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justnerdy15 · 8 months

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Flash Fiction Friday "Found Family" (daily snippet 9.1.23)

wip: Heiress of the Night prompt: @flashfictionfridayofficial found family background: Greenie (Khalil) gets seriously injured; Evangeline and Newbie (Felicity) talk. summary: family doesn't always get along, but that doesn't make them any less a family. wc: 1000

They had to take him to the ER. Through the back, to a doctor Aunt Cass knew, letting Greenie disappear into the throng of people, a John Doe. Wheeled off to surgery.

Her eyes are sore, puffy and dry, and she knows, distantly, that she go wash up. Wash away the blood caked on to her hands, her face; the dirt underneath her nails, debris in her palms. But she just can’t bring herself to get off the floor, tucked away in the corner of the doctor’s office, letting the cold concrete walls seep into her back.

A tap at the door.

Evangeline glances over to the door, breathing out slowly, before calling out. “Come in,” she says, voice like gravel. She clears her throat. “Come in.”

The door slowly swings open before familiar blonde hair peaks into the room, looking in the wrong direction.

“Over here,” Evangeline says, letting her head drop back, exhaustion settling on her shoulders. “What is it?”

Newbie steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind her, and stands there, arms wrapped across her stomach. “Nothing,” she replies, voice scratchy. Her earlier cries are still echoing in Evangeline’s ears, raw and desperate. “Cassandra told me to wait in here.”

Humming, she closes her eyes, and gestures vaguely to the rest of the room. “Have at it.”

Light footsteps. A soft groan. A thump as she settles into a chair.

Silence settles between them, heavy and tense, and she knows she should say something. Whether to berate her or comfort her, Evangeline doesn’t know, but she’s too tired either way to care.

“I’m sorry.”

The small apology fills the room. She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry, so she shakes her head, jaw clenching to keep either from escaping.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” Newbie repeats, foot scuffing against the tile floor. “I —”

“This is the second time,” Evangeline says, interrupting the younger woman, hands fisting against her stomach. “This is the second time he has gotten hurt protecting you.”

“I know.”

“And this is the third time you’ve disobeyed orders.”

Sniffling. “I know.”

“Just because you are not my trainee does not mean that you get to ignore me.”

“I kno —”

“Stop. Stop saying ‘I know’ when we keep having to have this conversation,” Evangeline bites out, irritation spiking. “I’m tired of apologies; either your actions start changing or you can leave.”

A moment passes and against her better judgement, Evangeline opens her eyes and looks over at Newbie.

Her head is bent down, dirty hair covering her face, but Evangeline can hear the hitch in her breathing, sees how her hand wipes at her face every couple of seconds, and just as filthy as Evangeline is.

Dammit.

She plants one hand on the floor, groaning as she pushes herself up, limbs stiff and sore, until she’s able to rock to her feet. Newbie glances up at her, tear-streaked cheeks shiny underneath the florescent lights. She makes a confused noise which Evangeline waves off as she goes to the door.

Ducking into the thankfully empty hallway, she makes her way to the bathroom, back twinging at every step.

She ignores the mirror, not wanting to see the face that would stare back at her, and opens the paper towel dispenser, taking a thick stack of towels out. Turning the faucet on, she waits until the water runs hot before running the stack underneath the stream. Once they’re adequately damp, she squeezes them a bit before returning to the doctor’s office.

Evangeline doesn’t bother knocking, letting herself in before someone spots her, and walks over to Newbie. She drops the stack of paper towels onto the counter and nudges Newbie’s foot with her own. “Sit up,” she says, nudging her again. “C’mon.”

Newbie scrubs at her face, but she does as Evangeline tells her, straightening up. She keeps glancing up at her face before looking away, knee jumping up and down, and her chest stutters with shaky breaths.

Evangeline picks up the first towel, reaching down to gently hold Newbie’s chin in her hand, and starts to wipe at her face, picking up dirt and blood with each swipe of the towel. She pats at a shallow cut, shushing Newbie when she winces, and picks up another towel. “You don’t want these getting infected,” she says, her voice low, making her way up Newbie’s cheekbone.

Newbie sniffs, her eyes falling shut, and relaxes into Evangeline’s hold, letting her head turn as needed.

“I’m sorry.”

Newbie’s eyes pop open and she looks up at Evangeline.

Evangeline presses on. “I’m sorry,” she says again, “I shouldn’t have said that. And I certainly didn’t mean what I said about you leaving. I just —” She sighs heavily and picks up another towel. “I’m scared and I’m angry, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

“You’re scared?”

She nods. “You know, Greenie’s my first trainee? It’s kind of a big deal.” She switches to Newbie’s other side. “I’m afraid I’m going to fuck it up. That I already have.”

Newbie tries to shake her head. “Khalil adores you. Seriously, I’m pretty sure he thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

That startles a laugh out of Evangeline while Newbie flushes. “Really?” she asks, amused.

“Well, don’t tell him I said that.” Newbie hesitates. “I, uh, was actually really jealous. When he told me you were going to be his mentor. I was kind of a bitch for a while if we’re being honest. I don’t know why he puts up with me sometimes.”

Evangeline huffs and blots a towel at her hairline. “He’s a good one.” She looks down at Newbie. “So are you, by the way. You two drive me crazy, but I am glad you're here.”

Newbie smiles faintly before looking down. “He is going to be okay, right? Khalil’s going to be okay.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“I hope so.”

#my writing #flashfictionfridayofficial #wip: heiress of the night #original fiction

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desastre-gay · 1 year

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I put a spell on you (and now you're mine) Chapter 4: Sweet little Theseus

‘I’m going to kill that motherfucker.’

Tommy’s fear has since been replaced with homicidal urges, bloodlust flooding his mind with images of Schlatt’s fear stricken face coated in a layer of his own blood. To Phil he just looks like a fussy baby, eyebrows scrunched together and lips set into a pout.

‘I’m gonna bash his fucking skull in.’

“Aw, hi mate, are you hungry? Is that why you’re so fussy?” Oblivious to Tommy’s internal monologue, Phil begins to sway slightly as he walks up and down the hallway, waiting for his sons. He hums airily, staring down at Tommy with a fond look of amusement.

“Sweet little Theseus. My baby.” A glint of possessiveness shines in his eyes, a flash of green illuminating the space around them as the blond’s soft smile twists into something greedy. The baby and ancient witch fall into a staring contest, but the witch’s attention is soon caught by the slam of a door behind him, head turning.

Tommy can just barely catch a glimpse of Wilbur, trench coat billowing behind him at the force he used to close the carved door, before he is situated so that he is facing into Phil’s collarbone. The sound of hooves clicking against the floor echo down the corridor until they can’t be heard anymore.

“Well?”

“It’s been taken care of.” The giddiness is easy to detect in Wilbur’s voice as he skips to Phil’s side, stopping to glance at Tommy. “Wow I forgot about the literal baby we just stole.”

Phil squawks, “We didn’t steal him! We rescued him from that fiend.” He rocks the infant who hadn’t settled and shushes him quietly. At the sound of someone clearing their throat, both men turn to face the third who was trailing behind the brunet.

“So, what are we gonna do with that thing?” His eyes subtly shifting to Theseus and the protective hold Phil has around him, a knowing look spreading across his mostly concealed face.

“Well I’ve been thinking… Wilbur’s always wanted a little brother. I’m practically an empty nester at this point.” The man mentioned visibly preens, enthused with the idea culminating in Phil’s mind. “And I haven’t exactly been able to dote on you guys…”

‘I do not like where this is going.’ Tommy wants to scream, to object whatever little plan they’re concocting, but all he can manage is a high pitched whine which gathers everyone’s attention to him once again. The pink haired man’s face scrunches, anger and annoyance made apparent all at once, as he goes to speak he is cut off.

“Phil-”

“It’s not like we know anyone who can take him in!”

“I’ll find someone.” He huffs, trying to find a solution that isn’t the one Phil is hurtling towards at full speed.

“He won’t even take up much room, you’ll barely notice him.” The winged man is almost begging by now, voice raising to avoid the desperation seconds away from seeping into it.

“No.”

“Tech-”

“No.”

Distantly a door can be heard slamming open as Tech turns and begins to walk away in a quick but calculated manner. “I’ll see you at home, and that thing better not be with you.” Casting one last glare at the child, he disappears through the exit, door slamming behind him causing a residual shake to the walls. Phil flinches whilst Wilbur scoffs.

“What’s his problem?” The brunet turns to face Phil, attending to Tommy who was turned to face outwards, “Hi little one! Oh, you’re like a little ray of sunshine aren’t you?” His fingers wiggle in front of a petite nose, a childish wave meant to comfort him, but all it manages to accomplish is confusing the babe.

‘Fucking weirdo. I’m not actually a baby, and you know it!’ Angry babbles tumble from his mouth, drool following along which Phil catches with his long robes.

“I think someone's hungry.” The eldest man hums as he bounces Tommy, “Hold him for me will you?” Rather than answering, Wilbur holds his arms out to accept the infant, settling him against his chest and smoothing his thumb over the soft round cheeks.

Phil turns to stride down the hallway, entering a door to his right, whilst Tommy gets accustomed to the taller man who holds his very tiny life in the palm of his hands. Sheer adoration coats his features, a shiver racing down his spine as he reaches out with his own magic to identify the babe’s. It’s warm and soft, a jarring contrast to his own - cold and rigid.

“You really are my very own sunshine, warm and bright.” He raises his free hand to tickle the pudgy stomach, causing a joyful and musical giggle to flood into Wilbur’s ears, warming him even further. Immediately Tommy has made his way into a corner of the man’s heart, welcomed with open arms.

‘Why are you looking at me like that? You wanna fight? Come at me, bastard!’

The moment between them is over too soon as Phil returns in a new slightly darker green robe, holding a baby bottle in one hand and a soft looking yellow blanket in the other. He spots his boys bonding and smiles, coming to stand in front of the duo and presenting the bottle to Wilbur.

“You can try and feed him if you want.” He turns his smile down to the golden haired child before feeling Will take the bottle, watching as he tries to push the teat into the baby’s mouth. Tommy stubbornly swivels his head away, pouting and wiggling against the older man’s chest.

‘I’m not a fucking baby! I don’t want that shit, it's probably poisoned.’ He adamantly stays turned away, even as his stomach gurgles with hunger, until he is taken by Phil again who begins to swaddle him in the blanket. Up close there’s a distinct scent of cologne and smoke - Wilbur - and he can make out initials in the corner, ‘W.S’. The blanket is fluffy and smooth against his skin, the constriction not alarming him in the slightest as it instead comforts him.

“I’ll hold him still with this, you try and get him to drink from the bottle.” Tommy is distracted as Phil’s voice is followed by his wings unfurling and coming to curl around them, encasing him in a soothing shadow. So distracted in fact, he doesn’t register that he is suckling on a foreign object, milk flowing into his mouth and quelling his hunger one mouthful at a time.

“There we go.” Relief coats Wilbur’s words as he keeps a steady hold on the bottle, using his other hand to push back Tommy’s curls, “Just needed a little encouragement huh?”

“He’s so sweet…” The ancient witch starts, tone awed and soft, “How Schlatt could offer him to us for power is beyond me.” The reminder of Schlatt sends a jolt through the little one, milk choking him and causing him to cough harshly.

The bottle is removed and he’s abruptly lifted to a green clad shoulder, familiar hands rubbing circles on his back and occasionally patting to help him cough up the fluid.

‘That fucking sucked I hope you choke and die. I hope you never have a wife and that women avoid you forever.’ Misery sweeps through him at the uncomfortable feeling in his throat and chest, drool and milk dripping from his lips to the green robes - ruining yet another set.

“Maybe we can feed him again later, do we have any other meetings scheduled for today?” The remnants of panic lace his words as he clutches the arms of his trench coat, nails digging into the material.

“I don’t think so, Techno would’ve stayed if we did.” The patting to his back stops as Phil speaks, “I think it's about time we head home anyway, the little one is probably getting tired.” Almost as if the words foretold a prophecy, Tommy begins to feel his eyes closing on their own, even as he fights to keep them open.

The swaying caused by Phil’s walking gait lulls him into a fitful sleep, plagued with nightmares and visions of horror which he has grown used to over the years. He wakes once the footsteps stop, blearily searching the new space he finds himself in.

The room is homely, walls full of family photographs and shelves lined with trinkets and potted plants. Candles linger in the air, moving slightly with the circulating wind but never extinguishing. A looming bookcase stands against the wall with an archway, leading to what Tommy can only assume is a kitchen and dining room, filled with books of spells and myths. The home is normal, which is strange.

The only thing that stands out is the pink haired man stood in the centre of the living room, arms crossed and face set in anger, an axe hanging from one of his hands.

#tommyinnit #philza minecraft #technoblade #wilbur soot #sbi au #sbi family dynamic #found family #dark sbi #possessive behaviour #inspired by hocus pocus #dream smp #magic au

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shootthemessenger · 3 years

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i did things to you only lovers would do in the dark [b.d.h ; w.v.]

part 1

billie dean howard x fem!reader x wilhemina venable

requested: something with billie dean howard (and/or wilhemina) where they are friends with reader parents? maybe reader and billie/mina get involved just for fun but they start to fall for each other and don't know what to do about it. Would love to read how they got together in the first place [anonymous]

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, prominent age gap (all legal), teacher x student relationship, gets fairly nsfw

not edited

gif belongs to @hotel-a-h-s , @stupidl0ve

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You huffed, loosing yourself within the math notes on your desk as clear frustration dripped from your features.

“Excuse me, miss y/l/n. Do you have something to share?” Ms. Venable’s voice interrupted your loathing as you sheepishly moved to meet her eyes. Her face was stern, glasses settled on her nose neatly to complete the look. The stirring in your stomach causes you to clear your throat. Her eyebrow quirked upwards, a questioning look beckoning you to speak.

You fought the deep blush creeping up your neck and cleared your throat, “No. I’m sorry, Ms.” an apologetic look made its way onto your face.

The professor simply rolled her eyes as she crossed her hands over the stand in front of her, “Pay attention in my class.” It took all you had not to slide downward into your seat out of embarrassment but you held your composure and forced yourself to listen to the rest of her lesson.

By the time it was over you were quick to scoop your belongings into your backpack and prepare for your walk home. But Ms. Venable has other plans as her voice interrupted you once again to call you towards her office.

You sheepishly followed her, stomach burning in fear at the lecture you were sure you were about to receive. When you finally reached her desk she watched you closely, “You know, I expect you to actually listen in my class miss y/l/n. This is the third time this week I’ve had to correct your behavior. Your grade is significantly dropping and if you swing below a ‘D’ I’ll have to force you to drop the class.” She spoke pointedly, her lips moving slowly as your eyes practically glued to them.

“Of course Ms. Venable, it won’t happen again.” She mumbled something along the lines of, ‘i hope not’ and dismissed you from her desk. You promptly shuffled away from the woman, stomach fluttering partly from embarrassment and partly from intimidating attraction.

When you finally did arrive home you searched for something that was going to take your mind off of your interaction with Ms. Venable; party due to the fact that you were in no mood to deal with the turned-on feeling she tended to give you.

You finally settled on working, desperately attempting to catch up on the fine details you needed to hash out for a new project at your parent’s company; which you had only recently started working at.

At some point you had lost track of time, and by the time you had come to the sun was disappearing behind the hills and leaving you with little light beside the glowing screen of your laptop.

You could tell it was rolling into late evening; it must have been nearly eight o’clock. You finally decided to close your laptop, standing to stretch your aching muscles as your bones popped.

Distantly, your mother’s voice sounded from somewhere in the house. When you opened the door to your office, the hallway was dark and empty but the voices and sound of clicking silverware echoed from the dining room.

“Mom?” You called softly down the hallway, hearing some of the movement in the other room cease.

“Yes dear?” She questioned back, beckoning you down the hallway. When you moved into the open space, two sets of eyes landed on you along with your parents’.

“Honey, I’d like you to meet Billie Dean Howard and her girlfriend, Wilhemina Venable. Ladies, this is our daughter; y/n.” Your father introduced, motioning to the two woman across from him.

Ms. Venable caught your eyes first, coaxing a nervous smile onto your already-blushing face. Your breath caught in your throat as you gathered the courage to speak, “oh-uh...I know Ms. Venable.” You attempted to swallow the embarrassment.

A wicked smile spread across the red-heads face, “Miss y/l/n, is one of my favorite students.” Her voice was unusually soft, something you could only assume to be a result of the casual setting you were in.

The blonde beside her smiled a much softer smile at you, “Oh, I’ve heard lots about you.” She purred, her voice soft and exciting in the most amazing way. Wilhemina hummed in agreement, the smirk not leaving her face.

She could see your flustered state and you assumed Billie could too because her smile was just as wicked, butterflies building in your stomach the longer the two women stared at you.

Despite the tension, obviousness consumed both of your parents as your mother broke the silence, “Billie Dean here is going to star in a show we’re producing.”

“You’re welcome to join us.” Your mother spoke once more and motioned towards their meal, causing the three of you to break the trance you were in. You smiled politely, “No thank you, I’ve still got work to do. I just came for a glass of water.”

A dissapointed look flashed across both women’s faces as you moved to the cupboards. You could feel them watching you, feel their eyes burning holes into your back.

“Y/n, here, has recently taken over a sector of our company. She hopes to inherent it all one day.” You father chimed in, causing you to smile softly as you poured your glass.

“Be careful, Miss Billie Dean, she could be your boss one day.” He joked, chuckling softly. Billie’s eyes met your, intimidatingly winking. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind.” She spoke, lifting the glass of wine to her lips as her eyes traveled over your body before meeting yours again.

You cleared your throat and the inherently sexual gesture and shuffled back towards the hallway. As you exited the dining room, you called back to them without turning, “It was nice to see you!” A small chorus of pleasantries sounded back to you as you made your way back to your office.

When the door finally closed a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Your glass clattered as you set it on your desk, trying to recover yourself from the sexual-tension you had been feeling.

It had been some time since you had settled back down at your desk, little to no sounds were coming from the rest of the house and you could have only assumed the dinner had ended.

Your eyes were growing tired as you sat back in your chair. A knock at your office door startled you, causing you to sit up quickly as you welcomed whoever it was to come in.

Billie Dean’s face peaked in from the hallway, a sweet smile plastered across her features, “Your mother told me to go over this paperwork with you before we left.” She stated softly, bitting down on her bottom lip.

Wilhemina’s figure could be seen looming behind her, no doubt peaking in at you from the hallway.

You smiled at Billie, adjusting your position in the chair before motioning them to sit in the chairs across from you, “Sit, please.”

They both moved in and settled in their respective seats, Billie passed the paperwork to you as you moved your glasses onto your face to look at it.

“So I suspect this is why you’ve been so distracted in my class.” Wilhemina finally spoke up to soothe the silence. You laughed softly, typing away at your computer.

“I’m learning to juggle, Ms. Venable.” You glanced briefly at her before your eyes traveled back to the computer. “Please, call me Wilhemina. No need for formalities outside the classroom.”

Your smile grew, “Of course, Wilhemina.” You could almost swear you heard her take a sharp breath but chose to ignore it as you passed a paper towards Billie, “will you sign here please.”

Billie took the paper and pen, following your orders before taking the end of the pen between her teeth. “Here you go, sweetheart.” She passed it back to you.

The breathy moan that rumbled in your throat at the nickname sounded just under your breath and you hoped no one had heard as you continue combing through the paperwork.

“I think she liked that, honey.” Wilhemina spoke light-heartedly, making your heart nearly drop to your stomach. You stuttered as you attempted to cover it up with an excuse, failing miserably when nothing coherent came out.

Billie’s smile transformed into a dark smirk, “Did you like that?” You did what you could to muster up a nod, not daring to meet either of their eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

“Look at her when she’s talking to you.” Wilhemina’s sharp voice interrupted the thick air, a playful tone hiding underneath the sterness. Your heart fluttered as you quickly looked up at the both of them.

A ‘good girl’ from one woman was followed by an ‘oh, and she’s good at following directions’ from another. You swallowed thickly and struggled to maintain eye contact with the both of them.

Billie pushed herself out of her seat, a frown making its way to your face at the assumption that she was preparing to leave. When she noticed your expression a laugh tumbled from her lips, echoing as she moved around the desk and behind you.

Her fingers danced softly against your shoulder as her head dropped until her mouth was hovering just above your ear, “Just let me know if you want me to stop.” Her teeth grazed against your earlobe.

You were quick to shake your head as Billie began to travel down your neck, surely leaving marks along her way. “Look at me.” Wilhemina spoke up, quickly being rewarded with eye contact from you.

The dark look in Wilhemina’s eyes mixed with the feeling of Billie’s lips sucking at the soft skin of your shoulder forced a moan from your lips; one that seemed to please both women as they hummed in unison.

“You look so pretty whimpering underneath her.” Wilhemina seemed to be speaking from a distance as your eyes fluttered closed; soaking in the feeling Billie was giving you with her lips exploring your exposed skin.

Billie paused, her lips sliding back up to your ear, “Fuck, what I would give to watch you fall apart all over Mina’s fingers.” She moaned softly after her statement, nails digging into your skin just enough for you to feel it. You whimpered, desperate for either woman to give you some sort of release.

Before you knew what was happening, both women were moving towards the door as your mother’s voice called through the house, “Billie Dean? Are you ladies still here?”

Billie used her thumb to correct her lipstick, locking eyes with you before swinging the office door open, “Just leaving, Mrs. y/l/n. Thank you for everything.” She winked at you before moving into the hallway. She mouthed a quick ‘we’re not done here’.

Wilhemina locked eyes with you before smiling, “I expect you to be focused in class tomorrow, miss y/l/n.” With that, both women stepped away and the door was pulled shut.

Man, you were in for one hell of a time.

Taglist:

@mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl

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krabmeat · 3 years

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𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Wilbur Soot

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: he/him

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: physical pain descriptions, paranoia, overdose, hospitalization, alarms, descriptions of hallucinations

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

this is the 2nd part to my 7 part series of making all of the songs from YCGMA into short stories! this one is for saline solution, hope ya like it! :]

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One, two, three and four

The seconds tick by on the clock in my workroom. The sound sensitive LED border of the clock lights up whenever I cough. I find it hard to breathe, the wheezes between breaths are loud, so I take a puff of my inhaler sitting on my desk next to my pc. It’s been difficult to walk lately, I’ve made a steady recovery but my legs sometimes feel like the pores are being replaced with lead- heavy and cold. Despite this though, I make my way over to my bedroom. My roommate isn’t home yet, despite how late it is. The walls of the hallway echo my footsteps, the pain I’m in not reflecting with the sounds. ‘I need to take my meds…’ My room, surprisingly not as messy as I thought. Clothes here and there, an undone bed, but overall everything is where it should be. My legs shuffle into the bathroom connected to my room, locating my paracetamol and prozac. Click, click!

I think this time I'm dying

I open the paracetamol with ease, it hypnotizes me. Quickly opening the prozac, my breath becomes jagged- confused. Water flows after the pills, hindering the struggle it would have been, but I feel the same. Panicked and afraid. What's wrong with me? Do I need more? Is there something else? I'm scared, pissed off and lonely- ‘I'm overthinking this.’ But am I? Nonetheless, nothings happening. My legs still feel like hell, and the cold invisible hand is pinching the skin behind my neck, but when I claw at it nothings there. My eyes distantly shift to the pill bottles on the counter. I can feel myself trying to look elsewhere, but my general focus is on the pills. I need more.

I'm not melodramatic

Just 1 more of each should do. Just to be safe. I'm just being safe!

I'm just pragmatic beyond any reasoning

Better safe than sorry, right? I take another drink of water and wait for the relief to set in, but it never does. My legs are aching even more and the fact that there's no effects is just making me panic more. What's wrong with me? Why isn't it setting in fast enough-?!

For thinking I've got f*cking rabies or something.

More. I need more. Maybe that's the problem, I'm just not taking a high enough dosage! I look down at each of the bottles, reading the label for the prescription. “Take 2 per day when symptoms arise. Contact your psychiatrist if a higher dosage is needed” ‘I know what I'm doing.’ There's something wrong with me, I can't bother contacting anyone. I need relief now. Out of impulse, I down both of the bottles and drink more water to allow the pills to travel with ease. Then, I just wait.

I think this time I'm dying

Pain shoots up from my stomach and sprouts to my head like a sapling. The room morphs and shifts and scrunches up like clay. Am I in a dream? I look down at my hands to pinch myself, shaking, blurry and full of vibrant colors.

I think this time I'm dying.

F*ck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've lost my mind.

The world morphs and moves without my eyes permission. My stomach hurts more than my legs do. The reflection in the mirror, a pale, sad and confused blur. The pain isn't going away, it's growing worse and worse. Pins and needles pricking and scraping along the inside of my abdomen, there's millions of them. Every deep breath I take is a dulled stab into my chest. Was the original concern as big as I've made it now?

Blurring the fact and the fictions

Everything is so unreal. Why did I do this again? Where am I? My memory becomes a flickering bulb, dying out from being strained of its power. My concept of time and object permanence is foggy, but that's how I know something is wrong. But what? Am I blowing things out of proportion or is this bigger than a prescription?

While simultaneously fixing myself up with a girl named panadol.

I looked down at the empty paracetamol bottle, I did the right thing- right? My intentions feel like they've been beaten and whipped with a fork, scrambled and confused with each other. But I did what I did, it still hurts though. A pang of regret stabs at my throat for a second, but the desire for relief overrides it.

Bite the tablet, elixir

The elixir! My hands swiftly open the cabinet again, desperate for elixir. I quickly find, it- half a bottle of elixir should do. As quickly as I found the bottle, I downed half of it and quickly drank more freezing cold water from the sink.

Disintegrate, mouths a mixer

That's 3 different types of pills. 3 different remedies! I'll be alright now, right? I should be, but I can't stand steadily anymore. My arms are violently shaking and my legs are about to drop. The sight is horrifying, everything is flickering from absolute darkness to furniture and walls melting like an ice cube. Am I blinking? I can't tell.

I think I've lost my mind

I can't handle this. Am I in mild pain or are things dire? I want the pain I had before, less overwhelming. I have no control anymore. The front door opening and closing shut was barely audible for my ears. “Wil? Sorry I came home so late, I had a client come further into the day.” My legs give in, and a loud THUMP rumbles through the house as I fall onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. I feel the satisfaction of my eyes rolling into my head as my eyelids stay confused on whether or not to close or to stick open to stay alert. “Wil?! Wilbur are you alright?!” Her footsteps rush to my room and into the bathroom to see my frail and hurt body on the ground with the pill bottles strewn on the counter.

I think I've lost my mind.

“WILBUR!!” She rushes to my side and drops to her knees. Her shout was so loud, it made me snap back into the present. After checking my pulse and checking if I'm still breathing, she frantically digs through her coat pocket and dials 999.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I could just break one more night

I can hear my roommate crying distantly after hanging up and putting away her phone. I don't understand...why do I need an ambulance? I was helping myself, wasn't I?

Maybe I could wake up and feel alright.

I could have gotten past on my own if she hadn't found me. I would have been just fine. I'm tired, just in general.

I optimistically set my alarm clock time

I had something to do today? I forgot. I can hear my alarm clock from my bedside table blaring at me, screaming at me to get up. There was a subtle jolt of excitement that shot up my neck, or was it anxiety? Fear? Adrenaline? Denial?

Serves only to mock me with flashing lights.

The sound seems to go on for longer, despite my roommate rushing to turn it off. Its turned off, but I can still hear the sound of it echoing through the room, bouncing into my ears. My hands raise to cover my ears, but the sound just gets louder and louder. I haven't gotten up yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've made my choice

Everything is jumping around slightly, the paramedics in the ambulance looming over me, reaching for tubes and clear pouches. I feel something warm on my right hand, my roommate is sitting there with my hand in hers while trying to keep herself together. “Don’t worry Wil, they're gonna fix you up and you'll be just fine...!” She says it like she’s trying to reassure herself more than me- she's more worried about me then I am for myself. One of the paramedics sitting next to her speak up with a clipboard in hand. “You said he overdosed?” “Yes, I came home from work and there was a loud thud from his bathroom. I ran over and he was barely conscious on the floor with pill bottles all around…”

I’m a deceased playing victim

I...I overdosed? How did I not notice? No no, there was something wrong with me, that's why I took so many! But...was I wrong? I was just scared! I didn’t know that this would happen, its not my fault!

Slip the face, slip the victory.

I can't run away from myself, I’m my own shadow. I was scared. I am scared. This is all my fault. I took the pills, no one forced me to. It was me who did this. But, I’m not too angry with myself. Despite my impulsive actions, I don't hate the situation I've thrown myself into.

I think I’ve made my choice

If I don't make it out of this, I won't be disappointed. If I do, then that's alright too. I dug myself into this, so don't I deserve to suffer the consequences?

Sit secluded in hatred

I’m such a bother to her, this is the second time she's had to deal with me like this. The hospital probably hates me, but I won't bother to apologize. I meant what I did both this and the last time I was sent there, they shouldn't be helping me. But I’m not suicidal, I insist.

Void the plans friends are making.

I shouldn't have set my alarm. I would have stayed asleep, made things less stressful. Why did I even set my alarm? Nothing special was happening today, I don't have plans with anyone and the only thing I was supposed to do today is work, and that's later in the day. Most of my friends don't even like me that much, they don't invite me to places or acknowledge me so can I even consider them friends? The only person who even tries to pay attention to me is…is…

I think I've found my voice

“I...I’m..-” My roommate quickly looks down at me when she hears me speak. Her eyes show it all, shocked and relieved. Her skin is still puffy and red around her eyes, but she doesn't bother to hide it. “Thank the lord your alright...what were you thinking?!” She speaks in a hushed tone, intending to not startle or overwhelm me more than I already am. She doesn't deserve this, my paranoia and issues aren't hers. “I’m...I’m sorry..” I hear my voice for the first time in a while, it's gravely and dry. She looks down at me and her features seem to have softened. “We're almost at the hospital, you're gonna be alright.”

I'm a leech sucking blood bags

I've been living off of her this entire time. My hardships were always nonexistent, weren't they? All of my tolls were never mine to begin with, her generosity is what she replaced it with. And this is what I'm giving her, more and more to deal with. But she doesn't have to, right? It's her choice, it's her fault. I'm not guilty.

Taste defeat, it's a sandbag

As soon as the vehicle stopped, I was urgently rolled out the back and rushed into a hospital room. I can hear the doctors and nurses arguing back and forth rapidly, one after the other.

Saline solution

I hear from the wad of voices. Hm, so they're desperate as well it seems… My mind decides not to bother with their procedures, instead I just leave it all to them. It won't be on my hands if they fail after all, right?

Saline solutions to all your

A set of doctors rush into my hospital room while a nurse rolls in a cart filled with who knows what for me. IV tubes are hooked up to a hanging pouch and attached to my arms.

Saline solution to all your

My eyes are squinted from the obnoxiously bright lights scattered in the hospital, the white walls making me develop more of a headache. My head flops to the left, seeing my roommate outside the window in the hallway. She's pacing around frantically with her phone up to her ear. I then turn my head to the right to see a slightly foggy pouch of saline hanging above me, the IV tubes connecting the liquid to my internal damage.

Saline solution to all your…

One of the doctors helps me drink a small amount of the saline solution and then hands me a small trash can. My stomach is crying and screaming in pain and mercy. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the guttural pain, but it'll be out of my system soon.

Problems.

#wilbur soot #ycgma #saline solution #angst #series #writing #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years

Note

Catra (with or without Glimmer) returning to Prime's ship

“Are you sure about this?”

Catra looked at Adora, nodding distantly. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine. Besides, you guys need someone to get you around here. And I’ve got the entire place mapped out in my head.”

“And on the walls,” Bow observed, tracing a finger along a scratches left in the wall.

“Yeah, that too.” Catra squared her shoulders, giving Adora a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”

Adora was pretty sure she worried just enough, especially when it came to Catra taking care of herself and emotions. “All right, earpieces in,” Glimmer said. “Keep an open line. Everybody ready?”

“Ready,” they all agreed, slipping their earpieces in. None of them really wanted to be exploring Horde Prime’s ship, but someone had to make sure the ship didn’t have any nasty surprises waiting in its depths. And the Best Friend Squad was the perfect choice for it since they’d already been on it. Even if it had been slightly traumatizing for them all.

Some more than others, Adora thought as she watched Catra make her way alone down a hallway. As much as she pretended to be okay, Adora knew Catra still had nightmares about her time on this ship — things she wouldn’t talk about, couldn’t talk about without breaking down into a panic attack. Adora still knew very little about what exactly had happened.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep it that way.

Catra swore she could handle it, though. And Adora didn’t want to argue. She just wanted to know that Catra would be okay.

————————————————————

The halls were as sterile and empty as ever.

Catra traced her finger along the grooves she had one left in the walls, looking around. She had stopped in the room she had been given, just to see it. There was nothing in there, really. She had barely used it. Had she even slept on the ship? She couldn’t remember. She had to have a little. She’d already been sleep deprived when Horde Prime had taken them. And they had been there for at least a few weeks.

“Everyone good?” Glimmer’s voice echoed in Catra’s ear.

“Good,” Bow reported.

“Good,” Adora added. Catra was about to say the same when a familiar door caught her eye. Subconsciously, she had known this had been her destination. She had chosen to come down this hallway.

She walked slowly toward the room, struggling to keep her breathing steady. Nothing could hurt her now. Horde Prime was dead. Everything was fine.

The room was faintly lit in a sickly green — the same green that had highlighted her vision for hours, or days, she had no idea.

“Catra?” She heard her name repeated in her ear a couple of times, but ignored them.

The pool bubbled faintly as she approached. Her hands were shaking, and there was a sharp pain in the back of her neck.

Catra gritted her teeth was she was shoved forward, her hands finally released from their bindings, allowing blood to reawaken the numb appendages. The green pool bubbled at her feet. She struggled not to let any emotion show. This was what she had wanted. Glimmer was gone. Adora was safe. They were on their way back to Etheria. No one had to get hurt.

“Oh little sister.”

Her gaze snapped up, fixing on Horde Prime. Every single part of her wanted to wipe that grin off his face. But the clones had already proven they could overwhelm her with numbers. “So much pain for someone so young.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it all away.”

A hand pressed against her back; she stumbled forward, into the pool, catching herself before she fell face first into the liquid. There was no time to think, to react, before electricity coursed through her body.

She screamed.

“Hey.”

Catra jumped as a soft, familiar hand rested on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” Adora asked, kneeling beside her. When had she knelt?

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Catra shook her head a couple times, brushing away the memories, and looking back at the pool. Adora sighed.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“I’m fine, Adora. Really.” Catra pushed herself up, stepping away from the pool and looking around. Her eyes finally landed on a smaller door to her right.

She was still coughing up the amniotic fluid as the clones dragged her into the room, lifting her onto a cold, metal table. She laid there, coughing and shivering, as her mask was taken from her head, her clothes neatly cut off. There was will to fight them, however. No need to push back as they took everything she had chosen that made her… well, her. No fight even when she felt the first snips of her hair being cut away.

She had nothing left to give.

“Catra?”

Adora jogged after her as she started to the door. “I don’t think—”

The room they stepped into was so white it almost hurt. It took Adora moment to pick out the counters, the various tools scattered about them, the metal table in the middle of the room. The bundle of red that had been shoved into a corner.

Catra zeroed in on that, walking over and kneeling down. She picked up her mask with the kind of care one would give a newborn baby, holding it between her hands as if it might break. Adora watched, feeling as if she were witnessing something sacred. She had asked about that, of course; the mask had been such a defining part of Catra’s appearance for so long, it had been weird to see her without it. All she had ever said was that Prime had taken it.

“Is that why you wanted to come here?” Adora asked. Catra shrugged.

“Sort of? I just… wanted to see all of this. I wanted to know that it can’t hurt me anymore.”

“Adora?” Glimmer’s voice was in her ear again. “Did you find her?”

“Oh, yeah, I found her,” Adora said quickly. “She just got distracted.”

Catra tapped her earpiece. “Aw, Sparkles. Were you worried about me? I didn’t know you cared.”

“Ugh. Shut up.”

Catra laughed, looking back at Adora. The blonde was smiling, a little more relaxed. She held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s look literally anywhere else.”

“Yeah.” Catra took her hand, standing, the mask hanging in her other hand.

“Are you going to start wearing it again?” Adora asked curiously.

“Hm? Nah. I definitely look better without it. But I don’t feel right leaving it here, either.”

“Definitely better without it.” Adora tugged her close, pressing a small kiss to Catra’s lips. “I almost forgot what you looked like without it.”

“Ha. Ha.” Catra nudged her, rolling her eyes. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

#askbox fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers

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sadoeuphemist · 4 years

Text

Human-Sized Hole

“This is a communal hole!” he said. “Come on in! It was made for everyone!”

I stood at the entrance of the hole, squinting into the darkness at the faint silhouette that raised a hand and beckoned me to follow. It was a guy’s voice, relatively young by the sound of it, but I could make out nothing more of him than that. There might have been more people even further down, echoes that sounded distantly like laughter, but at this distance it was impossible to be sure. The hole itself simply went on and on without end, a rectangle of the deepest and most unadulterated black.

“Hey, where does this even go?” I called out to him, and I heard him laugh and I thought I could see the silhouette shrug, the edges of its outline shimmering in a bobbing motion as it grew smaller and smaller and disappeared into the darkness entirely.

I hesitated, thinking about that one Junji Ito comic, and then I followed him in.

Of course, this was nothing like that. The Enigma of Amigara Fault, that was the title. With the holes in the cliffside shaped like people cut-outs, and everyone compelled to find their matching hole and climb in, wriggling their way ever deeper into the all-embracing earth.

No, this was a hole carved into a mountain, human-sized just like in the manga, but that was the extent of it. It was just a normal rectangular hole, probably some industrial use, like maybe a side shaft or something leading into a mine. I’d passed it hundreds of times without ever thinking anything of it. It was just that this was the first time I’d ever seen anyone going into it, and that had been enough for me to pull over for a minute and check it out.

Inside, it was spacious, very roomy, more of a long corridor really, the ceiling a good several feet above my head. The floor was smooth beneath my feet, almost polished, no stray rocks or loose dirt. I remembered what the guy had said, and the words ‘wheelchair accessible’ popped into my head. It got dark quickly the deeper I went in, dark enough that soon I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of my face, but there was nothing to bump into, no uneven ground, no twists in the path. All you needed to do was keep walking straight ahead, and if you veered off to one side or the other you’d eventually brush against the wall and be able to reorient yourself, or you could just walk with one hand touching a wall at all times, which is what I did eventually. There were no obstacles here. I could turn back any time I wanted.

“Hello?” I called down into the hole, my voice echoing, and from far ahead I could hear maybe the indistinct murmurs of people. It wasn’t quiet, I realized. There was a sort of background hum, like at an airport or something, no one talking to each other at the moment but everyone on their way to someplace else. That was comforting to me. I liked that.

In the darkness I thought I could feel a slight incline to the floor, the sense that we were descending, and I could stretch my hand up and not touch the ceiling and I wondered why I’d ever thought of the hole as ‘human-sized’ to begin with. It was a doorway, that was all it was. Was a doorway a ‘human-sized’ hole? Weren’t they supposed to be bigger than that, to allow for accommodation, for example bringing furniture in and out? But of course, thinking again of wheelchair users, there were also humans who were unusually tall, seven feet, eight feet, nine feet tall, or however tall the tallest person in the world had been, and of course a human-sized hole would have to accommodate them too. How far would they have been able to travel down this passage having to stoop the whole time, having to force themselves to fit? So of course it had to be much larger than me, to take them into account.

I had a thought. Experimentally, I stopped moving, stood firmly in place with my left hand extended for my fingertips to brush against the wall, and I waited. Yes, there it was, the subtle friction between my fingertips and the wall. The floor was inclined and marble-smooth. Even without walking, I was moving gradually downwards.

So even mobility was not necessary. I was thinking in extremes now, of people so morbidly obese that they were confined to their beds or sofas, incapable of carrying themselves under the stress of their own weight. The walls were certainly spaced wide enough. They would not have to exert themselves. Even people incapable of getting around under their own power, all they would need to do was make it past the threshold, and then gravity would do the rest. I bent down and touched my fingertips to the floor. Was it that smooth? I had not felt in any danger of slipping while I walked. Or was the floor like a conveyor belt, carrying me forward imperceptibly? I felt a light vertigo, a seasickness. The sensation of drifting free in space. I was on solid ground. Or was I?

In the darkness, I might have been one of many, a ceaseless crowd of people politely flowing around me, each on their way to work or school or wherever. I wanted to call out, and at the same time felt certain that it would be impolite. We were all just trying to get through this passage, get through our day, and no one particularly wanted to interact with a stranger. In my mind I had populated this hole with all the extremes of humanity, in height and breadth and dimension, accepted how big this hole needed to be for us all to fit. This was a human-sized hole, truly, larger than me, empty as far as I could extend my hands, but I had the sudden premonition that we would all end up here eventually. All the people in the world gradually finding their place in this perfectly accommodating human-sized hole. Deeper down the passage no doubt were all the people who had come down this way before, hallways and corridors full of them, growing more and more populated until people were shuffling heel to toe, brushing gently against each other and yet ferried gently deeper still, all the way down until the end.

I felt the first sensation like panic. I felt that if I turned around, I would see only a mass of silhouettes blocking off the entrance to the hole, a long line formed behind me, and then there would be no way back; I would be obligated to once more turn towards the darkness and continue down the path.

But there was no one there. The hole, though distant, was a rectangle of light calling to me.

I ran. I did not slip or fall. I just ran, hearing my footsteps slap against the stone, hearing my own breath heaving in my chest, until I was outside again, my back pressed against the side of the mountain as I looked up at the sky and the sun. The hole, when I backed away to look at it, was still deep and dark and rectangular and perfectly patient, nothing ominous or compelling about it at all. It was just a doorway in the side of a mountain. A way in.

I got back in my car and started driving.

I checked my dashboard clock. I had somehow been in the hole for almost three-quarters of an hour, and now I was definitely going to miss my first class. I could make up for that though; it was the trig exam in the afternoon that I definitely couldn’t miss. But as I pressed down on the gas I couldn’t help the building panic, the maybe-irrational fear that now my whole schedule had been thrown out of whack. I was disoriented. After the dark of the hole the sun seemed too bright, the world too full of distracting objects. I’d planned to get in a last minute cram session before the exam, and to print out my history paper in the library after finishing off the last few pages, but now it felt like I had knocked over all the dominoes prematurely and I could no longer rearrange them in a sequence that made sense, and on an impulse I made my exit one turnoff too early, just veered right and let the chips fall where they may.

I no longer knew where I was going. I’d never been this way before, but I knew that all the roads and all the highways would all connect together eventually, that everywhere led to everywhere else. I drove for quite a while. There weren’t very many cars on the road at this time of day, and for stretches of time it would be as if I was gliding effortlessly along a wide black stretch of asphalt, the sky open and spacious above me, just a human-sized hole stretching far as the eye could see.

#fiction #repost #junji ito

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followyoursecretsmutblog · 4 years

Text

dazed.

Song: “Sleeping In” by All Time Low

A/N: There are different scenes pre stanza, the events do not go in order. Just enjoy the ride.

p.s. I don’t know why I picked this gif, but I’m not mad.

Imagine:

I woke up on a Tuesday Felt like a Friday night to me Never wanna leave this bed Tell me that you got nowhere to be Can we stay all day? Lay low in our lazy luxury Sex in a rosy daze All day, it's a real good thing

Shutting off the alarm, you lay there staring at the ceiling.

“Just one more day.” You whisper to yourself, sitting up on your elbows.

“It’s Tuesday.” Henry mumbles next to you, shoving his head under his pillow.

“Fuck.” You say, throwing your head back.

“Only if you ask nicely.” His cheeky response comes out muffled.

You giggle, laying back down and turning toward him. You trail a finger along his arm, tracing the muscle.

Henry peeks his head out, watching you. In a flash, his arm moves around your waist and pulls you towards him, holding you captive.

“Why can’t we stay like this all day?” He asks, kissing you softly.

Just like that There you go, making it hard to stay on track Got shit to do, you got work But we fall right back Into bed, like it's all just a game And we can't help that, no we can't help that And we fall right back Just like that

You and Henry both are putting the final touches to your outfits. This would be the first time you and him would be attending a party together as a couple.

“I’m so nervous.” You say, tugging at your dress.

“Don’t be. You look stunning.” Henry comes behind you, places a soft kiss on your cheek and watches you watch yourself in the mirror. He places another kiss on your neck, and another on your shoulder.

“Henry...” You moan, tilting your head to the side to give him better access.

His fingers start working on the zip of your dress, pulling it down.

“Come on, we told the others we would be there.” You say, threading your fingers in his hair.

“We will.” He says as your dress pools to the floor. “We will just be fashionably late.” He picks you up and walks to the bed, tossing you softly onto it.

“Henry!” You laugh, watching his eyes take in your body.

“I can’t help it.”

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now (We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in) Closing up the curtains while you call out of work Now I'm turning off my phone while you take off your shirt Waste another day, another night, another weekend We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

“You know, I didn’t think the blonde wig would do it for me, but I’ll be damned.” You say as you walk around Henry, who just got out of hair and makeup. “You look so... primal. Like you would totally fuck me in the middle of town with people watching. Fast, dirty, and very satisfying.”

His eyes snap to you, the easy-going smile going away in a flash, being replaced with a devilish smirk. “Tell me more about these fantasies you have, darling.”

“Geralt could fuck me and leave me and I would still say ‘Thank you’.” Your eyes take in every part of him, He looks so un-Henry, it was crazy. Your sweet, soft boy, now transformed into this man.

“We will have to test that theory, won’t we?” He looks at the time and nods to himself. “Come on, we still have time.”

“Time for what?” You ask as he grabs your hand, pulling you toward his trailer.

“To see if I can make you say ‘Thank you’.”

Everyday's a holiday We stay hot when it's cold outside, y'know Haven't left your place in days Postmates and dirty laundry

It was one of those rare occasions where you and Henry had a few days alone. No interviews, to red carpets, no parties. So, you spent the days the only way you wanted to.

Tangled in the sheets, hair mused, clothes on the floor, with take away containers covering your nightstand.

“Maybe we should go out and eat dinner. Get out of the house.” You muse, running your thumb over his jaw, his stubble scratching you.

“1. We have been in bed for three days, because 2. we have done nothing but have sex, because 3. we don’t know when the next time this will happen again. And you want to go out and eat?” Henry asks, nipping at the pad of your thumb.

“Well sorry if I thought you might want to enjoy some time at a nice restaurant, instead of eating out. I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“I’d rather eat you out.” He rolls you over onto you back and kisses you feverously, sliding his hands down your body to cup your sex. “Besides, you don’t feel like you want a wholesome night out.” He says as he slips two fingers in you.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Henry! I can’t help what I feel!” You shout, tears running down your face.

“Don’t you trust me?” He asks, confused as to why this would be happening.

“Of course, I trust you. I just don’t trust those women. I know what they think when they see you, I think the same way.” You cry. Your jealously getting the best of you. Henry has never given you any grain of doubt of his loyalty to you. Yet for some reason, you can’t seem to clear your head from the thought of someone taking him from you.

“Baby, there is no one I want more then you! I know my job does this, but I can’t do anything about it.” He says. He knows how hard it is for you. He knows he has asked you to put a lot of faith in him and his work.

A job is a job. He needs to work, and he loves what he does.

You sit on the bed, trying to calm your breathing, “I’m sorry.”

The bed dips next to you. “It’s okay. I know you have given up a lot for me. But I love you. And there is nothing that is going to get in the way of that.” He lifts your head up, wiping your tears away. “You are my dream girl. There is no one above you.”

“Promise?” You wince, cursing your insecurities.

“Promise.” Henry leans down and kisses you softly.

You put your foreheads together, just breathing together.

Being together. You and him against the world.

“Of course, yes. I’ll be in the office soon so go over everything.” You say, pulling your clothes out of closet.

As you step out, Henry walks into your bedroom. He looks up at you and gives a soft smile.

You give him a little finger wave, continuing your phone call. Turning away from him, you pull out some shoes, tossing them on the bed.

“Yeah...” You say distantly, watching as Henry takes his shirt off, then his pants through the mirror. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. Something just came up.”

Henry looks up, concern crossing his features. You bite your lip as he steps out of his jeans. A chuckle escapes him, he wads his shirt up and tosses it at you.

“So important.” You mumble, ending the call.

“Shower?” Henry asks. You run into the bathroom, turning the water on, his laugh echoing.

“No, under no circumstances did that happen!” You whisper-shout into your phone at your best friend. “Our first date was last night, and he was nice enough to let me stay in his spare room. Nothing happened!”

“So, you are telling me, you had a great time with this man. And when all hell broke loose, he let you stay at his place. And in the process, you didn’t jump him?”

“Yes.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. Like I just googled him and holy hell, I’d fuck him.”

“You are not helping!” You hiss, “I know he’s attractive, I’m just not going to mistake his kindness for sex!”

“He’s a guy, he won’t know the difference.” Your friend backfires.

“He’s different.” You say softly, peeking your head out of the door, looking up and down the hallway.

“That’s what every Rom-Com says, and yet they all end the same.” She sighs, her eye roll could be heard.

“Shut it, you don’t even dat- Henry!” You squeak, bumping into him, dropping your phone, your hands flying to his chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

He smiles softly, “No problem, I didn’t know you were up. Was just going to check on you.”

How sweet.

You smile back, “Thank you for letting me stay with you. You really didn’t have to.”

“No problem, the weather was terrible, I wouldn’t feel right having you drive home in that.”

You glance down, seeing your hands still flat on his chest.

His bare chest.

Where is his shirt?!

Tearing your hands off him, you give him another sheepish smile, a distant voice ringing between the two of you.

“Fuck her! Please for the love of Go- yeah you old hag, wanna fight? I’m trying to get my friend laid!”

Henry looks at you, a blush taking over his face, ears, and chest.

“I’m sorry about her...” You start, bending to pick your phone up. “Goodbye!” You hiss, smashing the end button. “Ignore her, she is insane.”

“Can I at least offer to cook you breakfast before? Sex on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

There is something about that first kiss in the morning with the man you love. You can’t help but smile, and never pull away.

“Good morning, my love.” Henry says in his morning voice, sending chills down your body.

“Mmmm, mornin’.“ You kiss him again, moving on top of him. He holds you in place, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, you stop, “Come on, we promised your parents we’d meet them for breakfast.”

“I’ll call them later and said that we slept in.” He says, situating you on top of him so that when he shifts, he would slip inside you.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #your local human disaster here #yoursecretsmutblog

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sapphiresterreart · 5 years

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Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic: The Enemy

Was reading some fanfic where Marinette is akumatized and had a brief flash of inspiration. Typed this idea as far as I could before boredom kicked in. Unfinished. Unedited. Figured I’d share it anyway.

Summary: Her classmates believe she is the enemy. She’s not. But maybe she should be.

The Enemy

“For so long you’ve endured, treated like an enemy by your so-called friends.”

Damnit. Marinette grimaced, huddling tighter against the bathroom wall. Tikki, please be safe. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Because I don’t think I can fight this time…

“Help me gather the Chat Noir and Ladybug Miraculous and I will help you, Final Straw.”

She barked a laugh, the powers of the akuma steadily coloring her thoughts. “Final Straw?” She had a glimpse of a masked man and the negativity delved deeper. The butterflies flittered within the outline of a familiar symbol. Strange. Hadn’t she seen that before? “No, no, absolutely not.”

“Oh?” The voice deepened with an unspoken threat. “Surely you want justice?”

“Of course I do.” Black spotted her vision. Ah. She realized. That’s where. “But not with a name like that.”

“Creative one, aren’t you?” A clack echoed: an agitated cane against a stone floor. “Then what do you propose?”

“If I’m truly an enemy to them…” Pastel lips stretched into a steady grin, unfamiliar power rolling through her veins. “Then why not be an enemy to all?”

Including you, Gabriel Agreste.

Like walking into a room at night, she reached within her mind and pulled. Her emotions rippled like a wave of white hot water before it crashed. Somewhere a connection snapped. Black flooded her vision. Noise vibrated in her head and she curled tighter into a ball before she realized she needed to breathe and when she did–

It was like flipping a switch.

Her vision cleared. The emotions short-circuited into nothing. No pain. No joy. Just the dull sensation of numbness. Her head tilted as she examine herself. Interesting. No visible difference. So she was still herself? She didn’t feel the same, so then..?

Hawkmoth’s voice buzzed in her head like a pesky fly. “What have you–”

She swatted the nuisance aside. Troublesome. So then she had been akumatized. That would explain the strange emptiness. Logically, she knew she should feel more than muted surprise at her discoveries. Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s father, is Hawkmoth. And so what did that matter? Her one purpose was to defeat Hawkmoth and return the misused miraculous to Master Fu. So that’s exactly what she planned to do.

Pity she still appeared normal. School would be a bother but she had to keep up appearances or risk Hawkmoth discovering she knew his identity. True, she didn’t know where that rat had holed himself. But she would find out. Soon.

Marinette idly straightened her clothes and stepped out of the stall. A glance at the mirror confirmed she still appeared as her civilian self. She adjusted her pigtails. There. Presentable to a reasonable degree. Now, what class did she have again?

She pulled out her phone. Several notifications had covered her lock-screen. Her thumb briefly slid along the glass to roll through the messages and she exhaled.

“To change from a hero to a villain.” She checked the time. Right. Physics. “Were they ever my allies at all?”

Did it even matter? No. Not right now. What mattered now was taking down Hawkmoth and restoring order to Paris. She’d deal with her classmates later. For now… For now, she had class to attend and notes to take.

She turned from the mirror and strode out of the bathroom. Hallways stretched before her, lined with doors, and she walked to Ms. Mendeleiev’s classroom. Class had already started and the door was closed. Her knuckles rapped against the door in quick succession and she waited.

The door opened to reveal the purple haired and sharp-eyed teacher. “So glad you could join us, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette waited, silent. The teacher eyed her critically but, when the silence stretched, Ms. Mendeleiev huffed. “Hurry along, now.”

Marinette breezed her way into her seat. She ignored the others as they shot the occasional spiteful glare her way. She continued to ignore them until lunch time when Lila staged another scene.

In the cafeteria and surrounded by their classmates, the liar wailed. “And then I went to comfort her like a good friend should but you know what she said to me?”

On cue, Max’s voice prompted her. “What?”

“She threatened me! She said she’d get revenge and take you all away from me. But I didn’t do anything to her! I just don’t know why she hates me so much.”

Marinette had just bitten a forkful of her pasta when rapid footsteps approached and two broad hands slammed against the tabletop. She frowned as her cup of water toppled to the side and splashed onto the rest of the noodles.

“Kim,” she started to say.

“What is wrong with you, Marinette?” The taller boy exploded. “Can’t you see your actions have consequences? Why do you keep hurting Lila?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her water-logged food to the fuming boy. She blinked, slow and steady, and shifted her gaze onto the rest of the group. They watched with equal faces of ire. Silently, she picked up the cup and wiped the damp with a napkin.

“Aren’t you listening?” Kim yelled. “Why do you–”

Without a word, she picked up her tray and stood. She pivoted, Kim hot on her heels, and walked to the trash bins.

“Marinette, I’m talking to you! Stop ignoring–”

She emptied the tray and placed it with the rest of the dirty trays atop the bin. Shame she had to waste food, but. Her vision darkened as Hawkmoth yelled inside her head. But she had priorities. Finished, she shoved aside the man’s voice and she turned away from Kim’s yells and she tuned out the clamor of agitated students. She walked out the door.

She didn’t get very far. This time it was Alya storming after her.

“What was that, girl?” Her former best friend blocked her path, hands on hips. “You don’t get to just brush off our friends like that.”

“Your friends.” Her mouth corrected before she could think. “Kim is not my friend.”

“What?” Alya shot her a look. “Girl, your jealous streak has gone way too far. You need to–”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Marinette corrected once more before she amended. “Well, except for one but that’s irrelevant.”

“What is with you?” Alya crossed her arms. Typical closed-off posturing, Marinette idly noted. Why waste my time? She made to move around the other girl but Alya shifted to block her way. Marinette made to turn around but Alya stepped in front once more. “Stop trying to run away, Marin–”

It was then that a flash of anger struck.

“I am not Marinette.” Oops. That was the Akuma talking for sure.

“…what?”

Hmm. How to fix this? “I am not your Marinette, Alya. Not your friend, not your anything. Not anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me just fine.” She leveled steely blue to startled brown. “You want Lila? That’s fine. But you don’t get me too.”

With that, she stepped forwards and made it two steps before a hand grabbed her by the shoulder. The anger surged and before she could rein herself in, she had already flipped Alya over her shoulder and down to the ground.

“Stay out of the way, Césaire.” Marinette bared her teeth in a smile. She released the startled girl. “Or you’ll find I’m just as strong an enemy than an ally.”

Alya lay there, winded, as she walked away. Nuisance. Her brows pinched together and a brief bubble of guilt popped in the haze. That’s not right. I could’ve hurt her. I should apologize. But for what? She wasn’t in the wrong. She had one goal. Césaire was in the way and had been warned. She’s my friend. I shouldn’t… She had one goal. She shouldn’t worry about a little thing like teenagers.

She had one goal. And she would achieve it.

Change of plans, Hawkmoth. She mused. There’s no reason to waste time here. Not when she could be revealing the truth. In quick paces, she found the stairwell. She climbed up and up until she reached the roof. Without a thought, she jumped off the ledge.

Familiar words rolled off her tongue. “Spots on.”

A flash of black erupted around her. She flung a black yo-yo out of the smog and swung from rooftop to rooftop in search of butterfly windows and a mansion. It wasn’t until she arrived atop the mansion’s roof did she realize Hawkmoth had been oddly silent.

She darted around until finally she decided to just enter the house. Unsurprisingly, the doors were locked. One smashed window and several severed bars later, she stormed her way through the building. Distantly, police sirens roared but she paid them no head as she tore through the mansion in search of the hidden lair.

The noise increased as she stood in the foyer in front of a mosaic painting. Emilie Agreste.

“Come on out, little butterflies.” She cooed and reached inwards. Like before, she found a string and pulled. Beneath the painting, a butterfly fluttered. There.

Behind her, the mansion doors busted open. “…m’lady?”

“Not your lady.” Slowly, she turned. “Never your lady, minou. What kind of enemy has allies, after all.”

“Bugaboo…” the concern was clear, “what happened?” To you? Went unspoken.

Many things, kitty. She shook her head clear of black spots. “No time, chaton. Hawkmoth is here.”

He straightened. “What? But–”

The butterfly flittered around her pigtails before settling atop her shoulder. “Ah, little butterfly.” She murmured. “I’ll set you free.”

“Lady–”

With that, she flung her yo yo backwards and ripped apart the painting. Oddly enough, Chat yowled like she had struck him instead. She didn’t have time to concern herself with that, though. No. She had to reveal the truth.

Her yo-yo shredded the fabric to reveal a passageway filled with butterflies. Without a backwards glance, she sprinted down the path, guided by white wings. She didn’t have time to wait for her partner. She needed to end this. And she needed to end it now.

“Come out, Hawkmoth.” Her voice echoed within the underground rooms as she vaulted through them. “It’s time.”

Doors opened beneath her slinging yo-yo and she flung herself into the last room: a room lit by a butterfly shaped window. Alone in the light stood a familiar figure. Hawkmoth.

“…just who are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“I’m who I need to be.” She offered a smile and twirled her weapon. “The enemy, remember?”

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Akumanette #Fanfic

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darling-archeron · 4 years

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Beneath the Dark - Chapter Five

What would have happened if Feyre had come to Prythian much earlier? Feyre Archeron has left her mortal life behind, and accepted being demi-fae. She has found her place in the Night Court’s Inner Circle. But when she and Rhys attend a ball hosted by Amarantha Under the Mountain, they are in for much for then they bargained for.

Masterlist

Feyre

After hours of tossing and turning, I had managed to find a few hours of restless sleep. The darkness I woke to was unsettling – and there were no stars to be seen, not beneath the earth as we were. I tried to calculate what time it really was, if the stars would even be up above ground, but to no avail.

Lighting a ball of faelight, I glanced around the room again. I had inspected it over and over before going to bed, making sure there were no traps or hidden passages in the walls. But the room appeared to be completely ordinary. The walls were rough stone, though the floors were smooth. A wooden bed, armoire, nightstand, and a small, foggy mirror were the only furnishings.

I stumbled into the bathroom adjoining my chambers. One glance in the mirror gave me a glimpse of a bleary-eyed mess of a person. I had roughly ranked my hair out of its plaits and pins the night before, and was left with a bird’s nest on top of my head. The cosmetics that had been so painstakingly applied now were grey smudges around my eyes that made me look like a wraith.

I wiped the remnants of the kohl off of my face, brushing through my tangled hair with my fingers. A quick survey of the drawers and nooks in my room told me that there was nothing already in the drawers besides two dresses in the armoire. The room was also free from any running water. I had no idea how far below ground we were, but I knew we were in one of the older parts. Likely these rooms hadn’t been touched for years.

There was a small basin of water in the corner, and from the faint smell of jasmine and the intactness of my wards, I knew it was Nuala and Cerridwen’s work. I silently thanked them as I splashed water on my face.

They were also likely responsible for the two dresses hanging in the armoire. I had no idea where they had gotten them from. I knew they had pocket realms they could access as Rhys could, so perhaps they had been stored in there. I selected a long-sleeved navy-colored gown. Something I would have chosen – definitely the twins.

All the same, I put in on slowly, hands feeling for the buttons in the back. Part of me hated the feeling of wearing a dress. In the mortal lands, gowns had been a symbol of wealth and comfort that I hadn’t been able to afford, opting for tunics and pants better fit for a huntress. When Tamlin had taken me in from the wilderness of Prythian, I had begun to wear them again, able to relax for the first time in years. But as our relationship had soured, they began to feel like a cage of helplessness. After last night, they had begun to again. I wasn’t as over my old fears as I hoped.

Perhaps it was silly, to let garments affect me. I knew if Mor had been here she would have owned whatever she wore. Though there was an equally good chance she would have scoffed at the heels I was now stuck wearing for a second day and gone barefoot instead.

I hadn’t heard from Rhys in hours, and though the bond was still strong between us, I couldn’t help but worry. I could tell from my wards that he hadn’t come to the room Nuala and Cerridwen had found for him, across the hall and a few doors down from mine. For all I knew he had wandered the mountain all night, exploring the nooks and catacombs that lurked far, far below. Though that wouldn’t have been like him, not when he played a role like this.

Neither of the twins had appeared yet, so I did my hair myself. I had become spoiled after having my hair done for me for so long, but it didn’t take much before my fingers fell into the familiar pattern of the braided updo – a more elaborate, tighter version of a style popular in the mortal lands.

As I sat braiding, I tried to steady my fraying nerves. I did the old exercise that worked when I had first crossed the wall – making myself truly focus on the sounds around me, to hear. It was easy enough to block them out normally – things like heartbeats and the buzzing of gnats. When I was young, I couldn’t understand it, and everyone around me seemed so deaf. But I hadn’t grown up talking quietly and quickly like the fae did, so when I came to Prythian, it had been a struggle to adjust. I wasn’t as strong or quick as a pure-blooded fae, so when I crossed the wall it had been strange to realize that I was probably weaker than half the people in the room. Even when I didn't suppress my strength. Knowing that now, I had to be smart, about making myself seem stronger, not weaker, as I had done for so many years.

Around me, others were rising. My neighbor to the left was a high-ranking Dawn Court female who I had never spoken with. The room to my right was empty. And no sign of Rhys anywhere around.

“Rhys?” I asked tentatively.

There was no reply, his shields towering walls of blackest night. I could tunnel through them, but… that would be an invasion of his privacy. We never did that sort of thing. The bargain between us allowed either to enter the other’s mind easily, but I knew outside of training, he would never do it without permission. It only seemed fair that I would do the same.

Besides, I had no real reason to worry. My nerves, like everyone else’s, were just strung a bit tightly. Last night was the first time I had seen carnage and torture to that degree. It brought back those feelings of panic and weakness I had tried so hard to outgrow.

Yes, it would appear my old fears were not as dead as I had hoped.

Rising from the bed where I had perched, I rolled my shoulders back and opened the door.

Wending through the hallways, I occasionally passed another faerie, though we didn’t speak. I could hear my footsteps echo on the floors of the dimly lit paths. It gave the ambiance of eternal night – though not the kind I could take comfort in. I prayed to the Cauldron that I wouldn’t get lost – I had been careful to count the turns I had taken to get to my room the night before. It would be easy to get lost down here if you didn’t learn the way. Suddenly, I reached a fork where I didn’t remember the way. It was nearly silent around me, and though I could hear the bustle of others somewhere ahead, I couldn’t make out the exact direction.

Taking a guess, I turned left.

Hssss.

Out of the silence, a slithering sound. Something crept along the floor in the darkness up ahead.

I grabbed a torch from the wall and swung it around. I cast my mind out as a net – and indeed, there was something in the darkness. I took in a shallow breath.

Something.

I dared to extend a mental hand, quietly reacting past the slimy feeling outer walls of its mind.

Chaos and noise and cruelty.

That was what was contained in its mind. Something wholly dark and sinister.

Hsssss.

Unlike anything I had ever known before. My breath a bit shaky, I turned on my heel, making my way back to the main passageway, taking the passage in the other direction.

Eventually, I made my way to the central area where the ballroom resided, managing to shake off the chill the creature had left me with. Fae passed by frequently, hurrying to the ballroom.

The crowd grew, and I finally approached the open doors. A guard gestured for me to go through, already looking bored.

Inside, the carnage of the night before had been cleared away. The room remained similar to before, with slightly less ornamentation, though the throne remained. On the walls, the tapestries that had depicted bits of Prythian’s history had been taken down, leaving only the ones telling stories of Hybern’s glory. There wasn’t much for seating, nor for food and I wondered what she expected us to do.

Amarantha had not yet entered, though a fleet of her guards encircled the room. It was quieter than before, but there was still a low bus of chatter running through the space.

Nobody paid me much attention as I entered, though the eyes of a few Court of Nightmares members flicked to me as I passed. I didn’t bother to acknowledge them. Glancing at the crowd, I caught sight of a few other High Fae I knew, Rhys not among them. Instead, I deigned to stand near a young Summer lordling, watching the scene with a sense of boredom as I had seen Rhys do before. But more than once, I was drawn to the Summer Fae in my peripheral. He seemed so young. Of course, it was probably an illusion - practically everyone here was ancient compared to me, not yet twenty-two. Mortal, immortal – my lifespan would be impossible to decipher for a few more years. Still, this one practically looked like a youth.

He was handsome, certainly, with white hair tousled stylishly atop his head and a rather angular face with clear brown skin. As I dared a glance, I caught bright blue eyes staring back at me.

“Looking for something?” He asked lightly.

I shrugged flippantly as I turned to him. “Just surveying the view.”

At that, he grinned. Actually grinned. “I’m Tarquin.” He dipped his head to me. “Tarquin Arevalo.”

I distantly recognized the name from one of Rhys’s endless lessons. “You’re quite enthusiastic,” I commented, nodding back to him. I couldn’t decide if he was foolish or just acting under the guise of innocence.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And has anyone told you such optimism could be considered foolish?”

“You would be the first, Lady – you haven’t even told me your name.”

“Feyre. Emissary of the Night Court.” I made sure to keep the frost in my voice. I could already tell that Tarquin would be the sort of person that would be easy to like. You wanted to be his friend, help him. But keeping the Night Court protected would take up enough of my time. But something in his face changed, however subtly, at my words.

“Don’t tell me that you’re surprised I’m from Night.” I gave a humorless laugh, gesturing to the dress. The loose sleeves, cut, and embroidery near the seams were all hallmarks of a signature Night style. But that also meant that he likely didn’t recognize me from my days at Spring. Despite all the gossip that had sprung from the events.

“What would you have me do, surround myself in shadows all the time?” I had to bite back a smile at the reminder of Az. Though his shadows were important for his work, I was convinced that half the time he just used them for extra dramatics.

“Could you do that, if you wanted to?” He asked bluntly.

I considered the question for a moment. “I’ll do whatever you want to believe, Tarquin.” My expression had softened a bit, and I tried to make my voice soft and smooth as Rhys did. But it came out wrong on my lips, like a joke.

Tarquin, apparently, didn’t know what to make of it either. Instead, he said, “I apologize if I offended you. I bear no ill will towards Night – but you must know the interesting reputation Rhysand has garnered.” Interesting. Optimistic and genuine. But there was a probing question behind it as well. Probably his best attempt at subtlety.

I didn’t bother with a laugh this time. “Oh, I know what kind of reputation Rhysand has. Not frightened, are you?”

He shook his head, catching on to the pace I had set. “Even if I was, from what you’ve said, it would be quite unwise to admit it.”

“Ah, so I see you’re a quick learner.”

He shrugged. “And should I be wary of your reputation as well?”

“Depends, considering you said you had never heard of me two minutes ago.”

“Ah, I never said that. You mistook my reaction as shock.”

So Tarquin did have something interesting about him after all.

“Fair enough.” I allowed. The side of his mouth quirked up, but before he could respond I changed the subject.

“Why aren’t you standing with the rest of your entourage?” I asked, gesturing to the gaggle of Summer Court fae that stood near one of the pillars, talking quietly among themselves.

“It’s much more entertaining over here with you.” He didn’t elaborate. Indeed – cleverer than he first appeared. And not nearly as willing to give up information as I had hoped.

Part of me urged myself to break into his mind, to find what secrets he hid behind that easy smile. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.

“My Court can be a colossal bore sometimes as well.”

“I certainly wouldn’t expect that from the denizens of Hewn City. Though your party is rather small.” He commented.

I shrugged. “You can’t blame my Court for not wanting to avoid yet another dull party. They prefer their own wicked company.”

“Well, in that case, I hope I’m sufficiently entertaining.” He winked.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died on my lips as the doors opened again – and Amarantha strode through. She glided along silently, the only sound the skirts of her gown brushing against the red floor.

Two guards strode several paces behind her as she proceeded to the throne. Far enough away that it was clear that she could defend herself if needed.

She wore the same golden crown as she had the night before – the one I had thought was more fit for a Queen than a general. Apparently, I had been right.

Smoothly, she seated herself upon the throne, the guards peeling off on either side. She took her time to survey us, inspecting to see if any detail wasn’t to her liking. And maybe I was paranoid, but I could have sworn that her gaze lingered on me for a few beats longer than it should have.

How much of my fight had she seen the night before?

“Well, good morning to you all. I see we’re all here, though some of us are looking a little tired.” Her voice was pitchy and condescending. “Did you all sleep well?”

Barely a sound. It was pathetic, really. Five High Lords and some of Prythian’s most powerful fae were in the room, yet no one dared raise their voice to her. Something in the way that she had brutally cut off our powers and tortured Calder had stifled the flame in all of us. Even for those much older and wiser than me, who had likely seen worse horrors than this.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar figure towards the front of the room. Rhysand’s dark form stood alone near the wall. He had slipped in so silently that I hadn’t noticed, keeping faint shadows trailing around him as if he was only a moment away from being engulfed in the darkness. His shadows were especially dark today, but I couldn't quite gauge his mood. He and his flair for the dramatic. The shadows made him difficult to see at first, but now that I had spotted him, I couldn’t seem to look away. No – I didn’t have time for this kind of thing. Definitely not right now.

Finally, Thesan stepped forward. “How are we to live down here, My Queen? The Mountain isn’t designed for long term stays.” Or any kind of stay, really. It was used almost exclusively for short meetings between delegations.

He continued. “There is no sunlight for those who require it to live, and no place to grow food. And how are our Courts supposed to function without leaders? It’ll descend into chaos sooner or later.”

The general tilted her head. “Valid concerns, Thesan, valid concerns. Luckily for you, I’ve already considered it. Your courts will be managed, and everyone will be comfortable. I have plenty of friends coming who can insure it. They will be arriving shortly – don’t be alarmed by them.”

Was that what I had tun into in that dark passageway? One of her friends, already on the prowl.

"Is everyone always this quiet? I hope to remedy that. The next time we meet, I hope to have some better entertainment. Or perhaps I'll bring dear Calder back." Her voice sent chills down my spine

She watched us for a minute, not speaking a word. “That is all for now. You are dismissed.”

Back straight, I swept to the door where we all spilled out into the hallway like schoolchildren.

And…what now? How could I make myself useful? Rhys was likely already scheming, and though I knew he’d never conceal information from me, he would likely want me to be as safe as possible. But I had discovered the hard way that I didn’t do well without a meaningful purpose.

Of course, the answer was so obvious I barely had to think of it.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'm not completely happy with it but it had to happen in order to set up for other stuff coming down the road. I'm really excited about Feyre's adventures coming up. Also: I'm considering having a beta reader help me out, so if anyone is interested drop a comment or send me a message!

@fireheart-of-your-dreams @rowaelinforeverworld @lord-douglas-the-third @whilma-warfstache @AGNEZ312

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

#acotar #feysand #acotar fic #acomaf #sjm #acowar #beneath the dark #btd #kat's writing #kate's writing #my writing #mine #feyre #rhys #amarantha #acotar au

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pinkchanelbag-moved · 5 years

Note

ooo can you write something based on the song ex by kiana ledé for zion plsss?

this got SO long omlll umm enjoy the angst! i didnt proofread this so dont come for me if its messy

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ex - z.k.

i don’t wanna be your ex

we’re way too good at being friends

your stomach trembled as your friends pulled you into the overflowing party house. the immediate onslot of smells—alcohol, sweat, pot—made your nose crinkle, and the thrumming base snaked through your ears and embedded itself into your ears. everything felt wrong; after having spent two straight weeks in your room surrounded by pillows and tissues, this scene felt too foreign to be considered enjoyable.

“just give it a chance,” your friend’s low voice broke through the noise. you turned to look at her desperately. she squeezed your shoulder and began nudging you past the foyer and into the living room where people bumped around, dancing, talking, laughing. another one of your girlfriends linked your arm in hers and began leading you off to find drinks, but you watched the room, trying to steady your breaths. already you were getting looks, and you could guess that at least a few knew who you were, which would mean they knew what happened. and now you had to put on your fun face. you would pretend like you were healing healthily from your breakup, that things happened for a reason, and that no matter what, you would never forget yourself because of someone. you would live that lie for the night until you could go home.

you trailed behind your friends as they collected their drinks and found an empty part of a couch to sit on for a moment. you were the first to sit down, calmer than before but not quite ready to have fun. the girls began glancing at where the party goers danced near the centre of the room, although none made a move.

“guys,” you said. “don’t let me ruin your night. dance. imma try to join you in a bit, i’m just not up for it yet.”

after some arguing, you saw to it that your friends reluctantly made their way to the dance floor. you sighed and sipped your can of beer. the taste repulsed you for a moment, but you let it slide down your throat as bitterness set into your stomach.

at least being here meant that you had to stay composed, which gave you time to think properly. unfortunately, your thoughts were utterly unhelpful.

just ‘cause it’s different, no we’re not the same

doesn’t mean things have to change

i got no trouble with my pride

got trouble cutting ties

you tried to put aside the fact that you missed him in a heart aching, shattering kind of way. you missed zion so much that envisioning him in your head made the hand holding your beer falter for a moment, nearly spilling. you tried your best to put that aside, hard as it was. the fact of the matter was that the breakup wasn’t over something terminal, like cheating. you just didn’t have time for each other anymore, and it made you worse for each other. thinking of it now, it felt so stupid, so completely idiotic. you were perfect for each other as people. more than that, he was perfect. a lump formed in your throat at the thought. yes, he was perfect. and maybe he hadn’t been the person you wanted him to be leading up to the breakup, and maybe you would never feel the same way about him as you did when everything was going well, but that didn’t blind you from seeing how good of a person he was. the fact that you would have to lose such a perfect human being seemed outrageous. you raked your mind for any way that you’d be able to keep zion in your life. you understood, albeit painfully, that you could never work romantically. but that didn’t mean you had to lose him, did it? all the good times you had together weren’t necessarily based on romance. fast food runs, beach trips, sing along car rides, lazy days. you couldn’t imagine not having those with him anymore. and other things, too; days where you wouldn’t even leave the apartment, where your legs would be weak all day from his work on you, the places his mouth touched you. what kind of life would you have without those things?

your thoughts broke as a laughing and clearly wasted girl backed up into you, actually causing your beer to spill down your shirt. you hissed at the cold, barely registering her sloppy apologies.

“it’s fine,” you said, putting down the can and getting up to find a bathroom. you shoulder past molds of people and sour breath and take two turns down a corridor before arriving to a long dark hallway where the music was slightly muffled. you spotted two people waiting in front of a door and heard the flush of a toilet and took your place in line for the bathroom. before long, you made it in and pulled off your shirt and bra and tried as much as possible to rinse away the stickiness from your chest. you cursed as the water droplets tucked themselves into the hem of your skirt and splashed on your legs. after some time, you dried off with a guest towel and threw it in the tub, redressed, and opened the door.

the lined had been renewed considering how long you’d taken. you scanned to count the heads and felt your heartbeat stop at a tall head of dreads halfway through the line. your light touch on the wall suddenly turned into a tight grip as the head turned. the facial structure, the lips, the blond hair, and the eyes, all things you knew. your chest heaved like an empty vomit as those lazy eyes caught yours and froze.

“excuse me,” you distantly heard the person in front of you say, shouldering past you into the bathroom. the words echoed for a moment before they reached your ears. when they did, you found your flight response. you looked away, turned around, and walked stiffly down the dark hallway, turning the first doorknob you felt under your fingertips.

in the black room, you breathed, low and long, until the tears began dripping to your cheeks.

you didn’t want to let him go, no matter the circumstance.

it came like an epiphany, a eureka moment. you didn’t want him to be a part of your past. more importantly, you didn’t want to be a part of his. something for him to bury inside him and only talk about on late nights with someone new. someone that wouldn’t be you. the thought made you gasp as you took two quick steps forward. things were different, but you knew that one thing that wouldn’t change was your need to have him there for you. maybe you could learn to live without the romance, the love, but to lose him, zion, seemed like an atrocity no one should have to bear.

you jumped at the sound of the door opening behind you, and then again to see who it was.

he nudged the door half shut before turning to you. he looked…nervous? startled? maybe the exact way you looked. your mind was trying to comprehend so many things at once that it didn’t do a thing.

“uh…” he said in a small voice. the sentence ended there. he swallowed before trying to start a new one. “you okay?”

soft light from the hallway defined the curve of his jaw and the lines of his dreads, but that was all you could see. almost like a dream, like you were just talking to a shadow.

“i don’t know” you whispered to the silhouette after some time. some moments passed before you decided to speak again, deciding that whatever pride you had left was not important enough to ruin whatever you had left of your relationship. “i…i don’t wanna lose you.”

you didn’t see him react, but you knew his eyes were on you, and that knowledge reminded you that he wasn’t a shadow. he was real, standing in front of you. that heart wrenching feeling of missing him found its way back to your chest. was he not yours? in some manner of speaking? maybe you weren’t his girlfriend anymore, maybe you weren’t even in love with him anymore, but in some way, your heart still belonged to him, and his to you, and that should precede labels or circumstances.

he crept closer, and it was enough. you found your way to each other. his arms came around you almost as soon as his lips touched yours. your hands held his face with a slight tremble. his warmth felt so familiar that new tears of relief pricked your eyes. your thumbs caressed he wet of tears on his own face as his hands came up into your hair.

you didn’t come apart for some time, but once your lips left his, you heard it. the thumping of the beat, the buzz of other people just outside. you felt like a ghost in the arms of the man who was meant to make you feel alive. you understood the mistake you had just made.

you released a breath of absolute pain. zion seemed to understand when you drifted out of his hold, his arms loose and idle, letting you go. you didn’t look anywhere but the floor as you left the room and rolled your lips together to stop them from tingling. with hazy eyes, you found your way back to the living room, and then eventually to the front door, until you were walking down the sidewalk of the foreign neighbourhood with your arms clasped around yourself, your heart feeling freshly cut open.

never again. you would never go back to him again, because leaving him every time would hurt more than the last.

#zion #zion kuwonu imagine #zion kuwonu x reader #nad.txt

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kiritella · 5 years

Text

The Long and the Lost [7]

Title: The Long and the Lost: Part Seven

Words: 1.4k-ish

Pairings: Father!Bucky x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety Attack

A/N: I have never had a panic/anxiety attack so please forgive me if this is a horrible representation of what I know some people go through. I by no means am trying to make what anyone experiences seem small or less impactful than what they are, I just have no way to relate and I apologize if it seems I am denouncing the harsh reality of these issues, this is not my intention. Despite its flaws, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This series is updated every Saturday at about 12 pm CST.

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Previously…

Bucky’s statement is cut off when Natasha clears her throat, throwing a stone-cold glare that would put Medusa to shame and the entire room comes to a full stop. There are several people standing around, one is the out-of-armor metal-man, then there’s the blond guy that was flying the jet when they rescued you, a brown-haired woman, a taller man with two different colored eyes, along with Bucky and Sam who are standing between the others and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. For a moment everyone looks at Natasha, then their gazes switch to you and you swear they are looking at you like you’ve grown three heads, scales, and a tail.

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Now…

Your current predicament is not exactly dangerous, per se, considering the smiles that break out on everyone’s faces after the initial shock is over...about five full, completely silent, bug-eyed seconds. Despite the smiles, however, there is something igniting in your chest telling you to shrink and run.

The first one to speak is Metal-Man, “Hey,” he says while pushing past a pissed off Bucky, “I’m Tony Stark, nice to finally meet you.” He offers out a hand for a shake, to which you just glare at before looking at Sam and Bucky.

Sam sighs and walks over, placing a hand on Stark’s shoulder, “He owns this place, annoying as flies, but he’s one of the good guys.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath, “Despite not knowing any boundaries,” earning himself a glare from Goatee Stark.

You shyly shake Tony’s hand and he steps out of the way, placing a hand on your back, guiding you into the living room. The others start to crowd around, circling you, causing the anxiety in your chest to spark.

The brown-haired woman steps forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm, “I’m Wanda, it’s nice to meet you,” she says, her voice drowned in a deep accent...Sokovian? You nod at her and skirt your eyes around the room, again and again, waiting for any sign of danger to reveal itself and she offers a worried look to Bucky before stepping aside.

The blond man that flew the jet raises a hand, but keeps his distance, noticing the way your hands are twitching nervously, “Clint.”

You’re not sure what exactly sets you off, the fact that you are trapped between people, the quick movements of the two-color eyes man, the unexpected hand on your shoulder, or maybe a combination of it all, but suddenly you are back in that dimly lit base surrounded by several grown men on the training mat and your growing anxiety quickly turns into panic. Your chest clenches so you can’t breathe and you stagger back a few steps, colliding with someone.

Upon instinct and rushed due to lack of breath, you twist out of the hand on your shoulder, dodge someone else, swipe the legs out from under another and rush out of the room and down the hall. Unfortunately, you barely even make it to your bedroom door when you collapse in the hallway, the shouting coming from the living room making the hold on your lungs worse and you start gasping for air.

Footsteps approach and you try to scramble to your feet, only to fall again against the wall; what a pathetic soldier you’ve become. Bucky curves around the corner and rushes beside you, causing you to flinch as he kneels in front of you. Desperate for air, you clutch at your chest, short sharp breaths carve into your lungs like needles, each one never enough to quell the burning in your chest, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bucky says, sitting next to you and pulling you against his chest as your eyes frantically search the hallway, “It’s okay, Sweetheart.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around you when he feels your body start shaking and his hand rubs up and down your back gently, the sensation oddly comforting, “I’ve got you, I’m here, you’re safe,” he buries his face onto the top of your head and for a moment you could swear he pressed a kiss into your hair. It takes what feels like an eternity before your breaths become even and the numbness in your fingers starts to fade, only just realizing you are clutching Bucky’s shirt like it’s your lifeline. The distantly familiar feeling of his arms encasing you in a bubble of safety and the echo of his heartbeat against your ears further suppresses the panic welling in your bones, but your brain hazes over in clouds, dulling and exhausting every sense in your body.

When your grip eventually loosens on his shirt, Bucky also releases his hold on you, but still keeps you against his chest, knowing how drained you are from the anxiety attack. He doesn’t know exactly how long you’ve both been sitting there, but he doesn’t really care, he knows how bad the after effects can get, the hollow feeling and distant mind that can drive anyone to insanity, he’s been there, and it makes him hold you a little tighter. He goes over some the things that he used to help bring him back down to earth when his anxiety attacks were a constant entity in his life, and he figures it is time to restock on some of his old supplies.

Only after you have been settled for a while does he try to persuade you to move, “Sweetheart,” he whispers, “We should get you somethin’ to eat, it’ll help.”

You don’t move, but you also don’t resist when he gently pulls you back so most of your weight is resting on the wall. When Bucky sees your eyes, it physically hurts him to see how empty they are, the faraway look that he has seen in his own reflection many times swallowing your eyes whole, “Come on,” he says softly as he stands and helps you up along with him. He takes you to the kitchen and has you sit at the table while he pulls out food from the fridge, sandwich supplies, it is small and light, but it should help at least a little. He glances back at you while he puts everything together, the same blank expression resting on your face every time as you stare at the wall. When he hands you the food, it takes a minute to persuade you to actually eat, but once you do, he clicks on the hot shot and grabs a mug and the box of chamomile tea from the cabinet, he hasn’t needed it in a while, but he still has some leftover that he’s kept around. By the time the tea has finished seeping, you have finished the sandwich, so he has you settle on the living room couch instead, no one outside of Sam, Nat, and Steve should be coming in here after the verbal beatdown he gave everyone when you bolted out of the room. He knew you weren’t ready and if you hadn’t shown up when you did he would have thrown everyone out of the apartment before they had the chance to even see you.

Time seems to pass without recognition, but the sun is gone and the stars have come out. Bucky turned off the overhead lights and flicked on a lamp a little while ago, giving little assurances when he walked by. He hasn’t left you alone, he’d shift between the kitchen and living room, sometimes sitting next to you or trying to get you to move around, and if he had to go out of sight for a while, he’d check on you periodically, but he hasn’t left the apartment. When it is getting later, Bucky walks back in the room to find you fast asleep on the couch in a sitting position, head angled uncomfortably to the side and feet strained forward like you were refusing to even move until your body gave up and passed out.

Bucky pulls the blanket from the back of one of the single chairs and takes the empty cup from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He carefully lifts your legs and lays you sideways on the couch, afraid that you’ll wake up and panic if he tries to carry you back to your room. After situating you with a pillow and throwing the blanket over you, he kneels beside the couch and brushes some of the hair out of your face. You look peaceful like this, not like last night when you were tense and rigid, but like a piece of the little girl that used to run up and grab his legs when he would come home, the girl whose smile was the brightest thing he had ever seen. The soft huffs of breath passing your slightly parted lips make you seem so relaxed, like you haven’t been through hell and back, and he wishes he could give you that, some sense of home with him, but he knows you need time.

Steve silently walks out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand and watches as Bucky pulls the blanket up to your shoulders, his eyes softening at the sight, “She’s gonna be alright, Buck.”

“She’s gonna have to be, I can’t lose her to them. Hydra took me, messed me up, they can’t have her too,” he says as he memorizes every little detail of your face as he can while you’re like this.

His fingers graze your cheek gently before he presses a featherlight kiss on your forehead, “Sleep well, моя принцесса (my princess). I’m here, you’re safe.”

Bucky rises to his feet and switches off the lamp before walking down the hallway to his room, Steve following behind him to his own, both of them missing how your lips twitch upwards into a faint smile.

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rcehb · 5 years

Text

May I Have This Dance? *PART ONE*- Ignis Scientia x Reader

[A/n: First time writing a fluff fic for Ignis and this took me hoouuurs to write despite how short it is lol. I just hope everyone (or anyone, really) takes the time to read it ‘cause I haven’t written in a long time and I’m still very insecure of my writing style.

Anyway, hope you all enjoy this!

[ Tags: @miss-scientia ]

[ Part Two ]

Background: Reader is invited to the King’s formal party for the first time and meets some interesting people, along with the Prince himself and his captivating Royal Adviser.

Warning: Slow burn with extra slow, fluff and foreshadowings, heavy on Iris & Reader friendship ]

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Ignis received his invitation late.

He was already at the door when he noticed the sealed envelope on top of his desk. Normally, he’d sigh and mutter to himself -- ‘things like these should be punctual and precise in time’ -- but seeing as he already knew the letter’s contents, he took the envelope with him and turned off the lights before leaving his office.

As he walked through the yawning hallways, he reviewed today’s meeting in his mind. The plan was to have a small, formal party for the King. A simple celebration with only the ones closest to the King would be invited. Strict policies will be implemented and security will be tight to prevent any unnecessary trouble. All of these have been meticulously planned and carefully rearranged in one week, down to the details of who will be the guards stationed in each exit and entrance and who will be preparing the banquet table.

Of course, Ignis had already seen through the last one personally. There was so much spare time at the end of the week and he couldn’t resist to stretch his muscles and make a trip to the kitchens.

The ballroom was decorated with yellow lights and drooping beads of crystals from the chandelier. The tables were all set at the back of the room, leaving an empty space for dancing in the middle. No doubt there will be a lot of couples and guests mingling there. Everything else sat into place perfectly and all that seems to be missing were the people.

By the time Ignis had reached the private garage, he had finished pondering about the event -- utterly content with the results -- when he realized he needed a new suit to wear.

----

“Well, how do I look?” Iris spun and smiled nervously to her friend. (Y/n) tapped her chin as if in thought and looked at the hem laden with little beads and floral embroidery. The white fabric fell loosely around her small feet.

“Hmm, you look like a wedding cake.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright.” (Y/n) said, biting her knuckle to stifle a laugh. “You look like my grandmother’s curtain.”

“(Y/n)!” Iris stomped her foot. “Oh, this is hopeless. Maybe we should check the other stores instead.”

“Well, you know I’m always up for the trip,” (Y/n) said. “As long as we get to eat street food after.”

Iris disappeared behind the curtain with a huff. They had been in the store for more than two hours now, fooling around at first with furry boas and large colorful feathered hats, taking pictures, and wearing as much bejeweled rings as they could. When the sun had began to set, (Y/n) finally sat down and suggested they should start choosing what to wear before the store clerk kicks them out.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” Iris said over the curtain. “Aren’t you going to pay for that dress yet?”

(Y/n) had almost forgotten she was holding the bundled fabric in her arms. The dress she grabbed from the rack was poorly decorated with little to no pearls sewn at the bottom, its sleeves a sleek sheer net that ended at her wrists. Maybe she was starting to feel sleepy and had thought she was carrying a soft, black pillow. ‘Like Chocobo feathers,’ she thought.

“I’ll just wait for you,” she snapped herself awake. “Are you going to buy anything?”

Iris pondered deeply. “The white dress.”

“Aw, preparing for your wedding with Noct? The bride is bold,” (Y/n) yawned and Iris finished just in time to pull the curtains and smack (Y/n)’s head.

“Shut up! Geez!” Iris said, her whole face melting in red. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“I’m just teasing, come on,” (Y/n) said. “Let’s pay for the clothes.”

As she waited for the cashier to finish bagging their purchased items, (Y/n) wandered around the store and saw the flower shop across the street with grey, wooden floors and rose bushes crowding its windows. The signage looped in elegant curves and (Y/n) inhaled, trying to imagine the flowers’ sweet fragrance when she felt Iris poke the back of her shoulder.

“Let’s go eat something,” she said. “I want to have some ice cream. What do you say? Sounds good?”

(Y/n) turned to smile at her friend and said, “Not before we visit that flower shop.”

----

When (Y/n) fell asleep, she dreamed of her afternoon as if she was reliving them again but only specific fragments of what occurred. She saw the flower vendor in her sleep, the ice cream she ate with Iris, the bespectacled man who passed by, a clay pot of herbs, and a candle she had never seen before.

“They’re the last white roses this season. I suggest you get yourself a bouquet,” she remembered the vendor saying, now his voice echoing in her dream.

She rose from the bed before she even knew she was already awake, ready to start the day and prepare for the King’s party. Her mind distantly wondered if those left over white roses were ever bought as she played with the single one in her hand.

---

[A/n: So! What do you think? ;) Feedback would be very much appreciated! ]

#ignis scientia x reader #final fantasy ignis #ignis scientia #chocobros #chocobros x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fanfiction #ffxv #final fantasy 15 #ignis stupeo scientia #final fantasy xv kingsglaive #x reader #final fantasy xv imagines #ignis x reader imagines #ignis scientia x reader imagines

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 5 years

Text

Frostbitten (Chapter Four)

Previous Part

Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

Happy 4th, if you live in the U.S.!! I listened to Hamilton twice today and then rewatched 1776, and then finished this, because that’s the only way I know how to celebrate. Sorry this took so long to get out! Also, enjoy this peace while it lasts, because this story isn’t gonna stay happy for long :)

Okay. Alright. This is fine.

The Asgardians will be completely okay in the dungeons. They can fend for themselves, right? There's no point in worrying about them, especially since it has only been moments since their departure, and since there’s no doubt that Odin will find a way to retrieve them very soon. You can worry about that later, you decide, trying to focus on the occurrences at hand.

The two guards at your sides walk you down a large dining hall, fitted with a table that has probably been set for years. A thick layer of dust is settled on the top of the tablecloth and spread along the grey, stone plates. It matches the rest of the castle: abandoned, unkempt, empty. The building seems to lack a soul.

The next hall that the guards lead you down is slightly less the part. It looks swept, at least. Portraits on the walls are crooked and cracked, but clouds of dirt do not rise to meet you every time you take a step, so it’s still, in a way, better. Some doors down this hallway are cracked open, and you can see beds left unmade. Plates of decaying food are left unattended on silver platters, with no hints as to why or to who left them there. At the end of the hallway, a large door to the left of you is the only one left closed. The guards pause at this door, ushering you forward. Since the door was clearly made for much taller beings, the handle is at your shoulder- nearly at your neck, but you wrap both hands around it and pull.

At first, the room is dark and silent, the only traces of light entering from the space behind you. You take a step in, and a small ball of light emits from near the back of the room, stemming from the fingers of a rather young looking Jotun, not much shorter than yourself. His hair, long and a ratty mess, reaches down across his oversized grey robes. He sets the orb of light down, as if it were solid, and ties his hair back, away from his face, before straightening up and truly addressing you.

"Who're you?" He asks quietly, his voice high, but calm. "You're awfully small."

"Loric," groans a second voice after a moment's delay, accompanied by a quiet tossing of sheets. "Stop... Magic... No one is..." the voice trails off, and you squint into the dim light, searching for the owner of the second voice. "Oh, damn. Light it up."

Loric spreads his hands, and light floods the ceiling of the long, musty room, illuminating two columns of "beds," piles of sheets lined up along the stone walls. There are six. Two are empty, four are filled. Two of the children are awake, and the others begin to stir, poking their tiny heads out of the clutters of fabric.

They look like twins, each of them being very young girls. The boy who performed the magic seems slightly older, probably in his early teens, and the one who spoke to you is much taller than you, though, assuming he'll grow to the size of the guards or the king, he's probably years younger. He studies you, flabbergasted, and waves a hand to the space behind you.

"Guards, you are dismissed," he says. The two giants leave their posts, shutting the door behind you.

The two twins, rubbing their eyes, each turn toward you.

"Hi," you say, blinking uncomfortably. Your voice is dry, and a bit weak. "I, hello, I'm Y/N. You're all very tall."

"Y/N," echoes the eldest, shifting in his pile of sheets. "You're quite short for a giant."

"I'm only half-" you start, on instinct, and then quickly cut off. These sons and daughters of Laufey do not need to know that you’re half Asgardian. "I suppose I'll be about half your size. It's a birth defect."

"How was prison?" Asks Loric, staring at you with large red eyes. "That's where you're from, isn't it? You are Laufey's lost child. We were told you’d come."

"You're here to join us?" Asks one of the twins, using a small hand to push her hair out of her face. Beneath the veil of hair is a round, makeshift eyepatch, fashioned from the sole of a shoe and bit of cloth. "There's no room. Where are you to sleep?"

"She'll sleep in one of the other beds, stupid," says the second twin, rolling her eyes. "They're plenty empty. She'll sleep next to you, even."

"That's where Elora sleeps!" The first twin shoots back. "We're not kicking her out!"

"Elora isn't here!"

"Quiet, you two," the eldest interrupts. The twins shut up very quickly, staring away from each other. "Y/N, we'll get you new bedding. You'll not want to use any of these."

You look at the crumpled piles along the walls and don't make a move to disagree. "Thank you, ah..."

"Vaire," he finishes. He is studying your face, appearing troubled. "And that's Loric, and the twins are named Kolla and Arna. The one with the eyepatch is Kolla."

Kolla smiles at the sound of her name, staring attentively at a spot on the wall. Arna waves at you in greeting, but her eyes are on her sister, gazing with a certain kind of restrained grief. Each of them has long, straight hair and pale blue skin- contrasted from the darker shades in Vaire's and Loric's skin. Now that you think about it, other than the twins, they don't look much alike at all. They look more distantly related. Like cousins.

Or, you think, like step-siblings. Same father, different mothers.

"Well," you look over the four, "I'm, are there others? The other beds, are they normally.." you trail off when you notice everyone's eyes suddenly avoiding you, deciding that you may not want to know the answers to your questions. "I, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," says Loric, faintly.

"I pity you if you thought this would be any better than where you were on Asgard," says Vaire, absentmindedly running a thumb under his jaw, which is over pronounced, sharp from malnourishment. "Though, it may get better for you sometime soon, since you've singlehandedly managed to steal the throne."

There it is. There’s the bad side.

"I, sorry if I did, but I didn't mean to steal anything." You sigh, looking away from the people who you're pretending to be related to. "Besides, look at me. Do you think Laufey is going to let me anywhere near the throne? I look like a splinter in an armory. I'm completely unintimidating."

"Do not mistake my words for contempt," Vaire says quickly, putting his hands in the air in surrender. He seems genuine, immediately regretful. "I didn't mean that in a bad sense- I'm actually quite glad I'm not the heir. I have no interest in the throne."

"Vaire wanted to give it up to me," Loric says, lacing his fingers together. "He thinks I'll be a very powerful ruler. But Laufey forbids it. He says that I'm a wizard, not a king."

Boy. Where have I heard that before.

"That doesn't make any sense," you comment. Vaire nods solemnly.

"Nothing does.” He looks at Kolla, who is mumbling to herself and staring at the bed next to her, then looks at Loric, who hugs his legs to his chest, staring right back at him. You'll get used to it."

You grow quiet. The room goes stale, reduced to shuffles and breathing. Then Loric lets out a loud, semi-annoyed sigh, and he stands up.

"You want to see your friends," he says, to your immediate surprise. "Don't be so shocked. I can see it written on your face!"

"To be perfectly honest, I guessed too," says Vaire, clearly grateful for a change in subject. "But I didn't think they were your friends. I figured you'd want to bid farewell."

You blink. "I, one of them is a friend. The others are allies. I don't intend to let them die."

"Won't they starve?" Arna asks, head tilted curiously. "Are they nice?"

"No," you say plainly. “Most of them are actually quite awful. But they're innocent, and one of them..." you bite your lip. "One of them is quite important to me."

"Oh? Do explain." Vaire grins, narrowing his eyes. "I do love a good romance story, and we haven’t many of them in the library."

You flush, cheeks warming, and stare at the ground. "No, no. It's not, we're, no, he's just the one who kept me company while I was in prison."

"A guard?" Arna suggests.

"No, he was.." your blush deepens, creeping down your neck. You probably look just as ridiculous as you sound. "...he was a prince."

"Thor!?" Kolla is suddenly snapped from her gaze, staring with one big eye. Then she turns her gaze to the empty pile of blankets beside her, lowering her voice. "Did you hear that, Ellie? She's courting Thor!"

"No!" You say quickly, sounding quite a bit disgusted. "No, gods no. It's his brother."

"Thor has a brother?" Loric asks.

"Oh, I've heard of him. Prince Loki, I believe. God of Mischief and Lies," speaks Vaire, thinking deeply.

You nod, but halfway through the motion, you stop, frowning. "I've never heard of him by that name. But yes. Loki."

Loric begins to grin along with his brother, walking toward you and stopping just a couple steps away. "And you're in love with him?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"...Yes."

"Does he love you?"

"No."

"That sounded disappointed."

"I'm not!"

"Is he?"

"Is he what?"

"Is he disappointed in the lack of amorous air between you?"

You roll your eyes. "I'll have to ask him next time I'm in the dungeons."

Loric nods thoughtfully, then all the light from the ceiling drops to the floor and flies into his hands. "Alright. Let's go! Vaire, we'll be back soon."

Vaire seems unfazed. He waves at you, then disappears back into his blankets. "Bring back food."

"Of course."

You blink. “What?”

“We’re going to the dungeons!” Loric exclaims, grabbing your wrist, which immediately freaks you out considering that you haven’t directly been touched in a very long time. You somehow manage not to rip your hand away.

“Won’t you get in trouble? I’ve only just met you- you don’t have to-”

“Oh, Loric is excellent at not getting into trouble. Don’t you worry,” mutters Arvid, speaking through a yawn, and not a second later you're being dragged down the hallway, Loric's fingers holding tightly around your wrist as he flies past oblivious guards and open doors. He slows down for a moment in the dining hall, pulling you off into a small side room and grabbing a stale loaf of bread off of one of the shelves.

He snaps the loaf in half and hands one half to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Half for us, half for your... Allies."

You take the bread and hold it tenderly, smiling at the eagerness of the young child. Maybe it's his generosity, or his magic, or his name- but he reminds you distinctly of Loki.

"They've only been in the dungeons for about twenty seconds, but thank you," you say as he grabs your wrist once again. “Are all of you this nice? On Asgard we have a very specifically awful image of Jotuns.”

"There are plenty of good ones here, just not many in the palace," he returns. "Oh, and in case you haven't realized, I'm making us invisible. I’ll let go when we're in the dark."

"Alright."

He starts off again, heading toward the entrance hall and then pulling you down a dark staircase, so dim you have to squint to make sure you don't hit the guards standing by the walls. When you reach the cells, Loric doesn't immediately let go. Instead, he leans over to you, whispering.

"I think your friends are special prisoners. They won't be close to the front."

"Oh?" You frown. "Where will they be?"

"Near the back, probably, where it's hardest to escape," says Sif, her voice popping up very suddenly from behind you. You spin around, only to find that she's hidden behind a thick, metal door- the only access to the outside world is from a small window at the top. Even that is barred off. "Though, for some reason, they presume I'm not special enough. They'll regret that, eventually."

When he hears no guards, Loric releases your wrist, conjuring a small ball of light. You move to the door and grip the bars, trying to see through to her. "The Odinsons are further down?"

"Loki controlled you," she says, dodging the question. "Are you here to get revenge?" Sif is at the back of her cell, but when she sees you she begins to move forward, arms crossed defiantly. "He's a magician, might I remind you."

"You're being extraordinarily annoying," you comment in retaliation, backing a step away from the bars and ripping off a chunk of the bread. "And Loki wasn't controlling me. I was telling the truth. You three are innocent."

"Oh?" She cocks an eyebrow, stepping to the front. Her eyes fall to the bread, then to Loric. "And who's this?"

"Loric Laufeyson," Loric says, smiling gently. He seems unfazed by her attitude. "You've lovely eyes, miss."

You stare daggers at Sif the minute he says his name. Don't blow my cover, you scream at her, mentally. Then we'll both die.

She stares at him for a moment, confused, and then looks back to you. Realization starts to dawn on her face. Slowly, but surely, you see her resolve to hate you flicker away. There's almost guilt in her expression. Almost. "You're serious?"

You nod. "I'm serious. You're hungry?"

She looks ready to reject the offer, but swallows her pride, sighing. "I didn't exactly eat breakfast."

You hold the bread through the bars. It's surprisingly unfrozen, and she takes it.

"I don't trust you," she says, inspecting the bread. "But I don't think you're so much evil, just stupid."

"Thanks." You smile sarcastically, backing up from the bars. "I'll let you know if the Allfather drops out of the sky to retrieve you."

She pauses, and then looks down, shaking her head. "If all goes well, that will be soon."

You leave her behind with that, not offering a response. Loric leads you away, father back into the prison. He's smiling.

"I like her," he says. "She seems very fierce."

"Stubborn, more like. I hear she's excellent on the field, though."

"Is she your guide?"

You shake your head. "We.." you pause, realizing that you probably can't tell him about Arvid. "..Jotunheim Is small. We figured that no guide was needed."

He nods, contemplating this until you reach your next destination.

It's not an energy barrier, thank the gods, and the only thing that separates this cell from Sif's is that through the bars on the door you can see Thor has his hands in cuffs chained to the wall. He seems to have a few feet of walking space, but that's all.

"Oh, it's you," he grunts, eyes following you from the back of his cell. "You know, you're lucky the other prisoners are asleep. They'd rip you to pieces if they saw you visiting us."

You stare. "Thor, I realize you don’t like me much, but I'm trying to help."

Loric frowns. "Is this the man you love?"

"No, this is Thor. He's awful. Also, I don't love Loki either."

Thor looks alarmed. "You love my brother?"

"You know what?" You tear a piece off of the bread, throw it, and watch as it hits him square in the face. "Take the bread. I'll talk to you tomorrow, if you’re still here by then."

He says something else, but you're already walking away before you have time to hear it. Loric chuckles at your change in stature, following you toward the back of the room and pointing you to a hallway to your left. "You don't like him," he comments, smiling. "Why not?"

"With the Odinsons, you just have to like one and hate the other."

"You picked Loki?"

"I'd hope so," joins a third voice from farther down the hall, warm and familiar. Both you and Loric turn toward the cell which holds the voice, and through Loric’s light, your eyes lock with beautiful blue. "Y/N is practically the only thing my brother can't take from me."

You step up to the foot of his cell. The bars are full length in his cell- ceiling to the floor instead of solid walls. The door is the same as the others. "I chose you because you’re not arrogant and insufferable. Don’t change my mind by whining.”

“Wow, so bold now that we’ve switched positions.” He grins, and bows swiftly, keeping eye-contact the whole time. "As you wish, your majesty."

"Should I leave you two alone a moment?" Asks Loric's tiny voice, laced with mischevious intent. "It'll be dark, but I doubt you need light to speak."

"Oh, Loric, there's no need-"

The light goes out. It grows silent, and then Loki begins to laugh.

"I like him," he says, quieting his voice.

“That’s Loric Laufeyson,” you mutter, laughing gently along with him. “I like him too.”

"How have you been? It's been quite a while. Maybe a bit too long."

"Maybe?” You chuckle. “I'd slap you if I wasn't sure I'd freeze your nose off, but I'm pretty sure there was no way for you to visit, so I'll let it slide."

"I would have visited if I could, I promise. It nearly killed me to be away for so long."

You scoff, but smile through the darkness. "Drama queen. You were fine."

"No, really, I didn't realize how much of my life..." he trails off, then laughs lightly. You hear him shuffle a bit. "Everyone else is either insanely secretive and deceptive, or arrogant and shameless. Since Thor got this assignment from father, he's been an absolute nuisance."

"More than usual?"

"More than usual,” he agrees. “Thor may be a bit arrogant, but he's also very easy to love. He's like a, well, like a horse- simple, easy to operate, kindhearted, loyal-"

"But a complete idiot?"

"Not necessarily, it's just that... He's a bit slow sometimes."

You snort, feeling for the bars and leaning against them, taking some of the weight off your legs. "We'll have something in common. It's been ten years and I still can't control whether or not I take someone's hand off."

"Oh, Hogun will be alright. He was being an imbecile." There's a soft, outward sigh, and you feel his shoulder brush yours as he leans on the other side of the bars. "You weren't level-headed. You controlled it fine when..."

"When you were there," you finish with a sigh. "Everything is always horrible when you're gone. If you ever leave again I might have to come find you."

"I'd be more worried about yourself." You feel a gentle brush of skin on the hand you have resting against the bars, and quickly pull your fingers away. Loki immediately expresses concern. "What's wrong?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Loki. You can't touch me."

"Because you don't want me to, or because you're afraid it will hurt me?"

"It will hurt you."

"You won't."

"I can't control that."

His voice gets closer. "Y/N, you could cut off my legs in my sleep and I'd still adore you. If you give me frostbite, I'll heal it and forget this ever happened, but I doubt I'll ever need to."

You hesitate, the word adore lingering in the air. "I.. Loki, I would never forgive myself. You'd do the same for me."

"This isn't about me. This is about you. If there were no consequences-" he breaks off. When he speaks next, he sounds amused. "Fine. Coward."

"Loki, don't-!"

His skin meets yours with a sudden shock, so sudden that your hand jolts upward. He grips your hand gently, steadying you as you screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down and control the ice. His fingers slip delicately around yours, and your hand is lifted upward until the soft skin of his lips hits your knuckles. The contact is short, but it carries a lifetime of meaning.

"See, was that so bad?" His voice rings, and you can almost hear him smirk as your hands, shaking, wrap around his.

"You're going to kill me one day," you said, voice shaking, your heart beating at an alarming rate. "By the nine, Loki-"

"Hush, it's alright. We're alright." He takes your hands, one in each of his, and places them on the sides of his face, as if to confirm this fact. “You’re not even cold.”

You soak in the feeling of his skin, breath evening out. You take a moment to touch him, thumbs brushing under his eyes and fingers wrapping around his jaw. He mirrors you, gently taking your face in his hands and holding you, so close that you can feel his breath on your face. You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears. You can feel the light, weightless, tingling feeling spreading into your limbs. You feel the thrum of his pulse against your fingers, and... Is it? Yes, it's surely faster than usual. You wonder if he can feel your pulse as well or if his fingers have grown numb atop your skin.

When you don’t even think it’s possible to get closer to him, there is a brief, soft brush of lips. The shadow of a kiss. Intoxicating and unfinished, leaving you to revel in silent, confusing longing. After a moment of deep breathing and heavy silence, Loki plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth, chuckling softly. "Getting a bit close, are we?"

"A bit," you whisper in soft response, not sure what to call the feelings awakening inside you. "Is this what it always feels like?"

"What what feels like, dear?"

"Well, you know.. Touch." Your fingers brush for a final time over his face, pausing on his cheekbones. Under your fingers, you swear there are small ridges on his skin. Raised places, forming delicate lines down his face. "Does... Is there always...this?"

There's a silence, your hands still on each others' skin, and Loki plants a second kiss on the top of your head. "No," he whispers, so faintly you nearly don't hear. Then his hands leave your skin, and he takes a step back. "You should probably go find your brother."

"He's not my brother," you remind him. Your hands slowly, shakily leave his skin. "But yes, I suppose so. He's quite a dear. I'd not want to get him in trouble."

"I'll be waiting for you," he says. His voice is fainter, lower. "Try not to forget me while you’re living in the lap of luxury."

“Don’t count on it,” you murmur, throwing the last chunk of bread at his face and quickly exiting the premises, heart still rushing.

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name@jessiejunebug@fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback@awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom@woohoney @itsanallygator @rosesarestriped @justyuuhi @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @loser-alert @egos-r-life @themusingsofmany

#Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor #marvel #mcu

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dearophelia · 5 years

Text

it’s that time of year where I unearth banshee!verse and try to knock some plot into it. so have an excerpt I wrote last year, which I found while trying to figure out where, precisely, the fuck I’d left this story.

[context: Kat has just “woken up” after “sleepwalking” and she and her partner and investigating the creepy-ass alley next to the creepy-ass building Kat “woke up in”]

“They’re in trouble,” the voice says, “you need to help them.”

“Shut up,” she hisses.

One of the lumps moves, drawing her attention, and a pair of green eyes stare back at her. The eyes almost glow, like animal eyes reflecting the light. Only there isn’t any light.

“You need to help them, Katherine. You’re running out of time.”

She blinks. An actual voice, from an actual person. Maybe. The voices in her head sound real, too. Just because this one comes with eyes doesn’t mean it’s real.

The eyes pulse with an inner light, sparkling like an emerald. “Hurry.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she abruptly yanks the blankets away. She jumps as the scrawny orange cat hisses at her before running deeper into the alley.

Metal clangs against metal, echoing loudly against the narrow walls. Katherine shrieks, though thankfully most of it is lost in the awful noise. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Found another door!” Deck calls. “Locked like the other one. Same spray paint though.” She tugs on the chain. Clenching her jaw, she glares at the chain and yanks hard. The chain easily breaks, falling away.

“Way to Hulk out,” she says.

“Must’ve rusted through.” Despite Deck’s yanking, the door doesn’t open. With a deep breath, Deck braces one foot on the wall, grasps the handle with both hands, and pulls. She lands ungracefully on her ass amidst dead leaves and old newspapers, but the door stands open before them.

Katherine offers her a hand and then turns on her phone’s flashlight again. The light barely penetrates three feet into the dark hallway, but it’s enough to light up the eyes of a family of rats, startled during their meal. They look up at her, eyes glowing red, and then all scatter, claws scrabbling on the concrete floor. She makes the mistake of squinting into the hallway to see their meal: whatever it was, it’s mostly bone and gore now.

Every survival instinct she has, not to mention every horror movie she’s ever seen, screams for her to step back out into the alley, and then back out into the sun, get in the car and forget this ever happened. But the faint buzzing in her fingertips she hasn’t felt since Mark Stanley, and that she had written off as a fluke, returns, drawing her – leading her – inside.

But going inside a condemned building she inexplicably woke up in, that was locked at every entrance, that looks like the set of several horror movies her high school girlfriend dragged her to, where she saw a cop who wasn’t at all who he said he was, where a cat told her to help someone, after screaming in her sleep for two weeks and hearing voices and feeling dead bodies, seems like a tremendously bad idea. And if she’s going to lean into the bad idea – she’s already taken three steps toward the door without noticing – she’s not quite so stupid as to do it without telling her partner about, at the very least, the general weirdness plaguing her life recently.

“Before we go in,” she turns to Deck, “swear on whatever deity or force you believe in this week that you won’t repeat what I’m about to say to anyone, especially Morgan.”

Deck’s brow furrows, but she draws a little x over her heart. “Sworn.”

“This is gonna sound nuts.”

“You took the subway across town in the middle of the night, walked into an abandoned and, frankly, horrifying building I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen before, and woke up talking to a dude who claimed to be someone who’s been dead for ten years.” Deck gestures with her hands open as if to say please top that.

Katherine bobbles her head a bit. Deck has a point, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to knock this morning down to kinda strange. “Weird shit has been happening since that night David died. I’ve been,” she pauses, “hearing things. Voices. And waking up screaming. And now sleepwalking, apparently.”

Deck stares at her in the alley’s gloomy light and Katherine gets the distinct feeling that her partner is looking for something specific. Shadows settle around them, casting Deck into even dimmer light than before. The wind picks up, blowing papers and a crumpled beer can down the alley. Despite the heat, Katherine shivers.

The wind settles and the shadows pass, leaving them again in the grey half-light as the sun creeps across the sky.

“You’re working a serial case without any leads, and IAB’s down your throat about the kid,” Deck says, after what feels like an hour. “Your stress responses have always trended toward psychosis,” she reminds her. From anyone else, it’d sound like a dismissal. From Deck, it sounds kind.

Katherine nods and takes a shaky breath. “Yeah,” she agrees. It’s what she’s been trying to tell herself for two weeks, and hearing it from someone else makes it sound rational. Oh, and the voices have been asking for my help and I’m pretty sure I flashed back in time by two hours to see Mark Stanley’s heart ripped out by a monster.

“Let’s go check this out,” Deck says, gesturing to the door Katherine’s now standing just inside, “see if we can find any reason your subconscious decided you needed to be here, then get the hell out of this creepy-ass area and I’ll take you home.”

Nodding, Katherine takes a few steps further inside as Deck props a series of stones by the door to keep it from shutting on them. Sidestepping the rats’ meal, she heads deeper into the dark, dank hallway.

If she were just exploring, if she weren’t looking for something specific, Katherine suspects she’d be a lot more terrified than she is. They pass rooms sealed by metal doors, tiny windows just at eye height showing pitch black interiors. Hallways branch off, filled with rusty pipes, broken furniture, and small rodent bones cluttered in the corners. Water stains cover the walls and almost every step is through a puddle.

Find me.

“All this place needs is some flickering lights,” Deck says as she ducks underneath a broken section of ceiling and exposed tangled wiring.

Katherine flicks the flashlight on and off a few times with a grin.

“I hate you.”

The buzzing grows steadily stronger until they make it to a door pulled off its hinges and the staircase it’s blocking. As she reaches the flashlight around the door, checking the integrity of the stairs, the buzzing starts to pull upward. Katherine sticks her phone in her pocket and motions at Deck. “Help me with this.”

Deck hands her a pair of latex gloves and snaps on her own pair before touching the rusted metal. Katherine does the same: god only knows what’s been down here, and for how long. With a little tugging, the two pull the door the rest of the way off its hinges. They push it aside, but it slides out of their grasp and crashes down to the floor with a loud bang, startling both of them and splashing stagnant water up over their shoes.

The two women look at each other and then back down the hallway, hands on their sidearms.

“Good thing we weren’t trying for stealth,” Katherine says after a few minutes of silence and no movement from the shadows.

“Anything living here noticed the minute we walked in,” Deck murmurs, following Katherine up the rickety stairs.

Katherine pauses and looks over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Deck’s looking away, shining her own flashlight down toward the stairs behind them. Clouds drift over the sun and what little light shone through the broken stairwell window diffuses into grey. Deck momentarily blends into the empty darkness below. Katherine blinks, the clouds clear, and Deck gestures for her to keep going.

The buzzing keeps pulling her upward until the third floor, and to the room she was standing in this morning.

“This is where I woke up,” Katherine says absently. The buzzing shifts into a strong vibration, climbing up her arm to her shoulder, pulling her toward the wall by the upturned chair. She distantly registers Deck standing by the window, looking outside and talking through how someone might have seen her from the street, but Katherine reaches up for the peeling wallpaper.

Find me!

“Hang on,” she mutters in irritation as she starts pulling the faded floral wallpaper back, revealing crumbling plaster walls.

Deck’s phone rings. “Deckard,” she answers.

Katherine’s fingertips brush over the plaster, tracing the spiderweb cracks emanating from a small hole just above her head. Little pieces crumble to dust and fall to the floor. Curiously, the vibration falls silent. She peers at the wall and picks at the wall. Larger pieces come away along with the dust and she closes her eyes against a small shower of plaster.

“Kat!” Deck says, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

Katherine holds up a finger and then sneezes. “Yeah?” She steps away from the wall, the cracks, and the hole now the size of her hand.

“Morgan wants us back. Full coroner reports just came in.”

Katherine doesn’t look back as she follows Deck down the stairs and out the way they came.

Found me, a voice echoes behind her.

#critics everywhere: the main character seems very detached and rational for what's happening to her #me: it's called dissociation sweetie. look it up.#verse:voidwalkers #ten fake dollars to whoever can point out the sanctuary episode i had in the background while writing this #tarysande

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butmomilovepeter · 5 years

Text

burn up with the water, the floods are on the plains

read on ao3?

It’s probably the dumbest photo he’s ever taken. The certificate was upside down, the bunny ear were way off, and both of their faces were goofy as ever.

So, obviously he had it framed.

It feels heavy when he picks it up. Like it hold more than just a plastic frame.

Peter was dead. He’s been dead for a good while now. But he couldn’t get past it. There were times, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, where the frightened boy’s last words would replay slowly in his ears. Where he would have to get up and wash his hands because he could feel the dust on them.

He couldn’t move on, and he hated it. It was more than just the fate of the world. It was Peter, it was all Peter.

“Tony.” Pepper’s voice enters the room softly. She looked beautiful as ever, hair up and wispy.

Tony kind of had to get over it soon, considering he had a kid of his own on the way.

(He was my own kid—)

“Hey, Pep. How you feeling?” He asks.

She smiles softly. “Like crap. Nothing new.”

She comes over and wraps her arms around his torso. It’s nice to feel her safe in his arms. There were so many moments up there in the empty of space, when he thought he’d never feel this feeling again. It was one of those times that lately he’s been able to find light in the dark.

“Tony, I have news,” she said, still within the hug.

“And what’s that?”

He felt her breath on his neck. “It’s a boy. The baby is a boy.”

Tony feels his stomach flare. “We’re having a boy?”

Pepper nods. “Just thought you could use some good news today.”

Tony smiles. “Thank you for telling me.”

And there they stood, arm in arm, in the quiet of the kitchen.

Steve Rogers was downstairs. He wasn’t his enemy. Not even if he was pretentious as ever, he was the good guy. He lost too.

Clint seemed the most distraught. He lost, and he lost badly. He didn’t have to say it, you could just tell. The only one who seemed to know anything about it was Nat, and even she seemed distant.

But they were working on it. Slowly, bit by bit, they were coming back together.

And now, with Carol Danvers at their side, there wasn’t time to fail.

“Hey.” Pepper’s voice was light. “What are you thinking about?”

Tony thinks for a moment. “Baby names.”

“Baby names?” Pepper says with a laugh. “Can I hear them?”

“They’re kinda embarrassing. If I’m honest.” Tony replies.

“They can’t be that bad.”

“Well...I think they should have some importance to you, and all of mine are centered around me-”

“Lets name him Peter.” She interrupts.

Tony stops dead in tracks, because it’s the one thing he didn’t think she would say.

“Pep,” he cracks out. “You sure?”

She takes his face in her hands. They’re soft and delicate and warm against the cold of his face.

She doesn’t look happy. No one looks happy, exactly. Not when there’s still a bit of dust coating everything; not when there were children’s graves and memorials were littered around the cities.

But she looked content and oh so beautiful, and in that moment, there’s a small fleeting hope that things could stay that way.

“I’m positive. I...I like the name.” She resounds.

Tony smiles back at her sadly, gently turning back to pick up the picture frame. He strokes the side slowly with his thumb. “I want him here. With us.”

Pepper seems to understand. She nods and she puts a hand on it too. Peter and her had gotten closer as the months went on. May and her were friends. They went out for brunch together. They did normal mom things.

But now? May was home, alone, wallowing in all that was gone.

“We should go to May. She deserves to know.” Pepper whispers, setting the picture down for him.

Tony clears his throat. “Agreed. I-I feel bad for not going before.”

“Don’t be,” she replies. “I went there a few days before you came back. She...she wanted to be alone.”

Tony nods and tries to hide the fact that he starting to cry. There was that awfully sad feeling stuck in his throat again.

“Hey,” a new voice appears. Happy. “Want me to drive?”

Happy had a look on his face that didn’t often come out. It was low and sad, bags under his eyes making him seem much,much, older. He missed Peter too. Everyone who had ever met him did.

“Sure, Hap. May might want to see you to.” Pepper supplies.

And with forced smiles, the three made their way to Queens.

The Parker residence was one of the only apartments in the complex that was still occupied. The only one on the entire floor with someone in it. But with a loss so great, things like rent and real estate weren’t of great importance.

So as Tony made his way down the dirty hallway, with Pepper and Happy right behind him, he can’t help but think...this is not worth Thanos’s plan. It never thought it was a good plan. He absolutely did not want it to happen. But the damage was so great that it was a shock to him. Thanos wasn’t an illogical being. He had a reason.

(It was such a stupid reason.)

So why was the cost illogical? It didn’t make sense. What did make sense? That Thanos was pure, lawful, unforgiving evil. And Tony wasn’t in the mood to deal with it anymore.

Tony knocks slowly on the door.

“May? It’s-It’s Tony.”

There’s russling behind the door before it opens slowly.

May Parker stood there in the doorway. She looked skinnier than ever, like there were days where she didn’t eat. The bags under eyes looked more like bruises. Her clothes were wrinkled and baggy. And yet, she still had a deep, dark, fire in her eyes.

“You’re alive,” is all she says. Tony slowly nods his head, taking Pepper’s hand in his.

“You doing alright?” Pepper asks her, reaching out her other hand. May takes it slowly, shaking slightly as her fingers curl into Pepper’s.

“I’m-I’m getting there,” she laments. “Do you guys want to come in?”

She backs up to lead the way, showing off the mostly empty apartment. Everything is clean, super clean, like it was all she ever did.

Tony watches as Pepper takes May in her arms, not unlike the way she did to him earlier. Happy stands solemnly and awkwardly in front of the closed door, while Tony finds himself with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking distantly at the other pictures that the nearby shelf entails.

“You’ve been eating?” Pepper questions almost silently, hopeful the other men couldn’t hear. May nods slowly, and at Pepper’s raised eyebrow, she supplies: “I had some cereal this morning, I promise.”

Pepper gives her a small smile, taking both of May’s hand in hers.

“I’ve got some exciting news,” Pepper announces.

May tilts her head and returns the tiny smiles. “What is it?”

“We’re having a boy.”

May’s face broke into a mixture of excitement and pride, and Tony can see the tears form in her eyes.

“A boy?” She echoes through tears.

“You are?” Happy chirps from his place. Tony whips around to Happy, forgetting the didn’t tell him. The sides of his lips twist up just a little bit, but the grin was really all in his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s a boy. And…” Pepper put May’s hand on her stomach. “We wanted to name him Peter.”

May slowly lifts her head to meet Pepper’s eyes, a look of disbelief flashing all over her face.

Pepper beams. “Only if you consent to it, of course.”

“Consent?” May laughs. “Of course I consent!”

Tony decides to break in. “Well, that’s real good. Because you’re his godmother.”

It’s a spur of the moment decision, yet Pepper looks at him with agreement. May’s mouth opens slightly in surprise, but closes only seconds after. She looks like she’s about to sob, but she cuts it off with a smile.

Pepper wipes away the tears softly. Tony feels a pang of remorse for the woman strike his heart. She was young than him, but not by very much. She didn’t deserve to lose as much as she did. First the Parker’s, then her husband, and now...her son. Sure, nephew by law, but that was her son.

May takes a strangled breath and pulls herself together. “This is cause for celebration. Pep, come to the kitchen with me? I’ve got some cheese and crackers somewhere…”

The women’s chatter fades as Tony moves back towards Happy. He has a look on his face that Tony couldn’t quite place.

“What’s up , Hap?”

Happy looks up at him and sighs. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just sad. I guess.”

“I know,” Tony chokes. Goddamn lump in his throat. He swallows it down, along with the tears. He hates being on the verge of tears so often. He knows he’s no different from anyone else.

He makes another decision. “Hap, you want to be his godfather?”

Happy’s eyes winden. “Well, absolutely, Boss, but what about Rhodey?”

Tony had actually thought that one through. “Plan was to name him Peter Rhodes. I think that should suffice for Rhodey. And it sounds cooler than Peter James.”

Happy grins back at him. Tony claps him on the back as the ladies come back, arms full of food and a couple bottles of wine.

(And some iced tea for Pepper. She ain’t about to risk anything.)

So as Tony engaged with his found family members, drinking and eating and acting as if the air wasn’t still thick with dust and grief, the lump in his throat disappears.

Peter was dead. He knew that. He accepted that. But there was no accepting defeat.

There was a chance to win. A small one, yes. Maybe it wouldn’t even work. But there was enough hope in him that he couldn’t see a lose.

He saw them winning.

Whatever it takes.

#peter parker #tony stark #mcu #infinity war #spiderson #irondad #avengers endgame #pepperony #may parker #i wrote something!!!#fanfic #happy hogan #baby stark

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