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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Broken trust, pt.6/finale

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five

Summary: Inside the fold, Y/N and the Darkling face off.

Warnings: angst, fluff sprinkled on top, indicating smut

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When she was a child, Y/N feared the darkness. Every night she would lay awake with a candle by her side, too scared to close her eyes. She feared the unspoken horrors that occurred under the cloak of darkness, of one day finding herself in peril as well. The fold fueled such fears, especially when the boys in the orphanage would speak of the Volcra. She had heard the descriptions, the vile appearances and inhuman deeds they’re capable of. They haunted her when she closed her eyes, wondering if that’s what killed her parents.

Y/N still fears the dark, just of a different kind.

She fears the darkness that resides in humans, the kind that’s lurking under the surface yet remains invisible to the naked eye. At any point, the darkness could surface and once it does, it would swallow anyone who stands in its way. Perhaps that’s where her trust issues stem from, the corruption of human hearts. People are wicked, using everything, even love, for their selfish desires.

In truth, she should have seen it before.

Aleksander Morozova should have been a clear danger for her heart right from the moment they met in that dark tent where she wondered how anyone could be comfortable in such an environment. A powerful, handsome man with a silver tongue and a weakness for her had seduced her by simply paying attention. He looked at her like no man ever before – like she was the only one for him, a source of eternal sunshine.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be deceived.

A woman with trust issues and a fear of darkness fell in love with a man who was darkness incarnated. He embodied all she dreaded and yet she couldn’t see beyond the mask of perfection he always kept in place. A part of her wondered if he ever showed who he truly is in those intimate moments they shared.

Throwing his head back, Aleksander laughed. His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath before it quaked with a new laugh erupting from deep inside.

“It’s not funny!” She pouted, trying to glare at him as if the sound of his laughter didn’t make her feel like she’s in a dream.

“You know I adore that pout”, Aleksander smirks, pinning her against the wall.

Breathless, her lips part just in time for Aleksander��s to take advantage. He gave a low, throaty chuckle once her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed against the strength of his arm behind her back. He bent, put his other arm beneath her knees. His mouth never leaves hers as he carries her to the bed. He abandoned her lips only to press them on her neck and she couldn’t believe how easily he swayed her.

Before long she could bear no more kissing. She ached all over and she pulled his hair to better meet his mouth. She fastened on his lips hungrily, greedily, ready to feel him inside her, around her, to completely numb her senses.

“Aren’t we eager today”, he teased her as he slowed down, determined to drawl out every moment he had with her.

“I can either be angry with you for laughing at me”, she trails off, her eyes flickering to his lips. “Or you can make me forget about the poor Grisha I flashed in your map room.”

Growling, he inhales sharply, “As amusing as it was to see you both scream, I prefer when you scream for me when we are alone.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “I wanted to be spontaneous! How was I supposed to know someone else would be in the room?”

He picked up a lock of her hair from across her neck and held it up, letting the dim light of the fireplace play though the strands. He held it to his nose, then to his lips.

For the first time he could ever remember, he was completely content.

“What do you want us to do?” Ivan asks, finding the change in his general terrifying. He could see the Darkling is enraged, losing control and a Grisha powerful as he is could be lethal in such circumstances.

“You’ll do nothing”, Aleksander snapped as he mounted his horse. “I will go after her.”

He looks to his loyal Grisha with narrow eyes, aware he’ll return undoubtedly changed by whatever transpires inside the fold. Whether he returns with his Sun Summoner in hand or with her body in his arms, the Darkling would be different.

During his time with Y/N, Aleksander relied on her for happiness he long forgot about. He held onto her for as if she was all he had and she still abandoned him. They all do so once they see how far he’s ready to go in order to protect those he loves – his people….and her. He would have done anything for her.

This is his kingdom, but she’s not his queen anymore.

“We shall await for further instructions at the camp.”

Nodding, Aleksander turns away from them with a dark look on his face. For the first time since he created the fold, he will step inside and he didn’t know who would emerge victorious. If he dies, he won’t be around to care, but if she does? He was sure he will never be whole again.

He kissed the corner of her mouth boldly, waiting for a sign of resistance. Her hands pushed weakly against his shoulders but even at his slight touch, her eyes closed in surrender.

Seeing her so, Aleksander smirked before he kissed her cheek, her ear lobe. Then, as she gasped for breath, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue sweetly touched the tip of hers and she drew back, startled. He smiled at her as if he understood how strange such affection is to her.

“Someone will see us”, she whines.

Shrugging, Aleksander’s smile grows wider, “Let them see.”

“Don’t you have a reputation of a hardass to preserve?” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyebrows rise, tantalizing him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He ran his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He was better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him.

Parting in desperate need of a proper breath, he looks at her rosy, swollen lips with complete resignation.

“My reputation means nothing to me when you’re with me. You are what I want my reputation to be.”

Panting, Y/N felt like her lungs would explode. She had been running from the edge of the fold, deep into the darkness she once feared. She ran because she wasn’t sure if Aleksander was furious enough to disregard his own safety by following her inside.

Lips quivering, she pulls out the flask Mal packed for her. Taking a sip, she frowns at the watered down taste of alcohol. She made it clear she wanted nothing but water, yet Mal disregarded her wish. Shaking her head, she smiles anyway. If Mal was with her, she’d thank him for the liquid courage. She’d have agreed to a bottle of whiskey now, lost in the dark.

Swept away in her thoughts, she gasps at the growling in the distance. Her heart nearly stops as a dark, looming shadow passes above her. She whips around as the growls come from behind her as well.

She passed sixteen markers, but she hoped to get to the eighteenth. She planned to get as close to the middle as humanly possible, but wasn’t this just it? If she kept going, nothing could guarantee her safety and she was deep enough inside the fold to at least try.

Every night she laid awake in the past year was spent with her strengthening her light, her control.

This was it – she could do it.

She had to do it.

Releasing a shaky breath, Y/N folds her hands before her. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath as she parts her hands at the palms.

“I wouldn’t do that”, a painfully familiar voice sounds and her eyes open wide.

“Or you’ll kill me?” She laughs, unable to stop herself. It’s a laugh made from pure anxiety and hurt, one that made her feel like she’s mad. Her habit of laughing when she feels like she’s got nothing left to lose came rarely; the first time it happened was when she learned her parents have succumbed to the very fold she’s in now. She reckoned this would be the last time.

“I don’t want to but, if you do not submit to me –“, Aleksander starts, coming closer slowly as if she was a doe and he the hunter. Every sudden move could frighten her and he didn’t want to face what happens in that case.

“Kill me if you must but I will not submit to you, or any man who wears his crimes like crown jewels!”

Raising her voice had drawn the Volcra, the growling growing louder.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?" Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. She couldn’t cry anymore, there were no tears left to cry. She’s dry, inside out. “Things could have been different, you know? You didn't have to fall so far.”

Lifting his chin, Aleksander took a step further in her direction. Catching the slightest shake of her head, he pauses, arms raised in mock surrender.

“You made me love you”, he speaks through gritted teeth, “To depend on you.” He clenches his jaw, his patience wearing thin. “Now you’re trying to take the last piece of my sanity with you.”

“You don’t have to do this”, she tries meekly, “We can still be magnificent. Be the man I fell in love with, please.”

“And then what? We’re supposed to play house while they’re killing our people?!” Aleksander spat, barely holding himself back. “They wouldn’t stop until they kill you right before me and any children we might have!”

Eyebrows knitted together, Y/N’s mouth opens at the words spoken. There was a moment when Y/N realized she’d misinterpreted her darling Darkling’s actions, his words, his expressions from the moment they met… as if he’d been speaking a language she couldn’t understand… that moment was the moment her heart broke…She could hardly speak in her shock when she learned he had lied to her, but this shockingly defining moment was much different than that first moment.

“Children”, she breathes out as a smile forms on her lips, one he found confusing.

All this time, Aleksander had been using the fold as a way to protect his people and yet, he failed to realize it is exactly what they need to destroy.

“We don’t need the fold”, her smile widens, “You are the fold, my darling Darkling and I am your Sun.” Her lips quiver, her entire body trembles and she still comes closer to him without fear. “With the two of us, we can create and destroy this fold anywhere in the world and today is our chance to demonstrate our power to all those who’d dare to defy us!”

Lips parting, he shakes his head. “What are you saying”, he sneers, still angry at her for defying him.

“I’m saying it doesn’t have to be one way or the other”, she chuckles in disbelief, “We can both destroy the fold and win this war. Every war.”

The growling is near, close enough for the hair to stand on the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Don’t”, he orders as her hands touch, “Don’t you dare!”

Shakily lifting her head, Y/N smiles, "I love you".

Before he has time to comprehend the weight of her words, his world was set aflame by a blinding light exploding all around him.

She screamed out as a bright light emerged from her entire being, enveloping her like a lover’s embrace. It is the kind of brightness that enchants the eyes to open all the wider as it warms the skin.

She never felt the warmth like this, not even when Aleksander’s lips gave her breath or when his arms gave her a reason to believe in him. This warmth is different, like the sun had incorporated itself into her soul and is finally shining through.

She looks to her hands, opening the fists that glow an ethereal light force she never experienced. Her light is like sunlight, it comes as woven strands, free and united, and flowing as it reveals and solidifies, making the world of nightmares around them into something so beautiful.

Her eyes meet Aleksander’s dazed gaze, her smile wide but his lips are set in a firm line.

She could feel her soul ripping as she pushed the light further from them, toward the edges. The pressure in her head grew, erasing the smile from her lips. Her legs barely kept her standing as she stumbles. She could feel a wet liquid running from her nose to her lips, the metallic taste making her eyes widen.

“You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up!” Aleksander shouts, trying to make her see sense but she shakes her head.

“I have to do this! For us!”

He could see a vein pulsating across her forehead, the blood gushing from her nose and it slowly became clear to him – he might not have been able to kill her, but seeing her like this convinced him he doesn’t have to. She’ll do it all on her own.

Reaching for her, his hands wrap around her wrists firmly. “I love you too”, he rests his forehead on hers, amplifying her power. He could feel her smile for a split second before she closed her eyes.

Gasping for air, she felt her insides burning and before she could stop herself, Y/N’s bloodcurdling scream echoed in the fold, effectively stopping his heart in fright.

As her scream dies down, Y/N goes limp in Aleksander’s arms.

Her light disappears, another one taking its place as he lowers to his knees, holding her close to him. Looking up, he almost cries as the blue skies above shine a light on his face.

“You did it”, he croaks, shaking her slightly. “Solntse? Solnechnyy svet?!”

Unmoving, Y/N laid in his embrace as if she had simply fallen asleep, but Aleksander knew she was hanging by a thread.

“Lyubov’?” His voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, his fingers clutching the fabric of her kefta…He didn’t even realize she kept it.

She must have put it on inside the fold, he realized.

Now, in the light of day, he finally saw the black kefta he ordered to be made for her – black with golden traces of the light she brought in his life. It was fitting she’d be given powers of light for she was the embodiment of lightning, illuminating stormy skies he couldn’t navigate through. Not on his own.

“Wake up”, he whispers. “I need you”, the raspiness of his voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside his chest.

“I can’t survive without you”, he bowed his head down, a choked sob escaping him.

“I love you.” Aleksander whispered into her chest, breaking down when she didn’t say it back. Y/N always chose to say ‘I love you’ instead of goodbye, explaining goodbye was the last thing she ever wanted to tell him and he understood now. He never wanted to tell her goodbye, but maybe that’s necessary too. Maybe life is about learning a better way to say goodbye, learn to let go of the ones you love with nothing but love.

“Aleks”, she tries but the words are stuck in the back of her throat as her need to breathe becomes direr.

“Saints!” He presses his lips as he looks up at her, just as breathless as he was the day when he first saw her. “What can I do? Tell me how can I help you?!”

“All this time I’ve blamed you”, her hand rests upon his cheek, “For pulling me into the dark”, she pauses, “But I was wrong.” Wetting her lips, she manages a small smile, “It was me who brought out your dark side.”

She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the ring he gifted her with a crooked smile.

“None of it matters now”, he rests his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am and I never want to feel like this again.”

“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.

“Gladly”, she chuckles as he helps her sit. None of her hate for him remained. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on and she finally settled on a side – his side.

Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life, to put his heart on the line time and time again after all the times she walked away. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.

“I love you”, he kisses the palm of her hand, giving her enough time to say it back.

“And I love you. I promise you, we will be unstoppable. Together, hand in hand, nothing will dare stand in our way.”

As soul meets soul in a lover’s kiss, the two embrace in the midst of a desert made of ruin they would find a way to rebuild. Their story is far from over, but this time around, they’ll write it together – as equal parts of a whole.

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @subjecta13-thefangirl @aquamariene-me @savannah-elliott @auggie2000 @daybleedsintonightfa11

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #general kirigan #kirigan x reader #aleksander x reader

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oliviayamaoka · 3 years

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Heartfelt Deception (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

Y/N is a rather new and young survivor, taking a while to become accustomed to the brutal trials set out by the god-like figure known as the Entity.

Feeling alone and in despair, you meet somebody who begins to slowly change the way you perceive yourself and your current situation.

Y/N wasn’t sure what this place was called, it was a cold place. You shivered as you hugged yourself, walking through the snowy winds trying to find a generator. A part of you felt crazy for thinking your clothes were thin but it was just the piercing cold weather. Y/N looked up before noticing the killer shack, you quickly ran towards it. You hoped there was a generator there to warm up your hands slightly.

As you entered the shack, you stumbled across four lockers, a generator, and a firey totem at the corner. You shut your eyes in relief, stumbling somewhat. You felt as though your legs were about to freeze off at any moment. A part of you regretted not asking any other survivors about this realm. You were relatively new to the realms and hadn’t fought many killers yet, not that you wanted to.

“Oh, god.” You mumbled as you kneeled downwards, immediately getting to work on the generator. Your lips curved into a smile upon feeling the warmth of the machine and the sparks of the wires.

Your eyes averted towards the totem with the fire. For a second, you wanted to use that to warm up but you wanted to finish this generator as fast as you could. There was a strong sense of focus and determination within you at that moment.

“You got this.” You mumble. You weren’t exactly hyping yourself up, it was just you reacting to your circumstances by mumbling.

It felt lonely and pathetic, doing a generator by yourself, You felt a small sense of pity towards the others for not accompanying you. A sigh escaped your mouth for even thinking about that. Five generators, four survivors. Of course you all should split up for the sake of survival. Stop being so selfish, you thought to yourself. In fact. you didn’t even see which other survivors were here. Your train of thought was interrupted as somebody entered the shack.

Your hands trembled as you observed the figure that walked in. Within those seconds, you just assumed it wasn’t the killer. It was a guy in darker clothing. There was a streak of black paint spread across his eyes. His expression remained unchanged and rather welcoming. Another survivor.

“Um, hey.” You say awkwardly to him as you turned your head back to the generator. There were two wires that needed connecting.

“Hey, hey.” He replied, nodding his head as he watched you.

“Wanna help? If you want, of course. There’s also a totem there. The Entity told me that the firey ones could help us.” You said. He smirked slightly as he began to work on the generator, kneeling down beside you. The guy seemed lean.

“Let’s finish this up first. I don’t think I caught your name, by the way.” He said to you. His presence felt relaxing, he was about eighteen or nineteen. it was peaceful to have somebody else young here.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Y/N, what’s yours?” You asked him with a smile.

“Name’s Joey.” He responded to you as you nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joey.” Y/N said as she looked around the shack again to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place.

“I haven’t seen you around much. Well, I have, I guess. We just never got to talk and whatever.” He shrugged.

“I wish it were under better circumstances.” You replied as you stood up, walking towards the firey totem in the corner. His eyes shot up as you did so.

“Woah, woah, woah. No need for that right now.” Joey reassured you, quickly standing in front of you with his hands up to his chest to slightly push you away from it. Your eyebrows raised up in surprise for a second.

“Oh, I thought breaking them would help us.” Y/N said as he scratched the back of his neck with a small smile.

“Eh, not really. You ought to avoid these ones entirely. The Entity will say anything to have you--or us suffer. Trust me.” Joey explained as you nodded your head, being rather naive about what he said.

“Makes sense. What is this place, anyways?” You asked him as he peered out through the killer shack window. The winds calmed down.

“It’s called Mount Ormond.” He said in a rather reminiscent yet relaxed tone.

You nodded a bit, This must’ve been the realm he was plucked out of based on his reaction to it. Maybe his family resort? You weren’t sure at all but you enjoyed making assumptions and theories about the people here. Hell, you met somebody that claimed to be from the 70′s. Either way, at least you found a friend in Joey and somebody to hang out with at the camp.

“Are you from here?” You asked him.

“Huh? Oh, well... It’s complicated. I do really like this place though. I’ve never felt more free before this whole shitshow happened.” Joey replied.

“Sorry to hear... sounded fun.” You say to him.

“It was... best few moments of my life until Frank... nevermind. Is your generator almost done?” He asked.

“Almost, I think.” You responded as the generator lit up.

Your face immediately lit up as you bounced back up, proud of your accomplishment. Joey smiled and lifted his hand up to high-five you. You smacked your hands against his. He chuckled at your excitement, he seemed to quickly grow fond of you. Y/N looked around before looking back at him.

“You should come with me.” You say to him.

“I... wish I could.” He said with a small hint of guilt and sadness in his voice. He quickly noticed how depressing he sounded and stood up straight.

“I wish I could! I mean, we already wasted enough time on one generator. And you’re a fast learner so I’m sure you can pop these motherfuckers really fast.” Joey said to you, confident in your abilities. You nodded with a small smile.

“Thanks, Joey.” You said to him, rubbing your hands together at the door. Joey noticed you must’ve been freezing. He stared for a moment before building up the confidence

“Here, you must be freezing.” He said, sliding off his gloves and giving them to you. You felt your cheeks burn up as you reluctantly took his gloves, he seemed to push them towards your chest. Joey was very insistent on you taking them.

“I, um... thank you. I mean it.” You stammered as he nodded, clasping his hands together and taking a few steps back in a very confident manner.

“Like, I know I don’t sound genuine or anything but thank you. Thanks for helping me and um, being my friend. I’m sorry if I sound stupid but like, this place is just so fucked up, y’know?” You say to him as you sat down in front of the generator, sliding his gloves on. Joey felt his heart tingle slightly.

“Nah, you don’t sound weird at all. It’s probably shitty to...I mean, it is shitty fighting killers and whatnot. I get you.” He said, sitting down next to you. It felt strange yet intoxicating for him to be in such a close proximity to you.

“Yeah... how do you do it, Joey? Having to live an eternity getting fucking hooked... and tortured by these fuckers.” You asked him as your voice began to crack and tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes as he stared in shock.

“Just--don’t worry about that right now. The killer hasn’t hurt you this time and he won’t, I promise he won’t. Believe me.” He said as you wiped your eyes with your sleeve.

“I just wanna go back... I don’t get it.” You mumbled, looking upwards as you tried to relax yourself.

Joey hesitated but wrapped one arm around you. You welcomed the gesture and rested your head against his chest slightly. Any form of comfort right now felt nice to have. Your eyes shut as Joey rubbed your shoulder a bit. He felt very scared and vulnerable in that moment but he did his best to comfort you. Joey never would’ve imagined his first encounter with you would be so... nice?

“It’s fucked up, I know but... don’t let these things destroy who you are. You seem like a tough person. I never let what happened to me destroy who I was. And now, well... I’m free. I can do what I want, when I want.” He said to you.

Joey felt guilty. He saw a part of himself he never wanted to acknowledge within you. A part that needed consoling, a part of him that only felt regret and pain. For what he would do to you one day and for what he did to that janitor. Why did he have to be so stupid sometimes? Joey found you in the purgatory he was meant to be punished in, to kill for god knows how long.

“That does sound nice... sorry for being a suck.” You said as you got up and hurried towards the door. Joey seemed to be in a bit of a rush too since he needed to please the Entity some sort of way.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Thanks for being my fourth friend... I meant what I said, though. Just don’t think of me as.. bad.” He said as he slid out the door.

You stared in slight confusion before bracing yourself for the coldness. You began to make your way to the next generator.

One all generators were complete, you made your way to the exit gate. You noticed three girls. Y/N stopped in confusion as she stared at them. Feng Min, Kate Denson, and Claudette Morel. Claudette was wrapping up her own wounds as Feng began to open the door. Four survivors... four survivors.

“Hey there, stranger. You okay?” Kate asked as she playfully nudged you.

“Where is Joey?” You asked her as she stared blankly at you.

“Joey?” She questioned as you finally put two and two together.

You spoke with the killer? He didn’t kill you. Wait, you let a killer embrace you. No, not a killer, it was Joey. No, Joey was a killer. Your mind raced as you spaced out, ignoring the blaring noise of the door opening. Kate nudged you softly again.

“Did you get caught in his frenzy? That shakes a lot of folks up.” She said.

“Oh, yeah... I guess...” You replied as the gates opened.

“Alright, ladies, Let’s roll.” Feng said jokingly as you walked with them outside of the place. You were both confused and horrified at what just happened. It was weird because you felt so at peace and even inspired from him. Joey made you feel confident. You inhaled sharply from the coldness as you made your escape.

Joey watched from a distance at the lodge with his mask on, he leaned against the doorframe. He felt disappointed that you’d figure it out sooner or later. He sighed deeply, feeling frustrated and angry. Now, he felt like listening to his mixtape and returning to being the edgy troublemaker he was until he got to talk to you again.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thank you for reading! This was kinda based off of the HC’s I made of the Legion where Joey always had a crush on you. Might do a part two since I enjoyed writing this but stay tuned if I do :)

#joey dbd #joey the legion #the legion #legion #legion dbd #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #oneshot #joey x reader

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j-amespotter · 3 years

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★ the last great american dynasty - s. b.

“i had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle-born!Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: A one-shot diving into Sirius’s complicated relationship with Grimmauld Place and where the Muggle-born he falls for fits in.

Genre/Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, alcohol, language, mentions of death & war

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so.. this is more of a character study on sirius & his dynamic with his family – i know this song is meant to be about a woman but it also screams sirius to me. i’m a sucker for romance so it’s a reader-insert. fun fact, i was almost done writing this when i realized i wanted it to be a wolfstar fic, but i was too lazy to change it, so just putting that out as a concept lol. let me know what you think & if you’d like me to tag you in future works!!

masterlist

When Sirius first showed signs of his rebellious nature, Walburga wasn’t worried. After all, many children were incapable of sitting still in large gatherings, mouthing off to their parents, or incessantly teasing their younger siblings. “He will be kept in good company. He will learn,” Walburga would say to her husband. He often exasperated her, but there was no denying her immense pride. Despite his antics, even at a young age, Sirius displayed impressive magical ability and had a commanding presence – excellent qualities for the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

She worried only a little when he preferred to spend time with Andromeda, who was clearly becoming disillusioned with their family values, and Alphard, who Walburga believed was beginning to get a little too soft. Still, the Blacks were not raving lunatics. They were traditionalists, committed to upholding the high standards of Wizarding society. Sirius would not defy them, not when the weight of their bloodline rested on his shoulders, not when Regulus would never be able to stomach such responsibility.

On his first night at Hogwarts, Sirius didn't write home. It wasn’t until the morning after that Narcissa delivered the dreadful news to her mother. Walburga’s sister-in-law relished discussing this most recent embarrassment, as the family’s attention was now off her daughter’s courtship of a mudblood. Young Sirius, their direct heir, was sorted into the House of Muggle-lovers and blood traitors, into the House of Godric Gryffindor.

Blown apart by this development, Walburga turned to her younger son. She had no intention of repeating her mistakes and resolved to train him for the responsibility that should have belonged to her eldest. That way, if she was unable to correct Sirius’s behavior, she had back-up. Her legacy was secure.

During every subsequent holiday, she noticed that the damage was getting more-and-more irreversible. Sirius unabashedly consorted with infamous blood traitors and pathetic half-bloods. He seemed to dread seeing his family as much as she dreaded seeing how much of him she had lost. She tried; no one could say she didn’t. But she was too stern with him. He had inherited his flexibility, or lack thereof, from her. She pushed him too far away. Soon, he stopped returning home for Christmas. When he was sixteen, she spat at him as he closed the door to Number 12 Grimmauld Place one last time, without sparing her a final glance.

He never expected he would have to return. Offering up the property to the Order seemed like a good idea at the time – he hardly put any thought into it. That was how he made most of his decisions. His track record certainly proved so. When Remus didn’t have anywhere to stay, and neither did the newly-reformed Order of the Phoenix, Sirius knew that his family estate in London was not just their most ideal option, but also the only one they had.

He managed to enter undetected in his Animagus form with Remus. He had to hand it to fate – there were no extra security measures to keep him out. It was as if she anticipated his arrival. Swallowing, he absorbed his surroundings. Despite the eerie silence and decomposing furniture, it looked like an image straight from his memory. Sirius suddenly felt sixteen again.

What he did not expect to see, however, was a currently-sleeping life-sized portrait of Walburga Black in the hallway. Though now in his human form, Sirius growled inadvertently. She knew. She always knew that he would come back. She wanted to be there when he did. Unbelievable, he thought to himself.

Aware of Remus’s wary gaze on him, Sirius walked forward and began pulling on the frame. “Get off, you hag! Remus, help me get this off!”

Remus went to join his old friend in what seemed like a fruitless mission in his mind but came to an abrupt halt when the portrait, disturbed by her son’s grunts, awoke in a flash of fury. “Filth! Scum! Abomination of my flesh! You are no son of mine,” portrait-Walburga hissed.

“Shut up, just shut up!” He had not heard her voice since he was near a Dementor, reliving the worst of his teenage years. The visual made it much, much worse.

“Permanent Sticking Charm, it seems…” Remus said to appease his friend, pulling the withering velvet curtains over its towering frame with all his strength.

“This is torture,” sighed Sirius. “Maybe we can find another place.”

Remus refused to meet his eye. “For now, it is all we have, Sirius. If it was going to be a problem, you should not have offered it to Professor Dumbledore.”

Sirius frowned. “It’s all I’m able to do this time around. It’s not like I can go around trailing Death Eaters and infiltrating the Ministry with everyone else.”

“Hopefully, it’s only temporary,” assured Remus, though he was equally as uncertain about Sirius’s fate as a fugitive. “Try not to let this place get into your head, okay?”

Sirius Black was never good at keeping promises. He had three-and-a-half decades of evidence to back that up. In the weeks following, the Order settled in, consisting of many highly competent Aurors, half-a-dozen Weasleys, and an ex-Death Eater he could do without seeing. Sirius found himself never too far from alcohol, itching for more access. He longed to see Harry and to get away from his wretched house-elf, along with the constant, stinging reminder of his mother's existence.

But there was something else inside of him, something he couldn’t describe. It was an emotion that was egging him on. He felt it inside of him every time Kreacher muttered complaints about wandering red-headed blood traitor brats. It swirled in his stomach when his mother shouted scathing insults at the clumsy half-blood and filthy half-breed that took temporary refuge in the former pure-blood paradise.

Then she came.

She was new. She worked at the Ministry; many of his houseguests were incredibly fond of her. He recognized the innocence in her eyes. It was the same innocence that he had when he first joined the Order seventeen years earlier. It was the same innocence that differentiated every new member from every returning one – they had yet to see tragedy in its fullest form.

“Hello,” she greeted. She seemed strangely unperturbed by the fact that she was in the presence of an alleged mass murderer. “I’m (Y/N). I’ve been told this is your house. Thank you for playing host.”

“My pleasure,” responded Sirius. Involuntarily, he reached for her hand and kissed it. Suddenly, he became painfully aware of his hollowing cheeks, untamed hair, and liquor-infused breath.

She flushed slightly at the gesture. Black family habits die hard. Just because he chose to refrain from practicing them did not mean he had forgotten, nor did it mean that he wasn’t any good at them.

Walburga Black’s portrait watched her son fall in love with her. Sirius watched her watch him. There was no telling how she would react. Regulus was dead – it was up to him to preserve their family’s name and purity.

(Y/N) was witty and flirty and incredibly intelligent. He found himself feeling a decade younger as he enjoyed their banter and her overall easiness. Before long, she kissed him in his dimly-lit pantry, and he was too selfish to stop her. They would kiss in every corner of the house, hardly caring that anyone was watching, ignoring the ghosts living within the walls. For Sirius, (Y/N) was his greatest act of defiance. She was born to non-magic parents. As narrated by a disgruntled Kreacher to his now-helpless mistress, she was nothing but a “filthy mudblood.”

One night, weeks after the children departed for Hogwarts and the house was, as on most days, empty, he caught her staring at the Black family tapestry. Without making a sound, he inched behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on her shoulder. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

She leaned into him. As the days went on, she would tire easily. Still, she found happiness in Sirius as he did with her, and they both were old enough to know to reach for it in any capacity they got. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Let’s get to bed.”

“As much as I’m a fan of that idea,” he started with a smirk, “you look upset. Is it work? Fudge?”

“No, nothing like that.” Her fingers traced his blasted name on the wall. She looked thoughtful. “I’ve just… noticed something about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“The way you look at your mother.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s no secret that I hate her. I hope that’s not off-putting. You’ve seen what she’s like – it was worse when she was alive. I promise I’m a gentleman in general circumstances… for the most part,” he added cheekily.

She smiled tightly. “No, I get it. It must be terrible for you, being back here.”

“It is,” he affirmed. “I’ve got you, though. You make me happier than anything, love.”

“That’s the thing,” she uttered as if it pained her. Sirius could stare at her fiery expression for days on end. To be on the receiving end was strange. “I can’t help but think that you’re only in love with me to spite her. Like your feelings aren’t love, they’re just a culmination of your hatred for her.”

It took Sirius an eternity to process what she just said. Realizing that he was not going to say anything, she continued. “Believe me, I know you hate it here. But at the same time, you look so… satisfied. You’re hosting a bunch of blood traitors, half-bloods, and a werewolf in this place that was once the pinnacle of blood purity. You’re providing a haven against the bloody Dark Lord. And worst of all, you’re with a mudblood.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” interrupted Sirius harshly.

“It’s the truth. If you weren’t in this position, would we even be together?”

“Of course,” said Sirius. To answer this question, he didn’t even have to think. “I love you because you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and make me laugh until my stomach hurts. You’re so good with Harry and you can put anyone in their place. You make me feel new again… God, that’s fucking sappy, but it’s true. I indeed hate this place and I hate her but… but if I let her dictate my choices, even when she’s bloody dead, then she’s won. I don’t want her to win. If I was only with you for your blood status, then I would be no different from my mother.”

She stared up at him, her eyes betraying a wave of emotions. She reached up to kiss him, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Thank you for saying all of that. Just hold on for a little while, alright? Soon, we’ll be out of here. We can have our own house – you, me, and Harry.”

He smiled at her sadly. It seemed too unreachable of a goal to him at the moment. “By the beach?” “Wherever you’d like,” she answered, leading him to his bedroom, his only sanctuary in the horrible house.

As they made their way towards the stairs, Sirius glanced at the tapestry over his shoulder, at the seven generations of Blacks behind him. He gently squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. For the first time in his entire life, he felt the weight of carrying his name lift off him. He’d done his part to corrupt his bloodline. It was time for Sirius to focus on himself in a way that the shadows of his past never allowed him to, even in his schoolboy days with James. Being a Black was a part of who he was, and even a disowned Black deserved his long-overdue happiness.

Tagging: @strawberriesonsummer

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Chaotic Bisexual.

Shiva Baby writer-director Emma Seligman tells Ella Kemp about expanding her wildly cringey short film into an even more anxiety-inducing feature, why Virgo and Taurus make the perfect producing pair, and the eternal conflict of being a good Jewish girl.

“If I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies!” —Emma Seligman

It sounds like a strange riff on a guy-walks-into-a-bar joke: a girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her secret ex-girlfriend, then her sugar daddy, then his shiksa wife, oh, and their baby—yet the payoff is so much more rewarding.

Filmmaker Emma Seligman’s debut feature is a new kind of teen classic: 78 non-stop minutes teeming with well-drawn traits and tropes that define the best coming-of-agers, the best Jewish comedies and the best day-in-a-life psychological roller-coasters.

Shiva Baby began as a grad project—a short film of the same name—and Seligman’s feature-length embellishment impressed at last year’s virtual editions of SXSW and TIFF, where it was quickly snapped up for international distribution. In a way, Shiva Baby was perfectly tailored to the times we were living in: Danielle, our reluctant heroine, is trapped in a claustrophobic family event she can’t escape, as people from her past and lies about her future make their way deep under her skin.

Fred Melamed, Rachel Sennott and Polly Draper in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Shiva Baby is very much the product of a wry school of emerging filmmakers who understand excruciatingly mundane horror and pin-sharp comedy as intimate bedfellows. Seligman’s writing finds a way to flesh out gloriously caricatural Jewish relatives, probing and overbearing and irrational. She does this both through dialogue and a visceral, haptic aesthetic that lurches in and out of focus visually, and has a nails-on-chalkboard unease sonically.

Coming in hot with a 4.01 average rating, Shiva Baby is striking all sorts of discordant notes with film lovers. “Combines some of my biggest anxieties: being asked if I have a boyfriend as well as what my plans for the future are and people talking with their mouths full,” writes Muriel.

The film’s “bisexual chaos”, which hinges on a haywire performance from Rachel Sennott as Danielle, opposite Molly Gordon’s overachieving ex-girlfriend, Maya, is also one of its great strengths. Glee star Dianna Agron is the shiksa threat, Kim, while Danny Deferrari is Danielle’s hapless benefactor, Max. If that’s not enough? Polly Draper, Fred Melamed and Jackie Hoffman are also just there.

What do you think defines a Jewish sense of humor? Emma Seligman: It’s morbid usually, and darker—generally uncomfortable and cringeworthy. I think about Curb Your Enthusiasm or Seinfeld, and A Serious Man. It borders on, “Is this funny at all?” I think Jewish humor leans into the darkly funny British sense of humor. I’m Canadian, so I feel like I’m halfway between the UK and the US in terms of their sense of humor.

Was it always your intention to make a comedy that feels like a bit of a nightmare? You’ve mentioned Black Swan and Opening Night as touchstones… Because I came from a short film, the question when expanding into a feature was, “How are we going to keep everyone interested in this day?” It’s got to be a significant day, it’s got to be that this young woman’s life has completely changed from this day. So what is it that changes? Why are we watching it? I watched a lot of movies that took place in one day, one of them was Trey Edward Shults’ first film Krisha. And then from there I realized that anxiety and this scary psychological feeling is a great way to have the audience stay there.

I watched Opening Night because there’s a shiva in it, but it was more the lobby scenes that were so claustrophobic and tense. And then each step of the way with each department, we were like, okay, it’s gonna be tense, but then we got to music, I was like, okay, this has become a full nightmare. Initially, I was just like, it’s got to be tense, but by the end, I was like, well, it does feel like a nightmare to a young woman sometimes.

Because you mention that, I have to ask whether you’ve seen Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade? I have, it’s incredible. It’s so funny, they’re both coming-of-age [films], and one of them is about a fourteen year old and then the same sort of feeling exists when you’re 22. When you’re fourteen is when it begins, and when you’re 22 you’re sort of at the end of it and you’re like, “Oh, I thought I figured out what I was supposed to do when I started feeling insecure this way at fourteen about sex and boys.”

Diana Agron and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Let’s talk about Rachel Sennott, who you have describe as your “Virgo rock”. What do you bring one another in your creative partnership? She’s a hustler, and she sets goals like nobody else. I think she moves very fast, and I’m more detail-oriented. I don’t know if the movie would have happened without her because she was like, “What are the goals to achieve this film?” After we made the short film, she just kept checking in with me. She goes well beyond what an actor does, which is why she’s an executive producer, because she was very, very invested in seeing the movie get made.

I think she pushes. We joke that she brings me out of my depression and I help calm her down. I feel like Taurus is a little more chill. Virgos are also earth signs, but they run on a faster frequency. So I think I calm her down, especially when we’re writing and bringing it back to structure. But she’s way funnier, she’s able to give jokes so quickly. We balance each other perfectly, for sure.

Do you think your partnership with Rachel is the kind of partnership you could see yourself maintaining throughout your career? Definitely. I think it’s important to have a good friend and also a young woman. She’s got different career goals from me, but they’re aligned. And we’re not in competition with each other. I feel so grateful because so much of the time I feel like the world does make you feel like you’re in competition with your friends that are trying to do the same thing as you when you’re a young woman—or just maybe in general.

Rachel Sennott and Danny Deferrari in ‘Shiva Baby’.

Her character in Shiva Baby completely subverts the idea of a “nice Jewish boy/girl” which can be a trope in movies, but also very much a real thing in life. Is that something you consciously wanted to subvert, or did it come organically from the story you wanted to tell? I wanted to contrast that idea of a “nice Jewish girl” because every nice Jewish girl or boy has a sex life. I felt the sort of nice Jewish girl stressors on me were completely opposite from the NYU art school sugaring worlds, and hookup culture broadly. My family is such a huge part of my life and I think that those two sets of pressures are completely contradictory; to be a good girl or boy and have a stable career ahead of you, and to be finding, even if it’s at the very beginning, your eventual partner, or to just be in a relationship. And I felt like in school, no one wanted to date, everyone was hooking up. So many of my friends are sugar babies. I tried it super, super briefly.

I felt like the world was telling me to be like “an empowered, independent, sexy woman who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her, and doesn’t abide by any rules”, and I was like, “This is the opposite of being a nice Jewish girl!” And I just felt like those two things were screaming at me. So I did want to play on that. But I don’t even think it’s playing, just because that felt like what I was trying to battle within myself. And I think a lot of young people do, whether they’re Jewish or not. That’s their family’s expectations. And then the world is like, “But don’t care and don’t commit…”

Writer-director Emma Seligman. / Photo by Emma McIntyre

But then you still have to go home to your parents at the end of the day and they’re going to tell you what to do… Exactly.

What would you want viewers to take away from Shiva Baby about the sugaring community that you feel has been maligned in the past? I’m not a sex worker, so I don’t want to speak on behalf of this community, but I definitely feel like there hasn’t been many positive portrayals of sex workers. So I just wanted to show someone—because I knew so many friends of mine who did it—who enjoyed it, or purposefully did it and didn’t feel bad or shameful about it. I think maybe a lot of people think that it’s always something that comes out of dire circumstances. But whether that is the case or not, I think there’s a lot of people who enjoy it and enjoy what they do like any other job. So I just hope that they’re able to sort of widen their scope of what a sex worker looks like and acts like. Every sex worker has got a family, friends, a full robust life, as we all do.

It’s time for your Life in Film questionnaire. Can you give me a few must-watch Jewish films for people who don’t know where to start? Fiddler on the Roof, Yentl, Keeping the Faith, Kissing Jessica Stein, A Serious Man. Definitely Uncut Gems, and Crossing Delancey.

Shiva Baby has been described on Letterboxd, variously, as “Uncut Gems but make it chaotic bisexual”, “the most stressful Jewish movie since Uncut Gems”, “the chaotic successor of Uncut Gems”, “if Krisha and Uncut Gems had a baby”, and, of course, “Uncut Gems for hot Jewish sluts”… Amazing, I love that. Extremely nice comparison.

Who is your favorite promising young woman? Not Emerald Fennell’s film, but a young creative or performer who you think is making waves. I love Hari Nef—I think she’s amazing and am really excited to see what she does next. I loved her so much in Transparent and Assassination Nation, and I don’t understand why she hasn’t been the lead in a million movies.

Molly Gordon with Rachel Sennott in ‘Shiva Baby’.

What should people watch next after Shiva Baby? Those Jewish movies would be a great start. And then Krisha, although I think a lot of people have seen it especially if they’re on Letterboxd! But then those Jewish romantic comedies, and then Obvious Child, all those movies are very sweet and endearing and helped me make it.

Separate from film, if it’s shiva-related then Transparent. If I didn’t have Transparent I don’t think I would have seen world of grounded, nuanced Jews that I could do comedy with. It would have been more in the Curb vein, which is also amazing, but a little more schtick.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? My parents are huge movie buffs so I’m not sure there was one moment, but I will say that when I was six there was a re-release of the 20-year anniversary of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and I was at a horribly packed bris and my uncle was like, “Fuck this, there are so many people here, I can’t even breathe. Let’s go see E.T.” That was the first moment where I was like, if I can skip a bris to see E.T., I like movies.

Related content

From Short to Feature: Rob’s list of 2020 films that made the jump

Jewish Cinema (non-Holocaust): Amelia’s list of films “for when u want to celebrate your heritage but don’t want to have to think all too deeply about the Shoah”

Best Directorial Debuts of 2020: suggested by Letterboxd members, featuring Shiva Baby

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

Shiva Baby is now in select theaters and on VOD in the US. Film stills by Maria Rusche.

#shiva baby #emma seligman #jewish filmmaker #jewish director #directed by women #rachel sennott #jewish film #jewish movie #transparent #uncut gems #hari nef #e.t. the extra terrestrial #obvious child #krisha #trey edward shults

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strangerobin · 3 years

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Rue: Chapter 1 (A Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Summary:

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

A chance encounter reunites two lost lovers centuries after their devastating break up. One hardened by life and providence, has forgotten what it is to love and be loved; while the other though hurt by love, has lost neither hope nor heart. When the two worlds collide once again, will it be disaster waiting to happen, or the brink of a new horizon?

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

But you know that I could never stay.

No amount of love or the ring you put on my finger will ever change that.

Save it. Save it for another that will be dearest to your heart, someone who could love you equally, unconditionally, honestly.

For I am underserving. I have much in my life that I wish I could explain to you. Yet this back has been carrying far more that it was made to shoulder already. And I cannot possibly burden you with anymore than you deserve.

So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.

To spend a lifetime with you.

Body and soul.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying in futile to calm the anguish that was threatening to leak out of his body.

For a moment, he thought his dead heart was ready to burst anytime. But of course his heart had long since ceased its beating, and It had only left with him an equally terrible sense of emptiness.

Why had he decided to go over this again? To rip open scars that were long buried. Old memories that he should long have concealed, lost somewhere in the ocean of his long pitiful existence. He thought he’d be over this by now, after the millionth time. But clearly some things never truly die away.

With care he produced from a small velvet pouch-

A single diamond ring.

It glittered under the moon, splaying the light of a million rainbow everywhere it touched.

Just like how her eyes had shone that day.

When he got down on one knee and proposed to her.

Her mouth agape, lips quivering, staring at him in shock and disbelief. His stomach had churned then when she had simply stood there, dumbfounded; worried that he had taken a wrong move, that she did not love him enough to want to be tied down with him. That perhaps he was still too young, too poor to offer her the life that she deserved.

But then a single tear had dropped from her eyes.

And it was followed by another, and another.

He was thrown in a panic by then, unsure of the mistake he had committed but ready to make any amend just to stop the onslaught of her tears.

Except she had then tackled him to the ground, laughing amidst her tears. Murmuring into his ears, the answer that had only mattered to him.

Yes, yes, yes.

She had kissed him so ferociously that day, stealing his breath away as if she herself would be stolen away the next moment.

A thousand times yes.

And stolen she was indeed.

Left alone in the cold morning light, sheets crumpled from the night they had shared, her scent still lingering in the air. His heart had froze, left with only an emptiness that would rage within him for the next two centuries.

She had only left with him a note and her wedding ring.

Hers. Not his; because he could not tolerate the thought of it being anything else.

And an everlasting memory that would haunt him for the rest of eternity. An aching want and need, a desire left unsaid in the dead of the night.

In those terrible formative years, when he had just been turned, night after nights he would imagine the ghost of a lip, tracing up his spine. Warm breaths at his neck; the touch of a hand, cupping his face gently, as if he were made of glass. Sweet-nothings whispered, empty promises of a life that could have been, might have been. Except none of them were real and every one of which only a figment of his imagination and memory.

Some night he would go on a killing spree, desperate to escape from memories of her that had long since turned into a never-ending nightmare, his raging storm of emotions.

A century and a half later, there were still nights like these, nights where he would meticulously finger the exquisite cravings over her engagement ring. Her name a silent mantra, a prayer from his mouth to the gods he had once worshipped and forsaken.

The pain had dampen over the years but the scars had remained. And the memories still fresh. New companionship may have eased him out of his shell of sorrow. But while he may hold another in his arms now, how could he love anyone in half? When he had long since given away half of his soul to the one who had claimed as hers on that fateful day.

But that was another story for another day.

And his pitiful being could not bear the grief all at once on any given nights; it was alright to remember in portions and halves. That way he would not lose his mind to the remembrance of her then. The one he had lost but must continue to solider on without.

“Oh Adeline.”

“My sweet Adeline, why must you torture me so?”

On the run.

It seemed she was always on the run these days.

No permanent roof ever above her head; even the feeling of a soft pillow and a down quilt seemed foreign to her now. She was more familiar with green moss beneath her head and the stars as her canopy; clothes she snagged from stores, and meals of little preys here and there now. She was always careful not to leave a trace.

Stopping over at the riverbed to cleanse her dusty face; she mulled over her circumstances.

Family they- he, her father had called her.

And yet it was also him who made her life a living hell.

Always asking, always demanding for a hand, a chore to be done, her duties to him as her father, mentor, creator. And when she could not tolerate his iron fist of a control, she did the only thing she was good at.

She ran.

Companionship. Father had told her once. No one can live for long without companionship.

She would’ve proved him wrong then. Scoffed at him. Told him that creatures like them did not deserve anything but misery, and least of all a hint of humanity. Only humans crave company; they had sinned far too much to be deserving of any.

How much blood must be spilled, to satisfy his want for his so called companionships?

But even at times, she had been tempted. A short stay in a town, a job, an education, a short fling. Mindless chatters, a warm embrace to fall asleep to at night. Anything to make herself forget just for awhile how different she was, how she could never blend in with anyone. How over the years she had lost so much, she thought she might as well have lost her heart.

Except her strange family. Whom she completely despised. Mostly.

Ah how she missed those good old days. That one summer when everything was golden and life was simple; the scorching Texan sun, the swaying wheat fields, the straw thatch cottage and its warm hearth and Hettie’s hearty soups, Ralph’s incessant chatter. And those gentle brown eyes and that mop of flaxen hair, shining like golden peat in the summer sun-

She would not let her mind wander there now.

Lock the doors and throw away the key.

She needed to stay vigilant. Her family were not the only ones she was running from. There were more dangerous and mysterious beings out there, ones she did not dare cross. Every little shift in the air, whiff of smell was a signal to her instinct. Even a falling leave could be a sign of the things to come. And right now they were telling her to head north, pass the borders, and into the Canada. There would be ample food and her family would not think to look for her there. In time, she might be able to join a small community, live a life for a little while before moving on to the next.

Keep inland, you’ll be safe. Her instinct whispered.

But she wanted to see the ocean. And the Pacific Northwest coast was a marvel. She knew of a coven near the peninsula; but surely if she stayed to herself, she should be able to cross into Vancouver without a hitch?

Keep inland.

Her instinct only whispered on.

It was the scent she came across first.

The sweet invigorating smell of vanilla and washed linen, that of a babe’s. She froze unnaturally amidst her stroll; this was not the scent of a human, it was… it reminded her of her siblings. Of her kind.

Turnawayturnawayturnaway-

But curiosity got the better of her.

Surely, just surely, a glimpse would not hurt. There shouldn’t be any out there like her. None of the old kinds had the knowledge of… Father had confirmed of this. Or was he mistaken?

And as she tracked the child’s scent; she came into a large clearing of blooming heathers, yet not even the overwhelming floral scent could overpower the child’s scent.

There in the gleaming sun was a child of twelve or thirteen, bronze curls flowing in the air as she twirled around in peals of laughter. Her porcelain skin illuminated; and her heart was thrumming like a little hummingbird.

‘It cannot be.’ She whispered to herself in a daze.

Gasping, the child turned towards her at once, clearly finally discovering that she was alone no more. Initially agitated, the child was quick to drop her caution when she noted how the stranger was still in a trance, staring agape at her. Nor did she miss the equally alluring scent of the intruder, her soft glowing skin and the quick humming of her heart.

Timidly, the child shuffled towards her eyeing her with curiosity. Until the two were face to face each other, apprising the other.

“Are you perhaps…” Like me? Was the unvoiced question.

“Dear God, Child.” She finally found the strength within to muster a few shaky breaths of words, disbelief evidently dominating her countenance. “How is this possible?”

With shaking hands she cupped the child’s cheeks, tenderly stroking the smoothness of her cheeks and soaking up the warmth.

“What of your maker?” She swallowed thickly. “Is he treating you well, Child?”

“Do you mean my Mum and Dad, Miss?” The child furrowed her pretty brows. “They should be just around I think. If you would like to meet them…”

That broke her out of her trance and she immediately straightened her stance. This was dangerous, she was treading on thin ice. A child like her kind would not be left unguarded, her guardians were nearby and no doubt treasured her greatly, judging from her clean attire and priciness of her garments. Any contact would be deemed a threat. She had already overstayed her welcome. And she did not want a fight. Sure she was quick and escaping and hiding had always been a forte of hers, but should she engage in battle, there was no telling if she could even gain upper hand long enough for her to run.

“I must go.” She muttered gravely to the child.

“Wait Miss!” The child chirped in a sing-song manner, unaware of the gravity of the situation. “I’m sure Mum and Dad will be delighted to meet you! And grandpa he-“

Shit. Was this the coven Father had mentioned before?

The idea of meeting an entire coven made her stomach churn. She did not quite understand how the child had come to be, nor did she understand how the Volturi would allow such a coven to exist in plain sight. And she did not intend to find out.

“Child. Child!” She hissed, surveying her surrounding in caution now. “Listen, you must take care. There are people out there who will harm you without a thought or a blink. You must be careful, don’t be so trustworthy of any strangers now.”

She looked the child dead in the eye then.

“Not even me.”

“But you didn’t hurt me! I know you wouldn’t! And aren’t we the same?” The child pleaded imploringly.

“No, not even your kind. And certainly not me.” She smoothed the child’s hair gently and tucked them behind her ear. “Trust no one. Not even your makers.”

“That’s just sad then.” The child replied solemnly.

She stood up and straightened her jacket. “Well, it's a sad and pitiful existence that we lead, Child.” She smiled bitterly then and turned to go. “One day you’ll know.”

She was just about to run when she felt a tuck at her sleeves. Turning sharply, she eyed the child in confusion.

“My name’s Renesmee, Miss. What’s yours?”

She grimaced slightly; well so much for telling the child off, she mused.

“Adeline, my name’s Adeline, Child.”

In hindsight, Adeline really should have seen the attack coming. Her instincts had been screaming at her the whole time after all.

But in a moment of distraction, she had heeded her instincts too late. She did manage to subdue the attack at her jugular with a block, but was still hurled halfway across the clearing. Twisting her body, she managed to land in a crouch; eyes trained on her attacker. He was a strong built man- vampire, tall and handsome, the usual package. And she was surprised to find his eyes golden, not that there was much time to marvel at it. His crouching stance indicated that he was ready for battle and he bared his fangs at her, guarding his child protectively

“Stay away from my daughter.” He growled.

Adeline couldn’t help but rolled her eyes. “That, I had every intention of doing.”

“Stop! Dad! Stop!” She could hear the child- Renesmee crying in the distance. But there was no time for that now.

Leftleftleftleftleft-

Turning to her left, she kicked a pouncing werewolf right in the gut, slamming it into a nearby tree. Right. And then threw a punch at the female vampire that was ready to lunge at her right. Down. Blocked another blow. Shoulder. Landed a hit on shoulder of the she-vampire. Duck. Barely escaped from the wolf’s pouncing attack. Roll. And managed to withdraw herself from the fighting two.

With a final glance at the father and child; Adeline focused her mind in concealing herself before darting out of the clearing.

Promising to herself to avoid the Pacific Northwest at all cost from now on. Wary of the rest of the coven she would find there.

Not to mention the wolves.

And that was how Adeline came across the Cullens for the very first time.

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #angst #more angst

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mrssimply · 3 years

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Oh my god that angsty silverdyne prompt... It was PERFECT but oh, so painful. Thank you so much for writing it, nobody has ever written Kerry's reaction to Johnny's death and it's such an event... But pls we can't leave it at that, we need the boys being happy and loving each other ;-; So if you could write the prompt “I can never seem to get enough of you.” with Johnny x Kerry pls <3

Hello anon, thank you for prompting me :D !

So, I feel like I broke your heart with that last fill about Johnny and Kerry. I'm more than happy to make it all better!

BUT, happy and loving each other in their case can, in my opinion, only happen if they change. In game, we are clearly shown that it took Kerry more than fifty years to change (and really, he didn't that much until V). As for Johnny, he is shown to be getting desperately radical before dying. I ask you anon, how could they ever be happy together in those circumstances?

If Johnny went to therapy.

This is really my point of view that you can't count on the people you love to help you get better. It's not their roles or responsibility, they are friend and companions, they can support you, but getting better is something you have to do alone, for yourself. It can go faster with professional help though. So this is what will happen here.

But then I wondered, what could make Johnny go to therapy? And settled on the most tragic of my ideas ahah.

AND ONCE AGAIN THIS PROMPT GOT AWAY FROM ME! I really must stop, those are not prompt fills anymore! Anyway. Here it is, and I really hope you'll enjoy it :)

Oh and, it's NSFW ;)

Te voir jouir et mourir.

To see you come and then die.

“Fuck off Ker!”

And Johnny shoved Kerry away from him with force. Distantly, he knew his friend had not done anything wrong, but he was also in such a state of anger that he was past any thinking capacity. He was enraged, burning with acidic violence, blood pumping in his veins with adrenaline.

Kerry stumbled backward with a grunt of pain and rammed into the guardrail harshly. Then there was a moment suspended in time. It stretched into eternity even as it probably lasted only a micro-second. The old and rusted protective barrier ceded under Kerry’s weight.

It should have surprised no one, this was a squat, abandoned for a long time. It was bound to happen.

Kerry gasped as his momentum carried him over the threshold of the balcony and gravity pulled him in. Johnny watched him fall backward like in slow motion. His heart stopped beating, his lungs seized and a strange sound escaped his throat as he jerked forward in a futile attempt to catch Kerry.

His friend’s eyes were huge and panicked as he felt himself drop, inexorably, to the ground.

There was a sickening impact noise a second after. And then silence. Until Johnny screamed.

“KERRY!”

---

Nancy slapped him when she arrived at the hospital, and then for good measure, slammed him against the wall, twice. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her features deformed in a snarl.

“You,” she started, but it seemed her rage had taken her beyond words, “YOU!” she repeated, and spit flew to Johnny’s lips. He let her, feeling strangely detached. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here anyway, but he had been taken in the whirlwind of urgency after the… accident.

“He could have DIED!” she continued. Behind her, Denny was watching the scene unfold with her face set, jaw clenching. She had no pity for Silverhand.

They weren’t his friends anymore, Johnny distantly understood. He had known, but it was still strange to experience it. Their loyalty was to Kerry, first and foremost; he had been tolerated in their attempt at reforming Samurai because Kerry had wanted it. Kerry, who couldn’t help but cling to Johnny, again and again. Kerry, Kerry, Kerry… The name echoed in a loop inside Johnny’s head.

“Now listen to me, you pathetic little piece of shit,” Nancy continued. Had she always been that strong, or was it a by-product of going through prison, or her new journalistic activity? “Either you set yourself straight, or you disappear. I won’t watch him get hurt because of you ever again.”

Johnny’s eyes wandered beyond her, to the white hospital door, behind which Kerry rested, pumped full of pain killers and waiting for surgery.

“You hear me, Silverhand?” Nancy shook him, and her sharp nailed hands gripped his chin. “You need help Johnny, you fuckin need to work on your anger! You nearly killed him! Your only friend.” She spat again, voice dripping with disdain.

He slapped her hand away, and didn’t look at her as he made his way out of the hospital.

---

Johnny had tried time and time to push Kerry away. But first of all, Kerry was very persistent, and second… Second, Johnny reflected, there were few things as pretty as Kerry’s eyes when he smiled. That had always been a constant, since the day they had met: the way his eyes crinkled, how the dimples of his cheeks deepened, how he pinched the tip of his tongue between his teeth when he was teasing or mischievous.

Then, there had been other things: when he had let his hair grow and dark locks would messily fell over his face, clinging to the corner of his lips with sweat. How he would catch them with a finger absently. How his voice got all raw after a concert, dropping an octave and vibrating in his ribcage and against Johnny’s skin as they smoked next to each other. The way his fingers ran over the cords, absent to the world as he dived into his creative trance and focused only on the sounds of his guitar.

One day Johnny had finally ceded, a night when he had felt particularly maudlin and Kerry had been there, cheering him up, calming him down, giving him an outlet for his depression other than drugs and picking fights. He had said, falsely casual and just a hint desperate. “Come on, Johnny, a hole is a hole, fuck me, it will make you feel good, I promise.”

Maybe it had been the pragmatism of the statement, an excuse on which he could fall back on the morrow, a way of keeping this safe. But the moment his cock had been buried inside his friend, Johnny had known that he could never, would never, get enough of Kerry.

And this was exactly what he had feared deep down: attachment, emotions, feelings. A glimpse of happiness, the possibility of an ordinary life, detached from all the violence and the anger he constantly felt. But his anger was everything to Johnny. His lifeline when he had been deployed in New-Mexico, when the NCPD had fired on the homeless riots, when Alt had died… And Kerry was the anti-matter to that very material anger. Johnny couldn’t afford that.

---

Strangely, there was a text from Nancy waiting for Johnny when he turned his phone on after charging it, some hours later. It was a name, an address and a phone number. And a one-line comment “this man can help you get better.”

Get better.

The narcissist part of Johnny scoffed at that: there was nothing to better. But then a flash of Kerry’s face as he fell backward broke through his mind and a sound like broken glass ringed in his head.

The threw the phone away and went down in search of his local dealer.

---

Dr Gayet was a man of about sixty, on the short side of average in height for a male, with clear blue eyes and the perpetual ghost of a smile to the corner of his mouth. Something about him made Johnny relax, or maybe it was something in the air. He breathed shallowly out of suspicion.

The first session had been excruciating. Johnny had sweat like he had run a marathon, battling every instinct inside him that had screamed at him to run. Johnny would never had thought that talking about his emotions would be such a physical feat.

He had vowed not to come back after that, and buried himself in a frankly frightening amount of drugs and alcohol. Of which he had emerged right on time for his second session.

After two months of that strange dance he subjected himself to every week, it became a habit like any other. Johnny went, talked a bit, but mostly Dr Gayet helped him through meditation exercises to learn how to manage the fury that gripped him too often. They also replayed moments of his week where he had felt that famous all-consuming anger and Johnny had to play the scene differently and try to go through the scenario without getting angry.

It was dumb. It wasn’t working. He continued to go. There was some sort of morbid curiosity at seeing himself go through therapy and see it fail. Like everything else he had tried.

---

They still hadn’t talked about Kerry. He hadn’t talked to Kerry for that matter. And the man himself had not reached out to him. Johnny had learned through Henry, who had decided on a neutral stance on the subject, that the surgery had gone well, that Kerry would walk again with no problem. It would take time, but he would recover completely.

Strangely, that didn’t change anything for Johnny. He continued to go to therapy each week.

His dealer saluted him from afar, saying he had the usual for him if he wanted. Johnny passed; his stash was still half-full.

---

After about six months, Johnny finally uttered: “There is that… Friend. I’ve known him for a long time. He was always here for me. I treated him like shit but he kept coming back. He is in love with me.”

And there, Johnny stopped, eyes defiantly daring Dr. Gayet to ask if this was reciprocated. But the man said nothing, only smiled and cocked his head to the side a fraction. It was, Johnny knew, a signal to go on.

“One night, we fucked. I wasn’t really even into guys. Well, I… A body is a body. I have preferences but…” he shrugged, “he wasn’t really my type, honestly. And I knew he wanted more than that. But after a while he… wore me down and I…”

Dr Gayet stayed silent. It was, Johnny had discovered, a fucking efficient weapon. Every time, the rocker vowed not to say anything, and every time…

“We slept together. I said it would only happen once.” He snorted, “it happened again and again. More and more frequently and I… I couldn’t… stay away. Get enough… I can’t get enough.” He finished in a breath, looking out of the large tinted window. The office was in a rather nice part of Little China, it had a view over the river.

“One night, we were at that party. It was in a squat. We fought. I don’t remember what about. I think he had been looking at me funny.”

“Funny how,” Dr Gayet asked. He always seemed to ask questions about things that Johnny thought were of little significance, and let silence stretch when the patient was sure he would comment.

“Funny like he was pitying me. It made me mad.”

“Why was he looking at you like that?”

“Because I had just come out of one of the rooms. I had just fucked a girl, I think. He always does that when I go with other people. Get all jealous.”

“You said pity, not jealousy.”

“He does that to hide that he is hurt.”

“Ah. So you know it hurts him to see you with other people.”

“He would love for us to be… Together. Boyfriends. Partners.” Johnny amended because the term boyfriend made him cringe.

“But aren’t you? Partners?”

“What? No!” Johnny scoffed.

“Well, you are part of the same band, he is your friend, by your own words, and you even have intercourse. What more would you do, if you were partners, as you said?”

Johnny stayed silent for a minute before he crossed his arms.

“I can’t be exclusive.” He said instead. It was important to state this, he felt, not really knowing why.

“Would he ask that of you?”

“No.” Johnny breathed. “Not if he knew I would come back to him, always.”

“Would you?”

Yes. I did. I do. I will.

Johnny clenched his hands over his knees and shifted, lips firmly closed.

“Actually, this is not what I wanted to talk about.” The rocker pronounced with difficulty after a long moment. “What I wanted to say is… That he made me mad, and I pushed him. He hit the guardrail but it broke. And he fell. Two stories high.”

Dr. Gayet raised an eyebrow, and his eyes clouded with something that Johnny didn’t want to name. He would have preferred judgement or pity, but it wasn’t either. It was empathy. Like Johnny had done nothing wrong, like it was understandable that he had nearly killed his best-friend. His partner.

“I…” Johnny started, lips trembling. But his throat closed up, and sweat covered his skin as a terrible internal battle took place. Something wanted to come out, but Johnny was sure as hell not letting it. He clamped his mouth shut tightly, teeth grinding. He breathed shallowly as he pushed it back but it still ringed in his head.

I was fucking scared. I thought I had lost him. Like Alt.

And he was not talking about Alt.

But then he opened his mouth.

“Nearly ten years ago, I had a girlfriend,” he started and if Dr. Gayet was surprised by the change of subject, he didn’t show it. He only repositioned himself, like he knew this was going to take time. And that he was ready for it.

---

A week later, he stood in front of Kerry’s door, unannounced. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could. A man with a charming smile stood in the doorframe, head half-turned back as he said “Bye, Ker, see you next week.”

They nearly collided, and Mister Charm froze for a second before the smile was back full force.

“Hey buddy, you looking for someone?”

Johnny breathed in, held for five seconds like Dr. Gayet had taught him before he released. And felt the anger recede. It had filled him at the sight of a strange man in Kerry’s home before he remembered that Kerry could do whatever he wanted. But fuck if it didn’t leave a trail of acid deep inside his belly.

“Kerry,” Johnny pronounced, jaw rigid with the effort not to bite the man’s head off.

His voice had carried over it seemed, for a second later said man appeared in the short corridor. He was limping, but stood on his own. The sight brought a strange mix of feeling to the visitor.

“Johnny?”

There was a stalemate moment before the unknown man broke the silence.

“Anyone you know, Ker?” he asked, his tone was a tad too protective for Johnny’s liking. And what right did he have to call Kerry like that? Maybe Johnny wasn’t ready to see his friend. A strong part of him was on the verge of turning heel and strategically retreat, when Kerry’s voice declared:

“Yeah. Old friend of mine.”

But his tone well indicated that friend was a very generous term at the moment.

“Okayyy…” the man trailed, “Should I – ”

“You can go,” both Kerry and Johnny said at the same moment and the guy took the hint. The rocker watched with vicious satisfaction as he frowned and his eyes reflected his disappointment at being so readily dismissed.

With a last moment of hesitation, he exited the living unit and brushed past Johnny, glancing at him unhappily.

“See you,” he said, but Kerry didn’t even bother replying as his eyes were still fixed on Johnny.

They waited until he was down to the elevator before Kerry turned his back and retreated inside his flat. The other man followed, the door hissing close behind him.

“Who was that?” Johnny barked the moment Kerry was seated on his couch, getting the supplies to roll a joint. His friend stopped moving and slowly lifted his face to look at him with an already fed-up expression.

“My PT.”

“Does he fuck all his patients?”

And the room filled with such tension that a knife could have cut right through it. Kerry opened his mouth, expression deformed by a mounting rage, but Johnny stalled him.

“No, sorry, I… Sorry.” He said, voice trailing off to a whisper. Kerry closed his mouth and his frown turned quizzical.

With a sigh, Johnny crossed the remaining distance and sat on the couch, close to the other man. He pushed his metal hand in his hair, grimaced slightly and took a deep breath. During all that, Kerry hadn’t moved and was looking at Johnny with a cautious expression.

“How are you?” the rocker asked and after a second of stunned silence, Kerry laughed out loud.

“What the fuck?! Who are you and what have you done with Johnny?”

But the man in question saw it for what it was: protection. He snorted and shrugged.

“Need help with that?” he changed course, pointing to the blunt still half-prepared in Kerry’s hand. With a little jolt, the recovering man started to roll it again and they stayed in silence until it was ready. Kerry lighted it, taking deep puffs before passing it to Johnny without a word.

“Why are you here, Johnny?” Kerry finally asked after the joint was nearly halfway through.

A million possible answers rattled inside Johnny mouth, but the one that won out surprised even himself.

“I’ve started seeing someone.”

Kerry blinked before his expression soured.

“No, I mean, a therapist…” but when that didn’t clear Kerry’s expression, Johnny amended again: “I’m going to therapy.”

And the second man gazed at him with a strange expression. He stood up and went to open the balcony door, but didn’t get out. He stayed by the opening, smoking silently.

“Ok, and?” he prompted after a while.

Johnny leaned back on the couch, at loss as to how he wanted this discussion to go. It wasn’t how he had planned it. When nothing came, a frown passed over Kerry’s features before he schooled it.

“It’s been six months, Johnny. Where were you? Where were you when I woke up with both legs broken, and multiple fractures, all because of you? Where were you when I went to surgery? When I woke up again and I couldn’t move at all? Where were you through all these months of fucking PT?!”

His voice had risen as he said it, until he had worked himself to panting breaths.

“You didn’t write, or call,” Johnny replied in a neutral voice. That statement stunned his friend into more silence. And then:

“Get the fuck out.”

When Johnny didn’t move an iota, Kerry advanced over him, gaze thunderous.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” Johnny screamed back, getting to his feet too, frustrated with all his answers. “I…” he started before clamping down again. Taking a deep breath and counting to five once again, he forced himself to relax. “Nancy told me to either disappear or get my shit straight so I… I went to therapy.” He finished lamely.

“SO WHAT?!” Kerry screamed again, “WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I CARE?”

This was getting out of hand, and Johnny found himself completely at loss about what to do. So he went back to his oldest strategy when dealing with hysterical inputs: derail them with sex.

He caught Kerry’s wrist in his metal hand to pull him in, and kissed him. The man made a muffled sound and started pushing Johnny away with all his strength. But even when Kerry had been on top of his game, he’d never stood a chance against Johnny in that department. He struggled, even thumped his fist against Johnny’s shoulder, to no avail. For his part, Johnny was forcefully tilting his head to the side with his free hand and walking them backward until they hit the wall leading to the bedroom. He thrusted his hips against Kerry, which made him gasp.

People always talked about how crazy Johnny was, and how much he needed therapy. But really, between the two of them it was a tight competition, because Kerry was just as fucked in the head. He only ever fell in love with toxic people, liked it too rough in the bedroom, and had absolutely no-sense of preservation. But right now it suited Johnny just fine because it meant that Kerry was not fighting him anymore, but grinding back against him.

The kiss gentled a fraction, if only because it was no longer a battle. Johnny took the opportunity to deepen it, brushing his tongue against Kerry’s lips until the man opened and welcomed him in, like always.

There, Johnny thought, this he knew, this he understood. He knew how to make it good for Kerry, he understood how to drive him crazy, but in a good sense this time. Kerry’s arms went around Johnny’s shoulders as he moaned softly and thrusted against his friend lazily.

Then he sighed, relaxed further against the wall before he put a silver of space between them.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” Johnny whispered back, “You’re right to be.”

“I’ve not forgiven you,”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Now, fuck me.” Kerry concluded with a corner smile.

Johnny closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against Kerry, feeling like a coil inside him had been released. Tension flew from his body, one he hadn’t even realized had been hampering him. Softly, his hands trailed along Kerry’s sides and he hoisted his companion up, who obediently laced his legs behind his back.

Holding him like this, Johnny walked them to the bed, where he deposited Kerry before leaning over him, starting to kiss him again. Slowly, he let his lips trail along Kerry’s chin, then his neck, nipping at the tendon. Bellow, the other man was strangely silent. He responded to the kisses, the touches, but it was like something was off. With a frown, Johnny retreated and their gazes crossed.

“What are you doing, Johnny?” Kerry murmured, and his tone was cautious.

“Fucking you?” the other man replied with irony. He could tell where this was going but he really didn’t want to talk about it. Kerry snorted, a disbelieving sound like he was seeing right through Johnny’s bullshit.

“This is not fucking,” he felt the need to inform the man above him.

“Shut-up, Ker.” And for good measure, Johnny covered his mouth with his once more. At the same time, he pushed his partner’s shirt up, until Kerry had to sat-up to remove it.

Johnny paused.

Kerry’s body was covered in new scars. Some were clearly faded, other were still too red for Johnny’s liking. There was one, nearly perfectly round to the left of his belly button and Johnny had a flash of the metal tube that had transpierced Kerry. He looked downward. It had been Kerry’s saving grace that he had fallen in a pile of soft trash. But among the pile had been that fucking metallic tube.

“Overseeing your work?” Kerry taunted in a biting tone that badly hid his nervousness. Eyes flickering up, Johnny bent to kiss the scars and Kerry shivered, relaxing back in the bed. Johnny mouthed at all the healing wounds, the old that he knew well, and the new that he was discovering.

Until he found another type of marks. This one was not from the accident. It clearly was a love bite, right next to Kerry’s right nipple. And as he rid Kerry of his pants too, he found others: faint traces of fingers around his hips, and two twin marks on his left thigh. His eyes clouded with anger once again, turning his touches possessive.

“Jealous?” Kerry taunted. Anger was shimmering again in his eyes, and he was just waiting for an occasion to fight Johnny.

“Yes,” said man replied simply and that made the anger in Kerry’s eyes evaporate, leaving space for more confusion. Johnny didn’t leave him more room to think and slithered against Kerry to cover the love-bites with his own.

“You’re a fucking slut, Ker. My little slut.” He added as his finger pushed into the marks on Kerry’s thigh, making him groan and arch back softly. Johnny tongued at the juncture between leg and pelvis, his cheek rubbing against Kerry’s hardening cock, and leaving beard burns on the smooth dark skin. Fuck he had missed this.

Kerry was thrusting up shallowly, hands fisting in his pillow as he watched Johnny get closer to his dick with baited breath. He groaned long and deep when at least, his friend took him between his lips.

Johnny sucked him off in long and lazy strokes of tongue, using his hand to reach the base of Kerry’s cock, twisting on the rise and each time, Kerry’s hips trembled and inched up, like he couldn’t stop himself.

Johnny let him go after a while and kissed right above the patch of pubes.

“Lube and condom, Ker,” he asked. And as a testament to the previous activities having taken place in this bed, both items were right by the pillows. Although he tried to contain it, the thought that another man had fucked Kerry maybe less than an hour ago had Johnny’s blood boiling. He opened the bottle jerkily and was less delicate than he had initially wanted when he pushed his first finger into Kerry. But the man only moaned and arched back, pushing against the finger with abandon. He was still wet and a bit lose, so Johnny rammed his second finger in, letting his anger guide his gesture. He crocked both digits, massaging Kerry’s prostate with no warning and no finesse.

“Huh, fuck, no, Johnny,” Kerry babbled as his legs fell open and he fucked himself on Johnny’s fingers like there was no tomorrow.

“No? Can’t take it? Too much?” Johnny couldn’t help but taunt. He didn’t leave Kerry any occasion to respond, taking his cock back into his mouth and indeed, only a long groan made it out of Kerry’s throat.

Johnny was merciless, letting the habitual anger simmer inside him, pushing him to get rougher with his partner. Suddenly he wanted to make Kerry come like this before taking him, forcing him to withstand the hypersensitivity that came with orgasm as he would ram his cock in.

With a low growl, he tightened his metal hand over Kerry’s hips, gripping his skin until he was sure it would bruise and cover the PT’s own marks.

“Ah, Johnny, Johnny stop, I’ll come, I’ll…” the man bellow stuttered and at the price of great effort, Johnny stilled, letting go of Kerry’s cock.

They were both panting but for different reasons. Kerry was coming back from his near orgasm while Johnny tried to reign in his violent want. He watched Kerry’s eyes shimmer in the half dark before the musician covered them with his arm. Tutting, Johnny caught the elbow and forced Kerry to look at him.

Slowly, he started moving his fingers inside again, but gentler, as he concentrated on Kerry’s face to drink all the mictro-expressions of pleasure flickering over his features. Eyes half lidded, Kerry threw his head back and opened his lips.

“Johnny, please. I want you, need you, inside me, now.” He whispered.

“How is it best for you?” Johnny asked as he breached Kerry with a third finger. Between pants and soft mewls, Kerry barely heard his question, and it took ten good seconds before it registered. Looking at Johnny with a strange expression, he turned gingerly on his belly and put a pillow under his hips.

“Like this.”

Johnny kissed his shoulders, and once again, discovered the canvas of Kerry’s skin, marred by scars, and yet other love-bites. Johnny didn’t even blame the guy, he knew how intense fucking Kerry could get, and how by the end, anyone would want to sink his teeth into his skin and mark him. But he hated the bruises all the same.

While Kerry got comfortable, he pulled the condom on and generously added lube over it. Then he trailed his lips down Kerry’s spine and back up again, before he gently lowered himself on his friend and guided his heavy cock between Kerry’s ass cheeks.

“Alright?”

“Fuckin get on with it,” Kerry growled, but his voice was trembling with emotion. Johnny nuzzled his neck and gently bit his earlobe as he pushed inside. They groaned in unison and Johnny would have been ashamed of the sound that left his throat, nearly a sob, if Kerry hadn’t uttered the same wrecked moan.

He thrusted inside the other man in small increments, legs bracketing Kerry’s, whole body covering the caramel skin of his friend.

Panting softly, he pushed Kerry’s hair out of the way and licked his sweaty nape before nipping and finally biting the skin as he started moving in long lascivious pushes and pulls. Under him, Kerry sagged, opened his legs more and tilted his pelvis back to maximize the penetration.

Johnny went very slow, pausing between his thrusts to continue kissing Kerry’s skin. And the man below was letting out the softest keens, a far cry from how loud he could get when roughly fucked, but all the more honest for it. His face was cocked to the side, allowing Johnny to see part of his expression of pleasure. Eyes scrunched, lips open and his tongue pushing against the bottom teeth. He was so, so beautiful.

“Fuck,” Johnny cursed low, as the sight had him snapping his hips a bit more powerfully, and it made Kerry moan in a high-pitched voice and utter: “there, please.”

So Johnny shifted and took a handful of Kerry’s hair in one hand, forcing him to arch back more, and curled his hand around Kerry’s chest, metal hand splayed over his throat. And like this, he snapped his hips forward and relished in the wrecked groan that hurtled out of Kerry’s mouth.

He kept at it, abs contracting with the effort, and maintained the cadence purposefully slow. And watched Kerry unravel under him: eyes opened, full of tears and imploring as his breath left him each time Johnny pushed in with pinpoint accuracy.

When Kerry let out a long keen, Johnny stopped and instead undulated his hips in a circle that ended with yet another thrust forward. And he felt it, how Kerry was contracting around him, how his whole body started shaking, how his lips trembled but no sound came out.

“Please don’t stop, please, please, please,” Kerry started uttering after another minute of this slow rhythm. He continued to chant such pleas while his hips jerked, trying to enhance Johnny’s movements. The rocker accelerated just a bit, unable to stop himself anyway because the pleasure was too great with Kerry’s ass literally sucking him in with every push. He landed wet and open kisses between his partner’s shoulders, mouthing at his spin.

“Fuck,” he cursed as Kerry really started to shake with a series of low moans that turned desperate.

“I…” the man bellow tried, but too late anyway, because suddenly his whole body tensed and Johnny felt the orgasm zap through his partner: Kerry fluttered around him, squeezing rhythmically and the shaking completely overcame him. He was utterly silent for the first five seconds before an absolutely ecstatic moan escaped him. It was all Johnny needed to trigger himself.

“Shit, I can’t get enough of you, can’t fucking get enough of you, ah!” he muttered then cried out against Kerry’s spine as his hips lost all coordination and he came in three deep thrusts.

With a last grunt, he stilled and tightened his hold over Kerry, so hard the man whimpered in slight pain. But Johnny couldn’t let him go as tremors ran through his body, ersatz of his orgasm pumping in his veins.

“Johnny,” Kerry murmured in the silence that followed, “Johnny get off, can’t breathe.”

With a wet sigh, and slow movements, Johnny got off him and sagged on his back to the left. Kerry hummed and lifted his hips to retrieve the soiled pillow, throwing it away. He pushed on one elbow to look at his friend with a puzzled expression. But he didn’t say anything, which was a small blessing, because Johnny really wanted to have one more minute of fucking bliss before it all came crashing down and they would need to talk.

They looked at each other in silence for a long minute, before Kerry huffed and fell on the bed again.

“You are a fucking asshole.” He hissed. “I fuckin nearly died,” he added and his voice broke.

Johnny closed his eyes, counted to five, and opened them again. He scooted closer, gently taking Kerry in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“It can’t go on like this.”

“I know.”

“You need to get better.”

“I’m trying.”

A pause.

“I still fuckin love you.” Kerry confessed. “Not sure I could stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Kerry closed his eyes, a painful expression marring his features. Johnny pushed his forehead against the other man’s.

“I can never seem to get enough of you.” He repeated in a low voice and Kerry’s eyes opened. He breathed out a trembling sigh and Johnny closed the inch separating their lips softly, stroking Kerry’s hair.

It would have to be enough, for now. Kerry kissed back with a small moan and wrapped one arm around Johnny, bringing him closer. They settled like this, and the rocker started to feel the sirens of sleep at the edge of his mind. For the first time in six months he thought he might sleep well.

“Johnny?”

“What?” he grunted.

“Did you just make love to me?”

Johnny snorted.

“Did you like it?”

Kerry huffed a short, raw laugh, but didn’t reply.

There was no need anyway.

Note: Next prompt is also Kerry x Johnny I believe, so I'll probably write something that's consistent with this one, as a sequel.

As always, here is the link to the masterpost about the prompts I filled. Still not taking new prompts at the moment though.

And, if you want another take on how they could be happy together, I did write a whole fiction about that, which is the first installement of my Johnny/V/Kerry fic, but the first part is only Johnny/Kerry.

#silverdyne #johnny x kerry #kerry x johnny #johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #johnny/kerry #cyberpunk 2077 #writing prompts

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champagne-bucky · 4 years

Text

Debt to Be Paid: II

Summary: Earth fears intergalactic war with another planet. The Avengers are called to work out negotiations on Zevitar, the planet of peace. What happens when they are reunited with their long lost team member?

Warnings: dark!Bucky x reader, mentions of non/dub-con, age gap (reader is of age)

Notes: Ummm, so I’m probably gonna hide under my covers after y’all read this one 😳 I wanted things to get juicy pretty darn fast. Lmk if you liked it! Please make sure to comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more!! Enjoy :)

You almost didn’t believe Carol when she woke you up and told you that home was closer than you thought. Springing out of bed and rushing to the nearest window, you saw a small speck that was your home. It’s been a while since you’ve been on Zevitar, coming up on almost six years to be exact. You never could remember how you left home, but since you’ll be returning, you hope to get some answers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Carol had finally breached the planet’s atmosphere and was radioing in to alert the guards of a ship landing. You’d only hoped that everything was the same. You wondered about your family, your brother, gosh is he even still alive? Surely if he was he would've been looking for you. Right?

“What are you doing?” Carol was preparing to land the ship.

“Uh, landing, what does it look like I’m doing?” She scoffed.

“But no one gave you permission to land,” Carol shook her head and told you to fasten your seatbelt.

“They took too long to answer, we can just explain what’s up.”

You tried to tell her that your people don’t like it when rules are broken. Zevitarian’s take order very seriously. You should know, your family was very adamant on following them.

The landing was rough and you couldn’t determine if you would throw up from turbulence, nerves, or… morning sickness.

Your pregnancy became a hard to swallow pill, but eventually you had to wise up and carry on. You already thought up of an excuse if any of your family asked, but you doubt any of them were even still on Zevitar. Hell, you don’t even know who rules the planet now.

Carol opened the entrance hatch and looked back at you. It was obvious that you were scared. You were going to be alone on a planet whose people might not remember you, and pregnant with the baby of your tormentor. It was going to be a hard adjustment, but it was better than being locked in a jail cell knowing he is still roaming around free.

You tried not to think of him, but every time you closed your eyes he was always behind your lids. That man took so much from you in such a short amount of time. You could never figure out why he went through all this trouble and frankly, you were trying to put your past behind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a series of screams and bangs against the ship's door.

“OPEN UP BY ORDER OF THE KING. YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON OUR LAND.”

You gasped as Carol rolled her eyes. Nothing could scare this force of nature. She marched right up to the hatch and opened it. Carol didn’t even blink when the guards raised their weapons to her face.

“You were not authorized clearance to Zevitar. We ask you to leave or be taken to the King for punishment,” the one guard said. Gosh, he looked so much older than you last remembered…

“I’m only here to drop off a package, then I’ll be on my way,” the guards looked confused.

“A package? The King is not expecting anything. Let us see this “package””, the guard forced his way through the ship.

You gulped as you heard the guards get closer to you. You prayed they remembered you and you prayed that whoever their new king was would let you stay.

Once the guard came face to face with you he paused. You thought he was just confused about not seeing a physical package, but another being instead. Then, he dropped his weaponry and knelt, the other guards followed suit while Carol stood baffled.

“The Princess has returned.”

You never expected to be welcomed back this way. You were almost certain that your family had perished, but it seems as if one survived, your brother, the King of Zevitar.

When the guards were done their kneeling and praising, they were quick to drag you and Carol out of the ship and straight towards your brother. Apparently, word still travels fast around home, and pretty soon a small swarm of civilians were recognizing their long lost princess.

“Sister,” your brother stood from his magnificent throne, the one your father used to sit upon.

“Sister, oh sweet sister is that really you?” your brother dropped to his knees in praise.

“My brother, I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost all of you,” you began to tear up. You had family still alive, you won’t be totally alone.

“Sweet sister, we thought you had perished. I weeped your death for days, and now here you are standing in front of me,” your brother looked at Carol and began to thank her profusely for bringing you home safely.

“We must gather the kingdom and alert them of the news. Ansel! Call the ladies in and have them prepare my sister’s room. Oh and…” your brother led the guards and servants out of the room as you turned to Carol.

“So when were you gonna tell me about all this princess stuff,” she quirked her brow in amusement.

“I didn’t see a point in telling anyone back on earth. I figured since no one was coming to rescue me what was the point in going back. I never even knew if my family was still alive, let alone if Zevitar still existed,” you responded.

It was true, what was the point in starting commotion on earth if there was no home to go back to. You assumed that everyone and everything must’ve perished in the war years back. However, now seeing that the planet and your people are fine, why didn’t anyone come looking for you?

“Sister! Dear, sister,” your brother entered the room with the royal ladies of the court, “I’ve made arrangements for your room to be cleaned, your ladies will take you to be freshened up. Afterwards, I would like to have a word with you.”

You looked at Carol as the ladies began to surround you. You didn’t have time to wish her a proper goodbye and she knew that.

“Thank you, Carol. I’m going to miss you,” she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“You too, m’lady,” she winked.

“Carol, please don’t tell them anything about here, about home. Don’t mention this to anyone, not even Wanda or Natasha,” she nodded in agreement and gave you a last goodbye before she left.

You stupidly forgot about your ladies and the strange looks they exchange at your final words. Gossip was their native language and you were sure one of them would slip those exchanges of words to your brother.

“My dear sister,” you brother greeted you as you walked into the dining hall. It was only you, him, and a long table in between.

You were dressed in expensive fabrics and your body was draped with the finest jewels, the proper attire fit for a princess. The ladies had been kind to you, but you didn’t miss the whispers of gossip in your native language. You didn’t speak up though, because you wanted to hear what they were saying.

They definitely heard the words exchanged between you and Carol, and you won’t be surprised if your brother relayed the message.

“Take a seat, we have much to discuss,” a servant helped push your chair in while a lady served you a plate and pour the wine, which you took note to try and avoid.

“Sister, it is a blessing that I get to see you again,” your brother smiled and took a sip of his wine. Usually, you would return the gesture, so you held the chalice to your lips, but did not drink.

“I feel the same way, brother. I thought I had lost all of you for good,” you knew your parents didn’t make it. They were the first to be targeted when war struck.

“Where have you been all this time?” and there it was, the question that would lead you to a spiral of lies.

“Earth. I don’t know why or how I got there. All I remember was waking up being surrounded by a bunch of people.”

“The people who brought you home?” He questioned.

“Yes, they took care of me when I was lost and alone. I am forever grateful for them,” and you meant that. Even after all the trauma you had been put through, you will forever be in the Avengers debt for how they helped you.

“Sister, if you are so grateful for them then why do you not want them to know you are here?”

And there it was!

You gulped as you carefully thought of the response to his question. If you told him the real truth you weren’t sure how he’d react. Your brother had always had your back, he would hurt anyone or anything that hurt you. While you wouldn't mind him reining down hell on the man who doesn’t deserve to walk free, you decided it would be better to forget the past and never return to your old life on earth.

“I couldn’t remember anything when I got to earth. You, mother, father, Zevitar, I couldn't even remember how I got there. One day, they finally found out about Zevitar and I took the chance to come back here. I didn’t think you would still be alive, brother. I took a chance to come back here, not knowing the circumstances of the planet.”

Your brother pondered for a bit. He raised his glass to his lips and you did the same, you couldn’t risk suspicion.

“Why did mother and father send me to earth, brother?” You figured now was a good time to ask.

“Sister, I’ll have to admit, a mistake was made which made us to believe you were dead,” you were confused. They thought you had died?

“When the war broke out, mother and father decided that I would stay back and fight and you would leave for a new planet. I promised them I would bring you home after the war, but we thought a tragedy had occurred.”

“What tragedy?”

You started to remember that day. The tensions of war had been increasing and soldiers were losing the battle. You knew that the opposing side wanted your family’s heads, so they devised a plan that could save you.

You were next in line to take the throne. Your parents needed you to be as far away from the planet as possible, so no one would find you and want to kill you. What you didn’t know was that your parents made your brother fight in the war. You guessed that he was forced to fight due to the loss of many soldiers.

“Mother and father had made a deal with Odin of Asgard. You were supposed to live out your days there until war was over. From what Odin had told us, Loki was behind your disappearance. He saw you as a threat and sent you away. The clever god made it seem like an accident had occured. Who would’ve thought you were alive all this time,” you were slowly nodding as you lifted your cup up to your lips, you had to make it look good, you didn’t need your brother finding out.

All this time, someone could’ve been looking for you, but because of a selfish god’s actions you ended up in a predicament that could’ve been avoided. Anger stewed in you, but you had to keep it at bay.

Your brother started to chuckle as you lifted your lips to the cup again. You gave him a weird look as you tried to keep your cool. There was no way that he knew what you were doing right?

“Tell me, sister. Why is it that you lift your lips to the cup, but do not drink the wine? Earth hadn’t dulled your taste buds has it?” Wrong…

He continued to laugh at your antics, but you stayed still. What’s the point in hiding it anyways? It’s not like in a few months a protruding stomach will give you away.

“Sister, sister are you alright?” You brother was out of his chair and by your side in an instant.

“Brother, I must tell you something,” tears started to fall from your eyes. You weren’t sure how your brother would react to the news.

“Sister, you can tell me anything. I promise you.”

“Brother, I’m pregnant,” you hid your hands in your face as you felt your brother still beside you. You knew what his next question would be.

“Where is the father?”

“He died in battle. He was a soldier on earth, he protected and served everyone,” you had to think quick. You knew the rules here, and since you were a royal you had to abide by them. At least you knew there was no chance of the father and your brother ever meeting, so you could get away with it.

“Oh sister, sister if I could only take away the pain,” your brother held you close. He understood now your urgency to not let your earth friends know the real reason you left.

You were pregnant with no husband to help you. The rules on earth and Zevitar must be the same when it comes to single mothers, a taboo. He knew that he must protect you now more than ever with your child on the way.

“It’s okay we will get through this together,” he shushed you into a calm state.

*9 months later*

Steve could taste the mix of cooper and soot on his tongue. He’d been fighting off Hydra agents for hours now and finally finished off the last one. It’s been months since he’s been at the compound, Steve’s been spending all his time looking for you.

He figured sitting around at home wasn’t going to bring you back, so he needed to go looking for you himself. He actually convinced the whole team at one point too.

While they got breaks in between missions, Steve was nonstop. He never took a moment to himself and never stopped fighting. The others gave up four months into his escapade. With no leads and fleeting hope, the rest of the Avengers had accepted you were gone and had no plans on returning.

Steve’s phone rang, he declined.

It rang again and again and again.

Each time he declined, Tony would keep on calling back. The man was persistent in getting the Captain home.

By what seemed like the ten thousandth call, Steve picked up.

“Tony, give it up, I can’t come home, not yet.”

“Rogers, as much as we appreciate you knocking off the Hydra lackeys so fast, your time is up,” Tony was annoyed and tired and fighting with Steve.

“Tony no-.”

“LISTEN, you have been gone for nine months, five months dark without team supervision, you need to get back, something’s come up.”

“Something,” Steve was intrigued, had they gotten a lead?

“It’s something that requires yours and all of the Avengers prominent attention. Now, you either turn the jet around or I’ll have to do it myself.”

“I’ll be on my way,” Steve sighed as he punched in the coordinates for back home.

Steve could sense General Ross’ fear before he even spoke. The man had been pacing back in force since he came to the compound. He didn’t stop until Tony told him to just spill his guts already.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, we are at war,” Steve sat up now feeling the same fear as the general.

“War? How is that even possible? There’s been no coverage-,” Ross cut off Tony.

“Not war on earth. We are going to war with another planet,” Ross ran the palm of his hand down his face.

The team started arguing with the general. They wondered just how an intergalactic war could even break out!

“Is there any way we can change their minds? Come up with a peace treaty of some sort?” Steve suggested.

“That’s why I’m here. We made plans to negotiate with their general about putting a stop to this before it can even start.”

“There’s a catch isn’t there. There’s always a catch with you,” Tony pointed out.

Ross huffed, “The general does not trust meeting on our planet, nor do we want to go to his. The general has stated they reached out to another planet willing to host both parties until we can work out a peace treaty.”

“And…” Tony baited.

“And, I would like some members of the Avengers to go and represent earth. You are the most trusted figures on this planet, maybe it can put them at ease,” Tony looked at Steve for confirmation, Steve nodded his head in agreement.

“We’ll go. Tony and I will work out who is coming and who is staying to hold down the compound. When do we leave?” Steve asked.

“In about three days. I want your team to be prepared for any type of back up. Bring your strongest just in case,” Steve hummed in agreement.

“And where will we be heading?”

“It’s a small planet, one that had just recovered from their own war a few years ago. They call their planet a planet of peace. Goes by the name Zevitar,” Ross handed Tony some files about the planet and what their mission would entail.

___ *Back on Zevitar*

Who knew that after all the pain you’ve felt in your life, childbirth would be the worst kind. After hours upon hours of excruciating labor, your baby was here.

The last few months haven't been easy. Your people would give you dirty looks when they thought you didn’t see them. They theorized the baby’s father was still alive and coming home was an excuse to be rid of him. Luckily, your brother had been extra protective over you. He even stayed by your side as your bundle of joy was born.

“Do we have a name,” your brother looked down at the sweet angel.

“Yes, would you like to announce it to the people,” your brother smiled as he approached the balcony where the loyal subjects were gathered.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Zevitar…” silence filled the air, “the Princess has given birth to a Prince,” you heard the crowd go wild from your bed.

The whole crowd began to chant.

“LONG LIVE PRINCE ASHER OF ZEVITAR!”

___

*Meanwhile*

Carol kept quiet during the whole journey. Out of all the planets in the world, it just had to be your home planet. She only wished she would have warned you about who was coming.

“Preparing for landing,” she glanced back at the small team of Avengers.

Steve got up from his seat and began to brief the team.

“We need to be on our toes this entire mission. No slip ups, no mistakes. If anything goes wrong we could be putting this planet, and ours, at risk,” Steve began to lecture.

Carol landed in a secure spot where a group of guards were getting ready to approach the ship. She opened the doors as the team got up

“Tony, Carol, Sam, Bucky,” let’s go save our home.

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky #dark!winter soldier #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #James Barnes #dark!marvel #dark!avengers #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mcudarklibrary #IOU #debt to be paid

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 17: The Resolution

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,424

Chapter Summary: Now that the truth is out, Teki and Loki navigate their way through the aftermath.

A/N: I can’t believe we’re on the second to last chapter! It blows my mind that this has gone by so quickly-- I feel like I just started posting a few weeks ago. Also, sorry this is going up about an hour later than usual-- my classes got cancelled today, so I decided to sleep in XD

Thanks for reading!

TW: Violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass @sophlubbwriting

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki stood in the center of the Throne Room, struggling not to wilt under the scrutiny of over a dozen pairs of eyes. She had always known that someday in the future she’d have to attend the King’s council meetings, but never had she thought that she would ever be the focus. The old men of Odin’s courtroom seemed to glower down at her like she was an insect they had accidentally stepped on as they bickered over what was to be done with her. Luckily, the friendly faces in the crowd were almost enough to drown out the tension.

Loki smiled encouragingly from his place at the base of Odin’s throne, rolling his eyes whenever someone said something particularly hurtful. Frigga too supported her with a warm grin. Even Thor seemed to shoot her a sympathetic glance every now and then.

Still, the council continued arguing.

“The marriage engagement is in writing. We cannot change it—”

“That writing is in blood. Would we have the daughter of a murderer as Queen?”

“We should not hold the girl accountable for the sins of her mother—”

“But what of Asgard’s reputation? What will other realms think when they learn how easy it is to cheat their way into royalty—”

“The circumstances are irrelevant. The agreement was made. To go back on it now would be to sully the word of the king—”

The last few days had been a whirlwind. Teki felt as if she had repeated the same story over and over again at least a thousand times, to a thousand different people. At first, there had been the scramble for evidence, gathering anything and everything that might be used to prove her word—the vials from her mother’s liquor cabinet, the document of dissolution that her father had been forced to write moments before his death, written statements from Völundr and Asta (the real one this time). They had even taken her father’s journal, although that had been returned to her after they decided that the unfinished letter he had written to her mother was all they needed.

But once Áslaug signed a full confession, the focus shifted. Now that she was good and caught, everyone could concentrate on capturing Osvald. He had been gone when Frigga’s guards arrived at their apartment to arrest him and hadn’t been seen since. It seemed he had caught wind that the game was up and made a run for it, a thought which terrified Teki to no end.

“Don’t worry,” Loki assured her one night, in the new rooms in the royal wing that she and Brant now occupied. “They’ll catch him before long.”

Teki only nodded as she stared out into the inky blackness beyond her window, praying to the Norns he was right.

There were also the questions popping up now, everywhere she turned. Was she still engaged to Thor? Did the marriage agreement stand if it was made under false pretenses? No one seemed to know.

Some felt that since Steinn had opposed it, and since Áslaug very clearly did not have Teki’s best interests in mind when she agreed to it, that it should not be allowed to stand. Others were quite adamant that the agreement had been signed and that it must be followed through, for better or for worse.

Of course, nobody had asked Teki what she thought should happen.

Well... that wasn't entirely true. Queen Frigga had approached her the day after her mother was arrested to talk about the whole situation, and while she didn't ask for her opinion either, the topic of her engagement had come up.

"The AllFather is not one to go back on his word," she told her. "I doubt the betrothal will be drastically changed."

Her tone was encouraging, but Teki couldn't bring herself to mirror her optimistic smile. Of course she'd still have to marry Thor. The actions of her mother would have no bearing on something that had been set in stone for nearly her entire life. She knew this. Still, a part of her, the small, hopeful part that had dared to dream of someone else in place of Thor's hand, withered at the return to reality.

The ache in her chest must have been reflected on her face because Frigga frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Teki shook her head, forcing her features back to familiar neutrality. "Of course not, Your Majesty," she said with the same artificial cheeriness. "As always, I will be honored to wed your son."

For a moment, the Queen only studied her, as if searching for something hidden behind her eyes. "Yes," she finally said, voice distant. "My son."

It didn’t even matter anymore. They’d all been going round and round in circles for what seemed like an eternity, and Teki was tired of standing there bearing the brunt of their speculation. She wished they would just sentence her to life with Thor and just end it already. It took everything in her to keep from picking at the sash of her dress in front of everyone.

But then Frigga stood, and the voices fell silent. “If I may, my King?”

Odin nodded at his wife, and Teki couldn’t help but think that he looked as exhausted with this as she was. “Please.”

She stepped forward, addressing the council directly. “If I am correct in understanding, the conflict here surrounds the question of whether Lady Tekla is suited to be Queen in light of what we now know of her mother and stepfather, yes?” A chorus of affirmative hums answered her.

The Queen smiled broadly. “Well, I believe there is a way to honor the agreement without jeopardizing the queenship.” She turned back to Odin with a respectful bow of her head. “My King, you have two sons. If Lady Tekla were to marry Prince Loki instead of Prince Thor, she’d still gain royalty, but not the throne.”

A flurry of whispers broke out across the Throne Room. For a moment, Teki thought she had misheard her. Wait, did she mean…

She whipped to Loki, who was staring at his mother with eyes were so wide they were almost bugging out of his head. When his gaze returned to Teki’s, there was a stunned sort of hope in his smile.

The King cocked his head to the side, seemingly lost in thought. He turned to his son. “Would you be willing to pursue such a course of action, Loki?” he asked.

The prince sprang up. “Yes, I would, my King. That is —” he looked back at Teki nervously. “If Lady Tekla was willing.”

The collective stare of the council flipped back once more to her.

Teki inhaled. “I—I’m willing, sire.”

“Very well.” The King motioned towards Loki, who stepped purposefully off the platform and down to her side. “Prince Loki, you will take the hand of Lady Tekla in marriage. Prince Thor, you are released from your betrothal.” He sighed. “Perhaps now we can finally lay this matter to rest.”

Teki didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Loki lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“My lady,” he whispered with a breathless smile. She beamed, heart soaring higher than any wings could ever carry her.

…

Going back to their apartment was strange.

It had been decided that Teki and Brant would permanently move into the royal wing of the palace, sharing a suite until Teki married and moved into Loki’s rooms (although Frigga assured her that wouldn’t be for quite some time). Their old apartment was gutted of all items of importance to be transferred to their new rooms, leaving only its skeletal remains when Teki and Loki returned for one last look through.

There were several things Teki wanted to be sure to get. Brant’s reading notes, for one, and his unfinished map of the tunnels of the Nine Realms. She wouldn’t be giving him reading lessons anymore—he had already begun to attend proper class and was doing quite well—but he had confided in her that he still preferred her lessons. The music books gifted to her by the Queen—she was particularly excited about those, because Frigga had ordered a piano constructed just for Teki’s new sitting room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t ask you first,” she had said, almost apologetically. “I just you’d enjoy being able to play at your own discretion, without having to rely on me.”

Teki could’ve cried.

And then there was a dagger. Teki nearly had a heart attack when she checked under her mattress and found it wasn’t there, only to remember that she had shoved it in her nightstand that time her mother walked into the room.

Loki grinned when she slid it out of its sheath.

“I had wondered what you did with that,” he said. “I never saw it when I would come over.”

She laughed. “Well, I couldn’t exactly hang it from the wall.” Now that she thought of it though, it was probably a blessing that she had been forced to move the dagger to her drawer. As furious as her stepfather had been upon discovering she had taken her father’s journal, it would’ve been infinitely worse if he had realized she was also keeping a weapon under her mattress. The image of Osvald advancing towards her flashed before her eyes, this time waving a blade instead of a leather book. Teki shivered. She sheathed the dagger, placing it in the box with her other items.

They combed the apartment one last time, a cursory look-through to make sure that Teki had gotten everything she wanted to save. There really wasn’t much. It was a bit startling—this place had been her home her entire life, and yet she felt practically nothing upon saying goodbye to it forever. If anything, it was relieving, like coming to the surface to breathe after being underwater for far too long. She was ready to leave this bad dream behind.

Teki only hesitated at the downstairs table, staring at the same chair in which her father died. Loki came besides her, squeezing her hand in comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She struggled to find the right words. “I ate here every single day,” she said finally. “My whole life. And I never knew what happened right next to me.” Had her father been watching in frustration from the realm beyond? Had he been begging her to ask questions, to look for him, to discover the truth as she munched on her morning toast?

Tears were pooling in her eyes once more. Teki swallowed shakily. “I should’ve done something sooner,” she whispered. “I never did anything. I just let it all happen.”

“You were a child,” Loki said softly. “What could you have done? You’ve brought justice for your father, and for you. That’s all that matters now.”

She sighed. Maybe he was right. What she did or didn’t do in the past wasn’t important. Now, her father could rest easy knowing his killer would rot in prison, her plans in tatters.

Teki hoisted her box up with one last glance about the room. “I think I’ve got everything,” she said as she headed towards the door. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled, rushing to hold the door for her. “It seems that—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

Osvald barged his way through the doorway like a living battering ram, smacking the prince into the wooden door. Her stepfather didn’t even spare a second glance as Loki crashed to the floor. Teki barely had the chance to scream before his fist caught her in her sternum. The box flew from her hands, contents clattering across the floorboards as she fell backwards.

No sooner had her head hit the ground than Osvald was on top of her, eyes as frenzied as wildfire.

“You thought I’d let it go?” he snarled, holding her down by her shoulders with his forearm as she struggled. “You thought I’d let you fuck everything up?”

She almost didn’t see the glint of the blade in his free hand.

Norns!

Teki jerked just as the knife came down, cold metal grazing her cheek as he buried it into the floor beside her head. She grabbed for the hilt as her stepfather spat curses in her face.

Get it away from him!

He smacked her away, ripping the knife from the floorboards and stabbing towards her again. Teki braced her arms against his wrist, pushing against him with all her might, her eyes tearing up. Come on, please! Still, the tip of the blade inched forward, closer and closer and closer…

Something crashed into the two of them. One moment, her stepfather was on top of her, pinning her to the ground, the next he was on the floor next to her, thrashing wildly as Loki fought to rip the blade from his grasp. Teki rolled to her stomach, trembling as she gasped for air.

“Get help!” Loki yelled at her as the two wrestled on the ground. Osvald landed a kick to his stomach, and he hissed in pain.

Teki struggled to her feet and tried to make a run for the door. Her foot slipped on one of the papers strewn about from the box and she tripped, slamming against the floor.

Behind her, Osvald’s knife clattered to the ground. Still, they struggled.

Her legs were shaking too badly to stand. Teki crawled towards the door across the mess, unable to hear anything else over the pounding of her heart.

Without meaning to, her hand closed around the hilt of her own dagger.

Loki cried out, a short, quick gasp of pain. Her stepfather’s footsteps vibrated deep in her stomach as he approached.

He yanked her to her feet by her collar and whipped her around, his fingers at her throat, grin wide and demented.

“Now—”

Teki buried the blade in his chest.

For a moment they just stared at it, gasping, the golden hilt crowning the fast-growing stain of crimson across his chest. He glanced up at her, icy eyes having lost their chill. Teki gaped back at him, frozen.

On the other side of the room, Loki pulled himself to his feet, eyes wide.

Her stepfather collapsed, a marionette with its strings cut, his blood splattering across the same floor he had so often beaten her against.

#dances and daggers #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki marvel #dances and daggers chapter 17 #the resolution #cozy writes

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Chase the Sun

Author’s Note: This is a request I answered for @akusen-kutou, and I hope it turned out as close to what you imagined!

Vikings Masterlist

Pairing: Modern Floki x Reader

Word Count: 2774

Warnings: Language

Floki was feeling old. In fact, it was something Ivar and Hvitserk had said to him earlier during lunch. He cherished the moments spent in the company of the sons of his old friend, and the ribbing shared among them. But that afternoon had been different. The taunts he had received had lingered in a manner most unexpected, like an uninvited guest.

"You boys are starting to look old. You better hurry up and marry soon, or all the good ones will be gone," He teased Ragnar's two sons across the table from him.

"Take a look in the mirror, old man. We're not the ones who are actually…" Ivar paused with a smirk.

"Old," Hvitserk supplied around a mouthful of spaghetti.

Laughter erupted at the table as they tucked in.

At the time he hadn't thought much of it, but something unpleasant had remained with him when he thought about his age and where he was in this moment of his life.

Since Helga's passing in an automobile accident five years ago, he had remained a widower. The first year he had been lost in his grief and had thrown himself into his work. Then one became two, and the idea of finding someone new had been put upon him. His loved ones were only showing their concern, so he tried not to hold it against them, but the idea of anyone else in his life that wasn't Helga was strange. It would have felt like replacing her.

More years had passed, and in that time he had forgotten about being alone and had come to accept it. He embraced tragedy with a quiet aloofness. It never bothered him before, or maybe he had just refused to let it. Helga would be mad that he turned reclusive once again. It was how she found him when they first fell in love, and she had managed her way into his heart while also coaxing him out into the open. Floki knew himself to be bizarre, and maybe even crazy, but he would never apologize or try to change how he was. If others didn't understand him, then he would simply remove himself from their company. It seemed he had slipped back into that old habit.

The night was cold as he walked the streets. The last bits of autumn were clinging to hold on as winter chased close behind. Lights and wreaths were being hung on storefronts as the holiday season began, and sales were flashed in big numbers to lure in the early shopper. Christmas used to be Floki's favorite time of the year, only because it was Helga's. He would construct all sorts of decorations around their home, to the point where it looked like clutter, just to see her smile. Last year he hadn't even bothered with a tree.

He rounded the corner of the block, coming close to the park. It was where he liked to frequent when he had thoughts that he couldn't silence. The stars were more visible when standing under the shade of the trees, away from the streetlights. Floki believed in the divine, a being that was something greater than himself. He wouldn't call it God, and he never attended church, but he felt a deep connection to unseen forces. It gave him hope that Helga was still out there and that the soul was eternal. Their separation was only a temporary thing, something he would have to navigate alone.

"Floki!"

He startled at his name being called and had not realized he had stumbled so far into the park. Retracting from the bush, he stumbled out onto an empty pathway. Just ahead was a wooden bench, and a small lamp that's pale glow pierced the dark of the small pocket of the park he was in. He strained his ears, holding his breath as he tried to listen to the unfamiliar voice.

"Floki, come back here."

He frowned at the command. Should he answer? Who would even know he was there? The voice wasn't ringing any bells. He stepped further onto the path when a large creature came bounding down towards him. Swallowing back a gasp, Floki was pounced on by a lummox of a German Shepherd.

"You're a big one," He managed to say as he pushed back on the snout of the beast that was preoccupied with digging his nose into Floki's coat. A handsome specimen and he was quick to forget his annoyance at being caught off guard as he knelt down to stroke the dog behind the collar. "What are you doing out here, huh?"

"Floki!" He heard the unfamiliar voice call out again in distress.

"Right here," He replied without thought, caught up in his new wild friend. Floki had an appreciation for all living things, and he might have suggested opening a zoo to Helga once or twice. It was a good thing she always refused.

"Oh thank goodness," The voice said, coming from the same direction that the shepherd had sprung out of. He now had a face to go with the voice, and it was one he couldn't recall. Had they ever met before?

"There you are," You said, coming closer to the dog whose attention leaped back onto you from Floki. The shepherd showered you with excited licks across the face as you crouched down. You were laughing from the affection, and Floki felt a sudden disappointment at the loss of his new furry friend. "Thank you for finding him. We've been trying off-leash, but it's not going so well."

"Oh, it was no trouble. He found me," Floki replied as he stood away, feeling awkward and neglected now that the dog had you back.

You clipped a red leash back onto the leather collar while the shepherd observed you with blind trust. His tongue rolled out of the side of his mouth when you gave him a brisk scratch on the chin. "So what now, Floki?"

Floki frowned. There you went again, and he was certain this time that he hadn't let slip his name. "What do you mean?"

You looked back at him with confusion. "I'm not sure I understand," You said.

Floki did. The realization struck swift as lightning as he looked down at the dog and then back to you. An airy giggle set out from his lips before he could contain it, and he was glad for it. It truly was a funny coincidence.

"Floki," He said pointing to himself, and then at the dog. "Floki."

Your face bloomed into a delighted smile. "That's your name?"

"Yes. I thought we'd met once, and I had forgotten you, but you were searching for this one the whole time," He explained with much relief.

"You know, he got the name completely by mistake. I had meant to call him Loki, but when the license arrived in the mail, it said Floki. And actually both the F and L were capitalized, so the clerk must have hit the F accidentally," You explained in a rushed ramble. "Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that."

"No, no. I've never met another namesake before, and one with a connection to the Nordic Gods. Loki would have suited well, he does seem to be giving you trouble."

You smiled while Dog-Floki began to scout the area of the park. "Oh yes, since day one. He's a rescue, and actually, we were out celebrating. It's been a year since I brought him home."

"Congratulations. I should leave you two to it then," He said, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Goodnight."

"Wait a minute," You said, and the hint of desperation in your voice stopped Floki in his path. "Did you...did you want to grab a coffee or a tea?"

Floki blinked, and he might have forgotten how to breathe. No one had asked him to do anything like that in years, except for any of Ragnar's sons. But a woman no less, he was startled and a tad fearful at the meaning. He realized a long stretch of silence had passed without him giving you an answer, and you began to grow embarrassed.

"Nevermind, forget I said anything. That was weird of me, I mean we only just met, and you thought I knew your name." You suddenly shut your mouth while pinching the bridge of your nose. "Listen to me rambling. I just, I didn't want to come across as desperate, but I've lived here for two years and I still don't really have a circle of friends to speak of. After my first year, I adopted this guy and then another year has passed and I'm no different."

By now Dog-Floki had returned to your side, staring up at you as if to try and calm your frayed nerves. Floki understood the loneliness you were feeling, even though your circumstances differed from his.

"I don't like coffee," He spoke up and you looked positively stricken. "But I like peppermint tea."

"Really?" You breathed out a hopeful sigh and began to lead the dog by his leash. "Because there's a place close to here that also makes a latte I like."

"Yes," Floki replied, not knowing what else to say. He didn't want to come across as too enthusiastic, but your excitement was contagious.

You signal for him to follow, and he shuffled after to catch up. As he kept pace beside you, Floki couldn't help but observe you closer. He guessed that you were maybe only a few years younger than him. Still youthful, but with enough wisdom in your eyes and smile lines on your face that gave away to the years you had weathered. When you caught him looking in your peripheral, he looked away with an embarrassed flush at being caught.

"What is it?" You prodded.

"Nothing," Floki replied, covering his nervousness with a cough. "You aren't from here you said. Where did you move from?"

"Akureyri. My family is still there, but I came here to work."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a recreational therapist. I work with seniors in transition facilities."

Hearing that you worked with seniors made him think back to the 'old' comment again. You must be good at your job, however, as Floki couldn't recall having a fun, free night like this in months. Maybe Ivar and Hvitserk were right. His thinking process caused him to let slip another giggle, and you shot him a curious look.

"Well, what do you do, Floki? I feel like I've been talking too much about myself, and I hate to do that."

"I'm a contractor. Since I can remember, I've always been building things. Instead of growing out of that phase, I turned it into a career," He said with a shrug. "It's nothing impressive really, but I get to be creative. That's all I've ever wanted."

Dog-Floki came around between you both and nudged at Floki's hand until he fit his snout into his palm. Floki heeded the animal's need for attention, petting him back with soft strokes on the head.

"So you're creative, and are good with animals," You said, admiring the affection he was showering on your dog. "Do you have any pets...or children?"

Floki hummed. "No pets, no. My friend's sons are certainly rowdy enough to qualify as animals, and I think of them as my nephews. But no children for me."

His description had you chuckling. "I know how that is. I have nieces and nephews of my own. I hope they think of me as their cool aunt and not the wacky one whose gifts they exchange."

You seemed perfectly not wacky to him. The back and forth conversation continued between you, and Floki found himself giving shorter answers just so he could hear you talk more about yourself. He had forgotten what it was like to meet someone new, and the weightless feeling it caused in his gut.

The main street was a little busier than when Floki had left it, and the air had grown cooler as the night advanced. You pointed ahead to the shop coming up on your right, and you picked up a grin.

"There, Bliss Bakery. They've become a staple in my diet since moving here. I don't mind the extra calories though, it gives me an excuse to take Floki on runs."

Just as Floki was about to open his mouth and reply, someone called out across the street.

"Floki."

Dog-Floki's ears perked up, but this time the voice was familiar and Floki knew it was for him.

"I think those men are calling on you," You said while calming your excited dog.

"A lot of that going around tonight," Floki said as he cringed at the sight of Ivar and Hvitserk making their way over. "Here comes some of those animals I told you about."

You watched the young men approaching with curiosity as they bumbled together, laughing as they went. Floki could tell by the volume of their voices that they had been drinking. Hopefully, they hadn't left their good manners at the bar.

"Hey, you old bastard. What are you up to?" Ivar called.

Floki flinched. So much for his hopes of them having a semblance of decency.

"And who's that with you?" Hvitserk asked, squinting even as they moved closer.

Floki had his mouth opened, about to answer when you chimed in.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N). A new friend of Floki's," You said, sticking your hand out to Hvitserk. "You must be the animals he told me about."

Ivar adjusted on his crutches while tossing Floki a funny look. "What have you been saying about us?"

"The truth," Floki said with a shrug. "I had to convince your father not to take you all to the pound more than once."

There was an eruption of laughter, but Floki wasn't fooled. He could see both Ivar and Hvitserk eyeing you with interest and he could only fret over what they were thinking.

"So, where did you two meet?" Ivar prodded.

"Yeah," Hvitserk added. "I didn't know you had friends Floki…no offense."

"We met in the park back that way," You said, pointing on your tip-toes. "It was about a half-hour ago."

"Of course it was," Ivar muttered.

"We have the same name," Floki interjected, gesturing to the dog who was preoccupied with the two newcomers.

"You and the dog? No kidding," Hvitserk said as he petted the shepherd.

Floki nodded. "So, what are you two doing here?"

"We met some girls for drinks. Figured it was time. We didn't want to--what was it you said--get old?" Ivar smirked while avoiding the cold nose of the dog who was trying to bury his snout against his leg. "We should get going and let you two get back to your evening."

"Right. It was nice meeting you (Y/N). Maybe we'll get to talk more next time," Hvitserk said with a wave.

You nodded. "I hope so."

Floki turned to you, surprised with how your confident answer provided him with reassurance. His nephews hadn't scared you away, and better still they seemed to accept your sudden intrusion in his life. He wasn't sure what he had done to earn you as a new friend in his life, but forces at work must have been smiling down on him.

"You'd really put up with seeing them again?" He asked, feeling his brow furrow.

"Sure, they seem perfectly rowdy but without having to crate train," You breathed with a laugh and Floki joined you. "Here, you take Floki. I'll get our drinks to-go."

You passed him the leash before he even had a chance to reach for his wallet. "Let me pay."

"No, my treat this time. I'll let you get the next one." You pulled on the door of the bakery but halted a moment before stepping inside. "And I'll get us some palmiers. They're my favorite," You said before disappearing inside.

Floki smiled at you through the window. "Mine too," He murmured.

Dog-Floki sat down on the sidewalk by his feet and let out a sharp bark as he gazed up at the sky. Floki followed his line of sight, and it was as if all the clouds had parted to make way for the stars. He couldn’t remember the city sky ever being so clear. When a particular star began to flicker and twinkle, he took it as a sign that from this night until the end of his days, he would no longer be alone. She was still out there and had brought you to him.

"Thank you, Helga."

#vikings #vikings floki #floki x reader #history vikings #floki the boat builder #modern floki #vikings imagine #floki x helga

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riversofmars · 3 years

Photo

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your lovely comments, very happy you all approve of my choice of cast lol! I'm still in the early stages of setting up the story so I'm still mulling over some of the details but I think it's coming together. This chapter actually took a lot of restructuring and rewriting but slowly I'm getting there I hope. I really hope it works for all of you, I've re-read it so many times now that I can't see the wood for trees so I'm just gonna post it now and hope for the best lol :D Enjoy!

Chapter 3: There’s Stories About Us

London, late 19th Century

“Why don’t you have a seat?“ To Vastra, the Doctor’s pacing around the drawing room was becoming increasingly irritating. She was engrossed in the file River had left behind and refused to sit down.

“I think better on my feet.“ The Doctor retorted without looking up. It was the first full sentence she had spoken since picking up the file. Her expression was unreadable.

“Is it still five sugars?“ Jenny questioned, pouring tea for everyone, hoping to lighten the Doctor’s mood.

“You do know her well.“ Yaz commented while the Doctor just took the cup without comment and carried on.

“I take it she doesn’t talk much about her past?“ Vastra easily picked up on the hint of jealousy in the young woman’s voice. The Silurian had seen it many times. The Doctor was very private and by neglecting to speak about their past, they tended to make the person they were travelling with feel all the more special. To them it was like they were the first person to experience all the wonders of the universe with them. Finding out about all those that came before them wasn’t always easy.

“She never… I never expected her to have a family.“ Yaz looked over to the Doctor who was still walking up and down the drawing room, mumbling under her breath as she kept reading. She briefly put her cup down on the mantle of the fireplace so she could turn a page. Her brow was knitted in a deep frown, she was restless though more level-headed than before.

“I don’t think she expected it, either.“ Vastra conceded, taking a sip of her own tea. As she watched Yaz’s reactions to the change of circumstances, she felt reminded of the time the Doctor had regenerated and Clara had struggled to adjust to them changing. This situation wasn’t so different, Yaz was struggling as well. They were all going through a big change, and the Doctor even more so than the rest of them. Vastra could tell the Doctor was different from her last regeneration, even without the added pressure of finding out about having a child. This Doctor reminded her so much more of the one they had accompanied to Demon’s Run, than the one they had last seen. It seemed fitting as again, a child’s life was on the line; just one generation on.

“Why does her wife not travel with her?“ Yaz turned to Vastra with the question that had been bothering her.

“Professor Song travels in time as well. Their timelines are not always synchronised.“ Vastra explained, hoping not to reveal too much. It wasn’t her place.

“So like The Time Traveller’s Wife?“ Yaz asked, but found herself looking into confused faces. “It’s a book, do you not… right 19th Century…“ She waved it away but it gave her cause to think. Being out of sync with the person you loved had to be incredibly hard indeed. She remembered crying over that book and she couldn’t imagine this would turn out to be a more cheerful tale.

Suddenly, the Doctor halted in her tracks, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Is everything alright, Doctor?“ Yaz asked as their friend’s face went very white as she stared at the page in front of her.

——

Darillium, 52nd Century

River stirred slowly, a light breeze tickled her nose though she couldn’t remember leaving a window open. The bed was soft and familiar, she stretched her limbs into the silky sheets and hummed contently after a good night’s sleep. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up slowly when she realised something was off. It should not be as quiet as it was; and she should not have slept through the night. The explanation to her questions perched on the side of the bed. The Doctor was feeding a bottle to his son who quite happily curled into his father’s arm, allowing his mother some well deserved rest.

“You can lie back down if you like, we’ve got this, haven’t we.“ The Doctor gave her a soft smile when he noticed her sitting up.

“How long have you been up?“ She asked, her voice sleepy still. She hadn’t heard either of them waking.

“You know I’m always awake before you.“ The Doctor reminded her. River smiled, her hearts swelled at the sight in front of her. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her husband look so utterly content and happy. She wanted to enjoy the moment but a strange, unsettling feeling was seeping into her subconscious

“Yeah but I didn’t even notice…“ She looked around, wondering what was intruding on this perfect moment.

“Everything okay?“ The Doctor asked with a frown. He lay the empty bottle down on the bed and pulled his son against his chest.

“I just…“ River couldn’t put her finger on it. It was like things weren’t adding up. “When did we come back?“

“What do you mean?“ The Doctor started sounding more concerned. He gently tapped and rubbed the baby’s back.

“Vastra, Jenny, Strax… the Library…“ Slowly River’s memories were returning but they weren’t compatible with where she was.

“What are you talking about? Did you have a particularly vivid dream?“ The Doctor chuckled. “Or nightmare, rather, if Strax featured.“

“The sunrise.“ River looked out of the window to see orange and purple stretching across the sky.

“It’s almost time.“ The Doctor nodded with a soft smile. “First light.“

“But we’ve already seen it.“ River looked back to him, confused.

“I think I’d remember if we’d already watched the sunrise after twenty-four years of waiting for it.“ The Doctor retorted amused. “Are you feeling okay?“

“This isn’t right…“ River shook her head slowly. Her hearts sank at the painful realisation. “I’m not meant to be here…“ She wanted to lean forward, reach for her husband, touch her son, but she didn’t dare.

“River…“ The Doctor said but she shook her head more firmly.

“No, I left before I even… and you didn’t…“ She looked at him with sorrow and the genuine concern in his eyes only made it harder. This was where she wanted to be.

“River.“ He reached out for her but she pulled away.

“This isn’t real, it can’t be, I…“ River turned away and closed her eyes, shaking her head to herself. Her hearts ached. She wanted this to be real so badly but she knew better. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

“River!“ This time, the voice changed pitch and River woke with a start.

“Anita.“ River looked up to her colleague, blinking against the morning light. She found herself surrounded by piles of books and notes, back in the artificial reality of the Library. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa while reading last night.

“Considering we probably don’t actually need sleep in here, you were very difficult to wake up.“ Anita pointed out and held out a coffee to her. “Went anywhere nice?“

“You could say that…“ River gave a mournful smile but quickly put her walls back up, projecting confidence and assurance. “Thanks.“ She took the coffee offered to her and sat up properly. “Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it. I didn’t realise we’d dream…“ She gave a wary smile. Though it felt like real life, she couldn’t quite let herself fall for the comforting illusion; not yet anyway. Not while she was still so deeply concerned with what was going on in the universe beyond.

“It feels like real life.“ Anita shrugged and took a sip of her own mug as she perched on the coffee table. “Certainly beats the alternative.“

“Certainly does.“ River admitted.

“So what have you been up to? Everyone was meeting up for breakfast and when you didn’t show up, I thought I’d check on you.“ Anita revealed her reason for being here and River glanced to the clock on the wall.

“Are the kids up, too?“ She found herself asking, almost instinctively.

“Been up ages. CAL said they thought it best to let you sleep, you were in a happy place.“ Anita explained with a smile. She hadn’t taken River Song for the mothering type but she had taken on that role without a second thought. She seemed to be taking comfort in it.

“I suppose I was…“ River thought back to Darillium and the Doctor, the perfect family life they could have had, had she just stayed. She took a deep breath to maintain her composure.

“So what’s all this?“ Anita asked, gesturing at the mess around them.

“Ah, just a bit of light reading…“ River smiled weakly, sipping her coffee. It tasted just like the real deal.

“You call this light?“ Anita laughed. “What are you researching?“ She picked up a sheet of paper that River had been making notes on.

“I may have… lied to you about why I agreed to lead this expedition… It wasn’t just for the money.“ River answered slowly, realising there was little point in keeping secrets now. They would be spending eternity together and River knew she needed a friend. She’d gotten on well with Anita from the start and she wanted someone to confide in. “The Library is the sum knowledge of the universe, as it were, and I needed access. Looks like I got more than I bargained for, eh?“ River joked but the sorrow behind her eyes was easily spotted.

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything but… what’s the point now?“ Anita asked, contemplating her words. “Technically, to the universe, we’re dead…“ She could tell River wasn’t adjusting all too well.

“Doesn't mean that the universe out there stops, does it?“ River pointed out.

“Are you trying to get out of here?“ Anita raised her eyebrows.

“And go where? None of us have a body to go to.“ River gave a bitter laugh. “No… but eventually, he’ll come…“

“Your Doctor? The one from your time?“ Anita asked and River nodded:

“One day, I’m sure of it.“

“And you need all this for when he does?“ Anita concluded, feeling like she was beginning to make sense of the professor’s actions. “So tell me what this is? Maybe I can help.“ She picked up more notes, skimming them.

“They’re stories, myths, every record, every…“ River started but Anita was quick to pick up on one unifying factor as she picked up more of the articles:

“It’s all about you.“ Anita looked up with amusement. River Song had a reputation of course. She was an accomplished archeologist who had published a lot of research. Who would have thought that there were also plenty of books and articles about her, not just by her.

“Some of it. I always told him there were stories about us… he was modified.“ River smiled as she recalled bringing it up with the Doctor.

“The Doctor?“ Anita asked to confirm. “Is he your husband?“ She exclaimed as she continued reading.

“Afraid so.“ River chuckled.

“So are you going to tell me why you’re doing this? Or will I have to drag it out of you?“ Anita prompted, looking back to her.

“This is just the start… it might look like a lot already but really, I’m just a tiny speck of dust in his life. There is so much more I don’t know, so much more that’s in his future and in his distant past…“ River mused. This was just a tiny fraction of the records she’d found so far.

“You’re not just being nostalgic, are you?“ Anita asked, putting the books down to give her her full attention.

“Before I joined the expedition, I received a message from a friend, someone who deals in information. They came to me with concerns about a prophecy and rumours.“ River said, tightening her grip around her mug. “Now, there are a lot of prophecies out there and I don’t pay much heed to any of them, but there was something about it… stories of a Timeless Child that somehow relates to the Doctor, to me… and as it happened, I just found out I was pregnant at the time.“ She explained and Anita’s eyes widened in shock at the revelation.

“Were you still pregnant when…“ Anita was stunned. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“No, thankfully.“ River smiled, touched by her concern. “My son is fine, he’s with some dear friends. He was three weeks old when I set off to the Library…“ She revealed with a sad smile, wondering how the Paternoster Gang was getting on. Surely they were doing an excellent job at looking after her little one… but she regretted her choice nonetheless. She should never have come here.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea.“ Anita reached out and gave River’s hand a squeeze. Immediately, she saw River’s interest in looking after the children in a completely different light. “Does the Doctor know?“

“I don’t know. They may have told him by now…“ River shrugged taking a deep breath to maintain her composure. “God, he will be furious… Hopefully furious enough to come and shout at me in here…“

“So you think your son is the Timeless Child?“ Anita asked, trying to make sense of what River was telling her.

“Maybe…“ River couldn’t be sure of anything. She had found no clues either way, despite her many inquirers; but it seemed like a funny old coincidence that whispers of a child surfaced just as she’d found out she was pregnant. “I haven’t been able to find out much at all, so I’m hoping I can now.“

——

London, Late 19th Century

The Doctor’s mind started racing, as did her hearts. Where, when and how had River heard about the Timeless Child? And why was it referenced in her file? The Doctor hadn’t told anyone about what the Master had revealed to her and she couldn’t imagine the Master would have shouted it off the rooftops either, seeing as he’d murdered everyone that could have known. Even when the Doctor had briefly spoken to Ryan about learning about the gaps in her past, she had never used this term or gone into detail. She hadn’t even filled Yaz in either. Someone out there knowing that exact term couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Doctor?“ Vastra’s voice was sharp, drawing the Doctor’s attention at last.

“Sorry…“ The Doctor snapped out of her thoughts when she realised everyone was looking at her.

“Does something stand out to you?“ Vastra prompted, gesturing towards the file.

“It’s nothing, never mind, just… it’s not related to this.“ The Doctor shook her head, closing the file disappointed, yet unsettled. This was in no way helpful for finding out where their child was or who could be behind the kidnapping. It did, however, raise some very unsettling questions. How did the secret about the Timeless Child get out? Though River might have drawn some wrong conclusions about who it might be, she couldn’t discount the possibility that there might be a connection between the myth and the kidnapping. Maybe there were Time Lords involved in this after all.

“So what do you think?“ Vastra pressed on. “Time Lords or…?“

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t…“ The Doctor shook her head. “First thing’s first. I need to find out where River got her information from.“ The Doctor decided after brief consideration. She rolled up the file and stuffed it into her coat pocket to study more intensely later on. Someone out there - Time Lord or not - knew about the Timeless Child. Maybe, whoever was behind this, already knew it was the Doctor and were trying to get to her by kidnapping her child… There were a lot of possibilities but all seemed as unlikely as each other at this point.

“So can’t we just, like, talk to her?“ Yaz interrupted. “Why don’t we go and find her, your wife, I mean. You must be itching to go. She’ll be able to fill us in far better than…“

“Can’t.“ The Doctor cut in sharply.

“It’s not as easy as all that.“ Jenny gave Yaz an apologetic smile.

“Why not?“ Yaz frowned. “You know where she’s gone, you said earlier: The Library. Let’s go there.“

“River died at the Library.“ The Doctor shot back, anger returning to her voice. Rationally, she knew Yaz couldn’t know all these things, but that didn’t change how she was feeling about it being brought up or having to explain.

“What?“ Yaz was dumbfounded. She looked around into knowing faces and realised she was far out of her depth. There was a lot she had yet to catch up on.

“Well, Doctor, technically, we could try and…“ Vastra started but the Doctor wouldn’t let her finish:

“For all intents and purposes she died at the Library, she can’t help us now. I was there, remember? I know that she didn’t make any great discoveries about the Time Lords while we were running from the shadows. There was hardly time.“ She stated bitterly.

“There must have been a reason for her visit there and she said she would need your help.“ Vastra was getting frustrated with the Doctor’s refusal to give weight to her wife’s concerns and attempts at research. Just because she hadn’t found anything yet didn’t mean she was wrong to be looking.

“She didn’t get the Doctor she was hoping for.“ The Doctor huffed.

“Obviously not, which is why you visiting her now could prove enlightening.“ Vastra countered.

“Sorry, I’m not following.“ Yaz looked to Jenny for an explanation as she didn’t want to interrupt the increasingly tense conversation the other two women were having.

“Professor Song died but she’s not really gone.“ Jenny explained kindly. “The Doctor saved her.“

“I didn’t save her, I trapped her.“ The Doctor interrupted angrily.

“Her consciousness remains in the Library’s computer.“ Vastra clarified which only seemed to infuriate the Doctor more.

“Yes and she has to exist in the knowledge that she will never hold her child again! If I didn’t think she hated me for putting her there before, I’m damned sure of it now.“ The Doctor snapped.

“She will want to help.“ Jenny interjected.

“I will not be the one to tell her her child is gone!“ The Doctor yelled, her emotions boiling over. She had caused River so much pain. She had thought she’d done a good thing when she had saved River’s consciousness only to learn during their next meeting that she hated the idea of being trapped like that. The Doctor already carried so much guilt, she would not add this to the pile. She refused. How was she to break this news to her? “I won’t do that to her. Put that on her while she can’t do anything to help, having to rely on others, no! I can’t do that to her!“

“Doctor…“ Vastra tried to intervene but to no avail.

“No! Not until I’ve exhausted every other option. She thinks he’s safe with you and I will not tell her otherwise until we’ve found him.“ The Doctor snapped.

“If you’re sure.“ Vastra knew there was no talking to her when she was like this. She would come to her senses eventually but she appreciated the sentiment. If at all possible, they should go about things another way before breaking the news to the Professor who would have to watch from the sidelines, unable to help.

“Someone else might have got their hands on Timelord technology…“ Yaz said changing the subject and breaking the heavy silence. Perhaps her not knowing too much about the Doctor’s wife would be a good thing. Perhaps she could look at things more objectively. Tensions were running high indeed.

“It might be more likely than someone surviving the Master’s destruction.“ The Doctor conceded. “But it’s very little to go on.“

“We have to start somewhere.“ Yaz got to her feet feeling a sense of determination. They had to stop wondering about the ifs and buts and start doing something. A child’s life was on the line.

“River started investigating a myth based on some rumours that someone might be after us, after our family.“ The Doctor explained of Yaz’s benefit. “I have a pretty good idea who would have brought it to River’s attention. Perhaps we can trace these rumours back. It’s as good a place as any to start.“ She decided at last.

“Excellent. We shall carried out our own investigation and torture those we find for information!“ Strax stated in excitement as she returned to the drawing room at just the right time. He was carrying several bags.

“Really, Strax, that is not…“ The Doctor started but Vastra interrupted:

“I hope you don’t think you’re going without us.“

“I have packed three types of grenades and the caustic blaster I have been dying to try.“ Strax announced with great enthusiasm.

“And I will get the swords.“ Jenny nodded, exchanging a quick glance with her wife.

“Please, Doctor, we owe you this.“ Vastra didn’t give the Doctor the opportunity to protest. “Let us help bring your child home. We failed you. We won’t fail you again.“

“Let’s go.“ The Doctor wasn’t so proud that she would refuse help offered. She would do whatever it took to get her child back.

#doctor who #fanfiction #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #action/adventure #space wives #yowzah #river x thirteen #river x twelve #twelth doctor #femslash #madame vastra #Jenny Flint #strax #Yasmin Khan #the timeless child

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eve6262 · 3 years

Text

allister, priestess. [[pt 1?]]

Ghosts have many a secret. Some pretend not to know the circumstances of their death, others simply ignorant of society as they lived in a completely separate realm they don’t dare disclose, pretending they were simply drifting in limbo; some will hint at their true origins, knowing very well the humans could never understand.

Most of the humans. Then again, Allister isn’t full human anymore.

The train is slow to his standards, so he ignores it. Corviknight taxis to the area have been banned, so he brings out his trusty Gengar and clings to the fur as they go through a portal. For a moment, within the gap, it feels like he can see all eternity and nothing at all.

Then they’re in the quaint little village that the champion- both Leon, when he still was, and the new- hails from. Already the air is rich with the magic that makes his skin feel electric and fills his ears with songs he doesn’t know in a language that’s definitely not anyone’s anymore; he ignores all that, though, because from his spot in the shadows he can see the group.

The rest of them have arrived by train, of course, and crowd away from an old woman who has surely been taken by the Visionless. There are spindly bug legs emerging from her body, and two large cicada wings that buzz together angrily as she stares at them blankly. Sonia, a face he doesn’t see often but recognizes nonetheless, calls out to her. “Grams?”

Something needs to be done about this. Gengar, though, is slow, and waddles along to catch up as his Runeigerus quickly carries him forward on its shadowy, etheral hands. He clings to it all the same, hands holding shadows that they say should give him visions of nightmares.

They know nothing of nightmares, he thinks.

His tongue moves in strange ways foreign to language, and the woman looks towards him with recognition and some desperation. Her brain must be turning over itself trying to understand what’s going on, the poor thing.

Let’s give her peace, says his Gengar, clearly nothing good will come out of preserving this.

Maybe so, replices the Polteageist that has wriggled itself out of its Pokeball, but I doubt the Queen would take kindly to that.

“We’ll decide...after we talk to her, I think.” And that decision is final, because neither can find much argument with it.

“Who are you?” Asks the woman, in her strange bug-laden scratchy voice.

“Someone. Go back to your nest, these people will not hurt you. I will address the situation.” He can feel more than see Bea staring at him in shock, but ignores it. The woman looks at him strangely, wings buzzing, strange pose caused by the malformation of limbs and pincers shifting in worse ways, and then turns around and hops like she forgot how to walk.

“Allister, what-”

“I have to go....speak to the Queen,” he says, unsure of how else to word it. Now in plain English, at least, so they understand the idea.

“Not alone!”

“They’ll attack you if you come near. I...can’t stop them.”

“What about you!?”

“They won’t attack me.”

As if to prove this point, his Gengar makes a face at them and nods slightly. No worries! She’ll love him.

“My brother-”

“He’ll be fine. They’ll all be...fine.”

Before anyone else can argue, he turns around, already getting back into his Runigerus’s waiting arms. “Wait here. Or else...they might attack anyway.”

He almost leaves then and there, ignoring whatever else pleas come through, but Bede’s voice cuts through the rest. “I want to help.”

Allister turns around. He must’ve learnt it from Opal, the fairy of the forest who knows the ways. Even now she’s here- she’s allowed special access, partially because that’s always true for even former gym leaders and partially because no one has the courage to tell her no- but she does not offer. Perhaps she understands her purpose, or perhaps she simply thinks she’s too old for this.

Either way.

“Alright. You can come.”

“Okay, great-”

“But only you.”

“Why!?”

“The Queen will be...displeased with anyone else.”

“But-”

“Oh, shut it.” Opal smaks him with the parasol she always keeps around. “I’ll explain while you’re gone, dearie. The two of you can head off.”

So Allister motions forward, and Bede brings out his Rapidash and mounts up as well.

We’re off to see the wizard, sings the Polteageist, Or maybe to grandmother’s house in the woods?

dunno if I'll do the rest of this, but I got the whole thing in my head. might post it on AO3 if I do. also, there's a reason I said priestess in the title. it's a whole thing with the worldbuilding in my head.

~Eve6262

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon allister #allister #bede #bede pokemon #fanfic #writing #short story #writeblr #tw: vague body horror

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dex-xe · 3 years

Note

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

#bbc ghosts #ficbymax

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, Mockingbird.”

Based on a request I received in my asks for some fluff. I think you guys will like it, or at least I hope you do :)

He couldn’t remember much of the last few days. Everything was a blur of motion, pain and dizziness. He couldn't tell if he was staying up or lying down or running in circles or spinning inside an F-90 Darkfire going nine times faster than the speed of sound. It felt like he was constantly pulling almost 9-Gs staying awake was impossible, but at the same time, so was falling asleep.

He felt horrible, sick.

He thought he remembered throwing up a few times, but he could have been wrong.

However, he did remember the aching, a pain that throbbed through his body like he had a horrible flu. His muscles ached, his bones ached, his blood might as well have ached. Everything around him echoed, the lights pulsed in and out.

He was nauseous and so very, very cold.

The shivering ache in his bones did nothing to help the horrible throbbing of his muscles, especially the muscles in his back.

He thought he heard voices a few times, mingling with the echoes and spinning with the lights over his head. The world began to spin to his left, and he tried controlling the nausea like he would in the cockpit of a jet, but for some reason all his normal tricks weren’t working. His stomach churned.

He fell in and out of consciousness.

His eyes opened and then closed. He was on his side, or at least he thought he was. The nausea wasn’t so bad anymore, but his mouth tasted horrible.

He closed his eyes against the spinning.

He was falling backwards now.

And he was so so tired. His head was resting against something soft, now something hard. More voices echoed.

He tried to make them out, but every time he did he only felt more horrible, more nausea building up on his insides.

“Anything.” The voice faded in and out plunging downward, deepening and stretching out for long minutes forcing him to miss the rest of the conversation. He tried to open his eyes, and was almost immediately blinded. The lights above his head warped and twisted stretching one way and then flattening in the other direction.

Then it doubled and they began to dance back and forth against each other.

“Adam.”

The sound echoed in his head as if it had been yelled into a narrow canyon.

He had trouble remembering what the sounds meant.

His head was throbbing.

More lights.

He flinched away squeezing his eyes shut and immediately fell back in. The nausea overcame him again followed by the dizziness and the vertigo until he couldn’t open his eyes. He spun back and forth and back and forth his muscles aching, his body throbbing. The shivering got worse , and it wouldn’t have mattered if there were blankets or not.

He just felt so horrible.

That could have gone on for an eternity as far as he knew. An eternity of spinning, bright lights and echoing voices interspersed with uneasy moments of sleep characterized by horrific nightmares. Nightmares that contained faceless monsters, strange alien creatures and his own inevitable failure.

And then he fell asleep, finally.

It started off in small bouts of silent restfulness, a deep and soothing darkness that relaxed his body and calmed his mind. When he floated towards the surface, almost awake, he could hear voices, and thought that he could at least understand them.

“How is he today, doc?”

“He’s doing better, sleeping more. The drugs took a real toll on his system. I doubt the admiral was entirely correct about what exactly was in those drugs.”

“He’s lucky to have you. He wouldn’t have survived the overdose otherwise.”

And then he was gone again, sinking back down,

He would have had no way of knowing how long he was out, and when he woke up again, just a little clearer than last time, he heard.

“Why not a medically induced coma, at least then he wouldn’t be in pain.”

“I determined that this was the safer decision in the state he is in. Don’t worry, things are slowly getting easier. He’s sleeping hours at a time now.”

Another voice, “no more vomiting, though that may be just because he’s running on empty.”

He let himself sink away this time, finding that he was getting better at controlling it. He stayed longer this time, curled up in the safety of the darkness where it was warm, and pain free. However, this time he was woken up by a voice.

“Dr. Katie thinks you might be able to hear us. Says you sort of drift in and out.” Though the ache in his body was still there the familiarity of the voice eased his mind, “It was…. An honor to fight with you. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances..” A hand rested on his upper arm, “For a human, you make a pretty good Drev.”

Something warm touched his hand, or at least he thought it was his hand. When it pulled away his hand was wet.

“Waffles misses you. We haven’t been able to move her without her getting really agitated.” Something soft caressed against his fingers, a soft whimpering pulsing through the air. Soft waves of air to caress his ears.

He tried to open his eyes, but the dizziness hit him again and, suddenly, he could hardly function. He sunk away again occasionally aware of a furry, warm snout nudging his hand as he slept.

“Hey, Commander…. Adam. yeah anyway, Sunny thinks we should talk to you, so Mav and I are here….er Ramirez.”

“So eloquent.”

“Shut up it's not like he’s expecting a soliloquy, what do you want me to do compose shakespeare.”

“I’d Like to see that.”

“Shut up, anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted/, we are, the crew i mean, are all rooting for you, and we will be here when you’re ready to wake up. Also, please wake up, the spiderlings haven't stopped freaking out since you went under. I can’t exactly tell if they are crying or not but they are making some weird ass noises…. How about you Mav, you got anything to say?”

“Just if you don’t wake up in the next week, I am going to shake you awake and kick your bitch ass for making us wait so long. I am not a patient person.”

“As empathetic as always Mav.”

This time he felt as if he had been asleep for longer, feeling rather than hearing people pass through. He recognizes some return offenders, though some of them were there for a purpose.

“You know, Comm- I mean, Adam. Sometimes I blame you for making me more human. You took away one of the things that made my life easy, and then you gave me empathy. Now I, well having my friends gone hurts. It doesn’t make any logical sense from a proper Vrul standpoint .But you made me into…. Not much of a vrul anymore . You gave me empathy, and friends, and a social life…..” silence, “And I fucking hate it…. But at the same time I don’t. You hear that, I both hate it and don’t hate it at the same time like that is possible. I’m making as much sense as a human .”

More drawn silence.

“Look, I know what you said and how you acted in the suit weren’t you, but I just….. I need….. … I need you to wake up, so I know, so I know that everything is ok between us. The anticipation is killing me more than anything.”

He felt warm inside, and the shivering was dying down. He supposed that was a good thing, and following that moment he thought he might have slept the entire night through, though he could still tell that opening his eyes was going to be a problem. When he awoke, he awoke to a melody, someone signing quietly.

He recognized it, a distant memory from and even more distant childhood.

The song must have been thousands of years old, and for that reason it was….. Sweet.

“Still gets me today that a thousand years ago someone’s mother was singing their baby to sleep with that.”

A soft hand on his.

A gentle touch at the IV in his arm, “Hope you don't mind me singing to myself, or talking. I don’t usually do it when krill is around, he wouldn’t understand. Or maybe he would, but…. It feels weird. I was pretty weird you know, never really figured out why. Guess that’s what I get for wanting to be a librarian when I was little. Became a doctor instead, “ Dr Katie laughed, “My how things change. Its honestly crazy to me you ended up with the exact job you wanted….. Bet you didn’t think it would be this hard ....” She trailed off, and there was silence for a long time before she began to sing to herself again.

Her voice wove patterns through his dreams

Hush little baby don’t say a word

Moma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

He spun slowly around and around in circles descending downward.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing

The warmth grew back up around him, enfolding him from all sides like the embracing arms of a lover.

Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

He could have slept for days after that dreaming on and off barely knowing what was real and what was inside his head. The world didn’t spin anymore, and his body only ached slightly. The nausea was simply a general discomfort through his darkness, and he could ignore it easily enough.

“You better wake up soon. Seems like you have been in here long enough.”

Was that Conn?

Couldn’t be.

“You dirty rat bastard.” Nope that was him alright, “I expect you get out here soon….. It is rather lonely in my head….”

Other hands, other voices, other confessions, some cold some warm, felt through his insides like each person was pouring liquid of different temperatures into his blood, pumping through his chest and heart.

Eventually, the world stopped spinning completely, the echoes died away, and he was left alone in his own head finally with the ability to think consciously, as conscious as he was between bouts of sleep. The nausea was still there, but it might have been due to hunger more than anything else.

The next time he woke up, things were different. The last time it had been as if he was rising through dark water only to be separated from the surface by a pane of one way glass he couldn’t crack.

This time, the pane of glass was gone, and light and sounds poured in around him.

He first became aware of sound, the quiet muttering of conversation, the beeping of machines, and the clattering of tools. Someone was laughing distantly.

Secondly, he was aware of a weight pressed against his side. It was soft and warm, and as he lay there he felt it move. Something rested on his stomach, just under his chest. Whatever it was let off a long drawn out sigh and a yawn.

Lastly , there was light.

For a second he thought he had gone partially blind, but realized his eyes were still closed.

He stayed like that for a little bit, adjusting before.

Flexing his fingers.

And immediately noticed the absence of the steel eye armor.

The relief was incredible.

His hands were stiff, and the joints ached a little, but slowly he was able to open his hand.

Moving was harder, and it brought back the muted ache from earlier.

His fingertips brushed over sheets as his hand moved up brushing fur, and the warm muscled body underneath.

He stroked a hand through Waffle’s fur.

The lifted her head in surprise, then, with a whimper scooted forward resting her head on his chest nosing him with her snout.

He lifted his hand to stroke her ears.

She licked once as his face catching him in the jaw with her warm slimy tongue.

There was a creaking noise just to his side, “Hey, Girl, everything alright?”

The dog whimpered.

Whoever it was stood.

“Krill.”

He tried opening his eyes flooded with light before blinking. The dog whimpered again.

He turned his head from the lights trying to blink away the haze.

“Adam. Can you hear us?”

He blinked a few more times squinting against the light until the world around him slowly resolved, light fading backwards.

First, he saw the ceiling, and the overhead lights, curtain rods with the curtains pulled open, an IV bag, medical machines. Looking down he saw his own feet under blankets, and finally the warm worried eyes of his dog. The look she gave him was one of such sincere concern that, for a moment, he was worried he might be dying. Upon making eye contact she scooted even further forward resting one paw on his chest snuffling at his face and licking him across the cheek.

“Easy girl.” someone said

He turned his head a little further brows still furrowed falling on a familiar spidery form floating to the side.

“Adam?” Krill said again.

It took him a few seconds to understand turning his head to the other side where a tall blue figure was standing her gold eyes struck with worry.

He turned his head back to Krill.

“We’re good.”

The dog continued to nuzzle at him rubbing her head against his shoulder trying to get his attention. Overhead the two aliens relaxed visibly, “What was that?”’ Krill asked leaning forward to look him over.

“You wanted to know….. If we were still good…..” Trying to talk past his dry nasty tasting mouth was unpleasant. He smacked his lips, “And I wanted to say that we are.”

The relief broke even further.

Krill was speechless.

Sunny laughed in relief, or at least the equivalent for a Drev.

Dr. Katie poked her head around from the right side curtain, “You’re awake!”

He had both hands up now patting the dog’s ears as she frantically nuzzled forward tail slapping against the bed railing. His right hand was taped up, the tube of an IV sticking into his hand.

He was still very fuzzy and tired.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than…. I was…. Before.” A light flicked from one eye to the other, and he squinted, “Hey…” Even his mechanical eye didn’t seem pleased.

“Just making sure your brain is in tact.

“It never was.” He mumbled.

The dog had her head resting on his shoulder now, “Surprised you…. Let her stay.”

“I was worried she might bite me.”

Sunny patted the dog’s back.

“Hey, Krill there are a few people at the door come to check in on the Commander.”

“Tell them to stay out. The commander needs his rest.”

Adam raised a hand, “Wait… no… it's ok.”

“You can barely string two words together.” Krill scolded

“Just five minutes and then....” His voice was slightly slurred, “And then I’ll do…. Whatever.”

“Fine, five minutes.”

He closed his eyes briefly listening as feet shuffled across the floor, and soft voices murmured up around him.

“Commander.”

He opened his eyes to see a huddle of marines standing at the end of his bed. Ramirez, Mav, CJ and a few others.

“You alright?”

“Terrific.”

“They must have you on some good drugs.”

“Actually no…. Due to the nature of his stay, he’s actually sober right now.”

The marines laughed, only to be silenced by Krill, “If that’s the case you definitely need sleep.” Ramirez patted his foot, “Don’t let us get in your way, rest, relax, do what you need to do.” They were ushered out as quickly as they had come, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The dog’s breath was warm against his throat from where her head rested on his shoulder.

Off in the corner he watched a set of white ribbons gently waving in the subtle air currents of the ship.”

“Welcome back,” Said a voice, unbidden inside his head.

“Bitch.” he thought.

“Dumbass.” Came the reply

He leaned his head back the pillow cool and soothing against his aching neck. He reached up a hand absently letting it hang in the air until something took it. Sunny’s skin was warm compared to his own.

His head lolled sideways.

And he was gone.

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

Text

chasing visions of our futures: chapter two

a/n: I meant to have this done much earlier today, but at least I got it finished!

word count: 2k

pairing: barry allen x oc

summary: River Matthews decides to cause some chaos in Central City, mostly for fun, but also for the attention she knows she’ll get from The Flash. When he catches her, and she gets a second chance, she has to decide whether she should take it or if there’s no changing for her. There’s a lot more to her the more Barry tries to dig, and the more he does, the more River’s afraid he won’t like what he finds out.

chapter summary: Team Flash has to decide what to do with River, and with Hawthorne’s help, things might start looking up for her.

Being stuck in the Pipeline for this long was already driving River insane. Maybe not literally, but she was extremely bored, and she didn’t handle her boredom well. Not that she could do much about it if she wanted to. Cisco really had done a good job of designing the cells.

While the rest of Team Flash - Hawthorne included - was deciding her fate, River was left to hope she wouldn’t be kept here forever. Yeah, so she’d been causing them a lot of trouble for several days now, but they couldn’t just keep her in here forever, right?

Luckily, Hawthorne came back eventually. She held onto the hope she had that maybe they’d let her go. After all, she could have done a lot worse, and River could be fairly persuasive if she tried. Not that she thought it would matter. Whatever they decided, they’d probably be set on it.

“So, I have some good news and some bad news,” Hawthorne said. “The good news is, apparently, they’re willing to let you out of here."

River, who’d previously been splayed out on the cell floor, shot up to her feet. "Seriously?” Honestly, she hadn’t expected them to actually do it.

“Yes, but on one condition.” That made her pause, the smile she’d had on her face dropping. “I convinced them to give you a chance as long as you try turning a new leaf.”

“What?” River exclaimed. That was practically impossible for her, and she already knew she’d just let them down if she even tried. “What even makes you think I could do that?”

Hawthorne sighed, crossing his arms. “I think you could if you actually tried. You’re not a terrible person, River. Maybe just a bit…misguided.”

That felt like the understatement of the year. She might be worse off than he thought.

River groaned and pressed her forehead against the glass of the cell. This was a lot to process. “Okay, so let’s say for a second that I even entertain that idea. What have I ever done to make you think I can even change?” Even she had her doubts, and she could imagine it would take some time before the team even trusted her if she went along. On the other hand, it might be a nicer alternative to being kept in the Pipeline for however long.

“Not much, but I care about you enough that I did what I could to convince them to give you a chance. Because I know what you’ve been through, and I think you at least deserve that chance.” It was clear that Hawthorne meant it, but she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around his words.

“They’re just stressed out with all the metahumans that are constantly popping up, and they’ve been through a lot, so it might take them some time to warm up to you,” he continued. “But if you just give it a chance, I think you’ll like it a lot better than being stuck with dad for the rest of eternity.”

River sighed and looked away as she let it all sink in. Realistically, she knew he was right, and squandering this chance might be her worst decision ever. “And what happens if I don’t go along with it?”

Hawthorne shrugged, feigning a casual expression. “More than likely, you go to Iron Heights with the rest of the metahumans. Which is just as hard to escape as this cell.”

The odds were stacked against her, and while River could be stubborn and unwilling to cooperate in the worst of circumstances, it was clear to her what her best option was. She’d have to play along.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give it a shot,” she decided. “But I’m not guaranteeing you this will even work.” In fact, she had a very good feeling his misplaced faith in her was only going to bite him in the ass eventually.

“I only ask that you try.”

Hawthorne relayed her decision to the rest of the team, and he came back with Caitlin to let her out. Of course, they were going to watch her like a hawk now that she was free, but River much preferred it to the boring cell she’d be stuck in otherwise.

“Are you ready for the bad news?” Hawthorne asked once she was free. In her eagerness, she forgot there even was a bad end to all this.

“I suppose.”

“I have my own team to work with, so I won’t be around much. So, as much as I’d love to have you stay with me, I won’t be in Central City to keep an eye on you. I’m a little busy with the Legends,” he explained. “But Caitlin’s agreed to show you around while I sort out everything else I need to.”

Admittedly, the thought of exploring a little was exciting. S.T.A.R. Labs seemed like a pretty big place, and to say she didn’t think it could be cool to look around would be a lie. “Sounds fun,” River said.

Hawthorne patted her back, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be around for a little longer before I have to head out."

With that, he left her with Caitlin. River followed her around the building, curiously looking around. Already, she could tell she was bound to get lost on her own, at least for a while. She tried to create a mental map, which was easier said than done. Still reeling from the fact that she was even here, she’d only caught half of what Caitlin was saying in her tour of the lab. Part of her felt bad for not totally listening, but another part of her wondered why she even felt bad at all. Really, her thoughts and emotions were all over the place, but she made a mental note to thank her brother sometime for getting her out of the Pipeline. From what she could tell, he was pretty good friends with everyone on Team Flash, which was probably the biggest deciding factor in her release. Otherwise, she was sure she wouldn’t be following Caitlin through the halls.

River snapped out of her thoughts as they stopped in Cisco’s workshop. The only other person in the room, though, was another man who was definitely not Cisco. And he was throwing things out of frustration.

"This is Harry,” Caitlin explained, seemingly not even fazed by his behavior. “Don’t worry. This is normal for him."

It was almost comforting how strange everyone on the team was. At least from her perspective. While she still had her doubts about this working out, she felt a little better knowing she probably wasn’t much stranger than them, or at least that they’d probably accept how different she was if they could accept Harry’s weird outbursts.

"I can tell,” River said. Not the strangest thing she’d seen.

Caitlin pulled her away, letting Harry work through his problem as they finished up the tour. “Don’t worry if you get a little lost right away. It take a little adjusting to this place for everyone.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s bigger than I thought.” Though she didn’t say it, it was kind of exciting. She could definitely get used to this. And, if she was being honest, she kind of enjoyed listening to Caitlin, at least for as much as she’d listened.

“Well, I’ll be here if you ever need help,” Caitlin assured her. “We’re all supposed to make sure you’re supervised until we can fully trust you, but that wasn’t my idea.”

River wasn’t too surprised, and she wouldn’t have expected otherwise. It was probably a fair call, though. A smart move on their end. No doubt they knew better than to trust a stranger right away, especially someone they’d been trying to catch for a few days now.

“Speaking of which,” Caitlin continued, “We figured, since Hawthorne’s usually busy, you probably need somewhere to stay. So, I volunteered to let you stay with me for a while.”

Of all the people River could have ended up with, she seemed the most tolerable. Caitlin hadn’t been anything but kind so far, which kind of threw her off guard, admittedly, but it was kind of nice.

“You’re really sure you want me around?” Caitlin nodded, a smile still present on her face. “Alright, but I’m a lot to handle being around for that long.”

She didn’t seem too dissuaded, oddly enough. “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse,” Caitlin said.

Seeing as it was getting pretty late, Caitlin wrapped up and let everyone know they were heading out. Everyone seemed worried about leaving her with River, even if they didn’t say. And surely Caitlin knew her friends well enough to see it, too, but she didn’t seem to carry the same unease as the rest of them. She simply dismissed it and lead the way to her apartment.

Caitlin’s apartment seemed nice than anywhere River had ever lived, though her standards weren’t very high. Hell wasn’t exactly a great place, so anywhere might have been nicer. Just from looking around, she could tell Caitlin must be a neat person. Nothing was really out of place, and she didn’t seem to leave many messes, if any.

Figuring River must be hungry, Caitlin found something for them to snack on in the meantime. Though she’d eaten a little while in her cell, she would never turn down food, and she did often found herself hungry quicker than she knew was probably normal. So the thoughtfulness didn’t go unappreciated.

It really was strange having someone actually being kind and concerned for her, even if it was just small things. It was just new and different, in a good way.

Caitlin made sure River was set for the night so she could sleep well. Tomorrow, they’d work on some training and getting her used to working with everyone else, so she’d need as much sleep as she could get. River knew that would be hard with how much difficulty she had sleeping, as if her brain refused to shut off, but she didn’t worry Caitlin with that. She could deal with it herself.

Once River had a decent layout of the house in case she needed the bathroom in the middle of the night or anything else, Caitlin let her be and went to her room to rest. As she’s expected of herself, River couldn’t sleep right away. Which was fine. It was normal for her. But now she had so much time to herself, and therefore more time to think.

Today had been so strange. Such a whirlwind as everything changed. If it hadn’t been for her brother, she wouldn’t be here right now, and though they had a lot of problems to sort out between each other, she greatly appreciated his help. And Caitlin was probably the first person to show her any kindness in a long time. As strange as it was, River welcomed it. And though she had some concerns and doubts about joining a team of heroes, she was kind of glad they’d even given her a chance. They certainly didn’t have to, though she knew it was mainly to do with Hawthorne.

This could be the start of something much better. And if she had anything to say about it, she was going to make the most of it while she could. River thought back to what Hawthorne said about her being misguided. By all means, she knew he was right. She might have done some horrible things - things she often regretted when she stop to think about it - but it wasn’t the end of the world for her. There might still be a chance for her after all.

It was with that small shred of hope that River actually found herself growing tired. It had been a long day, and she was far too comfortable not to feel sleepy. Her last thought before letting sleep take over was, I hope I don’t let them down too much.

#barry allen #the flash #the flash cw #barry allen x reader #barry allen x original character #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #the flash imagine #the flash x oc #the flash x original character

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gwenore · 3 years

Text

The Demon’s Opera house. Chapter 21.

Chapter 21: The masquerade begins.

---

The large concert hall was a veritable explosion of light, music and color so much that it hardly seemed to be a part of the hedonistic feywilde rather than any place on earth… It seemed like the world of grey and drudgery for one night had been some bad nightmare compared to this world which only would exist for one night inside these doors.

Meg stared around in absolute wonder at such splendor…

Of course being a part of the opera she had seen glimpses into this world on stage… but this… it was absolutely grand…

This was the world which only so very few people would be able to partake in. Of course there was a part of her which wanted that more than she could really say… It was just so…

Wonderful.

“Enjoying the sights?” she heard Raoul’s voice from behind her as she spun around to see him standing there with a grin upon his lips.

“It is beautiful…” she said with amazement in her words.

He let out a soft sound as he nodded his head. “Suppose it is.”

“You cannot say that this is some of the most wonderful things that you have ever seen!” Meg declared as she mentioned her hand out towards everything.

Raoul looked around, again giving a shrug of his shoulder, the shoulder cape of his costume flowing with as he did so.

“Not too much different than any other masquerade…” he had seen so many through his life, having been dragged through far too many. It was a lot of fun though. But oh well…

He laughed softly as the look on Meg’s face was showing that she was seemingly deathly offended at his statement.

“But it is certainly a nice one,” he said with a soft tone in his voice, laughing softly.

This seemed to appease her somewhat and she let out a soft breath, having to roll her eyes slightly at him.

“So…” Raoul glanced around. “Has Christine arrived yet?”

Meg swallowed slightly as she glanced around, shaking her head.

“No… I have not seen her,” she said.

“She didn’t arrive with the rest of you from the opera house?” Raoul had to raise a brow. It had been a very pleasant surprise when Christine had declared that she would join the masquerade.

He hadn’t seen her much as he had been very busy with the arrangements and being practically in charge of everything. Even if it mostly meant signing off on things and shutting down some of the more outrageous ideas which came from the managers…

The peacocks would have been a disaster…

But he had seen that she was of much higher spirits than she had been in a long time. It seemed that dark sky which had been hanging over her for some time had practically vanished.

It made him so happy to be able to see his old friend like that again.

It felt like it had been such a long time since he had seen her so carefree and happy.

He could only hope that he would be able to see that often from now on, and that whatever gloom which had held her in its grasp was now banished for good.

He simply wanted to see his friend smile again… more than anything that was something that he wanted.

“She said that her tutor would bring her last time we spoke.”

Raoul perked up his head at Meg’s words. He hadn’t heard that before, she must have neglected to tell him… or not wanted him to know.

“She didn’t tell you?” Meg questioned.

“I suppose that it slipped her mind…” Raoul glanced down ever so slightly.

“There has been much going on as of late, so no wonder that she has plenty on her mind…” Meg shrugged her shoulders.

Raoul nodded his head.

“I believe that you are right in that,” he said with a soft laugh, though he could not keep from feeling rather… uneasy.

He couldn’t explain why he felt like that…

But there was something in the air which… which told him of a dark foreboding. Raoul wasn’t used to feeling this way.

In fact a criticism which had often been levied against him was that he was far too frivolous in his cares and only saw the bright side of the world rather than its harsh reality.

But now…

In this splendor where it should be so easy to simply enjoy the grandeur of it all… he felt as a dark shadow had entered the place.

Come to think of it…

It had usually only been something that he had felt around the opera house, but… he had always chalked it up to the fact that it was a rather eerie building.

At times he wondered what on earth the architect must have thought when he made some of the decisions that he did.

No wonder people believed that he had been influenced by some sort of demon.

Of course Raoul knew that was practically laughable, but the man was clearly not in his right mind. A genius perhaps, but a mad one.

With the fact that he had hung himself on opening night were enough proof to say that the man was very troubled indeed.

Still… he had no idea what had come over him. Perhaps he should find himself more to drink… even if he wasn’t entirely certain if that would do him any good, but it might just take his mind off things and allow him to enjoy the evening.

That was something that he felt was sorely needed at this point.

“There she is!”

Raoul had been so lost in his own thoughts that he practically startled that hearing Meg’s voice breaking through his fog.

Turning around he saw her, dressed up as a most magnificent angel in shimmering white and silver fabric, him able to see two small wings just peaking out from above her shoulders.

Her face was hidden by a feather decorated mask with silver beading and together with her golden hair she did truly look like an angel…

More so than words could really say.

Raoul could not help but to be absolutely enthralled by her.

However… part of what made her shine so bright was the man by her side who was the darkness to Christine’s light.

He was tall and lanky and all dressed in a blood red which looked even darker next to Christine offset by a dark mask which covered most of his face which curved into two long black horns.

“Mephistopheles…”

The name seemed to fall out of Raoul’s mouth.

No doubt this was the figure that his brother had seen that time in the opera house. If he was dressed like that it was no doubt that his brother would say such a thing…

Then again his brother had said that he only had one horn and that it wasn’t attached to the mask.

In fact his brother had been unable to figure out how it did attach as he still would wonder about that all this time later.

Perhaps that was an earlier version of this costume… though that admittedly didn’t make all that much sense as the masquerade had not yet been discussed at that point. Or perhaps it had and Raoul hadn’t been told about it yet.

Though that seemed almost impossible as it seemed strange that Firmin and Andre would speak about that with some musical tutor… whom he had never once heard them name or speak about at all… before the one that they had to ask for money from.

Then again… who would walk around dressed as the devil without there being a reason for it?

Raoul still felt absolutely lost, but… he knew that there was something off about this man.

Hell… if someone could be confused for a demon… he did not doubt that he would be a good contender for that…

Again… Raoul hardly believed in any of that…

“Hmm… at least we will finally be able to meet with this mysterious… tutor…” he said as he moved over towards where Christine and this mysterious man was standing.

Christine was feeling as if her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. Erik had led her out into the another part of the maze next to the chapel that they had been living in that she had never been before.

It was impossible to see anything in there, and it was clear this was how Erik got around town. She wondered if it was part of the Parisian sewer system… but she didn’t see much in the way of water… at least in that area…

They seemed to have been going up at least and they then came to a door which Erik opened showing that they were in an alleyway rather close to where the masquerade was being held.

“It is as close as we can get… there is a bit of a walk… will you be alright?” he asked, even with his mask she could see concern in those red eyes.

“My legs still work Erik. Besides most are walking from the opera house or other places, not many can actually afford taking a wagon that work there,” she pointed out.

“Still… you deserve to be taken in the grandest of wagons… not sneaking around like this…” Erik muttered mostly to himself.

Christine shook her head. “I am perfectly fine. But come! we have a wonderful night ahead of us!” she exclaimed as she took his arm and led him into the hall.

Inside Erik had to take a deep breath. He had never been among so many people before. Before this… he had only been able to watch from afar…

Now he was in the middle of everything and that… that was something which he had never thought he would be ever able to do.

He gritted his teeth slightly, feeling a bit frustrated at this human world which he had always been shut out from due to the circumstances of his birth.

Feeling the young woman pressing his arm against her body that frustration only grew.

He knew that he was not able to give her anything of what she deserved. She did not complain… she certainly was not the type to do that…

But to think that she would be so deprived by being with him.

Still… at least he could give her this night at the very least.

To see how her blue eyes sparkled in amazement and that smile on her lips…

He wanted to give her more of that. Oh, how he wanted to bask in the sunlight of her smile for an eternity…

He would never need the sun if he had that...

Christine could not really believe what she was seeing… this place… it was so magical…

The lights… the people… the colors! The sounds!

It was… magic. That was the only way that Christine could describe what she was seeing before her.

There was something exciting about everyone hiding behind a mask… which was the very reason that the man beside her was able to be here.

But… with someone like Erik being able to hide behind a mask… what else were hiding in this place?

Christine could not imagine that demons were a common occurrence, but… if it happened once… then it could happen again. Moreover if demons existed did that not mean that angels did as well?

What of all the other beings which she thought were only myth until now?

She wanted to ask Erik, but had a feeling that he would tease her for her curiosity… besides… did Erik know?

She supposed he would, at least better than most, but…

It wasn’t as if his father had been in his life to teach him these things so…

It would make sense if he didn’t.

Still…

Christine knew that she had to ask.

She glanced over at said man, the mask covering his face. She could not see his expression and how the rage which was branded on his face.

In this moment, Christine could feel nothing but joy… oblivious to the reason that Erik was burning hotter than usual.

It was a warning which would come back to haunt her.

“Oh! There is Meg and Raoul!” She exclaimed excitedly. Erik let out a low sigh. He had noticed Raoul a long time before she did, his very presence a sting to his own soul.

Still… there was not much which he could do about this so he just gave a graceful nod towards it.

“Well…” he then murmured. “Suppose we should give our greetings.”

Christine swallowed. “Are we certain that is wise?” she questioned.

Erik let out a sigh. “At this point… I believe it to be our best option if we wish to avoid even more questions coming your way,” he explained to her.

Christine nodded her head. To avoid her two best friends would without a doubt make them ask questions as to the nature of her relationship with Erik.

They already did after all…

Avoiding them… that she knew would not end well.

“Then…” she said with a nervous tone to her voice. “Let us go greet them…”

#the demon's opera house #poto erik/christine #poto fic #poto demon erik fic #poto e/c

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