the Dawn Winery, Kaeya, and now you. That’s it,” Diluc looked back at me as he explained patiently, and I fell silent. Surprised that Jean, of all people, didn’t know. After all, her and Diluc had always been so close.

“How's it feel to be part of such an intimate little group?” Kaeya’s eye sparkled as he looked towards where I sat. Both his expression and his words promised at least a little bit of trouble, which had Diluc frowning at him.

“Don’t tease them, Kaeya,” I almost smiled at Diluc’s stern tone as he eyed his brother. Because even after all this time, he still looked out for me in his own way. Shielding me from even Kaeya’s teasing, despite the fact that it hadn’t bothered me in a very long time.

But Kaeya shook his head, “Oh no, Diluc. I’m not teasing them; I’m just pointing out the truth. They’re one of the few in Mondstadt who know of your unique dietary restrictions, and I’m quite curious as to how they felt about that.” 

He turned to look at me, his eye narrowing as he smiled in an amused fashion, “It does make them quite a bit closer to you than they were before, after all.”

“Nonsense,” Diluc’s single-worded, firm response had both of us looking at him. Kaeya with steadily increasing amusement and me with confusion. But Diluc merely crossed his arms, continuing to frown at his brother as he finished, “I’ve always trusted Y/n, and that hasn’t changed.”

I could feel my eyes steadily widen at his words. I hadn’t realized that all this time he’d regarded me as someone he’d trusted. Especially since it had felt like there was such a vast distance between us for so long now. 

Perhaps it really had been me that was keeping their distance from him even, if I hadn’t realized it.

Kaeya shook his head, ever the devil’s advocate, “Things haven’t changed for you, but they might have for Y/n.” Again, he fixed me with a pointed look, and I realized the exact purpose Kaeya had for this entire visit. Meddling man that he was in his own caring way.

“No, I trust Diluc. I always have, and I always will.” I turned to look at Diluc as I spoke. Glancing his way just in time to see him looking at me in surprise. Mirroring my previous reaction to his words.

Perhaps neither of us had known the other as well as we’d thought. He’d surprised me numerous times these past few days, and I seemed to be doing the same to him. But it was only natural that we’d changed over the years. And though we might have grown apart, given enough time, I was sure we could grow back together.

At the very least, I knew I was willing to put in the effort to make that fact. And that was enough for me.

I found myself smiling at him, startling him even more as I tilted my head slightly and finished with amusement creeping into my voice, “A change to his diet isn’t near enough to change that.”

Diluc let out an exhale, almost like he’d been holding his breath, as a small, amused but relieved smile appeared on his face. Flickering across his features before disappearing quickly as he looked towards Kaeya, “Satisfied?”

I grinned at the dry question he posed, amused to find that even after all these years, he could be quite shy about showing gratitude or any other soft feeling in front of others. Especially if that other person was Kaeya.

The cavalry captain grinned though, leaning back into his chair as if he’d just experienced something incredibly satisfying, “Quite.”

Diluc stood, and I wasn’t surprised that he was ready to go. Poor fellow never had handled bearing his soul or showing too many emotions very well. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten all flushed over the course of our discussion.

“It’s time I left then, I’m afraid I still have things to do before the sun rises.” He paused and twisted to glance down at me. A smile appearing on his face as soon as he was sure Kaeya couldn’t see it, “Thank you for having us over and putting up with Kaeya, Y/n.”

I flapped my hand at him, smiling up at him warmly, “Not a problem. Take care though; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His eyes widened slightly before his expression softened once more, “Yes… Take care.” He twisted away, and I stood to walk him back down the hallway. Ignoring his protests about how he could find his way, as I led him back to the door.

“Just call if you need anything,” I smiled at him one final time, knowing perfectly well that there was no way he was going to bother me for assistance. Not when he far preferred to be the one taking care of others.

But he didn’t reject my offer; he simply thanked me and stepped out the door before pausing to glance back at me. 

But before he could speak, I stepped forward, reaching out and grasping his arm carefully, almost like I was afraid he would run away, “And just so you know, I’m not pushing myself. I’m not afraid of you, and I never will be.”

He held my gaze for a moment, a myriad of emotions flashing through his bright red eyes. The same warm color that had also been a source of comfort to me even when I’d been young. 

After a brief moment of seemingly searching for words, he smiled, and his gloved hand reached over to gently cover mine, “Thank you.”

His voice was infinitely soft as he gazed at me, with a certain warmth to his gaze that was so often there whenever he was with me and unconcerned about what others might think. And it was that gentle warmth that gave me the sensation of home and allowed me to place so much trust in this man.

Vampire or not, I would always trust Diluc, and I had an inkling of a feeling that I would always feel the exact same way for Diluc. 

How could I respond to him with anything other than overwhelming affection when that was the same emotion I’d always seen within him in our interactions?

He almost seemed reluctant when he pulled away, nodding his head as a final, gentle “Good Night” slipped from his lips and strolled off. His comfortingly familiar form lit up by the moon until he at last disappeared into the dead of the night.

It was then that Kaeya spoke from his hiding spot just by the door, “So you still love him, even now? I smiled at Kaeya's soft-spoken words from where he’d crept up behind me after Diluc left. There was no telling how long he’d been listening just to ensure that all was going to be well.

“Yes, I don’t think that will ever change…” I paused and turned to look up at the calvary captain, who was watching me closely as I continued, “Is that why you arranged for him to come over tonight? To make sure nothing had changed?”

Kaeya let out a hum, telling me that he would never just give a straightforward answer, even as he smiled at me. Ever a puzzle, even as he was watching out for both me and his brother, “Just making sure you won’t go hurting my brother after he did his best to shield himself from his biggest weakness.”

His biggest weakness… Kaeya had already laid out all the clues, and his expression gave me the answer I needed.

Me. I was Diluc’s weakness.

“Are you trying to tell me that he wouldn’t be able to handle me being afraid of him?” I crossed my arms as I looked up at Kaeya, half-smiling at the man who was so like a brother to me, even as he constantly did his very best to set me up with his actual adoptive brother.

“Who can say? I think you know the answer to that, though,” He bumped me lightly on the head with the back of his fist. Chuckling slightly as I frowned at his actions, before he too disappeared. With his matchmaking work done, as he strolled away on the same path his brother had taken.

@vera-deville

[seventeenlovesthree]

Time Saver - a Taishirou Fanfic, Chapter 3: Emergency

Summary: Takeru and Hikari meet up with Jyou and Koushirou in the hospital they brought the unconscious girl to. While the others discuss the current situation, Takeru finds himself wondering about all the things about her that seem to line up in very odd, very familiar ways...

Word Count: 1806

Chapter POV: Takeru Takaishi

Chapter List: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

“I didn’t think it was necessary yet”, Jyou stated quietly, a grim expression on his face while their small group gathered around the hospital bed. “But maybe I really need to ask my dad for us to have our own Digimon station here at some point, so we won’t alarm any other patients…”

Takeru and Hikari had brought the unconscious girl to the hospital Jyou was working at. Fortunately, he was staffed on the night shift and despite limited capacities in the facility, he could at least ensure to bring her to a secluded section – which was simultaneously Gomamon’s hiding spot. When gate hopping was possible on a regular basis, it had been easy for the Digimon to switch between the Digital and the real world, but nowadays, they were more reliant on luck rather than strategy. Especially since Jyou had more or less started to contemplate the possibility of taking care of wounded Digimon as well. While his studies had primarily focused on human medicine, he was also used to taking care of their wounded partner Digimon after battles. Even though he was sure his father would not be amused by more creatures lingering around, thanks to his routine – and the information Koushirou’s analyzer provided –, the idea of becoming an actual Digimon doctor one day didn’t appear as farfetched anymore…

Speaking of Koushirou’s input – he had followed Takeru’s and Hikari’s call as well and was now eying the girl curiously, all the while all their Digimon watched her from the edge of the bed.

“Mh, I believe that would be a good investment for the future… Although we don’t know if this girl was actually attacked by a Digimon”, Koushirou mused out loud, one hand resting on his chin. He hadn’t even changed out of his work attire and stood there in his usual “white shirt and tie” attire, just like Takeru had suspected. “Or why exactly the lightning strike took place presumably where you two found her.”

Hikari nodded in response as she was also seated close to the bed. “She at least had her Digimon partner by her side! You were protecting her, isn’t that right?”

With a gentle smile, she turned to the small orange bug that was also resting on top of the bed, causing them to nudge closer to their partner. Hikari had been in close contact to Digimon ever since their little rescue mission and they seemed more comfortable responding to her by now.

“Mhmh… I’m… I’m Hibismon”, they replied shyly, but when Hikari extended her hand towards them, they tapped against it. Tentomon and Gomamon had also attempted to make conversation with them before and, in his usual blunt way, the latter seemed almost disappointed that there had been no opponent to face this time…

“We can ask her as soon as she is awake and stable again.” Jyou still seemed rather tense, but visibly tried to keep a collected demeanour before he turned to Koushirou and Takeru. “But we should let her rest for now. Luckily, it looks like she is just asleep and doesn’t have any visible wounds or bruises.”

“That is a relief…”, Patamon sighed and Hibismon also let out a sound of exhaustion – which was only interrupted by the sound of a vibrating phone.

“Ah, excuse me”, Koushirou stammered, taking a quick look at the aforementioned phone and was already on his way to rush out of the room. “Taichi-san is calling me back.”

“Oh, so he was awake after all?” Without even trying to hide her pout as she mumbled to herself, Hikari crossed her arms, making Tailmon chuckle quietly. She had been keen to keep the others informed on their flight here and since her brother had not responded to even her private messages before, she was sure his lights had gone out long ago. Hikari and Koushirou were already used to this, it was nearly impossible to get him to respond to messages in a timely manner whenever he was “away” these days – or, like in this case, at an English training at the Language Learning Center at Institute of Technology in Osaka.

While Hikari explained this to Jyou as well, Takeru was lost in thought. Seated closer to the door, his thoughts kept rushing, thinking back to the moment he had carried the girl to Angewomon's arms. He was not entirely sure what age she was; despite how easily he could have lifted her, the clothes she was wearing left him puzzled. They did remind him of a high school uniform – white blouse, bordeaux coloured tie, matching skirt and thigh highs –, but he hadn't seen any teenager wear it around their area before. As an “author in training” as he called himself, he spent a lot of time observing people in public, but this attire was completely unfamiliar to him. Plus, she still appeared to be too young to be in high school... One possibility was that she had come from an entirely different district, a faraway area. But that brought up way more questions than it answered. Why had she come here? How did she travel, had her Digimon partner been capable to evolve further, fly, even teleport? Furthermore...

Takeru's mind drifted back to the phone that had fallen out of her jacket... A dark blue college jacket he could not have mustered before. But after Hikari had carefully removed it from her alongside the tie to put it neatly into his lap for safe-keeping, he could not help but notice the orange patch in shape or a star she must have sewn onto the left arm herself. It felt just as eerily familiar as the logo on the back of the phone...

“Hikari-chan? Jyou-san?” He eventually broke his silence and both turned around to him, obviously surprised by the whispery tone. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s the matter, you look troubled?”

“… It’s just… Really strange”, Takeru began and Hikari carried her chair over to him to be closer and all their Digimon decided to listen in on them as well, forming a little “prayer circle”. Hibismon was the only one who stayed on top of the bed as Takeru elaborated: “I’ve found her phone and it does look like it has Koushirou-san’s company logo on it, doesn’t it?”

Hearing that, Jyou and Hikari exchanged a skeptical look before leaning closer to compare both Takeru’s and the girl’s phone he was holding out to them. It was a tiny bit bigger and thinner than his own, covered by a lavender coloured frame. The logo Takeru had been referring to was engraved on the back side and vaguely resembled the letters “K” and “I” in sharp, angular shapes. It was not exactly the same, but still noteworthy.

“Yeah, now that you say it…?” Jyou squinted his eyes and tilted his head a little as he knelt in front of Takeru – alleviating the back pain from bowing down a little. “It does look similar to the Izumi Corporation logo somehow…”

“He hasn’t distributed it to anywhere or to anyone outside of our group, has he?”

“Koushirou-han said as long as he isn’t satisfied with its capabilities, he wouldn’t let it get out of the inner circle, yes”, Tentomon chimed in and Takeru nodded along, as if to confirm his own theories. He was onto something here and it got him weirdly excited.

“It looks different enough of course, more advanced and I haven’t managed to turn it on so far.”

“Takeru-kun!”

He had almost waited for Hikari to be upset with him for this, but he did not anticipate that much of a scolding tone. It immediately brought him back down a little.

“I am not intending to invade her privacy or anything like that, I just thought maybe it’d give us another clue…”, he directed it at her personally, trying to soothe her again. It did seem to reach through to her and both of them turned around to the bed at the same time. “How did this get into her hands? I mean… If you look at her more closely… Doesn’t she remind you of-”

“Hotaru!”

Hibismon’s – unexpectedly loud – voice cut through his monologue, making the entire group jump up. The girl had woken up and was shifting into a sitting position. In order to avoid the blinding lights, she kept her eyes half closed, still seeming a little disoriented.

“Mghhhh… Hibismon…”, she groaned, sounding incredibly hoarse, letting her head fall into one of her hands. “I feel dizzy…”

“Oh, you’re awake! That’s great!”, Patamon couldn’t help but cheer out loud while flying towards the bed, earning a “Shhhhh!” from Tentomon and Tailmon simultaneously. Alerted by that, he flew right back into Takeru’s arms and whispered a little “Sorry…”, to which Takeru simply had to laugh.

“It’s okay, I get it, I feel the same”, he giggled – which triggered a reaction he had not expected in the slightest.

The girl’s head had shot up immediately, widened, pitch black eyes stared at him in complete awe.

“Takeru-sa-mpfh!” She hadn’t even finished saying his name before she pressed her right hand against her lips to stop herself.

For a few seconds, everything had gone completely quiet, shock was written in different nuances and shades on everybody’s faces in the room – until Gomamon just squealed a confused “Say what???” out loud.

Takeru's mind began to do somersaults again, the excitement returned, blood rushing and heart pounding. He knew he had been onto something, this was the exact kind of mystery they had been missing in their lives recently – and he was more than ready to solve it.

“I-I… Err… Ugh, this is not ideal…”, the girl mumbled, burying her head in her hands again and this time it was Jyou’s turn to walk towards her.

“Do you have a headache?”

Before he could even reach her though, Hibismon jumped up again, taking an attacking stance.

“Leave her alone!”, the Digimon hissed – to which Gomamon almost felt ready to jump himself, but Jyou held him back with both arms.

“Please calm down, no fighting in here! I was really just worried! How do you feel?”

“I’m… I’m okay, really, you do not need to worry about me – and please don’t be mad at Hibismon”, she apologized before pulling her partner protectively into her arms. Takeru simply couldn’t overlook how bashful she seemed. Her eyes were roaming through the room, not exactly aimlessly, but it was obvious that she had a hard time adjusting to where she was. “Thank you for bringing me here, I just…”

Breathing in and out deeply, she straightened up and with a lot more gathered composure she declared: “I need to talk to Izumi-san as soon as possible.”

“… Koushirou-san?”

“Please, I really have to talk to him, this is an emergency!”

[joachimnapoleon]

Hi! So I have a quick ask, I have read about how Murat was always proud of having never personally killed anybody and that he does not believe that he could live with himself if he had done so, so do you think that him possibly having killed somebody personally might've contributed to his mental deterioration?

Honestly, I’ve always been very skeptical of the claim that Murat never personally killed anyone. The quote attributed to him on this subject comes from Jean-Michel Agar, the Count of Mosbourg, who was a boyhood friend of Murat’s and later became his finance minister in Berg and then Naples. In the decades after Murat’s death, Mosbourg began compiling documents with the plan of writing a biography about Murat, to counter all the hostile publications about him. Unfortunately his health deteriorated before he could follow through with it, but he did write a short biographical sketch about Murat that was used as an introduction to Murat, Lieutenant de l’Empereur en Espagne, 1808, published in 1897 by Murat’s grandnephew, Joachim Joseph André. Here is the part about Murat allegedly not killing anyone, from Mosbourg:

A single trait can give a just idea of the character of Murat: a hundred times during our intimate conversations, he told me: “My deepest satisfaction, when I reflect on my military career, is to never have seen a man fall killed by my hand. It is undoubtedly not impossible that when firing a pistol shot at the enemies attacking me or who I was pursuing, I wounded someone, even mortally; but I was unaware of it. If a man was killed in front of me, under my blows, this image would be with me always; it would follow me to the tomb.” Such words will without doubt astonish from the mouth of a man who, all his life, made war with such impetuosity.

Out of all the marshals, I think Murat would probably have had the highest likelihood of killing a man personally in battle just given the fact that he was so often in the thick of the fighting. It is almost inconceivable to me that he never killed a single man in all the combat he experienced combined during the Italian campaign, Egyptian campaign, and the campaigns of 1805, 1806, 1807, 1812, and 1813. Especially leading cavalry charges and wielding a saber.

Whether Murat really ever actually said such a thing to Mosbourg, or whether Mosbourg fabricated it, is impossible to know for sure. If he did actually say it, the part of the quote about being “unaware” of potentially killing someone is probably the key, and if the idea of killing someone really did bother Murat, ignorance really might’ve been bliss.

As to how knowing he might’ve killed someone might have impacted his mental state, it’s a good question but I don’t feel like I have enough information to give an opinion on it one way or another. I haven’t really been able to piece together much of Murat’s mentality towards war, or the effects that experiencing so much of it had on him mentally and emotionally over the years. Did he become desensitized to it? Did he have trauma, nightmares, any sort of what we would now call post-traumatic stress disorder, etc? Leading his men straight at the enemy on so many occasions, he would’ve seen innumerable horrors over the years, with men being cut down by musket balls and blown to pieces by artillery, all around him. He would’ve seen the grisly aftermath of countless battlefields. At Borodino he oversaw a number of amputations of enemy wounded. I don’t know how he—or any of them, really—coped with it all, especially repeatedly for so many years. But I haven’t seen anything indicating whether it affected him in peacetime. I can’t imagine it didn’t, but it’s just difficult to piece this sort of thing together from the available materials. Murat’s mental (and physical) health suffered most when he was faced with rapidly deteriorating situations that were slipping beyond his ability to handle or cope with; we see it first in Spain in 1808, then in Naples in 1811, which was when his mental health reached its lowest state. There is no indication from any primary sources I’ve seen that he suffered as a result of his experiences in war; then again, he might’ve just been very good at hiding it, or too proud to show it. I’ve always found it interesting how he’s repeatedly described as being perpetually outwardly cheerful, when you don’t have to dig too deep, especially during his years in Naples, to see how thoroughly unhappy he was. I can’t help but be reminded of Robin Williams, concealing his depression behind a mask of joy and humor.

Sorry if that was a bit long, but your question touched on some very interesting subjects. 😅 Thanks for asking!

[gladdyator18]

Bullshit With A Twist - TickleTober2023 Days 8 & 9 (Truth & Lie)

One of my favorite card games to play with friends and family! Hope you enjoy!

Summary: After Tristan convinces the other boys to play BS, he adds one special rule that makes the game a lot more interesting and fun.

Word Count: 1806

⚠️Warning⚠️: swearing (obvi for the game being played; both in English and Spanish)

Bullshit, the game of bluffing. A deceptive card game where the players aim to get rid of all of their cards by bluffing. Sometimes players tell the truth; other times, they tell a lie. It's a fun game, especially when you add conditions if someone is lying, and that's just what these teens are about to play.

It was a late summer afternoon, and Diego and Jason were at Tristan's and Kain's place while their parents were out running errands. After an hour of racing games, Tristan suggested they play a card game that his father and Kain's mother is a master of, Bullshit.

"Remind me of the rules again." Jason said.

"Sure thing," Tristan said, dealing out the cards, "Everyone gets the same amount of cards to play. The play will go by card numbers. First, the aces, twos, threes, fours, and so on, and we place those cards in the center face-down. Depending on how many you have of that number, you can say something like, 'Two fours' or 'Three kings.' It only goes up to four."

"The game's object is to get rid of all your cards. If you don't have what is up next, whether it be a number or royal, you can bluff," Kain explained, "If someone thinks that I'm bluffing, they can call, 'Bullshit.' If I am bluffing, I have to take everything in the center. However, if I was telling the truth, the one who called 'BS' has to take the center cards."

Jason nodded as he listened.

"However, we're adding a little twist to this game." Tristan said.

The other three teens looked up at the blonde with confusion.

"What kind of twist?" Diego asked, scanning his cards.

"If someone calls 'BS' and is right, the person they called it on gets tickled for 15 seconds," Tristan said, "However if someone calls 'BS' and is wrong, the person who called it gets tickled for 15 seconds. Sound fun?"

Jason swallowed a lump while the other two were unfazed. The other three glanced at each other and nodded.

"Sounds good to us." Diego said.

"Alright, let's get this game started!" Tristan exclaimed, "We'll go in order by age. First will be Jason, then Kain, Diego, and me."

The burgundy-haired teen nodded as he scanned his cards.

"Two aces." Jason said, placing two cards in the middle.

"One two." Kain said.

"Three threes." Diego said.

"Two fours." Tristan said.

The game was progressing smoothly. That was until the first 'BS' was called.

"Three Jacks." Diego said.

"Bullshit." Kain said.

Diego quirked a brow before picking up the cards he placed in the middle. When he flipped them over, there were three Jacks.

"Damn it." Kain muttered.

Diego chuckled before standing up and positioning himself behind Kain.

"Ready?" Diego asked.

"Just get it over with." Kain said.

Diego smirked before digging his fingers into Kain's sides, eliciting boyish giggles from the redhead.

"Wait, wahahahahait!" Kain giggled, "Diegohohohoho! Stohohohop!"

"You have to get tickled for 15 seconds, Kain," Tristan said, "That was the rule."

"Ahahahaha shihihihit! Why did I agrehehehehehee?!"

The redhead twisted in his seat as the older teen tickled up and down his sides. A few seconds later, Diego pulled his hands away, leaving Kain panting. Jason and Tristan chuckled at the redhead's state. Kain groaned before picking up the cards in the center. When Kain controlled his breathing, the boys picked up where they left off.

"One Queen." Tristan said.

"Three Kings." Jason said.

"Bullshit." Kain said.

Jason tried to keep up the confidence, but when he flipped over the cards, it was two Kings and a Jack.

"Better luck next time, kid." Kain said, standing up.

Jason chuckled nervously when Kain stood behind him. Without warning, the redhead shoved his fingers under Jason's armpits, causing the younger teen to squeal and let out adorable giggles.

"Why there fihihihihihirst?!" Jason questioned, "That's a dihihihihick mohohohove! Nahahahahaa!"

"You weren't kidding when you said he was really ticklish here, Diego." Kain said, clawing at Jason's armpits.

"I would never lie about something like that." Diego said, grinning at his cousin.

Jason glared at his cousin and growled through his giggles. When Kain stopped, Jason groaned, chuckling slightly before putting his hands in his armpits.

"You're a dick for telling him that, primo." Jason said.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Diego asked, his face serious but his voice playful.

Jason sighed as he picked up the cards in the middle.

"Three aces." Kain said, picking up the game.

"Two twos." Diego said.

"One three." Tristan said.

"Two fours." Jason said.

For the next few minutes, the game went by smoothly without anyone calling BS.

"Four Queens." Tristan said.

"Bullshit." Kain said.

Tristan quirked a brow at the redhead before flipping over his cards. The blonde couldn't suppress the smile on his face when he revealed two Queens, a six, and an eight.

"You are a terrible liar, Katsunan." Kain said, walking behind Tristan.

Tristan snorted from his throat, anticipating what was to come. He was soon thrown into a frenzy of giggles when Kain pressed into his ribs.

"Nahahahaha! Stohohohohop!" Tristan giggled, "Aahahahahahehehehe!"

"15 seconds, remember?" Kain questioned.

Tristan bowed his head and pounded his fist against the wooden table in ticklish agony, handsome giggles slipping from his lips.

"Dahahahahammihihihihit!" Tristan cursed.

When 15 seconds were up, Kain stopped the tickling, leaving Tristan breathless.

"So, shall we continue?" Kain asked as if nothing happened.

Tristan groaned before flipping Kain off, only making the redhead smile. The blonde rolled his eyes before taking the cards from the center.

"Two Kings." Diego said.

"One ace." Jason said.

"One two." Kain said.

"Two threes." Tristan said.

The card game progressed without a hiccup, but as Diego played his hand, Jason had a sneaky suspicion his cousin was bluffing.

"Three eights." Diego said.

"Bullshit." Jason called.

Diego looked at his cousin and quirked his brow. The black-haired teen picked up his cards and flipped them over, revealing the eight of hearts, spades, and diamonds. Diego grinned as he stood up.

"Shit…" Jason muttered.

"Sorry, primo," Diego said, standing behind his cousin, "But you should know by now that I don't lie."

When he said that, the black-haired teen started digging into Jason's ribs, causing the young teen to squeal and laugh.

"DIEGOHOHOHOHOHOHO, ¡PARAAHAHAHAHAAAA!" Jason cried, "NOT THEHEHEHEHERE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"You tickled the Spanish outta him!" Tristan laughed.

"SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP! NO TEHEHEHASING!"

Kain couldn't help but chuckle. Jason tried to pull Diego's hands away, but his cousin was unfazed.

"DIEGO, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!" Jason laughed, "ENOHOHOHOUGH!"

"In 5 seconds." Diego deadpanned.

For the next 5 seconds, Diego tormented his cousin's top rib, making him snort. Diego couldn't help but laugh before stopping.

"Now that was cute." Kain commented.

Jason groaned as he flipped off the redhead, making him chuckle.

"Let's continue, shall we?" Tristan suggested.

Jason sighed and nodded as he gathered the cards in the middle.

"One nine." Jason said.

"Three tens." Kain said.

"Bullshit." Diego said.

The redhead quirked a brow at the older teen as he felt his heart skip a beat. Kain groaned as he flipped over his cards, revealing two tens and a Queen.

"Uh-huh, and I'm the terrible liar." Tristan chuckled, watching the black-haired teen stand up.

Kain cursed under his breath, feeling Diego's ominous presence looming over him. He then let out a loud laugh when Diego pressed into his armpits.

"FUHUHUHUHUCKING DAHAHAHAMMIT!" Kain laughed, "STAHAHAHAHAP! AHAAAAHAHAHAHA!"

"It hasn't even been 5 seconds," Diego said, "I'm guessing this is a bad spot?"

"WHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL DO YOU THIHIHIHIHINK!?"

Tristan and Jason couldn't help but laugh along.

"Does he always curse like this when tickled?" Jason asked, turning to Tristan.

"Oh, yeah," Tristan said, "He wants to act all big and bad, but once you get his armpits, he curses like a sailor."

"TRISTAHAHAHAHAN, SHUT THE FUHUHUHUHUCK UHUHUP!" Kain laughed, "DIEGO, STAHAHAHAP! ANYWHEHEHEHERE EHEHEHELSE!"

"Geez, you're a whiny pequeña perra, aren't you?" Diego asked, "Quit your bitching and just take it."

Kain snorted as he pounded his fist against the table, unable to stop the black-haired teen. When Diego finally stopped the tickling, Kain panted and groaned as he glared at the older teen.

"You should know better than to call out Diego on a bluff, Kain." Jason chuckled.

Kain sighed as he collected the cards from the middle.

"One Jack." Diego said.

"Two Queens." Tristan said.

"Bullshit." Kain said.

Tristan glared at the redhead and growled under his breath. Tristan turned over the cards and revealed a Queen and an ace.

"Hey, Jay," Kain began, "You wanna know which spot makes Tristan curse like a sailor?"

"Totally!" Jason said eagerly.

"Kain, I swear, don't you dare." Tristan warned.

The redhead ignored the blonde and walked behind him.

"Wasn't this your rule?" Kain asked, "15 seconds start… now!"

With that, Kain started clawing at Tristan's stomach, sending the blonde into a frenzy of laughter.

"DAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIT KAHAHAHAIN!" Tristan laughed, "YOU FUHUHUHUCKING PRIHIHIHICK! FUCK, STAHAHAHAP!"

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Jason chuckled.

"SHUHUHUT UHUHUP, JAHAHAHASON! AHAHAHAAAA! KAIN, FUHUHUHUCKING STAHAHAAAAP!"

"Don't worry; I will… in 10 seconds." Kain deadpanned with a grin.

Tristan pounded his fist against the table in ticklish agony as he doubled over laughter. He tried to suck in his stomach, but that didn't do anything.

"KAHAHAHAIN, ENOHOHOHOUGH!" Tristan cried, "SHIHIHIHIHIHIT! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

When 10 seconds were up, Kain stopped the tickling, leaving Tristan breathless. Kain said down and pushed over the small stack of cards to Tristan. Tristan glared at the redhead.

"Fuck… you…" Tristan cursed, flipping him off.

"Love you, too, cousin." Kain smiled.

Tristan rolled his eyes as he gathered the cards.

"Right," Jason said, glancing at his cards, "One King."

"Two aces." Kain said

"Three twos." Diego said.

"One three." Tristan said.

As the game went on, Tristan, Jason, and Kain were all subjected to the 15-second tickle penalty except Diego. In the end, the black-haired teen won the game.

"That was fun." Diego said.

"How are you so good at this?" Kain asked, "Did you even bluff during this game?"

The black-haired teen glanced at the redhead and smirked.

"A few times, yeah," Diego deadpanned, "You guys just never caught it."

The other teens groaned as Tristan shuffled the cards.

"So, you guys down for another round?" Tristan asked.

"Sure," Jason said, "And this time, Diego, you're gonna get tickled."

"We'll see about that, primo." Diego smirked.

"Should we add a rule that has us tickle Diego whenever?" Kain chuckled.

The black-haired teen looked at the redhead with a dangerous look, startling the redhead.

"K-Kidding, kidding!" Kain said.

"That's what I thought." Diego said.

Kain sighed as he collected his cards as Tristan dealt them. For the remainder of the afternoon, the teens continued this game with the special rule, and everyone was subjected to it, even Diego.

[edith-hyde]

Norman Osborn X Female Reader

I Forgot My Umbrella - Part 35

Word Count: 1806

Summary: Norman comes into work after a terrible night of nightmares. You do your best to distract him from his worries.

Warnings: Age gap. PG/PG-13.

A/N: Short episode this time, but no less cheesy. Enjoy.

Tagging: @druigswh0ree @digital-demise @maskmare931 @b1ueoff1ine @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @wtfhasmy-lifecometo

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——

Norman arrived home after his evening spent with you and he immediately went to the liquor cabinet. While he was with you, it was easy to forget Mayfair’s actions. But now that he was alone… Norman felt the burn of his rage. It exhausted him and he felt the ache in his bones, crying for rest. 

And naturally, the Goblin saw this as a prime opportunity to strike.

‘He has to pay for what he’s done.’

“He will,” Norman promised. 

‘He has to be made an example of,’ the Goblin snarled. 

“I know,” Norman agreed, “I’ll think of something…”

‘I’ve got something in mind for him.’

“No.” Norman said firmly as he downed a drink, “No killing.”

‘Coward,’ the Goblin grouched, ‘It’s no less than he deserves.’

“I know,” Norman sighed as he shuffled up to his room. 

‘Then let me loose,’ the Goblin begged, ‘I'll take care of everything.’

“No,” Norman groaned as he dressed for bed, “I won’t let you kill someone. Not again.”

‘We wouldn’t have to kill him,’ the Goblin mused, ‘We’d just have to scare him… put the fear of God in him. Make him realize his mistake for touching our woman.’

Norman rolled his eyes as he crawled under the covers. He hated the idea of the Goblin claiming you. But at least he didn’t want to kill you anymore so that was an improvement. 

“I won’t let you out,” Norman said sternly, “Even if Mayfair deserves it.”

‘He’s a worthless waste of space who will only hurt Y/N again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?! And what if he shows someone the evidence he has?’

“What can he do?” Norman yawned, “I am the CEO and we haven’t replaced the board of directors yet.”

‘HR might not be able to hurt you, but they could fire HER.’

Norman gritted his teeth.

“I wouldn’t let them do that. I have the final say.”

‘And what about the rumors, Norman? HER reputation would be ruined. Everything you’ve feared will happen. She’ll be known as the company whore.’

Norman felt his heart drop. The Goblin was right. Your reputation was on the line. And if Mayfair knew about the two of you, there was a chance that others did as well. Security likely saw the footage. 

Who's to say they didn’t pass it around and make you the laughing stock of the company? 

How could he have been so careless?!

 ‘I can make it all go away, Norman. I can give you everything you want. Just think of how happy Y/N would be if she knew you defended her honor and kept her reputation safe. She wants Mayfair to suffer just as much as we do.’

Norman closed his eyes, relaxing into his bed. He started to drift off into sleep, barely able to form a thought. 

He was so tired. 

He just wanted peace. 

“I’ll… think about it…”

As he drifted off, Norman tried his best to keep his thoughts on you. But it wasn’t long before his mind was filled with horrible images. Nightmares plagued him. Nightmares so real that he would swear they were memories. Some of them featured scenes from the other universe. But as the night wore on, Norman saw Mayfair.  

He saw Mayfair’s tortured and bloody face. He could hear his cries for mercy. His promises to do whatever Norman wanted. The feeling of his blood was so real on Norman’s hands. 

He could even smell it…

Norman awoke with a start. He immediately looked down at his hands and felt a flood of relief when he saw that they were clean. But then he noticed his sleeves. 

Were these the pajamas he was wearing last night? He thought he had been wearing a blue set, but these were black. 

In a daze, Norman went through his morning routine. He couldn’t even remember the drive to work. The nightmares repeated over and over in his mind, chilling him to the bone. Absently, he sat on the edge of your desk, waiting for you to arrive. However, he was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the elevator ding. 

He wasn’t aware that you were there until you appeared in front of him. 

“Norman?”

——

Your boss looked up at you and you could tell- something was very wrong. His blue eyes were haunted and his clothes were a mess. His tie was crooked and, when you looked closer, you saw that his buttons were all off by two. 

“Is everything okay?” You questioned, “Norman?”

His eyes finally snapped to your face. He didn’t even bother to try and smile as he spoke.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just tired.”

Norman rose to his feet. He teetered slightly and you immediately went to steady him. He shuddered at your touch and pulled away as if you had shocked him. You went to grab his hand and he tried to avoid the action.

But you wouldn’t let him. 

With determination, you pulled him into his office and shut the door. 

“Take off your jacket.”

Your command seems to snap Norman out of his haze. 

“What?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow. 

You grabbed his lapels and went to pull his jacket off as you spoke. 

“Your tie is a mess and your buttons are done all wrong.”

“Are they?” Norman questioned. 

With a surprised expression, Norman looked down at himself. He let you pull his jacket off and scoffed as he saw the state of his clothes. 

“I’m sorry… I’m…”

Norman clearly lacked the words to explain himself and you didn’t want to push it. You hung his jacket on a nearby hook and smiled. 

“It’s fine, Norman. We all have those days.”

You undid his tie, hung it over your shoulder, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly Norman’s hands came to grab yours. With a quick glance to his face, you saw that his ears were a bright pink. 

“I can do that myself, you know.” He purred. 

You felt a bit of heat rise to your skin as you shrugged. 

“Yeah�� I know…”

As you searched Norman’s face, you were happy to see that the haunted look he was wearing was starting to fade. But there was still a heaviness there.

You decided right then that he needed a distraction from whatever was on his mind. 

And there was no better way to distract Norman Osborn than with physical contact.

With a coy grin, you stood on tiptoes and kissed the base of his jaw just as you undid another button. Norman’s hands slowly released yours. You unfastened another button, snuggling into the crook of his neck as you did so.

“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?” Norman asked quietly.

“Maybe… is it working?”

You undid the last button and set your hands upon his chest. There was a tank top between your hand and his skin, but it still sent a fire through you. You kissed his jaw again and Norman sighed. His hands moved to rest on your arms.

“You’re tempting me is what you’re doing.”

You pulled away, your face burning. You could hardly meet his gaze as you bit your lip.

“Sorry… You just seemed so down… I wanted…”

Norman smiled and moved to tuck his knuckle under your chin, forcing you to meet his intense ocean eyes.

“Thank you.”

Your boyfriend looked you up and down before grinning.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.

“Of course,” you laughed. 

Norman brought his lips to yours, giving you a soft kiss. You closed your eyes and stepped closer, placing your hands back upon his chest. You were totally engrossed in the moment and would’ve happily stayed that way. But the phone rang, causing you to jump. 

Norman let out a groan, just before pulling away. With a scowl, he grabbed the phone. You remained held in his right arm, a hand still resting on his neck as you watched him. 

“Yes?” 

Norman’s tone was sharp but he suddenly shifted moods. His eyebrows went up as he listened to the voice on the other end. 

“Sorry Peter. I didn’t mean to snap. What did you need?” 

Norman listened for a bit as a smile grew on his face. 

“I’m so glad to hear it. I actually have the perfect project for you to work on. Whenever you’re able, just swing by the office. I can give you everything you’ll need.”

Norman listened for a bit, his smile growing even larger. He gave a happy nod as he spoke. 

“It’s not a problem…. No thank you…. Goodbye.”

Norman hung up the phone and happily gave you a quick kiss.

“Parker decided to take the job!” He said with joy. 

“That’s good,” you affirmed, “I’m so glad he accepted.”

“This is the answer to my problem,” Norman said with great relief, “If anyone can figure out that Formula, Parker can. The boy is a justifiable genius.”

“That’s very high praise,” you pointed out. 

“He deserves it.”

All of Norman’s troubles seemed to be entirely gone. Even though you had no idea why Norman had started out the morning so morouse- you were happy to see him joyful now. You wouldn’t dare ask why he had been so down. You didn’t want to remind him. 

“I look forward to working with him,” you said honestly. 

Turning your attention to Norman’s shirt, you began fastening the buttons. Norman smirked at you just before leaning down and kissing your cheek. He then began kissing along your jaw and down to your neck. You assumed this was payback for your attempt to distract him.

“Norman, I’m trying to make you look presentable,” you chastised. 

Norman pressed his nose against your ear as he whispered. 

“And you’re doing a wonderful job, my dear. I’m just showing my appreciation.”

You giggled, finishing up the last button. While Norman still had his head down, you threaded his tie under his collar and tied it in a proper knot. 

“There. All done.”

Norman pressed one last kiss to your cheek before pulling back to tuck in his shirt. 

“Thank you, my dear. I’d be lost without you.”

“You most certainly would be,” you smirked. 

Norman gave you a loving smile as he brought his hand up to caress the side of your face with his thumb. You leaned into his touch with a happy hum. 

“Thank you,” Norman whispered, “I came into work today a worried mess and you… you’ve restored my hope.”

“Hope for what?” you questioned.

“Hope that I can have it all.”

Norman gave you a toothy grin and you smiled as well. You would’ve loved to have kissed him again, but the phone began ringing once more.

“I believe the work day has officially begun,” Norman laughed, “Till lunch, my dear.”

“I’ll see you then.”

[umbry-fic]

kokoronashi

Summary: When had they gotten into the habit of lying to each other?

Chronic Angelus Crystallus Inofficium and its effects.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Original Daemon Character Relationships: Colette Brunel & Original Daemon Character Rating: G Word Count: 1806 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 21/11/2023

Notes: Another entry in the Daemon AU! This is basically me going back through and writing about parts I didn't cover in the first fic. This one sent me down a rabbit hole about Daemons and illnesses...

Title from kokoronashi by Chouchou-p.

~~~

“Hey, Colette...”

It was the beginning of a question that should have been nothing more than innocent concern, posed by the minute Daemon perched on the edge of the bed, his tiny talons resting against its frame. Shattering the lazy silence of a drowsy morning, it froze Colette in her tracks, her fingers ghosting over the doorknob. Something lurking in his tone made her pause, and she was acutely aware that all of the other girls and their Daemons had left the inn room, leaving the two of them alone.

“What is it, Pan?” she replied, cocking her head as a smile slipped onto her face.

Her Daemon didn’t shift, beady black eyes fixed on her. Once, she would have known every emotion that touched his heart, for their echoes would have gripped her own, just as her own grief had often overwhelmed him. Now, however, the link that had once flowed freely between them like a river had been severed, replaced by a chasm that could no longer be crossed.

She could only attempt to read him as she would any other person, the thought making her heart tighten in her chest. It had always been Colette and Pan, Pan and Colette. They’d been privy to each other’s secrets, whispered under the cover of night, from the moment she’d been born, Pan curled up next to her and a Cruxis crystal in her hand. He was the very extension of her person, the other side of her soul, her heart - yet it would never be the same again.

“Is something wrong?”

His talons began to rap against the wood of the frame, tension gathering in his tiny form as he shifted to and fro.

“No.” The word tumbled from her lips with ease as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in her fingers. It was a hope that wouldn’t be granted, she knew, he could read her as well as she could read him. “Why? Is everything alright?”

Through the tattered remnants of their bond, slivers of emotion filtered through, slipping through her fingers before she could identify them.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, turning away, right wing folded at an awkward angle. The conversation was over.

Slipping from the room, she suppressed a wince as the green scales that had been slowly creeping down her right arm bit into her skin. Heaving a sigh, her fingers curled around the necklace Lloyd had clasped around her neck some weeks ago. It winked in the sunlight filtering through the window set in the wall, and she wondered when it had become so difficult to speak the truth to her Daemon.

~~~

Pan could remember a time when Colette had been very sick, afflicted with a fever that had refused to break. They’d been twelve, and she’d been confined to bed for a whole two weeks, her breaths rattling in her chest. Grandmother and father had hovered over them the entire time, worry colouring their voices as they tended to the two of them, their Daemons scrambling to gather towels and buckets of water.

Back then, his form had still been shifting - a mouse for one second and a sparrow the next, looking for a place to settle. He’d slunk as close as was physically possible, curled into a ball atop her beating heart. While he had been spared the physical symptoms of her illness, a crushing lethargy had weighed him down, leaving his limbs heavy and unwilling to move. Not that he would have - her presence gave him comfort, and he was certain that staying close would grant her some form of relief.

Her skin had burned beneath his touch, and she had coughed weakly, blue eyes dull as she stroked his head with a tired hand. He’d described the scenery outside their window - a few children mucking around in the dirt, a woman hanging up laundry on clothing lines, a lone guardsman standing by the village gate. They’d be able to rejoin the world soon, he’d reassured her.

“I’m sorry,” she’d mumbled, the words slurring a little, her hair, drenched with sweat, sticking to her face and neck.

She’d pressed kisses to his head, still apologising, and he’d wrapped his tail around her wrist, nuzzling his cheek against her hand. A silent acknowledgement of her words, and a sign of his forgiveness.

There was no need to apologise.

It had not been her fault, to begin with, that they were confined here. Nothing had ever been her fault. And he would stay by her side forever, regardless of what was to come. He would face the trials that awaited without hesitation, for together they were braver.

Until the time came when they would both be hollowed out, he would protect her.

~~~

He’d suspected, for some time, that something was wrong. That Colette was hiding something, something to do with why he sometimes pitched to the side mid-flight, his entire wing going numb from pain. It hadn’t taken very long to learn how to hide these episodes, enduring them silently so Arielle wouldn’t pounce on him and demand to know what was hurting him.

Every attempt to extract the truth from Colette failed, for the words always got stuck in his throat. Unable to force them out, he could only silently watch as she lied to his face, something in his heart twisting painfully every time.

On the grass outside the Iselia ranch, stained red with blood that would be washed away with the next rain shower, he could only watch as she collapsed, flames of pure agony licking at every inch of him. The singed remnants of her sleeve did nothing to hide the scales that swallowed her skin, glittering under the sunlight as if to mock him.

Waves of rage swelled within him as he landed on her shoulder, snapping at Lloyd to send the signal. It must have been a pitiful sight - a bristling hummingbird, as if this weak, useless form could ever hope to achieve anything.

The emotion that flashed across Arielle’s face, akin to pity as she and Lloyd turned away, only made the waves crest higher.

There was so much anger that had nowhere to go, for it was directed at nobody but himself. He hadn’t been able to protect her before, unable to see beyond the veil of falsehoods that had been pulled over both their eyes. And he had once again failed to protect her.

He was nothing more than a coward, afraid to peer at the ugly truth.

~~~

Colette awakened with strangled gasps from a void of inky black, barely pulling free from the shadowy fingers that threatened to pull her back under. Blindly, she flung an arm around her, ignoring the pain that flared to life as she searched for the familiar softness of feathers.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

The other half of her beating heart pressed himself against her fingers, putting an end to her frantic motions. Stifling the sobs that had gathered in her chest, she stroked the top of Pan’s head, letting the rhythmic motion calm her racing heart.

She’d witnessed Pan fall to the floor of the Tower, grey and lifeless, in her final moments of lucidity before her soul had been locked away. She’d been afraid, afraid that when Lloyd brought her back like he’d promised he would, she’d be all alone. Just as she had been within the confines of the crystal.

In the daylight, her nightmares could not touch her. Their darkness dissipated with the steady thrum of life within her constant companion, still here by her side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered. There was no accusation in his gaze, only a bone-deep weariness - the ashes of a frustrated anger that had burned itself out.

Gazing down at the ugly scales that had covered her flesh, she bit her lip, knowing there was no use covering it up any longer. And she was so very, very tired of lying to him. It hurt whenever she did it, like she was giving up a sliver of her soul.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped from her trembling body as tears budded at the corner of her eyes. Letting Pan sit in her cupped hands, she cradled him close to her chest. “I just… didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I already told you I wouldn’t…”

He’d promised that he could never hate her on the day her soul had been restored. But that had been before - before her sins had returned to haunt her, before she’d realised that she had once again chained him to an early demise, before the web of lies she’d become so used to spinning had gone out of control.

“Because I failed.” The words she’d hidden for weeks upon weeks spilt from her. Who else could she confide in if not for Pan, her dearest heart? “This is my punishment for not regenerating the world, and I ended up dragging you into it again…”

There was a stark memory, of a forest clearing and a sobbing Pan, desperately pulling at their bond until it resembled a rubber band, ready to snap. She had shattered that sacred bond at the holy grounds of the final seal, its shards scattering against the floor and slicing into her skin when she’d tried to pick them up.

All she’d ever done, from the moment she’d been born, was hurt him. If he hadn’t had the misfortune of being born as her Daemon, then perhaps…

Softness brushed against her cheeks, wiping away her tears and pulling her from her spiralling thoughts. “Don’t apologise,” Pan mumbled as he tugged his wing away. “I was the one who failed to protect you.”

Those simple words made her world screech to a halt, and she stared dumbly at her Daemon, who glared defiantly back at her. Behind that rugged determination was a wellspring of guilt, clinging to his tiny form.

It was like staring into a mirror. And finally, understanding struck her.

Laughing shakily, she offered her arm for him to perch on. They’d both been such fools.

“Guess we both failed.” She smiled weakly, the familiar sensation of his talons slightly digging into her skin soothing her. “But from here on out, we can both protect each other.”

It was her promise, for there to be no more lies.

“Alright.” Pan yawned, shifting on her arm to get comfortable. It didn’t take long before he’d passed out. He must have been up for hours, attentively watching over her.

Gently, she pet him, her heart finally at ease.

Things would never be the same between them - but they could reforge their bond into something new.

So long as Pan remained by her side, she was certain they would be able to weather anything.