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spaghettiposts · 1 month

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Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York.

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on.

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours.

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it.

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one.

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece.

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click.

Finally, home sweet home.

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body.

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding.

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour?

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines.

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you.

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion.

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison.

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles.

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation.

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer.

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always.

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this.

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes.

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world.

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x wanda #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n

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elliespeach · 1 year

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the air that i breathe | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ "because i can make it quick, or i could make it so much worse." ´ˎ˗

synopsis: a camping trip you and ellie embark on takes a devastating turn. with you in the hands of raiders ellie's sanity is brought to her breaking point and she will stop at nohting to get you back. wordcount: 8.3k + warnings: 18+ ellie n readers headspace is very dark!! depression, panic attacks, horrible desperation, and lots of trauma responses that are vividly described. graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping, reader is confined in a cell by chains, food/water deprivation, hallucinations, torture (reader by raiders, ellie to the raiders) ellie is basically santa barabra ellie but multiply it by thirty n reader is like trapped in the dark so i think that counts as claustrophobia. this fic can b very triggering so pls take the tags seriously!! different povs (ellie n reader) they are seperated for most of this fic, theres some fluff in their dreams but thats truly as soft as it gets author note: pls pls read me!! this story came to me randomly, its not a traditional fic in my eyes but i hope u guys like it nonetheless!! the name comes from the show bridgerton, one of violets lines towards her husband and i was like THAT is true love so here we are :) theres a lot of in game elements to this story on ellie's part so i hope i did that justice :)) i'm a lil nervous to post this im ngl so pls be kind and lmk if yall like it plsssss i beg of u i wanna make this a multi part fic esp w the way it ends so any feedback will be appreciated!! ily guys enjoy

ellie’s pov

– three days after the kidnapping

the first thing ellie hears is the low, familiar voices of joel and tommy. as their mumbled conversation rings through her ears, her head throbs. a groan escapes her lips, bringing her hand up weakly to rub it as if it would help. ellie opened her eyes slowly, the pain intensifying from the sun shining through the windows. her vision came to focus, looking around it was the infirmary in jackson. she was laid down in one of the beds and when her eyes landed on joel and tommy, they looked at her sympathetically.

joel took small steps toward her, barely able to make eye contact. “how ya feelin’ kiddo?” he asked, painfully sitting himself down at the end of her bed. ellie wasn’t able to read him clearly, and then she started thinking. why am i in this bed? her mind raced and it must’ve been obvious to her company because joel spoke again. “it’s gonna be okay.”

she frantically searched through her foggy mind, everything was so blurry and out of order. she thought of you. the only thing that came to the front of her mind with ease. the camping trip, she thought to herself. she saw you in her head, all bundled up in the sleeping bag and wearing ellie’s shirt. her lips began to curl at the ends before she realized you weren’t here by her bedside. she remembers leaving the tent that night, for what reason she doesn’t know, but you stayed behind, cuddled up in the sleeping bag.

thats when– your scream. it echoed in her head, taunting her. the quiet forest that surrounded the two of you amplified your terrified scream and ellie’s face grimaced at the memory. she knows she ran to you, why was i so far away from you? her brain was waking up and with it, horrible images flashed in front of her. the tent that had been cut open, the rusty old pick-up truck, the men that had you in their grasp, the last glance ellie had of you before the bud of a gun was slammed into her head. it all came flooding back in an instant.

ellie looked up at joel, tears brimming over her eyes. she spoke in a low voice, but despite the tears that fought to fall, her tone was flat. “where is she?”

joel was quick to answer, “we’ve been tracking them–”

“how long have i been out?” she boomed, trying to sit up but her brain pounded against her skull, forcing her back down in the bed. joel moved up, sitting closer to her but couldn’t find the words, his heart ached for ellie. he looked to tommy with a solemn expression, and his little brother stepped forward.

“it’s been three days, ellie,” tommy vocalized softly. “we’re doin’ all we can, i promise.”

“obviously it’s not fucking enough!” ellie shouted, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes tight. you came to mind when she did, usually she pictures you happily; picking a flower and tucking in her hair, taking a nap on ellie’s couch with your head in her lap, posing while she drew you. you were the spitting image of innocence in her mind. but as her eyes shut now, all she could see was the absolutely heart-wrenching image of your face as you were thrown into the truck.

her eyes opened almost immediately, unable to see it even for a second longer. her cheeks became wet as the tears poured out of her, her breathing became erratic and she clutched her chest. joel was quick to comfort her but it only did so little. “we-we have to fi-find her,” ellie managed to speak through panicked breaths, feeling her chest about to burst.

the pain in her head was nothing compared to this, and it almost felt non-existent in the face of you being gone. being with them. whoever they are, whatever they want with you. they should have taken me. it should have been me. it should have been me. it should hav–

“ellie, breath–” joel cooed next to her, rubbing her back and removing her from her thoughts. “we’ll find her.”

“i’m co-coming with you,” her chest was still heaving and she felt like she’d never breathe right again. not until you were standing next to her.

tommy sighed, barely audible over ellie’s apparent panic-attack. “you’re on bed rest, kid. i’m sorry. but we will bring her back to you.”

his words felt like daggers and she was quick to respond. “if you think for one sec–”

“it’s not up for discussion, ellie.” joel interjected, his voice was soft but stern. and ellie scoffed through the tears, looking at joel harshly.

before ellie could spew a rant to him, tommy spoke, “we think they’re on the border of utah. were going tomorrow at first light and when we come back she will too. okay?”

ellie’s thoughts were a jumbled mess, and as her breathing became somewhat normal she was able to think. play it cool. “o-okay,” let them think i won’t go anywhere. “my head r-really hurts. gonna sleep for now,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket up and over her head. she laid with her back turned to them and she felt the bed move beside her. joel and tommy mumbled another string of words to each other before ellie heard the door creek open.

“rest up, kiddo. she’s gonna be okay.” joel said to her sympathetically and ellie remained quiet under her covers, plotting her escape.

she slept for another few hours. she knew she had to wait until night time anyway, there was no use in staying awake and plaguing her thoughts with what is happening to you. but as she slept her mind played horrible tricks on her, she dreamt of saving you that night. brutally slaying the men who had dared to even think about touching you, their blood stained her dreams but at the end of it you were in her arms.

when she woke up alone, her reality came crashing back down. it forced her to sit up, ignoring her head that was killing her slowly. there was no night time infirmary nurse and she knew now was her only opportunity to sneak away. the clock on the pale blue walls read one in the morning, jackson was asleep. the only people she would need to avoid were night patrols, and the guards around the armory.

she hauled herself out of bed, her feet dragging on the cold floor and she located her bag. her clothes from the camping trip were tucked inside and she quickly changed. ellie tried to picture the men’s faces, and all that came to her were figures whisking you away. she decided it was best to not think about it, but it was a lot easier said than done and she found herself shaking her head frequently to rid the images from her mind.

slipping out of the infirmary was easy, a small house on the corner of a dead end street. the streetlamps had been turned off by now, saving power and ellie easily made her way towards the armory. she approached in a crouch, hiding behind a bush in the shadows. she watched as the guards were laughing, telling stories and all around not paying attention. the armory was a larger building near the stables, the guards were circled around a makeshift booth at the front.

sneaking to the side of the building she tugged open a window and crawled inside. she loaded herself with her usual rifle that she took on patrols. taking it down from the wall she stared at it for too long, remembering the day she taught you how to shoot.

“all you have to do is point, aim and–”

“if you say point, aim and fire one more time.” you laughed at her, your attention shifting between the gun and ellie.

“i’m just trying to help you, pumpkin.”

instead of making her feel soft and warm, the memory made her go cold. she couldn’t place you, your face was a cloudy mess in her mind but your voice rang true. her eyes glossed over, hearing your laugh in her head and all she could think of what she would do to these people once she found them. in a haze she stuffed supplies in her bag, a surplus of ammo for her rifle and pistol and then some. she removed her switchblade from her bag and put it in her back pocket for easy access, throwing a trench knife into the backpack just in case.

she was almost back of out the window she came in when she realized the trip was going to be long, and she had no food in her bag whatsoever. sighing, she looked around. the left over food from the guards littered the small counter to the side of the room. sandwiches and nuts and ellie figured it would have to do and before long she was sneaking to her usual spot in the fence.

the walk to it was familiar, she had done it with you a thousand times. it was a loose panel of wood that to the unknowing eye would be a secured fence, but with a gentle tug, it gave way. ellie and you had discovered it one day, and it quickly became your get-a-way whenever one of you wanted to escape the confines of the walls. there was a small over-look just beyond the wall, about a ten minute walk from jackson. ellie had drawn you there with the landscape behind you, the picture is hanging on the wall in her garage and she cherishes it like it was gold.

she pictured you there, trying to remember how peaceful you were to her. like the calm in the storm that was her life. all she could conjure was that night so she dropped it and viciously bit her cheeks with frustration. ellie came to the broken piece of wood, taking a quick look around before pushing it and then herself through the gap. the forest beyond was still and quiet. peaceful almost. putting the board back in place, she turned and headed for the highway.

readers pov

– day of the kidnapping

the last you saw ellie she was falling to the ground as she came up to your campsite. the man who had been hiding behind the tree knocked her out with a swift blow to the head. you cried out, thrashing in the hands of the man who had lifted you from the ground. “fucking let go of me!” you shouted as your world tumbled around you, you fell into the bed of the truck with a hard smack, pain shot up your spine and you groaned, rolling over.

the man jumped up onto the back of the truck, making it wobble with his weight. you crawled backwards instinctively, your eyes darting from him and your motionless girlfriend on the ground yards away. your stomach turned as he pulled his fist back and there was nothing you could do before he brought it down heavily onto your skull and everything went black.

while unconscious, your mind brought you back to ellie’s room. her stereo playing softly as you sat on her bed, watching her read the same book she always did. her eyes scanned the pages as if she had never seen it before. she was laying on her stomach, legs dangling over the side of the bed as she flipped the pages. it was a book about the constellations in the sky and every so often she would show you a page and say it reminded her of you. “this one–” she showed you, a cheeky smile on her face as she turned the book towards you.

“that just looks like lines, els.” you chuckled at her while you examined the page. you never understood her when she spoke about space, but you liked to hear her ramble. her voice was so comforting to you and it always brought you back down to earth.

“no, no, pumpkin, look–” she pointed with her fingers on the page, outlining the stars. “its cassiopeia on her throne. d’ya see it?” her soft green eyes met yours, a hopeful look in them.

you didn’t see it, you just saw lines on a page but ellie’s enthusiasm poured through her and who were you to deny her of it. “yeah, i see it,” you lied, getting closer to get a better look hoping it will just come to you. “why do you say that?”

“dunno,” she shrugged, looking back to the page. “but it says here she was a queen, so i think that’s why.”

her words always left you feeling like the most special person, and to ellie you were. you playfully hit her with a pillow, causing a mildly loud “ow!” from her.

“you’re so fucking cheesy,” you smiled, hitting her again with the pillow. as you brought it down on her she grabbed it. ellie moved quickly and sat on her knees as she struggled to take the pillow from you. she looked down at you, back against the bed and giggling so sweetly. she was able to snatch the pillow, throwing it to the side and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“you love it, shut up.” her words bounced off your face and she pulled her face down to be directly in front of yours. her eyes stared into yours and you could see just how much she loved you on full display within her green eyes. she leaned in to kiss you and as her lips brushed against yours, the world around you melted away.

you felt cold and you could swear your eyes were open but you couldn’t see anything. you felt around, the ground beneath you was solid and ragged and as you moved you heard the clanking of chains. moving your hands down your legs you sensed the frigid metal that encased your ankle, following the chain with your hands to a bolt in the wall.

the walls had the same texture as the floor and you began to panic. you recounted the last memory you had, ellie laying on the ground. the man punching you in the face. reaching up to touch your sensitive skin, a sharp pain came from your cheek and you gasped. incoherent curses came stringing out of your mouth that quickly turned to yelling. you shouted for ellie, her name bounced off of the walls around you and with every call unanswered the hope inside you diminished. the darkness was over-bearing and you were forced to picture every horrible thing these people could do to you simply just because they could. your voice, that was still begging for ellie, became hoarse. a lump settled in your throat from wailing and you felt sick to your stomach.

you knew none of this was helpful. the screaming, the wailing, but you couldn’t help it. the emotions poured out of you until there was nothing left, ellie could be dead and you were locked up god knows where. you hadn’t even begun to think of why they had taken you, your head was too jambled to think straight. and after what seemed like hours in the black void of your cell, a dim light flickered on and came peeking beneath a door you didn’t even know was there. it illuminated the room just enough to see that cement encased you behind the metal door.

with a click of a lock the door opened and the sudden light hitting your eyes made you jump, shielding your face with your hands. you heard footsteps approach you slowly but stop a few feet away. a cold hand came up to your forearm and you swung, trying to keep whoever this was away from you at all costs. but their cold hands grasped your arms, forcing you to look upon them. the dim overhead light in the next room outlined the man in front of you, you couldn’t make out a face but he was brutish, and he smelled like a campfire.

“don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” the man growled, the taunting in his voice was sinister.

you used all the energy you could to spit in his face and he recoiled, letting go of your arms to wipe his face and he took a step back. “fuck you!” you snarled, spit leaving your mouth with the anger that boiled inside of you.

he chuckled as he wiped the remaining spit from his face, “we could have killed you, ya know?” the man muttered, taking small strides towards the metal door. his hand reached for the wall, turning on an overhead light in your cell. looking around, it seemed to be a basement. you could see stairs past the door to the cement room and as you peered through the door, the man repositioned himself in front of your face.

you didn’t say anything and his head cocked to the side as he knelt in front of you. “but we didn’t, do you know why?” his tone was antagonizing and as your eyes adjusted you could make out his face, a large scar was centered by his nose as if he had been cut. you shook your head at his question, not wanting to speak. also because your throat stung from the previous screaming.

“well,” he looked to the side, using his hands on his knees to hoist himself back up to his feet and he towered over you. “i would have told you but–” he motioned to his face, still glistening from your spit. “maybe tomorrow.” his words were fast, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

in a panic you lurched forward, arm out and you tried to stop him. your ankle tugging on the chain as you reached for him.“wait, please don’t!” came rushing out of your mouth but it was too late. the light was switched off and as the door shut behind him, you were enveloped in the darkness yet again.

— four days after the kidnapping

the black void of your cell had become never ending. after the man with the scar left, the only time anyone would open the door was to give you as little food as possible. keeping you weak and unable to fight back, but alive just enough to do whatever they had planned. if you had been told you were here for a week you would have believed it, time moves weird in the dark and you never knew what time of the day it was, if they were swerving you breakfast or dinner– you had no idea.

at first you tried to stand, to pace around and get your body moving. after a while it became too repetitive and you fell to your knees, tired and disoriented. you hadn’t moved an inch since, just laying curled up on the floor with your back to the door. the only thing that kept you occupied besides sleeping was reliving memories, playing them over and over again in your head. they were all of ellie, her freckled face and auburn hair and that stupid constellations book.

she was your every waking thought and even slipped her way into your dreams. ellie was the only thing keeping you from going completely insane in the darkness. you could picture her so clearly, but when you thought about her voice it never sounded right. you were only able to hear it in your dreams, but when you woke it slipped away like water in your hands. traceable, but not recognisable. you made it your mission to remember, a small controllable goal in a situation so far out of your hands and it provided a sense of comfort. as much as it could.

you were tracing her name over the cold ground beneath you, whispering it softly as if it was a crime when you drifted off once again. it had become routine and a sure fire way to make sure she was in your dreams, her voice and all. this time your dreams planted you in the memory of watching her favorite movie together, curled up on the couch with your head in her lap and her hands playing in your hair.

“don’t get attached to her,” ellie said casually above you, pointing to the small tv. you groaned, looking up at her and her innocent eyes met yours.

“you spoil every movie, els.” you say with a fake annoyance in your voice, playfully swatting at the hand pointing to the tv.

“i didn’t say what happens to her!” her hands go up defensively, looking down at you in her lap. her face had been speckled with sun freckles from the previous day, leaving it absolutely covered from her chin to her forehead. even her eyebrow slit had a few small dots in it, and you found it hard to be annoyed with her.

turning your attention back to the movie with an unsure mhm, your eyes left hers and for a moment there was silence. and ellie couldn’t help herself, she mumbled, “exceptshetotallygetschoppedinhalf.”

you sprung up, your head leaving her lap, positioning yourself next to her on your knees. swiftly you propelled her down and straddled her torso. dramatic gasps left her mouth and she placed her hands on your hips, looking you up and down. “you’re gonna pay for that, you know,” you said to her, cupping her face with one hand.

“i’m soooo scared, pumpkin” she teased, and as the words left her mouth it was like someone had pressed the mute button. her lips moved, and she was definitely talking but her voice was gone, like it had blown away in the wind. the nickname you cherished so deeply from her inaudible and as you realized this your eyes snapped open. the darkness was back, and ellie was gone, along with her voice.

you tried to cling on to it, but the harder you tried to remember it, the further it went in your mind. if you weren’t so dehydrated, you’d be crying and thrashing around, desperately hoping for her voice to come back to you. but instead being too weak to do anything, you pulled your legs up to your chest and laid in the silence. you didn’t know how long you had been asleep, not that it mattered anyway, but your stomach was feeling emptier than ever before so it must have been a while.

remnants of your dream flashed in your mind and your hand placed itself on your face as ellie had always done, imagining it was her. imagining her coming to save you, her holding you. every thought that consumed you was her. she can’t be dead. you repeat to yourself like your own little mantra. she isn’t dead.

time shifted again and you heard footsteps coming down the stairs beyond the door. the metal door clicked and opened as it always did, but instead of food being thrown at you in the dark, the lightswitch flicked on. your eyes nearly burst from the pain after being in the dark for so long and you covered them with your hands. “ready to talk like a civilized person?” the raspy voice spoke and you removed your hands from your face, squinting your eyes until they adjusted.

you nodded slightly and the man with the scar sighed, “good,” he crouched in front of you and you locked eyes with him, anger filling you up head to toe but you fought against it. “where’d we leave off, huh?”

“w-why you took me,” your voice was small and you realized you hadn’t actually talked in days besides muttering ellie’s name to yourself.

“right!” he exclaimed loudly, making you jump as it echoed off the walls. “you seemed valuable, at least to that girl,” as he acknowledged ellie, your face lit up and you hung on to his words. “so we figured, you’d be a good bargaining chip for food and whatnot.”

the nonchalantness in his voice made your skin crawl and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. “and you think giving me back like this will get you what you want?” you asked, your voice slowly returning. the man looked down on you with a smug expression.

“if they want you back alive, yeah. i do. we’re gonna send a party to your town to give them our demands for you,” his finger grazed your leg and you snaked it back. the chains rattled as you did and a chuckle came from him. “we just need to know exactly what you people got.”

worry swirled around inside of you and you knew what ellie would do in this situation, so you remained as strong as you could, picturing her in your mind. “i’m not telling you anything–”

“it’s your choice,” he sighed, reaching into his back pocket. he pulled out a small knife and it was too similar to ellie’s for your liking. “just know you can change your mind at anytime.” with that, his knife pierced your skin and your screams filled the room.

ellie’s pov

— five days after the kidnapping

ellie had been traveling on foot for two days now. her head still ached with the concussion she suffered and her feet felt like they were on fire with every step. everytime she felt like stopping, a foggy image of you would cross her mind and she would keep going. she only stopped when she was practically falling over, hours after the sun had gone down.

by the second day, her legs were giving out on her. she stumbled into the underbrush to the side of the road, falling to her knees and then flat on her stomach. too exhausted to eat and sleep came easy to her. she knew it would only be an hour of sleep but she physically couldn’t go any further tonight. so she embraced sleep, knowing it would only make her nightmares surface yet again.

tonight her nightmare seemed to be a complete recollection of that night. she was in the tent with you and you rambled about a book you had borrowed from dina. ellie was rifling through her backpack, looking for the constellations book. she had promised to show you cassiopeia on her throne in the night sky, but her book wasn’t in her bag. “i fuckin’ packed it,” she said mindlessly, dumping her belongings out onto your sleeping bag.

“it’s okay, we can find it without the book.” you reassured her, a soft smile on your face as you did.

“no, there was– ugh,” she sighed, accepting defeat. you looked at her, a puzzled expression on your face that she couldn’t quite see. “i had something for you, it was in the book.”

“i’m sure whatever it was, i’ll love it when we get back just as much.” you leaned up, planting a delicate kiss on her lips. ellie’s worry washed away and placed a hand to your cheek when you pulled apart.

thats when the silent forest came to life. animals could be heard sprinting between trees, and the birds caulking as they were so rudely woken up by whatever had scared them. ellie’s head turned to the opening in the tent and you grabbed her arm, forcing her to look back to you.

she saw the usual cloudy mess instead of your face, but in her dreams it seemed to be normal. she sat up, rubbing the arm that clutched hers before she spoke. “probably just a runner, i’ll be right back.” she kissed the top of the blur and felt the grip loosen around her arm.

“be quick–” you whispered to her as she left the warm tent into the chill air. ellie looked around the campsite, not seeing anything but the noises of the animals still alarmed her, so she expanded her search.

she had wandered down to the small creek about twenty yards from you, hoping the sound of the rushing water had attracted the infected but there was none in sight and as she turned to make her way back to you, and the night you had planned, your shriek came barreling through the trees.

not hesitating for a second, ellie was running. her fists pumping at her sides like a madman, she didn’t have time to think about what could possibly be tormenting you, but when she bursted into the campsite and her eyes locked on you, thrashing in the grasp of a random man, her heart sank to her stomach. your face was no longer blurred, she could see every detail that made your face so perfect but your terrified expression haunted her and the gun coming down on her head sprung her awake.

the sun hadn’t risen yet and her surroundings were still dark. she pushed herself off the ground, not wanting to go back to sleep until you were next to her. coming from the trees that lined the highway, she kept going. the little rest she got was enough to propel her forward and while she walked her mind wandered. it wasn’t long before the sound of morning birds snapped her out of a haze and as she looked up from her feet she saw a welcome to utah sign. it was still dark, probably the very beginning of the morning and ellie noticed smoke coming from the trees just behind the sign.

not hesitating she moved closer, taking her steps slowly and lowering herself to the ground, she pushed past the trees and saw the makings of a camp. a giant fire roared in the middle of all the people sleeping around it. her eyes landed on the man to the left, furthest from the horses and a picture flashed in her mind. he laid there peacefully, but ellie recognized him as the man who had knocked her out. and suddenly her thoughts halted themselves and her feet moved for her.

knowing she could never take all of them at once, especially as exhausted as she was, ellie decided on a different plan. starting with the woman closest to the horses, she positioned herself right next to her and grabbed the knife she had placed in her pocket. ellie’s hand covered the womans mouth and her eyes opened harshly. without a second thought, she sliced the knife along the neck of the panicked woman.

the fires crackling was enough to mask the sound of her blood gurgling from the wound. the woman grasped at ellie desperately trying to save her own life but her movements soon slowed, her arms falling to her sides. removing her hand, she moved on to the next one. watching as the life drained from him as well as he struggled to alert his friends. ellie had gone glossy eyed, and if she was being honest she wasn’t in full control of her actions. her mind only had one goal, and these people stood in her way. they caused this. they deserve it.

blood spattered onto her face while she glided the switchblade across the neck of the third man, once he had stopped fighting back and his eyes were staring blankly up into the sky ellie locked her own eyes on the final man. the one who had prevented her from saving you, now that it was only him left she stomped over to him. as she approached him, her chest was heaving and blood dripped from her face.

she stood over him for a moment, watching as he slept peacefully. cocking her head to the side, she kicked him harshly in the stomach. immediately he rolled over, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. ellie drove her foot into his now exposed back and he cried out in pain yet again. despite his pain, the man tried to get away. crawling on his hands and knees as quickly as he could, he only made it a few feet when the sound of ellie’s gun cocking made him stop in his tracks.

“turn around,” ellie grunted, her breathing more heavy than before. the man did as he was told, and as he did his eyes widened at the sight of ellie, covered in blood, sweat and dirt. they wandered past her, looking upon his dead friends and his hands raised to the side of his head.

“take it all–”

“you remember me?” her voice was low, hushed even and as the terrified man studied her face his eyebrows raised slightly, and ellie’s lips threatened to curl at the ends. “yeah, you remember me.”

the man remained quiet in his realization and ellie’s gaze directed itself at the paper poking out from his pocket. the fire illuminated the camp just enough to see it was a map and she motioned her gun towards it, “you’re gonna show me exactly where she is.” her voice was flat but firm.

“i can’t do that–” his voice trembled and his words were cut off by ellie moving closer to him, her gun now directly in his face.

“you don’t have a fucking choice!” she shouted, ripping the map from his pocket while her gun remained closely trained on him. she laid it flat on the ground, crouching down to his level and staring him down. he shook his head feverishly, terrified of ellie but even more concerned about her finding their base. while he refused to speak, she had grown tired of waiting and with her available hand took her switchblade and dug it deeply into his thigh and twisted with all her strength.

he wailed, losing balance on his knees and falling to his side. ellie removed the knife, wiping it clean on her jeans before lowering her head to him. “you’d better start fucking talking.”

the gun was still pointed to his face and he looked at her with disdain, “i’m fucking dead anyway why would i tell you anything.” he said breathlessly, trying to cover the hole in his leg with his hands and failing miserably.

“because i can make it quick,” she twirled her switchblade in her fingers, grazing it over his cheeks as he winced back. “or i could make it so much worse.”

“fuck you!” he spat with all his might and ellie dug her knife into his arm, sliding it down while it tore open his flesh. his screams filled the woods around them and in a desperate attempt to save his life, he reached for her gun.

it pointed up and ellie fired at the sudden scramble. the man tackled her to the ground, pinning her down and fighting to take the gun from her hand. in the tussle, her switchblade fell from her grasp and landed a few feet away. in a panic she fought for the gun, kneeing the man in the stomach as hard as she could but he remained firm on top of her. her free hand swung up, knocking him on the head and his grip on the gun loosened. as she yanked it back, it slipped from her own hands and fell to the ground. while he was stunned from her punch, ellie managed to throw him off of her. she rolled around, looking on the ground for her gun but it blended in so well with the dirt and sticks she couldn’t see it.

taking a quick look back to the man, he had picked up a rather large rock and tried smashing it down on her head. ellie moved, nearly missing having her head bashed in and she noticed her blade glistening in the now rising sun. she army crawled as the man grasped at her legs to pull her back. her fingers fiddled with the handle before she was able to firmly wrap her hand around it. as she did, the man dragged her back towards him and while he tried to position himself on top of her, ellie plunged the switchblade deep into his chest. the crunch of it piercing his sternum confirmed it was a deadly hit and she watched as he lost any hope to stay alive.

his mouth hung open in shock, looking down to the puncture wound and his hands went to grasp around it. his legs straddled ellie’s torso, allowing the blood that poured from it to fall directly onto her. the man coughed and instead of spit, blood spewed from his mouth staining his teeth in the process before he fell over beside her. ellie didn’t move, her breathing erratic from the fight.

the man gurgled on his own blood for a moment before it got quiet again, the woods silent as ever except for her heaving breaths. her hands fell to her sides and she gazed up to the sky, the stars still burning brightly above the trees. all of her exhaustion hit her at once like a truck and she fought to keep her eyes from closing. right before she thought sleep would consume her and she would have to relive her worst nightmare all over again, she saw the makings of a constellation. at first, it wasn’t recognizable, just another clump of stars in the galaxy. but when it clicked in her mind, she propped herself up on her elbows and the tiredness melted away. it was cassiopeia.

that was everything she needed. ellie got up with a new surge of energy, taking the map with her and anything else she could find useful. she strode away from the grim scene on their horse, following the map to the first exit off the utah highway. with the horse, the rest of the journey seemed like light work. it was only an hour before she spotted the fences to the community.

tying the horse to a hidden tree for a get-away, she circled the small town. the fence was chain linked and she watched inside as the town woke up to start their day. ellie was able to see that only a small amount of people woke up this early, leaving the streets barely occupied.

staying in the shadows, she slipped under the fence that was poorly secured. she found herself in between two small houses, ellie could make out mumbled words from the street so she moved up, making sure to stay as close to the wall of the house as possible.

“....hopefully they will come back with the stuff by tomorrow.” a woman's voice could be heard, ellie dared not to peek around the corner and listened further to their conversation.

“we don’t even know if they have anything, we could be chasing a dead end.” ellie’s eyebrows furrowed as the second voice spoke. she figured they were talking about the group she had slaughtered, but could jackson be the dead end they were speaking about? is that why they wanted you?

“just gotta hope for the best, i guess.” the woman spoke again before her footsteps could be heard walking away. ellie’s body tensed up, quickly her mind showed her the haunting image of your face and she shook her head, focusing her eyes around the corner. she caught a glimpse of the woman walking down the sidewalk, leaving the man to stand in front of the house alone. he was reading a note intensely and ellie took a look around to make sure her coast was clear.

she came up behind him, swiftly covering his mouth and dragging him back between the houses for cover. she ripped the note from his hands and used the bandana that had been around his head to cover his mouth and threw him to the ground. while she examined the note, her pistol was focused on him keeping him in place.

residents be advised that your council is doing all they can to provide for you. we are currently bartering with a town in wyoming for food, and unlike last time, we are sure they will be more than happy to provide.

ellie balled up the paper in her fists, scoffing and throwing it beside the man. “the girl, where is she?” ellie hissed at him, keeping her voice low. he mumbled through the bandana and she rolled her eyes. “don’t fucking scream, you can make it out of this.” she said before pulling the bandana down.

the mans eyes were wide with fear as he looked upon ellie, but he spoke fast and quietly while darting his eyes between her and the gun. “i don’t know about a girl, i really don’t plea–”

ellie shook her head before snatching his wrist in her hand, bending his finger back and he winced. “okay, okay okay,” he rushed out, feeling his finger about to snap. “our hunters, they came back a few days ago with something they wouldn’t tell anyone about,” he paused, looking at ellie and her grip loosened.

“keep talking.” she ordered him and he stammered his words, trying to desperately abide by her rules.

“usually they bring the meat to the kitchen but-but they parked the truck outside of our leaders house, said it was nothing but it didn-didn’t look like nothin’.”

ellie moved the gun into his neck, nuzzling it right below his ear and his breathing hitched up. “where?”

“go left do-down the street, the truck is old you can’t miss it!” ellie knew the truck all too well and without another word she removed the gun from his neck and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“thanks–” ellie whispered as her switchblade lodged itself in his neck. he didn’t scream, just looked at her wide-eyed as he tried to stop his neck from bleeding. ellie didn’t wait around, his blood still bubbling as she walked away, turning left down the street.

she was careful, she moved down the street hiding behind cars, bushes and whatever else she could find. when she was starting to think the man had given her bad information, the truck came into view. it was parked blissfully in the driveway of a quaint looking house. she found herself climbing through an open window on the first floor, escaping the street and its peering eyes. ellie landed in the living room of the house, it wasn’t decorated, the walls were blank and the furniture looked like it was rotting away.

that's when she heard voices coming from upstairs, she almost ascended the stairs herself but the voices were coming closer. she hid behind the dusty couch as the stairs creaked and found herself in the company of two men who had no idea she was eavesdropping.

“we already sent the group, why do you need more from her?” the raspy voice uttered, a hint of annoyance laced in his tone.

ellie heard a long sigh, “because they could become our primary suppliers. as long as we have her, they will give us whatever we want. for as long as we want.” the second man spoke with a heavy country accent and her blood boiled, she stopped herself from jumping the two, instead listening for more information.

“she wasn’t very forthcoming the first time–”

his voice was cut off, “well fuckin’ make her. i told you whatever it takes.” another sigh filled her ears, and she wasn’t sure who had done it but feet were stomping away and she glanced around the couch. she witnessed a bald man opening a door down a dark hallway, while the man who had the accent went back upstairs. her brain was split, but she knew they wouldn’t have kept you upstairs so she followed the bald man with the raspy voice, opening the door silently and descending the stairs that were behind it.

the end of the staircase opened up to a dimly lit basement, it was unfinished and dirty. she caught a glance at a metal door at the opposite end of the room before turning her attention back to the bald man, who was crouching down beside a workbench. it was lined with tools, but ellie knew what they were for. so as fast as she could, she approached him. he was barely able to turn around before she tackled him to the ground. the man was big but being caught off guard helped ellie as her hands gripped around his neck.

she put all of her body weight into his neck, he was choking and failing his arms around at ellie. it didn’t phase her, even when he had slapped her across the face in his panic. her face was contorting with all the exertion and she stared down at him, never breaking eye contact. a scar was slashed across his face and she recognized this as the man who had thrown you into the truck, the image coming to her clearly. his eyes were bulging from their sockets and his legs were kicking with a passion but as ellie came to this realization she jerked her hands down, the applied pressure breaking his neck under her hands and he immediately went limp.

in a cloudy haze she stood up, catching her breath and looking around for a key. she practically threw everything off of the workbench in front of her and when she didn’t find it she moved back to the man on the floor. she dug through his pockets and her fingers found a small metal key.

she walked towards the metal door slowly. now that she was here, she was terrified of what she would see behind the door. she put the key into the lock and turned, earning a click. she breathed out all the air in her lungs before pushing it open and her heart was beating faster than she had ever known possible. the room was dark, and seemed empty. the light from the other room allowed her to see a small switch on the wall and she flicked it on, now fearing you werent even here.

but you were. the light came on and your hands flew to your face shielding your eyes. ellie’s eyes immediately brimmed with tears seeing you. she took a step forward, taking off her backpack and laying it on the ground beside her. you were so obviously injured, puncture wounds up and down your legs with dried blood surrounding them. the chain around your ankle had almost embedded itself in your skin, resulting in a horrible looking bruise that had worked its way up your leg. ellie breathlessly said your name, tears falling from her eyes and your hands moved from your face slowly.

your eyes weren’t adjusted, you just saw a blurry figure in front of you but you could have sworn you heard her voice. the voice that had escaped you every time you tried to hold on to it, and you thought your brain was playing a cruel prank. “please don’t,” you uttered quietly, fearing she was the man with the scar coming back to torture you more.

ellie dropped to her knees in front of you, looking at your battered body not able to form words. they had broken you, and she blamed herself. anger brewed inside of her but in this moment, she remained soft spoken. “it’s me,” she whispered, reaching her hand out to touch your leg which you snaked away, still not believing she was actually there. you believed you were so desperate to see her, to hear her, that she materialized out of thin air. but that meant you were truly losing your sanity and you could barely look at her.

“its not you–” you said back to her, looking to the floor and ellie’s eyes shut tightly to hold back anymore tears. you had backed up all the way to the wall, leaving ellie in the center of the room. she slowly moved to you as you watched her from your peripheral view.

she came up in front of you, “it’s me, pumpkin,” and placed a hand to your shallow cheek as she always had done.

feeling her warm hands on your face, you met her eyes. her warmth couldn’t be your imagination and your own eyes welled up as she dragged her thumb carelessly across your cheek. her appearance didn’t even phase you, all you cared about was her. “ellie,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and placing your hand on top of hers that cupped your face. “you’re actually here?” your voice was small and faint, and it felt like ellie was stabbed in the heart.

the blur that ruined her memories of you was gone. even the image of you being whisked away was gone. she scanned your still perfect face, it’s only faults being sunken in from hunger and bruising that littered your cheeks but it was still perfection to her. she felt more relief than she had when she killed the man in the woods, and the bald man that still laid a few feet away. you were here in front of her, finally. ellie couldn’t help but smile at you, all her efforts hadn’t been in vain.

“i’m actually here,” she repeated to you, connecting your foreheads together. “i found you.”

ellie leaned back, inches from your face. her voice rang in your ears and you felt like you were floating with every word that came from her mouth after missing it for so long. you managed a smile for her. she was so close to you that you had barely seen the figure towering over her from behind, your mouth began to form her name to warn her but it was too late. the figure smashed ellie over the head and she fell unconscious beside you.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fanfiction #biblically accurate ellie williams #angst angst angst #ellie williams the last of us part 2 #santa barbra ellie

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riality-check · 10 months

Note

riiaaa!! for the 100 ways to say i love you prompts, #1 and steddie please!!

(this is also very late, but here we go!)

"Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"Steve."

"Mhm."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna drive us off the road."

"I'm fine," Steve says, and Eddie watches from the passenger seat as the car moves a full two feet onto the shoulder.

And people have the nerve to criticize his driving.

"Yeah, no," Eddie says. "Pull over, let me drive for a while."

"I got it," Steve says, a mid-sentence yawn ruins his credibility.

Eddie sighs. Steve is more than just a good dude; he's become one of Eddie's closest friends over the past few months, thank you, trauma bonding. But even though Steve Harrington is a good person, he's exceptionally stubborn when he wants to be, and driving his Beemer is the most stubborn he ever gets.

Seriously, though? He needs to sleep. He's gonna get them hurt otherwise.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and where that came from, he's going to blame on the sleep deprivation, "please. I promise I won't scratch your car."

Steve straightens up at that. Sneaks a glance at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. Relaxes his grip on the wheel.

"Okay," he says, and he puts his blinker on, pulls onto the shoulder. "Yeah, you can drive."

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief as they switch seats. He's lucky he and Steve are the same size, nearly; he doesn't have to adjust the seat or the mirrors.

He glances at Steve, just to make sure he's settled, before he shifts the car into gear and gets them back on the road toward Hawkins.

Move in was a success all around. First Nancy, in Boston, then Jonathan in New York, then Robin in Philadelphia. Steve and Eddie had nothing else to do, the gas money to spare, and a want to help out. Taking the Beemer seemed stupid until Eddie was reminded by everyone, less than nicely, that the van would fall apart on a drive to Indy, nevermind to three different cities on the East Coast.

They fit less boxes, but at least they made the journey without breaking down.

And now they're on their way back, at nearly midnight with four hours left to go, because it makes more sense to drive than to find an affordable hotel that's not a shithole in Philadelphia.

"This is weird," Steve mumbles.

"What is?"

"Letting someone else drive my car," he explains. "Last time, I was concussed, and Max almost drove us into a telephone pole."

"Mayfield?"

"Yeah, back in '84. Hargrove beat the shit out of me so bad I could barely think, the kids had to get somewhere, and she was the only one who knew at least a little about how to drive."

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. "Everything I learn about you is weirder and weirder."

"I didn't even tell you the worst part."

"Which is?"

"I was so out of it, I thought Mike was Nancy."

Eddie cackles, wiping the tears from his eyes as he continues to drive. Thank god no else is on the road.

"They don't even look alike," he wheezes.

"In my defense," Steve says with a smile, "I did have brain damage."

"Past tense?"

Steve punches him in the shoulder. "Asshole."

Eddie rubs over the spot with one hand and keeps driving with the other. It's nice, this time of night. No one on the road, warm enough to have the windows cracked in the pitch black. Music playing loud enough to hear but low enough to have a conversation over.

It helps that Steve's rich-boy car drives smoother than anything else Eddie's been behind the wheel of, and Eddie's been behind a lot of different wheels in his life.

"Thanks," Steve says after a little while.

"For what?"

"Driving."

"Of course," Eddie says, because he means it. Of course he'd drive when Steve can't. It's what you do for the people you-

Eddie looks over at Steve. He's kicked his shoes off and scrunched his knees to his chest on the passenger seat. He's curled up, toward Eddie, with his hair fanned out and his cheek squished against his knee, eyes closed. The streetlights, as they race by them, cast his skin in varying shades of silver and gold, highlighting the contrast of his freckles.

-love.

Eddie's doing this because it's what he does for the people he loves.

It's a quieter realization than he expected. Eddie has loved a lot of people like he loves Wayne and his friends, but he's never been in love before. He thought it would be an all-consuming, heart-racing crash, a collision bringing fire and constriction, needing the jaws of life to pull him out.

This isn't like that. This is liking being a little kid, jumping off the couch, and knowing someone is waiting at the bottom to catch him. There's the feeling of danger, sure, but he knows what's at the bottom.

He wonders how long he's known. Long enough for that love, the love he has for Steve, to be something comfortable and warm in his chest.

Steve's hand rests on the space between them, palm up, outstretched. Eddie takes it and squeezes it.

And, though Steve is surely asleep, he thinks he might squeeze back.

Prompts here.

#ria writes #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #fluff #asked and answered #stevethehairington #thanks for asking!!

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incognit0slut · 11 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (7)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder case. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

Part Summary: She finds herself in a compromising position.

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: this is my first time writing suspense and crime-mystery, so bear with me if you find any inaccuracy

IF THERE WAS ONE THING SPENCER WAS SURE OF, IT WAS BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. Fatigue, like an invisible shroud, draped itself around his shoulders, draining all of his energy while his mind stumbled through a labyrinth of exhaustion.

He stifled a yawn, his mind trying to focus on the situation at hand and not the lack amount of sleep he was having. When was the last time he actually slept on his bed? When was the last time he went through his days without constantly refilling his cup with too much caffeine? The muscles around his eyes were starting to twitch with restless energy, a sign of a restless mind faltered under the weight of weariness.

Yet amidst it all, a strange resilience emerged within him. He still managed to focus his blurred vision, scanning his eyes around the room as he pushed away any fatigue and the desire to be somewhere else.

His gaze finally ceased on Garcia, engrossed in her own digital world, a sleek laptop perched on the round table before her. She leaned in, her eyes fixed on the vibrant screen which illuminated her face with a soft, cool glow. "Alright, so, I did more digging onto our recent victim, and let me tell you this, Jamison Lynch wasn't exactly the boss of the year."

Jennifer Jareau—who most of them regarded as JJ—looked up from the document in her hand, sitting across from Garcia. "What do you mean?"

"Jamison Lynch was somebody you wouldn't want as a boss. There were a lot of complaints coming from his subordinates—which surprisingly, most came from female workers."

Spencer's eyes scanned the large board in front of him adorned with a labyrinth of interconnected information. Photographs of the two crime scenes were pinned up, highlighting key details, while strings of marks and drawings crossed the board. "He was very different from the first victim."

"Exactly. Kevin Marshall was the epitome of boss of the year, and everybody just loved the guy, which was why no one could guess how something terrible could happen to him."

"There's a chance what happened to him isn't related to his job," JJ offered.

"Maybe not," Garcia muttered, throwing Spencer a curious look. "But the question is still unanswered, how are the two victims linked to one another?"

"The Unsub's memo is clearly done to punish them," Spencer explained, his attention started to gather all the information gripped onto his brain. "The verse written on Jamison Lynch's body was Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in our Lord."

JJ leaned over the desk with a pointed stare. "One thing for sure, the Unsub has a strong religious background."

Spencer nodded. "All the verse they used highlights the notion that sin carries consequences, and death is described as the 'wage' or payment for those transgressions. In his mind, they may interpret these verses as a justification for his vigilante actions, believing that he's carrying out divine punishment on behalf of God."

"A religious upbringing," JJ suggested. "The Unsub could have grown up in a deeply religious environment, where strict interpretations of scripture might be emphasized."

"Most likely a distorted belief system." Spencer's hands were all over the place as he continued with his elucidation. "Over time, the Unsub's religious beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading him to believe that he possesses a unique calling to carry out punishment on behalf of a higher power."

He then studied the picture of the first crime scene, his eyes raking over the lifeless body covered in a pool of blood. "Kevin Marshall might seem like the golden citizen, but he must be involved in something that could be illegal..." He suddenly looked over to Garcia. "Did Jamison Lynch start his career as a journalist?"

Her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yes, he published a lot of his work since 2004."

"Search any articles he wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, or maybe the company he worked for. "

"Or legal cases that he was assigned with," JJ added.

"That could be a start, although it might take a while because sleuthing without much lead is difficult." Garcia peered at the two of them by the rim of her eccentric, colorful glasses. "But do not fret, I am known to be the best."

Footsteps suddenly emerged into the room as Aaron Hotchner glanced around the three of them. "Garcia," he mentioned, standing behind her. "Did you find any old cases that might be involved in the victims?"

"Ah, yes, the system was searching through the database based on your queries this morning and it took me a while before—" A sudden ping echoed from her device. “Well, that was perfect timing."

Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as her eyes scanned the dimly lit screen. Everyone in the room stood frozen in their tracks, their faces etched with a curious mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Garcia's eyes widened, revealing the turmoil that echoed the collective sentiment of the room. "Whoa."

JJ stood up and circled her way around the table, standing close to her. "What is it?"

"I started looking through the database for any similar crimes in surrounding areas this morning." Her attention shifted between the other three people in the room. "There have been enucleations in other cases, but none recently, and none close by. No similar murder case was shown, but suicide on the other hand..."

"Harvey Webb," JJ read, looking at the photo of the deceased man. "Suicidal death?"

"Thirty-nine-year-old landlord took a tumble off a sixth-floor balcony two years ago, exactly on the apartment complex he rented out."

"Why are we looking at a suicidal case?"

"That's the thing, the local authorities ruled out that he might've not jumped on his own accord, although his wife at that time determined that he had been having suicidal thoughts for a long time and decided to close the case." Garcia did more tapping on her keyboard and somehow pictures of the crime scene were plastered across the screen in front of the room. "Harvey went through depression and a lot of suicidal attempts, there were always cuts along his arm except—"

"There was a writing on his body?" Hotch guessed.

Garcia nodded as she clicked on a clearer picture of the victim's arm. "His autopsy came in that while there were definite signs of attempt self-hurt, this was written between the cuts."

"Galatians 6:7," Spencer read, his eyes fixated on the screen as he recited, "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Definitely a vigilante on the loose," JJ remarked.

Spencer hummed a positive response and walked over to the board, a marker in his hand as he wrote down the verse. "This verse underscores the concept of reaping the consequences of one's actions, which could further justify the Unsub's belief that his victims deserve punishment for his perceived sins or mistakes."

Hotch studied the pictures of the recent victims and the one shown on the screen. "The way the words are carved across the skin is definitely done by the same person," he noted.

JJ looked between the three pictures before nodding. "I agree." She then glanced up at her co-workers. "So why the different MO? Something connects these three victims, and yet this one"—she pointed to the photo of Harvey Webb—"died in a completely different manner. He either jumped or was pushed. We don't even know if it was a murder, just that he was branded the same as the other two victims."

"The timeline doesn't add up," Spencer claimed, his brows furrowed deeper. "There's too much of a gap between the first victim and the second victim, we're looking at two different stressors that triggered the Unsub."

Hotch stood beside him, crossing his arms as he studied the evidence they had collected these past few days. "If this was his first victim and the two men were his second and third, it's possible he's advancing, that his fantasy is developing."

Spencer looked back at the three pictures. What connected these three dead people, two murdered in violent, heinous ways, the third a potential suicide victim? What wrongdoings might they possibly sin? And now he couldn't help but feel the weight of Hotch's words and how revolting one could act in this series of crimes, proclaiming them as fantasies, his skill, and determination more distinguished than ever before.

"If that's the case..." he pointed out, a certain tension hanging in the air. "He's only getting started."

Y/n must be mad—utterly, completely out of her mind.

She always considered herself a very sensible person characterized by an ability to think critically, or make rational decisions on logical reasoning. But her thoughts, once orderly and coherent, twisted into bewildering shapes because here she was, perched right in front of an apartment door she once closed behind and never looked back.

Why did she think it was a good idea to come here uninvited at this time of hour? How did she end up being here when she was lying in her bed a few hours ago?

She recalled turning around in her sleep, or perhaps, her attempt to rest her eyes, because she found herself staring into the dark with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Maybe all the turmoil of emotions piled up in her chest had her going into a panic frenzy, relentlessly moving in her bed when she should've been fast asleep.

Somehow amidst dwelling on her anxiety, she was suddenly on her feet, putting on a jacket before calling a cab. Her mind was too tangled to be driving on her own, and when the driver asked her where she was heading, she recited the area she was familiar with. Did she remember the building she wanted to go to? Yes. Did she know the exact address? Apparently not.

Although it was easy to spot the building. The old but clean apartment was recognizable, the sturdy wooden door, adorned with vintage brass fixtures, welcomed her after she tipped the driver her fair. The cool air hit her face, her hair flying around her shoulders as she spotted a residence walking out of the building. She quickly slipped in, seeking a very much-needed warmth, yet now she was starting to question her common sense.

But it was too late to turn back because her hand was already curling into a fist as she knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. When there was no answer, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. She knocked once again, and when she was met with silence, she decided it was a sign that she was indeed making the wrong decision.

So she exhaled a breath she wasn't even aware of holding, turned around, and completely froze when she was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes. There he was, almost a week since the last time she saw him, standing on the last step of stairs.

Time seemed to stand still. Her heart skipped a beat, his presence exuded a captivating charm. His chiseled features were accentuated by a sculpted jawline, leading up to a pair of intense, deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a hefty amount of fatigue. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, hinting at nights spent wrestling with restless thoughts.

He was dressed in a rumpled shirt and loosely fitted trousers, his attire mirrored the fatigue he wore upon his face. The fabric seemed to hang upon his frame, lacking the crispness that usually accompanied his wardrobe. But despite his weariness, there was an undeniable pull emanating from his presence. It should be illegal how handsome he still looked even when he looked like he needed some rest.

Spencer took a tentative step closer, looking reminiscent of a puppy with his eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic either confusion or concentration. "Y/n?"

"Hi," she awkwardly greeted, suddenly feeling out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"I..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed as she tried to find a reasonable answer. But somehow she found herself telling him the truth. "I honestly don't know."

His eyes fixed upon her, silently studying her figure. A cascade of lustrous hair framed her face, falling gracefully upon her shoulders.

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to impose on you—" she stepped aside, letting him unlock his door. "Or disturb your much-needed rest."

A ghost of a smile curled on the corner of his lips as he fished out his keys. "I look terrible, don't I?"

"I wouldn't say terrible, just... you look very tired."

"I haven't had proper sleep in days." With a steady hand, he inserted the key into the lock before a satisfying click echoed in the air. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and he gestured to her with a nod.

She looked between him and his apartment. "Are you sure?"

"Come in," he offered. He walked inside his home and pulled the door ajar. "Please."

She studied him for a while before nodding. The floor creaked as she stepped into his household, and as the door swung shut behind her, she scanned the room that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. A sense of warmth enveloped her despite the predominantly dark colors that adorned the space. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from placed lamps, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

She walked past him and noticed the chessboard splayed across the coffee table. "I didn't know you play chess." She sat down on his couch. "Looks like you were in the middle of a game… was someone else here?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard a note of jealousy in her voice, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Actually, I was in a game with myself," he answered sheepishly, shrugging off his suit jacket before placing it over his couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, it's alright." She leaned forward, her gaze fixed upon the chessboard. Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the board with a keen interest before moving a chess piece, placed with precision and purpose.

Genuine surprise crossed his face as he settled beside her. "You know how to play chess?"

"A little. I used to play with my father growing up."

"You don't play with him anymore?"

She shook her head. "He passed away when I was young. Both of my parents did."

"I'm sorry," he gently spoke. He leaned back and turned his body toward her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just me."

"I'm an only child too." Then he assessed her carefully while her eyes wandered beyond her striking features, a subtle tension betrayed a deeper complexity lurking beneath the surface. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He noticed the subtle language of her body where uncertainty weaved on her face. It was in the way she looked between him and her hands, a balance between wonder and reservation that hinted at the lingering doubt within. Then she took a deep breath, her brows furrowed as her voice filled in the silence.

"Does it make me a bad person that I didn't cry after everything that happened?"

He frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"There was a memorial service for Jamison a few days ago, and while everyone mourned, I just... stood there." She looked down at her hands. "What happened to him was very unfortunate, it just happened that, apparently, I have no emotions.”

His head fell back onto the couch as he watched her. "It doesn't make you a bad person. Grief is a deeply personal and individual experience, and people respond to loss in different ways. Crying is just one expression of grief, but it isn't the only definitive indicator of how much someone cared for or was impacted by the loss of a person, especially given how you saw what had happened."

"But it makes me feel kind of heartless." She glanced back at him. "I mean, he wasn't exactly the greatest boss, and I should've felt a certain kind of sadness, but I... I don't know how I feel, to be honest."

"Y/n," he gently called, his expression softening. "It's important to remember that everyone grieves in their own way. What matters most is that you find healthy ways to navigate and process your emotions surrounding the loss, whether it involves crying or not."

She hummed in response. "I guess you do have a point."

"I do, and I'm right most of the time." Spencer smiled when she rolled her eyes and a comfortable silence settled between them. "Now tell me the truth."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"You obviously have a lot on your mind right now and I'm trying to wrap my head around why you chose to be here."

"Do I need to have a reason?"

As his gaze lingered, he found himself drawn to her eyes—a delicate blend of curiosity and trepidation. They shimmered with a gentle vulnerability, revealing the depths of her longing to be seen and understood.

"I would like to know your reason."

She weighed her words carefully. "I couldn't sleep,” she decided to say. “My mind was constantly turning its gear, then it got too overwhelming?” She shook her head. “I-I guess I needed the comfort..."

As she tried to find her voice, her words become entangled in the turmoil of her emotions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. The words spilled forth, unfiltered and vulnerable, resonating with a sincerity that echoed through the room.

"And somehow you were the first person that came to mind."

Spencer felt an unfamiliar intensity washing over him—a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that tugged at his heartstrings. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, the desire to embrace her consumed him, both thrilling and terrifying. It was such a baffling thought because he found hugs to be overwhelmingly intimate for his liking, yet there was this urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his.

The weight of uncertainty pressed upon him, urging caution and restraint. But logic lost its battle with instinct, and caution lost its wrestle with impulsive longing as he found himself asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Her body tensed, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. But as he kept staring at her, she realized that he was being serious. And she found herself nodding, yearning for the warmth radiating from his body.

He carefully drew closer and a magnetic force guided her movements, gently pushing her into his arms. Nervous excitement coursed through her veins, infusing a sense of vulnerability.

Bodies entwined, they breathe in unison, inhaling the essence of closeness as senses unfold—the warmth of skin against skin, the familiar scent that filled the air, the weight of the world momentarily faded away as they surrendered to the pure simplicity of human touch.

His head was spinning with longing and somehow he managed to pull her body gently onto his lap. She silently accepted his tug, placing her legs on either side of his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amidst her relishing the gentle press of his body against hers, she couldn't help but find amusement in this new position.

He felt the subtle shake of her shoulder as a burst of soft laughter escaped her mouth. He suddenly tensed. "Is there something funny?"

The confusion etched in his voice had her pulling away, a small smile lingering on her face. "Yes," she answered. "It's amusing how you like having me on your lap so much.”

A slight warmth spread along his face as he became aware of her weight settling on top of him. "I didn’t notice."

She wasn't sure whether it was the glimmer in his eyes, the bashful smile on his lips, or the way he didn't pull his gaze away from her, but before it could register in her mind, she drew herself closer to him. The sudden shift of her movement caused a friction underneath her, and it was at that moment she realized how compromising of a position they were in.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, and an electric current surged through her veins, awakening a longing she had not anticipated. Her eyes flickered with a newfound intensity—a hunger that shimmered in the depths of her gaze as she could only focus on the pulse settling between her thighs.

As her longing deepened, she became acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him enveloped her, intoxicating her senses, and her mind was consumed by allowing herself to surrender in this newfound need.

So she slowly rolled her hips, feeling his body beneath her, and suppressed a moan when she felt the outline of his bulge stroking against her core. Her breath hitched, betraying the innocent intentions that had initially brought them together.

She felt him tense from the friction and his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, her heart beating to the same rhythm. "Stop doing that," he suddenly said, eyes darkening as he stared at her, voice deep and raspy.

"Why?" She whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. His heart ached to offer solace, yet primal longing tugged at his core, igniting an undeniable urge to keep her closer, to indulge in the sudden pull of desire.

"Because if you don't," he grunted, his hand sliding up her neck, burying it in her thick hair as he tilted her face. He pulled her closer, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. The heat of her presence lingered on his fingertips, tempting him to pull her into an embrace that transcends mere comfort. "I won't be able to stop myself."

His gaze then traced the contours of her form. The subtle curve of a hip, the graceful arch of a back, the gentle swell of a chest—all become objects of fascination. He watched as her tongue wiped along her bottom lip while she slid her hands across his shoulders, stopping right on his chest, hovering above his heart.

"Then don't," she softly pleaded, moving her hips once again, igniting a moan deep within his chest. “I don't want you to stop."

It was the only push he needed as he closed the distance between them, finally crushing his lips to hers.

>> NEXT PART

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mochamvgz · 6 months

Text

put your head on my shoulder

; the only thing in your mind while getting on the bus is sleep when you bump into yang jungwon.

; yang jungwon x reader

; genre: fluff, non idol au, friends to lovers (?)

; warnings: mention of reader being sleep deprived, exhaustion, the phrase "half-assed" used once

; 0.5k words

; tags: @inkelea @bunreis @sobun1est @kbookshelf

you heaved a sigh as you got on the bus, eyes roaming to look for an empty seat. you'd had a long, draining day and all you wanted to do now was flop on your bed and go to sleep. or the couch if you were too exhausted to make it to your bedroom. it felt like there were a hundred bricks weighing on your each of your shoulders and your back was stiff.

you spotted an empty window seat, the rest of the bus was packed. ‘perfect’, you thought, you preferred them anyways. then your sight wandered to the person sitting on the aisle side of that very seat you had locked your gaze on. (that's what it's called right?)

‘uh oh’

it was yang jungwon, your… sort of(?) friend whom you might have a teensy weensy crush on. ‘this cannot be happening right now!!’ strands we're sticking out of the low ponytail you'd hastily put your hair and you really weren't in the mood to socialise right now.

you looked around once again, hoping against hope for another seat to miraculously empty itself. but of course, nothing happened of that sort. meanwhile, jungwon seemed to have noticed you and waved at you, that adorable smile of his making itself at home on his face which caused his dimples to show. he pat the empty place next to him as if to beckon you over.

‘too late now’ you internally grimaced but waved back with a half smile in his direction. you went over and he stood up to let you sit on the window seat and settled back down in his aisle seat after you sat.

“long day?” he asked, he had probably spotted your dark circles which were the result of your lack of sleep. all you had to offer was a half-assed nod.

“you should probably catch a nap.”

“yeah I was planning on it.” your voice came out raspy. the bus was quiet during the end of the day. everyone was most likely going home from work so no one talked much. it was peaceful. the cool night breeze pouring through the half-open window was soothing, despite the fact that it made you shiver slightly and wrap your zip-up hoodie tighter around yourself.

you took off your glasses and put them in the empty water-bottle pocket of your backpack. you then leaned your head against the window pane, ready to doze off when you felt a hand on your shoulder. it was jungwon. you turned to look at him with your eyebrows slightly furrowed.

seeing that he had your attention, he patted his shoulder. “put your head on my shoulder, you’ll feel vibrations if you keep it over there which would be annoying.”

you couldn’t make out his expression that well in the dim lighting of the bus but his words made your cheeks flush a little despite your tired state. “thanks.” you mustered up a smile to show him you were grateful for his offer. you rested your head on his shoulder, a bit uncertainly.

his light scent filled your nose and it felt oddly comforting. you felt like you could get used to this. if only…

exhaustion swept you away to dreamland like a tidal wave.

you managed to catch a few words while you were still in between being awake and asleep but your brain didn’t register them right then.

“she looks so adorable when she's sleeping...”

; a/n: my first fic for a member of the maknae line!! yayy!!! i had the idea while i was on the bus on my way back home from school on the day of my last exam and i just knew jungwon would be perfect for this! ik i said something about a forbidden love trope fic and it's on the way!

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 1 year

Text

Midnight Snuggles

Summary - You have a rough week and let down your hopeful boyfriend after he flew across the country to see you, but he surprises you with exactly what you need.

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x reader

Warnings - implied smut, fluff (is that a warning?)

Word Count: 704

Masterlist

You had been missing your boyfriend terribly for the past few weeks while he has been stuck in Vancouver filming as your favourite Winchester, so generally, him slipping into your shared bed at midnight would be a dream come true. Except you had only just managed to fall asleep after a stressful week at work.

“Hey baby missed you so much,” he murmured into your neck as he slipped into bed behind you. You could feel his bare legs and back against your own as he snuggled up closer. You just sighed in response, slightly annoyed at being woken up so soon after dozing off. Obviously taking your sigh as one of pleasure rather than annoyance, your oblivious boyfriend continued leaving soft kisses over your neck and ear in search of your pressure point.

“Jens…I missed you too. But please not tonight,” you groaned as you reached around to push him off you. Clearly hurt and concerned by your reaction he spun you around to face him.

“What happened? Are you sick, hurt … did I do something wrong?” he asked concern filling his voice as his emerald eyes searched yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m just tired … big week … work kicked my ass,” you mumbled pecking the corner of your boyfriend's frowning lips.

“Sorry to hear that, beautiful. Com’ere,” he said as he laid back and opened his arms for you to snuggle into him. You didn’t have to be told twice. You snuggled into his warm embrace and rested your head on his bare pec, sighing contently. He ran his hand up your back comfortingly and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted more than this. I mean you caught the red-eye for a reason…” you mumbled into his chest. You could feel him tense up under you.

“Hey, hey, hey…I didn’t come home just for sex, sweetheart. I came home to spend time with you."

“But…”

He softly tilted your chin to force your eyes to meet his. “Sweetheart, listen to me. I love you, and I love spending time with you in any way possible. Is sex with you beyond mind-blowing? Of course, but I can wait. I never want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to with me. As long as I can have you in my arms, I’ll be a very happy man. And besides, we’ll both have more energy in the morning anyway.” He smirked, “right now though, just let me hold you and let’s get some sleep. We’ve both had a big week.”

“I love you so much, Jensen. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I love you too, so much. Now get some sleep.” He kissed your head softly as you snuggled back into the warm body you’d missed so much. You kissed his chest as you closed your eyes.

Jensen stayed awake a little longer, rubbing your back and admiring your sleepy figure until sleep finally took over.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your eyes fluttered open as the golden rays streamed over you through the window, as you stretched your muscles you expected to feel your boyfriend’s body beneath you. Instead, all you found were cold sheets. You frowned to yourself figuring your sleep-deprived brain must’ve dreamt up the wonderful night until you heard a noisy clatter from downstairs. You sat up quickly at the reassurance that it was all real, a smile taking over your features.

Just as you were about to get out of bed the door swung open revealing your green-eyed lover carrying a tray complete with two coffee cups, a stack of pancakes, whipped cream and maple syrup.

“Good morning beautiful,” he said as he approached your bed, setting the tray down in front of you before climbing in beside you.

“I should be the one serving you breakfast in bed after last night,” you said. He wrapped his arm around you pulling you into him as he kissed your forehead.

“How about you just let me have you for dessert?” he smirked. “I think that can be arranged, handsome,” you said reaching for your mug to get breakfast over and done with, more excited for the second course.

#supernatural #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fluff #dean winchester #supernatural fic #spn

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aeonophagic · 3 months

Note

I'm really glad you enjoyed these! the translator is actually user 17979 on here, they've written some really good After God fanfics and are a good friend of mine! the other parts they've translated are: original: "His soul seemed to have left his body. He was unfettered. There was no fear or panic. He felt nothing."

original: "It does not matter. They are one and the same. I need his power. I underestimated him."

and this one is more just a funny one from our treasured translator:

I'll have you know I had about the same reaction to the "You are the story I started 50.000 years ago" line, it just brings up so many questions; VA's lore is scattered as it is and very little is given to us, so just dropping something like this in a convo I doubt a lot of people have read is so [vague hand gestures] it's quite late at night when I'm writing this so forgive any incomprehensibility: the line itself, combined with some others there ("It's tone was surprisingly laden with grief, as if it was lamenting a past that could not return") read to me as slightly contrary to VA being merely a Divine Key, it sounds like he has an amount of history in the PE; my personal idea that is pure unadulterated speculation is that VA might have started out as just a person who had something to do with the PE HoR? it would explain the fact that he repeatedly speaks to a "you" which is clearly not actually Joey in this convo and doesn't seem to be Welt Joyce either considering the 50k years thing, that is to say maybe VA even inherited the core (woo Welt paralel) of the PE HoR; considering that Vill-V does say that the Core of Reason is fucking weird [paraphrasing] and, at least if my memory is holding up, Welt did retreat into the Herrscher Core at least once to avoid dying, there's nothing saying VA couldn't have also pulled that and ended up getting his ass merged with that Fragment of Prommy and turned into the only DK we know to be sentient, I dunno I'm sleep deprived that being said the 3rd line I sent last time would imply that VA was also like not human if all of this happened... I'll just say he yoinked a body Orokapi style and call it a day cuz I think if I keep trying to get these thoughts down on paper they will actually become complete word vomit [thumbs up emoji] anyhow the ramble section ended up being longer than I intended... but the fact that we really know so little of his lore does make my brain go haywire, if they ever explain Void Archives' lore properly that'll probably all be disproven but it's what I came up with considering what we know (and I remember)

“There was no more gravity that bound him to the mortal world” I think this one is in reference to Void Archives likely using the Fenghuang Down… ouuu

I definitely think the PE Herrschers besides Elysia all being nothing more than the names of said Herrschers in the story is one of the things that blocks my road here. Me and a friend have theorised plenty of things about the PE HoR, but none can be confirmed, none are even implied!!! A character with such a nothingburger that you can just make shit up and no one could tell you yes or no. My favorite theory is that the PE HoR looked just like Otto, but a girl. Because it’s funny. But now I don’t know… I can’t sacrifice my integrity for humor… I think the idea of the person that used to be what later became Void Archives was a part of the HoR core is really interesting. It would take from the whole “artificial thing struggles with humanity”, because then they’d have already been human once, but at the same time it would be as if they were reclaiming their humanity which is also intriguing etc etc… it’s really interesting. I initially thought Void Archives’ sentience came from them being part Prometheus since she’s sentient too, but at the same time why would Vill-V merge them with her then..? Because Prometheus is an AI so she can handle the “ever expanding knowledge”? Don’t know… so much left in the air, most Void Archives lore we know is stitched together thanks to No.17 who hasn’t talked about them even once. Thank you for sharing!!! I’m having lots of thoughts…

#rajatalk #void archives #hi3

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cats-of-eden-valley · 3 months

Note

Bat anon is back with more weird, niche questions! Since I've hit a bit of a roadblock with my own writing, I was curious, how did you decide what non-feline traits to give to the prides? They're really amazing designs and wonderful worldbuilding, so it caught my eye!

Anyway, on today's episode of "Bat anon's sleep-deprived-brain questions", can the prides make any form of pottery/that kinda stuff? Considering there seems to be plenty of rivers in the Valley, it could be plausible.

Okay last question, I promise, do the prides make alcohol of any kind? Like, I know their society is primitive, but things like fermented fruit juices or mead are surprisingly easy to make if you have the things you need. Or like, imagine the outsiders have some form of alcohol and when Lotus joins the prides, they bring not only societal change, but also booze. It's a funny idea that's been I'm my head all day lmao.

What prompted this question, you ask? I fell down a rabbit hole of easy-to-make alcohol while researching for my own xenomoggy (yes, I am giving my children alcohol. they deserve it after all I've put them through lmao)

Also, I'm glad my questions didn't come off as obnoxious! And don't worry, you'll see me around plenty! I'm like a fae - you invited me into your home, and you'll not be rid of me any time soon! (/j)

Once again, no pressure to answer if you don't wanna! Feel free to tell me if my questions start to get annoying, I don't want to come off as pushy or rude.

Hope you have a beautiful rest of your day/night, and I pray the writing gods bless you with plenty of motivation!

-🦇

The non-feline traits are hard ngl (especially when I realize I. Have to draw them.) but mostly came from the thought of, okay, what would look cool AND theoretically aid their survival and support their niche within the valley

So you get Goldspring, who (used to) work together to get bigger, more dangerous prey. Armoured scaling, epsecially across the chest, not only adds weight (stronger cats, and heavier bodies to escape from) but protection as well

Coldbank are p obvious, they can fully swim with their tails and they are Quite Fast

Bogden hunt on the dark side of the Valley, where the cliff casts a shadow and makes it colder and darker, so i threw some owl in there (and weasel, when i get back to drawing them)

Windswept I went round and round on. I'd originally thought kangaroos but in the end I decided it departed too much from the Cat Body Plan, so I changed it to hare, with a sprinkling of vulture

Lotus and Petra took a bit to settle on as well, but i very much am happy with the feathers. I'll have to have a think about where a lineage like that came from

and then any other outsiders I have more freedom to just wing it, though I do know about some of the small populations that live outside of Eden, like the mountain cats

Yes to pottery, big yes! Pottery is seen in Bogden and Coldbank, less so in Goldspring (who prefer weaving) but they still trade for it. Windswept like being able to pick up and go, so you almost never see pottery there

ALCOHOL i mean!! man I haven't thought about it (I've thought more about plants that they might smoke, which granted isn't much either fjfj)

Honestly I'd have to do research but if there was justifiable means and desire/usage/purpose I'd def incorporate it at least somewhere

Maybe...Maybe mountain cat booze...

#ALSO the question of 'who came up with alcohol and who's perpetuating it' comes into play because of a relatively small population #every time i invent something for coev i have to be like 'okay but like who are the guys doing this. who is practicing and #building this skill'#AND THEN it also needs to be passed on!#which is high risk in this society #very easy to accidentally lose a guy who knows stuff so important stuff has to be known by many guys #beams autism directly into your soul with these tags #worldbuilding #xenomoggy #coev: setting

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from-saturn-to-mars · 2 years

Text

Coffee and ADHD do not mix, actually

by from-saturn-to-mars on ao3

Tony lives purely off coffee, Peter hyperfixates on spiders, and they eat Oreos at a Very Late Hour Of The Night while having a semi-serious discussion about ADHD

Tony Stark does not always make good life choices.

He considers this as he downs his fifth cup of coffee in the last hour and double checks the equation on yet another project. In his defense, he just came up with a new plan for solar-powered generators.

Tony pauses, checks the time, notices the date, and then revises his previous statement.

In his defense, he came up with a plan for a solar-powered generator seventy two hours ago and hasn’t looked up from his work since.

He’s helping people! Yup, that's a solid argument, he thinks to himself as he sways on his feet and almost pours oil into his coffee cup. He reaches for the coffee pot, but it’s empty.

“Friday, dearest, could you refill the coffee?” He requests without pausing in his work. He could have sworn he just had something in his hand. Where was it..?

“I'm afraid you're out, sir. There’s more in the kitchen.”

Tony finds the thing that was in his hands. Its buried under a pile of paper he hasn’t touched in weeks

Tony weighs his options, looks at the empty coffee pot, and trudges out of the lab with a sigh of defeat. The halls are eerily quiet compared to the whirring and humming of machines in his lab. The sudden shift from blinding lights to cool darkness sends black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Tony pads into the kitchen and zeroes in on the coffee sitting on the counter. He feels like a lion hunting in one of those nature documentaries and has the wild urge to narrate in a British accent.

“M’sr Stark?”

Tony spins around, almost loses his balance, and looks wildly around the room for the source of the voice. His eyes land on a small, hoodie-clad figure seated on the kitchen counter.

“Peter?”

The boy gives a little wave in response and continues to stare at him.

“Why are you awake?” Tony asks in a high-pitched voice.

Peter gestures to the towering stack of textbooks next to him with a slightly manic look in his eyes,“I’m researching spiders! Did you know spider's blood is called hemolymph? And spiders have an open circulatory system!”

“And… How long have you been researching spiders, exactly?”

Peter thinks for a minute and pulls out his phone. He stares at the cracked screen for a solid thirty seconds and then looks back at Tony with a vaguely horrified look on his face.

“...Six hours?”

Tony facepalms, “Jesus, kid,”

“Says the man who's been holed up in his lab for three days,” Peter shoots back with a smug smirk. Tony distantly wonders when Peter stopped idolizing him and started being such a little shit.

“I was working, it's not my fault,” Tony pouts and pours himself another cup of coffee.

Peter heaves a huge sigh and shuts his textbook, “I like science! And spiders! It's not my fault I hyperfixated,” He says with a small yawn, “ADHD is annoying,”

Tony squints at him.

“What?”

“What's ‘hyperfixation’?” He asks the boy. His brain feels like it's underwater. He takes a sip of his coffee.

Peter looks slightly surprised, “It’s where your brain fixates on something and kind of takes over your mind, I guess? Like its all you can think about. I hyperfixate on science a lot and, right now, spiders. My brain kinda just zeroed in on that one topic and then I couldn't think about anything else, and then I looked up and six hours had passed.”

Tony processes this, “Huh….” He looks back on the days and weeks he’s spent in his lab, completely engrossed in his work. He then reviews the last three days in his head. Was that hyperfixating? Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this right now. If he remembers correctly, the sleep-deprivation hallucinations start right about now, so he could very well be hallucinating the spider-child sitting on his counter.

“It’s pretty common among people with ADHD and other neurodiverse people,” Peter informs him.

“Where did you learn all of this?”

Peter shrugs, “I just did some research, once I got diagnosed with ADHD.”

Tony considers. He’s never been diagnosed with anything – Howard and Maria were not the ‘therapy’ type, and he never really saw the need for it, but maybe he should do some research….He loses his train of thought and takes another draw from his coffee.

“Dude, at this point your blood is like ninety percent caffeine,” Peter remarks. He hops down from the counter and opens the cupboard, surveying the contents with narrowed eyes. Tony peers over his shoulder, only now registering that he also hasn't eaten in a while. He half-remembers someone bringing him a cold pizza roughly two days ago. He hasn't eaten since. Peter grabs a pack of Oreos and pulls out a handful, stuffing them into his mouth all at once.

“So, what are some other ADHD things?” Tony asks him. He carefully pries one half of the cookie off and chews it slowly.

Peter swallows his mouthful of Oreo, “Well ADHD is short for ‘Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. That basically means you have a short attention span and you're hyper active, but there's a lot more to it than that, and it's different for everyone. I use fidget spinners for hyperactivity and for stimming,” He elaborates at Tony’s confused look, “Stimming is doing repetitive things to stimulate your mind, like flapping your hands or rocking back and forth or things like that,”

Hmm. That sounds familiar. Howard always used to tell him off for running around in circles in the kitchen. He remembers doing it over and over, unable to stop. He never had a problem with it, and he had forgotten about it until now, but Howard always yelled at him for not ‘acting normal’.

Tony stuffs an Oreo in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. After a long silence, he says, “Cool”

He prides himself on his eloquent vocabulary.

Peter nods and shifts himself into a laying-down position, so hs looking at Tony upside down. Tony has no idea how the child hasn't choked on his Oreos yet.

“Do you think you have ADHD too?” Peter asks him around a mouthful of frosting. He's taken out all the insides and is left with a pile of chocolate cookies.

‘Barbaric…’ Tony mutters, but he answers Peter’s question seriously, “Maybe? I'll have to do some more research, but i wouldn't rule it out– What are you doing?” He cuts himself off.

Peter freezes, about to dump the chocolate cookes into the trash, “They’re too dry, i just like the frosting part,”

Tony stares at him in black shock for a minute.

“Okay, we can fix this.” He pulls out two Mason jars and gestures for the cookies while he pulls a few intact ones out of the wrapping.

“Get milk,” He orders.

Peter regards him skeptically but retrieves the milk as ordered. Tony shows him how to crumble up the Oreos with a spoon and mix the milk in.

The look on Peter’s face when he takes a bite is absolutely priceless.

“This is so good,” He marvels. Tony nods in satisfaction. Once Peter finishes ating, he taps him on the nose with his spoon.

“It’s time for spider-kids to go to bed now. You have to eat a real meal in the morning, too. Not just hot cheetos and lemonade like yesterday.”

Peter grins at him, hops off the counter, and racs down the hall.

Tony goes to sleep.

#irondad and spiderson #from saturn to mars fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fluff

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asexualsandbox · 2 years

Text

Made my own OC Character charts! I was up SUUUUPER late last night cause my brain just told me to figure out one of my ocs whole backstory. Turned out good tho, I will give my incredibly sleep deprived brain that

Here's the story of,

Xavier Alexander

TW for Mentions of Abuse, Scars, Eating Disorders, Extreme Violence

Born on Wednesday, March 7, 1973

Zodiac Sign: Pisces ♓️

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Cisgender Male

Pronouns: he/him

Nicknames: Curse-Breaker (Used by Andre, Skye and Rakepick), Pip (Used by Jacob), Hero (used by Penny), My Prince (Talbott)

Likes: Reading, Tea, Learning, Crystals, his friends, his boyfriend, Adventure, Playing and/or listening to Music, Storms, Quidditch, Alone Time

Dislikes: Mess, his Scars, Arguing, Gossip, Flashing lights, Queerbaiting, Overhearing something you can’t unhear

Phobias: Achluophobia: Fear of darkness, Aichmophobia: Fear of needles or pointed objects, Angrophobia: Fear of anger, Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness, Ecophobia: Fear of the home, Encavmaphobia: Fear of getting burned, Nyctophobia: Fear of the dark, Fear of adults (can't find a specific name for this one)

Home Life

Xavier's home life is very poor. For all his life his mother, Hanna, has been crazy and abusive. Before his disappearance in 1979, Xavier's father Harris took the brunt of his wife's abuse for the sake of his children. After he vanished Hanna began taking her anger out on her two children. When Jacob was at school Xavier unfortunately was left by himself to deal with his mothers rage. After Jacob's disappearance in 1981 his mother became more cruel and violent. Hanna suffers from mild cognitive impairment or MCI and psychopathy. Due to her psychotic nature and her MCI she tends to either overfeed or starve her son, either on accident or on purpose. Xavier has an extremely unhealthy relationship with food due to his mothers abuse. Early after he was left alone with her the abuse tended to be more verbal than physical. In later years she became increasingly violent with Xavier leaving him with many scars. Most are small and have faded but 2 stand out. One on his right hand, a straight long scar on the top and palm of his hand, caused by a knife being jammed through. The injury left permanent damage to his ligaments and tendons, leaving him with limited mobility. He always wears a fingerless glove on that hand. The other is a large burn on his right shoulder blade caused by an electric steam clothing iron. These incidents left him with phobias of sharp and hot objects. One day his life completely changed. After his forth year, during his summer vacation his mother became extremely enraged and brutally beats Xavier. He is left with multiple broken bones, including 3 ribs and his left ankle, a broken nose, black eye, and lacerations and brusing all over his body. Despite the immense pain he was in he managed to hobble away from home. He walked, or more hobbled, 2 miles to a bridge nearby that got little traffic. His plan was to end his life. He was tired of the abuse. Tired of being scared. Tired of living a life where he only felt safe at school. Next to the ledge the boy broke down and sobbed on the ground. The pause gave him just enough time though. Luckily for Xavier, three of his friends were hanging out that day. Those friends were Penny Haywood, Tulip Karasu and Liz Tuttle. They spotted him on the bridge and quickly rushed over. Penny knelt down in front of him and managed to calm him down enough to get him to look at her. At that moment she noticed his black eye and quickly pressed him for details. It took some time and convincing but he eventually told them what had happened, he never did tell them why he came to the bridge. They got a hold of Penny's mom who had dropped off the girls earlier to come get them as fast as possible to get Xavier to the hospital. There they called the Ministry of Magic and they sent people from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE). After they spoke with him they opened an investigation on his mother. She quickly fled and the DMLE has yet to find her. Xavier, with no living relatives he's aware of, stays with Penny and her family as they come up with a permanent household to place him in. He has currently started his Fifth year at Hogwarts. The only people who know of what happened are the friends who found him and Albus Dumbledore. He lives in constant fear of his mother showing up at school. Dumbledore has people all over Hogwarts looking out for Hanna in case she ever shows up. He is doing his best to focus on finding his brother and learning about the Cursed Vaults. He keeps his mind occupied with school and his friends which helps. He struggles with night terrors while he's alone so he tends to stay with his boyfriend, Talbott. CPS checks in with him regularly.

School Life

Xavier's school life is much better than his home. He adore attending Hogwarts and throws himself into his studies. Other than learning spells and what not, he spends his days searching for his brother Jacob. He heard whispers from other students that Jacob has been seen. The secret to finding him is to break curses that took over the school due to his brother meddling with the Cursed Vaults. Every year he has been tasked with finding these Vaults and breaking the curse. As strenuous as the task is, he is happy to do it. Not only for his own sense of adventure, but to make sure Jacob is alright. He also spends his time mingling with his many friends. His closest friends being Rowan, Penny and Talbott. He's often seen in the Great Hall surrounded by his friends, eating sandwiches and sharing stories or testing each others knowledge. You may also find him in the courtyard either playing a heated game of Gobstones or sharing a quiet romantic picnic with Talbott. He's also known to frequent the Three Broomsticks, throwing back a few rounds of Butterbeer! As for his studies, loves spending his free time learning. He tends to always be in the Potions Room, mixing Potions he's learned or experimenting with what Snape allows. Speaking of Snape! Xavier is a huge fan of the grouch, despite his bad reputation. Well at first he wasn't. He was terrified of the man at first, so were most students. But after showing such an interest in mixing Potions and than excelling in the subject, Snape grew quite fond of him, slowly. Very slowly. He started treating Xavier a bit better than his other students. Praising him more often than not. Xavier often stays long after class and the two spend time mixing and experimenting with potions together. Snape has become somewhat of a mentor to Xavier. And, though he'd never admit it, a father figure. Along side his studies, Xavier is also a talented Quidditch player. He's new to the team but has already shown incredible skill on the field. He currently is playing as a chaser but is willing to learn every position.

Attended Hogwarts on Saturday September 1, 1984

Set to Graduate on Wednesday, June 12, 1991

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Head of House: Filius Flitwick

Favorite Subject: Potions

Favorite Teacher: Serverus Snape

Least Favorite Subject: Transfiguration

Least Favorite Teacher: Cuthbert Binns

Family

Mother: Hanna Alexander

Born Sunday, November 16, 1941

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio ♏️

Relationship: Abusive

Hanna's School Life

Attended Hogwarts on Monday, September 1, 1952

Graduated Hogwarts on Friday, June 12, 1959

Father: Peregrine Alexander

Born on , Wednesday December 6, 1939

Dissappeared on Monday, April 2, 1979

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius ♐️

Relationship: Positive but strained

Peregrine's School Life

Attended Hogwarts on Friday, September 1, 1950

Graduated Hogwarts on Wednesday, June 12, 1957

Brother: Jacob Alexander

Born on Thursday, April, 11 1963

Zodiac Sign: Aries ♈️

Relationship: Positive

Jacob's School Life

Attended Hogwarts on Sunday, September 1, 1974

Expelled and Dissappeared on Friday, March 6, 1981

Boyfriend: Talbott Winger

Born on Friday, September 1, 1972

Zodiac Sign: Virgo ♍️

Relationship: Very Positive

Talbott's School Life

Attended Hogwarts on Saturday September 1, 1984

Set to Graduate on Wednesday, June 12, 1991

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Head of House: Filius Flitwick

#my art #my artwork #my art stuff #art #digital drawing #digital painting #digital art #my oc #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery oc #Xavier Alexander #ravenclaw #tw mentions of abuse #tw extreme violence #tw scars #tw eatting disorders

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yaminerua · 6 months

Text

I'm thinking for much of the rest of smegtober I'll have to switch to drawings because the writing part of my brain is getting fatigued lol but I managed to churn this last one out tonight ahead of the other one I have ready for tomorrow;;

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Today's prompt was Test, which of course immediately calls forth images of Rimmer and his many examination attempts;;

Words: 4137

****

Rimmer had done it again. He had smegging gone and done it again.

Somehow, despite all the meticulous planning and obsessive timetabling, despite having carefully mapped out every hour of every day for the last few months to optimise his revision and maximise his chances of success, here he was again on the last night before the exam feeling no better prepared than he had been before he’d even started.

It always ended up like this. Every time exam season came around he would work tirelessly, relentlessly, trying to find a study pattern that worked, subdividing his free time evenly into rest periods and study periods, allocating every subject and topic its own slot to prioritise information retention. It should have been a flawless method, workshopped to the nth degree, sharpened and improved to perfection after so many attempts and yet even after all this effort, after all this time, the result was always the same; complete and utter humiliating failure.

Of course, the fact that much of this revision time was usually eaten up by preparing the timetables themselves in the first place was an important part of why he always found himself in this situation but he was loathe to do anything to change the habit, somehow convincing himself that it had only failed because he hadn’t found the perfect routine yet and that once he figured that out and constructed the timetable to end all timetables he would be golden and he could finally kiss the lowly rank of Second Technician goodbye.

The definition of madness, as they say, is trying the same thing over and over expecting a different result.

Huffing out a distressed, agitated breath, Rimmer dug the heels of his palms roughly into his eyes, rubbing vigorously until he saw stars. He had no idea what time it was anymore. The concept of time itself seemed to have faded into the background of his mind, locked away in a box he didn’t want to have to open because at this point knowing just how long he had left was likely to do nothing more than send him tipping fully over the edge of anxiety and into a full-blown panic attack and he knew from past experience that if he let that happen his shot at success would be over then and there.

He was virtually running on fumes at this point, the last few nights a desperate haze of stressed, sleep-deprived revising – if staring manically at an open textbook and taking absolutely none of it in for hours could really be called revising – and his eyes were positively burning with the effort it was taking just to keep them open.

His head ached. It was as though his very brain itself had swollen up in his skull, pressing up against the insides and throbbing profusely from the exertion of trying to cram multiple textbooks’ worth of knowledge into it in the space of a few hours. The pressure alone made him thankful for the relative silence of the bunkroom.

Lister was out. Some time ago he had disappeared off with the rest of his brainless gang of hooligan friends to drink himself to unconsciousness and dance until the early hours of the morning with whoever could stand to be around him. With any luck he might hit it off with some desperate tart who would take him off to her quarters and spare Rimmer the trouble of having to put up with a drunken Lister staggering his way back and breaking his concentration.

It was the only silver lining this whole situation had at the moment. With Lister out and suitably occupied for the night Rimmer didn’t have to battle against his textbooks while enduring the torture of listening to Lister utterly murder a halfway decent song with his toneless singing or his even more unbearable guitar playing.

Aside from the background hum of Red Dwarf all around, there wasn’t a single other disruptive sound to complain about – which also meant there wasn’t an adequate distraction to blame his imminent failure on if it came down to it later.

Removing his hands from his face, he blinked the room slowly back into focus and hunched forwards over his textbook again, feeling the tension in his neck and the ache between his shoulder blades from too long spent in this exact position.

He felt as though he had been stuck trying to read the same sentence for hours, as though his brain had stalled and he couldn’t move past it until it started up again. Oh sure, his eyes would skim the letters and recognise the shapes and the words were certainly words he knew individually but as far as the meaning of the sentence as a whole and the information it held were concerned, Rimmer had absolutely no idea what he was reading.

It was as though the part of his brain that registered new information had gone on strike. Nothing was getting through and all that he seemed to be achieving by continuing to try to force it to was making his head and eyes hurt even more.

He needed to rest but there was no time for rest anymore. Frankly he was terrified that if he even so much as allowed himself the briefest moment to nap then he would sleep right through the exam and have to go through this whole nightmare all over again. He wasn’t prepared for that. Revision was key right now and sleep could wait. He would have plenty of time (not to mention peace of mind) to be able to catch up on the rest he’d missed once the exam was over and he’d passed the stupid smegging thing.

Frowning down at the page he blinked furiously, finding it more and more difficult to keep the lettering clear and sharp in his vision. Everything was starting to smudge at the edges, to bleed into the space around it as though there was something in his eye that wasn’t budging no matter how much he tried to blink or rub it away.

He shook his head, leaning further forwards towards the textbook, squinting to see if maybe that would help sharpen things by narrowing his field of view but it was no use.

The harder he stared at it, the more desperately he attempted to take in so much as a single solitary sentence, the more the words on the page swam dizzyingly just to spite him, rippling and distorting before his very eyes until they better resembled a particularly unappetising-looking kind of alphabet soup than anything comprehensible.

He dropped his forehead down to rest between the pages of the textbook, eyelids scrunching shut as he groaned plaintively into the quiet of the room. Why was his brain conspiring against him at this hour? He only had hours left and it was betraying him. Why was he wasting time wrestling with himself like this when he only had a limited window of opportunity to make some good, solid progress before Lister came back and crashed unceremoniously through his focus with all the grace of a hippo let loose on an ice rink? He didn’t have time for this!

Just to drive home exactly how much the universe had it in for Arnold J. Rimmer, the moment that desperate thought had so much as flitted miserably across his mind his ears picked up the tell-tale distant hollers of giddy, raucous laughter emanating from somewhere outside, growing steadily louder with every drunken, staggered step.

Pass by, don’t come in. Pass by, don’t come in… Rimmer thought fervently, repeating it over and over, beseechingly, in his head like some sort of desperate mantra, praying to whatever god might exist out there to take pity on him for just once in his smegging life but as had been well-established by now, if there was a god they certainly didn’t have a heart.

The door to the sleeping quarters slid open with a harsh, piercing hiss and in staggered one extremely wasted David Lister, an open can of Leopard Lager in his hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

With great difficulty he co-ordinated a clumsy wave to the retreating backs of Petersen and the others before he finally turned his attention to Rimmer, who had by this point straightened up stiffly at his desk and was doing his level best to try to pretend that he wasn’t secretly weighing up the pros and cons of throwing Lister out an airlock and blaming it on his own drink-addled mind. Unfortunately he didn’t think the ship’s CCTV would be on his side there so he begrudgingly had to shelf that idea.

As Lister stumbled his way towards him and leaned in far too close over his shoulder, the stench of beery breath and tobacco met his nostrils and he grimaced. “Lister, go away,” he hissed through tightly gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tightly clenched to resist the urge to swat at him and push him back. “I’m trying to revise.”

“Smeg, Rimmer, you’re such a bore!” Lister said, entirely too loud and entirely too close to his ear, his words slurring pathetically together. “You need to live more!”

Rimmer sniffed indignantly and finally deigned to press the back of his hand to Lister’s front and push him firmly away. “I’ll have plenty of time to do that once I’m an officer,” he said matter-of-factly, ignoring how hollow he felt inside as he said it. “For now my priorities lie elsewhere.”

Lister snorted and he took a long swig of his can of lager. “Yeah, bein’ a bore,” he muttered, staggering back over toward his bunk, humming tuneless snippets of Lunar City Seven as he went.

Rimmer could throttle him, honestly, but he bit back the impulse, however inviting it may have been. Instead he remained as he was, staring bitterly, contemptuously down at the infuriating textbook in front of him, taking nothing in while he listened to the rustling and shuffling of Lister moving about behind him, hopefully getting ready for bed.

He heard the discordant squeak of the ladder as Lister clambered his way up it and the tell-tale creak of the top bunk as it took the full weight of Lister’s body on it and he heaved a premature sigh of relief at this inconvenient interruption hopefully being only a brief one.

Before long, just like he hoped, the movement behind him stilled and Lister grew silent – or as silent as he could be given his tendency to snore – and Rimmer finally allowed himself to release some of the tension he had been holding. Maybe the brief distraction might have helped in a way, might have cleared his head enough for him to return his attention back to what was actually important.

He was mindful, agonisingly so, about how very little time he had left now. Since Lister had come back that meant that time had progressed considerably while he hadn’t been paying attention to it and he surely only had a measly handful of hours left at the most to fill his head with enough knowledge to pass. He flexed his fingers nervously, hyper-aware of the sweat beading on his brow as he considered opting for the last resort. It was the only hope he had left.

Glancing shiftily at the door and warily back over his shoulder, he watched Lister’s sleeping form for a good long moment, trying to ascertain for sure whether he was absolutely asleep and unaware of his surroundings. The last thing he needed was Lister of all people waking up and potentially ratting him out. That would be a fate worse than death.

Seeing that, for now, the coast was clear, he swallowed thickly and reached slowly, shakily, into the right hand pocket of his trousers, procuring from it a small, nondescript packet of little white pellets. Learning pills were strictly not allowed on board Red Dwarf. Rimmer knew that well. He had on numerous occasions in the past reprimanded countless other crewmates who he had spotted with the offending little things, scoffing obnoxiously at their pathetic need to rely on something illegal to help them succeed, all the while holding onto them himself instead of turning them in in case of a rainy day. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He opened the cap quietly and, with a trembling hand, tipped two pills out onto his palm before hurriedly stowing the container away again. He stared down at them apprehensively, heart hammering in his chest and stomach churning at the sickening, depressing realisation that it really had come to this. If he wanted any chance of passing they were his only hope.

With one last quick, anxious glance back at Lister, he popped them in his mouth before he could change his mind and washed them down hastily with what was left of his almost-forgotten glass of water.

He waited a few moments for the panicked surge of nerves to subside, giving the drugs some time to hit his stomach and begin to make their way into his system. He wasn’t entirely sure quite how good an idea it had been to take them on an empty stomach when he was as sleep-deprived and physically exhausted as he was but he had done it now and his fate rested with them.

Lowering his gaze down to the Astro-Navigation textbook again, he sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to channel what little mental energy he was still clinging onto into focusing on the words in front of him, praying that the learning pills would aid him in retaining the information. Even if all they managed to do was hold the knowledge in his head long enough for him to regurgitate it all out during the exam and then forget all of it immediately afterwards that would be fine. He just needed it to last for a few hours.

Evidently he had left resorting to this final option a little too late. They ought to have invented pills that helped him focus as well.

Maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was the stress, maybe it was a combination of both but it didn’t matter how hard he tried, how much he squinted and strained his eyes to try to make sense of any of the words in front of him. His mind had clearly shuttered itself off and was simply not allowing anything more in. He could stare at this page and all of the words written on it for the rest of the day and it would simply never make it through. He was doomed.

Raking his hands raggedly through his hair, Rimmer let out a low, tortured groan, dropping his head onto the table and clenching his eyes tight shut so he didn’t have to see the textbook anymore, didn’t have to look hopelessly down at the same stupid page he had spent most of the night so far stuck unable to get past. It was going to take a miracle to get anything of use to enter his brain now, even with the aid of learning pills.

He must have looked pathetic, sitting there slumped with his head on the desk and his hands in his hair. He had made an absolute mess of himself by now, his usually neat, severe side parting completely unravelling, the forcibly tamed curls freed from the submission they were usually brushed harshly into. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, as though he had been pulling his hair out all night. In many ways, that probably wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Breathing out roughly, he let his head roll miserably to the side, sliding his eyes open to gaze dolefully, enviously, over at Lennon and McCartney, Lister’s stupid robotic goldfish that he’d brought back from his last shore leave trip. They were swimming slowly, mesmerisingly, around their bowl in repetitive, mindless little circles without a single care in the world, without a shred of responsibility or expectation or disappointment weighing down on them and as Rimmer watched them absently, dazedly, as though he were hypnotised, he felt something hollow and mournful settle unpleasantly behind his chest.

God, he wished he was a fish…

He remained like that, utterly entranced, his mind far away, for the next four hours and although he wasn’t exactly asleep, when the intercom finally sounded and Holly’s monotonous voice droned out the important morning announcements, it was as though he was dead to the world and he didn’t hear a word of it.

“Will all entrants for the Astro-Navigation exam please make their way to the teaching room. The exam will begin soon.”

On the top bunk, Lister stirred slightly, his face scrunching up as the loud chime of the intercom pierced through the deep veil of drunken sleep he had been nestled in and rudely stabbed his hung-over brain like an arrow.

Peeling a tired eye open, he squinted groggily over at the desk where Rimmer was still sat, hunched over and seemingly asleep. “Rimmer?” he called out, his throat hoarse after the night’s antics. “You awake?”

There came no response, which was an answer in and of itself. Lister groaned, rubbing his eyes vigorously before lifting his head with great difficulty up off the pillow. “Rimmer,” he said again, a little louder this time.

When Rimmer still failed to have any reaction at all, Lister rolled his eyes and with great effort, begrudgingly heaved his heavy aching body up into a sitting position, clutching his head momentarily as it swam dizzyingly from the change in posture. He didn’t want to have to be awake yet and would rather have slept off the rest of his night out until well into the afternoon but he knew that dealing with a hung-over headache from a premature wake-up call would be far more preferable to the absolute monster migraine Rimmer would give him for failing to wake him up in time for his exam.

Stumbling over towards him, Lister reached out to shake him by the shoulder and froze when he realised that Rimmer didn’t seem to be asleep after all. In any case he certainly had his eyes open though whether he was still conscious remained to be seen. For now he was staring unblinkingly over at the fish tank, his expression completely vacant like some kind of lifeless zombie. It was more than just a little bit disconcerting.

“Hey, Rimmer, man,” Lister said uncertainly, waving a hand tentatively in front of Rimmer’s face. “You okay?”

The reaction was almost instant. The moment Lister’s hands came into view, Rimmer’s expression crumpled like a tin can subjected to tremendous pressure, his eyes snapping shut as he brought a hand up to rub at his face. “Ugh,” he groaned, pulling himself stiffly back into an upright sitting position, his neck and shoulders aching.

Lister watched him warily, an eyebrow quirked with mild concern. He’d seen Rimmer work himself up into an exhausted wreck before but never quite like this. “You alright?” he asked again.

“Of course I’m alright, you gimboid!” Rimmer snapped irritably, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, wincing at the sound of his own voice in his ears. “What do you want?”

Lister’s face creased into a frown and he crossed his arms moodily over his chest. So much for a grateful morning greeting. “Just thought I’d wake you,” he said, glancing at the clock on the sink beside the bunks. “Since it’s exam o’clock now and all.”

Rimmer looked like he had just been force fed a particularly sour and putrid lemon.

“WHAT!?” he cried, horrified, leaping to his feet suddenly and nearly knocking the chair he had been sitting on over in the process. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I wasn’t awake!” Lister said, holding his hands up innocently. “I just woke up meself!”

Rimmer wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore. He was in an absolute panicked frenzy, scrambling for his comb and attempting to carve his forgotten side parting back into existence before gathering up the rest of his things.

Lister watched him, bemused, and had to stop him at one point when he spotted that Rimmer was about to squeeze foot cream onto his toothbrush. Handing him the correct tube, he fixed him with a dubious stare. “You sure you’re alright, man?” he asked. “You were starin’ at me fish all in a trance just there.”

“That was intentional, Lister!” Rimmer stated, but the projected confidence was an unconvincing façade. “I had finished revising everything and was simply taking a break to let the information settle in my brain!”

Lister wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “Uh huh,” he said flatly.

Rimmer clicked his tongue and curled his lip, fixing Lister’s reflection with a contemptuous, dark look. “You wouldn’t understand, Listy,” he sneered, straightening up his tie and giving his hair a final firm comb through. “You’ve never put the slightest bit of effort in in your entire life. As for me, the only way is up! Up, up—”

“Yeah, yeah, Rimmer,” Lister cut him off, waving a hand dismissively before transitioning it into a mocking impersonation of Rimmer’s usual elaborate salute. “Up, up the ziggurat lickety split.” He punctuated that last word with a sharp slap to his forehead. “I know.”

Rimmer shot him a look, cold and hard, and then turned back one last time to check his appearance over in the mirror. The intercom sound rang out hollow and daunting into the bunkroom again and Lister saw Rimmer’s entire body stiffen immediately.

“Last call for the Astro-Navigation exam. Will all entrants please make their way to the teaching room. The exam is about to begin.”

Rimmer swallowed thickly and flexed his fingers and for all the affected confidence and false bravado he put on, Lister could still see the petrified, haunted look behind his eyes that belied his true feelings on the matter.

“Listen, man,” he said gently, sincerely, feeling almost sympathetic towards the man all of a sudden, fighting the urge to reach out and give him an encouraging pat on the arm. “Good luck.”

Rimmer bristled and his expression creased into a forced, stretched smile. “Luck, Lister?” he echoed, rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got everything I need to succeed right up” – he brought a hand up to tap a finger quickly to his temple – “here.”

“Yeah,” came Lister’s doubtful, sarcastic response. “Good luck.”

He raised his eyebrows, fixing Rimmer with a look that said “Trust me, you’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”

Rimmer seemed to pick up on it, the plastered smile on his face faltering slightly as his adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat. “Right,” he said stiffly, tensely, hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. “Well, then. Goodbye, Lister.”

There was a maddened look in his eyes, something wild and desperate and beseeching, as though he was almost begging Lister to do something to stop him from walking out there to his inevitable doom even if it meant he had to resort to knocking him unconscious.

He stood there awkwardly, frozen in fear for another uncomfortably long number of seconds, rocking back and forth on his feet before he finally accepted that no miraculous divine intervention was coming and he was going to have to just go for it.

Picking up his pens and popping them neatly in his pocket, he gave Lister one final, incredibly rigid nod of acknowledgement and strode swiftly, almost robotically out of the room with such a grave look of dread on his face he might as well have been on death row.

Lister watched him go with an almost pitying look of gentle compassion pulling on his face. He didn’t like Rimmer – no-one did – but he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit bad for the guy. He had been putting himself through these exams since long before Lister had ever even met him, driven by something he couldn’t relate to, a burning urge to make something of himself no matter how long it took even when it was probably pointless.

Maybe he didn’t deserve the power that advancement up the career ladder would give him, maybe it would turn him into even more of an insufferably unbearable smeghead, but if just so that Lister wouldn’t have to endure another night of Rimmer drowning his sorrows and cursing the universe for being out to get him, he hoped this time that something would go different.

Whatever he had been hoping, whatever he had been expecting, an exam paper scrawled with nothing but ‘I am a fish’ had absolutely not been it.

Oh well. There was always next time.

#smegtober2023 #Red dwarf #After tomorrow I’ll switch to drawing for the rest of the month I think!

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nataywrites · 10 months

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A sleep-deprived Natay overly describes everything and personifies Insomnia.

Hello, friend. Today has been a day of many thoughts. I'm having a hard time corralling them into order. They butt against each other, like impatient goats trying to get to the feed at a petting zoo. Maybe I'm tired? Insomnia hit me like a truck last night, and I am left with very little energy as a result. There is a general sense of mere existence and little else. Like I exist to sit in this chair only, to passively regard everything around me without recognition. Thinking through a Pea Souper, a brain fog so dense you could cut it with a butter knife and serve it on a plate.

Sometimes I am taken by the feeling that certain things (sensations, space, lack of space, absence of something, someone, someplace, disorder, the list goes on) almost seem to take on an identity of their own. Insomnia is one of many entity things to me. As if some sort of being decides they want to sit in on my thoughts and point out all the things that are making me uncomfortable at that moment.

The sheet isn't tucked in. Being pulled into the curve of Addie's body as we try to sleep, and my nightshirt has crawled up a bit, and skin on skin makes me feel sticky and anxious. Is my hair tied up high enough so the elastic doesn't compress and push into the back of my scalp? Do I have my water bottle on my table? Do I need to go to the bathroom again? Did I miss a spot with my flosser? What if I can't fall asleep?

After dispelling all these extra thoughts, I find myself in that twilight between waking and sleeping. True sleep hides in the murk of deeper waters, but I can't seem to sink down into the comfort of the lake bed. I come out of it frustrated and grumpy- the sort of frustration one might experience when they want to swim underwater but they can't take off their life vest. The damn thing forces my head up and out of the twilight like some sort of human buoy. Then I remember I forgot to take my Remeron when I came into bed. I snatch the bottle off my nightstand after feeling around in the dark for it.

Three years of working in a pharmacy and I can open one of those safety caps in pitch dark. I fish out one tablet and snap it in half between my fingers and sourly pop it in my mouth and follow it with gulps of water. Remeron is one of those funny drugs that makes me more sleepy the less I take of it. In a half hour, I may as well be a log so soggy from the water of sleep that I sink to the bottom. Last night, I forgot to take it, but when I remembered, I rationalized that if I did take it I wouldn't be able to peel myself out of the depths of my dreams. It does that too. My dreams are like a slippery, smooth-walled well with a ledge too high up from the surface of the water to claw myself up.

Tonight I will go to bed at a decent time. Tonight I will happily take my sleeping meds and crawl into bed, no matter how hard it is to wake up with the sun. Maybe I will have enough energy to go to church and sing? Some of my favorite people are there. Some of my favorite people are here too. Whether they know it or not. At least tomorrow I'll be awake enough to regard all of you with a smile. Remember to take your meds. Don't be like the log writing this.

Love,

Natay

#insomnia #sleeping meds #brain fog

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legendofmarshie · 3 years

Text

101 Dalmatians with Hylia, Demise, and the sword spirits

#good morning!#yeah i don’t know either #i’m sorry #i was very sleep deprived last night and this is what my brain came up with #not sure how i feel about the implications of this #@#i don’t even know who cruella would be #they could be like an original person maybe? and their motive would be different #instead of skinning the sword spirits alive they could like. want to melt them all down for scrap metal or something idk #text #hylia #demise #fi #ghirahim #enjoy my trash #101 dalmatians

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 2 years

Text

Southern Nights

Title: Southern Nights 🌃

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: Nightmares, talk about death

Summary: The first night they ever spent together went a little something like this... || Kolvina Short || Here lies my Masterlist

A/N: Here by popular demand on Wattpad. I might do more of these. if requested. Sorry, it's a little short.

The dump motel had been entirely Davina’s idea, thank you very much. Although seeing as she was the one with the credit card - courtesy of an unwitting Marcel - and considering the fact that he had spent the last three months lying to her about his identity, he didn’t feel all that inclined to argue. Hence why he sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, right next to an extraordinarily dirty window, watching the lightning bugs blink through their midnight waltz.

See, Kol Mikaelson had a fondness for New Orleans nights. Eventide in the Big Easy was one of the few things about Louisiana that he wouldn’t complain about. (Although that certainly isn’t to say he couldn’t complain about it. Kol could always find a reason to complain, much to his sibling’s chagrin.) The days he’d spent in New Orleans as a vampire hadn’t impressed him. Aside from the shroud of magic that enveloped the city (a quality as torturous as it was enrapturing because while he could practically taste the sparks of sorcery dancing on the thick summer wind he remained utterly incapable of connecting to it - so close yet just out of reach) and the constant roar of Jazz thrumming through the streets like the boisterous laughter of an unhappy man, days in the Crescent city really didn’t have all that much to offer.

The nights, however? Well, New Orleans nights were something special.

It was after the sun went down that the little city by the river came to life. On nights like this one when the sun’s heat took its leave and all the wild things crept from their holes to party the night away in rhythm with the ever-flowing Jazz under the light of the bayou stars. The magic in the air was palpable - thick enough to taste - and now that he was a witch once again he could feel it pulsing in his bones. He had missed such a feeling more than he could say. If it were up to him, he would be outside, simply basking in the connection he’d been deprived of for so long. But it wasn’t up to him. Instead, he was stuck inside a filthy motel room because of bloody Claire witches and their fire-inclined temperaments and Davina Claire had spelled the bloody door shut.

What a woman. He couldn’t even find it within himself to be annoyed. Of course, he could easily undo the spell she’d used to lock him in, but that would be a moot point as he was actually a willing prisoner in this instance, and leaving this nasty - although admittedly extraordinarily well-warded - room would only make it easier for his mother to pin down his location and attempt to drag him back into her barmy-brained schemes. (That was a big ‘no-thank-you’ in his book. Alive or dead, Kol would not be his mother’s puppet.) The attention of good ole’ mother dearest was the last thing he needed. Besides, betraying his companion’s albeit minimal trust wasn’t going to do him any favors in the eyes of one Davina Claire.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping form of the Claire witch curled up on one of the motel’s twin beds, the one closest to him - and the door but that was only natural. He turned his eyes away from her rather quickly, gazing back out the window. For the love of Thor, he wasn't a complete degenerate; he wasn't going to watch her sleep no matter how adorable she may have been in her unconscious state. She'd had a hard day, used up quite a bit of magic, not to mention the minor head injury. The same could be said of him. Kol had no business being awake at such an hour anyway, but he'd always seemed to function better at night. He wasn't a morning person, that was for sure. Falling asleep at one in the morning wasn't uncommon for him, though he considered it an achievement if he managed to drag his corpse out of bed before noon. On the other hand, Davina, at least from what he'd gathered, was more of an 'early to bed early to rise' sort of person. Although one would certainly have to be in order to get the jump on his brother. He smiled softly at the thought. He was glad she'd finally drifted off to sleep, though it had taken him pretending to be unconscious for an hour before she dared to close her eyes. Not that he could blame her; he'd have done the same thing had their roles been reversed.

Bloody hell, she must hate him now.

Kol sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He could picture the hurt in her eyes when she'd finally seen past his lies. For the record, Kol had never wanted to hurt Davina Claire. If he'd been ready, then maybe he would have been able to keep her out, but she had connected to him faster than he could react and viola, there you have it: Kol Mikaelson's Greatest Hits - The Double Feature. All his secrets, all his lies, all his worst deeds - all arranged on a silver platter. What a lovely way to start a friendship, ay?

"You're one of them," She'd seethed. It was the way she said it and the way she'd looked at him - as if he were the most revolting thing she'd ever seen.

Not that he could blame her.

He was a screw-up, plain n' simple. That was all he'd ever been - all he ever would be - just some sick, twisted reject that nobody in their right mind could ever want. A thousand years was a long time and all he could seem to do was fail. Then by some bloody miracle, he'd finally met the girl of his dreams and he'd screwed that up too! Davina Claire was so extraordinary and all he'd wanted was for her to see something - anything - of value in him. That was all he'd ever wanted anyone to see, just something worth holding on to - something worthwhile. Kol wasn't like his siblings, he didn't need all that much, just a little bit - just one person to say one thing to let him know that all his pain, all his torment, all his thousand years culminating with his bloody death - for crying out loud - that it all hadn't just been for bloody nothing! That he hadn't been for nothing. There had to be a point to it all - there just had to be.

And, you know, he'd really tried this time. He'd tried so hard for Davina, because he’d seen her smile from across the street and if there was a point to all his everything, then she was it. If anyone on the planet was ever worth being good for, it was that lovely little witch. Maybe it was a little pathetic of him. After all, he'd seen her smile one bloody time, but that was all it took. Because Kol had died one thousand years before, and there was no magic that could bring him back to life - no magic except for Davina Claire. He wanted to be the reason Davina smiled. He really wanted to be worth that.

And he'd tried.

"You liar!"

One thousand years was a long time to spend screwing up. Failure, it seemed, was his specialty.

But for however spectacular he was at failing, he was an expert in trying again. He’d spent his whole life getting back up and brushing himself off because that was all he could do. Checking out had been fun while it lasted, but at the end of the day, Kol had always been left to ‘figure it out’ because the worst thing about being human was a little thing called hope and Kol knew from experience that screwing up could never hurt as much as giving up. He'd already died twice. What more did he have to lose?

That was just it. He had nothing.

Nothing but himself, and something to do with that sick, twisted reject.

Davina murmured something in her sleep. He ignored it at first as he still liked to consider himself a gentleman and giving her the privacy to talk in her sleep was the least he could do. A few moments later, the girl made another small noise - it sounded more like a whimper this time. Kol frowned. Checking over his shoulder, nothing seemed to be amiss, but appearances could be misleading. Davina turned over with a tiny moan, then she huffed and turned back.

"Davina?" Kol hissed, weary of waking her. "Davina, are you awake?"

The girl gave no reply, at least not one he could understand. She huffed again, and then another time and Kol realized her huffs were actually small sobs. Davina was crying. He didn't want her to cry.

"Davina?" He raised his voice just slightly in hopes of somehow being able to soothe her. "You're alright, darling. Just go back to sleep."

The young Claire witch whined and gasped, kicking a little and gripping the sheets with enough force to tear through them. "No…" She choked out, her peaceful expression contorted into something pained. "No, stop it! Stop it! Stop!"

Kol caught the strain of panic rising through her voice and felt the charge of magic begin to build in the room. He was up and moving in the next instant, rushing to Davina's side.

"Hey! Hey, Davina! Wake up, darling!" He shook her shoulder once gently, unsure of what else he could do. She just looked rather small in her vulnerable state; he didn't want to do something that might hurt her. Although, as her thrashing grew more intense he was forced to reconsider. Gripping both her shoulders, he shook her firmly, raising his voice quite a bit this time. "Wake up, Davina, you're dreaming! You need to wake up!"

Davina managed to free one arm from its entanglement in her sheets and she used it to bat his hands away. "No! Stop it!" Davina screamed. "Let go of me! STOP!"

Haunted witches were dangerous things - experience had taught Kol that much. For someone so young and so powerful, Davina's control was impressive but she was vulnerable in this state, and whatever terror was stalking the Claire witch's dreams would drive her magic to react. He was lucky he sensed the burst of magic before it came.

Davina shrieked and an invisible force tore from her chest - a magical discharge powerful enough to cause the ground beneath them to quake. Throwing his arms up to shield his head, Kol murmured a protection spell, gritting his teeth in his effort to hold it as the veritable tidal wave of Davina's magic crashed into this body's meager capacity. (Once again, Kol cursed his mother. Esther knew of his knowledge and capabilities, she knew he was a threat and had placed him into one of the weakest vessels she could find.) The blast from Davina's magic receded, leaving him stumbling as he paused to catch his breath. He glanced around the room, assessing for damage. Aside from exhausting his reserves, Kol had managed to remain mostly unscathed; the motel's mirror, however, was less fortunate. The chair he’d been sitting on only moments before had also been obliterated - blown to bits and he was glad he’d managed to avoid the splinters.

Davina continued to thrash about wildly as if fighting for her life. (He knew what that looked like, he’d seen it thousands of times.) Kol struggled to his feet and moved back to Davina’s side, shaking her again.

“Davina!” He called. “Bloody hell, Davina! Come on!” All he got for his efforts was a solid kick to the side as the air in the room began to swirl around them. He swallowed his pain with a curse and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Unsure where he pulled the strength from, Kol channeled all the power he had left into reaching out to Davina - into her mind, swirling with fear and chaos. He could feel them - the ancestors of New Orleans - stalking her dreams, keeping her trapped. Esther had corrupted them - they coveted Davina’s power as did she; they continued to torment the girl for her bravery, hoping to break her. But Kol knew they would fail. Davina Claire was stronger than them; they would never control her again. He could sense her fighting even now, scratching, biting, and clawing her way to the surface. She didn’t need his help, she never had, but he would offer it all the same. It was like extending a hand and she didn’t take it immediately. “Come on, Davina…” His power was waning. “You don’t have to do this alone…” She took his hand

“Surgere,” He muttered.

Davina shot up with a gasp. Trembling and sobbing, her hand flew to her throat as she frantically tried to place her surroundings. Kol raised his hands in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, keeping his voice soft. “Shhh, it’s alright, darling. You’re alright. It was just a dream.”

"I-I know. I just-" She panted, coughing at the dryness in her throat.

Satisfied she wasn’t going to blast him to kingdom come, Kol lowered his hands and moved to sit beside her, rubbing circles over her back like he used to do when Rebekah had a nightmare. “It was just a dream, Davina. You’re safe.”

The girl looked up, those round blue-grey eyes that always reminded him of the morning mist were filled with tears. He saw in her eyes the innocence they both had lost. The tears dripped from her long lashes and Kol caught them with his thumb, wishing he could brush away her pain just as easily. “Kaleb?” She sniffed. And he didn’t even care that it wasn’t his name on her lips. He didn’t care because the way she was looking at him was enough. She looked at him like he was worth something.

“Yeah, it’s me,” He breathed. “It’s me, Davina. You’re okay.”

Davina shook her head, curling her arms close to her chest. “They-They were slaughtering us,” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Bloody hell…” Of course, she was dreaming about the bloody Harvest. He had figured as much but to hear her confirm it just gave him yet another reason to make sure his Mother’s plans failed. “I know. I’m so sorry had to go through that, Davina. I’m sorry your ancestors abused you and I’m sorry they won’t leave you alone but, you know what? Look at me.” She just shook her head and buried her face in her arms. “Davina look at me.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and guided her to raise her gaze. “You beat them. You beat them at their own game, one you never should’ve had to play, but you did and you won. You won, and because you won, they will never again have any power over you - not unless you let them. You are stronger than they are, Davina Claire, you always have been and you always will be.”

The girl nodded slightly and sat up, moving away from him. He let her go. “Thank you,” She said. Her tone was stiffer than before as she scrubbed her eyes. “You can go back to sleep now.”

“Ah, but we were having so much fun,” He joked, trying to pull a smile from her. She huffed a little but it wasn’t exactly a laugh. “Do you want to, I dunno, talk about it? I don’t mind staying up,” He continued, trying to be somewhat helpful. He'd never been very good at emotions but he could try, Davina was worth the effort.

“No.” She shook her head, her mouth fixing into a firm line. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I could-” He started.

She cut him off. “Nice try, but please just don’t.” Her tone was sour and her eyes were back to steel.

Kol sighed. “Davina, I-”

“You know, I almost believed you just now -” Davina chuckled to herself lightly, wiping the last traces of her tears away. “- But then I remembered that you’re not actually my friend and that you’ve been lying to me since the day we met.

He hissed, frowning. “Friend? Way to hurt a man’s pride, love.”

“What?”

“Well, flirting isn’t usually a platonic gesture,” He drawled, smirking a little.

Davina rolled her eyes. “You’re still a liar.”

He was. Kol was a liar. He'd been lying for as long as he could remember. He'd lied for Henrik, for Rebekah, even for Niklaus. He lied quite a lot. He was good at it. But, strange as it was, he didn't want to lie to Davina, he wanted to tell her everything. Even the things that didn't matter - the oddest fleeting thoughts he had, he wanted to share with her and he wanted to hear her's in return. Yes, Kol wanted a lot of things with Davina Claire... and most of them were entirely rated PG.

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve lied more for you than I have to you, darling?” He asked. Though he didn’t let her answer. “And you’ve lied for me too. You could’ve ratted me out to Marcel today, but you didn’t. You trust me, Davina Claire, even if you won’t admit it.”

Her face betrayed nothing. She only sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Just go away, Kaleb.”

“It’s Kol.”

“Kol …whatever, just go.” She turned over, facing away from him, signaling that this was the end of their conversation. Kol stood up rather reluctantly, moving over to the other bed and laying back.

The night was still dark and nature was alive outside, but it was quiet in the room. Kol knew she wasn’t sleeping, knew she didn’t intend to for the rest of the night. He knew she was just going to tough it out because she thought she had to. It wasn’t fair - he didn’t want her to suffer the same way he had. Kol knew what it was like to die - no one in his family had mentioned it after the fact. It was sort of a taboo subject, nobody brought it up and everyone suffered. But Davina shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“I have ‘em too,” He spoke into the darkness. The Claire witch gave no reply but she shifted and Kol took that as encouragement enough to go on. “Nightmares, I mean. You would think that after all this time they would fade, yet I still dream about it. It’s like a loop in my head, can’t seem to make it stop.”

Her voice was so quiet that he almost didn’t catch it. “What do you dream about?”

“The night I died.” A wry smile stretched across his face. “The first time, not the second, mind you.” He heard her laugh just slightly. “I won’t say I know how you feel, Davina. But I remember how I felt. I remember that lingering cold and that sensation that feels as though you’re floating while your body feels like it’s too heavy to bear. I remember that. I told you we're Kindred Souls and I meant it… You’re not alone.”

“Do you…Did it hurt?” She whispered. He couldn’t see her face but, oh how he wished he could. Her voice was soft, tentative. “Do you remember the pain?”

“Yes.” He replied. The girl was silent for a few moments, and Kol waited, simply listening to the cicadas buzzing outside. He didn't expect her to say anything. She didn't need to. He didn't sleep either, electing to stare out the window instead and watch the stars begin to fade.

“Kaleb?”

“Hmm?"

“How did you die?”

He sighed. Of all the questions he supposed hers was the only one that mattered. “I died running," He began. "I was running to warn my siblings, and every time I think; if I had only been a little bit faster, perhaps things would have been different… I guess I’ll never know.” His tone was rather calm as he spoke of his death. It was soft and almost detached but reminiscent as well. “My father ran his sword through my back - missed my heart, though. I died slowly. The minutes ticked by and-and every breath was agony. I felt helpless, scared, and alone, unable to move, unable to die - half drowning in my own blood and no one was around and no one knew and I knew that my siblings were only minutes away from the same. Yet, I could do nothing but choke and die… It’s strange to feel yourself bleed out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She said, her voice the same as his. She said: “I didn’t like it very much.”

“Neither did I.”

Minutes drifted on. The sky gained a little bit of light, but only enough to turn the sky from black to grey. Davina still had more questions.

“Kaleb?”

“Yes?”

And she asked: “Did you scream?”

And he said: “No.” He told her: “I wanted to. I tried a few times but all I heard was silence. See the movies have it wrong, you can’t scream when stabbed in the back. I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t. There was no one around to hear me anyway.”

“What did the sword feel like?” She wondered.

“It was metal,” He answered. “It was cold.”

“Kol?”

“Yes?”

A pause.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Kol just chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to keep trying, love.”

“Goodnight,” She said.

“Sweet dreams, Davina Claire.”

Kol Mikaelson and Davina Claire would spend quite a few nights together after that, and he'd be saying those words every night for a while, whether the girl herself was there to hear them or not. Though neither of them knew that yet, it was alright, because - be it the magic or the company - those hot summer nights in New Orleans were something special.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid (Tell me if you want on or off the tag list!)

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