#i ship her with dove not myself please don’t come after me

[thatstupidlozfanacrossthestreet2]

i cant even focus during history anymore. all i think about is her. its. so bad.

#crypt of the necrodancer #my art #cadence #cotn #okay guys so #dont mind the skeleton in the back #hes just a little guy #a fella even #the slime is literally IT tho #and then ofc we have my baby #my wife - cadence #and her shovel #i love her #not like actually #but #wait #no like as my child #i ship her with dove not myself please don’t come after me #technically itd be legal tho #whatever #thats enough

[charturnus]

Not because she owns me, but 'cause she really knows me

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: It’s finally out!! 😭 In case you didn’t see, I’m currently nearing the end of my last semester, and I am SWAMPED with work, which is why fic writing had to be put on hold. I have 4 more weeks until I’m done, after which I’ll return to a regular upload schedule. I’m nervous about putting this out, because I want to be true to what it means to have a healthy d/s dynamic, whilst also keeping in mind that this is highly dramatized fiction. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Warnings: d/s dynamic (not explicitly sexual)

Wordcount: 4.8k

Summary: Chapter IV; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

The one where Pepper shows off her puppy, you plan a staged kiss, and you get on your knees for Wanda.

Previous chapter

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

‘’Pepper is coming over today’’ 

She says it casually as she thumbs through a set of documents on the couch next to me. It’s the first time either of us has spoken in an hour, both of us engrossed in our own activities, Wanda busy with her work, and me, fixated by a novel. 

It’s been a month since I moved into the Maximoff residence, and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair from Pepper or anyone from the company for that matter. So, my ears perk up at this news. ‘’Has she decided it’s finally time for me to make my grand entrance?’’ 

Wanda shakes her head, smiling. ‘’It’ll be something along those lines, though I can never quite tell what schemes she’s cooking up.’’ I assumed Pepper was informing Wanda of everything to do with this whole affair. I raise my eyebrows inquisitively. ‘’She hasn’t told you what she’s planning?’’

She snorts loudly. ‘’I’m telling you, even if the CIA got hold of Pepper and let all their torture tactics loose on her, she still wouldn’t budge.’’ I pull a face. ‘’That’s a bit much, don’t you think?’’ Wanda just shrugs, taking off her glasses and setting the papers aside. ‘’You get used to it. But that’s not why I brought this up, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.’’ 

Her serious demeanour takes me somewhat by surprise, and I briefly wonder if I’ve done something to upset her. I set my book aside and turn my full attention onto Wanda. 

‘’Pepper’s going to bring someone with her today, so it’s time for us to have a long-overdue chat.’’ The grave look on her face unsettles me, and I shift restlessly on the sofa, my nails picking at the fuzz on my jumper. ‘’This is very important to me, so I’m going to need you to try to have an open mind, alright? Can you do that for me?’’ 

My brows knit together, but I nod seriously. ‘’Of course, you know you can trust me.’’ I mean it too, knowing that whatever she asked me to do, I’d try my hardest to accomplish. The sight of her reassuring smile works wonders for the tight knot of anxiety building in my stomach. 

‘’Pepper is going to bring her girl over.’’ 

I stare at her blankly, my sluggish mind trying to put the pieces together. ‘’Her girl… friend?’’ I ask uncertainly. Wanda smiles at me. ‘’Yes, Pepper’s girlfriend. But it’s important for you to know that their relationship isn’t exactly what you might be expecting. They-’’ 

My mouth hangs open rather unflatteringly, and I can’t help myself, I have to interrupt her. ‘’I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around Pepper having time to have a girlfriend.’’ 

This draws a hearty, earnest laugh from Wanda. ‘’Oh honey, you don’t know half of it.’’

‘’No, I’m serious, I’m telling you, if you’d let her sleep in her office, she would.’’ 

She’s trying very hard to suppress her laughter, fighting the smile creeping up on her face. ‘’That’s all well and good, but I’m trying to tell a story here.’’ To her credit, she pulls off a stern look quite well. It brings me back to the office days. 

I raise my hands up defensively. ‘’Okay, alright. I’m sorry, please continue. 

***

So, Pepper has a girlfriend. Wanda tells me that her name is Kate and that she’s only four months older than me. She tells me a bunch of other things, something about Kate’s rich mother and her being an accomplished archer. But all of that falls to the wayside quite quickly when Wanda delves into the particulars of her relationship with Pepper. 

‘’She’s her what now?’’ 

I am struggling to keep myself composed. It’s not that this concept is foreign to me, far from it. I just can’t quite wrap my head around Pepper, stuck up, wound tight, prim and proper, Pepper, being into this.

‘’That’s just what Pepper calls her, she’s not treated as an actual pet.’’ Wanda says, before backtracking. ‘’Well, maybe a little bit, but that doesn’t matter right now.’’ 

‘’So… They do that stuff together, like, in public?’’

Wanda quirks a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching, as though she’s struggling against an upcoming smirk. ‘’That stuff?’’

Quite suddenly, my cheeks feel very warm. ‘’You know, like kinky stuff.’’

‘’Oh?’’ Wanda says, shuffling closer to me on the sofa. ‘’I didn’t think a sweet girl like you would know anything about that.’’ She’s grinning widely, and I can’t hold eye contact with her any longer. I study the dotted pattern of my socks, determined to ignore the definite heat in my face and neck. ‘’I know plenty of things.’’ I shrug, hoping it comes off as indifferent. ‘’I just want to know if they do it in public, I don’t know why else you’d have to tell me this.’’ 

Wanda on her part graciously avoids mentioning my knowledge in this area any further, and we spend a half-hour talking it all through. She patiently answers my questions to the best of her abilities. She explains in a gentle tone how these types of dynamics are important to Pepper, some of her other friends, and, most surprisingly to me, herself as well. In each other’s company, she tells me, they have agreed to allow each other to live out their dynamics in whichever way they like. 

This leads to a myriad of questions from me, most of which make Wanda chuckle. Yes, sometimes they do sexual things, but not always. No, they don’t all have orgies all the time. Yes, they make sure every party consents before anything happens. No, they won’t be doing anything sexual today. 

It’s a lot to take in. 

‘’So, I take it you have done this too.’’

She’s quiet for a while, while she contemplates my question. Her eyes follow her finger as it traces patterns into the fabric of the sofa. ‘’I had a girl too, a while ago, and we had a dynamic. Pepper knew, and Agatha and Maria.’’ 

A hollow sort of feeling settles into my stomach at the thought of Wanda with some nameless, faceless girl. Before now, I hadn’t given it much thought, but the mere idea of it makes my blood flow like white-hot fire underneath my skin.

‘’It didn’t work out?’’ I ask, hopefully. 

Wanda smiles morosely. ‘’I think she liked my money more than she ever liked me.’’

***

Five hours later, I’m sitting on the very edge of the sofa, trying to resist the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on it. I did my hair for the occasion, curling it in a pretty fashion. I even put on one of my nice dresses and picked out dangly earrings that sparkle in the light. For whose benefit this all is, I am not sure. 

I can hear the voices in the hall, getting louder by the second, and I make sure to straighten my back. I am under strict instructions from Wanda to not address Kate, just say hello to Pepper and don’t mind her partner. My protests about how rude it would be to just ignore her were repeatedly disputed by Wanda, and I was overruled.

Pepper carries a thick folder in one hand, and in the other, a purple leash. It connects to a tight collar, like a dog’s, which is fastened around the girl’s throat. Instantly, I feel myself go bright red. I force myself to look at Pepper’s face, not the leash in her hand, and certainly not the slightly shorter brunette trailing behind her. 

Pepper is immaculately put together, in a white skirt suit that compliments the deep red colour of her nails and lips. She wears a smug, satisfied look when she eyes me, waiting for a crack in my veneer, waiting for me to comment on the girl half-hidden behind her. I hold my tongue, remembering Wanda’s strict instructions to only greet Pepper. We exchange pleasantries, talking of small things, like the weather and the atrocious gas prices, as Pepper and her companion settle in. Wanda cosies up on the sofa next to me, but Pepper chooses an armchair opposite us, and the girl called Kate, sinks down onto the floor by her feet. 

I am focused so intensely on not staring at the kneeling girl, that even though I see Pepper’s mouth move, her words don’t register in my head at all. Wanda’s steady hand covers my own, and I realize for the first time that I’m shaking. Pepper repeats her question, something about how much I enjoyed having Wanda to myself for a week. It’s easy enough to thank her for this, since I really am sincerely thankful for the time she allowed us to have together. After this, though, I hand the conversation over to Wanda and the old friends happily chatter away together as their two shadows silently flank them, watching, listening. 

From the corner of my eye, I watch Kate. It’s difficult to do just from my peripheral vision, but I can tell that she’s resting her head against Pepper’s thigh, her knees tucked neatly under herself. Pepper has a hand in the girl’s hair, moving slowly, almost methodically, stroking her gently. Her eyes are closed, her breathing slow. I wonder what she’s thinking. I wonder what she’s feeling. I wonder if her knees ache. Mine would ache if I sat like that for so long. I wonder if Wanda would like it if I sat like that for her. I wonder-

A sharp prod in my side shakes me from my reverie, and I look up to see Pepper smirking at me from across the coffee table, a single eyebrow raised, waiting for my reaction, waiting for me to run from the room or to question the scene in front of me. 

I don’t. Instead, I listen politely to Pepper repeating her question.

She wants us to attend a gala together, some charity fund-raiser. According to her, it’ll be the perfect way to hard launch our ‘relationship’. 

‘’Just think about it!’’ She says, waving around the papers in her hand emphatically. ‘’The two of you, waltzing around this event together, no one knows who you are, of course-’’ She adds with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘’So that will work in our favour, everyone will be clambering to find out who you are and why Wanda brought you.’’ 

The thought of anyone genuinely wanting to know who I am, and perhaps going to certain lengths to find that out, unsettles me greatly. But Wanda looks so happy, her eyes crinkled up in a smile as she studies the booklet on the event that Pepper gave her. So, I decide to hold my tongue. 

‘’So are we just supposed to go around telling everyone at the event that we’re dating, or…?’’ Upon seeing Pepper’s look of agitation, I trail off, letting my words die quietly in my throat. 

Wanda riffles through a few of the documents on the coffee table and pulls out a slim folder. Through the see-through transparent sleeve, I can make out some sort of drawing, or animation. It looks like a still from an animated project that is still in development. Like those terrifying images of Disney characters before their animation is fully complete. 

She pulls the sheets of paper out of the sleeve, handing them to me as Pepper pulls out her own version of this packet of papers. The paper is heavy and glossy, several large images printed out, each on their own sheet of paper. There’s a building plan, showing the skeleton of a large opera house. Locations are marked with red marker, showing the entrance, the exits, the bathrooms, locations marked with security, etc. There’s a guest list, pictures of hundreds of people printed out in neat little rows, their names, ages and occupations listed below them. 

The images that capture my attention most, are the ones right at the front of the packet. The ones that are vaguely reminiscent of half rendered animations. The pictures show several different angles of the back of a limousine, they look like pictures taken through the windscreen of the car, the camera flash lighting up the backseat of the car, where two crudely animated people are clearly kissing.

*** 

Pepper lays out her plan step by immaculate step. She has it all worked out. The colour scheme of the outfits, the delicate matching jewellery, and even our path through the building have been planned out. Pepper has made sure that we will interact with all the right people, the guests who are well known to be gossips, so that we can be sure to be the talk of the evening. 

‘’And then, after you’ve made your last round, the car will be waiting at the front entrance-’’ Wanda leans over to look at the building plan in my hands, where our path is stippled out in different coloured markers, the broken up line beginning and ending at the front entrance. 

‘’There will be paparazzi, of course, some of them are our own, but not all, so be on your guard. You should look like you don’t want to be photographed, don’t smile or pose, and definitely don’t engage them. So, when you get-’’ 

‘’Hold on.’’ I interrupt her, raising my hand to stop her mid-sentence. At her feet, Kate shifts her weight, her eyes opening, watching me with reproach. ’’What do you mean by paparazzi of our own?’’ I’m addressing Pepper, but it’s Wanda who answers.

‘’We have bonds with some photographers who we pay to stage candid shots, whenever it’s necessary, to assist with some PR work.’’ 

‘’So that’s what we’re going to do? Stage a kiss and have them take the picture?’’ 

‘’If you had just let me finish, I would have got to it.’’ Pepper points out, idly twisting the leash between her fingers, her glossy red nails shining in the light. ‘’Once you’re in the car you’re going to drive a few blocks, the car you’re in won’t have a partition, and we’ll make sure our guys are stationed at the exact right spot to get the shot they need. The driver will give you a sign, and you two can get the show rolling.’’ She wiggles her eyebrows, and I make a point of not looking at Wanda. 

‘’Come morning, you’ll be on the front page of every paper and magazine you can imagine.’’

*** 

Our guests leave after an hour and a half of more planning, many questions, and plenty of chatter between the two friends. Once, Pepper gives me a start, when she, mid-conversation, leans down to give Kate a long, languid kiss. I know I ought not to have stared, but the sight of Pepper hooking a single finger into the ring of Kate’s collar makes me freeze. She holds the girl’s face with one of her hands, nails digging into the skin of her cheek. Kate doesn’t seem to mind. Wanda’s eyes burn into the side of my head, I know I should look away. I don’t.

Once Wanda has walked the two of them out, she joins me back on the sofa. Now that we’re alone again, I feel comfortable enough to curl up on the cushions once more, my legs tucked under me. I lean against her with a heavy sigh and shut my eyes. 

‘’That was a lot, huh?’’ Wanda chuckles, and my head bounces along with her shaking shoulders.‘’God, absolutely… At least it’s all been planned out for us, so we don’t have to think it all up too.’’ Wanda lays her head down on my own and hums thoughtfully. ‘’I meant with those two putting on that show.’’ She says quietly. ‘’It looked like you were a bit nervous.’’

‘’Oh.’’ I say stupidly. I did not expect Wanda to bring it up at all. I was so sure she would just breeze past it because it’s just so normal to her. ‘’I wasn’t really nervous, it was just-’’ I hesitate, not wanting to cause offence. ‘’unexpected.’’

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately, she just hums again, acknowledging what I said, but still allowing room for the statement to breathe. ‘’What did you not expect? I did explain to you what would happen.’’ She muses. ‘’But the kiss was a bit unexpected I guess, I told Pepper off for it when I let her out.’’ 

‘’I just don’t really understand why Kate would want to do that.’’ I blurt out, making Wanda laugh. ‘’Hey, I don’t want to make out with Pepper either, but to each their own.’’ I elbow her gently in her side, unable to stop myself from smiling. ‘’You know that’s not what I meant.’’

‘’Alright, I’m sorry! What did you mean by it, then?’’

‘’It’s just- I get the whole sexual aspect of it, but why would she want to sit on the floor like that when nothing sexual is happening, does she get off on that or something?’’

Wanda considers this for a moment, and when she speaks it seems to me like she chooses every word very carefully. ‘’Some people only engage in a dynamic for sexual reasons, so it’s confined to the bedroom. But there are some people who want more than that, and they choose to live their lives like this. It’s what makes them happy, it’s how they function best as a couple. It goes way beyond sexual intimacy.’’ 

Theoretically, this makes perfect sense, but I still don’t quite understand how kneeling at Pepper’s feet is something that makes Kate happy if it’s nothing sexual, and I tell Wanda so. 

‘’It’s a matter of giving up control, I think.’’ She says earnestly. ‘’She puts all of her trust in Pepper and gives up her autonomy. Think about it, Pepper tells her where to go, where to sit, and when to speak. She doesn’t have to make those decisions, she doesn’t even have to think about it. They’re a bit of an extreme example, but giving over that control makes her happy. And I think you know how much Pepper enjoys being handed control.’’

I nod slowly, mulling it all over in my head, wondering what it would be like to not have to make every minute decision for myself. ‘’Don’t you think it might be nice to let go every once in a while? Give the reins to someone else, so you can focus on emotions, as opposed to thoughts?’’

My heart stutters in my chest, picking up its pace, ever so slightly. ‘’I don’t know…’’ I hesitate. The idea of letting someone else do all the thinking for me sounds beyond freeing, but insecurity and doubt have me bound. ‘’I feel like I’d mess it up by being awkward or uncomfortable… I could only do that with someone I really trust.’’

I feel Wanda smile against my temple, her breath hot against my skin. ‘’Do you trust me?’’ 

I don’t hesitate, not for a single second. ‘’Yes.’’

‘’Would you like to try it out for yourself? Just to see what you think of it?’’ I flush, my neck and cheeks grow hot at the thought of myself kneeling at Wanda’s feet, just as I watched Kate do by Pepper’s. ‘’Wouldn’t that be… I mean- We don’t do that stuff together.’’ 

Wanda laughs, not mockingly, but sweetly, her voice gentle even in her laughter. ‘’It’s not sexual, not if we don’t want it to be. Think of it as meditation. You allow me to take over the burden of all of that thinking and worrying and all you have to do is do as I ask and sit quietly by me.’’ I nod my head before I get a chance to overthink it. What’s the harm? It’s just like Wanda said, it’s basically a meditation exercise. 

‘’I have a phone call to make.’’ She says, as she gently extracts herself from me, swinging her legs down to sit primly upright. ‘’It won’t be long, maybe 10 minutes. You can sit between my legs, however you like, you don’t have to kneel if you don’t want to.’’

I am acutely aware of a slight tremble in my hands and the pressing heat of my cheeks. If Wanda notices the redness in my face, she doesn’t mention it, and I’m grateful for that. I move awkwardly, unsure at first of what position to take. I settle for sitting down with my back towards Wanda, in between her legs and resting against the soft cushion of the sofa. I swing my legs to the side, tidily tucking them out of the way. 

‘’Are you comfortable?’’ Wanda asks, and I nod, grateful that I don’t have to look her in the eyes. A strange combination of shame and elation fills my chest, swirling around inside me, speeding up the beating of my heart and making my stomach clench in anxious anticipation. 

‘’If you want to stop at any time, for whatever reason, give me two taps on my legs, okay? Can you do that now to show me you understand?’’ I tap the flat of my palm twice against her calf, the fabric of her trousers swishing as I do so. 

‘’Good girl. When you tell me you want to stop, I’ll end the phone call immediately, alright? And don’t be scared to tap out, you’re safe with me.’’ 

I let out a long sigh, shifting the hem of my dress to cover the rapidly cooling skin of my calves. ‘’Okay, I think I’m ready.’’

***

Wanda begins her phone call, chatting away to Maria Hill, the woman who now holds my old position. For a few seconds, I listen attentively to the conversation, Wanda’s easy manner and the casual tone of voice reminding me of how well acquainted the two of them are. Then I remember that I shouldn’t be doing all this thinking, so I make an effort to clear my mind. 

I take several deep breaths in through my nose, letting the air out through my mouth. Wanda must take notice of this, because her free hand finds my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead before sliding her fingers through the strands. Slowly, methodically, she scratches her nails over my scalp. The rhythm of her swirling fingers is hypnotizing, I close my eyes and allow the repetitive movement to lull me into a deep state of calm. 

Everything else around me falls away, everything but the feel of Wanda’s fingers on my scalp and her voice somewhere in the distance. I lean against her thigh, resting the side of my face against the soft fabric of her trousers, feeling the gentle heat of her skin blooming underneath. My ear presses against her and I hear the blood thundering through my veins, like the crashing of ocean waves against the shore. Wanda’s hand steady in my hair feels like safety, like coming home after a long night out. It feels like hot chocolate during a snowstorm and being tucked into bed. 

When her phone call ends, I feel strangely sad, and partly annoyed at having to stop so soon. But Wanda doesn’t make any move to end this, whatever we might call it. The room is silent now, no longer filled with Wanda’s low raspy voice, her accent thick on certain words. She’s sitting very still, not moving a muscle, almost like she’s trying not to disturb me. 

I allow myself to adjust slowly, like waking myself up after a tiring night, gently coaxing my mind back to consciousness in the early hours of the morning. Groggily, I open my eyes, somehow surprised to find the room still permeated with daylight. I feel sleepy, my limbs heavy from relaxation. Wanda stirs for the first time, leaning down to cup my cheek. ‘’Are you okay, honey? Are you ready to get back up?’’ She asks, in a voice slightly above a whisper.

I let out a huge jawn, my jaw stretching wide, making Wanda chuckle. ‘’I’ll take that as a yes.’’ She pats the space next to her on the sofa. ‘’Now we get to the best part.’’ 

‘’Better than that?’’ I wonder out loud, as I gingerly extract myself from the floor. Once I’m out from between Wanda’s legs, she kicks off her shoes, laying back on the sofa, spreading her legs and indicating I should sit between them. ‘’Oh yes, because now I get to reward you for being so good.’’ 

Her arms wrap around my waist, guiding me to lay down with her, my head on her chest, one ear pressed down to hear the steady ‘thump, thump, thump’ of her heart. Over the course of the past month, Wanda and I haven’t shrunk from physical contact, hugs and casual cuddles are standard practice by now, but we hardly ever do anything more intimate than that, at least not during the daytime. In the late hours, it’s all different of course, under the cover of darkness and under the guise of tired delirium, we would hold one another all night, our bodies drawn to each other even in sleep. 

It’s such a rarity to be this close to her at this time of day, and I revel in it. The deep thud of her heartbeat reverberates throughout my body, I breathe in her perfume and allow my eyes to close once more. 

‘’You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’’ Wanda murmurs, her voice quiet, soft enough to not disturb the peace. ‘’You did so well, I’m very proud of you for trusting me and giving it a go.’’ I glow under her praise, it warms me from the inside out, like hot mulled wine on a blustery winter's day. I nod the best I can in this position. ‘’It was nice, I wish it would’ve lasted longer.’’ She hums thoughtfully. ‘’What did you like about it?’’

‘’Everything was so quiet, like I had nothing to worry about for a bit. And…’’ I trail off, my voice getting lost in the rapid current of thoughts, wondering what to say next, and if I ought to say anything at all. ‘’And?’’ Wanda prompts, gentle encouragement nudging me to tell the truth. ‘’And- It just felt good to do what you told me to, and it feels good for that to be acknowledged.’’ I say somewhat sheepishly, the heat returning to my face. ‘’Is that weird?’’

Her arms tighten around me, and she rubs my back with a gentle hand. ‘’It’s completely normal to feel that way, and I’m so proud of you for acknowledging those feelings, I know it isn’t easy.’’ It feels strange to be talked to in this way, for Wanda to treat my small confession as something worth being rewarded for. It’s embarrassing, but I’m still pleased, grateful for the attention in spite of it all. 

‘’I think I just feel a bit weird about liking it, because it’s what Kate was doing, and her and Pepper… You know, they do that because of their… thing.’’ Wanda chuckles gently, our bodies swaying as her shoulders shake. ‘’You don’t have to compare what we did, with what they do. They have their own reasons for that dynamic. If you enjoy it and would like to do it again, there isn’t any harm in it. Like I said, it has nothing to do with sexual intimacy.’’

I turn my face up and towards her, the angle slightly awkward. ‘’We can do this again?’’

She’s looking down at me and I can see her face now, she scrunches up her nose affectionately. ‘’We can do this whenever you’d like, little dove.’’

I rest my head back fully on her chest, her skin is hot against my own where her shirt doesn’t cover it. I look at the skin of her bare arm, curled around my body, holding me tight against her. I reach out a finger, tracing the pattern of freckles, connecting them all like a star chart. She brushes my hair away from my face and presses a soft kiss to my temple. 

My finger stops in its tracks. My skin burns where she kissed me, searing with the gentleness of it all. For half a heartbeat, I wonder what would happen if I turned my head and pressed my lips to hers. Then she leans back, resting her head against the sofa pillows, and the moment passes. My finger resumes its path across her arms. Her demeanour hasn’t changed, she lies there, relaxed, at ease. 

Underneath my ear, pressed tight against her chest, her heart is racing. 

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

@swirlofsnow @emeraldevan @ichala @romeo-the-cactus @lainjupi @messuhp @lissaaaa145 @princessprudy @333hhm @im-my-hope @inluvwithfictionalwomen @gay-trash-in-a-paperbag @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imthenatynat @imnotawitch

Next chapter

#char writes #c: wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #little dove au

[moonflower1605]

Chapter - 14

(Ella's POV)

“How do we get aboard?” Annabeth shouted over the noise of the waves, but the hippocampi seemed to know what we needed. They skimmed along the starboard side of the ship, riding easily through its huge wake, & pulled up next to a service ladder riveted to the side of the hull.

“You first,” Percy told me.

I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder & lavender flew closer so I could grab the bottom rung. I hoisted myself onto the ladder & thanked my pegasus for helping me, & he flew off with a neigh. Annie began to climb next. Percy climbed on after her.

Finally it was just Tyson in the water. His hippocampus was treating him to 360° aerials & backward ollies, & Tyson was laughing so hysterically, the sound echoed up the side of the ship.

“Tyson, shhh!” I said. “Come on, big guy!”

“Can’t we take Rainbow?” he asked, his smile fading.

Percy stared at him. “Rainbow?”

The hippocampus whinnied as if he liked his new name.

“Um, we have to go,” Percy said. “Rainbow.. well, he can’t climb ladders.”

Tyson sniffled & buried his face in the hippocampus’s mane. “I will miss you, Rainbow!”

The hippocampus made a neighing sound I could’ve sworn was crying.

“Maybe we’ll see him again sometime,” I suggested.

“Oh, please!” Tyson said, perking up immediately. “Tomorrow!”

I finally convinced Tyson to say his farewells & grab hold of the ladder. With a final sad whinny, Rainbow the hippocampus did a back-flip & dove into the sea. The ladder led to a maintenance deck stacked with yellow lifeboats. There was a set of locked double doors, which Annie managed to pry open with her knife & a fair amount of cursing in Ancient Greek.

I figured we’d have to sneak around, being stowaways & all, but after checking a few corridors & peering over a balcony into a huge central promenade lined with closed shops, I began to realize there was nobody to hide from. I mean, sure it was the middle of the night, but we walked half the length of the boat & met no one. We passed forty or fifty cabin doors & heard no sound behind any of them.

“It’s a ghost ship,” I murmured.

“No,” Tyson said, fiddling with the strap of his duffel bag. “Bad smell.”

Annie frowned. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Cyclopes are like satyrs,” Percy said. “They can smell monsters. Isn’t that right, Tyson?”

He nodded nervously. Now that we were away from Camp Half-Blood, the Mist distorted his face again. Unless I concentrated very hard, it seemed that he had two eyes instead of one.

“Okay,” Annie said. “So what exactly do you smell?”

“Something bad,” Tyson answered.

“Great,” Annie grumbled. “That clears it up.”

I elbowed her in the ribs & she scowled at me.

We came outside on the swimming pool level. There were rows of empty deck chairs & a bar closed off with a chain curtain. The water in the pool glowed eerily, sloshing back & forth from the motion of the ship.

Above us fore & aft were more levels-a climbing wall, a putt-putt golf course, a revolving restaurant, but no sign of life.

And yet..I sensed something familiar. Something dangerous. But I was so tired & burned out on adrenaline from our long night, I couldn't even think straight.

“We need a hiding place,” Percy said. “Some place safe to sleep.”

“Sleep,” Annie & I agreed wearily.

We explored a few more corridors until we found an empty suite on the ninth level. The door was open, which struck me as weird.

There was a basket of chocolate goodies on the table, an iced-down bottle of sparkling cider on the nightstand, & a mint on the pillow with a handwritten note that said: Enjoy your cruise!

We opened our duffel bags for the first time & found that Hermes really had thought of everything-extra clothes, toiletries, camp rations, a Ziploc bag full of cash, a leather pouch full of golden drachmas. He’d even managed to pack Tyson’s oilcloth with his tools & metal bits, & Annie's invisibility cap, & my ring which turned into stormcatcher which made us feel a lot better.

“We'll be next door,” Annie said. “You guys don’t drink or eat anything.”

“You think this place is enchanted?” I asked.

She frowned. “I don’t know. Something isn’t right. Just...be careful.”

We locked our doors.

I lay on the bed & stared out the porthole. I thought I heard voices out in the hallway, like whispering. I knew that couldn’t be. We’d walked all over the ship & had seen nobody.

Annie came & sat beside me on the bed. She asked me.

"You okay, Nora? You're...crying.."

I hadn't even realized that there were tears streaming down my face. I sat up & wiped away the tears but they just kept coming...

I shook my head 'no'. She wrapped her arms around me in a hug & mumbled.

"I'm so sorry. I know you miss her...I miss her too...so much...I can't believe Luke.."

She didn't need to finish her sentence for me to know what she was talking about.

I pulled away & said, "Thanks, Annie. Now, you get some rest okay?"

She nodded & lied down beside me. She was passed out cold in a matter of seconds.

I lied down & stared at the ceiling. Finally my weariness got the best of me. I fell asleep...& had my worst dream yet.

I was standing in a cavern at the edge of an enormous pit. I knew the place too well. The entrance to Tartarus. And I recognized the cold laugh that echoed from the darkness below.

'If it isn’t the young girl'. The voice was like a knife blade scraping across stone. 'On her way to another great victory'.

I wanted to shout at Kronos to leave me alone. I wanted to draw my sword & strike him down. But I couldn’t move.

And even if I could, how could I kill something that had already been destroyed-chopped to pieces & cast into eternal darkness?

'Don’t let me stop you,' he said. 'Perhaps this time, when you fail, you’ll wonder if it’s worth slaving for the gods. How exactly has your father shown his appreciation lately?'

His laughter filled the cavern, and suddenly the scene changed. It was a different cave-Grover’s bedroom prison in the Cyclops’s lair.

Grover was sitting at the loom in his soiled wedding dress, madly unraveling the threads of the unfinished bridal train.

“Honeypie!” the monster shouted from behind the boulder.

Grover yelped & began weaving the threads back together. The room shook as the boulder was pushed aside.

Looming in the doorway was a Cyclops so huge he made Tyson look like a tiny plushie. He had jagged yellow teeth & gnarled hands as big as my whole body. He wore a faded purple T-shirt that said WORLD SHEEP EXPO 2001.

He must’ve been at least fifteen feet tall, but the most startling thing was that his enormous eye, was milky, scarred & webbed with cataracts. If he wasn’t completely blind, he had to be pretty damn close.

“What're you doing?” the monster demanded.

“Nothing!” Grover said in his falsetto voice. “Just weaving my bridal train, as you see.”

The Cyclops stuck one hand into the room & groped around until he found the loom. He pawed at the cloth. “It hasn’t gotten any longer!”

“Oh, um, yes it has, dearest. See? I’ve added at least an inch.”

“Too many delays!” the monster bellowed. Then he sniffed the air. “You smell good! Like goats!”

“Oh.” Grover forced a giggle. “Do you like it? It’s Eau de Chevre. I wore it just for you.”

“Mmmm!” The Cyclops bared his pointed teeth. “Good enough to eat!”

“Oh, you’re such a flirt!”

“No more delays!”

“But dear, I’m not done!”

“Tomorrow!”

“No, no. Ten more days.”

“Five!”

“Oh, well, seven then. If you insist.”

“Seven! That is less than five, right?”

“Certainly. Oh yes.”

The monster grumbled, still not happy with his deal, but he left Grover to his weaving & rolled the boulder back into place.

Grover closed his eyes & took a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“Hurry, guys,” he muttered. “Please, please, please!”

Link to the next chapter is here.

Link to the prev chapter is here.

Comment, like & share.

Take care my lovely readers.❤

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x oc #x oc #sea of monsters

[lotus-flowerz]

hello hello I love your writings so far sobs I couldn't help but do an ask myself aa (it's my first ask ever help hwkajd) could I request perhaps gn reader that flinched away from the boys by reflex? (preferably with Diluc, Kaeya and Kazuha but you can add or remove someone if you want to!) like they were hanging out and reader was lost in thoughts and suddenly when they see in the corner of their eyes how the boys raise their arm for smth reader quickly raises their arms above their own head to protect it- how would they react and how would they comfort the reader? I hope it's not too much or if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore it if you want to whaaaa

AHHH TY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING! i actually do this too, some of my old friends would make fun of me for it, so i hope that my writing here is accurate >.<

i also added beidou in here, hope you don't mind, i just had to since she's my favorite character <3

TW!! FLINCHING, ANXIETY, PAST TRAUMA, MENTION OF DEATH AND INJURIES

SLIGHT INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

KAEYA BACKSTORY SPOILERS

The cherry blossoms fell silently from the trees under which you and Kazuha were sitting. Those had remained unchanged since you and Kazuha were children. The beauty of the pink blossoms falling towards the green earth without a care.

It had remained the same through the vision hunt decree, through the war, through watching Tomo get killed by the shogun, through both of you getting injured during said fight. Kazuha's hand was burnt from Tomo's vision, and your body had a large scar running from your knee to the side of your neck from a stray bolt of lighting from Tomo's divine punishment. If not for Kazuha's determination to not lose another friend and Beidou and her crew caring for you, you would be dead.

These days, although you and Kazuha both carried the same trauma, he seemed to be doing leaps and bounds better than you were. Your eyes flitted to Kazuha, who was writing poetry. The only sound that could be heard was his pen gliding across the paper, filling it with his eloquent words that always seemed to flow so smoothly.

You were deep in thought, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted something coming towards your face. Instinctively, your hands flew out to shield yourself, leaving a very confused Kazuha, who was only scratching his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Dove.. did you think I was going to hurt you?"

You slowly lowered your arms, guilt washing over you.

"No! It's just- sometimes, when movements are too sudden.. I.. you know, I try to protect myself because uh.."

His eyes drifted to your scar, then looked up at your face, only to find it tilted to the ground. He put a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his, then kissing your forehead.

One hand snaked around your waist while the other traced lightly over your scar, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as well, putting a little of your weight onto him.

He kissed your lips, squeezing you tight against him.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Kazuha, it's not-"

"I know it's not my fault. And I know I couldn't have prevented it. But I promise you, you're safe now."

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." you said, squeezing him a little tighter.

"No need to thank me. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kazuha."

You had been a part of Beidou's crew for just over a year now, after meeting her in the wharf of Liyue harbor after finally finding the courage to leave your abusive and toxic partner. You didn't have a place to stay and you were clearly distraught, so when she asked if you were okay and you immediately began to cry, she offered you to come on her ship. You trusted her, since she was the well-known captain of the Crux. After you had explained your situation, she offered you to join her crew. You agreed, and began dating her about six months after joining the Crux.

Because you had been aboard the Alcor for a year, you knew the crew was loud and prone to get drunk. You had never liked to drink, preferring to quietly sip a small glass of dandelion wine while sitting next to Beidou while she drank a few beers and talked with her crew.

It was now the one year anniversary of when you had left Liyue Harbor, and conveniently, the Alcor was anchored there for a bit for a supplies run, imports drop off, and exports pickup. While out and about with Beidou, you had seen your ex in the wharf. They were about to come and talk to you, when you had pointed them out to Beidou. Beidou had slipped her arm around your waist, glaring at your ex, who glared back and turned heel to walk away.

Now, you sipped your wine beside Beidou, deep in thought. The loud atmosphere wasn't helping your anxieties, and you couldn't get your ex's glare out of your head. You didn't even realize you were completely zoned out until Beidou raised her arm to sling it around your shoulders, after she noticed you were zoned out.

Your arms flew up to shield yourself, and you spilt wine all over the both of you. The cup clattered to the floor, but luckily no one else noticed what just happened.

Beidou's face dropped and she quickly picked up the cup, setting it back down on the table.

"Men!" she called out. "Y/n and I are turning in early tonight! Make sure you scallywags have this cleaned up by the morning!"

The crew cheered their goodnights, raising their beers to their captain and her first mate. Beidou smiled, slipped an arm around your waist, and led you back to your guys' shared quarters.

"Alright doll, what happened just now?"

She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to you, looking at you with a certain softness that made you melt.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my ex, and how we saw them earlier, and I couldn't get their glare out of my head.. and I left them exactly a year ago.. I don't know why I flinched away from yo-"

Beidou cut you off by taking both of your hands into hers.

"Y/n, don't say sorry! You know, your ex wouldn't stand a chance against even my weakest crew member. They will never hurt you again."

"I don't doubt that for a second," you said, a small smile growing on your face, "Thank you for taking me in, Beidou."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. I couldn't ask for a better first mate. You're safe now, okay?" she smiled, squeezing your hands.

You looked into her eyes for a moment before throwing your arms around her. She squeezed you back, kissing your head.

"C'mon, let's shower and get this wine off of us." she giggled.

You laughed. "Yeah, let's."

Kaeya had told you his backstory, but you never mentioned yours. You just weren't ready to talk about it. Your parents had never been great, you always walked on eggshells around everyone, and everyone was all too rough with you, emotionally and physically.

You had met Kaeya in the tavern one night, while trying to drink away what you were feeling. Kaeya had noticed how obliterated you were and let Diluc know he was taking you to stay at the Knights Headquarters, and would keep an eye on you. The rest was history, and now you and Kaeya had been dating for a little over a year.

Kaeya had told you his backstory on Monday. That same day later on, you had a run in with your parents at Blanche's, where they had yelled at you for deciding to become a Knight, and proceeded to pick you apart from your very core.

In turn, you had been drinking a little more than usual for the entire week. You seemed more withdrawn and just not fully there. And it all came to a head when you were laying in bed next to Kaeya.

He went to put his arm over you, a loving gesture, but your arms came up on instinct to shield yourself. He sighed loudly.

"You're scared of me."

"Oh Archons- I didn't mean to- no, I swear it isn't-"

"You've been acting all angry and cold ever since I told you about my roots. I thought you would be the one who didn't leave me after I told them."

"No, Kaeya- please, just let me explain!"

"I'm listening."

You began to hesitantly tell him about your parents. His face grew angrier and angrier every time you told him another thing your parents had done to you.

"I'll kill them. I had no idea that that happened though. I'm sorry for assuming."

"It's alright, Kaeya. I didn't even consider that you might think I was acting weird because of where your confession."

"I swear they'll never get near you again, alright? You're safe now. It's alright."

He pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his strong arms and putting his legs over yours, making you feel protected and safe.

"No one will hurt you, not on my watch. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kaeya. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No need for apologies, you were gonna tell me when you were ready. Now let's get some sleep, that dandelion wine I downed earlier is starting to get to me."

You giggled, burying your head further into his chest.

"Alright. Goodnight, Kaeya."

"Night, prince/ess."

You and Diluc had been dating for a few months now, you had met when he had needed to hire a new bartender, and you volunteered your mixing skills to the Angel's Share. You had caught his eye immediately, and he had asked you out on a date soon after you began your work there.

Your ex wasn't a kind person, to say the least, so you had been hesitant to say yes. You assured Diluc that this was just because your ex was unkind to you, but you had never mentioned physical harm. You hadn't wanted to worry him.

You were sitting on the couch with Diluc, his arm slung over your shoulders while you stared into the crackling flames of the fire burning before you. Diluc wasn't paying attention, as he was reading a book in his free hand.

He raised his arm up, attempting to adjust to a more comfortable position, but you misread this. Your arms were shielding your face in an instant, and Diluc was looking at you with a shocked and concerned face that quickly morphed to anger.

"I'm going to kill him." he growled/

You lowered your arms and looked down, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Did he hit you??"

"I, um, didn't want to worry you."

"Barbatos.. and this domestic abuser is just, what, roaming around Mondstat? No punishment for the pain he put you through?"

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to come and hurt me. I also didn't want to cause any trouble."

Diluc rubbed a hand over his face, before wrapping you in a hug.

"You're safe here, alright? I will never lay a hand on you to hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either, okay?"

"Thank you.." your eyes welled up with tears, "I thought you would be upset that I didn't tell you."

"No, never. It's a hard thing to talk about. If you'd like, I have connections. We can have him arrested."

"I don't want to cause trouble.."

"You won't. He won't be able to hurt anyone else this way. But we can discuss this later. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Diluc."

"You're welcome, angel. Tell me if anyone hurts you again, alright? I'll protect you."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

#genshin comfort #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc comfort #diluc #diluc fluff #diluc x reader #kaeya #kaeya comfort #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #beidou #beidou comfort #beidou fluff #beidou x reader #kazuha #kazuha fluff #kazuha x reader #kazuha comfort

[inactive17645]

Safe & Sound [1]

Chapter One: Pilot

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader & Wells Jaha x Reader

Warnings: Swearing & Mild Violence

Word Count: 3637

Author’s Note: Welcome to the first chapter of my very first series here on tumblr! I hope you guys come enjoy the ride and stay until the end. I know there are a few Bellamy x Reader fanfic series on here now, but I really wanted to put my own spin on a The 100 rewrite. Also, please let me know if you want to be tagged in any future parts by either PMing me or through my ‘Ask Me Anything’ tab on my profile!

Season Masterlist

Series Masterlist

      It was supposed to be like any other day. I’d wake up, the guard would give me three small portions of food throughout the day, whilst rereading the various classics and Greek mythology books my father sent. Eventually, I’d fall back asleep with my mother’s dove pendant clutched in my hand as I gazed out the window, into the dark abyss scattered with diamonds. On every other day, you’d make sure to aside time to practice self-defence. Something that my father had guards teach me before I was locked up.

    Today was not one of those days. The chaos of yelling, screaming and grumbling outside the door ripped me from my trance. I shook my head and tried to engross myself again in the book I clutched, but the sound of the door flinging open broke it.

     It also didn’t help that this was the last day before I’d be eighteen. Before I’d be floated.

     “Prisoner 301, face the wall.” My breath hitched in my throat. No! I still had one more day! 

When you didn’t even move an inch towards a wall the guard stalked his way towards you, his presence towering over your sitting form. “Get up on your feet!”

     “No! I still have a day left you cunt!” You screeched.

     With a punch to the man’s groin, he collapsed to the ground and you scampered out to escape. Unfortunately, I’ve tried to escape my cell multiple times so it was no surprise when someone tackled me as soon as I left the room.

      “Get. Me. The. Fuck Off!” I yelled as punch after punch landed on the man’s back. The man grunted after each punch, but he never let me go until I was stood in front of the one man who turned me in a year ago. My own father; Marcus Kane.

     Although it was a relief to see him after so long, I couldn’t help but glare at the man. He was supposed to be there for you no matter what, yet he never visited. Too much of a coward to face you and sent books in his place. The kind of books you and your mom used to read together.

     “Dad?!” I hated him, but I still hugged him. I hated him, but I still loved my father.

     Your eyes glossed with tears that had every intention to escape.

 “I don’t want to die, not today!” I pleaded, refusing the tears to shower my cheeks. “I don’t want to be floated!”

     “You’re not being floated (y/n),” He told you. “You’re being sent down to earth.” A chill ran down my spine.

     “But I thought the earth was still uninhabitable?” Dad just shook his head as another guard hooked me over their shoulder and stalked away from my father’s now retreating figure.

     Typical. Just like when I was first chucked in the skybox. He couldn’t even muster a single goodbye. The punching of another guard ensued as he hauled me over to the dropship entrance.

     Suddenly, there was a prick in my arm and gradually I drew drowsier, and drowsier. My punches slowly weakened after each hit. The last thing I saw before I succumbed to darkness was the menacing smirk of one Commander Shumway, my eyes darkening in both anger and fear.

     In what felt like seconds, my eyes squinted open while adjusting to the poor lighting of the dropship. Screams and yells from others around me filled my ears. As my vision came into focus, I looked around to see the horror morphed on many of the teens’ faces. In the seat five seats down from me, I recognised a familiar head of blonde that I knew oh so well.

     “Clarke!” I called. The blonde whipped her head my way and relief settled on both our faces. “Thank the gods you’re here! If I could I’d smother you in a hug right now I would!”

     The two of us bursted out laughing knowing I’d actually smother her. Before I had the chance to ask her something else, Chancellor Jaha’s voice filled the room.

     “Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You’ve been given a second chance. And as your chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would’ve sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable.”

     Expendable? What the hell?! All I did was try to spread the word that the life-support system for the Ark was failing, after overhearing a heated discussion between Jaha, my father and others in the Council.

     “Everyone here being expendable is bullshit and you know it!” My voice echoed throughout the dropship, catching the attention of everyone in the room. I gulped at the stares thrown my way, but it was the stare of the single guard in the room that caught my eye.

     No guards were supposed to be inside. So the only reason why he’d be here would be because he was escaping something… or to protect someone. Perhaps a certain younger sister that wasn’t supposed to be born?

     It had to be Bellamy Blake, the older brother of floor girl, Octavia Blake. His gaze seemed to linger on me slightly longer than the other delinquents around. I wasn’t sure if it was due to pure curiosity or how everyone knew I was Marcus Kane’s daughter. I tore my gaze away from his blank stare and stared down at the metal ground.

     As Jaha’s speech became muffled, I gaped at the floor and the room began to groan and shake. A familiar dark-skinned young man was suddenly talking to Clarke.

     “Wells?” I questioned. His brown orbs tore away from Clarke, his gaze landing on me.

     “(Y/N)! Thank god!” He floated over to me, pulled me up to my feet and smothered me in a hug. A giggle vibrated through my chest. “What’s so funny?”

     “I told Clarke I’d smother her in a hug, yet you’ve gone and did just that to me,” I chuckled. Wells only chuckled as I hugged him back.

     “This is nice —” We both started but ended in a fit of giggles. Two other delinquents then join Wells and I in standing up. I could hear Clarke softly calling my name to sit back down along with the others standing, but I just ignored it. 

     Strangely, Wells still held on to me and sat in the seat I was in just before, plopping me onto his lap and snuggling into me more. He and I did have a weirdly affectionate friendship before both our arrests, but even this was pushing the line between friendship and a romantic relationship. 

     The dropship lurched, sending three delinquents flying who had left their seats despite Clarke’s protests. I clunged to Wells’ neck as his grip on my waist tightened, closing my eyes tight. Something sickening yet sweet filled my nose. Smoke. Sparks went off right and left and with one final violent jolt, the dropship came to a stop.

     We were on the ground!

     The dropship powers down almost instantaneously and echoes of seatbelts unbuckling filled the room. Heat rose to my cheeks as I slowly clambered off Wells’ lap. His cheeks were crimson red as were probably my own. I helped him to his feet and took one of my hands in his, leading him down to the doors, waiting for them to be to opened as a crowd formed in front.

     A dark-haired girl stormed through yelling, “Bellamy!” The guy in the uniform I saw before spun around and stared at the girl in shock. So I was right! He was Bellamy Blake and that girl was definitely Octavia, his sister.

     “My God, look how big you are!” The two smiled at each other before the girl - Octavia - jumped forward and pulled Bellamy into a tight hug.

     “Where’s your wristband?” Clarke asked Bellamy as she sided next to Wells and I.

     “Do you mind?” Octavia cut Clarke off with an annoyed look. “I haven’t seen my brother in a year.”

     “Seriously Clarke?” I jumped in, everyone’s eyes turning to me as I let go of Wells’ hand. “We’ve reached the ground and the first thing you do is ask where the guy’s wristband is?” Clarke was surprised by my outburst, but Octavia and Bellamy looked at me thankful that I stood up for them.

     “Surely you’d like to be known as someone else. Perhaps the first person on the ground in a hundred years?” Octavia grinned in appreciation whilst Bellamy nodded my way.

     I returned the smile as Bellamy pulled on a nearby lever, opening the door to the outside. As a haze of smoke breaks, a bright light shone into the ship, momentarily blinding me but the lush colours of green, blue and brown eventually took its place.

     Finally, I’d be able to put my Earth Skills to use!

     Octavia slowly made her way down the ramp before she stepped onto the ground. She turned back towards the ship, a massive grin etched on her olive face.

     “We’re back bitches!” She threw her arms up as she yelled.

     A parade of teens stormed off the ship in a hurry, yelling and screaming that we’re back. A laugh resonated in my chest as a familiar presence took my hand in theirs.

     “Together?” Wells asked. With a soft sigh, I nodded, but not before I leapt onto his back. He shook his head as he wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

     “Ride on my noble steed!”

     A gush of air swept through my (Y/H/C) locks as Wells sprinted out the door, but within seconds of Wells being on the ground, we both tumbled onto the grass. One glance at each other was enough to send us into a fit of laughter.

     “I missed you, Wells —”

     “I missed you, (Y/N) —” A chuckle from above broke two of us from our trance.

     “It hasn’t even been a day and you two are back to finishing each other’s sentences.” Clarke towered over Wells and I, teasingly shaking her head at us.

     “Are you really surprised at this point, Clarke?” I retorted as I jumped to my feet, smothering the blonde in a tight hug.

     “Nope!” With a quick kiss to Wells’ cheek, I sauntered off in hopes of recognising someone else. Within two minutes I had lost the motivation so I found myself a sturdy and long enough stick I could use to fashion a bow with. Someone’s shoelace would probably work for the string.

     I sat close to the dropship, carving my initials into one end of the stick with a shard of metal that had broken off the ship, when someone sat next to me.

     “Hey, you’re Marcus Kane’s daughter right?” I turned to see Octavia and nodded expectantly.

      “That I am..” I replied slightly bitter. “But you can call me (Y/N).” I held my hand out for her to shake, but she hugged me instead. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

     “Why aren’t you angry with me? My father was one of the people that got you put in the skybox in the first place.” I asked as she pulled away.

      “Because it wasn’t you who did it. It was your dad.” Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. A mischievous look appeared on her face. “Want to get into some trouble?”

      I mirrored her expression. “Oh hell yes!” We both giggled before I grabbed her hand and lead her to the dropship. We pulled up behind Clarke and Finn, who were recruiting two other guys to head over to Mount Weather. “Can we go now?”

     “Sounds like a party, make it six,” Octavia said as she gestured between the two of us. Clarke doesn’t protest, but a certain oldest Blake does. He grabbed Octavia’s shoulder causing her to let go of my hand.

     “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Bellamy scolded Octavia.

     “Going for a walk,” she retorted as she pulled out of his grip. “Are you coming (Y/N)?”

     I glanced from the group to Bellamy a few times, debating whether to follow along to Mount Weather or to help Bellamy around the dropship. Although I’d probably be more help with the group of five, something in my gut told me I’d be just as helpful here.

     “I’ll stay here and help Wells and Bellamy with keeping order. As I’m sure they’ll need my help” I sauntered back over to the ship, ignoring Clarke and Octavia calling my name and a gaping Bellamy.

     Throughout the day I helped Wells with pretty much everything, but as soon as the sun was near the horizon I decided to stop for the day. I wasn’t blind to Murphy trying to get people to take off their wristbands. Such an action was most likely something Bellamy put him up to as he was the only one that could benefit from it. The only question was why.

     A shadow casted to the ground by the fire told me there was someone behind me.

     “If you even think you can get the upper hand on me to get off my wristband, think again Blake.” It wasn’t a long shot if it was him, and my suspicions were proven right when the man himself sat down next to me.

     “How did you —”

     “Your shadow gave it away you idiot and only you or Murphy would dare approach me from behind. Not that Murphy has though.” He just nodded as I finally turned to him.

     Although I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, Bellamy was handsome. His slightly tousled black hair, brown eyes and olive skin put him under the tall, dark and mysterious category. I tore my gaze away before it became borderline staring.

     “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Blake?” I questioned. He shifted in his spot slightly.

     “Thank you for earlier, with Octavia,” He admitted. “Although I’m certainly not a fan of your father, thank you.” Something in my gut told me he really did mean what he said.

     “I’m not heartless, Blake” I retorted. “Compared to Chancellor Jaha and everyone else on the council, I’m a puppy.” We shared a look and snorted, trying to stifle our own laughs.

     “Why a puppy?” He asked.

     “Because although I look innocent, anything can still set me off and my bite is much worse than my bark.” I stood to my feet, dusting off any dirt and sauntered back over to the dropship. 

     A couple of hours later the world was enveloped in darkness, our only source of light being from the fire. Everything in me wanted to ignore the world around me. However, the muffled sound of arguing grew louder and louder as I left my daze.

     “My father didn’t write the laws,” Wells’ voice admitted. My gaze looked up and landed on the arguing figures of Wells and Bellamy.

     “No. He enforced him, but not any more, not here,” Blake shrugged. “Here there are no laws. Here, we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want. Now, you don’t have to like it Wells. You can even try to stop it, change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want.”

     I stood up, opening my mouth with every intention to object — at least get Wells and Bellamy to compromise on the situation — but Bellamy seemed to notice this and sharply shook his head. My eyes narrowed at him and scowled. He was taken aback by my scowl and I had no idea why.

     “Whatever the hell we want!” Murphy yelled out to the crowd. The crowd of teenager, minus Wells and I, followed in suit and started chanting the only rule established. A rule that would do more harm than good. 

     “Am I the only one who thinks this is gonna result in chaos?” I asked Wells.

     “You’re not the only one.”

     He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close and I rested my head on his shoulder. Something that didn’t go amiss by the eldest Blake. Bellamy’s face was unreadable and I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

     A low rumble echoed from above before a downpour of rain decided to settle. Our first thunderstorm. A soft sigh left my chest as a smile formed on my face. The rain felt so good and I just didn’t care about getting soaked.

     I allowed myself to enjoy the rain a little while longer, looking around at the other delinquents with a smile. My smile fades almost instantly when my eyes meet Bellamy’s dark chocolate orbs. I scowled once more at him before scavenging around for something to collect water in. He needed to know I wasn’t onboard with his so called plan.

     The handrests of the seats inside the dropship ended up being perfect. I struggled a little getting some off, but I managed. With my small collection of water troughs, I sat them outside sitting in front of me as they collected the rain water. 

     The thunderstorm didn’t last for very long, but I’m left with a few troughs filled with fresh water. I drunk some water until my thrist was satisfied and I made sure Wells got some as well. Any water-filled troughs still completely full I snuck into the dropship to hide. 

     Wells then took my hand and lead me to a tree across the clearing and we helped each other up. We sat on a thick enough branch that could hold both our weights, sitting there in silence comfortably for a couple minutes, my head resting on his shoulder. Wells was the one to break the underlying tension in the air.

     “I think we need to address the elephant in the room…” Wells trailed off. He took my hands in his and turned the both of us around, our legs dangling on either side of the branch. I could only sigh and nod.

     “I know we’ve been best friends since we were toddlers and have always been affectionate with each other, but the cuddle in the dropship got me thinking.” Our fingers threaded through each other as he spoke. “I… I want us to be be more friends.”

     My head perked up at his words. Not going to lie, I did develop a crush on Wells two years before I was chucked in the skybox. However, I never acted on it as we had been best friends for years. We grew up together and at one point I thought he had a crush on Clarke.

     “But what about Clarke?” I mumbled as he took my cheeks in his hands.

     “It’s always been you.”

     His lips melted onto my own. Although his lips were slightly chapped from dehydration they were still incredibly soft. It felt as if a fire had started in my heart and I didn’t want it to stop. We eventually had to part for air, but he quickly slammed his lips back on mine, this time his tongue slipping into my mouth. We fought for dominance over each other, but Wells ultimately won. Our lips parted once more and we panted as we caught our breath.

     Wells rested his head on my own and we both sighed.

     “I’d hug you, but I’m worried we’d fall out of the tree.” Wells chuckled and pecked my lips. “I’ll find another tree nearby to sleep, we wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

     I pecked his lips before jumping down from the tree. Almost everyone was asleep, so I walked quietly as possible to the closest tree nearby. I laid down, resting my head and back against the tree. Just as I was about to succumb to sleep a familiar presence sat down next to me.

     “To what do I owe the displeasure of having your presence, Blake.” Bellamy snorted at what I said.

     “I’m flattered you knew it was me,” he smirked.

     “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I clapped back. I finally turned to his annoyingly handsome face. Gods I wanted to kiss that smirk off his face — wait what?! I kissed Wells only minutes ago and I was already thinking about kissing someone else?

     “So…” he trailed off. “You and Jaha. When did that happen?” I gaped at the thought of how to respond. 

     “We both had crushes on each other, prior to us both being thrown in the skybox,” I admitted. “Neither of us acted on it before the Ground.” He nodded, but something in his eyes told me he was disappointed about something.

     Mentioning being thrown into the skybox reminded me why I was put in there in the first place. Me trying to expose to the rest of the Ark that life-support was failing, my father being the one to chuck me inside and throw away the key. It was a cowardly move and my father knew it. He never even came to see me the utter bastard.

     “I need help taking off my wristband.” Bellamy looked at me with disbelief. “I want to take it off, but I don’t want to hurt myself.”

     He stared at me right in my eyes, probably to see with there was any hesitation in them. However, when he saw none he helped with the wristband, slipping it off with ease.

     “Thank you.” He wasn’t really supposed to hear my thanks, but he did, just giving me a small smile before he walked off in the other direction.

     My eyes glossed with water, the teardrops threatening to escape but only a single tear rolled down my cheek.

     I’m sorry, Dad.

Taglist:

@hftff-lol​ 

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #reader insert #the 100 rewrite #the 100 x reader #the 100 #wells jaha x reader #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy x you #bellamy x y/n

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Miss Americana (Part 3)

Summary: The reader recovers from her second dose of Compound V and explores her stronger abilities with Dean. But the events of a fun night out might give Miss Americana and Soldier Boy an unlikely ally...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, implied past torture/assault/killings

A/N: Enjoy this final part! This contains very minor spoilers for The Boys...

______

“Let me hide this stuff and I’ll be back in five, okay?” he asked. You nodded, Dean cupping your cheek before he was gone. It was barely a minute before he was returning, wearing sweats and a henley, a box under his arm. “Brownies from the bakery down the block.”

“I thought you liked pie.”

“I do. But you like brownies,” he said. “Something to look forward to after you spend the night shaking and sweating.”

“Lovely,” you said. He sat down beside you, urging you to lean into him. He tucked a blanket over your legs, watching the fire crackle. “I don’t think I mind if you’re a monster.”

“I can be pretty horrible.”

“You’re not horrible to me. You’ve never been that way. Even if your first instinct was to try to manipulate me you decided not to.”

“I hate most people. Think they’re worthless. Only care about myself.”

“So? I told you when we met...I’m the nice bad guy. I frankly don’t give a fuck anymore about being the pushover, the one that gets hurt. I just want to never be afraid again.”

“We never have to be afraid after tonight. Never,” he said. “You’ll be stronger than Homelander. Stronger than me. You’ll be safe.”

“For a bad guy, you were awfully nice giving me that dose with no strings attached.”

“There’s no strings,” he said. He stroked your arm when you shivered. 

“Partners?” you asked. He leaned down, kissing you more gently than he ever had. No need behind it.

“I like partners,” he said. He was warm as you started to feel cool, Dean drawing shapes on your bare skin. “I had a little brother.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He got sick right after I shipped out. Died the morning I got my first dose of Compound V. Only reason I volunteered for the shot. They said volunteers got special benefits. I wanted my brother to get to a good hospital and proper care and he was already dead by the time I got my shot. Then uh, then some of us started dying cause they didn’t know dosages or shit. I thought at least Sam’s gonna be okay. Then I spent three days wishing it would kill me so I could be with him instead of having been away for the last year of his life. But I didn’t die. I was the only one. Then they gave me more and...I guess I enjoyed becoming the super soldier over grieving. Then it goes to your head and changes you and...Sammy wouldn’t even recognize me now. At least I know I’m not going to the same place he wound up so he won’t have to see.”

“What was that like, being honest just now,” you asked, goosebumps covering your skin. You bundled into him more, Dean pulling up the blanket.

“I miss Sammy. I haven’t thought about him in years. I hope the kid’s happy wherever he is.”

“Maybe you’ll see him again someday,” you said. You shook, sweat forming all over you, muscles aching. You turned, unable to get comfortable. “How long does this last?”

“About six hours. Then I passed out and when I woke up it was over.”

“Awesome.” You gripped the blanket tight, Dean massaging your tense shoulders. “Tell me more about Sammy. Please.”

“He absolutely hated being called Samuel,” said Dean with a chuckle. “So naturally I did it all the time when we were kids.”

“Keep going,” you said, stomach churning briefly. “Distract me.”

“Let me tell you about the time we jumped off the shed roof.”

You were in sweaty clothes when you woke, lifting your head off Dean’s chest to find him passed out and snoring lightly. You sat up, shaking out your head. Something was different. You stood, deciding to test out flying first. You yelped when you nearly hit the ceiling, freezing and plopping straight down onto the couch and Dean.

He groaned awake, peeling open his eyes to find you hovering above him.

“Sweetheart I’m all for a little rough in the bedroom but not a full body tackle awake,” he said. You moved to the side, the motion second nature quickly but it required much less effort than before. You looked around, nothing in the room heavy enough to test your strength. Dean sat up, smirking as he looked at you. “Wanna arm wrestle?”

“Yes!” you said, Dean chuckling, groggily taking a seat at the counter. You stood on the other side of the island, Dean clasping your hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. You squeezed, Dean keeping up with you for a good few seconds before he started to go down fast. You heard the counter creek and then it was breaking, Dean backing up. 

“Uh,” you said. 

“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when you got supes in the place? But you, you’re stronger. Stronger than me,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Very good. I um, I’d like to go fly. I think I might be faster.”

“Go for it. I’ll call someone to get this fixed. Just be careful. Try not to fly into any planes.”

“I’ll do my best, Soldier Boy.”

“Again?” asked Dean that night. You flew up high and smiled, Dean letting go of you, free falling a few seconds before you dove down and caught him. He giggled and you flew higher, Dean jumping off. You could heard him laughing and went down, something hitting you on the way. You threw a punch and arms released you, Dean holding on tight when you finally caught up with him. You both looked up and glared, a cape and pair of red eyes looking down. “You do realize the fall won’t kill me.”

“Probably not. But it’d be fun to try,” said Homelander. He floated down to your level, your arm tight around Dean’s waist. “Oh relax. I won’t touch your boy toy again.”

“I thought I said to stay the fuck away from us,” you growled.

“I just thought you’d like to know that Soldier Boy’s internal file will be released to the major news outlets tomorrow. Did you know-”

You grabbed his neck with your free hand, squeezing hard, Homelander pawing at your wrist.

“Any good reasons why I shouldn’t kill him?” you asked Dean.

“None come to mind,” said Dean, Homelander’s eyes red but fading as he choked for air.

“Feel free to speak up,” you said, gripping his neck even tighter. 

“Stop,” said a voice, the three of you turning towards a small drone hovering close by. “Let him go.”

“He tried to kill Soldier Boy,” you said, holding on tight. You didn’t even see the drone shoot out the darts, the three of you hit. You instantly dropped Homelander, flying down to the roof of Vought as soon as you could, Dean out cold already and you quickly joining him.

You woke up on the couch in Edgar’s office, no sign of Dean or Homelander. Everything felt off still as you sat up, Mr. Edgar suddenly sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” you groaned, stretching out. “What the hell was that?”

“If you’re going to act like children, we’ll treat you like them.”

“Dean and I were having fun, minding our own business-”

“Dean and you stole Compound V for your own benefit. I thought you were going to be more understanding of this arrangement.”

“I have to be stronger than Homelander and now I am. We didn’t hurt anybody to get it. You people let him do whatever the fuck he wanted so get off your high horse.”

“We understand. But you can’t kill him.”

“Why the fuck not.”

“He brings value in, even not as part of the Seven. Miss Americana and Soldier Boy can take over the leadership roles and Homelander is to be left alone.”

“He wants to kill-”

“I said to leave it be.” You stood, glaring down at him. “If an incident like this occurs again, there will be consequences. Dismissed.”

“Gonna throw us back in a hole? That’s kinda your thing isn’t it.”

“We know how to deal with problem children, even supe ones,” he said, standing up. “Back off before all three of you are worth more dead than alive. Don’t make me dismiss you again.”

You stormed out, slamming the door after you, not bothering to look back when you heard the wood splinter. You went straight to Dean’s apartment, Dean unscathed inside. But Homelander standing there, neither of them actively trying to kill the other, that was more than enough to forget your anger for the moment.

“You okay?” asked Dean, stepping over to grab your hand. You hummed, looking Homelander up and down. “You got the same message we did I’m guessing.”

“Behave or we’re all fucked. Yeah. Why the hell is he here?”

“We were spoken to at the same time. While he’s still a psycho and has some major fucked up issues, he has a different idea,” said Dean. 

“Said the mass murderer.” Homelander rolled his eyes. “We all want to be in charge of the Seven. Be the best.”

“You shoved your hand down my pants,” you growled.

“True. But enemies can work together when they have a larger, common enemy, hm?”

“Edgar,” said Dean. “He wants to wipe out Edgar. Ashley is the next logical choice and we can control her. She wouldn’t do jack shit to us.”

“Remove Edgar from the equation and we can all get along. Maybe form a little, trio, best of the best. Still part of the Seven but top dogs. Vought would eat that shit up. Behind the scenes you two fuck or whatever it is you do. Publicly, we’re the strongest go America team there ever was. The soldier from a simpler time, the soldier who fought the terrorists and defend her country, and the everyday man who protects his fellow citizens. All walks of life, all the basis covered. Between the three of us our numbers are sky high in every single demographic.”

“What’s to stop us from killing each other after Edgar is out of the picture,” you said.

“You’re strong enough to kill me. But your little boyfriend can’t fly. You come after me, I’ll drop him in the ocean. Leave me alone, I leave you two alone and we all win,” said Homelander. “Deal?”

“What do you think?” you asked Dean. 

“Lesser of two evils. I think,” said Dean. “I say we give it a chance to see if we can get Edgar out.”

“Fine. We can discuss this more tomorrow. Oh and Homelander. I ever catch you in my or Dean’s apartment again, I’ll snap your neck. Deal or no deal.”

“If you were only a little more twisted we could have had something,” he said. He nodded and left, Dean letting out a deep breath when he was gone. 

“Y/N,” said Dean. You hummed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thanks. For catching me earlier.”

“I’m sure you would have been fine.”

“Probably but I don’t want to test that theory out. If he dropped me in the ocean...I still need to breathe. We have to play nice.”

“We will. Until we don’t have to,” you said. He smirked, kissing your lips. “He tried to kill you. Now I hate him even more. As soon as we can, he’s gone.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.

“Yes I am and you, you’re my Soldier Boy. We’re going to own this place, very, very soon.”

“Damn straight we are sweetheart. Just a little bit longer and then we can do whatever we want to. Promise.”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #soldier boy!dean x reader #au

[the-last-kenobi]

Oh for the bad things happen bingo, could you do 'passing out from the pain' with hurt Obi-Wan and the 212th being like 'this is unacceptable let us help you for the sake of our sanity Please'. Good luck with moving!

Thanks willow! 🤍 I hope this fulfills expectations!

General Kenobi had several policies that his men disagreed with. Strongly, fiercely disagreed with.

Unfortunately, all these policies were personal and were applied only to himself, meaning that the 212th had little means of having them changed.

Hoop, the Chief Medic, particularly hated his General’s insistence on handling all negotiations or Council briefings after a battle before he went to the medbay.

“If it’s bad enough that you need to see me straight away, you’ll be carrying me on a stretcher anyway,” the Jedi had said. Hoop sincerely hoped this was a jest. But so far, Kenobi seemed to return from every battle in either one way or the other — beaten and battered from leading the front line but capable of walking and talking, or on the brink of death on a stretcher.

How the man had managed to walk away from Kadavo with the injuries he had — Hoop wanted to punch a wall every time he thought of it.

The man should have been unconscious. He should have had lasting, permanent damage. He should have been on drugs for two weeks.

Instead he strolled alone into the medbay a full rotation after the rescue, still wearing his ruined tunics, every visible inch of him bruised or swelling or bleeding, his rib cage just a little too prominent through his undershirt. “I’m fine, Hoop,” he said, sounding vaguely amused. “I’ve held myself together this long, haven’t I?”

And he had.

But nothing lasts forever.

Not even the infamously stubborn Master of an infamously stubborn Padawan and Grandpadawan, the former protege of another infamously stubborn maverick.

Cody was aggressively trailing after his General like an overprotective guard dog, his lips curled in a snarl beneath his helmet. “Sir,” he said for the dozenth time.

“Never mind, Cody,” Obi-Wan said dismissively, waving an airy hand as he glanced over his shoulder at his Commander. “It will keep.”

“Sir,” Cody said more insistently.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said, smiling.

They both knew there was no overriding the General, not when he was capable of thought and speech. Still, the Marshal Commander had to try. “Sir, it’s been two days.”

“And I’ve yet to collapse,” Kenobi pointed out blithely, now opening the doors to the bridge of the Negotiator. “If I had been injured on Tameris, then I’m sure we’d all know it by now.”

“Sure,” muttered Cody.

Obi-Wan turned his head again to face forwards, but as soon as he crossed the threshold into the bridge he was accosted by his Chief Medic.

“Sir, you didn’t report for detox,” Hoop said firmly.

General Kenobi sighed. “It appears I’ve come across a plot against me. I never would have expected my own troops to turn on me.” With a gentle tap on the shoulder he bypassed Hoop, who joined Cody in trailing the Jedi closely.

“General, everyone has to undergo the detox,” Hoop said angrily. “Not just the men. The officers too. Every species that was down on Tameris during the explosion—”

“I understand that,” General Kenobi said. He kept walking away, striding towards a group of officers gathered next to a holo projector, studying a slowly rotating map and arguing in low tones.

“I don’t think you do,” snapped Cody. He bit his tongue immediately, cursing his loss of temper. His General didn’t seem disturbed, however.

“I do,” General Kenobi said, and he stopped walking and turned to face them, causing both clones to stumble abruptly to a halt. “I do,” he repeated earnestly. “But so many of the men were caught in that radius, so many of the officers on the ground. I’m having a hard enough time trying to hold things together as it is; what happens if I step aside to be checked over and treated for days at a time while the Separatists close in?”

“I could do it,” Cody swore. “I’ve already been detoxed. I can take care of everything.”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. His expression was unbearably fond as he stared at them both. “The structure is in shambles. The only reason we’re not on standby in need of assistance is because my rank and knowledge shared between the Senate and the Council permits me to make executive decisions. If I surrender my position to be treated…” he shook his head. “We can’t afford the chaos that would cause to our already fractured chain of command.”

He smiled and walked away as if the discussion had never taken place.

Around them, the bridge continued busy, the people present frantic and scrambling just as the General had said. Understaffed, uncoordinated, held together by determination. By the General.

Hoop swore colorfully and stormed from the bridge. Cody turned back to watch his General, a cold determination of his own creeping over him. He snagged a passing lieutenant and leveled him with a stern glare. “I’m setting up a rotation to have the General monitored at all times. He’s under extreme stress and he’s in danger of succumbing to possible illness. Understand?”

The lieutenant nodded. He did understand. With a discreet salute he stepped away, off to spread the word as quietly as he could.

-

Of course, Obi-Wan noticed that his men were suddenly watching him so intently.

No matter where he went, or how quickly, or how late he stayed up, there was always at least one brother standing nearby, close enough to catch him if he fell.

It was irritating and endearing. “Cody,” he began, his voice heavy with regret and reprimand.

“Sorry, sir, I’ve suddenly gone deaf,” the Commander said with a straight face.

Obi-Wan stated. “Excuse me?”

Cody didn’t even blink.

“What if I wanted to talk about the Chommel Sector instead?” Obi-Wan tried. Cody nodded and stepped forward, leaning over the desk the General was standing over to peer at the information spread out before them.

“And if I wanted to talk about the men followi—” Cody stepped away again, dropping his bucket back over his head.

“Sorry, sir. Deaf.” Cody said loudly.

Obi-Wan sighed long-sufferingly, although the corners of his mouth did twitch upwards, part of him touched by his men’s protective nature, touched enough to perhaps forgive the insubordination.

-

They were a week out from the disaster on Tameris when the General’s luck — or will of iron — finally failed him.

He was halfway through a holo transmission with the available Council, meaning that Mace Windu, Yoda, Shaak Ti, and Plo Koon were all watching when Obi-Wan dropped like a discarded droid part.

It happened so quickly that not even Cody, hovering a respectful three feet behind, was able to reach him in time. One second General Kenobi was staring up at Windu, nodding solemnly as the other man derailed their plans for the Chommel Sector, and the next second he was on the ground, his head striking the console and then the floor.

“No!” Cody screamed. He forgot about the Council, about the others in the room, and dove forwards, quickly removing his gloves so that he could search gently for injuries. And a pulse.

“Commander Cody!” Windu shouted, his voice full of concern.

“He’s breathing,” Cody said shakily, and he turned the General over ever so gently, nervous of aggravating the damage. “But his head… he…”

There was blood everywhere. Head wounds bled profusely, but there was already bruising forming around the places where the red-haired Jedi’s forehead and cheek had collided so sharply with the console and then the floor. His breathing was shallow, and his cheeks overly flushed on his pale face.

“He’s weak,” Shaak Ti said softly. Her image wavered. “He’s been weak for awhile. I can feel it, now.”

“We all can,” said Plo Koon. “Commander Cody.”

“Hoop!” Cody screamed over his shoulder. He pulled the General into his arms, cradling the broken head, the tired shoulders. “Someone get a medic in here!”

“Commander Cody,” Mace Windu said.

“Help is on the way,” Cody said, and he tilted his head far back to look into the holo-blue eyes of the Jedi. “Should I bring him back to the Temple? We can be there in four days.”

“Commander Cody,” Yoda said. Cody turned his eyes to the diminutive, ancient Master, pleading.

Yoda looked back at him, leaning heavily on his wooden staff. “Let him go, you must,” he said softly. “Too far gone, is he.”

“No,” Cody said. The word was defiant, but his tone wavered, wobbly and confused, like a frightened child woken suddenly in the night. Nothing made sense. He wanted to go back. “No, he’s just ill—”

“Sickness, there is,” Yoda murmured. “And strain. He will not survive the fever. Possibilities there are — hope, always hope. But very little. Overextended himself, has Obi-Wan.”

“No,” Cody said again, but this time there was not even the ghost of defiance in his voice. Just despair. “No.”

He curled around the General and held him tightly, even as Obi-Wan’s breath began to fade.

“He said— he said he had to—I shouldn’t have listened to him!” Cody screamed out between hitched sobs.

“You did what he asked,” Windu’s voice drifted to him through the ringing in his ears. “You trusted his judgement in a time of crisis. There was nothing else anyone would have asked of you. Come back to the Temple. Bring him home, no matter what happens.”

“I would have asked more!” Cody shouted, and he lifted his head from Obi-Wan to stare up at the other Jedi, his face twisted with rage and with tears. “I should have! I should have — I failed him. I failed my Jedi,” he said in disbelief, and Obi-Wan’s limp form trembled in his arms as his shoulders began to shake with wracking sobs. “I failed my Jedi.”

The Council was speaking, the other men were speaking, but Cody wasn’t listening.

He dropped his forehead to rest against Obi-Wan’s and waited.

Hoop burst through the door, furious and panicked.

The ship began to turn as they plotted their route back to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan’s breathing faltered.

fin.

#bad things happen bingo #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #212th medic Hoop #212th attack battalion #the clones love their jedi #someone hug obi wan #someone hug cody #my poor boys #kind of in theme with codywan week #codywan #my writing

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis Chapter 29: With The Dawn

Woohoo!! We’re on the home stretch!!

Huge thanks to @walkinginland​ for her beta skillz and cheering me on. 

You can find previous chapters here on Tumblr or over here at AO3.

Jamie. Some time later, well past midnight; February 22nd, 1744

Having assembled what I could, I propped Claire up more comfortably against the solid, wooden wall. I’d wrapped any spare clothing in her cloak — making one large, lumpy pillow — and Murtagh had found a bundle of raw wool as he’d escorted the crew back to their proper places. This was used as is and the result enabled her to remain reclined, even through successive contractions.

“Ye’re sae verra braw, mo nighean donn,” I murmured hoarsely.

Claire rolled her eyes heavenward in response, her head shaking slowly. The last pain had taken almost more than she’d had to give and left her completely spent.

I shifted to hover over her, taking my time and kissing her on the lips. She’d sought this gesture, time and time again in her pain and I eagerly offered myself to her.

Claire’s hand lifted, slipping her arm around my neck in order to keep me close, even after we came up for air. Her eyes had slid shut and she kept them that way as she whispered, “That was a long one.”

I groaned, nudging her nose with mine.

“And they’re getting much closer,” she added, the palm of her other hand skimming along the curve of her abdomen. “Things… are going in the right direction, I think.”

I moved my hand to match hers, trying to pick out the curve of one bairn from the next as she’d shown me.

“The first bairn ye mean?” I mused out loud. “Or jus’ the way of things?”

Her brow furrowed as her gaze latched onto something that wasn’t there, turning inwards as her hand slipped tentatively between her legs.

“I meant that my contractions are gaining strength instead of backing off… they could still stall, I suppose… they did for Jenny for a bit,” she surmised, harkening back to the one and only birth she’d witnessed.

“I guess… I don’t know about the baby,” her brows nearly became one as her internal concentration deepened, her hand gently cupping the place where our child would soon be making their appearance. “But I think he’s the right way.”

The right way.

I immediately regretted asking the question as I remembered there was, in fact, a wrong way. Jenny’s bairn had been born that way and Claire had assured me that they could be born feet first, but I felt all the blood drain from my face as I realized for the first time that something could indeed go wrong.

“Jamie,” Claire’s voice, soft and sweet, brought me around and I found her looking up at me with complete understanding.

“A Dhia, Sorcha,” I wheezed, taking her face in my hands. I bowed my head, pressing my brow to hers as I begged, “Forgive me?”

I heard her sigh, felt her deft fingers slip into the curls at the back of my neck.

“Always.”

…

Two Hours Later: Nearly Dawn.

Something had changed within my wife between the last pain and this one.

She had to be close.

Did I dare look?

Claire’s shift wasn’t intentionally keeping her modest — the ships’ men had long gone and my godfather with them, leaving just the two of us in the cabin — but the hem of it had fallen between her spread knees and obscured any accidental viewing of the area in question.

Would she be discouraged if there wasn’t anything to see yet?

Having not lost her touch of accurately reading my mind — even in the midst of her travail — my wife burst in frustration, “Oh for Christ’s sake, Jamie! Just look and get it over with!”

With this, she unceremoniously pulled aside her shift and I was met with a view that I instantly regretted seeking.

I caught myself just in time and swallowed the exclamation that nearly left my lips at the sight of her condition. Offering up a prayer and crossing myself instead, I patted Claire’s leg in reassurance.

“What do you see?”

A dhia, Sorcha, I groaned both inwardly and outwardly, ask me anything but that.

Her hand moved, covering mine on her leg for a brief moment and giving it a squeeze before closing in on the area in question. She caught her breath and winced as her fingers first encountered the bulge between her legs, but then calmed somewhat as she slowly, gingerly took stock of the situation.

“His head,” her whisper was barely audible but the wonder and awe in her voice was palpable.

“Aye,” I swallowed hard. “He’s almost here.”

She nodded, her hand moving away as a cloud crossed once more over her face.

Here we go.

Her heels began to dig into the mattress, her feet slipping as she fought to gain traction against the tide that pulled her this way and that.

“Here, mo chridhe,” I patted against my legs. “Try pushin’ ‘gainst me.”

She nodded, shifting until it was comfortable, and I watched in delight as it seemed to work almost immediately.

Now with a solid anchor in her arsenal, she dove headlong into the wave of her contraction. It was as swift and mighty as all the others, but she now was able to curl forward with this one, using my leverage to her advantage as she followed the call of her body.

Her moaning intonations changed as her face turned from red to white and back again — one thing now obvious.

My son would soon be here.

Claire began to push with all her might, fighting in earnest to bring forth our firstborn child. Again and again the urge came upon her, each contraction asking more and more of her.

“Well done, mo chridhe!” I praised her after a particularly rough bout, close on the heels of the one before. “Verra well done!”

She shook her head against the pillows, tired and dejected, “I just want him here… I want to be done… I just want to hold my baby, Jamie!!”

“Aye,” I crooned — not making the mistake of adding I ken to that statement.

I’d done it once early on and I wouldn’t do so again.

“Give me your hand,” I coaxed and offered up my own. She gave it freely, trembling with fatigue, and I slowly brought it back between her legs.

The small spot of brilliant auburn had grown with every contraction, the form of a now very obvious head on display for any and all to see.

“He’s almost here… he’ll be in your arms soon, aye?”

Claire’s eyes slid shut as her hand once more cupped the curve of our baby’s head. It had given her great peace to feel him earlier and I mentally praised myself for thinking of it.

Anything to help her along.

“Ye’re sae verra braw, mo nighean donn… an’ he’s helpin’ ye, aye?” I suggested. “He’s listenin’ to ye… to yer heart as ye guide him here… why do ye no’ talk to him too, hmm? Let him hear yer voice.”

Her lips began to move at once — silently at first, almost as if in prayer — but then her words grew louder and more urgent as she coaxed our child into the world.

“Come along, then, baby,” she crooned.

Her words hitched as another contraction besieged her, twisting from coddling to direct orders.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Fucking Christ,” she spat, “get out!”

I watched helplessly as she battled with all her might, unable to do anything but pick up the petitions to our child and run with them.

“Alright, ye wee fiend,” I chided under my breath, “time to be makin’ yer grand entrance, aye?”

My head snapped up as Claire’s intonations changed, my gut clenching as she began to hiss violently through her teeth.

“Easy, mo chridhe… slow an’ steady.”

It was only a few moments more and with a mighty shout that our child’s head was born.

“Well done, Sorcha!!” The praise rolling off my tongue in Gaelic. The relief of seeing her tired smile as she sagged against the homemade pillows spurred me on and I echoed, this time in English, “Verra well done, mo chridhe!!”

Her hand was back, softly inquisitive and her voice echoing the rapturous touch, “What does he look like?”

A dhia, the questions ye ask, Sassenach.

I coughed, trying to make light of a rather grizzly sight, “Well, I wouldna say he’s well pleased with his view of the world just now.”

Her laugh was cut short as the final pain came upon her, taking everything she had left to give. The baby’s shoulders moved ever so slightly and with a whoosh my child slipped into the world.

Lifting him gently — for he was, unmistakably, a him — I eased my son onto the cloth that lay ready and waiting for this purpose.

“Oh God, Claire,” I swallowed hard, tears rushing to the back of my eyes and lodging a lump in my throat as I patted my firstborn son dry, “he’s so wee.”

… Claire.

He.

My heart skipped a beat, leaping right out of my chest and soaring high above my head before it fell back into place and clattered on again, the room spinning slightly as I breathlessly asked, “He’s a boy, then?”

A lusty, clear cry pierced the air in answer and I heard Jamie chuckle softly as he scuttled sideways, maneuvering a thrashing bundle just within my reach but as far as the cord would allow.

If only just a little closer...

“Aye, mo nighean donn,” his voice cracked as he announced, “we have a bonnie son.”

“Oh, baby!” I gushed as my hand traveled over him: ensuring his nose and mouth were clear — eliciting an even mightier wail of dissatisfaction from my son — before registering all ten fingers, skimming over his chest and down legs to count all ten toes.

He was here and he was whole.

This accomplished, my hand moved back to cup his flushed face, which was screwed up tight in a red-blooded fury, letting us know in no uncertain terms just what he thought about the present state of his affairs.

“Jamie,” my brow furrowed, my thumb stroking my son’s cheek, “His cord… please? I need to hold him.”

A determined look crossed over my husband’s face and he turned away at once to find the small drawstring bag we’d set aside for this purpose. I didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the comedy that unfolded before me as he rummaged around for it in the gathering light, finding it less than an arm’s length from his original position.

He opened it and withdrew the looped thread, but then sat staring at me blankly.

“Here,” I motioned him forward.

He’d gotten us through the labyrinth blindfolded and on his own — I could guide us to the finish line, so to speak.

“Tie this one here… and that one there… Tighter… good.”

I nodded in praise, but noticed he’d balked again at the sight of the small, sharpened blade I’d packed.

“He won’t feel it,” I promised, taking hold of Jamie’s hand and squeezing it tight. “It won’t hurt him.”

He swallowed hard, but set his jaw and severed the cord as well as any midwife could under the circumstances.

“Please,” I croaked, finding my own throat tight as the tether between me and my baby was broken, “Please, Jamie... I need him.”

This was accomplished without ceremony and Jamie thrust our squalling infant without delay into my arms.

He calmed nearly the instant he hit my skin, seeming to know just who I was as I clutched him tightly against my chest.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” I sighed, my hand gently cupping the curve of his tiny head. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

Jamie moved closer, wiping his hands, his eyes deep pools of emotion. This gave way to shock and then melted into a reverent awe as he softly exclaimed, “Ach, look, Sorcha… he’s got his wee eyes open!”

I shifted the baby in my arms, cradling his head in the crook of my elbow and gave a soft laugh to find my son scowling furiously up at me… with brilliant blue eyes.

“Yes, I suppose I’d have to agree,” I commented dryly on the whole affair. “Wasn’t much fun, mmm?”

His little fists beat the air — somewhere in the fuzzy back recesses of my brain I remembered that was a good sign —  and I took hold of one, wrapping his long fingers around one of mine. He gripped me tightly and I felt tears spring into my eyes.

I felt Jamie’s arms slip around me, supporting me — holding the both of us close.

“He has your eyes,” I murmured hoarsely. Hot tears rolled freely down my cheeks as my thumb stroked the tiny hand holding mine, “And your fingers.”

He wiped them gently away, turning my face towards him for just a moment and giving me the most tender of kisses.

“Mebbe so,” he commented with a slow smile, “but he’s got your lungs, Sassenach.”

... Jamie.

“Is he hungry, do you think?”

Claire was exhausted, her body sagging heavily against my chest, but her voice held an excited energy that, while I understood, astounded me.

She tried to position the bairn at her breast, but trembled so, and I quickly positioned my hand under hers. He rooted fiercely around for her nipple, his mouth as wide as a wee sparrow begging for his supper. With my arms there to help support him in place, her free hand slipped out and helped guide him, nudging herself against his upper lip.

He turned his face and, after a few gummed misfires, seemed to find the way of things.

Claire winced, firmly setting her jaw, but I saw the surge of joy and wonder wash over her face just the same. She relaxed slightly as he settled in with alacrity, sighing as her thumb stroked his cheek.

“Brian,” she murmured softly, as if testing the name out for the first time, then repeated it with more sureness, “His name is Brian.”

Overcome, I ducked my head, burying my face in her neck.

Can you see him, Da? Do you see my son?

“He’s got your red hair too,” I heard her continue, barely audible.

Brian… mo ghille beag… mo mhac ruadh.

I placed a kiss just behind her ear before lifting my head and she sighed again, turning her face towards me. Her eyes were wet, but joyous, her lips parting as she lifted her chin to kiss me in earnest.

Thank you, my soul reached out to hers. Thank you, my love, for our son.

She stiffened suddenly, her jaw dropping and brow furrowing as she pulled her face away. This jostled the bairn, who complained loudly that his dinner had been interrupted, and, had I not a firm grip of them both, would have upended him completely.

“Claire?” I asked hesitantly as I tried to set things back to rights in my arms.

She shook her head, but had regained enough composure to attempt to return the bairn to her breast. I tried to help, clumsily, but we finally succeeded, and I inquired again, a little more urgently, “Sorcha?”

Her free hand slipped to her side, her fingers splaying wide just above her hip and my heart dropped.

It was starting again.  

“Aye,” I swallowed hard, nearly choking. “Ye dinna need to say it… I ken.”

She nodded, her hips shifting as she fought to keep still enough for the bairn.

“Do ye want me to take him?” I offered, keeping my voice low.

Shaking her head wildly, she got out, “Needs… to finish… eating.”

I nodded and simply held them close, holding my breath and petitioning Heaven until the contraction eased.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, help us.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the rigidity left her and she sagged once more in my arms, her fingers absently stroking the bairn’s hand.

His wee lips had stopped moving, his eyes now drooping heavily after having his fill.

“Help me move him,” Claire’s voice wobbled as her hand slipped under his head.

My hand covered her own and together we got him reclined on his side against her chest. She sighed heavily, her head tipping backwards against my shoulder as her hand started a rhythmic rubbing and patting along his back.

“What are ye doin’?” I asked in gentle curiosity.

She gave me a tired smile, cracking one eye open.

“You’ve never watched someone burp a baby before?”

“No,” I drew out the word, finding the concept utterly fascinating. “I canna say that I have.”

“Mmm,” remarked and closed her eyes again, but the smile grew.

“Sassenach?”

“Mmm?”

“Why would such a wee bairnie have a need to belch?”

I felt her shoulders begin to shake and her hand stilled, her eyes opening fully to spear me with a look that made my heart turn over and warmed me through, “Jamie stop — I can’t… I can’t laugh, it hurts!”

Rather bemused, I simply nodded and decided to let the matter drop — it certainly was not worth causing her more physical pain than she was already in — but she did finally answer after composing herself.

“When they nurse, they sometimes get air trapped in their bellies… which is painful for them and sometimes makes them spit up what they’ve eaten,” she patiently explained, though the grin was still firmly in place. “If you pat their backs, the air has to leave and they burp…”

Understanding dawned and I lamely commented, “Ah, I see.”

A sort of sighing hiccup left Brian a few moments later, eliciting an enthusiastic praise from his mother, “Good job, darling!”

I blinked down at the two of them, realizing this was the intended result of the massage.

“Tha’ was it?” I commented blandly. “Yer da’s goin’ t’have to teach ye a thing or two about this burpin’ business, fear beag.”

… Not five minutes later.

“Wait,” I froze, trying to focus on the movement of the ship around us, “Christ, I think we’ve made harbor!”

Easing myself out from behind Claire, who looked up at me in startled amazement, I strode over to the cabin’s bank of windows. The sun was beginning to break its way in patches through the dissipating storm, illuminating the fact that we had, in fact, slowed and were being towed to anchor in an unfamiliar port.

A joyous shout left my lips and I nearly flew back to my wife’s side.

“We’re here!” I kissed her soundly.

Her arm looped around my neck, holding me close as she began to tremble from head to toe. I took Brian from her, nestling him securely in the crook of one arm as I gathered her to me with the other. She clung to me with both hands, burying her face in my chest as great, wrenching sobs wracked her body.

“Ach, mo chridhe,” I crooned, my lips brushing against the top of her head. “Murtagh’ll have help for ye here in no time, ye’ll see.”

My arms tightened around her as her tears flowed all the more, “Just a wee bit longer, mo nighean donn… just hold on.”

… Murtagh.

I didn’t wait for the gangplank, but leapt over the rail and landed on the pier amid shouts and calls for caution.

The lot of ye be damned, I grumbled to myself, shoving past moldy French sailors, and the hell if ye’ll keep me from my duty.

But where would I find a midwife in such a place as this?

I knew enough of the language to see me by, though it near sickened me to use it, but the tongue on its own wouldn’t be the trick of it… How would I locate someone trained for my task in a harbor teaming with male sailors, merchants, and fisherfolk?

The market.

The thought lit a fire beneath my boots and had me crashing through the crowded pier towards the raucous calls of the fisher-women selling their wares.

One of them was bound to be a mother.

Nearly reaching the swarm of baskets and rows of booths, I began my supplication in French at the top of my lungs, “Help!! I need a midwife — a mother!! Someone please help me!!”

Over and over I repeated the request, grabbing hold of women’s arms, only to be shaken off and refused time and time again.

I was ready to simply take hold of the next woman I saw, throw her over my shoulder, and drag her back to the boat, when a short, frail looking woman stopped what she was doing and actually considered my request.

“Your wife?” She squinted at me, measuring me up.

“Please, madam — she’s my daughter,” I begged in French, stumbling over the words in an effort to get them out as fast as I could.

“We’ve just arrived and there’s no one to help her… Please! You must help me!”

“I’ll come,” she nodded to her companion and charged towards the quay, shouting over her shoulder, “Show me the way, we mustn’t waste any time.”

She was surprisingly spry for someone her age and we recovered ground at a remarkable speed. A glance over my shoulder found the woman’s companion — presumably her kin — who smiled reassuringly at me. I nodded politely in return, then helped the two of them down to the pier.

A few turns later had us at the base of the gangplank and I hastily followed them up, but discovered they’d made it across the deck and were opening the door to the cabin in the time it took me to board the ship.

“Christ, they’re speedy wee fiends,” I cursed under my breath and took off at a dead run.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #metamorphosis au #metamorphosis ch29 #with the dawn #chapter 29

[kanerallels]

Ok ok eeee!!! I'm so excited! Okay, how about a Kanera princess and the frog au?! I was thinking the scene where they turn into frogs (or should it be lothcats?) Aka when she has to kiss him and then the line "how did I get down here, and how did you get all the way up there?" Until they have to fly away on ballons at the party? (Maybe Chopper can be the dog and Hera's just like "My dog just talked?!") Lol I'm so excited cause I know how good you are at AUs, congrats on 111!!😍

Heck yes my favorite Disney movie let's GO!!!!

Pairing: Hera Syndulla/Kanan Jarrus

Word Count: TBD, I'm on mobile

Tags/Warnings: G (for green. It's the green, it's the green, it's the green that Kanan needs...)

In the dressing room of her best friend’s bedroom, Hera changed out of her stained brown dress and slipped into the shimmering dark blue dress Omega had provided her with. In the other room, she could hear Omega chattering excitedly about the charming Jedi who’d shown up-- Kanan Jarrus, the apprentice of the deeply respected Depa Billaba. He’d swept Omega off her feet almost immediately, although from what Hera had heard, the young man had quite the reputation for such things.

Hera couldn’t focus on her friend’s words, though. In her mind, she could only replay the moment when she’d heard that she’d been outbid for the ship she was trying to buy. With it, she’d be free, to explore the galaxy by herself, not dependent on anyone.

But tonight, she’d gotten the news from the salesman himself-- they’d handed it off to someone with more money. She could still hear the man’s condescending words echoing in her ears-- a little woman of your… well, species, would have had her hands full trying to run a ship on her own. You’re best where you’re at.

Best where I’m at? Hera thought, frustration boiling through her veins. Working two jobs, sacrificing any semblance of fun or enjoyment just so she could save enough, scrimping and saving and making so many hard choices, and just when she thought she’d had a chance? It was all gone.

She stepped into the main bedroom as Omega was saying, “You know, I was starting to think that wishing on stars was just for babies, and crazy people.” She paused as Hera came into view, and a smile crossed her face. “Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a magnolia in May?” Taking a silver-and-blue headpiece from the chest of drawers in front of her, she brought it over and placed it on Hera’s head, saying, “Seems like only yesterday we were younger, dreaming our fairy tale dreams-- and tonight, they’re both coming true!”

Hera couldn’t bring herself to correct her friend, and Omega was so excited she didn’t even notice Hera’s silent demeanor. It was only seconds later that she swept back out into the party, leaving Hera alone in her room.

Reaching into the pocket of her stained dress, she pulled out the flimsi advertisement for a VCX-100 ship she’d found when she was little. Her mother had always encouraged her in this dream-- her father was a little more skeptical. Still, the memory of Eleni Syndulla holding her close as she excitedly talked about the ship she’d own one day was enough to make tears prickle in Hera’s eyes.

Moving out onto the balcony, she stared out at the Rylothian landscape, determined not to cry. But she’d been so close. So kriffing close, and she’d lost it all again. It was hard to imagine attempting this again, after how hard she’d work the first time-- and now she had to start over?

Releasing a shaky sigh, Hera blinked away her tears and lifted her gaze up to the sky. Her eyes landed on one of the stars-- the brightest one, that her mother had always told her and Omega stories about when they were little. A star you could make a wish upon, and it would always come true.

It was just a story for children. But in her current emotional state, Hera was about ready to believe anything.

Her gaze darted around the balcony. Finding it empty, Hera muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” All the same, she lifted her gaze to the star and internally made her wish. Please. Please.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them, knowing nothing had changed. Wishes only came true in stories. Hard work was the only thing that would ever get her anywhere.

As it turned out, something actually had changed. Hera’s gaze drifted to the left, and her eyes went wide at the sight of a frog perched there. She wasn’t exactly a fan of frogs, if she was being honest, although she had nothing personal against them.

Remembering one of the other stories her mother had told her and Omega, a small smile tugged at Hera’s lips. “So what now?” she said, directing the comment at the frog. “I suppose you want a kiss?”

“I’m not about to say no to it,” the frog said with a smirk.

Hera wasn’t exactly proud of how she reacted next. But coming face to face with a frog that sounded like a grown man who thought he was more charming than he actually was? That was too much for her. Letting out the closest sound to a scream she’d made in years, she stumbled backwards and crashed into a shelf full of Omega’s things.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” the frog said, hastily hopping towards her. “I didn’t mean to startle you--”

He cut himself off with a yelp as he leapt to avoid a book from Omega’s shelf. And then a holodisk. The tooka doll Hera threw actually hit him, although it didn’t make much of a difference. Leaning his forearms on it, he remarked, “You’ve got a strong arm, Princess.”

Hera responded by grabbing the vibroblade Omega’s brothers had given her, and the frog’s eyes widened. “Please don’t--”

He dove out of the way just in time as the knife embedded itself point first in the wooden floor, and jumped up on top of the chest of drawers. “Okay, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kanan Jarrus, Jedi--”

Hera slammed a cup she’d found over him, neatly trapping him. “--Knight,” he finished. “What the kriff?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hera snapped. “How would you like me to react to a talking frog??” And then his words caught up with her. “Wait. Jedi Knight? If you’re the Jedi Knight, who’s that down there charming Omega?” she demanded, releasing the cup without thinking.

Kanan immediately shoved the cup off of him with a grunt, letting it roll free. “How would I know?” he pointed out. “All I know is one minute, I’m a dashing Jedi Knight, handsome, excellent dancer, I might add--” Hera rolled her eyes extensively-- “and then I’m stuck with these.” He thrust one webbed foot in her direction, wobbling towards her dangerously, and Hera grabbed a book nearby in defense.

“Wait!” Kanan all but shouted, his eyes going wide. “Wait, wait-- I know that story! The one with the frog who used to be a prince-- what’s it called…?”

“‘The Frog Prince’?” Hera deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Kanan waved for her to hand over the book, almost toppling over under the weight. He managed to get it settled against the mirror, and flipped it open. “I used to hear this story all the time in the Creche. This-- this is it! This is the solution!” Turning towards Hera, he said, “You-- must kiss me.”

“Excuse me??”

Moving to his feet, Kanan directed her a charming grin that probably worked on most women when they were not incredibly irritated by him, and he was also not a frog. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it. All women do.”

“That’s revolting,” Hera told him flatly.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that soon,” Kanan said, his grin widening as he leaned forward-- and then the sac under expanded out, and Hera jerked back in alarm. “That’s new,” he assured her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Hera said, which was only mostly a lie, “I wish I could help you. But I don’t kiss frogs, and I certainly won’t kiss you.”

“Wha-- you literally asked me back on the balcony!” Kanan protested, the alarm on his face growing.

“It was sarcasm!” Hera snapped. “And I certainly didn’t expect you to answer. There’s absolutely no way I’m kissing you.”

“Come on-- look, not only am I incredibly good-looking, but I’m with the Jedi Order,” Kanan pointed out. “I can make sure you’re rewarded handsomely for this. Surely there’s gotta be something you want, some wish we could grant?”

Despite herself, Hera’s eyes flicked to the flimsi poster for the VCX-100 that had gone flying across the room in the kerfuffle. But this was stupid. It was just a ship, she didn’t need it that badly.

Yet even as she thought the words, she knew it wasn’t true. It was more than a ship for her, it was freedom. It was a dream she’d had for as long as she could remember. And if there was a way to attain it…

“Just one kiss?” she asked, wavering.

“Unless you beg for more,” Kanan said, smirking.

That decided it. If it was only to get rid of this pain in the neck, Hera would do it. “Deal,” she said, nodding.

The frog instantly puckered his lips, closing his eyes, and Hera reeled backwards. It was just… gross. The idea of pressing her lips against those of a decidedly slimy looking--

She pushed that thought out of her mind, replaced it with the image of the VCX she’d own after this, and lunged forward to kiss the frog.

The moment her lips met his, greenish light flashed over them, and Hera felt it engulf her. Everything went black.

She didn’t know how long later her eyes slid open, but when they did, she was enveloped with some kind of blue fabric. Shoving it off of her, she looked up and saw a wide-eyed Kanan staring down at her. Except he was still a frog.

“.......kriff,” he whispered.

Uncomprehending, Hera blinked hard. “You look remarkably like a frog. Still. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome? But why are you up there? And what am I doing down here, with all this--”

She glanced down at the pool of fabric, seeing the green of her skin against it. But there was something different about it. Something off with the texture and the feeling of it.

Also, she was missing a finger.

Hera jerked to the side and caught sight of herself in a mirror. The face of a frog stared back, and she let out an undignified shriek. “What--” With a leap that was entirely instinct, she flew to the top of the dresser and crashed into Kanan, bowling him over. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, staggering to her feet.

“Easy-- don’t panic,” Kanan attempted to calm her. “It’s not so bad.”

“YOU TURNED ME INTO A FROG! WHAT PART OF THAT ISN’T BAD? I’M COVERED IN SLIME!”

Catching hold of her hand, Kanan said soothingly, “No, no-- it’s not slime. You’re secreting mucus.”

That was the last straw for Hera. She narrowed her eyes in a death glare at Kanan, and his eyes went wide just as she tackled him across the room. They crashed into a cushioned stool, bouncing up, slamming against a shelf, then down again and landing on a precariously balanced sniper rifle of Omega’s. Before Hera could act on the many threats she had boiling in her head, a book toppled off the shelf and landed on one end of the rifle, catapulting both her and Kanan out of the room, over the balcony and into the party below.

They plummeted towards the band below, landing on the drums. The drummer, a big male Togruta, instantly went after them with his drumsticks as they both dove away from him and attempted to make a break for it.

Hera heard the other band members start a faster song to match the renewed tempo as she and Kanan went flying through the air and landed on the nearest person. Unfortunately, it happened to be Omega. And it was less landing then falling down the back of her dress.

She started hopping around frantically with yelps of shock. As they were jolted around, Kanan remarked, “You know, for a costume ball, you’d think they’d be a little more welcoming!”

“This is not the time for jokes,” Hera snarled.

As Omega toppled over, the two of them managed to escape out of her voluminous hoop skirt, just in time to hear Hunter, Omega’s father figure/brother, shout, “CHOPPER! GET THE FROGS!”

Karabast. Hera caught sight of Chopper-- the tame vornskr that Hera had befriended-- jerk his head up, then bolt towards them. Next to her, Kanan grabbed her hand. “Run!”

As he leapt from the skirt to the nearby buffet table, flying past the shocked Kanan-lookalike, Hera snapped, “I can’t run, I’m a frog, thanks to you!”

“Then hop!” They landed on the buffet table, Hera almost slipping off the edge. Kanan hauled her up quickly and the two of them started hopping frantically down the table as Chopper came flying after them, scrabbling at the tablecloth. “Down!” Kanan shouted. “Down, you kriffing monster dog!”

Chopper did not listen, partially because he was not a dog, and partially because he was Chopper. Kanan and Hera kept going-- straight towards a pair of guests. One of them brandished a fake sword that looked a little too sharp, and swung at them viciously. At the exact same time, the man next to him, wearing a boga hat, ducked, and the sword severed the top of the hat. The hat dropped on top of Kanan and Hera, effectively covering their vision.

The next few minutes were a haze of chaos-- shouting and yelling and a lot of running. Finally, the boga hat came off of them, and both Kanan and Hera went flying forward, tangling in the strings of a bundle of balloons.

Hera frantically tried to disentangle herself as she spotted Chopper still charging towards them. “Wait! Chopper!” she shouted.

Kanan had other ideas. Grabbing the string of balloons, he jerked them free. “Going up!”

As the balloons zipped up into the air, Chopper lunged for them, and Hera shouted, “Chopper, it’s me, Hera!”

“Hera?” the vornskr gasped.

Before Hera could react to that, Chopper plummeted back to the ground, and they continued upwards.

“Chopper just talked,” Hera managed as Kanan grabbed her by the hand, pulling her up so she could grab onto some of the balloons. “The vornskr talked.”

His voice irritated, Kanan said, “You know, if you’re going to let every little thing bother you, this is going to be an even longer night!”

As they flew away from the party, Hera shot Kanan an unseen glare. The sooner she got away from this pain in the neck, the better. She had a bad feeling that wasn’t going to go as well as she hoped, though.

#swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #kanera #star wars #c1 10p #the princess and the frog au #the princess and the frog #swr au #111 followers celebration #it was dope. the end

[deeranger]

Fic Writer Questions!

@oddsocksandstuff tagged me in this, thank you so much, sweetie!  ❤️

 1) How many works do you have on AO3? I’ve got 40 so far (of which 25 are SPN fics). There’s more to come! 

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 486,667, apparently. That tells me each of my fics has an average wordcount of 12,166.675… Seems about right. I was never any good at keeping things short.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Uhh… On AO3 I’ve written for Supernatural, Supernatural RPF, X-men (Cherik) and McFassy (James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender). But I’ve written a lot when I was younger that has never made it online, including NCIS, Pirates of the Caribbean, and lots of weird one-shorts starring everyone from Michael J. Fox to Kevin Sorbo from “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys”. 🤨  

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “A Lesson to be Taught” – an SPN Wincest pwp fic where a dominant Dean fucks (and spanks) Sam and they discover that Dean apparently has a daddy!kink. Comes with a photo manipulation too! There be dick.    

“Taking Game” – a semi-dark medieval Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr from X-men) AU. Basically, Charles is a poacher hunting on king Erik’s land to his great dismay. And so, he’s captured and gets the choice between losing his life or serving the king for a bit… Dubcon and smut ensues.   “Only Like This” – a little SPN Wincest dub-con fic about hopelessly pining Dean doping Sam just so he can touch and kiss his oblivious little brother. It’s okay. Sam won’t remember when he comes to.   “It’s Only Carnal” – A dark SPN Wincest noncon fic where soulless!Sam needs to blow off some steam. And when it comes to carnal activities his brother isn’t exactly a novice – so why not use Dean’s body to make them both feel good?   “Demonized” – a long and dark af SPN noncon fic written in collaboration with the awesome @palishere. Sam is captured by some nasty demons who use him to lure in his brother. At first it seems the demonic scumbags are just really perverted and have a weakness for sexual torture, but they turn out to have ulterior motives…  

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes, always. I think it can be a bit demotivating for a reader to leave a comment and get zero response – and so, they might not bother to comment on the next fic. At least, that’s how I feel personally. And besides, I really want to let readers know that I appreciate them taking the time and effort to actually tell me what they think.  

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oufff… Seriously? How can I possibly pick just one when 99.8 percent of my fics are not only dark af but have gut-wrenching ambiguous endings as well? I, err… I’m gonna have to think really hard about this one, hold on… *Insert buzzing cicada sound*… Uhh… Well, I guess it might be… “Play or Pay” – a dark female!reader-insert Wincest fic where demon!Dean has you and Sam trapped somewhere underground. Sam ends up being on the receiving end of the demon’s cruelty when he tries to save you. Using Dean’s body the demon ends up raping Sam while the reader tries to escape to get help... There’s a little twist in the end. Loads of dead dove here, including death (not Dean or Sam).     “The Orange Hour” – where undercover inmate!Dean has to rape CO!Sam in order to save both of their lives and get them out of the jail in one piece. It doesn’t go completely as planned. (Comes with an nsfw photo manipulation).  “Demonized” – loads of bottom!Sam torture, full of hurt and absolutely no comfort... It’s just… I dunno, I think I and @palishere had a collective meltdown in the noncon and angst department. Sorrynotsorry.      

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, I’ve never in my life written a crossover. Usually, I’m too laser-focused on 1 obsession at a time. I can’t multitask, okay?   

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes, the fandom purity police has visited me on AO3. The usual self-proclaimed know-it-alls vomiting their bullshit all over the comment section about how “problematic” noncon is and how “sick” I must be. I thought about moderating comments for a while, actually – but I just deleted their follow-up comments until they left me alone. 😤

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yes!! Gimme! Usually, I write noncon smut or just good ol’ pwps that feature some sort of dominance. That’s it. That’s my jam. In general, the only smut I don’t write is the cute, fluffy, feel-good, cuddly stuff… My smut’s usually pretty rough and/or some sort of dub/noncon.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. Someone stole “It’s Only Carnal” and posted it as her own on some Portuguese fanfiction site. She even replied to comments, answered questions and talked about how much she loved writing it, etc… Luckily a sweet mutual on Tumblr let me know about it and I reported her for plagiarism. The stolen fic was taken down shortly after and the account deleted. Goddamn thief. 😡  

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. Honestly, I can’t remember which fic(s). But people have contacted me on AO3 and asked for permission to translate my stuff into Chinese. I have - of course - happily allowed them to. It’s such an awesome compliment to get, I think!  

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, 2. “Demonized” and the fluffy Ficfacers prompt fic “The Masks We Wear” starring Sam and Dean taking their pranks a step too far. Basically, the brothers get angry with each other and they need to talk it out… No smut in this one, can you believe it?!! But that was kinda the prompt we received. The prompt was literally: “Sam and fluff”. Anyways, both fics are co-written with the lovely @palishere. You can find her AO3 here. 😊

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? Wincest!!! Definitely. Gimme all the brotherfucking, please. No contest. And coming in on second place I guess there’s Samifer – never paired consensually, though. I just love Lucifer messing with Sam’s head and torturing him in all kinds of cruel ways.    

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Oh, that’s a mean question… I have a noncon WIP where Sam and Dean are in prison. I wrote a whole story outline, gathered my own little dictionary of prison slang, etc… But I never made it past page 10 or something. Sam was supposed to get jumped by a gang of inmates and then Dean was supposed to helplessly watch from the sideline, offering to trade places if they’d just leave his little brother alone… And after that it’s all about a mix of healing and vengeance… But the story has been lying on the shelf for more than a year and I doubt I’ll ever continue it. Oh, wait! I almost forgot – I have a long Cherik WIP sequel to “To Have and to Hold”! Just checked, its wordcount is 18,729! Holy crap…. What a waste, huh? But I honestly don’t think I’ll ever finish it, because I’m not into Cherik anymore. That ship has kinda sunk for me…. So, now I’m hyperfixating on Supernatural, yeah?     

16) What are your writing strengths? Description, I think. I just love details and setting the mood. I like to think I’m pretty good at writing in English too even though it isn’t my native language… I wish to be better and expand my vocabulary but I’m doing okay nonetheless.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, I think. Yes, you read correctly. I often describe things TOO much. Sometimes to the extent where the pacing gets so slowed down that I feel like the scene loses its ‘feel’. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but that’s my major concern about my writing. That and my signature ambiguous endings, lol.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Love it. It can be difficult to pull off, but if you get it right it can be magical. Just don’t overdo it and make sure that the reader can follow. I don’t think I have any fics online where I do it, but I’m not a complete stranger to it either.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ack, my poor brain trying to go back to when I was friggin’ 13… You know how many years ago that was?! 25!!! Okay!? *Huffs*…. Anyway, I THINK it might’ve been Keanu Reeves’ character in “Johnny Mnemonic”. Or maybe David James Elliott’s character as Harmon Rabb in the early seasons of “JAG”. I dunno. Either way this question makes me feel really old and I don’t appreciate it. Don’t @ me. 😅   

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? That’s probably a tie between “The Orange Hour” and “It’s Only Carnal”. They’ve both got nice pacing and that’s my biggest challenge, I think. Also, I love the whole Morse code thing in “The Orange Hour”. I don’t even know what happened or how I came up with it, but hey, I can surprise myself if I want to, I guess! And of course there’s the smutty noncon and all of the hurt… So, those two fics are my personal faves. 😏  

I’ll tag @jackandthesoulmates, @pinkoptics, @palishere, @wrenseroticlibrary, @decadent-prince, @negans-lucille-tblr, @juinae and @impala-dreamer and everyone else who feels like doing it! Feel free to ignore, of course. 

#dee answers #fanfiction questions #personal

[cobrastrid]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

FLUFF PROMPTS

“I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

“you make me feel alive. for the first time ever, i feel like i can breathe”

“i fucking love you” “hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober”

“i really want to kiss you right now” “do it then”

“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

“i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

“Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

"Keep smiling at me like that."

"My God, you're so cute."

"You smiled at me..."

"You make me so unbelievably happy."

“You're such a doof."

"You're hands are so soft and tiny."

"I'm pretty certain that you are the only thing that fills my head these days."

"Tell me I'm cute or I'll tickle you."

"I couldn't let you leave without telling you that you are important to me."

“I am infatuated with you, my heart."

"Be still my heart."

"Your eyes... they're so beautiful."

"Oh, that smile—please never stop smiling. "

"Why do you shy away, little dove?"

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are? Because you really are."

ANGST PROMPTS

“i dont know how to exist in a world without you”

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.”

“did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?”

“no. the moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.”

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

“i swear, if you say another word, i’ll leave.”

“that ship has sailed. i’ve had my one great love already”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

“if i asked you to stay, would you?”

“i don’t know who you are anymore”

“of course i still love you. but i hate myself for it.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“i can’t have this argument with you again” “but-” “no. i’m done”

SMUT PROMPTS

“You’re not going out in that outfit.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You’re more than just a one night stand.”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

“You want me to give you your book/phone/item back? Make me.”

“Like what you see?”

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

“We’re in public, you know.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Dont be so rough. there cant be any marks.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and i’m trying not to kiss/fuck you senseless right now.”

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

“No, i’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“Make me.”

“Stop teasing me so much..”

“You’re in trouble now.”

“I’m waiting.”

“First one to make a noise loses.”

“Mine.”

“We cant do that here!”

“What did you just say?”

“Come here.”

“Watch me.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“If you cant sleep…then how about we have sex?”

“Put that thing away!”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Bite me.”

“If you insist.”

“Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

“I love the sounds you make to me.”

“Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you come at least three times.”

“Were you just masturbating?”

“U-uh..no, i was just..”

“Want some help?”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“We’re not just friends and you know it.”

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”

“What? Does that feel good?”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“We have to be quiet.”

“Tell me again.”

“You have no idea how much i want you.”

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

“Wow, i didn’t realize you were that…flexible.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“I think thats the first time i’ve heard you moan…it was like a melody.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You’re not taking me to bed. ever.”

“Who said it had to be on the bed?”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cuteee.”

“Make love to me?”

“Yep, thats me. I love to fuck.”

“How do i look?”

“Would you reconsider if i was sober?”

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification just from staring at him if i try hard enough.”

“Don’t fucking touch what is not yours.”

“You don’t need to cover up the bruises/hickeys.”

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”

“We’re…..just friends.”

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

“How quickly can you come?”

“There’s people here.”

“I don’t care what you do just fuck me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m up for it if you are.”

“Don’t ruin the sofa.”

“Ill just have to come inside you then.”

“Stop dancing like that or i’m going to come in my pants.”

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”ju

“Stop distracting me.”

“I know they’re just stuffed animals but doesn’t it feel weird? its like they’re watching us.”

“That’s probably the fastest i’ve ever done that.”

“Please, remind me again why we’re having sex behind a tree?”

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

“We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still horny?!”

“It was so worth the injury though!”

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“God damnit, now all i can think about right now is you licking my cock like its that ice cream cone.”

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?”

“Yes we can.”

#smut prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #prompts

[knightofameris]

surprising changes — prince caspian

Request: Hi ! Could you please do a Caspian imagine when lucy, Edmund and eustace arrive in narnia and y/n is married to Caspian or something ?? Thanks xx

Setting: When Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace arrives on the Dawn Treader Contains: Nothing bad really. I’ll be going by the movie. Word Count: 1596

I really didn’t know how to end it, so I’m really sorry. Also, I might write a little prequel to when Caspian and Reader’s relationship starts. Stay tuned!

Edit: Sorry guys, I was reading through this and I realized a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes. They should be fixed but if not, please do tell me lol. I try reading them by myself but sometimes I don’t catch them until a little while after I post it. Thanks!

Enjoy!

[reposting from my old 2016 blog]

The waves hit the shore of Narnia repeatedly. It was early in the morning and the sun was barely rising. If you looked out into the ocean from the coastline, you could see the alluring waves just calling out to you, to sail into the endless sea. The salty fragrant of the ocean was somehow rejuvenating. That was the power of the Narnian ocean. Of course, Narnia was just magical in itself.

But today was the day the Narnia is to be left behind and Caspian the Tenth would travel out into the Great Eastern Ocean that was filled with the unknown. It had been three years since the Kings and Queens of old had aided him in the Narnian Revolution. Three years since (Y/n) had decided to stay in Narnia instead of going back to England. Besides, Narnia was her home and Aslan told her her duties lied here in Narnia now. In those three years, Caspian helped bring Narnia back up to where it used to be in the Golden Age. And in the three years, Caspian and (Y/n) had courted then got married.

(Y/n) was now known, once again, as the Queen of Narnia. She had ruled before with the Pevensies in the Golden age as (Y/n) the Daring so it was nothing new. Except for the fact that she’s now married to Caspian. It was strange because Caspian and her hadn’t gotten along very well until after the Second Battle of Beruna. And Caspian and Susan had a sort of thing between the two. But it wasn’t until the battle against the Calormens in the Great Desert that Caspian realized he had fallen for the Queen. But that’s a different story to tell.

“Caspian, you must let me go with you!” (Y/n) pleaded. Caspian was gathering a few personal things to bring with him onto the Dawn Treader, the first ship to be built in almost a thousand years. He grabbed Peter’s old sword, Edmund’s torch, Lucy’s healing cordial and dagger, and Susan’s bow and arrows. Caspian turned around to face his wife.

“I can’t, you have to stay here in Narnia to rule while I’m away.” Caspian explained then walked out of the castle towards the ship. (Y/n) following close behind.

“Well, we can just ask Trumpkin to look after Narnia in the meantime, can’t we?” (Y/n) suggested. Caspian sighed.

“We could but the ocean is a dangerous place. It’s filled with the unknown. I don’t want you to get hurt.” (Y/n) grabbed Caspians arm and the two stopped walking.

“Caspian, I’m not known as (Y/n) the daring for nothing.” Slowly she was winning. “Besides, I’ve sailed that ocean long before you were even born. I know Narnia and I know the Great Eastern Ocean. I’m not going just because I want to, I want to go so that I can protect you.”

“Protect me? I don’t need protecting.” Caspian scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Caspian so help me I’m going with you whether you like it or not.” (Y/n) scolded. Caspian huffed and finally gave in.

“Fine.” (Y/n) grinned and hugged Caspian.

She let go of him and looked up into his eyes. “Great! I already have everything set on board! I also already spoke to the Narnians and Trumpkin about everything.”

“What?! You mean you-”

“Yup, I knew you were going to give in.” Caspian sighed then hugged her once more.

“What am I going to do with you,” Caspian asked jokingly. (Y/n) laughed and rested her head against his chest.

“Love me?”

“Always.”

***

The Dawn Treader was sailing across the vast ocean and Cair Paravel was gone from sight. The winds were in their favor and they had left faster than expected. (Y/n) already had her favorite spot picked out which was in the figure head of the dragon. Reepicheep accompanied her in there.

Reepicheep was humming a tune when (Y/n) had asked him what it was he was humming.

“Ah, my majesty. It’s a tune that the dryads sang to me when I was a mere pinkie.” Reepicheep replied.

“It sounds beautiful, how do the lyrics go?” (Y/n) was intrigued.

“Well, I’m not that great of a singer but…”

“Where the sky and water meet~

Where the waves grow ever sweet,

Doubt not, Reepicheep,” Reepicheep seemed to dance a bit when he sang and (Y/n) giggled when he jumped on her shoulder then on top of the figured head and hung down from it. “ To find all you seek, there is the utter east.”

“Ah, Reepicheep, that was beau-” (Y/n) got distracted when she saw in the corner of her eye in the deep waters of the ocean something rather peculiar. “Hey, Reep.”

“Yes your majesty?” He looked where she was looking into the ocean.

“Get Caspian and another crewmate, we got three people overboard.” With that being said, (Y/n) dove into the water.

“Eustace swim!”  

“What’s going on?”

“Eustace come on! Keep swimming.”

Two more series of splashes came in and by that time, (Y/n) had reached Lucy.

“Hey, Lu! Don’t worry I gotchu.” (Y/n) held Lucy as the two of them trod the water.

“(Y/n)!” Lucy was absolutely ecstatic when she saw her longtime friend once more. They both started to swim towards the ship but before they did Lucy called out to Edmund. “Edmund, it’s (Y/n)!”

“Caspian?” Edmund was extremely surprised to see Caspian right next to him in the water. “Are we in Narnia?”

“Yes, you’re in Narnia.” Caspian answered.

“I don’t want to go! I want to go back to England! I’m going back to England!” Eustace cried as he struggled against the other crewmate.

“Is that Eustace?” (Y/n) asked Lucy. They finally made it to the portside of the ship and they were about to get pulled up and out of the water.

“Yes, it is…” Lucy answered. (Y/n) had met Eustace once before back when they were all much younger. (Y/n) was about 4 years older than him then but now she’s 7 years older. Guess how Eustace reacted?

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“(Y/n)!”

***

After Eustace had passed out from the minotaur, and how he reacted to recognize and see (Y/n) once more and much older than before, they all went into the Captain’s Cabin.

“It’s been great seeing all of you guys again,” (Y/n) had her arms wrapped around Edmund and Lucy. “You guys don’t look as different as before, how long has it been?”

“About a year,” Edmund replied grinning. “How about with you?”

“Three years,” Caspian answered.

“Well, it explains why you look so grown up, (Y/n).” Lucy smiled at her.

“But of course, time here doesn’t run with the time back on Earth afterall.”

Lucy saw an image of Aslan engraved on one of the walls and she smiled. The warm feeling came through her again like it had before when she had heard his name and when she met him for the first time.

“Aslan…” Then something caught Lucy’s eye. “Susan’s bow and arrows!”

(Y/n) went to go grab something out of the cabinet as Edmund stared at a picture of him and his siblings.

“Hey Lu,” Lucy turned around towards (Y/n)’s voice and she saw her dagger and healing cordial. “IT’s about time you got this back I suppose.”

“Is that Peter’s sword?” Edmund asked when he saw Caspian holding it out towards him.

“I looked after it, as promised.” Edmund walked over towards Caspian and was about to take it but then decided not to.

“No, no. It’s yours,” Edmund took a step back. “Peter gave it to you.”

“Hmm, well. I saved this for you though,” Caspian turned around and went into a different cabinet and grabbed his torch. He tossed it over towards Edmund and he caught it.

“Thanks!” Edmund was actually pretty grateful for it. He looked down into the torch and tried turning it in. Though, it blinded him. “Gah!”

(Y/n) laughed, “You’re such an idiot, Ed.” Edmund smiled sheepishly.

***

(Y/n), Caspian, Lucy, Edmund, and Lord Drinian stood around the table with a map of Narnia and the surrounding countries along with the Great Eastern Ocean.

“Since you left,” Caspian pointed towards the Lands of the North, “the Giants of the North surrendered unconditionally.” He moved his hand towards the Great Desert.

(Y/n) interrupted and four heads looked at her, “It was surprising to see how they had surrendered. I’ll tell you the story later. Oh, and then we fought the Calormen armies in the Great Desert! That’ll be an amazing story to tell, too!” (Y/n) sighed contently from the memories of the battles she had fought alongside Caspian. She looked over at him and smiled.

“Right, and now there’s peace across all of Narnia,” Caspian continued smiling while still looking over at her.

“Really? Peace?” Edmund asked while eyeing Caspian and (Y/n). He was a bit suspicious that something was going on between the two.

“Yup! In just three years.” (Y/n) answered.

“And have you found yourself a queen in those three years, Caspian? Or a king, (Y/n)?” Lucy asked the two. (Y/n) and Caspian looked at each other and the grabbed each other’s hands.

“You all know her as (Y/n) the Daring. Now you can know her also as my wife,” Caspian grinned.

“I knew it!” Edmund shouted. Everyone stared at him like he was a mad man.

#prince caspian x reader #prince caspian imagine #caspian x reader #caspian drabbles #a.writes

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Falling Together Part II

Author’s Note: So glad I’ve dove head first into this fandom, you guys are so welcoming and enthusiastic! There will be 2 more parts before this comes to its natural end. Also if you want to be tagged, or I missed you, please let me know.

Part 1

Pairing: Ivar x Reader Word count: 3213

Warnings: None "Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?" Hvitserk prodded, breaking the silence in the warm afternoon. 

Ivar had agreed to go fishing with his brother to clear his head, but between the lack of bites and Hvitserk's questions, there was little peace to be had. He had tossed away his line, and had sprawled out on the dock, falling back into his dark thoughts. Since your argument, you had made your presence scarce. You always managed to be gone before he woke at dawn, and you no longer took meals in the Great Hall. If he managed to catch a glimpse of you in a day it was something worth bragging about. 

Hvitserk let out a huff as he threw his line down. "I'm sure you're not the first man to accuse his wife of being a whore."

Ivar glared at his brother, tempted to push him into the water. "I was only going by what you told me."

"Hey, I told you to fuck her, not to accuse her of laying with any man who gives her trinkets," Hvitserk said between chuckles. "Speaking of which, I saw the boy Einarr the other day. You'd better watch yourself, or you could have a real rival eight years from now."

Hvitserk knew just what to say to make him feel like the foolish boy who crawled around Kattegat again. The boy, who just wanted to keep up with his brothers. He was a King now, but sometimes he still felt like he was chasing after their greatness. Letting out a grunt of frustration, he threw his dagger at Hvitserk's foot, just shy of sticking through the toe of his boot.

Hvitserk leapt back, and shot him an incredulous look. "I hope you don't show that same temper to your wife. She's a delicate Christian flower, not a fishmonger's daughter."

Ivar froze as he felt his back stiffen, and Hvitserk appeared to realize his mistake. "I would never harm her."

"I know that, Ivar," Hvitserk murmured, brushing his hand through his hair. "I...shit. I'm sorry for that."

The sincerity was there, and Ivar believed him, but his mind had traveled far back into a different life. He could still feel the strength of his grip, hear her struggling gasps, and see the love go out of her eyes when he took the breath out from her body. Love was a misery, and it only seemed to bring him grief. His mother and father, Freydis and Baldr, even Sigurd. Perhaps he had done you a kindness by mistake.

He had been the one that had refused all attempts at bonding between you, so it seemed ridiculous that he had chosen this instance to resent the distance. It was your talk of a marriage not needing love that had gotten to him. After Freydis, he was certain he wouldn't fall in love again, but that didn't mean his heart didn't crave it. Marriage should not be a loveless thing, not after he'd seen what it did to his mother. He wasn't in love with you, but he did not want your hatred either.

"What should I do?" Ivar asked aloud, desperate enough that he looked to Hvitserk for the answer. 

"Get her a gift, and apologize."

Ivar frowned. "What kind of gift?"

"Ask her yourself," said Hvitserk, looking over his shoulder. "She's coming this way."

You were indeed coming down the path to the wharf, a guard on either side. Ivar thought you would be wearing a scowl, but you were as poised as Frigg, with no trace of animosity to be found. You indicated for your guards to remain back as you approached the brothers. Hvitserk chose that moment to reach down and pull the stuck knife from the wood. You had caught the act, even growing a smile at it.

"What did you do to warrant a dagger to the foot, Hvitserk?" You teased.

"I'm not the best advisor," He reasoned. "That's probably why it's not my job."

You chuckled freely, all while Ivar kept his gaze away to the water. "Indeed. May I borrow my husband for a moment?"

Ivar gazed up at his brother for help, who shrugged as a reply. "Of course. Guess I'll go find myself some trouble."

"Take them with you. They look far too bored without my company," You said of your guards before taking a seat on the dock beside Ivar. Once Hvitserk was far enough away, you spoke again. "When I was a young girl, I used to run down to the water instead of practicing my needlework. A languid sunrise was all the beauty I needed, and I would watch the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ship coming into the havens."

Ivar listened to your leisured words, recalling a time when he would also go down to the shores of Kattegat. Sometimes he imagined it would be his father returning from exile on one of the ships that made port, but as he grew older, it crossed his mind less until he abandoned the wish entirely. His father had good reason to stay away, and Ivar sometimes wondered if it would have been better had he never returned.

"What do you want, wife?" He was tired and the reminiscing about things better left forgotten put him into a sour state.  

"I've come to the conclusion that we cannot remain parted like this forever, and as I told you before, the people talk," You said, smiling at him. Ivar had forgotten what it felt like to have a woman's eyes on him that way, and it commanded his whole attention. "I listened, and decided what would be best is for the people to see their King and Queen together."

"Is that the only reason?" He tested.

"No." You paused to adjust your skirts, and you shifted closer, sitting in a manner that should have been unbecoming of a Queen, but was endearing in its frankness. "I feel there are things that I don't know about you, but I believe your regret to be sincere."

"It was."

You stared at him with something akin to concern. "You were married once before me, weren't you?"

Ivar narrowed his eyes, hating the vast change of the conversation, and how you had sprung him into a trap, like a rabbit to a snare. "Yes."

"I see," You said, and after pausing a moment, you did not say more on the matter.

With your gaze set on the ocean, Ivar was able to take his time regarding you. Hvitserk was right, you were beautiful. You did not resemble the icy nordic women he had been surrounded by, nor were you like any of the English ladies who coward from his men. You were shades of a dark, stormy night, but also the fairness of a pale morning bathed in sunlight. He should be proud to walk alongside you.

When you caught him looking, you mistook what he had been fixated on. You plucked at the bracelet on your wrist as your mouth twisted into a frown.

"If it bothers you, I can get rid of it."

"Your silence bothers me," said Ivar. "You are my wife, I do not want you to be meek."

You burst into giggles, "Is that how you see me?"

"No, I see that you are a warrior who doesn't resort to the sword. This strength you have has earned you the title to be Queen."

"My father's insistence that I marry you made me Queen, but that is kind of you to say," You shifted to face him head on, and Ivar appreciated how you held his stern look. "Why did you agree to marry me? My father's lands are not widespread, you could have easily lorded over us with the warriors you have. It could have saved you the trouble of being tied to a Christian."

"My intentions to raid have not changed, but an alliance in a foreign land is its own valuable treasure. My father had done the same with King Ecbert, but not until he had made an enemy of King Aelle first. I won't make the same mistake," Ivar explained as he watched your loose curls dance in the sea breeze. You did not braid your hair, and it was longer than any woman's in Kattegat. Not to be distracted by your grace, he steeled his gaze, and continued to speak. "As for having you as a wife, I think you know that I find you to be an accomplished Queen, and an acceptable partner."

"Acceptable? Quit with that flattery husband, or I might swoon," You quipped with an eye roll.

"I would enjoy that."

Ivar took pleasure in how you flustered, mouth stuck open and not quite sure how to respond. You were often brash, so he forgot you were still a virgin until your shy side reared. It made his heart speed up to a gallop, a feeling he had almost forgotten. 

You were swift to change the direction of the topic back to neutral ground, but the faint pink still dusted your cheeks. "Would you like to walk with me? The people used to enjoy seeing my parents together when they would stroll the city."

Ivar recalled how his parents would interact with the people of Kattegat, though not often together. He understood your reasoning though, and clenching his jaw, he propelled his stiff body up with the aid of his crutch. You were at his side, hands hovering in the air to give him assistance in a moment's notice if he needed. Ivar waved you back, used to doing everything alone. He couldn't explain it, but it was important to him that you did not see him weak.

As you both started up the path, you placed your hand tentatively through Ivar's arm. The gesture startled him, but he managed to keep his footing. After a while of walking, he decided he liked the warmth of your touch. You remained tight to his side, and the people, yours and his, appeared delighted as you strode through the streets. 

The people of Kattegat had never looked at him with anything other than disdain, pity, and fear. He preferred this new change, bringing him closer to continuing his father's legacy as a worthy King. Ivar didn't share any more words with you, but instead chose to enjoy your quiet presence beside him. He was going to follow Hvitserk's advice about giving you a gift, if only to see you blush again. First though, he needed to decide what you would like.

ooOOoo

After that day by the water, your relationship with your husband changed. All of your games of avoidance stopped, and had been replaced with Ivar's new habit of teasing you. He seemed to like how perturbed you would get, or how red your face would become. You still had not consummated the marriage, but you had begun to share a bed.

The first time you had stayed in your shared chambers had been the last time you had been in your private wing. You had stayed up late, completing your correspondence when Ivar had returned. He had seemed surprised to find you awake, but had struck up a conversation that led you to sitting down beside him on the bed. Sleep had come, and by morning you'd awoken next to your husband for the first time.

When you had stirred, the morning was still young, and there was a quiet in the air that could only be found at the birth of a new day. You were facing towards Ivar and when you opened your eyes you found him toying with your hair. He gave you a coy smile at being caught, but he was not deterred from his actions, and you let him continue until the responsibilities of leading called him away.

Touching was something new that you had both slowly eased into your relationship. Brief grazes of skin, and gentle caressing was becoming something of a routine between you. Ivar's hands were tough and warm, but he was careful with you, as if something held him back. For all of his abrasive shortcomings, he was rather shy and boyish when it came to anything intimate. You were tempted by your viking husband, and your carnal thoughts were at war with your Christian values. You wanted him to push passed that barrier of gentleness and make you a woman. 

There was also the matter of things left unsaid between you. You wanted to ask about his first wife, but each time you came close to speaking up, you would recall the crestfallen look that had twisted his face when you had brought it up to begin with. Hvitserk would know, but that was a line you promised you wouldn't cross. He would tell you one day, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on it.

"(Y/N)," Ivar said, and you jolted up on the bed, not expecting his presence. 

"Hello," You greeted, closing your book as you sat upright. "Have you come to join me?"

"Yes," He replied before hesitating. "I have something for you. Can you close your eyes a moment?"

You shot him a suspicious glance. "What is this, Ivar?"

"Trust me."

He disappeared before you could say anything more. You breathed out a laugh 'Trust me' he says. Ivar did not have a face full of integrity, and you wondered how many people had been deceived by the one called Boneless.

You closed your eyes as he requested, and waited for his return. It was not long until he came back to the door, stopping outside as he called to you.

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, husband," You answered, growing impatient. 

You listened to each careful step as Ivar approached the bed, and felt the familiar dip as his weight joined you.

"Hold out your hands," He told you, his voice close.

You wrinkled your nose, but did as he asked. What could he want to give you? You couldn't understand the sudden display of generosity, or his reasoning that called for a gift. Husbands gave presents to their wives of course, but you didn't think you and Ivar had that kind of marriage.

Just as you were tempted to peek, something warm and wiry was dropped into your lap. It wriggled with life, and your eyes shot open to find a wolf hound pup circling around in your arms. A pleasant surprise indeed. You ran your fingers through thick, coarse hair the color of iron, and the hound's tail thumped wildly.

You couldn't fight the elation on your face as you turned to look up to Ivar's. He had been watching for your reaction, and you thought you spotted relief in his eyes. 

"What did I do to deserve this?" You asked while your new gift started to squirm in your lap.

"For being patient and forgiving. Our marriage started with us as strangers, but I know now that you are too impressive a Queen to go unappreciated."

The fluttery feeling was back, flooding you with warmth. You no longer fought it back, even welcoming it if you were honest with yourself. When you were alone together, Ivar was different with you. Though you were not in love yet, you had compassion for your husband, and found yourself thinking about him during quiet moments of the day. You didn't think he loved you either, but he had his own way of showing he cared.

"Thank you for bringing him to me," You said softly. With one hand you held the hound to your chest, and with the other you reached for Ivar.

"Forgive me for what I said before. You are too respectable and dutiful to be any of the things I accused you of. I'm not sure why I said them," He said as he accepted your hand.

"I already forgave you for that, Ivar."

Sometimes you could see what was in his heart, and the hurt look on his face reminded you of a lost child. It had to be his first wife. You didn't know how to help him, and it made you want to scream for the truth if it would make him forget. But you also knew if you pushed him on the matter, he would start to pull away again, and you had only just begun to feel like a real wife.

"Ivar," You called for him, bringing him back to you from wherever his thoughts had taken him. His pain was something that you couldn't mend, but maybe you could help him move forward.

You shuffled closer until your leg pressed up against his. He looked uncertain as you placed your free hand upon his face. You were just going to place a kiss on his cheek, but at the last second he turned to catch your lips with his. It was soft and slow, and the perfect first kiss with your husband. Ivar had a tentative grasp of your hip with his arm around your waist, and you leaned into his chest. 

A whimper escaped from the pup whom you had forgotten was still in your hold. He was being squished between you and Ivar, and you pulled back with a sigh.

"Sorry boy," You murmured, giving him a scratch on the ears. 

Your hand was still braced against your husband, and he had not removed his arm from around you. The chambers grew stuffy, and the boldness from the kiss faded into heady unrest.

"You'll need to give him a name," Ivar spoke up after a while. 

He started to remove his braces, and you got up from the bed to grab extra furs for your new hound to sleep on.

"I will," You said as you started to make a place at the end of the bed for the dog to sleep. "We used to have many dogs when I was growing up. My mother used to say naming a pet was as difficult as naming a child, so I'll make sure to take my time to get it right. "

Ivar smirked as he pulled himself under the furs. He was still careful not to reveal his legs, and you wouldn't push the issue. You were still too shy to be naked in his presence as well, especially with how much time had passed since you were supposed to share a bed on your wedding night.

"I like your stories. You grew up with pleasant memories," He said.

Once you got the pup settled, you joined Ivar in bed. "Don't you have fond memories of growing up?"

"With three older brothers, and an absent father? No, my childhood was spent fighting to survive and finding a place to belong. If not for my mother, I would've died young."

You had your head propped up on your arm, and you were facing Ivar as he laid flat on his back. "I wish I could have met her then. Mothers should be merciful towards their children."

Ivar craned his neck to stare at you, a subtle reverence behind his eyes, "(Y/N), can I kiss you again?"

You scurried closer until your noses touched. "Yes," You whispered. 

And he did.

 Tag List

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@shannygoatgruff

@zuxiezendler

@tgrrose

@blah-blah-fuckit-shit

#vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar fic #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar fluff

[strangerays]

Nothing in Particular Update #3

About seven months and I finished the first draft at 93k!

I always imagined how it would feel to finish a first draft (I’ve been writing novels “seriously” since about 2017) and now that I’ve finally done it, I can say it’s a better feeling than I imagined! Telling my friends and family (and even my doctor, who was really quite excited about it) was an amazing amazing thing. I’m generally pretty nervous to tell people about my work, but I had a really positive reaction. Honestly all of it has me on a creative high (not sure I’m coming down from that any time soon lol).

I’m going back for my last year of school in two days, which means I’m not going to have as much time as I did to write all summer. This is okay, because I’m actually going to take an entire month off of writing! I’m really burnt out - don’t want to start editing a story that’s so near to me if I don’t feel ready. I’ll talk more about editing when the time comes!

In a lot of ways, I found that my life mimicked my art. I think for a lot of people, it tends to be the other way around, but this story did a lot to heal me.

Going to hop right into excerpts now! I’m not going to explain much this far into the story because I would like to try to publish this story (FAR in the future) so I apologize for that! Also, I stopped naming most of the chapters until I go back and edit because there are just SO MANY and I didn’t have the time to stop and think of cool names. Anyways... enjoy!!

(Here is the link to the original masterpost!)

#1

text: Rays of gold curled to the ground, primordial and shy as the fire reeds on the cusps of shallow pool around the bay outside of Mothouse combed them to fine sparkles. I remembered the way Lonan kneeled on the edges of this pool. He never dove in – just blinked slowly as he watched crabs and minnows chase each other in a swirl of sand. I could not resist the water. I’d made it a part of me. My hair was longer then; down to my elbows, fading from dark red to orange and white, soaked always. Lonan let me borrow his shirts when I forgot to bring my own. They hung from my waist, too big for me, and I was warm even as the breeze rocked us inside.

#2

text: The sky was never blue in Point Blink. At least, I couldn’t remember the last time the clouds hadn’t given way to a dark gray mist. Jude was here. I was out of place. I was floating – watching slender, underfed pines wave in the breeze behind houses on the water before they disappeared underneath furls of cloud. Bursts of warm light shone in windows on the bay, like hungry eyes watching for a storm. A group of kids our age chaffed on a rocky expanse, their heads popping over pockets of darkness when they laughed. Froths of cloud stretched across the sky, moving the ground with it. Long stretches of trees and islands far on the other side of our small pocket of ocean looked more like large freight ships. Lights glittered and beamed on the roads and highways that belonged to the city. Pink was starting to show over the horizon. Lonan was on the other side. Somewhere.

#3

text: 

Jude sucked her lips in and flopped onto her stomach so she could see the blue below her feet. Her dark curls draped over her ears and hid her nose.

“I can’t see the bottom of the ocean.” She cupped her fingers with the other hand. “See where the water fades to white and back again? The endless tide. Why do people say the ocean is blue?”

I leaned forward. She was right. Blue ocean climbed up the side of the cliffs and turned the rocks a dark gray; ate the erosion as if from a plate. I’d never had the ocean explained to me that way before.

“I think I like it that way,” I said.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was at the bottom of Point Blink.

#4

text: 

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. This is just guesswork. Patchwork.”

I wanted to apologize again, but I had a strong guess that it might make her annoyed with me. “It’s kind of like… I’m just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.”

She wrinkled her nose and eyebrows, scrunched up her little face. “That’s dumb.”

“I think it’s a smart way to live.” Sometimes it felt like worry was the only thing that kept me alive. It wasn’t dumb at all.

“You’re going to be fine though. We’re going to be fine. If something bad happens, we’ll deal with it. Don’t let it eat you.”

There was wisdom in what this seventeen-year-old girl on my bed had offered me. I caught it like a gold coin. Before I could reply with anything, she launched into another question. I didn’t want to think much about change anyways.

#5

text:

“Oh. Wow. That’s like, next year.” I sort of laughed.

“A year can be a long time,” Lonan said with a wince. “What do you think?”          

I sighed through my nose and leaned back with him. The sun was going down. Sometimes, my life felt less like a golden hourglass and more like a stopwatch with a broken face.

“For once, I think I agree with your mom.”

Lonan just stared at me, with something like awe.

“I think you should do what you want,” I said.

 “Ray,” Lonan started.

“No,” I interrupted him. “It’s not about me. She’s stopped you from doing anything and everything you’ve wanted to for the last four years, so when you go to college, you’ve got to separate yourself from this place.” I pointed to him. “You’re allowed to do this.”

#6

text: 

Maybe I was just being strange. Lonan was my best friend. It didn’t help that there was a little bit of him in everything – the tide pools, the echo of shells, my broken camera.

Soon, we stood in the center of the field. A breeze whispered through the cattails, fanning against our knees. Ellis loped behind me as I stepped in and out of tire tracks under the cloudless sun. She wasn’t much different than Jude. Her footsteps crunched excitedly behind mine, excited at the prospect of an unprecedented adventure. I’d missed those.

Lonan said he didn’t like to walk in fields because the wind tricked him into thinking that someone was behind him. Every brisk of his heel was a trick of the mind. Sometimes I felt the same way, like I might be haunted.

#7

text: 

The ageless water begged me closer, frizzed my hair and swathed my arms in a sweet, familiar scent. I remembered galloping down to the shore with a childhood friend in one May. Soft piano accompanied croaky lyrics from someone’s radio when we fell chest-first into the water. Static erupted in my head. There had been nothing new for me in Point Blink for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to float. Grass turned into pebbles, and I heard Ellis’ footsteps soften to the beat of the sand. Our eyes crumbled the shells that walled the long expanse of dark sand where waves rolled in. We leaned over like two swans, crunching shells beneath our feet, displaying shells to one another, naming the ones we recognized, and when I looked out at the horizon, I saw blue.

Red plastic cups, cigarettes, and even some broken glass stuck out through the sand as we made our way further down the shoreline, as if someone had thrown a party. My brow furrowed. Maybe this part of the beach wasn’t so abandoned after all.

Between the spit of the waves and dry sand lay some sort of book. Sand trickled out of the pages and onto my shoes when I swept it out of line of an oncoming wave. Ellis was beside me in moments. Shells tolled under her shoes.

#8

*Warning for mention of blood (fake blood and fake knife!!) this takes place on Halloween haha*

text: 

Jude held the container in her palm, kneeled down so we were shoulder to shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the knife in my neck, mine on her hands, then her focused expression. Her fingers tipped my chin up, cold on my skin. I tried not to move. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about Dad, or Raven, or Lonan. I only let Jude in – this girl who had come out of nowhere and wrecked me, saved me. And she didn’t know any of that. I didn’t owe anything to her, but I needed her. She kept us afloat when I couldn’t even keep myself above water. Her fingers painted blood over the center of my throat, our breath quiet on each other’s cheeks. She held my shoulder as she set back.               

“Absolutely feral,” she said.

#9

text: 

“Point Blink is all I have. It’s where I am, what I am.” My throat was tight. “It’s all I’ve known. I am happy with my life. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to throw all of that away so we can dig up answers. I want to stay.”

 Jude sat there for a moment. I think Florian and Ellis had turned to look at us, because when we went silent, I could no longer heat their hushed whispers, only the sound of water as it rose and rose and rose. I wondered if it would rain.

Jude sat up on her hands, then her knees, then she stood over me.

“Is that what you honestly believe?”

Tears bubbled in her eyes. Blood streaked down her cheeks. I’d been so focused on not crying, I had missed when she started to.

“Point Blink is just the same as anywhere,” she said. The words sat somewhere above her inside her chest, weak and frail, as though they’d been realized a long time ago.

I’d stared into her eyes until they disappeared. She grabbed onto a branch above her and quietly swung herself around a corner. Her footsteps echoed until they dissolved into waves and birds and frogs and left me in the dark.

#10

*Warning for strong language!*

text:

“Why didn’t you tell me how you’d been feeling?” he asked after a few moments of silence. It was beginning to stretch uncomfortably.

“I know I don’t deserve to know,” he added, “but you’ve always put me first.”

I picked at the wood that peeled from the fence.

“I just want you to be okay,” Lonan croaked. “Please tell me what to do.”

Even when we were together, we still worried about each other. It wasn’t always that way. Maybe that was my fault. I didn’t want to think about it.

 “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I mumbled into the crisp, red air. “To be fair, I didn’t know it like I know now for a long time. I think sometimes I got the same way as a kid. Now I have a name for it, and I still don’t know if it feels right.” I sighed. “I guess… I guess I just thought that was how things were supposed to be. I thought I was only the humming low and the high.”

“Of course that’s not how you’re fucking supposed to be.”

 I coughed on a laugh, wiped away a new set of tears. On the rare occasion that Lonan did swear, he sounded much like he was doing it for the first time.

I hadn’t fully realized what I’d said before Lonan’s hand was around my arm. He pulled me close to his chest. I felt smaller than him; warm and safe. I exhaled and sunk into him, didn’t allow anything else in. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

“You’re funny and smart and better than a lot of people.”

And... that wraps up all of my excerpts for the time being! I really enjoyed writing the last four chapters of this book. Of course they aren’t perfect. A lot of the book needs improvement. There are entire characters who are flat and plot lines I just forgot about! Come October, I plan to get back into my edits/rewrite the story.

Really quick before I finish writing this:

I just wanted to thank everyone who read about my story and showed genuine interest in the characters. Had I not received all of this love from people in real life and online, I might never have finished this draft at all. When I started this story, my mental health was really quite bad. (I’m doing a whole lot better these days!!) I guess you could say the idea started as more of a journal entry. All of these characters are like little parts of me coming together to help the main character, and I think there’s something really special about that.

Thank you so much! Good luck on all your creative endeavors! It pays off in the end, I promise :)

tag list (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar​ @writeherewaiting @cryptid-s-wips @kingsinking @author-a-holmes

#my little note at the end says it all haha #thank you so so much for reading! #I still can't believe I finished this book on five hours of sleep

[hecohansen31]

Secrets Whispered

Michael Langdon x Secretive! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Long time no see, right?

I just thought about this idea, since @guiltyfiend (also please do let me know, when you know what you prefer what you’d like as your ko-fi reward!) made me an amazing ship based about this concept and I just couldn’t wait to do something about it.

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Michael is immediately fascinated by you as there are just too many mysteries around you.

WORDS: 2,9 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Trauma, Mention of The End of The World, Apocalypse-Antichrist and all that stuff, Also I am just extremely rusty about writing Michael, so please do bear with me if this sucks...

Michael had noticed immediately how you stood out of everyone else in the Outpost he had been ‘examining’.

It wasn’t some kind of ‘cheery and flashy standing out’, like many of the women and men that threw themselves at his feet or thought to impress him with a few sassy words that would get them instead on his nerves.

No, you simply stood out, because you didn’t try anything to impress him.

And no one in the Outpost seemed to truly know you.

Which was very strange for a group of people that had passed six months with only the company of each other in a closed off place, but whenever he’d question people about their relationships with you, he’d receive always the same answer.

They didn’t know nothing more than him.

You weren’t certainly shy, since you liked chattering with others  next to the fireplace, but there was some mindless rhythm to the conversation that made it particularly difficult for him to discover much about you, since he couldn’t help but feel like you used soft and polite words as a shield.

So, he couldn’t lie when he admitted to you that he had been looking forward to the interview.

Your eyes had ducked immediately down to your hands, a slight blush on your cheeks, but he knew that you weren’t simply faking modesty.

In all truth what you were doing was simply hiding your reaction to him.

To avoid giving yourself away.

He had known back then that it would be quite the power struggle with you and when he had started questioning you, all he had gotten were curt but short answers.

‘Is your name…?’ ‘Yes’.

‘… and your parents are…’ ‘Yes’.

‘… before the whole Apocalypse, you worked at a local library, didn’t you?’ ‘It was actually a bookshop, sir’.

And it was almost unnerving, hadn’t Michael, as always felt, like there was some thrilling challenge in your words and secretive demeanor, but his haughty tone had quickly shifted, when an answer of yours had surprised him.

‘Why, Mrs. (L/N), should you be chosen for the Sanctuary’ he had asked, hoping it would get him some kind of reaction from you, and it had.

Your head had finally pushed itself up to meet his eyes, immediately latching themselves onto Michael’s light blue.

‘… I don’t think that I even want to go to the Sanctuary, sir’ there was some kind of innocence in your reply that would have sounded arrogant from anybody else, hadn’t it been, like in your case, the utter truth ‘… for me it isn’t a question of deserving it, sir’.

The added words had certainly meant to somehow soothe the veiled insult the previous ones had uttered behind themselves.

‘Why do you think such an unconventional thing, little dove?’ the nickname this time got an honest shade of red placing itself on your cheek ‘… must I remind you that one of the few rules I’d like all the residents to follow is to be sincere to the core?’.

But he knew you weren’t lying.

And yet, it would have been easier if you had.

Although he strangely didn’t want this to be easier, because he liked complicated people, even more in a situation like this one, one in which everybody seemed so dull in the face of the end of the world.

But you were anything but dull underneath that defied appearance.

‘I am sincere’ there was fire in what you said, like it thoroughly burned in your heart.

Like you believed it wholeheartedly.

And Michael liked that.

‘… I just…’ now slowly something intimate and personal was coming on your face ‘… if this world had come to an end, is it natural that we continue on living on borrowed time?’.

There was such a longing ache in your words, as if you knew that they were true and yet you hadn’t ever had the courage to utter them, because they would have sounded foolish.

And they would have to anybody but Michael.

He also lived on borrowed time.

‘Humans ache for survival’ he commented, loving the contrast that your eyes made at hearing those words ‘… in any way or shape. It’s a natural instinct’.

‘And yet survival isn’t living’ you spoke softly, your head slowly turning away to look around yourself, as if you had again to hide your true self and Michael couldn’t help but be almost wounded by the move that meant a backward step in your journey.

He had been interested when this conversation had started with you, but now he was… almost enamored with what you had said.

What you hid so attentively, guarding it as a dragon would do with his own treasure.

‘It isn’t the same thing, you are right’ the low tone of his voice was enough to regain your attention ‘… but isn’t surviving better than staying outside where the toxic air would kill you, in a few minutes?’.

And now sadness crept on your face, alongside tiredness, as if you already knew what would be happening, next.

What Michael would have said.

And you were tired of it.

And it was enough to get your blood boiling, in a wonderful reaction in front of Michael’s eyes, happy to have gotten under your skin, but what you said hit him deep inside.

‘I must seem selfish for thinking this way…’ your voice was low, but it had an edge to it that brought, this time, Michael to focus his attention on you ‘… but I never asked to be saved, some people just stormed in my house, because they said I had some kind of special blood… and they… they took me, meanwhile my whole family died’.

He would have laughed in the face of everyone, had they said something similar, because he knew that it was all a show to convince him.

But you thought that truly.

‘There are millions of people better than me, and I got fucking lucky to be the only one to be here, alone and useless…’ now you were through your own ‘delirium’ and although Michael had been desperately looking to dig in your own soul, he felt like he had just hit a moment that was too private.

Maybe a bit too much.

‘… I am not the one you want to bring to the Sanctuary. If the world has come to an end, it must mean something’.

That Michael’s plan had worked.

But he almost felt guilty for it.

‘… I am sorry’ the words were now quiet, as the others you had uttered echoed deeply in the walls of his small private quarters ‘… it must… I must have misspoken myself’.

‘Oh no no’ his tone was rushed and although he knew that he was showing her something that he had always kept inside of himself, treasuring them attentively ‘… had all the interviews been as interesting as yours, Mrs. (Y/N)’.

Strangely the words weren’t of any comfort to you, although Michael accompanied it with a soft smirk on it, definitely less devious than the one he had for other people.

But he guessed he must have still looked like a wolf clothed in sheep clothes.

‘… is this over?’.

Whatever he had gained through the interview had somehow been completely dispersed, now and you looked like you desperately wanted to go away, somehow, probably because whatever mask had been held in place was now shattered on the ground.

‘Yes, it is’ and he hadn’t ever seen somebody raise that fast with a full set of petticoats ‘… but, I’d like to talk to you, more, Mrs. (Y/N)’.

A bitter smile was now on your face.

‘There are better people in here’ you spoke, and he detected finally something that you had hidden for so long: insecurity.

And as much as he wanted to desperately use it against you: he couldn’t bring himself to.

‘… more deserving of the Sanctuary’.

‘I’ll take that into consideration, if you don’t have any other suggestion for me on how to do my job’.

‘Again, my mouth speaks words that I don’t truly mean…’.

It was almost adorable the way you rushed to apologize.

But there was no fear in your eyes.

It was a first.

‘… I was joking’.

A breath of relief still escaped your lips, and as soon as it had appeared it was now gone.

‘I didn’t think that the devil could joke’.

And your last words effectively knocked the air out of his lungs.

Michael knew for sure that you had been avoiding him, probably uncomfortable with what you had shared with him.

Or better what he had forced you to share.

You’d leave supper early, as soon as he joined it and you’d rush your step whenever you met him in the corridors.

And it was such a shame, since he wanted to get to know you better.

So, he had planned like some kind of idiotic male a small strategy to meet you alone in the library, that afternoon, stalking attentively every step of your day, soon realizing that you visited the enormous local at least once a day, after lunch so that you could unwind and another time after dinner, setting up the book that your fellow housemates had left everywhere in the room.

You had an order of your own and you respected it almost maniacally.

A routine of some kind and Michael took advantage of it, catching you as you were completely taken by a reddish volume in your hands a pile of half-forgotten books adjusted beside you, as if you had suddenly been taken by the impulse to search through the pages of the book.

He wondered whether they had asked for you and you hadn’t been able to deny the claim of the paper.

‘… interesting reading?’ he had startled you, and you had immediately closed the book, almost risking to hit your nose, meanwhile Michael wasn’t able to stop a laugh from leaving his mouth  and you lowered your head to hid an embarrassed annoyance on your elegant face.

He had carved its traits in his pillow as he dreamt, a tormented dream of you standing right on the pillow next to him, staring at him longingly but resistance always matched it, in your eyes.

‘… definitely is’ you commented, meanwhile you turned the book so that he could look at his title, the defiance in your gestures didn’t have to speak loudly for it to be fully understood ‘… ‘The Scarlet Letter’ by Nathaniel Hawthorne, have you ever read it?’.

Michael had been a child when books had entered his life in silly fairy tales that his grandmother and then his ‘adoptive mother’ had started telling him, as they slowly got darker by the time grew into the figure he had been shaped in since childhood.

But as he had grown up, he had swiftly forgotten the pleasure of reading, different things occupying his mind and he hadn’t ever had a break to properly catch up with human literature, alongside.

And because of that and much more, he had to admit it that the passion of reading had slipped outside of his fingers quite early.

‘I sadly must say that I haven’t’.

Unsurprisingly insolence stayed on your face.

But it was also some kind of teasing innocence.

‘… it is actually an interesting and timeless story’ you explained, a twinkle of easiness on your face ‘… slutshaming is still very much real in here, since Venable would also oblige us to wear a scarlet letter on our chest, would she ever find out that somebody had sex with somebody else in here’.

Michael wondered whether you were you such a smartass always or only in the book department.

Either way, Michael enjoyed it thoroughly.

You seemed slightly less guarded off in the library and he could only guess that it felt the same way he felt in his own private chamber.

Hidden behind his extravagant clothes and his father’s influence.

‘You think that those rules are ridiculous’ it wasn’t a question and yet you nodded lightly ‘… well, I do find them a bit antique myself’.

‘You’d expect the dresses would be a torture enough’ you muttered, as you shot his a softer look ‘… and the poor Greys… it is almost… horrible how they are treated… very Charles Dickens’.

There was a light twinkle of madness as you said that and he could clearly see that although you had admitted that you didn’t want to go to the Sanctuary, you weren’t neither interested in staying here further.

‘Have you ever thought about stopping your survival instinct’ he wanted to ask you, but he knew that one wrong question would destroy all the soft climate that had appeared between you two, so he preferred to steer the conversation on human literature, something that got you quite passionate.

And he admired that love and that passion.

To be loved with such intensity it must have a thoroughly miraculous experience.

And he dreamt about it that night.

The following day he found himself in the library again and soon enough he discovered much more than your literary tastes.

He discovered your favorite colors and as he dressed himself up each morning, he wore them,  discovering that they immediately caught your eyes, in a way that seemed like some kind of animal mating ritual.

What had the Antichrist reduced himself to be just for the touch of a small flame of your love?

A complete actor and a clown at your service,

But slowly the ice in your personality started melting and he found that you had started to lean on his company as if you enjoyed it, encouraged it, even, although this didn’t mean that you had opened up to him in any way of shape.

And by this time Michael wasn’t sure whether you’d ever open up to him.

But you had your own way of showing devotion and interest.

Exactly as he did.

Once he had gotten quite along with you, he had given you his ring as a way to show that he somehow trusted you.

As a way to get you to know that he felt respect for you, although it was all hidden behind the premise of you ‘taking care of it’.

But it was a different show of rank and also it was a show of devotion and interest.

And when you had started wearing it, on a small chain around your neck, the pendant coming slowly to set itself on your chest whenever you stood up, in a way that made it pass unnoticed to everyone except you two.

And soon your crush had flared up.

Michael had been shocked when you had moved closer to him, in one of his afternoon library session, as you closed the book you were reading, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ one of your favorites definitely.

‘… you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you’ you had said loudly, almost as if you were sure this would be a big fail or an even bigger success, and then you had moved closer to him, something shy and clumsy in your antics as you pressed your lips against his.

And Michael, exactly like a clumsy teenager, as well was slow in his reply to you, pawing your shoulder harshly but you still kept your lips locked a few minutes more to make sure that it wasn’t an accident.

And when you separated you were looking at him expectantly.

‘… isn’t that what I am supposed to say?’ he asked softly, a small smile on your face, softness and genuineness appearing in both your faces.

‘I just thought that I am more Mr. Darcy between us two’ you commented and Michael suddenly felt very surprised by the fact that you knew about your behavior, your secretiveness and your shyness, the walls that blocked him from properly getting to know you ‘… it is just that… you are… you are not who I expected to fall in love with’.

A strange rage had filled him at that, matched with an uneasy annoyance at himself.

It was always the same story: he got rejected.

And you didn’t even know he was the antichrist.

‘… you definitely looked out of my league’ there was a glint of amusement in your eyes and a peak of relief in Michael’s chest as he came closer to you, the second kiss being definitely less messy than the first one, and the one that followed after.

And the one after.

And before he knew it you were both in his chambers, completely disrupting Venable’s rule about fornicating with each other.

And it felt good.

And those walls that you had up had come down, since you had let him in yourself in a way that had made him feel almost understood, as you fought for dominance and power under the sheets, before it settled in a small victory on his part.

Although from the moans, you definitely enjoyed it.

And now you were simply enjoying the quiet.

The quiet before the storm, since he knew that he couldn’t deny the true nature of his powers, anymore to you.

But he could delay the reveal a bit, as you smiled at him.

And your smile held the sweetest of secrets.

And he was glad he hadn’t solved each one you held.

---

Michael Langdon Taglist (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx​

---

Liked What You Read? Want To Support Me? Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Reader #Michael Langdon x Reader #Michael Langdon Imagine #Michael Langdon Fic #Michael Langdon Fluff #Michael Langdon Moodboard #Michael Langdon Writing #Michael Langdon x Female Reader #AHS Writing #AHS Apocalypse #AHS 8

[tenthgrove]

L’Inizio- A La Squadra Backstory Collection

Chapter 2: Dove La Mia Passione Mi Porta (Prosciutto)

Word count: ~3300

Warnings: parental illness, parental death, parental rejection, implied transphobia, drinking

Don Crepuscolo flicks idly through the corner of a book as he sits in his study. His mind filters out the occasional clatter of footsteps on the upper floor of his Neapolitan mansion- the maid, most likely, as well as the visiting capos he permitted a tour of the bedrooms, to get them out of his face for a while until the meeting scheduled later in the afternoon.

The middle-aged don jolts at the sight of the young man in his doorway, having approached the office quiet as a snake with no disturbance to the man’s wavering focus. Crepuscolo collects himself, joyed with recognition of the figure come to see him.

“Maiale! Daughter!” Crepuscolo greets. He opens his arms and beckons the young man to embrace him. Hands folded, he approaches quietly, and seats himself a distance opposite the desk.

“Hello, father,” Prosciutto speaks apathetically.

“Maiale, my dear, hello! I believe this is the first chance you’ve given me to congratulate you on the excellent results you’ve achieved on your examinations. Truly, I knew in my heart you’d do me proud,” the don praises. Prosciutto glances out the window.

“Yes, a pity your mouth did not agree with you until now,” he utters.

“No matter, no matter! What truly pleases me with your visit is that, well, you’ve simply been away on your- little celebrations so much this last month I’ve barely had any chance to see you! I really must know, what are your arrangements for your future now the necessary grades have been secured?”

Prosciutto takes a deep breath. He pushes a little dirt from under his nails and, after a few more moments, speaks. “As you know, it has always been my intention to go onto university.”

“Yes, yes, you had your eye on a place in Milan, last I checked.”

“No, Florence,” Prosciutto refutes him. “But anyway, I simply intend to go where my passion takes me.” Crepuscolo leans forward. He smiles.

“Practical and so assured, yet with a distinct streak for adaptability and the eclectic. Some things never change, do they Maiale?”

“No father, perhaps not.”

“Clearly. Now be a good girl and answer the question I asked you,” the don demands, gritting his teeth. Staring blankly, Prosciutto uncrosses his legs.

“Well father, the first thing I’m going to do is disown you,” he announces. Crepuscolo stutters in shock. “Disown?! But Maiale! How would you even do such a ludicrous thing?!”

“The normal way,” Prosciutto responds calmly. “I’ve been able to track down a lawyer. The same one who handled Mother’s will, incidentally, and begin the process of removing you as my next of kin and transferring it over to Signora Loreta. I have relinquished you of all obligations to me, and mine to you.”

“Have I taught you nothing, girl?” Crepuscolo snaps. “I am your father. I allowed you to live in this wonderful house, and paid for your tutoring and clothes, and let you live in luxury while half the children in this city wallow in the streets. You will never be free of obligation to me!”

“And as you were doing all that, you also threw your one year old son out into those streets the children wallow in!” Prosciutto retorts, his voice finally beginning to raise. “It is only right you should receive the same level of regard from your children, Don Crepuscolo.”

“But I always treated you well, Maiale!” the father insists. Prosciutto clenches his fists, and scowls.

“You left me alone at my dying mother’s bedside, while you were off in The Caribbean, with a girl half your age! If that doesn’t free me of any and all moral obligation to you, THEN WHAT DOES?!” he shouts. Don Crepuscolo goes quiet, then grips his desk in anger. Prosciutto gives his father a curt nod, and stands up, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. He turns his back on his father.

“You will have no penny of my wealth!” the don yells. Prosciutto turns around. The corner of his mouth flickers into a brief smirk.

“Nor would I ever ask for it. Mother’s lawyer and I had other discussions, regarding the specific terms of her inheritance. As he advised me, the criteria laid out for taking charge of her fortune myself could be fulfilled as simply as presenting my graduation certificate to the relevant parties. Since the clauses regarding my personal, direct inheritance were filed under a separate executer to the rest of her testament, you father, have no role in their fulfilment. My request to the bank is being processed as we speak,” Prosciutto explains. “So, I will make my position very clear. You are a sinking ship, and I do not need, nor intend, to be around when the engine blows. Goodbye, Don Crepuscolo!”

Prosciutto makes his way to the door. As he reaches for the latch, Don Crepuscolo smashes down on his desk.

“MAIALE!”

“Do NOT call me that!” Prosciutto screams. His body goes still, eyes wide. He gathers himself and storms out, grabbing the last of his bags outside the door and sprinting for the mansion’s back exit.

::::::::::::

Prosciutto steps off of the bus and strolls along the concrete pavement, towards the little white cottage at the end of the road. Setting his suitcase down on the porch, he knocks quietly on the door. He receives no response.

“Loreta!” he calls. “Signora? It’s only me! May I come in please?” An eager patter of footsteps approaches him. The door swings open.

“Prosciutto!” The woman greets eagerly. She is younger than she perhaps ought to be, not even a decade older than Prosciutto and with an appearance of perhaps less than that. Her thick, green hair is tied out the way at the back of her head, and Prosciutto notes the impracticality of her pink and brown jumper in the summer sun. “Oh Prosciutto,” she coos, bringing her hands to her mouth in joy. “Your voice, it’s wonderful!”

“Is it?” Prosciutto remarks, startled. “I didn’t think it had changed much yet. Father certainly didn’t notice, not that that’s a bad thing.”

“The don never did pay much attention, did he? Well, it certainly sounds like progress to me, so you should be proud of yourself, Prosci. Now, come in, come in!” she urges him, taking my the wrist and leading him to the house’s small kitchen. “So, tell me what you and your father talked about. I know you were very anxious about seeing him. Did you... take the big step?”

At that moment a young boy bounds in from the hallway, flinging himself at Prosciutto with open arms. “Fra!” the child shouts excitedly. Prosciutto picks him up and holds him.

“Hello Pesci, how are you doing, eh?” Prosciutto greets him. The young boy babbles something incoherently and bites his knuckles. Loreta gives a little laugh and takes her son from his brother’s arms.

“Pesci’s doing great, thank you. He’s settling into the new daycare and making a couple friends,” she announces, putting him down on the ground.

“Wonderful,” Prosciutto remarks with a smile. He leans down to address the child. “Now Pesci, why don’t you go play in your room for a minute. Let your mother and I discuss some business. If you’re good, I’ll take you to the park afterwards,” he promises. Pesci nods and hobbles back to his bedroom. Prosciutto sighs and stands up, turning back to face Loreta.

“Yes, I told my father I don’t want a relationship with him any more,” Prosciutto affirms. “He took it... poorly, but I believe he understands that I can’t be stopped. I shouldn’t be seeing much of him any more.”

“Congratulations. That was very brave of you, Prosciutto, and very good. Hopefully this will make things much easier for you from now on,” Loreta praises him.

“Yes, it very much will. I don’t have to worry about him finding my pills any more, and I’m looking into getting my first surgery before the end of the year.”

“That will be excellent for you! Changing the subject, you’ll have to remind me, my memory’s completely gone! What is it you’re planning on studying?” Loreta enquires.

“Politics, with a little literature on the side,” he answers.

“Politics? Do you plan to work with theory or practice?”

“Theory, god, never practice. If I tried that, father really might send an assassin out for me. I’m hoping to go into journalism, or something of the sort, though eventually I want to veer back into academia. I think it would suit me.”

“Definitely!” Loreta enthuses. “You could do anything you put your mind to Prosci!”

“I can only try. Now, your attention please,” Prosciutto says, whipping out a slip of paper from his pocket and places it down on the table. “I’ve done some maths. With the amount I’m getting from the inheritance, I can up what I’m giving you to 1 million lire a month, all the way up until Pesci turns 19. This is excluding a little extra to help with university costs, as well as some flexibility for you to take more in an emergency, say, if you ever lose your job. What do you think?”

“Prosciutto... I could never take from your mother’s money, it just wouldn’t be right,” Loreta refutes him.

“You were young, Loreta, you didn’t understand what you were doing. Believe me when I say that if my mother were here, she’d forgive you. Besides, father didn’t throw you out as his mistress, he threw you out as his wife. You deserve this money, Loreta, and I’m going to give it to you,” Prosciutto insists.

“It isn’t right,” Loreta repeats sadly. “Horrible thing, what happened to that woman. To just waste away for years on end while your husband prances around with some... girl. I should never benefit from that suffering. If I ever get sick like that, Prosciutto, just pull the plug. Pull the plug.”

Prosciutto sighs.

“If not for you, then take it for Pesci. Regardless of how she felt about you, I know my mother would never approve of any child living in poverty, especially not one I call my brother. Take it for him, please,” he begs her.

“Alright...” Loreta concedes. “I suppose I do really need it. Thank you, Prosciutto, it means a lot to me.”

“It’s what you deserve. Now, you’ve got your money, and I’ve got my freedom, and it’s all thanks to my mother’s will,” Prosciutto begins, pouring out two glasses of brandy from the cabinet. He sits down at the table. “To Signora Crepuscolo, for both our salvations.”

Loreta smiles and raises her glass, before drinking. Pesci returns from the hallway, and she quickly hides the glass and bottle behind her torso.

“What’s the matter darling, are you having fun?” she asks.

“I wanna play with Fra!” the boy insists.

“I suppose we’re done here anyway,” Prosciutto concedes. “Shall we?”

“I’ll just get Pesci’s coat,” Loreta agrees. She hurries off into the hall.

::::::::::::

A mere street away from the young family, a group of youths gather in the abandoned office. The youngest of the boys, a slender young man of 17, with raven hair and a hateful eye looks around the group critically as he shuffles on his feet.

“I’m in the right place aren’t I?” he asks. “Cause right now I feel like I’m either here to play tag or get stabbed, and neither of those is what I was called in for.”

“Depends,” one of the other boys says. “Are you Sorbet?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Who’s asking?”

“Name’s Matteo, I’m in charge here. I’m the one your pay’s been coming from,” the group’s leader explains. Sorbet looks him up and down and sees a sad, dishonest looking man only a few years older than him. It’s clear this boy isn’t actually where the buck stops rolling in this sad little street gang of theirs, but the fact Sorbet hasn’t been attacked yet tells him the boy’s story is at least close enough to the truth to trust what he’s about to say. He decides to hear him out. “I’ve heard a lot about you. ‘Said you’re good with your fists and better with a gun. Is that true?”

“That’s correct,” Sorbet says with a smirk.

“What is it you do right now? Errands?” Matteo asks.

“Mostly. Though lately I just do whatever’s needed. I guard meet-ups, deal with troublemakers-”

“Yes, that’s what we’re here to talk about,” Matteo interrupts. “Word is, you’re good at it. How would you feel about... maybe doing a little more than beating them up for a change?”

“You want me to kill someone? Done. The pay better be good though,” Sorbet agrees unconcerned.

“Oh, it will be. But what if I wanted you to kill multiple people? What if, you became the guy I call when I want someone killed?” Matteo proposes.

“I’m up for it, but I’d want to know why. Why’s a group like us suddenly need a massive hit list?”

“Opportunity,” Matteo answers. “It’s not that we’ve got a hit list, just that we might be able to afford one at some point in the future. “With Crepuscolo and his lot on his way out, it’s only a matter of time until we can come out of the shadows.”

“Ambitious. What makes you think we’ve got the manpower to usurp them?”

“Maybe we don’t, but we’re hoping whoever does will let us do what we want a little more. You know?”

“Passione, I imagine,” Sorbet surmises. The others nod in agreement.

::::::::::::

It is January of 1989 and Prosciutto is freshly 24. His diploma hangs over the wall of his lounge, above his typewriter and an array of open books. He pours a glass and relaxes, sitting back against the comfortable expanse of his settee. He takes a sip of red wine and flicks through his calender. Loreta will be visiting tomorrow with Pesci, and Prosciutto is looking forward to it very much. Supposedly, Pesci learned to ride his bike the other day, and he’s eager for the two to go out together.

Prosciutto feels he deserves a bit of a celebration. His last article, by all early measurements, performed very well, and there’s talk of promoting him among the newspaper agency. If all goes to plan, he might not need to rely on his mother’s inheritance for much longer. Perhaps, he might even be able to buy Loreta a new house. Pesci could use the space now he’s bigger.

Someone knocks at the door frantically. Prosciutto gets up cautiously, conscious of how incredibly late it is for someone to be looking for him. The knock rings out again, louder this time, and Prosciutto reaches for the door of the living room.

There’s a mighty crash, and several footsteps rush into the front room. Prosciutto rushes for the drawer to get his gun, always a good thing to have when you’re the estranged son of a crime boss. He aims it readily as the living room door is bashed open.

Four men, armed to the teeth, spill into the sitting room. They aim their weapons at Prosciutto, held back seemingly only by the warning hand of their leader. The man looks down at the photograph in his hand, and back up at Prosciutto.

“I take it you don’t go by Maiale any more.”

“No, but thanks for checking. Why the hell are you in my house?” Prosciutto demands.

“You are the eldest child of the late Don Crepuscolo, yes?” the man asks. Prosciutto lowers his gun.

“Why do you say late?”

“Your father was executed by order of our boss, yesterday evening. Depending on the course of this conversation, you may or may not be joining him,” the man explains. “Now kindly drop the gun.”

Prosciutto complies.

“We’re from Passione, if you didn’t know,” adds one of his companions. “They said you were a journalist, so I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the war that went on,” he notes.

“I... try to avoid covering stories related to the syndicates,” Prosciutto explains. His heart is hammering at a million miles an hour. This feels surreal, dream-like, but deep down Prosciutto knows it’s very, very real.

“Long story short,” the leader continues. “If you want to survive, it will be in Passione’s debt. Gotta make sure the boss can keep an eye on you after all. Now come on, you and I are going to get into the car. Sorbet, Gelato, go upstairs and take anything of value.”

“What? You’re taking my stuff?” Prosciutto protests. The leader shrugs.

“You got it all from your parents, didn’t you? We own all your parents assets now. That makes it ours.”

As Prosciutto stares dumbstruck, two young men with interlinked arms head up the stairs. His stairs, his house. He stand’s defenceless as the groups leader grabs him by the wrist.

“And by the way, Crepuscolo, we know about your brother. Just in case you were planning on making a run for it at any point.”

Prosciutto Crepuscolo is compliant as he is dragged from his home. Driven away in the backseat of his captor’s car, he watches helplessly as his house is burnt to the ground.

::::::::::::

“My father’s house didn’t last long either,” Prosciutto adds. His audience, consisting of one attentive Risotto Nero, and the passed out body of Gelato over the back of the sofa, remain quiet. “They knocked it down the other year. I’m sure you would have seen the construction work.”

“Yes, I think I recall that,” Risotto answers.

“Now here I am, second-in-command to the brand new assassination squad. Truly I’m honoured,” Prosciutto tuts. He downs another shot of alcohol, and Risotto apprehensively takes the cue to do the same.

“You don’t have any resentment to Sorbet and Gelato for the house?” Risotto asks.

“I can’t really, they didn’t benefit from it. Besides, at the end of the day, this has worked out for me. I don’t think I would have really made it as a journalist,” Prosciutto maintains.

“I wouldn’t agree!”

“Yeah, well you can keep it to yourself. I gotta cope somehow. Honestly though, the one part of this I do regret is my brother. I wish I could have spent more time with him, growing up, but I didn’t want to mix him up in... this.”

“He’s the reason you rejected the role of captain, isn’t he?” Risotto realises.

“Yes,” Prosciutto admits after a pause. “If I were in your role I don’t think I’d be able to make time for him at all.”

“I understand. It’s very noble of you, Prosciutto. To look after him like that.” Risotto judges. Prosciutto tuts.

“Whatever.”

The doorbell rings and Risotto tries to stand up.

“No, no, I’ll get it,” Prosciutto insists. He puts down his glass and heads downstairs to the door. The boy behind it trembles heavily as he looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Pesci?”

“Hi, Fra,” the boy says weakly.

“Pesci what in god’s name are you doing here? I told you not to come to this house for any reason!” Prosciutto admonishes him.

“I’m sorry! I know what you said but- Mum’s still in the hospital and... I really didn’t want to be alone again tonight.”

Prosciutto leans down. His eyes widen with worry.

“Alright, if that’s the case then you can come in,” he permits. Pesci steps forward and falls into his arms. He starts to sob.

“She’s really sick, Fra.”

“I know Pesci, I know. I’m here.”

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #prosciutto #prosciutto jjba #l'inizio