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#and i haven’t gotten that far out into the book yet and she hasn’t used ‘queer’ yet but we shall see
sanjisluvbot · 7 months
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Isekai Yandere Strawhats X Black Fem Reader Ch 18
Masterlist
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Minor spoilers!!!!
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Luffy hadn't been this upset in so long. He couldn't even remember a time when he was so upset he didn't want to eat. Robin smirked at the commotion she caused, the energy in the room was intoxicating and Nami leaving was the icing on the cake.
Using her fruit to add an ear to Sanji as he rushed to follow behind her the smirk on her face turned into an animalistic grin. The fruit of her quiet labor had finally shown itself.
Matter all the months of reading the media she was born from, watching you with the crew and with the heart pirates, then creating multiple plans that slightly failed. She was overjoyed at the fact that this one was working out flawlessly.
Luffy complained and started little arguments with Ussop and Zoro. They all but rolled their eyes at their captain knowing it wasn’t about their card game but at the fact that you weren’t with them.
Robin decided to leave the room telling them she was going to get a drink, of course to bother Sanji.
The cook was smoking thinking about everything that would most likely happen over the next few days. Robin opened the door and smiled at him sitting down on a booth asking him for Coffee.
It was silent for a while, both waiting to see if the other would spark up the obvious conversation. Robin was going to be impulsive tonight so she spoke up.
“ Are you also upset with me?”
“ No… I understand. I understand the both of you.”
She hummed and took a sip of her drink, “ I think it’s in our best interest if Luffy is upset, he can use the anger with Kaido.”
“ But what about our alliance? It’s also in our best interest to be on good terms with Trafalgar. I don’t think it was a good idea to mention that Y/N was planning on staying with them until we got to Onigashima.”
“ Perhaps…”
It was silent again, Robin did agree with the fact that they did need Law, and as of now Law and you were a package; one wouldn’t be without the other. However, after Wano Law would be defeated and so far there hasn’t been any mention of the Heart pirates since.
You didn’t know that though, you’ve been here so long and haven’t caught up to the manga yet.
Robin had another bright idea.
“ Sanji… have you gotten to read the books?”
“ Yes, a few. Why do you ask?”
“ I know everyone thinks me mentioning Law and Y/N was a bad idea… which makes me wonder who read and up to what but after Wano.. Law is defeated.”
Shock spread over Sanji’s face and the cigarette he was smoking dropped to the ground. With how calculating and cunning Law was— including with how powerful his fruit was… who could defeat him besides his captain?
“ I know you’re wondering who.. it’s Black beard.”
“ The heart pirates are ambushed when we all go our separate ways, and the Kid pirates were dumb enough to think they would be able to defeat Shanks.”
“ Does Y/N know this?”
She shook her head and the cook sighed in relief. This would work out perfectly, you’d finally be just with them and Law wouldn’t even be a problem in their lives.
The conversation continued for some time before the lights went out and the crew were soundly asleep.
You were curious about what Law did in your world. He kept it pretty broad when he told you about it and you couldn’t help but spark interest in what he did.
You moved closer to him pulling his attention from the stars. “ I’m feeling bold and curious right now…” you started. You never took your eyes off the sky but you noticed the slight redness on his face which made you hopeful for answers.
“ I want to know what you did when you were in my world. Were you alone..?”
“ I was. I didn’t want to risk anything happening to my crew mates. It was pretty weird, the entirety of it. From getting there to seeing everything.”
Law remembered Robin telling him to visualize different things and to clear his mind before she left the room they were in. He felt his entire body spin but he knew he wasn’t moving and when he opened his eyes he was in a bedroom.
He was in shock, it was as if he used his own transportation power but when he saw pictures of you on the walls he realized he was in a new world. Law read every book on your shelf, and glee spread through him as he learned so much about you.
He heard movement a few hours later, people were coming home. He quickly grabbed an eraser and hid into the closet. He planned to use his power if someone came in and found his hiding place.
A little while later the door opened, for a moment he couldn’t recognize who it was. Different hairstyle, different clothes, and the person in question was faced away. Until they turned towards him, and low and behold it was you.
You were just as pretty as you’d always had been but the far off look in your eyes let him know this was only half of the person you used to be. That’s when Law knew he needed to do everything to get you back home, where you really belonged.
You were simply on auto pilot, doing routines your body had gotten accustomed too without really thinking about it. He grew angry seeing you like this, and even angrier knowing the Strawhats seen you like this as well.
They made into half a person in both worlds. You were trapped with no one to notice or care because to them you weren’t really missing. He would’ve hopped someone from your universe had noticed— especially your parents but it seemed to him that either no one cared or they couldn’t really see the change in your eyes and certain mannerisms.
Law used the erasure to leave your home, unable to continue watching you. It would break his heart even further.
He strolled the streets, hoping to be seen as normal but the strange looks that he got from basically everyone let him know he needed to change outfits and unfortunately get rid of his beloved hat.
Law scoured your town after changing, never forgetting leave his hat inside of your closet. He went to the library, the parks to continue reading his long medical books.
And after a days work he went back to your house, and into the crevices of your closet. He watched you as you ate your dinner in your room, just so you could catch up with a new episode of your favorite show.
When you left the room he decided to stretch until a pair of eyes met his own. Before he could make a sound multiple hands wrapped around him and covered his mouth.
Robin had appeared to tell him you had been searching for his since last night.
“ Interesting. I thought when you shifted people couldn’t tell that you’re gone.”
A lump in your throat had formed after that sentence. No one knows you’re gone but the ones who do have been watching you in the other world. They all knew that you looked broken but did nothing about it.
The urge to leave tonight settled inside you. You were done with the Strawhats, you needed to sever this link they’ve created.
Law noticed the gears in your brain turning and he quickly spoke up.
“ Y/N.. if you go I want to come with you.”
Your head snapped to him and your eyes widened, “ You want to come with me?”.
He nodded and you struggled for words. Why would he come with you? Could he be plotting with the Strawhats so you’re never fully out of reach—
“ I want to continue exploring your world.. and I Don’t honestly think I can live life without you anymore.”
The solemn energy had dissipated, both of your hearts were racing, waiting for the other to say something even more embrassing.
“ I-I don’t know what to say. I would love for you to come back with me but… you have a life here. You were born here, I’m a completely different case. Not to mention law, your crew.��
“ I would still come back. I just want to be with you.. as much as I can. Can we move the conversation to you either saying yes or no?”
Law was so embarrassed by the words coming out of his mouth. He was begging for your answer at this point, he didn’t want too much flying out of his silly little mouth without knowing how you felt.
You bit your lip. Law coming home with you? Being with you. He wants to be with you? You could hear your heart in your ears as you finally decided to answer him.
“ No.”
“ Great we can- No? Oh..”
A giggle made it’s way out of your lip and you latched onto his jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.
The eyes watching you from behind all widened and a collective gasp was heard by their captain and you. The two of you pulled away and Law angrily told them off as his entire face turned stark red.
After he was sure there was no more peaking he pulled you closer and you both continued to stare at the stars.
“ Would you sleep in my room…”
“ If you’d let me.”
“ Okay.”
“ Tomorrow?”
“ Yes.”
Night turned to day and Luffy was getting ready for Wano packing his stretchy limbs into armor. As much as he was joking and playing like usual you not being around made everything less funny.
“ Robin, Did you find Y/N !”
“ Y/N is with Trafalgar, we’ll see her tonight.”
He sucked his teeth and the crew gave one another looks.
“ Where are they?”
“ I’m not too sure, the book never mentions the heart pirates exact locations.”
He groaned and threw himself to the ground. He didn’t want to be nice to Trafalgar anymore, he wanted to play games with Y/N and cuddle her like he used to.
He thought that after all they did for you, you’d come to your sense and just have fun with him everyday. You were a priority in his life just as the rest of his crew mates and he thought he pushed far enough with you.
With every other crew member that he has he never needed to do too much to get them to join his crew. Why did you have to be so different? It’s not that he hates how you are, you being so different is what made him so attracted to you.
Everyone else knew how oblivious the boy was to his own feelings, seeing his mind overload itself trying to understand why exactly he’s so upset right now.
Luffy didn’t want to say it himself, deep down he knew the emotions he felt for you different then the feelings for his crew mates. He slapped his hand on his face to cover the redness on his cheeks.
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A/N: thank you for an overwhelming 400 followers <3 I’m still shocked that all of you like this series, and the amount of new people who come everyday makes me so happy. We’re obviously nearing the end but I hope with my next series you’ll support me further 🪄
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showtoonzfan · 1 year
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Ok I don't usually like to leave asks but there's something bugging me about the latest ep that I haven't seen anyone discuss. Blitzo killed all those people in the studio. Imps going to earth and killing people is already illegal but he did that with no contract and in front of Stolas, not even in self defense. Also the first people they've killed who you can't even say "deserve it" bc what did the audience do? I feel like that should be way bigger in the story and I got tricked into thinking it was consequential bc it started out really well.. But then in the next minute it turns into cutesy fanservice with Stolas thinking it's hot (even though he doesn't even fully know what just happened)? From his perspective this guy he hooks up with just had a panic attack and murdered a bunch of people irrationally? And I just realized while writing this it was also recorded??? Idk in a better show that would probably be interesting to build on
Sadly I’m going to stop you right there on the second sentence lmao, but I agree, this is so confusing, but here’s the thing. A lot of people assume that Imps aren’t allowed to go to the human world considering they’re low class, but we need to keep in mind that due to the shows shitty worldbuilding, it was never explained. We aren’t 100% sure wether or not Imps are allowed to go there or not, all we know is that according to Stolas, Imps shouldn’t be lended a powerful grimoire like his. Aside from that, nothing else was really explained, because Viv never wanted to revolve the fact that her main damn characters are considered low class in this world into her story. The funny thing is, they introduce the idea that Imps shouldn’t have the book and are at the bottom, yet most of Hell already knows the IMP business exists, so we’re lead to believe that no one bats an eye that these low class citizens are able to get to earth, especially by the hyper ups, whoever they are and what they do, something the show ALSO didn’t explain. They hint at the idea that the Imps and Stolas could get in trouble for this business, going to earth without a disguise and lending the book to a low class, but none of it is made clear on who they would get in trouble with, or why. I also especially find it hard to believe that the IMP business has been in the clear for so long with no obstacles whatsoever, because how is Viv going to say they’re at the bottom and possibly imply that what they’re doing is illegal, yet they haven’t gotten in trouble for it or faced any consequences whatsoever? How come Stolas hasn’t gotten in trouble yet? That’s why all of this is confusing, she sets up ideas for her world and it’s rules, but then just fucks off on a writing standpoint and none of it ever comes back or is elaborated on. I also find it funny that Viv describes Lucifer as someone who wants to keep the system where it is, and yet he MUST know by now that these low class citizens are making money off of sinners and going to earth to kill people. I know we haven’t met him yet, but still. But yeah, as far as we know, Hell doesn’t seem to care at all that they’re slaughtering humans on earth, wether it was warranted or not. The whole “they need human disguises” thing was bs as well, because by now they’ve roamed the earth without them, and haven’t gotten in trouble. As for Blitz’s outburst killing scene, it didn’t really mean anything important, it wasn’t there so you could think about what this would mean or if there’s any consequences to it, it was just there so Stolas can fawn over him as well as the writers showing us Blitz cares about Loona and is crazy.
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jasminmartinez19 · 1 year
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No Control
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Summary: Bell has worked with the CIA for quite awhile now. She’s a good partner to work with in the beginning until everything shifted. Perseus has been wasting her like a machine, she’s been brainwashed a lot of times but Adler and his team saved her and did their best to recover her memories back. Her memories aren’t that good sometimes she’s gets carried away and forgets what’s she’s doing.
Warnings: Violence, swearings, angst, traumatized, fluff
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“Go go go go! I got your back Woods!.” Mason yelled as he continued to kill the enemies. Woods ran in the building trying to find bell, the team were outside clearing the area making their way inside. As from the other side of the building more enemies came in with snipers on top and rpgs.
“Woods! Look out! snipers on top with rpg!” Park yells from far. Woods turned around to clear the enemy from top but couldn’t hit it in time. The rpg hit the team almost killing them but woods was hurt.
“Woods! Woods! Are you alright!” Mason slowly got up, cement dust all over him. Park was stuck between broken walls, lazar was knocked out and Adler was laying on the ground hurt.
Woods was bleeding from his arm, his shoulder and blood on his face as he couldn’t see clearly. “F-fuck! Mason?! Where are you!” Frank looked around.
“I’m coming to you woods! Stay there! Don’t move!” Mason said crawling his way to woods. A flash grenade made it through the court yard where the team was, it went off causing the team to go blind. Would it be Perseus? nooo…it was Bell.
“What the fuck! Where’s my gun! Where the fuck?” Mason looks up and sees Bell armed up and suit up. “Bell?! You escaped! We were coming for you.” Mason said in relieved. Adler groaned trying to move his arm to get his gun to stop Bell, he knew something was off.
“W-wait Mason…that’s not Bell.” Adler said. “Adler what are you taking about?” That’s her.” Mason got up to grab Bell, Bell saw Mason coming towards her, she cocked her gun and pointed at Mason. Mason saw the gun pointing at him, he frozen lifting his hands up. Quick second she pulled the trigger, Adler caught her in time by shooting her with a electric gun he had near his pocket. He got up and helped Park got out and made his way to Bell handcuffed her and helped her up.
“Alright, let’s take her to the warehouse.” Adler walking Bell to the van. The rest of the team did the same with couple of bruises on their face. Will Bell remember what happened? Will she remember what she did to them today? Do the guys hate her?
Another day in the warehouse, Perseus is still on the lose. It’s a slow day at the warehouse, they haven’t gotten any information yet on Perseus next move. Woods and Mason working together but side talking about Bell (nothing bad of course) just feeling concerned about her, same with Lazar and Park and Sims. They’ve been talking about Adler, he hasn’t been at the meetings and responding his phone calls from the president or Hudson. Adler stayed in the medbay waiting for Bell to come back but nothing yet.
“You guys? How long is he going to stay in there?” Woods asked as he looks at the window then at Lazar and park. “We don’t know Woods.” Lazar replied back. “Well it’s been over fucking weeks now that he skipped the meetings.” Woods shot back.
Mason place his hands on his shoulder to calm him down. “Hey calm down, we’re all waiting for Bell to be back.” Mason said looking at Woods. “I know…I’m sorry going off but..we need intel of what happens next with that son of a bitch Perseus?” Woods said as he sits back down and grabs a beer.
“We can’t do much until we have orders from Adler, he has the files and hands them to us for individual task.” Park said as she still looks at her book reading.
Mean while, Adler sits in the corner with his arms crossed waiting. He hasn’t slept in weeks since he brought back Bell, his eyes closing slowly on him but tries to fight back to stay awake. Never seen Adler this down before, he’s only down when the team doesn’t do their job right or Bell wasn’t focus when Adler injected her but now he’s changed.
A groan came out from Bell as she started to wake up. Adler stood up from his seat and made his way to her. “Bell? Bell can you hear me?” Bell wasn’t completely recovered yet, her mind wasn’t set back to normal. “Wh-where the fuck am I?” Bell squinted her eyes as she looks around.
“Welcome back Bell. You’re here at the warehouse.” Adler said smiling. “A-Alder? Is that you?” She leaned in close for a better view. “Sure is me Kid.” Adler smiling as he touches his shoulder. “I thought you were dead. I saw you on the ground bleeding.” She said with sad puppy dog eyes as she starts to remember. “You remember what happened?” Adler brought up a chair close to sit next to Bell.
Bell shook her slowly looking around the room. “Not fully, but it was blurry.” Adler cocked his head. “Tell what you saw or remember.” Bell stared of into space. “Everything happened fast, first I was kidnapped then carried into a lab like this one but the room was kinda dark with tv screens everywhere and I was laying down tied up.”
Bell eyes starts to water as she explains what happened. It reminded her how Adler used to do that to her until she traded sides. She was tired how Perseus and his men treated her, yes she understood why Adler had to do that to her, he had to get the truth out of her and she didn’t know before. Adler placed his hand on her lap rubbing it with his thumb for comfort. “It’s okay…you don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.” Her tears came down to her cheek and looked at him. Adler knows she’s a strong girl and good fighter, he feels bad for her and maybe he is regretting putting her into a position that puts her at risk.
“He has a book.” She said as she cleans her face with her hand. Adler looks up at her confused. “A book? What kind of book.” She pulls out a drawing of the book with notes on the side. “I made notes, I wrote every detail about this book. It’s a weapon.” She gave the paper to Adler for him to read it but he didn’t understand it.
“Weapon for what?” Adler looks up at her, she didn’t say anything. “Bell? a weapon for what?” As he puts the paper down and places his hands on her cheeks. “For me, it’s a book that turns me bad, read those words and I become a killer.” She said as she begins to cry, Bell was scared as her body shakes. Adler’s reaction wasn’t happy finding out that book is a weapon to brainwash Bell to become a killer, he took the paper and saved it. His rules changed if someone messes with his people but messing with Bell, he doesn’t fuck with that. “Change of plans Bell, you’re staying here. Please do not leave the Warehouse.” Adler says kissing her forehead then leaves.
“Alright! Listen up! There’s change of plans!” Adler said walking up to the evidence board. The team got up and got close. “What are we doing Adler?” Mason asked looking confused. “Tonight we are killing Perseus.” Adler tossing the paper that Bell gave him. “When?” Lazar asked. Adler looked at Lazar. “Now.” “It’s about fucking time!” Woods got up and got the van ready.
Everyone got ready and placed their bags and guns in the back. Adler kept the note in his bag and walked to the van, he notice Bell in the medbay room resting. Adler couldn’t stop looking at Bell, he never felt so concerned about no one before not even for his ex wife but it was different for him. Park notice about Adler staring where Bell is, she made her way over. “You okay Adler?” Adler got his mind back to reality. “Uh yes, yes I am.” Park smiles and looks over “It’s okay if you feel like that.” Adler looks at Park grinning and nodding his head.
(I know I know, it’s terrible writing but I have to admit I did have fun writing this so enjoy it!)
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my-archerboy · 2 years
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Hey do you ever think that Cassie pays a lot of attention to the herondales in each story even when the main focus is blackthorns or kit it still includes much more herondales and fairchild than lightwood bones which sucks bc mybowrsonal opinion is lightwoods are superior race not that i don't love Jace but also that tec was soo poorly written in comparison to clace pieces which is extremely discriminatory tbh. I love lightwood banes a bit more, khaleesiofalicante Dani wrote better written fics
Uh, ok, here’s the thing that a lot of people seem to forget when it comes to Cassie (or any author, really): she doesn’t owe us anything. She can pretty much write whatever the hell she wants (within reason of course). Everyone is obviously going to have their favorite characters and ships, but that doesn’t mean that some are “superior” to others just bc you happen to like them better. Sure, I like the Lightwood Banes better than other characters, but that doesn’t mean that they are “superior” or that TSC can only be about them. I would love that, don’t get me wrong, but that’s why we got TEC (and yet I still see Malec fans complaining that it’s not enough 🙄 when they were secondary characters to begin with and Clary and Jace were the protagonists so it’s understandable that a lot of the writings are about them). And I don��t think TEC is poorly written, not any more or less than any of her other books. Also, what “Clace pieces” are you referring to? She hasn’t written anything focused on them in a while (tho I could be wrong - I’ve been kind of out of touch with TSC lately. and I’m not going comment on your opinion that her writing Clace better than Malec is discriminatory and how bizarre of a statement that is…). Do I think she pays more attention to the Herondales? I mean…not really? But I guess it depends on the story. Are you talking about SoBH? And are you forgetting that Kit is also a Herondale? 😅 there are a lot of characters in TSC - doesn’t seem like she’s paying more or less attention to any of them. Mostly it just seems like she’s focused more on one project than other projects - we’ve been hearing a lot about TLH and SoBH, bc that’s what she’s currently working on. I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t bother me, cuz it kind of does - I’m a little tired of hearing about TLH tbh 🤷🏻‍♀️ and I would love to get some news about Tbvotd, but it’s too far away and I understand why we haven’t heard much about it - cuz she’s not working on it. But if you are unhappy with the way she writes some of her characters then don’t read her works anymore. Or if you feel that someone else’s fanfiction is written better, than just read that instead 🤷🏻‍♀️ seriously, no one is holding a gun to your head 😂 I’m sorry if I sound defensive or anything - I think if I had gotten this question ten years ago, I’d probably agree with everything you’re saying. But I’m older and wiser (lol, not really); you have to remember that these are just books and the characters aren’t real. It’s words on a page. It’s fun to get excited about new TSC stuff, especially when it involves your fave characters, but don’t let it run your life 😉 Also, writing is hard. Authors don’t intentionally write bad stuff, but sometimes it just comes out that way (that’s why we have editors lol). I don’t think Cassie is writing any of her characters more poorly than others, and if it seems like she is, I can guarantee it’s not on purpose.
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alaffy · 2 years
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The Sandman, Ep.3 – Dream a Little Dream (Spoilers)
I have got to read the series this was based on.  So far, this is an amazing show.  Normally, binge watching for me is watching two episodes in a day before I want to do something different.  I’ve watched three episodes today and don’t plan on stopping.  I’ll probably get through this this weekend.
Like the last episode, this is broken up into two storylines.  The B plot is pretty simple.  Ethel goes to visit John.  She wants him to tell her where the ruby is so that she can collect it and give it to Morpheus for their safety.  However, John doesn’t believe her as she seems to be a habitual liar.  During this conversation we find out that John has done something to the ruby to make it work only for him and that John killed a number of people who were trying to take the ruby away from him.  Or he believes where trying….we don’t know what really happened yet.  John also says he could use the ruby to protect himself and his mother by using it to get rid of Morpheus.  Ethel, realizing that she’s never going to be able to convince John she truly is doing this for him, decides the only thing she can do is give him the protection stone. So long as it’s in his possession, he cannot be harmed.  Of course, the minute she takes off the stone, she’s no longer under its protection. Ethel rapidly ages and dies.  Of course, the guards think John did it and try to kill him.  However, the stone ends up ripping them to sherds (in fairness, John did try to tell them….sort of).  Anyway, John escapes to the outside where it’s snowing.  A friendly passerby gives John his coat.  And by passerby I mean it’s Corinthian and it’s clear that he’s waiting for John to get the ruby.
In the main story, we meet Joanna Constantine.  Now, of course, this character is the gender swapped version of John Constantine.  I know Constantine has been in other series recently (even had his own show), so I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to change the character in order to separate this show from the others.  That being said, it seems like a number of characters are different then their original comic book counterparts, so it may not have anything to do with the DC Constantine at all.  I really haven’t kept up on all the legal issues surrounding the character.
Anyway, we meet Constantine who is a person who exorcises demons…for profit.  Yeah, she’s a hard nose person with a tragic past which haunts her dreams…you know the type.  Still, she played very well by Jenna Coleman; so it’s fine.  Also, I do appreciate they don’t drag out the tragic past for long. There is an exorcism that goes wrong and a young child, that Constantine seems to know well, dies because of it. Anyway, Constantine doesn’t remember where she put the sand but promises to look for it…in the morning (to be fair, she had just gotten off of exorcising a demon).  Morpheus isn’t happy about that, but he’s also a little distracted as he has found that Lucienne has decided to send a raven after him.  The Raven is named Mathew.  He’s a newly deceased human, who has found himself suddenly as a bird; believes Lucienne is the boss; and has no idea who Morpheus is. However, Mathew (being a former human) knows that it’s best for Morpheus to find Constantine now; which he does through her dreams.
That’s when we see what haunts Constantine’s past.  Morpheus tells Constantine that he can make the nightmare go away forever if she helps him find his sand.  The two of them search their office, where Morpheus finds the picture of Constantine and a former girlfriend.  Morpheus comments that Constantine looks happy in the photos and Constantine suddenly remembers what happened to the sand.
It turns out that Constantine lived with the ex for a few months, but….clearly with her line of work and commitment….basically Constantine leaves one day and doesn’t come back.  That was six months ago.  Constantine is strangely welcomed back by the girlfriend, or she seems a little too…calm for someone who’s significant other suddenly left them and hasn’t been in contact for half a year.  Morpheus soon shows Constantine why.  Apparently. the girlfriend has been using the sand to create good dreams for herself.  The problem is, because she’s been using the sand; she has become addicted and she’s wasted away to the point that her body is shutting down. Constantine begs Morpheus to save the girlfriend, which he cannot do.  Constantine points out that, if Morpheus wants to save humanity, that his chance is here.  Or, at least, the chance to do something.  Morpheus can see the guilt that Constantine has for leaving her girlfriend.  Morpheus asks Constantine to leave the room and then he uses the sand to give the girlfriend one last, peaceful dream as she dies.  
Outside, Morpheus tells Constantine what has happened.  He also tells her that she no longer will be plagued by her constant nightmare.  Constantine, before departing, tells Mathew to watch over Morpheus because he will need it.  Morpheus begrudgingly allows Mathew to stay, as he might need his help fetching the next item.  And so, Morpheus and Mathew depart…to Hell.
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squishmallow36 · 2 years
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Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Four
Word count: 1.2k
Tw: none
Taglist (lmk if you want to be added / removed): @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar  @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee
On Ao3 or below the cut! Other chapters can be found here
    It’s Sophie’s first day of Foxfire, and it’s going fairly well. She met a few of the nicer people at school, Jensi and Marella, but she did run into, thankfully not literally, Stina. She put muskog in my locker. I mean seriously. Just because I’m one of the only people that dares to stand up to her, she thinks she’s allowed to make my life a thousand times more annoying.
    I already have those stupid, perfect Vackers to infuriate me on an almost daily basis. 
    Sophie hasn’t gotten too lost as of yet, so that’s good. Jensi had to save her though. She was going the wrong way to her first class, and at lunch, I had detention because of Stina. 
    Sophie plops down into a seat I had saved for her in Study Hall and I say, “You survived.”
    “So far,” she replies, digging out her Universe homework. I already have my Elvin History homework out so it looks like I’m being productive, but I’m avoiding working on it because I don’t want to do it and Alchemy homework isn’t the kind of thing you can do in Study Hall most of the time. Or at least that’s how it is for me. 
    “There you are,” Wonderboy says, approaching our table, “Why didn’t you sit with us at lunch?”
    That’s obviously meant for Sophie, so I look at my Elvin History homework in an attempt to make it not as awkward. 
    She answers, “Jensi invited me to sit with him, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
    “Ah. Well, maybe tomorrow then. Oh, and” he hands her a folded slip of paper, “my Dad asked me to give you this.”
    I can’t see the note, but I can see from her relieved smile out of the corner of my eye that it’s good news. 
    Suddenly, a wave of bitterness breaks free from deep inside me. A tickle rises up in my throat, and I clear it. I realise that it was a little rude after the fact. 
    “Oh, sorry. Do you guys know each other?” Sophie asks, stuffing the note in her satchel.
    I say, “Yes,” at the same time Wonderboy says, “No.” A few weeks ago, I would have brushed it off with, “They’re Vackers. They all think they’re better than everyone else,” but today it bothers me more than it should have.
    “Well,” she says, trying to fill the silence. “This is Dex.” I made it awkward. Great. I thought I was getting better at not doing exactly that. 
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “Right,” I snort. Like I haven’t introduced myself at least three different times, and seen each other at school whenever he decided to dignify the mentors by actually showing up.
    “What?”
    “Nothing, apparently.” If you want to ignore me like I’m a waste of a birth fund, that’s your decision. 
    Wonderboy frowns. I glare back. Sophie watches us, trying to make sense of it all.
    “I should get started on my homework,” Wonderboy says after a second. He flashes his movie star smile and somehow it made me angrier. His focus had shifted back to Sophie. “I just wanted to check on you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
    “Sure.”
    “Oh, and uh, nice to meet you, Deck,” he adds with a hasty nod as he walks away. Really? My name is Dex. Three letters shouldn’t be that hard to remember, and now he’s gotten it wrong twice. Well, Biana was the one to call me Lex, but he didn’t bother correcting it.
    “It’s Dex,” I growl. 
    “What is up with you?” she whispers.
     “Me? ‘Nice to meet you, Deck,’” I repeat in an uncanny impersonation of Wonderboy’s precise accent. I learned to mimic when I was bored over the summer. 
    She looks like she fought off a smile. “I’m sure that was an innocent mistake.”
    “Please. I see him all the time—not that his royal highness bothers remembering.”     
    Three introductions! Most days at school! Plus a whole bunch of other Slurps and Burps visits while Keefe was banned over the summer.
    “But he remembers you. Why is that, by the way—and why did he give you a note from his Dad?”
    “I stayed with his family my first night here, and Alden promised to get back to me about something. It’s about my old life. I’m not supposed to talk about it.” But you’ll tell Wonderboy about it. 
    “Figures.” 
    “What?”
    “Nothing. I just hate that family. Everyone thinks they’re so cool and talented. But they’re totally overrated. ‘Deck,’” I mutter. 
    “Maybe Fitz just heard me wrong.” I doubt that.
    “Yeah, right. Listen to you defending him. You’re just like all the other girls, you know that? I saw what you did when he smiled at you. You lit up.”
    “I did not!”
    “Yes, you did. You were beaming.” 
    “I wasn’t beaming,” she argues. You wouldn’t be arguing if you had a mirror. 
    I roll my eyes. “Girls.”
    Just wait until she meets Keefe. She’ll never be able to resist the Hair if Wonderboy’s stupid smile got her to beam that brightly. 
    Late that night, I’m staring at my bedroom ceiling, too lazy to do anything, but not tired enough to go to sleep. At least, I finally figure out why Wonderboy was bothering me so much today. I think I like Sophie. Like like like Sophie. And I’m jealous of him because she very obviously likes him.
    I mean, seriously, does she think she’s even trying to hide it?
    How has Wonderboy not figured it out yet? I took how long? Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes of actual thinking? 
    Maybe Fitzroy, I pause to mentally snort because how on Earth could you pick that as your kid’s name, “Golden Boy” Vacker isn’t as perfect as he wants us to believe. Maybe he’s just as pathetic as the rest of us peasants. 
    You would think that would make me hate him less, but to no avail. If he’s really just a peasant at heart, why does his royal majesty and his entire family act like they’re better than everyone else?
    Not wanting to think about stupid Fitzipoo any longer, I turn on Sophie’s iPod and have it start playing pink noise. 
    I’ve already fixed it, and I’m planning to give it to her soon, just after I make another one. Human tech is weird. It follows the same basic principles as Elf tech but it works in a completely different system. 
    I found out that my room has an almost completely perfect sound transmission system because of the triplets, which it just a fancy way to say that I can hear everything they do. Thus, I only listen through Sophie’s ear thingies, whatever they’re called. My favourite of Sophie’s playlists is slightly over eight and a half hours from start to finish, but pink noise is my favourite when I’m trying to sleep.
    It’s like white noise but slightly different. It has different intensities of frequencies, and it makes it sound more natural, like a flowing river or rustling trees. It’s a nice mix of weird human ideas, like white noise, and elvin ideas, like all of our ‘music’ that’s just basically wind chimes with some gnomes humming in the background. 
    That’s my last thought before I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep, far enough to oversleep past my alarm enough to almost be late for school the next day.
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theasstour · 3 years
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Dude the tags about marion talking about toms mom....I was so uncomfortable and her using the Q slur so much its like....is the author queer either? It felt like a bit in an attack
It’s like... “She was extremely overweight, which was strange, because all I ever saw her eat were salad leaves and cucumber slices, and all I ever saw her drink was black coffee. Despite this apparent self-denial, her features seemed lost somewhere in the swollen flesh of her face, and her bosom was enormous and always propped up on display, like an oversized, well-whipped meringue in a baker’s window.” Like... you’re a thin person writing this for what???? For comedic relief??? To state just how fat Tom’s mum is???? She could’ve just said “she was very fat” and left it at that. Even if this is meant to be from Marion’s pov and not the author’s and “it’s just Marion’s way of thinking” it still pissed me off and could’ve easily been left out
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fandomout · 3 years
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heya! can i request lots of lip gallagher angst please? i love what you write and need him in my life </3
Thank you so much! I'm not sure when I'll be able to make more Lip angst or Lip fic's, but I'll be sure to try when I get an idea. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one. 💜
Lip Gallagher X Reader-Imagine trying to convince Lip that Helene, his professor, isn't the best thing for him, but he can't see the truth
Warning! Mentions of virginity and sex, but there is no actual smut. Slight fluff. Lots of Angst. Not sure if this has been done before. If it has, credit to them, and this is my version of it.
Smiles and laughs grace your best friend, Lip, and you can't help grin just because he seems happy. He tells you about his recent endeavors at college, specifically how he’s having the greatest adventures with his professor, Helene. When you 1st heard about this mysterious woman, you were initially livid, on the inside, of course. You wanted to know everything and nothing about her all at once. However, just like always you had to find a way within yourself to support Lip’s happiness. You always hold onto the friendship that’s graced the both of you with each other. Also, you couldn’t help internalizing Lip’s trauma's and emotions throughout the years. He deserved to go to school and become even greater than he already is, and although you couldn't always stomach the thought of him with someone else, you’d support that too to see him be loved. You were as it goes hopelessly devoted to Lip, so you hadn't really dated too much. Nothing could ever get serious when you’d hold him in your heart.
🖇
One day, you were at Lip’s dorm helping him clean up a bit when Lip seemed to really catch the fact that you'd apparently been single for “too long”. You scoffed at Lip and asked, “What’s that your business for?” He laughed at the comment and added, “I just want you to be happy. I mean we don’t get as much time these days. Me in college and with…” He smiled and looked off to space. You mouth her name as he says, “Helene.” You roll your eyes at it and shake your head and bitterly say, “I don’t need to be with someone to be happy.”
“I get that, but maybe you’d seem a little...a little...better?”
“Better?”
“You just seem a little down lately. Seeing as you won’t tell me what it’s about, I’m just trying to find an all around solution because I care.” His hand finding your shoulder.
”I’m doing fine, really. You're just so up in the clouds-”
“I want you up here too.” You sigh as the words are a rubber band to the heart as you wished he meant together...
“Lip, I don’t need someone.”
“It doesn't have to be serious. Just get laid.“ His insistent nature angers you to shout, “I can't! I’ve never-” You stop yourself too late. Your virginity has never been a topic of concern. You both just glossed over it. To you, it never seemed like Lip knew you hadn’t gotten that far, regardless, you never wanted it to be made so clear. Silence passed between you two before he started to laugh and said, “You’re fucking joking.” You looked down to your feet, which was when he actually believed your words. “No shit. No fucking way! You haven’t gotten laid yet!”
“Want to scream it out any louder! Shut the fuck up!” He laughed before he held his hands up in surrender.
“That’s crazy to me.”
“Of course it is. You bang anything that walks. Lip-”
“Even with any of your s/o’s, you never-”
“No! I'm a virgin. No big deal!”
“Yes. I just find it hard to believe nobody would try. Did they?”
“Maybe once or twice, and I shut them down.”
“Not good enough for you.”
“Something like that.”
“People are fucking stupid. You are hot, and it surprises me there aren't any more.”
“It's the story of my life.”
“What?”
“Getting overlooked.” You said simply before continuing to stack a book on a high shelf.
“Come on, that can’t be true.” He turns you toward him. “I see you unless I see dead people.”
“Haha.” You grin.
“I’m serious though. When you walk into the room, it’s brighter. Maybe you catch the attention of shy people. Maybe pay more attention?”
“Can we stop talking about it?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
🖇
You were on your way home late at night when you got a call from Lip. You answered and immediately thought it was a bit late.
“Hey!” He said a little off.
“Lip, what’s up?”
“Just need a drinking buddy.” You hear a bottle crash on his side of the phone.
“You doing okay there?”
“Yup! Having the bez time.”
“You already started drinking without me. Where are you?”
“I think I’m on campus on like a lawn-can’t remember which one.”
“I’ll be right there. Stay on the li-” He hung up. You jumped a fence and ran all over campus with no sign of him, and he wouldn't take you calls. You finally found him toward the back exit of the campus. He was swinging his body silly with heavy footsteps. You rushed over to support him. Immediately, he detached himself. A pout on his face with slumped shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He laughs dryly.
“Come on, sit down.” You have him sit on the curb and wish you brought him a bottle of water or something. “What’s this about?”
“Helene...She’s married. She has a kid.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be shocking to hear-”
“I already knew.”
“What do you mean you knew?”
“These past few...weeks? Weeks, I think, I knew. Hell, her husband watched us-Well, watched us fornicate.”
“Gross.” You couldn’t help but say. He shrugged at your reaction, not really being able to defend that truth. “You agreed to it?”
“I did, but I feel her pulling away now. I haven’t changed anything though.” He turns quickly toward me like he’d get whiplash. He points his finger to his chest and hits his chest aggressively as he says, “I’m me! I’m still giving her everything I have!...It leaves me in a funk.”
“You want to be with her that badly?”
“Yeah.”
“But, it doesn't feel so good.”
“Right.”
“You know why?”
“Yeah. I just said she has-”
“I didn’t mean the family thing.”
“Then, why?”
“You should try a relationship that’s more meaningful.”
“This is meaningful to me.”
“I meant a healthy meaningful.”
“Who are you to tell me?” He said it harshly.
“You’re right. I have no right to tell you what’s meaningful to you. You have to admit you're not in the best situation.”
“You’re one to talk. You’d rather have nothing than search for something. I think your standards are too high.”
“Trust me, they're not that high… Top 3 are honesty, communication, and trust.”
“Hmm ...You want to tell me something?” He smirked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m all three of those for you. I must be your dream guy.”
”You could be, except it wouldn’t happen obviously.”
“Are you sure about that?'' He found himself saying.
“Here we are talking about your women, I’m sure...” You bite at your lip. Your thoughts stop when you see a few tears branching out of his eyes. You comb your hand through his hair. As he looked for more comfort, he wanted to lay down. You convinced him to let you get him to his dorm. He allowed you that, and he cried himself to sleep on your lap. He snuggled into your leg while you rubbed his back. You’d already had a distaste for Helene, but now you really couldn't stand her. She’d been fooling Lip, and she still had the power to keep going along with it.
🖇
After the incident, Lip wanted to act like it didn’t happen. He had told you that they were working on it. He even said it might be the closest thing to a relationship he’s had. You wanted to be there for him, but you had to admit you couldn't support this harm. There is a difference in this case to supporting him. You didn’t want to be a part of any longer. You kept quiet about it initially since she’d only done “one” wrong by him, according to Lip. He talked to you less and less it seemed after it. You tried your best, but something always seemed to come up. You’d get calls from Ian or Fiona that he’s drinking a lot which worries you and hasn't attempted AA when they think it's becoming a big issue. Finally, you confronted Lip on the street.
“I can't talk now.” He said. You didn’t let him push past you and stated, “No. You are not ditching me once again. You have stuff going on. It probably has to do with that woman-”
“Helene. That's none of your business.”
“None of my business?” You look at the bag under his eyes. He reeked of alcohol on his disheveled clothes. “She’s ruining you, but that’s none of my business? What happened this time?” He took out a cigarette and lit it before he sniffed and gave you a side smirk.
“I just maybe happened to beat up her son after I thought she cheated on me with him. Isn't that funny?” He giggled and hiccupped.
“Why were you upset? You were fine when she had a husband to cheat on you with.”
“That was different. Anyway, I see you’re upset about the lack of time I’ve been spending with you, but I can fix it. Let go for a drink.'' He put his arm around your shoulder and was probably leading you to Kev and V’s. You removed the arm and snapped, “What you need is some water. You’ve had enough.”
“What do you mean I haven’t drunk today?”
“Tell that to your breath and clothes. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“I think this conversation is stupid and remember why I was trying not to talk to you.”
“You did it on purpose?”
“I just knew you’d get all worried for nothing.”
“For nothing? She’s not good for you to begin with. Lip” You hold his hand and softly say, “Lip, She was your professor and married.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”
“Lip-”
“I love her! She sure is a hell of a lot better than the ones telling me otherwise. You have no right to judge me. Take a look at yourself!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You go around pining for me in hope someday you’ll be the one. You’re pathetic! You can’t be the one because Helene was! She is! You’re single because no one wants you! You try to act so high and mighty! If you're so great and talented, leave! You’re useless around here! You fucking suffocating me with your supposed love and care! Thanks so much for it! You-”
”Stop!...I get it. You don’t want me around. Get some help from a sponsor and go to the AA meetings.” Tears began to pour, and you sniffled. “You wouldn’t want to lose and hurt someone you actually care about.” As he saw your tears and hurt, he sobered up slightly and said, “Wait-” You quickened your steps to get away as fast as possible. He tried to follow after, but his drunken body wouldn't allow it as he reached forward and fell right on his ass. "Fuck!"
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Hope your day got better
Part 2 Lip realizes his mistake
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Text
Of Monsters And Men
(Season 2)
Chapter 7 - Turn Your Back
Summery: With Triss in Kaer Morhen helping Ciri understand her powers better and the mystery about whatever that centipede horned beast is still in the unknown. Triss finds some information and sends you two to Cintra to meet someone you haven't seen in awhile where new information is revealed about something you hadn't been expecting.
Warning: angst, blood, reader going a little feral, some fluff sprinkled in
Word count: 8595
Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men masterlist here
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"Y/N?" Questions the blue eyed mage standing across the room with tall bookshelves to either side of him, a large glass window on the right wall that sends in a darkly blue tint of light into the space.
Geralt, directly behind you, can be heard taking a seat with a soft huff as you tilt your head curiously at the mage, crimson eyes narrowing as he studies your face. Untrusting of your new and unexpected presence in this library as you rake your gaze over his defensive stance, gifting a raise of your lips that form more of a sneer then a smirk as you whisper, "Istredd."
He keeps his ward up as his eyes dart from Geralt to you before pursing his lips together in irritated puzzlement, "Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck are you of all people here?" He hotly questions, magic still kissing the air as that protection ward keeps it's strength.
You casually shrug like he said something unimportant, taking a step closer as you glance at a candle on a nearby hold to your immediate left, giving him a proper smirk as you run your fingertips over the flame, "Wouldn't you like to know?" You retort slyly. You've honestly never been too fond of this man ever, he's always been bad news in your mind when it came to him and Yennefer though you let her do and see who she pleased.
But with Yennefer gone, this man has no protection if he chooses to react poorly. And anyways, him, is not in your good graces as the only mages you fully trust are now down to two. Triss and Tissaia. And even that trust can only stretch so far. You're still not too fond of mages.
"Y/N." He warns, swallowing nervously as you take another step forward, steps nonthreatening yet unpredictible. He hasn't gotten a clue as to why you'd be here, but considering you're here with a large man who looks able enough. He's assuming you've finally broken and decided to go after all who've ever opposed you.
"I'm Geralt of Rivia." Adds Geralt as you stop, Istredd's attention falling onto the white haired man still seated who points to himself, "I, we, apologize for the abrupt interruption. Time was of the essence." He quickly stands before walking over closer to the mage, standing side by side with you now, "Triss Merigold sent us to you. We need your help."
Istredd's brows furrow as he slowly ends the protective ward once he realizes you're not here to murder him in cold blood. He eyes up Geralt while you lean against a bookshelf, "You're a Witcher." He looks to you, "And you're here."
"And I am. And you're supposedly a monolith expert." You push yourself off of the wall of books, "Do you know of the stellacite tower just outside the city?"
He nods, still bubbling with confusion, "Yes, I know it. I know it's one of the oldest in existence."
Geralt hums, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news. It fell during the Slaughter of Cintra." This appears to be new information to him as Geralt continues, "And now a new subspecies of monsters are coming out of it. My theory is that they were nesting in the subterranean structure for years, which might explain the unique mutations."
Istredd appears to nod in understanding for a short moment until he lets out a breathy laugh, smiling like he finds all this wild shit humorous. You can tell he does by the way that his eyes crinkle when he smiles, "Tell Triss, uh...I don't understand the prank, but points for imagination." He returns his sight back down at his desk crowded in notes and books on the table, "And they say Y/N is nothing but a sarcastic bastard. Funny, very funny."
Your brows furrow as he focus on his notes though giving Geralt a slight glance, "All respect, Mr...Mr. Rivia for your commitment to this lovely lady next to you. But I'm trying to help elves find refuge here. You two have any idea how completely fucking insane you sound?"
Geralt turns to you with a knowing look, giving a nod do you take a step forward, opening up your bag as Istredd watches, not truly giving a damn whatever you're doing until the bloody head of some horned mutated creature slumps to the floor right at his feet. He makes a disgusted face while jumping back in surprise, eyes wide as he stares at the ugly fucker before him.
"Will you help us or not?" You ask rather bluntly.
Istredd takes a breath, eyes still set to the bloody head staring back up at him, "uh..." ——
Walking down a long dirt road leading to the front gates of Cintra do you keep your hood up, eyes half-hidden in shadow from the countless elven refugees and other individuals you don't plan on trusting anytime soon. Geralt in between yourself and Istredd who mostly minds his business on the far left.
You glance at a man guiding a large white goat on a lead past you, the goat bleats and tries to pull him away as you all near. You know it can sense what you are, it's master is none the wiser as he continues to keep walking down the trail to a hopeful future. You do genuinely hope these elves find what they seek, all of them.
It feels strange being here to begin with, seeing Cintra again and walking upon her grounds in the aftermath of war and a kingdoms change. You can only imagine the face of Calanthe watching from wherever she is at all these elves in her kingdom. Now she may not have deserved death that day, but watching the elves take charge for once against greater odds feels right especially in the home of someone who hated them so profusely.
You know how so many scorn their kind for just being who they are, immortal and wise and different. So close to what you are, yet at an opposite of the immortal spectrum of beings on this Continent in comparison to you. You know that if vampires were not so deadly and powerful to begin with, nor under your mothers guidance and rule.
Would the vampires have been hunted and threatened into hiding centuries ago, maybe even brought to extinction. You're just lucky that most people see through your humanity and let you linger among them most times. However this has not always been true with every place you've been to, some people see your eyes of red and are ready with their pitchforks and torches.
Fortunately you've been able to get by.
Not wanting to speak a word to Istredd unless you half to do you keep your sights on the dry ground as a cart led by a horse rolls on past. You've finally made it out into the more rural parts of the Cintran landscape where the great open fields are held on your left and the thick woods is to your right. People and many many elves continuing to walk past you three unaware and onto better things.
Cintra is still visible even from here though she grows smaller and more of a greying fuzzy mountain-like silhouette in the background. You hope to get out of here soon enough and find out whatever is going on with these damn monoliths. You've already had to restrain yourself more then once when you passed by a couple Nilfgaardian soldiers out and about on duty.
Maybe paired with a little Geralt intervention with a quick hand to your arm and a cautious look that told you to think otherwise. In the heart of the beasts lair is not the ideal place to pick a fight when it's just you and Geralt. You know better, and it's a great annoyance, but you do happen to possess a relatively strong amount of self control.
An elven woman on a horse trots by, her mare snorts nervously before whinnying and trotting quickly past you as she wonders what that was all about. You simple pull your hood down lower as Istredd continues to walk down the large path.
"Are you always this talkative, or should I take it personally?" Asks Istredd to Geralt as they look to one another.
Geralt let's out a breathy laugh while you roll your eyes, "Why don't you tell us more about the monolith?" You ask.
"I can tell you it's indestructible. They all are."
"Well that's obvious." You scoff as his gaze falls past Geralt to look at you like you've just insulted his mother. You give him a tight lipped grin in return, "What? I have some knowledge about a couple things. Sort of happens when you're older then most kingdoms and your mother was more or less part of the conjunction."
He shakes his head, eyes set to the road again, "Yeah, well. One thing we both don't know is how can mysterious monsters be nesting in a solid structure? And how can we be sure it's this one?"
"This is the only one that's shattered." You mutter, "No one conjured these creatures to begin with."
"The sheer force it would require, what could possibly do that?"
"You're the expert." You retort, "Why don't you tell us?" Clearly it was Ciri but he doesn't need to know that; you and Geralt keep walking as he stops to think of something clever in return though it seems he can't come up with much for the moment.
"It's this way."
You halt and turn your head to see him, he looks almost bemused about all of this, still unsure if you two are just here to waste his time with your fancy lies about monoliths. Although he's incredibly curious about the toppled monolith anyways, Geralt, and you being here too. He waits till both your attentions are upon him before nodding towards the great field and turning to walk down a small worn down trail.
"Try to keep up." He muses as you and Geralt follow behind him. Geralt gives you a glance, catching yourself making a face at the back of Istredd's head like you're some moody teenager told to feed the cows. He snickers quietly as you gently shove him, both continuing to trek onward close to Istredd.
"You know, I've never actually seen this one." Begins Istredd as you survey the land, "Calanthe didn't allow access."
You trail your eyes past Geralt and him to glare at the Nilfgaardian Cintra across the huge field, "And Nilfgaard did."
His dark brows furrow at your comment, "What are you saying?"
"You only came here to study monoliths?"
"No, I came here to help the elves." Answers Istredd while Geralt listens to the two of you speak, falling in step a couple feet behind.
"You want to help the elves by joining a kingdom that regularly massacres whole villages?" Istredd doesn't say a word so you turn your head to face him while continuing to walk, "On the surface of it, there seems to be a bit of a conflict there."
"I suppose you only believe in helping the vulnerable if there's coin in it?" He counters, "Everyone has an agenda." Truth to that.
"Even the helpful few, like yourself." You suggest with a little smirk, "Charming."
Thudding against the earth can be heard as he opens his mouth to speak when you stop and abruptly turn around, "What is it?" Asks Istredd as Geralt studies your concentrated expression. He knows you hear something he can't.
You slowly retrieve your elven dagger from its sheath on your hip, "Soldiers." You reveal softly, not even giving him a single glance.
Geralt immediately rests a hand on your shoulder, "Y/N." He speaks in a whispered warning tone as the sounds of hooves stomping up the hill are now heard, "Careful now. Control, Y/N, control."
The Nilfgaardian men of a mighty hoard of two break out over the horizon line, spotting you three instantly does the lead man in his sly blackened golden armor shout, "You three, back on the road!"
They trot closer as Istredd holds up a hand, stepping forward, "It's all right. I'm an official researcher for Fringilla Vigo. It all checks out." The soldier stops his horse in front of Istredd as your jaw tightens in growing anger at the sight of these men and what they stand for. Flashbacks of battle and the screams of women and children haunting your mind as your gaze studies their armor with the flame on the center crest .
The first soldier looks down at Istredd, "I don't give a shit. You're trespassing Nilfgaardian land." He bellows angrily while gripping tightly to his horses reins.
"Sir, be reasonable." Calmly speaks Istredd, "We're just passing through. We don't want..."
The soldier reaches down to roughly grab his collar, "If you aren't fucking deaf, you're fucking stupid! I'll see what you really ar.." Blood spatters against Istredd's cheeks when a large beautiful dagger pierces the right eye of the Nilfgaardian man, his tight grasp goes limp before he slumps over and falls from his stead to the hard ground.
Istredd gasps and jumps back, surprised, he turns bewildered to you two. You stand there, palm open like you just threw that exact dagger, face appearing rather satisfied as you take a step forward.
"Hey, you, stay where you are!" Heatedly shouts the other soldier as he watches you saunter closer to him, he immediately unsheathes his sword when he realizes you're not stopping, "Stay where you are!" He shouts desperately while his horse becomes restless and nervous, you keep walking, "Stay there! I command you!"
Your hood slips from your head as you approach, eyes blood red and practically glowing like two rubies in the sunlight. He swings his sword down at you, missing, he swats his arm backwards to attempt to catch you again but is halted from this movement by your strong grasp to his wrist. Something he wasn't entirely expecting in the slightest.
His heart beats fast, eyes wide as he looks down at you fearfully, "Unhand me." He whispers, voice strong yet frightened all in one.
Your lips break out into a fangy grin right before yanking him to the ground in one clean motion like he weighs nothing. He quickly stumbles across the dirt trail, dust flying as he moves to turn around and face you on his hands and knees from his spot upon the bare earth, he keeps still when he sees you standing there. Lingering a couple feet away, observing the object in your grasp now, his own jagged sword in your hand.
His heart beats wildly, nerves pricking when your monsterly eyes lock with his, shimmering scarlet, "Unhand you, you ask?" He swallows hard as you glare menacingly before taking a step forward and slicing off his right arm in one clean and calculated motion. Before he can even open his mouth to cry out have your pupils constricted at the scent of fresh blood in the air.
The soldier screams in agony as blood finally gushes from out of the wound that he's attempting to hold when you kick him roughly to the earth. Blood sprays over nearby plants while your nostrils take in the scent of fresh blood being spilt. What a delectable smell.
The Nilfgaardian soldier tries to get up when your boot pins him to the ground, he's groaning in pain like a woman giving birth when you place the tip of the blade in the center of his chest. He shakes his head weakly, "No, no, no, no, no...please." He moans, "Please, please." Begs the soldier in his blackened golden armor with the crest of flame, "Please."
"Give me a reason." You snap, staring daggers down at him with a fury shinning so bright in your eyes that he almost pisses himself.
"My-my friend..." He groans in pain as the blade pierces the armor, he feels the sting of steel upon his skin yet its not enough to break flesh.
"You're friend?" You mock, "Nilfgaard does not have friends. They take them!" You shout furiously, thrusting the sword deep into the soldiers sternum, blade slicing through muscle and organs and more bone until the swords tip reaches the dirt below. He writhes and squirms and then stops all movements and breathing altogether.
The face of Yennefer flashes in your mind like a vivid dream, the sounds of screaming and laughter in the back of your head as the horse snorts on your left. You look at it and glare, it spooks and runs off as you scoff and turn around to face a bewildered Istredd and a purse lipped Geralt.
"Did you have to kill them?" Adds Istredd while you walk over to retrieve your dagger from the soldiers eye.
Kneeling down, do you pull it out before wiping the blood off on the dead soldiers clothing, you then stand and walk past them both as they watch you go down the trail, "You don't know half the shit I'd do."
Istredd gives Geralt a confused look as the white haired man simply hums and follows after you. You can still smell their blood on the wind and the fear in the air yet it gives you not a lot of relief nor satisfaction from it all. You still feel almost numb and even killing two soldiers won't do much in the scheme of things, but dammit did it feel good in the moment.
For Yennefer. For the innocent who have died because of Nilfgaard.
You walk a little ways over the hill until the green and bush covered hillside below lead down to more flat field and a huge crack in the earth stretching down a long ways. You stop and take it all in as both Geralt and Istredd halt at your sides, just as surprised as you are of this truthful discovery of the monoliths destruction.
"Oh shit." Whispers Istredd. You give a small mutual nod before beginning to walk down the hillside with the both of them following closely behind. Oh shit indeed.
A few minutes later have you all made it to the edge of the ginormous crack in the land, the dark cut of rock stretching down a decent ways into the earth. Luckily you don't fear heights nor have to be afraid of falling from far up distances. However this deeply concerns you that a damn monolith did all this shit.
"It takes generations of erosion to even make a dent in a stellacite." Begins Istredd, clearly astonished about this fantastical discovery, "This...this is a scientific revelation. It-it defies every historical precedent, Witcher. This changes everything."
Geralt's brows furrow as his golden eyes trail over the huge jut, "I was expecting tracks. Bones.......Anything." He pauses a moment, eyes looking from yours to Istredd who's not paying attention, "I have to go down there."
"We have to go down there." He looks from the deep cavern to Geralt, "This is an unbelievable fund."
You take a step to the edge where the grass and dark colored stellacite meet, "And how do you presume you're getting down there?" You raise a brow at the both of them.
"Climb down I suppose." Suggests Geralt.
"I'll portal us down." Adds Istredd.
You look from them to the shadowed cavern, "I'll find my own way. See you in the underworld." You give them a wink before turning around and falling casually backwards into the huge cut in the earth before swiftly turning into a pack of bats. Your tiny little selves flap and squeak about until you've safely reached the bottom.
Shifting back into your normal self as you wait for them to find you. The jagged rocky walls of blueish grey stretch high to either side of you like dark crystalized towers, it feels as though you're stranded in a giant maze of stellacite. The ground below is narrow and dirt covered with some random ferns here and there as well as chunks of shiny looking obsidian rocks.
Though it's just more stellacite scattered around the long pathway leading to the broken monolith farther down the trail, the exact monolith still obstructed from view. Suddenly a portal forms behind you and with that does Geralt and Istredd come forth, both completely fine. Although Geralt takes a deep breath in as Istredd walks over to the wall, wanting to observe it better.
He touches it gently, eyes scanning over the rock as Geralt takes a cautious glance around. You sniff the air and smell nothing out of the ordinary, "There's no evidence they've been here at all."
"Unbelievable." Whispers Istredd as Geralt walks past him, "How could this happen? What could do this? Monsters..." He pauses a moment, expression thoughtful as you raise a brow at him.
"Care to explain? I know a lot of things but not everything."
He watches as you then turn to follow Geralt, Istredd soon takes a step to follow as well, "Historians have always theorized that monoliths are scars from the Conjunction." He explains, "Leftover points of impact."
You glance at him from over your shoulder, "Yes. Relative knowledge."
"Well, think about it. Monsters didn't exist on this plane before the Conjunction. All species were separated on different spheres till those spheres merged into one." Explains Istredd a bit more, "Now a Conjunction like that would've required two things. A massive surge of energy and-and conduits to channel it. Now, what if the monoliths aren't points of impact?"
He pauses a moment, "What if they're the conduits?"
The fuck is he on about?
You stop mid walk just as Geralt does, he turns to look at Istredd, "I worry about you mages more and more. Perhaps humans shouldn't live for so long." He muses before turning back around and continuing to slowly trek onward.
"I've seen them communicating."
"Hmm." Geralt turns around to begin a point but realizes he's got nothing to counter that so instead does he hum again and keep walking while you both follow. Monoliths communicating? How odd, or does he mean the spheres?
"You say this monolith toppled during the Slaughter of Cintra. That makes perfect sense." Adds Istredd.
"And yet it doesn't." You affirm while stepping over a piece of shiny black stellacite, hoping no one says another word the rest of the trip to locate the monolith. And this wish is granted but only for a few blessed minutes until the mage behind you opens his mouth yet again.
"I was at a dig in Nazair a while back. I-I witnessed something. There was this monolith started emitting strange vibrations, like it was channeling a massive energy surge. It only lasted a few seconds, but look." You stop and turn to see the book he's opened, "Look, look at this date. It happened the night Cintra fell. The same night as this."
A low thunder is heard in the cavern only heeded by your heightened ears. You turn away from Istredd's notes to listen better while Geralt takes a look, "You think this is where the energy surge originated."
Istredd nods, "Which activated the conduit system. The monoliths started talking."
You take a step away from them to study the deep cavern, though still listening to Geralt speak, "What does that have to do with monsters?"
"It wasn't a Conjunction. At least, not how we've been thinking. The other spheres didn't merge, they-they collided, then separated again."
Geralt's brows furrow at this, "If the original spheres are still out there somewhere and our monoliths are calling to them.....then the monsters aren't new, they're new to here. And they're using our monoliths as gateways."
You turn around to face him, "What? You believe the monoliths are gateways?" You then give a shrug, "Guess that sort of explains it, a little."
"Tell me how you knew that monsters and monoliths were linked?" Asks Istredd, clearly wanting to know how the hell Geralt stumbled upon this riveting conclusion.
"What is it you're hoping to hear?"
"Your agenda. If you have information that could advance our civilization, I have a right to know."
"Why?" You counter before Geralt can speak on it, "So you can help the elves?"
Istredd holds his tongue for a moment, you can tell there's another truthful reason behind why he's actually in Cintra, as it only makes sense considering he's got not a single reason to want to help the elves. He's not exactly that charitable at heart, though his eyes shift from the earth to your curious face anyways.
The ghost of a smile playing at his lips, "I came to Cintra 'cause I thought someone might be here." Istredd gives a small shrug, "A woman." Thinking kindly upon the memory of this mystery woman he's apparently got his heart on.
You roll your scarlet eyes, "Of course. Here for what's between your legs and not what's in your head for the good of the elves. Figures."
Istredd let's out a breathy laugh at your humorous comment when he nonchalantly says, "Yennefer." In a soft spoken fondness that spikes your nerves the moment his voice says her name.
Your face turns into deep confusion at this, "Yennefer?" You ask in a whispered voice, there's no way he said that, but it can't be? Istredd locks eyes with you as you look at him strangely, "Of?" You know they have history, yet you have to confirm for yourself.
He looks to you with a raised brow, though that small smile is still upon his lips, "Of Vengerberg." Said like it's the most obvious thing in the entire world, like you should have already known this.
You take a threatening step forward that sets him off ease, "Why would you say that name?" You ask in a softly spoken harshness, he looks to you a bit taken aback as you try to contain yourself, you step back, lips in a small frown as your scarlet eyes study is face. The way his eyes crinkle still with her thought in his mind, your expression turns rather sad, "Of course. You...you loved her. Didn't you?" Knowing by his look this is truth, but still uncertain why he would bring her up, or why he would think she would have come to Cintra?
He gives a small nod, "Love. I never stopped."
Your heart breaks at this, he was never there for her like you were when it counted. He wasn't there in Sodden, he never let her grow into her true potential. Not until you spoke with Yen, not until she finally found it in herself to do as she wanted and be free. He was never good for her, he couldn't accept her for who she was, for who she became. He never loved her like you did, a sisters love never falters no matter what happens over the years..over the centuries.
You can't help but scoff at his continued smile, "A false reality you've built for yourself."
His brows furrow deeply at your stinging words, aurora growing frustrated, "At least I didn't willfully choose to abandon her after Sodden, and after everything they did to her in Aretuza, I figured she'd make her way here for refuge..."
"What?" You whisper in astonishment, ever defensively, "I never abandoned her."
His face shifts into puzzlement, "After she burned through Nilfgaard's army and saved the Continent, you were gone. In fact, we should all be praising her name, you more so of all people."
Her face covered in blood and shadowed by hot flames flashes quickly in your mind as your breathing increases with this news. Coming to a strong realization do you give him a hard look, "Yennefer's alive?" You have to know for certain.
Istredd appears baffled that you didn't know of this already, "You didn't know?"
"No."
A rumbling sound can be heard once again, though this time it's louder and causes the rocks to shake and the small pieces of broken stellacite to vibrate and move. Geralt! Y/N! Is yelled in a whispered shout on the wind just as the rumbling grows even louder and the rocks almost appear to shake. The voice sounded weirdly like Ciri but that's impossible, right? Right?
The ground below you trembles and the small dagger-like chunks of shiny stellacite turn upwards and immediately are summoned down the path you've all been previously walking towards. You push Geralt out of the way as you jump upwards to avoid the razors piercing your flesh as they fly past like little shards of dark glass.
When they're all gone and out of sight do you slowly levitate back down to the dirt to meet Geralt and Istredd at their level. Touching soft earth again does the sky open up and gift you three with wet droplets of rain, thunder rumbling in the far off distance as you pull up your hood to avoid the dreary weather.
"Where did those stellacite fragments go?" Asks Istredd as he looks from both you and Geralt to the pathway, "Who's voice was that?"
"Quiet." You command, trying to listen for whatever the fuck could have caused this to just happen, shoving Yennefer into the back of your mind for now. You can soon hear the crinkling and cracking of stone against stone as something growls lowly from on up ahead. You take a step towards the strange noise.
"What is it?" Questions Istredd as you unsheathe your dagger, Geralt pulling out is sword as he follows you slowly down the trail.
More sounds of chipping rocks and rumbling stones are heard, movement close by, a low angry growl vibrates on the damp air as you turn a corner. With no suitable true heartbeat to push blood through its veins does a dark shiny and sharp creature stand to the side of a jutted out rock.
Larger then a cow and dark as obsidian, shining in the dark cloudy sunlight peeking in from above though you can see it as plain as day. It's body is like that of a dragon stellacite hybrid, tall and thin it is, shards of stellacite making up its flesh if that's even what you can call it. While it growls lowly and stalks closer can you see the two dark wings adorning it's back as it moves.
It breaths out, eyes flickering from you to Geralt as it gets closer until it suddenly stops and without warning jumps to the rocks above before opening its wings and taking flight. You all turn to follow its swift journey out of the deep cavern and into the skies above where it quickly disappears over the cliffs edge.
"Fuck." Mutters Geralt as you purse your lips together.
"Yeah, fuck."
Istredd looks from Geralt to you, "Who is the girl who called to you two? And what the hell was that thing?" The both of you don't say a word as more rain continues to pelt everything underneath the clouds, "Do you think Nilfgaard knows about this?"
Ciri called to you and Geralt. But why?
Sheathing your dagger away do you turn to Istredd, "Open a portal. Now."
"What?"
"You're not deaf, now fucking do it."
He makes a rightfully perplexed expression at your sudden hostility, "Alright, alright."
While Istredd is summoning a portal do you turn to Geralt who's already looking worriedly at you, "You heard her voice same as I. Love, what does this shit all mean?"
"I don't know but we're going to find her and figure this out. I promise." He assures you, taking your hand with his just as the portal opens, you don't say a word but move your feet as Geralt leads you through the portal where your surroundings change from wet and damp to dry and dusty.
You're in the vacant evening hall of Kaer Morhen, hand still with Geralt's as you feel overwhelmed with uneasiness when he looks to you with those big golden eyes of his. "Y/N what is it?"
"I don't know." Shaking your head do you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them once again, "Let's just find Ciri." That weird feeling not relenting in the slightest.
He lets go of your hand and begins walking towards the right side of the medallion tree when you catch the scent of her in the other door, the side one directly to your right. "Geralt." He halts before whipping around to face you.
"What is it?"
"She's in the infirmary."
Geralt says not a word but nods at this before swiftly heading in that direction with you hot on his heels. It's so very strange, you don't know what's happened here since you've both been gone for the past many hours but something in the atmosphere around this place just doesn't feel quite right to you at all. Maybe it's your extra senses coming into light when they're needed most or your hunch is false?
However you're never wrong when it comes to a bad feeling in your gut about something. And ever since you heard Ciri's voice when that monolith monster came to life have you assumed some sort of foul sorcery may be at play this hour. And you don't like that shit one bit.
Geralt leads you down the hallway until he turns left into the large infirmary where you can see Vesemir sitting next to Ciri who's strapped down to the bed with her sleeve rolled up like she means to get injected with something. They quickly turn to face the two of you, both surprised at the abrupt interruption.
"What are you doing?" Snaps Geralt as he looks angrily at Vesemir, immediately aware of what was about to take place.
Ciri's wide eyes look from Geralt to you, "Geralt, Y/N." She gasps while trying to sit up in bed the best she can, clearly not expecting you two to just randomly intrude like this.
"She's meant to be. To rebuild us." Explains Vesemir, expression bridging between embarrassment and remorseful about almost turning Ciri into a Witcher...or having it all go horribly wrong.
"She is not." Declares Geralt hotly, "She's a girl. All you'll do is poison her."
Vesemir opens his mouth to speak when you set your fearsome sights to him, "You dare risk her life for the restoration of your precious Witchers? You don't know what that will do to her body."
"I made him do it, Y/N." Intervenes Ciri, "Geralt, I made him do it." You walk over to her right side and kneel down to take off the restraints holding down her ankles, "Stop. I wanted him to try. Y/N, stop!" You remove the chains despite her protests.
"Did you not think of the consequences?" You counter as the chains break and snap, "What if you were killed?" You walk over to her right arm and move to take the leather straps off of her wrist.
"Stop." She sits up to cover her wrist with her other free hand, "Stop!" You halt in your tracks, scarlet irises glancing from Geralt to Ciri, she looks up at you defiantly, "All I ever think about are consequences. No matter how hard I train, no matter what I do, it'll never be enough."
Oh, Cirilla.
You frown deeply at these words as Geralt steps by your side, he touches your hand as he looks down fondly at Ciri, "You are already enough, Cirilla. You are extraordinary."
Giving his hand a light reassuring squeeze do you let go to kneel down at her side. Her enchanted irises full with unshed tears, heartbeat thudding quickly within her chest as she grapples with her clashing emotions all at once. You rest a comforting hand upon the end of her knee, "He speaks truth. And my dear lioness, you are enough for us, you are so much more then you'll ever understand."
She swallows thickly, voice quivering, "I want to be like you, Y/N. I want to be indifferent to the past. To the lies. To the things I've done. Please." Your heart saddens as she searches your face for a positive sign, "Let me have that.
Taking a heavy breath do you blink slowly, "This is not how it works, my lioness. Neither you, nor I, nor Geralt can just forget who we are. We can't kill our feelings. Our best chance is to kill the hatred that we may hold onto...and move on."
Ciri swallows hard as a small tear trails down the side of her cheek, she doesn't say a word as you reach over to remove her wrist constraints without her objections to it this time. When the leather and steel is undone can you set it off to the side on the nearby pillow before taking her hand with yours and standing. Ciri sits up fully, you glance at both Geralt and Vesemir, eyes on Ciri again.
"Go get your things."
She nods and slowly walks towards the door as you stop, take a breath, and look back at Vesemir with disappointment, "If I ever hear you do something like this again without my say first, I will make sure you sourly regret it." His eyes lower in shame, diverting away from you as you turn from your old friend to follow the way Ciri left.
——
Standing in her doorway do you watch as she packs her things into a travel pack, feeling a swarm of emotions and feelings all swimming around in your body like a school of fish in a lake. You want to scream and thrash around like a wild cat in anger and frustration because of it all, Yennefer is somehow fucking alive even though you saw her die, you saw her become nothing after what she did in Sodden. Gone like the wind.
It doesn't make a lick of sense. And now this problem with Ciri, she somehow called to you and Geralt when you were both wandering around near that monolith looking for answers and not getting a whole lot in return. And you just saved her from being injected by that Witcher serum that would have undoubtedly either killed or heavily deformed her.
She stuffs a shirt into her pack as you lean against the door-frame, "How was it that Vesemir came to the creation of that potion?"
She stops her movement to slowly look up at you, "My blood." She mutters.
"You're blood?" You ask, puzzled.
"My blood mixed in with the materials needed to create the potion."
Your brows furrow at this, "He would have required Elder blood for that but you..." You pause a moment as she looks at you with those enchanted irises of hers, "Of course. It makes sense now...all of it does. How could I have not have realized sooner?"
"Realized what?"
"That your blood is special." Her brows furrow as you smile at her, "I have caught the potent scent of your blood more then once Cirilla, and it smells of enchantment and power whenever it finds itself into my nostrils. The kind of blood that I have smelt before, the kind I have tasted before long long ago...the blood of your ancestors. The blood that is said to bring strength to the elves."
"What?" She whispers, astonished, "How can you know this?"
"The proof is right in front of me. You are Pavetta's daughter, one with Elder blood who's power she gave to you, and though I have not bore witness firsthand to this power that I know you posses. I know it's there, you smell full of it."
She sighs, "Yes. This power, I can't even control it yet either." Adds Ciri, defeated.
"Well, well, princess of lions, and magic she doesn't understand yet. Pack your things, myself and Geralt happen to be taking you to a place that may have yet to help you." You explain, "Child with Elder blood, we're going on a little adventure."
She gives you a less deflated look this time, "Will it be cold?"
You give her a smile, "Not this place particularly. But I'd bring a knife if I were you."
——
You walk steadily behind both Geralt and Ciri who sits upon the back of Roach as your Witcher guides them through the tall pathway of rocks. You're trek away from Kaer Morhen has been more or less an uneventful one thus far into the journey.
Yet you're anticipating on the unexpected soon enough as what always tends to happen with you three nowadays. Though what could be a relatively peaceful trip across the land seems more like one filled with hidden conflict and frustration within yourself. You've barely had a moment to rest or even a second with just yourself and Geralt.
But a moment embraced together doesn't excite your heart at the current state for now. Some dragon stellacite hybrid is flying throughout the damn Continent somewhere doing who the fuck knows what. Ciri just about got herself killed with trying to become a Witcher of all things. Not to mention the girl truly does have Elder blood running through her veins.
And oh yes....Yennefer is alive.
Now that. You hadn't been expecting to hear at all, especially not from Istredd either, then again you hadn't been planning on ever meeting him again. But another thought troubles you so, did Triss already know of this and willfully choose not to tell you? If this is the case, when you're able to properly ask, she better have a viable answer.
Damn mages.
You hate being lied to, now she didn't exactly lie per say, but she never said a word about Yennefer but who knows. Not important for the time being, and anyways, you just need to get the three of you to this temple in one piece. The future and growth of Ciri depends on it.
"How much further?" Asks Ciri as Geralt leads Roach along the path, "Where are we even going?" She waits a second though he says not a word in reply which you can tell frustrates her, she scoffs, "At least at Kaer Morhen, we were safe."
"The Trial of Grasses isn't safe."
"Not listening again." She counters.
Geralt hums in thought, "You want to kill yourself trying to become a mutant so if you survive, you can kill yourself trying to get revenge. Which part did I miss?"
You can feel the irritation growing within her at Geralt's deflections to the choice she wanted to make for herself but was taken away by the both of you. He knows what it takes to become a Witcher better then anyone here, yet Ciri cannot see past this.
She pushes a branch out of the way, "You don't really give a shit about what I want, either of you. All you care about is your...damn duty. So long as I'm breathing, you've done your part." She glances at you still following behind, "And you still refuse to properly fight me, or even teach me for that matter. I need more then that."
Geralt takes a couple more steps before slowing down and stopping, "Ciri." He looks up at her, "I do understand. We both do."
"It's hard to know sometimes." She mutters as you walk around them to face her as well, "Wish it wasn't so difficult."
You open your mouth to speak when a flapping sound suddenly reaches your ears, you turn your head to the tree tops where the far off sound had come from. Geralt hears it too and looks up at the sky through the thick trees, alert as ever, listening for anything else. You twitch your head like a focused cat listening for field mice.
"What's up there?" Asks Ciri as she watches you react like this, "Do you-do you hear something?"
"Y/N."
Your concentration breaks as you lock eyes with Geralt who nods towards the pathway through the woodland, "Come on. Rivers up ahead." He turns and keeps walking, you can tell he's trying not to frighten Ciri who's already on edge from the weird whatever it was that made you look up at the sky so focused-like. You never do that unless something out of their own earshot has found you first.
You watch as they start walking again down the path of fallen leaves, trees to either side as they go by Geralt's lead. You know you heard wings in the distance and you know it must be that creature from the monolith; taking a breath do you glare at the blue sky between the branches above before following them once more. The path leads all the way to the edge of a large river that appears too large to cross for the moment. But it may as well do.
"This is the shallowest part of the river. I'll check that it's safe to cross." Says Geralt as you glance at the murky brown water to your right, and the grey cliffs across the river that would be fun to jump off of it not for the current circumstances. You never have time for fun anymore.
"What do you mean, safe?" Quickly implores Ciri.
"I'll try and draw it out first."
"Draw what out?" She questions.
"It's some kind of chernobog." You add while walking over to their side.
Ciri looks down at you, "I don't know what that is. But let me help.."
"Stay here with Y/N." Affirms Geralt, he gives you a mutual nod before handing you Roach's leather reigns and heading into the shallow river water as he observes the clear skies ahead.
You can hear it coming, closer and closer though you can't see it yet. Not until it flies out over the crest of the tree line across the river, two big black wings carrying it over the land and you know it sees him now. The chernobog growls as it descends lower, gliding across the murky water, claws at the ready as it prepares to kill Geralt.
"Geralt!" Shouts Ciri in fear as he calls a sign to action and with that does the powerful ward push the chernobog roughly across the water. However it quickly regains its bearings and stabilizes with a few hasty flaps of its jagged wingspan, causing the water below to spray and ripple as it flaps above. Legs just barely touching the river as it glides across the water.
You watch as it flies by the trees on the opposite end before circling back to head straight for Geralt once again. You prepare yourself for the worst as it gets faster and faster until it's almost right on him. It's arms spread out, claws bared when he uses another protective ward to push it back.
However this time the chernobog had anticipated this action and is able to swiftly counter Geralt's sign by spreading its wings to catch itself quickly. The water sprays again, Roach whinnies and tugs at your hand as you pat her soft snout gently.
"Easy girl, easy." She presses her nose into your touch though the mare is undoubtedly nervous.
The chernobog growls angrily as it flies across the water left then a quick right and then an unexpected left as it misses Geralt's next protective ward and crashes through some trees. Claws and fangs and big wings headed towards you, Roach, and Ciri. It lands before you and roars, rushing you instantly, so fast that you don't have time to remove your dagger from its sheath.
The chernobog's wing misses the first time, however the clawed hand hits its mark as the abrupt force knocks you across the forest floor and right into the side of a dying tree. Your head cracks against the trees rough bark, gravity thrusting you to the harsh earth instantly. You hear screams in the foreground as your world goes fuzzy and blurs with the violent couple of seconds you've just endured.
Pushing yourself off of the wet leaves does a couple droplets of blood patter to the ground from out of your nostrils. Your head hurts and so does your neck muscles though this pain subsides in a matter of seconds to a dull throbbing and then to nothing at all. "Fuck." You mutter, touching your nose and pulling your hand away to see the shiny red coating the tips of your fingers.
"Y/N!" Shouts Ciri frantically.
Your eyes snap up to meet hers as you study her body for any signs of infliction, she's untouched though her expression appears panicked as her gaze drops to something large below her. You follow her eyesight to land upon Roach, a gasp escapes your parted lips at the sight before you now.
Roach lays on her left side, breaths ragged and unsteady, there are three deep claw marks staining the lower portion of her body from where the chernobog got her. Blood pools like a red river out of her mortal wounds and into the wet earth below. She doesn't move much but breathe softly in and out all she can take.
You heart hurts for her as you pick yourself up from the ground to stagger over to Ciri and Geralt who kneel at her backside now. Petting her gently as you fall to your knees by her head, opposite of Geralt.
You frown deeply, "oh Roach. Not you my sweet girl." Your hand tenderly presses against her shoulder as you pet her cheek with your other hand, kindly as a mothers touch.
"Easy girl." Mutters Geralt as he runs his hand down her soft neck.
You can notice as blood seeps out of her nostrils like yours had, though this hurt will not heal like yours. "Is there anything we can do?" Asks Ciri in a hushed tone, eyes wandering between your saddened face to Geralt's who's still looking down at Roach. "Y/N can't you heal her with your blood?"
Closing your eyes tightly do you lower your head, "It doesn't work like that. Not with animals....I'd just make it worse."
"Well there must be something?"
He pulls out a small knife when you open your eyes again, Ciri knows what this means, she stands and walks a couple steps away, turning around to not see what's about to happen. He presses a hand to Roach's head, looking down at her fondly, "Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist." Roach wheezes lowly, "Be not afraid of her...for she is your friend." Whispers Geralt as he begins to draw the knife closer to her neck.
Your hand is quick to stop him by taking hold of his forearm, "Allow me. I'll make it faster then that knife. Less painful. Quicker then an arrow." He swallows, hand leaving her head, the other bringing the knife away as you place your opened palm to where his hand once was.
Roach takes in a ragged breath as you rub your thumb across her fur, "Thank you for all the adventures my dear, you never let us down." Your eyes trail up from Roach to lock with Geralt's golden ones, you give a small nod as he does the same and with that do you deliver a quick death binding volt of electricity into her flesh and skull that kills her instantly.
Her body twitches a second and then all goes still, breath gone from her lungs, heartbeat no more. Taking a slow breath out do you stand, stoic face looking down at the deceased mare you've taken care of for many many years. Another loss to add to all the others.
"Thank you, my love." Mutters Geralt as your gaze trails from Roach to him, you gift him the ghost of a smile in return.
"It's what she deserved." You look up to the sky overhead of the river, "Now lets deal with this fucker."
-
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luminnara · 3 years
Text
It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 6
Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!
Part One | ... | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Tags:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @ bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar @sukeraa
Bucky refused to leave the omega’s side while she stayed in the lab. Bruce had to stop him from trying to crawl onto the bed with her, and after about the third time, he convinced the super soldier to just pull up a chair like a civilized person and hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep again. Now that she was with her alpha, she had settled down for another nap, more interested in resting than answering any more questions so long as Bucky stayed and kept an eye on her. 
Steve had to admit, it was endearing. He had never seen his friend so absolutely enraptured like this. Whenever the omega, or Ten, as Bruce was still calling her, shifted in her sleep, Bucky’s eyes were snapping over to make sure that she was okay. Whenever she let out a little whimper, he was purring and stroking her hair. Whenever she seemed like she might wake up again, his attention was completely on her.
“So...sure you don’t remember her?” Steve asked, pulling up a chair. He had left for a few hours to work out, and after a lack of updates from FRIDAY, he headed back down to check on everything. They were exactly as he had left them, which was a good sign. At least nothing was getting out of hand. 
Yet.
Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of the omega’s hand with his thumb. “I dunno. It’s...foggy.”
“Well, it seems to me like you’ve either got a history together, or she’s mistaking you for someone else.” Steve said. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to do the latter.”
“I’ve dreamt of her.” Bucky said quietly. 
“...what?”
“It’s not much, but...I’ve seen her face.” Bucky looked down at her. “I think that no matter how many times HYDRA wiped my memory, she’s always been in there. Kinda like the one constant that was always around, the one thing I could always count on being in the base with me.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Steve asked.
“Never knew if she was real or not.” Bucky sighed. “I thought...maybe she was just something my mind made up to fill some of the gaps. But she smells exactly like I remember.”
Steve sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his friend. Bucky wasn’t snarling anymore, most of his attention trained on the omega while she slept. Now that he was close to her, he had calmed down significantly, though he still wouldn’t let Steve within five feet of her bed. 
“Just got off the phone with Tony,” Bruce announced, walking in. “He and Pepper will be back tonight. Pepper’s having some clothes and personal items delivered for our new omega friend here. They also asked about renovating a more permanent room for her, but I, uh...told them I wasn’t exactly sure what the situation would be.”
“She’s staying with me,” Bucky said immediately. 
“Now hang on, hang on,” Steve leaned forward. 
“Steve,” Bucky growled. “I want her with me.”
“Buck, you don’t even know her—“
Bucky interrupted him with a loud snarl, the omega in question whining and squirming in her sleep at the sound of it. 
He immediately shut up, brushing a thumb over her cheek and shushing her until she was sleeping soundly again. Fuck, he felt so stupid. What was wrong with him? She could have woken up, or been scared, or upset, all because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. She needed her rest, and he needed to stay quiet. 
Steve almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 
“Oh, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re in deep.”
Amoretta woke feeling well rested, and it wasn’t until she tried to stretch and felt the tug of her IV drip that she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes revealed the bright lights of the lab, and as she started to sit up, a few faces came into view.
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Bruce said. “How are you feelin’?”
She licked her lips. “Juice box. Now.”
“Way ahead of you. Had this one waiting as soon as you started waking up.” He tossed one to her and was pleased when her hand shot up to catch it. “Reflexes look good. Vitals are all reading normal. I’ll have to run another test to see what’s going on with those suppressants, but I’m willing to bet you’re metabolizing them fairly quickly now. How are you feeling?”
She pulled the little straw off the back of the carton and jammed it into the top. “Nauseous. Like usual.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Side effect of the suppressants?”
“Always has been. Other than that...I feel great, actually.”
“Well, as soon as these wear off, we can figure out something nicer and more modern for you. If you want to use them, I mean.” Bruce shrugged. “Your choice.”
She smiled. “Choice. I like that.”
“Hey, we’re all about independence here,” Steve said happily. He was glad to see she was awake, even though Bucky wasn’t.
The other alpha was still at her side, but, as of about half an hour ago, he was napping. Steve made a mental note to never let him forget the way he slept straight through the one moment he had been waiting for all day. 
“What time is it?” She asked. “There’s no windows in this damn place.”
“Just after dinner,” Bruce chuckled. “You slept most of the day. Bucky hasn’t left your side.”
She looked over to her soldier, smiling warmly at the sight of him sleeping. He was even snoring softly. “I haven’t gotten to see this in forty years.”
“Did you two, uh…” Steve cleared his throat. “Spend a lot of time together?”
The omega laughed. “You always this awkward around girls?”
“That’s not—“
“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She sucked on her straw. “But...yeah, we did.”
“So...you were just kept for his ruts, or…” Steve was so awkward it was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think.”
“It’s okay. I know my lot in life.” She kept her eyes trained on Bucky as she spoke. “But if I’m going to answer more questions, I want to get out of this bed. And I want real clothes. Then I’ll talk.”
And so, only several minutes later, Bruce was handing her a sweater and some shorts he had grabbed from a little stash of extra clothing, and Bucky was startled awake by Ten stepping past him. She was finally free from all the tubes and cords that had been sticking out of her during her little hospital stay, and she was all too eager now to explore the tower.
She stood on wobbly legs, almost falling onto him when she tried to take a step. Bucky was up in a flash, ready to catch her, and as she fell against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Despite just waking up, he felt fully alert, completely ready to tend to his omega’s every need. 
His omega...he liked that train of thought. 
“We can head up to the common area. It should still be quiet.” Steve said, leading the way out. 
Bucky kept an arm around his omega’s waist as they followed, Bruce bringing up the rear. He wanted to be touching her at all times, constantly in contact so that he couldn’t lose track of her. His instincts were roaring to life, demanding that he do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and in his line of sight. The elevator ride was tense and full of possessive growling, Bucky constantly shoving Ten behind him to keep her in the corner and as far away from Steve as possible, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open and they could step out of the cramped space again. 
The common area was empty, thankfully, FRIDAY informing them that the other Avengers were all either working out or in their private quarters. 
“Good,” Steve said, heading towards the couches. “No interruptions. Got it, FRIDAY?”
“Understood, Captain Rogers.”
“C’mere,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his omega down to sit on one of the couches with him. Part of him was feeling a little sheepish and self conscious of his behavior...but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The others could stare and shake their heads all they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let Ten slip through his fingers again. 
Or whatever her name was. 
Steve and Bruce sat across from them, making sure that they left as much space as possible between themselves and the new omega. Neither of them had ever seen Bucky behaving quite like this--he was on guard, hyper aware of everything around him. He made sure that she was pressed up against his side, an arm draped possessively over the back of the couch so that it was unmistakable that she was with him.
Christ, what had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember ever acting this way about an omega before. 
“So…” Steve cleared his throat, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.
Bucky didn’t really like the way his posture made him lean forward towards his omega, but he could deal with it for now. “So.”
“What do you wanna know?” Ten asked, plucking at Bucky’s shirt. She seemed to be even clingier with him than he was with her, perfectly happy to be hanging off him or tucked up against his side. “You met my demands. I guess I’m an open book now.”
“I don’t want to overstep my bounds,” Steve said. “We just need to know as much as you’re willing to share.”
“Then ask a question.”
“...Alright.” he cleared his throat again. “You said HYDRA used you to help with Bucky’s ruts?”
Ten nodded, her expression remaining even and cool. 
“Could you tell us more about that?” Steve glanced at Bucky. “Were there ever any other omegas, or anyone we should know about?”
“There were omegas before me.” she answered. “When I first got to the compound, there were a lot of us. They kept us all in big cells, so everyone talked. People said things about how HYDRA was grabbing omegas off the street for their super soldiers, and how the one at our base was the biggest and scariest.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow at her tone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected her to sound like while she regaled them with her life story, but he definitely thought there would be a tad bit more apprehension in her voice. She seemed proud of herself, and more matter-of-fact than a lot of omegas would be while talking about their alpha’s previous partners. Or...whatever you called prisoners whose only purpose was to help during ruts.
“And I bet he was,” she sighed, leaning her cheek on Bucky’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. 
“Well, I don’t know about that…” Bucky said, an almost shy smile on his lips. And...was he actually blushing?
Steve was going to lose his mind. 
“You said the other omegas couldn’t handle it? That’s why you were given the serum?” he prompted, trying to keep them on track before he drowned in the sticky sweetness of her happy pheromones. 
“Right.” she turned her attention back to Steve and Bucky let out a quiet huff. “HYDRA didn’t really like to take care of us. And the soldier--I mean, Bucky--would wear them out. So...HYDRA would just kind of let them go. Or put them down, maybe. I never saw it.”
Bucky’s expression dropped. His blush was gone, and he almost looked like he was going to be sick as he listened to her talk.
“But it wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly, glancing between him and Steve. “I don’t think it was ever on purpose, you were just...demanding.”
He gave a groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, doll. I’d rather know what I did, at this point.”
She offered a small shrug. “I don’t really remember it being that bad, but I don’t think I ever met you before they gave me the serum.”
“That’s something, at least.” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 
“Why you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any prior military experience, any ties to something the others didn’t?”
“No.” she laughed. “I never even got in fights before HYDRA.”
“Then why’d they use such an important resource on you, specifically? Not trying to take a dig at you, it’s just...well, omegas don’t usually…”
“I know,” she said. “Omegas aren’t supposed to be tough, right? That’s why they only ever let alphas become super soldiers.”
“That’s not what I…” Steve trailed off and then sighed. “Sorry.”
“I told you, they gave me the serum so that I would be strong enough to hold my own. It also ensured I would always be around, no matter how many years passed.” Her fingers found Bucky’s free hand and she took it, absentmindedly playing with the smooth vibranium knuckles. “Having me as a constant meant they could stop spending so much time and effort on always having a new omega around for him. Plus…well, I wasn’t really there, but I heard something about it once…”
“What?” Bucky asked. 
“They let you choose who was going to become your omega.” She said, looking up at him. “They gave you a bunch of scents, and you chose mine. I guess it was the only reason they didn’t, uh...humanely euthanize me.”
His eyes were wide. The thought of HYDRA killing his omega brought a low growl to his throat, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of it. “No.”
“Well, clearly they didn’t!” She said brightly. “My file said I was a kicker.”
“So they gave you, an already aggressive omega, the serum, but never gave you any trigger words or fished around in your brain?” Bruce shook his head. “Surprisingly sloppy, considering who they are.”
“It’s not like they ever sent me out into the world. I stayed in my cell all day, unless I was needed for a rut. Then I went and stayed in a different cell.” She sighed. “And if they ever needed to, they could just use the alpha to grab me.”
Bucky clearly didn’t like the thought of that. He made a frustrated sound, leaning his head back again. “Great.”
“It was never bad.” She let go of his hand, moving her fingers to cup his jaw. “You never hurt me. You wouldn’t. Sometimes, when I acted up, they would make you go retrieve me, because they knew you were the only one who could do it. If they didn’t send you, they would just knock me out.”
“So...that was it?” Steve asked. “Ruts, serum, cryo?”
“For thirty years!” She chirped. “The last time they froze me, they were freezing him, too. They always tried to keep us in cryo at the same time so that I could be thawed out and ready when he needed me. But...I guess they just...left me there?” She frowned. 
“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Steve said. “I didn’t see any signs of a struggle at that base. I’d say they left in an orderly fashion, but the fact that they didn’t take you along makes me think they were in more of a hurry than they made it seem.”
“Natasha might have a better idea,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk to her, try to figure out—“
“FRIDAY, open the damn door or so help me God I will rewrite your entire personality.” A voice interrupted from the other side of the door. 
“I’m sorry, Tony, but Captain Rogers asked me not to.” The AI said. 
“Well, is it an emergency?” The man scoffed.
“No emergency measures have been executed. No security breaches have been identified.”
“Then I’m sorry, but Captain Rogers does not outrank me when it comes to my own robots. Open the door, beautiful.”
She seemed to sigh. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”
Ten perked up, leaning forward slightly. She was watching the door curiously, tilting her head a little when she heard it slide open. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself quietly and pulling her up against his side as another alpha strode in. 
“Really? Having a party without me?” the man asked, a smooth, casual air about him as he walked in and looked at everyone on the couches. When his eyes landed on the omega cuddled up next to Bucky, he stopped. “Ah, is this our new guest?”
“Go away, Stark.” Bucky growled. He didn’t like how long the other man’s gaze was lingering on his omega, not when there weren’t any scars on her neck to show who she belonged to.
“Always such a charmer, Barnes.” Tony said, flopping down next to Steve. “Lovely to see you, too. Care to introduce me to your friend? ….No, you’d rather just snarl and forget your words? I knew you were old, but I didn’t realize you were actually a caveman.”
“Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t aggravate him. Please.”
“Why not?” Tony leaned back against the cushions, completely at ease and totally happy to be pressing every one of Bucky’s buttons. 
“Are you Tony Stark?” Ten asked, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip to sit on the edge of their couch. 
Bucky caught her around the waist before she could get very far, though, and dragged her onto his lap. He loomed over her, sneering dangerously at Tony as the other alpha flashed a smile. 
“Bingo.” he said. 
“I never thought I’d meet a Stark,” she admitted. “I always heard about Stark Industries, but I lived too far away from any big cities to ever get to see any of his exhibitions.”
“Ah. You’re from my father’s time. Of course.” Tony shot a pointed glare in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like Bruce left out a few teensy weensy important details on the phone today.”
“Well, it’s been, uh...an ongoing learning experience.” Bruce said sheepishly. 
“Lots of developments, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 
“You could say that.” Steve said under his breath. “We came up here so Ten could be more comfortable while we talk.”
“Oh yeah? What’re we talkin’ about?” Tony asked. 
“They were asking about my time with HYDRA,” she answered, cutting in before anyone else could. “And with...Bucky.”
Saying his name felt odd. Her tongue wasn’t used to it, and her mind wanted to call him alpha, or Winter Soldier. Bucky just seemed so…casual, such a strange thing to call a deadly super soldier. When she heard herself, though, she decided that she definitely didn’t hate it. 
Bucky’s heart gave a little leap at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again, in whispers and in screams, for nobody else’s ears but his. 
“...Buck?” Steve asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You, uh, kinda zoned out there.”
It wasn’t until Bucky looked at Steve that he realized his eyes had been trained on the omega in his lap. “Yeah?”
“...Is this seriously how you’ve spent the past day and a half?” Tony asked. “Steve, I’m sorry, and I’m sure you’re just trying to be as helpful as you can be, like always, but I think you should let these two get a room.”
Steve looked at him incredulously. “Tony, really? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why exactly HYDRA would abandon the omega they pumped full of super soldier serum. They can get a room later—“
“Yeah, uh, wonder boy? I don’t think your pal is gonna last much longer before he tries to rip our heads off.” Tony nodded towards a very disgruntled Bucky. “You can resume your interrogation tomorrow, Cap.”
Steve looked to Bruce for help, but he only offered a small shrug and stood, heading towards the door. “He’s right, Steve. They deserve some alone time.”
“But—hey!” Steve protested as Bucky picked his omega up, striding past the two alphas sitting on the opposite couch. 
“Thanks for everything, Steve.” Bucky said over his shoulder. 
Ten squirmed, peeking around Bucky’s arm as she was carried away. “Bye, Mr. Stark!”
“Don’t look at him,” Bucky growled as they walked out the door. 
“Did his father really make hoverboards? I heard once that Howard was promising hoverboards—“
“No.” He said flatly. 
“...oh.” She huffed, slumping against him. “Where are we going?”
“My apartment.” Bucky stepped into the elevator, his grip still tight around her. 
The omega perked up. “You have a whole apartment?”
He puffed his chest out a little. “Course I do. Gotta have a nice place for you, don’t I?”
“So I can stay?” Her eyes were bright and happy. “I can stay there, with you, all the time? Not just when you rut?”
He felt a sad little pang in his heart. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “I mean, uh...i-if you want to, that is. I know it’s fast and all, and maybe...would you rather have your own room? Or I can stay on the couch—“
“Bucky,” she cut him off with a laugh, a soft hand cupping his jaw. “You’ve been my alpha for seventy years. I’d say we’re actually moving pretty slow.”
His expression relaxed again, lips stretching into a small smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.”
They spent the rest of the elevator ride in comfortable silence, Bucky rubbing his scent glands all over her hair. He wanted to make sure that the next time they encountered anyone else, she smelled exactly like him.
Like her alpha.
When the elevator came to a gentle stop at Bucky’s floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out in front of his apartment door. It opened for him, having already scanned his biometrics, revealing a small, but cozy, living room. 
He set his omega down on her feet, watching anxiously as she stepped into his quarters. Did she like it? Fuck, was it too small? It was too small. She probably hated it. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he had to salvage this somehow. 
“Well, uh…” shit, he sounded too nervous. He wanted her to think he was a strong, capable alpha. 
He cleared his throat for another start. “Welcome home, Omega.” 
Wait. That wasn’t right. Should he be calling her that? No, probably not, it sounded too possessive, too uncaring. He wished he just knew her fucking name, or something. 
“I mean…Ten?”
Shit, he sounded so stupid. He wanted to impress her, not...do whatever this was.
She just laughed, though, turning and looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like starlight. “Amoretta. My name is Amoretta.”
768 notes · View notes
pathetic-dumpling · 3 years
Text
Coming to Terms
Dream has been having a bad day, which has quickly turned into a bad week. Techno and Phil both need to go out and do essential tasks around the tundra, but they can't leave Dream alone either. So... they find a babysitter. words: 5,188 - read on ao3 instead
CW: overstimulation, implied panic attack, unintentional self-harm, referenced abuse
Dream has been having a bad day. Correction, he’s been having a bad week. He’s been caught in a bit of a spiral for the last several days, and the exhaustion from an attempt at healing keeps dragging him down before he can get out. The last thing Techno wants to do is leave Dream alone like this, but he and Phil have already pushed off as many necessary tasks as they can. They need to head out, but they can’t leave Dream alone… So in comes the Syndicate.
They consider a few people. Niki is chosen.
“Look, all you need to do is watch him for a day. We’ll be back by the end of it, and you can leave, alright?”
Niki scrunches her face up, which is, in all honesty, reasonable. She’s one of the people who didn’t want to interact with Dream, but Techno and Phil are running desperately low on options.
“Is there anyone else?” She asks. “What about Puffy? She’s a therapist, right? Wouldn’t she be more equipped for something like this?”
“A, we don’t want more people knowing about Dream than necessary, and she’s already refused to give Dream treatment. B, we don’t trust her to not psychoanalyze Dream when he really doesn’t want to be psychoanalyzed. Plus, we don’t know what kind of domestic issues there are because Dream hasn’t opened up about that part of his life yet.”
Niki winced. “What about Ranboo?”
“Well, you see, Ranboo’s been growing into himself recently,” Phil interjects, beside Techno. “Which is good, by all means, but that also means he’s been embracing that he’s a little bit of a dick sometimes. You’re literally the only person we can think of who can be… pleasant and hold your tongue around Dream.”
“And- and we don’t wanna sound misogynistic,” Techno quickly adds. “This isn’t a ‘the kind woman puts up with the toxic man’ situation; it’s just… Dream is fragile right now, like, really fragile, and we’re pretty sure you’re the only person who has the kind of self-restraint to not break him any more, you know?”
Niki raises a brow but ultimately sighs. “This is your only option?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Phil laughs.
“...alright. I’ll watch him. One day, got it?”
“Oh my gods, thank you so much, Niki.”
So Niki is given keys to the house. Mentally, she prepares for whatever Dream might try. She saw him, briefly, in a Syndicate meeting or two, but only between several layers of fabric and zero spoken words. She doesn’t know what he’s like if he’s grown out of his… nastier habits yet. Techno has done everything in his power to tell the Syndicate that Dream has changed, but none of them have actually seen any change. Niki kind of doubts it, if she’s being honest, but she trusts Techno’s judgment more than anything. She knows Techno wouldn’t lie to her and lead her on like others in the past.
She wakes up the following day when things are still dark. Niki can see her breath, even within the small haven of an underground city warmed by countless fires and lanterns. She throws on her Syndicate cloak, getting ready to head out to the arctic. Hopefully, Techno didn’t want her to do anything with the animals because she definitely wouldn’t be able to stand being outside for that long. When she arrives, Techno thanks her profusely. He pledges to show her around the house and offers a few tips while Phil gets ready for their trip outside.
“Alright.” Techno swings his hands by his sides. Niki has noticed he’s stopped clapping them when he begins to speak. “First things first, Dream hasn’t eaten in, like, three days, so we really need you to try to get him to eat something. His diet has been pretty limited so far, but we left a list of things he’s been able to eat so far on the counter. Try to stay fresh- anything stale makes him throw up, and so does steak. Don’t offer it. We keep apples in a little icebox downstairs because he likes fruit cold. Also, Dream likes himself cold, too. He gets anxious when he’s hot.
“If Dream hides in his room, he’s most likely hiding under his bed. If you need to interact with him during that time, do not try to pull him out. That will scare him and he might bite. Instead, just kind of lay on the floor and face him and just… wait until he’s ready to talk. If you try to push him, he’ll probably just curl up more, and he tends to get really distant for the next day or two when that happens.
“If he asks for something, it means that he needed it about three hours ago and has only now gotten the courage to ask for it. Even if he prefaces it between a lot of ‘only if you want to’ and ‘you don’t have to,’ don’t believe him. We’re trying to teach him that asking for things is good but it’s been a bumpy ride. Also, he’s iffy on touch; I’d say it’s better to not try.”
Techno stops, tapping his lip. “Try not to let him outside without supervision; we haven’t really been able to block off potential hazards yet. Other than that, I think that’s everything. Dream is sleeping right now, but he knows you’ll be here. He might get startled anyway. Try not to stare or anything. It makes him uncomfortable. Just treat him like a nervous cat or something.”
Niki blinks, trying desperately to process all of the information that was just dumped on her. Techno waits patiently as she mentally backtracks and tries to commit everything to vague memory. Nervous cat? That’s what the ruler of the server has turned into?
“Okay… I think I got all of that?” Niki says, hoping she got everything she truly needed down. She knows how awkward things get when she or Techno has to start repeating themselves.
“Cool.” Techno sighs, running a hand through his hair until it gets caught in his braid. “A nervous, injury-prone cat… That’s Dream. Thank you for doing this, really. Dream just started being okay with being in the same room as boiling water, and I think I might have a breakdown if I have to leave to make tea again. This means a lot. Anything you need from us, me or Phil, we’ll be happy to help as soon as we get back.”
Niki nods. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be on the agenda when I joined the Syndicate, but I’m happy to help you, Techno.”
“Of course.” Techno bows his head. “Of course. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Again, don’t let him… do anything to himself, okay?”
Niki gives another nod and a thumbs up. “You can count on me, Techno.”
Techno gives a strained smile and then, awkwardly, does a slight bow before leaving. His muffled voice filters through the door as he calls out to Phil, and then they head out. Niki takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before sighing as she watches the silhouettes of her friends disappear over the horizon.
Alright. She can do this. She may not like Dream, but she did agree as a part of the Syndicate to… help. This is just for Techno and Phil, to keep them from worrying. To watch Dream and make sure he doesn’t try anything he shouldn’t. Niki could do that. In fact, she was happy to keep the man out of trouble, if it were for Techno’s sake. Now she just needed to find something to do until there was someone to watch.
Niki glances around the house, finding things pleasantly clean. The chests were a bit of a mess, but things weren’t lying all over the place, and it looks like it’s been cleaned recently. It looks like the house has been somewhat baby-proofed, too, which makes a little chuckle bubble in Niki’s throat. They’ve only been housing Dream, and he’s certainly a grown man, isn’t he? What would they need to keep him out of drawers for?
Niki gets to entertaining herself with one of Techno’s many book recommendations, making a tiny home for herself on the couch. She opens the blinds and curtains, letting any sort of light filter in as much as it can. The sun is slow to rise in the arctic, and candlelight can only do so much. Slowly, as the sun rises over the north, Niki finds herself growing more hungry, so she starts making some food. It gets bright soon after that, lighting up the room with the near-blinding rays of the sun. Niki adjusts soon enough, simply happy to have more than enough reading light.
A few hours later, after Niki has already eaten and taken care of her share of the dishes, Dream emerges. The first thing she notices is that he’s completely maskless. Secondly, he looks exhausted to the bone, drowned in a dark green jacket and a black shirt underneath. Loose-fitting pants cover Dream’s legs, almost completely hiding his figure from view. Dream’s eyes are dark, his posture slouched inward, and his hair is messy, long, and frail. He looks unbearably tense. His eyes squint at how bright it is, but he tries to shake it off quickly with a flick of his hands. He does a quick double-take on Niki, eyes darting around the room before relaxing slightly. His attention never leaves her, though. His gaze makes a shiver crawl up Niki’s spine.
“Good morning, Dream!” She says politely because maybe Dream is worse in the mornings.
Dream waves tiredly, and Niki notices his bandaged finger. Something about it looks off until she realizes it’s too short to be normal, missing nearly the entire first section. She wonders how it happened, how she’s never noticed before. Dream takes his bandaged hand, dragging it down his face. He lets out a long sigh, sitting down at the circular table in the kitchen, leaning heavily on it for support. He raises his hands, and although they tremble and shake, Niki recognizes one thing. Dream is signing.
Oh. It looks like Technoblade forgot to mention one thing.
“Oh!” She says quickly, tucking her book into her chest. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know sign language.”
Dream, from the table, raises a brow at her. He raises his hands, signing what Niki can only assume is: you don’t know sign?
“I always meant to learn, but the only people who use it actively on the server are Callahan and….”
Me. Niki can guess that one well enough.
“Yes… you. I’m sorry.”
Dream waves his hand dismissively. He gestures for a pen, which Niki retrieves without much hesitance. She may not like Dream, but she still needs to communicate with him if this day even has a chance at going well. She places the pen and small pad of paper on the table, stepping back quickly. Dream lets out a long breath before beginning to write.
I’ll show you some stuff I probably won’t be able to translate in the moment, Dream writes. Writing looks a little more challenging with the ever-present tremor in Dream’s hands and his shortened finger, but he makes do. He writes down a few simple words: can’t, stop, no, sorry, and shows the signs for each of them. Niki furrows her brow.
“These are all negative responses. What about… ‘yes’?”
Dream struggles to meet Niki’s eyes for a second, looking away almost immediately. He seems borderline uncomfortable. Slowly, he curls his hand into a fist, nodding it forward twice.
“Yes?” Niki asks in conformation.
Yes.
Niki nods, trying to commit this information, like everything else dumped on her today, to memory. Dream drops the pen after that, cradling his hands in his lap. They certainly… don’t stop shaking. Hm. Niki would ask about it, but she doesn’t really want to poke at any boundaries. Dream fiddles with his fingers, beginning to bounce his leg.
“Em-” Niki starts, catching Dream’s attention and picking at the back of her neck awkwardly. “Techno told me that you should probably eat today, right? I made food a few hours ago, but I can make something for you or….”
Dream waves his hands, furiously shaking his head. He scribbles down variants of I’m not hungry, and you don’t have to, which Niki isn’t given a chance to object to. Dream carefully gets up, grabbing the notepad beside him and pushing past Niki. He makes his way over to the couch, plopping himself down and sighing. Niki watches him, unsure of what entirely to do. She knows what Techno told her, but there was only so much that was truly in her power. It didn’t help how dismissive Dream appeared to be with her attempts at offering him food.
This Dream is… new, to say the least. She didn’t know the old Dream outside of what she heard from her peers, but she especially doesn’t know this Dream. Is he better? Does he know that what he’s done is bad? Terrible? Unforgivable, even? Does he regret it at all, or does he just think he’s a victim in all of this?
It takes two more attempts at getting Dream to eat before Niki’s patience starts running a little slim. She’s never had the time to talk to Dream before, but right now, he just seems nothing more than tired. He looks fine, if not a little skinny, maybe a little quiet. For all Niki knows, this could be a ploy, a trick, to live the high life off of Techno’s dedicated care and then run off into the woods. Niki feels a little nasty for thinking this, but what if Dream is just faking this all? What if he’s just playing it up for show and sympathy? To get free protection while his next plan brews quietly in the background? She’s heard about the lengths Dream was willing to go to in the past; what would make this different? She knows how convincing an actor Dream can be, and dedication to a part can take someone a long way.
Well… Now is as good of a time as ever to get a few things off her chest, Niki supposes. If Dream isn’t faking, he’ll have some kind of genuine reaction, and if he is, then, well… Niki can keep her friends from getting used again. It’s a win-win, really.
“You know, you’re very lucky Techno decided to care for you so much,” she says from the kitchen because the distance makes her feel safer. “He didn’t have to do all of this, you know? It’d certainly be easier for him to have ignored your favor. I would’ve.”
From behind, Niki hears a sharp intake of breath, but no objections come. Niki looks behind her at Dream, still sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and staring at her. He swallows, eyes darting to the side like he’s sorting through his thoughts. He gestures at Niki, a sort of go-on movement, so she turns around and continues. “Things like Wilbur, Doomsday, the festival, you played a role in all of those, you know? You’ve been the authority figure of the server for so long. You-- you had control over exile and Tommy and… Everything you’ve done, it’s hurt all of us. It’s- it’s hurt me, and I-”
There’s a loud, distinct sniffle behind Niki. Slowly, she turns to look behind her, finding Dream curled up on the couch. He brings his knees up to his chest, pressing tightly into himself. He’s looking to the side, almost shameful. His shoulders are shaking.
“...Dream?” Niki asks. Maybe this is the genuine reaction she’s looking for.
Dream nods sharply. He looks up, meeting Niki’s eyes, his own glassy and red and wet. His eyes fill with tears, so he quickly hides his face again, pressing it into the arm wrapped around his knee. It feels like he’s forcing himself to keep his gaze on Niki, and that information tastes a little bitter going down Niki’s throat. He lifts his head just enough to meet Niki’s eyes again, folding his hand into a half square and pressing it to his temple. Niki doesn’t know the sign, but she doesn’t need to.
I know, he says. I know.
Dream takes a shuddering breath, fingers dancing across the parts of the body he’s gripping. They speed up and slow down as he filters his thoughts, eventually coming to a standstill. He grabs his notepad with trembling hands, scribbling down something hastily, ripping out the paper, and holding it out for Niki while hiding himself. Nervously, Niki steps forward because the memory of powerful and quick and ruthless Dream has never left her, even when presented with the sight of the trembling man before her.
I know, the paper says. I want to listen. But not today. I can’t today.
Niki swallows. She looks at Dream, trembling and crumbling in on himself, and nods. “Okay,” she says. “I understand. I… I’m sorry. That was out of line, I...”
Dream nods quickly and sharply. His fingers tap quickly against his leg. Niki feels awkward, standing in front of Dream like this as he fidgets and shuffles. She puts a little distance between the two of them, retreating back to the kitchen. The house is plunged into a small period of unrelenting silence. Niki wished that she knew at least a little sign because maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward. Dream doesn’t look all too thrilled to be talking with her either way, though, so perhaps it was wishful thinking. He’s running a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on the long strands every few seconds.
Niki frowns. Has Techno told her anything about how to handle something like this? Sorting through her memory quickly tells Niki that, no, Techno hadn’t spilled anything helpful for a time like this. He’d asked Niki to make sure Dream didn’t do anything to himself, but certainly, he wasn’t that much of a danger to his own wellbeing, right? Techno had mentioned some other useful things, but he seems to have forgotten some details Niki would’ve loved to have. She sighs.
Niki supposes that the best she can do right now is swallow her words and try to be helpfully polite. To, in kinder words, simply watch Dream. She tried to ask him about some things here or there but mostly ended up talking at Dream instead of with him. That’s okay, Niki didn’t mind. She didn’t really go into today expecting some sort of riveting conversation, and the one she’d already tried to have ended oh-so-splendidly.
Suddenly, the sound of Dream’s stomach growling caught her attention. Niki looked back from her chunk of dough that she’d started kneading to fill the silence at Dream, who was caught like a deer in headlights. He looked to her quickly before starting off on what Niki thinks is a garbled bundle of excuses about how he wasn’t hungry again. Niki laughs kindly, making Dream’s hands pause mid-air.
“I’ll go get you an apple or something,” she says, running her hands under the sink to wash off the extra flour. “Techno showed me where everything was before you woke up. I’ll be back in just a second. Stay put, okay?”
Dream nods, hiding his face and giving a small thumbs up. The trip downstairs is quick, only interrupted by a skulk of three foxes Techno apparently kept in his basement. The box with cooled fruit was propped up, probably to keep the foxes out of it, Niki mused, if the scratch marks on the side were anything to go off of. Dream was sitting in virtually the exact same position Niki had left him in, nervously glancing at her when she approached. At least he’s good at following directions, Niki noted. She held out the apple, waited a long few seconds for Dream to take it, then set it on the table next to him. Dream’s eyes watched her with rapt attention, almost like he was afraid she was suddenly going to turn around and attack him.
After that little experience, Niki went back to kneading dough as pleasantly as she could. She couldn’t explain the small smile that crept onto her lips when the inevitable crunch of an apple being eaten hit her ears after minutes of silence. Niki chalks it up to the fact that Techno would be happy that Dream ate and tries to move on from it as passively as she can.
Shuffling fills the corners of the house between the clanging of various pans and Niki’s humming. Dream had come a little closer, sitting stiffly at the counter and watching Niki work after throwing his apple core into Carl’s stable from the window. He keeps the notepad close to him, bouncing the pen back and forth against the solid surface. Niki greets him and starts explaining what she’s doing, to which Dream nods along. She tries to suggest Dream join the baking whenever she can, moving pans around and into the sink when they’ve become dirty. Dream’s eyes follow her hands as she gestures around, eyebrows twitching downward every few seconds. Every semi-loud sound makes his eyes blink in surprise and something else Niki can’t quite place. It goes on like this for about half an hour, with various levels of participation coming from Dream.
Eventually, he begins to look more and more lost in thought, distracted, even borderline frustrated, eventually dropping his pen roughly and tapping his pointer finger against the counter. His other hand goes to his hair, pulling, as a small whimper tumbled into the air. Dream’s nail makes a quick tap, tap, tap that sounds borderline panicky, only increasing in speed. His shoulders are tense, and because Niki is so used to providing comfort to those unscarred by touch, she reached out for his shoulder.
Dream jerks away as soon as her hand meets his shoulder, a small, distressed noise leaving his throat. He stumbles onto shaky legs, looking almost as if Niki burned him. Niki, in return, pulled her hand back to her chest. Dream holds up a finger, a small give me a moment, before distancing himself. He hangs his head and holds up his hands, shaking them out almost violently as he paces the living room.
“Dream?” Niki begins to ask, watching the man pace and shake his hands. What was he doing? What was going on?
Her thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sharp yelp when Dream suddenly turns and pushes over a chair. This is still Dream at the end of the day, and once upon a time, he was terrifying and dangerous. Niki clamps her hands down over her mouth to keep any further sound from escaping when it makes Dream flinch. His breath picks up in shakiness and speed until a loud crash makes the house go silent.
Dream’s head whips around, finding a pile of shattered glass on the floor next to the chair he flipped over and the table it apparently took on its way down. He stares at it for a good, long second, the breath stolen from his lungs. A quick, strangled sob leaves Dream’s mouth as he drops to his knees, scrambling for the glass pieces. Hot, fat tears fill the corners of Dream’s eyes. His hands are shaking so much it makes the glass pieces he picks up clink against each other. Almost desperately, Dream tries to wipe away the tears, and Techno’s worry about Dream hurting himself suddenly becomes much more apparent as the world catches up to Niki.
“Oh- Dream, no, we- let’s not-” Niki drops to her knees beside Dream, holding her hands out gently. “Let’s not do that, okay? You’ve got glass in your hands.”
Dream doesn’t stop. The tears and sobs only spilling harder and faster. Niki doesn’t think this can get any worse, so she slowly puts her hand over Dream’s, grasping it and pulling it away gently. There’s no resistance, even as Dream digs his chin into his chest. Pricks of blood are already forming on scratches left on Dream’s cheeks from the glass, quickly mixing with tears. Dream starts signing something frantically, and Niki doesn’t know what he’s saying, but, oh, she wishes she did.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Niki tries. “Are you worried Techno will be angry?”
Dream nods, choking on another sob.
“I’m sure he won’t be!” Niki presents her hands, cupped, to Dream again. “He really cares about you, alright? He won’t be mad over a broken cup, okay?”
Dream makes a strangled sound that almost sounds like a “but” as he snaps his head up to face Niki.
“No. No buts.” Niki pushes her hands forward pointedly. “I’ll clean up the glass, okay? I think you should go lay down on your bed and rest. Calm down a little, alright? I’m supposed to be here to help, and Techno would be upset if you hurt yourself. I’ll let you know when everything’s been taken care of.”
Shakily, Dream brings his free hand up to his face, fingers touching the newly formed cuts as his lips trace Niki’s words. His eyes go wide, pressing down on the tiny bubbles of blood forming. He drops the glass into Niki’s hands, staggering up with a sharp breath. He mutters something too faint for Niki to catch before disappearing into his room. Niki picks up the rest of the glass, her hands thankfully much steadier than Dream’s own despite what just happened. Periodically, she glances up to Dream’s room, watching, waiting.
She isn’t quite sure what she’s waiting for, maybe for him to come bursting out, angry at being coddled, or perhaps for him to come slinking back with shaky hands and hot tears and try to help again. Whatever it is, it never comes.
Carefully, Niki spends a few minutes making sure no shards had spread out over the house or that she misses any finite pieces. After her searches come back clean, Niki moves to the knocked-over furniture. She rights the table and chair Dream had knocked over, huffing out a small sigh of relief. The living room was clean again, thankfully. She hopes Techno won’t be mad. That would just make her look bad when Dream was so clearly distressed over the whole ordeal.
At the thought of Dream, Niki makes her way over to his room. She knocks, the wood giving way and opening up into the small room. Dream lays on his bed, curled up into a ball, and appears to be fast asleep. The blankets look almost deliberately untouched around him. Niki steps into the dark room, noting the closed blinds on his window. Everything is kept down to nearly a depressing minimum, the only trace of life in the room being the messy, yet unmoved, sheets and a single flowerpot laying on a chest.
It would be better to let him sleep, Niki thinks. The room is kept cold, and Niki doesn’t want Dream to get sick, so she decides to drape the untouched sheets over Dream’s sleeping form. As she pulls up the blankets around the sleeping body, though, Dreams’ eyes flutter open, and his body tenses. He turns his head to watch her silently.
“I’ve cleaned up the glass, so the living room is good to be in again,” Niki offers. She pulls her hands away, crouching down so she doesn’t loom over Dream. “I was going to let you sleep; sorry for waking you.”
Dream shrugs, not really looking like he had been sleeping in the first place. He sits up, glancing at the sheets pooling around him. Dream glances around, scrubbing at his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Despite Niki’s protests, he gets up and shuffles his way into the living room. His eyes fall on the now empty space on the table, sucking in a soft, shuddering breath. Niki comes to stand beside him.
“Hey,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m not angry, and they won’t be either, okay?”
Dream’s eyes flit from the table down to Niki. His body, slouched forward, leans a little closer to her as he nods silently. He looks back to the room, eyes squinting. He shoves his hands in his pockets and produces the pen and paper he’d kept on him; scribbling down, can you close the blinds? Niki smiles. She needs to encourage him to ask for things, too.
“Sure.”
Dream makes a home for himself on the couch. He eyes Niki’s book and they make idle chatter over it, Niki sitting across from him in the chair. They slide the notepad between each other on the table, both patiently waiting for the other to read or write before responding. Dream apologizes for the outburst. He said that he was feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t had to deal with something like that in a long time. The apology was accepted. Niki even manages to get a small laugh out of Dream, one that tugs gently on his throat and makes his chest stutter. It’s nice to see Dream’s smile, the way it cracks his face as he chuckles to himself. Somehow, it’s the most pride she’s felt in a while.
When Niki gets up to make herself some food, Dream takes her up on the offer to eat together. The list Techno left with what Dream could eat suddenly became very useful when preparing dinner. He doesn’t eat much and apologizes about it, for the hassle he must be causing, but it was what Niki was expecting anyway. Dream goes to sleep soon after that, pausing at his door and sending a quick, earnest thank you to Niki. She smiles.
“You’re welcome, Dream.”
Techno wasn’t mad, and neither was Phil. They seemed more focused on the fact that Dream actually ate a decently sized meal for the first time that week than anything else. Dream, who was hovering in the back, made sure to send Niki off with a little wave.
If she feels a little protective over him during the next Syndicate meeting, that was only her business. If she spoke in a hushed tone and kept an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into trouble, it was just general caution mixed with a bit of care. When she brought the loaves of bread with her on a visit, they were for Techno, Phil, and Dream, but she couldn’t deny the tiny bit of excitement that bloomed in her chest when Phil suggested Dream learn how to bake to help with tremors and outbursts.
If she let Dream into her stash or secret recipes for pies and bread, it stayed between them. Dream promised to keep them secret, and Niki didn’t doubt him. He smiled at her one day, growing nicely into the freckles that had started to speckle his skin, while his third batch of experimental dough was baking. Niki couldn’t help but smile back.
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songbirdstyles · 4 years
Text
when the levee breaks
summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.
warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of
song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin
word count: 9.5k
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There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.
It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.
It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.
The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.
Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.
Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.
 --
 After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.
You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change. 
He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation. 
“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”
“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”
And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.
You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.
Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?
Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.
 --
 It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.
It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.
303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.
“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table. 
He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”
“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.
But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”
You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”
“Olives?”
“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”
(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)
“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”
You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.
306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)
“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”
“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”
“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.
 --
 Holy shit.
You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.
You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.
“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.
“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.
“Yeah, I know.”
Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”
Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”
You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”
He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”
“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.
“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”
You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”
Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”
You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”
“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”
“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.
 --
 Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.
“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.
It’s always better to be safe than sorry.
“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not? 
He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”
“What’s your favorite?”
The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”
“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”
“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”
“And why’s that?”
He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”
He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”
You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.
You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci. 
No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.
The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.
No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.
Gentleman.
 --
 The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.
It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.
“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”
He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”
Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”
“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”
You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than  appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.
“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.
Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.
“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.
“The guy I took to the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”
She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”
You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”
“He was checking you out, babe.”
You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”
“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”
“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”
She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.
 --
 Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.
He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty  in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.
Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.
You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.
303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.
You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.
“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.
“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”
The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.
“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”
“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”
Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.
It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”
“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”
“What else d’you have t’do?”
“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”
Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”
You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”
It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.
You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”
“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.
Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it���s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.
You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.
 --
 Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.
You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.
You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.
He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.
(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)
“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”
“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”
He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”
“Really?”
“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”
“I could tell you were upset.”
“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”
You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”
He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”
“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”
“Y’did it first.”
“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”
It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”
For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”
You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”
Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”
Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.
 --
 For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.
There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?
“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”
He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”
“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide. 
“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”
“Y’wanna talk?”
“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.
He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.
“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.
“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”
“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”
It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.
“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”
“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.
Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.
Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.
A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.
He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.
“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -
The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.
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courtofwingsandruin · 3 years
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I’m so mad at the ACOTAR fandom right now and how they’re dealing with Azriel’s chapter.
Warning: under the cut is just me going off for way too long about Azriel and his extra chapter.
Azriel is a huge comfort character for me, and before I could get my hands on the actual extra chapter I saw tons of posts talking about how gross and OOC he was and the disgusting things he was saying about Elain.
I literally laid in bed crying over it because it hurt to think that this character I had invested so much into, that I had been desperate to hear more about, would be that horrible.
And then I read it and...It’s not that bad? Yeah, he speaks of her sexually and is turned on by her. Sure. But she’s also turned on by him in that moment? She’s wanting him just as badly? He can clearly see that she does, we can clearly see that she does. I haven’t read ACOSF, so I may be wrong, but as far as I know she hasn’t accepted the mating bond yet and has shown no sign of planning to do so. She hasn’t shown any sign of wanting to be Lucien’s mate, but she’s shown a very obvious sign in this chapter about liking Azriel and wanting him.
I didn’t like the whole “Rhys and Cass got their Archeron sisters, why don’t I have one?” thing either, because it does feel like he’s just projecting his loneliness onto Elain and assuming that the Cauldron was wrong because of a kind of dumb theory he has. But I didn’t really feel like he was calling himself entitled to her. If she did not want him, he would be acting completely different. But she is showing that she wants him, is interested in him, and isn’t showing any signs of being interested in Lucien (as far as I understand, correct me if I’m wrong). So yes, it was a weird and stupid thing for him to say, but I don’t think he’s thinking “She should be mine because of this one little crazy thing I noticed.” He’s saying “The Cauldron and the Fates have been wrong about mates in the past and I’m just thinking maybe it was wrong about Lucien and Elain because they don’t have chemistry and we do AND because of this one little crazy thing I noticed.” He just didn’t state it that way.
(Also, quick note: Azriel says he can defeat Lucien out of arrogance, yeah, but also remember that he didn’t do so just unprompted. Rhys was the one to be like “he could challenge you to this duel BS” and Az, who probably only has confidence in his powers and nothing else about himself, says back, “I would win” because...tbh I’d probably say that too if my brother was like “You want this girl but she bElOnGs to another man so he can fight you for her.”)
The line that stuck with me the most was this: “But she’d gotten Azriel one last year—a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he’d done every night he’d slept there.” I think it’s super important to read between the lines in chapters from the POV with characters like Azriel. He’s going to be a lot more open and upfront about his sexual desires than his romantic desires, even with himself, after spending so many years of pining after Mor for it to never happen. With how he has always been the one to try to stay stoned face and keep his personal feelings hidden. We see this with how, when Rhys brings up Mor, Azriel ignores it outright—and thus ignores his feelings. And I feel we also saw it with Gwyn and how he isn’t truly sure what he’s feeling towards her, which is the only reason we actually get a genuine view of those feelings towards the end of the extra chapter.
That quote kind of showed an inner working of his head that we aren’t seeing yet. He clearly isn’t only having sexual thoughts—he stares at this powder and probably thinks about a lot of damn things regarding Elain, not just regarding the bond and the sexual desires. Don’t forget that he’s been one of the few people to be her friend—sitting with her and listening to her and hanging out in the gardens with her in the previous books. His feelings are not only sexual. He’s just not showing us everything because this is only, what, 9 pages from him? We aren’t going to see every little thing he is feeling.
I believe, wholeheartedly, that the next book will be about Elain and Azriel. SJM has set up too much for them both for it to not be. For it to be about Elain and Azriel—unless she pulls a trick on us and has it focus solely on their individual development rather than their relationships, which is possible but I can’t see happening—this would mean that the two of them end up together (1 relationship per book, guys).
I’m not gonna go into Gwyn, because I don’t know much about her yet, and I don’t want to hit you guys with false information. But I feel like Azriel and Elain both have a lot of development to go through and Gwyn will be there with them, but I don’t really know if she is going to be a genuine love interest, or just someone who helps Azriel open up and be better—a good, true friend that he can count on.
The one thing I will say is that Elain and Mor have the parallel of making Azriel’s shadows disappear, or hide away—and Azriel definitely had romantic feelings for Mor. And Gwyn has a completely different effect on Azriel’s shadows. Whether this is a mating bond, or something else about Gwyn we have yet to find out, I don’t know. But I feel it’s definitely important to remember the similarities between how his shadows react to Elain and how they react to Mor versus how they react to Gwyn.
If you actually stuck around for all of this, thank you. I’m gonna go cry into my pillow now over how desperately I need ACOSF so I can focus on Nesta and Cassian and not all of this bull with Azriel and Elain and Lucien and Gwyn.
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hey! I only recently started reading acotar (i'm on the third book) and I love love love Lucien, and I'm super excited at the prospect of him and Elain... actually they are the main reason I'm reading at this point but all I've seen on twt is about the other ship for Elain 😔 Is there any hope for Elain x Lucien in the later books?? I'm asking bc I don't want to get major spoilers but also I'm tired of getting my heart broken by non endgame ships lol
Welcome to the Lucien and Elucien train!! We're very happy to have to you! 😊💕
I wouldn't worry about what people are saying on twitter. Just because one part of the fandom is more vocal doesn't mean their ship is more popular or that it has more chance of happening in canon. Right now neither ship is canon. But absolutely there is hope for Elucien!!
First Elucien are mates. Sarah loves mates/soulmates. We've seen that with Feysand and Nessian, and I don't know if you've read Throne of Glass but the main ship in that series are also mates and the main ship in Sarah's other series, Crescent City also show signs of being soulmates. Sarah loves writing about that deep soulmate type of love! They might have to overcome obstacles but ultimately they choose each other.
Also Sarah has talked about how in her early planning she briefly considered making Nesta and lucien mates but quickly realised they wouldn't work together/would tear each other apart. If Sarah really wanted to write about a rejected mating bond she could have left Nesta and Lucien mates and had them reject the bond. But she didn't because she loves soulmates.
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Sarah has also said this about Elucien "there was actually a great deal of tension, growth and healing to be found for both of them together" She's never said anything ever about the other ship as far as I know? Certainly nothing romantic.
There is so much potential for healing between Elain and Lucien. One of the things I love about Elucien is they have so much in common. They're both gentle souls. Some people might not realise that about Lucien, but he really is. Lucien is someone who is deeply traumatised from violence, you see it in the first book in the scene when the injured Faery is brought into the Spring Court manor and he's deeply distressed by it. It clearly triggers his ptsd from his own trauma, but it also shows us that Lucien is someone who can't stomach violence, at least not in the way some of the other characters do. And Elain, well at this stage, since we haven't really seen her development or gotten her pov yet, being a kind gentle heart is really her defining character trait. They're two characters who would cherish a peaceful life away from war and violence. Two characters with the potential to be so soft together, to provide each other with a safe space to be vulnerable, and show their weaknesses and talk about their trauma. And be comforted by the other and have the other understand. They have such complimentary personalities. Something the other ship doesn't have. Azriel is a torturer (I love Az btw so this isn't a critiscm just observations about his character) he is filled with a cold hard rage, something Elain hasn't seen from him/doesn't truely know about him. And currently he's most definitely not one to open up and share about his own trauma, which certaintly doesn't work for two characters making a healing journey together. Something Sarah, as shown above see's as important. Elain and Azriel are simply too different imo. And I know people can argue opposite's attract. But opposite's attract only applies to a certain point, with certain things. If two people are just fundementally different a relationship won't work between them long term.
Meanwhile Elain and Lucien have just enough differences that they're not too similar but have enough in common to mesh really well together.
And even their differences are complimentary. Lucien has a bit of bite and sass about him, and that's something I think Elain needs to help bring her out of her shell. Elain is someone who has been coddled and infantalised and sheltered, people don't challenge her or speak freely to her, they censor themselves around her. Very minor spoilers seeing as you're only up to the third book, but in the 5th book, Acosf there's a moment where Nesta snaps/swears at Elain, and Nesta immediately regrets it because you don't talk to sweet precious Elain like that. But Elain just laughs. Elain wants people to speak freely to her, to stop sheltering her and show her some sass and bite. And who's the perfect person to do that, our boy Lucien!! Again some minor spoilers but I love this comparison
Lucien in Acotar
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Elain in Acosf
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Look at this parallel between them *chefs kiss*
Like Sarah said these are two characters that will push growth in each other and challenge each other. In a way that Azriel and Elain don't. Azriel, and this is very apparent in Acosf, coddles Elain, he speaks for her, makes choices for her, wants to stops her from doing things, without ever thinking about or asking Elain what she wants. He does it to protect her but is disregarding her choice. Lucien on the other hand, and again some spoilers if you haven't reached the end of Acowar yet this is after the final battle
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He's clearly worried about her but he doesn't let HIS worry/fear get in the way of HER agency.
"And I heard you made the killing blow" He sounds almost proud of her, like he would encourage her despite his own worry, and wants to see her strong and flourish.
What I also love in this scene is that again it shows how their both gentle hearts. "Well I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live" Lucien will fight and do what he needs to (and so will Elain if she has to). But Lucien isn't a warrior he would much rather never have to see war or battle ever again.
And then we have multiple references to Elain needing sunlight, needing to get outside, needing light to thrive. Again minor spoilers but there is also a scene in Acosf where Elain is wearing black and it's mentioned how she looks plain, overwhelmed, subdued by the colour, like it doesn't suit her at all. There are a lot of subtle references suggesting Elain doesn't quite truely belong in the Night Court, that it's not where she can thrive. And who is associated with two courts, Spring and Day, where Elain could thrive? Who is associated with fire and warmth and light? Who is the heir of the day court? You got it our boy Lucien. Elain needs light and Lucien is light!! Literally the name Lucien means light! Coincidence? I think not.
Another similarity between them is Lucien is a diplomat, someone who uses words and charm and communication to keep the peace between courts. And Elain is said by Feyre to be be able to convince people to do anything, to charm them, to excel in social settings. And she was the one who kept the peace between her family, was the bridge between her father, Nesta and Feyre. And Imagine if in the future Lucien takes on a role in the day court or (and I'm sorry Helion) for whatever reason becomes the High Lord of Day Court, Elain could be an amazing Lady of Day, would flourish and charm at court balls or social occassions. Not to mention they both have great hair and are always put together/dressed immaculately. Like they would be A PAIR!
Then there's the gifts Lucien gives Elain (again minor spoilers for Acofas and Acosf) which are so thoughtful. In Acofas he gives her magical gardening gloves knowing gardening is something she loves and that she doesn't have any. And in Acosf he gives her pearl earrings, and pearls are somehing that are mentioned in relation to Elain a couple of other times. But it's like Lucien has noticed they're something she likes? These are just minor things but it's interesting that Sarah included them in her writing. It's almost as if she's subtly trying to hint that Lucien notices things about Elain, and see's her in a way that perhaps other's don't?
Also there's that Elain is very traditional and adheres to a quite a traditional type of femininity and Lucien is a complete and utter gentleman, who absolutely respects Elain and her needs. The potential for them to have an old fashioned courting romance asdgjkgfsa my heart the softness!! I also think they're going to end up being the epitome of your lover is your best friend.
And lastly, in Acosf there is a bonus chapter from Az's pov which ends with Azriel's focus on another character, and I would say personally that this chapter very clearly sinks that other ship.
Anyway in conclusion Elucien are going to be the most beautiful, softest, sweetest, supportive, with some sass as well, ship. So don't worry my friend. And even in the very small chance they don't become canon we can still enjoy all of these things about them in fanon. They will be canon though lol
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thefanficmonster · 3 years
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Filterless
Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)
Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing
Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.
Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤
If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.
Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.
Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.
Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 
With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.
Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.
I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.
This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.
We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 
And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.
Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.
You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.
It’s like a constant slap to the face. 
That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 
Like the one I made two days ago.
Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 
Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 
I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.
As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:
“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“
I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 
Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.
I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.
I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.
I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.
I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.
You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?
I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.
I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.
“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“
Because I’m not
I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.
And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.
With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.
In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.
I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’
A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.
Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.
“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“
My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.
Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?
It sure is, it sure is.
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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years
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travel books and romance novels // Colin Bridgerton
Summary: Colin visits the library for research into his next trip; he didn’t expect to find you.
A/N: Colin’s desire to travel honestly reflects my own. For purposes of the fic, I have aged Colin up - it’s more to fit the plot line of Book Four which is his book anyway. I’m not sure how to feel about this fic, I'm happy with it but I’m not at the same time. I’m not being too harsh on myself however, this is my first time writing for Colin and I haven't got to grips with his character yet. I hope you all like!! <3
Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Colin is very cute, pining, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, female reader, she/her pronouns, marriage proposal, happy ending.
Word count: 4k
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Colin Bridgerton had spent over two decades of his life on this planet and had yet to find something or someone he loves more than travelling. The bug first bit him in his early twenties; desperate to experience a Grand Tour – a tradition of which that had strongly died out in the past century. He had read about it so often; dreamed of it nearly every day that eventually he put the idea forward to Anthony and his mother, Violet.
Though Violet was apprehensive at first, she warmed up to the idea once Colin gave her permission to choose some of the countries he would visit. Anthony held no qualms; having travelled to France and Spain before tragedy forced the family title upon his shoulders. Being able to travel would forge Colin into the man he should be; it would give him experience, and plenty of stories to tell his children and then eventually, their children.
Upon arriving back in London after his second trip away, Colin found himself glad to be home. He had sorely missed the sounds and smells that accompany London; the clipping of horses hooves and the constant chit-chat of men and women. It was home; it would always be home.
However, as he stepped off the boat or the train, Colin always wondered the same thing. How long would it be until he craved adventure once more?
------------
A month.
Colin lasted a month in the company of his beloved family before he was desperate to head off on his next adventure. However, he had no clear destination in mind. He had visited Europe, toured the Mediterranean and had hopes of crossing the Atlantic one day soon, but for now - to save his mother’s poor nerves - was content to remain closer to home.
He wasn’t one to visit libraries himself, usually sending a list of books with a servant whenever they visited the place, but this time he fancied the walk to stretch his legs. He had decided that research was the best way forward into finding his next destination, his next adventure. The library could offer such a thing.
It truly was a thing of wonder; so many books and serial publications at home in one place. The library at Bridgerton House was well stocked and Colin knew he could walk in freely and take whatever he would need, but there was something attractive about going out to find exactly what you need. There was also the added bonus of a lack of interrogation from his much-loved mother.
A huff leaves his body as Colin is pitched forward; barely catching himself before knocking into one of the shelves. Turning, Colin readies the words he wants to fling at the person who had yet they die in his throat when he finds you standing behind him with an apologetic look on your face, close to tears.
“Mr. Bridgerton!” You gasp, bowing your head politely and in apology, “I hadn’t meant to walk into you.”
Colin smiles, brushing down his suit jacket, “It’s no worry, Miss (Y/L/N). No harm done.”
“I hope not,” You reply, biting your lip.
His smile grows wider at the note of concern in your voice. “Truly, Miss (Y/L/N), no harm done.”
“Nevertheless, I apologise.”
“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding at the two books in your hand, changing the subject.
“They’re romances,” You admit shyly, “I read to my aunt twice a week. She rather enjoys them.”
“And you? Do you enjoy them?”
“There are some that I enjoy, yes, but I prefer books with adventures if I’m being honest.”
“Adventures?”
You nod, “I like them very much. What do you read?”
Colin frowns; confused at the question. You gesture to the shelves of books surrounding you, “What do you like to read, Mr. Bridgerton? We are in a library after all.”
“Non-fiction,” He replies, nodding his head to the stack dedicated to true life accounts of travellers. “I’m here doing research.”
“Research?”
“For where I want to travel to next,” Colin clarifies; walking towards the stack, all the while knowing you’re following.
“Have you an idea?”
He shakes his head; disappointed at the admission. For his last two trips abroad, he had known exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do and see. Now, however, he was struggling for ideas.
You nod your head; seemingly understanding the predicament Colin has found himself in. Holding close the hardcover editions of the romances your aunt loved so much, you take a step back from the third eldest Bridgerton.
“I hope you find your location soon, Mr. Bridgerton,” You murmur in farewell, turning away from the tall brunette.
“I hope you enjoy your romances,” Colin replies, watching you walk away. Fleetingly, he wonders if he will see you again.
------------
The library remains just as silent as the last time Colin visited. The books he had borrowed heavy in his hands as he returns them to the attendant who nods in thanks. Distantly, he wonder whether he will run into you again. Since meeting you last, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.
Colin barely knew you or your family; didn’t know much about your lineage or even whether you knew of his, yet he had not stopped thinking about you and the way you held your books so close to your chest, as if protective of them and what they held even if you didn’t own them. He couldn’t explain the urge he had to get to know you. Colin felt certain that if he wasn’t to see you in the next day or so he was to go mad from the unknown.
Luckily for his sanity, he spies a familiar head of hair amongst the shelves, and he cannot help the surge of happiness that runs through him when he recognises you reading the spines of the books. “Miss (Y/L/N)!” Colin calls out in greeting; rushing over to you.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” You smile, “How have you been? Have you decided on your next destination?”
“I have not though I’ll think of something soon.”
“I look forward to finding out. I’m sure Lady Whistledown will report on it.”
“I’m sure she will,” He drawls; his contempt for the author of the gossip sheet well known amongst family and friends. “How did the romances go down with your aunt? Did she enjoy them?”
Nodding your head, you explain, “Very much so. She usually stays awake for a chapter or two before falling asleep, but this time she stayed awake for close to five. I’m here looking for more books by the same author.”
“Would you like some help?”
“Only if you aren’t too busy. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something more important.”
Colin shakes his head. “I would be happy to help.”
It takes the better part of an hour. Colin proving to be a distraction to your thoughts as you trawl through the shelves in the library. His very presence throws your mind into overdrive; overthinking his intentions for helping you, but also noticing just how handsome he truly is.
“I think we have enough for now,” You eventually comment, finding it hard to keep the sadness out of your voice as you realise that your time with the Bridgerton is up.
“Are three books enough?” Colin asks warily, as if he doesn’t want the time spent together to end either.
Sighing, you nod, “It’s enough to keep her occupied for a while. It takes us a few weeks to get through one book with me visiting her only twice a week.”
Colin nods understandingly, “Then the other romance novels must be for you.”
You raise an eyebrow, “I much prefer adventure novels though I did tell you that the first time we had met. Though I suppose I didn’t make that much of an impression.”
“I can assure you; you did. I just couldn’t help but notice that you must read far quicker than your aunt so surely you must read the other books you have borrowed.”
Caught out, you avert your gaze back to the books in your hand. Colin tries not to smile in triumph but fails miserably. “How often do you come here?” Colin asks, “Do you borrow books for your aunt alone, or do you read to another relative?”
Pursing your lips, you think over your answer. “I only read to my aunt and I suppose I come here at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday.”
Colin nods, “I shall see you next Wednesday then.”
Watching the Bridgerton walk away from you, you cannot help but wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.
-------------
The friendship that develops with Colin Bridgerton felt entirely natural; as if at some point in your lives your paths were always meant to cross, and a friendship was to begin. Colin finds you in and amongst the stacks of books the following week; a triumphant grin on his lips and his eyes bright with happiness when he finds you once again in the romance aisle.
He starts to offer you suggestions of books to read, meeting you at the library week after week; all the whole continuing his research into where he wants to travel next. He hasn’t settled on a destination, yet he comes to realise that this is the longest he has remained in London in years. Usually, Colin would return home, manage a month with his family before taking off again. A routine his mother has come to despise despite offering her blessing for every trip.
Weeks continue to pass and whilst his family know that Colin has become infatuated with someone, he isn’t ready to share you with them yet. He isn’t ready for the inspecting glances and interrogations from his mother, brothers, and sisters. For now, Colin was more than content to share you with the romance books you swear you don’t love as much as you truly do.
------------
The café is busy and getting busier from a lunch rush when Colin sits down across from you. His hair remains a mess despite how often he runs his hands through it in an attempt to flatten it; his eyes are bright as he smiles widely at you.
“I thought you were going to be late,” You admonish, but there’s no heat behind it.
Colin takes a sip of his tea, “I could never be late, not for you.”
“You’re a flatterer.”
“And you’re a romance fan, no matter how many times you try to deny it. Tell me, what are you reading right now?”
You purse your lips, deciding whether to relay the information to him, but the longer you wait, the larger his smile gets. “Definitely not those novels,” You comment, “There is romance in my latest book, but I am reading it for the adventure. It has pirates if you must know, very adventurous.”
Colin laughs, reaching for one of the small cakes on the stand.
“I don’t know how I stand your company,” You complain, trying your best to calm your stomach long enough for you to enjoy the food on your plate. The butterflies raging there were making it rather hard.
“You like me, that’s why.”
“I suppose that is more judgement on me than it is you.”
Colin’s only answer is to wink before returning his attention to the food on his plate. For a while, it is silent between the two of you. happy smiles are exchanged between you both and quiet laughter when you both reach for the same cake; Colin, ever so gracious, lets you have the cake. Instead, he tops up his tea and then yours from the teapot.
“I would like to visit Russia next; I think – St. Petersburg,” Colin declares, breaking the silence once and for all.
“Truly? You would travel so far?” You ask, eyes wandering to the globe on the table in the corner of the room, a display item. Centred on England, Russia could not be seen for the distance between them.
“I’d travel to all four corners of the earth if I could,” Colin admits, voice honest.
You sit back in your chair, eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of travelling even outside the county without a chaperone. “I’d love to travel.”
“It is a marvel,” Colin smiles, thinking back to his trips through Europe and the Mediterranean.
“The only chance I’ll get to travel is on my honeymoon which will be a marvel in itself,” You reply, picking at an invisible thread on your skirts.
“Why?”
You sigh, “Mother doesn’t hold much hope for my marrying. She believes that I have been out for too many seasons and have nothing left to offer that could possibly entice a man into courting me, never mind proposing.”
Colin finds himself gripping the arm of his chair in an attempt to keep his anger at bay. Such words leaving your mouth should be a crime. You have plenty to offer. However, at the sight of your slumped shoulders and sad eyes, Colin realises that you believe the words of your mother; that you truly have nothing left to offer.
On a whim, Colin asks, “Are you attending the Duchess of Hasting’s ball tonight?”
Shaking your head, you explain, “Mother isn’t one for huge events no matter the title of its holder.”
Colin surges forward, grasping your gloved hand, “Come, please. My sister won’t mind. I’ll have her add you to the guest list and send a carriage for you.”
You remain silent as you think over his proposition, ready to turn him down and return to your life of safety but the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile leaves you nodding your head instead.
“Alright,” You agree, “I shall wait for you carriage.”
------------
The London home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings could only be described as grand. Candles line the way to courtyard in which the ball would be held; they provide a romantic atmosphere, providing many a dark corner where young couples could sneak away from their chaperones.
Upon your announcement, you find yourself walking through the large crowd of people, unwittingly searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He finds you first, however, smiling widely as he notices you in the crowd.
Colin excuses himself from his conversation; making his way over to you as fast as he can without bringing too much attention to himself.
“You came,” Colin breathes as if in disbelief that you stand before him. His eyes run over you; taking it all in as his heart races. He hasn’t felt like this before; he hasn’t ever known anyone to make him feel like this. Colin feels as if he wants to show you everything, introduce you to everyone, but also keep you for himself should anyone want to steal you away.
“I said I would,” You smile, heated from his attention.
“You look beautiful,” Colin states truthfully.
“Thank you,” You answer, “You look very handsome too.”
“Would you care to dance?” Colin asks, a hand outstretched and waiting.
Smiling, you nod your acceptance. You take his offered hand, letting him leads you to the dancefloor where many other couples are readying themselves for the opening notes of the dance. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Anthony’s eldest brother getting ready to dance with his wife, Kate. He offers Colin a smile and a nod to which Colin’s shoulders relax somewhat. You raise an eyebrow at the brunette only for Colin to shake his head; nothing you need to worry about.
Colin’s hands find themselves in the correct position son your body as you reach for his free hand, resting your hand on his shoulder. The music soon starts up and Colin begins to lead you round the dancefloor in a flurry of spins that leaves you giggling. His face lights up at the sound of your laughter, soon finding himself joining in.
“Stay for one more dance?” He asks as the music dies and you pull away, desperate not to let go of you just yet, happy enough right now to feel your hand in his and your body pressed so close.
“I’d love to,” You answer honestly, letting yourself be pulled back to the dancefloor where Colins hands soon start to feel like home on your body.
By the end of the second dance, you begin to feel dizzy from the spinning. Smiling gratefully at Colin, you apologise for having to bow out. He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “Shall we get a drink? I’m sure I saw some lemonade not too long ago.”
“Lemonade sounds perfect. I seem to have worked up quite a thirst.”
“Then by all means,” Colin declares, bowing dramatically at the waist, “We must get the lady a drink.”
Laughing softly, you follow Colin to the drinks table where he hands you a small glass of the cold drink. He goes to take a drink from his own glass but is distracted by his mother calling his name. Colin apologises before leaving you in the company of his sisters, Eloise and Hyacinth.
“Good evening, mother,” Colin greets, dropping his head to kiss her on her cheek.
“Two dances in a row?” She asks as greeting, curious to know just who has distracted her son in this manner.
Colin ducks his head; not ashamed to have been caught out in his feelings, but ashamed that he hasn’t introduced you to his family as of yet. Across the room, despite the music, he hears your laughter. His attention rests on you as he watches you laugh at something said by either Eloise or Hyacinth. Your smile is wide as you try to cover it with your hand; trying to be polite but neither sister care that much as they continue to make you laugh.
You’re beautiful, he realises. He’s known it all along, of course, but with that smile on your face, Colin cannot help but desire to be the one who brings such a smile to life. He wants to be the cause of your smiles and your laughter; the reasons why your eyes crinkle in the corner. He wants it all; he wants it with you.
“I think you know why you haven’t set off on another adventure,” Violet states pointedly; eyes dancing between her son and where you stand, talking to Eloise and Hyacinth. A mother always knows.
Colin’s eyes don’t need to follow his mother’s; they had been on you since you excused yourself from him. He’s finally ready to confront what he had known along. “I think I know too. Do you approve?” He asks; realising he sounds like a child desperate for his mother’s attention.
Violet Bridgerton smiles, brushing Colin’s cheek softly with a gloved hand. “I think you suit each other perfectly.”
The smile that breaks over Colin’s face could only be described as blinding as he takes his mother’s hand from his face, kissing the back of it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Against her cheek, he whispers, “Thank you, mother.”
Violet nods, eyes lined with tears as she watches her third eldest son walk away from her. She would be the first to admit how well suited you both are; the need for adventure alive in the both of you. She shakes her head fondly as she watches her son make his way over to you; holding out his hand, asking you to dance to which you graciously accept.
Violet begins to walk the outskirts of the ballroom; feeling nothing but pride and happiness for each one of her children and elated in the knowledge that there was soon to be another marriage in the Bridgerton household.
-----------
The morning after the ball is a pleasant one. The weather wonderfully warm as the sun shines through the windows; heating the drawing room pleasantly. Turning your face, you take in the rays, careful not to risk too much exposure.
Your latest read remains open on your lap as you continue to bask in the warmth of the sun. So far, the book has captured your attention and has failed to let it go. The heroine of the novel too relatable personality wise for you to take a break long enough. At this point in the novel, she had offered an ultimatum to her suitor – he can join her on her next escapade, or he can find another woman to marry. You could only hope he would join her in her next adventure; their comradery was too perfect to end so suddenly.
However, after the events of last night, you found it hard to focus on the book long enough to turn the page. Instead, you found yourself reading the same line over and over again, desperately trying to lose yourself in the witty prose of the author.
But your mind focused on last night: the music, the dancing, the company. It had been a dream; it felt like a dream – only your mind could cook something up so perfect, yet deep down you knew you had experienced every second. You were certain you were still dizzy from the spins you had taken when dancing with Colin.
Biting your lip, you think back to the three dances you had shared with the third eldest Bridgerton. Three dances – could it be true? Shaking your head, you answer your own question. It was true; you remember every moment with crystal clarity. Three dances with Colin had to mean something; it had to mean he felt something for you. Your heart begins to race as you think of the possibilities
“Miss,” Your Butler states, interrupting your daydreaming, “A Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to call on you.”
“Show him in,” You answer, standing from your window seat, brushing down the skirts of you dress. Biting your lip, you could only hope that you looked presentable.
“(Y/N),” Colin greets as he enters the room, a large smile on his face. A bouquet of red roses and lady’s breath in his hand that he offers to you.
“They’re beautiful, Colin. Thank you,” You whisper, eyes darting around the room for a vase. They would be put in there after Colin had left.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“What did I do to deserve flowers though?” You ask, a teasing note in your voice.
Colin smiles, “I know where I want to travel to next. I came to tell you.”
A pang of disappointment rushes through your body soon followed by upset. Placing the flowers on the nearest table, you do what you can to avoid his gaze as you ask, “When do you leave?”
“That’s the thing,” He starts, shifting nervously, “I have something to ask of you before.”
“What?”
“Travel with me. Come with me,” He all but pleads, reaching for your hand, “As my wife.”
Your eyes widen as Colin’s grip on your hand tightens. “What?” You question, breath coming in a hurry. “What are you asking me, Colin?”
“I’m asking you to marry me so we can travel together. I’ve seen the world once; I want to see it again with you.”
“I have to admit this isn’t what I expected today,” You ramble, trying your best to not look into his eyes. The moment you do, you’re done for.
“(Y/N)…” Colin interrupts, cutting off your nervous rambling. “I need to know an answer, love.”
It’s only then that you let yourself look into his blue eyes; reading the emotions written over his face. He was promising you adventure; the likes of which you had only read in books. Colin was promising you a future full of love and laughter; a dream you had hoped for since you were a young child.
Suddenly, as you look into his blue, blue eyes, it’s all clear.
“Yes,” You whisper, somewhat breathless but entirely ready to begin your future with the man in front of you, “Let’s see the world together.”
********
Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff​
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