#and who knows how much blood she has since she had her in captivity for days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortscripts · 5 months

Text

The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio. Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek. Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #president snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #tbosas #tom blyth x reader

999 notes · View notes

punkshort · 4 months

Text

look what we've become - ch.8

Chapter Summary: Your POV from captivity. You learn some interesting information about the Fireflies and run into an unexpected person from your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, torture, one teeny tiny 'daddy' reference (couldn't help myself, more of a nod to the fandom than anything), infected, reader gets roughed up, description of injuries and pain

WC: 4.7K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"You said take the girl, so I took the girl!"

"I meant the fucking kid, not her!"

You stifled a groan, your eyes still shut tight, unable to handle the brightness from the overhead lighting. Your head was spinning, and if you moved too much, your stomach heaved, so you laid as still as possible, hoping and praying whatever was going to happen would happen quickly.

The smell didn't help, either. You had no idea where you were, but your cheek was pressed up against a cool, tile floor and the entire room smelled like rot. You heard a muffled, rhythmic thumping against a wall in the corner of the room. It felt damp and humid, like maybe you were in a cabin or a basement. And you definitely were not alone. Once you woke from whatever drug they had slipped into your neck, you did your best to still appear asleep, hoping that maybe you could find out some helpful information while your captors still thought you couldn't hear them.

The two voices continued to argue - a man and a woman - about the mix-up. Ellie. They were after Ellie, not you. That frightened you even more.

How long has it been since you've been taken? Hours? A day?

Joel would have made them leave. He wouldn't have kept her there after he realized what happened. If not to protect her, he would have moved to try to find you. As much as you didn't want him to come looking for you, to put Ellie in harm's way, you knew he would. You had no idea how many people were part of this group that took you, but it was definitely too many for Joel to handle on his own. And he wouldn't waste time going back to Jackson for help.

You needed to get out of there before Joel got himself killed trying to find you.

The voices continued to talk, the volume increasing, the words becoming clearer. They were getting closer to where you were tied up on the floor. Why did the one voice sound vaguely familiar? Did you know these people?

"We sent another crew out to fix your fuck up," the woman said, her shoes squeaking on the tile. "You better hope they find her, or it's your ass."

"Yes, ma'am," the man's voice said weakly.

"I know you're awake," the woman's voice said icily. Part of you wanted to remain still and call her bluff, but her boot was too close to your already tender head, and you didn't want to risk another hit. You allowed one eye to crack open, the light like an icepick in your brain. You brought your hands up to shield your eyes as you struggled to sit upright with your wrists and ankles tied together.

When you finally sat up, you leaned your head back with a sigh, trying to get your bearings and calm your churning stomach before forcing both eyes open to look at your captor for the first time.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," you croaked, surprised at how rough your own voice sounded.

Amy laughed and jumped up on a gurney behind her, swinging her legs back and forth over the edge, the motion making you nauseous the longer you watched.

Amy. Joel's ex-fiancée and the woman who helped lead the group of animals who took you both in long before you found Jackson, under the guise of it being a safe community but failing to mention that community ran on a very primitive form of currency.

"Yeah, thought you'd be happy to see me," she said with a chuckle, flicking her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Elated," you said dryly, sliding your eyes back closed.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't exactly thrilled to see you, either."

"That does make me feel better, thank you," you snapped, opening your eyes again to glare at her.

"You do realize I hold the key to your release, right? Maybe treat me with a little respect," Amy said, the fake smile slipping from her face.

"You and I both know I'm not getting out of here," you replied, but she shook her head.

"Not necessarily. If we can't find the girl, you're our contingency plan."

You narrowed your eyes, the rage beginning to burn deep in your chest. Knowing you would regret it, you asked the question anyway.

"What do you mean?"

Amy smirked as she slid down from the gurney and bent down to look you in the eye.

"What I mean is, he would do anything to get you back. Including giving up the kid."

Something in you snapped. You lunged forward, swinging your head and smashing it directly into her nose. You heard the distinctive crunch right as the blood began to pour out of both nostrils. She stumbled back in shock, clutching her face while she howled in pain. Even though your head felt like it was splitting in two, you grinned. Worth it.

Once the pain subsided, she dropped her hands, her face smeared with dark red blood, her nose turning purple and swollen, clearly broken.

"You fucking bitch," she muttered. She took one step forward and swung her leg back, the toe of her boot coming in direct contact with your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to make a single noise indicating you were in any pain, not giving her the satisfaction. But the blood that was pooling in your mouth told a different story.

Amy laughed as she watched you spit blood on the tile next to you.

"You're gonna regret that," she said, walking backwards towards the door. "Your people really had us chasing you all over the goddamn place, even lost a few friends. I got some guys outside who would love to break a few of your bones for all that."

As the door slammed shut, you finally allowed yourself to take a shaky breath in and look around. Even though you were alone, you still heard the thumping coming from the corner of the room. You leaned forward, trying to see what was causing the noise, but all you saw was a small room with a stainless steel door sealed shut. There were gurneys everywhere, some of them broken, some not. Between you and the door there were six flat, stainless steel tables in front of what looked like refrigerators. Chancing a look up at the lights, you noticed some appeared to be the type you might see in a dentist's office or an operating room. Then it dawned on you.

You were in a morgue.

You couldn't be sure how much time had passed. You lost consciousness a few times. Amy wasn't kidding. The men she employed were pissed, and they took it out on you with every punch and kick. Each time you woke up, you felt a new pain somewhere in your body. A new broken bone or a new cut. Eventually, Amy returned, and even in your wrecked state, you still found a sliver of pleasure seeing her nose taped up and the dark bruise blooming under each of her eyes.

"Had enough yet?" she asked with a smirk. You snarled in response and spit more blood on the ground.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me where Joel and the girl are," she said, holding her hands out to her sides like it was obvious.

"I have no idea," you said truthfully, struggling to sit up.

"Okay, why don't you tell me where home is, and we can start there?" she offered, and you laughed.

"You should just go ahead and kill me if that's what you want," you told her, glaring at her with one eye, the other swollen shut already.

"Don't think we won't," she said, tilting her head to the side as she regarded you silently for a moment, her thoughts clearly drifting to something else.

"What?" you asked her through gritted teeth.

"Don't you think he's a little old for you?" she finally asked, her eyes raking up and down your body. You knew it would always boil down to this. You knew she could never see past your relationship with Joel. What he was willing to do for you, what he has done for you, what she lost and would never have.

"What, do you have daddy issues or something?" she asked with a scoff.

You smirked as more blood trickled down your chin, the cut on your lip refusing to heal.

"Sometimes he likes it when I call him daddy, if that's what you mean," you told her. The face she made was worth the kick to the head. You giggled and coughed, the pain and the smell and the insanity of everything happening finally hitting home.

"He's gonna kill you, you know," you said with a grin, leaning up against the cool tile wall. "Even if you kill me. Especially if you kill me, he will find you, and he will kill you."

Amy was smirking at you, but you saw the look in her eye. It was fast, but you caught it. She knew you were right.

"We'll see," she said, backing up so she could lift herself up on one of the stainless steel tables. She watched you for a moment, blood trickling out of every wound, bruises deepening in color with each passing minute. You were pretty sure your arm and a couple ribs were broken and you most definitely had a concussion, but you refused to show any weakness. You glared at her from your spot on the ground, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

"Do you know what we do here?" she asked you. The question took you off guard.

"Other than torture people? No."

She laughed at that.

"We're trying to make a fucking vaccine," she told you, like she expected you to be grateful. You already figured that much out, but you didn't say so.

"How's that going for you?" you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It would be a lot fucking better if we had that goddamn girl," she told you. Her emotions were getting the best of her. You could hear it with every word, and it put you even more at ease. They were desperate.

"Oh, yeah?" you said. "That's a shame."

"Do you have any idea how many people sacrificed themselves for this cause?" she asked, her brows furrowed. You shrugged.

"Enlighten me."

"Countless," she said, jutting her chin towards the room in the corner. You looked over at the closed door. The thumping was fainter when you were alone, but now that Amy was talking, the noise started up again.

"There's a lot of people who are immune, you know," she began, and you felt your muscles tense. "So many of them gave their lives to help us find a cure. We are so close. Our doctor just needs one more, and that kid is the answer." You began to put the pieces together, and the noise in the corner was starting to make sense. You felt your stomach roll.

"Sounds like a really shitty doctor if they let so many people die," you told her, and she scoffed.

"He's brilliant. You have no idea how difficult it is to extract DNA in this type of setting, and - I don't even know why I'm bothering," she said, shaking her head. "The point is, that girl could save us all."

"You said it yourself. There's a lot of people who are immune," you mumbled. You could feel yourself fading but you fought to stay awake. "Find someone else."

"Fuck that," she said, jumping down from the table and crouching in front of you. "Where is she?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," you whispered, your good eye sliding shut.

"Don't you dare pass out!" she shrieked, slapping you across the face. The adrenaline perked you up for a few seconds, but the blood loss ultimately won, and you slipped back into darkness.

You woke up to the sound of gunfire coming from the floors above you. The noise was faint, but it was distinctive. Pop, pop, pop. How long were you out for this time? Was it nighttime? There were no windows, you had no semblance of time other than the hunger that gnawed at your insides as more hours passed without food or water.

You blinked and looked around, confirming you were still alone before trying to sit up. The blood loss was too much, your head was pounding, and your side felt like you had been hit by a bus. Slumping back down, you took a few deep breaths before trying again. The gunshots were getting closer, and your adrenaline was spiking, giving you the little boost you needed to force yourself up. You looked down, trying to assess the damage to your body. Your upper thigh had a big, weeping gash, probably the culprit for the majority of your blood loss. Your one eye was still swollen but you could crack it open just a bit now if you really had to. Your cheekbone felt like it might be broken, and a few ribs were definitely broken, but at least your knees and ankles were good. If you could cut the ties, you could run. Or stumble.

As the gunfire got closer, the thumping against the door in the corner of the room got louder. There was no doubt in your mind at this point that they kept infected in there, and you just hoped you weren't still tied up if they got out.

Your brain was foggy, you were having a hard time staying focused, but the panic began to set in. Why was there gunfire? What was happening? Then a hazy thought drifted by in the back of your mind. Joel?

There was no way he could have found you this fast. He wouldn't have put the pieces together. You barely could keep up with what was happening. But then the door handle jiggled and a small form snuck into the room quietly and you thought you must have been dying. Surely, you were hallucinating, your brain short circuiting as it began to shut down, because there was no possible way Ellie was actually crouching in front of you, repeating your name urgently as she tugged on your restraints to no avail.

"Shit, hold on," you heard her mutter, setting the familiar looking hunting rifle on the floor next to her so she could fish her switchblade out of her pocket. Yes, you were most definitely hallucinating. Joel wouldn't have given her his rifle. Unless...

"Is he dead?" you rasped, finally finding your voice. Ellie paused with her switchblade hovering over your ankles and frowned at you.

"Joel? No," she said, shaking her head as she began to saw on the restraints, freeing your legs and then moving to your wrists.

"What's..." you tried again, but you could feel yourself fading and all you could hear was that fucking thumping in the corner of the room and the gunfire down the hall.

"We're getting you out of here," she said, tucking her shoulder underneath your arm and hoisting you up with a grunt. You muffled a cry at the pain shooting down your side, blood gushing down your leg again now that you were moving.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, leading you over to a gurney so you could steady yourself before she dug into her pack for an old shirt. She bent down and wrapped it around your thigh as tight as she could, wincing as she double knotted it before she stood back up.

"Can you move?" she asked, her eyes wide with panic. You nodded, but you weren't sure. If Ellie had the rifle, where was Joel?

As if an answer to your question, Joel burst into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, frantically looking around before pulling a table over to barricade it. You must have looked worse than you thought because when he finally turned around to look at you for the first time, his face crumpled for a moment before he quickly collected himself and rushed over.

"What'd they do to you?" he murmured in your ear as his arms came up to wrap around your middle. You winced and leaned back, your hand coming up to your ribs to tenderly cover the spot he just squeezed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes raking down your body, trying to take stock of your injuries.

"It's okay," you said. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the noise was reaching a fever pitch.

"Oh, shit," Ellie muttered, her attention also pulled to the locked door.

"We gotta get you outta here," Joel said, seemingly making the connection much quicker than you did. "Can you walk?"

"I think so, but I can't go fast," you said, bending over and holding yourself up with your arms braced on the gurney. For the first time, you noticed the blood. He was covered in it. Splashed up his jeans and boots and all over his hands, some even sprayed on his neck.

"That's fine," he said as he began to push the table away from the door. The noises from the locked room got even louder as the table legs screeching on the tile floor.

"There's too many of them, Joel. We can't-"

"Yeah, we can," he said, cutting you off. He was turning to look at you, still in disbelief while he opened the door, not paying attention as someone pushed their way in, knocking him to the ground with the stock of a rifle.

He fell with a groan, his hands coming up to clutch the side of his face as Amy quickly locked the door behind her. She aimed her rifle at Joel's chest, and he dropped his hands to the side, staring up at her like he was seeing a ghost.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, and she smirked.

"Nice to see you, too, baby," she snarled, her nose still taped and her eyes still black.

"Who's she?" Ellie asked under her breath at your side, but you just shook your head. Amy glanced up and let out a shaky laugh when she saw Ellie.

"After everything you did, Joel, you still lost," she said. You looked between them, confused and barely holding onto consciousness. What did that mean?

"What the hell happened to you?" Joel asked her, his voice laced in disgust.

"I got with the fucking program, Joel! That's what!" she yelled at him before taking a step back, the rifle still aimed at his chest.

The door handle began to rattle violently with all the yelling. You could see it being pushed open a crack from the other side, then hands wrapping around the edge of the door until the lock broke and it finally swung open.

Joel scrambled to his feet and grabbed his revolver from his side while Ellie shouldered the hunting rifle as infected came pouring out, their screams making you wince.

Gunshots rang out, a few infected fell, but Amy's gun jammed and a runner knocked her down. She rolled off to the side and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying backwards right into Ellie, the gun falling from her hands.

You picked up Joel's rifle as quickly as you could in your weakened state, but right as you took aim at the infected's head, you watched its teeth clamp down around her arm. You both screamed, Ellie in pain, you in fear as you lodged a bullet right into the back of the runner's skull, its body falling limply to the side. You dropped the gun to the ground, too exhausted and weak to hold it anymore. Ellie scrambled up and swiped frantically at her arm, watching as the blood trickled out.

"Are you okay?" you asked, reaching out to her. She nodded and looked up at you, her eyes suddenly going wide.

"Look out!"

You ducked just in time to avoid getting hit in the back of the skull with Amy's rifle. She fell forward on her hands and knees, then scrambled to grab Ellie's ankle, yanking her down and pulling her against her chest.

You vaguely heard Joel's gun still firing behind you, taking down infected, when you watched Amy's arm wrap around Ellie's throat, her face going red while she gasped for air. You didn't even think, you just reacted. Ignoring the pain, you surged forward and pounced on top of her, yanking her arm off of Ellie's neck with every ounce of strength you had. Ellie rolled to the side, kneeling and coughing with her hand gingerly touching her red skin while your fingers gripped Amy's neck. She clawed at your hands, panic filling her eyes as she looked up at you helplessly. You put all your weight into it, squeezing with all your might and praying you didn't pass out before ending this once and for all.

In one last ditch effort, Amy dug her thumb deep into your wounded thigh, making you cry out and loosen your grip. She tossed you off of her and you collapsed next to Ellie with a loud thud. Forcing herself to her feet, Ellie stood over you protectively, her switchblade held shakily in her hand as blood trickled slowly down her arm and dripped onto the tile floor next to your head.

The room finally seemed quieter. You chanced a look towards Joel. He was standing on the other side of the room, surrounded by dead infected and panting for air. When he turned to the three of you, you finally noticed the huge gash on the side of his head from where Amy hit him. His blood dripped down his neck and below his collar, his shirt absorbing the dark red drops.

Amy grabbed the rifle you abandoned and swung around, aiming it at the pair of you as she walked backwards. Joel kept his revolver trained on her as he slowly made his way over to your side of the room.

"You just ruined all our chances at having a fucking life again, Joel," Amy seethed, her eyes boring into his.

"Should've thought about that before you took what's mine," he grumbled angrily, standing next to you now. You curled into a ball on the floor, the pain too much to handle.

"If you'd have just brought us the girl in the fucking first place, none of this would have happened and we wouldn't have touched her," Amy retorted, jutting her chin in your direction.

"The hell's so special about the kid?" Joel asked, but before she could answer, a telltale click, click, click echoed in the room, and you all froze. Your one good eye popped open as you watched a clicker stumble from the room in the corner, snapping its teeth and swiping mindlessly at the empty space in front of it.

Joel glanced down at your state, knowing he wouldn't be able to pick you up and get out of there in time. Ellie gripped her knife tightly as she watched the clicker get further into the room.

You could see the look in Amy's eye. She was glancing around frantically, trying to figure out a way to use this to her advantage. But lucky for you all, you thought of it first.

Carefully, you reached out in front of you, your fingers picking up the bullet casing on the floor from when you shot the runner. Before you had time to overthink it, you tossed the casing to the other side of the room, the metal clinking right between her feet.

The clicker turned towards her and shrieked, its arms flailing wildly. Amy panicked and backed up, but her sneakers squeaked on the tile and that was all the clicker needed. You watched as its hands gripped her shoulders to hold her steady while its mouth ripped violently into her neck. Blood gushed everywhere, puddling on the floor and causing her to lose her footing. Her screams reverberated in the room. You covered your ears, trying to muffle the sound until her screaming eventually stopped.

While the clicker was still distracted, Joel snuck up quietly behind it and lodged a bullet in its head, and the room finally filled with silence again.

Joel turned around as Ellie was helping you back on your feet. He noticed the blood dripping down her arm and his body stiffened.

"You were bit," he said, staring at the blood seeping through her shirt. Ellie looked down at it and then looked back up at him, shaking her head and backing away slowly.

"N-no, it's fine, really-"

Joel held up his gun, pain flickering across his face.

"Joel, don't," you said, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. She's bit, we can't-"

"Put the gun down, Joel, and listen to me," you told him, taking a few shaky steps to the side so you stood between him and Ellie.

His arm immediately dropped when you blocked his shot, and he looked at you with despair in his eyes.

"There's nothin' we can do, I'm sorry kid, but -"

"She's immune, Joel!" you yelled, cutting him off again. He froze, stunned, as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours and Ellie's.

"What?" he finally whispered.

"It's true," Ellie said from behind you, then she pulled up her sleeve and showed him her old bite. "Got it a couple months ago. See? It's all healed."

Joel stumbled back a bit, catching himself on the edge of a table as he tried to follow what was happening.

"Wh- how?"

"I don't know, some people just... are," she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"It's why they wanted her so badly. They were trying to use her as a guinea pig to make a vaccine," you added.

"You knew?" Joel asked, looking at you with hurt in his eyes. You nodded, your lip trembling.

"Listen, I would love to tell you everything I know, but can we do it in the fucking car?" Ellie asked, growing impatient. You could tell Joel was still struggling with this new revelation, but he knew you were in desperate need of medical care.

"You so much as twitch -" Joel said, storming over to her now and letting himself trail off.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Can we go now?"

If you weren't in so much pain, you might have laughed at how cavalier she was about the whole thing.

Joel found a beat up looking wheelchair and helped you into it. He instructed Ellie to push you while he led the way down the hall. He picked up an assault rifle from one of the dead bodies as he made his way to the elevator. You glanced around at the carnage as you waited for the doors to open, then looked up at him by your side.

"Did you do all of this alone?"

He looked down at you, his eyes lingering on your one open eye for a moment before nodding curtly. As you filed onto the elevator, you tried to examine him for any injuries, but aside from the hit to his head and a few minor scratches and bruises to his knuckles, he appeared fine.

The doors opened up on the main level and you gasped. If you thought the basement level was bad, it was nothing compared to the main level. Ellie pushed your wheelchair through the blood on the floor, her footsteps and the wheels leaving imprints as you went. Joel went up ahead to push some bodies out of the way and make a clear path for you to get to the front door.

"Truck's right out front," he said.

"Joel, how did you... do this?" you asked, still hardly believing what you were seeing.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, his hand on the front door, ready to push it open. You looked up at him and swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to comprehend what you were seeing. He let his hand drop to his side so he could kneel in front of you and pinch your chin between his fingers, giving you a gentle kiss.

"I did what I had to do to get you back."

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarahhxx03 @oscarissac2099 @motherjoel @silas-222 @b3l1nd5 @rocket-raccoon-silvie @missladym1981 @angie2274 @maried01

307 notes · View notes

pseudowho · 4 months

Text

Infiltration, Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento had long-since erected walls to the outside world. Very few were allowed a glimpse to his inner sanctum, and assessments of him as cold, aloof, ghoulish, humourless or melancholy provided his armour. He was externally unflappable, methodical, analytical; but under the water, his feet paddled frantically, and he felt his heart a million miles away, perched at the edge of a precipice.

Kento swam in Cursed energy; Father Tatsu was having trouble packing it back in-- the Cursed energy that had never belonged to him-- now he had shown his hand. The air was as thick as treacle. Grimly assessing that he had no choice but to fight if he wanted to give you a chance to escape, Kento rolled up his sleeves, the seal releasing on his Cursed energy as Overtime unlocked. Father Tatsu bared his teeth.

"Will it be me then, instead of that woman you call your wife?" Kento's stomach twisted as Father Tatsu picked at his nails, flippant and disinterested, "I say that...but she'll be gone by now, of course. No blood left for the leeches."

Kento read his adversary, his face impassive as he hummed in thought, seemingly considering you tactically, instead of with the gut-churning dread he really felt. I shouldn't have let her go, Kento tortured himself, bitter, she went back, and that's my fault, and she's gone already--

Kento went through mental acrobatics-- home and dead? Home and injured? Captured and home? Captured and taken to the Shrine? Captured and taken somewhere else? Captured but fought to the death? Captured and--

"She is useful," Kento mused, detached, "but not necessary for this part of the mission. It may be a blessing for her to die now instead of--"

Father Tatsu laughed, "Dead, my boy? No, no. The Goddess prefers to consume them while their heart still beats."

Kento felt a swoop of success at his easy fishing. Captured and taken to the Shrine. Taking a few steps back as Father Tatsu's power swelled, Kento's eyes glanced through the windows overlooking the village, in the direction of your house together. Kento sighed.

"Our mission was reconnaissance and escape," Kento lied smoothly, "so while it's a shame my colleague has likely been neutralised, there's no value in both of us being taken out. If you don't mind, I'll be leaving. I don't imagine it's long before my...institution arrives, to finish the job."

Father Tatsu snarled, his attempt to reel Kento to the Shrine failing. His Cursed-energy grew at an uncontrollable rate, and Father Tatsu appeared drunk, gulping back nausea, staggering. Both considered each others' moves; breaths balanced on a tightrope.

Father Tatsu darted for Kento, so much faster and stronger than his age would normally allow, and Kento jacked sideways into a roll. Righting himself, fingertips to tatami in a balanced squat, Kento swept one leg out under the staggering Father Tatsu, who landed with a resounding slam on his back. Dropping back to his haunches as Father Tatsu lay, stunned, Kento lifted the same leg, slamming the back of his booted foot down onto Father Tatsu's face.

With a nauseating crunch-pop, Father Tatsu's nose broke, lips split, choking on blood and teeth. Lifting his leg once more to land a killing blow, Kento's ankle was grasped in two obscenely strong hands; despite his leg being swathed in Cursed energy, he felt a crack ricochet up his leg, the pain like a gunshot.

Father Tatsu looked so briefly shocked, before his face twisted into a snarl, sloppy and bleeding, yanking Kento's leg, trying to pull Kento in by his broken ankle. He doesn't know how to control the power, Kento realised, hot pain flaring up his leg, because he's never had so much of it.

"Scum," Tatsu snarled, as Kento resisted his pull with gritted teeth and stubborn determination. Tatsu vomitted, hot blood, tooth fragments and bile soaking into Kento's jeans and the tatami below them. Kento watched in muted horror as the man's body seemed to swell and churn, Tatsu briefly contorted with torturous pain before sinking his fingers into Kento's leg, bellowing like a bear.

Father Tatsu was bloated with power, and it refluxed out of him in a gruesome, violent belch, when he stood, swinging Kento in an arc to the other side of the room. Beams splintered under the sinews of Kento's body, on the wall overlooking the village, and it buckled, part of the ceiling shunting down, showering Kento in plaster, clotting with blood on his forehead.

Kento stood, solid and tall, his breath hitching with the agony of standing on a fractured ankle. Kento focused his Cursed energy there, desperate for support, cursing himself for never mastering the art of Reverse Cursed Technique.

Kento was sloppy with distraction, each second away from you lowering your chances of survival. Father Tatsu crouched, arms and fingers twisting into himself like gnarled roots, an unstable implosion. He jutted forwards, staggering, animalistic, his face contorted with rage and failed restraint.

Kento turned on a pinhead, gripping a jutting ceiling beam, before kicking the crumpled wall with a roar of pain, striking a point of critical weakness. The wall collapsed outwards, and Kento and Father Tatsu were met with the cold slap of the drifting snowstorm, before Kento leapt, the remnants of the room's ceiling folding like a blanket over Father Tatsu.

Kento's belly swooped as he dropped three stories, landing in fresh snowdrift with a soft thud, before jackknifing away into the storm, making for the village gates, for escape. Kento heard a cry of rage from the devastated room behind, carried by the wind, making his gut churn with shame.

"Coward! Coward!"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

I'm underwater.

"...feed this one...goddess..."

"...too much...all the others already..."

Warm. It's too heavy. Hurts.

"...arguing!...orders..."

"...tender first...likes them begging..."

I'll just sleep let me sleep go to sleep--

WAKE UP!

Who is that? Love him. Want him.

You're running out of time. Darling. WAKE UP!

Your injury gripped you, and you sank, unbidden, into the deep once more.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"If you don't ask him out for a coffee, I will. Maybe for me, or maybe for you." Your best friend cringed, squealing with laughter as you slapped at her.

"If you've only come in here to bother me," you chided, urging your friend to the staffroom door, "then go away, you must have something better to do, you pest--"

A gentle knock, and the door swung open, forcing your friend to spin back to you, grasping your shoulders with wicked joy, as Nanami Kento walked in behind her, his eyes questioning. You glared daggers at your friend, giving her an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Naturally, she ignored you.

"I'm so sorry, I can't come to lunch with you today after all!" She bemoaned, "I've got so much to do. You'll just have to eat alone." Your mouth dropped open at her shameless audacity. She excused herself quickly, past Kento, the door closing on you both.

There was a heartbeat of silence, and you adjusted yourself quickly, giving Kento a breathless smile in apology for your friend.

As you moved towards the door yourself, crippled by Kento's presence, you heard his silky voice behind you.

"I normally eat alone. The good company in this place is limited."

Your hand retracted briefly from the door handle as you turned to Kento, blushing. His heart skipped, his decision quick and life-altering as other, rejected paths trailed away, unchosen, alternate fates unravelling.

He folded his newspaper with a light clearing of the throat; "That being said...I know a good bakery. If you'd like to join me for lunch."

Your smile was as soft as dappled sunlight, and Kento felt something deep within him pass irretrievably to you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You woke with an agonal gasp, floundering in chains as a bucket of ice-cold water was flung over you. Your head spun and pounded, belly shaking with nauseous, racking shivers. Your wrists creaked against your chains, engraved in symbols; your stomach dropped as you realised your Cursed Technique had been completely neutralised by your bonds.

As soon as you raised your head to look around you, a backhanded slap across your cheek made your teeth crack together and your head rattle; a hit you knew, vaguely, to be from a man, instead of a woman. Your tiptoes pressed to the floor as you hung, coughing.

Nought but footsteps in front of you, something dark and slick across the stones, red-black light writhing and flickering in the gloom. Your foot caught on something as you tried to stand. A second slap had you feeling your captor was enjoying this.

"It's nothing personal, my dear." The voice tickled recognition in the back of your mind, but you hitched against the chains, your head and face battered. You tried to grab your thoughts, like catching smoke. Your captor had rightly ensured you had no chance to fight back-- no monologues, no grandiose speeches.

"Well...a little personal. Breaking into my library. Making a fool of me. The Fathers really did hope it wasn't you two, you know? Such talent."

A punch, deep to your gut. A scurry up your leg, a sharp squeaking bite that sank through your trousers and popped through the skin of your thigh. You were crying out now as you kicked the Librarian's rat off your leg, you were sure, but your head was ringing, vision spinning, cold seeping through to your bones.

You almost begged for mercy, but bit it back, wordless and gasping. Your feet slipped on the part-frozen slick beneath you. Your foot caught again, your floundering throwing something forwards; ragged fabric, dark with slurry, crunched bone, gristle and flesh peeking through it. You retched as the putrid-sweet smell of fleshy rot hit you. Leftovers, you thought.

The squirming nature of the light in this vast round chamber had you throwing your head back, staring upwards with bloodstained vision. An extraordinary mass of black arms and legs writhed above you, the inchoate flesh constantly changing as hundreds of blackened screaming faces, kicking legs, clawing hands moved within it, reaching out. As if in recognition of your acknowledgement, a pulse of Cursed-energy like a weapon of war shook your bones. You'd have dropped to your knees, if not bound.

"When your pain is pure," the Librarian continued, adoring, revenant, "she will devour. She shall be released. Our captive goddess, she of the fertile land, finally imbued with the righteous power needed to debride this festering country."

The Librarian approached you, his leathery hands cupping your face lovingly, shushing you as pink-stained tears ran down your cheeks. He spoke softly, as if gifting you such a boon.

"You will be part of something bigger now, sweet girl. You were misguided...but she is forgiving." The Librarian brushed tears from your tender, swollen cheeks and you grimaced in pain. He looked up, as snowflakes slipped occasionally down past the writhing mass, and reached into his pocket. With a flick, a pocket knife opened casually in his hand.

"Is your husband coming?" The Librarian asked, slow and thoughtful, "Perhaps not. I cannot feel him." Your heart crunched with pain, tears now rushing down your face in a strangled sob, hoping against hope that Kento was escaping, instead of dead.

"It is no matter." The Librarian supported the small of your back as he punched the knife into your gut. All the air shunted out of your lungs, your mouth hanging open in a voiceless gape, agony burning through every nerve of your body as the Librarian swiped the knife sideways through your belly. A slow, fatal wound. He pulled his hand away, drenched in your blood as you began to slip underwater again.

"She will taste your pain. She will come. Do not fear, sweet girl."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You slipped out of the bathroom, skin still glistening with steam as you wiggled a towel around you, hunting for the tinny ringring-ringring of your phone.

Into your bedroom, throwing discarded clothes aside, and reaching into your pocket, you found your phone. You answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" A brief silence on the other end.

"I'm...sorry. You must be busy." That familiar voice, that made your belly twist and throb with want, velvet and slurred. You sat on your bed, gripping your towel around you.

"Kento?" You squeezed your phone until your knuckles were white. You heard a sigh and a shuffle, and blurted out in a panic, "No, wait! Don't hang up!"

A pause again.

"I just wanted-- I needed someone to--"

"Kento I--...I'm always here. For you to talk. About anything."

A thousand unspoken truths passed between you in silence. You closed your eyes, bringing your knees up to your chest with your arm wrapped around them. You felt Kento wrapped around you, warm as you waited.

"It's...it's just been a long week," he continued weakly, "Too much. Just way too much. I didn't get to see Haibara-- it was the anniversary, and I--"

You bit your lip, tears stinging in your nose for Kento. Reassurances flurried out of you. Kento felt himself warm through with your voice, slumped in his armchair, whiskey on his knee, shirt and tie open and messy over his broad chest.

You spoke over the phone, for the first time ever. The intimacy of his breaths, his slow chuckles, the crushed velvet of his tipsy voice...with your eyes closed, he was right beside you. He may as well have been in your bed. Your skin pricked with goosebumps as you heard him shift in his chair, releasing a gravelly groan with his aches and pains.

"You can-- you can come over...if you like. I'm not-- not doing anything," you offered, cringing with regret and anticipation as soon as the words left your mouth. You heard Kento's breathing hitch at the other end of the phone, before he breathed out a long, shivering breath.

"I...not tonight," he spoke, hesitant. Your stomach dropped, blushing, tears threatening to spill out as your face twisted in despair, mortified.

"I've been drinking...and you deserve better. So much better. But...tomorrow?" Your heart leapt, wondering how you would possibly wait that long. You bit your lip, burning with desire and delight as you nodded quickly.

"I-- yes. Yes. Please." Kento huffed out a laugh that had the hairs on your neck stand on end. You shivered in your cold, damp towel.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just-- just still in a towel, I was having a bath." Kento's breath hitched again, and you were sure you could hear his embarrassment.

"God, I'm so sorry," he pressed against your hurried reassurance, "I'll go, just...go to bed. Warm up, I'll...I'll see you tomorrow." You blushed, kicking your legs, wiggling your toes, overwhelmed with joy.

"Okay. Yep. Bed, I'll-- I'll get dressed," you squeaked, unable to help yourself, teasing him with your feigned innocence. He hummed, low and unreadable.

"Sweet dreams," he said, voice warm as honeyed tea. A brief hesitation, as you both held on...the call ending with a beep.

Kento dropped his phone onto the table beside him, cupping his hands over his mouth. His thighs bounced on the chair in thrill, and he fumbled, swearing as whiskey spilled all over his lap.

The next day, he scooped you into his arms off bloodstained concrete, shielding your gaze as your friend's broken body was shifted into black bags.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento had long-since left the village, since heading to the gates in swathes of snow, his broken leg giving and buckling under him as his Cursed-energy buffeted. He had escaped, cold and tactically driven; better just one dead sorcerer, than two dead sorcerers, after all.

Father Tatsu was certain, howling insults into the snow like a wolf on the mountain. His bounding strides cratered the floor beneath him as he lurched through the Temple, throwing aside the questioning approach of the kimono'd woman. She slammed into the wall in a wet crunch, hit with the force of a high-speed traffic collision. Father Tatsu lurched out into the snow, retching and vomiting again.

Father Tatsu stood strong against the piling drive of snow, a maelstrom against a maelstrom. The village was barely visible in the sea of white, as he staggered towards the black-veined, dead hill of the shrine.

Watching the man zigzag up the hill from a snowy roof, a man surrounded by allies raised his hand to pull his balaclava low, his eyes tempered like chocolate, determined.

"Time to move."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Your heart crumpled under the weight of grief, for a promised life with Kento, never fulfilled as you hung, dying in the red-black gloom. You regretted nothing of the past; only the future you had let slip through your fingers.

The writhing goddess thrummed above you, and viscous pulses of overwhelming power thickened the air. You tried to drink it in, a desperate grasp at life.

A familiar voice called your name in the gloom. You had slipped underwater now, sunk under ice, tangled in reeds.

Kento had nightmares about how he found you, broken, bleeding, hanging and cold, until the day he died.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

One chapter to go! 🤭🤭

Chapter Eight: Unchained, LINK HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @vocosys @mischiefmanaged71 @silkspunweb 🐈‍⬛🧎‍♀️ @deegausserr

295 notes · View notes

alagaesia-headcanons · 5 months

Text

I've Had A Thought. I was thinking about the scene where Eragon is reminiscing over Brom's message to him as his father, and how Eragon is confounded and troubled that he in no way mentioned Murtagh. I found it a little sad that, for whatever reason, Brom decided Murtagh didn't bear mentioning. Then it crossed my mind to consider the possibility that Brom didn't know about Murtagh at all.

As it turns out, Eragon actually does think about it in that scene- he says, "He must have known about Murtagh. He couldn't not have." And admittedly I don't think this is the most likely scenario or that it's now my personal interpretation of canon, but the idea really has captivated me. Because it actually does fit within the facts! (the new book notwithstanding)

Brom was a gardener at Morzan's estate for three years, and while it's probably more likely that he learned about Murtagh in that time, I think it's certainly feasible for him to never know. Morzan was very determined to keep him hidden and took a lot of precautions to ensure just that. Oromis said Morzan forced all his servants to swear fealty and Brom found a flaw in his wards to infiltrate, and possibly he was able to do so because a job as a gardener didn't require such strict oaths because it wasn't in proximity to Murtagh.

Again, it may not be the most likely, but I can absolutely believe Selena might not have told him either. She also would have been aware of the serious danger Murtagh was in and would've wanted him to stay hidden. Even after Brom told her who he was and she started working with the Varden, she might have kept it secret. For one, Brom's hatred of Morzan is described as extreme and all consuming, and that it never waned with time. Even if she came to believe that Brom wouldn't harm Murtagh, she might not have trusted he could look at him kindly. And of course, telling him about her child with Morzan also risked damaging their relationship considering that they were lovers. Then there's the possibility that Selena did build all this necessary trust to tell Brom about Murtagh if he wasn't aware of him already, but it was too late for her to discuss it with him before she died. So I think it is conceivable that Brom actually never knew about Murtagh's existence.

Where this concept really shines is in an AU where Brom survives after Murtagh saves them from the Ra'zac. I've always liked these, and I sometimes toy with my own, but there's so many ways Brom could react and I've never been able to settle on one well enough to get invested in it. But I find this SUCH a fascinating take on it (especially if you wave off the detail that Murtagh's voice sounds ~exactly like~ Morzan's, which I tend to do). Brom recovers and meets their rescuer, and he has no idea he's looking at Morzan and Selena's son. Murtagh seems terribly familiar, but Brom has been relentlessly haunted by his past for so long now that he doesn't put much stock in the perceived similarities. Meanwhile, Murtagh realizes that Brom truly does not know that he's the son of the man he murdered, a precarious but welcome relief. Because he doesn't know- up until Murtagh's confession in the valley.

Brom is stunned by disbelief. It can't be true, Morzan had no children, because surely he would know, surely-! But another thought dawns on him, drowning out the memories of Morzan, because who could have been the mother of his child other than his wife: Selena? And Murtagh is looking at him with fear, fear that he'll turn on him because he shares the blood of the man Brom hated most. It's heart wrenching, because even as part of his mind tells him that maybe he should scorn him, Brom is looking at this man who single handedly saved him from the brink of death and saved Eragon and Saphira from far worse at the hands of Galbatorix, and who has given them extraordinary devotion ever since.

In his core, he accepts the truth of Murtagh's claim as he explains his past and recounts the story of his parents exactly how Brom knows it to be. The paradigm shift sends him reeling. Murtagh believes Brom is affected only because of his past with Morzan; he has no way of knowing what he felt for Selena. He still glances at him nervously, especially as he admits that he briefly intended to serve Galbatorix, yet then there's also a spark of trust and gratitude- maybe even hope- in his eyes when Brom doesn't rescind the way he vouched for him when they were stopped inside the gates. How could he? Murtagh has accomplished one thing neither Morzan nor Selena ever did: escape.

Despite everything, his aching heart feels something fiercely like pride. He would not dare ruin that for him.

Then to further prove the truth, like the world is laughing at his years of ignorance, Ajihad recognizes him, because after Murtagh was brought to Uru'baen, the Varden's spies informed him of Morzan's son. But of course, that was after Brom cut himself off and started living in Carvahall, so he never learned of that discovery. "Morzan's son" is said over and over, but in Brom's mind, that idea is far eclipsed by Selena's son. He's hurt and ashamed to realize he never knew something so significant about the woman he loved. And he feels guilty that Murtagh struggled for so long in Uru'baen because no one was there to save him when he was left helplessly alone. Brom must have been so close to him when he arrived right after Selena's death, but he just didn't know.

Brom is utterly at a loss. How can he process Murtagh- the child of Selena and Morzan, Eragon's half brother, and in a certain sense, his own stepson? What can he do now? He was already so terrified of telling Eragon the truth of being his father, and now he has another staggering revelation to inflict on Eragon and Murtagh both. The prospect feels terrifyingly impossible, but keeping his secrets has grown even more painful. Watching how easily and how well Eragon and Murtagh get along is now bitterly ironic. Even without knowing it, Murtagh is a great older brother, waiting vigilantly near his side after the battle. The injury Durza inflicted scared Brom in a way he can't put into words; he simply could not bear to lose Eragon. How could he risk that happening without telling Eragon how much he loves him and values him as his son? But telling him truth could be the quickest way to lose him. And now, with Murtagh, he has more to lose than he ever realized.

-And because Murtagh deserves it, I like all these changes resulting in the Twins never getting the chance to kidnap him, and so Brom has to figure out how to make the three of them into a family <3

#eragon #inheritance cycle #brom #murtagh #selena #morzan #eragon shadeslayer #murtagh acquires dad number 3 #As He Deserves!!!#every few week a new ic au possesses me for a hot sec #broms inner monologue is just constant stressed screaming #my man is so unprepared for everything thats going on #(the one real hitch w the premise is how oromis knew so much if brom never found out about murtagh but no way im gonna let that stop my fun

235 notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 6 months

Note

Good evening, my internet-lawfully wedded wife. I would like to request that Hanahaki Phasma story please? 🥺🥺🥺

Hello 💖 Thanks for the request, lovely 🥺 I finally had an idea for how to write this and I am very happy with how it turned out - and nervous as I've never written for Phasma before. I hope you like it, regardless of the angst 🥺 Thank you to @dianneking for beta-ing and helping me with the title, it means a lot 🫶🏼

Forget-me-not

Captain Phasma x f!reader

Summary: Of all the people you could’ve fallen in love with, it had to be Captain Phasma. Could your love for her be your death sentence?

Words: ~3.1k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: Hanahaki disease trope, angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood + death, character death, briefly nsfw (light smut - minors DNI)

Icy blue eyes stare deeply into your own, pale pink lips are curled up into a devilish, seductive smirk. Phasma’s face is flushed and her pupils are dilated as she watches you come undone above her, bucking your hips against her and coating her abdomen in your arousal as you chase your high.

You’ve had sex with Phasma a handful of times now, which is strange in and of itself. You’ve heard plenty of stories about her since starting with the First Order – stories of one-night stands, lovers being used, abused, and discarded – threatened into silence, fired, even disappearing.

It would be dangerous to assume that you’re special – that you somehow mean more to Phasma than the other women she’s slept with. No one means anything to Phasma, that is one thing she has made abundantly clear. Phasma is the only person who means anything to Phasma. Everyone else is disposable, a means to an end – in this case, the end being her own sexual pleasure.

But then why has she let you into her bed time and time again? At first, she was demanding and dominating, relentless; taking, taking, taking. You cried during your first time with her – you were so overstimulated, yet she wouldn’t let up, and she punished you any time you tried to touch her. After that, you feared you’d be discarded like the rest – but then it happened again. And again. And then, one night, Phasma even allowed you to touch her. Watching the Captain Phasma reach the height of her pleasure on your fingers was something akin to a religious experience – you were ready to worship the woman, to give your soul over to her after hearing her moan and feeling her body shudder against your own. She’d taken her helmet off for the first time that night as well – you were immediately struck by her beauty. The planes of her face had a softness to them that had thrown you off-guard, her eyes – blue, oh so blue, oceans you could drown in – felt hypnotizing as they pierced your own. She’d been reluctant at first, but somehow – somehow – you’d managed to convince her – it must get quite hot and uncomfortable under that helmet after all. After the threat of torture methods that you hadn’t even heard of, ensuring you would never so much as think of telling a soul about seeing the great Captain without her helmet, she’d revealed her face to you.

And now, looking down at that charismatic, captivating smirk through the lustful haze of your fourth orgasm, you know you’ve gone and made the most fatal error you could possibly make.

You’ve fallen in love with Captain Phasma.

~~~

And what a fatal error, indeed.

After your latest rendezvous in Phasma’s quarters, you see her next at training the following morning. The bright fluorescent lights bounce off the chrome of her armor, flawlessly polished – though your mind is rather stuck on what lies underneath. Silken blonde locks, slicked back to emphasize her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Long, muscular arms and large, slender hands; rock-hard abs and legs that seem to go on for miles, with thick thighs that you can’t help but picture wrapping around your head. After seeing the fearsome Captain outside of her armor, you fear you can never unsee it – and you’ll always be left wanting, yearning for more.

Perhaps there would be a way to convince her that you’re worth more than a quick fuck – you can’t stop thinking about those strong arms wrapping around your waist in your post-coital haze, fingertips tenderly caressing your bare flesh as soft lips press chaste kisses all over your face. You would look into her eyes – which would fill with affection – and tell her you love her, and she would say it back with a smile on her face.

Cough.

You’re caught by surprise at the sound that bubbles forth from your chest, tickling your throat.

“FN-196, is something the matter?”

Phasma’s voice is cool and collected – dangerous. You shouldn’t have made a peep – but you can’t help it. Another cough tickles the back of your throat and forces its way out – you try to stifle it but that just makes the coughing fit worse.

“N-no-“ cough “I’m sorry-” cough “It w-wo-“ cough “It won’t happen again, Captain.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and straighten your back as Phasma stalks towards you, stopping right in front of you. She’s inches away from your face, though she’s tall enough that you’d have to crane your head back just a bit to look up at her. You don’t – you think she might kill you if you do, so you look straight ahead at your reflection in her armor.

She looks down at you for a moment, her head tilted ever so slightly – you wish you knew what she was thinking. Does she really hold any shred of affection for you, does she favor you at all? Or is she plotting the quickest way to dispose of you?

“One more sound and I’ll have you scrubbing TIE fighters all weekend.”

Merciful.

You nod curtly. “Yes, Captain.” You don’t dare say anything else.

~~~

After your little coughing fit, you briefly worry that you’ve caught a cold. You seem to be in the clear, however – you don’t cough again after that, not for a few days.

But then it happens again, as you’re walking past Phasma in the corridor. One moment you’re fine, the next you look up and see her walking towards you. You come to a halt and step aside to allow her to pass, a sign of respect. She affords you the smallest of nods – an acknowledgement that makes you swoon – and that’s when it happens. You cough, more violently this time, as though your lungs have run out of air and are shriveling up as a result.

Phasma stops in her tracks and turns towards you, staring. Waiting for the coughing to stop. It does, eventually, and you feel your cheeks burn. You know she can’t see it underneath your helmet, but you’re certain she can sense your embarrassment in the way your shoulders droop and your hands begin to fidget as you stutter out an apology.

“Are you ill?”

“N-no, Captain, I don’t think so.” You shuffle from foot to foot – you can feel another coughing fit coming on, and you really don’t want Phasma to be around for that. “Just a tickle, must’ve breathed in some dust.” Right. Through your helmet. As if Phasma would believe that.

She hums, giving you a once over. You squirm.

“Good.”

She turns and starts to walk away. “Come to my quarters tomorrow night.”

Your heart flutters as you watch her round the corner, disappearing from view.

Cough.

~~~

“Mmh, oh- f-fuck,” you mewl, as Phasma’s hips slam into yours at a brutal pace, her dildo disappearing inside of you as she thrusts the entire length into your cunt. A bead of sweat collects at her temple, rolling slowly down her flushed cheek. Her hair sticks to her forehead, falling into her eyes – hungry eyes that devour you as she ravishes you. Her lips are parted to let out quiet grunts, her abs ripple with exertion and her biceps flex as she holds herself above you.

Your eyes roll back in your head as the dildo reaches deep inside of you – your breath quickens and you feel a guttural moan tear from your throat as your orgasm hits you, your walls clenching around Phasma’s cock. She’s relentless – she doesn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm and even after, as you sink into the mattress and try desperately to regulate your breathing.

Phasma reaches her own peak and tumbles over it, and it’s a glorious sight. Her jaw goes slack and her eyelids fall shut, a broken moan slips past her lips. Her entire body trembles a bit and her hips stutter in their movements. The fact that she can get off by watching you cum is incredibly arousing to you, and it makes you feel special.

She removes the harness and the dildo and tosses it on the floor beside the bed, before lying down next to you – not to cuddle, no, never to cuddle – just to rest for a moment and recover from her orgasm. You turn your head to glance over at her. Her eyes are shut, allowing you to admire her openly. She’s breathing heavily, her cheeks are red, her forehead is sweaty. She looks heavenly, divine even.

You wish she would let you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. You wish she would let you feel her lips against your own. You wish she would let you card your fingers through her hair and caress her jaw and tell her how much you love her, and you wish she would say it back. You wish-

Cough.

Oh no. Not again.

Phasma’s eyes shoot open and she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. You avoid her gaze as your lungs constrict and you cough again, and again. Something tickles your throat – it’s as if something is stuck there. You cough harder – it has to come out. Covering your mouth, you cough again, and feel something soft hit your palm.

A small, blue flower petal. Your eyes widen in horror as you stare at the petal in your hand.

No. No, no, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t-

“What is that?” Phasma asks. Her brows are knit together and she cranes her neck to try and get a look.

“N-nothing” cough “it’s nothing.”

But Phasma isn’t one for playing games. Long, slender fingers curl around your wrist, vice-like in their strength – a snake devouring its prey, and she forces you to show her what you’ve coughed up.

Her upper lip twitches.

A billion micro-expressions cross her face, too quickly for you to place any one of them. When she looks you in the eyes a moment later, her face is devoid of any expression at all.

“It’s time you leave. Don’t be late for training tomorrow.”

You don’t need to be told twice – the hard edge to her voice scares you, so you clamber out of her bed and dress as quickly and as quietly as you can, your cheeks burning as you feel Phasma watching your every move. You hurry to leave, leaving the flower petal nestled among the sheets.

Phasma stares at it as you leave. She knows what it means. She’s no fool – she’s seen the way you look at her, how eager you are to please her – both in work and in sex.

An intense, burning rage fills Phasma - her insides suddenly feel like molten lava, her heart pounds viciously. If you die, Phasma will lose one of her best stormtroopers - and one of her best lovers. And you will die, if it's Phasma you’re in love with.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to love you back. There’s a reason she’s let you warm her bed for so long, after all. You’re skilled with your tongue, certainly, and you look so enticing when you’re being fucked into oblivion. But there’s something else – something Phasma doesn’t quite understand, something she’s never felt before. It’s not love, at least she doesn’t think it is – it’s nothing like how other people describe love, a feeling that Phasma doesn’t ever recall feeling.

But it’s something, and it’s been so long since Phasma has felt anything. Around you, in those brief moments after sex just before she kicks you out of her bed, she feels just a little lighter. Her usual anger is subdued, a dying ember where there’s usually a roaring flame.

It’s not enough, though. She knows this. She knows you know this – you must know this.

You’re a fool – a damned fool – Phasma thinks. Only an idiot would fall in love with her.

~~~

As is to be expected, your illness gets worse. You begin to disrupt training with your coughing – Phasma finds this annoying as is, but what she finds even more annoying is the unfamiliar sense of guilt that gnaws at her stomach, knowing she’s the cause of your… distress.

She dismisses you from training – the others will get suspicious, and your performance is lacking anyway. It’s best if you stay in your quarters.

She goes to check on you one day, in the middle of the night. Briefly, she wonders if she should have come at a more reasonable hour, but then she hears the coughing through your door and she knows you haven’t been able to fall asleep yet anyway.

You answer the door, your eyes bleary and your face pale. There’s blood trickling down your chin and a few small, crushed flower petals cling to the sweaty fabric of your nightgown. And yet, you smile at her. She tilts her head – why are you smiling? You’re a fool – a damned fool.

“It’s progressed then?” she asks. The modulator in her helmet keeps her voice level, and for that she is grateful.

Your eyes fill with sadness but your smile – soft, gentle – never wavers. You nod and open your mouth to speak, but you’re interrupted by another coughing fit, and bloody flower petals spill out of your mouth and onto Phasma’s boots.

Phasma looks down at the stained chrome, then back up at you.

“I-I’m” cough “sorry” wheeze “I-I’ll c-clean it-“

“Leave it.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks redden, but you don’t dare argue.

Phasma turns her head to the right, then to the left. The corridor is empty. She takes a step towards you, into your quarters, until she’s nearly flush against you. Lifting her hands to her head, she removes her helmet, and cool blue eyes pierce your own. Your smile is back now, and she doesn’t understand – in fact, it makes her a little uncomfortable. A smile like that has rarely been directed at her (even if there is blood dribbling down your chin and your eyes are slightly unfocused) – it takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact.

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Her tone is lacking noticeably in bite, though neither of you acknowledge this fact.

“I know.”

Cough.

“You’ll die.”

“I know.”

Wheeze.

Phasma’s lip twitches and her eyes dart between your own. Your smile is steady and true, even as your eyes fill with tears.

Phasma knows what she should say – what anyone else in her position would say. ‘I’m sorry’. Except she can’t say it, because she isn’t. Is she? She’s unsure – she’s never actually felt sorry for anything, not even for betraying her own family. Why should some random woman, a subordinate of hers at that, change that?

She remains silent. She nods curtly. You stifle another cough as you nod back, blinking slowly – it appears as though, somehow, you understand. As though you know that Phasma even bothering to show up in your quarters at all before your body leaves this galaxy is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

“You d-don’t h-have” cough “to love me b-back. Just d-don’t” cough “for-forget me.”

You chuckle. Phasma doesn’t think it’s funny. She blinks, puts her helmet back on.

“Goodnight, FN-196.”

She doesn’t spare you another glance as she leaves.

~~~

Early one morning, Phasma is called to your quarters – as your superior, if something has happened, she needs to be informed.

And Phasma immediately knows what’s happened. Underneath her helmet, her eyes scan your body – limp, pale, covered in blood and flower petals. Even worse off than the last time she saw you. Usually, such a gory sight stirs up a sort of crazed bloodlust deep within Phasma’s soul, a gleeful sort of giddiness. Only now, when it’s you covered in blood and sweat, unmoving, she feels no such thing.

Her lips curl into a frown – wrong way, wrong way, she should be smiling! She shouldn’t be upset!

Sometimes, when one is confronted with death, they regret. They think of all the things they wished they’d said, they wish for one more moment with the person they care for.

Phasma doesn’t regret. She knows she couldn’t have told you how she feels about you anyway. How does she feel about you? Perhaps, she could have told you that when she’s with you, she feels for the first time. But would that have been enough to save you? No, probably not. And perhaps it’s better this way. It would have gotten messy – Phasma doesn’t mix work and relationships (only casual sex, only ever casual sex, only with people who are disposable). She’s not even sure she was built for a relationship – in fact, she’s certain she wasn’t.

So, no, Phasma doesn’t wish for one more moment with you in which she would profess her undying love (is she capable of such a thing?) and see the bright smile on your face when you realize your affection is returned. But her heart does ache a little – just a little twinge, really, in a very foreign sort of way – and, when she thinks of never feeling your silken skin under her fingertips again, her stomach twists.

The stormtrooper tilts his head. “What should I do with her, Captain?”

Phasma’s gaze never leaves your body, even as she’s addressed directly. What should one do with you? The thought of doing anything at all makes her heart clench.

But she can’t show weakness.

She can’t.

She swallows thickly. Discreetly.

Blinks twice.

Then her face hardens. The stormtrooper can’t see it underneath her helmet anyway, but it’s part of her mask. She has to play the part if she’s going to keep the respect of her troops. Self-preservation has always been vital to her, after all.

“Take her away.”

The stormtrooper shrugs and slings your body over his shoulder, before carrying you out of the room – carelessly, like a doll. Phasma grits her teeth – you should be treated like a precious thing, carried bridal style and showered with kiss- no. What is she thinking? You’re nothing but a corpse now, it hardly matters how your body is treated. Except, for some reason, it matters a lot to Phasma, though she cannot let on to that.

She waits.

She waits until the door closes and the footsteps of the stormtrooper’s boots against the cold metal floor fade.

Her gaze falls to the floor where, amongst a few droplets of blood, a single, tiny, blue forget-me-not petal rests.

A single tear drips down her cheek, catching on the inside of her helmet.

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @thesamesweetie @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @gwens0girl

Join my taglist here!

#captain phasma x reader #phasma x reader #captain phasma #phasma #so nervous for this dhfhdjghfdjhgfdj

235 notes · View notes

strangermarvelss · 2 years

Text

prom- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: you ask eddie munson to prom

Warnings: angst bro, unrequited feelings, eddie being a butthead, chrissy is not the villain i promise, not proof read oops

Request: No

Word Count: 2k

A/N: got inspired by this idea @ashwhowrites threw out there about wanting something like this made, so i thought why not give it a shot? plus i've been trying to find an excuse to write an eddie prom fic. enjoy- sava

part two

You look to the stage seated at the end of the cafeteria briefly, seeing the big banner advertising the senior prom, making your heart flutter. The Hawkins High prom was the one time of year where everyone isn’t completely miserable and they all come together, cliques having an unspoken settlement, and allowing one another to come together and celebrate one of the last big moments of high school you’d all share together, before walking the stage made on the football field and going your separate ways on new journeys. Everyone had been buzzing about it for weeks, and you thought today would finally be the day.

You smooth out the pleats in your skirt, taking deep breaths in and out as you slowly approached his lunch table. The loud ruckus of the cafeteria filled your ears as your feet brought you closer and closer to the biggest outcast of the school. Not that you saw him that way, but everyone you surrounded yourself with did.

Eddie Munson has been the object of your affection since his first senior year. His beautiful brown eyes ultimately pulled you in one day during your sophomore year, seeing how much he’d changed from his brief time with you at the middle school amazed you. You were captivated by his passionate personality and his carefree attitude towards the conformity that was forced within the walls of this high school, which you were not able to escape, roped into joining the cheer squad with your best friend and the queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham.

The two of you met when you moved to Hawkins back in middle school. She was the first person you met when you got to the school, getting paired to sit next to her for the remainder of the year, and the two of you clicked instantly. You spent so many nights together giggling and gossiping, and it was something you continued to do throughout high school. The two of you told each other everything, especially when it came to your dating lives, or lack there of.

She was the only one who knew about your crush on Eddie. You always felt you had to keep quiet about it, especially around the other cheerleaders and football players. Their clouded judgement and resentment towards the ‘freaks’ made your heart sink, but you always opted to keep your head down and refuse to join in on their reign of terror towards them.

Chrissy convinced you to ask Eddie in the first place. You were hesitant, wanting to continue to keep your feelings towards the resident metalhead deep down, with graduation around the corner for you, and if what Eddie shouted in the cafeteria constantly, it was approaching for him as well. You didn’t see the point in revealing anything now, thinking you could just go about life without him knowing. But Chrissy was there to remind you “what do you have to lose?”

Approaching the well-known Hellfire table, you cough a little to gain the attention of the boys. They all look up at you at the same time, sharing glances with one another as confusion seeped into their faces. You flash them all a timid smile, playing with the end of your cheer skirt to relieve some nerves.

“Hi guys,” you squeak out. You watch Eddie sit at the head of the table, looking down out his bag of mini pretzels and grabbing his bright red apple, taking a big chomp out of it.

“Uh, can we help you?” A younger boy with long black hair asks, whom you recognize as Nancy Wheeler’s brother, Mike. Blood rushes to your cheeks, heat overpowering you just for a minute as they all continue to stare at you with their mouths slightly open.

“Yeah! I was uh-just wondering if I could talk with you, Eddie. Alone?” you ask, your eyes meeting his across the table as he freezes, a small sliver of pretzel hanging out of his mouth. He drops the bag to the table and looks to who you knew as Gareth, standing from his seat with wide eyes. You walk towards the corner of the cafeteria, not missing the snickers and mumbles coming from his friends.

You turn to look at Eddie, his hands resting in the pockets of his leather jacket as he finally catches up to you. His big brown eyes peer up to you, his brows raised in a questionable manner, making the nerves spread further throughout your body. Maybe this was going to be a mistake-

“Just so you know, I don’t do deals in the middle of the cafeteria, so if you’re looking for something to clear your head, you’ll have to go to the spot in the woods,” Eddie lets out.

“What? No, I’m not looking for drugs, I don’t-I don’t smoke,” you tell him, shaking your hands. Did it look like you were trying to buy? Eddie was the local dealer, so it wasn’t totally out of the question.

“Okay…” he responds, rolling his eyes as he snickers to himself. You bite your lip before letting out a deep breath. “Then what did you want?”

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy, but I wanted to know if you were going to prom?” You finally ask. Eddie’s expression falters a little, his questioned look quickly shifting into a surprised one, as if caught off guard.

“Wasn’t really planning on it. After school events that don’t consist of D&D gatherings aren’t exactly my thing,” he answers. You try hiding the hurt in your expression at his answer, his ability to write it off so quickly making your confidence shrink.

“Oh…well, maybe you’d reconsider? Like say if someone were to ask you to go with them, as their date? And hypothetically that someone…being me?”

He takes a moment to just stare at you, blinking rapidly a few times before looking around the cafeteria, making you worried, but also confused. He seemed rather off today, with his eyes barely meeting yours unless met with confusion or surprise now, and his entire demeanor even felt off.

Then, he begins to laugh.

Was he laughing at you? Or the question? Or maybe what everyone said about him was right, he was crazy.

“Yeah well like I said earlier, I don’t do prom. And I definitely don’t do cheerleaders, so associating with both at the same time isn’t in the cards for me. So just go back to your friends, okay?” His voice was almost sinister, face merely inches from yours as he whispers the blatant reject in your ear.

You take a step back from him and catch the seriousness etched across his face, looking to the floor in an attempt to hide the hurt his words caused you to feel. You bump pass him as you continue your efforts of hiding your feelings, walking towards the double doors located closest to you that bled out into the hallway, no longer having an appetite for any food.

All but running to your locker, you fling it open and make yourself small, hunching over into the metal box and covering your face as the tears begin to flow out. You should’ve never taken Chrissy’s advice and kept those feelings buried deep inside. Of course he wouldn’t like someone like you. Even if you didn’t fit in with the other cheerleaders on the squad, he still associated you with the assholes of Hawkins High, and part of you couldn’t blame him. They’ve spent years treating him like shit, and you’ve been too much of a coward to do or say anything in his defense.

What hurt worse was that Eddie and you were on good terms. The two of you shared Miss Click’s class last year, alongside Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, two of your closest friends. Eddie would ask for your help and the two of you would talk while trying to get him through the assignments he struggled with, which launched your tiny crush into a full blown one-sided love affair. You thought maybe he saw you differently than the rest of the squad, with you and Chrissy always trying to exchange pleasantries and on friendly terms with the metalhead. But deep down, Eddie still knew all jocks were the same, it was clear in the way he spoke to you.

The lunch bell springs to life, pulling you out of your lonely pity party. You look to the mirror you kept in your locker and clean up the makeup that was running down your cheeks with a spare tissue. Taking a deep breath, you grab your books for the remainder of your classes and shut the door to your locker, turning on your heel with you head hung just a bit lower than usual, and darting your way through the crowded halls, onto the rest of the pathetic day.

You push open the doors the led to the parking lot, your peers scattered around trying to escape for the weekend, only to ultimately come back later tonight for the game. Running down the steps, you start the journey towards your car, wanting to relax for the next few hours before you and Chrissy come back for the championship game.

The school day had flown by, the cruel gods above you taking pity on your rejection during your lunch period. You hadn’t talked with Chrissy for the rest of the day, not having any classes with her after lunchtime anyways. You want to run to her so badly and tell her you shouldn’t have listened to her, but ultimately, you just wanted a shoulder to cry on and soothing words thrown your way.

As you walk towards your car at the end of the lot, you spot Eddie leaning up against his van, the flashbacks from earlier telling you to look away from his figure, but your heart and eyes just can’t seem to listen. As you keep going, you see other pair of feet with him, almost between his own. Getting a better look, you see Chrissy leaning against the van as well, her close proximity making your heart plunge deeper into the depths of your stomach.

No, she’d never be interested in Eddie like that. She was in a very serious relationship with Jason Carver, a.k.a the biggest tormentor towards your crush. Plus, she was your best friend, and new how fondly you thought of Eddie, she couldn’t possibly want to ever hurt you like that. Keeping your head down, you attempt to walk pass them, completely unnoticeable, until your ears perk up at their conversation.

“I was just wondering, if you’d want to go to prom with me?” He asks her, causing you to drop the notebook you’d been carrying in your hand. Shit.

You reach down to grab the book and look back to see them staring at you, as if they were deer caught in headlights in the dead of night. You let out a sigh and pick up the pace towards your car, unlocking the door quickly and tossing your things inside as you ignore Chrissy’s calls out for you.

“…I don’t do prom. And I definitely don’t do cheerleaders…” his words rang in your head as you start the engine, looking behind you to back up and pull out of your spot. You quickly glance their way, faces turned into sad expressions as they watch you fly by them, trying your best to exit the hell that was the high school parking lot.

A few tears began escaping once more, trickling down your cheeks as you replay the events of today on your drive home. How could Eddie be so quick to reject you, with the excuse of not liking the idea of prom or associating with cheerleaders, but completely do a 180 and ask Chrissy, the girl who everyone knew you were best friends, to the prom? Maybe when he told you his words in the lunch room, he meant specifically it was you he had no interest in. Because who can resist the queen of Hawkins High.

You continue to wallow throughout the drive home, the tightness in your chest never letting up even as you pull into the driveway of your home. Jumping out, you leave your belongs inside the car as you lock it, running to the front door and swinging it open. You had time before the game tonight to mop about as you please, so you grab a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave, waiting patiently to start the pity party you pressed pause on at your locker, wanting to just forget silly notion of you going to prom with the man of your dreams.

2K notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 3 months

Note

For your Lloyd and Secretary one, what if someone who works closely with Brewer finds out about how he died and seeks out for vengeance? And how about he kidnaps and enslaves Secretary and Lloyd has to get her back? But the Secretary thinks that Lloyd would just replace her, even if she had developed some feelings for Lloyd, she still believed that he would leave her. But Lloyd finds her.

Hi nonnies! Sorry for taking so long to write :3

I love your ideas and I present to you--

Out for Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

W/C: ~5k

Summary: You were captured by a rival gang. Would Lloyd come and save you?

A/N: This is a sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

For the record, your hemophobia is directed to blood coming from other people, not your own. You wouldn’t faint or puke if you had a papercut, but you would (and did) puke when Lloyd showed up at your door a few weeks ago, littered with blood and cuts.

Tasting the faint tang of rust and salt from the cut inside your cheek, your tongue inevitably touches the wound in your mouth.

Ouch, it stings.

An almost ridiculous - but somewhat fits the situation you are facing - idea comes to mind.

You hope Lloyd could pay for your dental care if your tooth gets knocked out.

In a dark humid stinky cell, you are obligated to keep yourself from fainting.

How long is it since you’ve been captured? An hour? Two?

You don’t know. Not that the concrete walls give any clues as to where you are and when is it.

Your head is dizzy, and somewhere on the back of your head is throbbing, possibly the spot where someone knocks your head with a baseball bat or a heavy club.

-who the heck still uses a club to beat the shit out of their victims to issue a kidnapping these days? Aren’t they worried about possible brain injuries?

Your hands and feet are tied to a plain wooden chair with zip ties, not something you can get out of without tools and time. Knowing that they kidnapped you and took you to this place, instead of dumping you down the pier with a large stone tied to your feet? You’ve got time, some of them at least. They want something from you, hence the reason why you are alive.

The problem is to rescue yourself before they realize nothing is coming out of your mouth.

So, the real question is, how much time do you have?

Dull thuds of footsteps approach you. After some screeching from the iron bars and the clang of the lock opened by a key, that is supposed to be the cell gate’s composition, you assume, for you are forced in another direction having been tied to the chair, another screeching sound, and the door swings open, entering two men.

They stand before you, one has his hands on his hips, the other crossing his arm.

Think. Your mind goes one hundred miles per hour. Think. Sometimes Lloyd keeps his captives alive, but only when his men are wearing masks. But these two are showing their faces in broad daylight – nightlight, to be precise, since you left the office around 7:30 pm, and later got a smack in the head after having picked up the dry cleaning for Lloyd.

You watched their faces closely. The first man who appears before you is shorter than the other, it is difficult to tell his height when you are sitting on a chair, but you assume he is approximately your height (which is definitely short for an average man), medium build – again, it is hard to tell with his jacket on, you have to conduct most of your analysis base on guesswork. Something about his face looks familiar, however, you cannot pinpoint who or what, since as a secretary, you meet a lot of people daily.

The other guy, the taller one and the more muscular one, doesn’t strike you as someone you know in the past. A hint of tattoo peeks on the back of his hand, a sharp edge with the color of tattoo ink. The beard covers half his face, and that he’s bald, in contrast to his wild facial hair.

“Well, well, well.” The first one smirks, “If it isn’t Lloyd’s pretty thing in our hands.”

Think. They haven’t killed you yet, but they are planning to. Think of something smart. To stall. Or to gather enough information so that Lloyd will know who to revenge on if you are dead.

The hair on the back of your neck practically stands when the word “dead” crosses your mind for a split second.

You cannot panic. Not now. Think.

“You can drop an invitation to my mailbox, y’know? If you wanna talk.” You look up at them. A small smile raises the corner of your lips, but you are not smiling, not really, because your sharp eyes are taking in the minor changes in their expressions.

The first one raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised, while the second one remains stoic.

“Impressive.” The man compliments, “Thought you would thrash and kick, but I guess you have seen too much of this - ” He gestures to your tied-up position, “working for Lloyd, eh?”

You neither confirm nor deny, yet, you make an attempt at deciphering his intentions, “What is it with this time?” God, you sound like you have been kidnapped twice a week since you got the secretary job. You raise your eyebrows as he does, “Threats to cooperate? Info about his latest business? Or are you two with the FBI?”

They both glance at each other when you mention the FBI.

Good news, they are not cops.

Bad news, they are not cops, which means they are more likely to kill you.

“Hey, you.” You turn your head to the silent bulk of beard, “Didn’t I see you tattling to your badge buddy two weeks ago? Is it what this is about? That I see you tipped off the cops?”

Of course, you haven’t seen the second man tattling to the cops. You don’t know him. But considering the tension ever since you pose the possibility that they are with the police and law enforcement, it is not a bad way to start an argument between the two of them.

That is, hopefully, there are only two that initiated your kidnapping. The plan of brewing a feud among the kidnappers would be more difficult to implement if there’s another person involved.

Under the first man’s continuous stare, the second man huffs out a grunt, grabs your hair in one hand, and lands a blow into your stomach with the other.

“Cука.” He grumbles, stepping back to where he was standing.

If it weren’t for the pain in your stomach, as the blow on your stomach feels like your guts have cracked into four pieces, you would most absolutely jump up from the chair that has you tied, and clap, for he has bared his identity before you, stripping clean.

Thank fuck you know a few curse words in Russian, one of them being “cука”, which means “bitch”.

Russian mob it is.

You know about the Russian mob in LA. A few weeks ago, Lloyd teamed up with one of his business partners to sell illegal substances (a nice way of putting it) and gradually took up the Russian turf. He got shot and was nearly killed after that, when the Russians ambushed him in the clinic he used to go, killing his doctor and one of his men. Lloyd himself barely got out alive and took shelter in your apartment.

Today, around 7 pm, Lloyd took his driver Denny and two of his henchmen to a club he owned to meet the Russians to settle for a truce. As his secretary, you know that he usually conducts his mob business there, instead of in the building where you work. So, you finished up the paperwork and called it a night, while ordering some pizza since cooking would take an additional one hour and a half.

You were on your way home, stopping by on the side of the curb to pick up Lloyd’s dry cleaning when you lost consciousness after a hit in the head.

Oh crap, you would have to send those clothes to the dry cleaning again.

Focus. You take a deep breath, clearing the irrelevant thoughts from your mind. Think smart. How could you subtly prove yourself worthy to them?

“Fine.” You huff out, “You are not working with a badge buddy, I get it.” Adding some sarcasm to the mix, you twitch the muscles on your face, your tone as despising as your expression, “I’m sure what I’ve seen with my own eyes is purely some illusion-voodoo shit.”

Great. Now you sound like Lloyd fucking Hansen.

The first man clears his throat, effectively silencing the grumbling Russian guy.

“Quite a temper.” He pulls a chair from the corner of the cell, sitting in front of you, pointing at himself, then back at you, “You know, we could’ve been friends, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirk your brow, “What’s stopping ya’? Enlighten me.”

Shit. Too Lloyd.

You are somewhat surprised when he responds per your ask, “If you insist…”

Yeah well, you weren’t exactly insisting (or interested, for that matter, you couldn’t care less). Nevertheless, you nod for him to continue.

“Suza Brewer. Rings a bell?” He smiles, but the friendliness is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, the name Suza Brewer rings a bell. Unfortunately, it’s the bad kind of bell.

Brewer had threatened to have you to himself, and asked Lloyd – not in a nice way – to balance between their deal and you.

… since you are alive and breathing and your limbs are still intact, without a doubt, Lloyd chose you, his faithful employee over the dumb biker Brewer, and fed Brewer to the fishes. You had speculated that there were crocodiles underwater where he disposed of the bodies, because damn, Lloyd’s body-dumping was never found by police forces, or any other people, for that matter, and now you are equally tempted to throw this kidnapper beneath the Westside Pier too.

If only you weren’t tied up like a lamb for slaughter.

“Vaguely.” You pretend to think, tilting your head to the side, even though the back of your shirt is soaked with your cold sweat, “Is he in trouble?”

Hell, Brewer is more than “in trouble”. He’s more like “in crocodile”. His body parts could be swimming along with those hideous beasts, travelling hundreds of miles apart from each other, as you speak.

Somehow, the phrase “in crocodile” has you close to smiling. Especially in this circumstance. Fuck. You are most definitely contaminated by Lloyd Fucking Hansen. You bite the inside of your cheek from actually smiling. As a result, you accidentally bite on your wound.

It stings like a bitch.

The man in front of you speaks softly, “Suza is my brother. And your boss, Lloyd Hansen, killed him.”

This is not going to end well.

You pray to whatever deity that would answer, and hope that you could have a better ending than the Brewer guys. If not, then at least a quick, painless death.

The man observes your face for any expression that could slip away some info, but eventually, he sighs and continues, “So, I decided that I would avenge him, by taking away Lloyd’s most prized possession.”

Ah. Lloyd’s most prized possession would be his gun. He’d spend an hour every day wiping it spotless with a fine cloth, counting the bullets in his gun before popping the magazine back in place. You have heard about a few of the henchmen joking that Lloyd would be more pissed if a man touches his gun, compared to touching his dick,

You have seen the gun on many occasions. Most of the times on his belt, occasionally in his hand, and once, only once on the table when he was dismantling it. But he quickly put it back together seeing you with the pile of paperwork and shoved it back on his belt. Twice, if you are counting the time when he nearly bleeds out in your home.

“Aaaaaaand you want to ask me what his prized possession is?” You pipe up.

That’d be easy. However, you doubt what this Brewer brother had in mind could be this plain and straight.

As far as you know, Lloyd doesn’t have any siblings, parents to account for (he was adopted by a gang member around five, who died in an alley fight a decade later), women that he’d ride or die for (he picks different escorts when he’s in the mood, no one, in particular, meets his eyes), or any offsprings (then your job would be more nanny than a secretary). In fact, you wrecked your brain for the answer to this question, and the truth is, that Lloyd doesn’t care about anyone in any way – apart from the men (and women) working for him. Even so, his expression of “caring” is to drop a generous check if any of them was taken out or quit voluntarily, and never pay attention to them again.

He doesn’t have any pets, neither a dog nor a goldfish to keep him company.

You wonder whether he harbors any feelings at all, except the thrill of being a sociopath.

… maybe he loves his gun in a romantic way, who knows.

“No. I got that part.” Brewer No.2 speaks with a wild glint in his eyes, “And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

You huff out a laugh. This could be the top 1 joke of the Hansen Government Services, that Lloyd sees you as his prize? Pfft.

But the man’s determent tone tells you differently. That he believes Lloyd cherishes you the most. Which means he is going to take you away.

“Don’t believe me?” He shrugs, “My intel snapped pictures of a file, hidden in his top drawer, on top of every shit he has.” Showing the pictures he has on his phone, he added, “You were on that file, Ms. Secretary.”

It was Lloyd’s desk. Dimly-lit, but still, Lloyd’s desk. Someone could burn that desk down to ash and you’d still recognize it. And the file laid bare. With a CV and a photo…

Oh no. Oh shit. It is you.

You’d be lucky as hell if Brewer No.2 simply told you something bad about Lloyd and gave you some money to run far away, as if this is some bullshit mob romance novel. In this situation, he is more likely to skin you alive and send your fingers in a FedEx package to Lloyd’s doorstep as a Christmas present. Or pull out your fingernails before shooting you in the head. Or torture you in the most painful ways possible. Oh God.

The fucking Brewer family and both of these men could go straight to Hell strapped on rabid Cerberus with burning white-hot iron shoes that could not come off.

Think. Think! He hasn’t killed you yet. Why he hasn’t killed you yet? You could be more deader than Suza Brewer who was stuck at the bottom of the pier right now. Why is this Brewer No.2 keeping you alive? What does he want from you besides to intimidate Lloyd?

You have no choice but to ask, “I’m guessing that, since I haven’t got a bullet between my eyes, you want something else too?”

A wicked grin perks up his lips. Handing his phone to your face, he says, “I want you to call him.”

Forget dental care, you now hope Lloyd could pay for a decent funeral.

Brewer No.2 dials the number for you and puts it on speaker. Your heart thumping in your ears, praying that he’d answer. But also praying that he won’t. What if it’s a larger trap to lure him here? You’d rather he doesn’t pick up and get it over with. Plus, he’s too busy to pick up calls, he’s negotiating with the Russians-

“Who’s this?” Lloyd’s sharp voice pierces through the speaker, and seems to have gripped your throat tightly.

Brewer No.2 urges you to speak, but turns out he’s too hyped up to wait for your mumbling lips to make a sound. He drags his tone almost annoyingly, “Hello, Hansen. I’m Levi Brewer, brother of Suza Brewer. I’m here to collect a debt.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

That’s so un-Lloyd-like. He’d normally end the call until the person on the other end of the phone could learn to speak what they want directly, which you have witnessed a few dozen times. You can almost imagine Lloyd’s unamused face and his killing glare, having had to deal with Brewer No.2, Levi Brewer.

“You, Mr. Hansen, killed my brother, which is why I’m taking the love of your life away from you.” Brewer No.2 announces, pulling out his gun to flip the safe off. The crisp clicking noise is like a heavy punch to your stomach, declaring the clock of your life ticking towards its end.

Jesus. You? The love of Lloyd’s life? You could’ve sworn Lloyd has a deeper bond to that escort named Cherry than you.

“Say hello to the pretty little thing I’ve just captured.” Brewer slams his palm across your face, squeezing a yelp out of your tightened throat.

The only “pretty” thought about you is that you are pretty sure you are neither “little”, nor “thing”, but that’s a debate settled for another time.

“Say your name, beautiful. I’m sure your boss would catch up soon.” Brewer No.2 points the gun to your face, and places the phone near your lips.

No matter how reluctant you are, you know this might be the only chance where you can tip Lloyd off. And maybe, just maybe he’d revenge on Tweedle Dee by allowing Dee – Brewer No.2 share the same fate as his brother. “Evening, Mr. Hansen.” You mumble, the taste of iron roots deeply in your mouth that you cannot speak clearly, “Sorry to disturb you.”

Lloyd doesn’t reply. He must be mad. Deeply mad at you for ruining his negotiation with the Russians.

Russian? Fuck, the Russian in the room – you spare a quick glance at the silent bulk of beard in the corner – shit, they were in on it together. The Russian mobs asked Lloyd to give you up – nonono, it can’t be, Lloyd wasn’t that good at acting, and considering Levi is sharing this news that you were kidnapped just now, he could be plotting with the Russians.

Does Lloyd know? Your head is messing with your thoughts. Does he know about your abduction? Was he permitting this to happen?

No. Brewer works against Lloyd, which means Lloyd couldn’t have known.

Who should you trust? Was Lloyd generous enough to give you up? Even though he declined Suza Brewer’s deal: you for the business? And fed him to the sharks because he disrespected you?

… probably crocodiles, but who cares at this point.

“Are you hurt?” Lloyd asks.

“Not really.” The tip of your tongue presses against the wound in your mouth, eliciting pain to clear your head – desperate measures for desperate times – and you continue, “I was wondering, though. I think two teeth of mine are loose. Does the employee benefit cover dental care?”

Think, think, think! How can you pass on the message?

Before Lloyd can answer, you take a head start, “Must be one of those Alenka … Alonka Chocolate bars?”

Last Christmas, the Russian mobs sent over a basket of those chocolate bars, Lloyd ordered to have them tested (in case there was poison) and gave them to his employees after they came out clean. But that was about a year ago, and Lloyd saw the wrapping papers in the basket near your seat right before the day ended. He joked about “eating with the enemy” while you admitted the chocolate was not half bad.

There. The message. Loud and clear.

“The dental plan gives you a 10% discount,” Lloyd says calmly. Which is a big fat lie, because no dental plan would be so petty. He wants to say something about 10. But about what? Ten minutes until he’s here? He’d bring ten men along?

“But I won’t tolerate tardiness, sunshine,” Lloyd’s voice sends a shiver down your spine, “Your working hours are nine am to eight pm. Don’t you dare be late.”

Holy Mary and Joseph. First ten, now nine and eight? Lloyd is about to tear this place down in less than ten seconds.

“Enough chitchat.” Brewer No.2 takes the phone back and aims his gun at your face again, “Say your goodbyes. Lloyd Hansen, you are about to hear her final words.”

“My final words?” You lean back onto the chair, steadying yourself with your feet as much as possible, “You really talk too much.”

A loud blast erupts from where the silent Russian is standing. He is most definitely covered in a few dozen kilos of rubbles and bricks. Levi instinctively covers his head, but the blast knocks him to the ground, where he stays unconscious. You are the only one with enough preparations to lower your body, even though being tied to the chair. But you still get thrown over by the blast and the chair collapses underneath your body.

A few henchmen armed to the teeth step through the hole in the wall. After them, Lloyd.

Lloyd in a black coat.

Your ears are ringing, and you can’t tell what he’s trying to say.

Another man with a black briefcase comes to your side. Your pupils were examined, your pulse was checked, and your lungs were listened to.

“… you feel any pain?” The other man asks you.

You shake your head. It hurts a bit in your mouth but that’s just a little cut.

“She’s alright.” The man who appears to be a doctor confirms, helping you up from the ground.

You stand on wobbly legs. The past hour has been too much of a scare that your knees are shaking. You trip over your own feet, before a pair of solid arms steadies you.

“Easy tiger.” Lloyd’s voice booms by your ear, having your head snap in his direction.

He came.

Oh God he came.

Knowing this was a semi-trap, but he didn’t need to be here. He could wait until this is over and give you a proper burial.

And you could’ve died. He could’ve died. You both could’ve died.

You stumble into his embrace, fingers clenching his thick woolen coat.

You probably shouldn’t. He’s your employer, your boss. He’d probably sue you for sexual harassment. But you did.

The blood soars in your ears. You dare not breathe out loud, fearing that you are dreaming.

It feels like a dream. It all did.

“ ’s alright. It’s alright now.” Lloyd murmurs. He runs a hand down your spine, inching your head close to his shoulder.

“How-How did you find me so soon?” Among everything, this is the one you were the most curious about. Yet you dare not look at him. Even if he has just saved your life.

Lloyd narrows his eyes. If you were any other girl, you’d be crying and weeping, and wiping snot on his coat, telling him how much you wanted to be with him the moment you thought you were dying. But no. You were not any other girl.

Fuck.

Long story short, he doesn’t want to elaborate, for you have plenty of time to discuss about this later, “Noticed there was something wrong with the Russians. Then your doorman called.”

“My doorman?” You raise your head to look at him, your brows furrow in confusion, “The guy at the residence entrance? Henry?” While your fingers slowly untangling from his coat.

“He had my number – I’m the last tenant of that condo – told me your pizza came and he couldn’t reach you,” Lloyd explains as simply as possible.

Ah yes. You ended your work around 7pm and ordered pizza…

You make a mental note to thank Henry for saving your life.

A groan drifts to your ear. You turn around on instinct, as Levi Brewer regains his senses.

“Where… I… What…”

In a split second, Lloyd pulls out his gun to shoot him twice in the chest.

A scream gets stuck in your throat, when the crimson blooms in Brewer’s chest.

Your body is shaking, trembling - a natural fear towards the predator behind you.

Brewer crumbles to the ground.

Lloyd lets out a sigh. He puts his arm around you, guiding your hand towards a piece of lukewarm metal. The metal that has just shot Brewer in the chest.

“You have no idea how to shoot, do you?” He asks, but doesn’t expect you to answer. It is a miracle that you are not fainting, he had hoped for far less before arriving.

Wrapping your index finger around the trigger, Lloyd takes a deep breath before flipping off the safe.

“Eye.” He lifts your chin in the direction of Brewer on the ground.

“Arm.” One of his hands steadies your shaking arm into a stable angle.

“Mark.” He lowers the gun point to Brewer’s forehead.

His warm chest against your back, blocking every possible way of escaping. The familiar feeling of having your throat in his hands creeps up your neck, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Your heart thumping loudly, your breath as shallow as it can be, as the warm air coming out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Aim for the head. And shoot.”

He curls his finger next to yours, and your finger hits the trigger.

The gun is well-positioned, allowing the bullet to dive into Brewer’s forehead, leaving a round of crimson around the bullet hole.

You spin on your heels immediately, fighting the hurling stomach deep down.

The hard piece of metal comes between you and Lloyd.

A gun.

Lloyd’s gun.

You just used a gun to kill someone.

You are never getting a decent job anywhere in the world.

You are going to keep this skeleton in your closet forever (and of course, working for Lloyd until the day you die).

The cold metal burns your palm. You remember about the jokes that Lloyd never allows anyone to touch his gun.

“I… This belongs to you.” You shove the gun into his hands, as if this is some beast that would bite your fingers off if you keep it for one more second.

Lloyd snorts when his prized gun is pushed into his hands. But he doesn’t say another word. He clasps the gun back on his belt before ordering his men to leave.

You follow his troop out of the building in silence. The past hour has been a series of roller-coaster events that you need some time to process.

Denny is waiting in the car when you climb in. While the rest of Lloyd’s men get in a van, Lloyd barks a few orders to them that you haven’t paid attention to. You sit in the car, your back rigid, and you put your hands on your knees like a pupil in class.

Denny offers a sympathetic smile when your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. He isn’t the type to talk, serving as Lloyd’s driver. But he’s nice enough to hand you a bottled water from the glove compartment, which you take with a murmured “thanks” and clench it with your knuckles turning white.

The adrenaline fades from your blood system, and your heart beats in a stable rhythm, your breathing finally adjusts itself to slow inhales and exhales.

The bruises on your wrists and ankles are scorching in pain. The back of your head is hurting too. Luckily, none of your bones is broken, which could be the best news of this evening.

This feels way too familiar.

As Lloyd opens the car door, your heart jumps to your throat again.

You are worried. Worrying about he’d fire you, thinking you have leaked information to the Brewer guy. Worrying about you have touched his gun, using it to kill someone, no less, and he’d cut off your hand for using it. Worrying about Lloyd would be dead if he steps into a trap with you as bait, that Levi Brewer intended to kill him…

Why the fuck are you worrying about Lloyd? He’s perfectly fine taking care of himself. It is you who needs extra self-defense lessons.

“What… Um, what happened to the truce you went to negotiate with the Russians?” You can’t help but ask, knowing that the dead Russian who kidnapped you was dragged out of the rubbles and put into a body bag, heading in another direction on the van that had Lloyd’s men on it.

“It was a trick,” Lloyd grumbles, “to stall. We agreed upon no phones, so it took me a while to get the call from that doorman. Then I knew they were trying to stall me from getting to you.”

You were whacked when you had just picked up the drycleaning for Lloyd. “-my car, and my – your clothes -” You remember.

“-were taken care of.” He picks up where you left off, “I’m assigning you an assistant, Claire. She’s living next door. She has driven your car back to the garage, and sent the clothes to dry cleaning as well.”

“An assistant? I don’t need an assistant.” You argue, “I can work fine on my own.”

“And get knocked out on the street in the middle of the night?” Lloyd snorts impatiently, “She’s there to protect you, but ask her to pick up the coffee, take out the trash, and drive the car for you, I don’t care. Claire would be by your side when I’m not close enough to save your ass.”

Ah. So you are a liability to him.

Maybe you weren’t suitable for a mob secretary at all.

You were no prized possession, as Brewer claimed to be.

And he’s your boss. You should feel lucky to be alive instead of mulling over whether he treats you special or not.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You collect your feelings. It is perfectly normal for him to assign you a bodyguard/assistant. Hell, it’s even perfectly normal that he wants to fire you for your incompetence. Hiring an assistant? He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again, that’s all.

… or replace you when she gets the gist of your job.

You think bitterly, staring at the tinted window.

“By the way, you don’t have to come to work tomorrow.” Lloyd casually tells you, “Paid leave, and it’s Friday anyway, you deserve some time off after this …” He carefully considers the choice of words, “… incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” You reply automatically.

It is such a weird thing that you let out a small exhale of relief when you heard the word “paid leave”, as if he would’ve thrown you off the car and told you that you are fired right after saying you don’t have to come to work.

Lloyd isn’t so ruthless after all.

Your heart beats faster, hopeful for …

What are you hopeful for?

You kick the ridiculous thought into the corner of your mind, answering, “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen #the grey man #mob!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen angst

141 notes · View notes

lllluffyvert · 3 months

Text

It’s funny how the entire trajectory of one’s life could be completely and utterly changed by a singular event. A chance encounter with a living whirlwind, a sunbeam in human form. An extended hand and bright, brown eyes that sparkled with the promise of an adventure and despite himself, Zoro was utterly captivated.

“I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy, the kid who saved him without a thought for himself, without even knowing him, declared with utmost conviction, as if it were a fact, already set in stone. “I need a strong crew, the best of the best! And you’re amazing, Zoro!” A huge, toothy smile split across his freckled face and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I want you to be my first mate. Let’s help each other achieve our dreams!”

And it’s with the idea of pursuing his dream alongside someone this dazzling and so wholly determined that Zoro, the pirate-killer, the bounty-hunter, a man of self-imposed solitude, grasps Luffy’s outstretched hand in his own, catalogs the warmth of his sun-kissed skin, and swears his swords and his loyalty.

Just like that, Zoro finds himself whisked away to sea, sailing the East Blue with Luffy at the ship’s bow and their 3rd member, Nami, at the helm.

“She’s our crew’s navigator, the best there’ll ever be!” Luffy had announced by way of introductions, tipping his straw hat and throwing Zoro an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Not part of your crew,” Nami replied firmly while crossing her arms. The sleeve of her shirt shifted with the movement and a bandage wrapped around her right arm peeked from underneath the fabric. “Just hitching a ride.”

“I know,” Luffy said with a knowing wink and a winning smile. Zoro eyed Nami with some suspicion, but he could tell that Luffy had already made up his mind to trust her, and he wouldn’t question his captain.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to secure the fourth member of the crew: Usopp, an incredible sniper and an even worse liar. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched every time he called himself “Captain Usopp”, but along with Usopp came the Going Merry, and Luffy finally had his ship. Zoro would let Usopp spin all the tall tales he wanted as long as Luffy was happy.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky now as they skim over calm ocean waters. Zoro reclines against the ship’s wooden railing, nurses a bottle of beer and kicks his feet up. He contemplates taking a nap when he catches sight of Luffy, perched atop the sheep’s head of the Going Merry and basking in the sunshine. He holds his straw hat in his lap and hums a jovial tune as the salted breeze tussles his brown curls in a way that has Zoro feeling short of breath.

Luffy turns like he feels the weight of Zoro’s gaze and meets his eyes. He smiles, bright and warm like a ray of sun. Beautiful, is what Zoro thinks, as he sends up a silent prayer to the gods he doesn’t believe in that he would be deserving of such an expression, quietly devoting himself to his captain as his first mate, as his sword, as anything Luffy wanted him to be.

I’ll become the world’s greatest fucking swordsman, he vows with rekindled resolve, his hand a tight fist around the hilt of his sword. Whatever it takes.

Zoro is tested much sooner than expected, when only days later he, Nami, and Usopp are confronted by Dracule Mihawk, one of seven Warlords of the Sea, a man that Zoro simultaneously idolizes and strives to surpass. As Mihawk tersely questions their captain’s whereabouts, Zoro unsheaths his sword and points the tip at Mihawk’s chest.

“I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel.”

“Zoro,” Nami hisses, her expression tense. “Please, don’t do this.”

Mihawk looks him up and down with eyes full of contempt and scoffs. “I don’t waste my time with children.”

“I’ve followed your career since I was a child,” Zoro doesn’t waver, adrenaline pumping in his veins and blood rushing in his ears. “And it’s my dream to be a greater swordsman than even you.”

One of Mihawk’s perfectly manicured eyebrows raises inquisitively as he stares at Zoro for a moment before nodding once. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll humor you, because you’ve piqued my interest, Roronoa Zoro. We’ll meet at dawn, and do try your best not to disappoint me.” He turns and strides away with a flutter of his dark cloak and disappears into the night.

“Why did you have to do that?!” Nami’s voice shakes with anger. “He’s going to kill you!”

Zoro sheaths his sword and looks to Nami. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are filled with apprehension.

“It’s a chance at my dream,” he says with conviction. Nami glares at him. “And why do you even care?”

“Why do I–” Nami sputters, and punches his arm hard. “Because you’re my friend, you idiot! I’m telling Luffy about this!”

She storms off and Usopp follows quickly, but not before he casts an apprehensive glance at Zoro, in agreement with Nami but afraid to speak his opinion.

Luffy will understand, Zoro thinks, and the idea provides him a modicum of comfort. Out of everyone, he knows his captain will understand because they’re the same. It’s what drew Zoro to him so easily; that unbreakable spirit and unshakable resolve. It might’ve also been the beaming smiles that sometimes seemed to be just for him, or maybe those big, sparkling brown eyes that only ever looked at him with adoration. He made Zoro want to be better, to be the best; he’d do anything to make his captain proud and dueling Dracule Mihawk was only the first step.

The hours seem to crawl. Zoro doesn’t sleep, choosing instead to cycle between meditation and polishing his swords, clearing his mind and steeling his nerves up until his crewmates barge into the room with only a few minutes remaining before dawn.

“Okay, now tell him to back out of the duel, Luffy!” Nami demands.

Luffy looks a little unsure, glancing back and forth between Zoro and Nami and biting his lip. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Zoro,” he says finally, pushing his hat back to scratch at his forehead, an anxious movement as he’s suddenly forced to make a decision as captain.

“I have to,” Zoro says, a bit desperately as he holds Luffy’s gaze. “To achieve my dream, I have to do this.” Understand me, Captain, is his silent plea.

At that, Luffy’s hesitant expression shifts into one of comprehension, and he immediately straightens his posture and nods firmly. “I’ll support you, Zoro,” he states resolutely.

It’s like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and Zoro’s devotion grows ever deeper. His captain was at his side, and nothing else mattered.

Nami makes a noise of protest and her eyes begin to well up with tears. “Luffy, why?”

“I can’t get in the way of someone else’s dream, Nami.”

“Even if that dream will get him killed?!”

“Zoro is strong,” Luffy says simply, causing Zoro’s heart to skip a beat.

“I won’t let you down,” Zoro promises, as time runs out and the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

“I know,” Luffy replies with a reassuring smile and a confident gleam in his eyes, believing entirely in his first mate and filling Zoro with a fiery determination. He picks up his swords, ties his bandana around his head, and marches outside to the docks where Dracule Mihawk awaits.

“Ah, you actually showed up,” Mihawk says dully, looking rather bored. “Bravo.”

Zoro says nothing. He stands before Mihawk and pulls out his swords, biting down on the hilt of one and the other two in each hand.

The duel is quick. Zoro breathes heavily, Mihawk’s dagger in his shoulder and blood trailing down his arm to drip from his fingertips. He hears Nami cry out and Usopp gasps. Luffy makes no sound but watches him with wide eyes, features drawn with apprehension.

“Why don’t you retreat?” Mihawk questions, looking pointedly at the wound he’d created.

“If I do,” Zoro says through gritted teeth, “My dream will be lost forever.”

Mihawk hums appreciatively and pulls the knife from Zoro’s shoulder with a wet schlick. “Not bad, Roronoa Zoro,” he says, and a metallic ring echoes in the quiet of the morning as he unsheathes his greatsword from the holster on his back. “I believe you deserve to die by Yoru.”

Zoro rushes him, but his attack is parried easily; Yoru slices into his skin and ends him flying backwards. Two of Zoro’s swords shatter, leaving him only Wado Ichimonji, which he removes from his mouth to grasp firmly in his hand, standing despite his injuries.

“You’ve been defeated,” Mihawk says, “Why do you still fight?”

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame,” Zoro responds honestly.

“Magnificient,” Mihawk murmurs.

Zoro opens his arms wide and closes his eyes as Yoru slashes across his chest, throwing him onto his back as blood pours from the gaping cut and pools around him, soaking into his shirt.

I’m sorry, Luf, is the only thought in his mind as his senses are wracked with pain and his vision fades to black. He thinks he hears Luffy cry out his name, but it’s faint under the ringing in his ears. Mihawk’s blurred silhouette stands above him, and it might be the blood loss, but he thinks he catches a gleam of respect in his enemy’s eyes.

“When you’re stronger, come and find me,” Mihawk says quietly, before he turns towards Luffy, who’s already running past him to drop to his knees at Zoro’s side, and Zoro’s focus shifts to where his captain’s warm hands touch his cheek, his arm, his chest, burning hotter than the pain in his body. It grounds him for just a moment, and he opens his eyes to meet his captain’s, huge and round and glistening with unshed tears.

Don’t cry for me, he silently begs, I don’t deserve it. I failed.

“Luffy.” Zoro’s voice is solemn, penitent. “If I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman, you’ll be disappointed in me.”

“Never,” Luffy says immediately, and he leans forward to press his forehead to Zoro’s, balling his fists in his blood soaked shirt. “You could never disappoint me, Zoro.”

Zoro briefly considers what might happen if he were to tilt his head and catch Luffy’s lips, which were so, so close, in a kiss, and he blames the intrusive thought on blood loss induced delirium, before his vision goes black and he fades to nothing.

It’s dark outside when he comes to, without any idea of the time or day. He blinks to clear his eyes and gathers his bearings. He’s lying on a firm cot, the laceration to his chest has been cleaned and bandaged, and the pain is down to a dull sting. There’s a soft blanket around his upper body, and he can see Wado Ichimonji propped up against the opposite wall. His head throbs and right hand is asleep, prickling uncomfortably. He tries to move it, and hears someone shift beside him. He turns his head and catches his breath at the sight of Luffy. His captain’s hand is wrapped tightly around his own even as he stirs from his slumber, his hat around his neck and his brown locks sticking to the side of his face, and Zoro wonders how long he’s been sitting there, waiting for him to wake up.

His heart aches at the thought, and he hates himself for causing Luffy any grief.

“Eh? Zoro?!” Luffy is suddenly wide awake, and he drops Zoro’s hand, choosing instead to hop up onto the cot and hover over Zoro on all fours, straddling his hips. “Zoro! How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

He’s always so warm, Zoro thinks, and as his right hand regains feeling he lifts it to stroke his captain’s flushed cheek.

“Barely a papercut,” he quips softly with a smile only ever for his captain. Luffy’s laugh rings like a bell, a pretty sound that Zoro will never tire of hearing, and he drops to wrap his arms around Zoro, burying his face in his neck. Zoro’s heart hammers behind his ribs and returns the embrace, barely registering the pain his movements induce to his very recent injuries and thinking only of how Luffy smells of sea salt and fresh air, and how perfectly he fits against him.

Luffy lifts himself onto his elbows and meets Zoro’s eyes, his own filled with conviction. “You’ll grow stronger for me,” he says quietly, confidently. “And you'll be the greatest swordsman ever.”

Zoro’s hands move of their own accord, sliding his fingers up Luffy’s neck and into his hair, and he marvels at its softness for a moment before he brings Luffy’s head down and kisses him gently.

Fuck, is his desperate thought as the contact lights a fire in his stomach and he suddenly needs more, craves it.

“Captain,” he breathes reverently, and Luffy’s lips are slightly chapped but pliant against his own as he kisses him again, tenderly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. Luffy hasn’t moved, but he hasn’t told Zoro to stop either, so Zoro kisses him yet again, even goes so far as to suck Luffy’s bottom lip into his mouth and swipe his tongue over his velvety skin. That seems to shock Luffy to his senses, as he makes a soft noise that Zoro swallows up and tentatively, awkwardly returns the pressure, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, exactly.

The idea of being his captain’s first kiss sends a thrill up Zoro’s spine, and his fingers tangle in Luffy’s hair as he deepens the embrace, tilting his head and licking into Luffy’s mouth like he was dying of thirst and his captain was life-saving water, only breaking the contact to gasp for air.

Luffy looks down at him with twinkling eyes and Zoro’s heart aches, this time with adoration for his captain. He pulls Luffy down against him, wraps his arms around his waist, and buries his face in his curls.

“Now let me get some sleep,” he mutters, and Luffy chuckles against him, snuggling deeper into his chest and sighing contentedly. He’s asleep within seconds, his warm breath puffing against Zoro’s neck and if he wasn’t wounded, he might’ve done something about it, but instead he follows his captain's lead and lets sleep take him.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #nami #Usopp #opla #my fic #guys you don’t understand they mean everything to me

72 notes · View notes

finalgirlrick · 1 year

Text

Ain’t It Easy

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Reader (prison era)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none I think, just fluff.

A/N: this is my first ever fic & I've had it done for weeks but I've been terrified to post it lmao. might be my first and my last fic but i hope someone out there likes it lol. pretty common trope, but reader has trouble sleeping & stuff commences. there is a rick grimes fic drought which is simply unacceptable, that man is too hot. shoutout @weretheones & @normanplusdaryl for reading over it & motivating me to finally post it :') also, i named this after a random song & it probably makes no sense.

You were no stranger to insomnia. Even before the world went to shit, you often found yourself tossing and turning endlessly until you could see the first glimpse of sunrise. It only got worse after the fall. Now in your cold prison cell, with the threat of growling blood-hungry walkers right outside, the ability to get a good night’s rest felt even more like a fantasy.

It was impossible to know what time it was. And who cared anymore anyway? There were more important things to worry about. All you knew is that you were fed up with trying to get rest when your mind and body clearly had other plans. You could only lay on your thin prison mattress and stare at the ceiling for so long. If sleep deprivation was how you died, so be it. You were done trying.

So you decided to take a walk around the prison, careful not to wake anyone and envying all of the people that were able to get a few hours of peace. The bags under your eyes proved that this was something you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. Daryl’s loud snores almost stopped you in your tracks, but onwards you went past the other's cells. Reassuring yourself that everyone in your group was safe was a welcome distraction from the weight of your heavy eyelids. You found yourself zoning out while taking in the details of the prison when a sudden whisper made your body jolt upright.

“Everything alright?” said the raspy southern drawl that you would recognize anywhere. Rick. He was carrying his newborn daughter, Judith, seemingly lulling her to sleep. “Yeah, just going for a walk,” you said with a chuckle, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Somehow, whenever you were around the leader you couldn’t help but turn into an awkward babbling mess.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked looking up at you with a gaze that made you feel like he could see right through you. There was no use in lying, standing in front of him you lost all of your willpower. You looked down at the ground, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you answered — “Nope.” You felt a strange sense of embarrassment. At what exactly? You didn’t really know. Or maybe you were just ignoring it, knowing that whatever stupid feelings you were having were to be kept buried deep. At least the prison was dark enough to mask it.

“Judith couldn’t either, just knocked out almost this second,” he responded, flashing you a smile that made you just about melt. There was a subtle shift in his expression, as his gaze once again moved to Judith. “Yeah…I’ve been having trouble sleeping too ever since - ,” he stopped himself mid-sentence. You looked at him in understanding, unsure of what to say. There was really nothing to say in these situations. You knew that all too well.

Swallowing his emotions down, he urged you to go inside his cell with a simple hand movement. He put Judith down into the small crib that Glenn and Maggie scavenged a few weeks ago, where she lay soundly asleep. An awkward silence filled the room, broken only when Rick suggested, “Try sleeping here.” Although, with his authoritative demeanor that always captivated you, it sounded more like a gentle order.

You felt your eyes widen in shock and almost immediately, you explained to him that you couldn’t possibly do that. You didn’t want to bother him, and honestly, your lack of sleep wasn’t that much of a big deal anyway. But he interrupted all of your excuses by repeating again, “Try.” And it was hard to say no with the look he was giving you. When he so carefully explained to you how it is a big deal, and how your well-being is of grave importance to the group. You didn’t necessarily agree, but hearing the words from his mouth felt good, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him.

“You’re scared,” he said as he sat down in a chair a few steps away from his bed, where you now sat anxiously. “What?” you snapped on impulse, quickly regretting it. “Of everything outside the walls,” he whispered shaking his head. “All of it,” he continued. “Not just the walkers, everything out there we don’t know about. That’s why you can’t sleep. And I get it, I do.” You took notice of the way his wet curls framed his face and moved as he spoke. How there was genuine concern for you in his bright blue eyes.

Maybe he was right, you told him. But what was the solution? This was life now. Rest wasn’t ever going to come easy again. Not for you. Until he proposed you with a plan. He would stay awake alongside you as you tried to drift off for the millionth time tonight, in an attempt to make you feel safe enough to do so. It didn’t hurt to try it, he reiterated. And so, you agreed.

With a swift tilt of his head he encouraged you to lay down on his mattress, and although you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were invading his privacy and robbing him of well-deserved rest — you swore you never felt more comfortable. And it certainly wasn’t because his bed was of better quality than yours, or because the temperature of the room was just right. His presence was a comfort, and goddammit he was right — maybe this was all that you needed after all. To feel safe. To have someone near you that made you feel safe. As you closed your eyes, you eventually felt the world fade away and finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

In the morning, while gearing up for your shift at the fences you recalled a memory - or, perhaps a dream - of feeling a hand tuck a strand of hair behind your ear at some point during the night. But there was no use in entertaining silly fantasies, back to work you went.

#this is so scary & also the most cringe thing i've ever done probably #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfic #andrew lincoln #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #rick grimes / reader #rick grimes / you #rick grimes twd #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes angst #the walking dead fanfiction

743 notes · View notes

saintsenara · 19 days

Note

More ships! Severus Snape/Charity Burbage, Severus Snape/Petunia Dursley, Narcissa Black/Lily Evans, Narcissa Black/Remus Lupin

thank you very much for the ask, anon! lots of delicious ships here to get into...

charity burbage/severus snape

i'm going to start this one by pointing out something which features a lot in discussions of snape's relationship with dear old chazza b, and which i have elected to find annoying even though it's spectacularly minor:

in the book [or - certainly - in the original edition, which is what i have] of deathly hallows, charity does not say that she and snape are friends while pleading for her life. this is an invention of the films, which are rather more heavy-handed at hinting that snape isn't really a loyal death eater with blood-supremacist views than the text is.

but, nonetheless, she does still beg him to spare her... and so she must retain some belief in snape's capacity for goodness even though she must be aware, as a hogwarts teacher, that he murdered dumbledore only days beforehand...

which is to say that i love the idea of a bit of snarity [snurbage? burbape?] in a story which didn't deviate from the canon timeline. it is just exquisitely nasty to imagine the two coming together during the goblet of fire to half-blood prince period, initially just for something casual - since snape knows he can't commit to anything given his role as a spy - which then turned into something deeper he was occasionally driven to allow himself to imagine might be able to become a real relationship after the war...

...and then him having to look a woman he's fallen in love with in the eyes and arrange his features into a malevolent smirk while this is happening:

Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. “Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!” “Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

and then to have to pretend to be completely unruffled as voldemort kills her in front of him.

delicious.

petunia dursley/severus snape

this is one i really, really back.

i’m fond of petunia, who i think is one of the most interesting characters in the series because of how full of contradictions she is.

and who i think is also a victim in fandom spaces of how the adult cast was aged up for the films [in canon, she’s only in her early twenties when lily dies, and the implication is that vernon is a good deal older than her]. her inadequacies, such as her inability to truly care for either child in the household, seem much more nuanced in a woman of twenty-three, who has a toddler and whose entire family is dead, than they do if she’s pictured as a middle-aged woman with considerable life experience.

and like snape, petunia teeters on a knife edge between various chasms: she's a working-class girl from the midlands made good in middle-class surrey, he's a working-class half-blood boy who spends most of his life in pureblood circles; she ends up with her whole life wrapped up in a square little house when she’s barely out of her teens, he ends up with his whole life wrapped up in spying at the same age; she hates the wizarding world and yet covets it, he hates the muggle world and yet cannot escape it; she loves lily and she hates her and she loathes her for dying, he… well, you know the rest.

all of these similarities - especially when combined with the long history of resentment between snape and petunia [she thinks he stole lily from her! he thinks she was the first person to try and keep lily from him!] - makes snetunia just so compelling.

and if you're convinced and desperate to really get into the mess, you're in luck - because you can read the magnificent regretfully, yours by @maria-de-salinas, which takes snape and petunia's bitterness and awkwardness and grief and guilt and remorse and turns it into something really quite beautiful...

narcissa black/lily evans

ok, so i'm afraid to say that narlily is one of those marauders-era ships which i don't fully get the increasingly popularity of - and so, if you do ship it i would be thrilled to get your recs and manifestos as to why.

my objection doesn't actually have anything to do with narcissa being a blood-supremacist [although i don't think i'd vibe with a story which didn't address this at all - and i'm not compelled by a common version of fanon!narcissa which has her as not sincerely holding these beliefs: she is just as much of a bigot as lucius] - i think something quite interesting could be done with narlily [as in all death-eater-with-a-non-pureblood ships] as a vehicle for an examination of the hypocrisy of blood-supremacy; and with narlily as a femslash ship specifically as a vehicle for an examination of how sex with a non-pureblood which has no chance of resulting in pregnancy would be more acceptable in a culture which is so obsessed with heritage and lineage than sex which could.

why i don't really think it would slap for me, though, is that narcissa always comes across in canon as someone who is conformist and a bit staid - largely, as i've written about elsewhere, because she feels a desire to perform according to the gendered conventions expected of a woman of her class background as a way of deflecting the shame brought upon her family's standing in polite society by bellatrix and andromeda's behaviour. lily - on the other hand - is famously a bit bolshy - cheeky and adventurous and argumentative and stubborn.

and so i simply do not imagine their personalities either working well together in any meaningful way or clashing spicily [they'd clearly both regard the other as not worth their time popping off at].

please change my mind!

narcissa black/remus lupin

this, on the other hand... yes. hook it into my veins.

they both live behind masks - hers of gendered social convention, his of self-loathing - which have, at their core, the idea that a proper witch and wizard must be "civilised". and while they both seem to prefer to embrace these masks, there is the potential lurking beneath them for both of them to break free and be wild and raw in the realities of themselves.

plus... imagine if you've also got the post-1981 context of lupin trying desperately to understand how sirius could have become the death eater who would betray james to voldemort and narcissa and lucius trying to establish the fiction that he was under the imperius curse during the first war with the ministry, well before they feel comfortable becoming as complacent in their conviction that voldemort's not about to return as they are at the start of the canon narrative.

lovely misery.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #including...#snetunia #petunia dursley #severus snape #narlily #narcissa malfoy #lily evans

35 notes · View notes

ownedbythescribe · 1 year

Text

Kaveh | Lily In Your Heart

ıllı Synopsis: Against his overwhelming guilt, how willing is Kaveh to take in your affection? Push. Pull. Such is the relationship between you two, yet you remained patient. You hoped that one day, he will finally open his heart again.

ıllı Genre: Angst, Comfort, Romance

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Warnings: Spoilers for Kaveh’s Character Story and Khvarena of Good and Evil World Quest, Mention of blood, Cursing

ıllı A/N: This story has been plaguing my mind since I read Kaveh’s character story. I knew I just had to write something about. I’m really happy with how it turned out. (P.S: I love this man so much!)

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have— It should have been me! It’s all my fault! If only I didn’t wish for anything.” He cried, reaching his hand to the forgotten past. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his eyes searched around for hope, but there was nothing.

I stood behind his quivering visage, the words dying on my lips. It was not because I did not know what to say, but the fact that whatever I utter would never reach his ears. From experience, I already knew this was a dream, a memory I garnered from that man.

“Time stops for no one. Not even for him. Hopes and dreams twinkle in every being, but his has started to dim. Reality will catch up to him, one way or another. He cannot turn a blind eye to it for so long.” A gentle voice remarked. I turned to the small figure hovering beside me and greeted her with a nod.

We watched until the memory faded away like sands blown by the wind. It was an indicator of the dream ending. My companion flew in front of me and wiped the tears that had unknowingly trickled down my cheeks.

“Your heart is too pure, (Y/N). I hope you would not lose sight of what is important.” She muttered. I could only offer a small smile to which she returned with an exasperated sigh.

As customary, Sumeru City (known as the Central Hub of Knowledge and Wisdom) was bustling with activity. Students from the Akademiya rushed out to get their businesses and research outside done while others chatted with their friends about topics that were discussed by distinguished professors of the institution. Merchants, on the other hand, hollered the prices of their goods, enticing the common people with the benefits their products bring. There were also children and travelers littering the street of the city. What a mundane scene it was.

Currently, you were trudging up the path to the Sanctuary of Surasthana to report to the Dendro Archon. Lesser Lord Kusanali personally requested your assistance with an issue in the Vourukasha Oasis. According to her, the Traveler had come in contact with the Order of Skeptics (Nagarjunites) and the Pari who required their cooperation with regard to the Sign of Apaosha, which was the sealing in the hole in the sky. The beautiful shade of purple and green in the sky might look captivating to adventurers and travelers, but it held a foreboding essence that kept anyone near it on their toes. In fact, for those who were aware, the Harvisptokhm (the tree emitting the green light) prevented the abyssal power from crashing down on the desert of Sumeru.

“I can’t believe Zurvan and Fedhri kept these from me. I would have aided them should they— I swear, they’re treating me like a child too much.” You rasped. A frown marred your face at the thought of their actions. Before you could ponder more, you reached the sanctuary. It exuded an ethereal aura that you could not help but stand in awe.

Entering in caution, you spotted the person you were looking for. Nahida turned around after hearing the door open and greeted you with a smile. Her companion courteously nodded his head to which you returned with a bow. Taking out the report, you informed her of the current status of the area. Similar to what you gained from the Traveler, the seal at the Tunigi Hollow was indeed weakening. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. You were unsure how many Pari were left in the oasis due to the inability to visit them, but they might have decreased in number considering the number of plumes of light scattered in Gavireh Lajavard alone.

“Singly from your assessment, the situation must be dire. I’d advise waiting out a report from the Traveler before joining them on their journey. A part of you must be concerned as to why the Pari kept this from you, right?”Nahida started. You looked down in contempt, unable to deny her words. It hurt that they hid it from you, but there must be a reason behind it. As much as you wished to join the Traveler immediately, it would be better if they continue with their progress first to get a better hold of the affair at hand.

“All right. You may dispatch me when you deem it safe for me to go. And don’t worry. I also feel like it’s my duty to see this through.” You grinned at the archon. Nahida returned the gesture before pivoting to her companion, whom you remembered as Wanderer, to give out orders. He did not bat an eye at your stature, but you knew he was aware of your presence. And maybe more.

Stepping out of the sanctuary, you were met with the cool breeze sweeping through your hair. It slowly calmed your nerves, allowing you to take in the sight of the vast rainforest ahead. Somehow, it reminded you of the first time you came into Teyvat. The slightly cold yet inviting waters of the Amrita streamed down your immaculate skin as your lunar eyes skimmed through the vibrant flora that surrounded your visage. The Pari were the first beings who greeted you, and they were the ones who introduced everything Teyvat had to offer. Albeit, it was not the best time years ago, they still did their utmost best.

“Got another mission from the Lesser Lord?” A baritone voice asked, cutting through your thoughts. You glanced to the side and saw Alhaitham walking up while reading his physics book. You were definitely sure he read that particular book several times already.

“Yep! But I have to wait for a couple more days for the Traveler to report back to Nahi— I mean Lesser Lord Kusanali.” You coughed. He shook his head at your cover-up. It was no secret that you have a unique relationship with the Dendro Archon. However, you did not fancy the misconception others might procure should you call her so familiarly, so you opted to call the young goddess by her title.

Alhaitham settled beside you and hummed in acknowledgment. The mission did not involve him, so there was no need for a fuss. The Lesser Lord trusted your capabilities enough to request your support. Small talks were added here and there until you asked him a peculiar question.

“How is Kaveh these days?” The Acting Grand Sage was caught off-guard. He presumed you would implore if Kaveh was available for dinner, walk, or another activity to drag the man into. A chuckle escaped your lips at his stupefied face, already guessing what was running through his head.

“Hmph. Can’t say much, but he’s been the same as usual. Loud and obnoxious. Last time, he even nagged about the dusty books in the living room while I had guests around. The audacity of that guy.” He huffed indignantly, quite agitated by his roommate.

There it was, Alhaitham’s infamous sharp tongue. It always amused you how they could tell each other’s flaws and strengths out loud without mercy (much so with the gray-haired male). One saw a reality he could not perceive for himself, while the other the guilt he had been running away from. Through constant understanding of each other, they forged a path only they could tread.

“Of course, you’ll say that. However, I’m glad that I can finally see diverse emotions on your face now. It seems like Kaveh is a good influence on you. Maybe not the gullible part, but you get what I mean.” You teased. Alhaitham gave you a deadpan look, shaking his head at your antics.

“And how about you? Aren’t you going to invite Kaveh somewhere? You’ve always been on his tail for as long as I recall.” He voiced. You smiled wryly and told him that your current mission needed to be prioritized. It still bothered you why the elder Pari kept the issue in the oasis from you. Alhaitham might not know the whole story about your past, but he understood that the situation may be appalling for you to be making such faces. However, he also had no intention to meddle in supernatural beings’ problems. It would be better to leave it in your hands, knowing that in no time, it would be resolved.

After chatting for a little bit more, you bid him farewell and went to the Grand Bazaar. Nilou was, once again, performing a spectacular dance up on the stage. Her fans kept growing every single day since art was unbanned from the Akademiya. It elated you to see the theatre flourish and have more people appreciate art.

“Hmm? Is that Faruzan?” You mumbled, tilting your head in confusion as to why the Haravatat scholar was in the area.

Walking towards her, you noticed unique books and scrolls being sold by an old man casually sipping tea. They all appeared ancient and valuable, so you decided to check around as well. Faruzan, who was finally out of her stupor, greeted you with vigor. She informed you that the items being sold were famous a hundred years ago, during her time. It piqued your interest, and as you scanned the booth, you found two blueprints from the desert. Kaveh would love it, you thought.

“Is that for Kaveh?” Faruzan asked.

“Why is he the first thing you’d ask? It could be for myself.” You defended. She gave you a blank stare and reasoned out that there was no way you would study complicated prints like that. Rather, you would choose research on elements or pastime novels to scrutinize.

Sighing, you conceded and admitted that it was indeed for the Kshahrewar graduate. She grinned and then paid for her stuff before asking you to join her window shop and eat dinner. Although you would prefer to spend the rest of the day alone, it would help clear your head of worries by frolicking with the cyan-haired scholar around.

“Let’s go! I’ve got a lot to talk about. Let’s start with my latest one. Do you remember Tamimi? So, the Traveler and I went to the desert to….” You let her trail, happy to listen to her rambles.

Kaveh never anticipated his life to end up like this. The memories of his father passing and his mother remarrying in Fontaine (leaving the blond alone) still hunted him to this day. He thought that with compassion and hard work, he would be happy once more, but chasing after a fantasy he called dreams brought him despondency and frustration.

Soon, Kaveh found himself in debt after finishing his magnum opus, the Palace of Alcazarzaray. It became the talk of the town, but hearsays neglected the story behind it. The Light of Ksharehwar (a title that did not sway him) had to pour out his whole savings after an unfortunate event, including his old home (if he could even call a building whose warmth has long extinguished home that is). It cost him arms and legs to finish the project, but he was a martyr who offered his entire fortune to the altar of ideals.

When the Kshahrewar graduate lost his home, he entered a period of melancholy. He was directionless, empty even. Lambad's Tavern became his temporary home. Searching for inspiration became his excuse whenever his acquaintances found him sitting at a lone table by the tavern. When discussing life matters, you and Alhaitham were the hot topic of their talks. He remembered the Scribe due to their joint research years ago, but he did not recognize you. His associates only had a few things to say about you, but they were always about your peculiar aura, behavior, and understanding of the world. That fact flew over his head as the alcohol distorted his thoughts.

Coincidentally, Kaveh met you and Alhaitham in the tavern days later. The latter hoped to have a well-deserved dinner and alcohol. Both of you could tell that he was in a bad situation, and that faithful night, Kaveh poured out his woes. Alhaitham listened intently to his words. On the other hand, you attempted to converse with the blond, who already seemed drunk from a few cups of rose wine.

"Then, how has realizing your ideals gone for you?" The Scribe asked. Kaveh was silent. He did not know what reality to accept anymore. What he yearned for was a fantasy, but in your eyes, it was stupid altruism that only hurt him. Still, he firmly believed in his ideals, even at the cost of losing himself. It was out of instinct, but you found yourself reaching out a hand to sweep away the tears that slid down his cheeks. His will drew you to the man. Alhaitham noticed the strange gesture and turned to you in confusion, but he found you floored and shedding tears.

"Hey, are you all right?" He asked, concerned about your well-being.

"His... His memories hit me hard. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched him so carelessly." You groaned, feeling dizzy at the barrage of memories. As for the blond, he was already passed out on the table, unaware of the predicament he caused. Taking out the handkerchief, you wiped away the dampness in your cheeks. At that moment, the seed of affection had already grown in your heart.

The following day, Alhaitham offered his home to the blond. It was your suggestion, and he found himself agreeing. Most likely because he saw in Kaveh a mirror of himself, projecting what he both possessed and lacked. He had a part of the Scribe that he once imagined, one of the truths he had been searching for. The way he expressed his emotion so openly, his strange intellect and perseverance, as well as his humility amidst illusory altruism drew him in. But in no way would he let Kaveh know any of that lest he inflated his nonexistent ego.

Kaveh continued to live as he was before, but now, with a house to come back to. He would now connect with his friends with an ecstatic aura around him. However, there was one enigma that he could not fathom, more like he could not accept because of trepidation. It was you.

Kaveh believed he should not fall in love because how could he when he only hurt those people around him? Even when he drank and shared moments with Alhaitham, Cyno, and Tighnari, he kept a part of him at arm's length from them. But you? You kept on reaching out to him. Inviting him to stroll around the Avidya Forest, asking him out for dinner in Lambad's Tavern, and enticing him with rare blueprints from the desert that he had not seen before. He realized your intentions, and if he was to be honest, he also learned to like you. Your radiant aura charmed him, but it felt wrong for him.

He surmised it to be the guilt that never left his side.

"Hey, Kaveh! Your head is in the clouds again. The food's getting cold! Eat up." Tighnari nagged. Kaveh blinked owlishly before sheepishly grabbing one panipuri and dipping it in the sauce. He took his wine and watched Alhaitham and Cyno play. The match was heating up, and none of them seemed ready to give up any time soon.

"So, I heard that (Y/N) fancies you? What do you say about that?" The Forest Watcher teased. The blond choked on his wine and reddened, spouting that he could never accept your affection. Tighnari raised an eyebrow at that.

"And why is that?" He pushed.

"It's better if they choose another person than me. I admit that (Y/N) is an outstanding person, but they're too much for me. I... Sometimes, it feels like they know me too much. It's unsettling, but maybe it's just me. I don't want to lead them on." He confessed, keeping the truth to himself. It was better for him to take that secret to the grave.

Alhaitham, with half of his mind in the game, furrowed his eyebrows at his roommate's words. He wanted to voice out his opinions, but your secrets were yours to tell. As for Tighnari, he was about to argue against it when his eyes zeroed in on your stunned figure. His eyes widened in realization. Surely, you heard Kaveh considering you were just a few tables away. Kaveh was confused by his expression until he turned around. There you were, fiddling with your fingers while sporting a pained smile.

Faruzan glanced at you in worry, but you meekly laughed and walked towards their table. Alhaitham was about to greet you when you shook your head and set down the blueprints you found in the bazaar.

"It must have been disturbing. I'm sorry about that. Please take this as my last gift. I'll stay out of your sight for your sake." You murmured. Kaveh flinched and stammered an answer. Under normal circumstances, this would have made you laugh, but your lips quivered from the ache your heart endured. If you say anything else, you were afraid you would break down eventually. Without hesitation, you bowed down and left the tavern.

The Haravatat female whipped her head back to the younger male and glared at him. She gritted her teeth in anger, ready to speak her mind, but she chose to rush out of the building and catch up to you. Kaveh winced at his mistake and abruptly stood from his chair to see if he could apologize, but there was no sign of you outside. Only the buzz of the insects and the murmur of people in the tavern surrounded him.

'You idiot! How could you be so... Ugh!'

Kaveh went back inside solemnly, unable to erase the disheartened look on your face. His heart was heavy with guilt, another misfortune to add to his increasing list. Tighnari noticed the forlorn gleam in his eyes and discerned that his friend failed to apologize and explain himself. Suddenly, a loud sigh could be heard from beside them. Alhaitham precipitously stood up and glowered at him.

“I’m opposed to taking sides in arguments, but how could you let your mouth run like that? And unsettling, you say? You know none of what they’ve been through, fool. Ugh, you irritate me. Don’t even bother coming home.” He spat, leaving the tavern bitterly. It was the first time the Kshahrewar graduate saw his roommate mad. Their usual banter could not even compare to the intensity the Acting Grand Sage exuded.

Cyno turned to Kaveh and consoled him that he could stay in his home in Gandharve Ville for tonight. It was best to reflect on his words before confronting you and Alhaitham about it. Stunned, he could only nod. Tighnari, who was confused by the ordeal, inferred that there was more to you than meets the eye. Based on Alhaitham's claims, he clearly knew something they did not.

“I… I’ll go look for them tomorrow and ask for their forgiveness. They did not deserve that and… Alhaitham's right. How could I call them creepy? I’m so stupid.” He ruefully laughed. The two eyed each other in worry.

The following day, Kaveh roamed the city in search of you. His first stop was the Akademiya. His stomach squeezed in discomfort at the sight of the institution looming over his figure. Memories of his academic days resurfaced, and it was anything but happy. With a heavy sigh, he entered the place and asked the students present in the hall.

"Hi, I hope it's not a bother to ask, but do you know (Y/N)? Is it possible if you could tell me where they are right now?" He adjured.

"(Y/N)? Umm... Oh, is it that creepy senior?" One of the students piped. Kaveh furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and perturbation. Another student recognized the name and confirmed that it was indeed the same person.

"What do you mean?" Kaveh muttered. The young ones before him glanced at each other before recalling their experience with you. It was a year ago when one of them had the opportunity to work with you. As a graduate of your desired Darshan, you did not mind having a junior join you in your research and work outside the Akademiya. However, it was during your journey with them that they noticed your strange behavior which included weirdly knowing their likes and dislikes (they did not explicitly say anything), understanding their emotions, and reading them like an open book. Although there were times when they see you wear gloves or refuse to come into contact with others. You would use the excuse that you were dirty or sick when it did not look the part.

"I still can't believe I survived working under them. I still feel shivers down my spine for how eerie they were. Why are they even part of the Akademiya?" The younger male pointed. Kaveh had enough of his ill words and shook his head. He gave them a cold thanks and left, but not before leaving aggravated words to his juniors.

"You shouldn't bad-mouth your seniors like that just because they could read you like an open book. Your emotions show in your face, stupid."

To say they were flabbergasted by Kaveh's change in attitude was an understatement, but he was too irritated to care. The lack of disrespect did not sit well with him. You worked diligently and would always dedicate a portion of your time to assisting your juniors. How could they treat you as such just because you were not like the others?

"Maybe the professors will know." He mumbled, but even the instructors in the Akademiya shrugged their shoulders, oblivious to your whereabouts. So, he decided to check the Grand Bazaar for any sightings only to come up empty-handed. It was when he noticed a familiar item being sold by an old man casually eating candied nuts.

"Ho? Why hello there, young man. Are you interested in these? Aya, you remind me of the youngster who brought the pricey ones yesterday. They were with a friend who teased them about it. Something about gifting it to the person they fancied? Hohoho, how youthful." He cheered. Kaveh pieced his words together and realized that it was you he was talking about. In his mind, he questioned why you were willing to go to lengths just to receive his affection. It did not make sense to him, and his curiosity pushed him to seek you.

"I'm... taking this one, please. And they sound like a wonderful person." He responded. The old man guffawed once more.

"They are, indeed. What a blessing for me to see a young spirit like them. Hohoho!" He murmured, a flicker of nostalgia present in his sunken eyes. Kaveh caught his words and was about to ask if he could expound on it, but the old man was gone as well as the things he sold. It was like he did not exist in the first place.

'What the....' He was sure he slept well and did not take any strange medications from Tighnari. Was it the stress?

No one from the bazaar seemed to notice what happened, so he merely shook his head and slowly backed away from the place. He carried on with his search for you. However, it was as if you disappeared that night without anyone's knowledge.

Three days later, he sought and asked Faruzan for your whereabouts despite her displeasure with him. She let out an exasperated sigh and meekly answered that she did not catch up to you. When she visited your home, you were not there. Fear crept up in his heart. He did not know where to look for you anymore, then he recalled another person he could consult.

Three knocks on the door, and a 'Come in' echoed from the other side.

"Tch. Now, what brings you here?" Alhaitham sneered. Kaveh winced internally at his temper.

"(Y/N), please tell me where they are." He begged. The Acting Grand Sage placed the quill down and bore his eyes in his own. The architect could feel himself crumble under his intense gaze but remained firm. An apology was in order, and there was no excuse not to do so.

"Why? So that you could hurt them again as those bastards did? So that their heart will be torn once again? Tell me, Kaveh, why should I tell you where they are?" He challenged. Kaveh bit his lower lip in frustration. He disliked Alhaitham's protective nature over you, but he understood where he was coming from. The only question in his mind was what the Acting Grand Sage meant by hurting you again. What happened years ago? For now, he should justify himself in front of the man.

"I... have no excuse. I indeed found how they know me so well disturbing. I don't know how or why, but I want to find out. I also want to apologize. No matter what, they did not deserve that. I feel so guilty, Alhaitham. Please understand that there are a lot of things I'm scared to face. I—" He stopped. Clenching his fist tightly nicked his skin, and blood stained his palm. A loud sigh was heard from the man in front of him.

"Vourukasha Oasis. They briefly mentioned it after begging the Dendro Archon to send them to the desert earlier than planned. Now get out of my office. You've wasted enough of my time." Alhaitham glared. Kaveh, although with difficulty, expressed his gratitude and left immediately.

'Did I do the right thing?' Alhaitham thought to himself. He picked up his quill and resumed his work. It would be up to you whether you would talk to Kaveh or not anyway.

The architect, eager to see you, asked Mehrak for the quickest route to the oasis. His eyes bulged at the distance. He would have to cross the Desert of Hadramaveth and pass Gavireh Lajavard before reaching the Realm of Farakhkert. It was a mystery to him how you reached the oasis in such a small amount of time.

"All right. There's no time to lose!" He muttered, encouraging himself.

The Desert of Hadramaveth seemed clearer to tread now unlike before. He recalled the sandstorm in the region to be harsh and dangerous. Mehrak beeped and warned him that there were Eremites ahead of them. He prepared his weapon and battled his way through. It took him a day and a half just to reach the Sands of Three Canals.

"Mehrak, map please." Kaveh requested, huffing in exhaustion from the long walk they did. Mehrak chimed and projected the map of Sumeru. His eyes squinted at the sight of the Tunigi Hollow and recalled the rumors of a lost Darshan present in the area. From what he remembered, they were called the Order of Skeptics, and they split from the Akademiya due to an incident years ago. There were rumors of internal conflict within the Order, and he wondered what made several of their members side with the Abyss. Desires fueled by evil intent would only result in downfall.

After mapping his route, he resumed his journey. The sand was getting in his shoes, but he shrugged it off and glanced around for danger. It was until he reached the Temir Mountains did he notice the Traveler, Paimon, and another strange creature in the distance. Paimon creased her forehead at his figure and realized it was their architect friend.

"Oh! It's Kaveh. Hey, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"It's nice to see you again. I'm looking for someone. They're a scholar from the Akademiya who goes by the name (Y/N). Have you, in any possible case, encountered them?" Kaveh hoped. The three peered at each other, immediately recognizing your name.

"Why are you looking for (Y/N)? They are back in the oasis, helping out the Pari. By them, I mean this little one over here." Traveler responded, pointing at the scarlet avian-like creature beside them. Before Kaveh could say a thing, another Pari came rushing in. She seemed to be panicking, and by the time she reached them, she poured her worries about you fighting off a bunch of Fatui soldiers.

"(Y/N) is fighting a lot of bad people! It was so scary! I am not sure if they could handle it. Please, Sister Sorush, Yasnapati, Pale Floaty, you've got to save them!" She cried. Kaveh, alarmed by it, pleaded to the Pari to guide him instead. She tilted her head in confusion and demanded who he was.

"Kaveh, my name is Kaveh. I am their friend. Please let me help them." He sought. Sefana examined the architect and ascertained his sincerity. Unlike the humans she encountered, the man before her was earnest and willing to help. She meekly nodded and flew off. Kaveh followed suit, not bothering to listen to the Traveler.

Kaveh arrived at the site only to see a deserted camp, empty of the claimed ferocious Fatui soldiers. Turning to the side, he found you wiping the dust out of your clothes. He blinked owlishly at the sight, confused by the whole ordeal.

"Now, let's go back and ask Zurvan what in Teyvat she was thinking of keeping these from me." You huffed out loud, extinguishing the Hvarna in your hand. But when you spun around, your eyes met that of his crimson ones. You flinched and asked what they were doing in such a dangerous place.

"Especially you, Sefana. Zurvan is going to scold Sorush and me should you stay here. Don't worry about me, I'll be back in a few." You assured the Pari. She rushed to you and hugged your head before heading back to the oasis.

Once she was gone, you gazed back to Kaveh. You sheepishly apologized that he caught sight of you again, so you walked away before he could utter anything. Suddenly, you felt a tight grip on your wrist. You were about to ask what was wrong when he stammered a response. A moment of silence reigned over you two before he found his voice.

"I'm truly sorry about what I said. I... I was just confused and scared because how do you know so much about me? How do you know what to say? I already lost a lot in my life, (Y/N). If it's not evident enough, I'm as miserable as there is. I feel so guilty receiving your affection, so please, just hate me." He begged. You were stunned until you could not hold the amusement in your lips. He was confused by your outburst before you utilized the power of Hvarna and projected your ability.

"I could never despise you, Kaveh. Not in a million or thousand years." You replied, mirth dancing in your eyes.

Bubbles of memories appeared before him. He saw his own and was astonished by the sight. You floated by his side and pointed at one of the memories that made you fall in love with him. It was the time he poured out blood and tears to finish the Palace of Alcazarzaray even when Dori sneered at him for wasting her time and Mora.

"What are you, (Y/N)?" He genuinely asked.

"Hmm, are you sure you can handle what I am, Light of Kshahrewar?" You teased, a lilt echoing in your words. He nodded, eager to understand you.

With a satisfied sigh, you dispersed the bubble of memories and presented your own recollection, mostly those that you remember. Time was cruel. It eroded a number of your beautiful memories.

"I am a Lunar Spirit born from the Amrita, it's the pure water present in the Vourushka Oasis. I grew alongside the Pari, guardians of the oasis meant to protect Sumeru from the Abyss. We have a duty to purify those affected by abyssal corrosion. However, centuries ago, I asked the elder Pari to let me roam Teyvat and learn about the world. I settled in Sumeru for some time. Several people knew my identity such as the Lesser Lord Kusanali, Alhaitham, Wanderer, Traveler, Paimon, and now, you. To answer why I knew so much of you is because of my power as an empath." You explained. Because of your origin, your ability as an empath was amplified. It allowed you to see several memories when you touch people. Kaveh's eyes widened. Now, he discerned the reason for your actions.

"At first, it was just to help you get over your guilt, but eventually, I fell in love with you. I wanted you to know that you also deserve love and happiness and that there is no need for pain to lighten the guilt. I am sure that your family also wishes for you to be happy, Kaveh. What happened in the past was not your fault. Fate... can be fickle, that's all I can say. Your journey as of now may not have been the smoothest, and you remained firm with your ideals. That's the beauty of living. So, I hope that... with my help, you'll open your heart again. Allow yourself to truly feel." You sullenly voiced. Kaveh stared at your form and then at the oasis not far from them. It was strange to have someone figure out the truth he had been running away from. Maybe it was time for him to give his happiness a chance. It might take him a long time, but he would like to take the risk.

Gaining a bit of courage, he turned to you and inquired.

"Will it be all right if I tread this path with you by my side?" This time, it was your turn to flush red at his confession.

"Are you all right having a strange significant other like me?" Anxiety laced your tone. Kaveh reached for your hand and intertwined it with his.

"I couldn't have asked for more."

BONUS:

After your sincere apologies and heartfelt confession, you two returned to the oasis and met up with Zurvan. You demanded an explanation from the elder Pari why they hid it from you, and she explained that your duty was to purify the Amrita pool and energize the Harvisptokhm once it had been healed. She thought that it was not yet the time to do it until Sorush came rushing back with the need to purge the problem.

Moments later, Traveler, Paimon, and Sorush arrived, the latter having a deadpan look on her face. They were right that Sefana failed to assess the situation properly and quickly ran to them for help. Mere Fatui soldiers would not be enough to bring you down.

"Speaking of them. Hey, Traveler, Paimon, Sorush! Over here! I see you've attacked the source of the problem. Thank you!" You cheered. Paimon floated to you and asked if they have to do more.

"Don't worry. Leave the last part to me. You can stand there with Kaveh and the others." You directed.

After walking a few feet from them, you concentrated the Hvarna in your chest. A power, unknown to those watching, accumulated until it burst and went underground. The flora around them became vibrant. Kaveh witnessed a spectacular sight, but one scene that would forever be etched in his mind was your divine look under the mystical glow of the oasis.

Zurvan recognized the look in Kaveh's crimson eyes and asked if he could truly love somebody like you. He was caught off guard by the elder Pari, but he took a deep breath and firmly stated that he would cherish you. The guilt harboring in his heart had been released, and you were the reason for it. It was time he let go of that and choose his happiness this time.

"How bold, human. However, I shall permit. Take care of our Little Lily. They deserve every ounce of love there is to offer." She said.

"That they do." Kaveh agreed, watching the scene before him with contentment.

"Kaveh! Come here! We can bring this home according to Sefana." You gleefully claimed, taking in two Sunyata flower stalks in your arms.

'Home, huh? It's been such a long time since I heard that word earnestly, but with you in it? Yes, I would love to call wherever you are my home.' He thought before joining you, his happiness.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

#genshin impact #genshin #romance #genshin x reader #angst #kaveh #comfort #kaveh x reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader

202 notes · View notes

godsmenusuperbowl · 4 months

Text

Romeo's Sun ~ *Lee Minho*

Summary: You were the sun and he was your moon. It was a star-crossed love affair. However, your families are determined to pull the two of you apart, no matter how much you love each other...

Pairing: Lee Minho X Fem!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Oneshot

Word Count: 2346

Warning: mentions death, star-crossed lovers, triggering topics, s*icide ideation, hurt no comfort, slight character death

Masterlist

Taglist: @plutonieve @mxnsxngie @maeleelee @kpop-will-kill-me

A/N: I absolutely love this story, you have no idea.

To him, she was the sun.

As cliché as it sounded, Minho had never met someone who was as vibrant and as lovely like the sun as her. There was never a dull moment between the two of them and she was never without a smile. To him, she was everything and more, and he was determined to stop at nothing to be with her forever.

It was the rumors that made his blood boil; the itching, prickly, unceasing thorns in his side. Ever since he was a child, Minho has heard about her family and what filthy, good-for-nothing lowlifes they were. Despite their considerable rank in society, they were always looked down on others with scorn and contempt. He just couldn’t understand. How could someone as vivacious and dazzling as Y/n be from such a terrible family? Despite all of the nasty rumors, she never let them dampen her sparkle, which she wore proudly for everyone to see. Nevertheless, no one bothered to give her so much as a glance.

Which is why Minho was so confused when he saw her in the royal ballroom on his twenty-fifth birthday. He knew his parents would never invite her family to such an important party, so why was she here? It was because of this question, he knew he had to speak with her immediately.

“Your Highness.” She dipped a polite curtsy as he approached, a small smile still on her lips.

He gave her a bow, a bit less formal. Offering out his hand, he said, “May I please have this dance? I’d like to speak with you.”

It perplexed him even more when she accepted so readily. Most women would play coy, and tease or flirt. But not her. She agreed as if it was her right to dance with him, though many would disagree with that sentiment.

Before he could even open his mouth, she spoke, “I know what you came to talk to me about. You’re right, I shouldn’t be here. You’re also correct in the fact that my parents, well really my father, is a no-good, rotten, scoundrel. A forged invitation, that’s how I got in here. The outfit is a stolen dress and some questionable costume jewelry, as my parents are bankrupt and one coup away from being run off their land. Is that all you were wondering about or do you have more you’d like to discuss?”

At first, he couldn’t find the words, not after she so candidly answered the questions he didn't get the chance to ask. His jaw flapped open and closed several times, which wasn't very princely of him. Nevertheless, he managed to choke out, “Why did you tell me all of that?”

Her smile only brightened. “I do so hate rumors, don’t you? I thought I might as well clear the air, since you seemed so adamant to speak to me.”

“I see.”

“So, do you still wish to speak with me? Or have I lost my mysterious charm?” It was remarkable how quickly her sincere smile shifted into a cheeky grin.

It took a brief pause before he nodded. “Yes, I would like to talk to you. Not only has your story captivated me, but you appear to be an excellent dancer as well.”

Her laugh mixed with the music of the ballroom in perfect harmony, making his smile grow. “Why thank you. You’re quite light on your feet yourself.” After a particularly robust turn that settled back into gentle swaying, she added, “But I suppose you say that to all the ladies to charm them, yes?”

His smile turned fond, before he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “No, only you.”

Not only was he pleasantly surprised, but slightly cocky in the fact he could make her blush so prettily as he did.

Minho didn’t think she would leave such a lasting impression on him. Yet, he was already desperate to see her the very next day.

From there, their relationship blossomed. Before either of them realized it, they had slipped into a courtship. However, neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, they were happy with how easily they got along.

Until one fateful day…

“And what was so urgent you needed to meet with me right away?” She asked, her angelic smile glowing despite the setting sun.

He rolled his eyes, his hands covering her eyes. “It’s a surprise! Just be a little patient please.”

She chuckled. “Well, judging by the tone of your voice, I think it might be a good surprise. So, I won’t have to murder the crown prince.”

“I’m not sure if I should be relieved or offended.” He chuckled.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if the surprise is worth it or not.” She mused, her smile still cheerful.

“Alright.” He finally stopped. “I’m going to remove my hands, but keep your eyes closed!”

As he gently lowered his hands, her eyes remained shut. He took a step back before taking a deep breath. It was a vain attempt to try and calm his nerves.

“Okay, open them.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped, a hand rising to her mouth. Before her, she could see the sun sinking behind the mountains, a beautiful waterfall tumbling from their rocky cliffs and feeding into the river before her. She marveled at the fireflies that danced between the willow branches overhead that also dipped down to brush between the wildflowers at her feet. It was truly a magical sight to behold.

“Oh, Minho. It’s like a patch of heaven on Earth.” She breathed, her voice delicate with emotion.

“Perhaps you should turn around then.”

“How could I do-” Her words caught in her throat.

He was so thankful his proposal turned out the way he planned it. The perfect setting for the perfect person. It took months to plan all of this out, but for his sunshine, all of his work was worth it to see her expression shining down on him, just like the sun she was.

“Y/n, you make me the happiest man in the world. Title or not, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else in the entire world. Will you do me the honor of marrying me, so that I may make you happy for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, Minho, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Tears flooded her eyes like diamonds before she too knelt down to kiss him. And they stayed there all night, together in blissful harmony.

But the sun cannot always shine so brightly forever. Dark clouds of trouble were brewing a storm neither of them were prepared for.

On the day he was to announce the day of their engagement, Minho's parents forbade the union and refused their son access to the outside world, so that he may see her again. Nevertheless, he resisted. He snuck out as often as he could and wrote letters even more often. He hated being away from his sunshine like this and he made sure to tell her so.

“I’ll come for you.” He vowed to her one night by the willow tree where he proposed. “As soon as I am King, I will come for you and we shall be married that very day.”

“Oh Minho.” She breathed, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she embraced him tightly. “I love you so very much, moonlight.”

“And I love you so very much, sunshine.”

As the days continued to drag on, the more and more anxious he got. He knew he couldn’t keep her waiting forever. Even though she swore loyalty to him, he knew her parents or his for that matter would do something drastic to split them apart for good. He was terrified of the plans that he did not know about. He couldn’t let anything happen to them, no matter what.

But fate had other plans.

There was a visitor in his study.

Never in his life did he expect to see the sun so dull and lifeless like he saw that day. And yet there she was, staring out the window, a blank expression on her face.

“Y/n.” His voice was no more than a gasp. “Sunshine, you’re here! How, why-”

“Your Highness.” Her voice was emotionless and precise. She only called him his title once, when they first met. She was never this formal with him, ever. “I have to give you something.”

“What-”

The ring hit the table, echoing in his mind forever, his heart shattering along with it like glass. It just couldn’t be the truth. She couldn’t mean it. It wasn’t possible.

“Sunshine, I-I don’t understand.” He breathed, barely moving as she stood.

“I’m afraid I can’t marry you. I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but it’s better this way.”

“NO!” For the first time ever, he raised his voice at her, making her flinch slightly at his tone. “No! It’s not better this way! Y/n, we can fix this, please! I know we can! Please don’t give up on us. I don't want to give up on you. I don’t want this to be the end, please. Sunshine.”

She sighed, looking away. “Goodbye, Minho.”

As she was almost to the door, he whirled around to speak to her once more. “Just tell me one thing before you go. Through this whole thing, from the first moment we saw each other to the day I put that ring on your finger, did you love me? Even just a little bit? For even the briefest of seconds, did you ever love me?”

He could just barely hear her gasp before she shook her head. “No. I never loved you.”

And with that, she was gone. His sun had disappeared behind dark storm clouds. He fell to the ground and sobbed for a very long time.

It was well past midnight when the anger hit him. No, he knew for a fact that she loved him. All of that time they spent together, there was no way she could fake it for that long. Either his or her parents put her up to this and he was not going to stand for it. He made up his mind to go find her and get married just like they planned before all of this happened.

And no one was going to stop him this time.

He raced to her house as fast as he could. He didn’t care about the valet who was trying to stop him. He needed to find her as soon as possible and then they would be gone without a trace.

However, he found something else entirely. Her father and someone who looked to be a royal guard were drinking in his study. They both appeared to already be drunk.

“…Apparently the wedding is canceled, which doesn’t do me any good.” Her father grumbled.

“And why is that?” The guard asked. “With the Prince out of the picture, her reputation is ruined and she’ll be penniless, alone, and miserable forever, just like you wanted.”

“Well I had concocted a new plan.” He growled, “When that nosy little Prince got engaged to her, I planned to reveal her true identity at the reception. You know she’s nothing but a bastard child.”

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Some whore from a brothel in some nameless town is her real mother. I didn’t intend to keep her but I assumed she’d be useful sooner or later.”

The guard nodded. “Very wise of you.”

Her father gave a smug smile. “It is, isn’t it? After that, I assumed the King and Queen would disown their son due to the scandal and the shame he’d bring. Of course, it’s no skin off my nose if the two of them killed themselves afterwards from the ostracization they’d receive, which I had planned out as well. With no heirs, the kingdom goes to the next in line, and I’ll be damned if that isn’t me. I’ll see to it that every adversary coming after my throne is quickly eliminated.”

Minho gasped. Her father truly was the heartless monster in all of the rumors he heard about her family. To him, it didn’t matter that his sunshine wasn’t a legitimate child. He still loved her with all of his heart and soul, no matter what. But to see that her father planned to kill both of them was truly despicable. He really had no time to waste, causing him to dash down the hall, missing the last bit of their conversation.

“Right now, she’s in her room asleep. I had her chloroformed since she wouldn’t stop crying about her precious moon or whatever it was. I plan on dumping her in an abbey or a river tomorrow.”

Her bedroom door swung open, yet she didn’t stir. He was too late. The deed was done.

He choked on his sobs as he stumbled to her bed. He couldn’t believe it. She was dead. Really dead. His sun snuffed out for all eternity, leaving nothing but tears in his eyes that sparkled just like her eyes in the sun. He couldn’t believe it, but after what he overheard from her father, he wouldn’t put it past him.

What could he do now? Where does he go from here? Why didn’t he come find her sooner?

Minho couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. A cold numbness overtook him and silent, overwhelming sadness made him tremble. Now what could he do?

There, next to his hand, the answer sat. A bottle with a dark, forbidding elixir called out to him. It would be so easy. Quick uncork the bottle, down the whole thing, and then the sun would return. It would be too easy.

Taking it in his hand, he whispered a promise into the cold night air:

“I would much rather die in hatred than live without your love. I wish we could become flowers when we meet again. I will not become the fool who was sacrificed by destiny again. Even if destiny separates us.”

The cap came off.

A gasp.

“Wait.”

43 notes · View notes

callmebrycelee · 16 days

Text

9-1-1 REACTION

After last week’s 100th episode, I am back with a reaction to our latest episode. I do want to acknowledge my last reaction got a bit wordy so it’s my goal to keep things nice and tight. Like Lou Ferrigno Jr.'s body. Okay, focus! Ahem. This reaction is for the season 7, fifth episode “You Don’t Know Me” which originally aired April 11, 2024. The episode was written by Lyndsey Beaulieu and Taylor Wong and directed by Brenna Mallow. Spoilers ahead!

“I’m the boss of me.” – Terry and audience

We begin the episode in a hotel conference room where speaker Terry (played by John Milhiser) is talking to a small audience about the importance of having self-control. He tells his captive audience the secret to self-control is one simple thing; however, before he can reveal that simple thing, his right hand seizes up and starts going all Devon Sawa in Idle Hands on Terry. The audience is aghast as Terry starts beating the shit out of himself. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so horrifying.

Cue title card.

“Get it off!” – Eddie Diaz, to anyone who will listen

The 118 arrive on the scene and find Terry slapping himself. Hen reminds us that once upon a time she went to med school and suggests Terry is suffering from something called alien hand syndrome. Eddie doesn’t believe such a thing exists but Hen schools him by explaining that it’s a rare neurological condition that causes a person’s limbs to act out, seemingly of their own will. This condition usually indicates urgent brain danger. Bobby tells Buck and Eddie to restrain Terry while Hen and Chimney prepare to administer some lorazepam and lidocaine. Buck and Eddie struggle to restrain the guy which is funny considering they’re both big dudes and this guy doesn’t seem like he would be that strong. Hen asks Terry if he’s recently been treated for epilepsy or blood clots. He tells her no and Chimney asks if he’s been treated for an irregular heartbeat. Terry tells him he had an operation four weeks ago for his AFib. Hen thinks it’s possible his heart has grown a blood clot that went to his brain. Basically, Terry is having a stroke and it’s imperative they get him to the hospital immediately before there’s any brain damage.

Terry’s hand reaches for Buck’s throat and starts choking him. Bobby manages to pry his hand off Buck’s throat, but it immediately grabs Eddie’s (ahem) privates. Yup, you read that correctly. Terry’s hand gropes Eddie’s package. Eddie is basically S.A.-ed in a room full of people. Bobby pries his hand off, again, and Eddie collapses to the floor. The hand goes for Buck’s throat again and Chimney sneaks in to administer the lidocaine which numbs Terry’s arm and hand. At this point, Buck’s face is beet-red, and his eyes are bulging out. Terry goes to apologize to Buck and Eddie, but neither are very receptive to his apology.

“How perfect is this little face?” – Karen Wilson, to Maddie Buckley

We head over to the Buckley-Han residence where Maddie and Chimney are giving some of Jee-Yun’s baby clothes to Hen and Karen who are excited about the arrival of a new foster child. Karen gets a call from the social worker asking to meet with them. When they meet with Dierdra (played by Andi Chapman) she tells them the little girl they were planning on fostering is being taken in by her grandmother. What I like most about this scene, it shows how much Hen and Karen have grown since the whole Nia situation back in season 3. They’re disappointed about not being able to foster the little girl, but Hen says that at least the girl gets to stay with her family.

Dierdra tells them there’s another girl who needs a home but she’s older. Both the girl’s parents are deceased and she’s currently living in a group home which is not an ideal living situation for a 9-year-old. Dierdra tells Hen and Karen that this girl is very special, and she wants her to have a fighting chance at having a good life. She believes her best chance is with Hen and Karen. Hen looks at Karen who gives her a look that indicates her interest in giving this child a home. Hen asks Dierdra when she and Karen will get to meet her.

“I’m an ally. Every Pride Month, I put a rainbow on my Instagram.” – Evan Buckley, to Tommy Kinard

Meanwhile, Buck and Tommy (played by Lou Ferrigno Jr.) go out on their first date. While Tommy pays their bill, Buck asks him what time the movie starts. Tommy tells him the movie theater has 18 screens so they can pick a movie when they get there. Buck glances around the restaurant, nervously, and Tommy assures him that no one is looking at them. I love that Tommy is one of the only characters in the show who calls him Evan. Tommy reminds him that no one cares that they’re having dinner together. Buck, of course, plays coy, and Tommy tells him he’s a little tense. He tells Buck that he gets it. The two of them are in a pretty macho line of work,. He tells Buck that he’d be surprised by how accepting most people are.

Buck asks Tommy if he’s always been out at work. Tommy tells him ‘no’ and says that the 118 was a pretty regressive place back when it was under the leadership of Captain Gerrard. Tommy says that back then he was still figuring himself out. When he transferred to Harbor, he stopped lying about who he was. Buck says he’s not lying about who he is and Tommy says he didn’t say Buck was. He was talking about himself. Buck tells Tommy this is his first date with a guy but assures him he’s not weirded out. I cackled when Buck told Tommy he was an ally and that he posts a rainbow on his Instagram during Pride Month. Tommy says that it must be him that makes Buck nervous.

“Evan, I think you’re adorable.” – Tommy Kinard, to Evan Buckley

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Eddie and his girlfriend, Marisol (played by Edy Ganem). Eddie greets them both, very loudly, and is excited to see his two friends hanging out. Tommy tells them they just had dinner and are on their way to see a movie. Buck says that afterwards they’re going to go pick up hot chicks because women like firefighters. Eddie, of course, is oblivious and makes a comment about Marisol being a hot chick and finding her firefighter. I don’t know who’s cringier in this scene – Buck or Eddie. Eddie tells Buck and Tommy that Marisol agreed to move in with him and they both tell him congratulations. Marisol makes a comment about moving her armoire into Eddie’s house and he says that you can never have too much closet space. Tommy says, ain’t that the truth – right, Evan? I hollered!!!! Buck looks like he wants to disappear. Eddie and Marisol leave, and Tommy asks if Buck’s ready to go. Buck says yes. Outside, Tommy orders a Lyft just for himself. He tells Buck he’s going to skip the movie. When Buck asks why, Tommy tells him that he doesn’t think Buck is ready. Before he gets in the car, he tells Buck he’ll see him around. I felt so bad for Buck in this scene, but I totally understand where Tommy is coming from.

“Can we go back to the pronoun?” – Maddie Buckley, to Evan Buckley

Dierdra introduces Hen, Karen, and Denny to a Mara Driskell (played by Askyler Bell). Mara is non-verbal and seems withdrawn. Hen tells her to make herself at home and Denny gives her his favorite teddy bear. Meanwhile, Buck goes to see Maddie and tells her about his date. He describes his date in vague terms which leads Maddie to believe he’s seeing a married woman. Buck says he’s not seeing a married woman and tells her he feels guilty for lying to Eddie. Maddie asks him why he did it and Buck says he doesn’t know. Buck tells her that his date left him standing outside the restaurant. Maddie picks up on the specific pronoun he used to describe his date and to Buck’s credit, he tells her he was on a date with a guy.

Maddie is so supportive in this scene which I knew she’d been. In fact, I don’t think anyone is going to have a problem with Buck being interested in men. Maddie asks him how long it’s been since he’s been leaning in the other direction. He tells her he hasn’t been leaning in that direction; however, he will, from time to time, check out a hot guy’s ass. Buck considers this normal behavior, and you know what, I agree with him. We should all, regardless of who were are attracted to, take the time to check out a hot guy’s ass. Buck tells his sister about Tommy. I thought it was so cute when Buck lists all the things he finds attractive about Tommy Kinard. He’s confident, interesting, and no one has a swell cleft in his chin like Gaston Tommy. Maddie asks if this is the same Tommy who is Eddie’s friend. Buck gets defensive and reminds her that Tommy is a recent friend that he and Eddie most definitely met at the same time. I love when Buck gets jealous. Maddie tells Buck that she doesn’t think he’s a fraud and she follows that up with some amazing, sisterly advice. She reminds him that he’s still processing these new feelings and when he’s ready to tell Eddie the truth, he will do it in his own time. We end the scene with Maddie asking Buck to tell her more about the hot pilot.

“You’re not gonna spank me with a ruler, are you?” – Eddie Diaz, to Marisol

We next head over to the Diaz residence where we see Eddie and Marisol in bed together presumably after sexytimes. I found this transition jarring because we haven’t seen this side of Eddie since season 2. It’s so funny to me that Ryan Guzman is one of this show’s sex symbols, but we rarely get intimate scenes with his character. In fact, all of the other characters have been shown to have very active and satisfying sex lives within the show. Even Bobby and Athena like to mix it up with some roleplay from time to time. Anywho, Marisol heads into the bathroom to take the world’s fastest shower while Eddie snoops through her things. He finds a crucifix and a photo of her in a nun’s habit. He asks her when she was a nun for Halloween. Marisol exits the bathroom wearing a towel and tells him the photo was taken when she was with the Sisters of the Holy Order. She passes off this information like it’s the most normal explanation in the world before heading back into the bathroom. He asks he if she was really a month and she lets him know she only made it to novice and never took her final vows. Eddie tells her he’s having flash backs to being back in middle school. He asks if he she plans on spanking him with a ruler and she jokes that she’ll only do that if he asks nicely. When Marisol leaves the bathroom this time, Eddie sees her dressed in a habit with a celestial glow around her. Yeah, Buck may be dealing with his sexuality, but our boy Eddie has some good old-fashioned Catholic guilt.

“Is something wrong?” – Karen Wilson, to Mara Driskell

Back over at the Wilsons, Karen helps Mara get ready for bed. As she goes to leave the room, she finds the bear that Denny gave Mara lying on the floor with its head ripped off. Karen is rightfully disturbed by this and quickly exits the room. Later on, Karen wakes up to find Mara standing at the end of her bed. She wakes Hen up and they ask if something is wrong. Mara just stands there and glares at them in the creepiest way. Hen gets up and tells Mara she will go back to her room with her. When she goes to put her hand on Mara’s shoulder, the child starts screaming bloody murder which wakes Denny up. Hen and Karen exchange horrified looks.

“So, she dropped out of nun school?” – Evan Buckley, to Eddie Diaz

The next day, Buck walks into work, looking nervous and trepidatious. He sees Eddie at the bench-press and heads over to talk to him. He starts things off by telling Eddie he’s there early. Eddie says he’s been there since 6:00 even though their shift doesn’t start till 9:00. Eddie tells Buck he left the house early to avoid having sex with Marisol. Eddie asks Buck if his family was very religious when he was growing up which, no offense to the writers, seems like a conversation they would’ve maybe had by now considering how close they are. Buck says they were Episcopalian so basically no. I laughed at this line because I’ve always thought of Episcopalian as diet Catholicism. Many of the same rituals without all the pomp and pageantry. Eddie says he comes from Latin Catholics which apparently is even more hardcore than regular Catholics. Rosary beads. Catholic schools. Confessions. Mass every Sunday. He tells Buck he went until he was old enough to let tell his parents it wasn’t for him. Eddie calls himself as a Manchurian Catholic with a reservoir of Catholic guilt lying dormant just waiting to be activated.

Eddie goes on to say that everything was going great with Marisol moving in until he found out she was a nun. Buck’s follow-up question to hearing all of this is asking if she wears the outfit meaning the nun’s habit. Eddie explains that she’s not a nun currently, but she was once upon a time. Buck asks if she dropped out or was expelled. Eddie says that Marisol left of her own volition. Buck asks him what the problem is. Eddie says the problem is that he can’t look at her without wanting to do the Sign of the Cross instead of … other things. Eddie says he hasn’t been able to get a boner since she told him which explains why he’s so pent up. Buck tells him that Episcopalians don’t have guilt which is something he doesn’t exactly feel great about and suggests that Eddie appeal to a higher power. Eddie asks Buck if he thinks he should go to confession. Buck tells him ‘no’ and says he thinks he should go talk to Bobby since he’s a practicing Catholic. Eddie thinks this is a good idea since Bobby has never made him feel judged. He tells Buck that’s good advice. He goes to leave but pauses. He turns to Buck and says that it looked like he wanted to tell him something when he walked in. Buck lies and says he was just going to see if needed someone to spot him.

“One minute, Denny’s setting the table and the next, he’s bleeding.” – Karen Wilson, to Hen Wilson

Upstairs, Bobby brings Hen coffee. She tells him she need a handful of ibuprofen. He asks her if she has a headache, she tells him she has an everything ache. He asks her how thing are going with Mara, and she tells him that something happened to her. Before she got to Hen and Karen. Hen tells him that Mara had an episode the previous night. A night terror. She tells Bobby that she’s been with a day and a night but so far hasn’t spoken a single word. Bobby tells her that once Mara feels safe, she will eventually open up. Hen gets a text from Karen with a photo of Denny. Denny had a bruise over his right eye and the two of them are at the emergency room. Hen gets up and tells Bobby she needs to call Karen.

She learns that during breakfast, Mara chucked a coffee mug at Denny’s head. Hen asks if Denny is okay, and Karen says that he swears he’s fine. Denny tells Karen and Hen that Mara didn’t mean to hurt him which is awfully mature of him to say. Hen starts freaking out and asking about x-rays and stitches and checking for a concussion. Karen lets her know she is handling things. Hen apologizes and says she wishes she was there. Hen asks how all of this happened and Karen tells her she thinks it’s because Denny moved her blanket. Hen tells Karen that she’ll be home soon and when she gets there they have a lot to talk about. Karen agrees. When Hen gets home, the two of them make a phone call to Dierdra.

“I’m not gonna tell you how you feel about Marisol, Eddie. Only you know that.” – Bobby Nash, to Eddie Diaz

Meanwhile, back at the 118, Eddie shows Bobby a photo of Marisol wearing her nun’s habit. Bobby says that Marisol doesn’t look like any of the nuns he had back when he was in Minnesota. Bobby tells Eddie he understands why he’s unnerved by the knowledge that Marisol used to be a nun. He says that the imagery from their faith is very powerful. Eddie says he’s not sure if he can say that it is their faith. He tells Bobby he doesn’t know what he believes in anymore. Bobby reminds him that a lapsed Catholic is still a Catholic. He wonders if Eddie’s reaction is just him having second thoughts about Marisol moving in with him. He says that Eddie hasn’t talked about Marisol in a way that would make Bobby think he was considering cohabitating with her. Eddie tells Bobby that he really likes Marisol. Bobby tells Eddie he remembers the last time he said something similar. It was about Ana and he tells Eddie that shortly thereafter he started having panic attacks. Eddie asks Bobby if he thinks he’s a commitment-phobe. Bobby says he doesn’t think that’s the case considering Eddie has no problem committing to other things like the military, being a firefighter, his son, and Shannon. Eddie tells Bobby that the Church is a lot of the reason why he and Shannon got married. When she got pregnant, they both felt pressured into getting married. Eddie says that he’s never regretted marrying Shannon. Even when things got really bad, there was a part of him that loved being married to her. Bobby tells Eddie that only he knows how he feels about Marisol. Eddie asks Bobby what he would do if he were in his position. Bobby says as a practicing, confession-going Catholic he would go to confession because he wouldn’t want to piss off Marisol’s ex … the Lord.

“I was supposed to take care of her. She was finally supposed to be safe with me.” – Cynthia, to Hen Wilson

In our next scene, the 118 respond to an emergency involving a structure fire and a firefighter named Brunson who has been bitten by the homeowner’s dog. While Chimney sees to Brunson (played by Anthony Starke), the homeowner Cynthia (played by Sandra Thigpen) explains that the dog is a rescue who was once used for fighting. She is more upset about the dog being trapped inside her home which is currently on fire than she is her home. Brunson says he’s sorry he couldn’t get the dog out of the house and Cynthia apologizes for her dog biting him. Hen, being an avid animal lover, goes to check on the dog after she’s carried out of the house by another fireman. She detects movement and begins administering compressions to the dog. Okay, so maybe I’m late to the party but I didn’t know CPR worked on dogs. The dog regains consciousness and Cynthia is so happy. Brunson says to Hen that she doesn’t give up and Chimney tells him that giving up is not in her vocabulary.

“Everybody’s given up on her. I don’t want to be another name in a long list of people who have failed her.” – Hen Wilson, to Athena Grant

Hen goes to see Athena who has done some digging into Mara’s background. They learn that Mara’s parents were high school sweethearts who have criminal records going all the way back to when they were teenagers. They were both into drugs which ultimately led to their demise. They both died on the same night due to an opioid overdose. They’d been dead several hours by the time paramedics arrived. Hen asks Athena how the paramedics found them. Athena tells her someone called 911.

Hen and Karen head over to the 911 dispatch center to see Maddie. I love how we keep getting more scenes between these Maddie and Hen. I would argue that we’ve seen Hen and Maddie together more in just this season alone than the other seasons combined. Maddie plays the 911 call from the night Mara’s parents overdosed. At first no one responds to the dispatcher but eventually Mara starts talking. Mara tells him that her parents went to sleep and now they will not wake up. It was absolutely heartbreaking listening to Mara tell the dispatcher that she couldn’t feel her parents breathing. She tells him that sometimes her parents take pills that make them sleepy but they always wakeup. She wonders why they aren’t waking up this time. She begs for them to wake up. When the recording ends, Hen realizes aloud that Mara wasn’t just watching her and Karen sleep. She was worried they weren’t going to wake up. Karen says she was trying to protect them. I mean that still doesn’t make what she did to Denny okay but at least we have an explanation as to why she’s acting out and not speaking to anyone.

Eddie heads over to Buck’s to avoid going home to his own place. Buck tells him he’s going to have to go home at some point. Eddie asks if he has to. Buck reminds him that’s where he and his son lives. Eddie says that Christopher is away for the next couple of days. Speaking of Christopher, I was hoping that with him being a main part of the cast now that we’d see him more this season. Maybe he’ll factor in towards the latter half of the season. Anywho, Eddie is worried that if he goes home, Marisol will want to have sex with him. Buck tells him he’ll get through it. Eddie is worried about God watching them knock boots and Buck asks him if God was watching before Eddie learned about Marisol being a nun. Eddie says that he’s going to have to break up with her. Buck asks him if that is what he wants. Eddie says no and reminds Buck that he just asked Marisol to move in with him. He tells Buck that he and Tommy have the right idea staying single and hanging out with the boys. Oh, Eddie. You don’t know the half of it.

“This doesn’t change a thing between us. Okay?” – Eddie Diaz, to Evan Buckley

Buck finally comes clean and tells Eddie he was on a date with Tommy. Eddie is shocked that Tommy’s gay which is funny to me because one would think his first thought would be, wow, Buck, you’re bisexual? Buck figured that Tommy’s sexuality would’ve come up at some point while they were hanging out. Eddie says Tommy hasn’t said anything to him, not that it would matter. Buck says that Tommy doesn’t volunteer his sexuality, but he doesn’t hide it. Buck asks Eddie if it’s weird that he and Tommy were on a date and Eddie says absolutely not. Eddie tells Buck that nothing will change between the two of them and Buck is visibly relieved by hearing this. Buck tells him that Tommy dumped him but then remembers that he can’t be dumped if they were never together. Buck tells him that Tommy doesn’t think he’s ready to be in a relationship with a guy. Eddie asks him what he thinks. Buck says he can’t stop thinking about Tommy. Eddie tells Buck he needs to call Tommy. Eddie reminds him that Tommy doesn’t know he’s an idiot but once he does get to know him, he’ll love Buck – like they all do. But what if he says no, Buck asks. Then he’s an idiot, Eddie says. Eddie tells him not to walk away from something before he even knows what it is. Buck echoes what Eddie said earlier in the episode and tells him that’s good advice. Eddie agrees and tells Buck he needs to talk to Marisol. He gets up and heads to the door. Before he leaves, he tells Buck to come here, and the two besties hug it out. This scene was so precious. I love the chemistry between these two. I’m still not 100% sold on them being anything other than friends but I can see why others would see a scene like this and ship these two romantically. Before Eddie leaves, he reminds Buck to call Tommy. If only you could be as good of a boyfriend as you are a friend, Eddie. You would be as close to perfect as a person could get.

“Because no man has ever looked at me the same after they found out.” – Marisol, to Eddie Diaz

Eddie finally makes it back to his house right about the same time Marisol gets there. He apologizes for not coming home sooner. He asks her if she’s had anything to eat and she tells him she ate with her brother. This made me laugh because I’ve seen people on Reddit and Tumblr joke about how Marisol has more chemistry with her brother than she does with Eddie. Anywho, Marisol tells Eddie they should talk and he agrees. She tells him she have told him sooner about being a nun. He asks her why she didn’t, and she tells him that whenever she tells a guy about her past, one of two things happen. Either they get freaked out or turned on. Eddie suggests there may be a third option – the kind of guy who just needs a minute. Marisol tells him if he’s not ready for them to cohabitate, she understands. Eddie tells her he doesn’t think he’s ready for them to leave together … yet. He tells her something about him. He confesses that he has the tendency to move too fast in his relationships. He goes with his gut and lets his head catch up later. Marisol asks if that usually works out for him and he tells her no. However, this time he would really like it if it did. Eddie asks Marisol if they can start over, and she says yes. This time he wants them to take time getting to know each other. They kiss and Marisol says she can’t wait to move out. Eddie says he can’t wait either.

“Night, night.” – Mara, to Karen Wilson

At the Wilson residence, Karen goes into Mara’s room to talk to her. She says she can’t imagine how hard it is for her being in a new house with strangers. Karen says she would be scared all the time which is how she knows Mara is a very brave girl. Karen tells Mara she doesn’t have to be brave all the time. She tells her she is safe there with her, Hen, and Denny – even if she doesn’t feel like she is. She gives Mara a monitor so she can see that Karen and Hen are there and know that she is safe. She tells Mara goodnight and tells her goodnight. Hen and Karen are delighted to hear this.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for, but I am ready for something. And I think maybe that something could be with you.” – Evan Buckley, to Tommy Kinard

The next day, Buck meet up with Tommy. They exchange hellos and Buck thanks Tommy for agreeing to meet him. He tells Tommy he got him a coffee. He didn’t know how he took his coffee, so he just guessed. Tommy takes a sip and says, not like that. I love how honest Tommy is. It’s what I find so endearing about him. They both laugh and Buck says there’s a lot of things they don’t know about each other. Tommy says practically everything. Buck wants to change that but first he apologizes for how he behaved on their date. Tommy assures him he has nothing to apologize for, but Buck says he does. Tommy tells him no again and explains that he didn’t cut their date short because Buck behaved badly. He cut it short because he didn’t want to pressure Buck. Buck admits that how he acted is not one of his proudest moments. Buck brings up how Tommy said he wasn’t ready. He tells Tommy that he doesn’t know what he’s ready for but he is ready for something. He believes that maybe that something could be with Tommy. Tommy says that Buck already knows he’s interested. Buck invites him to come to Maddie’s wedding. Tommy laughs but quickly realizes that Buck is serious. Buck tells him that he wants him to be his date. When Tommy said Evan, I swooned. Buck tells him that he already knows half the people that will be at the wedding and says that Maddie is eager to meet him. I love how Tommy is always checking to make sure Buck is okay with everything they are doing. He asks Buck if he’s sure and Buck says he is. He tells Tommy he’ll need someone to dance with. Tommy says okay. They hold hands and Buck looks so happy I could just scream. “What was it, pastel and puke?” – Maddie Buckley, to Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz

In our final scene, we flash-forward to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. We see Athena looking absolutely radiant seated next to Bobby. We see Maddie in her wedding dress freaking out over Chimney, Buck, and Eddie being a half an hour late. Maddie’s dad (played by Gregory Harrison) is trying to call Buck but keeps getting his voicemail. Hen arrives in looking absolutely stunning in a black tux. She tells Maddie that Buck’s car just pulled up. Maddie is relieved and asks if Chimney is with them. Hen tells her she isn’t sure. She didn’t see. Buck and Eddie arrive looking like something the proverbial cat drug in. I love their pastel blazer. Eddie’s in a pink suit with no shirt on for some reason. Not that I’m complaining. Buck has on all white with a green blazer. Maddie asks them why they’re dressed like that. Buck says they were at a themed party. Eddie says the puke on his jacket isn’t his. Maddie tells them to get changed and asks them about Chimney. Buck tells her it’s complicated.

Wow, what another incredible episode. I like how the theme of not knowing someone carried out throughout the episode. This season continues to deliver on the character development front. Some have complained that there’s not enough emergencies this season, but I don’t care. I’ve always preferred the drama of the characters over the actual emergencies. I think the show does a good job of balancing those two things. Hell, it’s only been five episodes and we’ve dealt with a drunk driver, an airplane crashing into a house, a cruise ship capsizing and a guy going ape shit on himself. That’s plenty of emergency for me.

Speaking of balance, I think the show is doing a good job of balancing our main characters’ storyline. The first three episodes dealt with Athena and Buck. The last two episodes have been about Buck, Hen, and Eddie. I feel like the next episodes will deal with Maddie and Chimney. Speaking of Buck, I am very pleased with the direction his character is going. I was watching an episode from season one and it’s remarkable how far he’s come since then. The same goes with Hen. In season one, I wasn’t sure if her relationship with Karen was going to go the distance but here we are seven years later and they’re still together, better than ever, and fostering kids in addition to raising Denny. Then we have Eddie. I am so happy Bobby called him out on his bullshit. I’ve watched people online make excuses for Eddie’s behavior while pointing the finger at Shannon. I’ve never understood how people could be so angry at Shannon for leaving Christopher but turn a blind eye to the fact that Eddie has openly admitted to signing up for another tour of duty because he wasn’t ready to deal with being a husband and a father. Having Marisol move out is a good decision although I wish he never asked her to move in to begin with. It creates more baggage for her. Hopefully, Eddie will take additional steps to figure out why he sucks at relationships. It's so funny to me because I see so many folks online who swear up and down that Eddie and Buck are going to be together by the end of this season. Yet, none of them have ever taken the time to consider that if Eddie is bad with Shannon, Ana, and now with Marisol, why would things be any different with Buck? Also, I do not want Eddie to interfere with Buck’s bisexual awakening. In fact, outside of them being just two friends supporting each other, I would like to see them embark on their separate journeys alone and maybe rely on others for advice.

Well, unfortunately it looks like we will not be getting a new episode until May 2nd. I checked my calendar and May 2nd isn’t as far away as I thought. Having 9-1-1 on a brief hiatus will allow me some time to revisit some older episodes and rewatch the five episodes from this season. The thing about 9-1-1, much like Golden Girls and Schitt’s Creek, it will never get old to me. So, maybe I’ll start at the very beginning (again) so I can better appreciate how far our beloved characters have come. Until next time …

23 notes · View notes