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angelitadiaz · 5 months

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Part 1

"How could this not concern me, Princess Y/N? You are engaged to Duke Hastings unless you're committing adultery. In that case, Mr Bridgerton, please tell me now if she is unpure." Your mouth was left agape at the accusation.

"Lord Berbrooke, how dare you even think of the idea! I should have you taken to the dungeon for your bad conduct." The Featheringtons and Bridgertons had their mouth agape at your response.

"Princess Y/N, please, I apologize. But as a man of the ton, I am concerned that my future bride is unpure before our wedding." You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes at him. "Berbrooke, my mother shall hear of this." You said as you got into the carriage.

Nigel was left there with sweat rolling down his forehead. He looked at the carriage, and then he caught the attention of Benedict. Benedict looked over at him and had his hand rolled into a tight fist. Berbrooke fleeted at the thought of a fight waiting to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were once again announced in Lady Dauburys' ball. You found that Simon was waiting for you below the stairs and offered you his first dance. As you both got in position, Simon couldn't hold back his questions. "Y/N, you know you are like a sister to me, yes?"

"Of course, and you a brother to me."

"How can I know that Daphne is the one I truly want to be with the rest of my life? And you know my situation with children. I know for a fact that she wants a family of her own, and I can't risk taking her chance away." Before you could answer, you noticed his eyes were some place else. Following his stare, you found Daphne at the center of his attention. You smiled and patted his chest, signifying to come back to the conversation.

"I think that rather than talking to me, you should go over to her and ask her for a dance. Only you know how you truly feel about her, and I trust that you'll take care of her, too." Simon looked at you deep in thought before turning back to Daphne.

"Thank you, dear sister. I shall go do that now." You smiled as you watched him scurry towards Daphne. As you made your way towards the gardens, you noticed someone following you. You made your way towards the hedges before you felt someone grab your wrist harshly.

Turning around, you saw Nigel and his disgustingly twisted face. He dragged you back inside, gaining the attention of the ton and a certain Bridgerton. He didn't let go until you were in front of your mother, where he got on one knee.

"Crowned Princess Y/N, will you do me the honors of being my wife and the mother of my children?" You looked at Berbrooke, then looked at your mother, who was obviously shocked. She held one hand against her chest while the other was clutching Violet Bridgertons arm.

Forgetting about Nigel, you wondered why Ms Bridgerton was with your mother. Berbrooke grabbed your hand exceedingly harshly and pulled you close to him. Before you could answer, you heard another voice.

"I am sorry, Berbrooke, but I must object. I want Princess Y/N to be my wife and the mother of my children." Hearing Benedict say that vow with such passion made your heart skip. His tone was quiet, yet gave off a gentleness only you would ever get to experience. Looking at his features made you fall in love with him all over again.

Hearing Nigel shuffle up made you look away from Benedict, missing his stare almost immediately. Berbrooke was on his knees once again, begging your mother for your hand. She would not spare a glance at Nigel. She only looked between you and Benedict.

You looked at Benedict one more time, noticing his love stare before you went to your mother. "Queen Charlotte, mother, may we please leave? I am feeling quite tired and wish to get away from these embarrassing proposals." Queen Charlotte looked at you, only nodding and led you back to your carriage. Once again, you heard Benedict Bridgerton calling you more urgently.

Your mother turned towards you and smiled out of acknowledgment. She understood to wait for you and be of support to you.

"Y/N, I meant what I said about wanting to marry you. Why won't you accept my proposal?"

"Because Benedict, it was you who said you couldn't reciprocate my feelings knowing I had fallen in love with you. And don't think I don't know about your arrangements with Madam Delacroix. Benedict, I will be honest. I still love you, but I won't allow myself to love you. That is why I can't marry you." You turned your back against Benedict holding tears in your eyes.

"And if I promise that I won't stop asking until you are mine? Because Y/N, I will do everything in my power so I can have a life with you. Royal or not, I wish to be by your side every time you wake up and when you sleep. I will love you forever, and I shall be the man who gives you your first child. I will not allow Nigel Berbrooke to have all of that with you."

"What if I'm betrothed? Then what Bridgerton?"

"I will die trying because you are the woman that I fell in love with."

Holding back tears, you almost ran into the carriage. Once you couldn't see the ball, you grabbed onto your mother and started shedding your tears. Your mother could only hug you and gently caress your hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The next day, you went over with your sisters who were reading Lady Whistledon. Too tired, you sat with them and grabbed a paper yourself. Noticing their stares, you looked at each of them when they told you that George wished to speak with you. You made your way into George's office, where you saw Anthony Bridgerton and Benedict Bridgerton.

"Good day, Bridgertons." You said as you bowed your head toward them, turning your attention back to George. "Georgie, my sisters are telling me that you called? What seems to be the problem?" Your brother flushed at his nickname being used in front of others.

"Nothing, dear sister, it's just that Benedict Bridgerton has come to ask for your hand in marriage." You looked between George and Benedict sharply before replying. "Surely you said no, there are a lot of suitors that I'm sure Mama would like." George shook his head," You are to be courted by Benedict Bridgerton. That is all you may leave." You looked shocked, " but Georgie." George showed you out the door before you could say anything.

Contemplating the situation you went to the gardens were you saw Simon. You quickly ran up to him and hugged him tightly. "What has you so clingy today?" He offered his arm to you, and once you wrapped it, he began leading you to a small walk. " I am to be courted by Benedict Bridgerton." Simon let out a little chuckle before looking forward again.

"And you don't want to marry Benedict? Is that the case?" You reached the garden of flowers where you got some flowers for your mother. "You know his situation with Madam Delacroix. I can't be wedded to a man who has no moral value." Simon shook his head at you before he looked towards the carriages, where he noticed Benedict making his way towards you.

"Well, I think dear sister that you're beloved is making his way here." You quickly turned your head to look when you caught the eyes of Benedict. He smiled gently towards you, smiling triumphantly.

"Duke Hastings, would you allow me to talk to Princess Y/N for a moment?" Simon glanced over to you before he answered, "Benedict, you see that bench over there? I will be there to make sure that my dear sister is okay. Do anything to her, and your courtship is over." Simon walked over to the bench a few feet away and sat with his arms crossed.

"What do you wish to tell me, Benedict?" He looked at you so enamored. "Would it be bad if I said you?"

"Yes, it would be."

"I wanted to ask for your hand, but your brother wanted me to court you before anything. Y/N, please understand that I truly do want to build a life together. I can not see myself with any other lady who is not you." You cut into his speech before he could answer.

"What about Madam Delacroix? Isn't she your lover?"

"Y/N, yes, she was my lover, but there was barely love in that moment. What you and I can have is a union between souls. Didn't you say you wanted a husband who has passion in his life? Who will love his wife before anyone in this world?"

You stayed quiet, looking towards the flowers before you heard your name from the other side of the garden. There stood Nigel Berbrooke with flowers and his mother. They walked over to you where the mother grabbed you and stated,"Lord Bridgerton, keep your hands from my future daughter in law. Princess Y/N, I am so happy that you accepted my Nigel's proposal."

"I accepted what?" You felt Simon grab your shoulder and put you behind him. "I think you are confused, Lady Berbrooke, but Y/N is to be courted by Benedict Bridgerton."

End of Part 2

Part 3

People of my royal court (tagged)::

@inutheangel

#angst #romance #love #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton family

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cryptictongues · 8 months

Text

Follow the Morgenbeards

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 8.1k summary: Reader accompanies Clive for an errand. Mishaps occur.

warnings: porn with plot, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, masturbation, sex pollen, rough sex, possessive behavior, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering

Minor spoilers that take place right before the five-year time split and a little bit after it. Certain quests from the game are referred to. Please read with caution.

[AO3 link to story]

You didn’t leave the Hideaway often. The only time you ever left was to run small errands for the people of the Hideaway when they were unable, such as picking up linens to make clothes for new arrivals and delivering tools to Martha and Quinten. Today, however, was a little different.

You were in the Shelves looking at a book for different needle threads and sewing techniques when you heard the doors open. Turning your head, you see it is none other than Clive Rosfield. You turn your head to act like you were still reading, trying to calm the warmth that’s trailing up your cheeks. No matter how comfortable I’ve become around him, he always seems to have an effect on me.

“What are you reading?” You hear that gravelly voice beside your head.

You turn to look at him only to look back down at the book. “It is a book on sewing. With more arrivals potentially coming, I want to learn how to better make clothes so I can help Hortense out. Making garments for a lot of people is a lot for one person.”

Clive laughs. “Says the lady who seems to enjoy taking the load off of others.”

“Well, there isn’t much else to do. Especially when you stay at the Hideaway most days.” You smile.

Clive pulls up a chair to sit next to you. You notice how close he is, practically feeling the heat his body seems to produce from the leather he wears. Oh Founder he is going to be the death of me.

You shut the book and turn to him fully. “So what do I owe for this visit?”

“I can’t just come to see how you are doing?” Clive remarks.

“Well, of course you are welcome to do that. I just know you are a busy man. Have a lot of things on your plate as of recently.” You shrugged. He has been gone more and more these days and you can’t blame him. He has a lot to live up to as Cid the Outlaw.

“I always have time for you, my lady.”

You can feel your heart flutter. He is genuinely too much.

Clive continues. “However, I do have a reason as to finding you today. Nigel wants me to collect Morgenbeard seeds, and I was wondering if you’d accompany me to collect them. He said they are native to Rosaria but I can’t recall the name or what they could look like. I could use your expertise.”

You’ve always loved flowers. You grew up in the Dhalmekian Republic, which is mostly desert. There was a vendor at the Dalimil Inn that would always sell fresh flowers. How they got them? You never could figure it out. But ever since seeing them, you have been fascinated; read all the books you could find on flowers native to different areas of Valisthea. The fact that Clive remembered how much you love flowers and learning about them made you smile. He has a great memory, apparently.

“I would love to! I know there are a lot that grow in Sorrowise. Perhaps we could check there first.”

“Sorrowise it is then. Once you are ready, meet me at the pier so we may press on.” Clive states. You nod and with that he heads out the doors.

If only you knew how the journey would take a turn for the worst.

Sorrowise was nothing but wide fields with swampy areas. The perfect place to find some Morgenbeards.

You were strolling ahead while Clive trailed a couple steps behind you. For someone so tall, you’d think he’d be able to keep up. “_____, slow down. There are beasts around here.”

You pivot on your tiptoes and continue walking backwards with a pep in your step. You are genuinely happy to be spending your afternoon with Clive. It has been forever since you got to be with him alone, and the fact he asked you to come run an errand with him personally has set the tone for the day. “Stop worrying, Clive. I’ve been out to Sorrowise plenty of times. Besides, nothing can go wrong because I have you to protect me.”

You turn back around and continue along. You can hear Clive sigh behind you as he catches up, walking now side by side with you as you lead him to where you think some Morgenbeards will be. Up ahead, you see a glimmer of yellow in the distance and you feel your pace quicken. “Clive! They are over there!” You are about to run up to them before Clive grabs you by the arm to pull you to his chest. You grunt at the surprise contact and look up to him. Damn I forgot how tall he is compared to me.

“Let me scope the area before you head over there.” Clive said in a hushed voice. You feel a shiver down your spine with him being so close to you. “O-okay.” You whispered. He squeezes your arm before heading towards the Morgenbeards, taking in his surroundings as he approaches. He sees something move in one of the bushes nearby and sees there is a Goblin lurking in the area. And another. And another.

And another.

Goblins were swarming the area of the Morgenbeards, like the Rosarian flowers called to them. Clive knew this wouldn’t be a bad fight, as his experience with Goblins is fairly frequent. But with so many, he won’t be able to keep a close eye on you. He turns his head slightly so he has the beasts within his peripherals. “_____, stand behind that shrub over there while I take care of this. Please.”

You nod your head and bugger off to the shrub, peeking out from it to see Clive in action. You’ve never seen him fight before, but you know he doesn’t get the Outlaw title for nothing. This was going to be a good watch.

Clive fights with heart. His movements are precise and the way he escapes attacks to deliver brutal swings of his sword is stunning. He is most definitely a professional, not that there was any doubt, but seeing is better than believing. The Goblins seem to keep popping out of nowhere, but that doesn’t stop him from slaying each and every one in his wake. You start to watch his face as he attacks. You can’t hear him from where you are, but you imagine with every hit there is a grunt and with every pull of his sword from his enemies there is a curse falling from under his breath. His face says it all; it makes you wonder if that’s what he would look like with his cock in your…

You hit yourself on your arm. No! You have got to stop having these thoughts about him. You will go mad if you keep daydreaming about him and how he would be in bed. Especially yours. It’s not worth the risk and you’d rather not ruin the relationship you have with him. You need him, but you will put your needs down so he can keep being the leader that the people of Valisthea need.

Leaving your thoughts, you see Clive kill the last one and he looks around to ensure that every beast has perished. Once cleared, he waves you over with a gorgeous smile on his face. He is truly a human embodiment of art.

You leave your perch and meet up to where he is. You clap your hands in excitement. “My knight and shining armor saved me. You have my thanks.” You say with a little curtsy. You like to tease him every now and then with royal courtesy and manners. Clive laughs and bows, but not before taking your hand in his. “Anything for you, my lady.” He places a gentle kiss on it and you are so flustered. Just when you think you have him, he takes the upper hand. Cheeky bastard.

You pull your hand away and turn away to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Well, we better not keep Nigel waiting. Let’s get some of these so we can bring them back to the Hideaway.”

You both walk to a patch of Morgenbeards and start picking them. You hand them to Clive as you go so he can add them to the pouches he keeps on his pants. The silence is comforting. The hustle and bustle of the Hideaway is a lot and there is always something going on that needs attention. It’s nice to be in the moment and enjoy each other’s company.

“There is something familiar about these.” Clive breaks the silence.

“Hm?” You pause to see him staring at one in his hand.

“They remind me of home; times at the citadel.”

You stand up to get a full look at him. He is smiling at it; almost like he has conjured a memory from it. You smile. “Well you did grow up in Rosaria so that would make sense, right?”

Clive sighed. “They must have been something that we grew in the Citadel gardens. I would spend many nights on my balcony looking out at them. I suppose they are ingrained in my memory.”

You grinned. “You know something? I read they were used a lot by Rosarian royalty as they symbolize nobility.” You said as you plucked the flower from his hand. “Funny though how this flower can represent that ideal yet they grow from the very swampy ground we stand on.”

Clive plucked the flower back from your hand and placed it right behind your ear. He let his hand trail along your hair as he pulled away. “It’s because they know how to be beautiful, even in the most drab places.”

If your blush was bad before, it is certainly bad now. You shy away from him in the hopes some steps away will calm your rapid heart down. You beam at him, still flustered from the poetry falling from his lips. “I think we have enough, but I want to get a few more just in case.”

You go over to the other Morganbeard patch closest to the brush along the swamp. Clive draws closer to you when he sees something pink from within it. He gets a closer look and once he realizes what it is, it’s too late.

“_____, step back!”

It all happens so fast. One moment you are picking up flowers and the next you find yourself coughing on the ground, accidentally inhaling whatever was released at you. You sense Clive smashing the beast while you are trying to pull yourself together. You feel arms help you sit up as you continue to cough. His hand rubs your back as you come down from your coughing fit and you start to breathe heavily.

He can’t believe he let this happen. He should have been more thorough, meaning checking the bushes for more wild beasts. But even more so, he doesn’t understand how there could be vampire thorns out here. They are more populated within the regions of Sanbreaque.

It doesn’t matter now. Regardless, this is all his fault.

“Are you alright, _____?” Clive worries.

You nod your head, afraid that talking will send you into another episode and go to stand up only to fall back down in Clive’s arms. He catches you and slowly stands up with you under his arm. “We need to get you to the infirmary. Do you think you can walk?” You hum in the affirmative and you both start making haste.

As you both continue on, you notice you are starting to feel weird, and not in an unpleasant way. You felt tingles all throughout your body and as the trek continued, the stronger it got. Clive noticed you slowing down and the concern rises further. He needs to get you to the infirmary. Now.

He bends down a little and scoops you in his arms, cradling you close to his chest. He feels how hot you are, which only gets him to push harder into getting the both of you back. Just as he enters the area of Hawk’s Cry Cliff, he feels something on his neck and looks to see you kissing his neck. Shock enters his system. The feeling of you kissing the sensitive part of his skin has him in overdrive. What the hell is she doing?

You don’t know what is taking over you. Clive’s pheromones are infesting your brain, turning it into rot. It has a mind of its own and you can’t stop the need to shred his clothes off and let him have his way with you. You take your hand and touch the exposed skin of his chest, slipping your hand under his shirt while continuing to kiss and suck at his neck. You get to one particular spot right above his collarbone and you feel him shudder. You suck hard on the spot and he lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. You kept sucking that spot to try and get him to moan again and go to unstring the leather corset he is wearing. You are, however, stopped when he takes the hand by your head and pulls it back by your hair. You moan as the slight pain sends signals to your pussy.

Clive looks at you, about to reprimand you for acting like this, and in the process giving him a hard on, when he sees how dilated your pupils are, as well as how fast your heart is going. The words that were on his lips vanished, and instead his concern is raised more than ever. The spores the vampire thorn shot out are giving you side effects that he has never seen before. This could be bad.

“What are you feeling right now, _____?” Clive asked, needing to know what was happening.

“I don’t know but it hurts, Clive.” You moan out.

Clive keeps walking faster as he is almost at the lip of the deadlands, that much closer to the Hideaway boat, with his focus still on you. “Where does it hurt? Tell me.” He pushed.

You take a hand and bring it down to your pulsating clit and unintentionally rub it. “Fuck, right here.” You crow.

Clive can’t believe this is happening. He let you become infected with aphrodisiac pollen and now you were a mess in his arms. He has fucked up big time.

“_____ we are almost there. Please try to control yourself.”

You whine because you want him so badly, but you try to keep it together. Clive gets you to the boat where Obolus is. Clive tells him to go post haste and with no questions asked, Obolus sets way for the Hideaway. Clive keeps you close, knowing it isn’t helping you being so close to him but he decides he needs to keep your arms, legs, and head secure so you don’t do something you’ll regret. However, he doesn’t have enough hands to ensure nothing filthy comes out of your mouth.

Clive has your head secured against his head so you couldn’t reach his neck, but the sounds coming from your mouth are devastatingly filthy. Small whimpers and curses caressing his ear with desperation for relief. He wishes he could do something for you right at that moment, but he first needs to see what he’s dealing with.

“Clive.” You draw out. “I need you so bad.”

Oh, good gracious not now.

He avoids eye contact, knowing that will be his second mistake if he does. “What you need is to go to the infirmary so Tarja can help you.”

“But you can help me right now. Give Obolus a show.” You purr.

You are too far gone. The mere suggestion of him pleasing you in front of Obolus was absurd. From you it’s basically heresy.

“_____, that’s enough.”

“Tarja can’t help me. She can’t bend me over your desk to fuck me with a big, fat cock. You can though.”

“I mean it, _____.”

“She can’t stretch me out like you can. Oh heavens you fucking my pussy would ruin all men for me, not that I imagine anyone else but you.”

“This is your last chance to stop. I’m not playing around. I-“

“You fucking me until I am begging for you to cum in me so I’m stuffed full and-“

That’s it.

Clive presses his lips to yours so your fantasies could no longer be spoken out loud. He feels your tongue wanting entry but he keeps his mouth shut. He wants to taste you to the fullest but this isn’t right. He will not take advantage of you and scar Obolus in the process.

The boat arrives at the dock and Clive quickly gets you off the boat, mouthing his apologies to Obolus for anything he had seen or heard. He rushes to the lift and as soon as the lift takes him to the main walkway, he dashed to the stairs and up to the infirmary. He bolts in and sees Tarja and Jill talking, seeing them suddenly alarmed by his presence until they take one look at you.

“Tarja I need you to give _____ something that will help her relax. I am begging.”

Jill goes to his aid immediately, noting the immense distress, while Tarja starts rummaging through the medicine cabinets, laying out different items to concoct something for you. Jill helps him get you into a bed and you are a mess.

“Clive I need you please!”

“Tarja!” Clive yells. She rushes over with a small potion bottle. “Sit her up.” She instructs. He and Jill hold onto an arm each and lift you up so Tarja can force the medicine down your throat. Seconds later, you start to go limp and are layed back down.

Your mind, however, is still going haywire.

“Why isn’t it working, Tarja?” Clive calls.

“It is. It has relaxed her body to the point she won’t be able to move for a little bit.”

You are crying now. The poisonous spores are havocking your body. “Clive!” You cried out.

Tarja turns to Clive. “Leave this to me.”

Before Clive can interject, Jill pulls him to the other end of the room. “What happened? This is not what I meant when I said to take her out on a date.”

Clive groaned. Jill knew how much Clive adores you. She loves to constantly tease him as if he’s a lovesick puppy. He explains what happened at Sorrowise and while he doesn’t go into detail of what you said, he is sure the evidence on his neck says it all.

Jill thinks thoughtfully and then it hits her. “Why don’t you talk to Tomes? He may have some knowledge on vampire thorns. May help us get some insight on how to heal her.”

Clive nods. “Alright. I’ll report back when I get word.” He goes to leave but not before looking at you before exiting. You are sobbing quietly as Tarja inspects you, and his heart sinks at how you look in that moment. Because you don’t look feral like before. You look defeated. And he can only look away as he leaves.

“Harpocrates, what can you tell me about vampire thorns?”

“Ah those weeds. Well, they are related to the death blossom. However, they aren’t nearly as deadly due to the defense mechanisms they possess.”

“What kind of defense mechanisms?” Clive pushed.

Harpocrates put his right hand on his chin, as if he was thinking hard and long about what to say. “Well, it’s rare, but when threatened they will release spores that can be inhaled by the creature they encounter. The reason it’s so rare, however, is because they only release them when they sense the creature they’ve encountered has a compatible mate with them.”

Clive’s breathing halts. A compatible mate? How does that make any sense for defense? Harpocrates can see the pause in Clive’s demeanor and continues. “As you may know, arousal can be a cause for distraction. Heightened arousal will lead the person to put their focus on the person they are being drawn to. This lets the vampire thorn make haste away.”

Clive is in disbelief. He truly has never heard of anything of the sort in all of his time alive in the Realm. The more he thinks about it, the more he starts drawing conclusions of what needs to be done.

And oh Great Greagor if the cure is what he thinks it is then by the flames help him.

Clive stumbles out of his thoughts and swallows the saliva slowly collecting in his mouth. “So what remedies those symptoms?”

Harpocrates smiles, sensing the tension coming off of Clive in waves as he reveals new information. “As far as the knowledge goes, the only remedy for ridding the poison is to reach sexual enlightenment and oftentimes it would need to be reached multiple times depending on intensity. It can be rid of through masturbation but according to the research I have read, the poison leaves quicker when another individual is involved, especially the one at the encounter.”

Clive sighs at the information. Of course that would be the remedy and he doesn’t know how to go about it. He wouldn’t mind taking care of you. Hell, he would enjoy every minute of it. He has had his eyes on you from the very first encounter he had with you at the old Hideaway.

He remembers seeing you care for the new arrivals Cid had brought, ensuring that they were set up with a place to sleep, food to fill their bellies, and water to drink. Seeing you care for the people of the Hideaway and how you interact with them to ensure they can live comfortable lives made Clive’s heart shift in ways he has never felt before.

He remembers how he felt when he heard from Gav that the old Hideaway had been torn to shreds and people slaughtered by the order of Hugo Kupka. His anger and worry knowing that man murdered innocent people, that just wanted to be free, was undeniable. However, the anger and worry he felt not knowing if you had survived or not was indescribable.

It wasn’t until after he had gotten the procedure of removing his brand, however, that you both had talked for the first time. Clive remembers lying down in an infirmary bed, in pain from the brand removal, when you came in to put on new bandages for his wound and wipe away the sweat that kept appearing across his body.

“Lady _____.”

You laughed. “Sir Clive, pleased to meet your acquaintance after all this time.”

He laughed roughly, his throat dry from the lack of water he had been drinking. “My apologies. Our meeting is much overdue.”

You stayed for a long time that night. Both of you talking about your lives before everything went to shit up till now. Both laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until Clive fell asleep that you left but early the next morning you were right back to taking care of him. Even though he was in a lot of pain, he looks at those times fondly all because spending time with you was all he wanted to do back then and even now. The more he spent time with you, the deeper his feelings got and the more he craved you.

There have been many nights where he lied in bed, stroking himself to the thought of him having his way with you, imagining you looking absolutely delirious while he bounced you on his cock. He wants you so badly, but he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to say yes, especially now that he is leading the charge at the new Hideaway.

But in this current situation, neither of you may have a choice if it means curing you of your ailments sooner than later.

Clive thanks Tomes for his service and heads towards the infirmary to see how you were doing. Once there, he sees Tarja dabbing your forehead. He can see how shiny your skin was from the perspiration that formed on your forehead and shoulders. As he walked closer, he saw your eyes were closed and you seemed to be sleeping peacefully in comparison to what happened earlier that afternoon.

“Tarja, how is she?”

Tarja stands up and walks away from you. “I gave her something to sleep for the meantime. Don’t know how long it’ll last for but hopefully she will wake up with a little more clarity. What did you hear from Tomes?”

Clive sighs. “The only remedy is multiple counts of sexual release. Masturbation is an option but could take a while depending.”

“What’s the other option?” Tarja raised her brow.

Clive crosses his arms, contemplating how to go about his answer. “To have sex with someone. He said these plants release spores as a defense mechanism but only when compatible mates are together.”

Tarja’s eyes widened. “You mean… you’re going to have sex with her?”

“Only if she agrees to it. I will present her all the options. I will not do anything that she doesn’t want.”

Tarja stays silent, staring at Clive. He could see it wasn’t in a way of judgment but in a way of trying to get a read on him. She seems to get to her conclusion, which makes her smile and laugh under her breath.

“You really like her, huh? If it helps, she definitely likes you too. Maybe the both of you sleeping together is just what you both need to admit that to each other.”

Clive goes to say something but Tarja speaks before he could start. “So what should we do? I won’t be in the infirmary tonight. Rodrigue will and while I could definitely handle her, I don’t know how he would react to her or how she will react to him when she wakes up.”

Clive thinks for a moment before deciding on an idea that is either really stupid or really smart. “Let’s take her to my chambers. I have a few errands to run before the day is over. By the time I come back, hopefully she’ll be starting to wake up so I can talk with her. I’m sure she’ll be calm enough that she will think clearly of her options.”

“Alright then. Let me get her dressed and we can head on up.” Tarja stated.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be waiting outside. Call for me when you’re ready.”

Clive leaves to let Tarja do what needs to be done. As he waits, the more he thinks. He doesn’t know what will happen tonight but all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel better.

He will do all that it takes.

You slowly come to and everything feels so fuzzy. You don’t remember falling asleep during your episode of horniness. All you can remember is how devastatingly aroused you were and how much you needed to feel some sort of release. How you wanted Clive to fuck the daylights out of you.

Clive.

Remembering how you acted with him as the side effects took over your system is giving you the worst embarrassment of your life. You’ve had the biggest crush on him for years now and with this stupid ailment you’ve been given, you feel you may have fucked it up. What a tragedy .

You look out into the distance and see nightfall has descended. You sit up to take in your surroundings when you realize where you are. You’re in Clive’s chamber.

In his bed.

You make the mistake of taking a deep breath. You can smell Clive everywhere. His scent takes over your senses, which makes your body remember the urgency it needs in finding release.

You moan at his scent. You lay back down and smell his pillow. For someone who doesn’t use his bed often, his smell is so strong and it is making the wetness that didn’t disappear from early get worse. You needed release. You needed to fucking cum.

You let your hands wander down to the gown you are wearing to pull it up past your breasts. You see your nipples are pebbled and you wish you had Clive here to suck on them. But your fingers will have to do for now. You lightly trace your nipples, making you moan at how sensitive they are. You start to pinch and tug them, imagining it was Clive’s rough fingers doing their magic.

You could feel your eyes watering as your arousal was starting to kick back in ten fold after its long slumber. You could feel it stirring in your loins and it was painful when little pleasure was happening. Or at least the amount of pleasure you needed wasn’t enough with your hands alone.

You were getting impatient. With one hand still toying with your left breast, you let the other one travel down to your center. You graze your heat with your fingertips and feel how slick you are. You dip your fingers into your pussy and draw them out to see cum dripping from them. The sight alone makes you even more wet.

You trace your slicked fingers to your clit and you moan at first contact; the coolness of your essence making your sensitive clit feel so good. You swirl your clit as you keep playing with your breast and while it feels good and provides some relief, it’s not even close to enough. You keep at it, overwhelmed at how you can feel so close yet so far to a release all at once. In frustration, you smack your breast and immediately grip it. You wish so badly that Clive was here, taking you however he pleased.

You keep at your clit and let your mind wander, once again imagining that Clive was here. You’ve always wanted that man. Always wanted him to one day confess that he wanted you too and that he would move Heaven and Storm for you just as you him. You wanted to be loved by him and you wanted to love him in return. But until that day happens, if ever, you will continue to support him and his endeavors as his cherished friend.

Great Greagor, I am going to be like this forever.

You continue to let your imagination run wild, letting Clive’s name slip out a few times when you get very exciting images in your brain. So lost in pleasure and desire, you don’t hear the door of the chamber open and close. You continue your ministrations as you imagine Clive taking you from behind when you feel the bed dip, and as hard as it was to get out of delirium, you open your eyes to see Clive sitting on the bed across from you.

You should feel embarrassed. You should be reaching for the covers to hide your body in shame. But those feelings were nowhere to be found, especially with the way he is looking at you; like a predator on the prowl.

“Clive, it hurts so bad.” You moan.

Clive places his hand on your cheek, grazing it as to comfort you. “I know it does, darling. How long have you been touching yourself?”

All you could do was shake your head. You really can’t recall. It has felt like hours when in reality it could have been only a few minutes. Time doesn’t feel real in this state.

Clive senses your distress. He figured masturbation wouldn’t be feasible. He was hoping you would have still been asleep so he could have been here when you woke up to talk about your options. But now, seeing you glistening in sweat, hair sticking to your face, and laying in a puddle of your own cum, he was starting to lose his composure and he knew he needed to act fast.

Clive steps back into reality and sees you are staring right at him. Tears running down your face from the utter arousal that is shooting throughout your system, making it almost unbearable. He is no telepath, but he senses you pleading to him to make you feel good; to satiate your horniness; to make you his.

You were going to be the death of him.

“_____, would you like me to help you?”

You practically screamed. “Yes! Please fuck me and make me cum please!”

Clive took that cue instantly as he pounced on you, taking the rest of your gown off of you before grabbing you by the head and pressing his lips to yours. He licks the seam of your lips and you invite him with your tongue, both of you toying with each other as both tongues swirl with one another. He tastes exactly as you had imagined and you are afraid you can’t get enough of it.

Clive continues to kiss you as he works on his clothes, removing his hooded cape and all the metal work and leather that made up the upper half of his armor. The little patch of skin that shows with his uniform was a crumb in comparison to the naked skin presented to you. You want to lick the musk that is present on his skin and mark him as a reminder of tonight. Clive went to both of your hands to pin them beside your head, preventing you from playing with yourself. “No more touching yourself, darling. That’s my job now.”

You groan at the lack of contact on your pussy but you know you are about to be taken care of. Clive takes the hand that was on your pussy previously and licks your fingers clean. You couldn’t believe how erotic this all was, especially when he is sucking the cum clean off your fingers while looking at you. You normally would feel shy at a gesture such as this, but all you can feel right now is the primal urge to submit to him in any way that he pleases.

He takes your fingers from his mouth and licks his lips. “By the flames you taste divine. I need more.”

He goes to kiss down your neck as he places himself between your legs. He gets to your chest, only teasing your nipples with a few soft licks on each one before going to your navel, kissing the soft skin presented to him. He arrives at your thighs and licks and bites them in multiple areas while lifting your hips higher so your ass is up in the air. You were going insane, especially with the teasing he is giving.

“Clive I can’t take the teasing anymore please do something.”

Clive smirked. “As my lady wishes.”

It was like a flip switched in his brain because the second his tongue connected to your clit, he became a man starved. The grip he has on your thighs gets stronger as he eats your pussy, taking turns swirling his tongue on your clit and tongue fucking your pussy to collect the nectar gushing out of you. The sounds coming from him are verging animalistic and the vibrations from his mouth are making you see stars. Seeing how much he loves to eat your pussy is doing things for you, and you can feel yourself building up to your first orgasm of the night.

You feel him insert one of his fingers into your hole. His finger slides right in due to how wet you are. It feels good but it isn’t enough. You needed more.

“Please, please please more I can take it.”

Clive looks up at you and places a kiss on your clit. “Yeah? Are you going to take it like a good girl?”

You nodded which earned you a smack on your thigh. “Use your words.”

“Yes I’ll take it like a good girl. I’m your good girl just please I want to cum so fucking bad.” You cried.

This sets Clive off. He has always perceived you as innocent. Not in an ignorant way, but as someone with pure spirit; like no one could taint you. He never imagined seeing this side of you. But seeing you beg for him to make you cum and referring to yourself as his good girl… oh Founder it is making his cock unbearably hard.

He goes ahead and inserts another finger and starts slowly pumping them in and out. You are a moaning mess; chants of “yes” and praises of how good he is making you feel. It spurs him on as he pumps a little faster, adding the curl of his fingers to create a hithering motion to hit that sweet spot every time he enters you. You were on the precipice of release and Clive is aware you are about to fall.

“Cum on my fingers, _____. Make a fucking mess for me.”

The words trigger your release instantly and the moment your legs start to close, Clive keeps them open with his free arm and goes to suck on your clit as you cum. Your hands shoot for his hair as he rides your orgasm and it is too much and not enough all at once. You are a babbling mess and Clive can’t get enough of it. He continues to finger fuck you and suck on your clit causing another orgasm to build back up quickly. “Fuck I’m going to cum again.” You wailed and it washes over you like the biggest tidal wave. You squeeze your eyes shut at the intensity and feel yourself gushing over his fingers as he rides your orgasm out.

You feel post-orgasmic bliss for a split second before you start to feel aroused again and it doesn’t help that Clive is looking upon you like an absolute incubus. Clive with his lips swollen and wet, face glistening with your arousal, hair disheveled from your hands, and the look of exhilaration he was giving you. He is a wet dream. Your wet dream.

He crawls back over you and places both arms beside your head. He places a gentle kiss on your lips before pulling away. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

His voice sounds more rough after eating your pussy and you whine. Clive laughs. “Ah, it looks like someone needs to cum again.” He gets off the bed and starts to remove his pants. “Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll get to cum again. Only this time it’s going to be on my cock.”

He gets his pants and undergarment down and at the first sight of his cock your mouth waters. You knew he’d be big; he’s an Eikon of Fire after all. But your imagination couldn’t have prepared you for how well endowed he is.

And you can’t wait for him to fuck you silly with it.

He gets in between your legs, parting them wide so he can see the full picture. “Fuck” he thinks. You are the most beautiful creature to walk this star. And he gets to have you looking debauched and longing underneath him. How did he get so lucky?

He assumes the position, taking his cock and rubbing the head up and down your folds. He taps it on your clit a few times, making you jolt before giggling at how good it feels. He places the tip of his cock against your entrance, and before sliding in takes his left hand to grip your chin.

“I want you to look at me when I enter you for the first time. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod profusely and he pushes right in, your cum providing easy access. He looks at your face as he enters and oh stars above he couldn’t ask for a better sight. Your mouth agape and your eyes slightly crossing. He settles all the way in, and comes down to meet you in a kiss. You understand what he means when he says you taste divine as you get the remnants from his tongue. His mouth is gentle against yours, and the pace he sets with his cock is languid and slow. It is nowhere to the intensity you need him to be, but Founder you feel so wanted. You could die happy with the way he is cherishing you. You wrap your legs around his waist and place your arms around his neck as he continues his slow strokes, embracing him in his entirety. He moves his head to your jawline, placing soft kisses up towards your ear. “Do you know how long I have wanted you? How much I crave you?”

Clive nips your ear lobe, causing a gasp to escape your mouth. “You have no idea of the things you do to me, and now I’m going to show you.”

He continues his assault on your neck and picks up his pace, pistoning his cock into your tight heat. The atmosphere of this moment is riling you up with the sound of his balls hitting your backside, the grunts escaping his mouth every time he enters you, and the way he is gripping onto you for dear life. It is starting to send you into a spiral of hysteria.

Clive moves down to your chest as he keeps fucking you and takes your right nipple into his mouth, sucking the sensitive bud as a hand grips the other. Your nipples are pebbled to the fullest extent, and with every pinch, pull, and suck your body reacts with a thrash. You are reeling up for your next orgasm and you are so ready .

“Fuck Clive I love you sucking on my breasts.” You whine feeling yourself on the edge.

You feel Clive smirk into your chest and lets go of your nipple with a pop. He looks at you dead in the eyes, ready to take everything you can give him. “Yeah? Did me sucking your sensitive, little breasts make you feel good?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes oh Clive yes!”

He moves to hover over your head as he pounds into your pussy, reaching a hand down to play with your clit. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to watch your face when you cum on my cock.”

You are spiraling at his words. You clench hard on his cock as you cum, gasping and digging your nails into his shoulders. Clive feels himself getting close with the way you are milking his cock and the way you look drunk off the orgasm he is granting you.

But he isn’t finished yet.

He pulls out, causing a whine to leave your lips at how empty you felt. He flips the both of you over so you are on top, but then manhandles you so your back is against his chest. He pulls one of your legs up by your thigh and takes his other hand to guide his cock into your slick heat. His breath is heavy on your neck as he brings your other leg up, making it so both of your thighs are pressed into your body and completely exposed. Being in such a compromising position only spurs on your arousal and you feel your pussy clench on Clive’s cock.

Clive groaned at the feeling. He planted his feet into the bed and started rocking his hips up into you at an intense pace. Messy, wet noises surrounded the room as his cock pushed the cum that you have been producing out of your tight pussy. You were in heaven .

You feel Clive’s breath graze your ear as he continues to pound into you, whispering sweet encouragement that makes your heart swell with the love and adoration you have held for this man for years and your pussy continues to drip as he pushes you towards your descent into sexual madness.

“You are so good, sweetheart. You are taking my cock so well like you were made for it.” He lets go of one of your thighs to take a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back so you were looking at each other. “You were made for my cock, _____. And I will make you take it over and over until my last breath. You are mine.”

Clive kisses you with everything he has, letting his tongue dive into your mouth to continue the dominance he has asserted over you in your quest to sexual fulfillment from the poison. You place your hands under your thighs with one of them intertwining with the hand he still has placed there. You knew this was going to be the most intense orgasm of the night, and you knew Clive was right there with you.

“I’m going to cum, sweetheart. Cum with me please.” Clive begs and you nod. You clench down on him as hard as you can and you start to cum. The oversensitivity in your body causes you to thrash in his arms and moan like an absolute mad woman. “Fuck!” Clive curses as he goes over the edge with you, going as fast as he can as the both of you ride it out.

He sounds so hot when he cums you thought.

He slows down his thrusts and sits up slightly, wanting to see his cum come out of your pussy when he pulls out. He wants you to watch too so he takes your head and pushes it down slightly so you can see where the both of you are connected. He takes both hands to lift you off his cock, and a mix of both yours and his cum flows out onto his stomach. Clive laughs into your neck. “Fuck what a wonderful sight. You took my cum so well.”

You nod and shift so you can kiss him again. You no longer feel insatiable but relaxed. The arousal that once plagued your body officially fucked out of your system. Clive moves you back onto the bed and lays down beside you so you both are facing one another. He rubs your back and cups your face as you let your eyes drift closed, enjoying the peace you are now feeling.

“How are you feeling?” Clive murmurs.

You smile keeping your eyes closed. “Relaxed. Relieved. I feel so at peace.” You bring a hand to his face. “Thank you, Clive. I’m sorry for dragging you down with me.”

Clive frowns slightly. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

You sigh. “If I had moved faster, we wouldn’t be in this position. You wouldn’t have felt the need to have sex with me. Our relationship would be as it was before. To be honest, I’m scared of what will happen once I leave this room.”

Clive shakes his head and pulls you to his chest, holding your head close to his heart. “I mean what I said, even in the haze of everything. I don’t want what we had before. I want what is to come.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

He pulls your face towards his. “Believe me when I say this isn’t how I would have gone about sharing my heart to you. There are many ways I wanted to express my feelings towards you, and I apologize that it is here now. But _____, my heart has belonged to you from the first moment I saw you. I don’t want what we had before. I need what we have now, but only if you will have me because I love you.”

You laugh and bury your face back into his chest, your whole body vibrating from the excitement you are feeling. He loves me back. “I love you too.” You whisper into his chest.

Clive pulls you away and looks at you. “Say it again, darling. Please.”

You giggle and bring your hands to cup his face. “I love you. You have my heart for all days.”

You bring Clive down to kiss you and he groans into your mouth. You find him back on top of you, straddling you as you both express the love you have for each other. You pull away and sigh happily. “Sorry for the mess, by the way. Shall we get cleaned up?”

Clive smirks. “I don’t know. I still have to punish you.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why? I thought I was a good girl.”

“You were, but you weren’t earlier when you made me hard with your filthy words and behavior.” His hand trailed down to your back side. “I ought to give you a good spanking for what you pulled earlier. Maybe then you’ll learn that bad girls get punished. So no, I am not through with you yet.”

“The night has only just begun.”

#clive rosfield x reader #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #clive x reader #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #my fics #smut #clive rosfield smut

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: sub Miranda priestly? 👀🙏❤

Fuck yeah! I’ve always had a head canon that she’s a sub. She’s just incredibly stressed and definitely needs to be taken care of. Reader, as usual, is gender neutral. Let’s get into it!

You had been Miranda’s assistant for much longer than most. You attribute your staying power to the fact that you just don’t really care about wearing expensive clothing and the latest styles. You want to be true to yourself. You don’t care if you fit in with everyone else’s expectations. Of course you dress professionally, but you don’t go overboard. You’ve done your research and understand the business, however, you’re not getting discouraged and drained by it. You’re confident in yourself and don’t feel the need to put up a facade.

Sure. Nigel and Emily tease you. But slowly, they’ve come to accept you for who you are. You three often go out for drinks after work.

Miranda, however, has apparently not warmed up to you as much. (That’s actually not true, though. She’s just really good at hiding her attraction to you.) She still won’t call you by your actual name and sends you on ridiculous errands. But, she has also started asking for you to bring the book by the house. She only sends people she trusts with the book. You’re honored.

Today, Miranda is in a much worse mood than usual.

You, Emily, and Nigel are chatting and making each other laugh when Miranda arrives. She’s half an hour later than she typically is and that’s seemingly contributing to her frustration.

She storms in and flings her jacket on your desk, unintentionally knocking Nigel’s scalding hot cup of coffee all over the front of your shirt and in your lap.

If Miranda noticed what she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. She goes right into her office and closes the door.

You hiss in agony as you bite back some cuss words.

Nigel gasps and immediately grabs some tissues to try and soak up the spill on your desk. “Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks, horrified.

“Yeah, Nigel. I’m fine… But, I can’t walk around like this all day.” You say and grimace at your stained clothes. “What the hell am I going to do? I don’t have the time to run home and change.” You ask.

Nigel looks at Miranda’s closed office door. He can tell she’s going to be a while. He turns back and grins at you. “Where do you think you are, Y/N?” He says… And immediately decides to make you his next project.

Nigel gives you tons of clothes to try on. You tell him he’s going overboard, but he just glares at you and you shut up.

By the time you’re done, Nigel has picked out the perfect sleek suit for you to wear. He helps you style your hair and tells you to go look at yourself in the mirror.

“Wow… That’s me?” You ask in shock. You look like a completely different person.

Nigel nods with a pleased smile. “It’s certainly an improvement.” He says jokingly. “Keep up that usual confidence and people are going to think you own Runway.” He winks.

“Thanks, Nigel. I really appreciate it.” You tell him.

“Don’t thank me, I was just tired of seeing you dress like an accountant.” He says, crinkling his nose.

You roll your eyes and get back to the office. As you walk in, Emily almost spits out the tea she was drinking before she starts coughing violently.

You raise a perplexed eyebrow. Emily’s cheeks are burning. “What is it, Em?” You ask.

Emily composes herself and clears her throat. “So, you actually look decent for once. Hell must have just frozen over.” She says, trying to seem disinterested in how great you look in your new outfit.

“Haha, very funny.” You say and go to sit back at your desk.

Before long, you hear Miranda’s voice from her office. “Emily.” She says. You huff. She said it in the tone she uses when she means you.

You quickly get up and walk in with a notepad and pen. “Yes, Miranda?” You ask and look down at the paper to get ready to jot some stuff down.

Miranda doesn’t speak immediately.

The silence makes you look up at her in confusion.

Miranda’s face can’t hide the shock she clearly feels. Damn. You look really hot. She can’t help but wonder how much better it would look off of you, though… With your hands exploring her body… Shit! Pull yourself together, Miranda! She thinks harshly to herself and tries to snap out of the trance you’ve put her in.

She knows what a heartthrob you are (She’s not dumb), but this… This is just not fair to suddenly spring on her.

You clear your throat after Miranda’s been staring at you for a while.

The editor slightly shakes her head before her brain gets the message to start working once again. “Get Marc on the phone and make a reservation at that place I like. And Patricia needs to be picked up from the groomers.” She says in her calm, but demanding voice. Her momentary internal freak out has finally passed.

You nod. “I’m on it.” You say quickly and leave.

Miranda clenches her jaw. This is Nigel’s doing, she’s sure of it.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day goes by routinely. Impossible demands are met and you take great pleasure in your efficiency. Later on, Miranda leaves for the day and you finish up some work before going to take the book over.

You get to the townhouse and enter… However, there is an immediate and noticeable tension. Something is wrong. You hear a man’s furious voice and… Miranda’s. You can tell she’s trying to placate whoever she’s talking to, but the man’s voice only grows louder. You’ve never heard Miranda so… Shaken up. You look up at the stairway balcony and see two frightened little redheads peeking their faces out at you. They are silently pleading with you to do something.

Your vision goes red. You stomp up the stairway and make your way to the sound of Miranda’s voice. She sounds… Scared. You turn the corner and see a man, about Miranda’s age, yelling and berating her. You’re almost positive that this is her husband. You and Miranda’s eyes meet. She is so relieved to see you.

The man reaches out to grab Miranda’s arm roughly, but you immediately pull him back by his collar before he can lay his disgusting hand on her. You shove him hard up against the wall, seething. “Alright, you’re done, asshole! Let’s go!” You tell him and drag him harshly down the stairs with your arm tightly around his neck.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He shouts, grunting in pain from your iron grip.

“Your worst fucking nightmare if you continue to make bad choices.” You say darkly. “If I see you back here again we’re going to have a problem. Get it?” You ask and violently shove him down the townhouse’s front steps.

The man stumbles and trips over himself. He splutters as he gets up and looks at you stupidly.

“Beat it!” You yell at him.

The man sees the rage in your eyes and decides to get going. He’s not going to mess with you.

You watch as he leaves like a pathetic idiot. You make sure that he’s gone before closing the front door, locking it, and sighing. You turn around and see Miranda at the top of the stairs.

Her eyes are red from crying and she looks so… Vulnerable.

Cassidy and Caroline begin to sob as they hurry over to hug their mother.

“It’s okay, bobbseys. Mommy’s here.” She assures. Wow. Her voice is so soft and warm right now. You… Love the sound of it like this. It’s comforting.

You quietly make your way up the stairs. “Are you all okay?” You ask gently.

Miranda sees you approaching and begins bawling herself. She reaches out to pull you into a group hug with the girls. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you.” She says.

Your eyes grow wide. You’ve never heard her say thank you before. You enjoy the feeling of them all in your arms. You could certainly get used to this.

You four finally pull away from each other, but Cassidy immediately clings to your side. She feels safe with you. Not to be outdone, Caroline quickly grabs onto your other side. You look to Miranda in astonishment and she can’t help but chuckle tearily as she looks at the shock on your face.

“I would say that you have won these two over.” She says with a smile and looks at her precious daughters.

You decide that you rather like the idea of the girls approving of you.

Miranda leads you all to the girls’ bedroom and Caroline and Cassidy immediately hop in the same bed and cuddle with each other. Miranda tucks them in and sits on the edge next to them. “Now, bobbseys. I know that was very scary.” She says. “But Y/N protected us.” She says and looks at you in gratitude.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Caroline says.

“Yeah, thanks, Y/N!” Cassidy eagerly adds.

You blush intensely. “My pleasure.” You mumble out, embarrassed.

“Stephen will not be a problem any longer.” Miranda says, looking back at the girls. First thing in the morning, she’s filing divorce papers against that son of a bitch. A restraining order too.

“So, Stephen’s not going to live here anymore?” Caroline asks.

Miranda cups her face. “No, he won’t, bobbsey.” Miranda promises.

Caroline nods, feeling relieved.

“Now, would you like a song to help you fall asleep?” Miranda entices.

The girls eagerly nod.

Miranda turns to you and pats the bed next to her. You quickly take a seat and can feel her lightly leaning against you. She’s so warm. She gently holds your hand and squeezes it.

Miranda sings a beautiful Yiddish lullaby. You are once again falling in love with her voice. You could listen to it constantly.

The girls are soothed by their mother’s singing. They quickly fall asleep.

Miranda ends the song and kisses each daughter on the head before standing up and guiding you out of the room. She turns off the lights and closes the door.

Miranda grabs your hand and leads you to her bedroom. “Y/N, I… I can’t thank you enough.” Miranda says, breaking down once again.

You wrap her in a hug. “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.” You tell her and rub her back.

Miranda lets herself cry for a minute and you calmly whisper soft reassurances in her ear. You will never let anything harm her or the girls again. Something about your dynamic with them has completely changed. You will protect them with your life from here on out.

After Miranda has allowed herself some time to cry, she suddenly pulls back and looks at you closely.

You look back at her. “Miranda?” You ask.

“I… Feel safe… With you, Y/N.” Miranda reveals. She’s just pinpointed why she loves being around you. Every time at work when Miranda has forgotten something or made a tiny mistake, you swoop in and fix it… And now… This. You’re like her own personal superhero.

Miranda’s statement makes your heart rate pick up. You love that you make her feel secure.

“I think that… I haven’t felt truly safe and protected like this since I lost my father.” Miranda realizes and looks you in the eye. “I… Want you here with me, Y/N. Please, will you stay tonight?” She pleads.

You had no intentions of leaving anyway. You wanted to make sure Stephen was really gone. You smile. “Absolutely. I’ll go sleep on the couch.” You tell her. “Good night, Mi-”

“No!” Miranda all but shrieks.

Your posture becomes rigid. Miranda’s never raised her voice before. It’s quite startling. You turn to look at her but Miranda suddenly cups your face.

“Please… Stay in here with me.” She begs.

You can’t say no to her. You nod. “Okay.” You agree.

Then… Something happens that totally changes you for good. Miranda leans forward and places a gentle kiss to your lips. Your brain short-circuits for a second before you kiss her back. Her lips are so velvety. You need more.

Miranda moans softly and it’s the most tantalizing thing you’ve ever heard. She pulls away and looks critically at you. “Nigel knew what he was doing when he dressed you.” She says with a small smirk. “What an evil way to torture me all day.” She whispers.

You laugh and wink. “You can blame yourself for that. You spilled coffee all over me.” You tell her.

Miranda is mortified. She doesn’t remember that. “I… What?” She asks, confused.

“Forget it. I’ll tell you later.” You grin and start to trail kisses down to the base of her throat.

Miranda whines as she grips your hair, wanting you to keep going. You carefully pick her up and lie her on the bed before positioning yourself on top of her. “Let me take your shirt off, doll baby.” You tell her and begin unbuttoning her fancy blouse.

Miranda all but melts as she sees the feral look in your eyes. This is what she needs. To be taken care of and… Completely worshipped.

Note: Haha, so no smut, but the unexpected dom/sub dynamics were really fun to work with on a more emotional level. Depending on if y'all like this one, I may write some smut for it. Hope you enjoyed this!

Masterlist

#miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #dwp #miranda priestly x reader #devil wears prada #emily charlton #nigel kipling #caroline priestly #cassidy priestly #meryl streep #emily blunt #stanley tucci

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weirdowithaquill · 6 months

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Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

Back to Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober 2023 #traintober #ttte mallard #ttte flying scotsman #ttte green arrow #ttte spencer #ttte gordon #mental problems #Mallard loses her humanity

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jackoshadows · 1 year

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Game of Thrones did remind me a lot of British culture and history in terms of Sansa’s xenophobic rants against the Dothraki and Unsullied - who came to help the North from an existential apocalyptic threat and ended up dying in large numbers - being very similar to Brexit Britain.

The othering language used by the Starks - ‘She’s not one of us’. The backstabbing and betrayal of an ally come to help. Brexit was and is as nonsensical as Sansa’s entire ‘Northern independence’ shtick. The way Sansa had no issues feeding the Vale army but complained about feeding the Dothraki and the Unsullied reminds me of the likes of Rees Mogg, Nigel Farage and the UKIP party talking about immigrants and refugees.

And it really is discomforting to realize that a lot of people are fictionally for a UKIP party’s xenophobic hated of others given their rhetoric and support for show Sansa’s actions in GOT. It’s fascinating just in general how easily people fall in anglo-centric/imperialistic/colonial/racist/po-monarchial mindsets when you put a pretty face on the brochure!

ASoIaF on the other hand is fundamentally different to GOT in it’s narrative themes and the story it’s telling with the fight against the allegory for climate change - the Others - being more important than which noble family gets to rule over the Smallfolk. That has consistently been the message of the books.

I’m not an “American First” (and maybe because I read science fiction) I’m a “Terran First”. I’m a human being first. And I have this sympathy for other human beings no matter what side of the giant ice wall they happen to be born on. - GRRM

When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?” - Jeor Mormont

Why can't it be both?" Meera reached up to pinch his nose.

"Because they're different," he insisted. "Like night and day, or ice and fire."

"If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one." - Jojen Reed

“Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?” Jon waited for an answer. None came. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord— what are these wildlings, if not men?” - Jon Snow

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men. - Jon Snow

I also think we need to be consistent and if we are talking about Northern independence or Dornish independence or just the dissolution of the 7 kingdoms from the Iron Throne etc, then these discussions should also include the Iron Islands and Ned Stark/Stannis Baratheon crushing the Greyjoy rebellion and taking Theon Stark as a child hostage so that they would not fight back again. There is no one family or one house in the morally right here. They are ALL feudal lords fighting for power and for their house.

#asoiaf #anti GOT #Some people just misunderstood the story completely

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tornadoyoungiron · 7 months

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Traintober | Day 14 - Young Iron

Tornado learns that her Trust is building another steam engine. She becomes upset that they won’t care about her anymore.

~~~

“Hey, have you heard the news, Sir Nigel?” Bittern called to his brother who looked at him wearily.

“If this is another of your confounded tricks with Flying Scotsman-” Sir Nigel grumbled as Tornado pottered around the yard with Matey, the NRM’s lead shunter.

“No, no, no! No trick, I mean, I did hear this from Scottie but that’s beside the point!” Bittern dismissively replied to the other A4 Pacific.

“And your point is Bittern?” Sir Nigel narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alright, there’s no need to be such a grumpus!” Bittern nattered on but the deepening glare from his brother hastily made him change his tune. “Scotsman said there’s going to be a new Gresley P2 built! You know, a proper one, like the Mikado arrangement, not that Thompson trash!”

Sir Nigel’s eyes widened and he stared at Bittern in disbelief.

“If this is a joke-”

“It’s not a joke!” Bittern appealed to his brother. “I’m being dead serious! Tornado’s Trust are the ones building them so you can ask her!”

The two A4’s turned their attention to Tornado who had frozen in place and was staring at the both of them, a look of utter shock on her face.

“Is this true Tornado?” Sir Nigel questioned her and it took a moment for the young engine to look at the elder LNER leader.

“I- I- I don’t-” She stammered.

“Oh, come on! You have to know! They’re your trust!” Bittern beseeched her but Tornado just stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“You’re tormenting the poor girl, leave her be,” Sir Nigel condemned Bittern and the garter blue A4 just humphed and wheeshed steam in response.

“Fine! Don’t believe me then! But don’t come running back to me when I’m proven right!” The blue engine shouted at his brother and the still lost-looking Tornado as he raced away, deeply upset.

Sir Nigel gave a thoughtful hum and watched his brother sprinting away before turning his attention back to Tornado.

“Ignore my brother, young Tornado,” he advised her. “He often lacks tact and common sense.”

“Okay,” was all Tornado responded with as she returned to helping Matey though, with a little less enthusiasm than before.

~~~

“Looks like you weren’t good enough,” a snide voice called out to Tornado as she prepared to return home for the night. Tornado said nothing as the churlish figure of Clun Castle sidled up next to her, a putrid sneer marred across her face.

“Shut up, leave me alone,” Tornado wearily murmured back at her. She was in no mood to entertain the nasty engine.

“See, this rude and horrible attitude is why your Trust is making another engine,” Clun Castle ignored Tornado’s distressed expression and delighted in making the young engine miserable. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent you off to the scrapyard and had you replaced with this new engine!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Tornado suddenly bellowed at Clun Castle but the Great Western just laughed at her. “LEAVE ME ALONE YOU MONSTER!”

Her bellows caught the attention of a 9F nearby who began advancing towards them.

Clun Castle immediately cleared her throat and took her leave rather quickly as the 9F numbered 92134 approached them.

“Everything alright here?” The 9F asked Tornado, her voice kind and full of worry. “Was that Great Western causing you trouble?”

Tornado just sniffed and looked at her buffers.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tornado mumbled and she set off, refusing to look back at the 9F, desperate to head home.

The 9F watched her go, a downhearted look on her face.

~~~

Tornado trundled into her Darlington home with a dejected look on her face and a worried Matthias. He’d seen everything and considered it would be best for her to head home instead of staying at the NRM. Not only that, it wouldn’t hurt for her to go through a deep maintenance cycle.

“Tornado!” A voice called to them as they pulled into the shed. Tornado ignored the voice and rolled into place over the pit, no longer wanting or responding to the ramble of engineers or volunteers loitering around the shed.

“Tornado are you happy to get a new shed mate?” One of the younger volunteers asked her and Tornado seemed to explode in anger and frustration.

“Shut up!” She shrieked. “Shut up about this new engine! I don’t want to hear it!”

The volunteer recoiled, shocked at the reaction.

“Tornado, what’s the meaning of this?” Iain the lead engineer approached her as the people stopped what they were doing to stare.

“I’m doing the best I can! Why are you building a new engine?” Tornado protested. “Don’t send me to the scrapyards! I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be better!”

Iain now looked alarmed at Tornado.

“Tornado we are not going to send you to the scrapyards, why on earth would you think that!” He was aghast at her suggestions.

“Because you’re building a new engine to replace me,” Tornado wailed. “Why else would you be building a new engine? My firebox is too small, I don’t steam correctly, I keep having problems!”

“Tornado, Tornado stop,” Iain quicked stepped in to stop Tornado from riling herself up. “We are not going to send you to the scrapyard, we are not going replace you!”

Tornado sniffed, upset and stared down at her engineer.

“Then why are you building a new engine!” She shouted angrily. “Am I not good enough?!”

“Tornado you are more than enough,” Iain reassured the agitated engine. “In fact, you are perfect. And the fact that you are perfect gives us confidence we can build another engine. We are building a new one because you turned out so well.”

Tornado’s agitation seemed to disappear at his words and she paused to listen to him properly now.

“Re- really? You’re building a new engine because I’m so… good?” She asked confused and Iain nodded to her.

“Yes! Would you like to see the engine we’re going to build to complement you?” He asked and a look of curiosity appeared over Tornado’s face.

“I- okay,” she sounded a little uncertain.

Iain beckoned to one of the volunteers who quickly raced away to retrieve a book from one of the offices as he made his way to perch himself on Tornado’s buffer beam.

“You’ll always be our number one engine Tornado,” Iain reassured her. “You have a special place in our hearts and in the eyes of the railway world. You’re very a very famous engine, we could never scrap you, so don’t even entertain the idea, alright?”

Tornado stared at him before looking at her buffers, embarrassed now.

“I’m sorry for making a fuss, I know I tend to do that,” she mumbled and Iain chuckled before giving her smokebox a reassuring pat.

“You steam engines are fussy things, it’s to be expected,” Iain chortled and Tornado pouted at him. She resented being called fussy.

The volunteer came back, handing a large book to Iain. “Ah now here, I’m not sure how much Flying Scotsman has told you about the P2’s.”

“They worked in Scotland! They were huge and they had big personalities!” Tornado exclaimed excitedly. “They kept calling him a shrimp!”

Iain laughed, “Well, there’s a good reason that they did.”

He opened the book and held it up so she could see it. She gave a dramatic gasp. There was one of Scotsman’s siblings and next to it was an enormous engine dwarfing it.

“THEY’RE HUGE!” She marvelled at the photo of it. She then frowned as she noticed the other photos of the P2 class. “Wait, they’re all different looking. That one looks like Sir Nigel and Bittern.”

“These engines were almost like the prototypes for Bittern’s class. They were experiments by Sir Gresley to find the perfect design, but that doesn’t mean they were faulty or lacking, no, these engines were even more powerful than the 9F’s you’ve seen,” Iain explained and Tornado seemed even more impressed.

“Wow,” she whispered softly in awe. “And you’re building one? Which one?”

“This one right here,” Iain pointed at the photograph of an engine that was impressively long and had a huge cowl over it’s smokebox. The nameplate read: ‘Cock ‘O the North.’

Tornado giggled childishly. “That’s a funny name.”

“Some would say Tornado is a funny name for an engine,” Iain poked back and Tornado pulled a face at him.

“I like my name!” She argued, pulling a disgruntled face. “Does the new engine have a name?”

“Prince of Wales,” Iain confirmed. “And he’ll be your little brother, so you best look after him.”

“Like how Scotsman looks after me!” Tornado exclaimed and Iain nodded to her.

“You can teach him everything you know,” he insinuated and Tornado beamed proudly.

“I won’t let you down, Mr Iain!” She declared and Iain just smiled at the Peppercorn, adoringly.

“I know you won’t Tornado.”

~~~

A1 Steam’s Tornado Website - You can donate to help get Tornado back on the rails.

A1 Steam’s Prince of Wales Website - You can also donate to help the A1 Trust finish this behemoth of an engine.

#ttte young iron #ttte tornado #real railway #ttte P2 prince of wales #traintober #traintober 2023 #ttte fanfic #ttte

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obsidiancreates · 3 months

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One Undead To Another (Chapter 14)

(Trigger warning for... I guess mental breakdown? Death, grief, complicated feelings surrounding grief)

“Thanks.” Juliet smiles at the officer, and then turns and walks up to her partner.

“So?”

“Checks out.” Juliet doesn’t even try to hide the relief in her voice. “The mom tried to kidnap her daughter and Shawn caught them, the mom confessed to everything and the little girl is already home safe.”

“And no bite marks on the perp?”

“Not a scratch.” The relief she feels is enough to make her melt. “She described Shawn as quote, ‘rude and offputtingly cavalier with a strangely calm approach to everything’.”

Lassiter scoffs, not without slight fondness, and with much mocking. “Sounds like Spencer.”

“Yeah.” Juliet can hear the dreamy relief in her own voice. “Yeah, it does. Even through all that. … Maybe we’ve been a little too hard on him, Carlton.”

“Too hard on him? O’Hara, he’s a vampire.”

“But he’s still Shawn.”

“The last time we used the ‘It’s still Spencer’ excuse to relax about him, someone ended up dead.”

The tension returns to her in a crashing tidal wave with that sobering reminder. “Right.”

“Right. Yes, it’s Spencer’s personality, his behavior, even his soul. Doesn’t matter. We need to keep an eye on him and keep him in check. Even if that means being a little unfriendly.”

“Easier for you to do than for me.”

“I know. So I’ll be doubly cautious for both of us.”

“Thank you, Carlton. … What now?”

“We’ll have to go back and get Guster, then decide on how we handle the rest of tonight.”

“... Or… call Gus to check in, then go get coffee and late-night pancakes before switching off?”

“... I would kill for a good cup of joe right about now.”

Juliet smiles and pulls out her phone, finding the contact. “Gus?”

“Juliet?”

“Just checking in. How is everything so far?”

“Good, actually. We’re making a list of uh… changes to Shawn’s psychic abilities. Like Mary said, they’re all out of whack now.”

“And he hasn’t…”

“I’m fine. I put the cross on a paperclip necklace, he can’t get near my arteries.”

“Smart. Okay, well, Lassiter and I are going to take care of a few things and we’ll be back to relieve you soon.”

“Cool.”

She hangs up. “Are we splitting the bill tonight?”

“I was thinking I’ll watch Spencer tonight.”

“... So?”

“So, you should pay.”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?! It’s fair, O’Hara.”

“You’re seriously trying to use this to get me to pay for pancakes.”

“It’s a perfectly valid reasoning.”

“You just want to annoy me into not fighting you on watching Shawn.”

“Right. I want to make absolutely sure I’m the one stuck with him for hours.”

“You don’t want me in danger.”

“You owe me.”

“I do. Alright, I’ll buy. But that means we’re both getting the kind with the strawberries and bananas.”

“Fine. Doctor says I need to eat more fruit anyway.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright.” Gus has the list of psychic attributes laid out in front of him, and beside it a new list of vampire attributes. The psychic list is much longer, including lots of little moments they now both realize were actual psychic instances in past cases. “So we both agree that the Nigel St Nigel cigarette case thing was psychic.”

“The first stop was. After that I just actually noticed the danger.”

“Still counts.” Gus writes it down. “Okay, vampire thing next. Can you fly?”

“Pretty sure that’s a no.” Shawn isn’t even sure how he’d go about trying that except for jumping off a cliff– which he considered, before getting a vision of his body floating in the water and Lassie and Jules watching it be hauled up. He’s not sure if he was dead-dead in the vision, or just unconscious, but it doesn’t matter because Lassie and Jules looked pale and stricken and they’ve already had to see his corpse once.

“Psychic sure or regular sure?”

Shawn considers it for a moment, taking the time to eat a cheese puff. “Regular sure,” he decides.

“Fine. Then… how do those cheese puffs taste? Like ash?”

“Like artificial cheese.” Shawn eats another. “I think food tastes the same.”

“Does it feel the same?”

Shawn shakes his head and has another puff. “I had a smoothie earlier and it didn’t quench anything. That might be the biggest loss in all this.”

“You mean besides your eternal soul?”

“Pretty sure I still have my soul. … That one was definitely psychic.”

Gus notes that and the food thing down on their respective pages. “I think we’re making good progress here.”

“Me too, man. I knew we’d be able to figure this all out together.” He hadn’t intended on that at all. He still catches himself looking at Gus’s neck, as does Gus. It’s why Gus made the makeshift rosary in the first place. It’s risky, and difficult, and it makes him hungry.

Hence the cheese puffs. Which aren’t taking the edge off at all, but maybe if he pretends they do he can trick himself into it actually working.

“How about shapeshifting?”

“Gus, I’ve been a vampire for like, a day. Even if I could do that, it probably won’t happen before speed.”

“You said you super-sped at that lady’s car.”

“Yeah, on accident.”

“Fine. What about hypnosis?”

Shawn crunches a puff.

Yes. Yes, he has hypnosis. Strong, potent hypnosis. Some kind of power over someone’s very soul, compelling them to do what he says without even knowing he’s done anything. He can feel the phantom sensation of doing it to Gus, twice now, the way it tied them together for a moment in an otherworldly snare where Shawn was the trap and Gus the prey. And he hadn’t even meant to do it at all.

“I haven’t tried yet.” Not a lie. He hasn’t. But it’s not an answer. But how can he answer? ‘Sorry buddy, I’ve already hypnotized you, Lassie, Jules, and some random other person. You, Lassie, and Jules more than once, by the way.’ He’s still on thin ice, and he’s still figuring this out, and he’s sca–

“You haven’t tried?” “To be honest, man, I’m not super hyped about the powers stuff. They kind of suck so far.” He motions to Gus’s chest.

Gus rubs the bruise. Shawn tilts his head and tries to parse if there’s any tip-offs for ‘bruise’. He’s pretty sure there isn’t– but it’s also just a normal, logical conclusion. He files that away as a ‘Maybe Psychic’ moment and crunches another puff. “So uh… how’re you planning on tricking out the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well, I talked with Father Wesley earlier–”

Shawn grits his teeth. A resentment he knows isn’t his bubbles up inside of him. He bites the next puff harder than he has to. Gus doesn’t seem to notice, now opening his laptop and looking something up.

“– and got some advice. I found Bible passage wallpaper in an online specialty shop, I’ll put whatever I have leftover from my apartment in here.”

Crunch. Is he scowling?

“I also ordered some actual crosses to hang around my desk. Just, you know, in case.”

Crunch. Shawn hopes his nod doesn’t look too stiff.

“I’m probably going to keep a spray bottle of holy water around too.”

Crunch.

Gus jumps in chair. Shawn looks down at his hand. He’s crushed the entire bag of puffs.

“Whoops.” It’s all he can muster up. It’s nothing. It’s chips. It’s so much more.

“... Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all the stuff I have planned.”

“Yeah. … I’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

“Probably.”

“It was kind of impossible to hide anything from me even before all this.”

“Not that impossible. You didn’t know about Ruby.”

“Oh yeah.” He probably would now. It feels a little like his brain is a poster, folded up so that whatever the focal point of the design is was on full display. He could pick apart the details, admire the intricacies, hang it up and be satisfied with just that. But now he’s unfolded it for the first time, and it’s so much bigger than he ever imagined it’d be, and it’s almost difficult to take in the whole complicated piece. He can hone in on little aspects, specific sections, he can separate it by the leftover impressions of the folding, but trying to see it all as one leaves him unable to see any of it. He could probably know everything, if he could just back up far enough to take it all in…

‘Don’t.’ His grandma’s voice drifts through his head softly. ‘You won’t be able to get back.’

“Shawn? Shawn!” He blinks and Gus is standing in front of him, pencil-cross tucked into his shirt so it’s not waving in Shawn’s face as Gus leans over and lightly slaps his cheek. The warmth of Gus’s hand enriches the smell-taste hovering around him. Shawn jerks away and tries to cover the seize of panic with an exaggerated flop and shout of surprise. He falls off the chair in his fervor.

Gus just tsks and watches Shawn flop around for a second through half-lidded, done-with-you eyes. Shawn sits up, now covered in the dusty remains of the puff bag.

“What was that?” Gus puts his hands on his hips. “You completely blanked out.”

“Gus, please. I don’t blank out.”

“Your eyes glazed over, Shawn.”

“Now I want doughnuts.” He doesn’t. He wishes he does. He should.

“I’m serious, Shawn! That was–” Shawn zeros in on Gus’s hands, highlighted as they tremble slightly. His eyes go up to Gus’s lip, also trembling, and the way Gus keeps looking at his neck before quickly looking away.

“Oh, buddy.” Shawn stands, putting a hand on Gus’s shoulder. Warm, pulsing with Life, easy to take. He crumbles up the chip bag in his other hand, keeping the one on Gus’s shoulder loose and casual. “Look, man, if you need to…”

“No, it’s– I’m fine.”

“You were having flashbacks, weren’t you?”

“... Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, man. I-I can’t imagine… I mean if I found you like…”

“Shawn, seriously. I’m fine.”

The turmoil in Shawn’s guts is different right now. It’s not hunger, not searing pain, not uncertainty and confusion twisting his stomach into knots. It’s a deep pit of dread, a rolling cycle of regret and grief, a tight line of If Only that…

… Isn’t… his.

…

“Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you need to go back home.”

“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until Lassie gets back, remember?”

“Dude, looking at me is just hurting you right now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. No wonder you keep throwing up, man. This feels awful.”

“Feels aw- you can feel my feelings right now?”

“Kind of, I– it’s complicated.”

“... I don’t want to leave right now, Shawn.”

The grief sharpens. The almost gentle roll of the grief cycle becomes a tear. Shawn sucks in a breath at the same time Gus pulls in a shaky sob.

“Gus, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did.”

“But I’m back! I’m right here, man!”

“You know it’s not the same, Shawn.”

“But it can be! After we figure all this weird new stuff out! Nothing has to change, man. I won’t let it, we’ve got a good thing going and nothing is taking that away from us.”

“You died.”

“Only for a little while.”

“No, Shawn.” Gus brushes the hand off his shoulder, putting both of his hands on Shawn. “You died. You– we saw–”

“But it’s okay now! We can move on from it, buddy, just like we always do.”

“Not just like we always do! Don’t you–”

“... Don’t I what?”

“... Don’t you feel off?”

“Don’t I feel off?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you died!” Gus shakes him. “Because we didn’t believe you! You died surrounded by freaky monsters, alone, in a basement! It’s not normal to just move on from that, Shawn!”

“What are you– are you mad that I’m not upset enough or something?!”

“YES!” Gus pushes Shawn away– or tries to. Shawn isn’t even wobbled by all the force Gus puts into it, and instead Gus is the one who ends up pushed back and stumbling away. “YOU’RE DEAD, SHAWN! YOU’RE DEAD AND YOU’RE STILL WALKING AROUND MAKING JOKES AND ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME EVERY DAY THING!”

“What do you want me to do, Gus?! Sit on my bathroom floor and mope?! Hang around my apartment thinking about what it felt like to die?! I don’t work like that!”

“No, you just run away when it’s something you can’t brush off!”

“Run– that was years ago! I haven’t run away from something huge since I was eighteen, Gus! I’m here, I’m here to stay, I’m not going anywhere!”

“YOU DID!”

“And I’m back!”

“You’re NOT! Not the same Shawn who left, and we both know it, so stop trying to pretend otherwise!” Tears are streaming down Gus’s face. There’s a frantic look in his eye and Shawn can feel the confusing tangle of emotions taking up his best friend’s chest, the grief and the anger and the disbelief and the fear all twisting into each other to make something just ugly and painful.

“What do you want from me, Gus?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! JUST– JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S NOT DIFFERENT!”

“I CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?!”

“I JUST CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“I WON’T!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M SCARED!”

Silence.

Gus stands, crying and huffing and panting. Shawn is frozen, not daring to breath, blink, even move to run. He misses his heart hammering in his chest in moments like these. He misses feeling it jump into his throat, hearing blood roaring in his ears, feeling his pulse speed up and not Gus’s, he misses–

Oh.

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and Gus is moving towards him with a tissue. He offers it to Shawn. Shawn still can’t move. This doesn’t feel real. None of it has felt real, except for when it has, and then it felt too real to be real. He feels like the admission popped his Shamu pool floatie and now he’s sinking, sinking into shark-infested waters with weights strapped around his ankles and no don’t think about Mary choking on blood in his arms right now on top of all of it–

Gus wipes Shawn’s cheek for him. He’s still crying too. “I’m scared,” Gus says, voice wobbling.

“Yeah.” Shawn’s voice comes out a watery croak. He motions weakly at Gus’s fake rosary.

“Not like that.” Gus swallows. “I’m not scared of you, Shawn.”

“Yeah you are.”

“A little bit. But I’m scared for you.”

“... Why?”

“I didn’t just see my best friend die. My best friend died, and now he’s trying to ignore that.”

“Gus–”

“We need to talk about it, Shawn.”

“... I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“... It might not even help.”

“We still have to.”

“It’s never helped anything before.”

“Have we ever tried?”

“... I don’t… want… to have died, Gus.” His voice catches. He’s trembling now. “That can’t have actually happened.”

“It doesn’t seem possible.”

“It doesn’t, right? I don’t– things work out for me.”

“They always have.”

“They always have. They always do. It can’t have just… not, this time.”

“But it did. Not, did not.”

“... What if I did die? … For real? And I’m not…”

“You?”

“... Yeah.” Shawn wipes his own eyes this time. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He’s never heard it like this. Clogged up, shaky, weak. “Gus, I’m… I’m scared. I’m sc–”

The last word doesn’t make it out. He sobs.

Gus pulls him into a hug, also sobbing. Shawn feels Gus’s heartbeat in his entire body, in his bones and deeper, but for the moment the hunger and temptation don’t come with it. As Shawn hugs back, taking in the warmth and feelings and Life, he doesn’t feel any of the painful tension of before. He feels Gus’s whole self, body and soul and all, and feels comfort.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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thingintheroad · 5 days

Text

trans!nigel, less murderous, w/ loving parents mention.

trans nigel inspired by/credit to @gali-in-distress and @laurelwen

might write a canon-adjacent one when i feel more sane so keep ur eyes peeled :3

／(˃ᆺ˂)＼

it had been a particularly strange week. nigel had been acting off for a few days, and had stopped bringing in animals like he usually did.

yes, alex almost preferred the lack of carcasses being split open in the room he slept in, but he knew it was something nigel enjoyed.

one night, nearing midnight, alex woke to nigels bed empty and the door to their room open. this was strange, but alex thought his roommate had simply gone for a weirdly late walk. it made sense with the whole...everything about him.

he got up and headed to the bathroom, cup in hand, to get some water. he had fallen asleep far too early and forgotten to get one like he usually did, so his mouth felt like it was full of dust.

as he approached, he heard a low voice reciting hail marys - in latin.

"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum."

that was definitely nigel. he had seen nigel's extensive collection of rosaries. it had been unexpected, but the boy definitely seemed the sort to collect.

alex had heard nigel praying the rosary, and had been dragged along to a rosary service when nigel insisted alex and susan at least join him once. not in latin, though, but this didnt come as a surprise either.

"Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus."

he could hear running water behind nigel's voice, and saw steam rolling out from under the door. he might have thought to knock, had he not been transfixed by the hum of his outward devotions.

"Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen."

without thinking, alex grasped the door handle.

very, very thankfully, nigel was stood in front of the sink in his pyjamas. the rosary he had been gifted when he first started at the boarding school was wrapped around his hands, wooden beads clacking softly. as moved closer, alex realised there were a pair of blood-covered gloves on the sink. he froze in place.

"nigel-"

the boy at the sink turned, eyes wide.

"nigel why are those gloves covered in blood"

he took a second, turning to look at the gloves then back at alex.

"period, sorry, i ran out of what i take to avoid it."

alex felt the biggest wave of relief wash over him. he would have collapsed right on the floor were it not for the fact it would have resulted in a cracked-open skull.

"dont be sorry, do you need anything from the room?"

he attempted to not let the relief seep too far into his voice, but the grin that overtook nigel's face told him immediately that he had failed.

"you thought i'd killed someone!"

the tone was playful, unaccusatory, but still made alex cringe at himself.

"an animal, not a person, i dont think youd have it in you to take down a whole human."

the two went back and forth on this for a little while, before nigel banished alex, as the bath had filled.

back in the dorm, alex considered what he would have done if it had turned out that nigel had killed someone, and came to the conclusion that he would have helped him bury the body.

when nigel came in, hair damp, alex felt at ease again.

"would i be able to ask a question?"

"no. joking, go ahead"

alex pondered the phrasing. he didnt want to come off as invasive, but was genuinely curious.

"so, why do you pray rosary in latin during your period?"

a grin similar to the one earlier split the boys face again. he hung the beads on the pegboard above his bed, and sat facing alex.

"i dont like thinking about it too much, obviously, but i feel a sort of duty to take extra steps in my faith during the week. its a distraction i guess, my period is a physical reminder that ive got a while to go in terms of transition. i learnt to use the rosary as a distraction when i first got my period, i thought i was being punished for not being enough of a boy and began praying and advocating that Mary would ask God to forgive me for it. obviously i know it isnt, now, my parents had to sit me down with a priest to explain that i was fine."

settling down to sleep, alex thought about how he might have reacted in the same situation. would he have also assumed he was being punished by God, or was that a nigel-specific attribute?

he never got the water.

#coping #projecting #authors feelings adapted into canon-typical assumptions #alex version coming soon #like minds 2006 #like minds #nigel colbie #trans nigel #susan mueller #susan is alive #nigel's parents love and care for him

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rookrock · 2 months

Text

TMAGP 10 SPOILERS

Nigel Dickerson's SOS?? Comedy dungeon??? MR SIX??? Staticky voice with an ominous rumbling.

"No guests were hurt" and "you've got buried"?? Berried, I think. Ominous.

Mr Bonzo - no one remembers who came up with the name. No one had seen the suit move... Someone's arm was broken while wearing the suit...the audience loved it. "It became a ritual", there were injuries...

The kids actually did like Mr Bonzo

"We all know what happened" with the music

A serial killer was caught dressed as Bonzo - with the colors backward. 11 bodies, same number of weeks "Mr Bonzo's on his way" was top song.

SOS got cancelled

Edgy fans, Bonzo meme, merchandise still on sale

People think of Nigel Dickerson and Mr Bonzo is never far behind

He's a prisoner of Bonzo???

The serial killer is still going, and Bonzo costumes were found at the scenes.

Celia and Colin

Colin wants to talk to Alice, therapy didn't work. He's back to figure it out. The other's absence will make things earlier and he doesn't want them to know he's been here (including Lena).

SAM IN THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE WITH ALICE IN THE RAIN

Digging through mulch and Sam finds a key

Alice is desperate to leave, and she seems to have no connection to this place, so I'm convinced she doesn't remember the Institute if she was indeed in the program there.

Gwen is trying to deliver an envelope to Dickerson, but he says "It's not for me"

FUCK IT'S MR BONZO

TRY NOT TO STARE. IT DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN PEOPLE STARE.

"It looks like they got another one for you" so the OIAR is getting Bonzo to assassinate people?

"Now, get out of his house." Gwen lives.

I HEAR A TAPE RECORDER BUTTON. SAM AND ALICE ARE ON TAPE. They're getting closer...

They're in someone's office... who's Archie? Archive?

Ominous chair. Pattern of worm tracks on floor?

Sam dropped the key, there's a pit in the office.

Sam has memories of stuff happening here and wonders why they didn't choose him. He wants to find "where everything started to go wrong."

Something scuttling in the background. A spider? It stinks in here.

Sam and Alice leave for the pub. A huge door slams. Another door creaks open and closed. Footsteps... breathing... whispering of many voices.

AGHHHH HOW DO I SURVIVE FOUR WEEKS

I think that the kids were becoming the archivist, perhaps, and someone is still living in the institute.

No idea who Mr Bonzo was sent after.

#tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol spoilers #tmagp early access

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bi-bard · 2 years

Text

Letting Go - Nigel Imagine (Charlie Countryman)

Title: Letting Go

Pairing: Nigel X Reader

Word Count: 544 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: (Y/n)'s job stress was quite different than most people's job stress. When their boss is going down a path of more pain, they overstep a boundary that they had hoped to never confront.

Author's Note: This is short, but I couldn't shake it.

--------------------------

Nigel was pissed when he sat down.

He had called me to meet him at some small cafe. I obliged. The man paid me for a reason.

"Stressed?"

The face he gave me told me that he picked up the sarcasm in my voice. I just smirked at him. I wasn't a therapist, it's not like I was going to help much. I was meant to be help. An extra gun in a fight.

I had no idea why he was so insistent on me being the one by his side so much.

Still, I wasn't going to complain. He paid me. That's all that mattered.

That was the only reason I stuck around.

I say that. I always said that. How long I had truly meant that wasn't very clear. It was blurry. I just continued saying that this was my job and there was nothing else to it.

It was easier.

Especially when I had to watch Nigel try to keep a hold on Gabi. She wasn't a bad person truly but watching this constant chase was getting exhausting.

"You could let her go," I said after a moment of watching him glare into the distance.

He looked at me. "Excuse me?"

"Gabi," I continued. "You could let her go. Let her deal with whatever craziness she wants to deal with."

He didn't speak. It was like he was hoping that if he just stared at me long enough that I would drop the subject.

“I just don’t understand the point of forcing someone to stay with you when they don’t love you,” I shrugged. “Does that not hurt more than just leaving them be?”

Nigel glared at me. “I don’t keep you around to question my choices.”

“Someone obviously should.”

“And why should that be you?”

I took a deep breath. "Is it not completely obvious to you?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. I was ready to backtrack. I didn't want to admit to what I meant. If I explained, it became real. If it became real, Night could push me away. I didn't want that. I didn't want that at all.

"Forget it," I muttered, running one hand over my face.

"Tell me."

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"It really is."

"I know what you mean," he leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his knees as he watched me. "But I want you to tell me. I want to hear you say it."

I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling this sickening feeling in my stomach. I felt ready to vomit. I would rather that than admit my feelings.

"Tell me," he pushed again.

There was another pause between us before I finally spoke. "I... I have feelings for you."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. I looked away from him, scanning the area around us.

"Meet me here tomorrow."

I looked back at Nigel when he spoke up. "Why?"

"Just listen to me."

"Okay."

I watched him push himself out of his seat and start walking away. I felt like I should've had more questions than I did. But I didn't have many. Just two.

How the hell had I stumbled into that? And what was he running off to do before our meeting tomorrow?

--------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#nigel imagine #nigel fanfiction #nigel x reader #nigel charlie countryman imagine #nigel charlie countryman fanfiction #nigel charlie countryman x reader #imagine #x reader #fanfiction #charlie countryman imagine #charlie countryman fanfiction #charlie countryman x reader #mads mikkelsen fanfiction #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine

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laurelwen · 10 months

Text

Alex shuffles along the darkened street, hands shoved in his pockets to ward off the damp cold. He wonders for the hundredth time why he feels compelled to answer Nigel's invitation. Alex still cannot explain the pull this infuriating boy has over him, the way he's trapped in the grip of his own fascination. Nigel is insane, of course; he knows that. But there are notes in his mad song that resonate in Alex's heart. Maybe that makes him a little crazy, too.

He reaches the front yard of the Colbie house to find a car parked askew in the drive, keys in the ignition, engine running, radio announcing the evening prayer. Something is wrong here.

There must be a way.

The thought spikes into his mind from nowhere, and he thinks for a moment it's the voice from the radio. He pauses briefly to glance inside the car but finds no enlightenment there.

He moves with uncertain steps up the front walk, knowing now that Nigel's parents must be at home. He hears raised voices and feels himself drawn to the golden light beaming through lace curtains in the front window. It takes him a few moments to decipher the tableau inside the bedroom. He supposes this is what a normal home looks like: the fancy patterned wallpaper, the marital bed lit by the soft glow of two lamps, the wardrobe looming tall and heavy on the far wall. Something is wrong here.

Nigel sits passive and still beside his mother, his bare arms tucked up tight against his torso. Helen is agitated and dismayed as her husband paces back and forth. The man brandishes his beloved shotgun.

Alex cannot look away as this drama unfolds: the photos, the accusations, the growing rage. Nigel’s father bares his teeth in a rictus of fury, unable or unwilling to listen to his wife's pleas. Not once amid all this bluster does John look at his son or acknowledge his presence.

Nigel draws inward as the scene plays on. He does not look at his parents. He winces when John waves the gun back and forth.

There must be a way.

Alex flinches. The voice inside his head is his own, but it feels as though it comes from somewhere distant. There is no context for these words. They nag at him like a pebble in his shoe.

He does not understand the part he is meant to play in this story. Perhaps Nigel needs an audience for the climax of the plot he has so cleverly constructed.

Alex stands alone in the dark. Something is wrong here.

Keep Reading on AO3

(This is my first ever fanfic, and I will love you forever if you comment or reblog and let me know what you think!)

#it's never too late to start writing fanfiction apparently #like minds #like minds 2006 #nigel colbie #alex forbes #nigel colbie x alex forbes #murderous intent #eddie redmayne #tom sturridge #murder boyfriends #like minds fic #my fic

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 3 months

Text

Played Portal revolution

6.5/10

It was good cooking, but should've stayed in the Pan for a little longer and had a little too much salt.

Spoilers below

The Good Parts:

Stirling and Emilia are very funny. I liked their dialogues and interactions, as well as their designs.

Stirling felt very much like Wheatley, Virgil, and Nigel, while also being demonstrably different and personable.

Emilia was unique and I enjoyed hearing about her backstory, as well as the fact she's very human, which makes sense.

I like the the Player Character's design.

The first Dual Portal device looks really cool, the exposed wires, the cracked glass, the scaffolding beneath the cover being exposed are all very good. The Jiggle Physics on the loose prong at the front was a nice touch.

The Second was a nice Red color, and the new portal colors were cool. It looked nice as well.

Being able to be outside was a nice change of pace, you know, being able to see that sun and the sky.

The Added mechanics of the Breaker Switches was really cool, and it made sense - the Aerial Faith Plates and such turning off when there was no power was interesting.

The Linked Weighted Pivot Cubes were also very cool, and was a very much appreciated new mechanic.

Bringing the Pipes in as part of it was fun. I always liked their designs.

The Bad parts

We spent too little time with Stirling and Emilia, the amount of time we spent with the one-portal device felt excessive (I Audibly said "No Shit" when Stirling made the Quip about finally finding the Dual portal device) and I think having us change between the Red and Broken ones wasn't necessary - it was neat, but I feel like we should've had just one, because then it would've been our only constant ally when we would be separated from the Cores, as well as making the use of the portal Guns seem less special, given we find just a random working one.

What is Stirling plan? Bring Glados Back, and try to mitigate the damage she does to Aperture and the Humans and Cores inside of it? Glados started this (well Cave did, but semantics) She was killing Test subjects, and the one that survived had to kill her to survive. Maybe he's just scared of seeing his home fall apart so he takes his anger out on Chell, even though He's working to save it and put a killer on the throne.

The mechanics I mentioned above (Breaker Switch, linked Cubes, Pipes) were severely under utilized, especially when in the boss fight, it would've been so cool to have to use them to take out turrets and launch blocks and turn of certain sections of the Spire to traverse!

Some of the writing felt off? Like, Stirling presents the dangers of everything with way too much forwardness. he should've said something more like "Yeah try not to stand under that too long, You'll just make a Mess. I mean, who would guess skin would stick to panels so hard after sloughs off from that stuff."

Emilia is too smart for how human she is, which does break the immersion a little bit, and she doesn't freak out nearly enough for what happened to her. I think her voice is too clear as well, and should've had a filter on it.

Also there was a fair bit of Map Geometry that hindered movement an awful lot, getting stuck on random unseen objects and not being able to jump properly.

And the ending is Disappointing. In Portal you get out, and are dragged back in. in Portal 2 you get out. In PS: Mel, you get out, with Virgil is genuinely sad you have to leave. Nigel's a little bitch and kills you even if you extinguish the fire.

no matter what you do in Revolution, the Spire Blows, you're critically injured and on the moon. Presumably you do survive given you see stuff happening and Hear the record Emilia left, so either there's a sequel in the works, or it's just disappointing.

So I suppose I should give it the benefit of the doubt since you get dragged back in in Portal, but that was changed after Portal 2 came out I'm pretty sure.

TL;DR

There's a lot of little things I like, a few big things I thought were interesting.

There's some stuff I would've loved to see more of, some questions unanswered as of writing this.

There are a few things I disliked, but none of it ruined the game. I had fun, and will likely play again.

#not rwby #portal #portal game #portal revolution

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nagdabbit · 7 months

Text

we collide with shoulder and steel: chapter 10/25

rating: t to be safe

words: 1k

bryan spares a moment to try and remember nigel, and the events that led him here

also on ao3

There were things he remembered, vividly, about that day, and a great many things he didn't. He remembered the evening sky, ominous and beautiful as autumn fires stripped pastures for the coming year. A deep, red sun peeking out of the haze of indigo smoke blotting out the horizon. The cotton-tuft clouds overhead, where the sunlight still reached, were lit brilliant golds and ambers, dotted with gentle pinks and dark violets.

He remembered commenting on it, to no one in particular. He didn't remember what he'd said, or if anyone had even heard.

He remembered footsteps on stone, echoing across the still courtyard. The scent of roasting venison and spiced parsnips wafted out of the kitchens, drawing many in for supper.

He remembered hearing Mox's raised voice from all the way round the other side of the manor, loud and excited about something he’d read. He remembered imagining Claudio's warm, indulgent expression, as he listened on.

He remembered watching the sunset from the curtain wall, legs dangling above the drop, letting the courtyard go quiet around him. He remembered being alone, and then he remembered not. Remembered silence, and then Nigel's shoulder against his own.

He remembered Nigel's kisses, always tender and needy and hungry, but he didn't remember that one.

He remembered the way Nigel liked to touch him, large hands framing his face, pulling him this way and that—but he didn't remember how Nigel had touched him that night, until the touch of Nigel's forehead against his own. He remembered Nigel’s voice, thick and heady. Run away with me, he had quietly begged, and Bryan remembered a ghost of a touch, a lock of hair being tucked over his ear. Let's go to the coast, dragon, just you and I.

Bryan couldn't remember what he'd said in return, and he felt a cold blade of shame twist in his gut. It had been inconsequential to him, even at the time, just cruel words meant to hurt. Nigel hadn't mattered to him, then, not in the way he should've. He'd been a distraction, a plaything—albeit one with strong hands and a smart mouth.

But he hadn't been William, and no one had ever really come close. Bryan loved Claudio and Mox both dearly, even then, and most days they hadn't stood a chance beneath the shadow of his infatuation. Though he'd often made play like he cared just as much, wanted just as much, Bryan wasn't certain he had ever loved Nigel at all. Not even in the beginning, before it had turned to obligation. A passing dalliance, a bit of distraction, someone he found joy in sparring with—but never love.

He'd said something, no doubt cruel and dismissive, and even seeing the heartbreak in Nigel's eyes hadn't clued him in to the enormity of his actions. That had come later, when breath heaved in his chest and his claws were slick with blood.

To his greatest shame, he didn't remember what he said.

But he remembered the look on Nigel's face. The shock, the despair, and then fiery, burning rage as his gaze flickered between Bryan and the man towering suddenly at his back.

He'd said nothing, neither of them had. Bryan remembered that much. Nigel's rage had solidified into something close to acceptance, betrayal giving way to a sudden, hateful knowing. He'd nearly snarled as he stood, eyes hard and fiery as he bent his head toward them in an acquiescing nod.

Nigel had always enjoyed their matches, and mostly especially when it came down to verbal sparring. He liked to be clever and teasing, and he liked a lashing from Bryan's quick tongue and sharp wit in return.

Bryan had simply smirked in return, silent and smug. He remembered that much.

He'd felt like he'd won, almost, though he didn't know what game he'd even been playing. He hadn't stopped to ever once consider the stakes, and he wasn't sure a prize could ever be called such if he already had it.

My, what a beast you are, my darling. An absolute cad, William had murmured with a warm laugh, hands on Bryan's shoulders as they watched Nigel storm away. His voice, soft though it was, echoed across the quiet stillness of the courtyard. He had lowered his clever mouth to Bryan's ear, breath warm and voice low. They call you a dragon, my dove, for more than just your prowess with a blade.

He had watched Nigel stalk away, returning to his lonely tower, and thought so little of it. He had won whatever game he'd thought he was playing, what more was there to care about?

But he remembered a pair of warm lips at his temple, William's hands sliding down his shoulder blades, down his back, down the notches of his ribs. He remembered soft words and possessive touches, the familiar embrace of William's soft, feather mattress. He remembered falling asleep there, tucked against William's chest, none the wiser to the troubles he had wrought.

On nights when the silence was too much, and the gentle pop and crack of Claudio's fire echoed too loudly in his ears, he would drag himself into what remained of William's bedroom. The western wall had fallen in a great many years back, and most of the roof not long after. The rotting floorboards still hung on by a thread, threatening to fall in beneath Bryan's weight. But like the few things still left standing in that silent ruin, they held on.

On those lonelier nights, when the ache of longing in his chest grew too great to bear, he would stare up at the wide, starlit sky and allow his mind to wonder, wandering through the cesspit of his memories. He remembered all of William's touches, every look in his direction, every murmured praise, and every kiss, beginning to end. He remembered everything the man had ever said that made him float, and every word of admonishment that had opened up a cold well of shame in his chest. He'd cataloged all of it with such excruciating detail that he'd likely never forget a moment of it, no matter how long his torment lasted.

He often wondered if Nigel had done the same. If he had archived each of Bryan's touches, his dismissive words and telling silences. He wondered if, had he lived, those memories would have kept him up at night, too.

#a tale as old as balls #aew fanfiction #aew fic

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gali-in-distress · 11 months

Text

My love, the reason I survive (Trust we'll be together soon)

Pairing: Alex Forbes/Nigel Colbie

Additional tags: Canon divergence/Alternative Universe, Nigel Lives, Disabled Character, Disabled Nigel, Implied/Referenced Suicide Attempt, Mentioned Mental Institutions, Men Crying, Happy Ending

Read on AO3

Nigel watched the trees disappear one after the other through the car window, every building along the road looking smaller and smaller until they were completely out of sight. His hands fidgeted with the folded cane on his lap, his body trembling with anxiety and anticipation. He had waited so long for this day. Nearly fifteen years, and he'd counted the days and every minute in them. But it would all be worth the wait, he would soon be rewarded for his patience and his commitment.

He would finally see Alex.

Not behind a small window on a door or on a screen but in person, with no obstacles between them. He would hear his voice, not muffled by the bulletproof glass or contaminated by the noise of an old phone no one had bothered to clean in years.

He couldn't wait to be face to face, real and free to do as they pleased.

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Colbie?" His chauffeur, Jacqueline, interrupted his thoughts, wiping away the smile that had started to form on his lips.

He turned to look at her with a raised brow and she shook her head nervously, looking from him to the road in a quick movement.

"I don't mean to offend, I know that you've been planning for this day for a long time but-"

"But?"

"But sir, I just want you to know that you can change your mind."

Nigel had kept Jaqueline around for a number of reasons, many of which didn't particularly differentiate her from any other person that he could have hired to drive him around from one place to another. But there was one thing that he found convenient about her, and that was how normal she seemed. Dark hair, always pulled back in a tight ponytail, brown eyes, simple, common features on a face that no one would remember seeing if they hadn't been paying close attention. Beside him, she was just about the perfect amount of normal to make his presence less entertaining for others.

It did, however, extend to her very simple personality, which led to some contradictions in her opinions on him that she usually kept to herself. With some exceptions.

"You don't need to worry about that, Jaqueline. Like you said, I've been planning for this day for a long time," Nigel assured her.

"Alright, Mr. Colbie, if you say so."

He frowned. The sole mention of his last name for a second time in the conversation was almost enough to dampen his mood. Oh, how he hated being called that. The same thing people had called his father, now long buried underground and most definitely rotting in hell, like he deserved.

His hands tightened on the cane, knuckles turning white on his right, and his left hand shaking with the effort. He cast his eyes outside once more, his mind searching for comfort in the morning sky. It would all soon not matter, he would have everything he needed.

"Tell me what worries you, and I will ease your mind if I can," he encouraged her, starting to massage the tight joints of his left hand.

She cleared her throat and out of the corner of his eye he saw her let go of the wheel with one hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

"Well, it's just that, I know it's none of my business, but-" He turned to look at her and she was shaking her head without taking her eyes off the road. He wasn't entirely sure if it was to avoid looking at him or just her being her usual disciplined self. "From what I've heard, this man has hurt you so much."

Possibly without intending to, she turned to look at him, worry written on her face as her eyes fell on the scars of his right cheek before quickly looking away and blushing slightly.

"I don't understand why you would want him back in your life."

Nigel couldn't help but smile at that.

So many people in his life had been the cause of his pain and suffering, so many of them had been the ones that were supposed to protect and love him and had done anything but. Alex was certainly not one of them.

"You don't have to understand," he replied softly. "Everything he's ever done has been for a reason."

It was a difficult concept to understand for most, how everything had been part of a plan, the fact that every sacrifice had been necessary in their journey. How even when they had been apart for so long, Nigel didn't need to welcome Alex back into his life, for he had never been away to begin with. Of course, he knew things that everyone else ignored, not only about the secrets that he'd uncovered, but about what truly happened that fateful night and the days prior to it.

Lying had also been a necessity. Only he and Alex could understand, and therefore they had shaped their story to ensure that they would eventually be granted their freedom.

It had taken a lot of convincing. First a forensic psychologist, then many more being consulted on their case, and lastly a long list of psychiatrists they both had to talk to, without being able to directly get their story straight. They hadn't been allowed to speak to each other and even if they had been, Nigel spent the first month recovering from an injury that had prevented him from eating, and talking was completely out of the question. Their lawyers had played an important role in their communication and had been handsomely rewarded for that.

"And I am not free of sins, you are well aware of that," Nigel reminded her.

Jaqueline murmured something he couldn't properly hear.

"Would you please say that again?" he asked her, completely aware that she hadn't meant for him to hear it. "You know that my right ear doesn't work well."

Nigel hated pity, especially when it was directed at him. But it did come in handy from time to time.

"I said," she began, "that he's been locked away for a long time, sir. That has to mean something."

"I was too, for a time."

"You were in a mental institution," she argued.

Nigel didn't need the reminder, it had been a painful stay from which he hadn't been released until his 21st birthday and then only because he had fought. With no legal guardians other than the social worker he had been assigned to and a frozen bank account waiting for his coming of age, Nigel had been almost completely defenseless till then. It had been worth it, he told himself. Had he not been deemed mentally ill, he would have lost much more for a lot longer.

"I was in a madhouse, yes," he agreed, and Jaqueline flinched. "And so is Alex."

"But he was in jail," she argued once again, her grip on the wheel tightening.

"An unfortunate mistake that was corrected years ago."

She huffed at that.

"I am not that different from him, Jaqueline. You will see that soon."

They had almost reached their destination and with each meter they got closer his chest felt lighter, his jaw unclenched a bit more, releasing the tension he'd been holding for so many years now that he had forgotten how to exist in any other way.

I'm almost there, my better half. Just you wait.

"Are you trying to make me afraid of you, sir?" she joked, with incredulity in her voice.

Nigel laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it." Their eyes met for a second and he smiled at her. "What reason could you have to fear me?"

She visibly swallowed, staring back at him, before silently looking ahead to take a turn to the left.

We are getting closer, my love. Can you feel me?

"No, but he is coming to live with me and I would hate for your concerns to prevent you from properly fulfilling your duty."

"I would never, sir," she hurried to reassure him.

"Then you shouldn't be afraid, as long as you stay on his good side." He reached to touch her shoulder with his good hand. "Just like you've done with me." The smile he gave her was meant to calm her, but the way she looked at him, with tense lines on her face and eyes blinking faster than usual, he guessed it had the opposite effect.

Either way, she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the asylum and got out of the car while he waited for her to open his door and assist him. It had been a struggle at first for him, getting used to all the touching and being moved around when he couldn't do it himself. It had taken an insane amount of painkillers and neverending hours of physical therapy to return him to a functional human being again. He'd been so used to his solitude that the constant presence of others in his space had been pure agony. But unlike those first years, now he had the power to choose the people that were allowed to touch him and when and where they were allowed to touch him.

Jaqueline extended her arm, offering it to him for support to stand up. He hardly needed it these days, but after sitting in the car for more than an hour it was more than welcomed. The cane unfolded in his right hand and he let go of her to use it instead.

"Do we need to ask someone to call for him?" she asked, walking beside him into the private reception. They had circled to the back of the building to avoid seeing as many people as possible.

"No, he will come down soon."

The wait was almost unbearable, as short as it was. His heart was beating faster and faster inside his chest with anticipation, or was it anxiety?

Last time they had been together and free, Nigel had been bleeding on the wet and dirty ground next to the train tracks. He would never forget the cold followed by the paralyzed numbness on the left side of his body. The pain of the bullet wound wasn't as bad as seeing the horror on Alex's face.

"Oh my god," Alex had murmured after what felt like hours just staring down at him, but in reality it had been so soon that Nigel could still hear the echo of the bullet coming out of the barrel. Or perhaps it had been shrapnel that was lodged in his skull near the back of his ear.

"Fuck! Fuck, Nigel what the hell!" Alex, poor Alex, had yelled, kneeling down in front of him. His eyes were wide and wild, and so, so green. Nigel couldn't look away.

He was shaking when he lifted Nigel in his arms and cradled him against his chest.

He kept asking, "What have you done?" over and over again while tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain and falling over Nigel's face.

"I don't know," he wanted to say. "I'm sorry," he wanted to add. But his mind was getting dizzy and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

He heard Alex scream for help and then nothing.

That was the last time. After that it had been an entire, painful year with no direct contact. Then phone calls, and then finally he was able to visit. He'd been a free man for years now, he wasn't even required to see a psychologist every couple of months anymore. He'd sold his parents house and bought a new one far, far away from Leeds in a place where they could be alone and walk in the sun.

Dr. Forbes had been so angry that Alex didn’t want to go back to him after his release. But there was nothing he could do to stop him. Alex was going to be his own person and he was finally free to go where he was always meant to be. Right alongside Nigel.

The clock on the reception wall marked 15 minutes to 11 when Alex appeared down the hallway, wearing the pair of washed out jeans and the green t-shirt that Nigel had sent him earlier that week. He had not been allowed visitors, other than his blood family, but Nigel had been able to send him a couple of things here and there, to keep them both sane. And wasn't that ironic.

A nurse was escorting him but he was carrying his own belongings in a small backpack.

Nigel stood up faster than he usually would, ignoring the dull ache in his left leg, and his cane fell to the floor with a clank. The sound made Alex look up and Nigel's heart did a somersault when their eyes locked. A few steps from him and a couple more agile ones from Alex and they were meeting halfway, their bodies colliding together in a tight embrace.

Alex's arms surrounded him and he closed his eyes tightly against his neck, breathing in his scent, still not fully believing what was happening. Everything around them faded away and for a moment it was only the two of them in the world.

Nigel pulled away to get a proper look at Alex and noticed that his eyes were gleaming with tears. He could feel his own face wet with the ones that had spilled.

"You're here," Alex said hoarsely, like he hadn't spoken in days, raw with emotion.

"I am," he confirmed with a shaky smile.

Alex was a sight for sore eyes. He was taller, his hair shorter but still somehow a mess. He was thin like he'd always been, but with a roughness to his edges that he hadn't had before. The pictures and the pixelated image he'd seen through video calls could never compare to the actual him, to being right in front of Alex and being able to see him.

"For a moment I thought that it had all been a dream and you weren't actually coming for me," he said with a laugh, and there was a vulnerability in his words that could not be hidden behind the facade of a joke.

Nigel reached for his hands and placed them on his face. Alex's fingers traced over the soft skin of his left cheek and the scarred tissue he knew was on his right one.

"Well, I have," he promised. "We're going home, Alex."

"Home," Alex mouthed with a smile and he leaned down to kiss him.

With Alex's soft, warm lips against his, he realized that they hadn't done this before. It was a painful revelation that caused something inside him to both wither and bloom at the same time. He'd been planning their life together for so long, so sure of their love and their connection that he'd forgotten the most simple things that came from being in a relationship with someone. He'd dreamed of touching Alex, of kissing him like he was at the moment, so many times that he'd forgotten that they hadn't actually done this before. But the real thing was better than anything his imagination could have come up with.

They parted, both smiling like fools, tears finally falling from Alex's eyes.

"Well, let's go now, I already signed everything they needed. I don't want to be here for a minute longer," he said, wiping his face and clearing his throat.

Nigel nodded. He turned around to face a startled Jaqueline who offered him his cane.

"Alex, this is Jaqueline, my chauffeur," he said, taking the offered aid from her. "Jaqueline, this is Alex."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." She shook his hand firmly.

"The pleasure is all mine." He didn't know how right he was. "Jaqueline, huh?" Alex grinned at Nigel with a raised brow. "Do you call her Jaq?"

The question startled a laugh out of him and left the poor woman looking quite confused. He folded the cane, choosing to lean his weight against Alex instead, starting to walk out of the building and towards the car.

"I have missed you so much," he couldn't help confessing in a soft tone. He'd said as much, in many letters and phone calls, where he couldn't stop lamenting their time apart and regretting not being able to convince the court to release Alex sooner.

"I know, I've missed you too." The answer warmed his heart. He could breathe again, with Alex's arm over his shoulders, walking together on a sunny July morning.

He chose to sit in the back of the car with Alex, although he usually preferred to be in the passenger seat because it made him feel more in control. If it was up to him, they would not be parted unless it was strictly necessary.

"I can't wait to show you what I've been doing. You'll be pleased," he said eagerly, like a child wanting their parents to see their new drawing.

"I'm sure I will."

Jacqueline started the engine and they headed home.

#like minds #like minds 2006 #like minds fic #murderous intent 2006 #murderous intent #murderous intent movie #nigel colbie #alex forbes #alex forbes x nigel colbie #my fics #my love the reason I survive #like minds alternative ending #like minds but nigel lives #gali in distress

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