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fandom-imagines · 3 years

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Illogical

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: L Lawliet X Yagami!Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence and death (but it’s death note :P)

Being Light Yagami’s sister was hard for both younger girls.

Y/N and Sayu were immensely proud of the older man, all whilst being envious. However, Y/N was less envious due to her own intelligence rivalling that of the older Yagami. That was one of the reasons that he chose her. In fact, that was the reason he had her help him create a new world, one of which they would both rule together.

Understandably the younger sibling was afraid.

She had noticed the genius changing during a short amount of time, but she had simply dismissed it, blaming it on teenage hormones. But it never got better, it got worse. Before he would spend time with the family, taking time out of his busy schedule to bond with them, but now he was constantly in his room ‘studying’.

“Light?” Y/N’s voice sounded from behind the door which was shortly followed by a knock. “Can I come in?”

A chuckle left Ryuk’s lips at Lights panicked expression that was simply caused by the voice of the younger girl behind the door.

Light had been so busy for the last few weeks that he had completely forgotten about their agreement to spend some time together whilst the rest of the family were away.

“Yeah, come in,” he called back, wincing at the sound of the door creaking open to reveal the Y/H/C-haired girl.

“What’s up?” A grin was plastered on her lips as she flopped onto his bed, narrowly missing touching the death note that he had carelessly left there whilst he took a short break from killing criminals.

“Be careful, Light.” The shinigami’s voice caught Light’s attention, eyes glancing to the tall figure, “Anyone who touches that notebook can see me, as well as hear me.” Another laugh left his lips.

As though it was planned, Y/N’s fingers reached for the book, “Hey, what’s this?”

Her eyes widened as she glanced up at the tall death God who simply gave her a small wave along with a ‘hi’.

“H-hello…?” Y/N’s shaky voice left her lips, something that Ryuk shook his head at. “Light? Wha…”

Unbeknownst to her, Light was already situated on the floor in front of her. He gently grasped her cheek, tilting her wide eyes to look into his own.

“Y/N, I am Kira. Will you help me create a new world?”

It had felt like forever since that day. Names no longer meant a thing to her, just a string of letters to write down to end somebody’s life.

Things got even more tricky when her and Light had been asked to join the investigation by L himself, someone that Y/N began to unwillingly develop a small crush on. Considering that he was searching to kill her and Light, she guessed that this crush was probably a bad thing.

Some may think that things could not get worse from there, but oh boy, they can.

“Y/N,” L’s deep voice brought the girl from her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

He was seated beside her, cake placed on the desk in front of him, yet his attention was focused solely on her.

“Are you okay?” Those three words that left his lips shocked her, unable to make eye contact with him she decided to instead glance down at his lips, nerves taking over her.

Lawliet caught onto her anxiety immediately, placing his cold hand on top of the warmth of her own to calm her, something that he often did.

Not only did it get her to relax, but he also enjoyed touching her, not that he would ever admit that to anybody of course. Especially not when you remember that she was the sister of his main suspect for the Kira case. However, he had never suspected her of a thing. Too blinded by love? Perhaps.

“Ryu?” Confusion filled her Y/E/C orbs as she leant up to face him, only to see his own gaze on her lips.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew what that meant.

She heard a chuckle behind her, one she immediately recognised at Ryuk’s. Said chuckle only became louder as he witnessed the detective and the death note holders’ lips touch.

The entirety of the task force, including L, stood around Light, Y/N slightly situated to the side of him whilst he laughed.

“That’s right,” a smirk covered his lips, “I’m Kira. But I’m not the only one.” Light’s eyes darted towards his younger sister who stood as still as a statue, fear filling her body as she realised that her boyfriend would want to kill her, and she would have to kill her boyfriend.

“Y/N…” Lawliet’s voice held a hint of betrayal in it as he spoke, watching as she stepped towards Light who handed her a death note before pushing her to the side again.

“Do the honours,” Light grinned, glancing towards L, prepared to watch him fall to the ground from a heart attack.

Light believed that the relationship between the detective and his sister was fake, something she was using to their advantage to win the war. Little did he know that she loved him, she loved him more than she loved her own psychopathic brother.

An idea flashed into Y/N’s head as she nodded, feeling Ryuk stood behind her who was enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

She brought the pen to the page, ignoring everyone’s pleas for her to stop as she wrote. The look of betrayal and hurt on the raven-haired man struck pain into her heart, but she knew what she was doing was right.

“Goodbye, L. Kira will always win.” Light’s manic laugh sounded again as he spoke, ignoring Ryuk’s own laugh which everyone could hear also.

Light’s laugh came to a halt as he began coughing.

“Y-Y/N…?” A look of betrayal filled his face before being covered in anger as he glared at her. “Ryuk! Kill her.” He coughed again, becoming desperate as he realised what she had done.

She had written his name, not L’s.

“Sorry, Light.” Ryuk chuckled, “I always said I wasn’t on yours or L’s side, but Y/N truly wins this one.” Another chuckle left his lips as he patted Y/N’s hair in a comforting manner, tears falling down her cheeks as she watched the life leave Kira’s eyes.

Both the book and pen fell from her shaking hands, body dropping to the ground as she burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to.”

Nobody moved an inch, scared that this was all an act.

“Please, don’t hate me.” Hands reaching up to her hair, Y/N began to pull tightly to relieve, at least some of, her anxiety.

Matsuda had walked towards Light, checking his body for a pulse.

There was none.

“Y/N,” Lawliet was the first of the task force to speak, “breathe.”

Another sob left her lips as she desperately clawed at her hair.

L climbed up onto his feet, making his way towards her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her, “Light can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I killed him, Ryu. I killed my own brother.” Tears cascaded down her cheeks, body wracked with sobs that only increased as Ryuzaki pulled her into a tight hug.

“You did what you had to.”

The rest of the task force stood still in horror at what had just happened.

The girl they had never suspected was responsible for the killings. Not only her, her genius brother also. From what they could piece together, it was unwilling on her part, anybody could deduce that much. It was evident from the genuine remorse she showed that she regretted everything.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N’s hands left her hair to wrap around the detective, afraid that when she opens her eyes he’d be gone; afraid that he would hate her. “I didn’t want to hurt you; I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

L shushed her, pale hands moving to massage her hair in a soothing manner, “it’s okay.”

The two remained like that for what felt like hours, both as afraid as the other to pull away in case this was all a dream, in case they would lose each other.

“I love you,”

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smilesvt · 3 years

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honey muffins | pt.1

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, possible angst later on,,

warnings: slight suggestive but nothing smutty!

summary: a stranger who catches your eye leads to a swirling discovery of your fates. will you succumb to the forbidden love that lies between you?

‘You know we shouldn’t be doing this right now Cheol.' You whined, hands pushing against the mans broad shoulders.

Yet your complaints made him even more riled up. The fact he could taste you when he wasn’t supposed to made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins, the sounds of your sweet voice echoed in his mind and filled him with even more desire.

'Says who?' he whispered, his lips like shadows of your own, his soft breath seeping into your very self.

You had never wanted something so bad, to feel his lips against yours as he whined into your mouth, helplessly and at his very edge.

But you had self control.

And you would never let your desire get a hold of you.

~~~

You mustered the energy left in you to fully shove the man away, however his strong hands still gripped onto your sides.

'You know exactly who.' you sighed, as if you hadnt had this same conversation with him plenty of times before. The man scoffed, looking away with his tongue pressed firmly in the side of his cheek.

'Seriously? That’s all you can think of right now? Whilst you have that pathetic look in your eye thats practically begging me for more? Don’t make me laugh.'

Cheol had never got angry at you; and he wasn’t about to now. But the tinge of annoyance mixed with desperation hidden in the depths of his voice made you feel slightly guilty.

'Fine.' You managed to speak out, your voice calm and steady, yet your eyes looked down at your lap, unable to make eye contact with the man.

'Do what you want with me. Anything and everything. But you know what risk that comes with. Is it worth never seeing me again for a night of pleasure? I would hope I mean more to you than that.’

His hands fell from your waist and onto the cold kitchen counter you were sat on.

‘Of course you do. You know that.’

‘Stop coming so close to losing me then.’ You poked at his chest, and tilted his head up to look at you.

He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

——

Yours and Seungcheol’s families had never liked each other. It was a decades long feud, started when your great great grandfather opened a restaurant with his best friend, Seungcheols great great grandad.

The business had a slow start, what with the two men only being teenagers when they started selling their food to local people in the town. Little did they know, over the years, their seemingly perfect business would gain traction all over the country and earn them more than ever expected.

But as with most co-owned businesses, one half of the duo would become increasingly greedy, wanting more than the other.

And so the feud started. Seungcheols family had accused yours of stealing money from the joint bank account, and the business relationship crumbled.

Your great-great grandad opened his own bakery chain, specialising in his favourite, muffins: whereas Cheols turned his into a patisserie.

Fast forward to now, both of the families had stores around the country. You would have thought, what with the huge amounts of success from the two businesses, the family beef would have been quenched. Yet both of your families were stubborn: refusing to ever apologise or simply even acknowledge the other’s existence, despite walking past each others stores nearly everyday. And thats when you and Cheol came into the mix.

~~~~

You remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

3 years ago, sometime in December, a fairly handsome man had walked into the bakery whilst you were working.

His beanie was pulled down low, with a few strands of espresso coloured hair peaking through. However the casual headwear contrasted the grey suit he was wearing, a burgundy tie pulled down in exhaustion and shiny black shoes at his feet.

You had had many weird and wacky customers walk in during your part time shifts at the family bakery (you worked in the heart of the city after all, weird was practically the usual) but something about this man had struck you. Your eyes had followed him as he perused around the store, occassionally stopping and observing the packs of bread. He looked way too interested in the baked goods, and you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the book you were reading.

'Excuse me.' A deep voice as smooth as honey had spoken from the other side of the counter. You quickly stood up from your stool and walked over to the till.

His golden eyes met yours over the rim of his thin gold glasses, with a sweetly intense gaze.

'How can i help you?' You had smiled at the man, your customer pleasing voice hiding your slight nerves.

'I was wondering, say you had a date coming up, and they really loved bakeries and such, what would you treat them to?'

The question had taken you aback, and he smiled as he noticed you pause to think of an answer.

'Well I’m personally a sweet sort of girl, so I would probably subconsciously choose something dessert like. A good neutral choice would be a muffin of some sorts-' you glanced over the array of treats that lay on the counter in front of you. 'I’d strongly recommend the blueberry honey one, it’s sweet yet not too overpowering, but I guess it’s all down to their personal preference.' You looked back up at the man, who flashed a warm smile at you.

'Perfect. I’ll take 2 of those then.'

---

It had been the day of your graduation when you decided to treat yourself to the slightly boujee patisserie down the road from your bakery.

Seungcheol remembered it as clearly as day.

The bell at the front entrance had jingled as a familiar girl waltzed through, a bright smile plastered on her face. He instantly recognised her; the pretty one from the bakery just up the road. She seemed to have recognised him too, as she slightly bowed her head towards him as she walked over to the till.

'How can I help you on this fine day mademoiselle?' he had questioned, taking the girl aback as she slightly giggled.

'Well I was wondering, say you had a person you wanted to impress and they really liked sweets, what would you treat them to?' He smiled at the words coming from her mouth, the ones that mirrored his own.

He gazed upon the small crescents your hazel eyes made as you laughed, a warmth seeping through his body.

His heart had never felt that way before.

---

From that day on, Seungcheol visited your store more often than he would like to admit. Sometimes he wouldnt even buy anything, he just wanted an excuse to be able to speak to you.

When the shop was filled to the brim with customers, he would simply wait at the end of the long line and you would smile at how stubborn he was.

~~~

'Its raining and you still stood out there.' You sighed as he shook his wet, curly hair in front of you. 'Worth it.' He flashed you his comforting gummy smile and your heart burst into smithereens.

'No work today?' You asked, looking down at the mans grey sweats and oversized hoodie, a backpack strewn over one shoulder.

'Fortunately not. There’s only so much pretentious business ladies in pencil skirts buying mille-feuille that I can handle.’

'I can imagine.' You sighed, glancing out at the thousands of raindrops hitting the shop window.

'At least its your day off tomorrow.'

You smiled internally: he knew your work schedule probably better than he knew his own.

'You might as well get something since you were stood out there for so long.' You started, opening a brown paper bag and waiting for the mans response.

'Hmmm...Is this new?' He pointed through the thick glass of the display.

You giggled. 'I’m glad you noticed. It’s a little something new we’re trialing, made by yours truly.'

'You shouldn’t have said that, I’ll end up buying the whole stock for you.'

'Don’t be stupid.' You chuckled, handing him the treat over the counter. 'Get going you idiot, I have to clean up.'

He took the bag with a smile. ‘I’ll see you soon, and let you know how good it tasted.'

---

Yet you never did see him soon.

The man stopped turning up after his shifts finished, he stopped waiting behind the long lines of customers. You would catch yourself staring out of the shop window, waiting-or maybe,hoping- to see a familiar mess of jet black hair pop into view, a gummy smile that made your heart burst, an outstreched hand waving excitedly at you.

But you never saw it.

'Are you expecting someone?' Your mother had asked you one day, when the shop was calm and empty, shaking you out of your daydream.

'No, why do you ask?' you wondered.

'You keep looking out of the window as if someones meant to be there.'

You nearly sighed, running a hand through your hair.

'It’s fine, just bored.'

‘Well the banquets tonight, hopefully you wont be bored there.'

The banquet had slipped your mind. It was a fancy dinner for corporate directors of companies around the country. Of course, you and your family had been invited. You knew your mom was hoping for you to meet some handsome rich man; she was always asking when you were ever going to get with anyone.

It was dumb you thought, constantly thinking of the man from the patisserie. You knew nothing about him, just his name and where he worked. Other than that, his whole existence was an enigma. That’s why it hurt when he stopped visiting, because you couldn’t even call him to ask what was up, or visit his home to check in.

He was a mystery man.

Then why did you care so much?

---

The truth was, Seungcheol wasn’t allowed to come see you. As he walked into his house, munching on the chocolate tart you had so carefully handed him, he couldn’t wait to tell you how good it was.

'Are you actually being serious?' his younger brother had said to him as he walked over to the fridge.

'What is it?' he turned around, chocolate circling his mouth.

'That’s from THEIR bakery... oh you are in so much trouble when I tell dad.' His brother ran off in the direction of their fathers study.

Dumbfounded, Seungcheol wondered. What was wrong with the bakery? It was just a local joint, surely no place his father would have any issue with.

However, as he turned the brown bag around to see the logo adorned on the front, he nearly dropped the tart.

There was no way.

No way he had fallen for someone he couldnt have.

----

So when you saw your parents disgusted faces as they looked at the family on the opposite side of the banquet hall, and your eyes fell upon a disgruntled Seungcheol, you had to stop your jaw from falling open.

It suddenly made sense, why he had seemingly ghosted you for weeks. His family mustve found out about him seeing you at the bakery.

His eyes met yours as you sat down at your table, and you swore you saw them light up.

You weren’t going to give up on this mystery man just because of your parents.

So fast forward to now, nearly 2 years later, where you were sat on your kitchen counter, the now not so mystery man in front of you.

Over the years, you and Cheol had been secretly hanging out without your parents' knowledge. You thought it was dumb, how the two of you, both adults with stable jobs and social lives, were meeting up in secret like teenagers hiding a relationship. Yet you knew if either of your families were made aware of this, they would do anything to stop it.

‘I’m sorry.' The man breathed out with a heavy sigh, his eyes suddenly glistening with the type of glow you hated to see. 'It’s okay.' You replied with a soft smile, patting the top of his head. You were used to this, Cheol getting too ahead of himself and apologising like a child getting caught stealing sweets.

It wasnt like he had never felt you before, the hotness of your skin against his hands as he ran them down your arms, your spine, your legs was something he knew well.

He had had all of you: apart from one place. Your lips.

You knew if your lips ever grazed upon his, you could never go back. And as much as you wanted it, as much as your body was craving it, you knew of its consequences.

'I’ll get going now.' He whispered, pushing himself away from the counter and picking up his suit jacket from the sofa.

You leant against the corridor doorway, watching the man pull on his dress shoes.

'See you tomorrow then? I’ve got some new cupcakes coming in that I think you’ll like.'

His ears shot up at the sound of sweets, and you giggled.

Some things never change.

He kissed the top of your head before opening your front door.

'See you tomorrow muffin.' he smiled, before walking out and closing the door behind him.

And everytime you saw his back in front of you, you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

~~~~

a/n: ahhhh this is my first ever fic on here so if anyone reads this- which honestly im not expecting much- i hope you enjoyed, heres to many more xo

#seungcheol #seventeen #svt #svt imagines #svt fluff #seungcheol fluff #svt x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen imagines #seungcheol imagines #scoups #scoups imagines #scoups svt

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the-knight-of-the-stars · 3 years

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Mal and Ben: The problems on D2

I haven't seen anyone talk about this closely so I'm bringing it up.

Why on earth does D2 frame Mal as the victim when Uma shows up at cotillion when like... Ben has every right to invite another girl.

I mean, the love spell aside. If he really invited Uma to cotillion why is Mal fucking crying and being "ohh poor her, she is so upset". What is she upset about?? Why is she and everyone else acting like Ben cheat on her??

Did you all forget she abandoned him after ONE discussion in which, by the way, she tried to spell Ben? And then broke up with him and made it very clear she wanted that and it was the best for everyone.

Let's take a close look at this. I´ll try to keep my mind open. Hold yourselves guys, this may be a little long.

Ben and Mal's relationship seems... Problematic at the beginning of D2. They have a communication issue, Ben is busy and stressed but he never shows it to Mal, he always wants to be the perfect prince for her. Mal is constantly lying to him and hiding things from him, changing herself to "fit" with what she thinks Ben wants.

Is clear that Mal has many trusting and self-esteem problems (I think some therapy would do her good). Also, she has a problem with the use of magic, it has become a bad habit, and no matter what everyone says to her, she ignores them and victimizes herself. Her behavior is even a little self-destructive, and towards Ben, is really toxic.

Ben is seen trying his best to make her feel comfortable, and yes, him being busy all the time and not very open to her either doesn't help Mal's problems. But here is the thing, the movie, constantly frames their situation as it was only Ben's job to make an effort, but is it really? I feel like the movie wants us to think Ben should have known what Mal was feeling, that he should have been there paying her attention.

And I don't think that's fair. He is still a teenager, and not an ordinary one, he already has a whole kingdom on his hands, an entire nation that depends on him. His duty is with Auradon first. And still, he tries his best to spend time with Mal, to visit her between classes, to be available to her. And even if his only occupation was being Mal's boyfriend, I believe is unfair to expect him to just know what Mal feels.

People who had emotionally unavailable parents growing up, people inexperienced in healthy communication, people under a lot of stress, people with depression, people with PTSD, with ADHD, neurodivergent people, even people who had a bad day, or is sleepy, all these people are many times unable to understand indirect signals from people around them, that doesn't make them bad people, or bad parents, bad siblings, bad partners.

That is why good communication is so important in a relationship. We cant expect Ben to just know, when Mal has been lying to him for weeks, and possibly (we´ll get to that) spelling him to not remember.

This is when we get to their first fight... and oh boy.

They are sharing a nice moment, Ben even mentions that he misses spending time with her. He compliments her for making all that food. And then he finds the spellbook, and he is not even angry. He is disappointed because he didn't just find out she used magic to make the picnic, he just finds out she has been lying to him for gods know how long.

And then... Mal tries to spell him.

I cannot express enough how wrong that was. How messed up that was. This not only shows us how Mal is unable to take responsibility and face any kind of consequence for her actions, but this also shows truly abusive behavior towards Ben. She is erasing his memories and only leaving the ones she wants him to remember, that is manipulation, which is basically magical gaslighting.

Imagine if Ben after that fight decided he didn't want to date Mal anymore, but now he can't, because she erased his memories, she went against his wishes and left him unable to walk away from her. It removes his free will and is a violation of his freedom. It's very worrying that she knew that spell by memory and didn't even think before start casting it the second Ben showed any emotion aside of the “happy nice boyfriend” she wants.

It's still debatable whether Mal had spell him before in similar situations or not because we don't have enough information to confirm it. But the isolated incident is very abusive on its own, even if she never actually spell him.

And what makes it worst is that she doesn't apologize, the next thing she says is “Ben, it's been so hard for me”. She is taking the blame out of her again, justifying her actions. And I think that is one of the worst parts, she doesn't think what she did is wrong, she thinks she had to do it.

This is when we get to Ben very rightfully being angry for the first time in the movies. Let me make it clear: He says for the first time what he really feels and it turns against him. Mal then finally tells him why she did all that and admits that she has been faking it all, again, without taking any guilt on this whole situation.

Ben tries to keep talking about the matter but Mal refuses. Then she runs away because she “Doesn't belong there”. She doesn't tell Ben, doesn't even bother breaking up with him, she just leaves. And we once again see Ben excusing Mal's abusive behavior.

When Evie goes to tell Ben that Mal went back to the Island he is the one who assumes all the blame, saying it was all his fault, that he should have been more understanding of her, and he acted “like a beast”. Now, here is our prove that Ben is also dealing with some serious self-esteem problems, he doesn't express his feelings, and the first time he does, he thinks he wasn't entitled to feel them, he feels he was ”a beast” just because he showed anger. He doesn't know how to show his emotions in a healthy way.

The way Ben feels like he was to be perfect and the “ideal good person” all the time really worries me. Is like he is afraid all the time to hurt the feelings of others. And the way he specifically uses the word Beast as something negative that he doesn't want to be, and the way he backs in fear when his father loses his temper in the first movie, really makes you think about the way he was raised.

Many people have pointed out that Ben and his family show signs of domestic violence and I couldn't agree more. Is very telling the way he excuses everything Mal does and bearly disagrees with her. We have seen how his father gaslights him, and if he is used to that type of treatment, of course, he cant see how wrong it is what Mal does.

Despite Mal giving up on their relationship, Ben still tries to talk to her, putting himself in danger (yes, as King is very dangerous for him to go to the isle without protection) to work out their problems and apologize to Mal. The first thing he says is “I'm so sorry about our fight, it was all my fault” He takes full responsibility for the discussion, no question asked.

When Mal says she doesn't think she can change, Ben says that then he is the one who will change. I think it speaks for itself, Mal isn't willing to bend her agenda for him, but he is.

Mal refuses to come back, refuses to try to solve their problems no once, but at least three times during this conversation. Just to end it with Ben asking if she loves him, and she doesn't answer, she instead says this is what is best for everyone and asks Ben to go three times.

So big shock, he does.

He gets the message, and he decides to come back to Auradon, where, by the way, he is needed. And he gets kidnaped and then Mal has to rescue him. When they meet again after, coming back to Auradon in the car, Ben apologizes AGAIN because “things didn't go the way Mal wanted” like, this is getting ridiculous, what is he apologizing for this time??

So, let's see. Mal lies to him for weeks, when she gets caught she tries to spell Ben and doesn't take any responsibility, abandons him and then repeatedly tells him that she wants to end things and that she is not willing to try to resolve things.

So Ben accepts, and when he decides to bring another girl to cotillion Mal is suddenly surprised, and hurt, and upset???

Like, does she want him to move on or not? Is not even like she is worried about him going out with Uma, someone who captures him, she is upset because HOW DOES HE DARE GO BACK TO THE ISLE TO GET SOMEONE HE CARES ABOUT (You didn't care when you were the one he went to get hhum Mal?).

It pains me how much Mal can't stand to look at Ben being happy with someone. The whole damn movie she told him to stay away, she told him that she wanted what was best for him. So why now, in front of everyone, SHE is the one playing victim? Why is she acting like Ben is the one who broke her heart, the one who gave up on her??

She broke up with him, she abandoned him, she refused to talk to him, she told him to get away, and NOW she wants him to be understanding and forgiving??

And when the fucking painted glass shit is revealed she realizes he loved the real her?? Because he put her green eyes and purple hair on a painting? Not because he put his life in danger for her, not because he told her he was willing to change for her?

She wants him to love her “as she really is”. Why doesn't SHE love him like he really is?? She walked away from him the second he wasn't perfect, but she can make all the mistakes in the world and should just... be forgiven?

No, sorry, I´m not buying that. And I certainly don't want them to marry.

#disney descendants #descendants disney #descendants #ben descendants #king ben #ben florian #anti beast #anti bal #mal bertha #uma #uma triskelion

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typewriterghcst · 3 years

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Title: mother, forget me

Fandom: Kung Fu Panda

Characters: Shen, Soothsayer

Summary: He’s lived his life in a burning house, and now he is wasting away inside it. Why should he be at all surprised that she would fight the flames to traverse back into it in order to rescue him? At this rate, though, perhaps they’re simply burning to ash together.

Notes: whispers kind of an affectionate maybe Send Off written for @infini-tree regarding our Shen and Soothsayer muses, since we’ve both sorta halfway-ish moved into different fandoms and don’t write together very often anymore `~`

So of course this is based on the main verse on my Shen blog, where he Somehow survives the end of his canon and starts hiding out at the Soothsayer’s home like a particularly deviant NEET

I’ve long enjoyed our interactions, and even if we don’t write together again, I’ll still think back fondly on those interactions, ha. So. Just sort of a gift, then!

+++

Shen forgets he is no longer a skittish, sullen teenager sometimes, though he isn’t certain how. There’s an aching stiffness in his bones that has followed him into his miraculous second chance survival which had never assailed him back then. He lives now in a dream world where time stands still at inopportune and awkward moments, only to pass in an instant when he blinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s lingered here. He can not force himself to think of the future; it’s like futilely plucking at a minuscule piece of shell in the egg white.

Yet unlike those dream worlds he remembers from his childhood, he is not alone this time. No, he has become someone’s burden again, and he might relish in that newfound purpose were it not for who it is that has undertaken the burden.

The Soothsayer joins him at the window, once, and leaves a thin jacket of her own thrown across his shoulders, and it’s then he realizes he isn’t sure who has imprisoned who.

It’s then, also, he thinks he should leave.

+++

Quite often he will find himself reluctant to ask those questions he so dearly covets answers for, simply out of a fear that those same answers shall prove ultimately devastating. Tonight, his courage refuses to falter.

"Did you know?" Shen asks his old caretaker (a position she's rather wordlessly slipped back into, though he will not dwell on the similarities now). "Did you know I'd do it?"

"I knew you had the potential to travel down a very dark path," she eventually answers with a measured cadence, and Shen fills in the blanks that she hadn't foreseen just how much darkness that path had had the capacity for.

+++

He had tried to promise himself once, in a fleeting, blinding instant of childish fury, the source of which has been long obscured by time.

He had tried to promise himself that anyone who tried to harm her would meet with an agonizing fate, and he had taken a certain amount of comfort and pleasure in imagining just how he might make good on that promise.

He thinks of it nowadays sometimes when she leaves early in the morning, when he pretends to sleep so she doesn’t know he knows he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep through the night.

(They are both such prideful creatures.)

He thinks about how he is in a far more convenient position to keep his word now, how he would not hesitate, and he wonders if that is perhaps the closest he will ever come to real love.

+++

What will he do, he wonders sometimes against his will, when she is gone? He has but one friend left in the wide, blue world, and being a creature quite comfortably accustomed to a literal army of supporters kept in line with fear, the instability inherent in this new status quo is perhaps more distressing than even he realizes.

Shen spies the Soothsayer drifting off at her table as she works once or twice, and it lights in him a difficult to define, frenzied knot of half-emotions. He makes mention of her fatigue once. Her response, he assumes, is to put more effort into keeping up her composure in his presence, as he doesn’t catch her dozing again.

It isn't fair, it isn't fair, and sometimes he's so frustrated by what he’s managed to do how things have ended up that he can't stand it. It's then, again, that he thinks he should leave.

+++

He doesn't know her story. Somehow in all their years together, interrupted as they've been, she has never been compelled to share it with him. It's fine that way. It's the way it ought to be, he supposes.

Yet, every now and again, he will glimpse some shared similarity, some shared response to a petty trauma, and for the first time find himself musing on what other familiarities might linger in their pasts.

+++

Even now, the memory will so often come back to him, unwanted, unprompted. Pulling himself up over a balustrade in a clumsy attempt to see over it, to catch a faraway glimpse of Mother, needling curiosity and awe always tempered so expertly by the lingering haze of unbelonging.

For so long he has recalled this moment as one of solitude and numb resentment, but like a buoyant balloon eventually resurfacing after being shoved under bathwater, he remembers the Soothsayer calling to him from down the hall, and how he'd so eagerly abandoned his hiding spot to bound to her side. She had smiled at him, had asked what it was which had captured his attention so thoroughly.

And something rises in him, then, a sharp stab of remorse so powerful it aches in a way he’d never thought possible.

If only. If only.

+++

Too often she approaches his occasional fleeting tantrums with nothing more than mutely exasperated resignation, her hooves folded neatly on the top of her cane as she surveys the petty devastation he's left behind— an upended side table, scattered incense and old, singed bowls now lying in disarray.

"Was it unworthy of me?" She eventually asks flatly, and Shen barks out a harsh laugh despite himself.

“Yes,” he says, with an unhinged lightness he hasn’t felt in decades. “It should be better. It should be ornately and ostentatiously decorated and well-constructed enough to last literal dynasties. Then it’d be a worthy addition to your meager collection of furniture.”

There she smiles at him, familiarly, a half-crooked one that speaks to decade’s worth of dealing with his childish temper. He’d seen it, too, all that time ago, in the feverish and sleep-deprived days of his biggest scheme, but at the time it’d only infuriated him, made him feel intrinsically small. Here, now, the sight of it elicits a wash of comfort to come over him, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He laughs, but the sound is thick with emotion, and he flees shortly after.

+++

"I should leave."

He speaks it into existence with all the strength of a flickering candle, hoping it might pass by unnoticed, perhaps. Yet like a candle in a darkened room, this hushed murmur's reach in the silence of the midnight stillness betrays him.

The clatter of the Soothsayer’s pestle somewhere across the expanse between them tells him she’s heard him. When she speaks, it’s soft but reluctant.

“...Where will you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“But I should.”

She doesn’t respond to that, but he can feel that she wants to. He can imagine her when he closes his eyes, searching desperately for something to make this all alright. To make it work for the best. Something that makes it not so hopeless. But she’s smart, he knows. She’ll come to the same conclusion. If she hasn’t already.

Somewhere, there comes that same memory of running to her side, taking her outstretched hoof in his wing, already starting in on some inane factoid he’d picked up in his studies that day, eager to share with her his discoveries.

"I-I'm sorry."

It slips away from him without his approval, before he has a chance to stifle and drown it with any kind of success, and it comes out as a broken whisper. His vision as he stares out the window has started swimming. Some part of him wishes it was because he has begun breathing his last breaths.

Even now, he remains selfish and weak— were he truly so sorry, he thinks, he would have simply disappeared from her life in the night, with only a letter to explain his thoughts; he would have vanished just as unceremoniously as he had arrived, and left her in peace.

But he had done that once, he remembers abruptly.

I thought you died. It comes back to him in pieces.

And now he knows what he is apologizing for. There’s no one left to blame it all on. There is only him. And now for the first time does he feel so thoroughly where he has ruined himself with his own hands only to have pointed the bloodied finger outward to everyone else.

This is a mistake which can not be mended, and he’s known it all along.

Somewhere in the midst of it all he’s aware of a ginger touch to his wing. It’s the Soothsayer, looking up at him with an expression he finds quite difficult to interpret— the furrowed brow of regret, of heartache, but the quirk of hesitant hopefulness. When she speaks, her voice is just as frustratingly troublesome for him to comprehend, soft and sad and vastly unfitting for the words she has decided upon.

“...I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time.”

“It’s not enough—” Shen starts, and he can already hear the beginnings of his old hysteria rising in his protest, can feel his age-old pessimism awakening, but the gentle shake of her head in apparent, paradoxical agreement prompts him to hold his tongue.

“No. It’s not.” Then, more firmly, with a tenacity he finds quite startling in its unexpected familiarity, “But it’s a beginning we can work with.”

#kung fu panda #idk if this is a normal thing people do i'm so sorry if this is Really Weird 9^9;;#the soothsayer and shen will probably Hurt me forever so i had to write something fjjfkd;a #i listened to iron and wine's upward over the mountain like way too much while writing this

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thebrotherssalvatore321 · 3 years

Text

Keeping Secrets Ch. 58

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Sunlight shining in through the curtains of the two windows of their bedroom attached to the nursery pulled Katie from sleep and as her eyes fluttered open they landed on Klaus’s hand on hers that rested on his chest. Her head was laying on the shoulder of his arm that was wrapped around her back. She thought he was asleep, but when she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting his scent wash over her like a comforting wave, the sound of his sleepy chuckle hit her ears and a blush colored her cheeks. However, her embarrassment faded when he turned his head and buried his nose in her soft auburn waves, breathing her in. A bright sleepy smile lit up her face as she looked up at him and he gave her a gentle smile back as he took his hand off of hers to brush a wave behind her ear. “Good morning, Big Bad Wolf.”

“Good," he paused as he whooshed around, now hovering over her from the side, "is a vast understatement, Little Phoenix.” he started trailing kisses down her neck. “Waking up with you in my arms feels bloody magnificent.” he told her and she laughed as he kissed his way to the hollow of her neck then down to the valley of her breasts. When he cupped both of them in his hands over her champagne, satin pajama top she took in a deep breath and bit her lips closed to mute her moan. A chuckle left his lips when he looked up from her chest to her eyes and he saw the veins under them. Once again he drank in the sight then gave her a crooked smile as his hands kneaded her breasts making her bite her lip again.

“Are you trying to torture me?” she asked breathily.

“My touch is torture?” he asked playing dumb.

“It is when I know it can’t lead to more for fear of waking our daughter.” she answered, a choked moan leaving her lips when he pinched her nipples between his thumb and pointer finger.

Knowing she was right, Klaus sighed and rolled off of her. “Fine."

Katie rolled over, straddling him as she looked down at him with a flirty twinkle in her eyes. "Just because we can't make love doesn't mean we can't fool around. How else will I learn to be quiet?" Klaus sat up and wrapped his arms around her making her laugh when he bit her neck with a growl.

After thirty minutes of making out and giggling like a couple of carefree teenagers, Klaus took her left hand into his, looking at the emerald cut diamond on her finger. “Tell me, have you thought about what you want our wedding to be like? Venue, color scheme, date, etcetera…”

“Venue...anywhere but Saint Ann's. Color scheme...something simple like cream with one pop of color, maybe blue or red?” she asked, getting a look from him that said he was considering it. "And a date…" She sighed and took his hand in hers, absentmindedly playing with his long fingers.. "I don't know...when your douchebag brother is no longer capable of crashing the wedding in an attempt to murder our flower girl?"

"How about dark azure blue as the accent color and we shoot for a week after whenever Finn is taken care of?" He asked with a Hopeful look.

"Both sound perfect to me." She agreed.

"Really?” he asked and she noticed his surprise. “I would have thought you’d want a longer engagement.”

“Why would I want to put off what I’m sure will be one of the happiest days of my life?” she asked. “I want to marry you as soon as it is safe to and two vital purchases have been made.” he gave her a curious look. “A wedding band for you and a dress for me.

“Speaking of…” he started as he got out of bed, went to the wardrobe in the room and pulled out a white, cotton garment bag with Kleinfeld Bridal written in the top right corner of it.

“You didn’t.” Katie told him with a tilt of her head as she got out of bed.

“I did.” he answered as he hung it on the open door of the wardrobe. “Of course that was before you changed your mind about it.”

“Oh no.” Katie pressed the palm of her hand to her head then looked up at him. “I am so sorry you went through all that trouble for nothing.”

“It was no trouble, I assure you.” he told her and she dropped her hand from her face. He motioned to the dress bag. “Look at it, make sure it’s the right one.”

As she grabbed the zipper pull he turned his back, still not looking at it just in case she changed her mind once she saw it in person. When the zipper was undone she pushed the garment bag aside revealing ivory satin, lace and swarovski crystals along the sweetheart neckline. “How did you find it?” Katie asked as she grabbed the pull and zipped the bag back up.

“I called Caroline.” he said as if it should have been obvious.

“She wasn’t suspicious as to why you wanted my dream dress when I wasn’t alive to wear it?” she asked as she walked around him and slipped her hands up his chest to hold the sides of his neck.

“I told her that I had planned on asking you to marry me and wanted to put it in your coffin with your ashes.” he answered. “She called me creepy, but gave up the information nonetheless.”

Katie laughed at Caroline calling him creepy as Klaus wrapped his arms around her waist. “Please tell me you don’t actually still have my coffin.” Katie told him, remembering that at one time she had her own, custom built antique white coffin.

“I don’t. It burned with the plantation.” he answered then grabbed her hand and pulled her back over to the bed with him. “Speaking of Caroline, that reminds me, there is something you should know about a friend of yours.” Katie gave him a curious look as he sat down in bed, leaning back against the headboard and she straddled his lap. “When I called your father to tell him about your death he asked if Nate had anything to do with it." Her curious look turned to a frown. "As it turns out Nate was a descendent of your half brother from your first life.”

“I didn’t have a half brother.” she said with a confused shake of her head.

“Bradley was going through some old family history files when he saw a familiar face. Nathanial Cian Easton.” Klaus answered. “Bradley’s files started with your first father at the top of the tree then followed three branches from him. Yours and your sisters from your mother and the youngest, a son, born by a woman named Nyarai.” Katie narrowed her eyes in thought as she shook her head before a look of realization struck her like a light bulb going off over her head. She slid off of Klaus and leaned back against the headboard beside him, her fingertips pressed to her lips. A few minutes passed before she looked up at Klaus. “I’m guessing you knew her.”

Katie nodded as her hand fell to her lap. "She was Mother's lady’s maid." Katie answered in shock. "A few years after my sister was born, Nyarai had a son. Everyone speculated who the father could have been because she was unwed and was never seen with any suitors." Katie sat up on her knees and looked at Klaus. "I guess Father decided Mother was incapable of producing a male heir." Klaus placed his hand over hers.

"Bradley feared, given the hatred your family harbored for the curse Hannah put on the women of your family, Nate’s line included, that he may have turned to put you down if you ever became fully reincarnated." Katie's eyes dropped to the comforter that she pulled up over herself, hating that one simple soul linking spell could do so much damage to a family. Klaus cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her head. "It was never Nate’s intention to kill you." He reassured her. “I never would have let him near you if I thought, even for a second, that he meant to bring you harm. He cared about you.” Katie was thinking about how things might have been different if she had known that Nate was her blood family, when Hope’s happy morning squeals filled the air. “It would appear as though our daughter is awake.” Klaus said with a smile in his voice as he took his arm out from around her waist.

“And she’s in a good mood.” Katie added as they both slipped from the bed. “Most mornings she wakes up crying.” While Katie threw on a satin robe Klaus went to their daughter and picked her up.

“Good morning, Princess.” he told her, getting a happy squeal from Hope in return as he walked back into the bedroom. He was opening his mouth to say something when a knock on their door cut him off.

Katie walked over and pulled it open. “Good morning.” Rebekah greeted them as she walked into the room then turned to Katie. “You never gave me an answer about the whole maid of honor thing.”

“And you feel an answer is important enough to warrant bursting into our room?” Klaus asked and Rebekah looked at him over her shoulder where he stood in the doorway to Hope’s room and rolled her eyes then looked back at Katie.

“Regardless of your answer I’d still like to take you dress shopping today. Seeing as you have no interest in wearing the one of a kind dress Nik hunted down for you.” Rebekah told her, making Katie give her a small smile. “We'll make a proper girls day out of it.”

“I appreciate the thought, but shouldn’t you be trying to find a way to bring Kol back like you promised?” Katie asked.

“If anyone can multitask it’s me.” Rebekah replied. “And that’s still not an answer.”

Klaus started laughing and Katie looked past Rebekah to him. “You know the longer you make her wait, the more persistent she will become.”

Katie thought about it, Caroline was miles away, unable to help her plan her wedding like a maid of honor should, but Rebekah was right there practically begging for the job. Not to mention it was starting to feel like she and Rebekah truly were sisters. “I suppose it is possible to have two maids of honor.” Katie thought to herself. “Rebekah, would you do me the massive favor of being my maid of honor?”

“Really?” Rebekah asked with wide, excited eyes.

"It would be kind of a co-maid of honor situation because I promised Caroline a long time ago that if I ever got married that she'd be my maid of honor. She, Bonnie and Elena will always be lifelong friends of mine but," Katie walked over to her and grabbed Rebekah's hands "over these past few months you haven't just been there for Hope, you were there for me too. You didn't let me shut down and push you away or spiral or hyperfocus to keep from letting too much in at one time...You are my best friend now."

"And sometime very soon we'll be sisters." Rebekah told her with a smile then engulfed her in a hug making Katie laugh before she let her go. “Meet me in the courtyard in an hour.” she told her as she walked to the still open bedroom door then turned back and gave Klaus a cheeky look that was totally Rebekah-like even in the new body she was hopping a ride in for the time being. “Or do you plan on making her moan your name at top volume again? Because if that’s the case I’ll take Hope to the other side of the house and give the two of you a few hours longer.”

“Rebekah!” Katie grabbed a throw pillow off of the bench at the end of the bed and threw it at her head, but she easily dodged it with a laugh.

“Was that a yes or a no? I can’t tell.” Rebekah asked.

“That was an, it’s none of your bloody business.” Katie answered with a wide eyed look. Rebekah just shook her head with a smile on her face as she shut the door.

“Well, I never thought I’d see that.” Klaus said, making Katie turn to look at him, still holding his content daughter.

“See what?” Katie asked as she walked over and wrapped her arms around both of them.

“My sister and my finacée, besties.” he answered with a toothy smile.

“Would you prefer us go back to the love, hate relationship we had before?” Katie asked with a playful look.

“Nope, I actually quite like it when the people I love get along with one another.” he told her before Hope squealed and smacked Katie on the chest making them both smile down at her.

“So it seems the king and his princess will have the palace all to themselves today.” Katie commented as she grabbed Hope’s hand and Hope wrapped her little fingers around one of Katie’s. “Is that okay with you?” she asked and she looked up at Klaus. “You’ve never had her all to yourself before.”

“Rest assured she will be perfectly and completely spoiled rotten while you are away.” he gave her a closed lipped smile that showed off his dimples, making her smile back. “You deserve a day without our daughter on your hip just as much as Hope and I deserve to get to know one another.”

“I would say if you need anything call me, but I no longer have a phone to reactivate. It got blown up along with the pictures of us and old voicemails from you that were on it.” she told him with a disappointed look.

“That is why…” he set Hope on her play mat then went to his bedside table, “I got this as soon as you agreed to come home.” he turned back to her and handed her a new cell phone. “All of your photos and voicemails were stored in the cloud and have been downloaded on it as well as all of your contacts. So you can call your Mystic Falls friends and inform them of your miraculous rise from the dead whenever you wish.”

She turned on the phone to see he had set her background image to a picture of the painting he had bought for her on their first date that now hung in the bedroom of their quarters, making her smile at the memory of that day. “You’re awesome.” she told him as she tucked her phone into her back pocket then pecked him on the lips. “I was actually hoping you could help me call Caroline this time.” Katie told him as she glanced at Hope to make sure she was still on her mat. “I don’t want my voice to be the first one she hears when she answers the phone.”

“What would you like me to say?” he asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, assuming that she would want his name to pop up on Caroline’s phone instead of Katie’s.

“I don’t know, you’re you, be creative.” she shrugged.

He smirked at her as he pulled up Caroline’s contact information and hit call. “Hello?” Carline’s sleepy voice answered.

“Collect call from,” Klaus started, then held the phone out to Katie for her to say her name.

“Your very best friend in the whole wide world.” Katie filled in the blank.

“Do you accept the charges?” Klaus finished.

Katie could hear the rustle of blankets and the springs of a mattress popping as Caroline moved around in her bed. “Klaus, if this is a prank it’s not funny.”

Katie laughed. “It’s not a prank, Care.”

“Katie?” Caroline’s voice perked up. “How are you alive? Klaus said that the witches killed you and your baby. Bonnie saw you on the other side.” Caroline asked as Katie took the phone and put it to her ear.

“Well technically they did, so he wasn’t lying about that, and they did try to Kill our daughter, but we stopped them. Her name is Hope, by the way.” Katie answered. “I had her blood in my system when they killed me, so I came back."

“You’re a vampire again?” Caroline asked and Katie hummed a positive answer. “That’s why you disappeared when Bonnie saw you, because you were no longer on the other side.” Katie once again hummed a yes. “So why did he tell me the two of you were dead?”

“The witches who took her and tried to kill her were acting on the behalf of Esther. It was her decree that Hope never be allowed to live. So we let everyone believe the witches had succeeded and went into hiding. It was the only way to keep Hope safe.” Katie explained. “But Esther is no longer a problem, so we’re no longer in hiding.” Katie decided to leave out the part about Finn to make the explanations shorter. Caroline was quiet as she processed everything. “I am so sorry we had to lie to you guys again.”

“Katie, seriously?” Caroline asked. “You were protecting your daughter, I’m not mad. Well, I mean, I’m a little mad, but I’ll get over it.”

Klaus picked up Hope. “I’m going to go feed her.” he told Katie who nodded and watched him walk out of their room with Hope in his arms, talking to her in a sweet voice as he did.

“I can not picture Klaus holding a baby, much less feeding one.” Caroline commented having heard him.

“He’s actually settling into fatherhood a lot better than I thought he would, all things considered.” Katie replied with a soft smile on her face. “How’s everyone back home?”

“Mystic Falls as a whole is flourishing considering vampires can’t cross into its borders.” Caroline answered.

“What?” Katie asked with a squished up face.

“A bunch of crazy Travellers put a spell on the town that cancels out all spirit magic that enters it. So if we go inside, the magic keeping us alive disappears and we’ll die of whatever killed us the first time.” Caroline explained. “So for example if you were to pass through the border, your throat would be slit and you’d be dead, permanently this time.”

“That sucks.” Katie said, not knowing what else she could say to something that sounded so crazy

“Tell me about it.” Caroline scoffed. “I’m guessing Klaus told you about Bonnie and Damon?” she asked and Katie hummed, sadness at never seeing their faces again, washed over her and her eyes watered. “Well, Damon’s back, but Bonnie’s not. Apparently Bonnie’s grams put them in a prison world for some murderous psychopath named Kai before the other side was destroyed. Damon made it, but Kai messed up the spell before Bonnie could get out. We don’t know if Kai killed her or if she’s still just stuck in there with him.”

“I really don’t know what to say to all of that.” Katie admitted as she placed her fingertips to her lips.

“And on top of all of that, after Damon disappeared instead of grieving like a normal person, Elena started taking some kind of witchy concoction that let her see him. The more she took it the more blood thirsty she got so she asked Alaric to compel away all her memories of her and Damon. Now Damon’s going crazy trying to get her to remember their relationship.” Caroline practically ranted.

“Poor Damon.” Katie sighed as she pushed her hair back out of her face. “I don’t care what happened, if Klaus ever died there is no way in hell I would ask Rebekah or Elijah to compel away all of my memories of us. No matter how much it would hurt.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but yeah...poor Damon.” Caroline agreed.

“So what about everyone else, Stefan, Matt, Jeremy, your mom, Bradley…” she listed the first people that came to her mind.

“Well, after Damon and Bonnie disappeared Stefan just left and started over somewhere else, but now that Damon’s back, so is he.” Caroline answered. “Matt is...still Matt. Jeremy is dealing with losing Bonnie in usual Jeremy style.”

“So booze and pot?” Katie asked.

Caroline hummed a positive answer. “Mom's still mom. She and your dad are still going strong even though he can’t go home.” Caroline got quiet for a second. “Oh and Tyler’s back. He’s human now and has turned over a new leaf, he’s even started going to college at Whitmore, but we’re not back together. No matter how much he apologises I just can’t be with someone who would try to kill your unborn baby.”

“That’s...good to hear.” Katie commented. “The, not giving him a second chance, part. I could kind of care less about anything other than he’s dropped the whole revenge thing against Klaus.”

“Hey, why’d you call your dad Bradley instead of Dad?” Caroline asked, sounding like she thought she might be overstepping somehow.

“Probably because after I left Mystic Falls he never once called to check in or even sent a single, “Hey, how’s it going?” text.” Katie answered. “If he were any kind of dad he would have.”

“You know that’s a two way street, right?” Caroline asked. “You could have called him just as easily as he could have called you.”

“He’s the one who abandoned me and left me with Grandfather. I don’t think it should be my job to extend the olive branch even more than I already have by giving him a chance in the first place.” Katie answered.

“Fair point.” Caroline agreed.

“So where’s Elena, aren’t you two sharing a dorm room?” Katie asked, a little confused.

“We did, but I...dropped out.” Caroline answered. “I couldn’t balance college and trying to find a way to fix what the travellers did to our home.”

“I’m sorry.” Katie said with a frown. Caroline had been so excited about college the last time they had spoken.

“Eh, college will always be there when I’m ready to go back.” Caroline replied indifferently.

Rebekah opened the bedroom door catching Katie’s attention. “Have you seriously not even showered yet?” she asked, seeing Katie still in her robe and her hair a tousled mess.

“Who is that?” Caroline asked, not recognizing Rebekah's new voice.

“That would be my now official future sister-in-law who is stuck in the body of a witch thanks to Esther. It's a long story.” Katie answered Caroline then covered the speaker of the phone and spoke to Rebekah. “I am talking to my other maid of honor, give me a few more minutes and I’ll start getting dressed.” Rebekah rolled her eyes and closed the door.

“Wait, hold on,” Caroline said in a serious voice, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Katie just giggled in response. “Klaus proposed?!” Caroline asked and Katie could easily picture the shocked and happy look that she was sure was on Caroline's face at the moment.

“And I said yes.” Katie answered.

“Oh my god, Katie, I’m so happy for you.” Caroline practically squealed. “Wait, that’s why Klaus called me wanting the style number of the dress you liked on Say Yes to the Dress, isn’t it? Did he find it? Have you set a date yet? What is your theme? Please tell me it's not sunflowers and burlap. That look is so overdone these days.”

“Caroline.” Katie laughed.

“I know, I know, I need to calm down, but I can’t help it. I’m just so happy and excited for you.” Caroline told her then took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, I’m calm. So tell me what you have planned so far.”

“Not much honestly.” Katie answered. “Klaus did find the dress, but I'm not going to wear it.”

“What, why? It’s freaking gorgeous.” Caroline asked, sounding disappointed.

“Because it’s not me anymore.” Katie answered. “Since you like it so much, why don’t I send it to you? You can save it for your own wedding someday.”

Caroline scoffed. “Yeah, okay, like that will ever happen.”

“Hey, you never know. Your one true love could be right under your nose and you just don’t know it yet.” Katie told her jokingly.

“So do you have a new dress in mind? I can get Mom to dig out your mom's dress and send it to you if you want.”

“No, that's okay.” Katie answered. “Rebekah is actually waiting for me to get dressed so she can take me dress shopping. I’ve kind of asked her to be a co-maid of honor. I hope that’s okay.”

Caroline was quiet for a few minutes before she sighed. “Yeah...it’s fine. I just wish you guys could get married here in Mystic Falls so that I could be the active maid of honor.” she could hear the sadness in her voice.

“I know, me too.” Katie agreed, sounding almost as sad.

“Okay...go dress hunting with your future sister-in-law.” Caroline told her, pouting. Which only made Katie smile.

“You will have your responsibilities too, Care. Don’t worry.” Katie laughed. “I’ll talk to you later and text you a picture of the dress before I buy it.”

“You better. I want every detail.” Caroline told her seriously.

“Oh, and can you get Elena and Damon to call me when they have a chance?” Katie asked and Caroline said she would before they hung up.

TVDTVDTVD

After showering, braiding her bangs back out of her face, tying the rest of her hair up into a messy bun and getting dressed in a pair of dark wash, distressed denim shorts, a black form fitting tank top with a sheer lace racerback and a pair of strappy black sandals she found Klaus in the kitchen feeding Hope a bowl of mashed bananas and oatmeal cereal. She grabbed a blood bag out of the icebox and was about to rip it open when Klaus noticed what she was doing and spoke up. "Have you forgotten that the hired humans offer more services than just housekeeping?"

She looked at him to see a smirk on his face as he jerked his head at the woman standing quietly in the corner of the kitchen with her hands folded politely in front of herself. The woman walked over and held out her wrist “I’m fine. Thank you.” Katie told her so the woman nodded and went back to where she had been before.

Klaus thought it odd that she refused fresh blood when once upon a time she referred to blood bags as tv dinners, but he brushed it off thinking she was just in a hurry because Rebekah was rushing her.

When she was done putting the blood in a coffee tumbler she walked over to them and slid her hand over his shoulders as she leaned around him, “Okay, I’m headed out.” she pecked him on the lips as Hope babbled and hit the tray of her high chair with a spoon.

“Be careful. We still don’t know Finn’s whereabouts.” he warned her.

“I will. Promise.” she answered then kissed him again. “Just...do me a favor and don’t feed her beignets while I’m gone.”

Klaus feigned shock. “I would never.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Katie told him, walking backward toward the door. “If I find a trace of powdered sugar on her you will pay for it.” she pointed at him playfully.

“Is that a threat?” he asked with wide, joking eyes.

“That’s a promise, Big Bad Wolf.” she laughed then turned and walked out.

TVDTVDTVD

After a completely montagable day of wedding dress shopping Katie picked a dress that both Rebekah and Caroline agreed on. But, while her maids of honor could agree on a wedding dress for her they couldn’t agree on any one maid of honor dress for themselves. So to stop the arguing over speakerphone, Katie finally told them she didn’t care what they wore as long as their dresses were matching shades of azure blue.

Rebekah also insisted that to make it a proper girls day they had to get their hair and nails done. So when Katie walked into the courtyard with her hair that had grown six inches since her last haircut, cut shoulder length and layered, Klaus took notice, his eyes lingering on her a second or two longer than usual. “You look refreshed.” he told her as she walked over and sat down beside him where he sat on the floor with Hope on a blanket beside the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Hope had a teething ring in her hand slinging it around. “And you cut your hair.”

“Do you like it? I’ve never thought to ask if you have a preference when it comes to the length of my hair.” she asked as she reached up and twirled a shoulder length auburn curl around her finger.

“As long as I can run my fingers through it I’ll be happy.” he answered and she smiled as he slipped his fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “Did you have a good time?” he asked as they turned their attention to Hope.

“Yes, and I found a dress. It’s at the tailors, but once they are done they will call me for the final fitting.” she answered.

“One step closer.” he told her with a cheeky smile that made her bump his shoulder with hers and shake her head.

Katie leaned down and looked Hope over. “Hmm, is that a speck of powdered sugar on her onesie?” she asked then looked over her shoulder at Klaus with a raised brow and a smirk.

Klaus laughed, “You are looking for reasons to punish me.”

“Maybe.” she said with a noncommittal shrug as she sat up. “But who’s to say you won’t like your punishment?”

“Come here you.” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, kissing her deeply. “You can save your punishment for later tonight.” he told her when the kiss broke. “I’ve asked Camille to babysit so that you and I may have a date night. It’s been too long.”

"Would you like me to cook dinner?" She asked with a Hopeful look.

"Well, I'd be hurt if you didn't." He answered with a mock serious look then gave her a smile.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was setting a basket of cheddar biscuits in the center of the dining table in the small dining room when Klaus joined her. “It smells delicious, Love.” he commented as he sat down at one of the two place settings and she sat down across from him. Soon after, the woman that had offered Katie her wrist earlier that day, brought out two plates of jambalaya. “It seems someone has expanded their Louisiana recipe book.” he told her with a smirk as he grabbed his fork and took a bite.

"I also know how to cook crawfish etouffee, gumbo from scratch, and catfish Courtbouillon." She told him with her head held high. "If it sucks, blame Rebekah. She was my guinea pig."

Klaus took a bite and hummed, enjoying the Cajun cuisine. "You are truly talented, Little Phoenix."

She just smiled, happy he liked it and things fell comfortably silent for a few minutes as they both enjoyed their meal, but eventually Klaus grabbed a cheddar biscuit from the basket and asked, "I've been thinking about a venue, but I do not know much about your preferences. Where did you picture your dream wedding taking place?"

"My teenage wedding dreams never really made it past the dress." She answered and he gave her a look that told her to give him something to work with. "When I was talking to Caroline earlier today she mentioned that she wished we could get married in Mystic Falls and I pictured the double staircase in the entryway of your mansion-”

“Our mansion.” he interrupted her with his fork pointed at her. “Your father took your house there, besides once we say our vows what’s mine becomes yours.”

“Oh, so you’re not going to make me sign a prenup?” she asked with a challenging lift of her brows to which he rolled his eyes and gave her a ‘seriously?’ look. “Anyway.” she laughed. “I pictured flowers and twinkling lights on the railing of the stairs. Everyone sitting down below, looking up at us at the top of them, while we say our vows.” she answered. “But that was just a fleeting thought.” she shrugged then took the last bite of her jambalaya.

“Is that what you want, to get married in Mystic Falls?” he asked

“No.” she answered with a shake of her head. “I’ve just always liked that house. Even before you renovated it.” He gave her a curious tilt of his head that asked her to explain why. “During the summer, before I was old enough to work at the grill, I would sneak out at night and ride around the back roads of town on my bike. The road the mansion is on was my favorite one to take and every time I took it I’d stop and stare at that house, trying to imagine what it must have looked like in its prime because even when it was broken down and falling apart it was beautiful.”

“Maybe we could go there on our honeymoon.” he suggested. “You can visit your friends. I know you still miss them.”

“I do miss them and I would like to visit Mystic Falls, but we can’t. Vampires can’t enter Mystic Falls right now or we’ll die. Something about travelers casting an anti magic spell on it.” she told him sadly and they both got quiet for a minute.

When they were done eating Klaus stood from the table and held his hand out to her. “Come with me.” she placed her hand in his as she stood then let him lead her to the main entrance of the compound that they hardly ever used. Showing her the double staircase that led up to a curved balcony with tall cream colored columns on each side of it that went from floor to ceiling. “I know it’s not as grand as the mansion, but-” he slipped his hand into hers, taking over her reality, changing the entryway before her eyes.

The metal railing of the stairs was decorated with white hydrangeas, little azure blue flowers and twinkling lights. A priest stood up above them, under an arch decorated with greenery, flowers and more lights. All of their friends and family stood below, looking at them with smiles on their faces. She looked down at herself to see she wore a trumpet silhouette dress with a satin skirt and a sexy bodice of strategically placed lace that let a tasteful amount of cleavage and side boob show. “I recognize this dress. It’s the first one that popped up on my google feed when I typed in “Pnina Tornai” and “sexy”.”

“Feel on top of your head.” he told her with a smirk.

So she reached on top of her head and when she felt cold metal, pulled it off to see in her hands a simple cletic knot tiara with a single blue teardrop sapphire at its peak.

“You’re trying to give me a big head again, Big Bad Wolf.” she told him as he let the vision fade. “Is that your way of telling me you want me to wear a tiara?” she asked with a raised brow.

“You can wear whatever you'd like.” he answered. “What do you think?” he asked with a motion to the entryway.

“I think you solved the no venue problem.” she told him with a smile.

“So you like it?” he asked as she stepped around to stand in front of him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s perfect.” she told him then caught his lips with hers. She had meant for it to just be a peck, but he deepened it, pulling a sigh from her as she melted into him. When it broke she gave him a smirk that let him know exactly what she wanted and he whooshed them up to their quarters.

TVDTVDTVD

They were lounging in their pj's in the bed in their quarters when Katie remembered they had forgotten about dessert and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. "What are you doing, Love?" Klaus asked curiously.

"Nothing." She told him evasively and when he tried to sneak at her phone she turned it away from him.

They were fighting over her phone when a knock sounded at the door. Katie slipped from the bed and Klaus followed. When she opened the door the woman from the kitchen, who Katie had gotten to know while she was cooking, holding a round silver tray of square pastries covered in powdered sugar came into view. "You made beignets." He observed with a closed lipped smile at her. "You spoil me."

"That was the plan." She told him as she took the tray from the woman. "Thank you, Laura." the woman nodded.

"You know what goes splendidly with beignets?" He asked as he walked over to Laura and grabbed her hand. His irises turned amber before he bit her wrist. After a few seconds of drinking he looked up at Katie and watched as she swept the woman’s straight brown hair away from her neck, letting blood fill her eyes as she looked into Klaus’s and bit the woman’s neck.

After a minute they both let go of Laura and Klaus dismissed her as he wrapped his arm around Katie’s waist and pulled her into him. His other hand grabbed her thigh and pulled her leg up as she pressed her against the wall by the door, their bodies writhing against each other as his lips traveled the exposed skin of her neck.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie’s head rested in Klaus’s lap, his hand absentmindedly playing with her loose waves, both lost in thought. Katie glanced up noticing he looked a little worried. “You okay?” she asked as she sat up, covering herself with the throw blanket that was usually on the back of the couch.

“Finn and Kol were not the only members of my family that Esther pulled from the other side before it’s collapse. She also brought my father, Ansel, back.”

“What?” Katie asked, curious as to why Esther would bring back Klaus’s father.

“She tried to use him to get me to take her up on her offer to become mortal.” he answered. “She offered to put me in the body of a wolf, to let me join Ansel and have the father I always wanted.” she knew when tears formed in his eyes that it didn’t end well between them. “I used to tell myself that my real father must have had no idea I existed, but he did know. Mother forbade him from seeing me. So, according to him, he waited knowing that one day I would trigger my curse and need my real father.”

“But Mikael killed him before he could step up.” Katie finished and he nodded.

“Ansel thought I should accept mothers offer. That as a wolf I would be king to an entire species and would know true peace.” Klaus continued. “I would be lying if I said the prospect of it all wasn’t appealing, that I wouldn't have liked to have been the son of Ansel.”

“But his offer was too little too late.” she finished.

“Not to mention he knew Hope was alive.” Katie’s brows furrowed at his statement. “When a werewolf is in their animal form they feel everything more acutely. Ansel said that when I was a boy, after each full moon he would wake closer to my village, having been drawn to me in the night. Since he’d come back each month he would wake further from New Orleans. He was drawn to Hope.” Katie blinked at him knowing the look on his teary eyed face. “He wanted to help me protect her, but I knew mother would take his good intentions and twist them against us. So I killed him…” Katie reached up and wiped a tear that fell. “I wanted to trust him. I wanted my father, but I would not be able to forgive myself if something happened to Hope...to you, because of my selfish need for a father.”

She moved to straddle him, holding the sides of his neck as she rested her forehead on his. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked and he gave her a look that said it all. He was afraid of what she’d think. "I'm not disappointed in you, Big Bad Wolf.” she lifted her head and slipped her fingers through his hair. “I just wish that for once, you could have everything you want." he simply grabbed her sides and rested his forehead on her chest.

After a few minutes of comforting silence she slipped from his lap, put on a cotton robe then walked over to the table in the entry room and grabbed the tray of beignets. She put them on the coffee table between the two couches in the sitting room then sat sideways in his lap, grabbed a beignet and rested her arm on his shoulders as she held the pastry up to his lips.

He took a bite and let his head fall back with a hum, enjoying the flavor of the fluffy, sugared, New Orleans donut. “Is there anything you can’t cook?” he asked as he opened his eyes and took the beignet from her fingers and took another bite.

“Soufflé and divinity.” she answered then licked the powdered sugar from her fingers. “I’ll screw it up every time.” Klaus didn’t reply, his mouth too busy with the dessert. “I did a good job then?” she laughed.

“Have you tried your little masterpieces?” he asked and she shook her head no so he held the last bite up to her lips.

She took it and made a surprised face. “Why is this so good? It’s just dough and sugar.” she asked with her hand over her mouth.

“I told you, the food here is some of the best in the world.” he told her with a look at the tray on the table. She grabbed him another off of the tray and handed it to him. She watched him eat the pastry, both of them completely relaxed and content. “Everything alright, Love?” he asked when he saw her eyes watering.

“Perfectly.” she answered quietly. “I just really missed moments like this is all.”

Klaus cupped her cheek in his hand, slipping his thumb over her cheekbone. “Why don’t we go look in on our daughter before we call it a night?” he asked and Katie slipped from his lap and held her hand out for his. He took it then got dressed and they walked hand in hand to their daughters room. Cami was asleep in the rocking chair while Hope was fast asleep in her crib. “Should we wake her?” Klaus asked with a look at Cami.

“Yeah, that chair can’t be comfortable.” Katie answered as she walked over and rubbed Cami’s shoulder, waking her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Cami echoed as she rubbed her eyes.

“Thanks for watching her.” Katie told her as Cami stood up. “We got it from here.”

“Are you sure?” Cami asked with a look at both of them who gave her a nod. “Okay.”

When Cami left both Klaus and Katie moved to look at Hope, their hands resting on the railing of the crib. “She is perfect isn’t she?” Klaus asked with a smile down at his daughter.

“Like her father.” Katie answered as she wrapped her arms around one of his and rested her head on his shoulder. He just gave her a smirk as he grabbed her hand and led her to their bedroom where he laid down on his back and she snuggled into his side. “Goodnight, Mo Rí.”

Klaus looked down at her and placed a slow lingering kiss to her lips. “Goodnight, Mo Bhanríon.”

A/N: I'm going to try to put together a tag list for this story. So if you want to be added to it let me know.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #the vampire diaries #tvd #the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #rebekah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson fanficiton #freya mikaelson #freya #the mikaelson siblings #tvd fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the originals fanfiction

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salemroleplayhq · 3 years

Photo

❝The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.❞

MEET…

Jillian Swann

Age: 30

Birthday: August 20th, 1991

Gender/Pronouns: Cis female, She/Her

Hometown: Salem, MA

Length of time in Salem: All of her life, except for the 3 years in which she was away for college and seven months in a mental health facility

Occupation: Freelance Artist & Muralist / Bartender at Rockafellas

Faceclaim: Laura Harrier

THEIR STORY

tw: mentions of major depressive disorder, anxiety, postpartum depression, suicide attempts, fire

An only child, since infancy Jill most closely resembled her mother, though the resemblance didn’t stop there. Her mother was also Jill’s namesake — Jillian — but to avoid confusion the nickname ‘Jill’ or ‘Jilly’ were the names deployed most often to give her a better sense of individuality. She was raised with little austerity. Her mother was a high end jeweler and her father was a therapist. She had a double bed adorned with silky materials of the highest thread count, took long hot showers in the mornings and lavish baths in the evening. Pressure was put on maintaining an orderly appearance. Manners instilled, always. With strict guidelines to be followed within and outside the home — she was a child, thereby she must listen to those above her. Their daughter was to be seen and not heard, not to speak unless spoken to. Whether or not Jill’s quiet disposition is a result of her parents’ ingrained teachings, or if it was in her nature to begin with cannot be determined for certain. To avoid any unnecessary conflict, Jill was cautious never to do anything reckless that would put even a single strand of her hair out of place.

Her family may have been affluent, but even though technology installments were in abundance around the house — from cable TV to being given a personal iPhone at nine years old — she always showed an inclination toward more tangible forms of entertainment. More often than not her spare time would be occupied with long-winded outings to the library, teaching herself embroidery or knitting projects or skipping rope tricks. As an only child, her imagination became her closest companion. Inventiveness kept her boredom at bay, but it also made it impossible for her mind to ever be a peaceful and silent place. She took a liking to fiction and poetry books and art the most. She was thrilled by the way the right set of words could miraculously make sense of the big feelings she felt but didn’t dare speak about. She thrived off of what was obvious; the practical and evidential. Situations with a clear cut beginning and end that couldn’t be mistaken for something else. With art, she was able to embody everything that she had felt inside — what words couldn’t appropriately convey. ‘I don’t belong here. Nobody wants me. I don’t feel normal.’ Accordingly, nothing frustrated her more than having no idea where to begin when dealt with something that wasn’t so readily apparent or visible ( more often than not this equated to one category only: her feelings ). Winging things wasn’t her style — planning and perfect organization was. With poetry and art — with the attractive rhythmics of prose, and the curved painted brushes — she could suddenly adapt to any moment, turning anything that felt too overwhelming into something small and manageable ( destroyable, even — much of her first personally works ending up shredded or burned in the fireplace ). It was a comfort to find that even if an explanation didn’t exist, she could simply make one up herself by inking it down on a fresh piece of paper. This was a hobby she kept private, though she was passionately devoted to it. Each night filling a page or two, whether in a notebook or a sketchbook, until every few months she had a full book and had to start a new one.

Growing up Jill was very level-headed and had a natural talent for leadership. She was never boastful or power-hungry, but taking charge of chaotic situations came like second nature to her. She wasn’t shy of being in the spotlight, not because she ever wanted the attention but because she sought to benefit the bigger picture always. If there was a recognizable error she’d often be the first to analyze it without a bias to intervene with her perception, making her able to step in to adjust it until perfect form was achieved. She was considered mature for her age by most of her superiors — teachers and parents alike — never giving way to thoughtless impulses and seemingly unable to be offended. A teenager who possessed a gift concerning genuine empathy and kindness. Jill and her ego seemed to exist on opposite sides of the spectrum. Critique and praise rolled off her back one in the same. She was a quick learner, always eager to have new content to peruse. She loved questions, for there was always an answer. It was safe territory. As curious as she was in pursuits of knowledge, as a whole she was very reserved and well balanced and not at all spontaneous. She became a safe haven for many of her lost high school peers, but nobody had ever seen the deep inner turmoil she had wrestled with all of her life; that emptiness, that sadness, those thoughts that told her she wasn’t good enough. Despite being plagued by anxious voices, she tried to push on, at times self harming when it felt like it was too much.

When it mattered most, art saved her — especially after the fire. She was a creative through and through, but it was the self portraits of a woman losing her mind that allowed her to look at herself in a completely different light. Though she tried not to think of it much ( she couldn’t remember what exactly had happened even when she consciously tried ), Jill was unsure if she was relieved to have made it out of the fire. To her own life, she was apathetic. Yet, when she finally met Lachlan she had put up a good front — “thank you,” said with a warm smile that failed to reach her eyes; she had recognized him from their school, “for saving me.” As a result, she fell more into her creativity and further away from the her peers. Jill’s artistic talents were obvious to anyone on the outside looking in, expressed in her handiwork in her talent for choosing attractive fashions and creating hair styles at the girl’s sleepovers. Indeed, Jill had a great talent for styling clothing, sewing and braiding her friends’ hair as well as any professional hair stylist. But it was a duty rather than something she felt in her heart. The need to look pristine, whispering urgent nothings at the back of her head. Writing and painting was what she truly longed to do, but making a profession out of something anyone who could hold a pen or paintbrush could do seemed impossible.

Once Jill honed her ability, she began to submit her work into local competitions. Being able to be a freelance artist as a job seemed far fetched, but it was all she enjoyed spending her free time on — using real people as her subjects, sketching what she really saw, and uploading her work in the hopes that it would sell. The inspiration fueling each canvas was endless.

Taking two years to herself after graduating high school — allowing herself to build up various art equipment, a growing portfolio, and history of recurring clients that helped spread her name around — at 21, for the sake of improved credibility, it was with bated breath and hardened determination that she finally felt she was prepared enough to dare to apply to local universities offering a BFA degree in art. When Jill received an acceptance letter from FIT, it felt like an affirmation the direction she was headed wasn’t purposeless. Though usually careful about keeping her emotions withheld, she couldn’t help be feel thrilled at having seemed to have found her true calling.

Until three years into her studies. The stresses of college had overwhelmed her, and she found herself swallowing a bottle of pills in her sorrow. When she awoke, she had been back in Salem, her mother by her side — and Jill had turned her head, letting the silent tears flow down her cheeks out of shame. Moving back with her family had been hectic. Her deep depression and suicidal thoughts lingering but she had promised her parents that she would never hurt herself again. Instead, she spent her days in various forms of isolation, to locking herself in her childhood bedroom for days, to sitting on the balcony quietly nursing a cup of tea. It was the first time that she had purposely avoided writing or drawing.

As all things, with time was supposed to come healing. Over the years, Jill kept up a regular notebook habit despite how pointless it seemed — it was a freeing outlet that calmed her anxious thoughts. Within those pages she catalogued original writings as well as jotting down lyrics, sayings, quotes, and eavesdropped phrases she heard whilst out and about. Clearcut beginnings and ends were her favorite thing. Anytime the she was confused or disturbed by the people around her, she’d retreat to process it silently on a page. Unless she was at work around those her age, she was surrounded by adults. Neither were particularly easy to make sense of, so many a notebook went filled. Though she still managed to maintain her “Jill of all Trades” persona for her relatability and kindness, people had still spoken about her as the deeply troubled young woman as a result.

Her depression left her deeply afraid, and she became somewhat of a recluse most times because she couldn’t bear the whispers. Then she met Gabriel, an older man who had stopped in Salem for business, and it had changed everything. The casual fling began and ended without much fuss. It was a stress relief, nothing different than the glass of wine or smoke she ingested when particularly stressed. Jill preferred living alone, in all aspects. Romance was never appealing, neither was having to belong to someone, or adhere to any sense of domestic behaviors. Long term relationships were foreign territory for her simply because of her deep depression, and it was always a relief to find someone on a similar wavelength. A couple months after their fling drew to a close, Jill found it wasn't as easy to shrug off as past exchanges when she discovered she was pregnant. Something within her knew she wouldn’t abandon the life growing inside, even if it threw off every perfectly crafted plan she had.

Nine months later Jill was the mother of fraternal twins, Gabe always by her side. For a while it seemed like they could make it work out — a possible bond and a growing love for each other. Then the postpartum symptoms had hit, and just like that, their blossoming relationship was thrown right into the garbage after Jill had attempted to take her life once more in the midst of a breakdown. Having been sent to a mental facility some ways out of town immediately after, Jill has just come back to her hometown after seven months — desperate to heal.

PERSONALITY

+ empathetic, personable, creative

- stubborn, perfectionist, naive

Jillian is played by CLEM.

#jillian swann #f #all #oc rp #town rp #city rp #lsrpg

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part XI

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

—

Part 11

4.5k words

Mentions: pregnancy, swearing, mild sexual content, discussions of past relationships, menstruation

—

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask your husband, hesitantly settling in his lap as he starts up his TIE-fighter, flipping switches and pushing buttons.

“Oh yes,” Kylo assures you, absently pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I would never put your in danger.”

You’re still not convinced, unsure about two people galivanting through space in a one-man vessel, but Kylo’s arm is strong around your waist, his words comforting. And honestly, you’re too excited to really be bothered, thrumming with anticipation at the notion of zooming around the ship with your husband after hours.

Kylo is careful as he guides your ship out of the hangar, exiting the Supremacy with care. But as soon as the two of you are fully out in the inky expanse of space, he punches the accelerator, sending the little craft off at an exhilarating speed. You giggle as Kylo whips you around the ship, squealing when he makes sharp twists and turns with master precision. Hux had told you that your husband was an excellent pilot, but you had no idea what that really meant, accustomed to traveling on casual transport vessels. But Kylo is being anything but casual, telling you to hold on as he executes rolls and loops and other tricks that make your heart jump up in your throat.

Clutching onto your husband tightly, you’re absolutely delighted to realize that he’s enjoying himself too, grinning against the side of your face as he tells you to brace yourself before he does something complex. Stars, he even laughs, the sound of his joy coming from deep in his chest. He loves this, you realize, loves to fly. Your husband, a serious man, a man with little time to himself and so much to do, loves to go out and do the one thing that probably makes him feel truly and supremely free. And what’s better still, he’s decided to share this hobby of his with you.

By the time Kylo lands the TIE back in hangar two, you’re breathless and giddy, flushed with elation from all that’s just happened. As soon as Kylo pops the door open to give the both of you a bit more air, you’re on him in an instant, pressing kisses to his face as you laugh and laugh. He kisses you back, holding you and smiling into your mouth.

“Did you have fun?” Kylo asks, finally peeling you away from him.

“More fun than I’ve ever had in my life!” you exclaim, turning to fall back against his chest with a sigh. Wistfully, you add, “Oh, we should do that every night.”

Your husband settles his arms around your middle, nuzzling into your hair. “If the Empress commands it, then so it shall be.”

You smile at that but say nothing, content to stare out at the stars glittering in the distance before you. Kylo’s got his little craft positioned so that the two of you can gaze out the back of the hangar, safe inside the climate preservers and blastshields. The two of you hold one another for a long while, sitting in comfortable silence until Kylo finally speaks.

“Did you have any lovers before me?” he asks, settling you in his lap.

“I told you the night we wed that you were my first,” you reply, brows drawing together in confusion. You thought the whole thing had been rather unforgettable, but maybe that was because you were the one who wiped a bit of blood from between your legs when all was said and done.

“Well of course,” Kylo says quickly, sensing your disconcertment. “But did you have any other… beloveds? A boyfriend, or just someone who cared for you?”

You shake your head. “No. Mila was very good at turning others against me, and there are many beautiful girls my age in my husband’s court. Everyone passed over me, I think.”

Kylo kisses the top of your head upon hearing this, arms holding your tighter. He hesitates as he goes to speak though, almost as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “Even the women who attended to you?”

You balk at that, caught off-guard by the question. Memories flit through your mind like flashes of light, and for the first time in years, you think of Sabe’s hands, of the way her lips felt on your neck. The two of you had been so young then, barely Helda’s age when you first kissed each other in the dark. It was an innocent little tryst for the most part, two teenagers sneaking into each other’s beds to make out for a couple of hours while everyone else was asleep. There was only one time that something “serious” happened between the two of you, something that was a bit more than simple kissing. You had been so nervous when Sabe opened the front of your nightgown, self-conscious about your body back then. But her mouth was warm and soft and wet as she suckled at your breast, laving her tongue across your nipples in a way that made you sweat. She never touched you, never actually made you cum, but that was the first time you can remember really wanting to have sex with someone. No promises were made, you never courted one another, but you would be lying if you said there wasn’t a bit of puppy love at play all those years ago. Obviously, though, the little fling ended, fizzling out with the heat of the summer months. You thought Sabe had moved on forever and a day ago, but you’ve been rethinking the idea of that since her little post-engagement explosion.

“I see,” Kylo says softly, breaking you from your thoughts. Embarrassment washes over you then, staining your cheeks with crimson— he saw what you were thinking about.

“I don’t miss her,” you say at once, rushing to explain lest your husband mistake your reminiscing for longing or pining. “We were virtual children then, curious and bored and accessible to one other. I just don’t like how we ended our friendship is all. Sabe was very angry when I said I wanted to marry you, even after you offered me a chance to break things off. Myself and my other ladies ended up having a fight with her about it, and it was ugly. She was ugly.”

Kylo gives you a squeeze around the middle, comforting and companionable. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug, mildly upset and completely unaffected all at the same time. The little relationship you had with Sabe is all water under the bridge, old news from years ago that you look back on with fondness. But her cruel comments towards yourself and Lydia have not faded with time, and they still sour your image of her overall.

Tired of thinking about the matter, you shake your head to clear away of images of Sabe, of her mean eyes and her soft mouth. Reaching a hand back to toy with a lock of your husband’s hair, you decide it’s his turn in the hot seat.

“What about you?” you ask, inquiring about his past relationships. “I’m sure you had many beautiful lovers before me.”

Kylo plays it modest, simply saying, “I took women to my bed on occasion, yes, but they were never anyone special.”

You won’t let him get away that easily, though, pressing for details. “Who did you sleep with?”

Once again, your husband is casual, speaking the truth without boasting. “Women I met through diplomatic work, mostly. The parties and the dinners, you know how it is.”

In actuality, you don’t know how it is, but you nod companionably nonetheless. You’re an adult— you understand the basic premise of what he’s saying.

“You never had girlfriends, lovers you saw regularly?”

A shake of the head, and then, “None of them interested me. But I certainly didn’t string anyone along. I watch officers do that to people all the time, and it disgusts me to no end. My intentions were always clear from the outset.”

You admire and respect that sentiment, pleased to hear that your husband never went through a womanizing phase like so many men of station do. And not because he wasn’t desired, either, for you’re sure the women (and men) flung themselves at Kylo back in the day the same way they do now.

Your final question is perhaps your most invasive, but you think Kylo won’t be offended if you ask it. “What was your first time like?”

“When I was twenty-two, Supreme Leader Snoke sent me to negotiate a treaty on Valdera,” Kylo begins. “As you know, the President of Valdera and his Parliament like to partake in quite a bit of… merrymaking when they receive guests. They threw me a feast, and many important officials were there. Nearly all of them were drunk before we even began eating, but I didn’t feel comfortable becoming inebriated amongst strangers.”

You nod, pressing a kiss to your husband’s knuckles to show that you’re listening.

“Anyway, as I was having dinner and trying to ignore all of the foolishness going on around me, I felt as though I was being watched. When I looked down the table, I saw that it was a woman who was staring at me. She was seated in a dignitary’s lap, and I thought at first that she was his wife. But then I noticed that other women had come to the table as well, and I understood at once that she was some sort of concubine. Or a prostitute, maybe. In any case, she was very beautiful, and I could see everything she was picturing in her head as she looked me over.”

“She was fantasizing about you,” you say, and not without a bit of jealously. This woman is long gone, a relic of Kylo’s past, but you still can’t help yourself from being a bit miffed.

Your husband must sense the change in your mood, because he draws you closer to his chest, laughing lightly. “Yes, you possessive little thing, she was.”

Though you’re not ready to be done sulking just yet, you crack a smile nonetheless, unable to stay mad when Kylo’s teasing you and nuzzling his nose against your ear.

“Naturally,” Kylo continues, “I was a bit taken aback, but I didn’t say anything there at the table. A few hours later, I retired to my rooms for the night, and she came knocking not long after. I was unsure of myself, but I let her in anyway. She said she was there to spend the night with me, a gift from the President himself. I told her at once that she wasn’t obligated, that she didn’t have to stay if she wasn’t truly willing, but she was insistent, putting her hands all over me as she told me that she was tired of fucking old men. I warned her that I wouldn’t be much of a partner, given my inexperience, but she said that was no matter.

“She taught me much that night. All of the ways a man can fuck a woman, what to do with my hands and my mouth… She probably enjoyed the sex more than I did that first night, but I tried my best to please her.”

“I’m sure you did just fine,” you tell your husband, unable to fathom him being a bad fuck. “Did you see her again after that?”

“Yes, but only for the remainder of my stay.”

You pause, hesitant to hear the answer to this next question. “… Did you care for her? Or any of the others?”

Kylo says nothing for a moment, rearranging in his lap so that you two may look at one another a bit better. His face is set, expression serious as he cradles your cheek delicately in his palm. “I always treated my partners with respect, but none of them ever meant anything to me, not really.”

For just a moment there, in the chill of the hangar, you feel safe enough to lay bare one of the soft spots on your heart. “Do I mean something to you?” you whisper, too afraid to ask any louder than that.

“You are my wife,” Kylo replies, caressing your skin. You kiss your husband then, heart bursting at this quiet, almost unspoken admission of his love for you.

The two of you retire to bed not long after that, walking hand in hand back to your quarters. Kylo lets you hold him so tightly that night, falling asleep with his face pressed against your chest. You breathe in the scent of his hair as you nod off, warm and content.

---

Palgodu is just entering its winter months, the air nipping at your exposed face and ears as you walk up the steps of the royal castle. Snow hasn’t fallen yet, thankfully, but you step lightly anyway, not wanting to graze over an icy patch and go tumbling. Kylo is by your side, of course, shrouded in a black as per usual. He keeps you close, probably trying to warm you up himself even though you’re draped in furs and thick fabrics. The two of your take in the great castle before you together, noting the fine stonework and carpentry. It’s a sturdy building, built no doubt to keep warmth in and invaders out. Guards are lined up all along the front of the place, armed to the teeth. They may be there for you and Kylo’s benefit, a welcoming party of sorts, but you doubt it. If your planet just ended a civil war, you’d keep yourself covered on all sides as well.

King Eli awaits you and Kylo as soon as you enter the castle, grinning broadly as he welcomes the both of you to his home. The first thing you notice about the King is his size, for he is tall and wide, made exclusively of thick slabs of muscle. He would be imposing with his full beard and beastly hands, you think, if his demeanor were not so warm.

You and Kylo amble through a corridor just off the castle’s entrance hall, following in the King’s wake. You pass many tapestries along the way, precious pieces of handiwork that seem to depict the history of Palgodu. They turn your head, these works of art, and you find yourself studying them intently until you’re shown into a small receiving room at the end of the hall.

The first thing you feel when you lay eyes on the Queen Eleanor is envy. Before she even so much as speaks, you’re plagued with it, the jealousy you feel so white-hot in your veins that you’re afraid your skin will glow from the heat. She is heavy with child, the Queen, her stomach round and swollen underneath the skirt of her gown. To make matters worse, the bundle of blankets that she clutches to her chest is squirming, confirming that she already has a little one out here in the world as well. And then a young girl dashes out from the corner of the room, giggling as she evades being picked up by her nurse, and you feel as though you might actually burst into tears.

It’s idiotic, you know, to be jealous of a woman simply because she has children, but you can’t help the way your mind rages at the sight of Queen Eleanor and all the bounty of her womb. She has so much of what you want, so much of what you’re worried you’ll never be able to have. Still, it’s impossible to hate her for long— the Queen, like her husband, is just far too kind.

She welcomes you with open arms, beaming as she declares that she feels as if the both of you already know each other. And you sort of do, you suppose, given how much you’ve communicated these past few weeks. Like you, Queen Eleanor handles her regime’s charitable efforts, and you’ve spoken at length over comm about donations and food and a myriad of other subjects. She’s practical and a bit headstrong, passionate about protecting those who rely on her and her husband for help.

“I apologize for not meeting you right when you arrived,” Eleanor says to you. “The baby needed to eat, and Maudie is always so restless when she’s forced to stand still.”

Finally, you snap out of you sad little trance, remembering where you are and what you’re doing. “Oh please, don’t be sorry,” you reply, waving her off with a gesture and a sweet little laugh.

Though your feeling of envy pass quickly, the sudden burst of intense emotion does leave you feeling disoriented. The rest of the afternoon is mostly a blur, and you barely feel like you’re there as you and Kylo dress for dinner. You must put up a good front though, because neither Miriam nor Kylo says anything as about your demeanor as they interact with you.

Dinner consists of a large feast, and you’re grateful for the crowd around the table. There’s much talking and laughing, and you’re able to shrink back into the noise, more content with observing rather than participating tonight. You do feel a bit better though, fortified by your warm meal and a few sips of wine. And of course, Queen Eleanor continues to be a lovely friend, trying to rope you into conversations regarding the upcoming charity gala that the two of you have worked so hard on.

Just as you’re digging into your dessert, however, you feel it, that round, aching pain that most women know all too well. Your good mood evaporates immediately, overtaken by an empty sort of melancholy that’s even more painful than the cramping in your abdomen. Keenly aware of your audience (and the fact that you’re wearing black), you try desperately not to let your emotions show on your face. And stars does that take all you have, the task made even more arduous by the fact that your husband sits beside you. You don’t want him to perceive the shift in your mood, so you must guard your thoughts more closely than ever before.

Mercifully, your mask never slips, your defenses do not fail, and you’re able to excuse yourself from the table with ease. In a surprising turn of events, Kylo actually accepts King Eli’s invitation to play cards, and watching your husband walk away from you is perhaps the biggest relief of all in this moment.

The walk back to your chambers is relatively short, but your limbs are so heavy as you make the journey. Miriam is there waiting for you, but you have no heart to perform for her, stumbling into the ‘fresher with little more than a weary ‘hello’. When you check , your underwear are stained, just as you suspected. And though you already knew what happened the moment you felt your stomach cramp up at the table, this confirmation of your worst fear makes you breakdown completely.

Cleaning yourself up sloppily, you leave the ‘fresher with tears in your eyes, startled to find Miriam there in the doorway when you try to go back to the bedroom. She’s poised to get you whatever you may need, mouth already forming the words, “What can I do for you?” when the two of you lock eyes. You don’t know why you do it, but you collapse into Miriam’s arms right there, offering no explanation for your actions as you dissolve into sobs.

“What’s the matter?” you attendant asks quickly, supporting your weight as you sag against her. Miriam’s hands are on your back, in your hair, rubbing and petting and trying in vain to soothe you.

You draw back from Miriam’s chest, hiccupping pathetically. “I started my period,” you tell her, and the fact that you sound like a distraught twelve-year-old girl is not lost on you in the moment.

Miriam looks confused for a moment, asking, “Did you—?” But then her face dissolves into a look of sympathetic understanding, and she puts her arms around you again. “Oh. Oh, my lady.”

You beg for a bath, unable to do anything else as your attendant holds you close. Miriam does as you ask, letting the hot water run as she unlaces your gown and lets down your hair. Trying to be useful, you take off your jewelry on your own, but even this small task feels insurmountable in the midst of your breakdown.

The heat of your bathwater feels like a warm hug against your skin, but not even this serves to soothe your aching heart. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you curl in on yourself, choking on your own tears and sniffles. Miriam allows you to have a moment, sitting patiently by the bathtub as you settle yourself. Finally, she speaks.

“What’s the matter?” she asks softly, reaching out to stroke your hair again. You don’t brush her off, though your tone is less than charitable.

“I already told you,” you reply curtly, hugging your legs closer.

Miriam maintains her composure, speaking gently. “I know. But I have a feeling that this is about something more than a bit of blood in your underwear, Empress.”

Swallowing thickly, you contemplate whether or not you want to get into all of this right now. But Miriam is your only resource, really, the only older woman in your life that may be able to offer you a bit of advice.

“I just want to be pregnant,” you finally croak, voice raw from crying for so long. Miriam sighs at that, nodding solemnly.

“I know, my lady,” she says companionably, still carding her fingers through your hair. “Has the Supreme Leader said something to you? Gotten angry or expressed his dissatisfaction?”

“No,” you say quickly, moving to sit up now. Your head pounds, clogged with congestion from all your crying. “It’s… it’s the Queen.”

Miriam starts at that, eyes ablaze, her tone indignant. “Queen Eleanor said something to you?”

You can’t help but laugh then, touched by your attendant’s defense of you. “No,” you say, any joy you experienced just now dissipating. “She’s a lovely person, it’s just… It’s just her children. She has so many, and I—”

“And you have none,” Miriam cuts softly, finishing your sentence for you. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“I just don’t understand it,” you declare, utterly bewildered. Miriam lathers up a rag, washing your body as she listens to you talk. “Kylo and I have sex nearly every night it feels like. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“It’s not about what you’re doing,” Miriam soothes, rinsing you with her hands. “Sometimes these things just take time, that’s all.”

You throw a look Miriam’s way, eyebrows raised. “It only takes once.”

Miriam laughs a bit at that, nodding. “Yes,” she concedes, “technically once is enough. But that’s not the case for everyone.”

That makes you sigh, mostly because you know she’s right. Still, you can’t help but feel betrayed by your body, by your womb.

“Have I ever told you about the first woman I ever served?” Miriam asks, redirecting your attention away from your thoughts.

“No.”

“She was a senator’s wife,” your attendant begins, pouring shampoo into her hand now, “and she was desperate to get pregnant from the moment she got married. Like you, though, it didn’t happen for her right away, and she became rather upset. She began doing anything she could to conceive after a few months, drinking these disgusting teas, standing on her head after she and her husband had sex— just all sorts of nonsense. But after a year, she still had no child. Doctors assured her that she wasn’t barren, but of course she thought otherwise.

“After a lot of crying and wasting away in her bed, my mistress decided to just put the whole thing out of her mind. It destroyed her to do so, but she decided that perhaps she wasn’t supposed to be a mother. But do you know what happened after she quit fixating on the idea of getting pregnant?”

“She got pregnant,” you answer, already seeing where Miriam’s going with this story. She nods, confirming that you’re correct.

“That’s right. She went on to have another three children after she had that first baby, and they were all healthy and beautiful.” Miriam hooks her fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at her. “The same way yours will be. But you must relax, Empress. If you fester in this desire to bear a child, the stress will prevent you from getting the very thing you want so badly.”

You want to argue, to say that you aren’t working yourself up into a frenzy about having a baby, but that’s simply not the truth. You think of conceiving each and every time you and Kylo make love, you pray and yearn and hope as you as you wash him off your body. You even dream of it sometimes, giving birth, and not all of the things you see in your head are pleasant.

“Just enjoy being with your husband,” Miriam advises, almost as if she can read your mind. “If you relax and allow yourself to let go when the two of you make love, a baby will come quickly. I promise.”

You desperately want to believe you attendant, but your own anxiety forces you to remain unconvinced. Still, you’re grateful for the reassurance, figuring that everything will be brighter in the morning.

Kylo comes back from his card game not an hour after you get out of the tub, kissing you soundly as he grumbles about drunken aristocrat and a particularly poor hand that came his way during the event. You almost tell him about your little episode but ultimately refrain from doing so, figuring that it’s not worth the trouble. Still, your husband is intuitive as ever, asking you if everything’s all right as the two of you retire to bed.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” you tell him, more than happy to snuggle down under his arm.

Kylo doesn’t press the matter, though you’re not sure he believes you. But he holds you close anyway, shielding you from the chill of the room.

That night, you dream that you’re running all through the Supremacy, chasing after a small child that giggles and squeals as they continuously evade your grasp. It’s frustrating, for they always seem to be just ahead of you, just around the corner or already running down the next hall over.

Just as you get close enough to grab the back of the child’s shirt, you wake up.

#kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader #ame #my writing #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #cw: pregnancy #cw: menstruation #tw: pregnancy #tw: menstruation

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

An Interlude — The Unknown Expanse

A fearful baker lost his calendar yesterday, and a month passed—

And ever since that year went by, the coward has lost sight of everything but the false safety of ‘home.’

That decade passed without word, without sound, as the baker faded away from the world —

—until, that second later, a message from ‘someone.’

—

I lost my calendar yesterday.

Last April.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it. Seconds, maybe, or hours. It could be days.

A light shines underneath the door, for a moment, and flickers off. It illuminates hardwood floor — its texture worn down over months of use, light barely showcasing whatever cracks remained after all that pacing, just before vanishing as quick as it came.

It could’ve been anyone — my parents, perhaps, or someone else entirely — but it felt the same.

It all felt the same. A grip surrounding my neck, that forced the breath out of me, its spare hand rearranging my stomach to tie itself into hundreds of knots.

Dread, wasn’t it? That was its name. That horribly, sputtering feeling, that bit into your heart and ground its teeth relentlessly until all you could think of was passing out to halt the pain.

Darkness surrounded my vision — the tunnel vision that built up, certainly, and the darkness of the place I called ‘home.’

In the shimmer of my light, someone could easily see a target of burglary — someone to steal from — through a window that wasn’t boarded up from the inside just yet.

Compared to that, the endless darkness surrounding me was preferential, if not optimal. The fear of possible insects, of beings that scuttled in the night, was nothing compared to it.

‘Aah, wouldn’t it be nice, if...’

Even in my mind, I cut myself off thinking of a better idea.

Slipping in and out of consciousness endlessly — in this darkness, time was impossible to understand. ‘Sleep’ and ‘awake’ melded into one whole, two lovers apart by circumstances now waltzing together in the haze. Only ever seeing daylight in the times I ate, it was all too easy to mistake reality for fiction, and fiction for reality.

‘...It’s better like this, isn’t it?’

Aah, for all I knew, it was reality that this was all there was — that thieves and criminals existed only in my head, and that the world outside was only an illusion made to hurt me.

Was that reality?

Was that truly reality?

...Or had my eyes closed again?

—

I was 14.

14, 13, 10, 15–

The first incident is impossible to recall in the soup of ‘happenings.’

Twenty dollars — a little dollar bill I held close to my chest, moving slowly through the Toronto streets that lay just outside my home.

The bakery, ‘Roland’s Pastries,’ lay just a stone’s toss away — a half hour walk from our home. My father’s business, one he pridefully named off his last name, and the focus of the pastime we enjoyed more than anything else.

More than even the base jumping my father enjoyed, or the parkour stunts my mother taught to a generation of gymnasts —

Was a simple pastry, made delicately and kindly, warm to the touch, to sweeten even the sourest of days.

To call it my dream to run that bakery one day would be putting it lightly. I could still remember the shimmering gaze I always directed at its structure, the way my parents joined their staff to produce the best quality they could manage. I could still remember the first loaf of bread I helped make — even though it rose poorly, and didn’t taste the best, the gleaming smiles of my family stayed with me.

Yes — today was the day I was going to buy my own baking materials. Twenty dollars wasn’t much, but I wanted to contribute something to the next loaf of cinnamon bread we made.

A man brushed past me, however.

They wore a dark green rain jacket, and a grey shirt. Black jeans, too — they were impossible to miss.

Their face was a blur — a mismatched cloud of skin-shaped vapour in my mind, only a single bloodshot eye remaining in my mind.

It stared daggers into my skull, but I hadn’t noticed.

I was going to get some cinnamon. Maybe flour.

I was going to help. I was going to make cinnamon loaf.

I was going to

I was

I couldn’t make the

The hand reached out , and the gaze of the ‘person’ said it all -

Their hand remained in their pocket, but the outline of a <hand/dagger/gun>

Their hand reached to mine, and their <hand/dagger/breath>

The weight was gone in a moment, but the front door opened, and it

—

Aah,

So that was fictional.

Certainly, it were my dreams — separated from reality only by the fact that ‘nothing’ lay instead of ‘something’ before my eyes.

Darkness — the roots of unknown, of fear — felt comforting, compared to that.

The light outside my door was turned off. Shuffling could still be heard, though — and a gentle knock at my door.

“...It’ll be your birthday soon, son. If you want to celebrate... Just let me know, alright?”

...A calm, older male voice. My father.

Aah, how it was so pleasant to hear — how someone existed who could be that kind.

It must’ve been May, then —

...

“...I’ll think about it... Thank you, pops. Really.”

“Of course. Just... Let me know what you want, okay?”

...

Aah, how it almost felt like those older times —

—

...16.

I can still remember the first muzzle I stared down.

I was working the cashier booth at our bakery. Handling money, the works.

“Just smile and do whatever the customer says,” said my father. “If they cause any trouble, just call me and I’ll be here.”

He’d pat me on the back and send me on my way, with a list of basic instructions. Just the way I liked it — after all, words in general were in one ear and out the other when it came to me. Didn’t stop my mother from trying to speak a novel to me, but I could always rely on my pops to write down some of what to do.

Of course, those days usually went well — kind customers, kids with the cutest goshdarn smiles, and admittedly a fair few free cinnamon buns given to people who needed a pick-me-up.

I remember, one day —

“He’s been too slow lately. You need to punish him a bit, or he’s just going to stagnate like this.”

“He’s doing just fine for his age. He’s taking a load off our shoulders, handling customers, so I think he’s doing well.”

“You need to teach him a better work ethic.”

“He’s doing fine enough as is.”

I did have my slow days — where, suddenly, counting dollars didn’t mesh with my mind. Where in a matter of moments, I lost my desire to keep working, and I was fighting my mind to keep moving.

And this, of course, was one such day — the line was small, albeit, but I couldn’t deny I was a bit slow on the draw.

I remember counting out around forty dollars — around four of which were due in change.

Just enough time for—

...

...I was handed a note with the change. I open it, not thinking much of it-

“Empty the register, and say nothing, and nobody will get hurt.”

A teenager at the register of a bakery. The perfect target for a silent robbery.

Nobody was behind me — nobody could see his actions. Least of all the empty line behind this man, holding no witnesses in sight.

My family, arguing in the back, had no idea of what lay beyond that thin wall.

Just me — and the muzzle of a pistol.

It wasn’t possible to forget what the inside of a gun looked like.

A dark, empty void — reflecting what it could do to me, in an instant, if my hands now stopped.

The blur of repressed memory brought the scene into a haze —

—But hours after its completion, as that ‘me’ lay in horror, sobbing, I couldn’t help but listen —

“He’s misplaced most of our earnings for today! I told you that you had to discipline him better!”

—Aah,

They hadn’t known, had they?

—

Something — to nothing.

Faint, hazy memories dissolved like a tablet into water, as I felt something on my face.

I couldn’t see it, nor understand it in full — it were there, however, placed as if to irritate me specifically.

...I’d awoken in a cold sweat. Perhaps from the chilled air surrounding me, and the weak blanket I forgot to sleep under, I found my legs quivering when I tried to stand in the darkness — groping and feeling the air around me, stumbling into my bathroom to take a sip of water from the tap.

Even this darkness, this state of mind as if I hit the supercritical point of reality and dreams, felt comforting —

—Even the horrible memories of what once was could be dismissed as dreams, even the fear that came from living like this, and the fear of abandoning everything.

Here, reality was what you made of it — what you chose.

Lapping at the lukewarm tap water, barely reaching it, unable to see it save for the small reflections in the surface of the water itself, I heard a buzz on a nearby device.

My phone — charging there, waiting for something that would never come, began to vibrate.

“...What..?”

Unlocking my smartphone, I was met with a familiar image as my home screen —

—a young ‘me,’ eyes shining with delight, holding a loaf of cinnamon bread with utter care while grinning in pride.

“The only one who could take that was...”

...My phone began to ring.

A phone number I didn’t know — only one number off from mine, I realized. Out of curiosity, or perhaps loneliness, I placed my finger on the ‘accept’ button.

“Hey! I don’t know who you are, but we’re textdoor neighbours! Thought I’d say hello.”

...

“...Who are you..?”

“Uh, Ritsuka. Ritsuka Fujimaru. If it helps, I was the person who bingeplayed tekken and ate curdled yoghurt for superchats.”

“...”

...Had that much changed? How long had it been..?

“...Tell me more.”

—Somehow, it felt wrong to continue.

As if, by saying those three words, I was changing something that should have never been changed.

And yet — as my finger hovered over the button to hang up, the words fell out of my mouth instead.

Within the fear that lay in revealing who I was to a stranger —

—somehow, I felt as if this person was worth meeting.

Somehow, I felt as if something would change if I said something.

Something better would happen —

—surely, better than this.

#fgo #mastersona #gudasona #cadenceloreposting #l o r e #cadangst #like a reverse where are they now #where the fuck was he before??#now ye know #i like to think in other ‘verses he hung up on Ritsuka instead

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redvoid-40 · 4 years

Text

Gaara SFW Alphabet - A to E

Another piece of writing no one asked for! All thanks to the Gaara x OC fic I’m working on! :D

I started writing the SFW Alphabet for Gaara and, while it’s a lot of fun, it’s also more time-consuming than I thought it would be so... I’ll be posting it little by little. And most likely I’ll go back and forth between SFW and NSFW alphabets. =.=

If you have any requests you’d want me to focus on, let me know!

----

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Super affectionate and not afraid to show it! Lots of hugs, kisses and all other forms of cuddling!

Fight me on this, but I believe Gaara dabbles into some PDA with his SO. I mean, you wouldn’t catch them making out against a wall or anything like that (there’s some decor he has to maintain as Kazekage unfortunately), but you’d definitely find them walking hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm around Suna. Also, if they’re sitting side-by-side at a table during a dinner-party or something like that, there would be the occasional touches: a short caress on the knee here, a forehead touch there, a quick peck on the lips…

At mornings, when they’re parting ways for the day, there has to be at least a hug and a kiss that may linger a bit too long for others’ comfort (*cough*, Shinki and Kankuro *cough*).

In private all of that doubles! Gaara is a cuddly toy through and through. Lazy Sunday mornings are spent in each other’s arms, exchanging cuddles and kisses.

Also, there’s no unspoken words of affection between Gaara and his SO. Gaara spent most of his childhood believing he was unloved and he knows how much that hurt so he vocalizes frequently how much he loves and appreciates them.

However, gift-giving is not a “love-language” I see Gaara partaking in so much. If he sees something that reminds him of his SO and it’s on his way he might buy it for them, but he’s a busy guy. I don’t see him going out of his way to buy extravagant gifts or anything like that.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

For timeline reasons, I’ll dabble into my fanfic here because I like to think their friendship would start before Naruto healed him through the power of friendship and headbutts.

I think an ideal SO for Gaara would be someone calm and warm, who always thinks the best of people unless they show them otherwise. At first Gaara would be annoyed by that, after all there’s no way someone could like and be kind to everyone. Hate was the default emotion Gaara associated with, so seeing them care for others so easily really pissed him off for some reason. And I don’t doubt he’d take out his frustration on his future SO, maybe even hurt them in some way. Still, they’d keep their cool and try not to engage and that would be enough to irritate and confuse him even further. He’d dabble a little into yandere tendencies here, unable to not watch their every interaction with other people and judge every little thing they did.

After his “recovery” I think Gaara would regret his actions and apologize, and his future SO would forgive them right away because I headcanon his SO as another sweet cinnamon roll. They’d be one of the first people to truly believe Gaara had changed and help him in his quest to become a better person.

I think their friendship would be really intimate. Gaara is someone who speaks his mind. But didn’t have anyone to actually talk to before, so I think he’d appreciate having the opportunity to confide his doubts and emotions in someone.

Also, the boy would be super eager to learn more about them too! It’s a whole new experience to him, this give-and-take in a conversation. Having someone else’s input in the happenings of his day and the workings of his mind and heart is absolutely refreshing and comforting in a way he didn’t know was possible. He absolutely lives for the times he can just talk with his future SO about anything that comes to mind.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I think I covered this pretty well in Affection, but YES! BIG CUDDLY CINNAMON ROLL!

In bed likes to have his SO lay their head on his chest as he plays with their hair and plants many kisses on their forehead, cheeks and lips. Also, when sleeping he enjoys being both the big and the little spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes he does! Gaara likes routine and stability so when he finds someone he loves he’ll want to settle down with very little hesitation.

And he’s? surprisingly good at housework?

Despite being the son of the Fourth Kazekage and not having to lift a finger around the house during his childhood and early teenage years, Gaara learned quickly how to cook and clean (especially cook).

After their father’s death and Gaara’s decision to improve as a person, I think the Sand Siblings would be hesitant to have people around the house all the time. It was a delicate time for them, and I think spending time just the three of them, healing their strained relationship, would be a priority. Maybe someone would come to clean the place and do the laundry once a week, but not for everyday chores. So it fell on the three of them to cook and keep the house tidy.

In the beginning, Temari and Kankuro would shoulder the work. Gaara didn’t know the first thing about housework.

Temari would be the one to approach Gaara and ask him to help around the house (Kankuro would still be uncomfortable around Gaara at first), and honestly? I think the boy would jump at the opportunity to help. More than a chore he saw it as a chance to rebuild his relationship with his siblings.

Ironically, he hates how easily sand built up around the house and had to be dusted off.

E = Ending (what would be a deal breaker for them? how would they do it?)

Gosh, this one is gonna be angsty!

I think it would take whole lot to push Gaara into breaking up with his SO. I mean if he found himself in a relationship in the first place it’s because he loves his SO, and is ready to go through thick and thin with them. This boy would take a lot of shit before giving up on someone.

I mean, he spent years trying to win over the people in Suna. Even when they tried to kill him, he did his best to earn their trust. Sure, he had a lot to make up for - seeing he was quite the murderer himself before - but still we need to give the boy some credit: he’s pretty good at forgiving and moving on.

So real talk here: I think he’d be the kind of person to try to overcome his SO’s major character flaws if they had any. (Disclaimer: I find it very hard to believe Gaara would choose a SO like that, but for the sake of this headcanon, let’s continue).

Bouts of aggression (verbal mostly, since his sand would keep him safe from physical harm)? He’d make excuses to other people for their behaviour if they were in public; in private he’d keep a level-head and want to talk things through afterwards and do couples’ therapy, see a psychiatrist… anything that could help.

Manipulative SO? He’d notice it eventually (he’s a sharp guy, and love makes you blind up to a certain point) and maybe even give hints he saw what they were doing, but honestly I think he might allow himself to be played just because he wants to make them happy. As long as it didn’t really harm anyone.

Cheating? I might get some backslash from this but again, I think he’d forgive his SO and take them back. Although there would be a long talk between them because Gaara would want to be absolutely sure they still wanted to be with him. Are you sure you still love me? Do you truly want to be with me and not them? If they said yes, I want to be with you Gaara would take them back and work through everything with them, even if it broke his heart a little every time he remembered what they did to him.

So WHEN? When would Gaara ever break up with his SO?

When they did something that endangered his family, friends and village. If his SO turned out to be some sort of double-agent to an evil organization or in bed with enemies from Suna he’d end things with them.

Their break up might be a few words spoken in a false tone of detached coldness in the battlefield, or maybe an emotion-charged moment in the outskirts of the village as he found them sneaking out…. Regardless of how things happened, knowing that everything they lived together was a lie, a carefully constructed façade by his SO, didn’t make it any less painful for him. He still loved them, but he wouldn’t allow them to hurt the people he cared about.

And he could never kill you himself, no matter how much you broke his heart with your betrayal.

#gaara #gaara x reader #gaara x you #sfw alphabet #headcanon #gosh this thing takes more time than i thought it would #but i actually liked it #it's fun #would you guys be interested in more?

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justauthoring · 4 years

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False Hope [Jimmy Darling] (1/2)

Prompt: If only you hadn’t fallen in love with the freak.

A/N: I just couldn’t help myself. I love this boy and even though i’m only half way through the season, I already know this boy deserves better then what he got. Anyways, I meant for this to only be one part but it got to be a lot longer then originally intended so... part two?

Please don’t plagiarize my work! Word Count: 1,919

“It’s late. I should be getting on home now.”

Jimmy holds fast the second you move to get up, fingers softly pressing into your hips as he tugs you back against himself. You don’t fight him, falling against him with a light giggle mix with a sigh as you let your head rest against his chest, your hand coming up to rest next to you.

“Stay here a while,” Jimmy murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head. Your eyes flutter shut at the action, relishing in the moment briefly as his left hand rubs circles on your bare lower back. “It’s not safe for a lady like yourself to be walking home this late anyways.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, shifting slightly as you’re propped up on your elbows, able to meet Jimmy’s warm brown eyes easily and steadily. Your head comes to rest in either of your palms, smiling up at him softly as he leans his hand against his pillow comfortably, his curls brushing into his eyes slightly which causes him to blink them away once in a while. “The curfews been lifted, remember, darling? After you caught that maniac.”

Jimmy’s cheeks warm slightly, and he shakes his head, abashed. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“You’re still a hero to me,” you shrug, moving your head to your left hand and allowing the right to draw soft circles in the middle of Jimmy’s chest where a small, light patch of dirty blonde hair resides. You lose yourself in the moment slightly, lost in your own thoughts as Jimmy watches you carefully, a soft smile on his lips as he takes in your beauty but his eyes concerned slightly at the frown that begins to curl on your lip.

Raising his hand, Jimmy’s careful to use his knuckles (still ashamed of his hands despite how many times he’s told you there ain’t anything to be ashamed of) to brush back some strands of your H/C hair out of your face. He dips his head slightly, enough that he can get a better look at you, the smile that had once occupied his lips fading as he frowns worriedly down at you.

He doesn’t even have to ask to know what’s got you so worried.

“It’s your father isn’t it?”

Your flicker your eyes back up to his own at that. “Even after all these months, he still as cruel as ever. Half of the time I have to sneak off, or worse, he catches me and I have to fight to leave.”

“He don’t approve of me, do he?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head.

You catch it, just quick enough because Jimmy only does it for a faint second, but Jimmy’s eyes flicker down to his hands and as such, his hand that had once been cupping your cheek falls to his side with shame. Before he can though, you reach out to catch his hand, pulling his eyes sharply on your own as you press it against your lips, kissing his knuckles first before trailing up to the tips of his fingers.

“He’s small-minded,” you say without a moments hesitation, keeping your eyes steady on Jimmy’s own. “He don’t see how wonderful you are, like I do. None of the people in this Godforsaken place do. But, Jimmy, there ain’t a damn thing he or anyone else can say to me that will change how I feel about you.” Pressing his hand against your cheek, you lower your voice to a whisper; “how much I love you.”

“But, maybe...” And Jimmy hesitates, clearly hating the words but unable to deny how he believes them to be true. “Your father’s right. You deserve someone more than a freak like me. Someone normal--”

“You’re not a freak.” You say firmly, promptly cutting off whatever other profanities and lies Jimmy was about to speak of himself. Setting your eyes, hard and determined but still filled with so much love, you squeeze Jimmy’s hand gently. “You’re Jimmy Darling. The man I love. The man who saved that woman and child from that maniac. The man that can sing like no other.” Letting out a soft laugh, your lips curve into a bright smile as you nuzzle into his touch. “That has never ever done anyone any wrong.”

Jimmy smiles, finally returning your grip as he pulls you close, pressing a kiss against your lips. It’s quick, but he pours every ounce of his gratitude into that kiss. He holds you tight and firmly and there isn’t an ounce of hesitance or doubt in him as he molds his lips against your own. And you return the kiss with just as much ferocity. Enough that you find yourself out of breath by the time either of you pull back.

“I wish I could just stay here with you forever.”

“Why don’t you.”

Jimmy’s words shock you. Yours had been a meaningless whisper -- it was something you truly did wish, but something you believed entirely impossible. You knew that your father would never let you leave, especially if he ever found out it was to be with Jimmy. You didn’t know how far your father would go to prove that, given that it was tough enough to even get out of the house for a few hours, but you didn’t want to test it either.

Jimmy easily understands.

“Well, why not?” He shrugs. “We may not have much, but we’re a family here. And i’m sure Elsa could find something for you to do around here. That way we wouldn’t have to hide, wouldn’t have to go days without seeing each other.”

“But, my father..,” you argue, shaking your head. “Even if I did manage to get out, he’d find us right away. He knows exactly where i’d go.”

“We’d deal with that when the time came but... we all love you here. We’d protect you.”

Jimmy words make you think. Moments ago, the entire idea had seemed impossible but you trusted Jimmy and you knew he meant his words. And the idea of being able to be with Jimmy, freely, was entirely to enticing and exciting and everything you’ve ever wanted to not even be tempted.

Cupping your cheek, Jimmy pulls your eyes on him; “pack your things tomorrow. Wait til your father leaves for work and then come here. Once you get here, we won’t let him touch you. I won’t let him touch you/”

You’re hesitant. You want to, but you fear your father and more so, his wrath.

Sensing this, Jimmy tightens his grip on you, just enough that it shows just how serious and determined he is. “I promise you.”

And when you look into his eyes, you see nothing but sincerity.

“Okay,” you whisper, the crack of a smile growing onto your lips. “Let’s do it.”

Your father watched you constantly. When you were home, he always had at least an eye on you. It didn’t matter if it was actually him or one of his faithful servants that roamed the house consistently. There wasn’t anything you could do that he didn’t know about.

Until, you went to your room.

You don’t know why. You’ve never understood it. But, for as long as you can remember, your room has always been a place of solace. When you were a child, it was where you would break your dolls and throw tantrums. As a teenager, it’s where you would smoke and drink. It was where you broke every strict rule your father had ever put on your head in this prison.

A part of you knew that he he did know what went on behind the closed door of your bedroom. But he’d never stopped you, so you let your naivety get the best of you and believe that this fact alone would allow you to break free. Pack your things and leave when he did for work. His servants didn’t scare you, unlike he did, and they wouldn’t actually harm you. So, by the time he ever found out, you’d be long gone with Jimmy and him and the rest of his friends would protect you from any harm.

You’d acted like nothing was different. You packed quick, rapidly and you made sure to be out of your room by the time your father was leaving for work so you could kiss him on the cheek goodbye like you always had.

You truly believed nothing had been out of the ordinary.

In the end, it was your naivety you cursed.

When you thought your father was long gone, you were in your room, gathering your things. Your heart raced with fear and anticipation but also excitement. The idea of finally being able to free had you bouncing with happiness and you couldn’t wait until you were back with Jimmy, safe in his grasp.

But the second you opened your bedroom door, all hopes of that happiness was crushed.

“F-Father!”

Your father, face red in anger, didn’t respond to your cry. Instead, he simply yanked the suitcase out of your hand and tossed it behind him, it thudding loudly against the wall before crashing against the ground, cracking open, your clothes and other necessities spilling across the floor. His actions caused you to flinch in fear, instinctively taking a step back, but your father snatched your wrist before you could make it very far.

“You really think i’d let my daughter run off with some freak?”

Feeling anger flood you at the cruel insult, your eyes flash. “He isn’t a freak! He’s--”

Before you can say anything more, there’s a sharp sting across your cheek and you find yourself falling back, landing on the ground with a harsh thud. A gasp rips through your throat in response and your wide eyes flicker up to meet the frightening ones of your father as he descends upon you.

He crouches before you and you feel your eyes water, moving to crawl back, but your father simply grabs your ankle, yanking you towards him with a simple tug. “I’ll show you,” he begins, voice gruff, “i’ll show you the kind of freak he is. The monster that boy is. I’ll help you learn, darling. I promise.”

Heart spiking, you let out a cry, slapping away the hand your father extends towards you away. His surprise allows you to yank your foot out of his grasp and scramble up to your feet, moving to race out of your door. Screw your belongings, you just need to get to Jimmy. He’ll protect you. He’ll keep you safe.

However, the second you make it to the door, two hands grab either of your arms.

“No! Let me go! Let me go!”

The servants holding you turning you, so that you can stare up at your father as you kick your feet wildly beneath you and tears stream pathetically down your cheeks. Your father simply stares down at you, his eyes emotionless, before he turns to the servant on your left.

“Throw her down in the basement.”

Your eyes widen at that. “What?” You cry, your struggling increasing tenfold as your heart drops with terror. “No, wait! Please! I’ll be good! I won’t go! Just please don’t put me down there!”

Your father simply takes your chin his hands, tsking down at you. “Some isolating will do you good, baby. I promise.”

The next second, you find yourself being dragged backwards.

“NO! Please, daddy! No! Please!”

To be continued?

#American Horror Story #American Horror Story imagine #AHS #AHS imagine #AHS x reader #AHS FreakShow #American Horror Story FreakShow #Jimmy #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling imagine #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy x reader #Jimmy imagine #Evan Peters #Evan Peters imagine #Evan Peters x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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dukemassetti · 4 years

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@evcravens said: u know... Wildcard babey just remember you did this to yourself...................

Orion is 25 years old and thinks he’s a golden fucking god. Maybe he is. He hasn’t slept a night alone since he moved to Paris, and the most work he has to do is a few meetings and lessons before setting up somewhere and drawing, painting, hell, even sculpting. In a city like this, none of it seems odd; even the chain smoking fits. He’s enjoying that now, window open to the breeze and two people having shuffled out not five minutes previous, when a knock sounds so loudly on the door that it could be la police.

He stamps the cigarette out in the ashtray on the sill and moves, not with any urgency despite the pounding starting again. Robe, robe, where is — ah, yes, he pulls the blue silk over his shoulders and knots it well enough to be decent. Running a hand through his hair, still wet from the shower, he sighs and considers that’s the best the stronzo outside will get. Split level penthouses just can’t offer the same security as one level and your own security key in the elevator.

He takes a moment to roll his eyes at the lack of a peephole on the door before he opens it, wide enough to stand there, blinking, at the confusion before him. He opens his mouth to say something, because what, but Everett Craven, young CEO extraordinaire and 30 under 30 media darling, beats him to the punch. ❝ Would you please — ❞ he starts in frustrated Italian before remembering where he is and course correcting. Should Orion tell him he is Italian? Maybe, but it’s funnier to watch him struggle through nascent French. ❝ You stop. ❞ He finally manages to get out. Orion raises a brow.

❝ That’s the best you’ve got ? ❞ he asks in rapid French, shaking his head. ❝ Abysmal, ❞ he continues in Italian. ❝ Seriously, if I were Parisian I’d have you thrown out for that. Of the country, I mean. ❞

Craven stands befuddled for a moment, as if the thought of another man in Paris speaking Italian was simply unheard of. Orion takes the moment to study him. He’s remarkably dull, upon first glance, apart from his tie being slightly eschew. It’s largely not even visible beneath the tan sweater-vest, and the crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows is the only other indication that he ever unwinds at all. Finally he gets his voice back in working order.

❝ Well, ❞ he says, like the word is too common for his mouth, or perhaps it’s been poisoned, ❝ Well. This should be easy, then. ❞ Craven clears his throat at the exact time that Orion’s robe falls a little off his shoulder. He doesn’t straighten it; he can feel it’s covering everything else fairly well, and he enjoys watching this new toy squirm a little. ❝ I need you to keep it down. You’ve interrupted three conference calls, and I only got in two days ago. ❞

Orion waits for a follow-up, but none come. ❝ You’re the neighbor, ❞ he states, not a hint of a question in his voice.

❝ Yes, and I’d appreciate a quiet night. ❞

That gets a smirk. ❝ You would ? You see, I’ve been appreciating — ❞

Everett holds up a hand, but his eyes say he’s uncomfortable, not demanding. Orion grins. ❝ I don’t want to hear it. Just, once ? I’m about to take a call from America tomorrow. Surely you can wait it out one night. ❞

Now he’s leaning against the door-frame, amused. Can he make this uptight ridiculous man say stop fucking so loudly every night? Unclear, but he’s certainly going to try. ❝ Wait out what ? ❞ he asks, tilting his head. ❝ I’m certain I can deduce your meaning, but you really haven’t been clear... ❞ He waits, watching the muscles in Craven’s jaw tighten. He looks better in person. There’s a magnetism that just isn’t there in the photo shoots he’s had done since his father stepped down as CEO. He watches him swallow hard, clearly not sure what to do with someone so comfortably outside Craven’s boundaries.

❝ Whatever... dalliances you have lined up, just stop them for a night. I assume I can’t bribe you into it, considering your living situation, but — ❞

❝ You can bribe me, Craven. ❞ He almost jumps at the sound of his own name, which makes Orion laugh outright. ❝ My name’s Orion. Obviously, I know yours, with all the magazines and that. Now... for the bribe. ❞ He rakes his eyes over Craven’s lanky frame one more time. It has promise. He can’t really tell what’s going on with this many layers, though. ❝ Take off the vest. ❞

❝ What ? ❞ The outright offense in his tone makes Orion smile harder.

❝ Lose the sweater and I won’t have any ‘dalliances’ tomorrow night, ❞ he promises, using air quotes to really seal the deal. Craven has lost that boss-man presence rather quickly, and now looks quite intimidated, though he tries to recover.

Spluttering, he stands up a little too straight, narrowing his eyes at Orion. ❝ That’s it ? Just take it off, here, in the middle of the hall ? ❞

He’s reacting like Orion asked him to bare his ankles in Victorian England. One brow raised, he opens the door a little further. ❝ Unless you’d like to come inside and do so, which is on the table. ❞

Everett Craven whips the sweater vest over his head like he’s about to use it to put out a house-fire. Orion well and truly cackles, watching the flush spread down his cheeks and under the collar of his shirt. ❝ You are a lunatic, ❞ he hisses, arms still partially in the vest. A for effort, though.

He takes a moment to evaluate Craven’s shoulders — broader than he would’ve guessed, narrower than his own — before relenting. ❝ Alright, alright, ❞ he says, shaking with laughter against the doorframe, ❝ Go, I swear, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. ❞ He mimes turning a key in his mouth, and he’s still laughing when Craven shuts the door to his own half of the penthouse, nearly half a minute before Orion remembers to go back inside.

Everett really should know better by now, Orion thinks to himself as a familiar knock sounds. They’ve played this game for weeks, and over the course of those, he’s managed to learn a thing or thirty about his snobbish neighbor. He always wears matching socks, for one; Orion made him take off his shoes the second time he came to request his silence, and the vest. They’ve established a pattern of sorts. Everett probably is trying to figure out whether or not it’s extortion, but Orion knows he’s in the clear. Everett doesn’t have to keep showing up barefoot, asking for silence. He could simply deal with the embarrassment of listening to Orion bringing someone to orgasm, or hearing the dull thud of the headboard in the background.

He’s repressed, that much is clear. Otherwise he’d simply tell his fellow cronies, half of whom probably have some teenager sucking their cock under the desk, that he had an annoying neighbor. As it stands, Everett would rather die, it seems. When did he start calling him by his first name?

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. His fellowship is ending soon, just as Everett’s business trip. It’s strange, how close their schedules align. All of this runs through his head as he makes his way to the door, lackadaisical now because this time, he’s just fucking with Everett. He opens the door with safety glasses on, and he swears that Everett’s eyes bug cartoonishly out of his skull.

❝ What on earth could you possibly be doing at an hour like this ? ❞ It’s 3 in the morning. Orion debates on telling Everett that 3 in the morning is an acceptable time to have sex before deciding to pick his battles.

Instead, he opens the door wide, and Everett seems to realize he’s fully dressed for the first time. He follows a little warily, but Orion doesn’t pay it any mind, barefoot in jeans and a henley that are now covered in dust. ❝ Wasn’t sleeping, ❞ he says, which isn’t the same as being unable to sleep, but Craven doesn’t have to know that if his assumptions suggest otherwise. ❝ Thought I’d try my hand at this one more time. ❞ He’s got a hammer and a chisel laid out on the work bench, the overhead light illuminating a statue in the center of the open room. It’s a fawn, half-emerging from the stone, wide-eyed and with a hint of wisdom in its eyes.

Everett slides his hands into his pockets. Orion knows he’s kept weird hours due to all his calls, so he’s not surprised to note that he’s fully dressed, not a hint of pajama pants in sight. He sighs, but Everett isn’t paying him attention any longer. He’s walking around the sculpture with something like awe in his eyes.

That’s not good. It’s actually bad for him, and Orion takes it in decadently, relishing in every tiny detail of his expression. ❝ You did all of this ? ❞ Everett asks. He’s mentioned he was an artist before, but someone who views Orion as he does probably thought he made a bunch of nude portraits or something. Orion shrugs.

❝ Sculpture isn’t my thing, but it kind of reminds me of you. ❞ He’s unabashed in his compliments, uncaring of whether he comes across as weird or overly invested. Orion’s feelings are always right there for you to see, if you’re looking hard enough. Right now, it feels like Everett’s looking.

They stand there, staring at each other, Orion waiting for Everett to respond. It takes a minute or so, looking from Orion back to the sculpture again and moving around it. ❝ I’d at least consider myself a stag, ❞ he says, that dry, acerbic humor of his coming out with a faint bite. Orion laughs.

❝ If anyone’s the stag, it’s me, ❞ he argues, ❝ But that probably gets a little Electra complex. Try not to think about it so hard. ❞

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Everett Craven laughs. It’s astonishing in that he hasn’t ever heard it before, and he feels a bit proud, to have earned it after so long waiting. He shakes his head, and looks at Orion with cheeks stained red again. Orion himself hasn’t blushed in years. It’s more charming than it aught to be.

❝ Were you really... having sex, every night I came ? ❞ It seems like he’s been working up to the question for a while.

Orion shrugs. ❝ Yeah. That bother you ? ❞

Now it’s Everett’s turn to gesture noncommittally. ❝ Not as much as it did. Do you ever lie ? You can be so... ❞

❝ Nope. ❞ Orion pops the ‘p’ and grins. ❝ You gonna admit my art is impressive yet ? ❞

❝ Working on it, ❞ Everett says, falling right back into that dryness now that the hint of sincerity has passed. ❝ Maybe not now that you’ve said it for me. ❞

❝ I’ll make you a deal, ❞ Orion offers, stepping closer. The statue casts weird shadows on the room, and on Everett’s face. It’s only up close that he sees it properly. They’re the exact same height, which makes eye contact uncomfortably intimate somehow, but he keeps it.

❝ Alright. What’s the deal ? ❞

❝ Either you dissect my work in detail... ❞ Orion reaches out, thumb tracing that impossible cheekbone he’s been staring at for almost a month. ❝ Either that, or you give me a kiss. ❞

In spite of how far he’s come, the offer still gets a rise out of Everett. ❝ A — a what ? ❞

❝ A kiss. You know, you and another person, you push your lips together, sounds a lot less appealing than it feels — ❞

❝ I’ve been kissed before, ❞ Everett snaps, and Orion can’t help laughing, because it sounds so much like it’s been inflicted upon him.

He shakes his head, noting that Everett hasn’t pushed his hand away from his face, though now he’s only gently holding onto him. ❝ Well it’s either a kiss or an in-depth art critique in the next ten minutes, ❞ he says, grinning. ❝ What’s it going to be ? ❞

Everett looks at him as though he’s insane. Then he looks irritated, before it crosses into fond, and then again into a blend of the two. ❝ You’re ridiculous. You aren’t even a real human being, I’m convinced — ❞

❝ Choose, Craven. ❞

❝ — some villain. You’re kind of insufferable, a menace to society, really — ❞

❝ And ? ❞

They stand looking at each other for a moment before Everett grasps Orion’s wrist, still near his face. Even his ears are red, now. ❝ And I — I will take a kiss. ❞

Orion is moving before he finishes the sentence, shutting him up as quickly and efficiently as possible. Everett misses three calls the next morning, but a strange man claiming to be his assistant calls each to apologize personally. Something in the tone of his voice suggests neither him nor his employer are all that sorry.

#{.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ EDGAR | the closest thing to comfort.#ask meme #ITS SO LONG

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thecorpulentbeagle · 4 years

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Okujima Week 2020: Pre/Post Game

Road trip! Today’s prompt is Pre/Post Game, and I decided to take Post, just because I think it’s a little bit easier to write a story after the characters already know each other pretty well. Although, I am curious to see people write/draw creations before the game starts!

As I warned in the beginning of this challenge, this will contain spoilers for the end of Persona 5, and this chapter is the main reason. If you have beaten the game, you could probably decipher what this will be about from the first thing I said, though!

Please enjoy this third part of the Okujima Week 2020 Challenge!

Here is the fanfiction.net link.

As always: THIS STORY WILL NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5 ROYAL, BUT WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5.

Okujima Week 2020 Challenge:

Reminiscing:

Pre/Post Game

-Makoto-

This had been a crazy year, to say the least.

Makoto gave a quick turn of her head to look over her shoulder at the group of rowdy teenagers behind her. The bus that she was currently driving had three rows of seats, and each row was packed.

Ryuji was currently bickering with Ann about something or another, with an awkward-looking Akira sandwiched between them. Based on what Makoto had heard earlier, the two blondes had been fighting over whether meats or sweets would be the better option to, as they had phrased, “stuff their face with.” Akira had tried to mediate the two, but had given up after a few fruitless attempts and was now sitting there, waiting for them to eventually come to an understanding.

Akira noticed her looking back at him, giving her a defeated look with a shrug of his shoulders. Makoto gave him a jokingly-pitiful smile, which caused him to chuckle slightly.

Behind them sat Futaba and Yusuke, who were, surprisingly, not screaming at each other. This was probably because the two were engaged in two different activities. The artist was looking out the window at the scenery, using his fingers to frame different aspects, while the hacker was absorbed in her phone, no doubt playing a game of some sort.

That was all Makoto could observe before turning back to face the highway, as the last thing that she wanted was to go careening off the road. That would not be appropriate behavior coming from the group’s senpai.

Though in reality, none of them really gave a moment’s notice to titles, rankings, or things like that. Even though there were a mix of different school levels in the vehicle, as well people from different social standings or ‘cliques’, they all got along. It warmed Makoto’s heart to know that everyone in this bus cared for one another, as the girl had always struggled to make friends growing up.

However, if Makoto were honest, there was one person who shared an even deeper connection with her.

Makoto turned to look at the last occupant. Sitting next to her with a smile on her face was Haru, a person she had come to trust fully in the past few months. Even though the girl had joined the Phantom Thieves towards the end of their campaign, she was still able to endear herself to the entire group almost immediately.

The two were of the same year, but they had never really interacted in school before the Phantom Thieves. This wasn’t strange, though, as Makoto had no interest in forming relationships with others due to her rigorous schedule of studying and maintaining the student council. As she got to know Haru, however, she realized it wasn’t unusual on her end either. Haru would purposefully prevent herself from forming relationships, given that those who grew close to her would only ever use the girl for political reasons.

But these rules seemed to go out the window when it came to the two of them. Makoto’s defenses seemingly melted whenever she would interact with Haru. She would catch her off-guard in the most unusual of ways. Upon their first real-world interaction, Haru complimented Makoto on her Metaverse outfit, which, even now, made her heart beat a little bit faster in her chest. Her earnest compliment was stated so abruptly that it seemed like a statement that was just an apparent fact, rather than something to be used to flatter someone.

As their adventure progressed, so too did Haru’s advances. Makoto had let everyone know that she had no need for honorifics, and she assumed that Haru would abide by that casualness even more, given that they were both third years at the time.

What she hadn’t expected was for Haru to instead add an honorific that was infinitely more impactful. Makoto could never remember anyone calling her Mako-chan, and it had stunned her so much that she had been unable to reply via text for a few moments.

Again, Haru had almost effortlessly found a way to worm her way into Makoto’s heart. Truthfully, it sometimes made Makoto jealous that the other girl was able to navigate social situations such as these so easily. Makoto always struggled, and most of what she expressed was carefully crafted after painstakingly thinking everything through. Half the time, whatever she said wasn’t what she intended in the first place, and was slightly (or highly) awkward.

Haru, however, was not only adept at instigating social cues – she was also skilled at reading them. This was one of the reasons why Makoto liked her so much. Makoto knew that whatever she said, Haru would be able to interpret and respond accordingly.

Makoto had read about topics such as these, given that this was something she had struggled with her entire life. There were all different kinds of intelligence, and Makoto, however pridefully, knew that she excelled in the conventional form of intelligence.

However, when it came to emotional intelligence, she was sorely lacking. Sometimes, she knew someone would be upset, but wouldn’t quite know how to react. Other times, she would be unaware of someone else’s feelings entirely. It was frustrating to learn, but also helpful. It meant that she could take that into consideration when trying to determine the best course of action in a social situation.

When considering these things, Makoto realized that Haru had emotional intelligence in spades. She always seemed to know how others were thinking, how they were truly feeling. When Morgana had struggled to admit his feelings to the Phantom Thieves about the true reason for his departure, Haru had been able to coax it out of him, even though she barely knew the group or understood its dynamics at all.

Speaking of which, Makoto brought her focus back to the present Haru and saw that the reason for her smile was because the cat was in her lap, tilting his head this way and that as she scratched under his chin and behind his ears. The girl giggled slightly as Morgana began to purr. Makoto quickly looked back out at the road, not wanting Haru to catch her staring.

The trip was going to be another few hours, but she didn’t want to change this current set up. Originally, Ann had been sitting next to Makoto, and the two had talked about random things, one of which being that the younger girl would totally be bringing her senpai to one of her favorite sweets stands, since they had released a new flavor of crepe. Ann refused to let her know what the flavor was, but she insisted that Makoto would love it.

That was when Ryuji had overheard their conversation, which had started the current argument. Makoto could only stand to listen for so long before pulling the bus over to a gas station for a quick break to hopefully cool their heads. While that didn’t work, Makoto noticed with a smile that when everyone filed back into the bus, Haru had jumped up to the front with Morgana in her arms, stating that she wanted to move up from the back to be able to sit next to her.

Makoto continued to drive, attempting to tune out the two blondes, who had devolved into merely screeching at each other incoherently.

“Hey…”

Makoto jumped slightly at the quiet voice next to her, startled after hearing nothing but yelling for the past few hours.

She glanced at her side and saw Haru looking over at her with a calm smile. “How are you holding up, Mako-chan?” Her voice was soothing, and almost impossible to hear over the current noise.

Makoto smiled warmly. “I’m alright,” she answered honestly. She knew that Haru would be able to distinguish her current mood regardless. The question itself was a pleasantry more than anything.

Haru nodded. “I’m sorry that none of us know how to drive, let alone have a license.”

“Don’t worry about it, Haru.” Makoto glanced back at road before looking back at Haru. She noticed that her hands had stilled on Morgana, and decided to act.

Makoto reached out a hand and laid it over top of Haru’s own, gently peeling it away from Morgana’s torso. “It’s only a few more hours, after all.” She moved their hands to the middle of the bench, slowly stroking Haru’s with her thumb.

Makoto’s stomach fluttered at Haru’s giggle. “I suppose that’s true.” The girl turned her hand so that she could interlace their fingers. “I’m glad I can at least comfort you a little bit.” She squeezed her hand gently.

Makoto flushed and said nothing, merely turning back to face the road.

It felt nice to be able to hold hands with Haru like this, even while driving. Perhaps the next few hours wouldn’t be so bad.

Except.

“Oi, look at the two lovebirds up front!”

For that.

Makoto looked back to see that Ann and Ryuji had finally stopped arguing, but that they now had a new focus. Ryuji was currently grinning madly at the two senpai, and Ann was following suit. Akira looked relieved, but then soon looked at what was being discussed, and quickly grinned deviously.

“What are you talking about Ryuji? Oh? Oooooh,” Futaba had looked up from her phone to admonish the boy, only to look up front and see what was happening. She chuckled.

“Indeed. I had been observing for quite some time, wondering what to call a work of art based on this scene,” Yusuke mused, framing them with his fingers.

“G-guys!” Makoto choked. She looked back out front. “I-I have to look at the road. Stop distracting me!”

The rest of the group continued to tease the driver, making her face redden after every comment. She was torn between berating them and potentially crashing the vehicle, and focusing on the road but having to be the target of their attacks for the next few hours. Clearly, everyone was bored, and this situation was too good to pass up.

After a few more minutes, Makoto was seriously considering careening off the road, just to have them stop for one moment.

Instead, she decided to chance a glance at Haru, who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time. She saw that the other girl was in fact looking back at her, and her eyes sparkled when Makoto met them with her own.

Makoto wasn’t quite sure what to make of this quiet affection, so she merely smiled back before looking back out at the road.

“Pfft. This is boring! Neither of them are saying anything!” Futaba whined. Makoto glanced back to see that she was slouched in her seat with her arms crossed.

“I think we probably broke Makoto, and Haru doesn’t even mind it!” Makoto heard Ann reply.

“Eh, we’ve probably teased ‘em enough anyway,” Ryuji added.

After a few more exchanges, the topic of conversation drifted to something else entirely. Makoto was thankful for that.

“Well now, that didn’t take too long, did it?” Makoto inclined her head towards Haru, indicating that she was listening without taking her eyes off the road.

“What do you mean?”

“I knew that everyone would become bored eventually, but even I have to admit that was rather fast.” Haru giggled.

Makoto realized that Haru had read the situation again. Rather than react to the situation, she had pleasantly ignored it, knowing that with no reaction, the teasing friends would eventually switch their attention to something else.

It seemed so unfair. Makoto had barely been able to conceal her embarrassment, but Haru had been able to do that, as well as read the situation to figure out a solution.

“Well… thank you for that,” Makoto replied. She squeezed her hand, which (she realized with a start) she hadn’t let go of the entire time.

“Of course. Like I said before, I’m glad to be able to give you any sort of comfort.” Haru squeezed her hand back.

Makoto nodded.

Haru truly was a good friend.

And based on her friends teasing, maybe even something more.

Done! Hopefully you enjoyed. I’ve always been interested in characters who show great amounts of emotional intelligence, because it’s hard to put into writing. It can be so easy to write a character as… sort of bland.

For example, someone might not react in a strong way, but that’s because the person is restraining their emotions, knowing that freaking out won’t help the situation. But sometimes, that can come off as the character not having emotion/not being developed properly. It’s an intricate sort of balancing act, and when it’s done well, I really like it. That’s one reason that I appreciate Haru’s character so much.

I also think this is why I ship these two together. Makoto is a little socially awkward, but Haru helps her with that. Whereas Haru struggles to trust people, but Makoto is so earnest, that she helps show Haru that it’s okay to share her feelings with others. Since this was from Makoto’s POV, I didn’t talk about Makoto’s strengths as much, so I just wanted to mention it here. See you tomorrow!

#okujima #okujima week #okujima week 2020 #makoto niijima #haru okumura #makoto x haru #haru x makoto #p5 #persona 5

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walkerismychoice · 5 years

Text

It’s Complicated (Raleigh X MC, Avery X MC)

Book: Platinum

Pairing: Raleigh X MC, Avery X MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2211

Note: This was supposed to be mainly a Raleigh X MC fic and not a love triangle type thing, but Raleigh made MC mad enough that it turned into a Avery X MC fic also. It was inspired by me choosing to do Avery’s scene after Raleigh’s in the last chapter, and this idea is what followed. Much of the dialogue come from chapter 9, but I changed some up and added some for the purposes of fitting this fic.

Summary: Raleigh gets really drunk at Aria’s album release party and she is not happy. Avery is in the right place at the right time, providing comfort and a needed distraction. Then things get complicated.

Aria licks the salt from Raleigh’s abs, downs her tequila shot, and gently pulls the lime out of his mouth between her teeth.

“Woohoo! We did it!” She tosses the lime on the bar and coaxes Raleigh upright on the bartop to kiss him softly on the mouth. She can feel him smile against her lips, taste the tart lime that still lingers on his.

Raleigh pulls back with a smirk. “I’d gladly do this over body shots.”

“I never said you could skip your turn.”

“Is that so?”

As hot as it would be to watch him drag his tongue seductively across her skin, in her mouth is a much preferred place for it to be. Aria wraps her legs around his waist, twining her fingers through his hair. The feel of his bare chest against her lights up every bit of her exposed skin.

“Aria...” Raleigh breathes against her mouth.

Their lips just barely meet again before they are jolted a part by a laugh somewhere in the crowd.

Aria blushes as she puts herself back together. “I guess we are in a... very public place. And I’m the host no less.”

“Well, at least Fiona can’t fault us for not being in character.”

“Oh, right...” Dammit, she feels like such a fool. Putting on a PR show was the furthest thing from her mind, but apparently not his. “Yeah, we’re great actors.” She hopes the disappointment isn’t evident in her voice.

“Right...” Raleigh draws out the word, like he’s not quite believing her, or himself. Aria doesn’t really know. She never knows with him. Raleigh hops down from the bar and puts his clothes back on, promptly pouring himself another drink. It’s not like she hasn’t overindulged a tad in celebration this evening, but she’s still got her wits about her. Raleigh on the other hand is stumbling around and slurring his words like a drunken mess.

The more she thinks about it, the more her blood starts to boil. Although he never fails to remind her they are in a fake relationship, his actions, and little things he lets slip start to make her get hopes up and believe otherwise. But then he does shit like this. This is her big day, her first album release party. If he was supportive of her, if he really cared, he wouldn’t be getting so wasted with his “friends” or whoever they are. He'd be at her side. She’s got to keep reminding herself though that they aren’t a real couple, and she has no right to be mad. She’s not legitimate claim on him.

Aria takes a deep breath and plasters a fake smile on her face for appearances sake. “Raleigh Carrera, I think this is the drunkest I’ve ever seen you. Maybe I can get you to spill all your dark secrets."

“Just one problem...” Raleigh speaks slowly, stumbling over his words. “I don’t have any secrets. I’m an open book.”

“Is that right?” Aria shoot back.

“Go ahead, ask me anything.” He challenges.

Do you have any real feelings for me at all? If she were braver that’s what she’d ask but this is not the time nor the place. However, maybe she can get there in a roundabout way. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Wow, right to the hard-hitting questions, Aria?” Raleigh shakes his head and chuckles. “Truly? I don’t know. But I will say... You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

"Well...” What did she expect? For him to say he was falling in love with her? But coming from him this might be the closest admission she'll get that there's something there. "...I'm flattered."

"It's like every song I've ever written was about you, and I just didn't know it yet." Raleigh blinks and stares off, his eyes almost glazed over.

Aria's jaw drops. "Raleigh, are you okay?" Does he even know what he's saying right now?

Raleigh shakes himself out of it and it's like he just woke up from a trance. "You should see the look on your face right now, I totally got you."

Got her how? Was he bullshitting her with the line about the songs? Does he even remember he said it? "But you said--"

Raleigh looks like a deer in headlights. "I ah... I need some air. Later."

Aria stands, dumbfounded, at the bar watching Raleigh walk away. Part of her knows with as drunk as he is, it's pointless to make anything of it, but another part of her thinks his ramblings are an indication of his true feelings, and he doesn't know how to handle them. Whatever the case, his actions have proven cowardly and immature, and she's so over it. Maybe it's time to talk to Fiona about orchestrating a PR relationship breakup.

Aria storms off, she's not even sure where, when she nearly runs right into Avery.

"Oh! Hi, Avery."

Avery's gaze travels up and down Aria's body. "Aria, you look breathtakingly beautiful, it should be illegal."

She's so not in the mood, and if it were anyone else it would come off as some cheesy pickup line, but Avery can't seem to be anything but sweet. "Thank you, Avery." Aria smiles weekly.

Avery picks up on the mood Aria's not hiding as well as she thought. "You seem like you could use a breather. I'd love a chance to get to show you my favorite balcony in the city. Seems like a beautiful night tonight"

Aria doesn't want to give him the wrong idea, but Avery has been a great friend and mentor through it all, and stepping outside with him would be go a long way in calming her down.

"That sounds lovely."

A light breeze hits Aria's face as she steps out on the balcony, the temperature quite a bit cooler and more comfortable than the hot, stuffy air inside the venue. The bustling sounds of the city below are present but muted from this high up, and the lights provide a perfect glow. She immediately feels much more grounded.

Avery leans against the balcony rail. "So what do you think of your first album release party?"

"It's been fun, but insane." Aria admits. "I've been pulled in so many directions, I haven't been able to catch my breath all night."

"I know. I've missed you, but you're doing a great job at playing host."

"Yeah..." Aria's thoughts circle back to Raleigh, so she changes the focus to put him out of her mind. They discuss the nwq song Avery's been working on in the studio and what's next for both of them.

During a comfortable lull in the conversation, Avery takes a step back and puts his thumbs and forefingers together in the shape of a frame pointed right at her.

"What are you doing?" Aria chuckles.

"Taking a mental picture of you right now." Avery snap his fingers like he's mimicking a flash, and Aria doesn't even know how this is her real life. Just months ago she encountered Avery at the smoothie shop, starstruck and unable to articulate any intelligible thoughts, and now here he is admiring her, wanting to commit this moment to memory. "I know they say a picture's worth a thousand words, but this one is leaving me speechless."

There he goes again with a line that if delivered by anyone else would make her roll her eyes, but she starts to feel flushed. "Avery Wilshire, that was some blatant flirting!"

Avery smiles coyly. "You haven't seemed to be taking my subtle hints, so I thought I'd try a more direct approach."

"Avery..." The truth is, since the moment she met Raleigh, she's been so hung up on him, nobody else mattered. Avery is sweet and wonderful, but once she had gotten to know him, she never pictured him moving out of the friendzone. Raleigh is sparks and fireworks, volatile and electrifying, igniting a passion in Aria. Avery's a warm blanket, comfortable, familiar and reliable, but nothing to get excited about. That is until one realizes that maybe they value the comfort and stability over the excitement and uncertainty. Maybe it's the alcohol mixed with the atmosphere, or maybe she's just that pissed at Raleigh, but she's beginning to see Avery in a new light.

Avery leans in and takes Aria’s hand in his. “Here we are, just a few months away from where we were. You’ve dropped an album and are climbing the charts...”

Reminded of how fast things are happening, some doubts start to creep in. As much as she wants to get him out of her mind, she thinks about young teenage Raleigh who was plucked from obscurity and became a star overnight. Everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, he’s probably so far removed from the boy that he was.

“Avery, do you think I’ve changed?”

“Of course. But who says that’s a bad thing? I’m different now from who I woke up as this very morning. All you’ve been through in New York these past few months... It’s only made you stronger.”

“You really think so?”

Avery gives Aria’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know so. This is what you were built for. Looking at you now, thinking of the girl I saw mopping the floor of Smoothie Star to music, stars in her eyes... I’ve never been more proud. And I’m so excited to see where you’re going to go next.

Something passes between them. The way Avery is looking at her, the way he actually sees her, makes her feel like she deserves to feel. There’s no games, no mixed messages. It’s clear that if she wants him, he’s hers for the taking, so in this moment she does. Aria cradles his face in her hands and moves in for a kiss. Avery reciprocates immediately, slow but determined, like he’s savoring every moment. Aria’s hands slide under his jacket, feeling the contours of his muscles through the fabric of his dress shirt.

Avery pulls back with a smirk. “We’d best be careful. Wouldn’t want anyone to catch you cheating on your monogamous tabloid relationship.”

“That’s okay. No one can see us out here, anyway. We’re pretty secluded, and everyone’s inside.” And Raleigh’s being an asshole, so right now Aria wouldn’t care if anyone did see.

“Mmm. And thank god for that.” Avery loops his arms around Aria’s waist and pulls her in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time.

In his embrace she feels safe and secure, yet so free at the same time. If she could stop time, she would, right here and now. When they finally pull apart, neither can stop smiling.

“I’m so glad you came came out here to join me. Sometimes, it's good to be still. And enjoy the view.” Avery grins and kisses her on the cheek one last time. “Now we should probably get you back inside.”

~~~

Aria wakes up at a reasonable hour, well, before noon at least, and thankfully she’s not the least bit hungover.

“What the-” She checks her phone and sees several text messages and missed calls. A message from Raleigh is the last to pop up, so she opens it first.

Raleigh: Care to explain this?

Oh shit. There’s a screenshot of a headline from Page Six: Is Aria Campbell cheating on Raleigh Carrera with Avery Wilshire? Underneath the headline is a picture of her and Avery facing one another with his arms around her. It’s not easy to make out who it is, but it’s definitely them. They aren’t kissing, but close to it, and she can only hope it was snapped after they had pulled apart so there’s nothing more incriminating out there.

She’s panicking a bit, but she’s still mad as hell at Raleigh, so she composes a text back.

Aria: Why do I owe you any explanation? You are just my fake boyfriend, remember? Why should it bother you? It’s just more publicity for the both of us.

Raleigh: It does bother me

Aria: And why is that?

Is he jealous because he’s actually into her, or does he just think it looks bad that God’s gift to women, Raleigh Carrera, got cheated on? She stares at her phone for a few minutes before finally getting a reply.

Raleigh: It’s complicated.

“Aagghhhhh!” She screams loud enough her neighbor’s might worry. He’s right, this whole fucking thing is complicated and she doesn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Then her phone rings, and its Raleigh, and she’s just not ready to talk to him right now. She’s in no mood to deal with interpreting the hidden meaning behind his words. She lets it go to voicemail, when another text pops up. Thinking it’s Raleigh again, she’s about to chuck her phone across the room, but it turns out to be Avery this time.

Avery: I had a really nice time with you last night. Would you like to grab dinner sometime soon? I’m free tonight if you are.

Oh, god. Avery definitely has somehow escaped finding out about their “cheating” scandal. She’s not ready for that conversation either. Aria shuts her phone off and gets back into bed. She’s not talking to anyone until she feels like it.

#playchoices fanfic #platinum #raleigh x mc #avery x mc #raleigh carrera #avery wilshire #my fic

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cfsinners · 5 years

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C H A R A C T E R S T U D Y ⇁ ( 1 / 2 )

Your mother was a troublemaker, always was. Sleeping with the gardener? How about while married to the mayor? William Seward III’s campaign should have been ashes then and there. Your mother might have been sinful, but him? He was a monster. How he treated his wife? His son? You were lucky you got out of there intact. There was half a chance that he’d find out she was pregnant, with the gardener’s child no less. Did she love him? You don’t know. You should have asked her. But she wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the son she’d left. She loved him, you knew that. Funny that it was never enough to go back to Wheeler, to fight for custody too. Guess she loved you more, and you never expected anything less.

Brat wasn’t the right word for it. You were something else. You had the terrible twos for thirteen and a half years, if not longer. Always grappling for more, even as it tested the barriers of your father’s paychecks. You bled your parents dry emotionally and economically. If there was a day without chocolate, it would be the sobbing that got to them. If it was a day without tantrums, then the paycheck was nearly gone. They loved you too much to say no. But it wasn’t really love, it was weakness, lethargy, laziness. Your mother lived off of her parents’ loans, though she wasn’t ever obliged to pay them back. And she lacked a backbone to make up for the stiff one of the man she had left. She never put her foot down, because it was too much work. So whose fault was it that the money was gone in half a week? Yours? Hers?

&&. GLUTTONY The lights of the master bedroom twinkling faintly in the distance, the quiet whining of a younger sibling, cookies snuck into bed at night. An eminent need in the distant horizon. Tears shed with a strong voice, a broken heart, and wondering when you can get those earrings you can’t live without as your sibling goes to bed with a rumbling stomach. Always starving for more, never satisfied. Fingers wrapping around the dwindling supply of food and money. An elementary schooler with an unhealthy hunger all the way to an adult with an insatiable for power and money. &&. WRATH Screams of bloody murder, phone calls from the neighbors, the begging of your dad to not scream over spilt milk. A short, murderous temper with a stint of fabled apologies after. Your turn with the toy, your turn with mommy, always your turn and never anyone else’s if they knew what was good for them. Vivacious insults, and premature curses rattled off a tongue that barely knew what they meant. Fuck, shit, whore, bitch. A ventilation of feelings that barely held up, even as a grown-up. &&. ENVY People always had more. More space, more attention, more love. All waiting to be torn out of their hands, but never able. Two siblings, mother, father, the Chicago apartment and little space, little attention, little love. Everyone somehow had more. More pretty, more popular, more kind. How much more did your half-brother have? How much did he truly suffer? How much did anyone? If you could only grapple it from them, wrestle it from their unthankful, grimy, little fingers.

II.

Lip-gloss, hair curlers, platform shoes. Ringlets of dark hair shoved behind ears, the smell of cherries, the soft hum of Don’t Speak by No Doubt. Your name wasn’t so much Charity as it was Lucy. Worry etched across your mom’s face because you were just like her. Though she could hope you would calm after the move into the new house.

In fact, everything was worse after you settled an hour or so away from Chicago’s epicenter. It was all very intentional, your lack of communication and sparse time at home. Time to yourself, days spent at the library behind shelves with people you didn’t know the names of. All you knew were the names of the poets and writers covering your sin, despite having no idea what they’d written. You never bothered to read a book seriously before. Not before now, in the avoidance of church, family, and future. They weren’t a portal into another world, they were a distraction. A welcome one in the hands of a poor girl in a strange place.

&&. LUST Boys lining up to ask you to the movies, sleepovers with girls you barely know. Maybe not as pretty, or as pure. But whispered voices of things you could do in the dark. Homeschool did no harm. Lipstick stains and hickeys. Prayers interrupted, intertwined hands. Your teenage years were spent in the back of boys’ cars, taking risks at every bend. You remember laughing at those overzealous church girls and the prayers they’d utter under their breath between the meeting of lips. &&. SLOTH Five family members, but four church attendees. Swim and debate getting in the way until doubt grew too. Excuses popping up, especially after your family moved to leave home in the dust. So five family members, four ass-kissers. How many times did your Catholic family butt heads with everyone else? Too many variations of God to believe in one. Or to believe in any. Prayers died on your lips that summer.

III.

You weren’t ever successful. Years spent trying to prove that you were worth more than the price tag pinned to you were flushed down the toilet by stupid, teenage decisions. If you had tried more, paid better attention, and maybe given a shit, grades would have been better. Though it would never change the money situation, or the debt. Maybe you could not achieve Yale because of youthful decisions poisoning the drinking well, but you could do what you wanted anyway.

Law school was a world away, graduation a few years in the past. All you had was the books. Dusty and smelly. In truth, you never liked them, but they were your comfort. They taught you better than any teacher, and nursed you better than any parent. In doubt, they would elevate you to success, so you could respect them. Selling them would provide no riches, but studying them could help. You whittled away years behind a bookshelf, many of them not even spent reading before now.

IV.

No top-notch law school would take you, a repentant, poor beggar. Mid-twenties wasted away behind books. But Notre Dame was enough. You remember filling out the forms when applying. Questions pertaining to children, to partners. Money being clicked away with each truthful answer. Broke wasn’t the word for what you’d be after college. There wasn’t a word for it.

In the end, you were aware of your mastery. The classes you took? Nothing you didn’t already know from quiet days of avoidance, or restless nights. You knew everything. What the fuck was in a degree? A title? A scam? People refused to afford you the light of day, because they didn’t know any better. They didn’t care about how much you struggled, how much you spent. There was no understanding or apologies for what was about to come. The avalanche would bury you, and even you would struggle to recover.

&&. GREED Your climb towards the heavens was not without clawing and scarring. People left bleeding on the ground after left under your mercy. At first it hadn’t ever been about the money, until it was. Everything was about money. You slaved to finish what you had at first wanted, but now something else was ending what you started. Greed climbing up your sickly throat, turning you green in the middle of the night before an exam. Those dollar bills would not escape you. &&. PRIDE The death of faith made the soil rich. Minutes spent longer in the mirror, time spent more on yourself. Pride grew from the ashes of religion. Soft skin and trapped smiles, appreciation for yourself, and thoughts of grandeur. A nose turned up at siblings and parents alike. Living in squalor when you were bound for so much more. People would regret trying to squash you under their heels. You are nothing but God, dark skin and all. It’s time someone other than you realized it.

Mother died not long after you showed yourself to the world again, a weight pulling you back away from the future. Father cried for weeks, or maybe even months. You had nothing to show for the years in college, or the years away from mother and father. Lucy had died with the name Wheeler on her lips, some memory she could not comprehend in the moment. Thirty years old, the week after you buried her. Then thirty-one, scrounging up what you could to care for father, but unable to handle any case that came your way with care enough or vigor enough for a victory. No one would hire you.

Your father was baggage, so you left him, siblings flailing behind you, to return to your books. Money was escaping between your fingers every second. Debt knocking on your window when you slept. Panic was not what was seeping in. Though that was exactly what it was. With your hubris and memories, you shut down. Although you were smart enough to remember the name Wheeler, and the half-brother. He would have money, everything you didn’t have. Thirty-two, and a few days later, you move in. Some tiny apartment and position at Porter County Library. A job you like, but won’t pay the bills. You just have to wait for the right moment to claim what is yours.

The tragedies are opportunities in your eyes. A little girl missing, so sad. A promise broken is more like it. In another life, you could have cared. If you were like your mother, you would have. Maybe you would have expressed true condolences, but your mother used her last breaths to express regret for a child she had abandoned and a town she had forgotten to bore you. Where was your name is those last few hours? Where was father’s?

#&&. bio #&&. inspo #&&. aes #&&. musings #&&. intro #quadruple p proud

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takeabitetoremember · 5 years

Text

Stay With Me (Part 4)

Laying together, joined as one, Michael felt loved in a way he couldn’t begin to explain. A young man who, his entire life, only wanted to be loved, felt not only loved, but powerful. The feeling was warm, deep, confusing, but something he knew he wanted more of. Looking down into Mallory’s eyes, he could tell she was tired. She looked back up at him with a look he’d never seen from anyone else. Genuine love. Her eyes were beautiful, truthful. As she raised her small hand to his cheek, caressing it lovingly, they lit up. Michael could see there was no disappointment in her eyes, no fear, no anger- nothing but love. This is something Michael had wanted so desperately, and he knew he’d do anything to keep it. As he began to slowly soften, Mallory could feel him starting to slip from inside of her. She wasn’t sure why, but it the feeling made her panic. It was overwhelming. Her heart began to race, her eyes opened wide. Michael leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips.

“It’s ok. Mallory. I’m here. It’s ok”, Michael whispered, their eyes closed foreheads pressed together as he slid out of her. Her legs still wrapped around him tightly, wanting to keep his body atop hers, desperately wanting to be held. A soft little whimper escapes her lips, as she realizes what it’s like to feel truly empty for the first time. Her arms are wrapped around him, tightly, afraid if she lets him go, she’ll wake up, and all of this will be just a dream. She’ll wake up in that old house, and her step-mother will be screaming at her before school. Telling her she can’t wait for her to finish high school and get out of the house, that she’s the only thing standing in the way of her happiness, how she wishes that she had died with her mother. Mallory can’t help but think that perhaps her mother had a hand in leading her to Michael. She knows he has to be her destiny, just as Michael is, well, different, so is she.

“Michael”, finally speaking, to make sure it’s all real. She needs just as much reassurance as he does, “I…. I know it sounds silly, but Michael, I love you. I know I do. I know I was supposed to come here, to move to this house. I know that we’re supposed to be together. People would say it’s because we’re teenagers, that we think we’re in love, and want to be together forever, but Michael, it’s something stronger. I can feel it. When you’re inside of me, I know Michael. It’s not just about feeling good. It does feel really good, but the love I feel for you, I can’t even begin to describe it.”

Turning them to their side, looking into Mallory’s eyes, he realizes they really are on the same wavelength. They don’t have to say a word to one another. Taking one of her hands, kissing it, holding it to his chest as he takes a deep breath, exhaling as he begins to speak.

“Mallory, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve believed Ben. I would’ve believed that I was just bad. That there was no one who could help me. No one who loved me. No one has ever wanted me, Mallory. I’ve never been loved by anyone. My mother didn’t want me. My father”, he paused, tears welling in his eyes, “my grandmother who “claimed” to love me, was nothing but a liar. She never loved me. She abandoned me. Then, there was Ben. Ben wanted to be a dad to me. He worked with me, and made me feel really good about myself. We had fun together. For the first time, I really felt like”, tears welling in his eyes, “I had a father who loved me, but he didn’t. He gave up on me, like all the rest. Mallory. You’re my angel. I knew it. I knew the moment I heard your sweet voice, before I was even able to see you, when I heard you pleading with Ben, I knew. When you looked into my eyes, I could see the relief you felt. I knew despite the horrible act I had just committed out of frustration and anger at Ben, that I had just done one of the most important, and helpful things I could ever do, to save the life of a beautiful, kind girl. I knew looking at you, Mallory, you were good. I just didn’t think someone so good, could ever love a monster like me. That’s what they all called me, Mallory, a monster. I don’t think you’re crazy, Mallory. I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I love you, too. It felt good when I was inside of you. REALLY. REALLY. GOOD. But, besides that, I felt that love, and safety that I’ve never felt before. No one can say what we have isn’t real. It is, Mallory. It’s real, and it’s ours.”

Mallory’s fingers gingerly wipe the stray tears that have escaped Michael’s eyes, making their way down his cheeks, smiling as a few make their way down her own, “It’s real, and it’s ours”, she repeats, “and no one will ever be able to take that from us Michael, ever. Ever.” Leaning in, kissing him deeply, she wants him to be reassured that he’s loved, and no matter what, she won’t leave him, for better, or for worse.

Feeling fluids seeping out of her, afraid she’s going to make a mess on the bed, she clutches onto Michael, feeling a little embarrassed, being a virgin, she wasn’t quite prepared for the amount of semen a virile teenage boy has.

“Michael, I don’t want to, but I think maybe I need to get up for just a minute. I don’t want to make a mess on our sheets. I’m leaking”, Mallory’s face is blood red, unable to look into his eyes.

“It’s ok, don’t be embarrassed, Mallory”, touching her face with reassurance, as Michael sits up, running his fingers through his wavy blond curls, turning back to her, as she crawls over to him, gasping as what she sees, tears welling in her eyes, half out of shame, half out of fear.

“Michael! I… I’m bleeding!”

Looking at the pink stain on the bed, of blood mixed with semen, then down at her legs, at the bright red blood that her run down her legs, then over to Michael, at the bright red blood against his abdomen, and legs. Trembling, thinking something is wrong, completely forgetting that you can bleed the first time you have sex- she bled, and abnormal amount. Then again, these were two people who are abnormal.

At this moment, Michael realized, he was, still indeed the monster they said he was. Seeing the pink stain on the bed, the blood on Mallory’s legs, the blood on his legs, and abdomen, made his heart race. His pupils began to dilate, and it took everything he had to fight another erection. The sight of Mallory’s blood, her covered in blood triggered a primal urge in him. The darker side that he’s been fighting to keep down. He doesn’t want to hurt her. No. He’d hurt *for* her to see her covered with blood like that. In those split seconds, dark thoughts rush through his mind, smearing blood all over her tits, pulling at her nipples, while he fucks her. Thinking how beautiful she looks covered in the warm, red liquid. He’s quickly pulled out of his dark fantasy as he hears her sniffles. This is like a knife into his heart.

“Mallory, it’s, ok. They’re just sheets. We have more sheets in this big house! I can change the sheets, besides, who’s gonna get mad at us?” trying to calm her down, pulling her into his arms, giving her a soft kiss. “I remember Ben talking to me about sex a little. He mentioned that the first time a woman bleeds. I know it was scary seeing it, but I don’t think it will happen every time.”

Feeling foolish for forgetting that you bleed the first time you have sex, considering until she met Michael, sex wasn’t something she’d even considered, she felt foolish. Nodding in agreement as he spoke.

“You’re right, Michael, I don’t know why I didn’t remember this, I guess it was just such a shock after being wrapped up with you. I just didn’t want to let you go”

“This was just the first time, Mallory, we can make love whenever we want, as much as we want. If you want me to hold your hand, or if you need to be held, I’ll hold you, any time.”

“Michael, that goes for you, too. If you need me, if you need love, to be made love to, held, touched, I will never deny you. I am yours, always”, smiling into his eyes, the beautiful moment broken as she feels more fluids seeping from her, causing her to push her legs together tighter.

“Here, sweetheart. Let’s run you a bath. I’ll change the sheets. After everything, that’ll help you feel better.”

Mallory gladly followed Michael into the bathroom, settling into the bathtub for a warm bath. Closing her eyes as the water fills the tub. Looking over and seeing some bubble bath, pouring a little under the water as it fills, relaxing. Thinking this truly must be what heaven is like- having a husband who loves you, cares for you, being made love to, having a connection that is so deep that it brings tears to your eyes, and caring for one another. Turning off the water, the heat relaxes her sore body. She’s unable to see the bruises on her neck and breasts that Michael left from kisses and sucks that were a bit too hard. Not that she’d mind or say anything. Thinking what a wonderful husband she has, changing the sheets while she’s relaxing in the bath.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, once Michael is certain that Mallory in the bath and comfortable, he calls for Moira to change the sheets while he sits down to finish the video game he was playing when Mallory’s family began moving in. Of course, he’s going to take the credit for it.

#millory #american horror story apocalypse #michael langdon #mallory #ahs apocalypse

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