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bi-bard · 1 year

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Oh No, I'm Falling in Love - Peter Parker Imagine (The Amazing Spider-Man)

Title: Oh No, I'm Falling in Love

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Based On: Labyrinth

Word Count: 2,109 words

Warning(s): mention of death, fear of commitment/relationship, grief

Summary: After losing Gwen, Peter expected to be on his own for a very long time. (Y/n) accidentally proves him very wrong.

Author's Note: We've had a good amount of not-so-happy imagines during this writing challenge... let's have one with a happy ending, shall we?

MIDNIGHTS - TAYLOR SWIFT WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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Peter had decided that meeting (Y/n) felt more like a shock to the system than anything.

After everything that happened... After losing Gwen, he shut down for a while.

He pulled away from the remaining people around him. He constantly felt like there was this ball of anger in his stomach. He was more violent. Less controlled.

He was losing sight of why he had become Spider-Man in the first place.

In all honesty, he would never have reached out to (Y/n) on his own. He would've seen them in passing, maybe wondered about the person who seemed extra happy while waiting for their coffee that morning for a matter of minutes before dismissing them entirely. He would've stayed in his cloud that had so easily changed his perception of the world.

But (Y/n) seemed dedicated to keeping that from happening.

They had tried to contain their excitement. Let it sit with them until they could go and call a friend or a family member or something. But in the matter of minutes that it took for their coffee to be finished, their excitement had overwhelmed them. They needed to tell someone.

"Sorry," they turned to Peter, who was clearly exhausted and out of it. (Y/n) paid no mind to that. "I just need to say this to someone. I just got a promotion."

Peter blinked at them, overwhelmed by the person's cheeriness for a moment.

He finally muttered out a response, "Congratulations."

"Thanks," they replied, smile not dimming for a moment. They held out their hand for him to shake. "(Y/n)."

"Peter," he shook their hand and forced a grin. He assumed that this would be the only time that he'd see them.

"Nice to meet you, Peter."

Before he could respond with some kind of forced politeness, (Y/n)'s name was called from the counter. They waved to him and went to grab their drink.

Peter waved back. He wasn't quite sure why. He could've easily nodded or ignored it. But he didn't.

He shrugged the interaction off.

Until the next day... when (Y/n) was there again.

They waved at him as he walked over to wait for his drink. He nodded back and stood next to them, feeling like it would've been rude to try and avoid them now.

The pair made slightly awkward small talk for a few minutes before (Y/n)'s name was called. They left with a wave... that Peter found himself returning again.

The pattern continued for days. Weeks.

They would walk into the coffee shop around the same time, talk while waiting for one of their names to be called, and then part for the day.

(Y/n) would be lying if they acted like they didn't find Peter attractive. He was nice and funny. His looks were a nice bonus, but he was just generally a nice person to talk to.

Peter, on the other hand, was confused.

He felt the beginning of a crush forming. He knew the signs. But he didn't know what to do about them. He wanted to ignore them. To act like (Y/n) didn't matter to him at all. But he couldn't.

Every moment he spent thinking about (Y/n) was met with a moment of guilt. He felt wrong for starting to get feelings for someone else. It felt disrespectful to Gwen.

He just couldn't shake it.

He liked seeing (Y/n) in the mornings. He liked talking with them.

One day, (Y/n) wasn't there when he got his drink and he found himself feeling disappointed. The feeling shocked him. How far had the silly crush gone without him even realizing it?

It took weeks for Peter to accept that his feelings existed.

It took another number of weeks for him to even consider acting on them.

(Y/n) had this tendency to go get coffee on their day off and then sit in the shop to enjoy it. They would read or sit and scribble things into a notebook.

They would wave at Peter like they usually did. He would usually wave back, but walk out after getting his drink.

And then, one day, he didn't.

He grabbed his drink and walked over to the table where (Y/n) was sitting.

"May I," he asked.

(Y/n) looked at him in shock for a moment before nodding and motioning to the other seat with their hand.

He sat across from them and grinned.

The small talk started like it always did. Except there wasn't a time limit this time. They both had all the time in the world to sit and talk.

Peter took a deep breath as he held onto the now-empty coffee cup.

The talk had died down for a moment. He knew that if he was going to do anything about these feelings, then he needed to do it now.

"Do you wanna go to a movie," he asked. (Y/n) didn't have time to answer him before his rambling started. "As a date, I mean. And it doesn't have to be a movie. We can do whatever you want, really. And you can say no-"

"I'd like that," they cut him off.

"Really?"

They nodded. "A movie sounds great."

Peter left the coffee shop that say with (Y/n)'s number in his phone and a date set.

He had mixed emotions. He was happy they said yes. But he was nervous because this was his first date in a while. He was still feeling that small pull of guilt, but he tried to shake it off by thinking about how much he was looking forward to getting to spend more time with (Y/n).

The date itself was nice.

Peter met (Y/n) at their place, eyes scanning the names on the little buzzers outside the door as he waited for them to make their way downstairs.

The two of them walked together, making kind conversation. (Y/n) had apparently been looking forward to the movie they were seeing and was happy to not be going alone.

The movie was quiet. (Y/n) had reached over to hold Peter's hand. It was nice. They had just kind of lazily tangled their fingers with his, nervous about going too far for him. When he didn't move away from them, they felt this little pang of relief in their chest.

Peter didn't. When their hands met, the guilt came back. Except now, the guilt wasn't only focused on potential disrespect to Gwen's memory, but also to (Y/n). He felt like he had led them on. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe he was just moving too fast. Had he been spending weeks just dragging this poor person through his uncertainty just to play with their feelings?

He couldn't do that.

The pair walked home quietly. (Y/n) tried to make conversation. Peter tried to engage, but all of his responses were short and forced. He was so stuck in his thoughts.

"(Y/n)," he called as they walked to their door. They had only made it a few steps away from him. He probably didn't need to say their name as loud as he did.

"Yeah," they replied, moving back toward him.

"I... Tonight was great," he started. "But... I- I don't think I'm ready for this. Not yet, anyway. I don't want to lead you on if I'm not sure. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

(Y/n) reached out and touched his arm. "It's okay."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed.

"I... I'd rather you tell me now instead of finding out later," they shrugged, pulling their hand back. "Thank you... for being honest with me. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

(Y/n) waved as they turned again and walked to their door.

They tried to be understanding. They were relieved that they weren't going to have to live up to some expectations they knew nothing about. They were happy that Peter had thought of their feelings enough to not lead them on. But it stung. They like him. A lot.

There were a few days where the pair didn't speak while waiting for their coffee. They would just stand there and pretend the other was invisible.

(Y/n) hated that.

They slowly started initiating small talk again. It was like they were restarting. This time on a level playing field. A better understanding of each other.

Peter thought that after that night, his feelings would go away. He wasn't ready. That's all there was to it. He could move on now. Go back to hiding away from the world around him.

He couldn't.

(Y/n) was on his mind constantly.

Through all of it, they had been so understanding and kind. Too kind to him. He didn't deserve it. He knew that.

He just couldn't escape how he felt.

It was like they were playing on a slideshow in his head. Images and memories. He could've sworn there were times that he could hear their voice when they weren't around.

It all hit him at once.

He loved them. He was in love with them. After months of constant denial, he had missed the moment that he fell down that very slippery slope.

Everything after that felt like he was being stupidly impulsive.

He went to (Y/n)'s building. Someone held the door open for him, which was a little concerning, but he shook it off for the time being. He made it upstairs to (Y/n)'s door.

Peter felt like he spent hours standing outside that door, just staring at it. Like someone paused a film. He couldn't get himself to move.

He took a deep breath and finally knocked on the door.

(Y/n) opened it a few moments later. Their eyebrows were furrowed as they asked Peter what he was doing there.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not having a good answer formulated.

"Peter-"

He cut them off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to theirs.

(Y/n) froze up for a moment.

Peter's hands cupped the sides of their face as his eyes screwed shut. It took him a total of two seconds for him to feel like it was probably a terrible idea on his part. But he didn't know what else to do or say. Maybe that's why he did it. Maybe he knew the words would never come out if he didn't do something so... forward beforehand.

(Y/n) seemed to snap back to their senses when their apartment door hit them as it tried to close.

They pulled away, pushing lightly on Peter's chest as they did. It left just a little bit of distance between them.

There was a pause as they both just kind of watched each other. (Y/n) was looking for a sign about why this had happened. Peter was looking for a sign of any reaction at all.

(Y/n) finally spoke up after a moment, "You're... You're going to get yourself pepper sprayed doing that."

Peter let out a chuckle as his nerves started to resolve. "Are you gonna pepper spray me?"

They slowly shook their head.

"Good," he nodded. "Because you're the only person I planned on kissing as soon as they opened their door."

"Oh," (Y/n) muttered. "Why?"

"I... I can't stop thinking about you," he explained. "At all. I... I thought that stepping back would make it better, but it didn't. If anything, I just thought about you more. And I know that all of this is annoying and after how much I've jumped back and forth, I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to deal with me, but I needed to talk to you and I just..."

Peter looked down, his sentence trailing off. He should've planned this out more. He sounded like an idiot for rambling the way he had.

(Y/n) grinned at him. "Peter..."

He looked back at them. They leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. A small grin formed on his face.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," they muttered. They could feel their face getting warmer but tried to ignore it. "I... I just didn't want to push anything."

Peter visibly relaxed at the idea. He wasn't on his own.

"Um," (Y/n) nervously looked away as the look in his eyes almost overwhelmed them. "Would you like to come in? I've got coffee or just soda or... I... I don't know."

Peter chuckled at them. "Yeah."

(Y/n) stepped to the side, pushing the door open enough for Peter to step inside.

They were willing to follow his lead on all of this.

As slow as he wanted to take it, they didn't care.

They just wanted to be with him.

And they felt lucky to know that he wanted them too.

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crankynewt · 3 years

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Chapter One - Losing Game

Another Love Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader, Young!Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Song: Arcade - Duncan Laurence

Warnings: Tons of Angst, Major Character Deaths, Pregnancy(?), and I definitely altered the timeline!

Word Count: 1.76k

Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is pretty angsty and was based on this song (which has always given me massive Reggie vibes), and I HIGHLY recommend listening to it when reading this!

Perhaps your love was doomed from the start. Maybe you were just another Shakesperian tale of forbidden romance destined to conclude in nothing but suffering. He was your light despite the darkness that had encompassed him his entire life and although the war was over, the pain still remained.

You had begged Regulus not to leave that night, tears blurring your vision as he explained that he had to be the one to destroy the horcrux. “There is no other way,” he had said, his voice shaky with the knowledge that this would likely be his end. You were young, too young, to be fighting this war. A battle that neither of you had any business being involved in the first place. Yet there you were, children who had grown up too quickly.

When he hadn’t returned the next morning, it hadn’t come as any surprise. You mourned the loss of your husband the minute he’d walked out that door. You weren’t vapid and neither was he, you were both well aware of what would happen in that cave. Whether or not Regulus succeeded, however, still remained to be seen.

The isolation following the death of Regulus Black was something you brought upon yourself. You couldn’t stand seeing muggles continuing to lead their lives as if nothing had happened. Your world crumbled out from beneath you as the universe became a much darker place, so why haven’t they stopped? A person - your person - had died, how could people continue to lead their normal lives? We were still at war, how could they not sense that something was horribly wrong?

The loneliness made you ill after a month, so sick that you were constantly emptying the contents of your stomach into your toilet as you lay on the cool tile. What prompted you to eventually seek out another were the two little lines on the plastic test. Before long you had apparated to Godric’s hollow, the crisp snow of December crunching under your feet as you made your way up the steps of a quaint looking house. It felt much more homey than the Grimmauld flat you’d been residing in, a slight comfort that what laid behind the door you knocked on may be just as welcoming.

The face that answered the door was kind, warm eyes and a welcoming smile framed by ginger locks. You never spoke to her during your years at Hogwarts due to the two years she had on you, but you knew the girl to be Lily Evans. Judging by the slight furrowing of her brows she had recognized you as well, probably unsure as to why Regulus Black’s wife had shown up on her doorstep seemingly out of nowhere.

“Uhm, is Sirius Black here by any chance?” You asked quietly, your gloved hands rubbing your arms as you fought off the evening’s chill. She need not answer as a pair of brown orbs peered at you from behind her.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)?” Sirius questioned, bitterness lacing his words as he took in your frail appearance. The elder Black did not think highly of his little brother - the Death Eater, or so he thought. Yet Regulus had relayed numerous stories from their childhood that revealed that in earlier years of their lives, the duo had been inseparable. You were just hoping that some of that affection still remained.

“Can we please talk? It’s about your brother.” You said, voice wavering as you shivered in the cold. Lily seemingly took notice of this and ushered you into the warmth of their home, closing the door behind you and leaving the in-laws to speak in the front entryway.

“If Regulus has something to say to me than the little shit can come tell me himself-”

“Sirius, what are you talking about?” You asked incredulously. “Regulus died two months ago.”

Sirius had not been speechless many times in his life, yet there he stood with his head reeling, heart broken, and tears slowly welling in his eyes. At the end of the day, Regulus would always be his baby brother. And in that silence he sat and listened, taking in all of what had happened the past year. From Regulus deciding to turn on Voldemort to the fateful night destroying his horcrux, Sirius felt both pride and guilt building underneath the grief. Regulus had been a good person who gave his life doing the right thing, all in belief of the same values that had gotten himself disowned.

When you mentioned the pregnancy, Sirius once again found himself dumbstruck. But that shock was quickly replaced with a sense of duty, it was as if he had the opportunity to make up for his brother’s broken relationship. He would help you raise this baby, and he would make damn sure that they did not have the same broken childhood he had suffered.

Within the week, Sirius had moved back into 12 Grimmauld Place with you. The baby he was dedicating himself to had quickly become babies after finding out that not one, but two baby Blacks were on the way. He was at your side through every step of the pregnancy, and slowly but surely his friends made their way into your life as well. James was always there to put a smile on your face and Lily gave great advice as to dealing with the pregnancy as she had delivered Harry only weeks before you showed up. Remus was always there to offer chocolate and a good book while Peter always had a hot cup of tea ready for you.

Before long, Arcturus and Cassiopeia Black were welcomed into the world and the light in your life had been restored. They were both the spitting image of their father, seeming to have barely inherited any (Y/L/N) genes and only reminded you of their father with every coming day. Little Harry was thrilled to have playmates, and you had finally found your family. Although far from perfect, it was everything to you. But all good things must come to an end, and this state of grace was no different.

Halloween came and went. James, Lily, and Peter were gone, no, murdered. Sirius could not have done it, not to his family! The man you read about in the papers was not the same gentle soul who would sing the twins to sleep almost every evening. But regardless of what you thought of the man he was guilty in the eyes of the Ministry, and thus he was sent to Azkaban to suffer a fate worse than death. This loss rocked you once more, but this time you had the twins to look after, and you weren’t alone.

Remus had stepped right up to fill the shoes that Sirius had been filling for Regulus without hesitation. He was grieving the same losses as you and found solace in caring for little Archie and Cassie. You mourned together and healed together, and before long Remus became your other half.

That friendship didn’t last long, however, as it eventually blossomed into something bigger, a love that you fought tooth and nail. Guilt consumed you as you felt yourself falling for the werewolf, not being able to shake the feeling that you were betraying Regulus as you fell deeper and deeper in love.

Right around the second anniversary of his death was when you heard the first words pass through either of the twins’ lips. Archie squealed a high-pitched “dada” to Remus who had been helping you prepare breakfast, and your eyes met his equally glassy. While the man stuttered out a mix of apologies in fear of overstepping, you just embraced him and allowed him to hold you in the way nobody had for a long time. The toddlers had accepted him as their father, and you had denied the desire to love him for too long.

Six months later the two of you had married in a small ceremony of only Order members gathering to celebrate your love. You did, however, keep the last name ‘Black’ as an homage both to Regulus and Sirius’ roles in both of your lives. At that same celebration you also announced that a baby Lupin would be making their way into the world six months later. And alas, Theodore Lupin was born shortly after, and your little family was complete.

When it was finally time for Archie and Cassie to begin their future at Hogwarts, you couldn’t help but weep as they waved out the window of the Hogwarts Express, the siblings excited to start the next stage in their lives. Your husband wrapped an arm around you as he fought tears himself, meanwhile Teddy tugged onto your hand and questioned when he would get the chance to attend the school as well, already missing his big brother and sister.

Remus and you had debated what house the twins would be sorted into, him adamant that they showed Gryffindor courage while you were certain that they would follow in your footsteps and be sorted into (Y/H). Your questions were answered the next morning as you received letters from two very excited Slytherins, taking after their father just as they had done in appearance and personality. You and Remus were proud nonetheless, but your husband was always saddened that they had never grown close to Harry. The divide between houses had seemingly grown even stronger since you two had attended and a friendship between the former friends hadn’t formed.

Two years later, the twins were approaching their third year as Teddy prepared to begin his magical schooling, and you began to ponder what your life would look like following their departure. You and your husband didn’t have the finances to travel and feared a life without the light of your children, and your questions were answered following a letter from Dumbledore himself. He offered the two of you teaching positions at Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts for Remus and Astronomy for yourself.

The two of you were ecstatic to spend the year with your children teaching, and walking side by side with the castle in view made you feel like a young girl again. A broken heart was all that was left, but Remus had been there to pick up your broken pieces and carry you home. But the wreckage of your life would not stay in ruins forever, as old friends and old loves remained closer than you had ever known and were about to rejoin your losing game.

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fanfictionsrookie · 3 years

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...FUCK

Fuck don’t do this to me.

So Cinder lived in an orphanage for about ten years of her life. Since the beginning she was forced to constantly work under harsh conditions while the other children were free to play and hurt her. So this already gave rise to Cinder’s temper and tendency to lash out when provoked by people of lesser power than those keeping her captive.

And when someone does come around...

A woman who can give her a life she only dreamed of?

Well it turns to be just that, a dream, a fairy tale.

For this woman didn’t want another daughter to begin with. She wanted a servant, The woman does not even consider Cinder as a person who needs something as little as food. Cinder has to go out and ask for these things, and when it is given, it is simply enough to scrape by.

It is at this moment that Cinder realises that her life here, will be no better than the life she lived at the orphanage. It might very well be worse.

But even no, with no options but to do as she is told, Cinder is intrinsically defiant. She is looking for an escape.

Just like her fans, Cinder is forced to live off of crumbs. I’m sorry guys.

But seriously, this just hammers in the fact that Cinder has been taking care of herself, surviving since the beginning. She wouldn’t even dare risk asking for food, which will never be enough, and still get punished for it.

And there he is guys, Cinder’s prince.

Fuck this breaks by heart.

So Cinder has already unlocked her semblance. I’ve said it before, but to me, Cinder’s semblance is the subconscious manifestation or need for emotional warmth that she never got to experience as a child.

And what she got instead was torture. Like this is literal torture. And I can imagine like, just being adopted, Cinder is given this wonderful gift, a new home, a beautiful necklace. Only for it to turn into a cruel means of controlling her.

And this is giving me horrible deja vu.

Fuck me. Rule of three.

This scenes clearly cements the lasting effects of mental and physical abuse, especially when someone never escapes her abusive environment. Cinder presently knows what Salem is doing to her. But it’s something she doesn’t want to face, because of a desperate need to be free.

Just this reaction. This instant reaction of fear and always being on guard.

Cinder’s arc has multiple facets. The realisation that power does not guarantee victory, that hurting others does not heal your own pain, and as we’ll later see, that in doing so, you’ll forever be forced to go on the run. That one should peruse constructive methods in achieving one’s goals.

And what Cinder has always wanted is freedom.

I guessed her to be about 12 in the first snippet in the previous episode, but good grief this is heartbreaking.

Even more so when you realise that through everything, Cinder did look for a positive way out. She wanted to be a huntress. Just stop and think for a minute how different her life could have been. This is what she wanted. Freedom to live her own life, free from anguish.

And by the gods did she work hard for that dream. It’s not just seven years of training and waiting. But seven years of continuous torture.

And the effects of that is showing, slowly but surely the bottled up hatred is showing and she is trying so hard to bottle it up.

Then it happens. Cinder is so close. She has grown up into a beautiful young woman and she is on the verge of fulfilling her dream. Getting a taste of freedom. But, a dream once again.

And to what a cruel reality Cinder has woken up to.

Now I would just like to point out fifteen minutes. Not just the fifteen minutes in which Cinder killed her ‘Mother’ and ‘Stepsisters’ but fifteen minutes in which Cinder most likely desperately tried to convince them otherwise and hold onto her goals which is is in her grasp.

Of course, what happens when Cinder is pushed into a corner with no way left to go? She attacks.

Another detail, but again, think how this ‘shock collar’ had Cinder on her knees in the beginning. Not only has she gotten used to it, but she still has the will to fight back.

Now, I very well know that who one becomes is because of who they are and their decisions, but up until this point, Cinder is right, what she is, is what they pushed her to become. What they deluded her into thinking, that the only way to freedom...

...Is to get rid of those who have power over you.

Fuck guys, I wanna cry.

Cinder knows what she did was wrong, she knows it. But she is still holding onto the possibility that everything will be alright now that her abusers are gone.

But then one obstacle turns into another. And at this stage, there is no turning back. At this moment, Cinder will do anything to make sure she isn’t locked into another cage yet again.

Let it be knows that Cinder has always been a crafty fighter. that was has always been her strongest, when she was at her weakest.

Cinder just killed a Huntsman.

The first person to ever care for her. The first person to show her any kindness. Because she was afraid that he’d turn out like all the other’s. And yet, he showed her that kindness up until the very end.

And here’s where is starts, burying her guilt, shutting out her emotions because Cinder finally got the freedom she wanted.

She is free. Her shackles are unbound. But all she can do is run.

Now, I wonder, if volume 1-3 had the same budget, or if CRWBY knew for certain that this was the direction they’d be going, would they have shown these scars on her neck? And are they still there?

Here we are. Back to the present and our view on Cinder is forever changed.

I can only assume that Cinder’s response, the fear of realising where she is after her failure, is because of the effects of her memory. That she hasn’t had the time to slip on that façade of hers. That underneath, Cinder is still a scared little girl.

Despite everything Cinder still has someone, one person who still cares for her and her feelings towards losing Mercury as an ally couldn’t have been clearer. Cinder wants people around her, to care for her. But she has yet to realise that, that means caring for them too.

But what would she know about that? The only prominent ‘caretakers’ in her life has been her ‘Stepmother’ and Salem. And that’s what Cinder is, or is trying to become, even if she doesn’t realise it.

And despite everything...

...Cinder is back where she started. Caught in the cycle of abuse.

Nothing has changed. Cinder swapped one abuser of another. One pair of chains for another.

And she is so close to realising it.

But Salem knows Cinder, she knows how to manipulate and make Cinder think that she is any different from her abuser. And Cinder believes it, or at least she wants to. Cinder wants freedom so bad that she would justify Salem’s abuse as such.

Now this shot.

To me this symbolizes Salem forcing/ manipulating Cinder to trust her. That isn’t Cinder’s hand. Those are the chains that binds Cinder to her. But Cinder still seems them as gifts, and I can only hope that’s she’ll tear it apart.

Another, Cinder’s third possible face off with Penny. Now, how will this go?

Considering Cinder’s recollection of what she learnt from Rhodes, and the Hound backing her up, I would want to belive Cinder will succeed, but CRWBY loves proving me wrong. If Cinder succeeds, then it could act as a further reinforcement that more power is not what she needs. Of course this means Pietro dying to most likely giving his last remaing Aura to Penny, but I very much doubt Penny will lose this fight. But at the same time, this episode feels like a shift in Cinder’s direction, and I’m not even sure to where.

Salem has reaffirmed Cinder’s trust in her, or so it seems, because right now they couldn’t feel further apart. Because of this shift I feel like Cinder would win, but not in the way she expected, perhaps not even by using Salem’s teachings,. But by her own cunning. This could mean blackmail. Cinder’s fear of failure could outweigh her need for the Winter Maiden’s powers, so she somehow tricks Penny, assuming she regains consciousness, into giving her the staff.

...

In short, I don’t know what is in store for Cinder.

To me, Cinder would break away from Salem the moment she realises what Salem is doing to her. But that means accepting that she isn’t free. And that is something Cinder is so terrified of that she won’t even consider it. The only way to get Cinder to realise this, is to take away the remaining person at her side, Emerald. Cinder needs to fear something else, more than she fears feeling powerless. But she also needs to realise what true freedom is like.

As for what that looks like for Cinder... I don’t know.

...

But CRWBY has done a fantastic job this episode.

We’ve waited for years and to me, it’s everything I expected, wanted, hoped for and more. This episode truly feels like a new chapter in Cinder’s story.

She might have gone from one abuser, one cage to the second, but we will be waiting for the third time.

For when she finally breaks free.

#rwby #rwby8 #cinder fall #rwby8 spoilers #fuck guys #im typing this in mozambique paying out the ass for data #T-T #but weve waited so long #and it was so worth it

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fenristheorem · 3 years

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Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

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in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process.

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard.

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode.

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress.

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it.

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned.

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high.

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense.

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done.

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire.

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff.

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront.

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

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susiequaz12 · 3 years

Text

Carrot Top 25- Panic

And here we have the next installment of Carrot Top’s story. Enjoy a nice filler, full of some fluff/comfort. And a little bit of angst, of course. Masterlist is here. Previous chapter here.

CW: Panic/anxiety attack, reference/description to injuries.

- - -

Mickie didn’t know how long it had been when she heard softer footsteps approach and pause in the doorway.

She glanced up to see Ali, leaning heavily against the door frame, and Mickie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Ali’s face was pale and her eyes squinted in the bright bathroom lights. She came and sat next to Mickie on the floor.

“Hey- are you-”

Instantly Mickie broke down again into uncontrollable sobs. She sat there, frozen, until Ali pulled her close, wrapping her arms around the girl.

“I- I, he-”

“Shh- Mickie, shh. It’s okay- Tusik’s got him. We’ve got him, he’s home okay?”

“I know, I- I just-”

“You wished you could have done something more, I know. We all do. We all wished we could have gotten to him sooner, or that this never would’ve happened in the first place.”

“He just- I should’ve- he-” Mickie could barely make out a few words at a time before her voice was cut off by sobs once again.

“Don’t think of that now, okay? Just- here-” She shifted so the girl was laying more comfortably against her, head in her neck, arms around her back. “Just- just cry. Okay? It’s okay, I got you. Just let it all out, and then we’ll take the next step from here.”

Tears had been streaming down Mickie’s face for a while, but now, she didn’t try to hold anything back. She let the full amounts of grief, pain, worry, and fear completely overtake her. Ali cradled her head as she wailed, choking on the tears and cries as her body shook and shivered.

Ali understood how she felt. She’d be sobbing too, but she was too exhausted for tears.

It didn’t seem like Mickie would ever stop crying. At first it was just the tears, and cries, but then her breathing began to get shorter, and faster. She was choking on her breaths and she began to tremble and shake in Ali’s arms.

It was like she was shivering, but sweat was pouring down her forehead. She began to grasp at things uselessly, the back of Ali’s sweatshirt, the edge of the tub, her hair. She sat up quickly, pulling herself away from Ali and scrambling backwards as she dug her hands in her hair. Her eyes stared out blankly in confusion, red with tears and her face twisted into sobs.

She shook her head as her chest hitched, unable to catch a full breath.

“I- I- it- I, it- it hurts, I-” She stammered as Ali came closer to her again. “I- I can’t breathe-”

She tried to stand up but her legs wouldn’t listen and she collapsed underneath herself. It was like she was trapped inside of her mind. She gripped tightly onto her clothes, trying to grasp onto something that felt real, when the whole world was spinning around her. Her head pounded, her chest throbbed, and all her muscles felt too weak to do anything she told them too. She felt like she was being stabbed, or shocked, or- or something.

It hurt.

Was she dying?

She looked up tearfully into Ali’s eyes as she struggled for breath, and uttered a single world.

“H-help-”

Ali placed her hands over Mickie’s where they sat tangled in her hair. She placed her forehead against the girl’s, breathed deep, and entered her mind.

Mickie was spiraling. Ali could see all of her thoughts, as if she had entered a giant, empty arena, with Mickie standing in the middle. On one side of her was Splice, standing with a knife in his hand, aimed towards the other figure on her other side- Andrew.

As Ali watched closer, the object in Splice’s hand kept shifting. One moment it was a knife, and then it transitioned to a pistol, a whip, a cane, a length of rope. As she watched his weapons changed, Andrew’s injuries changed as well. He was shot, collapsed on the ground. He was beaten, tied up, choked. The further it went on, the worse things Splice did to Andrew.

As she watched, Ali did her best to keep her breathing even and her focus steady. If she lost control, she would be shot out of Mickie’s mind, and it would be harder to reenter. But as she witnessed terrible things that Mickie was imagining, it became harder to stay focused.

She had to change it.

Ali approached Mickie where she stood in the center, eyes wide open with tears, watching everything that she imagined happening to her brother. She placed her hands on the girl’s head and began searching her mind for memories.

She started at the beginning.

Mickie’s earliest memory was at her third birthday party. Andrew was seven, and amused by the fact that she couldn’t blow out her candles, so he had done it for her. She got upset, threw cake at him, and chaos ensued.

Ali tugged at this memory, and soon in the back of Mickie’s mind, the two small figures of children appeared, sitting on the ground with a cake in between them. Faint echoes of laughter and screaming could be heard behind the girl’s sobs. It was working.

Ali rifled through more memories, finding it hard to ignore the one’s of her dad leaving, her mom struggling through abusive boyfriends, the loneliness and lack of money, and instead focused on how despite it all, she had clung to her older brother. Her best friend, and most times, her only friend, until seven years after that third birthday party.

Mickie and Andrew were sitting in a hospital waiting room. He sat, failing to do his homework while Mickie played with some toys. They had been there since school got out, and hadn’t had dinner yet. Micike was hungry. Andrew was nervous.

After a few more painful hours, a nurse finally told them they were allowed to go see their mother. Mickie walked in nervously behind her brother, but was soon left in the doorway as he rushed over to the bed where she lay, a small bundle, lying tightly in her arms.

“She’s- she’s kinda wrinkly-” Andrew stated. Their mom let out a tired chuckle.

“Mickie- come meet your sister.”

The girl bounced on over to the bed and peeked at the baby. She knew she was going to have a sister, but other than that, she didn’t know what to expect. She guess she assumed it would’ve had her and her brother’s same fiery hair like their dad, same pale skin and freckles like their mom.

The baby had a full head of hair- it was curly like theirs, but dark. A little darker than their mother’s natural brown. And maybe it was just cause the baby was brand new, but her skin was a tad darker too. Mickie was a little confused, but it didn’t matter much. She had a sister.

“What’s- what’s her name?” She quietly asked.

“Erika.” Her mom said.

“And we- we get to take her home?”

“She’s healthy?” Andrew asked.

“She’s a little small, but she’s strong.” Mickie twisted her hands in her shirt, and peered over the bed.

“Mickie? Would you like to hold your sister?”

Ali smiled as the memory ended, and the figures in the distance grew, a smaller child appearing between the two of them. The laughter and voices grew louder, and Splice’s figure was starting to fade.

She fast forwarded to a more recent memory. Just a few years prior, Mickie’s first day of high school, and Andrew’s first day of their senior year.

Their mom had left for work several hours before they had to leave for school. Andrew was tired, but he had gotten up anyways and started getting Erika ready. She was sitting in the empty bathtub, eating toast and jam while Andrew tried to tame his hair.

Mickie stood in the doorway, and tried to run tangled fingers through the mess on her head. Without saying anything Andrew sighed, and motioned for her to sit on the floor. He sat on the toilet, with her on the ground in front of him and took a thick comb to try and figure out all the tangles.

Ericka’s hair was easy. It was smooth, and shiny, and even though she was only four, she knew how to brush it herself and leave it down for the whole day. Mickie was fourteen, and her hair was constantly a mess.

“I should just cut it all off.” She said.

“Shave your head- do it.”

“I’m not gonna shave my head. Just like, cut it shorter or something.”

“My hair is short, and it is still a tangled mess. At least when it’s long you can put it up or do something with it.”

“That’s fair- ow, careful!” Mickie winced as he pulled at a tough strand of hair.

“Sorry- you had a knot. Do you want me to braid it?”

“Yeah, it’ll keep it out of the way.”

Andrew carefully used the comb to pull her hair back, and within a couple of minutes he’d gathered it all into a neat braid, running into the middle of her back. She ran her hand along it when he was done, and then stood up to look in the mirror.

She sighed as her shoulders fell.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I- I look like a moose.”

“Yeah-”

“Hey, what-”

“-but a cute moose. Make all the boy moose go WHAAAH.”

She slapped him on the arm and chuckled.

“Moose!” Erika stated. She started mooing from inside the tub and the three of them laughed. Andrew picked her up and washed off her hands from the toast she was eating.

“Come on, let’s finish getting ready.”

Ali watched the three figures slowly become larger, coming closer to the middle. Splice had completely faded away now. And the sobs from Mickie had grown quieter. Andrew lay on the ground, collapsed. He looked the same, if not worse than when they found him.

As the figures of herself and her brother from her memories came closer, they helped to pull Andrew to his feet. Slowly, his injuries faded away as Mickie pulled him into a hug and held onto him tight.

The four figures melted into two, Mickie’s sobbing finally stopped, and Ali’s vision went black.

As she came to, Ali placed a hand on the edge of the tub to keep herself from falling over as she left Mickie’s mind. She could feel a slight pounding behind her eyes, and took a couple of seconds to catch her breath before standing up and grabbing a glass of water.

Mickie had her eyes closed, sitting back against the tub, and took in deep breaths. She finally felt like she could get enough air into her lungs. It had seemed like she was underwater. Drowning without enough air, and not knowing which way was up or down.

She sniffled and wiped some last tears from her eyes.

“Thank you, I- I don’t know what happened, I, I lost all control, and it-”

“It was a panic attack.” Ali said casually. She plopped on the ground and handed Mickie the cup. “Drink up- you don’t want to get dehydrated.”

“I- I couldn’t stop thinking about, about all the things that could’ve happened. Everything he could’ve done to him- and if we hadn’t gotten there, or gotten out, or-”

“But we did. We got him out. Tusik has him, and he’s being taken care of. I know it’s hard not to think of all of those things, but you have to realize there’s nothing you can do about what happened. It happened. All you can now do is focus on his recovery, and help how you can.”

“You’re right. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“How did you- I mean, how can I- can I keep myself from, from that happening again. The- the panic attack?”

“Most of the time you can’t keep it from happening.” Ali stated. Mickie’s eyes got wide from behind the cup as she drank. “I know, it sucks. I deal with them all the time, but you get used to it. They’ll get easier.”

“So how do I deal with it?”

“Well, there’s numerous ways. Grounding techniques, exercises to keep you from spiraling. When I was there, in your mind, I saw what you were feeling. I tried to pull from your past memories to block out the negative thoughts, and it seemed to work. I’ve done something similar before, but never exactly like that. I guess, when it’s just you, try and block it out before the thoughts come? Think of those good memories, the good experiences to push out the bad and reassure yourself. I’m- I’m not sure. Everyone else’s mind is so different from mine, so you gotta figure out what works for you.”

“I guess I can try that. I’ll just have to figure it out.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Ali had regained some strength, and Mickie had finished her water. Mickie set the cup down on the counter and stood by the door.

“Ali?”

The girl lifted her head.

“Do you- do you think you could do that with Andrew? Like, go into his mind? He’s just- he seems so scared, and confused, and I think it’ll help.”

“You’re right Mickie. It’ll also help Tusik to know what happened, and how he can take care of him.”

Mickie perked up and helped Ali off of the floor. “So you’ll do it? You think it will help him?”

Ali gripped Mickie’s hand tighter, she was a little unsteady on her feet. “I can try. I’m not as strong as I’ve been before, but I’ll help him how I can.”

Ali had no idea how he was still here. After healing a couple of his injuries back when they found him, he should have been dead a while ago.

But he wasn’t.

He was still here, and that’s what mattered.

- - -

Tag List- @imagination1reality0 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @thehopelessopus @burtlederp @whump-me-all-night-long @lave-e @yesthisiswhump

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dragon-pups · 3 years

Text

Breath, Please

Prompt: Tech dies while trying to save Omega. She still dies.

TW: Torture, Death

Read at your own risk. @brekkers-girl , @angstkings , @icedcoffee101

Break because its long and i don’t wanna crowd someones dash

She wakes up to cold and darkness, having no idea how she got here or where she is. She remembers running, but not why she was.

From what she can see of the room she’s in, which isn’t much, she's in major trouble. The chains binding her to the wall are thick, and the manacles tight. There's rough stone behind and below her. It smells of mildew and there’s an old metallic tang in the air. She knows that smell, from all her hours under Nala Se, to be blood.

She can’t see more than a meter from where she sits, but she assumes the door is across from her. Though it's hard to tell. The only thing she's going by is the occasional distant screams, and broken pleas for help.

She doesn’t like this place. She wants to go home. Back to her squad. Back to her brothers.

⌖⌖⌖

She doesn’t know how long she was sitting in the dark before the door suddenly screeched open and a too bright light blinked on. She recognizes the footsteps that enter the room. She may not have been around him long, but Crosshair is a very meticulous person. Every step is purposeful, every movement distinct.

Her lost brother didn’t enter alone either. There was a hover-cart and a flying probe of some kind. Once her eyes adjust to the bright light she can finally see the cart's contents to their fullest. Knives of many shapes and sizes. Hypos full of who knows what. Whips and flails. An electric baton.

She thought she felt fear when that bounty hunter was chasing her. That doesn’t even compare to the bone chilling terror she feels right now. She can feel herself trembling, and she can’t stop the tears already streaming down her face.

“Where are the traitors?”

Her dread increases tenfold at the harsh and cold way the words were growled at her. She thought his voice was uncaring before the chip took effect. There is no humanity or warmth left in his being. Nothing that was Crosshair exists anymore.

When she doesn’t answer he reaches for the baton. Turning it on he asks again.

“Where are the traitors!”

A few seconds passed before the electric end was jammed so harshly into her stomach that something burst. The pain was excruciating, more pain than she had ever felt before. Her nerves feel fried and she knows this is just the beginning, but she can’t give up her squad. They will come for her, she knows this. She just has to withstand and then they will get her out.

She’s a bit more prepared for the next strike. That didn’t stop her voice from cracking on a sharp scream from the agony. He held that strike a bit longer than the first one. Watching her twitching form as he circles her like a predator waiting to pounce.

Could be hours or even days before he grows bored. She has long since lost her voice, throat raw and bleeding. She’s tired and bruised. Crosshair looks like he’s just begun, carefulling picking up every knife and looking over every inch.

Finally after his deliberation he picks up a relatively short blade. It’s thin and curved. What kind of a blade is it?

He moves behind her with the knife and stops. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. It’s almost more unsettling than being tortured out right. She knows he plans to hurt her, and has hurt her. Why is he waiting?

The sudden tight grip on her hair, pulling her head back, startles a blood choked gasp from her. The small blade is pressed to her cheek, and before she can even breath the blade pierces her flesh. The flesh of her cheek is removed in one smooth cut. He moves the blade again and this time all the flesh from her wrist to her finger tips is cut from her.

He takes his time removing pieces of her flesh. Always careful enough so she doesn’t bleed out. Always meticulous with every cut. Moving from her hand to her back. From her back to her stomach, to her foot. Until eventually she's a checkerboard of missing pieces.

He stands before her now. Looking at her with such a bored look on his face, and all she can do is stop herself from writhing in pain. He pauses for merely a moment to see if she will finally talk before picking up the next tool.

⌖⌖⌖

Eventually Crosshair gets called away and she's left with the probe. It's worse. Crosshair stopped every once in a while. He gave her time to breathe, to choke the blood back down her throat. The probe constantly shocks her. It pumps her veins full of toxins and drugs, until she can’t see. Until she can’t feel herself breathe. Is she even breathing?

⌖⌖⌖

They’ve been running through this maze of identical halls for the past two hours and they still haven’t found her. The likelihood that Omega is still alive dwindles the longer they take. Currently they have a 3.8% chance of finding her. If they were to split up that would raise their chances by 18.3%. Tech tells the others as such, but they’re reluctant.

“Splitting up is our best course of action to find omega alive.”

“Right. Echo, Wrecker, you take the southern hall. Tech you’re with me.”

They had only cleared five more halls before they came to another T. Tech didn’t even need to say anything for Hunter to know what his suggestion would be.

“No, we stick together.”

“It would be more practical-”

“I said no, Tech.”

“I am as concerned about Omega's welfare as the rest of you. Arguing is not helping her, and splitting up gets us to her faster.”

“Alright! Fine, just keep comms open.”

“Leaving our comm channel open will increase the likelihood of our enemies discovering our location.”

“I know Tech, but if I can’t see you I need to be able to hear you. I can’t lose any of you.”

“Comms open, Sarge.”

“Good luck.”

“You as well.”

⌖⌖⌖

It's the 13th door of the 17th hallway that he bursts through and finds her. Strung up by skinned wrists, covered in burns, welts and cuts. He doesn’t hesitate to shoot the probe shocking her, but it takes him a second to force himself to move towards her. She looks dead. She can’t be dead, but he knew the likelihood of them finding her so was 85.37%.

He’s careful in the way he moves her, checking for a pulse. He finds it weak and dropping fast. He can barely choke out her name through his tightening throat. She’s just a child and she died for them. No dying, they could save her. He releases her cuffs and cradles her to his chest.

Running back through the countless halls he informs the others that he found her and that he’s in route to extraction point B. He was two halls, 43.6 meters away from freedom, when his way was blocked. There’s at least a full platoon in front of him, and two more approaching from behind. He ducks into a narrow crevice in the wall and fires on the troopers. He holds his own for several minutes, but he’s out numbered.

A shot to the thigh has him collapsing out of the crevice into the hall. He stands and continues firing before taking several shots to the torso drops him to his knees. Another volley of shots to the belly, chest and back sends him crashing to the floor. He’s choking on the blood filling his lungs when he feels a familiar thundering charge.

He hears a hellfire of blaster bolts and the crunching of armor and bone as he painfully crawls his way to Omega. He pulls up himself to sit in front of her, acting as a living shield. Cradling her away from all the bolts flying through the hall. He’s still struggling to breath as the others clear their way to them. He struggles to breath still as Echo lifts him up into his arms. He struggles the most when Omega is taken from his arms.

He can feel every step Echo takes in his back. He can feel every turn in his chest. The breath that fills his belly hurts, but he knows it's not enough. He knows he’s slipping. Just like he knows when Hunter chokes on a breath that they failed. That they lost their baby sister for good.

Somehow he survives the run to the ship. He’s still alive when Echo hands him to Hunter. Still alive to see the grief in all their faces. Still alive to feel when Omega is replaced in his arms. Still alive to feel her get colder by the second.

He’s aware when Hunter chokes on another sob. He’s aware when Hunter begs someone to breathe. He’s aware when the ship enters hyperspace.

He wasn’t aware when his heart stopped. He wasn’t aware when Hunter couldn’t choke back his anguish anymore. He wasn’t aware of the others holding each other, holding him and Omega, while they sobbed.

And he wasn’t aware when he and Omega were buried together in a valley full of the most beautiful flowers the group had ever seen.

#bad batch #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #omega #crosshair #hunter #tech #wrecker #echo #bad batch fanfic #Great Angst War of 2021 #y'all i'm crying

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kiiraeth · 3 years

Text

departure nocturne - takami keigo

pairing: takami keigo/hawks x reader

warnings: angst,character death,i think like a brief mention of blood

words: 1480

a/n: ngl i listened to the Giselle act II pas de deux on repeat while writing most of this, so filled with sorrow and despair, yet still strangely hopeful. it hits different with this fic yall. also huge thank you to the lovely @jmeyerss for beta reading this for me, you a real one ily. still kind of hate it, i’m not proud of this piece haha

Keigo knew that you were the one, but he was never quite sure how to tell you that. The man knew that in selfishly loving you he had put you in danger and he knew that he didn’t deserve you. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to leave that love behind. It was something so wonderful and dear to him that he had never felt before, and he knew he would do anything to protect it.

He also knew that you worried for him constantly. You were both pro heroes, but his hero work often seemed much more taxing and treacherous than yours, from what he was allowed to tell you.

But even so, you had stuck with him. You stayed by his side even when he told you not to, you stayed with him in his lowest moments, when memories of a dark past plagued his mind. When that happened, and nothing felt secure in his head, you were always a constant. His adoration of you always stayed the same.

This is what he thought of as he lay battered on the hard wooden floor after his battle with Dabi. Even with wounds littering his body and blood caked to his skin, you were the only thing he could think of. Even with the life slowly flickering out of his eyes, he desperately hoped that he’d get to gaze upon your face one more time. But he supposed that was wishful thinking now.

——————————————————————————

You quickly made your way through piles of rubble that filled the area around you. The hero costume you wore had definitely seen better days and you had multiple wounds left coated with blood, but none of that mattered to you. The only thing that was running through your mind was finding Keigo as soon as possible.

You and the other pro heroes had won the battle against Shigaraki and the League of Villians with the help of the Yuuei students, and now, you frantically searched for your lover amongst the wrecked buildings surrounding you. Your voice had become rough from yelling Keigo’s name in a futile attempt to gain any type of response from him.

You had still remained hopeful that Keigo was ok, but that hope quickly began to dwindle as you peeked your head through the door of a nearly demolished building. Your eyes widened at the scene before and your heart dropped. Keigo lay battered in the middle of the room, his body littered with burns and open wounds and his brilliant vermillion wings were no longer proudly perched upon his back.

You shook yourself out of your shocked stupor and dashed towards him, trying your best to not to trip over the rubble from an obvious destructive fight.

“Keigo! Keigo please, can you hear me love? Please please you have to talk to me!” your voice had already began to shake with emotion as you fell to your knees and cradled your lover close to you.

Keigo’s eyes weakly fluttered open to meet yours, and as they did he found the smallest bit of energy to give you a frail smile, a stark difference from the ones he usually gave you.

He mustered up the energy to quietly speak to you “Hey there baby bird, are you okay? you kinda look like a mess.”

you rolled your eyes brimming with tears and gave a small laugh as you placed your hand to the side of his face. “Of course, you’re here covered in burns and blood and you say i’m the mess, how very Hawks of you.”

He let out a soft laugh which quickly dissolved into a fit of coughs, to which your eyes filled with worry and fear again.

“Hey hey, you’re gonna… you’re gonna be alright ok? i’m going to find help or- or- god I don’t know, please, what can I do to help you Keigo?”

His somber eyes gazed into your grief-stricken ones. He could tell you were still trying to keep a strong and calm front, but he knew you too well. He knew that there was sorrow screaming behind those eyes, and he also knew he wanted nothing more in that moment than to see your eyes filled with joy again.

But unfortunately, he had the sense you wouldn’t be feeling any joy in this moment with him.

As Keigo’s heartbeat began to reluctantly slow, yours only sped up as you began to panic even further.

“Hey baby please, you have to stay awake ok? You can’t leave, you can’t leave please! I’m begging you, stay with me!” you pleaded with him frantically.

“Hey, birdie, you know we can’t do anything, alright? We knew this was going to happen eventually, and i’m so sorry that this is how you have to see me before i go.”

You shook your head and screwed your eyes shut at his words. “No no, stop it! you’re going to be just fine, someone’s going to come help us and- a-and we’ll go to the hospital and you’ll be ok! You c-can’t leave us like this Kei, you can’t leave me like this! I-I need you, please!”

His slow-moving heart began to break even further at your words, but he knew that there wasn’t anything either of you could do, so he did his best to reach an unsteady hand up to caress your face,

“I love you so much birdie. You’re going to be alright, ok? Promise me that you’ll be ok for me, I just want you to be happy, even if I won’t be there to see it.”

You let out a broken sob and paused before weakly nodding your head. you leaned forward and desperately kissed keigo, in a final show of how much you treasured and loved him, before you never got the chance to again. When you pulled away from him you tearfully gazed into his eyes as they began to close.

As Keigo’s body became limp in your arms, you began to weep freely into his still chest and distraughtly grab onto him. You looked up to see his jacket not far from the both of you, and you reached over and grabbed the jacket to drape over him. As you did you heard the slight crinkle of paper from one of the pockets.

Through your tears, you dug through the pockets of the jacket only to find a slightly crumpled letter inside. You examined the paper to find your name written in familiar handwriting on the front, handwriting you may not ever get to see again, and you shakily broke the red wax seal to unfold the paper and read the contents it held.

‘Dear birdie,

I know I’ve never really been the best with talking about my emotions, so I figured I might write this because I want you to know how much I really cherish and love you with all of my heart.

I never ever in my whole life thought that I would find something as precious as you, and I never thought I would be deserving of you either. Most days I’m still shocked that you’ve stuck with me all this time, but I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am for that. I never thought I would love something as much as I love you. I have felt freer with you than I ever did in the sky and safer with you next to me than with my wings around me. You’ve really completed me and made me a better person.

I promise, that when all of this war stuff is over, when we’re safe, I will buy you a big house that we can live in together. We’ll grow that garden that you’ve always wanted, and we’ll fill it with the most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen, flowers that remind me of you. I’ll make sure your favourite tea is always stocked and I’ll never start a new tv show without you. I promise, we’ll be happy together.

I love you, so much birdie, please never forget that.

Yours, Keigo Takami’

You held a shaky hand over your mouth as tears coursed down your face at the words held in the letter. You draped your body over Keigo’s and threw your arms around his shoulders, as you pleaded for him to come back to you.

“Kei, please, please we can still do these things right? You said we would create a garden together, you promised! We can still be happy, please!”

He was gone and you knew this, but you didn’t want to accept it. This was the man you desperately wanted to spend the rest of your life with, to wake up in the morning with, to live a wonderful life with. But loving him had always been treacherous, and you hadn’t cared, but you saw now that perhaps a happy ending was never in your future.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha angst #mha angst #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha manga #anime

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snk-oc-guide · 3 years

Text

Please review my OC?

Danica Orlov Name meaning: "Danica" is the latin word for Danish, but it is also the personification of the morning star in slavic mythology. "Orlov" means "son on Oryol" in Russian, a nickname meaning eagle. Nickname(s): Red(for her hair color), Dani (by her yearmates)

Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 16 (850) Height: 170cm Weight: 60kg

Relatives:

Radek Orlov (father)

Francine Murphy (mother)

Birthday: June 3rd, 834 Birthplace: Mitras Residence: Wall Rose Status: Alive

Occupation: Soldier Affiliation: Survey Corps Former Affiliation: 104th Training Corps

Former Occupation:

Seamstress Apprentice

Medic Apprentice

Field Medic

Thief

Scullery Maid (Dishwasher)

Graduation Rank: Outside Top Ten

Titan Kills: During Battle of Trost

Solo: 0

In Team: 0

During 57th Expedition:

Solo: 0

In Team: 0

APPEARANCE: Danica is a juvenile female with thick, auburn hair that sweeps down to her shoulders which she wears up in a bun or ponytail and amber colored eyes. Standing at a height of 170cm, she is broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, fairly muscled and not very well-endowed. Her fair skin is heavily freckled, as if someone generously sprinkled breadcrumbs on a plate, and the stress and small numbers of sleeping hours of the past years have painted crows feet and dark circles permanently on her eyes.

As a soldier, Danica wears the standard uniform with the badge of the Survey Corps. When off duty she dresses in a loose, boat-necked green shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black opened vest, black tights and knee-high sturdy boots.

PERSONALITY: Danica is a reserved, mature, pragmatic and intelligent girl whose caring heart and kind nature have hurt her heavily after the fall of Shiganshina.

As a child she was open and expressive, unafraid of taking risks and getting hurt. Surrounded by people she loved and who loved her in return she led an idyllic childhood. Unafraid of work, she was completely in her element when helping around her foster family's bakery or later in her apprenticeship.

From an early age she showed restraint over her anger, not wanting to hurt those around her and preferring to just back down from an argument, although she couldn't always keep a lid on her emotions. For her to get really angry took a good reason or a buildup overtime, but when it happened she would stop caring about the feelings of others and use her words to strike where it hurt most. After reducing others to tears, Danica would feel ashamed and renew her effort to temper herself. Her self-restraint was noted by her foster family who encouraged her to always be levelheaded.

Sensitive and empathetic to those around her, Danica craved a greater understanding of people and the world in general, although she never entertained thoughts of going outside the walls. She was content with her lot in life, with her work and with her family and friends, even if they weren't related by blood. Despite wondering now and then who her real parents were she never gave it much thought as in the end she felt it didn't matter.

After the fall of Shiganshina, Danica retreated into herself, becoming listless and apathetic. It didn't help that the Beckers blamed her for living, while their daughter did not and had ceased all relations with her. That the only person in her life who remained committed soon afterwards suicide when both of them were drafted among the refugees for the culling of '46 made things even worse for Danica. She felt abandoned, lonely and depressed. Her thoughts and dreams gave her no rest, when she wasn't thinking about Adele (the Becker's daughter), she was thinking about Gigi (a seamstress and friend).

The world felt old and decayed, she was constantly tired and weary and only got up every day out of bed because she could not stand the thought of wasting away. It also helped that her new employer in Trost had taken a liking to her and had started her on a crash course in medicine, to increase her chances of coming back. Not wanting to disappoint him or to be useless she persevered. A larger part of her simply didn't want to die.

The horrors of the expedition that came from both Titans and people who had nothing to lose and no restraints anymore, left a lasting mark on Danica. Unable to view humanity with kindness or concern anymore, Danica grew to have problems relating to those around her. The loss of the man who had helped her and later her partner in crime only made her sink further in her depression. Had Hannes and one of his officer not been notified of Elia's body and found her alongside him, Danica might have just remained there until she wasted away. Hannes kindness however rekindled something inside Danica who realized she still wanted to live and that she was tired of being tired, sad, weary, guilty, ashamed, lonely and always having to start again.

Her decision to join the Garrison changes after the Battle of Trost however when she begins piecing the puzzle in front of her and realizes that things are not what they seem. Wanting to learn the reasons behind the war, but more so about the Colossal and Armored Titan who had ruined her life she decides to join the Survey Corps, even if she would come to regret it.

HISTORY: Radek Orlov was a Military Police officer whose affair with Danica's mother, the youngest daughter of a noble non-Eldyian clan affiliated with the ruling government, saw him transferred to the Survey Corps when it was discovered Francine was with child. As for Francine, herself, she was forced to go into hiding until Danica was born then give her up so that the Murphy's wouldn't be affected by scandal and that her engagement to the eldest heir of another noble clan could go through.

(rowan) you say her mother, francine, is from a non-eldian clan. that isn't possible, as all the residents within paradis are eldians. even the members of the ruling government are eldians

Francine's father wasn't completely without mercy however, even if he sent Danica as far away as Shinganshina, he also arranged for his bastard granddaughter to be taken in by a foster family as well as an apprenticeship to a seamstress when she reached her tenth birthday.

Danica grew up with the Beckers, knowing nothing of this, in a cheerful, lively and loud environment. She was best friend's with the Beckers middle daughter, Adele and often time helped around the family's business, the bakery. From an early age she developed a curiosity for herbs, brought on by Beckers varied recipes that included them and when she left their household for Madam Girard's, she was very happy to receive a book on botany from them. This passion slowly turned into gardening which became her hobby, as she would from there on always keep a small pot to grow mint in it (using the leaves alongside baking soda to wash her teeth or to chew to keep her breath fresh).

At Madam Girard's, a local seamstress of some renown inside and outside Shinganshina, Danica would spend most of her days sewing alongside her teacher and the other girls in her employment. Despite the long hours of work, she grew quite close to the other girls, the two she roomed with, Yulya and Gigi, especially. Whenever given free time, she would more often than not find herself in their company or visiting the Beckers. Sometimes Yulya and Gigi would join her at the Beckers and soon Yulya and the Becker's oldest son, Gregor grew close to one another much to Danica's great joy, as she had been the one to introduce them.

(rowan) i think it should be noted that just because danica is apprenticed with the seamstress, it doesn't mean she lives with her. it just means she basically has an internship, and will treat it like a job, except she is only getting paid in knowledge/experience. if this was a farm, i could understand having to live there, otherwise i find it kind of weird.

STORY: On the day the Colossal Titan appeared, Danica and Adele were out together. The frightening sight made them lock hands. When the breach occurred, Danica was blown back by a piece of falling debris. Adele was not so lucky and Danica was left to stare in shock at the disembodied arm she was holding hands with. Her best friend being a mere smear on the floor, Danica was on the verge of going into shock when she was jostled by the panicked surge of the fleeing crowd into dropping the arm and running. To this day she cannot remember how exactly she managed to escape to the boat, but when she came to all she could do was tremble and cry.

Upon arriving in Trost she tried to find anyone she knew and eventually stumbled upon Gigi who was quite a fright, having been witness to a Titan devouring Madam and crushing Yulya underfoot. Eventually Danica managed to reunite with the Beckers who asked about Adele. Claming up, all Danica could find in her power to do was shake her head much to the family's horror. Asked to leave and not come back by a grieving mother and father, Danica went off and she and the Beckers never spoke again. Returning to Gigi's side, the two of them eventually found work, Gigi with a local tailor and Danica with a doctor thanks to her knowledge of sewing and botany.

(rowan) i can understand grief making the beckers react unfairly and out of emotion, but considering they've raised danica since she was a baby and have treated her like she was their own, i'm surprised by their reaction. it makes it seem like they never loved her in the first place. if that's the case, i think their behavior towards her should change a bit, and danica should come off as a bit more neglected. since before it seemed like they loved and cared for her.

When the culling in 846 was called, both Gigi and Danica were drafted from among the refugees. Gigi unable to cope and fearful of a terrible death, hanged herself, much to Danica's horror as she was the one to find her friend.

(rowan) while i think this is an interesting idea, during the culling, only men were selected out of the civilians to take part in it. the women and children were left alone. it doesn't state that specifically, but if you go back to look at the images about the event, you don't see any women or children. just the male civilians and the members of the survey corps.

even if that wasn't the case, however, i don't see why gigi and danica would be selected. the world needs children to grow and take place of the older generation. they also need women to keep the walls populated. so why would two young girls be sent off to die, when the government knows they could be potential future mothers? it makes more sense to weed out the old, since they're going to die anyway.

this is just my take on it though! since nothing is officially stated regarding the people they selected among the civilians, you're free to do as you like.

Dr. Owen, despite his gruff and cantankerous personality, was in his own way of great help to Danica especially concerning the upcoming expedition, emphasizing that her medical knowledge no matter how limited might just be her ticket home. As it so happens he was right and Danica was placed among the soldiers of the Survey Corps, alongside their own medics when the expedition began.

Danica would be among the few civilian survivors who returned from the culling. Changed by the horrible things she had seen and the many wounded she could not save, Danica decided she would never again step a foot outside the safety of the walls and that she would not pursue a career as a doctor. Returning to Dr. Owen to take her few belongings back, she was dismayed to find out from his neighbors that the old man had died, knifed for trying to break up a fight.

Alone and without anything to her name, Danica is forced to sleep on the unsafe streets. In the days to come, unable to find employment and going hungry she begins stealing food to survive. Soon she encounters a young boy, Elia, a thief and pickpocket, who suffers of pneumonia. Like her he is a refugee forced by circumstances into such a life and his sickness makes it even harder to find honest work.

The two of them team up to survive and grow quite close to one another, Elia going as far as to teach Danica parkour so that they can make easier escapes during their heists. This partnership does not last as Elia takes a turn for the worse and dies one night. Once more alone, Danica realizes that nothing in her life has had any stability ever since Shiganshina, that the past year had been nothing but hunger, pain and suffering. Weary and tired of this lifestyle, but not knowing what to do she remains alongside her friend's body until two Garrison officers come upon them.

Elia's body is taken away and one of the men who found her, Hannes takes Danica to a pub for a hot meal, going as far as to secure a job for her there as a washer in the kitchens. The kindness shown to her, leaves Danica in tears and she decides then and there to enroll in the military the coming year and join the Garrison on her graduation.

When the time comes she signs with the 104th Cadet Corps. The intense training as well as her own continued practice of parkour, leave Danica exhausted more often than not at the end of the day. Despite her growing skills, she does not care much about grades as she is still quite set on the Garrison and makes sure to put in enough effort to pass, but not overtake anyone. More concerned to learn how to defend herself, she focuses only on improving herself without putting effort into any exams, not caring about the instructors opinions that she could do much better. This coupled with her own reserved nature, her inability to connect to her peers or relate to their worries, paint Danica as stuck up and someone who thinks she is better than everyone else. When she eventually learns how others perceive her, she is both mortified and distressed. Until that moment she had not realized how much she had changed the past two years and as the situation is something of her own doing and she has no idea how to change, Danica remains on the outside more often than not. Eventually as team building exercises are introduced, her natural abilities as a leader shine through and her relationship with her yearmates becomes friendlier, although she is still seen by most as stuck-up.

(rowan) danica seems like she doesn't care about the people around her, and she is only focused on reaching her goals. i thought she also didn't get close to people, as a way to protect herself, since up until now everyone she was close to either left her or died.

that brings me to wondering why all of a sudden, danica cares how others perceive her. since she never took time to get close to her yearmates, i find it weird that she suddenly cares about what they think of her.

unless, her becoming "mortified and distressed' has more to do with herself, and her realizing how much she has changed. and less to do with her finding out what they think of her.

this is just an observation i made when i read her backstory and etc, so i could be wrong in the assumption. either way, i hope me pointing it out helps in some way.

Graduating outside the top ten, Danica is stationed alongside the other cadets in Trost. Despite having lukewarm relations with most of her yearmates, she is buoyed with happiness, knowing that she would join the Garrison soon. This is remarked by the rest of her teammates: Vera Fermi, Leon Mikaelsson, Theo Durand, Kathrin Beckert and Felix Grey. Assigned to patrol the six of them, get to know one another a bit better but the appearance of the Colossal Titan puts a quick stop to Danica's joy and her first honest attempt in years to make friends. Her reaction isn't missed by the rest of her squad, who despite their shock and horror have an easier time, never having seen titans before and still somewhat optimistic as to their own chances. They manage to get Danica moving to HQ where they receive their orders. Despite her shaking, Danica is aware enough to order Theo Durand to requisition additional gas canisters and blades to carry as the possibility of running out is quite high. She assigns him and Felix Grey to divide the burden among themselves, placing the remaining Vera Fermi, Leon Mikaelsson and Kathrin Beckert as the scouting/vanguard of their squad, with the two logicians and herself as a medic behind.

Surprised but seeing the merit of her idea, they prepare and head to their assigned position only to find that the Titans had advanced. Realizing that the first line of defense had fallen, Danica has an outburst of nerves, cursing everything in sight. Devising a plan to separate and pick them off one by one, using her and the logicians to lure them in while the three assigned to the vanguard take them out works for a while. But as titans fall, her squad mates become overconfident and bite more than they can chew. Vera is caught and Leon and Kathrin jump to her rescue. They are promptly killed by titans and Felix and Theo try to make a break for it, overcome by fear. Their mistake costs them their lives but allows Danica to use their death to make her escape. She doesn't stop until she finds more of the 104th cadets and as they hopelessly watch the advancing enemy, Danica is filled with dread. Unable to stop wondering how much time they have until the Armored Titan appears, Mikasa's sudden arrival and lousy speech emboldens her and she joins the rest of her yearmates in making a break for HQ to resupply. (Things go more or less as they did in canon at HQ)

The Rogue Titan's leaves Danica without words, more so after Eren emergence.

Keeping a close eye for the appearance of the Armored Titan as they flee for the safety of Wall Rose, Danica makes a few realizations:

The Armored Titan was nowhere in sight.

The Colossal had appeared as suddenly as it did in Shiganshina and just as suddenly dissipated, much like the Armored.

Eren's titan form was already discomposing when he emerged.

(rowan) i thought danica didn't remember much after the fall of shinganshina? i thought she just remembered her friend dying, and then somehow making it to one of the boats and arriving at trost?

that being said, i find it weird just remembers something like the armored titan appearing, nonetheless disappearing. especially considering the chaos that was taking place. it'd be hard to keep track of something like that.

Although her mind is in a jumble and she hasn't yet come across what exactly is wrong with this picture, she asks Mikasa and Armin to allow her to stand with them when defending Eren. Despite their skepticism about her intentions and Mikasa's threat that she would die if she were to make a move for Eren, she is allowed to defend him to the panicked Garrison. Once Commander Pixis arrives on the scene and agrees to Armin's plan, the three ask Danica why exactly she stayed with them. The only thing Danica thinks to say is that "The Armored Titan hasn't appeared." This confuses them, until Armin straightens all of a sudden as of just now noticing the same thing. Both Armin and Danica come to realize that the Armored Titan might not appear at all, that those two titans had already found what they wanted.

(rowan) very confused as to why danica would want to put her life on the line for people she doesn't know. i'm surprised she even knew their names lol but it just seems very random for her to want to suddenly stand in defense of eren. what is she gaining? what is the point to it?

also, her assumptions revolving around the titans are weird. at this point, no one knows anything about the titans other than the fact they are out to end humanity without rhyme or reason. thinking of the armored titan and colossal titan as things with "motives" or "reasons" is not fitting for the current timeline, where they don't know anything. so her thinking that the two titans "have already found what they wanted" is weird, as titan's don't have thoughts. and as far as they know, the colossal and armored are just that: titans.

another thing i don't think fits, is danica putting the armored and colossal titans together as a pair. as in, if one appears, then the other one isn't far behind. titans don't work in teams or anything, so to expect that from them doesn't add up. even if they had showed together during the fall of shiganshina, that was just one instance. there isn't much of a pattern to turn it into something predicable.

Danica is left frothing at the mouth, her mind working overdrive as she suspects the Colossal and Armored might both be like Eren, shifters, and that the people who died five years ago were merely collateral, instead of their main objective.

(rowan) again, this is something no one knows about yet. in the current state the word "titan shifters" hasn't even been discovered. they all think eren is an actual titan who has adapted to fit in with the humans to kill them all. very far fetched, but again, they don't know much about titans except that they kill humans. eren having been a titan is enough to confuse and scare them.

the fact that the intelligent characters such as armin, hange, and erwin, took a bit to discover there were others like eren says enough about how unbelievable the theory is. according to these people, there is no world outside the walls. how could they even imagine something like titan shifters existing?

so, unfortunately, i don't think it'd be fitting to have your character draw that conclusion. no matter how smart they are, i doubt they're smarter than the aforementioned characters. if anything, danica needs more evidence before jumping to such a conclusion.

Burning with anger, Danica is quick to interrogate Eren about his transformation and how it came about to see if Armin's plan had a chance. As he tells what he remembers, Danica realizes that Eren's intent, his desire to kill the titans might have been a trigger and advises him to think only "I will pick the boulder and seal the breach" and only that. She is quick to point out that if he loses control of this power, even if he's never before realized he had it, things could take a turn for the worse not only for himself but Mikasa and Armin too. Eren agrees readily, but can't stop asking why she is so fired up. Danica tells them that she too comes from Shiganshina and that she too has lost everyone, to the trio's surprise as Danica has never even hinted at her past before. With a better understanding of one another, they part ways. The mission is a success from the start as Eren takes Danica's words to heart as well as minimal loss of life on the part of Eren's protectors. Not long after Eren and the rest of his team's triumphant return, the Survey Corps arrive. As the battle comes to a close and the Garrison and Survey Corps join forces in cleaning the town of Titans, Danica becomes aware that her suspicions were right and that there's more going on than what can be seen at first glance. Although she cannot point to why exactly the two titans waited so long to mount another attack, especially as the Armored could have just made a run for Wall Rose and no one would have been able to stop him, Danica realizes that she wants answers. Knowing that if she joins the Garisson she might not ever find out why they attacked, why so many had to die (why did she have to suffer so much), she tears up and laughs bitterly knowing that her only option is the Survey Corps if she plans to go ahead with finding answers. Even as she shakes with fear, a much bigger part of her burns for knowledge.

(The rest would be spoilers when I get to writing as it steadily turns AU, since Danica manages to save some people (Mike [by agreeing to tell Zeke everything about the VME in exchange for their lives], Gelger, Nanaba [by being there on orders to inform them about the Beast Titan, and being able to help, also by realizing that Henning and Lynne's blades and canisters might still be of use after Gelger gets injured and she and Nanaba run out]) and even befriend them. Her past also comes under scrutiny in the Uprising Arc and that is when she learns about her parents.)

(rowan) i highly doubt zeke will spare mike if danica tells him about the 3dmg. if anything, i could see him killing them both/leaving them for dead right after getting the information. the only way to spare mike, is to not let zeke get a hold of him at all lol

as for her past, i have to ask, will it really change anything? if she discovers her birthright, what will it mean to her? you said her family is a noble one, but why are they so important? what is it exactly that they do? i feel like, to have such a background, it will have to mean and result in something important. otherwise, it would have just been better to make her a random orphan in shiganshina, rather than a bastard noble child.

STATS Combat: 7/10 Initiative: 7/10 Wits: 9/10 Teamwork: 7/10 Agility: 10/10

(rowan) i think some of the stats are bit high considering the information i was given. i would make initiative, a six, considering so far i've seen her having to receive a "push" before she does anything.

teamwork, is also a little high, considering her standoffish attitude. i would make it a six.

A/N: I'm sorry for giving you more work, but I've had this idea stuck inside my head for a while now and I really need some advice if the OC is worth actually writing in the story. I've tried to give her constant character development and a believable reason for joining the Survey Corps and I don't know how much of my ideas come across since English isn't my first language and there might be some spelling mistakes. I've also added the characters I would like to save and possible explanations about how she goes about them, but I'm a bit unsure if Mike's is even possible, because while Zeke does seem practical, he's also kinda ruthless.

(rowan) no problem at all! thank you for submitting this to us, and i hope i was at least a little bit of help.

as always, i like to remind everyone that you don't have to listen to my critiques, but they are honest thoughts and observations i made. and i also say them with your best interests in mind! :)

#submission

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sableflynn · 4 years

Text

Out unseen - ch. 2

previous | next

chapter two is just a quick breather chapter before things get much worse again!

cw: discussion/aftermath of noncon

taglist: @womping-grounds @liquor-belle @justplainwhump @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @orchidscript (I think everyone here asked to be tagged? please let me know if you need taken off the list I promise I won’t be offended haha)

Also on Ao3

---

Elyse sat curled on the couch, staring at the book she was holding. Not reading, no; her eyes passed over the same paragraph over and over while she absorbed nothing. Anna sat next to her, fingers drumming the side table, mind seemingly a million miles away. Kailo was sketching in a notebook, but his gaze kept drifting through the kitchen to the entryway. Darya was fidgeting, pacing, straightening out things that didn’t need to be straightened, constantly moving around the room.

Try as they might to distract themselves, they were all holding their breath. Waiting.

The door opened with a creak and Elyse was on her feet in an instant. Felicia and Marcus stepped inside with a gust of autumn wind, and it wasn’t until she saw them returned home safe that Elyse realized just how worried she’d been for the past several hours.

“How was it?” Elyse asked, primed for some casual banter about the ball, but something in the pair’s demeanor gave her pause as she approached. Felicia’s eyes were red and her face was lined with exhaustion, and Marcus was jumpy, twitchy.

Felicia leaned forward to give Elyse a quick kiss and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We got some good info. I’m gonna go get out of this dress, and then we can talk about it.” She opened her mouth as if about to add something else, then shut it with a final forlorn glance and quickly left for her room.

Marcus murmured something about getting changed as well before excusing himself, and Elyse felt a growing unease. Something went wrong. They got caught, they got hurt, we’re in danger. She rubbed her temples with shaking hands, willing herself to relax. Of course they were exhausted. They just spent the night in disguise, unable to let their guard down. They would need a minute to decompress.

Elyse headed to the kitchen table where everyone else was beginning to gather. The room was subdued, quiet save for the sounds of Kailo putting a kettle on to make some chamomile tea. Elyse took a seat and Felicia and Marcus returned a moment later, their evening wear swapped out for loose pajamas. Maybe she was reading too much into things, but Elyse could’ve sworn there was something painful in the glances the pair kept sharing.

Once everyone had settled at the table, Elyse cleared her throat and tried to force a cheerfulness she didn’t fully feel. “So, how was the dance?”

There was a beat of silence, another exchanged look between Felicia and Marcus, and then he spoke up. “It was fine.” His expression said otherwise, but he pushed on before anyone could comment. “I overheard a conversation. Becker and—I don’t know, some lackey. We were right about him.” Marcus’s eyes blazed with determination. “He is involved with everything—the smuggling, the disappearances—and he’s connected to Volkan.”

The high whistle of the tea kettle cut off his next words, and Felicia visibly jumped, her head snapping up in alarm. The sudden fear in her eyes made Elyse’s heart ache, but she bit her lip, unwilling to comment on it in front of everyone. Instead, she busied herself with getting some cups out while Kailo finished making the tea. She began placing cups out on the table for everyone, and Felicia took her hand as she passed by, giving it a quick squeeze.

“It’s some sort of trade deal,” Marcus continued, holding his cup with both hands and breathing in the steam. “Becker and Volkan. Next Wednesday. Down by the docks.”

“So if we could disrupt that—” Darya began, but Anna cut her off.

“If we disrupt that, we’ve blown our cover just to screw with them once, and they’ll just keep doing the things they do and ruining lives and nothing will change.”

Kailo tilted his head, considering. “But if we got some pictures or something, some evidence, and made that public…”

Elyse let the three of them debate without fully listening, her attention drawn across the table to Felicia and Marcus. Felicia was gazing down at the cup of tea held in her hands, her eyes stormy and unfocused. Then Marcus leaned over and whispered something to her, and she blinked, snapping back to attention.

“—just the two of them in a photo together like that, clearly engaging in something shady, that might just be what we need to break this open.”

Kailo’s voice broke through the fog of Elyse’s mind, and she refocused on the conversation at hand. This was a valuable opportunity, and they had to move carefully. Logistics. She could handle this. It was familiar, stopped her from dwelling on just what had gone wrong at the party that had Felicia and Marcus so shaken up.

“So we go observe this—Marcus, did he actually say what he was trading?”

Marcus set his cup down, brow furrowing. “Don’t think he did, actually. Drugs, maybe? Some sort of magic contraband?”

Elyse shrugged. “Either way—we watch this trade, we get some pictures, we don’t let them see us. Does that sound like a plan?”

The others murmured their agreement, and then Darya asked, “Who’s we?”

“Probably just one or two of us,” Anna said after a slight pause. “Too many of us go, it’ll draw attention.”

“I’ll go.”

It was the first time Felicia had spoken since the discussion began. All eyes turned on her.

“Are you sure?” Marcus asked immediately, and Felicia turned to him with a look that, while not quite a glare, held something of determination and a touch of anger.

“Yes,” she said, and Marcus nodded.

“I’ll go too,” he said. “We’ll go together.”

Still not completely sure what had just passed between them, Elyse forced herself to press on. “So Felicia and Marcus will go, next Wednesday, and get whatever evidence they can.”

Felicia downed the rest of her tea and set the cup down with a rattle. “Great. That’s a plan.” She stood abruptly, weariness etched in the lines of her face, and turned to leave. “Good night, then.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Kailo began, but Felicia had already left the room.

“She just...needs a break,” Marcus offered weakly, gathering up some of the cups to bring to the sink. “We had a long night.”

***

Elyse sat waiting in the bedroom when Felicia returned. She stood at the doorway for a moment, like she was waiting for something—but Elyse didn’t know what, and then she entered the room in earnest and sat next to her on the bed.

“Hey,” Felicia murmured, uncharacteristically shy.

“Hey,” Elyse replied. “Everything ok?” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Stupid question. Of course everything isn’t ok, we could all see that.

Felicia gave a small laugh. “I think you already know the answer to that,” she said, a bit of wryness breaking through the haze of her exhaustion, and Elyse had to smile despite everything.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Everything about Felicia felt so uncertain, so guarded, and Elyse wasn’t sure how much she should push.

“I do. I just…” Felicia began, haltingly, her gaze sliding from Elyse’s face to anywhere else. “At the party, I had a run-in with V-Volkan.” She stumbled a bit over his name, and Elyse felt a growing dread at Felicia’s obvious discomfort. “We danced, and he pulled me aside somewhere more—private.” She took Elyse’s hand in both her own, still looking down and not directly at her, and began rubbing circles in her palm with both of her thumbs. “And he said he knew I was up to something, and then he, um. Assaulted me.”

She whispered the word, as if by making it smaller she could minimize the damage that was done to her. Elyse’s mind filled in what was unsaid, flashes of Felicia, terrified, alone, crushed up against the wall in some overly-elaborate ballroom, hands violating—Elyse couldn’t stop herself from following further and further what must have happened—

Felicia drew her hands away. “Sorry,” she whispered, still looking down. “I’m sorry, I—I know that was a lot—”

“No!” Elyse grabbed Felicia’s hands again, then immediately drew back, because how dare she presume to grab Felicia like that, after what she had just been through. “Felicia, you—you don’t have to be sorry. For anything. I—can I touch you?”

Felicia nodded at that, and then pulled Elyse into a hug before she could even move. Elyse wrapped her arms around Felicia in return, hesitant at first, and then fully allowing herself to sink into the embrace.

Her mind swirled with emotions, shock and grief and pain intermingling into heartbreak. But beneath all that, she felt a simmering anger that almost caught her off-guard. Her hands curled into fists, and she wanted to rage against the cruelty and callousness of the world.

Useless rage, a part of her realized. She doesn’t need this from me right now.

“What do you need from me?” Elyse murmured instead, forcing her hands to relax, bringing herself back with palms pressed against Felicia’s back.

Felicia pulled back from the hug then, studying Elyse. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “I guess...I just need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Elyse was taken aback by the request. “Of course I trust you.”

“I know.” Felicia bit her lip, glancing off to the side. “It’s just—we’re all a team, and we need to be able to rely on each other, and you can’t be worrying about me or...or thinking I’m delicate or something.”

“I don’t think you’re delicate—” Elyse paused, gathered her thoughts. Their discussion at the table flashed through her mind, Marcus’s murmured are you sure? when Felicia volunteered herself. “Are you...worried? About the job you and Marcus are taking?”

“No!” Felicia’s reply was quick. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Abashed, she clasped her hands in her lap. “But I need to be able to still do these things. And to be able to do them without—worrying about you worrying about me, you know?”

Elyse would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried. She was terrified. Her mind followed endless paths to the worst possible outcomes—Felicia and Marcus killed, or caught and tortured in the worst ways.

She couldn’t lie to Felicia. So instead she told the truth, and said, “I trust you.”

Something like relief broke out across Felicia’s face. “I love you so much.” She brushed back loose strands of Elyse’s hair with a gentle hand and pulled her into a kiss, and Elyse’s heart warmed with the touch.

“What do you want tonight?” Elyse asked, her hand still lingering on Felicia’s skin, their faces still close.

Felicia sighed, almost inaudibly. “Can I just...hold you?”

Elyse nodded and pulled back the covers so they could climb into bed together. She lay down, and Felicia pulled the blankets over them and wrapped warm arms around her. Her head nestled into Elyse’s neck, her breath soft on her skin.

“I love you,” Felicia whispered, her eyes already drooping shut.

“I love you.” Elyse didn’t think for one minute that Felicia actually fell asleep that quickly; she could still feel the tension in her body, the way her arms were placed a touch too carefully. Elyse’s heart still hurt, with fear and sadness and anger and an overwhelming need to make everything better. But as she shut her eyes, she focused instead on the warmth of the woman with her, the tickle of Felicia’s hair brushing her skin, the utter trust involved in this simple act of vulnerable intimacy. Grounding herself in Felicia’s embrace, Elyse allowed her breathing to relax, and the pair of them drifted off into a deep sleep.

#out unseen #my writing #my oc: felicia #my oc: elyse #my oc: marcus #noncon tw #*shoves this aside* ANYWAY BACK TO THE WHUMP #lady whump #ou content

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donteattheappleshook · 4 years

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Stone Hearts Chapter 10

Slightly shorter chapter this week and I'm not super happy with it but here is the product of my flu-addled brain... and me being forced to write plot.

Summary:

Emma should have known. She should have known that they couldn’t just go to the underworld and not suffer any consequences. She should have known they’d bring something back with them.

Cannon Divergent after 5x21 Last Rites. No Hyde. No serum. No Evil Queen split. No prophecy. No season 6.

Read from the beginning on Ao3 or FFn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Rated M

Chapter 10

Emma couldn’t help but notice how good she was getting at this whole teleportation thing - at this whole magic thing really. She’d only just started to learn and get the hang of it before she became the Dark One. Before that her magic had been unpredictable, driven by fits of fear and anger or other strong emotions. But when she’d taken on the dagger’s magic it had been fuelled by something else, by darkness and hatred and desire. It had come easy but with a price.

It had been hard to relearn how to use it without channeling the darkness inside of her, the sad, angry places that she’d buried deep. She’d just begun to understand how to draw from the light in her life, from the happiness and desires she had for herself and for others. Killian had helped. He always helped, being around him had that kind of influence on her - calming, encouraging, letting her believe in herself and in her abilities.

And then, after they’d returned from the Underworld, after they’d defeated Hades and Killian had come back to her… she hadn’t needed it. For those six, happy months that she was allowed, Emma hardly ever used her magic. It was still a part of her, still sometimes flaring up when she got excited or upset - much to Killian’s amusement - sometimes used as a party trick or out of laziness. But there had been no threat, no reason to practice, no one to defend. She’d been able to just let it be another thing about her that made her different, made her who she was, rather than a weapon, something she had to master and learn in order to protect and save people.

She wondered sometimes if practicing would have made a difference. If being ready and constantly prepared for any new danger could have somehow prevented what happened, if she could have somehow defeated the King if she’d just been stronger. But then, Regina hadn't been able to stop him, or Gold. She may have been the product of true love, but their magic still far surpassed hers in skill and experience. It wouldn’t have made a difference.

But now she was back to learning, back to practicing, and once again almost always doing so under threat. Getting them out of the hospital had been a gut reaction, instinct and fear and even, a little bit of protectiveness. The potion she’d learned from a book, followed a recipe. But more and more she was noticing that she could call on her magic, weave it without the need for any emotion at all. It was strange. It was as though it had been simmering below the surface, waiting for her to need it again.

Her partner seemed unaffected by the magical travel. Maybe he was used to it, maybe he was completely unaware of it or unfazed, didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to teleport from one place to another. He was more concerned with something else than with magically appearing out of thin air.

“This is a house?�� he asked, staring at the Town Hall. He sounded shocked and skeptical and it made her laugh, drawing his attention away from the massive building and to her. Those were two more emotions she hadn’t heard from him yet. She didn’t really know if they even counted. Maybe it was just because he was speaking more now that she was noticing tones in his voice she hadn't picked up on before. She’d heard other stolen people speak, had heard cruelty and malice in their voices… but never shock, never doubt. It was such a small thing… but still.

“Not really,” she told him, unsure how to explain the intricacies of mayorhood to him. “It’s the Town Hall. Regina’s office was in there and she spent more time here than she did anywhere else - more than at her own home anyway.” He considered her for a moment and then nodded slowly. She wondered if he really understood or was just letting it drop. She’d have known if it was Killian. He was always easy to read. “Come on,” she continued. “Ruby shawshanking her way into the hospital gave me an idea.”

“Ruby?” he asked. “Shawshanking?”

The way he said those words… it almost sounded like him. The same confusion and slight aversion to new terms he didn’t recognize, a sort of distaste at being out of the loop. Marty Mcwho? Photoshopped? It made her heart tighten a little, the way his brow was pulled down, the immediate instinct to tease him, to make a joke about him not knowing anything about pop culture - the way she would have teased Killian. He looked so much like him now. She thought about how she could possibly explain what shawshanking was when he spoke again, making her heart jump into her throat.

“Ruby is the wolf-girl, right?” He was still frowning, still looking unsure, and increasingly so under her gaze. How did he know that? She tried to put it together, tried to think of when he might have seen Ruby. She’d been gone when he’d arrived to save her at the hospital hadn’t she? Had he heard her talking to Ruby through the window of her cell? Had she been less successful in being stealthy than she thought? Had he heard her and Henry talking about her? Her brow was pulled down now and she tried to force down the hope that was flaring up.

“How did you know that?” she asked. Was he remembering? Had something happened since this morning that was somehow bringing bits of his memory - of Killian’s memory to the surface? He frowned deeper, eyes searching, staring at the ground below his feet. That panicked expression started to bloom on his face again the longer he thought.

“I - I don’t know…” he started. Emma stared at him, waited until he brought his eyes back up to hers, searched them, tried to look past the scared, lost expression there, looking for any hint of recognition.

“What’s... your name?” she asked, hesitant, afraid of what would be better, what would be worse - him knowing or not knowing. That expression came over his face again, the searching and then the worry and then the panic and the pain. “Hey, sorry, sorry,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He inhaled sharply when she touched him. “Forget I asked, okay?” He didn’t respond but his muscles relaxed a little. “Let’s go inside. We shouldn’t be out in the open.”

He nodded and followed her. She didn’t know what to make of it, of his confusion. Was he scared because he knew that something was missing? She really, really didn’t want to hope… but she really did. They had to get out of the open, she reminded herself. Now wasn’t the time for introspection and hope.

Ruby’s tunnel had given her an idea. It had reminded her of something Regina had said once - back when defeating Hades had been the worst of their worries - that there were tunnels that ran under the Town Hall, hidden beneath it. She was pretty sure that Regina was too smart to have designed a town with a single, underground passage - Emma was pretty convinced that those tunnels ran under the entire town. At least, she was really hoping that they did.

Remembering them had given her two new hopes. One, that they might actually find a safe place to hide that nobody in the King’s army knew about, including Gold. And two, that maybe Regina had stashed away some of her spellbooks there for safekeeping. It was a long shot but that was what she was left with at this point. The only problem was that she had no fucking clue how to get into them. She hadn’t been allowed to go on that particular mission, had been called too emotional because of her grief. Yeah, well, things change and now she was the only one who could complete this mission, grief and all. But now she didn’t know how the fuck to get in there.

There were thankfully no protection charms around the building - her parents taking over as town leaders had seen to that, ensuring everyone was able to come and seek aid, find refuge if they needed it. But while that was a good thing, meaning they could get in easily, avoid being exposed for very long, it also meant that they wouldn’t be as safe inside. She didn’t have time to put up new ones, didn’t have the amount of backup standing guard she needed to make sure nobody tried to get through before they were even built. They would have to be quick.

She led him inside and he followed easily, letting her grab hold of his hook and drag him along behind her. They made their way up the grand staircase and into the mayor’s office. She almost laughed again when she saw his reaction to the decor. She had to agree, it was a bit much. She got to work, pulling books from shelves, looking inside and under potted plants, investigating the desk for a secret latch or a set of keys, anything that would point her in the direction of the entrance to the tunnels. She was so focused she almost didn’t hear him when he spoke again.

“Is it… Killian?” he asked. She froze, kneeling by the foot of Regina’s chair where she’d been inspecting the underside. Everything stopped for a moment, every muscle in her body, the blood in her veins, the beating of her heart just stopped with those three words. His voice was small, quiet and full of that same, almost childlike confusion and fear. He reminded her of the lost boys they’d met in Neverland. She waited, waited until she could feel her limbs enough to move them, to stand, to look at him cautiously, too afraid to hope for the best, bracing herself for the worst.

“Is what Killian?”

He only looked at her for a moment. “My name. Is it Killian?” Emma’s breath was shaky and harsh now with fear and she didn’t even know what else. This was foreign territory.

“Why are you asking?” She couldn’t let herself presume, couldn’t put words in his mouth.

“You… called me that,” he said, the frown still ever present and ever deepening on his face. “Before.” Her breath left her all at once. He hadn’t remembered. The memories weren’t his to remember. She shook her head.

“Killian…” she paused, not sure exactly how to explain it. “Killian was his name.” He watched her again and then the frown softened in understanding as he put it together.

“The man from your stories.”

“Yes.”

“The man who had my voice.” She frowned. What? She stared at him. “In my vision last night,” he continued as though that explained anything.

“Your vision?” she asked, confused, trying to understand this cryptic, riddle-like way in which he was so fond of speaking. “You mean your dream?” Her heart pounded, hard, heavy beats against her sternum, echoing through her whole body, shaking it. “Did you dream about him?”

“I - I don’t know,” he said and it took everything inside of her to stay calm, to not let herself get frustrated, not to demand answers. Whatever was happening was clearly as new for him as it was for her - and just as terrifying. “It’s... blurry.”

She walked up to him, put her hand on his arm again, noticed the way the deep creases that had returned in his brow faded a little at her touch.

“What else was in your dream?”

He looked at her and slowly the fear and confusion left his face, was replaced with certainty. There was almost a longing in his eyes. She was sure that if he didn’t seem so afraid of touching her he would have reached out for her then.

“You.”

Shit. She didn’t know what to do with that. He’d dreamed about her. She didn’t even know he could dream - didn’t know the shells dreamed. Had he dreamed about her now, as she was, as the person he’d known for a little over a week? Or was it… She was still so afraid to hope. She could handle him being someone new, being someone born of what was done to Killian, someone that she had grown to trust. But to let herself believe that he was Killian, that he was Killian trying to break through to her - and if she turned out to be wrong…

She stepped away, dropped her hand and with it his gaze left hers. Whatever focus, whatever draw had been making her look like that left him and he was back to the reserved, quiet man he’d been before. She moved to resume her search, starting to pull books from shelves again and leaf through them. She didn’t even know what she was looking for anymore. She wasn’t really focusing. She was just trying to get her heart and her breath and her feelings back under control.

“What is it then?” he asked and she nearly sighed. She’d only just started to manage to ignore the thoughts racing in her head, to try rationalize his existence and he’d had to go ahead and pull her right back.

“What’s what?” She didn’t look up from her book, knew she’d groan at him if she did.

“My name.”

The words caught her by surprise. She shut the book slowly, put it back on the shelf. His name. She didn’t know what his name was. She didn’t think any of the King’s minions had names. She’d been calling him Killian and then correcting herself and calling him Not Killian in her head - as well as several other, much ruder names out loud. She remembered what Gold had called him - his puppet. It made her skin crawl just to think about it, about this man being used as a slave, being used to do evil’s bidding when there was a kindness in him - she’d seen it. He deserved a name.

She looked over at where he stood, awkwardly in the middle of the room, fiddling with the sharp point of his hook the way he seemed to do when he was nervous or scared. She smiled a little, remembering another man that she’d believed to be evil and cruel but who had proved her wrong. She gave him a little smile.

“Why don’t we call you Hook for now?”

He looked up at her, his brows lifting in surprise, and then back at the appendage for a moment before meeting her eye once more. He nodded. Hook it was then. She could handle that. Killian hadn’t been Hook to her for a very long time. It was fitting, someone who looked like him and sounded like him but was so far removed from the man Killian truly was, the man he had become. She returned his nod and pulled out another book.

“Good. Now help me look.” It was the least he could do instead of just standing there, making her question everything she knew and believed every few minutes.

“What are we looking for?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Anything that looks like it could be a passageway or a key or something to get into a secret tunnel. Just, tell me if you find anything that doesn’t look right.”

He nodded but he looked more confused than ever. She couldn’t blame him. He would be no help at all, she thought. He made an effort though, searching the room, looking under pillows and along tables for buttons or latches. He was inspecting the window when he stopped. She figured he’d given up, that he didn’t understand what they were doing or why.

It was a long, fruitless while where she turned the entire room upside down before she gave up, collapsed on one of the armchairs and heaved a sigh. She looked over at him, unsure what their next move should be. She had really placed all her bets on finding this tunnel. He was still at the window, looking out of it, focused on something outside. Her immediate thought was that someone was coming, that they’d been found and even - fleetingly - that he’d sold them out. But he didn’t look worried or tense or prepared for a fight. He just looked focused.

She stood, walking across the black and white linoleum to where he stood, following his gaze to whatever it was that had caught his attention so raptly. It was a tree. A single tree, isolated from the rest, with dark, red apples growing from it. Of course. Of course Regina would hide her secret entrance in her most precious possession. It wasn’t her desk or her chair or her books - it was that fucking tree.

She remembered then that it had been Killian who had told her about that particular royal quirk. King Arthur had revealed it to him in the Underworld when they’d been looking for Hades’ missing pages. Had this man - had Hook - known who Regina was, what that tree meant to her? Maybe they had been told things about them, fed information to make it easier to hunt them. The person who stole Snow had known who she and her father were.

Maybe. But maybe it was something else. It was too many coincidences, too many little moments and whispers that kept hinting at, adding up to, the same thing. His dreams, the way he’d reached out for her so desperately, the way he’d hummed that song, the way he knew who Ruby was, the way he’d listened to her stories, the way he’d kissed her back, the way he’d called her Emma, the way he’d saved her life - and now this.

Something was - no, he was changing. Whether it was the spell fading or Killian screaming out from somewhere inside of this new man, she didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to speculate. But she couldn’t keep hiding from it, couldn’t keep protecting herself from it if it meant not helping Killian - not finding him.

She thought back to another time, long ago, when she’d met another version of Killian, one that wasn’t so different from the man before her now. He’d been a deckhand, scared and confused and nearly helpless but deep down, in the end, he’d still been Killian. Kind, and brave, and willing to sacrifice anything - even himself - to protect those he cared about. At his core, he’d been Killian, regardless of the memories he’d been fed, or the ones that had been stolen.

She remembered her parents then too. Remembered how David had told her that he’d helped Snow find her way back to herself once, back to him, by reminding her of who she was and who he was to her. True love was the most powerful magic in the world and she knew, without any test or scales or magic kiss that that was what she and Killian had had. Maybe it was time to start believing in that, time to start reminding this man of who he was rather than just resenting what he’d become.

She took his hand and he startled. “Come on,” she said gently. “You figured it out.” His brow pulled down in that confused way that had made her laugh before, clearly having no idea what she was referring to. She grabbed her bag and led him out of the office, her hand still wrapped around his and, after a moment, she felt his fingers close over her own. The familiar feel of it was like a warmth, blooming from where they touched and out through her limbs, into her bones. I’ll find you, she thought. If you’re in there, I’ll find you.

They made their way through the building and out to the tree. That was as far as she got for a while. She was sure that Hook was right and that the entrance was probably disguised somewhere on the trunk. But how the hell she was supposed to find it she had no idea. She circled the tree, looking for something out of place, something wrong. It looked like a normal damn tree. Hook was staring straight up, frowning a little at the fruit with his mouth hanging open, like he’d never seen an apple tree before. Technically, this version of him probably hadn’t, she realized. She left him to his confusion as she kept looking, pressing at every knot and pulling at every branch she could reach.

“What I wouldn’t give for Indigo’s magic sword,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” he asked, his face finally looking away from the fruit and the leaves. Good, his neck was gonna get sore if he kept that up.

“Nevermind,” she said. After a moment, he simply nodded and went back to looking at the apples. She frowned. “What the hell is so fascinating about these fruits, man?” she asked, getting annoyed - more at herself but, well, he was there for her to project it onto. He didn’t look down again.

“They’re all exactly the same.”

“Huh?” she asked, frowning and following his gaze. He was right. Every single apple was identical. While she’d never really noticed much difference from one apple to another, these ones were eerily all the same. Each the exact same shade of red, each the exact same size, each the exact same flawless shape. That wasn’t normal. She should have known Regina would use magic to genetically modify her fruit.

She noticed one though - one that was just a little bit different. Where the others were a dark, almost blackish red, this one was paler, like it was younger, like it hadn’t ripened yet. It was smaller too. She reached out, pulled it until it came loose, and held it between her hands. Hook watched her do it, that same, confused, skeptical look on his face.

After an anticlimactic moment, where she thought she’d guessed wrong, she jumped at the sound of the earth moving. The ground next to her feet was falling away, opening up to reveal a set of stairs that disappeared beneath the tree. Fucking Regina and her fucking apples. She almost laughed, almost groaned. A new fruit was already growing in the old one’s place.

Hook was tense beside her and it took her a second to realise that at some point, he’d put himself between her and the passage, as though blocking her from whatever the noise was, or whatever might have been planning to come out. She put a hand on his arm that was braced, held out in front of her. She gently urged it down and after a moment, he didn’t resist.

“It’s fine,” she told him. “This is what we were looking for.” She took his hand again. It was hard to stop once she’d started. Just like it had been hard to stop talking to him those nights in the cell. Every time she touched him she just wanted to keep touching him, keep feeling him. She liked feeling the warmth and the comfort, liked the way his hand still fit with hers the same way, the way his rings were still cold against her skin. It was familiar and now… now she had hope that maybe it really was him, somewhere, somewhere really deep down.

He was staring at their hands again, his still stiff in hers and she worried. Maybe she shouldn’t be pushing him. She might have just begun to believe that maybe there was a chance she could find the man she loved… but to him, to Hook, she was still a stranger. Maybe it wasn’t fair to put all of this on him, to expect him to be someone else, someone he wasn’t anymore, someone he would hopefully be again - but might not. She moved to loosen her hold but he shifted, slipping his fingers through her own and hanging on, like he was grounding himself.

He looked up at her then and she nodded before slowly heading down the stairs, testing the first step, making sure it would hold, making sure it wasn’t a trap. When it held steady under her weight she continued. Hook followed behind her, not releasing his grip on her hand. When they reached the bottom, Emma found a leaver in the wall. Apparently opening it from the inside was easier than from the outside. She pulled it and the steps rose back up, disappearing into the ceiling above them.

It was dark inside. Emma felt for a lightswitch, instructed Hook to do the same, a little disappointed when he dropped her hand, but she couldn’t find one. Hook didn’t seem to have any luck on his side of the tunnel either. She couldn’t see him anymore, it was pitch black around them. She was worried suddenly, not liking not knowing where he was, if he was alright, if he was afraid. She focused on her hand, held it out in front of her and thought about how much she wanted to see his face in that moment.

A small flame appeared in her palm and she let out a small cheer, pleased with her own achievement. Fireballs were hard. She remembered how long it took Regina to teach her to even manage a spark. Hook looked up at her when she called out, reacted to the light. He seemed surprised for a moment but when he saw the excitement on her face he gave her a small, hesitant smile. Maybe even this version of him was a fan of her magic, she mused.

“Emma!” he shouted suddenly and she barely had time to see the panic in his eyes, see him try and reach for her before someone grabbed her from behind, a knife pressed to her throat.

“Stay back!” the voice shouted when he took a step forward. He paused, looking between her and the person who held her, evaluating, judging the threat. The voice spoke to her next. “Move and you die.” The voice was female, and familiar.

“Ariel?” she asked, surprised, confused. She didn’t even know Ariel had been in Storybrooke when the Horned King arrived.

“You know who she is?” another voice asked. A second woman came out of the darkness, holding a sword to Hook, aimed it at his chest.

“Tink?” she asked in shock. The blade at her throat pressed harder. Hook stepped forward but Tink moved in front of him, stopping his progress. The blade was digging into his jacket now, over his heart. If he took another step it would run him through. “Of course I know her,” Emma said, hoping to de-escalate the situation. “Tink. It’s me, Emma. You know me.”

“We used to know a lot of people in this town,” Tink said, not letting up. “Don’t trust her,” she said to Ariel. “It could be a trick.”

Emma met Hook’s eyes over Tink’s shoulder. She could see his hand twitching, tense. She also knew he could get out of this, could escape giving the opportunity. He’d had blades pointed to his chest before. She looked down at her hand, at the fire, hoping he’d understand that she could get out too. He nodded.

Emma snuffed out the flame, engulfing the room in darkness again. She raised her hand faster than Ariel could react, blasting the knife out of her hand, heard it clatter to the floor. She heard the screeching of metal on metal next, heard Tink cry out but she didn’t hear her sword hit the floor. There was panic for a moment as they all scrambled in the dark, and then the lights came on.

Tink and Ariel stood to one side of the tunnel, Ariel’s hand was still gripping the leaver that had clearly turned on the power. Tink was next to her, still armed. Emma looked around frantically for Hook, relieved when she saw him standing a little ways away from where she’d last seen him. But he was far too close to that sword.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He nodded. She turned to the other two. “Tink, Ariel... Is it really you? Are you really okay?” She had tears welling in her eyes now, her voice cracking. She’d thought she was the only one left, her and Ruby and Henry. But there were more. How many more were there? How many had survived? “Are you really still human?” They were, she could see it in their eyes, see the recognition and the fear and the anger.

“We’re plenty human,” Tink spat. She stepped closer to Hook again, sword drawn. “What about you though. How can we know you’re human?” Emma saw his face harden, ready to fight and she shook her head at him. Don’t, she tried to say without words. We need them to trust us. They needed to be together in this. They couldn’t defeat the King if they were divided. But she didn’t know how to convince them to trust Hook when she herself had only just begun to. He was still cursed and she knew that that would be enough to scare any of them into action. Hook didn’t move but he still glared at the woman who was holding a blade to him for the second time since they’d entered the tunnel.

“I am,” she tried to tell them, tried to beg them to listen. “My heart… it has a protection spell on it.” Ariel seemed to relax. Tink didn’t. “Ask me anything! Anything at all, something only I’d know and I promise I’ll know the answer.”

“I believe you,” Ariel said.

“What about him?” Tink demanded. “I’ve seen him around. Seen him with the others. He’s one of them.” Emma saw her hand tighten around the handle of the blade.

“Don’t touch him!” she shouted. She could feel the magic burning in her fingers, had to rein it in, had to control herself to stop it from lashing out. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to if Tink hurt him. “He’s different,” she tried to explain. “Something’s… happening to him.”

“Emma,” Tink said over her shoulder, her voice patronizing, heavy with pity. “I know you loved him and all, but you can’t be serious. He’s dangerous. Just like the rest of them.”

“Tink,” Ariel said quietly. “Maybe we should listen to her. What if…”

“What if nothing,” she snapped. “He’s cursed. There’s no coming back from this one.” Her voice broke on the last words.

Emma recognized it then. The despair in Tink’s voice, the hopelessness, the anger, and the hatred… the emptiness. She recognized it, recognized herself a week ago, hell, days ago. But she also knew what that meant. Tink wasn’t going to let him go. She was going to kill him. Emma felt fire burning inside of her - rage, protectiveness, love, all merging into one. It raged through her veins, rushed through her body until she could feel it in the tips of her fingers.

“I said. Don’t. Touch. Him,” she shouted again. But this time it was a warning. There were twin flames burning in her hands now, she could feel the magic coursing through her, knew she couldn’t stop it, she'd lost control. She couldn’t let her hurt him. It was engulfing her, overpowering her, consuming her. She’d just got him back -just got the possibility of him back. She wasn’t going to let anyone take it away.

“Enough!” someone shouted behind them. The voice broke through the anger and the rage and the fight in the room, all gazes snapping to its source. Emma’s fire simmered out when she recognized who it was. Belle. Belle, heavily pregnant and pacing towards them with a crossbow aimed at Killian. She didn’t look ready to shoot but Emma knew better than to challenge her.

“Belle -” Tink started but she interrupted her.

“I said enough.” Tink hesitated for a moment, looking between the woman and Hook before finally stepping back, dropping her sword. She didn’t look happy about it. Belle looked at Emma then. “How is he different?”

Emma hesitated. “He’s… changing.” She knew that wasn’t enough. Belle’s look told her so. “He’s - I think he’s coming back. He’s remembering things - little things -”

“None of them come back,” Tink insisted, sword lowered but her hand still had a white-knuckle grip around it.

“Yet,” Emma reminded her. “None of them have come back yet.” She looked at Belle again. She was still aiming the crossbow at Killian. But Emma knew her. When it came to hope and believing in people, in trying to see the good in them, Belle was only second to Snow. She just had to convince her. “He saved my life,” she told her and Belle raised a brow, surprised, interested. “He turned against the others - he saved me from them.” She could see that had gotten through to her.

Belle thought for a moment, eyeing Hook warily. “Show us his heart,” she demanded.

Emma hesitated. She didn’t know what good that would do. He was cursed and his heart would reflect it. She feared that more than anything it put him at greater risk - Tink was just waiting for an excuse to run him through. She wondered, just briefly, if it was because she’d cared about Killian too, if it hurt her to see him stolen. But Belle wasn’t budging. Her bow was still at the ready, her expression told Emma she was waiting.

Emma sighed. At least, maybe this way she could be close enough to protect him if Tink or Belle came after him again. If she could keep his heart safe then they couldn’t kill him. She stepped forward and Hook’s gaze was still firmly on Belle, on the weapon in her hand. She approached him cautiously, not wanting to scare him, hoping he knew she was still on his side. She didn’t touch him yet. Didn’t want to distract him from the seriousness of what she was going to ask - because she was going to ask. He deserved better than to have his heart ripped out of his chest like he was no one.

“Hook,” he hesitated for a second, not wanting to look away from the threat, but finally his eyes met hers. “I have to show them your heart. I need them to trust us. This is what they need to trust us.” His expression was unreadable. “Will you let me do that?” she asked and he hesitated for a moment, gaze flicking back to the other women in the room before settling on her again. When he looked at her there was trust in his eyes, not for them, but for her. “Thank you,” she said so that only he could hear. She brought her hand to his chest, felt his deep inhale as it rose under her palm. “This might hurt,” she apologized.

She pushed her hand in. There was no resistance. She did it as slowly and gently as she could and he barely flinched, though she didn’t know if that was due to her care or to his cursed ability to ignore pain. She’d only done this once and that time she’d been scared and frantic and overtaken by darkness. It still felt wrong, taking someone’s heart from their chest, but it didn’t feel as cruel as it had the last time she’d done it. She took hold of his heart and pulled back slowly. He let out a small grunt but seemed otherwise unharmed. She cradled it against her, protecting it, remembering the last time she’d held his heart in her hands.

“Let’s see it,” Belle said but her tone wasn’t as harsh as it had been. Emma knew - if anyone could understand loving someone despite their darkness it was her. And Belle had loved Killian too. It had taken a while but their friendship had grown into one that she knew Killian cherished. She realised then that all the women in this room had cared about him at some point in their lives. She just hoped that she could convince them to believe in him now. Emma held out the heart.

A small gasp left Belle’s lips and Emma’s eyes shot down to the heart - to see what was wrong. She nearly dropped it, shock and fear and hope coursing through her all at once, knocking her back with the force of it. It was cracked. His heart was stone, just like the others, solid rock encompassing it in its entirety… almost. In the middle, right in the dead center of the stone, was a tiny, little crack, as though a piece had been chipped out. It was barely a hair’s width but from it she could see the red glowing through, shining through, a little bit of light trying to force its way through the darkness. Holy shit.

She looked up to meet three equally stunned faces. No one knew what to do. No one knew what this meant. Was the spell breaking? Had something been wrong in the first place? Was this Killian fighting his way back to her again? She wanted to cry. She did cry, a hot, silent tear rolling down her cheek. Belle dropped her weapon. Ariel came up to Belle’s side, taking the weapon from her and offering her very pregnant friend a hand should she need to lean on it.

“What does this mean?” Emma asked, hoping Belle had an answer. Belle with all her books and her research and her love, if anyone had an answer it would be her.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But we’re going to find out.” Belle walked over to her, took hold of her arms, the heart still held between them. Emma tightened her grip, needing to protect it now more than ever. “Emma, if he’s trying to get back to you, then we’ll help him.” Emma nodded and Belle turned to the others. “Come on, let’s head back to camp,” she told them. They agreed, Tink heading off after her. Ariel walked by Emma, stopping to pick up her dagger that was still on the floor.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice a little small, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Emma said. “You were protecting yourself.” Ariel’s gaze dropped to the heart in Emma’s hand. “That’s incredible,” she said. “I didn’t know that was possible. I thought the spell was unbreakable.”

“So did I,” Emma breathed.

“I suppose we never really know the limits of magic until they’re tested,” Ariel said. She gave Emma another, encouraging look and headed off after the others who were waiting for them a few yards away.

Emma turned back to Hook, her eyes still fixed on the heart. When she looked up at him he was watching her, looking unsure. “Thank you,” she told him and he only nodded. “We can trust them now, okay?” He looked hesitant but he didn’t protest. “I’m gonna put this back now.” He nodded again, waited.

Raising the heart between them, Emma paused, focusing again on that soft, pinkish glow - Killian, reaching out to her. She had to believe it was him. She should have trusted him sooner, believed in him sooner. She brought the heart close to her face, held it so the crack was barely a breath away from her lips.

“Come back to me,” she whispered, hoping, that somehow he would hear her, that the message would reach him, that he would keep fighting, knowing she was out here fighting for him too. Hook was looking at her, his head tilted slightly, brow knotted again. He’d find her. She knew he would. In this version, in any version, Killian would always find his way back to her.

Emma pressed the heart back into his chest, gentler this time than when she’d done this for him so long ago. She could see the change in his expression when the heart was returned, a change in the way he looked at her, that slight recognition, that slight longing coming back. She was relieved.

She kept her hand there on his chest for a moment, appreciating the steady beat under her palm. Hook’s hand covered hers, holding it against him. She realised then that as much as she was trying to believe in Killian, believe that he could break this curse, she also needed to believe in Hook - in this version of him, believe that he was a good man, that he was fighting against his instincts, choosing her, despite the risks. She slid her fingers through his, squeezing them once before leading him off after the others.

#stone hearts #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #cs canon divergence #cs angst #captain swan angst

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sheepish-uwu · 4 years

Note

if u take requests, could you write a small bit abt lion reacting to docs death?

of course, and merry (early) christmas anon! i hope this is to your liking!

i gift to thee: 2.2k words of pure doc/lion angst! rated for MATURE audiences as it deals with dark themes :). enjoy! you can also read it on a03!

Death was a demon that had once held an inescapable clutch on his soul - as it tends to do with many - for the elusive afterlife was intimidating to most. It was a trampling force that held no remorse for those caught in the aftereffects and was one of the only things Olivier could not run from other than God’s judgment. All he’d known how to do was run; run from responsibility. Run from his family’s advice. From the people he loved. From his son. From his lover.

Olivier had sworn he’d gotten over the fear of death. The moment he’d been exiled from his own family and girlfriend, he’d considered himself better off as dead then. He had been a shell of a human being back then, constantly wishing for death’s release despite lacking the willpower to go through with any of the treacherous thoughts that had plagued his mind. He often sends thanks to the divine force that kept him from that horrendous fate. There must have been a reason for keeping him alive even when he was practically six-foot underground in his own alcoholic and drug-induced misery.

Death had become a common factor in his work field to a point where he’d never bat an eye at the miscellaneous casualties if there was a purpose. It was the main cause of his and Gustave’s disagreements whenever they’d argue, their differentiating philosophies and viewpoints remaining on very shaky ground that he’d squint to say was common - so they ignored it the same way they ignored each other’s politics. In his defense though, life was just so fragile. Mortality has kicked him in the face multiple times. Like when he was barely an adult and hospitalized for his toxic obsessions, he’d had a lot of time to think about how close he had been to death and, more bitterly, how many had died to something he hadn’t. He’s held the hand of sickly dying patients and carried heavy corpses of civilians and colleagues to a point where any shock, fear, or emotion has dissipated.

In Rainbow, the only deaths he’d witnessed were the ones of recruits. It was always upsetting to lose a member of their organization, yet their losses had never really phased Olivier - at least not in the way it affected people like Gilles who’d worked and trained with them more personally. They had yet to lose an actual operator though, whether it be through sheer luck was unknown to Olivier - yet they’d always managed to keep a clean streak even when missions went haywire. It was common to joke about dying on the job otherwise the lingering fear would eat them alive, and despite the teasing nature, there was always a truth to their words. It remained unspoken, yet drifted through the atmosphere whenever anyone laughed about their possible fate in an upcoming mission. Despite the mirth in their teasing voices, Olivier saw the flash of uncertainty and fear in their eyes - the feeling being reciprocated by everyone else in the room.

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? The lead up was unbearable, someone had to die eventually - right? It was all a matter of who and when. Everyone secretly expected the more reckless operators to be the ones to die first; after all, they were the ones who joked most about dying and were more prone to life-endangering endeavors. It’s what made the most sense, right?

So why was it that their doctor - the one who preached the most about caution and safety - died first? Why hadn’t it been someone like James - who jumps headfirst into the fray without thinking? Or Elias - who practically gloats about willing to dive right in front of bullets to save lives? Often times, Olivier thinks he’s the butt of a joke the entire world is playing on him. Right when he gets complacent, comfortable, and happy with the way his life is heading, life throws a curveball that sends him tumbling back down the steep rocky mountain he’d been so desperately trying to climb. It’s what happened when he was a teenager and thrown out to the streets, it’s what happened when he almost lost his rank from his relapse into toxic behaviors, and it’s what’s happening now.

And it hurts - so much more than all those experiences combined - to a point where Olivier wants to scream. Rip his hair out and peel off his own skin in a valiant attempt to shake off all these layers of pain and anguish. And this loss shouldn’t hurt him so much. He - he thought he’d gotten used to death’s company. And death wasn’t the final destination, there was life for Gustave after his earthly one - even if he wasn’t a devout believer in heaven or hell. For Olivier’s own sake, he held onto the notion that Gustave was with his heavenly father despite his lover’s religious doubts. The thought of Gustave being permanently gone tore at Olivier’s chest and applied an emotional pressure that made his sternum feel like exploding.

Even still, despite knowing Gustave is in a better place, Olivier despises every second without the other French man’s company and guiltily relishes in this selfish desire. He misses Gustave and desperately searches for ways to keep his lover’s presence lingering, even if it wasn’t physical. He’d already gone through a phase of replacing all of his pillowcases with Gustave’s clothes, inhaling the poignant scent of his lover; outrageously expensive cologne, aftershave, and home. The day the scent wore off had been soul-crushing, and instead of being comforted by the pacifying smell of his deceased lover, he was met with his own depressing stench of sweat, tears, and desperation.

The love he shared with Gustave was resurfacing into a loneliness that made every tender memory sour and turned every night alone with his right hand into a pathetic display of grief - any kind of pleasure received being reduced to a vigorous lust for what he couldn’t have anymore. The night his anger, grief, and desire merged into one amalgamation of self-loathing sent Olivier on a rampant self-destructive course, seeking out the artificial love of strangers for a taste of the past.

Except it was superficial and each impetuous touch from the men couldn’t compare to the way Gustave’s careful nimble hands had once explored his body. Where Gustave was attentive, loving, and selfless in the way he reduced Olivier to a babbling mess, they were rough and selfish. Greedily taking from Olivier - though he’d be a hypocrite to be modest and say he hadn’t initially been doing the same thing - and the realization that this wasn’t Gustave, and he’d never find a suitable replacement for the love he’d once shared with the man, hit him like a freight train and sent him barreling down into a pit of despair. Any sound of pleasure he’d once emitted was obscured, all there was was pain - his cries being muffled underneath sweat-laced skin and the sound of the once euphoric activity. When the brute realized his sobs weren’t of pleasure and asked a concerned “shit, are you alright mate?”, Olivier merely nodded despite how much his soul screeched at him to say no and spill out the cesspool of his inner demons and unrelenting heartache.

His church had been helpful and alleviated the unbearable torment of his wistful thoughts. The people he confided in supported him through his mourning, promising to keep him in their prayers. Their intercessions helped ease the nagging thoughts that he was completely alone in this particular struggle, and the distractions from his time volunteering kept his mind away from the distress in his empty home. Gustave never went to church with him despite how adamantly Olivier tried to convince him, and he never would’ve imagined he’d ever be grateful for it. Everything and everywhere reminded him of Gustave, but not his church. The only place Gustave refused to accompany Olivier to, and the only place that didn’t overwhelmingly remind him of a certain presence he was missing.

He tried to find solace solely on his religion, and oh how he tried to find respite and healing through prayer and guidance - but old habits die hard and the sudden influx of emotional turmoil dug up everything he’d fought so hard to control. It felt like he was constantly on a malfunctioning autopilot mode - he couldn’t control his actions that progressively got more and more destructive, exacerbating his situation without a care in the world as he let his inner demons take over. Thought and inhibition were completely thrown out the window every time he took a swing of Gustave’s once treasured expensive wine. A sight that’d surely make him fume and retch in his grave, he’d think guiltily, forlorn gaze cast down at the half-empty glass bottle.

He dreaded to imagine what Gustave would think of him if he saw him now, and remembers vividly the disappointment and hurt that’d paint his handsome face in the beginning of their relationship when Olivier would oftentimes turn to alcohol to deal with the stress.

“We’re a team now, anything that bothers you bothers me. Tell me please, don’t push me away - I know I’m not the most emotionally available person in the world, but I care. I don’t want to see you like this again, please.” Gustave had exasperated, crouching down next to Olivier’s huddled figured hugging the toilet - spewing out his regret from the night before.

It took him a while to trust Gustave with his anxieties and problems, and though he had always been distant with his comfort compared to someone like Gilles - who’d embrace Olivier in a warm hug and soothing words - it worked. Gustave offered Olivier a shoulder to cry on and tentative back rubs, though the hesitant physical touches couldn’t compare to his words. They held advice - a logical merit that kept him grounded and resilient with a promise that these problems he faced had solutions so long as he put the effort to solve them.

“But Gustave,” Olivier whispered, voice hoarse as he stared at the soul-shuddering marble tombstone that did very little to dignify who Gustave Kateb was and all of his humble accomplishments. It made Olivier distraught to see the altruistic man who worked so hard, every single day, reduced to a few words. “How do I get through this? Without you?” His voice was breaking on every syllable, body oscillating back and forth on his heels in a desperate attempt to contain himself.

Olivier was met with nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the willow and oak trees and the soft shrill chirping from the thrushes and the songbirds, a hurtful reminder of how ultimately his loss was meaningless to everything but him. The world would carry on unforgivingly and leave Olivier behind to rot in his despair while trying to grudgingly trek through life, all while carrying the heavy solid weight of grief on his back. Nobody was going to wait on him to catch up, nobody truly cared or was impacted as much as Olivier was, and Olivier was sure that right when he’d returned from his leave in Northern France, the majority of Rainbow would have moved on. Perhaps they’d already found a replacement for Gustave. Olivier grimaced, the thought embarking a shrewd feeling of dissatisfaction that boiled in his blood.

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to go back without you there. It’s unbearable please, I-” his pleads cut off abruptly into a sob that tore through his chest and throat, leaving behind a tingling sensation that kept his breathing uneven. “I miss you. I-I can’t… I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.” The blonde French man crumpled on the cold ground, the maintained grass damp and chilled from the icy dew-heavy morning.

“Help me,” Olivier reiterated, body slumped downwards as he fisted handfuls of the surrounding flora carelessly - a ravaging tick surging throughout him to destroy whatever he could get his hands on. “Gustave help me. Help me, help me,” Olivier repeated uncontrollably between breath-stealing wails, his repetition a painful reminder of the birds that surrounded him in the desolate graveyard - only able to repeat rather than speak.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have spent so long fighting you, you’ve brought me so much joy. It was a waste, and I wish I could go back and spend all those hours we wasted arguing about something stupid and petty and just.. Kiss you instead.” Olivier heaved out once he finally caught his breath, eyes glazing over the dirt and grass that now contaminated his pale hands.

A bubbling emotion surged throughout him, its force overwhelming and warm that induced a trembling in his fingertips. A phrase came to mind, the only way to explain this feeling that had been eating him alive throughout the past year. Three words contributed to this almost rapturous feeling that Olivier had stubbornly avoided saying unless he deemed the time acceptable. How idiotic he had been to hold himself back like that because now there was no more time left to share this revelation he’d been holding inside of him selfishly.

“I love you.” Olivier whispered, voice hushed as if admitting these three words was a crime - but the only thing that was crime-worthy was how long he’d kept it to himself.

And so, he was met with nothing. Just as he had been earlier, and would be forevermore.

#r6s #anon #ficrequest #doc/lion #r6s lion #thank you for the request :) it kind of helped me out through a writers block i've been having!#wrote 2k words in a few hours goodness

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redladydeath · 4 years

Text

Anxiety is asleep, post Lust arc headcanons

Nylpho was the daughter of the leader of a decently sized “tribe” native to Asmodean. Her marriage to Ilotte was part of an effort to create closer ties between ethnic Asmodeans and the Beelzenian nobility.

At the time of their marriage, Nylpho was 18 and Ilotte was 29. Ilotte had chosen to put off marriage until he he became duke.

Nylpho was an incredibly sweet, affectionate person who also happened to be a bit flighty and overemotional. Ilotte was a textbook psychopath, with an external charm but inability to form meaningful relationships with people on an emotional level. Nylpho, due to her personality and eagerness to be a good wife, was the one exception in his life and, as a result, he put her up on a pedestal in his mind as the perfect woman.

Sati’s mom, Avelina, was a friend of Nylpho’s. She was prompted by her father and brother to become close with the Venomania’s as part of their plan to establish themselves among the Asmodean nobility, but her affection for Nylpho was genuine. Ilotte proposing to her relatively soon after Nylpho’s death was quite a shock, but she graciously accepted and enjoyed her time as duchess.

Witnis was married to Annlee and the couple had twins. Life was good for a few months until Irina passed through their village. She set a house on fire for fun and the fire soon spread to encompass the town. Witnis and Annlee got out, but the children were left inside. Annlee sent Witnis back in for them, but he hesitated at a crucial moment and part of the burning roof caved in on him, knocking him unconscious. The twins died in the fire and Annlee couldn’t forgive Witnis for failing to save her children, resulting in them eventually separating.

Ilotte hired Witnis as a guard on a whim while Nylpho was heavily pregnant. He was in a good mood and needed more security as Nylpho got closer to giving birth.

Nylpho went mad with guilt after Cherubim was born and was in somewhat of a daze leading up to her suicide. She visited the nursery to say goodbye and had a brief interaction with Witnis, who had been stationed to guard the room. Nylpho started to break down while she was talking to Cherubim, and Witnis, deciding to try and comfort her, ended up making what at the time seemed like a redundant promise to protect her son for her.

Ilotte flew into a rage after Nylpho’s body was returned to the mansion and it was determined there was nothing to be done. He tore off to the nursery and nearly stabbed Cherubim before he was blocked by Witnis, who, not wanting to watch another baby die, managed to convince him that Nylpho wouldn’t have wanted him to murder their child. The basement was Ilotte’s compromise; punish/utterly remove the child from his life while still not technically killing it (even if he half expected Cherubim to die from exposure regardless).

As a toddler, Cherubim had all the hallmarks of a feral child, and it was only because Witnis realized this and decided to disobey Ilotte’s orders to simply stand guard and not pay him any mind that this outcome was avoided. Cherubim was still delayed and stunted when it came to speech/emotional/etc. development, but he did at least grow to be somewhat functional.

Cherubim hated most things about himself, but as a teenager/young adult he became particularly insecure about his stunted physical development. He was very small and skinny and a result of chronic malnutrition and most people, assuming he was much younger than he actually was, treated him as if he were a child. This resentment was aggravated by the fact that Cherubim did not fully understand concepts like masculinity and sexuality and therefore couldn’t articulate, even to himself, why he felt so insecure about such things to begin with.

It cannot be overstated how dramatically Cherubim’s upbringing affected his personal development. He only had a rudimentary understanding of many basic concepts and never reached a level of emotional maturity higher than that of a child. Even as Duke Venomania, many people were shocked by how little he understood many things, although by that point he had reached a level of confidence where people could write off his ignorance as a personality quirk rather than assuming he was “affected” as had frequently happened in his previous life.

Cherubim was incredibly clingy, both physically and emotionally; a trait that persisted even after the contract. While he was unaccustomed to positive physical contact, he desperately craved it. In the sin swap AU, when given license by Gumina, he basically never let stopped touching her and Sati, always wanting to be close to them and panicking when they had to separate, much to Sati’s discomfort. (basically, if he wasn’t afraid you were going to hit him, personal space didn’t exist for Cherubim)

The Venomania boys were basically the only people Gumina felt safe to let her walls down around. To everyone else she was cold and haughty, but with the brothers she was bright and fun loving. Sati’s betrayal and the eventual realization that Cherubim was Duke Venomania caused her to retreat progressively further into herself until she eventually reached a breaking point.

Although he never fully acknowledged it, Sati was rather traumatized by finding out about Cherubim’s existence. Up until that point he had thought of his father as this perfect, rational force in his life, and discovering that he had the capacity to treat one of his own children so horrifically shook him to his core. From that point onward, there was always a small, private fear in his mind that, if he crossed his father one to many times, he would punish him in just as terrible a way as he punished Cherubim. Of course, this never came to pass, but it did inform Sati’s lack of conviction when it came to helping Cherubim in any substantial way after getting him released from the basement.

Cherubim and Sateriasis did not look as though they were siblings, although if you took the time to look closely, you could notice some striking similarities. Cherubim was small and starved-looking, while Sateriasis was tall and athletically built; Cherubim inherited his mother’s curly hair, which he wore short, while Sati’s was long and pin-straight; Sati’s skin was a few shades lighter than Cheri’s, and Cheri had his mother’s abnormal luminous green eyes while Sati’s were a normal, handsome shade of brown (purple and blue in the main verse). However, they both inherited the same hooked nose and front tooth gap from their father, although Sati eventually got his gap fixed on a visit to Beelzenia (this was rather heartbreaking for Cherubim since it was one of the few traits they actually had in common).

Cherubim would not have been nearly as unnerving upon first glance were it not for the physical abuse he endured. The chronic malnutrition left him bony and hollow-looking; as a child, he had sustained an infection in his eye that left it milky white and blind; the facial deformity was not merely cosmetic and actually grew/worsened, resulting in the surrounding skin becoming purple-ish and veiny; and the various physical injuries he sustained from the other servants, local bullies, etc. left him constantly cut and bruised, with some wounds turning into lasting, jagged scars.

Gumina’s mother died when she was very young. On this level, she could somewhat relate to Cherubim, both having never known their mothers.

Cherubim was very taken with the flowers in the mansion’s garden, although he didn’t often get a chance to work with them.

AU where Cherubim never acquires language. Witnis, Sateriasis, and Gumina construct an informal sign language system with him, but hardly any of the other servants care to learn it. As the majority of them are also illiterate, Cherubim feels even more trapped as he literally cannot get anyone to pay any mind to what he has to say. During the big breakdown day, Sateriasis and Gumina both refused to pay attention to what he was trying to sign at them, and, after the stab, the reason Venomania couldn’t call out to Gumina is that he has once again lost the ability to communicate verbally.

Although he never told him, Witnis really did love Cherubim as a son and was constantly eaten at by guilt both before and after their separation in regards to him not doing more to take care of Cherubim or not being brave enough to take him and flee the mansion.

Ilotte was the first person to die in the Venomania massacre. After the engagement party concluded, Ilotte, having seen Cherubim and Gumina’s confrontation, went off to find Cherubim, who had run off after Gumina’s rejection and hadn’t been seen since. He found him curled up in the corner of a corridor and proceeded to tell him how disgusted he was by his audacity to speak to Gumina in public and his ungratefulness to both he and Sateriasis for their generosity to him, even indicating that he was going to lock him back in the basement as punishment. At that moment, Cherubim pulled a knife that he had taken from the kitchens earlier that day and, in a fit of rage, grief, and desperation, stabbed his father directly in the heart. Cherubim was in such a dissociative state afterwards that the killing might have stopped there had another servant not come in to investigate the noise.

Sateriasis was the last person to die in the massacre. He slept through the majority of it before being awoken by a scream and discovering that dozens of servants had been murdered. He shrieked and ran for help before running into Cherubim, who he did not immediately recognize as the murderer. However, that realization came fast and soon a chase began. Sateriasis made it all the way to the foyer before Cherubim, incensed by the idea of Sateriasis of all people getting away, lunged at him, tackling him down the staircase. On the way down, Sati cracked his head against one of the stairs and died only a few moments after reaching the bottom. Cherubim, seeing his brother rapidly slipping away, seized his knife and stabbed him, although he was just too late. Livid that the opportunity to exact revenge on Sateriasis had been taken from him, Cherubim began stabbing and mutilating the body in an absolute frenzy before gradually coming to his senses, realizing just what exactly he had done.

Avelina was very conflicted in regards to what should be done about Cherubim when she discovered he existed. Thanks to Sati’s insistence that he was, in fact, his brother, coupled with the distinctive green eyes Cherubim had inherited for Nylpho, Avelina very quickly put together that he was Nylpho’s lost son. She was absolutely horrified and demanded that Ilotte free him from his confinement. However, after Sateriasis and Cherubim were sent out of the room, Ilotte managed to convince her that, if Cherubim’s true identity was discovered, it would endanger Sateriasis’ claim to the dukedom and therefore he could not be allowed to go free. Avelina still could not allow Nylpho’s son to be sent back to the dungeons though, so the two of them eventually came to the agreement that Cherubim would work in the mansion as a servant. Sati was incensed by this plan as the whole reason he had revealed his knowledge about Cherubim was in hopes of getting him recognized as his brother, but Ilotte would not relent on the matter, and Cherubim, not fully comprehending the difference between the two options, did not try to fight it. Avelina always endeavored to treat Cherubim with kindness/understanding, but could never quite get past just how unnerving his mere existence was to her.

Cheri had an ingrained habit of staying quiet/silent even when in extreme pain/distress. There was such an emphasis put on staying quiet during his childhood that, even long after he was released from the basement, he would reflectively cover his mouth or bite his tongue when when he was unable to keep from crying out.

Cherubim’s name was derived from an Asmodean fairytale about a vain man who is transformed into a hideous monster by the gods as punishment for his hubris.

Gumina is “finish half a game of chess in one move” smart. Sati knows all the mechanics of chess and is good enough at it, but gets so caught up in the little details that he fails to notice the danger signs. Cherubim doesn’t know what chess is.

Asmodean/Lasaland was either just not being governed in EC 136 or Gumina was running things out of the basement, because Venomania didn’t have a clue or care in the world about how running a duchy actually worked.

Sateriasis is named after a great-grandfather of his from his mother’s side of the family.

The Venomania mansion housed about 50 people pre-massacre.

Sati is tol. Cherubim and Gumina are smol.

*concept* Cherubim: I want a father who‘s proud of me and a mother who looks after me Gilles and Irina: lol gross but okay i guess

#redlady speaks #evillious chronicles #lust arc #wrote these a couple days ago #been waiting to see if any more inspiration would strike me but it seems this is it for the moment

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ladykeane · 4 years

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hi! i just read the fic 'clausura' on ao3 and i really liked the premise so could i request something with reg helping bertie through a panic attack in the bertie's blog verse? i've been having quite a few recently and i wish i had someone like reg to help me through them. thank you!!

Prompt (finally) filled! I hope you don’t mind Nonny, but I switched the script and had Bertie help Reg instead.

I try not to put too much real world strife into this series, but I think COVID-19 is too invasive to ignore. Wash your hands, follow medical advice, and keep calm and carry on. Also practice good mental self-care if you don’t have a household Wooster to do it for you!

‘Who was that Scottish chappie, Reg?’‘Bertram?’‘You know, the one who always banged on about schemes and gangs and aglets, or something.’It took me a moment to detangle the meaning of my beloved’s question.‘You may be referring to the poet Burns, and the oft-quoted excerpt of his poem “To A Mouse”:“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,an’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, for promis’d joy!”’‘That’s it. Someone ought give him an editorial spot with The Independent.’‘I fear it would be a posthumous one, Bertram.’‘Oh. Shame, that.’

I suspect that Bertram was musing on the peculiar times that we curently find ourselves in: a land of toilet paper scarcity, face masks, and widespread uncertainty. He had just come home from a foraging trip through the local supermarkets. Though he looked somewhat the worse for wear, had scored a few bags of root vegetables, some bulk wet wipes, and a good four kilograms of cat litter. His Code of the Woosters had driven him to volunteer for the onerous task. I quickly moved to prepare a pot of his favoured Darjeeling.

My own onerous task for the day had been an earlier phone call to my mother, informing her that the intricate and expensive planning that we’d gone through for my wedding to Bertram would, for now, amount to naught. The immediate future was a grey fog, and no-one could say for sure when it would be safe to re-schedule the ceremony.‘Was Rani alright when you phoned?’ Bertram asked, casting an errant shred of packing foam from his hair, before scrubbing his hands raw under the kitchen tap.‘She bore up. She wishes to give the catering company a very stern phone call for their refusal to refund our deposit. But as she is currently so busy at the medical centre, I doubt she will find the time or energy.’'I imagine the old girl has her hands full with panicking tabloid readers, eh?’'Quite so, Bertram. She told me that more of her time has been spent counselling healthy young people with the sniffles, than administering to her truly vulnerable patients.’'Blackguards. May they all run out of loo roll!’'Indeed.’We then passed a more sedate afternoon over our laptops. Bertram meticulously tended to his famous blog, while I prepared some documents for a fastidious client, keen to protect her assets against the variable economic climate. The cats, who were quite pleased with our increased presence in the flat, snoozed together on the tabletop between us.As I rose for a second cup of tea, I considered their purring, languid forms. Not for the first time, I urged myself to maintain my my sangfroid. It was in unsettled times like this that my reputedly cool demeanour was truly put to the test. While I would not confess to being a total control freak, I do appreciate order and consistency a great deal. It is the environment in which I best flourish, and I confess that the mounting chaos around us had been persistenly pricking at my nerves.

As I poured the remaining tea, I recieved a phone call from an unknown number.'Hello, this is Reginald Jeeves.’'Good afternoon, Mr Jeeves, I’m calling from Bethnal Green Medical Centre. I understand that you are a co-worker of a Mrs Beatrice Akinyemi?’'Yes, she is a paralegal at my firm.’ I felt my insides begin to clench.'Have you been in contact with Mrs Akinyemi within the last fourteen days, sir?’'I saw her at the office just a few days ago.’'I am obliged to inform you that she has recently tested positive for COVID-19. Given your recent contact, you and your household will be obliged to self isolate for a minimum of fourteen days, and monitor the onset of any symptoms. Have you or any of your houshold members experienced a high fever or persistent coughing?’My words stuck in my throat, and my heartbeat accelerated.'Sir?’'Is Bea alright?’'She last reported some mild flu-like symptoms, but she is not currently in a critical condition. As she is not in a high-risk category, her prospects of a full recovery are good. Can you please confirm if you or any of your household have been experiencing related symptoms?’’…No.’'Are any of your household members over the age of sixty, or do they have a pre-existing autoimmune condition?’'Paul… he’s not in my household, he is my co-worker. He and his husband are-’'We will be contacting Mr Seppings, to advise him of this development.’'Thank you.’'Should you develop any symptoms, your household will need to remain in self-isolation for a further fourteen days. Please refer to the NHS website to keep up to date with any developments. And do try not to worry too much. These are necessary precautions, which are in place to minimise the spread of the virus. You and your colleagues will likely be fine, long-term.’I nodded tightly, unable to find further words.After an uneasy pause, 'Have yourself a good day, Mr Jeeves.’ The line went dead.

The last I had seen of Bea had been last Friday, shuffling listlessly out of the office doors, laden down with a loot of groceries. She had two loud, hungry teenage sons at home.I thought of Paul and Anatole. Both were ex-smokers, their lungs still in the process of repairing decades of damage. I thought of my mother, swamped with desperate patients, a face mask clamped over her mouth.

I was suddenly unable to get enough air into my own lungs. My throbbing hearbeat seemed to overtake everything, pounding in my throat and my ears. I gripped at the kitchen counter with trembling clawed fingers. What was worst was the blank terror in my mind, my inability to think my way out of the paralysis. This godawful panic had saturated its way through my whole body.

The kitchen door opened behind me, Bertram bearing his own empty teacup.'Reg…?’ His voice was delicate.I tried not to sob as I felt tears escape my eyes.

After a few moments, his slow, slippered footsteps approached, and he softly draped his slender form upon my back. His arms slipped around my waist, and he rested his head on my shoulder. With my sharp, jagged inhales, his curls began to tickle my face.I could feel his own breaths, deep, even, tender. His body was a reassuring weight, and his hands began stroking up and down my arms.

'Come with meAnd you’ll beIn a world of pure imaginationTake a look and you’ll seeInto your imagination…’

We’ll beginWith a spinTravelling in the world of my creationWhat we’ll see will defy explanation…’

As he sang, my heartbeat gradually slowed, falling in time with the unhurried tempo he had set. The tear tracks dried on my face.I found my words once more. 'Willy Wonka, Bertram?’'Well… you look like you could use some chocolate.’

He sat me down, and presented me with a family block of Cadbury’s along with my refreshed tea.'That was Bea’s GP. She has tested positive, so we must isolate for the next two weeks.’'Ah, well.’ He broke off a large piece and popped it in his mouth. 'It was bound to happen to one of us, sooner or later. Knowing Bea, her immune system’s already got the dratted thing running scared. Have you called her?’Tightness constricted my throat again, and Bertram was surprisingly astute. He rested his hand on mine. 'She’ll be alright, I promise you. So will the others. Anatole’s arsenal of garlic-heavy dishes will will be a formidable first defence, for one thing.’

I exhaled heavily. ’…I haven’t had such an episode of panic since secondary school.’ I felt a layer of shame now pressing upon my ravaged core.Bertram tsked. 'Oh, I got panic attacks all the time at Eton. Must have been all the stress from constantly dodging my house master’s fury. It always helped to cocoon myself in bed. I hope that the spindly Wooster corpus provided a passable impromptu shock blanket for you!’He laughed lightly, then his gaze settled on mine. I was pulled into a lengthy embrace. He spoke no more, instead imparting all that I needed through his sweet, balmy presence.

***

'You wouldn’t believe what a help my Simon has been,’ Bea told me, her congested voice even more distorted through the phone. 'Made a pea and ham soup last night that was actually edible. He even found a carton of my favourite ice-cream at the back of the Tesco freezer!’'So your appetite is still sound?’ I questioned.'Yeah, just have to deal with this bloody cough. Otherwise, staying in my PJs and binge-watching telly all day has been quite the holiday. The doc told me I’ll likely recover just fine.’'I am relieved to hear it.’'You just make sure you’re looking after yourself, Reg.’ Her tone had turned stern and auntly. 'Though I’m sure that that Bertram of yours is nursing you well proper. Do as he says, alright?’'I will be sure to.’'I’m gonna start on season 3 of “The Crown”, now. I promise I’ll keep spoilers to myself. Talk soon, love.’'Take care, Bea.’

I hung up, turning my attention to Vasily, warm and pliant in my lap. I scratched his ears and he purred deeply.'Dinner will be ready in about five, Reg,’ Bertram announced from the kitchen. 'Is beans on spelt toast with sauted red onions alright?’I chuckled to myself. 'That will be superlative, my shaman.’

#fanfic prompts #bertie's blog #jeeves and wooster #jooster #covid-19 #competent!bertie #h/c #panic attack

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sweetst24 · 4 years

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Inside - This is my first and fanfiction. I wrote it to process some emotions/grief. Any feedback is appreciated!!

Sam Winchester is a great man, though he doesn't think so. Constant reminders of the ones he's loved then lost cloud his vision, the pain gripping him as he falls asleep at night. Loving Sam simply was out of my hands, his soft tortured soul calling to me through the concrete walls of the bunker every night. Both being a friend and being in love brings me to our current predicament.

I got stuck in a Rye, Colorado, about 30 mins outside of Pueblo. A nest of vampires had set up shop, attacking people in Pueblo, bringing them back to the nest for a slow feeding. Cleaning out the nest was a job, but nothing I couldn't handle.

After dropping people at the hospital, my car broke down, so I thought I'd hop the bus in Pueblo to get back to Lebanon without bothering the boys. I figured I'd be home by morning, have a nice weekend. Wash day was Saturday and I was due for a deep condition because natural hair is plenty of upkeep, especially when you constantly shower in shitty motel bathrooms.

I usually don't spend my weekend in holding cells but using a fake ID to buy a bus ticket generally does that. We have contingency plans for situations like this, but I'm having doubts since the dark of night is slipping into the third day without my freedom.

"Psst. Y/n? Are you awake sweetheart?" Dean silently tries to get my attention while cracking open the door to the holding cell.

"Of course I am! Where have you been?" I whisper-yell trying my best not to wake Bess and Tess, my very cozy, very drunk cellmates.

"You can't rush perfection, sweetheart. Plus it's only been two days." Dean sassed, face crunched together, muttering something along the lines of 'spoiled brat'.

"Look, can you please tell me what the plan is before I chop you in the throat," Dean's face deadpanned while he puffed up his chest looking for a fight.

"You want to put that pretty hand on my neck so bad, don't you sweetheart, but I'm guessing Sammy won't appreciate that, will he?" Dean jabbing at that soft spot shut me up quickly, pain weighing heavily causing me to drop my head in defeat. Realization crosses Dean's face, knowing his joke reached too far, especially now when the relationship between Sammy and I is not ideal. Dean pulls me into a much needed hug.

"Look, y/n, I'm sorry. Let's get you out of here." Dean placed me in cuffs and starting pulling me from the cell.

"Come on D, can't I just pretend to be a deep cover spy or something??" I whined loudly.

"Look, deputy Doolittle thinks you ran off from a safe house to see your boy toy. So don't blow the witness protection cover or I'll leave you here."

As we stepped outside, the early morning chill erupted goosebumps across my body, forcing me to shiver.

"You should've thought of that before doing something so stupid," Dean gruffed while walking me over to Baby.

"Can you at least take the cuffs off?" I whined as Dean briefly stopped, then continued dragging me to Baby. "My body feels terrible and I don't feel like arguing about how I did the right thing," barely audible above the dragging of my feet.

"No, y/n, you did not do the right thing. The right thing would've been to call me or Sammy to come get you. Instead, you made a fool of yourself and now you have to own it."

As Dean tossed me into the back seat, I defiantly removed the cuffs, tossing them in the driver's seat. As soon as my criminal act was complete, I had the overwhelming urge to not turn to the passenger seat. But I noted that Dean was waiting outside of Baby as not to interrupt the conversation that was no doubt about to start in the car.

Closing my eyes, I turn to the right, peeking through my lashes in a failed attempt to pretend I don't see him but...There was Samuel. His syrupy-brown hair tucked neatly behind his ears. Looks of "explain yourself" and "I'm sorry it took so long" fighting for dominance on his face, ultimately the much needed explanation winning out.

"Y/n..." Sam lowly stated, voice as even as possible.

"That's me," I huff with a half-hearted wave.

"You know what I'm going to say. After everything we've been through lately why didn't you call me, or Dean, or Castiel, or Hell even Jody! Someone should know what's going on! Communication is everything for hunters and you know better."

Sam stared with so much emotion it almost broke me, but his questions were met with my silence.

"Fine. You aren't going to answer me now but you will before you walk into our home." Sam affirmed.

Sam startled me. Though I could see where he was coming from, everything being so MESSY. I should've called. But I was not wrong about riding the bus. Besides, a little time away from the bunker, and the boys, with my thoughts couldn't hurt, right?

Sam waves for Dean to get in the car so we could begin our long, tension-filled, 6 hour drive to the bunker. It was a relief to be headed home after spending a few days away to clear my head. Everything was so complicated because of the night that I called the best of my life. The night I fell into bed with Sam.

-flashback-

Nice and rainy. My favorite weather. Being able to be comfy cozy with a nice mug of tea and Netflix was the shit. Rewatching Princess and the Frog for the thousandth time just seemed like the best thing for a rainy day. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time alone, but time alone with Sam was a particularly rare occurrence, especially when he wants to be in the same room with me.

Sam choose to wear his regular ass hunter's 'uniform' of a plaid shirt and jeans. Although, I made note that he decided to wear my favorite of his collection, the hunter green with blue block pattern. I thought it brought out the striking beauty in his eyes, the balance of the two colors precariously placed in his irises. He sat close enough that I wasn't nervous but I was getting distracted by the way he ate his popcorn, arm flexing in his tight sleeve.

"Why are we watching this again?" Sam inquired about the apparent Tiana streak we were on.

"Because. Why, you got a problem with representation? I just, see myself in her, and plus Prince Naveen... Do I have to say more or," I laughed, head cocked back as I finished the thought while Sam shook his head next to me.

Then, it happened. Once I stopped cackling like a weirdo Sam placed his arm around me, bringing me close to his side while he watched the movie, a slight blush on his cheeks. I didn't realize I was staring at him until Tiana's alarm clock went off, prompting me to jump out of reflex. Sam suddenly turned to me with a concerned look on his face that melted away once he realized what happened.

For a split second I thought I should stop myself. But, YOLO. Before I could react, Sam kissed me passionately, grabbing my twist-out, making me moan. I climbed up on his lap, grinding his massive imprint through my sweats. Sam tasted sweet, and I knew that that tasted sweeter. I slid down onto the floor, removing my sweater and t-shirt, unbuckling his pants. Sam let out a loud growl.

"Y/n, please get up. If you do that... right now. I need you, y/n, now."

As I slowly stood, Sam picked me up, staring into my eyes, and gently placed me on my bed. Quicker than I could blink, Sam ripped off my sweats.

I moaned, "Sam."

"I need to be inside of you," Sam growled while looking deep into my eyes.

He took his time, driving me insane, driving slowly in and out of me, not yet giving me the full length of his masterpiece. As I looked into his eyes, I saw something deeper flash through, not just sex, but love. Strong, passionate, unconditional love that you only read about. It took my breath away, gasping, Sam eyes widening, fear crossing his features as he realizes what I saw. In that intense moment, Sam thrust all the way into me, both of us shouting unintelligible phrases that sounded like animals.

"I... Please.. don't... Leave... Ahh..." Sam's affirmation of love, shocking, but looking in his eyes I knew he was telling the truth.

Faster, faster, faster. Our orgasms syncing, our eyes never wavering from one another. When suddenly stars, lights filled my eyes as the feeling of euphoria washed over me, the both of us collapsing on the bed, completely exhausted.

"Sam. We have to... We have to do that again... Again." I gasped out as Sam attempted to cover us with a light blanket behind me, failing from exhaustion.

"... Please... " Sam chuckled.

Thanks for reading part one.

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.***

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #Sam Winchester x black!reader

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