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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

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Unwithering | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (1)

Part Two

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Prompt: Flower shop AU, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Warnings: Mild Swearing. Flowery language (pun intended 😉... I’ll show myself out)

Word Count: 2,250

Taglist: Reply to this post if you want to be added for future chapters!

A/N: This is for @bnhabookclub event going on! Thank you for giving new writers in the fandom, like me, a place to promote their work. Shout out to @smolmilkyways for letting me use this beautiful piece of fanart above! Go check them out! Also, thanks @gallickingun for letting me tag you in my first fic. You gave me some pretty solid advice that pushed me to get this out here. This was originally a one-shot, but of course it turned into a multi-chap, so stay tuned for more!

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your fists gripped the hem of your dress. The sunflowers on it reminded you of him; a burning sun at the center of your universe. The boy in front of you crinkled his forehead at your statement; as if the love you spent years building up the courage to confess was no more than a pebble - insignificant - that he could kick to the side without a second thought.

Midoriya gave you a slight thumbs up from the back, but the rest of the boys cackled with no remorse.

“You hear that, Bakugou? She looovvveesss you!”

“Freaky flower girl and Bakugou sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“Awww is she gonna cry?”

The lump in your throat was difficult to swallow, but you refused to prove them right. It would only add fuel to the fire threatening to burn the seed planted in your heart.

He stepped toward you. The scent of burnt sugar filled your lungs; like fresh apples picked from your mother’s garden, dipped in melted caramel. You heard it’s a side effect from his quirk, but it was the first time you were close enough to experience it for yourself.

You willed your eyes to find his. The soft breeze blowing past provided a cooling relief to the intense heat felt in your cheeks. When your eyes locked, a spark flashed within his own. You couldn’t catch it in time, but your heart stuttered in response.

Any chance of a flower blooming died the next moment.

“I’ll never love a weak girl like you.”

A year passed before you saw Katsuki Bakugou again.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

“Here’s your pickup order, Tanaka-san, I’m sure your wife will love them!”

You ring up the older gentleman who’s been a regular at your mother’s flower shop for years. His wife loves the smell of scented geranium, a sweet apricot that never fails to remind her of the orchards back home. He’s convinced your flowers are the reason she’s still here; the true medicine to her illness.

You always deny this statement, shaking your head with a playful giggle, but the compliment warms you. It’s nice to hear people cared about your flowers.

“She loves only the ones made by you, dearest.”

He winks as his shaking hands grab the large bouquet. You smile and turn your hand, palm up, towards Tanaka whose eyes never fail to widen in awe at your quirk in action. A small stem sprouts from the center of your palm, growing taller by the second. You hone in on the bright yellow dot on the center of each petal. A wash of white forms around each dot, acting as a transition for the violet that envelops the rest of the petals.

Each petal opens up one by one to reveal a golden bud.

You hand the flower to Tanaka.

“On the house,” you wink back.

“Oh very nice, very nice, indeed,” he bows in thanks, “What is the meaning of this one?”

“Irises give hope. In Chinese tradition, it is referred to as ‘the purple butterfly’ because its petals flutter like butterflies.”

The breeze from outside trails in at the perfect time and the petals flutter about.

“Very pretty,” Tanaka remarks, “I’ll be sure to let the misses know about this one!”

He thanks you one more time before walking out with a newfound spring in his step; the lone flower nestled in the pocket of his worn out janitor uniform.

You’ve been working at Paradise Blooms for the past three years after your parents separated, and your mom needed the extra hand more than ever. It was difficult balancing school and work, especially when you were busy prepping for U.A. exams last year, but you could never say no to your mom. She’s been the constant in your life since day one.

The back door to the supply room squeaks.

“A little help here?”

All you see is the top of your mom’s head, adorned with a multi-colored flower crown. Her face is covered by the high pile of crates she’s trying not to drop. You rush to catch the top crate before it tumbles.

“Phew. That was a close one. Thanks, honey!”

She bends down to take the supplies out, arranging the items on the counters around the shop. She weaves through the aisles - it looks more like a garden than an actual shop, in your opinion, but you think it gives the place character. She stops at the row of potted flowers sitting on the far right of the shop, soaking in the sunlight cast through the window. It’s the new collection your mom got in time for the 2020 Garden Glow Event. Every year, flower shops all over the city participated in an annual gardening event to educate the public on gardening techniques with fun activities for the children. Your mom spent hours on the phone dealing with difficult vendors to get this specific collection for the event. Water sprinkles out from her palm as she takes the time to water each and every flower.

Since there’s no customers at the moment, you grab the broom from the storeroom and set to sweeping around the shop. It’s not long before your mom’s watering routine is interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” You continue sweeping, gently humming along to the tune playing through the speakers, but your voice catches when you hear, “Mitsuki! Hi! How are you?”

Mitsuki? Your mom couldn’t possibly be talking to Mitsuki... Bakugou?

Your knuckles turn white from squeezing the life out of the poor broom as you wait for confirmation.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The memories you tried so hard to forget come flooding all at once.

“I’ll never love a weak girl like you.”

You’re snapped out of the memory.

“Yes, bring him in! Great! See you in a few, bye.”

Your mother returns to watering the flowers like nothing happened - like that single phone call didn’t just turn your world upside down, after you spent the last year flipping it right side up.

“Who was that?”

You’re afraid of the answer.

You promised yourself you moved on from Katsuki Bakugou. It proved to be easier said than done. Even if you both went to separate high schools and most of your days were spent either studying or working; at night is when your thoughts strayed. You wondered what he was up to… was he passing all his classes? You’d giggle at the absurdity of Katsuki not being number one. Was he still bullying Midoriya? Did you ever cross his mind?

Was he happy?

Because more than anything, you wished him happiness - even if that happiness was not with you. Was that weakness? Was wishing for someone’s happiness, who could care less about you, considered weakness?

“Hm?” Your mom turns to you, “Oh! That was Mitsuki Bakugou. Her son, Katsuki - I believe you went to school with him? Well, he needs a part-time job to help pay for tuition. Can you believe he got into U.A.? Mitsuki must be so proud of him.”

“I figured you’d be happy,” she continues, " I know you’ve been struggling with balancing school and work, so I thought having another person around would help lighten the load a little bit. Besides, I owed Mitsuki a favor.”

Your mother blushes at the last part.

Favor? What favor?

But that’s the last thing on your mind when you suddenly feel the need to pass out.

Katsuki… is… working… here?

“Honey, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I - I’m not sure I can…” you trail off. Your mom didn’t know about your confession to Katsuki. When you came home in tears that day, with your dress all wrinkled, you told her it was because kids were bullying you for trying and failing to get into U.A.

It was the half-truth.

“Y/N, did something happen between you and Katsuki? I can call Mitsuki back right now if you don’t feel comfortable with him around.”

It was as easy as breathing or using your quirk, second nature, all you had to do was utter a two letter word and your mom would immediately have Mitsuki on the line, apologizing for the inconvenience, but making sure to recommend a few places in the area who were hiring. A simple “no” and your world would become right side up again, the boy you loved long forgotten during the day and only remembered at night when there’s nothing to consume your mind, but him.

Taking the easy way called out to you, beckoning you to relinquish your strength, and give in. But if you couldn’t face one boy, then maybe Katsuki was right. Maybe you were weak.

“I’m fine, mom, I can work with him,” you say.

Pounding footsteps against the pavement outside cut your mom off from her next words.

“OI! LET ME GO, OLD WOMAN, I’LL KILL YOU!”

“CALL ME THAT ONE MORE TIME AND SEE WHERE IT GETS YOU!”

Your breath hitches at the sound. You haven’t heard that voice in over a year; it’s gotten deeper, raspier in tone. You take a few breaths in and out to calm yourself so you don’t melt into the floor at first glance.

The door swings open - the “We’re Open” sign rattles dangerously against the glass - and in barges Mitsuki Bakugou, dragging her son by the ear.

Katsuki struggles to get out of his mother’s grasp, his arms stretch toward the door, but Mitsuki pulls him all the way inside.

“I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF TRAINING, WOMAN!”

“AND NOW YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF GETTING A JOB!”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!”

“YOU’LL MAKE TIME!”

Katsuki growls. His palms curving into themselves like he’s trying to reign in his quirk from exploding Paradise Blooms where it stands.

You and your mom look at each other, unsure how to inject yourselves in the rather awkward exchange. Truthfully, you’re not surprised by the interaction; you’ve seen Katsuki and his family at school events in the past. The Bakugous had an… interesting family dynamic.

Mitsuki notices the both of you watching and immediately releases Katsuki. She smiles and greets your mom with a hug as if the previous interaction never happened.

“Y/Mom’s/N, it’s great to see you! How’s the event planning coming along?”

Your mom and Mitsuki engage in small talk for a couple minutes leaving you to sneak a quick glance over at Katsuki leaning against the door. He’s looking out the window with a scowl on his face. He crosses his arms to stop himself from fisting his palms, a sign you picked up on when he’s itching to get on the field and obliterate.

You find yourself thinking how beautiful and destructive at the same time.

Once Mitsuki and your mom finish catching up, she directs her attention towards you.

“And you must be Y/N? Your mother has told me so much about you!”

You catch the flash of recognition in Katsuki’s eyes, but you’re wrapped in a hug before you can think. The hug is a bit awkward with the counter digging into your side, but the warmth radiating off Mitsuki makes you feel at home. She lets go of you and turns around to where Katsuki is still standing by the door, ready to leave the first chance he gets.

“And this is my son, Katsuki,” she beckons him over, but when he doesn’t move she barks, “Don’t be rude! Get over here and introduce yourself.”

Katsuki grumbles under his breath, but trudges over.

“Sup.”

Mitsuki growls and slaps Katsuki over the head, “Oi! Where are your manners!?”

She glances apologetically, “I’m sorry. He’s… a bit much to handle. I really appreciate you agreeing to hire him. He’s had trouble in the past with defying authority.”

Katsuki scowls at the ground when Mitsuki pats his head affectionately this time.

“But he’s a good kid at heart, a little rough around the edges, but overall a good kid. I hope you’re able to see that and work with him.”

She bows; her hand on Katsuki’s head nudges him to do the same. His nose twitches, but he listens this time.

Your mother is an empathetic person, able to walk all paths of life and notice the beauty in each one. It wasn’t like her to turn someone down in need.

Your mom smiles, “I’m happy to work with Katsuki. What about you, Y/N?”

She’s giving you a way out for the last time.

Mitsuki looks at you, hope in her eyes.

Doubt laid out its hand for you to take; to lead you away from the pain that still ate away at you everyday. The teasing. The pointing. The rejection from U.A. and from Katsuki. Working with him would force you to face the pain head on.

“I’ll never love a weak girl like you.”

You lock eyes with Katsuki for the first time since that day many moons ago; he’s awaiting your answer, a twinge of hope laced in his eyes overshadowed by a grimace.

You wonder if you now hold the fuel to the fire threatening to burn the tiny seed of hope he’s trying so hard to bury.

For better or for worse, you were also a person who found beauty in all paths of life.

“Welcome aboard,” you say.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #bnhabookclub #bnha x reader #fanfic-me-up #bnha fanfic #mha #mha x reader #mha fanfic

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iknowyouthinkimbulletproof · 3 years

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Kiefer- Ashton Irwin

A/N: another 5sos fic! Ashton Irwin x y/n. Y/n’s gender is female for this fic, it just made it easier to write, my apologies to anyone it might upset, but you can always request. Feel free to correct any mistakes! Requested by @witch-harry: “Could i request ash with prompt 49 (from fluff), and 13(from general) if not then any of the prompts is fine 🥺“. tags: @calpalirwin @suchalonelysunflower

not my gif!

word count 2539

To everyone around them, y/n and ash seemed like the perfect couple. They were never seen apart and anyone that mentioned that possibility would have to deal with Ash. this wasn’t how it always was though. At first Ashton was just a mere thought to y/n. She never met the man, she only ever heard his name from those around her. One specific thing came up every time she heard the man’s name.

“Stay away from him.” Michael said for what felt like the fiftieth time that afternoon.

“C’mon Mike, he can’t be that bad!” y/n wasn’t one to argue with her brother but it seemed that lately they couldn’t stop arguing. It started when Michael was talking about his day at work, like usual, and he happened to mention that his boss needed a translator.

“Why is this a daily thing with you y/n?” he raised his voice before looking over at his younger sister. It’s not that he didn’t want to spend more time with y/n, which would come with the job considering Mike was Ash’s go to man, he just didn’t want her to get stuck in a world of violence like all of Ashton’s workers.

“So, what Mike, you just expect me to stay at home all the time?” Y/n spent years stuck at home after their parents died. Michael wanted to keep her safe and away from the dangers that ended their parents' lives and made them orphans, so he had her throw herself into studying. She took a particular interest in languages and Michael never saw an issue with it. Until now.

This argument lasted hours, all the way through the process of starting, cooking, and eating dinner. At the end, the decision had been made that y/n could meet the man and let y/n “see just how dangerous he really is.”

The next day, Michael had returned home. He had in fact talked to Ashton about him meeting y/n, like he promised to her he would. The talk he had with Ashton turned unexpected though. Ash had claimed that he didn’t have time to meet her unless it was an official interview for the job. This meant that it wouldn’t matter if y/n had liked him or had proven Michael right, if she got the job she had to commit to it. It was part of Ashton’s rules, never interview to work with me unless you can fully commit.

Once Michael had shared the news with his younger sibling, he was shocked to see that she did not care. He had hoped that it would’ve shocked some sense into her, maybe even scared her a little. She seemed completely unaffected, it kinda got under his nerves. He shrugged it off, he told himself that there was no point in starting another argument when neither of them even knew if she could get the job. The conversation at dinner that night was short and didn’t involve a lot besides the information y/n had to know before going in for the interview. After dinner, the pair went separate ways.

Three days later, y/n was getting ready for her interview when the nerves finally shook her. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Ash, it was more of the possibilities of what could happen if she did get the job. If she messed up, she could be killed.

Walking beside Michael, she was met by a red door at the end of the hallway with a tall man in front of it. He was gorgeous, he had long curly blond hair and looked like the type of man that turns into a teddy bear once he smiled. He wore a black suit, like Michael, but he had vertical stripes on his pants that were only slightly noticeable. They made him look taller. Michael smiled at him and went to reach for the door when the man grabbed his wrist.

“You know the rules Mike, only one guest at a time” the man said, nodding his head to you before gesturing to you to come closer. Michael let out a sigh before taking a few steps back and gently pushing you forward. The man opened the door and stepped aside. Both men watched as you stepped inside. Before she noticed, the door behind y/n shut closed. She took a look around the room, it wasn’t what would be expected. Instead of having a desk in the middle, Ashton had a ‘L’ shaped desk in the corner of the room next to two large windows. The curtains were black, but the view of the lake outside was still visible through them. In Front of the desk was a dark brown leather loveseat, it might’ve not been black like the desk and chair, but it fit the room. The rest of the room contained file cabinets, a pile of duffle bags, and a mirror. y/n walked up to the mirror and straightened her outfit once again. For the interview she decided to wear a sheer black top ,the collar not buttoned, with a lace camisole underneath. For pants she wore a nice pair of black and grey plaid pants, and for shoes a black pair of heels. She turned around and walked towards the couch. She didn’t sit, but she ran her fingers across the back of it and tickled with the gold pendant she wore around her neck. The more she looked the more she realized there was no sign of any personal touches. It was like the office did not belong to anyone. Deciding to sit, she placed herself on the arm of the loveseat and waited. Unbeknownst to her, Ashton was watching her carefully through the camera. His driver, Calum, had informed him that y/n was waiting in his office for the interview. So while Calum drove, Ashton pulled up the live security footage on his phone. He hadn’t planned on watching her for long, he just wanted to know what he would be walking into. She just seemed to captivate him, even through a phone screen.

Walking towards his office, he noticed a nervous Mike. he shot him a look before nodding at Luke, who stood in front of the door. He walks in and watches as she turns to look at him.

“y/n clifford?” he asks, though it was quite clear she was Michael's sister.

“That’s me. You’re Ashton” for someone who had no idea what he looked like, her sentence came out as a statement rather than a question.

“That’s me.” he smirked at her, looking her up and down. He wasn’t going to hit on her, but it was hard to deny she was gorgeous.

“So, you’re who they warned me about?” she questioned, she wasn’t trying to seem unimpressed, but it seemed as if she was.

His face contorted as thoughts of people speaking ill of him entered his brain. “What do you mean?” He asked, his voice harsher than before. He walked by her and sat in his chair before motioning her to sit properly on the love seat.

“Nothing personal, i suppose. Though you are the boss of a Mafia.” y/n didn’t move from her spot, instead her eyes drifted to the guns Ashton was placing on the desk. He chuckled, she had a point. Her eyes stayed on his hands as they went to his tie. He loosened it, but once he realized y/n’s eyes were on his hands, he made it a point to tap his fingers on the desk. Peeling her eyes away from his hand, they drifted to his eyes. “Shall we get started then?

After the interview, y/n was hired on the spot. She filled out some paperwork and it was official.

Unfortunately for Ash and Y/n they soon fell for each other. This meant that y/n could be a target. Specifically for Harry styles. He was known to be one of the nicer Mafia bosses, but Ashton had hurt his sister’s feelings and Harry made it a goal to hurt Ashton back.

Ashton knew the risks of getting emotionally involved with y/n, but he couldn’t help the feelings that he had for her.

So here he was walking to his office, where he asked y/n to meet with him. It wasn’t unusual for them, it was common for the pair to have a meal together. So common that the chef Ashton has started to bring two plates up for lunch everyday.

Y/n pushed open the door, seeing as the man (who she grew to know as Luke) was at his lunch break. As she walked in, the chef walked out. The room smelled amazing, the scent familiar put she wasn’t able to pin it down. Ashton walked in behind her and slid his arm around her waist. The two looked at each other, both wearing smiles. The whispered ‘hello’s then Ash kissed the side of her head before leading her to the small table, which he had placed in the room especially for them. Sitting down, y/n fiddled with the ring Ashton gifted her on her birthday. Revealing the food, y/n was surprised to see y/f/m. It's not that Ashton hated the meal, but he wouldn’t be able to eat it everyday like y/n. Sharing glances as they began to eat, Y/n noticed Ashton seemed nervous. It was weird, he was never nervous around her.

“You ok Ash?” y/n questioned. She could see he was hesitant to answer.

It was clear that he was in fact nervous as he stuttered through his response. “Yeah, I just have a question for you.”

“Shoot!” y/n responded happily.

He grabbed his drink and took a big sip. He lost all nervousness as he began to talk “I was just wondering if you wanted to go on a date?” y/n laughed, like laugh so hard it hurts your stomach. Ash’s face turned red, neither were sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.

“Ash, you can’t be serious-” y/n cut herself off when she noticed the tight line he had forced his lips into. Changing direction of her question, she spoke again. “We’ve practically been dating since the week you first hired me. I’ve just been waiting for you to make it official.”

Most of his face went back to normal, his cheeks still red as he blushed. “Why haven��t you?” he reached over and put a strand of hair behind her ears. “Tried to make it official, I mean.” he added.

“It affects you more than me. You’re the boss, maybe you didn’t want people to think you’ve gone soft. Or have a burden of protecting me on your shoulders.” her face burned up, she avoided eye contact by looking down.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” Ashton’s eyebrows frowned. “You’re the only thing that matters to me.” she looked up to see him already looking at her eyes, a smile formed on both their faces. “Plus, i already have that burden. Can’t lose my translator, now can i?” he joked. His cheeks rose to his eyes as he watched her laugh.

It’d been almost two years since then. Their anniversary was coming up and Ashton had left to deal with some business. The business was with Harry, so it made y/n anxious. Mostly because wherever Harry was, Gemma, Harry's sister, was too. it wasn’t usual for Ashton to be away for so long. in fact it wasn’t usual for Ashton to leave home without Y/n, but there’s a first for everything. right? like the past six days of the week, y/n spent her day cleaning. She had no idea when Ashton would come home, but like the pleaser she was, she had to keep the home he had bought for her spotless. she knew he only spoiled her if she promised to take care of her things.

as more hours passed y/n grew restless. she read a book, neatened Ashton’s office, took a walk, played cards with Luke (her now personal guard), and even ironed Ashton’s suits for the third time that week. She cooked herself and Luke dinner once she received Ash’s message stating that he was in fact not coming home today.

Once she had finally managed to drag herself into bed, she stared up at the ceiling and traced the tattoo that dragged itself from her wrist to the side of her thumb. she eventually switched from the tattoo to the (y/f/c) knife that Ash gifted her for their first anniversary. while tracing the tip of the blade for the third time, y/n hear a vibration coming from her bedside table. technically it was Ashton’s bed side table since she currently resided on his side of the bed. she found comfort in the smells his pillows radiated. closing the blade, y/n carefully picks up the phone and to her surprise see’s a text from Michael. When y/n and Ashton became official, Michael was the least excited. As much as he trusted Ash, he knew Ash’s history with Gemma, he didn’t want his little sister’s heart to be broken.

The message was rushed but practically just stated that he, Ash, and Calum were almost to the house and that Ashton wanted her in the living room. He had a surprise for her. So y/n got up and dragged her small fluffy blanket before dragging herself down the stairs. With Luke, who stood in front of her bedroom door, following closely behind. Once downstairs, Y/n sat on a loveseat and had Luke sit across from her rather than to stand next to her. They sat in silence for a while before they heard a car pull in. Luke opened the front door, greeting Ashton and Michael before going to help Calum with anything in the car. She watched as Michael assisted Ash with carrying a large crate with a blanket over it. They placed it in front of her and Ash leaned over to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“What is that?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Wow, no hello-” Michael started

“No, you lied and said you wouldn’t be home tonight” she interrupted. Then nodded towards the crate again. Ashton smiled and lifted the blanket to reveal a german shepherd. y/n squealed and jumped up to open the crate. She placed the dog, who was not small to say the least, on her lap. He seemed tired, but he still managed to lick her hand. She noticed the tag. It read “kiefer”. Ash explained how he was left behind by a cop who clearly abused him. Michael adds that this was the reason it took so long to come home. The dog needed to be washed and loved before being handed over to y/n. The night was then spent with y/n obsessing over the animal and Ashton promising that the dog was not her only anniversary gift, and that she would still be spoiled on their special day.

#ashton irwin imagine #ashton x y/n #ashton x reader #mob!ash

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yuusa · 4 years

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𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟔

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟗𝟐𝟔

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟔:

You squinted your eyes at the costume presented in front of you. Although they did follow your specifications, you couldn’t believe that you were actually going through with their plans. Your classmate brought up the gifted costume and you held up the outfit towards your face.

You sighed before turning to look at Yuki who had already gowned his outfit. You pressed your lips together as you stared at the frilly costume, finding yourself uncomfortable looking at him. It wasn’t that the costume was hideous, or that Yuki didn’t look good, they both don’t pair well together at all. You thought that he had it the worst when it came to handling his own fanbase.

As you looked around, the classroom was close to being done and ready to open. You excused yourself as you made your way to the back of the class where the curtain was. You silently motioned Tohru to keep a watch of the area as you quickly changed into your costume to avoid wasting any time. You were pleased to see that the material wasn’t scratching against your skin or even the color red. You slid each of the components on and clipped the necessary accessaries before pulling the curtains back, revealing your figure in its glory.

Your hair was tied back in a low ponytail, the long jacket of yours shaped to be a pair of wings that flowed with the open window breeze. It hung on your shoulders while you donned a pair of black gloves. There were many layers to this outfit and you were glad it wasn’t the middle of summer. You adjusted the cravat around your neck as you stepped out towards the center of the classroom, many of the boys swooning over your appearance while a small number of girls commented on the costume choice. The suit fitted nicely around your breasts, making you wonder about the sizing for this outfit.

“T-The perfect fit!” Someone shouted.

“This was so worth the price!”

You huffed before placing your hand on your hip, giving the audience your signature cold stare. You heard various sounds of camera flashes as you stood still for your classmates to take photos.

Yuki stood by your side almost speechless, unable to form any sort of sentence to you. The costume fitted you quite nicely and the jacket looked similar to a cape. In a way, he felt as if he was the one unable to match your appearance.

You stood tall and confidently while he cowered a bit in his costume. You were playing the part of a prince quite well as the boys begged you to roleplay a specific scene for photos. There were times that your hair slipped over your shoulder, revealing the black ribbon you used to tie your hair back. When you pulled on your glove, stared at the camera with your sharp (e/c) eyes, and called out to the audience, you were really selling the part.

Once word got out that you opened your classroom doors, there were many students flooding into the room to take photos and eat. You questioned whether or not Yuki felt overwhelmed by the amount of attention on him, but you also needed to focus on the special requests people are sending.

“Five onigiris for a special request photo! Selling five onigiris! Come get your onigiris with special photographs with Sohma-san and (L/n)-san!” Uotani announced, racking up a massive line behind the onigiri stand.

When you were going to ask Yuki about the situation, you were immediately silenced by the micro-banged fanclub president who began monitoring Yuki’s personal space. You sighed before turning away from him, not noticing the stare Yuki gave you as he frowned.

“A-Ah. . . Umm. . . (L/n)-san! Can you do a kabedon for my friend!” One classmate asked, her friend blushing immensely at her embarrassing request.

You gave her a gentle smile, “alright.”

You grabbed onto her hand and pulled her towards you as you maneuvered your body so that she would be placed against the chalkboard behind you. She gasped when you slammed your gloved hand next to her head while you towered over her shorter figure. You reached out to tilt her chin upwards so the two of you made eye contact.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” You smirked, causing the girl to feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as she squealed, her friend quickly taking photos of the moment while the rest of the boys gathered behind them. You internally groaned on the inside as you prepared yourself for a wave of requests flooding in.

“Do this pose next (L/n)-san!”

“Look over at this camera!”

“(L/n)-san you’re looking great okay!”

Tohru watched as you took every single special request, admiring your impressive acting skills as you took on every single offer. Despite straining your cheeks to smile at everyone, you were willing to put yourself through the pain if it meant selling Tohru’s onigiris.

“(Y/n)-kun and Yuki-kun are doing a good job selling our onigiris. They both look really good!” Tohru commented, to which Uotani smugly added on.

“I helped organize her costume after all.”

Tohru smiled at her, “you’re amazing Uo-chan!”

“Right?! It’s a great looking costume.” Uotani patted herself on the back.

“The rat boy has a whole complex with his face.” Kyo said, “he probably likes the attention he’s getting.”

As you were holding a girl in your arms, you noticed the presence of an unknown boy coming into the room. When you turned your head to see his appearance, he disappeared from the door. He immediately jumped onto Yuki’s back, speaking German. Who is that? You thought.

“Momiji, Don’t wander off on your own.” A taller, much older figure came into the classroom, holding onto his coat and draping it over his arm.

“Oh! Harry!” Momiji hooked his arms around Yuki’s neck, still attached to him.

What you presume to be Harry walked towards Yuki, greeting him formally. You raised your eyebrow at the scene in front of you, were they part of Yuki’s family? The rest of the girls in the class swooned over their appearance, most likely drooling over the thought of other Sohmas being at their school.

“Guten tag! I’m Sohma Momiji! I’m half-Japanese and half-German!” He wore this dark brown cowboy hat with childish clothing, he was extremely short and his voice made you believe he was only a small child, “and this is Sohma Hatori! We’re both related to Yuki and Kyo!”

So they were his family. You wondered what was the occasion for them to actually come over considering the fact that Shigure wasn’t here. Then again, you barely knew any of the Sohmas on a personal level, probably not as much as Tohru who was gushing over an unknown thought.

You twirled the girl around in your arms, her friends still taking photos of you and her together. She was holding onto your arm tightly as to not let go when you both had to part for the next request. You had almost forgotten you had your own job to do as the Sohmas soaked up most of the attention.

“With that out of the way--Yuki, since when did you turn into a girl?” Hatori turned to face Yuki who was bubbling up on the inside with frustration and embarrassment.

“You’ve seen me naked dozens of times, and you still ask me that with a straight face?” Despite his need to tell Hatori to keep quiet, he still walked over to him as Hatori whipped out a stethoscope, examining his heartbeats. “He’s a doctor. You don’t have to examine me here.”

You pressed your lips together, if he had some sort of physical ailment, you wondered the reason behind his extreme running prowess. During Physical Education he and Kyo would often go against each other to run laps and you never had suspected he had to see a personal doctor.

“I do because you broke your promise of coming once a month for a check-up.” Hatori clarified.

Tohru gasped in surprise before making her way to Yuki’s side, “Sohma-kun, are you ill?”

Hatori took off the stethoscope, “Yuki has bronchial problems. He had frequent attacks when he was younger.”

“Are you Honda Tohru?” He asked, he later turned his attention over towards you, your eyes focused on him intensely almost stalking his every move out in the open.

Tohru politely bowed, “yes! Pleased to meet you!”

“I see. You really are a normal girl,” he commented, moving his eyes away from yours.

You raised your eyebrow at his statement, was Hatori trying to imply that Tohru had something other than her blind kindness which made her unusual? You wondered what reason he had for even coming to the school at this point. It certainly doesn’t seem like he really needed to visit and examine Yuki here at the school.

Yuki brought himself between Tohru and Hatori, separating the two of them and becoming a wall for him. The sound of a girl screaming caught the attention of the class as they all turned to Momiji who was sitting on top of the sign.

“What are you doing you idiot?!” Kyo forcefully dragged him down from the sign and pulled him into the curtain of the backroom. Tohru turned to Yuki to excuse herself and ran over to the back.

You frowned while watching Hatori interact with Yuki, silently trying to pick up on their conversation.

“Why are you here?” Yuki asked.

“Take your complaints to Momiji. He brought over a festival flyer and then Akito wanted to come.” Yuki stared at him in shock as he continued, “Akito has a 39° fever, so I used my doctor veto but I end up having to come instead. Relax, I didn’t come to do anything to Honda Tohru.”

Akito? Who was that? You narrowed your eyes at the name. What exactly was Tohru hiding with the Sohma family? Is she somehow connected to them on a deeper level? You pressed your finger onto your chin as you stared off into thought, your sea of photographers still taking photos of your “cool” attitude.

The sound of an explosion erupted in the classroom, a yellow smoke coming out of the bottom of the curtains as the students gathered around. Your eyes widened when you noticed Yuki starting to bring the attention back to him, calling himself weird as he fidgeted in his dress. You pressed your lips together in a firm line as you watched the class gather around him, clearly being distracted by him while Tohru ran off with Kyo and a yellow rabbit. You watched as the class became fascinated by Yuki’s acting and you quickly left the room to follow Tohru, Hatori’s eyes watching you closely.

You trailed behind the two when they went up towards the roof, carrying the animal up. As you reached the top of the steps, you felt the calloused hand of Hatori’s grab onto your arm, pulling you back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

You clicked your tongue before ripping your arm away from him, “shouldn’t I be asking you the same question? What is with you and Tohru-kun? What are you to her?”

“That is none of your business.”

“So you and she do have something?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What was that explosion then? Where did Momiji Sohma-san go? I highly doubt he was still behind that curtain.”

You crossed your arms around your chest, creating a barrier between you and Hatori at the steps to the rooftop. “For someone who is a doctor, you sure are hiding quite a bit.”

“For one, this doesn’t concern y-”

“You’re involving Tohru-kun, are you implying she is also part of your family? Doesn’t that make her even more suspicious now?” Hatori noticed the sharpened gaze of your eyes as you stared down at him from the top of the steps, almost like a bird of prey watching it’s food moments before it’s flight, “What are you hiding that is so important?”

Hatori opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Yuki’s presence running up the stairs. He huffed in exhaustion before straightening his back to see you and Hatori at the stairs. You internally cringe seeing the pink and white dress contrast his appearance.

“(L/n)-san. . . What are you doing here?” He asked.

You turned to Hatori and went back to Yuki, “are you both hiding something?”

“Eh? What makes you say that?” He could feel himself starting to sweat underneath the dress from nervousness.

“If you’re not, I’m going up to the roof then.” Before you can turn around and walk up the stairs, Yuki grabbed a hold of your hand and dragged you back to the bottom of the stairs.

“W-Wait, I have something to talk about first.” You raised your eyebrow at the strange turn of events.

You sighed before letting Yuki take you to a secluded corner of the stairs while Hatori went up to the roof. When he had backed you against the wall, he tilted his head up to look at you.

“A-Ah. . . Um. . .” He mumbled, trying to think of a way to not crumble underneath your intimidating glare. “I just wanted to say that. . . You did a good job today.”

“Is that so?” You hummed, clearly displeased by the conversation topic. He noticed the lack of stutter from your voice as you dipped lower in tone, “it still doesn’t answer my question.”

“I. . .” He bit his tongue, stressed out about the situation of how to explain everything to you without having you discover the family secret. “I’m sorry. I just can’t tell you.”

“Why?” You asked, your emotions bubbling with frustration and rage, “I thought we were friends, Yuki Sohma-san.” You sneered.

“W-Well, we are but. . .” He trailed off. “I just. . . I can’t tell you right now.”

You grit your teeth as your anger pumped through your veins. What was it that was so special that it had to interrupt the class festival? Why involve someone like Tohru? Who are Hatori and Momiji? Who is Akito, why did they want to come? What is the connection? None of this is lining up and it was frustrating the hell out of you.

Was this the feeling of jealousy?

You instinctively raised your hand, your irritation of the situation getting to your head, as you almost brought it towards his face but froze midway. Yuki seemed to have flinched as he saw your hand but you dropped it to your side, lifeless. The dullness and emotionless look of your eyes were shown through the dimly lit corner.

“Whatever.” You responded, a hint of venom in your tone as you saw his eyes widen in shock. You shoved past Yuki and speed-walked towards the nearest girls' bathroom, leaving him alone in the corner of the staircase, withering away with guilt on the inside.

You slammed the bathroom door shut, breathing heavily as you bent over the sink, taking in your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was slightly disheveled and your cravat was a bit loose. You yanked the ribbon from your hair and slammed your hand onto the sink, the material cracking slightly under the pressure.

Why were you so annoyed at this?

You bit your tongue as your mind tried to rack up every possible scenario which could have made sense. You brushed your hair back, before reaching out to your reflection. Your eyes were cold as ever, the (e/c) color doing nothing to soften the angry expression you had. Your piercing eyes glaring back at you.

It wasn’t like you and him were close from the beginning, you bitterly thought, you slid your hand down to your side, your fists tightening as your nails tried to dig through the glove material. Compared to someone like Tohru, you were nothing to him. What had happened between the two of you was simply for the sake of Tohru, it was to make her happy seeing the two of you become friends. It was just some sort of play date that was set up.

You growled in frustration as you glared at your reflection in the mirror. The exhaustion shining through your pupils. It didn’t matter in the end, you were better off forgetting about this experience and distancing yourself away from the family. You held no value to them and you wanted. . . No, you needed to accept this fact. You wiped away at the small tears forming at the corner of your eyes, concealing the sniffles as you took deep breaths.

You sighed before taking the ribbon and tying your hair back, readjusting your costume, and swinging the bathroom door open. You made your way back to the classroom, seeing the smiles of your classmates light up at the sight of you back.

“Fifteen onigiris for five special request photos! Let’s go all out!” You swung out your arms, a forced smile spread across your face as the classroom roared with excitement. Everyone quickly gathered around your form, filling the empty void from Princess Yuki with your presence.

While your heart may have hardened that day, the feeling of betrayal sinking into your bones, you wanted nothing more than to please the people around you.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

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poetic-emptiness-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Livin’ La Vida Loca (Echoes of the Past 15: Freebie!)

Finally it is finished! I had an irritating writing block, but I’m happy it’s over now. This fic sets during the plague, when Hande is apprenticing with Julian.

The name of this fic is from a song Livin’ La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Characters: Hande Kuura & Julian Devorak

Content warning: some profanities

Words: ~3 250

@arcana-echoes

It has been a long day at the clinic – lots of patients and lots of research. Julian is tired and he can see that his apprentice is as well. She tries to put on a brave face, but he can see that she's very tense – has she had any chance to relax? They have been working together for five months, but Julian has only seen Hande at work. He has learned that Hande is extremely conscientious, fast learner and she really cares for the patients. He has also found out, that like him, Hande loves reading and it is fun to discuss about different books during their lunch breaks. Julian has grown to like her, and even see her as his friend – the busy days feel less tiring with her around.

After locking the door behind the last patient, Julian turns to Hande and smiles at her, ”Well, that was a busy one. Great work – I can't even realise how I did manage before you tagged along!” Hande chuckles to Julian's praises and shrugs, ”Thanks, but it's not just me – you really are a spectacular doctor, believe it or not.” Julian blushes by the compliment, but Hande is too polite to point it out. She just pats her teacher's hardel and goes to change to her everyday clothes. While Julian is in the other room changing himself he ponders if he should ask Hande out. They are practically colleagues and they're also friends, so it wouldn't be inappropriate. He also has a feeling that Hande is quite lonely, with her family and friends in Karnassos.

”Hey, Hande?” Julian shouts to his apprentice so she could hear her, ”Would you mind if I took you somewhere? Erm, to let our hair down, so to speak?” The doctor hears only silence for a moment, before Hande's voice echoes from another room, ”No, I wouldn't mind, that sounds nice.” Julian lets out a relieved sigh and his lips twitch into a small smile, ”Great! I can offer you something to eat as a thank you, if you wish?” He hears Hande coming back to the office while she hums in affirmative. After Julian's done, he goes to the office and sees Hande opening her hair which is tied into a French twist. Her hair is pretty long, he notes, settling to the level of her waist. Stop gawking! That's inappropriate!

Hande turns to look at Julian, looking a little embarrassed, ”I don't want to keep the same hairstyle during my free time, otherwise I'd never let go of the work stuff. It probably sounds silly...” Julian gives Hande a friendly smile and shakes his head, ”No, it doesn't sound silly at all. It's good you have ways to avoid thinking about work during your free time.” Hande smiles back, separates her hair in two parts and starts to braid the other half. Julian is looking at her procedure and his curiosity takes over, ”Uhm, may I ask what are you going to do?” Hande glances at Julian before she turns back and continues braiding, ”I'm going to make two braids and pull them over my head, like a headband. Then no one gets the opportunity to try and pull my hair.” Julian seems to think for a moment and before he can reconsider he asks, ”Do you... Do you want me to braid the other half? It'd be faster that way.” Hande turns to face Julian, looking surprised, but also a little amused, her eyebrows raising. Before Hande can say anything Julian blurts, ”Uhm, I can braid... I have a little sister... I used to braid her hair sometimes.”

Hande's eyes widen for a little moment – she didn't expect to hear something like that. She recovers from her shock quickly and beckons Julian to come closer. Julian understands that Hande has accepted his offer and tentatively starts to braid her hair. It feels slippery and soft in his hands – completely different than Pasha's hair. ”Tell me about her. Your sister, I mean,” Hande asks silently after a moment of silence. Julian chuckles and starts to tell while braiding, ”Her name is Pasha. She's three years older than you and we grew up in Nevivon together...” He continues telling about his sister while they are working on Hande's hairstyle. Hande looks satisfied and compliments Julian's work which causes the poor doctor to blush again. When the duo is ready Julian dramatically offers his arm to Hande, who laughs and with an exaggerated curtsey takes it. ”Well, Doctor Devorak, show me the way!”

***

Hande looks curiously at the sign above her head: The Rowdy Raven. She has never been here before and she's curious to see it. The place seems to be a tavern, but it looks rather cozy when she peeks through the window. Still, she can't help feeling a little nervous – what if she ends up being too obviously out of place? Well, fortune favors the brave, as they say... Hande lets Julian lead her into the tavern. They're welcomed with loud laughter and music playing in the background – there's a band playing in a corner. That makes Hande feel herself more at home, if you could call a tavern a home.

The young woman looks around her. There are locals and people from abroad, all of them having a good time chatting or playing cards with each other. People who notice her and Julian entering turn to greet her teacher with joy on their faces. Hande tenses a little, because it is clear, that Julian is very popular person in here, and Hande is... Well, she's here for the first time in her life, although she's lived in Vesuvia for almost a year. Julian squeezes Hande with his arm reassuringly, ”I'd get us some food and drinks. Do you have any wishes?” Hande looks a little pensive, but she decides it's better to speak than stay silent. ”Uhm... Are there... Are there any non-alcoholic drinks? I'm a teetotaler...” she whispers uncertainly.

Julian freezes on the spot. Shit. Congratulations, you've fucked up and brought a teetotaler to a tavern.. You idiot... His faces turns red again and he sputters, ”I-I'm sorry! I didn't know that...” Hande notices Julian's panicking and hurries to assuring him, ”No, no, it's fine! I don't mind others drinking, well at least if they're not steaming... I've just never amused to drink alcohol myself... It isn't because of any belief, if that's any comfort...” Julian is surprised, how Hande is nervous about his reaction, and can't help but smile to her, ”No, you don't need to worry! I don't mind at all, and you're not obliged to explain your reasons, if you don't want to. There should be also some non-alcoholic drinks, so no harm done.” Hande smiles to him thankfully which makes Julian a little giddy. No, concentrate. Go and order your food and drinks!

Hande waits by a table when Julian gives their orders to a barkeeper. The young woman glances around, observing other patrons curiously, wondering where some of them might come from. Soon Julian comes back with their drinks. ”Barth said he'll bring the food soon,” he says, handing her a glass with lime green liquid in it. ”I hope you like this one, I wasn't quite sure what to get,” Julian says, looking a little embarrassed. Hande smiles at him reassuringly and takes a little sip from her drink. It's suitably sweet with citrus aroma – probably lemon and lime combined. ”This is so good! Dr. Devorak, how did you manage to choose a drink I like so much?” Hande asks sounding impressed, which makes the poor Julian to blush again. ”Well, erm... I wish I could say it was intuition, but... uhm... I remember how you once told me you like lemons so...” the man stammers. Now it's Hande's turn to get embarrassed; she doesn't blush visibly, but she can feel her cheeks burn. Julian remembers random things I've mentioned to him? ”You're way too good friend for me... I really am flattered, that you remember my ramblings.”

A little later Barth, the barkeeper, brings their meals in front of them and they eat in comfortable silence, sometimes asking or commenting something. Hande finds the tavern's atmosphere a little rowdy, but not hostile, and she feels more at ease. It's nice to spend time with Julian and see him outside of their work. Suddenly Hande's concentration turns to a discussion a few tables away. There are four men discussing in a foreign language which Hande recognises as Hjallean. She gets excited – she hasn't met any people from her mother's hometown for a long time. She apologises Julian and turns to face the men, ”Förlåt mig. Är ni från Hjalle?¹” The men turn to face Hande, looking positively surprised, ”Ja. Hur kan du tala hjalska, är du från där också?²” Hande smiles and answers, ”Jag föddes i Karnassos. Min mamma är från Hjalle, men hon tillhör Skogsfolket.³” The quintet continues their excited conversation. Julian smiles and watches how Hande speaks fluently in Hjallean, and listens when she finds out that the men are sailors and actually know her grandfather. Hande seems so happy to hear from her family that Julian can feel it, too. He also can't help, but to miss his own family a little.

A little later Julian also joins the conversation which causes the men and Hande to cheer in surprise. The group has a friendly conversation and orders drinks to each other, until the band starts to play a Hjallean folk song which causes the sailors and Hande to sing along. Julian can't help but notice how Hande's voice is clear and beautiful, echoing above hollering of the sailors. To be entirely honest, Julian is mesmerized my her voice – she sounds like a siren, without ill intent, of course. After the song had ended, the sailors cheer to Hande, who looks a little humbled after getting that much attention, but still has a small smile on her face. The band's leader shouts to their table, ”Since the miss sang so beautifully, you can decide our next song!” Hande glances at Julian with a confused expression on her face. Julian just smiles to her encouragingly and winks. Hande smirks and states, ”I will decide, but on one condition: I get to play it, too.”

The band leader looks curious, ”Can the miss play, as well?” Hande nods and answers, ”Yes, I can play the fiddle. I've had lessons since I was a little girl.” The other band members grin and the fiddler steps up, handing their instrument to Hande. She stands up and walks to the corner, inspecting the fiddle for a moment. After she's satisfied, she tunes the instrument and asks, ”Do you know this song?” Hande plays a little part as a sample and the band leader chuckles and agrees. The leader gives a mark about starting the song and Hande joins the band. Julian is awed: this woman doesn't have a single drop of alcohol in her, and she still is having the time of her life. Joyful, wonderful singer and player even – and she's never mentioned any of that to him. This fascinating combination of humbleness and showmanship. Julian watches how Hande's fingers move on the fiddle, how concentrated she is. The song is a little melancholic, but still eventful and fast. The world seems to disappear: there's only music and Hande.

The enchantment is broken when the song ends. Hande remembers where she is and is a little flabbergasted by her courage, but is happy that she played. She doesn't remember when was the last time she had this much fun – in Julian's company she feels at ease, like her old self is coming back to life after so many years. Hande turns to see Julian who is cheering and applauding to them with the others at the tavern. The band leader thanks her when she gives the fiddle back to its owner and returns to her companion. ”Wow... I didn't know you could sing or play!” Julian compliments when she sits down. Hande lowers her gaze for a moment, but soon looks up and shrugs, ”Well... You don't need singing or playing when you're trying to be a doctor's apprentice. To be honest, complimenting myself is really hard for me, and I got this temporary moment of courage. I haven't played in front of an audience for years.” Julian smiles to Hande and feels warmth inside of him – he isn't sure if it's because of alcohol or his company. Concentrate. She's your apprentice. Julian clears his throat and speaks again, ”Did you like it? Playing in front of an audience, I mean.” Hande seems pensive before she gives a hesitant answer, ”Yes.”

Before Julian can say or do anything else, one of the sailors cut in. ”You should be proud of yourself, you really did great back there! Was that a Forestian song? I recognised it, but I'm not sure.” Hande turns to face the sailors and nods, ”Yes. I was surprised the band knew it, but it was fun. Karnassian music is much more popular, so it's nice to hear Hjallean ones for a change.” The group continues their conversation, but Julian is mostly concentrated on Hande. When they are telling about their work to the sailors, Julian, now a little tipsy, tells in surprising excitement, ”Yes... But you know what? Hande here, she... She can do MAGIC!” Hande doesn't have time to react before the sailors gasp in excitement and plead her to show them. Julian now realises he might have screwed up and tries to come to her rescue, but Hande speaks after a little silence, ”Would you like to hear a story? I can illustrate it with magic.” The sailors and even Julian show their enthusiasm for the idea. One of the sailors suggest a scary story and Hande proceeds, telling a Karnassian story about a jinn who fell in love with a human, but in time the human went mad for being so close to the jinn.

Probably for the first time in his life, Julian is awed by seeing magic. The light figures dancing in the air while Hande tells the story such a fascinating way make Julian feel giddy, almost like a child again. Being with Hande here and how... radiant she is, it's nearly overwhelming. The story is indeed scary, but he can't help but smile at her, and his heart jumps when Hande gives him a little smile back with her sparkling eyes. Other patrons have also gathered around watching the spectacle and shower Hande with compliments after the story is over. The sailors try to ask her to tell another, but Hande chuckles, ”I'm sorry, guys, but magic can be very taxing and I don't want to exhaust myself after a long day.” The sailors groan in disappointment, but still pat Hande on her shoulders, buying her one more drink. Julian hasn't bought any more drinks, because he tries not to get steaming, like Hande had expressed earlier – he doesn't want to make Hande feel uncomfortable. The music is compelling and he'd like to ask Hande to dance, but isn't sure if it's appropriate.

After a short internal debate, his reason seems to leave him, when Hande turns to look at him. Julian hasn't noticed it before, but now Hande's eyes look so beautiful, almost like the deep, blue water. His body starts to move on its own: he reaches his hand towards Hande, palm up and his mouth opens before he can think of it, ”Oh, miss Kuura... Would you like to have a dance with me?” Hande watches Julian's hand and laughs goodheartedly to his dramatic request. Julian is pretty sure Hande's thinking is pretending, but he still feels a little nervous. Finally Hande decides to save her teacher, ”Yes, I'd like that. Though, I must warn you, I haven't danced for a long time. I might be quite rusty.” Julian just chuckles and reassures his apprentice by saying that she'll be fine. Hande smiles to Julian again and gives her hand to him.

Julian places his hand on Hande's waist chastely and leads her to dance. His apprentice is a little tense at first, probably because they're first time this close to each other and because she is nervous about her dancing skills. ”Just relax, I got you,” Julian whispers to Hande, smiling to her reassuringly. Hande takes a deep breath and nods, trying to smile back, although the final result is a little lopsided. The current song is quite fast, just perfect for Julian. He guides Hande who seems to trust him enough and let the music, rhythm and Julian lead her. After a moment she relaxes and the dance feels more natural. Julian enjoys being this close to Hande, seeing her feeling comfortable in his arms. She's so vibrant, so beautiful... I haven't noticed it before. Julian tries to shake off his thoughts and have a little conversation with his apprentice, complimenting her dancing and telling how nice the evening has been. Hande smiles to him which makes him feel weak in his knees. She enjoys my company, her laughter, so full of joy. It almost makes me forget the current situation...

The dance is enchanting and Julian wants the moment to never end. The band starts to play a different song, much more speedy than the last one. This causes Julian to get an idea. He faces Hande with a little smirk on his face. ”Hande, do you trust me?” he asks. Hande looks at Julian a little hesitant, but then lets out a little laugh, ”Yes, I do trust you, Julian. But please, don't kill me.” Hande's last remark causes Julian to bark a laughter and whisper into her ear, ”I wouldn't dream of it.” He tightens his grip of Hande and leads her to the outskirts of the dance floor. Hande only gets a little warning to brace herself, before Julian lifts her, so she's now standing on a chair, and he soon follows suit. Then he rises on a longer table, taking Hande with her. She lets out a surprised yelp, but recovers soon. ”Why, Julian, are you suggesting, that we'd dance on the table?” Hande whispers her question, and Julian can hear her mischievous tone. Oh gods, she's a treasure.

Julian's smirk gets wider and he twirls Hande around before starting to dance properly. The band speeds up and patrons cheer to the duo while some of them try to save their pints. None of the things on the table gets knocked – Hande lets Julian lead her and he's done this before so he is very confident with his partner. The Rowdy Raven is filled with music, cheering and Hande's and Julian's laughter. Suddenly Hande takes the charge and dips Julian in the middle of the table, making him grab Hande for his life. Now it's Hande's turn to smirk and she leans in to whisper to Julian, ”Thank you, Julian. I didn't realise I needed this.” Julian blushes, but manages to give Hande a bashful smile, when Hande lifts him up and they continue their dance. Julian forgets everyone else and just gaze at Hande mesmerized, feeling happy for the first time for gods know how long. This intelligent, warm-hearted and beautiful person is dancing with him, smiling at him.

Oh shit. I think I have a crush.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”Excuse me. Are you from Hjalle?

² ”Yes. How can you talk Hjallean, are you from there, too?”

³ ”I was born in Karnassos. My mom is from Hjalle, but she belongs to Forest people.”

My AO3

#The Arcana #Julian Devorak #fan apprentice #Hande the Apprentice #fanfic #my writing #my work #arcana eotp #Hanian

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capricities · 4 years

Text

Dynasty AU: Part 1

I did some world building for this one. I hope you enjoy! If you want to see the first part, here’s the masterlist.

also tagging @idiotwhotalkstoomuch since she’s awesome lmao. Love ya platonically

“Be on your best behaviour Yuu. The Asim’s are visiting. After lunch you can play with Kalim, okay?” His mother told him as she combed his hair. Yuu was pretty ecstatic, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone his age ––then again, he had cousins the same age, some even younger–– especially since this was the cheerful kid back from the party.

And he had nice clothes...nevermind.

Yuu nodded. His mother set down the comb on the vanity table before squishing his cheeks. He pouted but giggled soon after. He hugged his mom as a way of thanking her before running out of the room, followed by his nanny.

As he walked beside his nanny, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes downcast. “What’s wrong Yuu-sama?” His nanny asked.

“Okaasan..why does she look sad?” He asked his nanny, who only looked at him with an undecipherable expression.

“I’m not too sure Yuu-sama, but it’s most likely just stress. After all, it takes a lot of time to prepare the house for guests, especially when they’re such important people.” She tried explaining. Yuu merely nodded at her explanation. He knew she was hiding something, but if she was hiding something from him, it meant that he didn’t need to know.

Though that didn’t mean he would be any less curious.

His nanny guided him to the green room, where he was greeted by his sister. He sort of wished his nanny would come with him, but as soon as his sister took his hand, she shooed her off. His sister smiled at her, and for a moment he almost forgot about that time at the birthday party. Almost.

Ever since the party, his feelings on his sister have been rather...conflicted. She was demanding, intimidating, everything she wasn’t at home. It was as if her personality took a complete 180. He kind of wanted to ask her if she was sick or if anything was bothering her.

Yuu felt his sister squeeze his hand. He wasn’t sure if it was a warning or reassurance. Hatsuko guided Yuu to the table where the Asim’s and their grandfather were currently chatting.

Yuu immediately let go of Hatsuko’s hand and ran to hug his Sofu, ignoring his sister’s yells. His sofu chuckled at his antics as he hugged him back. “Good afternoon Sofu!” Yuu greeted.

“Now aren’t you energetic, aren’t you little dumpling?” His grandfather mused. Yuu pouted at this. He was just excited, he hadn’t seen his Sofu all week due to a business trip he and his dad went to. He should probably ask Sofu why his dad wasn’t back too.

Hatsuko gracefully sidled beside them, bowing to the Asim’s who watched in amusement as Yuu interacted with his grandfather. It could only be described as precious, adorable, and undeniably heartwarming. “Yuu, you have to greet them too you know~” Hatsuko whispered into Yuu’s ear.

Yuu paused, suddenly remembering why he was in the green room in the first place. He sheepishly smiled as detached himself from his Sofu to bow politely at the Asim’s. Politely waving at an excited Kalim, who was all but ready to tackle the other into a hug if it came to it. His Sofu called him energetic, but Kalim was probably its dictionary definition.

Yuu noticed another boy beside Kalim, and he immediately took interest in their long hair. It must’ve been hard to wash, he should know, he had pretty long hair too, but it wasn’t as long as theirs. It must be fun to braid that…

“We shouldn’t keep the children from playing. After all, this is part of the reason we came here.” The woman on the opposite side, the third wife of Asim, stated as she motioned for the boy with long hair to follow Kalim. The boy nodded vigorously.

Sofu smiled. “Yes, we shouldn’t.” He sent a sidewards glance to Hatsuko, before motioning to the chair beside him. Hatsuko gracefully sat onto the chair, and honestly, she seemed like a robot with how proper her movements were. The adults led the children away from the table, instantly talking about a potential partnership.

Kalim instantly bolted towards Yuu, gung-ho, throwing his arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Yuu was rather shocked for a few seconds before hugging back, chuckling a little. The long-haired boy stood a good distance behind Kalim, politely bowing when he realised Yuu glanced in his direction. When Kalim had separated himself from Yuu, Kalim gently took the latter’s hand and led Yuu towards Jamil.

“Yuu, this is Jamil! He’s my-“ Kalim was cut off by Jamil, who bowed once more.

“I’m Jamil Viper, Kalim’s attendant and retainer.” He formally introduced himself. Yuu awkwardly told him that he didn’t need to bow, but it seemed there was no stopping him.

“No, you’re my friend,” Kalim said with a pout that made Yuu chuckle. Jamil sighed, bringing a hand to massage his temples.

Yuu was curious about Jamil, especially since it was his first time seeing him. During the party, he wasn’t there, does that mean he was just newly appointed? But aren’t retainers supposed to be a bit older? That’s how the Kingscholar’s retainers looked like. Or were those just elders?

He saw Kalim’s excited eyes as they wandered around the manor, his eyes darting around every single piece of art that hung on the walls, as well as the numerous pieces of technology, his curiosity was ever-present. Jamil was following behind them ––even after Kalim’s insistence of walking beside them, to which he declined–– his eyes intrigued by the grandeur collection. Just one of these paintings could probably keep his family alive for a good decade or two.

After Yuu’s tour of the house, Kalim had all but begged Yuu to let them into the kitchen. Kalim went on going on and on about Jamil and his ability to made really good Roti’s and curry. The three of them ended up running around the kitchen with supervision from Yuu’s nanny. Kalim was bouncing, carefully placing the bag of whole wheat flour and a few cups of water on the kitchen island that he could ––luckily–– reach. Jamil was about to go and get the rest of the ingredients himself before Kalim assured him that he could do it himself ––with a bit of help from Yuu’s nanny, who found it heartwarming how much the young Asim heir wanted to help.

While Jamil was mixing, Yuu decided to watch from the bar stool in front of the island. . He didn’t really have any idea what the two were doing, so he decided it was best if he just...didn’t interfere.

Yuu was curious about Jamil. He seemed distant, recluse, or maybe robot-like was a better way to describe him. He only did what he was told, followed Kalim like a loyal puppy, and always put Kalim above him. He didn’t really interact with Jamil much, mostly because Kalim was able to grab his attention at any given moment, but now that they were just chilling in the kitchen, maybe he could finally interact with the boy.

“So...Jamil-san, I didn’t see you at the party…and I was wondering why...” He trailed. Jamil looked up from the bowl, still stirring the mixture that was beginning to become thicker.

Jamil pursed his lips as he stirred. “A few days before the party, we found poison in one of Kalim’s meals. As his attendant, I had to poison test his food...you get what happened.” He said as he placed the spoon down and took the dough in his hands and placed it on the board.

Yuu didn’t know how to respond to that. “A-Are you okay now?” He asked as placed his hands on the counter.

Jamil hummed a short yes while kneading the dough, sifting a bit of flour on top since it was a bit too sticky. “I was only sick for a few days, I was back on my feet once the Asim’s returned from your party two days later.” He said, a small smile on his face as if reassuring him he was alright, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes...just like his Sobo’s, and even his mom’s.

He shook the thought of his head. “M-maybe I should take over…even though I don’t know anything...” He mumbled, but Jamil caught onto it. He nodded and motioned for Yuu to take his place. Yuu walked to the sink to wash his hands.

“You just need to knead the dough anyways…” He said to Yuu as he moved to make space for him. Yuu approached the board before placing his hands on the dough.

It was silent for a few moments, Yuu internally contemplating what to say next since he didn’t want his conversation with Jamil to end, and another because he was genuinely concerned. There was something that was weighing him down somehow...he wasn’t sure what it was, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t understand it either. Jamil on the other hand was wondering why it took so long for Kalim to return, but luckily he could see him from the pantry. His safety was his top priority.

“You know, you remind me of someone I know.” Yuu said out loud, which startled Jamil. Yuu felt his cheeks flush at the sudden realisation that he had said his thoughts out loud.

Jamil hummed. “And who do I remind you of? I may ask.”

Yuu bit his lip as he stopped kneading the dough. “You remind me of Sobo.”

Jamil tilted his head to the side. “I remind of you of someone as great as the wife of Ryo Eshima?” He asked, rather amused. She was a great woman. She rose to the top, and unlike others who selfishly took, she gave. She managed to give the homeless stable jobs, the middle class the ability to rise the ranks, she even welcomed others as her own. It was definitely a comparison that Jamil didn’t see.

“Yeah, she’s great and all, but people keep making her a god or something.” Yuu mused, and Jamil just found himself nodding, best to take the word of the one with an actual blood relation to them. “She’s human too...maybe that’s why she hid her illness. Kind of like you.”

Jamil blinked, not expecting such a declaration. Yuu noticed the confused expression that coloured his face, so he quickly added. “You’re hiding something. You may not be ill, but you’re hiding something, and I want you to know that you shouldn’t be hiding it.”

Jamil paused, processing the words that just came out of Yuu’s mouth. “Trust me Yuu-san, if I could, I would be revealing whatever I’m hiding.” He said cryptically as his eyes became downcast. Yuu was going to ask what he meant but Kalim had finally entered the kitchen, towels, butter, and some fine sea salt in hand, Yuu’s nanny fretting about the young heir.

Yuu wanted to frown, but knew that it would just get the attention of his nanny and Kalim. Instead he sighed as he glanced to Jamil, who approached Kalim, taking everything from his hands and taking the towel and putting it over the dough. Seriously! Why did everyone hide everything from him!

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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hey Steph! I wanted to know if you knew of any fics that dealt with the topic of consent, and very explicit consent, and not even necessarily for sex, but just, explicit consent and conversations of boundaries in a relationship. "hay can I kiss you? it's ok if I hold your hand? can I hold your hand when we're outside?" people talking boundaries, that type of thing... you know anything like that?

Hey Nonny!!

You know, I ABSOLUTELY KNOW that I do, but I didn’t have the foresight to pre-tag all of them as I read them, so I can’t give you ALL of the ones I have in my bookmarks, but I can definitely give you the fics I do have tagged with “Consent” or “Negotiation”, so I hope that’s okay!!

If any of my Lovelies have any that they remember or have their own fics, PLEASE add them!!

CONSENT AND RELATIONSHIP NEGOTIATION

Personal Space by probablyquantum (T, 1,814 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Cuddles, Nightmares, Awkwardness) – John and Sherlock renegotiate the rules governing personal space. Pre-Slash.

Husband by jinglebell (E, 2,003 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff, Toplock) – Sherlock orgasms when John refers to him as ‘husband’.

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w., 1 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn’t ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn’t bother him to propose to John even though they’re not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

Perfect Solo by Itsallfine (E, 2,384 w., 1 Ch., || PWP, Solo Kink, Fantasy, Pining, Dirty Talk, Sex Toys) – Sherlock couldn’t decide how he wanted to have John that night. (The one where Sherlock uses his box of sex toys to take himself apart in every way John might have him.)

Everything by patternofdefiance (E, 4,409 w., 1 Ch. || Snuggles and Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Vulnerable Sherlock) – John wakes up with an armful of Sherlock. This – situation – is unusual, yes, and definitely unfamiliar, but in no way does it feel wrong. Rather, it feels the exact opposite. Part 13 of I Blame Tumblr

Uninhibited by 221b_hound (M, 4,293 w., 1 Ch. || Bathing/Washing, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Big Brother Mycroft, Relationship Negotiation, Massage, Sherlock Has a Low Libido, Pet Names) – Sherlock and John have been apart for the first time since Sherlock returned from the dead. Neither of them has had a good day. John’s gets worse when Mycroft comes to Baker Street in Sherlock’s absence to warn John Watson against disappointing his brother by expecting things to change. Mycroft has misjudged things rather badly. But finally he sods off and leaves John and Sherlock to reconnect, to give and receive comfort, and show each other that they are, indeed, perfectly matched. Part 15 of Unkissed

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures, Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say ‘oh well, at least we tried’. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” (This one is… REALLY REALLY kinky, heavy dub-con warning)

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Evening Ride by LapisLazuli (E, 8,632 w., 1 Ch. || Public Sex, Alternate First Meeting, Humiliation Kink, Groping, Frottage, Consent Issues, Come Play) – John has a series of unexpected meetings with a stranger on the Tube.

C. sapiens by patternofdefiance (E, 8,813 w., 1 Ch. || Tentacles Porn, Magical Realism, Bottomlock, Anal / Tentacle Sex, Pheremones) – “A few weeks ago I would have thought you were impossible,” Sherlock begins, walking into the kitchen in his blue robe, and John – not quite catching on – wants to scoff and argue, No, actually, you are impossible, but then Sherlock continues: “But now I’d say you are improbable.” John thinks this might be flattering, if he could wrap his head around it, but he can’t – Sherlock is standing near, steaming his sun-baked-clean-sand smell, like the beach after rain, an alive smell, an other smell. It’s intoxicating, and John has been studiously avoiding it, but he can’t shift away now it’s so near. Now Sherlock’s so near. And then Sherlock ruins the probable-loveliness of his words and the definite-beauty of his presence by saying: “And by ‘improbable’ I mean ‘not yet scientifically acknowledged.’” Part 1 of Gifts from the Sea

John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world’s only consulting detective will be on his own once again…or will he?

Lacuna by coloredink (E, 15,607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Consent Issues, Drama, Amnesia) – God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John “Five Oceans” Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – “For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #consent #relationship negotiation #Anonymous

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jeffletstalkaboutit · 3 years

Text

Hi there, this is part one of a series I’m working on featuring Jeff wittek and the female lead Avery. Still working on full story...

Full story will go up on Wattpad when it’s finished.

AVERYS POV

UNKNOWN LOCATION

My eyes violently flashed open, my body following the sudden shock of oxygen invading my lungs. I remained in place by straps, anchoring down each limb of my body to the seat beneath me. A dim light flickered, opposite of me, pushing my attention to the circle of heads surrounding me.

5 men, 5 women including me, all tied down to their seats, unconscious.

where am I?

All I could remember was waking up, here. My own name whipped from my memory.

Just as I started pushing against my restraints I noticed the man beside me start to wake up. One by one their eyes flashed open and the sudden fear of not knowing where we were or who they were was evident in each of them, but no one said anything. The room went dark, with not even a flash of light to be seen, Until a tv just above the red flashing light from before, turns on exhibiting a woman with short black hair in a black suit top. She was in a lab of some sort, behind her was a group of people in lab coats, and a glass wall separating them. A loud static noise pierces through the air before the woman spoke up.

"Hello, My name President Aries, You all are probably wondering where you are, why you're here, and who you are." as the lady spoke I couldn't help but notice the people behind her, they walked around urgently, scared. Yet, Aries was so calm a smile on her face.

"Each of you, hand-picked for certain skills and unique brain patterns you hold, You were picked and put together to form a team that could survive just about any situation."

She paused for a second, displaying deceit covered by pain and discomfort.

Flashes of people dressed in fancy clothing danced across the screen. Tall Buildings with large glass windows, Fields of grass and animals, and lastly a globe covered in mixes of blue, brown, and green.

"300 years ago, the Earth was our home. The technology was thriving and taking the world by storm, but little did we know it would come to destroy us. The earth soon became uninhabitable, after the human instinct of destruction overcame our planet." Pictures of firey red explosions covered the screen, leaving me with one memory.

I was on a plane, when the bombs went off, 300 years ago? My eyes drifted to the people around me as they watched the screens intently, none of their faces bringing back any memories.

"Those who made it onto the exodus ship survived and were put into cryosleep, to be woken up when we reached our destination of the planet Larz. Fast forward 300 years into the future, sadly we never arrived. The exodus was sent back on route to earth. Around 52 hours ago 15 doctors and I, were brought awake for a code white. Emergency evac of the special alliance, That's where you all come in. The 10 of you make up the special alliance. The protocol reads that I set out an order for each of you to be removed from cryosleep and evaluated for the evacuation of the exodus to Earth. To put it simply, The exodus failed and we hope that this beautiful gift of life we have given you, can, in turn, save the human race." I watched in shock as the men and women behind her were shot down by men in black uniforms.

"Underneath each of you are backpacks filled with supplies all of you will need, Once you are released from your seats you are permitted to remain in your pod until the doors open by themselves then you are to make your way to Washington DC where you will be met by the last standing 'home' base, They will lead you from there. your names are on the back of your tags on your jackets, be grateful, for they are the only knowledge of your past life you will have. always stay together, and survive. You are the last of the exodus." President Aries ends her speech walking out where the gunmen were before the screen goes black. In that second all of our restraints are released and a dim light above us flickers on.

I Immediately, stand and rip my jacket off. Just as she said The name 'AVERY' was stitched into the inside of the collar of my jacket.

"Avery," I say lightly looking up at the group around me. Some of them began to slip their jackets off and relay their names out loud.

Xavier, Andy, dillion, lacey, Aubri, jeff, Luca, Abey, and Sam.

"she said we were handpicked for certain skills we each have? what skills do we have that normal people don't?" Xavier says as he slides his jacket over his tall stature. His hair was a dark mop of hair that almost covered his dark brown eyes.

"Dude they erased our memories and put us on a ship to a toxic, explosive planet and you worried about these stupid so-called skills we all possess?" Aubri speaks up next, she was a little taller than me but with raven black hair and bright blue eyes.

As they all went back and forth, I found myself wandering back to my chair. I slid the black backpack out from underneath it before plopping it down onto the seat.

What happened on the exodus? and why was Aries lying?

I unzip each part, searching around for any trace of my identity other than my name. I had to agree, the thought of never knowing who I really am scares me more than what's waiting outside of this ship. My fingers clutch a slip of paper in the front of the bag, I pulled it out quickly. It read,

"AVERY KANE

LEADER/STEALTHY"

I turn slightly so I'm facing the rest of the group before I speak up,

"Hey, There's a card in the bags, with your name on it...and I'm guessing our skill," I say loudly so everyone would listen. I rubbed my forehead, slightly paranoid about my card.

"Dillion harris. Medical?" each of them read of their titles, dillion being our medic, lacey nature guide, andy communication, Luca hand to hand combat, Abey sharpshooter, Xavier building/construction, jeff strength, sam human map, and Aubri being stealthy.

"Avery?" Andy questions, making everyone glance at me, ready for me to read my great strength.

"Leader, stealthy," I say making Aubri laugh.

"so you're in charge? we're screwed." Aubri says, Before rolling her eyes and plopping down on the ground. Everyone stayed quiet, at loss for words at this moment.

the room stayed quiet for what felt like days but was only minutes, we all sat on the floor, rummaging through the things in our bags or just staring off into oblivion, trying to escape the lingering feeling of a complete and utter void of our lives. The feeling of fear, of not knowing what's beyond these thick metal walls, The feeling of distrust and not knowing each other.

The feeling of the unknown. I didn't want to lead? I'm the smallest person here.

That night I didn't sleep, waiting anxiously for the door to open.

Everything president Aries said replayed in my head, dissecting every word.

She said that the earth was destroyed by humans 300 years ago, I was in a plane when the bombs went off, we were put into cryosleep along with the other survivors, something happened, code white was announced, the president was woken up and we were ordered to be sent to earth. She said we were the last of the exodus.

What happened on the ship that caused the code white? And where is president Aries? who were those people, gunning down the scientists?

Why would they erase our memories? what I did know is Aries's emotions weren't true in the video, so why should we believe anything she says?

So many questions bounced around my head, leaving my emotions swirling.

How was I supposed to be a leader? These people wouldn't listen to me even if I tried. Maybe Lacey but the rest of them either seem like a bitch or could be way smarter than me, bigger than me.

And if everyone in the exodus is dead why would it matter if we stuck to what these dumb cards say?

The sudden sound of crackling filled my ears, my breath hitched in my throat as the door of the ship started to fold open.

The light flooding in. Burning my eyes, making me block it with my hand.

Within seconds everyone was awake, staring hopelessly at the door revealing millions of colors of green and blue. We all slowly advanced the exit with caution.

The trees outside were thick and tall almost completely shading the ground, green moss and grass covering every inch of brown from the dirt and the tree bark.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking. The air felt moist and hot, so I'm guessing rainforest?

"well, Avery since you're the 'leader' you go first," Luca says, my eyes drift over to his dark chocolate hair. The newfound light, illuminating his bright green eyes.

"yeah, sure ill die first," I say as I step down off the ship and onto the green grass, just standing there for a second.

"what? you waiting to kill over?" Xavier says with a light laugh.

"if the air was toxic, we would have all died when the door opened," I say as I step further out just to turn around and look at the ship. It was a tall circular junk of metal with a pointy tip.

My eyes drifted back to the others, who were all staring at me with questioning looks.

"well?" just as the word flowed out of my mouth, Jeff jumps down, holding out his hand to Aubri. Which she took with a smile before hopping down.

"So where do we start? we have no idea where we are or how to get where we are going." dillion says, he seemed very nervous. His blonde hair was short and styled back in a way that suited his face beautifully.

"Anyone have a map?" Abey says. She had dark skin and beautiful, strong facial features. Her voice sounded like butter. My eyes drifted to sam, she is Koren, quiet and very pretty, with long brown hair.

"sam, You're the guide, right? Check your bag for a map." I say, making her start making her way back in the ship. a few seconds later she returns with a piece of paper in her hands.

She hands me the paper, making me sigh before I open it and lay it out so everyone can see. It was a map of the united states with a circle on one end and an x on the other. under the circle read 'Washington DC'

"so I'm guessing we are the X?" Andy asks. I nodded slowly before glancing up at the sky, The sun was just on the horizon in the east.

"It's 6 am, so we should probably get going, we need to find water," I say before handing the map back to sam and making my way to the ship before Luca speaks up.

"I say, Fuck 'president Aries' we are alive and on earth, free-range. why should we listen to some dead president anyway?" he says making me roll my eyes, he assumes she's dead, does everything think that? why would they kill her, if she was the president...

Even if she's lying, we have to go. well find out if she's lying when we get there. Staying in the jungle isn't going to find us any answers.

"so stay," I say before making my way into the ship to gather my supplies. I pulled the compass out of my bag along with the pocket knife. After a few seconds Abey, lacey and sam come in.

"We are with you, I don't know about the rest of them but That president lady put you in charge for a reason, and I'm not so happy with the idea of staying here with those idiots," Abey says as she gathers her stuff.

"They won't survive on their own, we were sent here as a group for a reason, the special alliance," Lacey says, looking up to me. "and the rainforest can be very dangerous..."

"They'll come," I say, making my way out with Abey, lacey, and sam behind me. I glanced over at lacey, "what kind of animals live here?"

"Oh, just tigers, monkeys, elephants, gorillas..." Lacey says, getting quieter as she kept talking. we made our way out of the ship,

my eyes followed Luca until I passed him, making my way into the woods.

"You guys are just gonna leave?"Aubri asks dramatically.

I tilted my head slightly with a shrug, before walking through the thick trees.

#lets-talk-about-jeff-baby #jeff wittek #jeff wittek x reader #vlog squad #davids vlogs

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

Text

I want to see anything where Lucas hides behind Eliott’s back. Idk why but I am a sucker for scared Lucas

Prompt for Elu: I would like to see Lucas being a baby. Maybe he is sick or I don’t know sad or something else like scared

could u maybe please write something about lucas accidentally breaking his leg or something and eliott immediate going into protective boyfriend mode?

Part 3

As he’s driving, way too fast for the middle of Paris, only noticing cars flashing by his window as he outruns them, Eliott holds the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing and not at Lucas’ loud groans every once in a while and both babies crying. It’s hard to focus on the things he needs to do to make sure they get to the hospital safely, but Eliott lets his alpha focus on the task and get them there, shoving his stupid emotions down his throat.

His instincts are trying to keep him safe, but right now, that keeps Lucas and the kids safe too and that’s all that matters.

He didn’t have time to think and call someone to take care of the kids, there was no time so he had to put everyone inside his car and drive to the nearest hospital.

How Lucas fell and probably broke his leg is still a mystery. Again, Eliott didn’t have much time to ask questions and Lucas was in too much pain to explain anyway. Margot was the one to call him and Eliott is so thankful he was as Lucas’ emergency contact. Thinking of what could have happened if he wasn’t makes him sick to his stomach.

The car jumps a little as he notices he parked on the sidewalk, right in front of the emergency room entrance, closing the sidewalk.

He rushes around the car, forgetting about turning it off and he opens the back door, Lucas still sitting like Eliott put him there, the kids squishing him against the door. Eliott imagines his bad skills at parking a car got the doctors’ attention because as soon as he walks back, there are nurses helping Lucas get out of the car and into a wheelchair, rushing him inside.

Eliott is left with not much information and having to park the car and calm down two crying babies.

He doesn’t know how Lucas does it, and he doesn’t know how he manages, but after a while the three of them are inside, not crying anymore, impatiently waiting for any news, good news, is all Eliott can think about.

Now that they’re settled in and he can hear something other than loud cries, Eliott goes back in time inside his brain, remembering how everything happened after he left Lucas with the nurses with a promise of news as soon as they had some.

He was moving on instinct again, letting the alpha take care of things while he was screaming inside his own head, wanting to check on Lucas, to see if he was okay.

Both the kids were finally seated properly on the back seat as he turned the car back on, feeling how the wheels slowly fell down back on the street, making them all jump a little bit on their seats. Eliott got back on the street and found the right entrance to park the car. He held Noah, still quietly crying in his arms and Margot was walking by his side, holding his hand tightly. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her whole face was still wet from minutes ago and she still looked frightened.

They had to walk around the hospital, check in, get their tags to put on their clothes and Eliott sat down. Noah wouldn’t let go of his shirt and so he let the boy rest there and Margot climbed on the chair next to them, kneeling on it, leaning against Eliott, sucking her thumb while watching the emergency doors. Just like Eliott, she was waiting for news.

Back to the present, with both kids still in the same position, Eliott came to the realization that it’s probably bad for kids to suck their thumbs, but he doesn’t know if Lucas lets her do it or not and it’s been a long night so he doesn’t ask for her to stop. Her teeth seem fine from what he can remember.

He checks the time on the old clock hanging close to the ceiling, echoing around the room as the seconds go by. It’s way past any kid bedtime and Eliott is sure this will be a long night of waiting so he carefully moves Noah around so he can lie on his lap and take a (hopefully) long nap. As soon as he sets Noah and he doesn’t complain much, Margot climbs on his chair too and Eliott frowns, there’s not enough space for the three of them, but Lucas had talked about this.

How his siblings like to sleep basically on top of each other or on top of anyone that’s close enough to them. Usually Lucas, but tonight Eliott is the victim.

Noah makes himself smaller, as close to Eliott’s stomach as it’s physically possible and Margot sits closer to his knee, her tiny legs stretching over his other leg and she twists her top half enough so she can rest her head on Eliott’s stomach too, over her little brother’s legs. It doesn’t seem like a comfortable or healthy position, but they both pass out within minutes so, again, Eliott lets them be.

It’s a little heavy now that he has both kids on him, so he makes sure to sit as comfortable as a hospital chair lets him and he relaxes, keeping his eyes on the clock, feeling the exhaustion of the scary night take over, but he’s too worried to fall asleep. He needs to see Lucas and needs to make sure his leg isn’t at an impossible angle anymore.

The emergency is oddly quiet for a hospital, just an older lady sitting across the room on the other side of the hall, on another empty waiting room and the nurses walk around peacefully like this is not the place only ill or dead people come. They check their medical records, write some things, sit behind the counter, look at their computers, whisper between each other, normal things they probably do every night and day.

Eliott tries to focus on what they are doing, not on Lucas in surgery, in pain, unconscious now, having his bones screwed back together, needing weeks, maybe months to recover.

They’ve talked a little bit, about meaningful things, mostly before or after sex when Lucas’ walls are down for a few minutes. Even with Lucas’ evasives answers, he knows how much Lucas worries about raising his siblings correctly, about constantly being a good example, the best he can be given their circumstances, and Lucas’ lack of experience with kids.

If Eliott had any saying in it, he would say Lucas is doing a good job being so inexperienced and so impatient. He cares more than he’ll ever admit and Eliott hopes he’s not worried about them now when he’s in pain and needing care. Whatever their relationship is, Eliott hopes Lucas isn’t worried because he knows Eliott has the kids.

When the clock hits two in the morning, Noah wakes up suddenly. Eliott knows he still drinks milk sometimes, he made that pretty clear when he knocked on Eliott’s bedroom door that night they all slept at his place, but he has nothing on him now.

If this boy is hungry, he might be in trouble. Margot wakes up because Noah is not very careful while trying to sit up, accidentally kicking his sister on his way. He doesn’t talk much still, but Eliott is sure the boy is asking for his fucking milk that Eliott doesn’t have.

Margot jumps to the floor and is about to go to the nurses when Eliott gets up, putting Noah on the chair and rushing to grab Margot, holding her in his arms, putting her back on the chair, right next to her brother.

“You stay here and make sure he stays here too. I’m gonna find milk.”

He can’t go too far, of course, but he fixes his hair and his clothes and goes to the reception, keeping his eyes on both the kids, waiting as they were told to do. He asks as nicely as he can if the nurses can find him some milk. They’ve been watching him since he got there so he assumes they pity him and smile, whispering they’ll find something.

Not long after, a nurse comes from the door in the hall, holding a cup and Eliott can smell it’s the milk. Warm and pure. Eliott hates milk with nothing, so he tries to breathe slowly to avoid having to smell it more than he needs to. He walks carefully back to the kids and Noah smiles.

There are two cups, one inside the other to keep him from burning his hand so Eliott separates them, putting the empty one on the table, putting a little bit of the milk in it, stirring both before handing it to Margot and Noah.

The boy gets the cup with more milk because he’s starving and Margot is drinking just because she can’t have her brother drinking alone. Eliott lets them share the chair and he sits next to them, catching himself staring and smiling. Noah clearly likes his milk very warm. He doesn’t wait for long and in a matter of minutes, all his milk is gone.

Margot takes her time, looking around, drinking little sips, and Eliott wonders if she remembers everything that happened and if she could tell him how this hell night started. She looks worried, but Eliott knows she’s a little bit like that normally. Lucas will never accept it, but she behaves a lot like him.

Eliott would love to teach Noah how to be like himself so they have a more even and solid group.

When Noah is done, he offers his empty cup to Eliott like he’s the waiter to this two year old boy, but before he can grab it, skinny, long fingers cover Noah’s hands and carefully take the cup from his tiny hands.

The nurse from earlier smiles to the boy that smiles back at her and she stands up again, looking at Eliott, making his heart suddenly race and tighten inside his chest.

“Your friend is out of the surgery.”

#skam france #elu fic #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #lucas x eliott #elu #Elu!ABO AU

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silver-wield · 4 years

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Hey so I was wondering if you did/could do an analysis on clouds various panic attacks ptsd episodes and how he responds to each one I’m interested to read your thoughts on each one since you usually bring a new perspective to the table for me so thanks for that!

All of Cloud's ptsd attacks? Damn, that's a lot of searching I've got to do. I might not find them all. I'll do my best but you'll have to let me off if I miss a couple lol

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be long.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Please check my master post to see if I've already covered your question, thanx

Recap time!

I explain Cloud's entire backstory which covers his PTSD and other issues here, so that should do for a recap right?

A further thing to note is that PTSD affects people differently and in Cloud's case it manifests as a psychological taunt in the form of Sephiroth. Embodiying his sense of failure, lack of self-esteem and self-actualisation, this version of Sephiroth is the one that Cloud reacts to the most strongly. This is the one that makes him whimper with fear and react on instinct instead of observing the situation and attacking. This is the one he fears, and it's a part of himself wearing a monster's face. Why Sephiroth? Who else has done him more harm? Sephiroth killed his mother, Tifa (so he assumes), burned his hometown to the ground and was indirectly responsible for his best friend's death, too.

And Cloud couldn't do a thing about it. He is the manifestation of everything that Cloud hates and fears about himself. Because of this, he's dissociated from much of his feelings. He still feels, but at a lesser degree than he should were he fully in touch with his real self.

Moseying on.

The first PTSD induced attack isn't actually prompted by Sephiroth himself, although he does feature in it. Cloud's first attack happens when he sees the destruction of sector 8 and buildings burning. This gives him the association of the last time he saw a burning building, which happened when his village burned. The sensory input of sights, sounds and smells prompted the memory, which combined with the high stress situation and Cloud's own latent anxiety and guilt for his part in this chaos.

You see a close up of Cloud's eye as it widens and real!Cloud's memory pushes to the forefront of his mind – remember, these memories are things SOLDIER!Cloud can't access at will, which is why they cause him pain when it happens.

Theres a static noise in the background, which is meant to convey a type of ringing in Cloud's ears and then the building's facade morphs to that of his house with the fence around it.

While much of what Sephiroth says is in line with this being a separate being from Cloud and not merely his own subconscious taunting him, there are elements of it being a combination of both. This is in line with the OG where Sephiroth was able to get in Cloud's head and make him doubt his own sense of self. With what we know of how Jenova's cells manipulate Cloud, it's believable that Sephiroth is both a separate being manipulating Cloud to his own ends and partly an aspect of Cloud's psyche that exists to push blame on him for everything. It's the representation of his mental illness that he struggles to fight.

Obviously, there's no fire, so Cloud sweating and breathless is because they're physical symptoms of his PTSD induced trauma.

Sephiroth's taunting lines about how he killed Cloud's mother are overkill when you consider the real Sephiroth's personality. The combination of the overarching Sephiroth and Cloud's PTSD version make a powerful foe that he never really beats. This is a metaphor for the fact those with mental illness are never really free. It's a lifetime battle and even if they're in recovery, that demon is just waiting for one weak moment when they can get them back in their grip.

You can hear Cloud gasp in this scene as once again Sephiroth appears to taunt him. He's not fully recovered from the last attack and now there's another right on top of it. Sephiroth appearing is once again partly Cloud's own trauma and partly the Jenova cells in him warping his perception and allowing Sephiroth to mess with him.

Unlike the time before, this Sephiroth vision is a simple taunt that Cloud is too weak to save anyone. This is his guilt and self-loathing talking about how he couldn't save his mom, Tifa or his town. It could also be hinting that he couldn't save Zack either.

The hidden implication of this scene is the fact that Sephiroth puts his hand on Aerith's shoulder. This is the only time Sephiroth touches anyone besides Cloud.

The next time Cloud has an attack is during the reactor 5 mission. This happens because of Tifa's presence drawing out the painful memory of the Nibelheim reactor where he believed she died after facing down Sephiroth.

Even in the midst of his PTSD attack he looks to Tifa. She doesn't know what's happening with him and he backs away from taking a chance to confide in her, but even during this moment when he's showing weakness he has very good eye contact with her. He's looking her directly in the eye, which he wouldn't do if he wasn't comfortable with her. This shows that Cloud sees her as a source of comfort and support.

You can see the lingering doubt on his face here after he dismisses the attack. He's not aware of what the memory means because he's not in touch with the full story – that belongs to real!Cloud kept hidden away. He knows it's left him unsettled and feeling like a failure. This is one of the few times I've seen that Cloud doesn't dismiss out of hand the content of the attacks.

Tifa repeats a phrase she said back then and Cloud's sense of failure surfaces, causing him pain and to freeze up. We get a voice over from real!Cloud referring to the time he believes he let Tifa down. Before the SOLDIER persona can get too deep into it or question what he means, Barret yells for him to focus. Cloud shakes off the paralysing feelings, but that doesn't stop Tifa asking it he's ok, which he dismisses again. This is typical of truama survivors pushing their feelings down and attempting to function without ever truly dealing with the source of their pain.

This next flash is prompted by the events during chapter 8 where the children get into trouble and Cloud has to rescue them. It echoes a similar even in his past where Tifa climbed Mt Nibel and fell, despite his best efforts to save her. She spent a week in a coma and Cloud was blamed for the incident and told to stay away from her.

The past emotions of guilt and failure mingle with the present situation to prompt a flash of pain as the memory of Tifa surfaces. It's his feelings of guilt and having failed her that cause the pain, not Tifa herself because when he says to Aerith he doesn't know how to explain he turns to the spot where he saw the vision of Tifa and smiles wistfully. This means Tifa herself doesn't cause him pain. The feelings he has about himself, do.

Chapter 13 and omg I love this freak out! I'm sorry, but this is such a great moment for Cloud and really highlights how low he is at this point. This shows the depth that we miss from him always having his SOLDIER persona taking charge. He's just lived through a tragedy. He's seen the girl he likes in pieces and trying to hold it together. He wants to comfort her. He wants to be himself, but he can't because he's just not good enough. He's feeling like a failure in more ways than one. He lost people too, goddamnit!

Then, in a misguided attempt to distract Tifa from her pain, he stumbles right into a trigger point for his own trauma. Of course he wouldn't know this. It's one of those flashes of Sephiroth ranting about his role and Jenova and shit. (I might have mistakenly said this was a future-flash somewhere, but then I remembered he does this rant right before he kills everyone in Nibelheim).

There's very little blocking to the memory. This is pretty well sealed by real!Cloud compared to his other memories. Even painful ones of Tifa have more context than this. This is something that is so damaging to Cloud's psyche that he can't even fill in the space around it.

So, we get the same kind of staticky noise we heard in chapter 2 when the vision of Sephiroth showed. Cloud gasps pretty loud here tbf. He's unguarded because of the vision and possibly his own distraction about what he's just been through. He wasn't prepared to see Sephiroth here even more than he was back in chapter 2 when he had a full on panic attack.

I mean, his pupils are seriously dilated here. Boi is scared.

Cloud's whimpering and my heart breaks for him. Sephiroth is hitting all his weakest points by bringing up failure and mentioning it's not the first time that's happened. Cloud's at a low point already, so it's not unexpected he backs away from this rather than tries to fight. This isn't SOLDIER!Cloud. This is real!Cloud. The fear has driven real!Cloud to the surface and he wants to run away, just like Sephiroth taunted back in chapter 2.

“Through suffering you will grow strong. Isn't that what you want?”

Clearly not by the look on Cloud's face. The part of him that's real!Cloud within this moment looks like he wants to scream that he's had enough of being in pain. He wants to shake his head and deny that he deserves it. What did he ever do wrong?

I feel like this is more of Cloud's own subconscious taunting him and implying that he deserves everything bad that happens to him, rather than it being the external Sephiroth manipulating Jenova's cells. He's saying Cloud secretly wants to suffer because that's all he should ever get in life. He thinks if he suffers enough pain that he'll be stronger for it, instead of the broken person that he really is. This is the type of thing people who’ve lived through trauma deal with every single day. It’s a never ending barrage of not feeling good enough and worrying that your entire existence is a bother to society. Not even just those close to you, you are a blight on the world. That Cloud’s internal trauma is so deeply rooted in this figure of Sephiroth narrows his focus and makes him project all of his fears onto him. It’s no wonder he freezes.

Now, not strictly a PTSD glitch, but it does provoke a very strong reaction from Cloud, and definitely plays into his fears, so I'm gonna include this one on the proviso it's more fear motivated.

This is the moment he sees Tifa stabbed during the VR cut scene. Sephiroth hijacked it to show them meteor, but then he also killed Tifa and then Barret. We know later on that Barret actually dies, so having seen this, Cloud may well relate back to this deep seated fear that he can't save Tifa and she'll die because of him and it'll cause further attacks. This is also a callback to the time in the reactor in Nibelheim when Tifa was stabbed by Sephiroth and Cloud couldn't save her – this ties to the PTSD flashback he had during the reactor 5 mission where he saw Tifa picking up Sephiroth's sword, so it's got precedence to cause him further trauma once he connects the dots. The fact it provokes such a strong emotional response from him – so much so that his entire face changes – I suspect that real!Cloud came out to motivate him to run to her out of the fear he'd just seen her die in front of him – again. The shock and disbelief on his face, the utter heartbreak. His expression changes from SOLDIER!Cloud to real!Cloud in less than 3 seconds. I checked. As a trigger for his trauma, Cloud's fear of losing Tifa pushes him to a lot of things he wouldn't normally do.

This is more of a memory glitch than PTSD since it's tied to the grunt recognising Cloud and calling him out on the false memories he has of being a SOLDIER. He says they went through training together and Cloud's eyes narrow as though he's trying to reconcile a truth against a lie. The truth that real!Cloud was a grunt and SOLDIER!Cloud is a fake.

There's some distress on his face here that links back to the point during the airbuster battle when he first learned about cell degradation. He knows what he believes is true isn't quite right, but he can't figure out why. SOLDIER!Cloud is unaware of the SOLDIER persona he constructed to protect his real self from further trauma. In OG when Cloud finds out – through Sephiroth’s skewed af bullshit – it causes a complete mental break, so real!Cloud's right to be wary of triggering himself because he's not in a good enough place to deal with what he's done to protect himself. He'd blame himself for being even more weak than he thought.

This is more interesting. Usually whenever anyone questions Cloud about his false identity he claims it, while also rejecting it by saying “ex-SOLDIER”, but in Hojo's case, he seems to hesitate, as though part of him knew it would be questioned and wouldn't hold up. Since Hojo's the one who did this to Cloud, it's likely the truth of what happened couldn't be kept back by the SOLDIER lies.

Pained again, Cloud turns his head away, as though he can shut out the truth. Hojo's image glitches for him and it's reminiscent of the OG moment where Cloud confronts Hojo and asks if he can be a proper experiment instead of a failed one (or something like that. I haven't played OG in like 5 years)

The trauma from what Hojo's done is quickly brushed under the carpet thanks to the arrival of the whispers. This is the second time they appear to prevent Cloud learning too much about his past too early. (Dammit, I forgot about deep ground, I'll circle back to it or I'll lose the order for my screenshots)

I'm not including the long corridor walk prompted by Jenova because that's a loading screen and also it happens not because of anything that Cloud experienced in the location, but because the outside influence of Jenova called to him. His only association with Jenova is the infusion of cells, though how he got them does set off attacks. Actually, here's a good point for the deep ground screen.

Preview of zombie Cloud for Mideel anyone? I mean, what can I say? He's totally checked out and it's scary. No wonder he doesn't wanna remember any of it if this is what he was like at the time. Imagine being so doped up with mako that you're not even you any longer? Having experiments carried out on you and god knows what else. Being stuffed in a chamber jammed full of alien dna and left to see what happens.

This is what broke him. I'd say it's similar to the faceless Squall cut scene from the end of FF8. It's chilling. No wonder he crafted an entire persona to protect himself from remembering this.

So this is the culmination of all the other attacks he's had. We get flashback elements from several that threaten to overwhelm Cloud. He's clutching his head. He's in serious pain and can't do anything. He manages to push through and ask if it's really Sephiroth. He then grabs his left arm when it begins to hurt. This is because Sephiroth is left handed. This is also the same arm that had the major infection of geostigma in AC.

Conclusion

Cloud is a messed by puppy and I ship him with therapy.

PTSD is a tricky thing to accurately show, especially in this case when it's not all totally mental illness and there are outside factors that skew how it's portrayed. Part of Sephiroth is within Cloud, though I do suspect it's more of an aspect of his own feelings of self-loating and doubt than it is actually Sephiroth. That's not to say there isn't also a genuine part of Sephiroth within these visions influencing Cloud to do what he wants, but I think it comes down to the context of the moment.

Cloud's been through a lot of shit and fronts like nothing else. He's managed to get away without any kind of vices or coping mechanisms besides this alternate persona that actually does ok in following the real!Cloud's lead when his deeper urges motivate SOLDIER!Cloud into doing things. I mean there's a point where there's a clear debate between the two about dancing for Andrea. All that back and forth eye movement and then the grimace and “fine, for Tifa” expression wasn't necessary if it was just SOLDIER!Cloud.

It's gonna be hard for Cloud to hear that he's not real in the sense that he thinks he is. It's gonna break him. We've got a preview of his scary vacant Mideel look and it's terrifying. Major props to Tifa for refusing to give up on him.

#final fantasy 7 remake spoilers #final fantasy 7 remake analysis #Character analysis #Cloud Strife #Tw: ptsd

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lightshadowverisimilitude · 4 years

Text

Temeraire ABO Prologue/?

I am 82,000 words into this one, so, it is safe to say that I will be able to post consistently for a little while at least.

Laurence has spent the entirety of his adult life hiding his orientation. His worst nightmare is that someone will discover he is an omega.

As requested, tagging @tamaras-random-little-corner @whenflowersfade @memprime

Watch out for the cut, ducklings.

~*~

Laurence stood at the rail and watched England disappear beyond the horizon. Somewhere ahead of him was China. Below his feet was Yongxing and the whole of his embassy with seven or eight months in close quarters and nothing else to do with their time but try to separate him from Temeraire.

The part of his heart that had always been drawn to the sea was relaxed in a way it had not been in the months since he and Temeraire had been set ashore in Dover, but he was surprised to realize that it no longer quite felt like home to him. He had been at sea for eighteen years and had always felt a little ill-at-ease on solid land before.

His first brief trip on a ship had been his uncle’s merchant vessel when he'd been about nine. At the time, he’d thought it a real marvel, though in reality it was quite a small vessel with a crew of only fifteen. They had traveled far enough away from the shore that Laurence could see nothing but endless ocean in all directions. He had felt a swelling sense of wonder, at once both alone in all the world and connected to it in a way that he couldn’t explain. His heart had been for the sea from that moment on. At least until Temeraire.

Laurence reached out and set a hand on Temeraire’s forearm. He wanted nothing more in that moment than their clearing at Loch Laggan, but he could only be grateful for their reunion, even if that reunion lasted only as long as the journey to China. He pulled himself up into the comfortable crook of Temeraire’s arm to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the cool salt breeze. If staying onshore wouldn’t have risked the Admiralty changing their minds about sending him and his whole crew with Temeraire, Laurence would have preferred to remain on land for another two or three weeks to get through his cycle before being confined to the ship.

It did not matter. He had gone through dozens of cycles onboard and could manage another. It would not be as comfortable or easy to hide as when he had been in command of the ship, but that, too, he had done before. A five-day fever would not be uncommon or unexpected on a long sea voyage, though he did not like that it would come so soon when Temeraire was intent on playing the nursemaid and concerned over his health. Laurence could already feel the prickly sense of discomfort of the cycle, and guessed that he had maybe two or three days until he was in the thick of it. He looked up at Temeraire. From the angle, he could really only see the underside of Temeraire’s chin and the thin tendrils dangling over the side of his jaw.

Laurence would have to try to endure as long as he could to stay at Temeraire’s side and alleviate his concerns as much as possible. If he was lucky, the exhaustion brought on by his recent injury would work in his favor, and he would sleep through the first part of it, though he would need to isolate himself in his cabin once the fever came on or risk discovery.

Over the years, he had grown accustomed to laying the groundwork for his periods of isolation, and coughed into his fist.

“Laurence?” Temeraire asked immediately, alarmed. “Oh, it is too cold. Roland! Do bring another blanket!” he ordered before Laurence could even get his fist down from his face.

“My dear, no, I am quite well. Please do not concern yourself.”

He needn’t have bothered to protest. Roland had jumped up and was already gone belowdecks, though he did manage to put a stop to it before Keynes was summoned, and immediately felt guilty for the ruse. He had never liked it, play acting at being ill, but a convenient fever was the only means he could reliably use to lock himself in his cabin and trust that his crew would not bother him for fear of spreading the sickness. If any of his crews had ever suspected the cause of his illness, no one had let on.

Roland reappeared with the second blanket, and Laurence withheld his frustration at the treatment as she was directed by his overgrown mother hen to wrap it around his shoulders. She had also taken the initiative of bringing a cushion, and tucked this between his neck and Temeriare’s arm.

“Thank you, Roland,” Laurence said dryly. She gave him an impish grin and danced back to her play with the other runners.

It was going to be a long week.

~*~

Laurence was practiced at hiding the initial onset of his cycle, but that had been easier when he’d had actual duties and could blame the vagaries and stresses of command for any shortness in his tone. It was different when he had a very attentive dragon who had little to do with his time other than hover over Laurence. He watched Riley and Purbeck on deck with a growing sense of jealousy and irritation. Every order built up the annoyance under his skin until it was all he could do to tuck himself in between Temeraire’s arms and feign sleep. Even then, sleep came rarely, so he had to just clench his teeth and try to block out the sounds and scents around him.

“Laurence, are you quite sure you are well? The wound is not bothering you?” Temeraire asked when Laurence woke in overheated agitation, already struggling out of his nest of blankets before he was even fully aware.

Laurence blinked rapidly, trying to place himself. The sky was dark above him, stars wheeling ahead. For a panicky moment, he thought he’d fallen asleep on watch, but finally registered Temeraire’s chest at his back and remembered where he was and why. He was parched, and the hand he dragged across his forehead came away slick with sweat. His leg also ached in dull fire of complaint, dragging the memory of the skirmish with the French and subsequent confusion of the harness straps tangled around his leg, the later horror of his crew standing with weapons raised opposite Marines.

Shaking his head to dislodge the spiral of memory before it dragged him under to waking nightmares, Laurence patted at Temeraire’s chest.

“I think, perhaps I am not feeling well after all,” he said finally, struggling to his feet.

“I will call for Keynes immediately -!”

“No, Temeraire, please do not disturb anyone on my account. I will just go below and get some sleep. I am certain that I shall be well again soon.” He patted at Temeraire’s hide and stood, but kept one hand on the smooth black scales as he walked around Temeraire’s outstretched arm to the stairs leading off the dragon deck.

Temeraire called after him in some concern, but Laurence feigned not to have heard and made his way down the hatch, clutching unsteadily at the rail as he went. He felt faint and dizzy, his stomach twisting and chest aching. He did not run into anyone en route to his quarters and bolted the door firmly behind him. Laurence drained the tankard of water on the cabin’s small table, and then crawled into his hammock and closed his eyes against the prickling burn.

The sway of his hammock was familiar, but the motion was not pleasant with his stomach squirming with nausea and his head throbbing. He reached out blindly to put one hand on the bulkhead, but it didn’t help to stabilize him. Heat was already building under his skin, and he guessed that the next morning would see his cycle take hold in earnest.

~*~

Part way through the next day, Riley came to see him. Laurence thought that if anyone had guessed the truth about him, it would be Riley. Laurence had made something of a name for himself by taking young officers under his wing and then recommending them to other captains after a year or so of service. As a result, he had developed an odd reputation as both a fighting captain and something like a school master. Other captains were always happy to take his young officers, already well-trained, while Laurence would accept a new batch of fresh faces at the onset of the following voyage.

Riley, though, had come up under him from midshipman, and had been his longest-serving officer. It was as much at Riley’s fervent insistence as for the growing friendship between them, but it had been dangerous for him as well. The frequent change over of his officers meant that very few of them had ever seen him through more than one cycle, while Riley had likely witnessed a dozen or more. Surely, enough to do the math.

Despite this, Riley had never so much as hinted at a suspicion. When he called through the door, Laurence hesitated only a moment before cracking it open.

“My apologies, Captain Riley. I appear to have a bit of a fever. It is probably best if I do not accept visitors for the time being.”

Riley did not try to push into the cabin, but nodded to him. “Of course, Captain. Your dragon has been asking for you, and I would like to prevent any … anxiety. Might I carry word to him?”

Laurence considered straightening his clothing and going up topside, but he was in no condition to be around people for anything less than an emergency. As his cycle progressed, he would become increasingly more unstable and have less self control. The damage of being on deck with potentially hundreds of witnesses could not be easily understated.

“Please tell him I am well enough, just tired. If I am feeling better this evening, I will come up.”

Riley gave him a critical once over, but nodded. He handed a bell through the hand’s breadth of space Laurence had left open. “If you need anything, please ring for it. I have made it a general order to keep this corridor clear during the day where possible, though there will be men at the far end if you have need of anything.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Laurence said sincerely. His eyes fastened briefly to the cut of Riley’s jaw, the soft space just behind the ear. He shook himself to break the spell and accepted the bell, keeping his fingers well away from Riley’s in the exchange. He closed the door firmly and leaned forward to rest his forehead against it to listen to Riley’s steps as they retreated.

The pressure low in his pelvis built up so quickly that it made him gag. He doubled over, knees hitting the deck. He tore at the ties of his trousers and shoved his hand inside, but it took nothing more than pushing his fingers against the warmth just behind his balls to come, blinding fast and so hard that it was more pain than pleasure.

He toppled sideways and gasped for breath, the heat and urgency momentarily abated, though the customary anger took its place. It was a useless anger. Outside of his cycle, he could discipline himself to dismiss it. This was biology, and it was not a thing that had been done to him out of spite, though he had railed against God enough in his youth. In the grips of it, he could barely see past the rage that the majority of the population was never held in this miserable prison, and society would be more than happy to punish him for it if anyone ever learned the truth.

~*~

Sometime around midnight, fucked out on his own hand, oversensitized and shaking with reaction, Laurence nonetheless took the time to clean himself with meticulous care, dress neatly, and make the trip above decks to see Temeraire. The corridor was clear, and the deck was empty but for the officer of the watch, a pair of hands playing cards around a lantern some ways down the deck, and Granby sitting at Temeraire’s elbow with a novel open on his knees, reading aloud by lamplight.

“Laurence!” Temeraire declared loudly enough to pull the sailors’ attention from their game, interrupting Granby mid-sentence.

“Captain,” Granby greeted, obviously not at all offended to be interrupted. If anything, he looked rather relieved.

“Mr. Granby, my apologies for the interruption,” Laurence said anyway. Granby had discarded his coat, and his neckcloth hung open over his shoulders, revealing a strip of skin, sweat slick in the hollow of his throat.

Laurence yanked his eyes forcefully away, already feeling the resurgence of heat below his belt. He cleared his throat and crossed the dragon deck to the rail. Cool spray hit his face and he breathed in the air. He would have liked to have his window open, but, under the right conditions, the water could carry sound for miles. The last thing he needed was Temeraire hearing whatever noises he couldn’t suppress and becoming more worried, or, worse, anyone else hearing him and knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Are you well, Laurence?” Temeraire asked anxiously, leaning down to bring his eye level with Laurence’s face, his chin just hovering above the railing. “Captain Riley was kind enough to let me know he had spoken with you, but I do hope your wound is not troubling you. Perhaps we should return to England, Laurence. At least until you are well. If Prince Yongxing does not wish to wait, he can go on without us. I am quite sure I could make it back to land from here."

“My dear, it is only a fever, and you see that I am much improved already. I am sure in another day or so, you will hardly know that I had ever been ill.” He stroked Temeraire’s soft nose. For the first time, he truly wished he could share this burden with someone else. It felt wrong to hide any part of himself from Temeraire, but he had been keeping this secret for so long that he wasn’t sure he could have made himself say it, even if they were not surrounded by ears. Laurence was not willing to rely on the polite fiction of ignorance for this.

He swayed at another wave of heat boiling up out of his gut and over his chest. He disguised it by leaning against Temeraires’ cheek and resting his forehead on the eye ridge.

“You do feel quite warm,” Temeraire said in obvious concern.

“You are right, my dear. Perhaps I will return to my cabin. I will see you tomorrow. Mr. Granby.” He nodded his head to his first lieutenant, who watched him very carefully, but nodded back as Laurence passed him on the way to the hatch.

~*~

The rest of his cycle passed uneventfully. Once he felt the last of the heat fade and hunger starting to return, he opened his windows to air the cabin out and gathered his linens to be washed. He was greeted warmly at the breakfast table, and reassured those present of his returned health. He was ravenous, but made himself maintain the fiction of having just recently recovered from illness and took his gruel and biscuit without complaint.

Depending on their luck with the winds and how much Riley pushed their speed, he might have one more cycle to withstand aboard. He could not honestly say if he would prefer to weather the potential suspicion or concern of appearing to catch the same brief illness twice in so short a period, or risk being incapacitated in China.

He would endure it either way. He hardly had a choice in the matter.

#temeraire #temeraire fanfic #ABO #laurence/tharkay #eventually #really eventually

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heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Six):Burnt Offering

Notes: So, given that the last chapter was kind of short, at least by my standards. I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter this month. We're starting to near the point where what I post and where I'm at in writing are meeting up, I have chapter 7 done and am currently about halfway through writing 8, so don't be shocked if we end up with a slowdown in chapters like what's had to happen with my other fic series. It just happens, such is life.

Word Count: 9243

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, POV Switches, Talks of the Testicle Festival,

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The cruiser door shuts with a heavy thud, followed by Rook’s boots hitting the asphalt. Staci stifles a laugh, the newest addition to the Sheriff’s Department has a pea sized bladder and a penchant for guzzling energy drinks like an idiot. He’s had to pull into the Golden Valley Gas Station for her to run off to the bathroom, again.

His joints pop and crack as he gets out of the car, taking the chance to stretch his legs. The sun hangs high and bright in the great blue sky, warming his skin as rolls his shoulders to get out the kinks. It’s nearly noon and if he has to be here, he might as well find something to eat, the door of the gas station chiming as he walks in. He looks over the hot food options, garbage mostly, but tasty garbage. Hamburgers, pizza, hot dogs-

“You getting lunch?”

Staci jumps at the sudden question, a voice over his shoulder that he wasn’t ready for catches him off guard. A soft laugh as he turns to look at Rook who’s just scared him, sometimes she’s like a bull in a china shop and other times she’s silent as the grave. He can’t keep up and ends up glaring at the smirking woman. She finds way too much enjoyment in his misery, she’s the probie, he’s supposed to be giving her shit not the other way around.

“Someone needs to put a fuckin’ bell on you, I swear.”

“I thought you could ‘hear me coming a mile away’,” she says trying to imitate his voice when he mocked her earlier.

“That was then, this is now, and right now, you’re a sneaky bitch.”

He can’t resist the chance to wipe that dumb little smirk off her face and grabs her cheek between his fingers, stretching the soft tan skin. A small sharp pain in his wrist when she smacks him away, but it’s more than worth it to see her looking a little less cocky.

“Bite me.” She says and knocks against his side as she grabs a hamburger, nearly throwing him off balance.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Ew.” Rook grimaces at his little attempt at flirting, like an asshole. Then again, with her, she may not realize he was trying to flirt.

He grabs himself one and follows after her to the drinks, he watches her line of vision immediately go to the large sized slushie cups. They’re nearly the size of the short deputy’s head.

“No,” he tells her, voice low with warning, he already has to worry about pulling over for her constantly.

“What?”

“You drink that and you’re gonna be needing twelve more bathroom trips before our shift ends.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You nearly pissed yourself, five minutes ago.”

“I’ll be fine.” Rook rolls her eyes as she fills up the giant cup with blue slush. No matter what he says, he swears she’d break her neck just to do the opposite.

They buy their lunches, if it can even be called that, and leave the gas station. The weather’s too nice to eat in the cruiser, a soft breeze and a clear sky to eat under instead. Staci instead sits on the trunk of the car, balancing his drink on his thigh as he eats. Rook follows his lead, for once since she’s been here, and sits down on the car as well. She pulls one of her legs up onto the car and under her, keeping her drink in hand.

It’s quiet as they eat, but unlike the awkward still of when they first started patrolling together, this silence is surprisingly pleasant. Staci has never liked quiet, making those first patrols painful to sit through, but their time spent in silence has grown more bearable with every shift.

Rook is weird, but not bad; he’s decided. She’s quiet and serious, especially so at the start. But, she never misses a chance to talk back or give him hell, which might be his own fault. She’s dedicated to the job and never seems to shy away from what it entails, only ever seeming bothered by the work when she was stuck pushing papers. Despite her constant scowling and resting bitch face, Rook is eager to help people.

He doesn’t know much about her, which is only natural with her short time with the department and her lackluster communicative skills. She likes her job, Hudson, animals, and giving him hell. She hates crowds, churches, and talking. That’s about all he’s got. And dress codes he guesses? Though since the Drubman incident she’s stuck with modest tanks and tees under her uniform, other than buttoning it up, it’s the same damn thing. Hell, even Hudson and him don’t button it up all the way.

When she was first hired, the week separating her hire and her actual first day, he asked Whitehorse what he was thinking when he hired someone so young. The sheriff just laughed, saying she had a good heart. He supposes her jumping to help Mary May the day of her interview was proof of that.

There are a lot of reasons why people become cops, not all of them necessarily good or right. Staci himself is exhibit A of that. He’s always been honest with himself and others that he became a cop to get laid, it was nothing short of a whim. Something women are attracted to and didn’t require too much education, so he could avoid debt. No ideas of helping people or delusions of keeping the peace; he chose his career based entirely on the prospect of getting his dick wet.

Hudson is better than him in that regard, well, in many regards but that’s beside the point. But, her choice mostly stems from her family. Almost everyone in her family has had a career in either the military or law enforcement. Her mom is a veteran and her dad a veteran turned police officer, retiring early due to injury. One of her brothers works as an officer in Billings and the other currently in basic training. It only seemed natural she’d follow one of those paths, becoming a cop because it’s what they do in her family. A fact she’s always taken pride in.

Danny, not to speak ill of the dead, was probably a hall monitor in high school. He was a stickler for details and rules, he enjoyed being the one enforcing order. But Staci isn’t confident that Danny enjoyed it because he believed in what was best for the public so much as he liked rules for the sake of rules and being the one to crack the whip. It’s strange to say after so many years of butting heads, but Staci misses that asshole. It hit Joey hardest, Danny being her partner, but it hit him too. Danny was with the station since before him or Joey were hired on, for him to just be gone one day… Hope County is a sleepy little place, it can be easy to forget how dangerous this kind of job can be when speeding and hunting violations are the biggest crimes. Danny was a grim reminder and hopefully, the last one Staci will ever get.

“That’s gonna fall,” Rook’s voice cuts through the quiet, her finger pointed at the drink balanced on Staci’s thigh.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses her out of hand, and she rolls her eyes, sunlight making the brown look nearly gold.

She’s cute, it’s something he’s had to admit, as much as he’d rather not. While he’s always been a bit of a womanizer, it still feels weird acknowledging he’s attracted to his newly acquired pain in the ass. But…Rook is real easy on the eyes. Even with her constant sourpuss of a face, she's cute. Though the rare times he’s seen her smile… It’s a good look on her. Hell, it's a good enough look that he asked her out on an impromptu date to the F.A.N.G Center the moment he saw it. Though that ended up being botched; the Junior Deputy inviting Joey along and then abandoning them partway through the day.

He’s gotten to spend hardly any time with her outside of work, between that and her never tagging along to The Spread Eagle, a part of him has to wonder if she just doesn’t want to deal with him when she doesn’t have to. God knows, it’s not Hudson, he’s pretty sure Rook would break her neck to spend more time with Joey.

Staci’s mind is drawn back to Rook’s dismissal of his mild flirting, she seemed uncomfortable with Adelaide’s more…forward tendencies too. But there’s no denying she has a huge annoying crush on Joey. Her face going redder than a lobster anytime the two are near each other. He’s asking her on dates without even meaning to and he’s not even sure what way she swings.

“So, what’s your deal?” He decides to just ask, it might be a long shot, but no harm in seeing if he has a chance. Right?

“My deal with what?” She raises an eyebrow and takes another slurp of her drink.

“Well, I know you’re into women; so are you gay?” Rook chokes on her slushie, blue dribbling down her chin as he continues, “Bi? Pan?”

“What the fuck, dude?!” She yells, scrubbing her slushie covered hand against her jeans, her blue stained tongue catching his eye as she freaks out.

“It’s just a question.”

“A real fuckin’ personal one.” Her face is a vivid red, making her blue chin and tongue stand out even brighter.

“What? You worried ‘cause, ya know, Montana?”

“No, I’m not worried because of that.”

“Good, because I promise you most people here don’t give a fuck.”

“No, it’s not, I just don’t like talking…”

“You can honestly stop that sentence right there.”

“Pff,” she lets out a soft laugh and the corner of her mouth curves up as she says in a gentler voice, “I don’t like talking.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He gives her the out and she groans.

“Look, dude, not that it’s any of your business but I barely know what the fuck’s going on in my own head. If I can’t figure that shit out, how the hell am I supposed to explain it?”

“I know you like Hudson.”

“Yeah, I do… I can’t say I’m not attracted to men? I don’t think, I’ve thought men are attractive. I just, women catch my eye more,” she shrugs, face still red, “though I don’t know if that’s because of me or ‘cause of the….selection here.”

“What do you mean?”

She glares at him, dark eyebrows furrowed as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious while she slurps on her slushie. He can nearly see the gears in her head desperately trying to turn.

“Dude, seriously?” She asks raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t budge.

“Seriously, you make it sound like the men here are drooling apes.”

“Women in Hope County.”

Rook points out a woman stepping out of her car, long tanned legs and daisy duke shorts.

“Men in Hope County.”

She gestures towards a man at the gas pumps, bent over with his jeans half falling off his ass with plumber crack on display for the world.

It’s his turn to choke, pop catching in his windpipe as her sputters and gags on his laugh, leg jerking and sending his entire drink falling into his lap.

“Jesus fuck,” he manages to cough out as cola soaks his crotch.

“Told you it was gonna fall.”

“At least I don’t look like I blew a Smurf.”

“Fuck off.” She roughly shoves him as they both laugh.

“So, all us Hope County men are just too ugly for you?” He says with mock hurt in his voice as he stands from the trunk, walking around the cruiser.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“No, no, I get it, I mean, how could anyone stand to even look at me.”

“What do you want from me?” She’s glaring at him now from over the cruiser, each at their respective doors as they talk.

“Nah, it’s my cross to bear, I have to learn how to deal with being hideous.”

“I mean, we can always get you a paper bag.” Her face breaks into a smile and she starts laughing halfway through her own joke, blue tongue pressing against her canines.

“Wow, fuckin’ wow, just double down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” she rolls her eyes, face still flushed from laughing, “for what it’s worth, you’re one of the more attractive guys in Hope County.”

“Thank you,” Staci can’t help but genuinely smile, between the compliment and her expression, something about the moment settles warm in his chest.

“Which is kinda like being a tall dwarf.”

“Fuck you,” his outburst makes her laugh and he can’t help but laugh right along with her, “you can’t let me have anything can you?”

“Nope.”

They’re still smiling, stomachs and cheeks aching as they climb into the cruiser. He turns the key and starts up the engine, pulling them out of the parking lot. The soft tapping of Rook’s finger against the door is the only sound as they drive through the valley. She’s always moving, he’s not sure he’s ever seen her completely still.

The cola on his jeans has barely started to dry by the time the radio starts to crackle, dispatch putting out a call.

“Units please respond, we have a domestic disturbance at the Ramsey Residence, neighbor reported yelling coming from the home and threats of violence.”

The Ramsey place is about fifteen or twenty minutes out from where Benjamin and Julie live. They’re familiar with the Sheriff’s department. He hates to sound so jaded and cynical, but they’ve done this song and dance so many times. Benjamin has been an abusive drunk since as long as Staci’s lived in Hope County. No matter how many times they cuff and drag him away; Julie refuses to press charges, bails him out, and welcomes him back with open arms. It’s an endless cycle and Hope County doesn’t have the resources to break it. With that in mind, he grabs the receiver.

“Deputy Pratt and Hale responding, over.”

He flips on the sirens, lights flashing and the speaker squealing as they rush towards the Ramsey house. Tires spitting up gravel as he drives along the backroads, following them to the old farmhouse. It was once a beautiful house, he’s sure, but it’s started to fall apart over the years. The white paint peeling and the wood of the porch starting to rot away.

There’s a tension in the air as the deputies get out of the cruiser, grass crushing underfoot as they make their way to the home. Despite being Staci’s subordinate as far as standing in the department goes, Rook is in front of him and taking the lead. Not because he wants her too; she just does that.

The porch lets out a loud creak when the junior deputy takes a step, straining under her weight. That doesn’t bode well for him, while not a particularly heavy guy, he’s over a foot taller than Rook and fit. She may have muscle mass, but he’s sure he still weighs more at the end of the day.

“You might wanna be careful,” she warns him, standing next to the door, clearly having gone through the same thought process as him.

“Yeah, this porch has seen better days.”

It strains and creaks, echoing a louder under him as he takes the steps up. Then his foot goes through the porch. He curses as he starts to fall through, broken rotted wood splintering into his jeans and boot. A hand wraps around his wrist, Rook steadying him as gets his bearings. He grips the railing as he his rips his foot back out of the wood; breaking and ripping apart boards with the force of it. The smell of mildew, rotted lumber, and muck getting kicked up from it.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He has to shift back onto the steps that were able to hold him, he could step over or around the broken gap, but the chances of it just breaking through again are high. Rook lets go of his wrist once he’s on stable footing and turns back to the door. She knocks on the door three times, before calling out.

“Hope County Sheriff’s department, we got a call, just here to make sure everything’s okay.”

There’s no response, of course they’re in no rush to open the door for police. A beat of silence and then something breaks from inside the home, like glass crashing to the ground.

“You ever deal with them before?” Rook asks as she tries to open the door, but it’s locked.

“Plenty, he always has to be taken kicking and screaming. ”

“Is he dangerous?” She’s slid a pick into the door lock, twisting and turning it. Why the hell does she know how to pick locks?

“Only to his wife, every time I’ve dealt with him, he’s no worse than a drunk toddler.”

“Hmm,” she nods in understanding, “go around back and see if there’s a back door or something, we can’t take anyone out this way. I’ll head in.”

“Since when do you give the orders, probie?”

“Pratt,” she says his name like a warning, just as the door clicks open. She’s right and he Staci knows that, but that doesn’t mean he has to like being bossed around by the probie he’s supposed to be teaching the ropes.

He waves her off and goes walking around the house, all this trouble and splinters in his shin over some damn drunk who should have been locked away years ago. There’s a set of concrete stairs up to the backdoor, not attached, but sturdier than forty-year-old rotted wood. He shakes the backdoor and finds it’s locked, because of course it is.

Staci slams his shoulder against the door as he hard as he can, putting all of his weight into it. The lock and frame give out from the force, a boom and splintering sound ringing out.

“Fuck!”

It’s Rook’s voice, no mistaking it, a groan of pain punctuating the curse. Staci’s blood runs cold and he runs into the house; feet hitting the floor in heavy thuds as he runs to where he heard the sound. Nearly tripping over himself as he enters the living room.

Adrenaline coursing through him, Staci recognizes two figures instantly as he enters. Ben Ramsey standing over a curled up figure dressed in the familiar green of their uniform, blood is on the carpet, soaking it through.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! What’d he do? What did that son of bitch do to her?

From his angle, Ben’s back to him, Pratt can’t make out anything other than her fallen body. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, if she’s moving, where the blood is coming from, if she’s even alive.

Words stick in his throat and his mind only spins curses, his hand pauses, body frozen. Only a moment in reality, but in eternity to Staci; just enough time for the old drunk to pull his leg back and slam a boot into the young deputy on the ground. A sickening crack and curse from the young woman.

And for the first in his career, Staci pulls his gun out. It may be too quick of a move and maybe in the hours after he’ll think of how he should have gone for the baton or taser, but his hand is on his gun. Pointed at another human being. There’s a shake to his hands.

“Ben Ramsey, you’re under, under arrest! Put your hands up!” His words stall for a moment and he curses himself for the way fear seeps into his voice at the worst times.

“Fuck you-“

His words are cut off by a yell, Ben’s body convulsing for a second before he hits the ground with a heavy thud. Rook taser in hand moving as it happens, quickly cuffing him, and Staci can breathe again. He’s not going back to the station alone. The side of her head is stained with blood, hair matted in it, her left eye shut and that half of her face red. Her nose and lip are busted open, blood streaking down her chin. She’s hurt, but she’s alive. His head is swimming, drops his grip on his weapon, his shoulder aching and making him realize just how tense he was. He’s not even certain his finger was on the trigger, he realizes as he holsters the thankfully unused gun. Her lips move over and over again, but the words don’t cut through the fog of his brain until another moment passes.

“Pratt, radio backup, now!” Her hands are on the man’s cuffed wrists, keeping him in place on the ground, subdued for the moment as the man’s thankfully still dazed from the shock.

He’s hesitated, his delay to grab his radio no doubt wasting precious seconds. Why does he always fucking hesitate? He’s tripping over his words as he talks, because of course he is.

“Officer Pratt, we need backup and, and emergency services to the Ramsey house, immediately. Officer injured, suspect is belligra-belligerent and dangerous.”

“Suspect’s wife is injured as well.”

There’s more than three people in the room, Julie Ramsey curled up in a ball beside the couch, sobbing desperately at the entire scene. He didn’t even notice, fuck, he fucking hell. He gives the exact address and gets confirmation that someone is coming. Staci crouches down, closer to Rook’s level where she’s kneeling next to the suspect, he’s able to get a better look at Rook’s injury. He can smell beer, both from the suspect and from her head, shards of brown glass clinging to the blood-soaked skin. He bashed a beer bottle over her head, then kicked her in the face while she was down.

He needs to get something to hold against her head, to help stop the bleeding. Staci’s starts to move to get his overshirt off, thinking it’d be better than nothing, but then sirens screech at them. Police officers for the station and EMTS coming through the house. It’s going to be okay.

No thanks to him. He did nothing. He wants to pull his hair out, scream at himself, why the hell is he this fucking pathetic?

Ben Ramsey is arrested and charged, taken to one of the officer’s police car. Meanwhile Julie and Rook are assessed before being taken to the back of ambulance. Staci follows them, moving on instinct to follow and make sure Rook is okay.

He doesn’t speak the entire way, just grateful to be allowed in the ambulance, he listens as they access her. Lacerations, contusions, possible skull fracture; the words swim around his head as they look her over in the ambulance. He watches as the EMT forces Rook’s left eye open, seeing why it’s been shut, blood vessels damaged across part of the white, red irritation in the other half that goes into the brown, blurring the edge of the iris.

Ideas of her losing vision in that eye flood through his mind, how severe is the damage, could it impact her career? Is she going to be out of here before she’s even finished probationary hire? He was supposed to be looking out for her.

He sits outside her room at the Hope County Clinic, privacy or some sort of doctor crap, he can barely even remember the rest of the ride there. His back against the wall as he sits on the floor, ringing his hands, mind racing through a million possibilities.

“What the hell happened?” Whitehorse’s voice is what ends the frenetic mess in his head, if only for a second. The presence of the sheriff easing some of his nerves, knowing the older man will be able to handle this, whatever the situation may be.

He scrambles to his feet and explains everything that happened; from the porch falling in, him pulling his weapon but not firing, and an injured Rook having to subdue the suspect. Each word of it making him feel just a bit more pathetic, a bit weaker, he really fucked this up.

Whitehorse squeezes his shoulder, a warm heavy hand to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Pratt. Everything is gonna be fine, Rook’s made of tougher stuff than this.”

He sighs, unsure of how he feels by the statement. It’s meant to comfort him, and it does some part of him. He wants Rook to be okay, fuck does he need her to be okay. But, Whitehorse’s unwavering faith in her strength, makes him feel all the more pathetic in comparison.

The hospital room door opens, a doctor walking out, looking over at Whitehorse and Staci.

“You can come in now, if you’d like.”

Staci follows behind Whitehorse as they walk into the little clinic room, off white walls and floors greeting them. Rook’s sitting on the side of the white sheeted bed; seeing her cleaned up and moving is instant relief for Staci’s frayed nerves. Her face is bruised, her eye still messed up, but she’s no longer painted red with her own blood. His hands twitch, he realizes he wants to hug her, to pull her close and feel that she’s truly okay. But he can’t find the nerve to do it, unsure of how the young woman would react.

“So, what’re you dealing with?” Whitehorse asks her and she sighs.

“Needed some stitches, some glass scratched my cornea so vision in this eye is gonna be a little blurry, but it will heal. Minor skull fracture.”

“Skull fracture?” Staci can’t help but blurt out, that’s bad, isn’t it? Skulls are kind of important, being the thing that protects your brain. Why the hell is she just shrugging it off?

“It’s not bad, they don’t do anything for it. My head is gonna hurt like hell for a bit,” she shrugs, “if spinal fluid starts coming out my ears and nose, call 911, though I think that’s the rule for everyone.”

“Alright,” Whitehorse speaks up, “there’s gonna be some paperwork to take care of with your injury and your time off.”

“I’m not taking time off.” She’s emphatic, shaking her head like the sheriff is ridiculous to even suggest something like that.

“I’m not sending you out like this, Rookie, you need to worry about healing up.”

“You want me to take time off, during my probationary hire, that’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t stress, it’s not going to affect anything, just take two weeks off-”

“One week, max.”

“Fine, one week," Whitehorse gives him with a hefty sigh, "just take it easy. And actually take it easy, not doing anything to hurt yourself in the meantime.”

“Pfff,” she huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed.

“We’ll go back to the station and take care of the paperwork.”

Whitehorse puts a hand on Staci’s back; the other on Rook’s as he walks them out the door. Staci feels exhausted as he gets into Whitehorse’s truck with them, someone having taken the cruiser back to the station for them. His body slackening into dead weight as he leans against the door; his nerves are shot to hell and back, he just wants to collapse after everything. She’s okay and that’s what matters most; his own insecurities be damned.

They arrive at the station; since it’s regarding just her injury and leave, Staci isn’t needed for the paperwork on this one. He instead waits outside, he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t feel ready to just go home yet. It’s after shift and usually he’d be at The Spread Eagle by now, sipping cheap beer and shooting the shit with Joey.

Speak of the devil, the older deputy is coming down the hall, nearly jogging towards him. And he’s wondering if she’s felt the way he did when he heard something happened to Danny, before they told him about the former deputy’s death. That anxiety of knowing something is wrong but not knowing the details, fear building ideas of what could have happened.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Rook got hurt, she’s gonna be okay, but, uh, Whitehorse is giving her the week off.”

“Thank god,” Joey lets out a sigh of relief, tension noticeably leaving her body, “I thought, jesus, I don’t know what I thought.”

“Yeah, uh, been a rough day…”

“How you holding up?”

“I fucking choked, Joey. The asshole was trying to kick her damn brains in and I choked.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” she tells him, a faraway look in her eye, “I get it, I do, but you can’t blame anyone but the asshole who hurt her.”

“It's not just that…” He sighs; is he really going to have this conversation? It feels so damn pathetic.

“So, what is it?”

“I...don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I’m certainly not gonna complain about skipping the feely talks. But, uh, for what it’s worth, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Beating yourself up over what you should have done, what you wish you’d have done, is pointless. You do your best in the moment and it’s all you can do.”

“I guess…”

“So...how this affect your little crush on Rook?” She asks after a beat of silence, trying to turn the conversation light-hearted.

“Ugh, don’t call it that. The only crush around here is Rook’s on you.”

“Yeah, right. You got it bad and we both know it.”

“I might have asked her if she’s gay.”

“Seriously, Pratt?”

“What,” he says halfway through a laugh, “she always follow you around like a puppy dog, I had to make sure I even had a chance.”

“Well, do you?”

“Maybe…if she stops crushing on you.”

“Eh, that’s nothing, she’ll be over it before you know it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The only reason she’s like that with me is ‘cause she thinks I’m pretty, it’s completely superficial, like a little kid.”

“Well, do me a favor and stop being pretty?”

“No can do, you just gotta sack up and ask her out.”

“‘Cause the F.A.N.G Center went so well.”

“Okay, so ask her out and this time, be specific and talk slow.”

“She’s oblivious, not brain damaged.”

“Ehhh, debatable.”

He thinks for a moment, he likes Rook, he does. She’s cute and spending time with her is nice; being able to tease each other has made his job way less mind numbing. Relationships that go beyond the bedroom have never been his forte; it’s honestly been a while since he’s been on an actual date. But, he thinks it could be nice with her. There’s no telling if they’d actually click romantically, that’s not something you find out until you try it. It could be worth a shot.

But he thinks about today and thinks about the future for a moment, something he’s not fond of doing. Rook is still on probationary hire; who’s to say she’ll be here after the six month period. He doubts Whitehorse will get rid of her, maybe due to her age, he handles her with kid gloves and he’s always been a bit soft as far as sheriffs go anyway. But, it’s always a possibility if she crosses too big of a line or does something unforgivable.

Hell, she might decide she wants to leave, might realize Hope County is just not the place for her and head back to Louisiana.

At the moment he just likes her, nothing intense, nothing he can’t deal with losing. If he found out tomorrow she was fired and leaving, he’d be bummed sure, but he’d recover relatively quickly. But if they started dating, if it worked out and one date led to another. If they hit it off, meshed as well as he thinks they could and that ‘like’ grew into something more and then she had to leave...

“Once her probationary hire is over, I’ll do it,” he says out loud, committing himself to the action in front of Joey. Once that threshold has been crossed, once he has a little more reassurance that he can pursue Rook without fear of her leaving, he’ll go for it.

“You sure you can hold out that long?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me, Mister asked her out on the first day.”

“Shut up.”

Dahlia signs the last of the paperwork, her hand cramping, all of this fuss because someone hit her with a beer bottle. She’s still sick from the idea of having to take off a week, better than two, but she’d rather just do her job. So, her vision in one eye is a little blurry and her head hurts like crazy, big deal.

“There’s something else to address.”

“What’s that?” She raises an eyebrow at Whitehorse, let her out of paperwork hell, please.

“It’s up to you if you want us to press charges against him for assaulting you.”

“Oh.”

“If it matters, we’ve dealt with Ben a lot, he’s been beating his wife black and blue for years. But, she’s never willing to press charges and nothing’s been severe enough to bring him up on charges from the state.”

“Let’s do it, then.” She’s not sure how much it will help, without counseling and after care, who knows if the cycle can break. But, if she can get the guy put away, it will at least give her a chance to get out without fear of repercussions.

There’s some more paperwork associated with that, filling out a statement and the like. But, that’s more than worth it. She finishes it up and is massaging her hand to help alleviate the muscles that are cramping in distress.

“Also-”

“If I have to sign one more piece of paper, I’m gonna kill you.” She cuts him off and earns a chuckle in response.

“No, I just wanted to tell you, hell of a job, today.”

“All I did was get beat up.”

“You were in a high stress situation and you resolved it as best you could, you subdued him without deadly force, and showed you know how to handle yourself.”

“The standards are low, aren’t they?”

“You did good, be proud of yourself for a moment,” he tells her, squeezing her shoulder as he passes by. Her heart warms at the gesture, he thinks she did good. Despite being stuck taking a week off, he still thinks she did well.

Hands in her pockets, she’s grinning as she leaves the office, Hudson and Pratt are just outside; talking about who knows what. They’re usually off drinking right now, but he seemed freaked out about her injury, maybe he’s trying to make sure she’s okay. She’d appreciate it if that were the case.

“Hey, Rook,” Hudson greets her, bright smile, and Dahlia gives a small nod of her head. Unable to force words out of her throat.

“Everything taken care of?”

“Yeah...guess I’ll get to see you guys in a week,” she grumbles, still upset about it.

“Hey,” Hudson stops her before she can leave, “why don’t you come out to The Spread Eagle with us?”

“You know I can’t drink, right?”

“They serve water and pop,” Hudson says, shrugging.

“Um, okay…” Dahlia scratches sheepishly at the back of her neck, she gets to go out with them, her heart is warm. Between Whitehorse’s praise and being invited out with the other deputies, this is a pretty good night.

“Is that why you weren’t tagging along with us?” Pratt asks as they start to head towards the door.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to tag along…”

“Oh my god, you awkward little disaster.” Pratt ruffles her hair as he insults her and she playfully smacks his side, happy to see him joking around again.

The neon sign of The Spread Eagle flickers above Dahlia’s head as they walk to the old bar. It’s cheesy and ridiculous the logo of a scantily clad woman with she assumes eagle wings.

“So, I'm gonna live my life like it's my last damn night.”

“Cause when the clock strikes twelve, we're all gonna go to hell”

The jukebox and lowlight greet them, people spread around drinking at the bar and cozied up over the wooden tables. A little stage in the corner for those nights when they have live music. Behind the bar, Mary May works away at getting people their drinks, honey blonde hair tied up in a bun and her flannel’s sleeves pushed up to her elbows. A window behind her shows a glimmer of the kitchen, an older man with dark hair slaving over the orders.

“You’re late,” Mary May teases Hudson and Pratt as the deputies all grab seats at the bar, Dahlia between the two of them.

She’s never sat at a bar before and something about it feels decidedly mature to the young officer. That is until she can barely climb up there and unlike her two coworkers, her legs aren’t long enough for her feet to comfortable rest on the ground or even part of the stool. Her legs left to swing like a child’s.

“You can blame the probie for that one.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to get my ass kicked in the future.”

“You finally gonna get your round of free drinks, hero?” Mary May asks her, a slight smile on her face and dear god, why must the women in this county be so pretty? The apples of Dahlia’s cheeks are growing warm.

“‘Fraid I can’t, still got a year before that’s legal,” she says, never mind if it’s maybe a bit closer to a year and three months.

“Well, a free meal it is then.”

“No, no, I can’t do that,” She quickly dismisses the idea, local businesses tend to need every dime they can get, she’s not letting Mary May cut herself short just because Dahlia did her job.

“Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d be shut down for the month, it is the least I can do.”

“Give it up, Rook, she’s not gonna budge,” Pratt tells her.

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” Hudson warns.

“You heard them, cowboy, your money’s no good here.” The cowboy nickname is a new one, but Dahlia doesn’t mind it, or the way it makes her smile.

“Fine, free meal, but I’m tipping.”

“Okay, okay, I can work with that.”

Hudson and Pratt get cheap weak beers and Dahlia gets a pop as they look over the food options. Everything makes her stomach growl; desperate for something more than convenience store food or microwave meals. There’s a sign below the window into the kitchen, saying they deliver, she wonders if the trailer park is too far away for it.

She decides to try something she’s never eaten before, a burger with huckleberry barbecue sauce, never having heard of the condiment before. Orders in, she can’t help but look around the room, taking in the decorations. Newspaper clippings beneath a neon blinking sign for Lease Lager, a little flag for Hope County Cougars, and a smaller flyer advertising something she’s seen billboards for all over; the Testicle Festival, advertised with a little screaming cartoon bull.

“The fuck is a Testicle Festival?”

“Pffff,” Pratt laughs and chokes on his beer, pulling it away and licking the beer away from his lips. Hudson cracks a big grin, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back chuckles.

“I mean, it’s basically exactly what you sound like,” the older woman says, shrugging her shoulders.

“People get together and eat bull balls,” Pratt adds.

“Willingly?”

They both laugh as Dahlia looks at them wide eyed, that’s so fucking gross, why the fuck would someone eat that? She’s never been one to turn her nose up at any meal, but that so disgusting, her stomach churning at the very idea.

“Yeah, it’s a thing, I, don’t know what to tell you.”

“Montana is gross…”

“Oh, shut up, I’m sure they eat gross shit in Louisiana too.”

“Not really,” she shakes her head at Pratt, trying to think of the weirdest food she’s ate, well weird to them, “I mean, I’ve had alligator before.”

“You’ve ate alligator?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t think that’s weird?”

“I didn’t eat it’s balls!”

They cackle and laugh at her outburst, she’s joining along before she knows it, face flushing as she cracks up. She barely can remember the ache in her head or the blur in her vision, the more painful moments of the day forgotten as she loses herself in dumb banter and jokes. The burger is incredible, she’d lick the plate clean if she wasn’t in public. Hell, that fact is barely holding her back. She’s not sure how many colas she’s drank her way through, but at some point, her bladder is screaming at her.

“Let me guess, you gotta piss,” Pratt taunts her, reminding her of their little bickering match this evening, she’s an adult she’s allowed to piss.

“Fuck off.” She grabs a grimy fry off the ground andt she drops it down into his beer as she walks by.

She uses the bathroom and washes her hands, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she does so. It’s the first time she’s got a proper look at herself since she was beat up. Stitches over the laceration under her eye, the skin bruised, the white of her eye purple with busted blood vessel with the brown of her eye blurring into it. An absolute mess and she grins.

There’s something fulfilling about getting in a fight, not starting but, making it through one. Having the marks to show it, knowing she held her own. Whether it was fights in school or when she’d fight back against her step-father, no matter how it ended up, she’d feel proud of herself. Whether because she fought back or simply because she survived. The aftermath was nothing more than a badge of honor marking what she went through. She’d take a thousand more stitches and bruises over the week off, if she’s being completely honest. Dahlia leaves the bathroom once her hands dry, shoving them in her pocket as she goes.

Oooh, oooh, ooh~

If I told you a lie, you could smile, my love.

You’d never understand.

The jukebox hums and Dahlia finds her eyes looking around the room, taking in the faces of the patrons. A shift of a door and the step of boots draws her eyes towards the door. Her breath catches in her throat, what the hell is a Seed doing here?

John Seed, the youngest of the brothers, is walking through the door. All of the siblings make her uncomfortable in some fashion, largely to do with their religiosity, but then they each have their own unique brand of unsettling. John reminds her of a sleazy car salesman, too sharp smiles that don’t reach his eyes. Even when he shook her hand at the church, something about him felt off, like he’s wearing a mask but she can’t quite tell what’s under it.

If I told you a tale, you’d cry, my love.

You’d never hold my hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mary May yells over the bar, when she sees him.

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes when he looks at her, not unlike a cat finding a mouse to tear apart. He strides to the bar with purposeful steps and he smirks, but unlike those salesman smiles, it reaches his eyes.

“I just thought I’d check in,” his eyes lazily scan the room, looking at the beer bottles and glasses of whiskey in patron’s hands, “do we really need to have this conversation again?”

“It’s a bar, the hell you expect me to serve?”

“I expect,” John puts his hand on the bar with a sharp sound, “you to listen to reason and start to understand your position.”

“Is something wrong?” Dahlia’s question escapes her without another thought, everything about John’s body language putting her on edge.

When it all bleeds out, you don’t know.”

When it all bleeds out.

John’s eyes leave Mary May and land on Dahlia, those piercing blue eyes cutting through to her core. He looks her up and down, as if she’s the mouse now. But she doesn’t shrink away or avoid his gaze, unwilling to show any signs of backing down in the face of his intensity.

Wake up, little man.

Don’t you break her heart.

“Dep-yoo-tee,” John speaks in a low drawn out way, emphasizing every syllable with the slow drag of his gaze on her.

“Stay out of it, Rook,” Pratt warns her as she walks past him and Hudson at the bar. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, why the fuck would she stay out of it? Supposedly, John already tried to get members of Eden’s Gate to steal Mary May’s alcohol shipment and now he’s showing up to push her around; fuck that shit.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh c’mon, little man.

Don’t you fall apart.

“I was just trying to have a little talk with Mary May, though she’s never been one for civility. More importantly, what happened here?”

He reaches out towards her face and she flinches out of reflex, John’s fingers grazing her bruised cheek before she smacks his hand away. Not sharp enough to truly hurt, but enough to force him away.

When the devil’s got you, but only by the hand.

“Hazard of the job and, please, don’t touch me.”

John’s eyebrows furrow, eyes growing dark and face scrunching for a moment in anger before he forces a soft smile. It doesn’t touch the stormy look in his eyes; another little mask hiding whatever’s lurking beneath the surface.

Let go, little man.

“Ah, you poor thing, you” his voice deepens with concern, but it feels more like pity. He fidgets with his sleeves and lets out a sigh, irritation seeping through the false concern. She has to resist the urge to smile, something satisfying in seeing his true emotions bubbling up.

“It is what it is, are you done with your ‘little talk’ now?”

His nostrils flare and he bites his lip, it feels like poking a bear, but she’s having fun with it. He gives another fake smile and she wants to wipe it off his face.

“With Mary May, yes, but I was hoping to speak with you more. Though,” he looks around, “this is hardly an ideal setting. Have you given any more thought to tomorrow?”

“Like, I said before, I have to work,” she says the white lie and dismisses him with a shrug, hopeful it will appease the Gucci wearing gremlin in front of her.

“You know, it’s not often The Father goes to the trouble of inviting someone himself,” he tells her, as if it’s meant to entice her. Instead the title ‘The Father’ just makes her skin crawl, not unlike the title her step-father took on with his own church. As if she needed more reasons to avoid these people.

“What are you talking about, Rook? You got a week off for your injury, remember?” Pratt pipes up and Dahlia’s blood runs cold, why the fuck would he do that to her? Why would he do that? John’s eyes go bright and a sly smile stretches across his face.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you there, dep-yoo-ty, service begins at nine in the morning.” John gives her arm a hard squeeze before he leaves, Dahlia’s skin crawling beneath his touch. Empty air where he once was within the next moment.

Yeah, I vow to the moon, yeah, I howl at the wind.

I’m bleeding and I can’t stay clean.

She’s expected to come to the service, dear god. The air is punched out of her lungs. Even being outside of a church put her nerves on edge, she’s not sure if she could step foot in one without getting sick. She moves behind Pratt and puts her hand on his shoulders.

“Hey, Rook, what are you-uuck-” Pratt’s words cut off as she moves and wraps her hands on either side around his throat. Not hard enough to genuinely hurt him, but enough to feel it as she shakes him and pretends to wring his neck .

“Why the fuck would you do that?!”

“It was funny,” he defends himself when she lets go and throws herself onto her chair, bringing one foot up into the seat as she leans back. Her body going slack with exasperation, she’s seriously going to have to go church?

“I fucking hate you, I actually fucking hate you.”

“God, you’re dramatic. It’s church, not like I volunteered you for a root canal.”

“I’d rather have the root canal.” She tosses her head back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Pratt doesn’t know her issue with religion, she knows that, so she can’t truly be angry at him. But, fuck, would it have killed him to keep his mouth shut?

“Well, I think I should probably get out of here before Rook kills me,” Pratt says as he pays for his meal and drink, standing up from his seat.

“I’m gonna head home too,” Hudson stands up and ruffles Dahlia’s hair, “cheer up, Rookie.”

Dahlia doesn’t even have the energy to get worked up about Hudson’s touch, peacefully letting the casual touch come and go with a mere blush. Then the two have left and Dahlia is trying to gather the energy to get up, with the looming reality that she’s expected to go to church in the morning, she no longer wants this night to end.

“Deputy,” Mary May says after a moment, baby blues watching Dahlia sigh and rub a hand down her face.

“Hmm?” Dahlia straightens her posture enough to look at Mary May properly, realizing how somber the bartender’s expression and posture really is. The blonde chews her lip, looking away, visibly searching for her words.

“Eden’s Gate has been in this county for a long time, hell, I was in high school when they moved in on us. They started buying places out left and right, they own half the damn county, now.”

“They have that much money?” Dahlia can’t help but ask, aren’t churches relatively low profit ventures, assuming you aren’t selling snake oil or asking people to donate money for Jesus.

“Got that much money, that much power, and they know how to twist the law to suit their needs. They want the entire county and everyone in it under their thumb…”

Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the bar, a far away look in her soft blue eyes. Dahlia puts her hand over Mary May’s, hoping the warmth of her touch can help ease the sting, even if she’s not sure what’s hurting the blonde. It’s enough in the moment, it seems, Mary May looking up at her and giving a soft smile, speaking again after a beat of silence.

“You’re one of the few people around here who’s not rolling over and letting them do whatever the hell they want. I don’t wanna see that change. Just do me a favor, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Look at me,” Dahlia looks directly into Mary May’s eyes, “I’d rather play jump rope with my own intestines than join a church.”

“Good.”

Mary May is satisfied with that answer, smiling as she’s called away to get someone else a drink. Dahlia’s not sure what the history is there with her and John, but clearly something has happened. Other than the Eden’s Gate members stealing alcohol and Lonny’s asshole behavior, there’s not conclusive evidence that they’ve done anything more than petty theft. John’s opinion on Mary May selling alcohol, supporting that he might ask them to do that. Otherwise, anything else is just bad feelings and hearsay. She wants to trust they’re good people, just staunch in their beliefs and a little strange, always wanting the believe the best of people. But, she’s going to be sure to keep an ear to the ground and stay wary of them, knowing she’s apparently not the only one concerned about their shit.

Dahlia shakes her head and gets out her wallet, getting out enough for the meal and then some, calling it all a tip for the sake of getting past Mary May’s generosity. She puts it down on the bar under her plate, letting the bartender know she’s taking off for the night.

The night air chills her skin as she leaves the bar before she’s caught. She pulls a cigarette out as she loiters outside the bar, leaning back against the building’s porch. Dahlia takes a deep inhale looking off into the distance.

Even in the valley, the statue of Joseph Seed is looming in the distance, the tallest thing in the entire county. There must be light around it, setting the statue aglow at night. She lets out the smoke in her lungs as she’s reminded of the real man. It wasn’t long ago she could barely believe he was a real living person. The statue makes him seem too large, too imposing, too important to be tangible. Meeting him and his family still feels like a fever dream.

Faith is like a living fairy, floating along in a white dress with flowers in her hair. An ethereal being with long dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. Dahlia’s dream or perhaps exhaustion induced hallucinations of chasing after her still making the woman feel like a specter.

John feels like someone pretending to be human or maybe it’s just how out of place he seems in the rustic little county. Dark slicked back hair, designer shades always on top of his head, silk shirts, and tailored vests; he looks like a Ken doll someone drew tattoos on.

The brother who didn’t bother to offer his name cuts possibly the most intimidating figure of them. He seemed larger than life. At least six foot six and wider than a door, dressed in army attire with his ginger hair shaved at the sides. The man could snap her spine in half if he had a half a mind to.

Then there’s Joseph, The Father, goosebumps raise on her skin when she thinks of his title. It’s bias, projections of her trauma that bring up those gross feelings when in reality he’s done nothing to her. His statue is true to his likeness in some ways, dark hair pulled back in a small bun and the full beard that seems standard for all men in Eden’s Gate. But at the end of it all, the statue is a composed sterilized version of the intense man who stood in front of her. The concrete can’t capture the intensity of his blue eyes, the way they cut through her, the way his choice of sunglasses turn them green. His unblinking stare as he stood out in the cold of night, shirtless with ink and scars marring his skin, sweat still sticking to him and strands of hair falling into his face.

But despite the wild appearance, he spoke calmly, he spoke deliberately and with devotion. He’s intense and he’s all encompassing, everything about him is too much, from his stare to the way his touch lingered for a moment more than it should have. His presences like a raging fire that can’t be ignored.

She has no real reason to dislike him, he’s done nothing cruel, he hasn’t wronged her. But every fiber of her being screams at her to stay away, that he’s everything she doesn’t want near her. A forest fire that her body is urging her to run away, lest she be burned to ashes.

It may be paranoia and experience perverting her feelings; and it may be gut instinct trying to save her.

But regardless, it seems she’ll be burned alive come morning.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #staci pratt #john seed #mary may fairgrave #dahlia hale #this is love

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