#puttering about for days and weeks and months. it's Most of what i think about. it's my impact on the world.

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

#speculation nation #itnl shit #didnt mean to write this much about the concept but i really am so... #jealous almost. id love to be able to read my fic as a reader. #because it's tailor made to my tastes Exactly. #and i know it's good writing. i surprise myself even sometimes with how good things end up. #it's never a doubt in my mind that i'll make things good. even the harder things . while bringing trepitation . i know i'll figure them out. #the relationship a fic writer has with their own fic is so... yeah. intimate. but still somehow emotionally removed. #but thats how it goes with any art piece i think #the creator sees all the bits and pieces that went into it. remembers the thoughts as they made it #they know their work better than Anyone Else. but they'll never be able to experience it like an outsider. #is my fic helping someone through a rough breakup? is it something someone rereads when theyre sad? #is it a fic that people stay up way too late reading? the fic that someone discovers and consumes all within a day? #that voracious love. ive experienced it many times with other fics. but i can never experience it with my own. #but in the end. that's okay. i will just continue to do as i wish with it. and maybe people will continue to like it. #it is my goal to make a fic that people will never forget. what that may mean differs depending on the person. #i want it to be the best fic it can be. and i will make it so with every brick i lay down. #puttering about for days and weeks and months. it's Most of what i think about. it's my impact on the world. #and it's sitting for 3 hours after work in the storage room writing until im shivering but Satisfied with a productive writing session #it's writing some of my most emotional scenes while sitting for an hour on the toilet #no one else knows what the toilet written scenes are. but I Do. such is my relationship with my fic. #(the focus in the Quiet Rooms cannot be underestimated. the bathroom is indeed one of the Quiet Rooms lol) #& man. ive rambled so much now. but i just love my fic so very much #i'll never be an ITNL reader. and that's okay. because i'm its writer. & that's a status that No One Else can boast. #even those people who state that it's their Favorite favorite cant rival the intimacy of my own relationship with it. #I Am Its Writer and that means so very much to me. #i... really do love my fic y'all

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Dating (feat. Gun)

G/N. Requested. Fluff

"Who is this mysterious sexy man?" Goo chuckles, "It's ME!"

He thrusts the trashy tabloid in Gun's face. That ridiculous headline and Goo's mug plastered on the front page, arm around one of the most sought after K-Pop idols.

Mysterious? Sexy?

Gun peers at the photo and thinks that Goo looks like how he always does.

An idiot.

Lips stretched into an open mouthed grin. Eyes crinkled. Hideously garish suit. Stupid bleached hair.

Some of his meagre charm must be doing something though, because the idol's smile reflects his. A touch more sane, a lot more sincere, and very much besotted if the way they're looking at the blonde is anything to go by.

"They're boring though," Goo leans back, studies the idol's face that he is casually bedding and dismisses them.

One word, cutting and cruel: "Next."

.

.

"Either answer it, or turn it off."

"Nope!"

Gun glares at him. The phone continues to vibrate, buzzing noisily on the table.

It stops.

For now-

One..

Two...

Three...

And like clockwork-

It starts ringing again.

Just like it has done for the last ten minutes.

Fuck this. Gun grabs the device and hurls it onto the floor. It smashes with excessive force, a complete overkill, into the marble tiles.

The screen cracks, flashes, then dies.

"You're doing me a favour," Goo taps his long fingers against the table, unconcerned and disinterested, peering out the window, "They were getting clingy."

They being the supermodel that walked the Paris runway last week. Graced the front cover of the September Issue the week before.

It didn't matter.

His interest putters out like it always does. Goo is done with them.

.

.

"Ewwwww, tasteless!"

Gun catches a glimpse of a suit nestled in a gift box, logos of one of the most expensive and exclusive fashion houses adorn the tissue paper.

"Throw it away! Trash it!" Goo instructs and the HNH assistant scurries away.

"Ugh," The blonde pulls a face, as if the lingering presence of the ugly garment is still offending his delicate sensibilities.

Grabs his phone (new and top of the line) out of his pocket and makes a show of blocking someone.

He throws his arm around Gun's shoulder.

"You'd think a chaebol heir-" Stressing chaebol and heir with a smug waggle of the eyebrows, "-would have better taste. I can't be with someone with such awful style!"

Gun pushes him away, "I don't care. Shut up."

.

.

Goo has a new obsession.

Used to let his phone ring out. Used to ghost people for days, weeks, months, before reaching out again. (If he does reach out, that is.) Relish in playing mind games and gaslighting.

Now he picks up after the second ring. Murmurs, voice cooing and sickly sweet, into his phone.

Excuses himself "I have to take this," and walks out of meetings with Charles Choi and the HNH board.

Is unavailable on weekends and evenings. Snaps "I'm busy," when Gun offers the moneymaker a chance to make more money.

Then the new obsession turns into an ongoing obsession.

.

.

Your name flashes on Goo's phone screen.

Your name is one that Gun has, against his will, grown familiar with.

He has heard more than his fair share of your interests and hobbies. How great you are, how talented, how wonderful. The way your hair gleams in the light, how your eyes sparkle when you laugh. How you always beat Goo in games, "Y/N must be cheating!" he would screech.

And, according to Goo, has the most deliciously mean sense of humour. "You could never be as funny as Y/N." Goo sneers, as if it was a competition. As if Gun ever wanted to be seen as funny. Or to make Goo fucking Kim laugh.

Gun couldn't give a shit. Gun couldn't care less. But since when did Goo care what Gun thinks.

So Goo rambles, voice rushed and excited, telling him everything about you even when Gun tells him to shut the fuck up and tries to uppercut him on the jaw.

.

.

"You're getting too attached." Gun tells him one day. Not that Gun cares, but Goo Kim happy is insufferable.

He expects a glare, an insult. Eyes narrowed behind glasses and venom.

Goo's response surprises him. Gun never expected this.

A shrug and a lopsided smile. Goo is resigned to his fate. "Yeah," he agrees.

He knows he is too attached to you, and he has no intention of ever changing that.

#slightly different format with fic requests! #my inbox is overwhelming me #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism fic #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo x reader #kim joongoo #gun park #wannaeatramyeon

[albertasunrise]

Oops Baby - Broken Heart

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (I apologise in advance for this trip you're about to take 😬)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Frankie needs a transplant.

Those words had been circling in your head from the moment the doctor had uttered them. He was in severe heart failure and only a new heart was going to save him. They could control it with medication. But there was only so much time he could live like that before his time was up. So now he was on a waiting list.

A long waiting list.

You were sitting at his bedside as he slept. The machines whirring around him letting everyone know that he was still here. Still breathing. It had been a few days since he'd collapsed. He'd spent 48 hours in an induced coma before they'd finally brought him around again and after another long, gruelling day, he'd opened his eyes and smiled at you.

Mary had been there whenever she could. Fussing over him in every way she could. Marking her territory and making sure you knew that Frankie was hers and that when this was over, it wouldn't be you he’d be with.

The Miller brothers had also been by most days to see him but Benny was the one that struggled to keep himself together whenever he was around his friend.

You were a little shocked that they discharged Frank after two weeks in the hospital. He had, more or less, died two weeks prior. So for him to be discharged with a new mix of meds and instructions not to do anything too strenuous seemed to be a little crazy to you.

You had agreed all those months ago that he would move in with you for a while when the baby was born so now seemed as good a time as any. He was weak in his first few days out but as the days went by, he got a little stronger each and every day. You had to learn how to accept the fact that Mary was now a constant in your life. It was clear that she wasn't happy that Frank was not staying with you and not her. You couldn't even start to understand how she must feel having to share the man she cared for with a woman who was about to have said man's baby. It was a mess.

She never outwardly made you feel like you were a burden to her and Frank but you knew you were. You were getting in their way and you were more and more conscious of that the more time you spent with them. She never stayed the night but she certainly made sure she spent as much time as she could with him. Fussing over him when he was having a hard day and cooking dinner for him almost every night. You hated how she had so consciously inserted herself into your situation without any thought for how it might be affecting you.

And Frankie said nothing.

He just wanted to keep the peace. To weak and tired to argue with Mary but the truth was he was getting fed up with her mollycoddling. He wanted to spend some time with you. He wanted to just enjoy these last few weeks with you until your daughter made her entrance. But as the days merged into weeks, she didn't back off. Then before either of you knew what hit you… You were staring down the barrel of your due date.

3 days to go.

Mary was puttering around in your kitchen as she prepared lunch. Another meal she'd found that was supposed to help keep Frankie healthy. Well as healthy as he could be despite needing a new heart. You were sat on the couch, rubbing your swollen belly as you watched her move from beneath your sundress.

"So I was thinking that we could maybe go out this weekend." She piped up as she started to dish the food up onto two plates "Get out out and about."

"It's Titch's due date this weekend Mary." Frankie groaned "We can't be going anywhere for a while."

"No… Right… Of course." She muttered as she picked up the plates and placed one on the table in front of Frank before placing the other down and sitting "Just thought it would be nice to spend some time together before the baby comes and steals you away from me." She chuckled as she dug into her food.

"All we do is spend time together." He muttered, eyes his plate of food before his eyes drifted to the counter "Didn't you make some for Titch?"

"She's so picky with her food." Mary shrugged "I just assumed that she'd make herself something."

"She's 9 months pregnant Mary!" Frank scolded.

"It's fine Frank." You piped up as you waddled into the kitchen "I have leftover pasta I can eat." You said as you opened the fridge and grabbed the plate of leftover Mac and cheese from the other night.

"Let me sort that for you." He said upon noticing that you were struggling to stay on your feet.

"I'm okay Frank." You assured him as you held onto the counter to aid your walk to the microwave.

"No, you're not…" Fish trailed off as he got up and swooped to your aid "Go sit… I'll sort this for you."

"Your food's getting cold Frankie." Mary piped up and Frank felt his blood boil.

"It'll be fine." He snapped at her before helping you over to a seat at the table.

"You shouldn't be overexerting yourself." Mary stated as she watched Fish practically carry you to the table "Remember what the doctor said-"

"I know what the doctor said and helping the mother of my child sit is not over-exerting myself." He growled, "Now shut up and eat your food."

Both you and Mary were a little taken aback by his sudden change of tone. Her green eyes started to fill with tears as she nodded at him a returned her attention to the food on her plate. Frankie felt a twinge of guilt at snapping at her but he was tired. After sorting your food and eating his own, he helped you up to your bedroom so you could take a nap. The last few days of this pregnancy zapping you of all your energy.

And that left him alone with Mary.

"I'm sorry for snapping." He said as he walked into the kitchen to see her finishing off the dishes "You just need to understand that Titch and I are having a baby and she needs my help right now."

"I get that Frank." She sighed as she gripped the counter and let her head fall forward "But you need to understand how much it hurts to know that I won't get to be the person to experience all this for the first time with you."

"What do you?…"

"I mean that I love you, Francisco!" She groaned as she finally turned to face him "And it's killing me that I won't get to be the woman to give you your first child. That it won't be me you get to experience all those firsts with… It'll be here."

"Mary-"

"And she doesn't even deserve it!" She shrieked "She broke your heart, Frank. Took it and stomped on it and yet she gets to have this with you."

"She made a mistake." Fish sighed "We were drunk and she was feeling shitty and the more I think about it… the more I realise that I took just as much advantage of her as she did of me!"

"Frankie-"

"I need you to back off a bit." He piped up, wincing at the heartbroken expression that then filled her features but it had to be said "We are literally just about to become parents and I need to focus on her for a while."

"What about you?" She asked and his brows furrowed "Who's going to take care of you?"

"I'll be okay." He tried to reassure her but she scoffed.

"You need a new heart, Frank!" She growled "You are so far from okay."

"I know that." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut "I appreciate everything you do for me but baby I need to prioritise her and my baby right now. You told me you would be okay with this when we first talked about this!"

"I did!… And I do it's just… I just love you okay."

"I know." Frankie said softly as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close "We will get through this I promise." He whispered against her brow as he pressed a kiss there "But I need you to just give us some space okay?"

She nodded, knocking a few tears free.

"Okay." She said letting out a stuttered breath.

"This isn't us breaking up okay?" He assured her "This is just me focusing on my baby okay."

"Okay."

…

You were slow getting down the stairs. Having to stop halfway to the kitchen to take a breather. When you finally made it, you found Frankie standing at the stove stirring the most mouthwatering-smelling sauce.

"What'cha cooking?" You asked as you waddled to his side.

"Homemade Turkey meatballs with a tomato sauce." He replied as he looked over his shoulder to smile at you "Thought seeing as all you're craving these days is pasta… You wouldn't mind more of it."

"Mmmm, daddy's too good to mummy." You cooed as you lowered your face a little to talk to your bump.

Frank's heart skipped a beat at your statement, his eyes widening a little as he watched you rub your belly.

"Where's Mary?" You asked, snapping him out of whatever reverie he was in.

"She uh… Well, we had a chat earlier and she's agreed to give us some time. She was getting a little-"

"Much?" You interjected and he chuckled.

"Yeah." He replied before returning his attention to the sauce "She meant well."

"I know." You replied as you gave his arm a friendly squeeze before waddling over to the kitchen table "Just wish we'd had a little more time to enjoy these last few weeks together."

"Enjoy them how?" Fish chuckled as he glanced at you.

"I dunno… Start sorting the baby's room. Organising the drawers and choosing a name. That sort of thing."

It suddenly dawned on Frankie that you and he hadn't had a chance to sit and discuss potential names for the little girl who was due any day. He was hit with an immense wave of guilt at the realisation that he had been neglecting you and his baby. Sure he'd been sick but he had been neglecting you long before his heart attack. He needed to do better by you.

"Why don't we do that tonight?" He stated, grabbing your attention.

"Do what?"

"All that stuff you mentioned. We can get the clothes done then sit and read through that book of baby names my mum sent."

"Oh.. the 'Spanish Baby Names' Booked she mailed you literally a month after we told her?" You chuckled and he grinned.

"Yeah… That one!" He grinned at you and you smiled warmly at him.

"Sounds like a plan."

So that's exactly what you did.

You ate the wonderful dinner Frank had prepared for you. Sorted the baby's outfits into the chest of drawers he and Ben had assembled for you just before his incident and then sat down on the couch, giggling at some of the names you came across.

"What about Leticia?" Frank asked and you snorted "What's wrong with that one?"

"It sounds like Lettuce!" You chuckled "We can call her Leticia Salad Morales."

Frank's heart practically stopped at the mention of his daughter taking his last name. That also wasn't something either of you had discussed. He had hoped you'd give his daughter his name but he hasn't wanted to push the subject.

"Okay well… have you seen any you like?"

"Hmmm… Let's see." You said as you flicked back a few pages "What about Mercedes?"

"Pass!"

"Why?"

"Because I went to school with a girl called Mercedes and she is now an escort!" He stated plainly and your jaw dropped.

"Okay… No to Mercedes." You replied before looking back a few more "What about Esmeralda?" You asked and Frankie's eyes widened "Esme for short."

"I uh… I…" He was lost for words.

Something you mistook for embarrassment.

"Nevermind we can-"

"It's perfect!" He interrupted, stopping you in your tracks "I love it."

"You do?" You grinned at him and he nodded, smiling wildly.

"Yeah." He confirmed as he placed his hand on your bump and leaned in close "How about you Emse? You like the name?" He chuckled as he felt the baby shift under his palm "I think she likes it." He said as he looked up at you, freezing in place when your gazes locked.

The air seemed to crackle as the two of you looked at each other with such intensity that the air seemed to be sucked from the room. Neither one of you could be entirely sure who made the first move, but the next thing you knew the two of you were kissing each other breathless as Frank pulled you to straddle his lap. You groaned at how your huge bump seemed to get in the way of your core seeking the relief it needed and upon noticing this, Frankie's deft fingers slipped into your shorts and started to circle your aching clit.

The moan that slipped from your lips was bordering on pornographic. His fingers pushing into your core had you screaming his name as your hips rocked in an attempt to gain more friction.

"Fuck Frankie." You whined as you felt yourself hurtling towards your release.

"Cum for me Hermosa." He purred "Let Papi make mummy feel good."

That statement was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge. You came with a cry, panting against Frankie's lips as you smiled sweetly at him.

"That was… Wow…" You panted and Frank smiled sweetly at you.

"Glad I could help." He chuckled "Do you wanna?…"

He left the question open but you knew what he meant. You nodded before letting him help you to your feet. Smiling as he kissed you deeply before pulling you in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Oh!…" You gasped, stopping in your tracks as you looked down to see the small puddle that had formed at your feet.

"What?" Frankie asked as he looked back at you, his eyes then following yours and widening at what he saw "Did you?… Did your?…"

"I think my waters broke." You gasped, looking up at him with eyes the size of saucers "I think our baby's coming." You grinned at him and he chuckled as he cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss so sweet you could practically taste it.

"Great timing baby girl." He chuckled as he looked down at your bump before returning his gaze to you "You ready?"

"Definitely."

…

Frank wiped your brow as you collapsed on the bed, panting as you readied yourself to push again. Tears stained your cheeks as you looked up and Frankie, your whole body shaking with the effort of pushing your child into the world.

"You're doing so well sweetheart." He said sweetly as he looked down at you and kissed your brow.

"Right one more big push for me." Stated the doctor, pointing at you when it was time and cheering you on as you pushed like your life depended on it "She's here!" The doctor announced and then the room was filled with the wailing cries of your newborn daughter.

"She's here sweetheart." Frankie sobbed "She's here and she's perfect."

"Mmmm." You replied, unable to string a sentence together and unable to keep your eyes open.

"Titch?" Frankie said as he shook your shoulder and then suddenly alarms started to blare "What's happening?" He asked panicked as he was pulled back.

"She's haemorrhaging." Stated the doctor "We need to get her into surgery!"

Frank was dragged from the room as it erupted into chaos.

…

Ben's knee bounced nervously as he sat there with his brother waiting on news of the new member of the group. He couldn't believe that there was going to be a baby. That he was going to be Uncle Benny!

"You think she's here yet?" He asked his brother as he looked nervously at the clock.

"I'm sure we'll hear news soon."

They both sat up straighter when they saw Frankie step into view. Both Millers stood in unison as they studied their friend and noted that he wasn't smiling.

"Is she?…"

"Esmerelda's here." He said, a small smile gracing his lips "She's perfect!"

"What's wrong?" Will asked and Frankie sobbed, throwing his head into his hands as he allowed his emotions to flow freely.

"Is Titch okay?" Ben asked, his blue eyes filling with tears.

"She's in surgery." Frankie managed to force out.

"Is she going to be okay?" Ben all but whispered, his knees going weak when Frankie looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks.

"I don't know." Fish replied as he shook his head.

Ben didn't stop the tears then. He had come to consider you his best friend. The sister his parents never graced him with and now he was facing the possibility that he would never see you again. That idea that he might never get to see your smile or hear your laugh again, killed him.

"I don't know." Frankie repeated as his hand went to his chest.

"Frank?… You okay?" Will asked, managing to grab the man in time before he hit the ground.

Then everything went dark.

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#frankie morales × reader #frankie morales × you #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #francisco morales triple frontier #francisco morales × you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco morales × reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier × reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

[daydream-cement]

Hi there 👋Can I request a angsty Larissa x reader where Larissa and reader are together but Larissa has been distant because she’s very work focused so reader just stops trying with the dates because they feel lonely. Then Larissa decides to take a few days off, and she thinks everything is fine until she sees reader up in the morning (reader hasn’t even noticed that Larissa was still home because they’re used to her already being gone by the time they wake up) and reader looks sad while they make breakfast for themselves and Larissa showers them with love. Thank you ❤️

Time For You

Larissa Weems x Reader

Authors Note: Teeny tiny cute lil oneshot.

Larissa had been missing you so much the past few months. A new fall semester had begun and you were unaccustomed to the amount she typically worked. You began dating at the beginning of summer. Larissa had many days off and you could spend as much time together as you wanted.

Now that she was working, date nights were the first to go. You felt like you never saw her anymore. No more snuggling in the morning, no more lunch dates, and no more dinner dates before 8pm. Truthfully, it made you all too sad. Were you just growing apart?

Little did you know that Larissa was as equally upset about the lack of time you had with one another. She took off Thursday and Friday this week, giving you both extended time to spend together.

Of course, being the early riser she was, she left bed around 6 and began watching tv in the living room quietly, not looking to disturb you. When you awoke, you began your normal routine. You brushed your teeth and got dressed before finally making your way out to the kitchen to make breakfast for yourself.

You heard the tv on and assumed Larissa much have been watching it before she left and had forgotten to turn it off. You gently rubbed your eyes and couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Larissa wasn’t hope with you. You were planning on making an omelette and those were one of her favorites.

Larissa heard you puttering around in the kitchen and she knew she smelled peppers and onions sautéing. You must have been making an omelette, she thought to herself. She padded her way into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

You jumped, almost dropping the pan and the spatula.

“Oh, y/n, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Larissa tightened her grip and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay. Aren’t you going to be late for work?” You weren’t sure what she was doing here. Most of her meetings were starting by now.

“Nope. You are stuck with me for the next four days. I plan on not leaving your side. I am having y/n withdrawals.” Her lips came down to the side of your head and down to your neck as you jostled the omelette in the pan.

“Are you now?” You laugh at her little joke, feeling yourself melt back into her arms.

“Of course! I always have to make time for you.”

———

She had been having you-withdrawals. It was evident in that she literally didn’t leave your side, except to head into Jericho to get you a coffee before you woke up in the mornings.

You spent your afternoons in pure laziness together. You both watched movie reruns and your favorite shows together, hardly even leaving the couch. You did a puzzle on the coffee-table, most of which you sat between Larissa’s legs on the floor. She would point out pieces or kiss the top of the head as you snapped them into place.

During scarier movies, you laud on top of Larissa, your head buried into her chest as she continued to watch. Over and over again, she reminded you of how much she adored you and missed you over the past couple months. She even thanked you for putting up with her mess of a schedule.

You absolutely loved Larissa Weems, messy schedule and all.

#larissa weems #fanfic #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot

[smurphyse]

Fuck You, Munson | Eddie Munson

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, depictions of gore, monster fights, descriptions of blood, overuse of 80s song lyrics

Summary: You grow anxious that Eddie won't wake up. When he finally does, he's in for the shock of his life when he meets the crazy girl who saved him

Two weeks have passed since I found Edward Munson in the Darkness being preyed upon by creatures of nightmares.

After stripping him from a distance with my powers, I learned that he is in fact a boy. One with more tattoos than I’d think one would have at a young age. They look handmade, etched stick-and-poke ones likely done in dim light with as much precision as he could muster.

I cleaned him, and day by day his wounds are healing. His body reacts normally, healing at a rate I know is good with my assistance. He’s even going to the bathroom regularly… something I never wanted to have to worry about or clean up. At least Screech and Clem shit outside.

But he still hasn’t woken.

His pupillary reactions are normal, his eyes flicking back and forth beneath his lids as he dreams. I can tell when he has nightmares from the whimpers and whines that come from the bedroom. I usually stop what I’m doing and go inside to check on him, and a soft hand on his arm or brushing fingertips along his forehead seem to make them ease.

It took a few days to put all of his broken bones back in place, and I gagged with every snap and squelch of them pulling back into his skin. I couldn’t even take his rings off until I fixed his busted hands.

Who the hell wears this many rings? I’d thought angrily as the knuckles went back into the sockets with soft pops. I made sure to clean the blood from them before stashing them away in a box on a bookshelf for safekeeping.

Deciding it was too difficult to wash his unruly hair via a bucket and cocking his head over the side of the bed, I tied it up in a bun. I thought about shearing it all off, but the memory of Papa doing that to me as a child made me settle for an updo. We could be bun-buddies, and even if he never woke up I’d delight in it a bit.

He slept now on my bed, covered halfway with some quilts I found at a flea market, breathing softly. The rattling in his lungs died down after a day or two of clearing the blood coming in, and now he snored quietly when he wasn’t having nightmares.

I did my best when it came to healing the large gashes on his abdomen, but there was only so much I could do. I’m not exactly a surgeon even with my military training, which was meant to keep fellow soldiers alive so they could make it back to base. Unfortunately I’d left Edward Munson with thick scars stretching up his belly, chest, and neck… but at least he was alive for now.

He’d become a part of my household. The first few days I tiptoed around to let him rest, worried he might startle again and hurt himself. Now, I putter around like I did before he came, listening to the radio or talking to myself or Clem and Screech. I ignored him for the most part until I had to bathe him with a sponge before bed each night.

A few times a day I change his bandages and clean his wounds, check him over for any new signs of bodily stress. He’s healing well… getting better every day, but it keeps bothering me that he won’t open his eyes on his own. 

I want to see them again, want to talk to him to figure out how he got here. I haven’t ventured out into the Dark since I brought him here, scared he’ll die in my bed by himself, so I haven’t been able to find the gate he came through. I need to close it like I have the others that pop up every few months.

I rarely venture outside of the Haven for this exact reason… I want nothing to do with the Darkness or Henry or any of the shit outside of my property. Not anymore.

Tonight I glare at him as I sit on the edge of the bed, lip curled into a frown. As I have for the last two weeks, I take my flashlight and flick it on. I gently lay my hand on his cheek and pull on his eyelid just to see them open. Glassy brown stares back at me, but there’s no consciousness to be found.

I flick the light back and forth in irritation. “Wake up so I can send you back where you came from!”

To my surprised horror, his eyeball moves, his pupil dilating for just a moment. A sharp grunt bursts from his chest, and I yelp and release him. Protectively, I pull my arms to my chest as his head lolls back to one side.

I watch him curiously for a few moments, expecting him to finally rouse. His breathing goes back to normal and he relaxes into the mattress. Creeping closer, I reach out with a cautious hand and poke his cheek.

Nothing.

As extensive as my military training is from my time with Papa and the lab, I know nothing about comas. What the hell am I supposed to do if he doesn’t wake up? Just sit here every day and take care of him until he finally dies? Ugh, then I’ll have to bury him.

Stomping my foot like a child, which I immediately regret when Papa’s face pops up in my mind to give me a disapproving look, I grumble and head for the kitchen. I’ll cook myself some dinner instead of worrying about him. At least I know one of us will be alive for leftovers tomorrow. If he dies, I won’t have to keep mushing up food and feeding him through a tube. It’s gross anyway, and I’d rather bury him than keep doing that.

“Fine,” I mutter, turning on my heel and walking out the door. “Fuck you, Munson.”

Eddie’s head pounds like the bass at a Corroded Coffin show, only he’s not enjoying himself nearly as much as he does in a shitty bar outside of Hawkins as he shreds on stage. Struggling to open his eyes, his futile attempts to put a steadying hand beneath himself fail. His limbs refuse to cooperate, as does the rest of him. The slits of sunlight that come through each time he tries to peel his eyelids apart make them shut immediately, and soon enough he gives up.

The memory of the demabats swarming him as he played on his guitar keeps jolting him awake, but he can’t tell how much time passes between nightmares. He hears someone talking now and then, sometimes yelling, but mostly he hears music… shitty music. Everything from Bowie to Redbone to Cher plays in his head, and he quickly decides through his mind fog that they’re the cause of his migraine.

He manages to open his eyes after what feels like years of trying, blinking heavily through dim lighting. His head rocks to the side as another terrible song blasts through the speakers he can’t focus enough to find and turn off.

"Baby, baby, I don't know what I'm doing," the Kinks play, making Eddie wince. This shit’s so old… he bet Steve picked it, the dork. "Everything I do, it turns to ruin."

His eyes finally slide into clarity, surrounded by a dark shadow. He finds himself in a small cabin room. An array of houseplants litter the place, vines hang from the walls and trail up through the ceiling cracks, poking into the wooden beams and disappearing. A few sit on tables and shelves, one hangs above him above the window where he lay, succulents line up on the windowsill.

Eddie sits up slowly, gasping painfully as a shock rips up his belly and seems to burst through his chest. He rips the thin quilt from his lap only to discover himself buck naked… and his abdomen covered in long tendriling scars.

Tears spring from his eyes as he runs a shaky finger down one of them, wincing at the pain that emanates from the redlined puckered skin. He counts five in his limited eyeline, all thick branched and scabbed over.

How did I survive? he wonders in shock. The last memory that surfaces is Henderson clutching his leather and denim as Eddie bled out in the Upside Down, sobbing as he proudly proclaimed he was no longer a coward.

Eddie was sure he was going to die and he wasn’t scared.

Henderson. Harrington. Nancy and Robin, Lucas and Max.

They need to know he’s awake, that he’s okay. Soft singing floats in from another room, and Eddie figures it’s Nancy from the terrible taste. He looks around for his clothes, but the only thing he can see is the blanket he threw to the ground. 

Eddie reaches for it, the bed creaking with his shifting weight. His stomach burns with a renewed round of pain as he grunts in annoyance. Finally he sits back and lets out an irritated sigh.

“Wheeler…” he tries, but his voice cracks dryly in his throat. Licking his lips he tries again, but even less comes out, “Harrin… oh fuck it.”

Swinging his feet onto the hardwood floor, face scrunching and heating up with the effort as he struggles to grab the blanket. He stretches until he can pull it close, kicking it up and pulling it back over his lap. The last thing he needs is Nancy or Robin seeing his dong when he’s vulnerable like this.

Wrapping the blanket around his waist, he tries to stand. The world shifts beneath him, his vision dragging and threatening to black out. His fingernails dig into the nightstand as he waits for the spots to blink away, eyeing the bookshelf lining the wall to gauge his path toward the music.

“Come on, baby, I don’t mind. Two lonely people, the helpless kind.” Eddie hears someone singing along, the floor creaks with her movements. “Come on, baby, love me ‘til the sun shines.”

Saliva floods his mouth as he smells food… it’s like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, and the gurgling of his stomach burns as badly as the scarring on his chest.

It takes him through the end of the song to tug himself up enough to stand. Sweat beads across his forehead as he struggles to keep the stupid blanket around his waist. Eddie usually wears a hair tie around his wrist but it was gone or he’d have used it.

“Clem! Screech!” a voice calls as he makes his way slowly toward the door. Inching along, Eddie peeks as much as he can, watching the shifting shadows through the light pouring in. “Dinner!”

He hears a barking noise, then the scarfing of food. Where the hell did they take him? None of them have pets beside Dustin.

As she comes back in, a screen door creaks shut. The music turns up a little as another old song plays, “Well, she was an American Girl. Raised on promises.”

Her voice is sweet, but Eddie doesn’t recognize it as he struggles his way toward the door. "After all it was a great big world. With lots of places to run to. Yeah, and if she had to die tryin', she had one little promise she was gonna keep."

Leaning heavily on the frame, Eddie finally catches a glimpse of the singing girl with the weird taste in music. She sways in time in front of a kitchen sink, surrounded by an army of dishes as she washes them in sudsy water. Her dark eyes watch the window, the vined plants above on a shelf drape between two nails to form a curtain. The cabin is small, one big room besides the bedroom he’d been sleeping in. Teensy string lights hang around the walls with the plants, and Eddie hears a storm brewing in the distance over the music.

But she is what makes his heart stop in his chest.

She’s not Robin or Nancy or Max, and Eddie doesn’t recognize her from school. She dances in place in nothing but a ratty old flannel, her chocolate curls flung up in a messy ponytail as she smiles out the window. Eddie makes a face as he realizes his own aren’t tickling his shoulders, and finally feels that it’s held up in a tight bun. 

He tugs and releases his curls as he eyes her tanned legs, the soles of her feet dusted with a bit of dirt from not wearing shoes. A bruise blossoms on the back of her thigh and a scratch is healing to a pale jagged pink as she washes a coffee mug. He cranes his head to trail his gaze down the soft curve of her jaw, the supple swell of her cheekbone and full lips of her profile as she focuses on something outside. She’s beautiful, and Eddie swallows thickly as he struggles to speak.

“Hey…” he starts, but again it comes out weak and cracked. Eddie clears his throat and pushes off the door, stumbling on shaky legs as he pads into the kitchen.

Eddie reaches out to touch her shoulder, and suddenly her head turns to face him, dark eyes bright and fierce. Her hand shoots out and he’s flung back. His eyes clamp shut as he braces for the impact of hitting a wall, but a lightning fast screeching erupts behind him.

Instead of hardwood his ass hits something soft, and when he cautiously opens his eyes he finds himself plopped on an old flowery printed armchair. Eddie pants as he looks around in shock, but the girl lets out a happy yelp.

“Oh my god!” she yells excitedly, jumping in her spot. “You’re awake!”

She dries her hands off with a towel she snatches from the counter before tossing it aside. Hurrying over, she drops to her knees in front of him. Her hands go straight for his damaged stomach, warm fingertips grazing across his skin. Eddie winces and flinches away.

She pulls back with wide eyes, holding her hands protectively to her chest. She gives him a sheepish smile, “I really thought you were going to die, Edward.”

“Uhm, it’s Eddie…” is all he manages to croak out, and she nods to herself and taps her temple.

“Eddie, okay,” she grins, then sticks out her hand for him to shake. “Zero.”

Eddie makes a face, and she lets out an awkward sigh. She glances around for a moment before slapping her hands down on the tops of her exposed thighs, “You probably want some clothes, huh?” 

Eddie looks down only to realize he was sitting on display for this strange woman to see. He tugs on the blanket to cover himself but she waves a hand nonchalantly, “I’ve seen it already. Don’t worry.” Eddie watches in horrified shock as she gets to her feet and walks back in the bedroom, speaking as though she knew him and this wasn’t some fucked up nightmare. He has no idea who she is and she’s seen him naked? “I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to wake up and I really thought you were gonna die in my bed…”

A drawer opens and closes, then she makes her way back in and hands him a pair of sweats and a flannel. Eddie takes the pile with a shaky hand as he continues her rambling. 

“It was easier to keep you naked, and it was less laundry for me to do…” she trails off as he stares wide-eyed at her. She cocks her head, “Are you okay?”

Eddie licks his dry lips and shakes his head slowly, “Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m Zero,” she frowns, putting her hands on her hips.

“Okay… Zero,” he says slowly, leaning as far away from her as he could into the back of the chair. “Where are my friends?”

Zero frowns and looks again toward the window, “ You were the only one I found.”

Panic surges through him at the thought. Dustin, Max, and Lucas are just kids and the rest of them all have families who will look for him. He puts a shaky hand under himself to get up, but she flicks her wrist and he’s pushed back into the chair once more.

“I didn’t find any bodies, so I’m sure they’re fine.” She frowns again as he tries to get up again, but he can’t seem to move, “You shouldn't even be out of bed, okay? When I found you you looked like minced meat. I’m surprised I put you back together again, Humpty Dumpty.”

“You found me?” he asks incredulously. “What the hell were you doing in the Upside Down?”

Now it was her turn to make a face, “What the hell is the Upside Down?”

“Where you found me,” Eddie hisses. He points out the window toward the night even though they were far away from it all. Rage began to course through him at her indifference. “Purple clouds and lightning? Flying monsters and vines everywhere?”

Her dark eyes widen as her gaze follows his finger, her jaw dropping slightly. Zero nods slowly before turning back to him.

“I think you should get some sleep.”

Eddie watches angrily as she unfurls the sweatpants and grips the waistband. She watches him expectantly but he doesn’t budge.

“What were you doing there?”

She sighs and shakes them again, but when he sets his jaw and glares she tosses them on his lap. “I could tell something was going on out there so I went to investigate and found you, okay?”

“You found me?” Eddie asks as fresh hurt blossoms through his chest. "They left me there?"

Zero shrugged, "They probably thought you were dead. I did."

“Where am I?”

“In a cabin.”

“Where am I?” he asks again.

Zero groans dramatically and stalks off toward the front door. Her hand waves toward him and the armchair starts to shake. Eddie lets out an embarrassing yelp as it lurches forward by itself across the hardwood, following Zero out onto the porch.

The midnight blue sky hangs above them as the armchair scooches outside. Eddie grips the armrests tightly until it stops moving and has to peel his fingernails from the fabric. Stars pierce the sky, glittering like thin sparkling tulle in the warm night. A soft breeze glides through, but it doesn’t cut with its chill. Instead, it calms, and his hair dances over his shoulders in time.

Zero points out toward the distance where the blue meets angry pulsing purple and red. The storms Eddie heard over the radio rumble ten times louder now that he sees it, and his damaged heart drops low into his stomach.

“We’re in the Haven,” she says solemnly. Her eyes glisten with wetness as she watches the storm forming. She points again, “That’s the Darkness, or as you call it…”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie finishes for her in revulsed horror. “We’re still in the Upside Down.”

Zero nods, “You never left.”

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Notes: Lmao you guys don't know what I went through making this gif small enough for Tumblr... anywho how do you think Eddie's going to deal with being in the Upside Down?? How do you think he and Zero will get along now that Eddie's awake?

ST Taglist: @tlclick73 @theloser007 @sadbitchfangirl @chaoticcancer  @harrys-tittie @assassinsasha23 @spacedoutdaydreamer @legendarytrashcopeclipse 

#Zero to Hero #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #smurph writes #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson/OC #ocapp #ocappreciation #ocfairygodmother #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[tiannasfanfic]

Boys of Summer: Part 4

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader (Angst)

Summary: After your family moves away from Evergreen when you were 16, you and Adrian Chase keep passing by each others lives like ships in the night. (Crossposted to AO3)

Rating: Mature

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, no pronouns used.

CW: Angst, cussing, conflicting emotions and evil brain weasels. Attempted assault on Reader, but it is thwarted by Vigilante.

Word Count: 2,759

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

But I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun. You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby. I can tell you, my love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone.

July 2021

Three months after your move back up to Evergreen, the last of your boxes were finally unpacked. Everything was in its proper place, and you had settled in nicely. You still needed to find a job, but you hadn’t gone through your savings quite yet, so you had a bit of time still. Not much, but a bit.

The IT work you had been doing in Phoenix ended up working out for a lot longer than you had expected. Actually, you would still be there had your dad not had a major health scare. When that happened, you realized you didn’t want to be so far away anymore. That was the kind of work you were hoping to get back to eventually. In the meantime, you had been reacquainting yourself with Evergreen.

A lot had changed in the years you had been away. While you didn’t take anymore walks around the neighborhood, you did spend some time driving around the city to learn where everything was now. It reminded you in a way of when you were a teenager. You found yourself thinking about that one evening as you were on your way home from one such drive.

Back in the day, after you got your license, you would frequently drive around in your dad’s car. Sometimes you did it solo, other times with your old best friend. That memory made you smile.

Now there was someone you hadn’t thought about in a long time. Since your last trip up here actually. You briefly thought about that last time when you said goodbye to his old house, then focused instead on the happier memories from childhood. You didn’t want to think about that night and hadn’t since then.

Two years ago, you had briefly poured your heart out on that sidewalk in front of the house. You had wanted to say more, but that feeling of being watched never went away. If anything, it got more intense. Even though you hadn’t felt threatened by it or in any kind of danger, just the idea of someone watching you made you uneasy. It went away once you moved along and started your walk back. At that point, you figured you were just being paranoid and thought no more of it.

While it had been tempting once or twice to go look at the house again in the first couple of weeks after you moved, you resisted the temptation. You were just trying to hold onto the happy memories of childhood, and you realized that now. It was an easy place in your mind to retreat to since it was a simpler time in your life. A lot of people say that of course, forgetting anything negative that might’ve happened in childhood, but, in your case, it was true. When the worst thing you had to worry about for most of it was dealing with your best friend’s older brother, it was definitely a simpler time. Nowadays, you couldn’t really even remember why you disliked Gut Chase so much. Sure, he was an asshole, but you had dealt with much worse since then.

Time sure does have a way of putting things into perspective.

Time does not, however, stop someone from losing track of it while driving around, which is what ended up happening to you that night. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but you didn’t notice how low the gas tank was when you left the house. It wasn’t until your car puttered to a stop at the side of the road when that occurred to you.

After trying to restart your car a couple times, you finally realized what happened. You sighed and hit the steering wheel with the side of your fist, accidentally hitting the horn in the process. It honked briefly and startled you. You sat there for a second to let your heart calm down, then sighed again, going over your options in your head.

You didn’t have roadside assistance with your insurance. Your dad had been asleep in his recliner when you had stepped out for your drive. He was still recovering from his health scare, so you didn’t want to bother him. The few friends that knew you were back all had their own lives, plus it was getting close to midnight. There wasn’t anyone you could think of that would be awake that could come save you.

Walking it is.

After making sure you had everything you needed, you locked your car up and headed home on foot. Your GPS said you had about an hour and a half walk ahead of you, so you didn’t dawdle.

Everything was going fine up until you got about fifteen minutes from home.

You had noticed three guys across the street from you at one point, but you were so focused on getting home that you didn’t notice they had started following you until they called out. That soon turned into harassment, which soon turned into a physical altercation started by them. You had some training between the self-defense your dad taught you and what you learned while with the NSA. Add in your slight anger problem and you were way more to handle than they had assumed.

The moment they laid hands on you, it all happened very fast.

A well-placed punch and roundhouse kick both broke the nose of one guy and took him down to the ground, where the impact with the concrete knocked him out cold. You had just swung at the second guy when the third hit you from behind. Something blunt connected with your head, the contact of it making you see double, and you went down on your hands and knees. Several loud gunshots rang out just above your head a second after you went down, the noise sending bolts of pain through your eardrums. Most of your hearing cut out from the sound, leaving you with a high pitched, shrill ringing in your head.

The disorientation from the blow to the head, plus the added disorientation from the sudden loss of hearing, had you to the point you didn’t know what was going on anymore. You didn’t know where you were even, just that the world was spinning, and you were desperately trying to hold onto the concrete under your hands. You were pretty sure you were dead at this point since you knew the last thing you heard were gunshots. This wasn’t helped by the fact you felt something warm spray on your arm a second after the first gunshot and you looked down to see your skin splashed with blood. While you didn’t feel anything but the pounding in your head, you just assumed it was yours.

Your body started tilting sideways and you fell over slightly, taking you from your hands and knees down to your hip and elbows. Your head was drooped, your eyes unfocused on the concrete under you.

You felt a large hand rest gently on your shoulder. It shook you softly, like the owner of the hand was trying to get your attention. Blinking a few times cleared some of your vision. You were able to focus on the concrete at least and see some of the texture. The ringing in your ears slowly started to fade at that point and other sounds began to filter back in. It sounded like someone was trying to talk to you.

“…okay,” a voice was saying. “Everything…are you…to the...?”

You couldn’t make much sense of what you managed to catch, so you slowly started to sit up. When you moved, another hand came to rest on your other shoulder and whoever it was carefully helped you sit up. The pain at the back of your head was a little better, but the movement to sit up made you wince, and your vision spin a little. You tried not to move your head at first, keeping it bowed until you were sure you were stable.

“…we go,” you heard the voice say, and now you could tell it was a male voice. “Slow and…tortoise and the hare.”

That made a little more sense.

The two hands stayed on your shoulders as you steadied yourself into a seated position then slowly moved away. You reached up and gingerly touched the back of your head. It didn’t feel wet. You pulled your hand away to confirm that and, sure enough, there was no blood on your fingers. Your thoughts were a little clearer now, so you recognized that as a good thing. But you would have a good knot back there later.

“…watching those guys,” the voice was saying in a cheery tone, cutting out less now. “I knew…time before they…up to no good.”

You shook your head a little to test the water, then finally looked up to see who was talking to you. It didn’t really surprise you to see it was that Vigilante guy from the news. Who else would jump to the rescue this late at night?

“Sorry you had to…could’ve been worse,” Vigilante was still talking. “You really…ass. Who taught…fight like that?”

Blinking a few times, it took you a moment to remember how to talk. The disorientation still had a pretty good hold on you, and the hearing in one ear was behind the other on coming back. The masked figure stood there and watched you, patiently waiting for your answer.

“Um,” you started, swallowing get your mouth working and assumed what he was asking. “My dad mostly. He was in the Army.”

“That’s awesome!” said Vigilante, clapping in a triumphant way, then leaned down to take a hold of your hands, like he was going to pull you up to your feet. “Your dad would be really proud! You did great! Now, we should get out of here. Let’s get you-“

Vigilante froze then and his words cut off. With his face hovering just above yours, you could make out his eyes studying you. They got wide suddenly, and Vigilante let go of your hands to jump back from you, like touching you had shocked him.

“Holy shit,” you heard him say quietly. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

Now you were worried. You reached up with one hand and started feeling on your face for injuries, thinking he was freaked out by something on your face.

“Am I okay?” you asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

Vigilante just stared at you. Or, at least, you assumed he was staring. You couldn’t see his eyes now, but the way his head was angled down towards you, you assumed he was staring.

“Um, yeah,” he finally said, sounding unsure all of a sudden. Then he cleared his throat. “You are. Where were you headed?”

The bright and cheery tone the man had before was gone, replaced by a flat one.

“Home,” you said, starting to get up. “I don’t live too far from here.”

When you started moving, Vigilante hesitated then stepped forward to extend a hand to you. You let him help you up, but noticed he dropped your hand as soon as you were on your feet. It didn’t seem like he wanted to be near you now.

“Lead the way,” he said in the same flat tone. “Let’s get you home.”

The walk to your house was slow and mostly silent. You had to stop every now and then when your head started to pound, but a short rest always brought it back down so you could continue.

As the two of you were turning onto your street, Vigilante finally broke the silence.

“I haven’t seen you around,” he said, tone still flat. “Just visiting?”

“No,” you said. “I just moved back about three months ago. I’m actually originally from here.”

Vigilante was quiet after that. You glanced over at him and noticed he was walking stiffly.

“Who knows,” you said, trying to lighten the mood and you smiled over at him slightly. “Maybe we knew each other back then when I used to live here.”

Now that made Vigilante come to a halt. You stopped to look at him. Now he was really holding his body stiffly. His fists were clenched at his sides, and you could just make out him glaring at you through the visor. It made you uneasy, but, oddly, you didn’t feel threatened by it like you would if most other men did that around you.

“I’m quite sure if we knew each other before that I would remember you,” he said, his tone harsh. “I don’t forget anyone I care about; unlike some other people I could mention. And I certainly didn’t forget the-“

You heard his mouth snap closed under the mask. He fell silent then.

That was definitely an odd, not to mention confusing, reply.

When it was clear Vigilante wasn’t going to say anymore, you started walking again. Rather than walking next to you like he had been doing, he fell several paces back, which is where he stayed for the remainder of the walk.

Once you got to your door and started getting your keys out of your pocket, you turned to him. He had stopped right at the steps leading up to the porch and hadn’t come any further.

“Thank you,” you said. “For saving me tonight.”

Rather than reply, Vigilante shrugged and walked away. You watched him head down the sidewalk until he was out of sight.

While you hadn’t exactly known what to expect if you ever found yourself meeting Evergreen’s own costumed crime fighter, you were pretty sure you didn’t expect him to be so cold and uncaring. It didn’t really feel like he had wanted to save you but had to because it was his job. You weren’t quite sure how that made you feel. It wasn’t a good feeling, that was for sure.

However, Adrian felt the exact opposite of cold and uncaring. He felt his face burning red hot under the mask. His emotions were all over the place. As he stalked towards a different area of town to resume his patrol, he was reeling.

While he had never expected to ever see you again, Adrian had run scenarios through his head of what might happen if he actually did. Most of them involved him asking why you’d left him like that. Not why you moved, he understood that, but all the rest of it. A large part of him still really wanted to know what he did to upset you so much that you felt the need to completely cut him out of your life. At this point though, Adrian expected your response to be you laughing at him and calling him silly for thinking you were his friend. You obviously meant more to him than he did to you. Why else wouldn’t you have said bye or tried to call? Hell, you had been back in town for, what? How long now? Three months? And you hadn’t even bothered trying to find him. In his mind, he should be the easiest person in the world for you to find if you truly wanted to find him. He still lived in the same house and still worked at the same place. You lived just a few streets away now, closer than you were before, and you hadn’t ever come by.

It didn’t really occur to him that twelve years had passed at this point, and people tended to move onto other things in that time period.

No, he saw it all as one giant slight towards him. He had been abandoned, forgotten, and looked over so much in his life, it was a natural thought process for him to revert to. In his mind, you were just like all the others who had left him behind.

Right about that time, he noticed some men dragging another man into an ally nearby. The man was struggling but was already fairly beaten up and couldn’t put up much of a fight.

“Fuck it,” Adrian muttered, deciding he was done with you.

After that, Vigilante went to work saving the man in the ally, taking great satisfaction in being just a touch more violent with the criminals than usual to work out his sudden feelings of aggression.

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase fluff #adrian chase x you #adrian chase x y/n #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante fluff #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #vigilante x y/n

[nancypullen]

Middle of May

It’s been a pleasant blur of days around here. Yard work, Mother’s Day ( I was spoiled because I have the BEST family), puttering, and then yesterday my sister came for the day.  What fun!  She is in the middle of a big move.  They’ve sold the home where they’ve lived for nearly thirty years, raised kids, and had to maintain about 3 acres.. They’re downsizing and have purchased a home on a smaller lot and will basically gut it and make it new.  Yikes. That’s a lot.  Emptying the old home, storing what will be kept, tackling the new home from the studs up...it doesn’t happen as quickly as they show it on HGTV.  Anywho, she allowed herself a break from the madness and came for a day.  The true purpose of the visit was to give me some of our Grandma Ethel’s iris before the new owners take over the house.  I know spring is not the time to divide them, but sometimes you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do. Better than letting those treasured bulbs fall into hands that might not love them. If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time you’ve probably heard me talk about my grandma.  She was simply the best.  She had every grandchild convinced that they were her favorite and she had a sense of fun that was unrivaled by any other adults I knew. She also had the greenest thumb of all time. Her irises  were legendary. When she died, my sister came into possession of some of her bulbs. Those bulbs have thrived and bloomed for years in my sister’s yard and are always in their glory right around Ethel’s May birthday.  Now that I’m nearby she’s sharing the bounty with me.  I am thrilled.  Generations of irises have made their way from Weiser, Idaho to my yard on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Here’s my adorable sister with some of the flowers we cut.  Thanks, Ethel.

After we dabbled in horticulture, we hopped in the car and drove to Easton.  We had lunch, raided Target, ransacked Ulta, tried on dresses in Marshall’s, and laughed ourselves silly all day.  It was perfect.  I really feel awful for any woman who doesn’t have a sister. Who understands your verbal shorthand? Who knows your history from birth and gets you? Who would help you get rid of a body?  Sister, therapist, accomplice...it’s all the same person. I’m grateful for mine. Other than that, we just poke along doing the daily tasks that make it a life. I’m way overdue for a day at my desk making things - jewelry, cards, art, something needs to happen soon. Maybe I can get creative tomorrow. I’m caught up in the yard and mostly around the house.  The mister mowed today and everything looks so pretty.  I’ve got a zillion baby zinnias up and some mighty fine looking sunflowers as well.  I was surprised to see a bunny in the yard a couple of nights ago - better not eat my sunflowers!

Oh well, it’s time for me to shower off the yard dirt and make some dinner.  Yesterday was salmon and roasted broccoli.  Tonight it’s barbecued chicken thighs and roasted green beans - I’m feeling crazy, I think I’ll add wild rice.  Tomorrow will probably be taco bowls with cauliflower rice.  Or maybe just a big salad with chicken.  I’ve gotten into a rut with our meals and I tend to make the same simple meals over and over. Mickey doesn’t complain, and most of it is healthy and easy - so I shouldn’t complain either.  I just get bored. What a great problem to have, right?  I already feel guilty for complaining. I’ll throw some dinner together and then we’ll watch Ted Lasso.  This is the last season and I’m savoring every minute. I hate to see it end.

Is it just me or is Rebecca especially magnificent this season?  I so hope that she gets her happily ever after. I’m off. Sorry about the boring post.  I’m a granny in a small town. News is scarce.  We had a jailbreak in Denton last week but it only lasted about 45 minutes.  The guy was nabbed over on Cattail Commons, probably didn’t even get to do anything fun.   Oh well, don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.

I hope that May is treating you well.  It’s a truly lovely month and before we know it the heat of summer will be upon us.  Ugh.  Love the color, hate the temps.  Get out and do fun stuff before the sun tries to kill you.  I’ll be spreading mulch tomorrow because my baby plants are finally big enough.  Not fun, but I’ll be happy when it’s done.  My friends farther south are way ahead of me, and I followed that schedule for decades.  I feel like I’m learning to garden from scratch -different soil, different zone, different issues.  Still a pleasure though, I love the results. Okay, really stopping this time.  Sending you love, wishing you all good things, and hoping that you stay safe and stay well. XOXO- Nancy

[jmflowers]

8, 9, 11, 14, 24 💗

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

Oh, there are so many things puttering about in my brain. I’m really proud of myself for having written most of them down this year. There’s one prompt that’s been sitting in my inbox since June that I have tried several times to get started on and I’ve yet to be able to get it exactly right. I keep feeling slightly off-kilter once I get it going and I think that ultimately comes down to fear, since it centers on physical intimacy and I always shy away from writing things that could border into smut.

The thought was an exploration of a specific moment in time, one that was never mentioned in canon so it gives me a pretty ambiguous stretch of space to play with. And explicit smut was not requested, which is what makes my nerves around it so frustrating, haha. I’d like to use it as an opportunity to touch into a poem that’s been sitting in my inbox since May as part of the prompt party submissions, too. We’ll see. I think I just need to get over myself. Or talk through that moment in time over and over again until what I dream up feels really true to them.

9. Short term goals… what do you hope to complete this week or in January?

I have a monster piece that I’ve been working on for a couple of months that I’d like to finish before I head back to school next week. It’s sort of a sequel to Travel Light, in that it focuses on the trajectory of Beatrice’s life. I’ve nearly got part 1 (of 2? 3?) completed and I’m really looking forward to sharing it. It’s scary to post knowing part 2 hasn’t been started, but hopefully the first section will be able to standalone comfortably for a bit and then be a nice collection with the second section later.

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

I don’t know that I’m really a trope kind of writer. I definitely have a tendency to follow where characters take me and that’s rarely ever into fanfic-specific plot points or tropes. (I think?) I’ve been writing a lot of third person present tense for the last year, though, and I’d love to return to some of the more playful ways I used to write – specifically second person point of view. Writing in that format just tickles something in my brain that really challenges me and I don’t often get the opportunity to stretch those muscles.

14. Have you ever lost large chunks of your work in the past, due to not backing up your work? Will you change your methods this year?

Not writing so much, but I lost a ton of photos and documents back in 2012 when the hard drive in my computer got fried. I’ve been pretty good ever since – everything is backed up onto multiple external hard drives and anything I work on between both my laptop and desktop is stored on a cloud drive. School has trained me to be extremely organized with my files; I have no plans to change anything about my file management.

I did have a bunch of stories posted on FF.net back in the day and I went through years ago and removed anything that wasn’t complete that I didn’t intend to finish. I know I saved all of those documents, but I wish I had a clear record of what was once posted there. Occasionally an old reader will mention a specific story to me by title and I don’t usually have any memory of it.

24. By the end of this year, you want your fandom to think of you as “that author who ___.”

I’d like the fandom to think of me as an author who wrote something that brought them comfort. Right now, I write to create safe spaces for myself, and I share my writing so that other people can find some safe spaces, too.

#janelle's asks #fanfic ask game #fanfic asks #thank you friend! #it's fun to try to answer some of these with just a little bit of vagueness #if anyone wants to dissect that one moment in time with me until i can write it... #maybe I should try starting it in second person and see what happens #fic writing life #drlaurenb

[artificialqueens]

Will You Make Me Believe? 5/? (Group Fic) - Candy Cane

A/N: gonna go ahead and upload this today even tho its not friday <3 BIGGGGGG thanks to veronica and grinder once again!!! yall are the fucking greatest :,) this chapter is much shorter, and is def a "connective tissue" chapter. regardless, i hope yall enjoy!

Summary: 

After ten years of the government taking down major cities, the collapse of Chicago is devastating for the Rebellion in New York and the Resistance in Las Vegas. They are trying to fight back, but things get complicated when the leader of the Rebellion disappears.

Bob goes looking for her and instead makes two new friends, Kim and Naomi. When the three friends return to New York, they learn that Sasha and Peppermint went off looking for Bob weeks ago. With a new goal in mind, Bob sets out with a team of her most trusted to track down her friends. But there's a much darker truth waiting for them in the Outside.

The Day After Chicago Fell New York City, N.Y.

Bob woke up that morning with no idea of what to expect for the day. Most people would spend the days following the loss of a city grieving, but Bob never found herself able to do that. She always woke up with a fire in her bones that couldn’t be shaken. It was a feeling she put towards her work, a way to motivate herself to make sure these tragedies could one day end. 

  …At least that’s what she told herself. 

  Today was different, though. Chicago falling was different. They had finally figured out the technology to stop the bombs, they had at least figured out how to alert and evacuate cities, but they were still too late. Bob didn’t wake up with a passion and a drive to do better, she woke up with a heavy heart and empty hole in her spirit. Not for the first time, Bob felt like she was constantly one step behind. She wondered if she would ever be able to save anyone. 

  Bob walked into the small kitchen still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, expecting to see the normal morning routine of the Rebellion. She and Bianca were usually the first people up, and Bianca started the first pot of coffee every day. That morning, Bob didn’t find Bianca standing next to the coffee machine with a grumpy look on her face. It was odd, but odder things had happened recently.

  So, she didn’t think much of it. She knew Bianca had had a late night, since she had heard Bianca puttering about the townhouse a couple of hours after everyone else had gone to bed. Bob had asked her to get some rest and Bianca hadn’t listened. That was just Bianca’s personality, though.

  Without giving it a second thought, Bob started the coffee machine and in minutes the delicious scent was wafting throughout the whole house. Over the next hour, people started filtering into the kitchen for their morning drink of choice and some breakfast. Thorgy and Monet bickered over who got the last cinnamon bagel, Sasha made her morning tea, and Betty looked ready to commit murder. It would’ve been a usual morning, but the weight of the tragedy they had witnessed the night before still followed them. 

  This wasn’t the first time any of them had seen a city fall, but Bob held hope that it would be the last. The grief of losing Chicago lingered over the people of the Rebellion, she could see it in their eyes and their body language. With luck, they wouldn’t be held back for too long. Bob still couldn’t shake the mourning in her bones.

  A couple of hours later, Bob realized she had yet to see Bianca. She went to Bianca’s room to check on her. It was the smallest room in the townhouse, but it was also the smallest. Bianca had requested it for herself when they still had Courtney in their ranks, and then months later she refused to leave the room after they lost Courtney. To this day, Bob couldn’t blame her.  

  Bob was expecting to find their leader pouring herself over the next step of their plan. She always got particularly feisty after a loss. Weirdly enough, though, the room was empty. 

  Concerned, Bob started asking everyone she ran across if they knew where Bianca was. None of them did. 

  Bob searched every inch of the townhouse, but she still couldn’t track down their leader. It scared her, but she tried not to let it get to her. There could be several reasons to explain Bianca’s disappearance, even though they weren’t due for a supply run for a few more days and Bianca wasn’t answering her radio or her cell phone. 

  With a groan, Bob went back up to Bianca’s room hoping to find some clue as to where Bianca went. There wasn’t time for them to sit back and wait for their next lead, they needed to buckle down and focus on tracking down the person who gave them the bad tip. 

  She swung the door open, and the room was expectedly empty. But Bob decided to look closer. 

  For once, Bianca’s bed wasn’t made, instead the sheets were askew and rumpled. Bianca had always been obsessed with order, with cleanliness, and seeing the bed sheets falling from the bed to the floor confused Bon even more. Out of the corner of her eye, Bob saw that the small desk in the room was barren. 

  Every step she took towards the desk made her feel just a little more ill. Usually, Bianca kept her notebooks, binders, and whatever else stacked on top of it, but now they were nowhere to be seen. On top of that, the drawers of the desk were pulled open haphazardly. It just wasn’t like Bianca. When they first moved into the house, Bianca had yelled at everyone for leaving things unkempt. There was even a time that she had berated Monet for leaving a fork on the counter.

  Scanning the room again, Bob noticed the closet door was left open. Curiosity got the best of her and she opened the door wider. Bob’s heart dropped to her feet. None of Bianca’s clothes were in it, and her black duffle bag wasn’t in its usual spot either. 

  Realization hit Bob like a ton of bricks. Bianca was gone. No notes, no goodbyes, nothing. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her vision went red with anger as her body went stiff with fear. Every single one of her instincts started fighting against each other.

  Bianca was gone. 

  With only one idea left, Bob ran out of Bianca’s bedroom and down to the office where they kept their computer and surveillance system, ignoring every surprised person she passed on the way to it. She could explain herself later.

  She pulled up the camera footage from the night before and rewound it until she saw Bianca, with her duffle bag over her shoulder and a grimace on her face, exiting the house at four in the morning. Bob paused the frame, totally stunned at what was before her. Her fear was confirmed. 

  Bianca had left their Rebellion. 

  Peppermint stood in the threshold of the office, brow furrowed with worry, “Bob? What’s going on?”

  Bob looked up at her, “I think… I think Bianca’s abandoned us.”

  “What?” Peppermint asked with confusion, “What are you talking about?”

  “Pep,” Bob whispered, hardly able to admit the truth to herself, “She’s gone.”

  ~*~

Three Days Later Hamilton County, T.N.

Hours after sending a heads-up to the Resistance, Bob snuck onto the supply train that ran from New York to Nevada. She asked the Rebellion to give her three weeks to find Bianca, visit the Resistance and make it home to New York. None of them were happy, especially not Monet, but they were all understanding. 

  Locating Bianca wasn’t too hard. After they lost Courtney, Bianca would occasionally disappear for a couple of days, but she usually told the Rebellion before she left and when she would be back. This time, with all she had taken with her, Bob knew Bianca wasn’t planning on returning. 

  Two years ago, Bob had sewn a tracking device into the strap of Bianca’s duffle bag. None of them knew where Bianca was going, and Bob had worried that one day Bianca would leave and not come back. Bob had needed a way to locate her, just in case. She had never used the tracker before, had never had a reason. Even now, using it felt like a massive invasion of privacy, but Bob was so angry with Bianca that she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

  She had to do this. She had to know why Bianca left. 

  Sat on the cargo train and surrounded by boxes of supplies, Bob was immensely grateful to her past self for installing the tracker, otherwise she would be fucked. The tracker said Bianca’s coordinates were somewhere in southeastern Tennessee, so that’s where Bob went. Monet could take care of the Rebellion in her absence, at least while she tracks down their leader.

  Before she left, Bob formulated a plan. Interrogate Bianca, then let her stew on the prospect of returning to the Rebellion, while Bob would go to the Resistance. She needed to talk to the leaders of the Resistance in person, she had to find a way to make their groups work together. On her way back to New York, Bob would stop at Bianca’s location and see if she was ready to return to the Rebellion. 

  Just one step at a time, right? 

  Bob couldn’t deny how worried she was. She was skeptical that she would be able to convince Bianca to come home. Strangely enough, Bob didn’t want to bring her back. If she left, then it meant that she didn’t want anything to do with the Rebellion, and that meant Bob didn’t want anything to do with her. But she had to know why Bianca left. She had to know what Bianca meant when she said that she had fucked up. 

  That was a thought that plagued her the whole ride on the train. The entire trip to Tennessee, she kept replaying that conversation in her head. Bianca had made it clear she blamed herself for the collapse of Chicago, and Bob wanted to know why. It wasn’t the fault of a singular person, and Bianca had never blamed herself before. Bob almost didn’t want an explanation, but she needed one.

  The train ride to Tennessee wasn’t easy, it was long and full of bumpy tracks and sharp turns. She stayed hidden between cargo boxes that were undoubtedly full of ammo being taken to the Feds, wherever they were located. The conductor had happily let her on once she had paid him, but it still wasn’t a passenger train. It took two days to get to Tennessee. She was grateful for the rations that Monet and Bri had made her take. 

  Bob glanced at the tablet that was connected to the tracker. She was quickly approaching her exit location, a grassy field only a couple of miles from where Bianca’s tracker was. Jumping off the train was something Bob always hated doing. It had been more than a year since the last time she had done it, but she still remembered the experience with dread. 

  She shoved the tablet in her backpack and stood up in the small train car on shaky legs. Instinctively, Bob gripped the straps of her backpack and stared out at the ground before her. It rushed past and blurred together in a dizzying manner. Brown, green, and grey swirled before her.

  Bob breathed in. 

  She braced herself. 

  Then she jumped. 

  She somersaulted off the train car and into the grass field before her. She gasped for air as she rolled to a stop in the grass, the train horn blaring behind her as the metal machine kept on.  Bob inspected her palms and grinned. She had once again made it off with nothing more than bruised knees and scraped hands. 

  Bob stood and dusted the grass and dirt off of the knees of her blue jeans. There were still green grass stains on her pants and dirt on her back, but she didn’t care. Victory was coursing through her veins. 

  She pulled the tablet out of her backpack and was relieved that it wasn’t damaged by her jump. The coordinates pointed her northwest, towards the treeline about half a mile ahead. With a tired sigh and one last glance at her tracker, Bob made her way towards the woods.

  She traveled on foot through the field, then through two miles of dense woods and underbrush until she reached a wire fence. Bob looked at her tablet again and groaned, the red dot showing Bianca’s location was just on the other side of the fence. There were no signs on the fence indicating it was hazardous, but she still didn’t trust it. 

  Bob looked around her and picked up a stick, and proceeded to poke one of the wires with it. Seemingly nothing happened, but she couldn’t be sure that meant it was completely safe. She walked up and down the fence a few yards on either side and grinned upon seeing a place where the wire was torn, leaving a wide enough gap for her to squeeze through. 

  Bob took her backpack off and pushed that through first. After it was safe on the other side, she carefully got onto her hands and knees and crawled under the wires. She stood up on the other side, grabbed her backpack, then looked down at her blue jeans with a sigh. 

  “Yeah, these are ruined,” she muttered to herself, though she didn’t really care.

  With her tracker in one hand and her backpack secured on the opposite shoulder, Bob kept walking forward. Thankfully, she didn’t have to walk far. In a matter of five minutes, she broke out of the woods.

  On the acres of fields before her was a house. It was big, much bigger than Bob would’ve expected, with a wrap-around porch and steps leading up to the front door. It was surrounded by gardens, lush and thriving with flowers and vegetables. There were children- no, teenagers, chasing each other around the yard with water balloons. As Bob walked up the house, she realized that had found a paradise. 

  And there, standing in the flower beds, was a woman. Bob blinked rapidly, unsure if what she saw was real. The woman’s long, blonde hair was topped by a wide-brimmed straw hat, her skin was tanned from hours of work in the sun, and the blue dress she wore swished around her knees softly. The sight stopped Bob in her tracks and her heart beat faster as she wondered how real this was.

  The woman turned to look at Bob, and suddenly Bob couldn’t breathe. She had found a ghost. 

  Bob’s body started moving without her permission, and she ran towards the woman, unable to believe her own eyes.

  The name slipped out of her mouth like a prayer, a name that belonged to an angel that was long dead…

  “Courtney?!”

#rpdr fanfiction #bob the drag queen #bianca del rio #gen fic #bianca & bob #lesbian au #post apocalypse au #angst #dark fic #s8 #hurt/comfort #will you make me believe #candy cane #tw violence #tw dark imagery #concrit welcome

[amazingmaeve]

Babe ↠ Draco Malfoy

━ “i deserve better. i deserve someone who loves me.”

summary ━ y/n and draco had an arrange marriage ever since they got out of hogwarts. y/n thought that they would learn to love each other at least for her. y/n also catches him cheating more than once but he always has an excuse.

warnings ━ cheating, angst, fluff, eating disorder, social anxiety

a/n ━ babe by sugarland feat. taylor swift

word count ━ 3.5k

“You may now kiss the bride,” The priest says closing the bible.

Draco leans in and kisses Y/N while wrapping his hands around her cheeks. She on the other hand wrapped her arms around his neck kissing him back.

Even though this was one of the biggest days for Y/N she knew Draco didn’t want to kiss her. That he didn’t want to marry her.

Y/N’s parents and Draco's parents made an arrangement that they would get married. The two had no say. She thought she would grow feelings before the wedding and she did. But Y/N also thought Draco would be able to stand to be around her, but that wasn’t the case.

While trying to get to know Draco, Y/N tried everything. Doing things that peak his interest but it always ended with him snapping at her to leave him alone.

Y/N understood in the beginning. He didn’t want to get married neither did she. But Y/N dealt with that face that she had to do it.

She caught feelings fast since she’s had a crush on him ever since hogwarts. But she didn’t have the guts to do anything while at school and always felt sad when she saw him with Parkinson.

In Hogwarts Y/N wasn’t exactly known. She just tried keeping to herself so she didn’t bother anyone. She had one friend though. Rose, someone that kept by her side for everything, even the marriage.

For the rest of that night Draco didn’t even speak to Y/N. Nor did he look at her. She tried to keep smiling so people would think she’s happy.

And on the wedding night Y/N lost her virginity. It wasn’t everything everyone loved it up to be. It did hurt though and she thought Draco had the decency to stay and comfort her but she was wrong again.

Draco left the bed soon after to go to his study to do god knows what leaving Y/N alone. She wrapped the blanket around her naked body trying to get warm. Draco didn’t even seem to care about asking if she was fine.

She rested her head on the pillow letting a few tears fall out before squeezing her eyes shut. Y/N would not cry over Draco. She would not let herself be heartbroken.

But it didn’t stop the way she felt about him.

Y/N kept the perfect wife image up. Cooking and cleaning for him but he didn’t even seem to appreciate the food she cooked as he never even thanked her.

At nights he would silently come into bed late while Y/N wondered where he had been. She shook the thoughts out of her head trying to go to sleep.

The first of many arguments they had was a big one.

“Draco I’m tired of being treated like crap,” Y/N snapped putting her hands on her hips. Draco glared at her.

“I don’t care, I didn’t even want to marry you,” He screamed, throwing his arms up in the air out of frustration.

“You think I did,” Y/N chuckles out of amusements.

“I. Don’t. Care. You’re just one of those needy wives always want to be around their husbands, who are annoyed by them,” Draco slowly snapped at Y/N. She felt tears threaten to escape as she looked at the ground.

Y/N nodded continuing to chop up the vegetables for the food she was making. When she looked up she swore she saw some cult floating in his eye but she ignored puttering attention on the meal.

When food was done they ate in silence. Y/N finished first and went to go work on a painting she started before Draco got home.

Y/N got ready for bed an hour later putting her nightgown on and brushed her hair. She used a wipe to take the makeup off and finally went to lay down.

Draco returned to bed a couple minutes later slowly waking in. In reality Draco felt bad for treating her that way. It wasn’t her fault they got married so why’s he taking it out on her? He ponders as he takes his tie off and then the rest of his clothes.

He got his pajama pants on and climbed into bed laying down behind Y/N who was facing the wall. Draco wrapped his arm around Y/N spooning. The contact made her jump out of surprise, Draco had never even touched her at night.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Draco apologized. “I know it’s not your fault and shouldn’t take it out on you,” He states.

“Can we at least try to be a married couple please,” Y/N begged, wanting him to care about her. He did but he didn’t want to show his feelings to her.

“We can try love,” He promises putting his face in the crook of her neck leaving a kiss there before falling back on the pillow behind him. He kept his arm around her as they both fell asleep.

Maybe this could work out. Y/N thought before she fell asleep.

Everything seems to be fine for the next few months. Draco was finally warming Y/N and starting talking and spending time with her. And she couldn’t be even more happy.

He seemed more happy now and now she was happy and that’s all that mattered.

“So how are you and Draco,” Rose asks, taking a sip of her tea. Rose was over at Draco and Y/N’s house for some girl time with her.

“Everything seems better ever since we had that talk a few months ago. Everything seems to be going fine,” Y/N says happily as she takes a sip of her tea after she finishes talking. It was true Draco seemed like he at least cared about her now.

“That’s good I was worried that he was going to break your heart but I guess I was wrong,” Rose shrugs putting the cup down looking at Y/N.

“I had that feeling too but it subsided when he realized what an ass he was,” Y/N replies, grabbing the tea cups and putting them in the sink so she could wash them later.

“That’s great Y/N. I’m so happy for you,” Rose smiles at how happy her friends seemed to be now.

Rose soon left after a few more conversations and she started to get dinner ready. She put the noodles in the bowl as she was making spaghetti. When the dinner was almost done Draco came in the house happily whistling to himself.

“I’M HOME LOVE,” Draco yelled as he took his jacket off and walked to the kitchen where Y/N was preparing the table.

“Hey love,” Y/N greeted as she ran over to him and planted a kiss on his lips. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she smelt some perfume.

“What’s wrong sweetheart,” Draco asked worriedly.

“Nothing,” Y/N lied leaning her head against his chest, his heartbeat calming her down and her suspicions as well.

Draco rested his chin on her head letting out a content sigh. He felt happy right now even though he did something that could ruin their relationship a few hours ago.

Meanwhile Y/N let go of Draco and went to put the spaghetti on plates. He sat down at the head of the table and she sat down next to him eating the spaghetti neatly.

“How was your day love,” Draco asked after swallowing some of the food. He grabbed the napkin and wiped his face.

“It was good Rose came over and we had some girl time,” Y/N replies with a smile looking up at Draco. He put his hand on hers which was on the table. He massages the top of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

“That’s good love,” Draco replies satisfied with her response. “You need to get out more,” He took a drink of wine after he finished the sentence.

“I know,” Y/N sighed looking at the plate of half eaten food. Her stomach grumbles for more but her head didn’t want it. She knew that she should get out more and make new friends but Y/N gets social anxiety when she talks to people she doesn’t know.

She also has a problem with her eating habits. Y/N tends not to eat when she thinks she’s gaining too much weight. Most people would say that’s wrong, you shouldn’t do that but Y/N doesn’t listen to them, only the voice in her head saying she isn’t right for Draco.

“I just hate talking to new people, Draco,” Y/N grumbles, putting her fork down.

“I know how bout this you come with me to a party that I’m planning,” Draco asks, putting his elbows on the table and wringing his hands together.

“I don’t know,” Y/N says doubtfully.

“I’ll be with you the whole time love,” Draco reassures by putting his hand on her thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“Fine but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay all night,” Y/N agrees reluctantly. Draco gives her a big grin making her smile at him. As long Dracos by her side everything will be fine.

The party was in two weeks which gave Y/N the time to find a dress. Rose helped her with that.

In those two weeks Draco has been really suspicious. He came home really late and when he was home he spent most of his time in his study. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t talk to her. Usually at dinner and during breakfast.

When he did come home he reeked of perfume. And not hers. But Dracos probably has a lot of women with his job; this doesn’t mean anything. She keeps reminding herself also that Draco loves her and would never cheat on her.

Y/N hasn’t brought this up because she was certain that nothing was going on. But what if something did? She couldn’t get divorced since her parents would also disown her. Y/N would be stranded.

Now she shook the ideas out of her head putting her earrings on. She looked at herself in the mirror with a smile. She had put some makeup on and her dress. Y/N looked at herself all dolled up with a smile. A real smile.

Draco came behind her and put his hands on her arms and kissed her neck.

“You look beautiful love,” He whispered in her ear, making shivers go down her spine.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Y/N giggles, turning around to put her hands on the lapels of his suit jacket.

She presses her lips against his and he hesitates for a second but Y/N misses that. He moves his hands to her hip and gives them a squeeze while Y/N moves her hands to his neck.

“I love you darling,” Draco whispers against her lips.

“I love you too,” Y/N repeats her heart skipping a bit at the notations.

The two had a mansion that was big. They got it from their families. Only 50 people would be at this party since the party room.

Y/N takes a sigh as Draco takes her hand and leads her down the stairs where the faint hum of music is played. People are dancing and having fun with one another.

Draco gives her a squeeze to reassure that everything will be fine. They both walk to the bar where only a couple people were.

Y/N ordered herself some while Draco ordered some bourbon. The two chatted about their days and or weeks. Y/N soon forgot people were even there as she sat comfortably with her husband having a good time.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Draco blurted out and before Y/N could even say something he was running off to the restroom.

Y/N sighed taking a sip of the wine. Draco would be back soon she reminded herself. She felt lucky people didn’t talk to her since she probably would’ve stuttered herself out of it.

Draco hadn’t returned after 25 minutes and Y/N was starting to get worried that her husband had passed out. Or he lost his way to her by talking to the party guests.

She tapped her painted nail against the hardwood of the bar table. She was starting to get nervous and her heart was beating fast. Y/N let out a breath trying to calm down and it worked but that didn’t stop her worry for Draco.

Y/N had enough and grabbed her purse, walking around the room she would be running if it wasn’t the heels that were ruining her feet. She decided to see if he was in the bathroom and fast walked over there.

She put her hand up to knock on the hardwood just in case someone was in there. But she stopped when she heard something.

“Draco,” Y/N heard somebody moan as she heard heavy breathing on the other side of the door.

It felt like time froze for Y/N. Maybe she got it wrong but she knew, she knew that Draco was cheating on her.

She sighed as she walked back to the bar with tears brimming her eyes. She sat down on the stool as the bartender noticed her sad look and poured her glass.

Y/N let out a sad sigh taking a drink and another and another. After about 3 drinks she felt the effects of the alcohol coming. She laid her arms on the table and buried her face in them.

She wanted to sob. She wanted to let it all out right now. But she couldn’t do it right not in front of so many people. Y/N could tell people were leaving since there were only a few more people left.

“Y/N love are you okay,” Draco worriedly asked, putting his hands on her back as he noticed how drunk she was.

She jumped at the contact and nodded her head but not lifting it. Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion since she barely got drunk and when she did it was only when he was there.

Draco lifted her from the table to see a few tears rolling down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb.

“What happened,” He asked confused and worried.

“Just got overwhelmed with everything,” Y/N lied pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want to divorce Draco; she loved him so much. And plus her parents would disown her, leaving her all on her own.

“Come on love the parties over let’s go to bed,” Draco grabbed her waist and wrapped his arm around it. She let him help her to their shared room where he sat her down.

Y/N gave him a fake smile to reassure him everything was fine. Luckily he believed it. Draco went to the bathroom to undress himself while Y/N undressed herself on the bed.

No one was here except for the house elves who were probably sleeping. She helped out the elves not wanting to hurt them like her parents did. She thought they deserved to be treated with some respect.

Y/N got her nightgown on and laid her head down on the pillow. She didn’t even feel anything towards it. She just felt numb.

When Draco exited the bathroom she closed her eyes pretending to be asleep. Draco laid next to her putting his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Love you,” He whispered. Yeah right she thought. She kept the tears inside til Draco fell asleep.

She let the tears fall on the pillow as she sobbed silently. Why would draco lie to her and tell her loved her when he was fucking someone else. No wonder why he hasn’t slept with her in a few weeks.

She wanted to believe Draco was good. But she kept seeing Draco with this mystery woman. All Y/N knows is that she would never cheat on Draco even on her worst day.

Y/N eventually fell asleep after some crying and shoving the thoughts away.

The next morning Draco wasn’t there and left her a note saying that he had to go to work early. Y/N bit her lip to stop her from crying. She wondered even if he was going to work.

Y/N got dressed and went to go cook herself some breakfast to get her mind off the situation.

This happened for the next week. Draco left early and came home late leaving Y/N crying herself to sleep wondering what she did wrong. Luckily she fell asleep before he got home. And the situation repeated itself over and over.

Y/N was lucky since she really didn’t want to see Draco since if she did she would probably break down crying.

One day Draco woke up the same time she did. Y/N talked trying to convince him he didn’t know anything. Draco gave her sweet smiles and said they should schedule a lunch date which Y/N nodded reluctantly.

She couldn’t help but feel giddy as she got ready in a cute outfit. Still the sadness lurked around her head but she pushed them back so she could have fun with Draco.

Y/N was welcomed into his workplace and she opened his office door slowly with a smile. But frowned when she looked through the creek of the door.

She saw Draco and Astoria kissing. She was on the desk while he was standing up. Of course Astoria.

She was Dracos girlfriend before he broke up with her for the wedding. Y/N thought he was over her since he told her he loved her. Was it all a lie?

Her lip trembled as she closed the door and ran out the building. Tears cascading down her cheeks as people gave her weird looks. When she was out of the office she put her hand on her mouth to keep the sobs in.

Still the sobs kept coming.

Astoria was everything Y/N wanted to be. She had a good job, good friends and she had Draco's heart and Y/N reminded herself of that.

She was so stupid to believe that his feelings changed so fast. So stupid. Was it just a joke to him?

Still crying Y/N walked to Roses flat wanting to seek some comfort from someone and that person would be Rose. She felt bad for not calling her friend for the last week.

“Y/N,” Rose exclaimed, surprised seeing her best friend at her door with tears running down her cheeks. “C’mere love,” She whispered knowing something was wrong.

Rose helped Y/N to the couch and sat her down while she went to go make some tea to calm her down. Y/N was still trembling from the crying and Rose was worried about her friend.

Once Y/N calmed down she explained everything to Rose. Hearing Draco fucking Astoria and her catching them kiss in the office. She told her all about the suspicions before she even knew she was cheating.

“I always knew he was a backstabbing cheater,” Rose snapped angrily at Draco for breaking her friend's heart. “You have to divorce him,” She advised Y/N.

“No I can’t my parents will disown me and I’ll have nowhere to go,” Y/N rambled, putting her face in her hands.

“Come live with me,” Rose offered, finishing her tea and putting it down.

“You’d do that for me,” Y/N asked, surprised looking up from her hands.

“Yes you’re my best friend now go and dump that piece of shit,” Rose grabbed her friend's hand pulling her up.

“Fine I’ll go do that and I guess I’ll come back at night,” Y/N sighed, getting her bag and running off.

When Y/N got to his house now, she packed all of her stuff and waited in her bed room for Draco to show up. She cried silently wondering what she did wrong.

He finally did after two hours. She was still crying when he entered the bedroom with a confused look on his face.

“Darling what’s wrong,” He asked concerned

“Why’d you do it,” Y/N sniffed standing up crossing her arms across her middle. Draco sighed realizing what she had found out.

“You know,” Draco says nonchalantly.

“Yes I just want to know why,” She whimpered a bit out as tears silently came out.

“I love her,” Draco admitted looking at his feet. He still cared for Y/N and he didn’t want to hurt her but he loved Astoria. “I love Astoria.”

Y/N nodded biting her lip to keep herself from sobbing and falling to her knees. She grabbed her bags as Draco grabbed her arm looking down at her.

“I’m sorry love,” Draco says sorrowfully.

“I deserve better. I deserve someone who loves me,” Y/N snaps crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know and I’m sorry again,” Draco pinches the bridge of his nose frustrated.

“Yeah I’m sorry too,” She snapped glaring at him through her tears. “I’m sorry I even agreed to marry a snake like you,” She walked out slamming the door, making him flinch.

Y/N sighed as the cool air hit her face. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. She didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

She didn’t have to deal with the pain anymore.

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tw eating disorder #tw anxiety #tw angst

[funtimebunnyblog]

Nobody really asked for this but uhhh... I kind of needed it 😶😇😂 Please excuse me for being self indulgent for this one time! ❤❤❤ But most of all, please enjoy! 😘

The Pillarmen (separate) with an s/o on their Period...

(Under the cut for length!)

(Warning! This contains content all surrounding a Woman's menstruation cycle and all the absolute joys that come with it 🙃 like: graphic descriptions of pain and blood, more blood and lots of blood. Viewer discretion advised! In other words, you have been warned...)

Kars:

• Chances are, Kars will always be long prepared for your periods monthly arrival.

• Even in the time when you were first getting to know each other, he picked up on your cycle patterns quickly.

• The first time you confided to him you were on your period he was prepared then too, pulling out a fresh pack of pads for you seemingly out of nowhere.

• The way you reacted, he'd swore he had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

• From then on he knows exactly when it will happen, he's done all the calculations and has the date marked on his desk calendar.

• When the day comes, he'll have a box of stuff already waiting for you by the bed; a hot waterbottle, some chocolate, pads/tampons, a bottle of Motrin, you name it.

• It's no surprise that even if you happen to be late or early he'll still be prepared; heck, he'll take one look at you and know.

• If you're cramping or feeling bloated and icky he knows some good teas to help you with that too.

• Kars is also prepared for the emotional and intensive side of things when you're undergoing your cycle.

☆

The door creaked open quietly, a tendril of light cutting through the dark as the wrapped head of Kars poked into the room, ruby eyes settling on the lumpy form quivering under the pile of blankets covering the bed.

He had heard you crying from the hallway one his way back to his Office.

The Pillarman's lips came together, however, he didn't hesitate for a moment as he stepped further into the room. "My dear," he spoke, approaching the bed. Your shaking form visibly tensed right up. It was obvious you hadn't even heard him come in. "Is your back giving you grief again?"

You had started just a day ago and of course things were carrying out as usual; cravings, back pain, nausea, all things he expected.

What he didn't expect was your answer, which was a wet sob, words muffled as the blankets moved; a shake of the head was his only coherent response.

He only frowned, the bed dipping with a low creak as he sat down on the very edge right at your back where you laid curled on on yourself under the covers.

"Your stomach then? You feel nauseous, is that it?" He pressed.

Another shake of the head, his sharp ears strained to hear the watery response from underneath the thick layer of blankets, leaving Kars with no choice but to finally peel away the barrier covers between you and him. Your very red and very wet face was finally revealed to him, your lips knotted and quivering as you sniffled.

Your state was only worrying him further, it was plainly obvious you had been crying for some time and on top of things, you weren't even looking at him.

There was an unmistakably guilty look to your watery expression.

"What is it then?" He asked, a huge hand plucking the stray hair from your soaked cheeks and eyes. "What's wrong? I need you to talk to me, dear."

His pressing only made the tears come much harder, his hands instinctively going to your back and rubbing softly.

"I'm sorry, Kars..." came the staccatic whimper.

He blinked twice, "For what?"

"I ruined the sheets!" You cried, hugging yourself tighter. "I... I laid down because--because my back was hurting again and I f-fell asleep and when I woke up it was just... all over the place!"

Your Husband listened to you quietly, suddenly coming to the realization that the bed had indeed been stripped of the sheets beneath the blankets; you were only laying (probably not very comfortably) on the thin white plastic mattress cover. His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room where the ruined fitted sheet and the thin matching over sheet had been simply balled up into a big lumpy wad and thrown there.

"You ruined your pants as well then," he hummed, remembering that you had been wearing a particular pair; your favourite fuzzy lounging pants with the stars on them.

A nod was his only response this time.

Kars let out a sigh, leaning down to lay his head on your shoulder. "Oh, my sunshine, it's alright. We have plenty of sheets, one ruined cover is nothing to me."

"I--"

"I know you didn't mean to." He cut you off, already knowing what you were going to say, his gentle ministrations unceasing. "It was an accident, I would not expect you to have control over something like this. These things happen. We can always get new sheets and buy you more pants and undergarments."

It relieved you to know he wasn't upset with you over this, or worse disgusted by the prospect of your mess, and you found yourself letting out a shakey breath you didn't know you had been holding.

The covers peeled away and you nearly yelped as you were suddenly hoisted into his arms, the Pillarman carrying you right out of the room without another word.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You squeaked, your confusion making the remainder of your tears ebb a little more.

"I'm taking you to get cleaned up." He answered without missing a beat. "No doubt you're probably still soiled, so you're going to take a nice hot shower. I'll leave you some fresh clothes and replace the sheets while you're in there and then we can crawl into bed and watch that program you like."

"I-- I thought you had work to do tonight." You said, watching him owl eyed as he set you down gently on the toilet and began to putter around the bathroom, pulling towels down from the cupboard and turning the shower on.

He hummed, "Oh, my work can wait until the morrow. My duties as your Mate come first, you know."

You felt a quivering smile tugging at your lips as he peered over his shoulder with a soft smile, cocking an eyebrow at you.

Kars was undoubtedly the only one in your life who could sweep up the shattered remains of a problem and fabricate it into something treasured.

He was the only one who made a this week out of every month truly bearable.

Esidisi:

• Growing up, Esidisi had been around the Women of his tribe and his Family a lot.

• He's definitely prepared for something like this and even upon first getting to know him, you could talk to him openly about it.

• These kinds of things don't faze him in the slightest; you're a Woman and as long as you're healthy there was no issue.

• Esidisi will almost always be able to tell whenever your monthly cycle is approaching, being an intuitive man and all.

• He knows your behaviors and habits and he can easily spot your telltale signs leading to your period, like: any erratic sleep patterns, a shift in your overall mood, your eating habits taking a sudden change, any ofd facial acne popping up, etc.

• He'll definitely be prepared for the day it does hit because he makes sure to go out and do all the necessary shopping prior.

• When your period does hit, it basically hits both of you.

• If you get emotional, he gets emotional; when you're in pain, he's in pain.

• Half of the ordeal might just consist of both of you crying and holding each other.

• The other half of it consists of him doing his very best to help you feel better and alleviate any discomfort you happen to feel.

• However... his methods in doing so are very unconventional.

☆

You did your very best to lay still as the calloused pad of a thumb swiped along bare skin, just under your navel, where you lay; leaving not only a trail of paint but a ticklish sensation that nearly made you giggle.

However, it was easy not to laugh while feeling nothing but waves of uncertainty and mild irritation rolling over you amidst all this.

The deep timber of Esidisi's voice thrumming out the tones of a mantra in some language you couldn't identify did little to comfort you as you laid there before him on the bed. You were dressed only in your underclothes and already painted with several other sigils along your body as he finished the one directly over your womb.

The room was dark, save for the light of two candles, one at each bedside table, allowing you to see him partially where he stood over you in the shadows.

His eyes, normally two sapphires glimmering, shined like rubies in the dark; animalistic and a reminder that he was something indeed inhuman.

You weren't really one to believe in rituals, especially not while you had some Motrin in a bottle downstairs that would fix up your prediciment just fine, but your Husband insisted on this instead.

You were starting to regret telling him you were still cramping with every sigil he drew and every stone and flower placed particularly around and over you.

"Esidisi," You whined. "Is this really necessary?"

The Pillarman's rythmic chanting fell to an abrupt halt at your words, his eyes fell on you incredulously.

"Of course this is necessary!" He cried. "You want the pain to stop, don't you?"

You grimaced, "Well, yes, but I just think this is..." teeth dug hard into your lower lip as your Mates brow came together, full lips twisting and arms folding over his chest as his gaze burned holes into you, awaiting the end to that sentence.

What could you possibly say that wouldn't hurt his feelings?

That is was a bunch of hoo-hah?

That he didn't know what he was doing or how a Women's body worked?

That the ancient medicine of his people that he was still using was something long outgrown in today's society?

That it most definitely wouldn't work and it was a waste of time?

"This is, what?" He pressed, chin raising as his foot began to tap quietly on the floor.

You could feel sweat sticking uncomfortably to your skin, or perhaps that was just you suddenly becoming increasingly aware of the feeling of the oil on your body he had slathered you with prior, as you fumbled to finish.

"Er... that is is... a little.... much?"

A bare brow cocked as he echoed you. "Much?"

"Well, I mean, you've painted at least 13 symbols on me now and you've smudged the air with so much sage my head hurts and the crystals and the flowers and... just the whole shebang here..." your hand went up to guesture to everything that was laid out, things both on you and on him.

His attire was something close to ridiculous in your eyes; he was even more naked than usual! Dressed in nothing but feathers covering his nether region and his usual hat, he stood before you covered in swirls of orange paint all along his body rather than just his cheeks.

"Isn't this just a little much?" You asked, unable to stop the frown from tugging on your lips.

Esidisi blinked owlishly, "Well, how else am I supposed to banish the evil spirits from your uterus and alleviate your pain?"

It had greatly surprised (and upset) him to find that the medicines and practices he was weaned on as a child had faded away into non-existence along with the name of his people.

Apart from Kars, who had taken to (ugh) more "modern" practices with those placebos and chemicals made in labratories, there didn't seem to be a soul out there who knew how to properly do these things!

Esidisi wasn't going to let you suffer or be harmed in any way shape or form, not when he knew how to stop it. He had learned early on how to cleanse the womb and heal it of any harmful curses or diseases that would happen to plague you. His Grandmother had been the one who had taught him and he had spent his youth putting them to much practice.

If you thought that this was much, you were definitely going to be in for a surprise for when you became pregnant one day; he planned to preform regular hour long sessions daily then.

You couldn't stop yourself from sighing, a hand reaching up to give a light slap to your cheek as you groaned.

You would just have to explain to him what really caused all the pain of menstruation. "Honey, there's no evil spirits--"

A finger pressed to your lips, stalling anymore words from falling from them. "Shh, beloved. You mustn't keep disrupting the ritual." The man chided softly, leaning down to press a dotting kiss to your brow as he swiped the final line of paint over it. "Now just lay there and let me handle this. Trust me, you'll feel better in no time."

Your lips turned downward as you watched him step back to fetch his singing bowl, sighing softly to yourself as you adjusted the bouquet of herbs and flowers that he had pushed into your hands.

It was hard to get comfortable when you could feel the mint leaves he had scattered in your hair scratching against your scalp and the orange peeling he had stuffed it on your bra was an entirely different matter all together.

You supposed that somehow it could've been worse and you had to be content that this was relatively harmless all in all.

At least the hollow ring of the singing bowl and the continuation of his mantra would put you to sleep while he carried out the rest of this ritual...

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu knew very little on the concept of Women and their monthly cycles; until you came along into his life that was.

• He knew how it worked of course and that it indeed happened but embarrassingly, he had sort of... forgotten about it in a way.

• Really, you supposed you couldn't blame him. This wasn't exactly something that was part of his everyday life, growing up with only 3 other Males the majority of it.

• The first time he happened to smell blood off you, it sent him into a panic and he immediately thought that you were hiding an injury from him; demanding to know where it was so he could treat it.

• Embarrassed, you tried to be discreet and prod him gently in the direction of what was happening. However, every code word for it just seemed to fly over his head; inevitably confusing him further.

• "It's high tide." "What? Beloved, we do not live by the ocean." "Er... the blood moon has risen?" "The blood moon isn't supposed to appear for another few months. And it is daytime, beloved." "Uhh... It's shark week?" "Why are you talking about a T.V. program at a time like this?"

• Finally, after a long, LONG session of going back and forth like that, you had no choice but to scream that you were on your period.

• Wamuu's beat red face and his impossibly huge eyes will be an image forever burned into your brain.

• After that, even though he wasn't exactly an expert on such matters, Wamuu did his best to at least be attentive to your needs.

• He does his best to understand your patterns and the entirety of what exactly you go through.

• He's always checking in on you every so often, sheepishly asking if you're feeling ok or if you need anything.

• Just say the word and He'll get you pads or food or water, perhaps even a distraction like a movie...

☆

The wet sounds of sniffling hitting his eardrums was what caused Wamuu to be roused from his deep and comfortable sleep, the Warrior blinking in the dark of the room and instinctively raising his head to locate the source.

"Beloved," He breathed, eyes falling onto your form. You were also awake, your back to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in on yourself. His lips fell into a frown as you continued to sniffle, now trying to stiffle the sound upon realizing that he too was awake now.

Wamuu slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, "what's wrong? Why are you awake?"

It was still the dead of night, just a little past 1AM, he couldn't think of a reason for you to be awake and crying other than the possibility of you having a nightmare.

" 's nothing..." you hiccuped, scrubbing your eye. "Go back to sleep."

His frown only deepened, scooting across the bed to get closer to you. "No. What is it? What has you so upset?" He pressed, an arm encircling around your quivering form. "Did you have a nightmare?"

A particularly harsh sob cut through you as you shook your head, burying your face in your hands as if trying to hide from him, "No! Go back to sleep!"

Chartreuse eyes softened considerably, the massive man only hugging you closer to his body as he chose to press further.

"If it's not a nightmare than what is it?"

"Oh, you'll laugh!" came the moan.

"I will not laugh." He replied, quite matter of factly.

"You'll--... You'll be angry!"

His brow knitted together sternly, one huge and warm hand wrapping around your much smaller one, uncaring of the fact it was wet with tears.

"I will not be angry. Please, just tell me why you are awake and crying, my love."

You fell silent, save for the staccato of your hiccupped breaths, Wamuu waited with all the patience in the world.

"I--" you paused, swallowing thickly. Your expression contorted in an almost painful manor, a hand slamming over your eyes as you only began to sob harder than before. "--I want... CHICKEN NUGGETS!"

The Pillarman blinked in surprise, that confession had completely taken him off guard. You were crying over food of all things? At 1 o'clock in the morning?

Realization washed over him, making him frown deeper for only a second as he suddenly remembered the fact that you had started your monthly menstrual cycle yesterday evening.

You must've woken up craving and hurting, of course those things would drive you to cry helplessly like so.

If anything, the Warrior was relieved it was nothing serious.

Wamuu smiled softly, only hugging you tighter to him. "Will chicken nuggets get you to stop crying?" He asked softly, carding his fingers gently through your awry bed-head hair.

You coughed, sniffling as your whimpered response rose up from your throat painfully. "Yeah,"

He nodded, "Alright. How many do you want and what kind?"

You sniffed a few times, managing to calm down enough to tell him what would suffice enough to satisfy your hankering. Wamuu pulled on a simple hoodie and some pants as you talked, he even asked you if you wanted to come with him but you declined, not really in the mood to go very far.

He put the Television on for you, turning it on to a program and kissed your head, telling you he'd be back with an order of nuggets, a drink you liked and perhaps something sweet to enjoy after.

You felt guilty for troubling him with something like this, it was even worse that it was at an ungodly hour in the morning but Wamuu didn't care about those things, what mattered to him was your comfort, your happiness and your needs met...

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana isn't very much educated on the subject of menstruation and your cycles when first getting to know you.

• However, he could tell immediately that something was happening to you even before your cycle started.

• He mentioned that you had a stronger smell to him, like your hormones were given a signifigant boost. He claimed he could also see that you looked a little softer somehow.

• After sitting him down (a little embarrassed) and explaining to him what was going to happen soon, the dots connected for him and he understood.

• You were his Mate afterall and he followed his natural instincts to care and provide for you.

• He doesn't really like letting you out of his sight when it does happen, preferring to keep you close to him and he'll help you out in any way you need.

• You have to be specific with him though. If you send him to the store telling him that you need tampons, he might just come back with the entire isle of boxes in tow.

• This whole thing is always a learning experience to him, even though he can't undergo the same thing he does his best to understand and at least be attentive.

☆

"Oh c'mon..." you groaned, practically begging now as you curled in on yourself on the bed. "Kick in already!"

You had taken that Motrin over 10 minutes ago and still nothing was happening, your back was still aching and your stomach was cramping.

It was impossible for you to move now, you had laid down and there was no way in Hell you were going to get up again until all the pain was gone.

However, you were very much regretting not having the foresight to grab your heating pad on the way here, at least with that it would make it bearable but alas, it was all the way downstairs.

You couldn't even get up without fear of fainting or worse; ruining your pants.

Another wave of nausea shot through your gut, curling up in an icky tendril to your throat straight from the pit of your hurting stomach. All you could do was try to breathe; breathe, ride out the pain, hope it would be over soon and try not to vomit because of it.

A litany of begging was now falling through your lips like a prayer, pleading for anyone or anything listening to make it stop. Tears were beading at the corners of your eyes threatening to fall as your spine felt like it was being twisted, rung out like one would a wet rag.

"Please, please, please stop." You grit, hands turning to fists. "Please, please make it stop."

Little did you know your pleas didn't go unheard.

Santana watched you from the doorway where you couldn't see him, peering in with a thoughtful frown and a tilt of his head. Each quiet moan and whimper made his hands instinctively grip the door tighter, fingers digging harshly into the wood.

You were having a hard time. You were in a lot of pain and he hated to see you as such.

With only a moments thought, the Pillarman knew what he had to do, taking off quickly down the stairs; his feet barely making a sound on the steps.

Your back was hurting, he could see it in the way you kept trying to roll onto it. You used a strange device to help, one that emanated heat with a click of a button. His eyes scanned the living room for the familiar blue fabric with the white chord.

He snatched it off the couch, tucking it under his arm as he went into the kitchen next, finding himself opening and closing cupboards and doors without really knowing what he was looking for this time.

You had already taken one of those pills and he was certain you said something before about having to wait a couple of hours before you took another so that was out of the question.

The bright colours of your waterbottle sitting all by itself on the kitchen counter caught his eye. He didn't know how long you would be up there resting so maybe it was best to put it by your bedside for when you needed it. He also grabbed a couple of snacks from the cupboard, simple wrapped treats you enjoyed here and there.

He put the bottle under the tap, making sure to only stop until it was filled right under the brim with cold water.

Water... hot water. The red-head blinked, humming softly to himself as the gears turned in his head.

Your stomach had been obviously giving you grief as well, it didn't go unnoticed by him that you were clutching it; trying to curl in on yourself. You had something you used to help that too, he had seen you fill it up a few times before.

Waterbottle and heating pad under arm and snacks clutched to his chest, he went back upstairs. He went right past your room and straight into the bathroom, prying open the closet and digging around for the strange rubbery sack he could clearly see in his memories.

He pulled it out triumphantly, the object limp in his grasp like a pelt as he turned on the tap. He waited until the water was hot enough to make steam rise up from the sink before plunging it under to fill and corking it.

His arms now completely full, he shuffled back to your room with the goods; pleased his little scavenger hunt was successful.

There you lay, right where he had left you; from the look of it you definitely hadn't improved.

You were so consumed with your own discomfort you didn't even hear him or see him.

Santana approached the bed quietly, setting the waterbottles (both hot and cold) down on the nighttable with the snacks before fumbling with the heating pad, plugging it into the wall.

The massive hand being laid on your side startled you somewhat, eyes popping open with a shudder before being greeted with the sight of your one and only Mate standing over you at the bedside with a frown.

"Roll over." Came the quiet command, his hand pushing you further onto your side and slipping something familiar underneath you before easing you onto your back again.

"Santana, wha--" was all you could manage out.

Santana clicked it onto the medium setting, reaching for the hot-waterbottle next and holding it up for you to see. He draped the wiggly rubber sack over your stomach, an audible "bloop!" sounding from inside as your arms instinctively curled around it with a sigh; already relishing in its warmth.

The bed dipped as he crawled in next to you, the Pillarmen kindly pulling the blankets up around you both as he curled into your side protectively.

You could feel the heat seeping slowly into your back, the pain starting to ebb somewhat and the heated weight over your stomach was soothing; it all left you near to deliriously blissful.

You realized belatedly that he had brought you all of these things without you even having to ask, you turned your head with a sleepy smile, meeting the gaze of the red-head. He was so sweet you swore at times your heart would melt.

A hand reached up to tangle in his mane of wild hair, "Thank you, honey..."

The Pillarman nuzzled into your neck, almost purring at the gentle touch. He had made you better and that was enough to leave him content for now.

"I will always take care of you, my Mate..." he murmured, smiling softly as you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep. It wasn't long after that he did the very same...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

[banditnoo]

My Castle of Ships {1/2} - Merlin One Shot

Summary |  {A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

Tags | {Merthur, Magic Arthur AU, mind reader AU, Major Character Death}

Warnings | {Like one swear word? Angsty, but not as gut wrenching as 5x13}

a/n | {I’ve finally worked up the courage to post some of my writing on Tumblr! This has been cross posted to AO3 (Legendary_Julia) and Wattpad (GreaserGal19). Maybe one day I’ll get my usernames in order, but today is not that day. Part 2 will come out... at some point. This was suppose to be a stand alone story, but our boys deserve better. Thanks for checking me out, happy reading!} 

~~~

{A strange phenomenon had occurred when Arthur had been born by magic. He now had the ability to read minds. Nobody knew of his gifts. Arthur knew from a young age that sorcery was not welcomed in Camelot. With fears that his own father would banish or harm him, he kept his piece of magic to himself. A piece of magic that had become much less of a burden after he had been crowned king, and for moments like these; While he was bored and Merlin daydreamed.}

~~~

Merlin was a daydreamer, he always had been. He'd often find himself thinking of Ealdor while he puttered about Arthur's chambers. Sometimes he would imagine what it would be like to rule his own kingdom, to make his own rules. While he scrubbed away at Arthur's hunting boots, he built his own castle. The citadel would be magnificent. The walls would stand tall, glittering with a hint of magic. Beautiful tapestries would hang from every wall, depicting anything the passerby's wished. A series of tunnels would wind throughout and underneath the stone walls, eventually connecting to water. Yes, the castle would have to be by the ocean. Merlin smiled to himself as he pictured it. The birds, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores, and the ships. Merlin loved the idea of having ships. With a boat like that he could sail anywhere, do anything. That's what it could be, his castle of ships.

Arthur had to smile at the name. He too pictured the castle from his spot at his desk. He could only imagine the beauty of a kingdom Merlin could build with his magic. The Castle of Ships.

"Has a nice ring to it," Arthur muttered to himself, to caught up in the image to realize he had said anything aloud.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"You said something."

"No, I did not."

"Yes, yo-"

"You're hearing things Merlin, go back to whatever it is you where doing. Maybe scrub a different spot before you muck up my good boots."

Arthur stood up abruptly, leaving a confused Merlin watch him briskly walk out of his chambers.

"He really has gone mad." Merlin muttered as he began to clean the other boot.

~~~

Merlin knew someone was listening. He's felt the presence in the castle for a long time, but could never quite pinpoint it. He had tried to call out many times. Perhaps there was a Druid somewhere within Camelot trying to communicate, or an evil doer with a presence too strong to ignore. But there was never an answer. He was always left alone with his thoughts, which he was slowing getting scared to think.

When the presence felt strong, Merlin would busy his mind with his daydreams. He would think of home, or add details to his imaginary kingdom.

He did his best daydreaming during round table meetings. The presence would always be strong in the throne room, the magic almost danced through the air. It was here that he added the finer details of his castle.

He constructed a grand portrait hall as Leon droned on about the months finances. The long room would have the most brilliant red carpet, lined with an intricate gold and black pattern. He could almost feel himself walking through the grand hallway as he leaned against the cold stone of the throne room walls. As he imagined himself walking along, he thought about whos portraits he would put on display. He would have his mother, of course, and Gwen, his first friend in Camelot. He could picture the cocky smirk on Gwaine's portrait and the valiant yet understanding look on Lancelot's. His eyes scanned around the round table, imagining all of his friends in their best Camelot red, striking wild poses for the artist. They eventually landed on Arthur, whose head was resting lazily against his hand, trying his best to listen to Leon. Merlin hummed to himself, placing Arthur's portrait at the end of the hallway. It would be the only place fit for his king.

He had heard once of a spell that made the portraits move within their frames, adopting the personality of its subject. He studied Arthur's face as he thought, committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell across his forehead in soft wisps, and how his nose came to a gentle point, complimenting the rest of his face. His favourite feature of Arthur's has always been his eyes. A piercing blue that found him in any room they were in.

They were the same blue eyes that were staring at him now, Merlin realized, staring back, not daring to look away now. Their shared a million words with just a look, a conversation no one else would hear.

Are you as bored as I am?

When is dinner?

When will Leon stop talking?

How's the castle of ships coming?

Merlin's heart dropped. He was imagining things, right? He had to be. They weren't really talking to each other, after all. It was all in his head, somewhere Arthur most definitely was not. He was quickly becoming aware of the overwhelming sense of magic flowing through the room.

I know you're in my head. Make yourself known. I don't know what you want, but you won't be getting it.

Arthur was taken aback by the threatening tone in Merlin's voice. He hadn't realized that Merlin could sense the presence of his magic, or that he was so threatened by it. His eyes dropped quickly, looking at everything but Merlin in the corner of the room.

"Is everything alright, Sire? You looked concerned." Leon's address took Arthur by surprise. Sitting up as fast and as straight as possible, he voided his face of any emotion as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes. Everything is fine. We must ensure that patrol around the citadel continues. I've caught wind of a potential threat. A sorcerer."

"Are you sure, sire? I haven't heard of such a thing."

"Certain. I trust my sources," with a final glance at Merlin, he nodded at Leon, urging him to continue with the meeting.  

~~~

Arthur's eyes followed Merlin around his chambers. He could hear his thoughts going a mile a minute as he absentmindedly straightened the pillows on the bed.

"There is something on your mind," Arthur said, not moving his head from where it rested in the crook of his elbow, all but laying on the table.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes." Their eyes connected from across the room, but Merlin looked away quickly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again,

"Something is troubling you, and I want you to tell me. Please, Merlin, there is no need to lie."

Merlin was fighting with himself, and Arthur didn't need to be a mind reader to see it. They stayed like this, Arthur looking at Merlin and Merlin looking at the floor. They both felt the heavy magic in the room, but neither acknowledged it.

"Have you ever missed a place you've never been? A place that never really was?"

"I never took you for a philosopher, Merlin," Arthur couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face, or the fondness in his eyes, "if this is about your mother, I've told you. She is more than welcome here. I know how much you think of her."

"No, it's- that's not quite it."

'Not thinking of running away, are we?" Arthur's smile grew bigger as he spoke. He knew that's what it was, Merlin had been thinking about it for weeks. He wasn't worried, though. He knew Merlin would never leave without a goodbye, and a chance to convince him to stay. The guilty look in Merlin's eyes confirmed what Arthur already knew.

"I would never! Who would deal with your royal ass everyday if I left?"

"It's a simple fix, really. I would just have to come with you. Make sure you don't get yourself killed."

"Arthur Pendragon on the road? I don't believe it for a minute." Merlin smiled as he spoke. He imagined the two of them running away, into the castle of ships.

Many sleepless nights had allowed Merlin countless hours to add onto the castle. In the late hours of the night, he added gardens and ballrooms, imagined the wind on his face as he held tightly to the mast of a massive wooden ship. Those same nights, Arthur would lay awake in his own chambers, halfway across the castle, and imagine the beauty for himself as he listened to Merlin describe his castle grounds in a way that a child listens to his mother read a bedtime story.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you," Arthur rose form his spot at the table, making his way over to the bed and trying his best not to sound too amused, " and put some wood on the fire, would you? We've got an early morning tomorrow. We're travelling to Annis' land. She wishes to discuss the safety of both our borders villages."

"Is there a reason I was not told of this sooner?"

"It's simply business, Merlin. There's no need to worry. Get some sleep, you'll need it for the journey."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Merlin muttered as he left, shutting the door tightly.

"I heard that!"

"Go to sleep!"

~~~

The knights laughed loudly as their horses carried them down the well-beaten trail. An agreement was reached between Arthur and Annis about the protection of the border villages, making it much safer for villagers in each kingdom to travel through the border forests.

"Smile, Merlin! We're celebrating!" Gwaine gave Merlin's should a rough pat as his horse rode up alongside Merlin's. He held out a water skin, no doubt filled with ale, and gestured it towards Merlin.

"You're always celebrating, Gwaine." He took a long sip before handing back to Gwaine, nodding his thanks. He would need a drink if he was going to deal with the knights for the ride back to Camelot.

Merlin turned to his daydreams as their journey back continued. He was picturing a beautiful courtyard, lush with apple trees and all kinds of flowers, when his magic started to tingle. He hardly noticed it at first, brushing it off as the change in the wind, but the feeling kept growing stronger.

Someone was watching them.

They were just leaving Caerleon's borders through a valley, the perfect place for an ambush. Merlin looked around, uneasy. His body tensed at every little sound as the forest came into view. He was fighting with himself. If he told Arthur, would he believe him? What if it really was nothing? No, his magic wouldn't deceive him like that. He looked at Arthur, who was riding a short distance in front of him.

Merlin didn't even have to call his name for Arthur to turn around. As soon as their eyes met, a look of concern filled his face. His hand came up, signaling the group to stop. He looked toward the tree line, signaling for his men to do the same. Much to Arthur's horror, it was deathly quiet. The birds stopped chirping and the wind seemed to stop howling. The air around them was still as the group looked around.

"Did you hear something, sire?"

"No. That's exactly the issue."

"If we are quick, we can make it to the trees. Find safety in the forest."

Despite Leon's suggestion, nobody moved a muscle.

They continued looking towards the trees, before Merlin gave Arthur a hard nudge. Getting ready to tell him off, Arthur turned quickly on his horse before following his line of sight. Standing atop the rocky hills on either side of the valley were dozens of men wearing loose black and brown clothing, swords and bows drawn, pointed at the much smaller group of knights.

"AMBUSH!"

The horses started going crazy, whinnying and thrashing in an attempt to throw off the knights. Swords were drawn as the bandits began to yell, running down the hills at all angles. They were outnumbered, far too outnumbered to stand a chance against even the weakest opponents. Arthur unsheathed his sword, trying to regain control of his horse.

"Head for the trees!"

Picking off only the first attackers, it was a race between time, the bandits, and making it to the cover of the woods. Taking a sword from one of the bandits bodies, Merlin was quick to follow Arthur. With his heart pounding in his ears, he could no longer hear the commotion of the fight. He could only hope he was losing them.

~~~

Merlin's head was spinning as he stumbled through the thick underbrush of the forest. He had lost his horse when he lost sight of Arthur. He dragged his stolen sword loosely behind him as he tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder. The bandits had been quicker than he thought, and had much better aim than what he'd like to give them credit for. He had barely cleared the trees when the arrow struck his shoulder, no doubt coated in a poison that his mind was too foggy to identify.

Things had gone downhill very quickly after that. The sun had set what Merlin could only guess was hours ago. The forest was so dark he could hardly tell which way was up. He was ready to give up finding the others. He had wandered for hours, they could've been halfway back to Camelot by now.

Merlin had stopped for a moment, leaving heavily against a tree to try to catch his breath, weighing his options as he grimaced at the pain shooting through his arm. He stayed there for a few minutes, waiting, listening to the forest. He heard the magic in the forest as it flowed through every tree, every leaf. There were owls in the distance, and the sound of insects flying by. And footsteps? Although the sword was in his good hand, Merlin was weak as he swung blindly behind him. Hearing the dull thud of metal on metal, and a familiar grunt, Merlin dared to turn around.

"It's a good thing you've got sticks for arms," Arthur huffed out a weak laugh as he took the sword from Merlin.

When Arthur pulled him into a hug, Merlin was ready to defend himself, but he was to tired too do anything but lean into the cool metal of Arthur's chainmail. A gentle 'hmff' was all he could manage.

Arthur took Merlin by the shoulders and held him at arms length, giving him a once over. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could see the blood that coated Merlin left shoulder and arm, and now his own hand.

"I would never leave you behind! How could you think that?" Arthur sounded heartbroken as he gripped onto Merlin's good arm tightly.

"I didn't- how-"

"You didn't need to say it out loud for me to hear you."

Confusion was evident in Merlin's eyes as he scanned Arthur's face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he found nothing.

"It's you, isn't it? That presence, that magic... It's you?"

"It always has been."

The magic danced between them, like it had a thousand times before, but there was no fear behind it, not this time.

"You're hurt."

"I noticed."

Merlin leaned into Arthur's arm, trying to stay steady.

"Can you walk? Let me take you to the others. We've set up a camp, we'll be safer there."

"Only if you carry me. Like a damsel in distress."

"Absolutely not," Arthur scoffed as he picked Merlin up bridal style, slinging his good arm around the back of his neck, making sure not to move him too much.

"Hey! I was kidding, you prat! Put me down!"

"Would you rather I drag you? Quit your complaining. If your swing at me was any indication of your strength, you wouldn't have made it another step." Arthur tried to hide the growing concern in his voice. He looked down at Merlin's face, which was now rested against his shoulder, and he could tell it wasn't good. He only now got a good look at what had happened, and his heart sunk. He had had knights that couldn't recover from a wound like that, where the arrow was haphazardly ripped out in an attempt to get rid of the poison it was laced with.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the castle. The castle of ships. I'm sure there's parts that I've missed. I can't be in your head all the time."

Merlin smiled, closing his eyes as he shook his head against Arthur's shoulder,

"It's a stupid idea."

"It can't be that stupid, you put a lot of thought into it. Have you ever thought of becoming a storyteller?"

The laugh that came out of Merlin was short and hoarse, but Arthur needed him to keep talking. They were still a long walk away from the camp, and Arthur was willing to do anything to get Merlin there alive.

"I didn't realize I had such a way with words."

"Please?"

"What would you like to hear about, my lord."

"I won't hesitate to drop you."

Merlin let out another laugh, much rougher than the last one, that quickly turned into a fit of heavy, wet coughing. Arthur continued to walk, the only sound being his boots hitting the ground for a long time before Merlin began to speak.

"The grand hall, it would stand alone from the rest of the castle. It would have a long, stone pathway for guests to walk along as they gathered for feasts and balls. It would be lined with rose bushed and allium flowers, the dark purple ones."

There was another coughing fit before he continued, "the double doors, they would be engraved. With dragons, fairies, things of magic. Did you know your shoulder isn't very comfortable?"

"I wouldn't imagine, with it being covered in armor and all. Tell me about the boats. They are my favourite part."

"What about them? I've never seen a ship, only the pictures in Gaius' books. They're fascinating, aren't they?"

He could hardly finish his sentence before he started coughing again. It shook through his whole body, making him ache.

"Come on, Merlin. Keep talking. Give me something, a thought, anything. It's not long until we'll be back with the knights. Elyan will fix you right up. Good as new, right?"

Merlin gave a weak smile, "good 's new..."

"Why do you find ships so interesting? They are just big, fancy boats."

Arthur could hear Merlin's thoughts, still going a mile a minute despite him thinking almost nothing at all.

" 's exactly it. They're big, they're fancy."

"Is there a spell for that? Could you create one?"

"A spell for what?"

"Building things. Constructing this castle, making ships."

"I'm sure I could figure it out."

Merlin shifted in Arthurs arms, trying to make himself more comfortable before hissing out in pain and trying to reach for his shoulder.

"Are you trying  to bleed out? Quit moving!"

Arthur's words came out harsher that he intended, though there was sadness in his voice. Merlin continued to wiggle until Arthur dropped his legs. Keeping one hand around Merlin's waist, he used his other hand to keep a firm pressure on his shoulder. Against Merlin's protest and Arthur's better judgment, they continued walking through the dark.

"We're not going to make it in time." Merlin was leaning heavily into Arthur's side, barely keeping his footing at he stumbled over another tree root.

"We're going to make it. You're not going dying on me now Merlin. That's an order."

"When have I ever listened to those?"

Merlin stopped walking, forcing Arthur to stop next to him. Letting himself fall to his knees, he landed with a small 'thump' on the cold ground, the blanket of pine needles and leaves welcomed him. Arthur lowered himself after him, keeping one hand at Merlin's side, his other hand reached out to rest against Merlin's cheek, keeping his head steady as he closed his eyes.

"Keep your eyes open Merlin. Come on, looks at me. Say something."

"Remember my story, won't you? You've heard me tell it a thousand times. Built that castle of ships. For me?"

"I won't build it unless your there to see it. Open your eyes, Merlin, please." Arthur felt hot tears roll down his face as he looked at Merlin. His friend, his best friend, his only friend, was going to die.

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, only getting them halfway opened before they became to heavy to move. Arthur moved the hand on Merlin's waist to his back, gently pulling him into another hug. They sat like this, in silence for a long time, Arthur not daring to pull away.

Arthur started to hum a gentle tune in a last ditch effort to break the silence, not trusting his own voice to not break if he spoke. It was a tune he had caught Merlin humming hundreds of times. It reminded him of the warmth of the castle, how comfortable he was when he watched Merlin go about his duties from his spot at his desk, listening to the story of a magnificent castle being built and the mighty ships that gave it it's name. It reminded him of all the times he had to stop himself from revealing his piece of magic to Merlin, to tell him that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't hated.

The quiet song came to an end and Arthur stopped, listening to the sounds of the forest and hoping to hear a voice amongst the gentle rustle of trees, but he heard nothing. There wasn't a cough, nor a cry or a snarky remark, not even a thought. It was quiet, deafeningly so as Arthur began to cry. Long, ugly sobs were the only sound as he pulled Merlin closer to him, begging, pleading for him to move, get up, say something, kick him, yell at him, anything.

But alas, there was nothing. Only silence as Arthur continued to cry. He cried for the loss of his friend, his dearest friend. He cried for the loss of the kingdom they never got to create with each other.

He cried, sobbed, begged, and bargained. But that too, only ended in silence.

#bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #pendragon #merlin oneshot #merlin imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #sir leon #sir gwaine #knights #king arthur #arthur #king arthur imagine #arthur imagine #leon #gwaine #hunith #gwen #merlin au #king arthur au #merlin imagines #arthur pendragon imagines #merlin one shot #merlin x arthur

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 3: “Es Tuyo”

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: After having spent some days recovering and getting to her new surroundings the reader goes back to work where she seems to attract some male attention. Javier is displeased and on his breaking point.

Warnings: Major trigger warning: mention of pregnancy termination, cursing, angst, fluff, mentions of injury

Masterlist

A/N: that photo is totally Javi in that evidence closet

Previous chapter

Next chapter

“That is not how you pronounce that at all”, you cackled from the couch.

Connie threw her hands up in defence: “Well, then how? C’mon help me out here amigo!”

“Amiga”, you corrected, grinning as she set the plate down in front of you.

Your friend shook her head as she took a deep breath, lips curled up in a smirk. “You know, you’re supposed to teach me Spanish, not bully me.”

The door swung open as the both of you ate and laughed together, revealing a more than exhausted Steve. “Murphy, come sit with us, Connie made the most amazing pasta.”

He hung his jacket on the wall and kicked off his shoes before plopping down next to Connie, pressing a short peck to her lips. “What’s got you two all riled up?”

“Connie’s been drinking the night away and I am so sleep-deprived that even the telenovelas have become entertaining”, you answered, mouth full of pasta.

“What’s been keeping you up then?”, he asked while reaching over for a plate.

You shrugged your shoulders: “Just the thought of going back to work tomorrow.. I know it’ll just be paperwork but I-I’m just nervous I guess. I need to figure out a way to talk to Messina about resigning without raising any eyebrows and.. it’s just a lot.”

“You know I can get you another doc’s note”, Connie intervened, tilting her head at you.

“Yeah, I know, Con, I know. I just want to get up and get moving. No offense, but y’all can be boring as hell.”

She playfully threw a pillow at you, which hit you square in the belly, making you huff out a small laugh. “It’s not my fault we both have jobs to do, your highness.”

“When’s that first check-up-thingy of yours anyway?”, Murphy questioned.

“Next week, after hours, but I can get there myself, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal, the Sicarios know your face now, best to have a chaperone out there.”

Steve was right and deep down you’d thought about it too. Of course the narco-men already had most of the DEA’s information and agents in their databases, but you were still unknown to them. It was rare for a female agent to work in the field, let alone be placed in Columbia whatsoever, you’d been an element of surprise, but now even that had been taken away by Escobar. You knew a pregnancy meant the end of your career as a DEA agent, at least in the field. The past three days were meant for you to readjust to your temporary living space with your friends, but you’d really only spent it within the depths of your own head. There was so much you had to do and you couldn’t even figure out where to start, you had to tell Javier at some point, quit your job or risk putting him in danger as well and most of all.. tell your parents. The last one could wait, they wouldn’t care much anyways, you figured. But Javier couldn’t, even though you were just over a month along, you knew you’d have to tell him eventually, this kind of thing wasn’t something you could hide forever.

While you were zoned-out, caught within your own head, Steve and Connie watched you. The grip on your plate tightened, eyes staring straight ahead and chest rising and falling more rapidly. Connie carefully put her hand over yours, making you jerk you head towards her, sending a wave of pain through your left shoulder. “I-I think I’m gonna head off for the night”, you mumbled, quickly getting up and putting your half-empty plate on the kitchen counter.

As soon as you shut the door your lips started trembling, eyes burning from the effort of trying to keep the hot tears from spilling. You pressed your right palm to your forehead, mustering up every last ounce of strength to keep yourself at bay. Another deep breath, another memory of his lips on yours, another step towards the bed, another fading remembrance of his rough hands ghosting over your body. This had to stop, you knew it – hell – you’d known from before you even got into his bed. Javier Peña was a bachelor at heart, free of any commitment, who were you to think you could change his mind. Here you were, heartbroken, knocked-up with a fucked-up shoulder, on a pull-out couch in your best friends’ apartment, what a life.

You carefully grabbed a hold of your Walkman, slipping the headphones on and laying down on the bed. You closed your eyes as you listened to the Cure’s “Boys don’t cry”, reminiscing on the hot summer in the States, when you’d bought the cassette and played it on repeat in your car. A soft smile settled on your face and eventually you fell asleep just like that, fully dressed and headphones still on your ears.

Though the next morning, when the three of you sat around the breakfast table, you in yesterday’s clothes and the two of them in their work attire, there was a bit of an atmosphere going on. Not a word was said over breakfast, only increasing the tension even more, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, like a kid scolded by their father, it was odd. It wasn’t until later, on your way to the embassy in Steve’s passenger’s seat that he finally broke his silence.

“Who is it?”, he asked, tone harsher than usual.

You let out a nervous chuckle, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. “Mind giving me a hand here, I’m not sure I-“

“Who did you fuck?”, he interrupted you, voice rigid and determined.

“Steve”, you huffed, “what the hell are-“

“I’m no idiot y/n. Now tell me, who the hell is it.” His frustration started showing in his driving style, his braking much more abrupt than usual.

You scoffed at him, resting your hand on the door handle, at an attempt to feel somewhat secure. “That’s just not none of your fucking business Murphy.”

“It is if I’m losing a partner over it, maybe even two.”

“Peña? Don’t make me fucking laugh”, you lied, voice surprisingly confident. “He’s the biggest jerk there.”

“Then who? Santiago, Lopez, that FBI guy?”, he pressed as he parked the car.

You flipped him off before yanking the car door open, hurrying your way into the embassy. You didn’t bother to stop at the front desk or politely bid you co-workers a “good morning”, no, you just wanted to get to Messina, get your assignments for the day and get to work, away from both your partners.

As predicted, you were to write reports for the foreseeable future, Messina putter her faith in your ability to type them out with just one hand. You’d agreed, not wanting to argue or come up with an alternative yourself and made your way over to your office. Despite your request to be put into a confined space, away from Murphy and Peña, Messina insisted you’d just work at your regular desk, so the two of them could provide you some assistance if needed.

Luckily for you the two of them were out for most of the day, leaving you to work alone, in a comfortable silence. A fellow agent would step in to check if you were alright every now and then, helping you with carrying out file boxes or bringing in new ones. It was times like this that your reputation really preceded you, the sweet girl that would bring coffees on Fridays and bake cookies for birthdays and holidays. You knew your way around the office and compensated for your shortages (aka the fact that you were a woman) by innocent bribery. Lopez had even been so attentive as to bring you a hot lunch, which you gladly accepted and enjoyed in his company.

Steve and Javier were both surprised to see the two of you, laughing and just having a good time. Though they both had different motives, their suspicions aligned perfectly: he’s being too friendly. The two of them walked into the office, yet the two of you didn’t look up, no on the contrary, Lopez leaned in even closer, fidgeting with the sling on your arm.

Javier was not fucking having this today, so he loudly cleared his throat, both of your heads perking up in his direction. Lopez got up off your desk and gave you another smile before walking out of the now-way-too-crowed-with-testosterone office space. He gave the two of them a polite nod, muttering a “Peña y Murphy” before disappearing into the hallway.

“I fucking knew it”, Steve sighed, letting himself fall into his desk chair.

You threw a pencil at his face, chuckling when it ultimately did hit him square in the nose. “You’re a fucking idiot Murphy, Lopez was just bringing me lunch.”

“If you say so”, Steve mumbled, throwing the pencil right back at you.

 The day had stayed calm and you were able to go home without having to talk to Peña at all, to your great relief. The next few days had been the exact same, tonnes of fieldwork for them and an amazing lunch with some of the other agents for you. On Thursday night, when Steve and Javier were working late due to an unexpected lead, you tagged along with the guys, heading out to some bar, where you enjoyed a non-alcoholic beverage or two and even were treated to a lovely platter of grilled goods.

Climbing the stairs to their apartment, you smiled to yourself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you had friends and options, maybe Javier didn’t need to be in the picture, maybe it was meant to be this way. As you slipped your key in the door you took a deep breath, you felt at peace. Which was swiftly stolen away from you as a more than distressed Steve and Connie, baby held in his arms, were revealed.

Your keys hit the floor in surprise, face contorting in confusion. You quickly picked them up, nodded at Connie and walked into your room. A kid and an injured friend were too much for anyone to handle, you knew that, the story would follow, but for now you’d be heading back to your place. Steve gave you an apologetic look as you placed the key on the table, offering the both of them a genuine smile on the way out.

As you hauled your bag down the stairs, you let out a pained groan, your shoulder disagreeing with your every movement. On the next floor down, a familiar door swung open, revealing no one other than Javier, shirt halfway unbuttoned. “C’mon, I already made the bed.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine”, you answered, bag falling off of your shoulder.

He shook his head before walking over to you, taking the bags as he urged you to follow him. “You take the bed, I’ll take the couch. Beer’s in the fridge, cigs are on the table.”

You hesitantly trailed after him, cringing a bit when setting foot in his apartment, the memories of the previous nights spent there flooding your mind within mere seconds. “Javi, I’m really fine, I’d rather just go home.”

“M’sorry hermosa, Murphy’s orders”, he said from the bedroom, coming back empty-handed. “We don’t have to talk, you can take a bath if you want, watch tv, just do whatever you want.”

You stood in the doorway, awkwardly watching as he made his way over to the couch, quickly laying down. “The kid..”

“Escobar.”

That’s all you needed to know, you could fill in the blanks yourself. A hand hovered over your abdomen, stomach turning in knots as the mere idea of something like that happening to you crossed your mind. You closed your eyes, a cold shiver running down your back, the bile starting to rise in your throat. It wasn’t just the news, you’d been “lucky” enough to have limited episodes of nausea, but when you did it was either early on in the morning or later at night, never throughout the day, which really helped your work situation.

“Hey, hey, hey, you sick again?”, Javier asked, quickly getting up and rushing over to you.

You braced yourself by placing your good hand on his chest, taking a few deep breaths. “I need to sit down.”

He gave frantic set of nods, putting an arm around your waist and leading you over to the couch, slowly helping you down. He sat down on his knees between your legs, eyes looking over your features, trying to read you. “Concussion?”

You quickly shoved him aside, rushing over to his bathroom where you dropped down to your knees, head hung over the toilet bowl. It didn’t take long for him to follow, one warm hand resting on your upper back and the other holding on to your hair. His eyes were laced with worry and concern, your pained cries mixed in with the retching breaking his heart. With every convulsion of your body your arm bucked along, causing an immense pain to course through your mending bones. When you eventually stopped and rested your head on your arm, which rested on the porcelain itself, he let go of your hair. He disappeared for a fraction of a second, quickly coming back with some water and a towel.

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

You took a sip of the water, eager to get the vile taste out of your system. “No, no, I’m fine, just drank too much.”

He nodded, despite not believing you. He’d seen you drunk before and this wasn’t that. There was no lingering smell of alcohol, no sexual advances, no sarcasm, you were just.. you – except you were lying to his face. Javier decided not to push on it, not wanting to bother you when you obviously weren’t feeling too great.

Eventually you managed to feel somewhat better and get ready for the night, Javier helping you into a fresh shirt, mindful not to hurt you. When it came to it and you went to bed you decided to ask him to join you, not wanting to be alone after having talked over what exactly had happened that night.

The two of you talked about the baby girl and the fucked up shit the sicarios did as you rested comfortably in his arms. It wasn’t anything sexual, you two were solemnly comforting one another after an incredibly rough day. As he spoke, chest buzzing in tune with his voice, his fingers traced weary circles on your side. He just kept talking and venting, knowing fully well you had passed out. That night Javier slept better than he had in ages, it was also the first time the two of you had stayed with one another until the morning. It was nice. None of you had to sneak out or slip away in the middle of the night and the sight of you when he woke up was a welcome one, making him feel at ease. He gently woke you up, helping you into the bathroom where you took a brief shower, the hot water working wonders on your aching muscles.

When you walked into the kitchen, towel wrapped around your frame, Javier was buttering some toast. “Hi, I hate to do this but I can’t quite get dressed..”

He gave a curt not, putting down the knife before walking over to you, taking the bra and shirt from your hands. “What’s with the shoes?”, he asked as he fastened the hooks of your bra.

“Well, don’t need to run for reports.. so no flats.”

Javier gave a low chuckle as he slipped the dress over your head, fingers ghosting over the tender skin of your neck. “Are you sure it’s not Lopez you want to impress?”

Now it was your turn to huff out a laugh. “Javier Peña, do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“Should I be?”

As soon as you both were dressed and had somewhat of a breakfast you were headed to the embassy. The drive was quiet other than the radio, and surprisingly soothing. The domestic bliss stayed with you as you took a seat behind your typewriter, Javier’s gaze trained on your figure. You thought it was because of the dress, but in all reality he was trying to figure out why in the hell you would lie to him. Maybe you and Lopez were really becoming a thing or maybe the two of you had always been, maybe he was too late. All the more reasons to move on from you, the mere fucking idea of you.

By the time lunch rolled around Lopez found his way to your desk, a plate held in each hand. “Buenas Peña”, the man croaked out before walking over to your desk.

You uncrossed your legs and smiled up at the man, making Javier’s right eye twitch. Upon looking at the plate your face briefly fell, muttering an apology before declaring you were allergic to seafood. That was another fucking lie, Javier thought.

“But Javier enjoys crawfish”, you chuckled, “let him have my plate, I’ll run down to the market myself.”

Before any of them could protest, you grabbed your purse and fled the office, not wanting to experience a showdown of sorts. Javier took the opportunity to just smirk at the other man, grabbing the plate and shooing him out of the office. But not before providing the man with a sassy “piérdete, fracas ado” (get lost, loser).

The short walk to the market and back had given you the air you needed. Your head was spinning once again, the same thing as always: Javi. What the fuck was all this meddling about? He was so nice all of a sudden, domestic even, which wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic as you’d experienced him like this before.. but it wasn’t as if you were sleeping together again. Maybe that’s just what he expected to get from this. Of fucking course he’d take you in to his place. You scoffed before sinking your teeth into the spicy lunch you’d treated yourself to. Walking back into the office you were surprised to find all three desks empty. Well, you were aware that Murphy was unlikely to show up at all with his new responsibility, but Javier? Maybe he’d been requested for some field work.

You set your bag down before making your way over to the kitchen, wanting to grab a fresh drink. But before you could make it there you were pulled into the nearest evidence room, well closet more like, somebody pulling you in by your right arm.

“Mierda Javier ¿cuál es tu problema“, you yelped (Fuck Javier, what’s your issue?).

“I’m not the one lying to everyone’s fucking face”, he replied with a dark laugh.

You swatted his hand off of you and tried to shove past him when he blocked the door. “I’m not in the mood for this”, you warned, eyes locking with his.

“Missing your little boyfriend already?” Your mouth went agape in shock. “You’re not as clever as you think, hermosa.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, idiota celoso.” (jealous prick).

He wore a devilish smirk as he moved closer, lips ghosting over your ear shell. “Look who’s the whore now, huh..”

That one hurt, a lot. You pulled back from him, emotion catching in your throat. “Stop..”

“You been sleeping with everyone in the office then? Or were Lopez and I the only ones good enough for you.”

You could barely believe your ears, his evil words making tears form in your eyes. “Javier-“

“I at least thought you would’ve been smart enough not to get knocked up”, his words were laden with disgust and you stumbled backwards, feeling more unsafe than ever with him.

You tried to gather your thoughts and come up with a response but you could only manage a sad laugh as you looked at him. “You’re so fucking naïve.”

“¿Qué quiere decir?”, he inquired, lips pursed together. ‘What are you trying to say?)

“Es tuyo”, you declared. (It’s yours).

Those two words were everything he was so terrified of. You, him, a baby? Fuck. This was no place for a baby, he was no dad-material, shit man, he couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that he longed to be with you, let alone take care of you like that. He didn’t dese- no, you didn’t deserve this, all this- his misery.

“I thought you were fucking safe”, he shouted.

You felt incredibly small now, and even more terrified. “It takes two, you know”, you answered.

Javier took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he desperately tried to calm down.

“I-I can give you the money”, he stuttered.

“What?”, you asked, deeply confused.

“To get rid of it.”

If you weren’t infuriated before, you sure were now. The mere mention of it, the mere fucking idea that he wouldn’t even own up to what he did. He’d done it now, but you know what, good. If this is who he really was, then it was best you found out now.

“I-I don’t want you to lose your job..”, he murmured, voice much quieter and soft now.

The tears were streaming over your face at a high speed, blurring your vision as you looked at him. “Move, please.”

“We need to t-“

“Get out of my way”, you screamed.

He hesitantly stepped aside and watched as you speed-walked your way out of there, loudly sobbing and wiping at your eyes. Everyone’s attention was on the two of you, everyone seemingly understanding what had gone down. And as if things couldn’t get worse, around the corner came a familiar tuft of blonde hair, Steve fucking Murphy, giving him the death stare. Well fuck.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @pedritomando​ @radiowallet​

#javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine #javier pena #javier peña x reader #illicit limerence

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #46 Recoil and Recovery

As word of the Prophet's arrest spread through the FCSU like wildfire there was a great outpouring of grief. Every single person felt personally responsible for his capture. Fasting and praying became widespread, everyone agreed not to use the temple until he returned. Men who hadn't been keeping with the Prophet's marital commandments began toeing the line. Sisterwives who previously fought were on their best behavior. Children were pious and quiet, not wanting to be responsible for any further harm to Uncle Royce.

In all honesty, this was the most peaceful time in Elden Brown's home ever. Charlene still accompanied Elden everywhere but now she did so with a sickly sweet countenance instead of open hostility. Maybe she was just happy that Elden wasn't sleeping with his other wives very much. Allie Jayne liked the decreased tension in the house. She and Jayne spent most days taking care of the children and puttering around the garden. If life continued this way, she'd welcome it. She still missed Andrew with all her heart but at least now she could say she was crying for the Prophet, not her apostate son.

Rachel moved to a small apartment close to where Royce was being held so she could talk to and see him frequently. He delivered all his revelations and letters through her. She was deemed the Messenger of the Lord. His trial was coming up quickly and he was preparing his case. Mostly, he was planning on arguing that he was being discriminated against based on his religion. He also planned to push the tax fraud charges on to his father, saying that Leroy taught him how to do business like that, Royce didn't know it was illegal. He was just a young man from the desert. He was 53 when his trial started.

Word travelled quickly among the apostates too. The morning after Isaac was called to the police station to help with the investigation Teresa took Andrew quietly aside to tell him that Uncle Royce had been captured by police and that Isaac was going to aid the prosecution. Andrew took the news hard, he hadn’t been out long enough to lose his allegiance to the Prophet. Sure, Andrew didn’t agree with many decisions that Royce made but he didn’t think he should go to prison! Who would lead the faithful? That would just do more harm. In the coming months Andrew grew sullen and withdrew socially from the family.

In the city Isaac and Greyson prepared their case. They had concrete evidence of tax fraud and poor business practices but those wouldn’t put Royce away for good. When he finally got a chance to review the Priesthood Dictations he was dismayed to find the notebook was almost brand new, only keeping record of the last two days in San Myshuno. It spoke of playing with Victorie and how attractive Royce found Rachel. It detailed some future plans for them to flee to Sulani Island so at least that was ground for denying him bail. Isaac felt defeated, the complete dictations must be out there. Most likely with Rachel.

It seemed like the only people out of the loop were the ones who depended on Royce the most. Evangeline and Becca Dawn had no access to the internet or television (Becca wouldn’t risk using the computer while Vangie was home) When their grocery deliveries stopped arriving the girls simply thought they were being punished but as the days wore on they began to grow concerned. They were running out of food for Victorie. After about two weeks of steadily decreasing food Becca Dawn checked her phone and found a text from Penny. “are you ok? i heard your husband got arrested” “What?? No are you sure?” asked Becca. Her sister responded with a link to a news story showing Royce and Rachel in handcuffs talking about an upcoming trial.

“We’ll starve!” texted Becca. “We’re running out of food!” “don’t worry, i’ll get you some just tell me where you are” replied Penny. And so it became a regular occurrence, Penny would come to the door to leave them groceries just as Royce had. Becca Dawn had told Vangie that she had contacted one of her sisters to bring them food, she hadn’t mentioned which one. Vangie was shocked that Becca had a phone but she was so hungry she didn’t argue. Sometimes Becca would sneak out to talk to Penny while she was there. Penny would plead for Becca to come home with her. This was the perfect opportunity! Becca Dawn’s answer was always the same. “I belong with Evangeline.” After having the same conversation over and over again Penny handed her a piece of paper with her address on it. “When you’re ready.” She said.

Becca Dawn knew that this was her best chance to escape. She also knew that Vangie couldn’t stay in the apartment forever but wouldn’t want to leave. She very gently brought up the idea. It went about as well as Becca expected. “Just because our Prophet is busy with other matters is no reason to abandon him! I can’t walk away from my family the way you Prichards seem to be able to. I cannot do that to my sister- to my children!” “Children?” asked Becca. “Yes, I am with child again. And I plan to raise it in accordance with our church.”

“Evangeline, Royce was arrested! He is in prison now. How are we going to keep living here? Who is going to pay our rent? We don’t know how long he’ll be gone for please, please just come with me.” The two argued deep into the night until their anger blew over and they just sat holding each other. In the morning Vangie used the phone to call her sister Emma who confirmed through tears that Royce had indeed been arrested. Emma was shocked to get a call from her sister from a random number but decided not to ask about the phone. Since she’d been to the apartment she knew where they were. She said that she’d send some of Royce’s brothers to pick up Vangie and Victorie. Vangie was careful not to mention Becca in the conversation. Becca was relieved that Vangie would be taken care of if she left but she couldn’t bring herself to bite the bullet and run off just yet. 

Becca developed an uncomfortable burning in her stomach that grew worse and worse as she tried to ignore it. Vangie was convinced she was pregnant and urged her to stay. Becca feared the idea of raising a child alone. Would Penny even take her in like that? She loathed the thought of never being able to see Evangeline, Victorie, her mother, her sisters and their children ever again but she knew she couldn’t go back to living in Royce’s compound mansion. She felt sick just thinking about it. Becca was still traumatized by her early marriage and hated the idea of returning to that house. She hated the way Royce’s sons looked at her, she hated his snobby daughters who were older than she. She hated the thought of sleeping her “marital bed” where so much evil had happened.

In their last days in the apartment Vangie became affectionate towards Becca. She insisted that they could live together as sisterwives and carve out a quiet life for themselves and their children,  Becca Dawn knew she was being manipulated but she couldn’t bring herself to reject Evangeline’s advances. On the last night before the trek back to the compound the girls had dinner, played with Victorie and went to bed early. Becca Dawn awoke in the middle of the night. She dressed as quietly as she could but she wasn’t quiet enough. Vangie woke up and snapped on the light. “Your mind’s made up then, huh? You’re leaving tonight?” Becca buried her face in her hands. “I’m afraid so, I cannot go back to that place.” “I don’t like it but I understand.” said Vangie, caressing her face. “I will always think of you as my best friend and sisterwife.” Overwhelmed by emotion Becca pulled Vangie towards her and kissed her. 

She pulled away before Vangie could collect herself and climbed onto the fire escape. She half climbed half slid in the rain but eventually her feet hit the ground. She ran down an alley and out of sight. Evangeline watched her until she disappeared. Deep down she knew she loved Becca, but she also loved Royce and not just for his status. She bit her tongue and started packing while coming up with a story. Hours later Carter and Jerrod Culton came to collect her. “Where’s the other girl?” They asked. “She’s been taken to a house of even deeper hiding.” Explained Vangie, her back was turned they couldn’t see the tears rolling down her face. “I’m surprised Uncle Royce didn’t tell you.”

#fundie sims #fundiesims #fcsu #sims 4 story #sims 4 #cult blog

[voiceless-terror]

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home. 

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case. 

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away. 

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy. 

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone. 

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance. 

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile. 

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagerryweek2021 #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jongerrymartin #my writing