#the doctor gives the count the choice to save the life of the mother or the child and he choses the child | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happynowyo · 1 year

Text

Free choice

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Aemond x Lucerys

Summary: The new generation of gods follows the same path, so Aemond and Luke should face their own fate as the new versions of Hades and Persephone.

Warnings: angst (but with happy ending in the second part)

Word count: 2k

Aemond didn't like to go up to the surface and pretend to be someone ordinary, clutching a glass of wine in his hand at some fancy bar in New York, Berlin, or Sydney. Aegon was excited about such pastimes and travelled easily through countries, hiding from his mother's strict supervision, but Aemond was too used to the dark solitude of the underworld to feel comfortable among the noisy crowds of the livings, who annoyed him with pointless clutter.

He looked to the core and felt the presence of death everywhere he went, and invariably brought a plume of asphodels around him. Light and quick to envelop, like a fog, granting a moment's forgetfulness.

He had once worried about being tormented by his own loneliness, as the ruler of Hell he was doomed to be in the underworld, avoiding the feast of life. No fun, no joy. Aemond remembered the grief and sympathy that splashed in his mother's eyes when she escorted him away for the first time, using Otto as a guide. God of deceit and trickery - Aemond had mentally blamed his grandfather hundreds of times for giving him blind hope for the best, fueling his belief for years that he might get something different. There were hundreds of choices, he could have been a patron of seers or doctors, but instead he took on his heaviest burden.

His eyes went blank and his movements were smooth and unhurried. There was nothing in hell but countless souls, like an assembly line, waiting for their fate. The bleak fields and the deadly rivers - Aemond had studied all the scenery during the first week and had long since stopped noticing it, shutting himself off completely. He concentrated only on business, on the exhausting routine, occasionally allowing himself to see his sister and brothers, but even that didn't save them from the grave coldness that was destroying their relationship.

Aemond was hiding his envy deep down inside, where even blind Themis couldn't find it, and yet he agreed to attend Luke's party on his eighteenth birthday. The lavish feast Rhaenyra had thrown was worthy of all praise, but it wasn't the painted decorations of the manor that caught his eye. It was the air of life, the energy and hope in Luke's eyes, the joy that drew his attention. As Aemond stepped closer, modestly handing over a pendant with a ruby as a symbol of kindred courtesy, it seemed to him that a chasm separated them was far deeper than the one in which the icy Cocytus had been held.

— Does Rhaenyra still hold you close, like a child? I've heard Jace is doing quite well, and the exhibitions he curates are very popular, but it would be hard to expect otherwise from a god of truth and a patron of the arts. Maybe his success will be an example to your mother.

Luke could hardly remember the last time he'd seen Aemond. They'd spent a lot of time together as kids, learning tricks and playing teammates against Jace and Aegon. The accident that led to the loss of Aemond's eye separated them, leaving Luke with boundless guilt. They began to see each other less often, and Rhaenyra contributed to this by limiting their trips to King's Landing. Luke had almost convinced himself that he didn't care about how Aemond lived, but his interest returned instantly when Aemond turned eighteen and the Moirs determined his lot as the new head of the underworld. The new Hades.

Luke was familiar with the order of things. Some events were inevitable and repeated from generation to generation. Hades and Persephone determined the fate of their descendants and condemned them to the same bond. Their new versions were drawn to each other in the same way and went through the same stages of denial, anger, bargaining and acceptance. The result was always the same - a new marriage and a new division of the year.

Deep down, he held out hope that he would be the one to play the role of the new Persephone, just as he feared it with all his heart. Luke was no fool and judged his chances soberly. His mother was a fertility goddess like Demeter, and she had enough children that one of them would be Aemond's partner. It could have been Luke. And he wished, in a way, that it had turned out to be true, and he saw it as an opportunity to mend their former bond with Aemond and get rid of the resentments that hung as a burden between them.

He preferred not to think about the fact that he really liked Aemond, even when he was alone with himself. It was wrong. Incest had been practiced in their family for generations, but Luke kept thinking it was wrong. Dirty. And therefore especially attractive. At night he closed his eyes, imagining how Aemond could jam him in an empty room, press him roughly against the wall and kiss him, claiming his rights, and Luke's body instantly gave a reaction. Every single time. Desire pierced through him and pulsed just under his skin, preventing him from being distracted by anything else.

Or anyone. He tried, really tried, to go on dates with someone else, and it never worked. He was bored, he felt empty, and his thoughts kept going back to Aemond. Ever since he started spending almost all of his time in the underworld, their meetings had become almost priceless because of how rare they were. Once or twice a year. And Luke always waited, deluding himself with the hope that during the next break he would forget Aemond, put him out of his mind and fall in love with someone else. But each time he continued to be like a naive puppy, greedily catching his uncle's every look.

His birthday was a good reason for the whole pantheon of gods to gather in King's Landing. Aemond was going to show up, and Luke was ready for it, nervously searching the spacious hall with his eyes, where guests were feasting noisily, but eventually he met him near the garden alone. The gift from Aemond became a pleasant surprise and brought a faint blush to Luke's cheeks. The ruby pendant looked so much like a pomegranate seed sparkling in his palm that Luke was glad for the fact that Aemond could not read his mind.

"Take me away. Forget about everyone else and take me away, hide me in hell itself and lie to everyone. Mark me, make me yours. Let me be there and bow my head obediently, swearing allegiance for decades to come."

In some way it was an opportunity to close the gestalt and make things right between them. To be close again. In his best dreams, he called it "sacrificing yourself," because few people in reality would agree to voluntarily go down to hell for six months. But Luke's selfishness was strong enough to make him admit the truth. He wanted Aemond for nothing, and all the reasons "why not" were losing all meaning when he saw the ice in Aemond's blue eyes or the luxurious platinum of his hair that Luke wanted to burrow his fingers into.

And now, alone with him in the garden, Luke felt the expression "blind love" at its fullest. He didn't know much about Aemond, there had been no games or trusting conversations between them for a long time, and Rhaenyra would probably have wrung his neck personally for the very thought of leaving his old life behind and sacrificing everything for the bleak emptiness of Hell, but he was willing and ready to risk anything. Aemond seemed deep and interesting, he remained incredibly attractive, and the long scar didn't ruin his beauty at all. Lucerys was sure he could bridge the gaps between them after a while and love Aemond even more, if he had the chance.

— We're all still children to our parents, aren't we? Even when we grow up, — Luke remarked softly after a long pause, turning his back so that Aemond could clasp the ruby chain on him.

— Maybe. But my mother looks at me differently now. She only sees death, but I can't blame her for that, — Aemond answered with a note of familiar melancholy in his voice, and Luke nodded briefly, understanding the implication.

Aemond was the death itself, and the wilted lush rosebuds from the nearest bush were the best proof of that. Luke ran his fingers lightly over them, and the flowers immediately bloomed as before. It was so strange and so fascinating. They were opposites in nature. One was diligently giving life to everything around them, and the other was taking it away, coldly and mercilessly. Luke suddenly wondered if anything could grow in the underworld but asphodels, whose ghostly scent he could smell on Aemond, and then realized that he had never seen them in person. Only in pictures from old books.

— Do you think I could grow something in your realm? There are different laws there, obviously, but my power would remain the same there. Would I be able to use it? I've come across passages in the diaries of our previous generations. I've read that this had happened.

Luke turned back and stared at Aemond, studying him. So simple and naive, so young. So alive. Aemond would have given a lot to feel that way just once more. The subtext lurking in his nephew's words was all too easy to detect. Fate itself was bringing them together again. Aemond didn't believe anyone was capable of loving him, and he was convinced that pure and soft Luke would simply wither away in the underworld within weeks. He wanted something different for Luke, something better. Just as he wanted for himself.

— Hell is alive, as strange as that sounds. It can change to suit its master. New rooms may appear at the snap of a finger in my house, fields of asphodels alternate with fields of fire. But it's all darkness and chaos, it's primordial energy, much older than us. Even if you grow something there, even if I were to allow it, it would die soon. Don't get your hopes up, Lucerys. You should stay on the surface, here, with your family. Keep the others happy, keep the soil alive after the winter. It's better for both of us.

Aemond's cool fingers gently touched Luke's collarbone, tracing the ruby pendant, and instinctively gave him the creeps. Luke felt like taking a step back, but he forced himself to stay where he was. All sounds instantly disappeared, as if he had gone deaf, and there was no longer the chirping of birds, no sound of the spring breeze, no sound of waves from the neighboring beach. There was only Aemond, with his emphatically perfect posture and endless hollowness in his eyes, with a smile so sad that Luke swallowed hard at the bitterness that gathered on his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut to hide the appearing tears.

The hint was so blatant that Luke could physically feel his heart breaking. He was often referred to as Rhaenyra's favorite. A spoiled child who had been bathed in attention and compliments since childhood. In fact, he often faced rejections, but this one.. This one was the worst.

The phantom touch continued to burn his neck, even when Luke opened his eyes and stumbled into the void. Maybe that outcome was to be expected. Aemond wasn't blind, and he had certainly noticed the admiration in Luke's eyes. The way Luke reached out to him and spun around, constantly trying to strike up a conversation or get a share of his attention. But Luke was young and inexperienced and deserved something better than Aemond could ever offer to him.

Part 2

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #lucemond

67 notes · View notes

sofi1sstuff · 1 year

Text

✨Stephen Strange recommendations✨

Ongoing

✨paper hearts (by @classickook): following the events of multiverse of madness, you’ve given up hope that stephen would ever love you back. but what if his feelings for you change… will you give him a chance, or has your heart moved on?

Series masterlist

✨Save me, Save you (by @angstsfordays): Your fights mostly belonged on the grounds while he worked mostly in the mystic and cosmic realms. Even though you both fought together in the infinity war to stop Thanos, you and Stephen Strange hardly ever interacted with one another. It only took one incidental misunderstanding between the two of you to bring both of you closer than ever. For two people who do not believe that they could find love, all we can say is that love finds you unexpectedly.

✨ 2319 (by @brunchable): In the midst of your divorce with your husband, you left your 13-year-old daughter in the care of your mother while you attend your art exhibition in Paris. What Sasha thought would be a boring Summer Vacation takes a turn when she finds your old diaries and learns new things about her mother that she avoided talking about or kept secret.

Series masterlist

✨

Completed (series/miniseries)

✨The Love Hypothesis (by @mischiefmanaged71)

Series masterlist

✨Can’t compare (by @girl-of-many-fandoms): Nobody likes being anyone's second choice.

Part 1 | Part 2

✨All I ask (by @brunchable)

Part1 | Part2 | Part3

One Shots/Drabbles/ Prompts

✨Suit & Tie (by @wint3r-h3art): A lovers’ quarrel turned into something quite (un)expected.

✨It’s You, It’s always Been you (by @wint3r-h3art): It’s a known fact that you are in love with Stephen Strange. It’s also a known fact that Stephen Strange is still in love with Dr. Palmer. When Stephen asked you to be his wedding date though, you’re starting to regret your decision. A confession from the doctor himself, changes everything.

✨"I don't get jealous." (by @girl-of-many-fandoms): In order to get the job done a little flirting is necessary.

✨Your usual (by @westviewism): Ever since meeting at the avengers compound, stephen has taken a liking to getting your morning coffee.

✨Uncle Stephen (by @writingliv): The reader has a sister, and she has a child and asks if they can take care of her baby for two weeks, Stephen is not happy about it, but everything changes when after some time the child hugs Stephen and calls him "uncle"

✨Be Alright (by @lykaonimagines): Y/N and Stephen run into one another for the first time in years at Christine’s wedding. She’d thought her crush for the man had faded over the years, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

✨Just As Important (by @lykaonimagines): Stephen and Y/N have been dating in secret for awhile, but when one of the nurses seems to deliberately be making her life harder, he has to step in.

✨dream a little, dream of me (by @starks-hero): You're met with the realisation that in order to save the world you'll have to lose your own.

✨Unexpected (by @celestialnxva): The Avengers never thought in a million years that anyone would put up with Stephen Strange, so naturally they’ll want answers as to why you happened to be his partner.

✨worlds best dad (by @strange-mischief): Stephen Strange’s daughter has her first day of 3rd grade and the last thing he counted on was meeting you.

✨Perfect Fit (by @asongofmarvelanddc): Stephen wants to spend the morning in bed.

✨Goodnight My Love (by @getlostsquidward): Aside from a universe where he has a ponytail, Stephen stumbles on one where he had something that not once did he imagine having.

✨Two Of You (by @lykaonimagines): After months of living in the Sanctum, when America thinks Stephen and Y/N are going to ask her to leave, she starts doing everything she can think of to convince them to let her stay.

✨His Universe (by @bakerstreethound): After years of wishing, longing, and waiting Stephen almost gave up on the notion of finding his soulmate...that was until you appeared in his life and changed everything.

✨Karaoke Night (by @annesthaeticc):The sorcerer supreme, the master of the mystic arts, and the disciple walk in to a karaoke bar on a Saturday night, fun ensues.

✨My Heart is Yours (by @sassenach-on-the-rocks): Months after breaking up with your ex, your friendship with Stephen Strange has quickly blossomed. But how much more will it grow when a long-held secret comes out?

✨salvation (by @classickook): in an alternate universe, stephen strange remains stranded in a forgotten corner of the multiverse, that is, until you came along; however, now he’s wondering if you’re truly happy with him or if you wished things had been different.

✨The doctor’s orders (by @wint3r-h3art)

✨dazed & confused (by @boop-le-snoot)

✨You’re it (by @getlostsquidward)

✨you drew stars around my scars (by @classickook)

✨The One Thing I Need (by @lonelinessinthemirrordimension)

✨Not Going Anywhere (by @lykaonimagines)

✨You say you’re dangerous. That you destroy everything you touch. So destroy me. Ruin me. Tear me apart, and let me love you all the same. (by @dino-fart)

✨Congratulations to us (by @withalittlehoney)

✨ I'm Here, Whenever You're Ready. (by @lokidokieokie)

✨Sleep (by @curseofaphrodite)

✨

#dr strange #dr stephen strange #dr.strange #dr.strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange

113 notes · View notes

huehoa17 · 1 year

Note

Adding to my question: and why they feel like fave characters. (Trope, personality, story, looks, etc)

(My memory is playing cat and mouse for this one so apologies beforehand if I get anything wrong during this)

For Kal'tsit, I didn't think much of her at first, I thought that she was a bit neat to be against doctors presence when they came back to rhodes island

(I was a bit scared during that time because I was still new to it, I didn't know what to expect, and I was primarily worried about the presence of fanservice! I believe it was around amiya's birthday on 2020, when I started the game initially)

Luckily I remember how it grew, and it's the damn suit that was shown before global opened the event (it was the catalyst to my growing interest of arknights in 2021)

The idea of trying again to save the world from further disaster, even though Terra is already a shitty place is just fascinating to me. She spend so many years as so many positions in life, from doctor, advisor to a band of mercenaries, mentor, assassin (maid), and so many that we've not seen but we can believe could happen. She lived a long life where she kept going with her mission for the sake of everyone's happiness. Now, how many times has she succeeded or failed, it's not counted at this point because we focus on the present as we know it, as Dr. Kal'tsit of rhodes island, head of medical fields.

I think another point is that she's compassionate and tries to give the best and most honest answer that she can provide with the people she talks to, giving them a essay dissecting their choices at the moment and the questions they ask and giving them the choice to believe in these words or perhaps carve a new idea to believe in, as seen from Heidi during the party and crownslayer in the main story.

While there are some concerning ideas if she were to point at herself and give a answer to herself, such as perfering to be a robot, she still carries on with this lifelong mission as a person with a mind that even rivals kaschey the immortal, with their main differences is how they influence the world and their life that they live through the countless years that they've walked on Terra.

Now for me; I admire how she just keeps going with her goals and how her kindness helped people out in so many ways. I also like that she talks alot when giving an explanation to people of what, why and how, and how it's clear to people to understand what she's saying (to a certain degree for others)

Another point is that of her name, during walk in the dust, she still carries on with using the name of Kal'tsit, (even when she's trying to assassinate someone, she also risks her identity to be revealed to this person, but she still uses that name, heck Folinic's mother points this out too!) and I think that's something I connected with, because my name is precious and close to me, no matter how many insist on changing it, the me does not exist without that name, and perhaps that's something that I kinda instilled when I write about Kal'tsit

Also fun fact, I do not have Kal'tsit to this day!

I kept rolling for her during her debut banner but I got the other two that debuted in that event. Even during CC, I was using a few rolls to try to get her but that also failed!

While I save my rolls for limited operators to come, I also call it Kal's minimum wage before she arrives

#Apologies if I get this wrong I just saw these #Inthecarpets #And thank you again for the ask! This one was really fun to write up despite my slight headache #asks #Hoa responds #This one's long but I hope you enjoy this answer to some extent!

7 notes · View notes

kokoch4n3l · 2 months

Text

DEAD GIRL’S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

FIVE — little bunny

"He doesn't like it when I don't make eye contact while talking to him. He says it disrespectful but I think he just wants to show me that he's the one in control and not me."— MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: with the apparent lack of staff at the hospital, Maya has no choice but to clock in despite her begging for a day off and goes through an unforgettable night. good thing she's wearing running shoes.

chapter warnings: minor character death, suicide ideation, self-loathing, mentions of vomiting, corruption, exploitation, death threats, murder, torture, blood, gore, non-con drugging, unethical use of drugs, use of weapons, noncon/rape(not mc), noncon touching, mentions/implications of forced prostitution, inaccurate depictions of psychiatric hospitals, f!oc with zero self preservation skills

word count: 4910

moodboard | masterlist | previous | chapter 6

Maya's mother was a surgeon and her father was a mechanical engineer. They met in university, fell in love and had her. Her childhood had been a happy one. That was until the day before Maya's 13th birthday, her father got into a really bad car accident. The surgeon in charge? Her mother. Maya's mother wasn't able to save her husband and it absolutely destroys her. Her mother drinks away her pain, sending her into debt and eventually but quickly to her death. The day Maya met Chifuyu in the park, she was going to kill herself. But rather than using the money she had to buy herself her favourite ice cream one last time, Maya used it to buy a first aid kit and treat Chifuyu's wounds.

Chifuyu didn't know that. She'd never tell him about that. But he somehow saved her that day. Who knew falling in love could give you a reason to live?

Or, maybe it was simply a distraction from how utterly tragic her life had suddenly gotten. Her childhood ended at 13 when her mother and father died but her inner child continued to cling to Chifuyu like it was the last thing she had left. But now that was over. That fantasy was over and it all came crashing down. There was no more pretending, there was no more dreaming. Chifuyu didn't love her back. What happened last night was a mistake to him— something he deeply regretted and now Maya had to deal with the emotional consequences of it. "I need to call in sick I—"

"Doctor Kaneko, we're very short on staff tonight. I'm literally a new hire and they have me working the first day with no training. Please come in" The new receptionist at Sunshine Grove pleads

Maya feels gross and sad and tired and exhausted and just a whole bunch of emotions at once. "I really don't feel well right now. I've never taken a day off since I got hired I... I really need this day"

"Yeah I know... I'm sorry... But really we're really really short-staffed. You'll get paid extra and you can come in late if you'd like!"

That didn't make any sense for her to be paid extra when she was just coming to her normal shift. Maya had always been to kind for her own good and the sound of the new employee's desperation made her ache so she gave in. Maya has been sitting on the floor of her bathroom since she got back. She's lightheaded and still needs to shower but she couldn't find the motivation to get up until she saw the time and that she had only two hours since her shift started. She called in to take her first ever day off since she started working but unfortunately, she had to come in. She wanted to cry. Maya didn't feel like doing anything right now. All she could think about was the harsh rejection she faced and Kazutora's words.

He knows you're pretty, he just doesn't love you.

She feels gross and used. If you told middle school Maya that Matsuno Chifuyu would make her feel this way in the future, she'd probably kick you in the shins and set your homework on fire. But Maya wasn't in middle school anymore and she had grown up long ago. Chifuyu was no longer someone she could use to cling to her childhood innocence. Chifuyu didn't love her back and probably never would, especially after last night. Maya lost her virginity to Chifuyu and he regretted the entire night, telling her it was a drunken mistake. She still had to shower, still had to eat something but she couldn't get up. The aching in her hips and thighs was gone but now her spine hurts from how long she'd been crouched over on the floor. Her phone buzzed at 9:30 pm with a text from the nurse who was assigned to the 4th floor asking where she was. Maya resists the urge to call the old lady and cuss her out. It wasn't like she did her job anyway. Maya was the one doing all the work. But she hadn't broken down enough for that yet. Her shift had already started and here she was still sitting on her bathroom floor, not showered and really fucking hungry. But time is money and maybe just going to her shift might make her feel better.

Maya gets into the shower and washes her hair, doing her entire routine and then—

Maya cut her hair. Chifuyu said he liked it long so she cut it short. She hated it. She hated everything, she wanted to change everything.

Chifuyu said he liked her hair long so she cut it short.

Maya hates endings; the endings of movies, the ending of a series or novel she invested herself in, the ending of an art project she poured her heart into. She thinks the inevitable ending of her and Chifuyu takes the cake though, the creme de la creme of endings, the one that sits at the tippy top of her shitty, neverending list.

She wants to say something so badly and thinks she finally understands what people say when they tell someone their unsaid words are trapped in their throat, almost choking them. It's in no way hard for a functioning person to pick up a phone and shoot a text, but when you're a fresh outta university Japanese girl who's wearing heartbreak like a badge contemplating sending a text to an unrequited lover whose contact sits in your phone with a heart next to their name, maybe it is a bit hard.

Maybe if she really wanted to, she could. She could pick up her phone, open iMessage, and at least cuss him out but the option seemed a little embarrassing more than anything. But embarrassment aside, she wants to protect herself, it's the only rational thing to do in this situation. If she sees the text message go green inside of blue paired with the red lettering on the screen beneath the text saying not delivered, Maya feels she might just rip her own skin off.

A bitter feeling fills Maya's mouth and she almost wants to run to the toilet and throw up, but she swallows it down. Of course, it was her fault things went sour like usual, wasn't it? Why'd she get drunk with him? Why did she even stay over? It was always Maya who was immature— too young— always her who didn't want to make any changes, and always her feelings that didn't matter. Was she protecting herself from the start? Possibly, but she couldn't find herself feeling bad for herself. She likes familiarity and the safety it provided.

But the familiarity is too comfortable now, so hours after her least favourite ending thus far, Maya cuts her waist-length black hair short around her shoulders. It took more time than she wanted for her to get the short wolf-cut style she wanted and surprisingly her hair feels so soft and new with all the dead ends and more cut-off— for the first time since this morning, she lets the smallest of real smiles settle upon her face.

Chifuyu really used to love her hair, loved how it was always soft and naturally a bit curly, long till her waist. But now Maya's hair is short, and when she tries to mimic the way Chifuyu would card through her hair, her fingers run through too fast due to all the length chopped off, pretending to ignore the fresh wave of heartbreak washing over her.

Deep down Maya knows that things will never be okay again, but at least she can pretend.

Maya often wishes things in life had a refresh button, or that things would be shut down and start up brand new like a laptop did when you held the power button down for too long. unfortunately, things never work out in her favour, and that's nothing more than a faraway impossibility.

Chifuyu said he liked Maya's hair long so she cut it short.

With the help of kitchen scissors and a YouTube tutorial, Maya hopes to forget anything Chifuyu ever said about her and heads to work.

Her shoulders are slouched as she heads through the front gate of the hospital, lazily showing her ID badge to the security at the gate. It's about 11:00 pm. "You're late" the man said

Maya was too tired to notice it wasn't the usual security guard. "yeah..." she mumbled as the man handed her badge back

Maya walks through the parking lot and up to the front doors, entering the silent building. She greets the new receptionist without really looking at him and heads into the locker room behind the front desk. She had come wearing her scrubs and had her coat in her bag. Maya doesn't really look in the mirror as she puts her bag in her locker and slides on her coat, clipping the pager to the waistband of her pants and the ID to the breast pocket. Maya sighs and takes a seat on the bench feeling tired. She didn't want to be here. She was exhausted and sad and felt like she could cry again at any moment.

He knows you're pretty, he just doesn't love you.

Kazutora's words ring through her head constantly. It's making her feel physically sick. She's nauseous. Maya wants to throw up all over the floor. She wants to go and— "Doctor Kaneko" Fingers snap in front of her face

Maya flinched and looked up seeing Kakucho standing over her(she was a bit too tired to notice he wasn't wearing his uniform but in a suit). "You're late," He says cocking his head to the side "Nurse has already given the patients food"

Maya nods. "That's a first. Usually, I'm the one doing her job"

Kakucho gives her a gentle smile. "New haircut?"

Her hand comes up to touch one of the newly cut short locks. "ah yeah... spontaneous decision" Maya says with a nervous laugh, hoping he can't see how fucking depressed she looks right now

Oh wait. It's Monday. Izana. The IV bag. The director.

Now Maya just feels even worse. Through her self-loathing and depression, she forgot about Izana. What she was going through was nothing compared to what had been happening to him for the past 2 months without his knowledge. "Uh so... Has the patient from 401 been discharged yet?" She asks standing up and adjusting her coat

Kakucho shakes his head no then looks at his watch. "Ah~ about that, Mr. Kurokawa said he wanted to see you before he left..." He says lowly, looking away from her "He's been discharged but he said he wanted to wait for you before leaving"

Maya's eyes soften. Now she just feels even worse. "O-Oh... I better hurry up then"

They enter the elevator and Maya can't help but feel like utter shit. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her white doctors' coat and she stares up at the small black display screen showing the floors they pass by. She'll tell Izana. She'll tell what's been happening and apologize. Maybe it'll make her feel a lot less shitty about what has happened today. After all, it wasn't her fault. Maybe she should have been a bit more critical of the orders given to her for Izana's treatment and it would have stopped and maybe Izana could have maybe switched hospitals. But now she figures Izana could sue after she tells him. At this point with how terrible she's been feeling, Maya wouldn't even blame Izana if he decides to get angry and lash out at her. Her shoulders slump and she doesn't notice Kakucho staring at her. "Doctor... Are you alright?"

She looks up at him and nods. "Yeah, I'm alright"

But the look in her eyes showed how utterly exhausted she was. Maya had attempted to do her makeup just like she always does before her shift but she ended up crying her mascara and concealer off so she was bare-faced, not wanting to be an absolute mess at work in case she cried again. Her dark circles were showing as well as the few little moles scattered on her nose and cheeks. The elevator stops and the doors open on the fourth floor. Kakucho lets her step out first and they walk side by side towards room 401 all the way at the end of the hall. "You look tired" Kakucho says "had a rough night?"

Maya laughs a bit.

He knows you're pretty he just doesn't love you.

"You can say that," she says then as they approach the door she speaks up again "Security unlocked his door right?"

Kakucho just hums. Maya doesn't press the bracelet to the scanner and just twists the doorknobs. An odd feeling of dread fills her but she's already opened the door all the way and Kakucho stands behind her, holding it open. Maya freezes.

Fight, flight or freeze are the three most basic stress responses. They reflect how your body and mind will react to danger.

Fight. When your body feels that it is in danger and believes you can overpower the threat, you'll respond in fight mode. Your brain releases signals to your body, preparing it for the physical demands of fighting.

Flight. If your body believes you cannot overcome the danger but can avoid it by running away, you'll respond in flight mode. A surge of hormones, like adrenaline, gives your body the stamina to run from danger longer than you typically could.

Freeze. This stress response causes you to feel stuck in place. This response happens when your body doesn't think you can fight or flight.

Unfortunately, Maya froze. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest it was all she could hear. Her body trembles as she feels Kakucho's hand rest on her shoulder. "Well if it isn't my favourite doctor!" Izana croons happily as he folds up the sleeves of his black silk dress shirt "Been waiting a while for you"

He's no longer wearing the two-piece white cotton outfit all the patients wore. Instead, he's wearing beige trousers and a black silk dress shirt. His shoulder-length hair that's usually a little messy is slicked back and tied in a half up half down style and he's wearing Hanafuda full moon earrings. But what he was wearing wasn't the point, it was what was happening in the room that made Maya freeze. Near the window down on their knees were the two nurses in charge of the 4th floor, Doctor Sawamura who only showed up a hand full of times she had been hired and the hospital director. They were all bloody and bruised, Doctor Sawamura and the hospital director shifting in and out of consciousness while the nurses were trembling in fear, faces splattered with blood and necks turning purple. "Come in! Come in!" Izana says with a grin walking over to her "I've been waiting so long for you. I can see it's your new haircut that made you late"

Other than the staff, there were a few men inside as well, all wearing suits. Maya's heart drops recognizing one of the men, Haitani Ran, the club owner from Saturday. She's breathing shaky as Izana grabs both her wrists and drags her into the room. Kakucho walks in as well, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of the door clicking behind them. Izana's hands grip her wrists painfully tight then with ease shifts them both into one hand. "Shion, what ya' got?" Izana asks one of the men in the room

Maya is breathing shaky. Her knees are weak and she can't get herself to move. There are puddles of blood on the floor and the guy wearing glasses is fixing a silencer onto a pistol. Her throat feels tight at the sight of it and now she can't tear her eyes away from it. "Uh..." The Shion guy who's got a scalp tattoo on the side of his head says feeling around his pockets then pulling out two baggies and examining them "Xanax and Rohpynal"

Izana holds his hand out and says. "One of both" Shion puts a single pill of each into Izana's palm

"I don't think that's safe. You're tryna make her overdose?" Haitani Ran asks with a playful pout while leaning against the wall "Thought we could sell her. Pretty face could make us a bunch"

Maya feels sick and gross and she just wants to go home. She knew she should have stood up for herself and said she didn't want to come in for work. "Now unless you want Kisaki to shoot your brains out, I suggest you swallow" Izana says and without warning shoves both pills into her mouth

Maya swallows without thinking, her brain processing this slowly to protect itself. She's pushed down to her knees next to one of the nurses. Maya thinks she's having a panic attack of some kind. It sounds like she's underwater, their voices distant and she can't fucking move. Maya can't get herself to move. Her body trembles and her head hangs low, staring down at the floor. "It was her" One of the nurses says frantically, pleading to the men before them "It was all her we—"

A loud smack sounds and the nurse's body crumples to the floor right in front of Maya. Shion then grabs her by the hair and makes her sit up, the woman clawing at Shion's hand to make him let go. "Did any of us ask?" He says lowly, holding a gun to her temple

The nurse just whimpers pitifully. "Calm down Shion. Let's get our newest arrival up to date and tell her what's been going on" Izana says with a smile

The nurse is thrown to the floor again and towards a few men who were dressed a bit differently than Ran, Shion, Kisaki, Kakucho and Izana. "teach her a lesson" Ran calls to the men

"Shion snap her out of it" Izana says in a dismissive tone, leaning against the hospital bed

Without warning, Maya feels her hair being pulled so she's no longer looking at the floor and Shion slaps her across the face hard. She chokes out a gasp and Shion lets go of her hair while Maya cups her cheek. The slap snaps her out of her panicked state but the drugs also start to take effect. She starts to hear moans and cries from where Shion had tossed the nurse. She doesn't dare turn her head and look. She'd rather not throw up right now at the sight of her co-worker being violated. Maya didn't think she could speak. She probably shouldn't try to either. She doesn't want to end up like the nurse being defiled, nor the one next too her who was bleeding from her head. She doesn't want to end up like the other doctors either, bloody and bruised, looking like death. Izana is speaking but she only hears bit and pieces. "He made you his pawn ... and our resident slackers... supported him"

She doesn't understand. Her head is going fuzzy and his words are coming in from one ear and out from the other. Maya's vision begins to go fuzzy. Her mouth is dry and her head is empty. Her heart isn't even beating that fast anymore despite the terrifying situation she's in right now. It feels like she might sleep. No, she definitely will pass out. Izana force-fed her not one but two tranquillizers. Xanax and Rohpynal were not a good combination. If he wanted her out of it, just Rohpynal would have been enough. But she figures that he wanted her sedated enough to keep still and awake while the horrors around her happen and she wouldn't move a muscle. She hears a whipping noise and blood splatters across Maya's face and her clothes. The nurse next to her drops dead with a bullet through the brows, the muffler keeping the pistol quiet. Instantly, Doctor Nakamura and Doctora Sawamura start pleading for their lives. Maya's head falls again, staring down at her knees. She thinks she might pass out. But Ran grabs her by her hair and makes her look up again and watch as Shion slits Doctor Sawamura's throat, slowly, inch by inch. Blood splatters everywhere. "I swear to god if any of that gets on me" Izana warns and Shion simply salutes him and lets Sawamura's body fall to the floor with a thud

Maya's eyes begin to fall shut, unable to keep herself awake but Ran roughly pats her cheek and forces her to stay conscious. "Hey, don't fall asleep yet" Ran coos then laughs and turns to look at Izana "Shit you were right. she does have blowjob eyes"

Maya hopes they don't kill her slowly. She hopes they make her death quick and painless. She watches Shion pull out some kind of tool and start pulling each one of Doctor Nakamura's fingernails out. She flinches and her eyes fall shut. Her knees are wet with the blood from the dead nurse pooling around her, she's got it on her face and clothes. Maya wants to call Naoto and ask for help. She wants to call Chifuyu to come save her. She needs help. She's terrified but her body isn't responding to her. It seemed like she zoned out for a moment because she felt another set of roughing pats against her cheek but this time it was Izana. "look at you..." Izana coos, his voice a soft whisper so the other men couldn't hear him

Maya barely heard him over Doctor Nakamura's screams. "You know what you remind me of?" He asks, one of his hands coming up to grip her jaw

His fingers dig into her skin. His nails have probably left indents on her cheeks but Maya doesn't even flinch. She feels like she's melting. "there's something about you... you remind me of a bunny" Izana's words dripped with a sinister charm, sending shivers down her spine

Her senses dulled, and she struggled to comprehend his words, feeling a strange mix of confusion and fear. Izana's tone held an eerie fascination as if he found amusement in her helpless state. Maya tried to muster a response, but her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts clouded by the drug's embrace. In her haze, she couldn't grasp the significance of his comparison, only a profound sense of vulnerability enveloping her like a suffocating shroud. The Izana's gaze lingered on her, his expression twisted into a smirk of perverse satisfaction. "Yes, a bunny," he talks more to himself than her, his voice a soft whisper taking on a predatory edge

His words slithered into her consciousness, stirring a primal instinct to flee, but her body remained immobilized, trapped within the drug-induced haze. She fought against the encroaching darkness, desperate to break free from his sinister grip, but her efforts were futile against the potent cocktail coursing through her veins. It's then she hears an odd zipping noise and a nylon thread is wrapped around her neck. She's frozen and caught in a haze. Maya can't even bring her hands up to plead for her life. She's struck staring up at Izana's lilac eyes.

Was this going to be the last thing she saw?

Were Izana's eyes going to be her last memory of the living world?

But it seemed Izana had a different plan for her as he unloops the thread from around her neck with a grin. "tell you what, we'll play a little game" Izana says, talking in a normal tone again over Nakamura's screams as if his deal even made any sense "I'll give you 5 minutes. If you can get through the front doors of the hospital in 5 minutes, I'll let you go and we can pretend none of this happened"

Maya is finally able to get her words out. "and if I don't?" she whispers out breathlessly

Izana smiles at her. It's eerie and scary. He takes a strand of her freshly cut hair between her fingers and says "I'll decide when I catch you, little bunny"

Izana starts the timer and it takes Maya a while to even get up off the floor. The men in the room laugh mockingly at the way she stumbles like a newborn fawn. Her knees ache from kneeling for so long and just trying to get to the door wastes an entire minute. She can't get the door open. Her hands keep slipping due to the blood and standing upright is an entire task on its own. Just then a large hand grabs the doorknob and twists it, opening it for her. Maya doesn't even look at who it is and stumbles through the doorway. Maya's heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled through the dimly lit hallway, her footsteps echoing against the cold, unforgiving walls. Panic surged through her veins, fueled by the disorienting effects of the drug coursing through her system. Every step felt like a battle against the encroaching darkness, her mind a haze of confusion and fear. With each passing moment, the sense of urgency intensified, driving her forward toward the distant glow of the elevator's illuminated panel. She could hear the faint hum of its machinery, a beacon of hope amidst the oppressive atmosphere of her captivity. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she pushed herself to move faster, her instincts screaming for escape. As she finally reached the elevator's doors, her trembling fingers fumbled for the button, praying for salvation from the nightmare that had become her reality. "come on, come on" she mumbled, pressing the button repeatedly

Finally, with a soft ding, the doors parted, revealing the sanctuary she so desperately sought. Without hesitation, Maya stumbled inside, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she frantically pressed the button for the ground floor. She felt helpless but with each passing floor, her hope grew stronger, fueling her determination to break free from Izana's clutches. She almost blacks out a few times, her heart rate slowing and it feels like she might sleep. But thankfully with another ding, the silver doors part again. With a desperate surge of adrenaline, Maya stumbled toward the front door of the building, her vision blurring at the edges as the drugs tightened their grip on her consciousness. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, her limbs heavy and unresponsive as she fought to reach safety. But just as she reached out for the door handle, her strength failed her, and she crumpled to the ground in a heap of limbs and despair. "Fuck" she whimpers as she tries getting up

It's hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Her hands reach for her phone in her pocket. She forgot she had that. Maya calls the first person she can think of.

Chifuyu.

She waits and waits and waits but there is no answer. His phone goes to voicemail and Maya whimpers, leaning against the wall, desperately trying to regain her strength and just get up. Chifuyu wasn't answering. She tries to call someone else but her phone slips from her grasp and falls to the floor with a loud crack. Her eyes fall shut. Tears stung at the corners of Maya's eyes as she lay there, her body wracked with pain and exhaustion. She's covered in blood that isn't her's and she might just die if she doesn't get out. In the haze of her fading consciousness, Maya barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching, the echo of her Izana's chilling laughter piercing through the fog in her mind. "Oh~" he coos crouching down in front of her "looks like you lost little bunny"

He's mocking her. Maya doesn't even have the energy to cry. "How about you take up my offer and come to my beach house" Although it wasn't an offer this time "We'll have lots of fun together, bunny"

Then, with a sickening sense of dread, she felt strong arms encircle her, pulling her back into the darkness from which she had fought so hard to escape. As the world faded into blackness, Maya could only pray that somehow this was only a nightmare and she fell asleep on her bathroom floor.

[END CREDIT SCENE]

"What’re you gonna do with her?" Kisaki asks, watching Kakucho put Maya in the back seat of the car

Izana simply waves him off. "You worry about Tachibana, Tetta. Let me have fun with my pretty doctor"

Izana looked as happy as a toddler who just got a new toy. The cleaning crew is heading into the hospital the clean up the mess left. Kisaki makes a grunt kind of noise. "Oh, and where is Manjiro?" Izana asks, turning on the child locks just in case and shutting the car door "I thought that little shit was going to be here tonight"

"You know how he is," Kisaki says with a sigh pushing his glasses further up his nose "Mikey does what he wants"

Izana sighed and looked at the girl lying unconscious in the backseat of the car wearing scrubs, a white coat and smeared with blood on her knees, hands, white coat and face. "Tell him to come see me. I missed him."

How pretty.

notes: lol. I do NOT condone any of the actions in this fic. This is all fiction.

My birthday is on March 7th so if I manage to finish the next chapter by then, I will post it cuz why not? I'm unfortunately turning 20 😭 so lol. However if I don't get it finished then the next update will be on Monday as planned and I’ll post this other fic I’ve been working on.

taglist: @kokonoiscoconut @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl

84 notes · View notes

thepeakygirl · 2 years

Text

5:17

Masterlist

Summary - Left alone in the hospital Lizzie’s world falls apart at 5:17 leaving a heart sized hole in her chest that could never be healed.

Warning - Don’t read if you haven’t watched 6x03 or don’t know what happens

Word count - 1540

Authors Note - I’m still an emotional mess from the ending of that episode and decided to write this. I don’t know why I wrote this I just did. I’m sorry 🥺 My little heart is broken right now and I needed to cry it out. When I’m sad I write.

“Where’s daddy?”

Her voice was but a soft whisper floating through the air like a leaf being carried in the wind yet her words held strength, her eyes filled with the hope that she’d soon have answers. Raising her hand, Lizzie gently brushed away the hair that had glued itself onto Ruby’s cheek, a choked sigh leaving her lips.

“He’s coming my love, he’ll be here soon I promise” Lizzie told her, ignoring the terrible stirring in her stomach as she lied to her child. Truthfully she didn’t know when Tommy was coming back, he’d left without a word to find Esme before Ruby had woke again and hadn’t returned.

He was late.

He was always late.

She needed him, Ruby needed him and he wasn’t here where he was supposed to be. Lizzie had to do this on her own whilst keeping a smile on her face, she didn’t want to scare Ruby by showing her own fear despite how terrified she was.

God, she was fucking terrified, more than she’d ever been in her life. If a mothers love could save their child, Ruby would of already recovered, instead the disease inside her continued to spread. She willed the heavens to allow her to switch places and let her child live. Lizzie did not care for death, she would accept it willingly so long as she got to see the life come back into Ruby’s eyes before she went.

Behind her mask Lizzie bit down on her trembling lip, willing her tired eyes to give nothing away. She couldn’t cry, not when Ruby needed her, not when she was the only person there. She’d watched on all day as her baby faded, falling deeper into death and away from life and there was nothing she could do, nothing but sit and wait, praying for miracle.

Lizzie refused to give up hope, she couldn’t face the world without Ruby in it. A child wasn’t supposed to die before their parents. Lizzie was going to watch her as she grew into a wonderful woman, her beautiful star in a Hollywood movie. The crackling of Ruby’s exhausted breaths ripped those thoughts away from her.

Lizzie’s fingers ran her fingers over Ruby’s face. She’d done it so often after giving birth, tracing her delicate little features to store in her memory, fascinated by Ruby’s perfection. Her and Thomas had created something wonderful, two street rats blessed with the greatest children.

“What are you doing Mummy?” Ruby laughed silently, a humoured twinkle within her dark eyes.

“Loving you” Lizzie answered smiling, suddenly hating the mask that kept her restricted. She wanted Ruby to see her smile, she wanted to reassure her baby that everything would be ok. It had to be ok there was no other choice.

“Can we go home soon? I don’t like it here”

Lizzie’s heart was clawing at her chest, ripping her apart from the inside out. Lifting her hands, she pulled the mask from her face and dropped it into her lap.

“Mrs Shelby it’s not wise” The doctor called out his mouth snapping shut as Lizzie fixed her glare on his and shook her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“I don’t care” She protested “I don’t care……not anymore”

Wiping away her tear, Lizzie forced herself to smile again, her hand finding Ruby’s and holding it to her chest where her heart continued to fall apart.

“Yes we’ll go home soon Ruby, we’ll get you back in your nice big bed and Frances can make you your favourite cake. I’ll let you finish that film that we started at Christmas”

“And Charlie Mummy, we can all watch it together” Ruby smiled back happily thinking of her brother. She hadn’t got to see him since she took to bed a few days ago. She knew he’d be worried but she wouldn’t be here for much long and then they wouldn’t have to miss each other again.

“And Charlie if we can get him to sit still for long enough” Lizzie laughed, the sound foreign to her now “He’s missing you, told me this morning when I went to check on him at the house”

“Mu..”

She was coughing again, blood spluttering from her mouth and onto her white gown before Lizzie had a chance to stop it. Letting go of Ruby’s hand, Lizzie held the back of her head and lifted it from the pillow below. Retrieving the mask from her lap, she held it against Ruby’s mouth and waited for the coughing to ease, the blessing from the priest in the corner of her eye stirring up the panic Lizzie had tried to hard to keep at bay for both Ruby’s and her own sake.

“There baby let it out, let it out” She cooed until the coughing had stopped and wiping Ruby’s mouth, Lizzie guided her head back down into the pillow and threw the mask to the floor.

“The grey man is coming for me isn’t he?” Ruby cried out, her face panicked as she tried her best to breathe.

Why couldn’t she breathe? It was stuck deep down inside her. Sometimes this happened when she went underwater for too long only this time it wasn’t going away. There was no surface to for her go break through, there was no way for her to breathe “I want daddy”

‘Ello Ruby’ Closing her eyes Ruby saw her dads smiling face calling out as he waved at her, beckoning her towards him. She needed him, he was going to make everything better, he was going to make sure she breathed again. Ruby could see herself running towards him with an excited grin, eager to leap into his arms and feel his warmth. She didn’t want to be in this room, it was cold, she was cold. Ruby could no longer feel the tips of her fingers but everything would be alright once she reached her dad.

“He’s coming love I swear to you he’ll be here soon. Daddy’s been looking for help to get you all better and once he does he’ll be here because there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. We would run to the ends of the earth and tear the heavens from the sky just for you and Charlie so you best believe daddy’s coming back to help us soon” Leaning her head against Ruby’s Lizzie closed her eyes too and placed a soft kiss on her lips before kissing the tip of her nose, swallowing the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her “I love you Ruby and daddy, he loves you so much”

‘Where are you tommy? Where are you?’ She pleaded internally feeling her tears beginning to fall, mixing with Ruby’s as they dripped onto her cold cheeks ‘We need you’

A small rattled moan left the back of Ruby’s throat and then there was nothing.

“Ruby?” Lizzie whispered suddenly aware she could no longer feel Ruby’s breaths against her face. Lifting her head slightly, her hands came back to Ruby’s sweet little face, her fingers caressing her wet cheeks “Ruby?…..Ruby?!”

Lizzie pressed her ear against her mouth, watching the doctor move towards them, looming over the bed as if he were death himself.

“No….no” Her body heaved with sobs pulling her shattered heart into mouth as she moved Ruby’s face from side to side, willing her to breathe again. She needed to feel her soft breaths, she needed to feel her chest rise “Ruby please….don’t leave me. Ruby?!”

“Mrs Shelby?” The doctor leaned over to Ruby’s side, inspecting the child laid before him. Already he knew what had happened, it was only a matter of time. The disease had progressed too much for the hospital to help little Ruby. She needed to be moved now before it spread further, infecting others within the building “Mrs Shelby I’m so sorry”

“No! She’s not! She can’t be, bring her back please! I’ll do anything if you just bring her back to me” Lizzie’s wails filled the room, echoing off the walls and tearing at the hearts of others “Not my baby, not her”

Looking up at the doctor with pleading eyes she watched as began to lift his sleeve. She tried so desperately to reach out to him and make him stop yet he backed away from her and revealed the watch that had been tucked neatly beneath his uniform.

“There must be something! Don’t give up on her please”

He was a doctor, there had to be something he could do. Her perfect little girl couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t. She was the sunshine that had entered Lizzie’s dark life, filling it with light and wonder. It was warm and it was beautiful. Ruby was everything Lizzie never believed she deserved. Lifting Ruby from the bed, Lizzie brought her into an embrace and placed her lips against her head, drowning out the scream that escaped her throat.

“I’m sorry Mrs Shelby” The doctor expressed again with a saddened frown lifting his wrist to his face and ripping away what was left of Lizzie’s heart.

“No”

Lizzie couldn’t hear it! She couldn’t. She just wanted her baby back.

“Time of death 5:17”

Lizzie’s sunshine was gone.

#peaky blinders #the peaky blinders #peaky blinder #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #lizzie stark #lizzie shelby #ruby shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders s6 spoilers #peaky blinders s6 #bbc peaky blinders #charlie shelby #charles shelby #peaky fookin blinders

72 notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 3 years

Text

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even.

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself.

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat.

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way. Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her.

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.)

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy.

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste.

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down.

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head.

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.”

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father.

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!”

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it.

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually.

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out.

“Hold the doors!”

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open.

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again.

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously.

You nodded.

“It’s your first day?”

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?”

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh.

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.”

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator.

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you.

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.”

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response.

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator.

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite.

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little.

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.”

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions.

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park.

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.”

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car.

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you.

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

But you?

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest.

permanent taglist: @beyonces-breastmilk @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @jemimah-b99 @muffin-cup @shadyladyperfection @rigatonireid @amoeebaa @mggsprettygirl @alltooreid @awritingtree @you-sunshine @bunny-script @spencerreid9 @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mystical-and-modern-marauder

spencer reid taglist: @reidtome @justreadingficsdontmindme

click here to be added to my taglist!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn!reader #mgg #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds

171 notes · View notes

plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Risky

Derek Hale x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1580 words

Warnings: Reader is hurt, real bad.

Summary: Derek finding out that the girl he loved as a kid got into a serious accident and he can't help himself

—————————————————————————————————

He hadn’t seen you in years.

Derek wasn’t even sure you were still in Beacon Hills, until he found out about the accident. It was in the news, as plenty of the dangerous accidents in the area were, but something was different about this one.

When the dark haired male heard the news in passing, at first, he did nothing. Every little thing that happened in this place was of no interest to him but the second he heard your name, he stopped.

It was as if the world had stopped around him, every cell in his body forcing him to pay attention to the screen.

There was nothing supernatural about it, no monster to be slain or anything like that. It was nothing more than a car accident, something that could have happened to anyone, something almost too normal to occupy so much of his mind.

However, it didn’t just happen to anyone. This had happened to you, and based on what the report had said, the doctors weren’t all that hopeful that you were going to pull through. In fact, it sounded almost as if they had given up hope entirely.

That just wasn’t going to work.

Immediately, all Derek could think about was you laying in that hospital bed, all alone and struggling to hold on. It wasn’t right, for someone like you to go out that way, so before he could talk himself out of it, he made up his mind.

It was stupid.

It was reckless.

It was necessary.

No matter what happened, Derek knew that he had to do something to save you. He had a gift, something he could do, and if he chose not to do anything about it, it was almost as if he’d killed you himself.

...And he promised you that would never happen.

As Derek ran in the direction of the hospital, his feet hammering against the ground as he moved, all he could think about was that day. That same day he promised you that he would never let anything happen to you.

You were kids, before the fire consumed everything in his life, and you couldn’t have been closer. You had always been Derek’s best friend, and he told you everything, even things he kept from his own mother.

It was just the kind relationship you shared.

You told him everything and trusted him with your life, as he did with you.

It wasn’t easy, of course. In fact, most of the time, it was more dangerous than anything else, but you didn’t worry about it. Being human and having attached yourself to the side of a werewolf wasn’t exactly safe to begin with and you knew the risks.

Derek was worth it to you.

He had always been worth it.

That day, the one full of promises, had come after the first time Derek ever lost control in front of you. You were terrified, as you should have been, and could hardly look him in the eye. He was sure you would leave him there, and never look back, but you didn’t.

Though, looking back, perhaps you should have.

You cared about one another enough to make the risk seem worth it but the fact was that Derek was dangerous, for a really long time, hanging on by a string. He was out of control most of the time, adn could fly off the handle for no reason.

Not even you could stop it.

After the fire, he only got worse.

He was angry, and hurt, and lost. He didn’t have anything to hold on too, except for you, and even that only presented itself like too great a risk. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, Derek would end up getting you killed too.

So, he pushed you away.

He pushed you away until you didn’t have much of a choice but to leave him be, which is exactly what happened.

That was a long time ago now, and he hadn’t seen you since then. However, as questionable as the choices he was making were, he couldn’t stop himself. Derek knew that he could deal with everything else later, all he had to do now was making sure you didn’t die.

...And that was the one thing he could control.

By the time he reached the hospital, he was sure that his feet were probably bleeding from the damage he’d just put them through but he didn’t pay that any mind. Instead, he headed right to the front desk, breath raging through his nostrils.

“I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N, please. She’s the only family I have” he explained, doing his best not to get into the details of it while also giving enough for her to let him pass. All he could do was try and thankfully, she let him through.

They didn’t have much information about you other than what was on your I.D and if he had anything additional about you to tell them that would help, she didn't dare turn him away.

In all honesty though, Derek didn’t hear much more than that initial allowance and your room number before he took off in that direction. Nothing else mattered, and seeing as he was in a hospital, no one really questioned it.

Terrible things were happening all over, and whatever was happening to him, they understood the need to rush.

You looked terrible.

As soon as he saw you, Derek felt his heart sink.

The accident had really done a number on you, and it looked like they had you hooked up to every machine they had. Clearly, whatever they had wasn’t going to be able to pull you out of whatever this was.

Luckily, that was why he was here.

Derek had the only thing in the world that could keep your heart beating, assuming that your body accepted it, the bite. There was no guarantee that it was going to go well, or that you were going to be okay, but he had to try.

If he did nothing, you were going to die anyway, so anything he had couldn’t hurt.

Then, before Derek could think of any more risky reasons not to do what he was going to do, he reached out and took your practically limp wrist in his hands. You really weren’t doing well, but he just had to hope this would be enough.

If it wasn't, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

There weren’t many more viable options after werewolf bite, but nevertheless, the deed was done.

Now, all he could do was wait.

It took half an hour.

Half and hour and the bite still hadn’t seemed to be doing much for you at first. To be fair, most of your systems were almost entirely out of play. Thankfully, before too long, your pulse started to pick up and it seemed to be working.

It was all Derek could have hoped for in coming here, and it would have been a lie to say that he didn’t feel more relief in that moment than he had in his entire life at it having been a success.

Though, it brought him even more relief when you sat up, all the color returning to your face and a gasp for air on your lips. You were panicked, of course, trying to recall how you had gotten to this hospital in the first place and what was going on.

Not that any of that came before the man sitting at the side of your bed, staring at you with expectant eyes.

“Hi”

Derek spoke first, though the word felt like sandpaper leaving his throat. After all this time, there should have been more than he could say. There should have been more that came to mind but it just wasn’t there.

By all accounts, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

He could have started with explaining that you were nearly killed in a head on collision on the street, or that he had given you a bite that would change your life forever and turn you into a slave to the moon.

It was far from an ice breaker.

“Derek? What is going on? What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes aggressively to clear the harsh lighting and fuzzy glaze from your eyes. You were trying your best to make this make sense, but it wasn’t working.

You were lost.

...And frankly, Derek wasn’t doing much better than you were in that way.

“I have a lot to explain to you, but this isn’t the place” he suggested, fully aware that nothing about this place was going to make this conversation any easier to swallow. Besides, it was hardly where he wanted to tell you that he had bitten you.

Of course, it was a bit easier considering that you already knew about the supernatural side of Beacon Hills. At least he didn’t have to have the ‘werewolves are real’ conversation with you like he had with Scott.

Nothing he was saying made any sense, or really helped make you feel more at peace with this whole thing but you figured he was here, so it wouldn’t kill you to trust him. After all, he had saved your life plenty of times before.

You had trusted him for most of your life, and it certainly wouldn’t kill you to do it one more time.

307 notes · View notes

therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

287 notes · View notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years

Text

Olfactory Stimulation [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x fem!Reader]

Synopsis: A moment of distraction brings Dr Kreizler to the right assumption about you.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: lot of sneezing (?)

Author’s note: That is mostly fault of my silly books about Victorian Psychology and @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing requesting a drabble in this post

Social norms always expected women to stay at home when sick.

It wasn’t much for sanitary reasons, but more because of how bad it was to witness a woman in a unkept state. Runny nose, unnatural paleness, let out sneezing. You’d look like you are either a prostitute who can’t afford a place to hide her state or a woman with a deep rooted desire to stay unmarried. Nevertheless, you couldn’t let down the offer of Dr Kreizler when he offered you to accompany him to visit the mother of a child of 14 that attempted to escape home so many times and risked his life in countless ways. That day you had no sign of your usual morning sickness, it was not something unusual, it kept coming and going and the doctor you visited last time called it a sensibility to external agents.

When you arrived, the Doctor was waiting for you by the gates of the rich country house. He smiled courtly at you and your heart did the usual fouette it always did in the presence of the alienist. You were there to take notes, capture the details, be a comforting female figure, nothing else. Nothing too complicated. As you were welcomed inside the servants gathered in defence of their lady and her choices, almost to prove she is a good woman even if her husband wasn’t there to support this meeting. You could understand why in the moment you saw her, her beauty putting you to shame, her dark clothing foreseeing a grieving she was trying to avoid. You found yourself mesmerised by the sad woman in her gigantic house full of memories, signs of the love for her son scattered on every wall in the form of photographs. As you were shown your seat you gulped down, a familiar feeling itching in the back of your mouth, but you swallowed it once more gathering some saliva in the inside of your cheek while pulling out pencil and paper. You smile politely as the governess checked you out from head to toe. The Doctor begins and you stare at him yourself forgetting the judgment in the eyes of the older woman as words roll out from his lips.

Every time he speaks it feels like a tender balance, he guides people, he begins soft, mannered, distanced, and then slowly moves in. You inhale sharply as you can sense his words move around the context. That is foreplay, a very unprofessional way to designate the technique of a skilled professional like Dr Kreizler. Then he goes for the throat, he mentions the son, the chance of finding a way to ease the pain, the determination in his voice sinks down your skin as the lady keeps silent, you’re already giving in. You want him to help you, you want to be anything only to have him to help you. Oh, what a pleasure it would be to be a failure, if the price was to be helped by the most charming gentleman your eyes ever met.

And then you sneeze.

Everybody turns at you, shame floods onto you, your cheeks grow red and that triggers another sneeze, then a third and a fourth, forcing you to hid yourself bending on your right side.

“I apologise” you say trying to save the moment.

The Doctor’s glare says it all.

He is disappointed in you.

You look down, quickly pulling a handkerchief out of your bag to stop your nose from running. The conversation resumes again, the charm of Dr Kreizler still in the air, he guides her back to his deeds, to his procedures and how deeply he wants to save her from that pain. You look at him. His posture so straight, his fingers slowly caressing his beard, a waitress behind you opens a window behind you and something makes your nose itch again, you move your handkerchief back onto your runny nose. The woman starts to speak, to open up, you gulp down some of that wetness as you struggle to cover yourself, the textile in your hand getting soon soaked and useless.

The Alienist’s eyes darting over you, his head moves a little on side as he proceed to touch his beard again, that must be so soft, every time you watch him caress it you want to run your fingers through it. At that thought you hid your face against your arm suffocating another sneeze. The governess staring at you like a madwoman thus far. You hold it back. He is staring at you and you can’t even manage to hold back a bit of yourself, to look professional by any mean. You shake lightly as tears pickle on the sides of your eyes, the effect due to holding another sneeze back or to the embarrassment caused by the situation? You are beginning to squirm into your seat, the women in the room avoiding to acknowledge your demeanour, some of them smirking as the Alienist wisely shortens his interview and he is good to go.

You wanted to be a failure, don’t you? Well, there you are, disappointing the only man you were trying to impress. He apologises for you as he walks out of the hall, he collects his walking stick and hat after his coat as you follow him, head down. As you are outside another sneeze takes over you and now it is so strong you almost lose the balance. He stops on his tracks and looks at you, his unreadable gaze can only bring terror in your bones. You bring that wet handkerchief again on your face and apologise profusely. A lot of words about how you could’t do this or didn’t mean to embarrass him as you catch back on his track. He stares at you putting on his gloves on as his walking stick rests on his right arm.

“When did it begin?”

You look at him, you lightly move your head from side to side trying to find the best answer.

“I believe, when I was a teenager, mostly in the mornings but it doesn’t happen often”

“When it happens then?”

“I believe when I am in the country side or just randomly”

“On what moon?”

You stop on you track, you’re not talking about your bleeding, are you?

“I-I don’t know”

He nods to himself slowly as he walks you back to your home, he likes to walk after an interview so you’re not surprised.

The ungodly sneezing followed you and forbid you to be any way feminine or respectable looking before his eyes that kept studying you through all the way to your private residence.

“Thank you for walking me home, I hope I didn’t ruin your interview” you admit as you sneeze again, now your cheeks red and you just want to cry and hide in your bed for the rest of the day.

He looks at you like a forgiving teacher that finds his best student without her homework.

“Not a chance” he says calmly, he smiles at you briefly before slowly moving a step closer to you.

“Has it ever happened in front of a man?”

You stop in your train of self deprecating thoughts for a moment.

“The sneezing”

He adds and you are confused by now.

He takes another step in as you find yourself shoulders against the door.

“Does it happen after very tense moments?”

“No, not that I can recall”

“Good, so it happens when you’re in your thoughts” you swallow your breath, and also your dignity, as by now he is so close that not even your stuffy nose can prevent you from being wrapped in the comforting and masculine hold of his cologne.

“When you’re fantasising, maybe alone, still in bed or when you should be paying attention, but you don’t, you’re thinking of something alien”

The weight he puts on that last word makes your insides twist.

“Something hidden, closer to a place of need, a place were you project yourself. A place maybe safer, oh no, that’s not the word” he licks his lips looking for the adjective of choice as your eyes drop down to his right hand slowly picking onto the glove of his left hand exposing the pale hand that so many times attracted your gaze “more stimulating” he concludes.

You feel yourself thrown in one of those romance books you used to read as a young girl, you breath in deeply and try to collect yourself, but all you can think is him, his voice and his intense staring at you. He sees you naked no matter all the layers of clothing, he knows, he knows his presence stays with you no matter the closeness.

“Almost all animals at the time of rutting emit a specially distinct odour. A confirmatory odour that gives away different signals that have to be read.” He explains to you and you inhale deeply. “However, I am under the impression that olfactive stimulation can’t play a distinctive role in any other kind perception, but sometimes a fair distraction can help with the wetness”.

He brushes the back of his finger underneath your nose and you just realise it, your nose is not runny anymore, you have been deeply inhaling through your nose since he came closer.

He smirks at you putting his glove back in place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the Institute Miss Y/L/N”

He moves his hand to the tip of his hat and bows it lightly before leaving you at your front door, helpless.

#dr laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x y/n #female reader #the alienist fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x reader

137 notes · View notes

dilucslittleangel · 3 years

Text

𝐀 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐥 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

Hello!! Usually I wanted to write this same thing with Scaramouche until unfortunately his canon past came out and I had to delete the whole thing- so now, while Dottore will sure take some time to appear in the game, I'm taking my chance to write how I think his past maybe looked like.

Some sentences towards the end have been taken off his artifact!

Word count: 1584

I'd like to say this may or may not fit into canon!! (however I wouldn't mind if this became canon)

So. Where to we begin?

I like to think Dottore had a golden child syndrome from a young age.

Most parents want to see their children thrive and flourish. In fact, the desire to see your child succeed is a normal desire of parenting. Moreover, even good parents sometimes have unrealistic expectations for their children.

But good child syndrome can happen when a child consistently reinforces their parent’s desires for them. These children don’t just want to satisfy their parents- they feel obligated and responsible for doing so. It becomes a significant part of their identity, meaning it affects their overall development. Either one or two of the parent role, are naracisstic.

A healthy child usually wants to succeed and make their parents proud. Golden children take it up a few notches. They may present as anxious children early in life. Similarly, they experience immense anxiety and guilt when they fail to meet certain expectations.

Despite how a golden child syndrome usually develops in a child, it was a little different in this case.

Dottore's father did not give him lots of attention at all. Just like the insane, crazy doctor / scientist he is himself now, so was his father. His father was a mad man, a man who's experiments are more important to him than his own family.

The young boy often watched his father, watching experiments a young boy like him should not see. All his father's attention went to the experiments, did he have to do the same?

The young lad did various of things, but they all were helpless. Nothing made his father even look at him, heck not even at the dinner table they talked. However he didn't want to stop trying. He had to keep on going, so he thought.

His mother? Dottore was just 7 years old when his mother started to feel worse and worse everyday. So worse even she had no other choice but to rest in bed, having a doctor visit every week as her husband was no doctor, just a scientist who couldn't care less. Why did they even marry?

Dottore brought his mother meals every day - at least whenever a helpful aunt came over. Dottore pretty much looked up to the doctor that came over every week. Did he also become so clever and brilliant to maybe help his mother? He sure thought so.

Day and night the young boy spend hours of looking into medical books, learning anything he possibly could. Often would he fall asleep on the ground, all exhausted from studying. He wanted to help his mother.

Besides studying medical stuff and trying to do anything that would make his father give any attention, he'd also spend other day and nights to get the best of grades, always did he bring good ones home. Never would you see anything below 95 points. Dottore didn't even think about having friends, they only were in his way and annoying. He had no time for friends, he only had himself.

Everytime he brought good grades home, he would bring the paper to his mother. She was more than proud of him. „One day you'll be such a handsome man, helping out so many people.. You make your mother really proud..”the sweet voice spoke. He couldn't let his mothers expactions down now could he?

More and more years have passed. Years of studying, years of writing good grades, years of wanting his father to also be proud of him. Dottore was under a pressure of making his parents be nothing, he didn't want to be a good-for-nothing, - a pressure he put himself under. He just wanted to mean something to both of his parents. He wanted to be worth living. Something cracked in the mind of his.

One day, the boy came home in the cold times of the years but he had great news, he scored the best once more in a big test, wanting to share the great news to his mother. He hadn't seen his mother since yesterday, he was happy to see his mother again. „Mother! Mother! Look!”he said proudly as he ran upstairs, he didn't even put his backpack down. „..Mother?”he asked as he entered the room. He walked over to the bed and looked at his mother. Her eyes were closed, chest not rising nor sleeping. „...?” he gently shook his mother, having his hand on the mother's arm, he felt the coldness. The heater was on, how could she get so cold? It got him worried.

„Mother??”he asked loudly, keeping on shaking her till he heard it knock on the door. He put his test paper on the bed and walked downstairs. He opened the door, looking at who was knocking. It was the doctor, wanting to check on the mother as always. „Uhm Doctor.. I don't think mother is feeling well.... She's quiet and so cold..” he spoke. The doctor looked at him. „..?..”the doctor quickly walked upstairs, of course did the boy walk after him. Dottore stood at the door frame, watching the man.

The doctor stood there silently for a few seconds, shrugging a bit together as he suddenly left the room, walking downstairs. „Where's your father kid??” he asked. „I..don't know. He was suddenly gone one day 2 years ago or so..”he answered. „..what?? Then where's your aunt, let me call her, boy.”

Dottore didn't quite understand what was going on but he knew nothing good happen. He looked back at his mother. He walked up to her, climbing onto the bed and hugging his beloved mother. He brushed away the long dark blue hair. Silently, he sank his head on the mothers chest, closing those pure red eyes. He widened his eyes a little as he heard no heartbeat. „...Mother..”. What a shame, he was just supposed to turn 14 in a few days.

Many many more years have passed. While he grew up along his aunt, Dottore had not given up what he did before. Now he had to make his aunt all proud, now that he's the oh so poor failure that couldn't save his mother hm? At least he thought that way, again.

Now being proud 20 years, living on his own in a old lab, doing various of experiments no one would like to recall. He'd just become the madman his father once was. The word "failure" does not exist for him. He cannot be a failure once more, after all.. He's such a big genius. How could a hardworking child with a great smile go to a madman with a short temper who's plans cannot go wrong?

So judgemental the god of his homeland Fontaine, so the people. Fontaine's people were disgusted of the man, afraid of him, they wanted him gone.

Chased away with pitchforks, clubs and angry words, he took fled to the all famous Sumeru Academia where he continued his crazy studies and experiments. He had so many logical theories, yet no one wanted to hear them. One would not even like to look at him. He truly was sick of everyone, of everything.

Years later again, once more the man took fled. Next day awoken, the social reject's legs have given up. Falling into the sand, with a little lake aside, he took a look at his reflection. Half of his face had gotten burn scars, had the man's charm left his side too? Hand covering half the man's face, he remembered it all.

A night of a harmless experiment with potions and fire had kept the man awake. Yet, the man had been tired. Sitting at the table, where he rest his head on his palm, the man closed his eyes. Dottore silently listened to the liquid heating up under the hottest flames. Maybe him closing his eyes was a terrible mistake which he soon got to suffer for.

The liquid had been heated up too much, the man should've turned off the fire by now but he soon was about to reach the beautiful dream realm. Glass exploding and hot liquid splashing against half his face awoke the man. Quickly the man stood up and pressed the towel against his face, sharp breaths escaping, silent cries filling the room, free hand turning off the fire.

How foolish of him, hm?

The man shook his head and closed his eyes. A grip on his shoulder made the man turn around. „..Fatui?”

"Merely an enhanced human? If your great nation can furnish me with sufficient resources and ample time, I could even manufacture that which you would call a god. What say you?"

True indeed. First of the fatui has tracked him down. In the desert that shone bright like liquid gold, he inquired of the Snezhnayan diplomat:

"Will you treat me like the Academia did? Will you call me a monster, a madman?"

"Or will you treat me as my hometown did, and chase me away with pitchforks and clubs...?"

...

"Good. Then, we are now in partnership."

"As for the matter of your title — what do you say to this..."

Taken completely by surprise by the sheer irony of the title he was given, the young man burst into hysterical laughter.

If you'd know ask the man about his theories and experiments, shall you see a sparkle of excitement...

...

(Drawing of Dottore in the age of four. From right to left -> "Daddy" "That's me!" "Mommy")

#genshin impact #genshin impact il dottore #dottore genshin #genshin il dottore #dottore #il dottore #theory #genshin theory #this is just a theory #please let this get any attention #golden child syndrome #he may be a social reject but I can fix him guys!! 🤪🤪#i hope this makes sense #will anyone even read this #bye #will anyone care?

82 notes · View notes

lillywillow · 3 years

Text

The Forest Provides

Summary: You and Muriel have been trying for a baby for a long time. One day, Muriel finds a baby alone in the woods

Word Count: 1880

Pairings: Muriel of the Kokhuri x Female Reader

Warnings: Minor spoilers from the main plot, very mild angst at the beginning

Married life with Muriel had been absolute bliss but lately you had felt like something was missing. It wasn’t until you were visiting Asra in town and started noticing the families around that you realised what it was; a child of your own. When you brought up your desire to Muriel, he was surprisingly open to it. After months of trying, you were starting to get a little discouraged.

...

One night, you were lying in bed with your husband, idly tracing patterns on his chest.

“What’s on your mind?” Muriel mumbled, his soft voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“I’ve just been thinking... we’ve been trying for months for a baby and I’m wondering... what if it’s me? What if when I came back... not everything works right? I’m getting scared that I can’t carry a baby... The next time Nazali is in town, I’m going to ask them if they can do a full check up on me.”

“You don’t trust Julian to do it?” Muriel asked, a little surprised.

“It’s not that I don’t trust him, he’s one of my dearest friends. It’s just that Nazali has had more experience. They might be able to provide some answers...” You started to tear up a little at the thought of not being able to have a baby of your own.

Muriel held you tighter. Much like you, he had been having his own doubts about his ability to give you a child. What if it was his fault that he couldn’t give you the child you wanted? Muriel chose not to voice his concerns in order not to worry you further. For now, he would just hold you in his arms and comfort you until you fell asleep.

...

The following morning, Muriel was walking with Inanna in the woods looking for a few more supplies. Suddenly, the wolf stopped, sensing something.

“What is it, Inanna?”

Inanna started sniffing the ground, following the scent in a hurry. Muriel followed, feeling worried about her safety. Finally, she stopped in front of a tree, sitting proudly, tongue lolling out to the side.

“Inanna, what have you...?” Muriel stopped dead in his tracks.

Nestled under the shade of a tree in a basket was a sleeping baby. The infant had a head of soft black curls and was wrapped in green blankets. Muriel gentle knelt down and picked up the precious bundle. Disturbed by the sudden movement, the baby woke and opened her eyes, revealing them to be fawn brown. Muriel froze, afraid the baby was about to cry but instead, the infant simply cooed at him. He noticed a name had been lovingly stitched into the baby’s blanket.

Kalila.

“Inanna, can you see if you can find the parents anywhere?”

The wolf started sniffing the ground and followed the scent for as long as she could but ultimately lost it. Muriel couldn’t help but wonder who would leave a defenceless baby all alone in the woods but then he thought about his own parents and how they gave him up to save his life. Maybe Kalila’s parents were also left with no choice... Muriel decided to bring her home with him.

...

When Muriel arrived home, you ran up to greet him but stopped when you saw the basket he had in his arms.

“What is that?”

“I found her in the woods. Inanna and I looked for her parents but couldn’t find them,” Muriel replied, finding a safe place to put down the basket.

Asra, (whom had dropped by for a visit), poked his fluffy white head from around you.

“A baby...”

“I brought her in. I won’t allow her to end up like us,” he said, turning his head to Asra. Asra gently placed a hand on his friend’s arm with a gentle smile.

You were in absolute awe of Kalila. Carefully, you took her out of her basket and held her close.

“She’s perfect,” you smiled, tearing up a little.

Muriel couldn’t help but smile. At least in some form, he had given you the baby you had so desperately wanted. Then another thought crept into his mind; would he be a good enough father for this child?

“You should get Julian to give her a check-up,” Asra said, gently picking up Kalila for a cuddle.

“Does he have to?” Muriel muttered, somewhat bitterly.

“Asra has a point, Muriel. We want little... Kalila to be healthy, right?” you stated, checking the baby’s blanket for her name.

Muriel grumbled under his breath. He knew you were both right but that didn’t make him like it.

“Right, then. I’ll go set it up,” Asra smiled, handing you back Kalila. “See you in a while!”

With that, Asra headed out the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sullen expression on your husband’s face.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re awfully cute when you’re sulking,” you smiled. His face turned crimson.

“I’m not sulking,” he protested, but the pout in his lip told another story.

“Yeah, you are...”

You were suddenly interrupted by Kalila cooing.

“I’m going to be the best mother in the world to you...” The baby seemed to understand you and snuggled up close.

Muriel knew that was true but could he say the same of his parenting skills? Time could only tell and he hoped he would be a good father to Kalila.

...

A while later, there was a knock on the door. You opened it to see Julian standing there with his doctor bag and Asra holding some kind of bundle. Smiling, you ushered the pair inside.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told Nadia about your situation and she said she was more than happy to help,” he smiled, showing you the contents of the bundle. Inside were all kinds of baby supplies, from clothes to bottles.

“We’ll have to thank her the next time we see her,” you smiled. Muriel made an affirmative grunt.

“So, where is the bundle of joy?” Julian asked, removing his menacing looking coat and gloves.

You went over to where Kalila was cuddled up to Inanna in front of the fireplace.

“I’m going to take her away for a bit, okay? I’ll bring her back soon,” you assured the wolf. Inanna gave Kalila’s head a lick and allowed her to be picked up. Kalila giggled and cooed happily.

“Here she is,” you said, placing Kalila on the table so Julian could examine her.

The doctor began his task but the baby began to fuss.

“Stop! You’re hurting her!” Muriel snapped.

Inanna jumped to her feet, snarling and ready to protect Kalila. Julian raised his hands in defence.

“It’s okay... I’m not hurting her. I think my hands are a little cold. That’s all the problem is...” Julian carefully went over to warm up his hands by the fire, under the watchful gaze of Muriel and Inanna. You kept a hand on both of them to keep them from tearing the doctor apart.

Once they were warm enough, Julian went to continue his examination. Fortunately, that was indeed the issue and Kalila allowed herself to be poked and prodded.

“She’s perfectly healthy. Just come and see me for regular checkups and call me if anything happens,” Julian smiled, putting away his equipment after cleaning it.

“Good. Now get out,” Muriel grumbled.

“Muriel,” you chided.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ve got to get back to the clinic anyway. You coming, Asra?”

“Yep! Right behind you. I’ll see you two later.”

Asra hugged the pair of you before leaving with Julian. You had wondered why he would be at the clinic with Julian but you decided that perhaps that question was best unasked.

Inanna trotted back to her comfy spot by the fire and settled down again. Muriel picked up Kalila and placed her back next to her furry godmother. The baby giggled happily and snuggled into Inanna’s fluffy side. Muriel smiled warmly at the pair, happy Kalila took so easily to his faithful companion. He watched them for a while before helping you get the place set up for little Kalila.

...

That night, Muriel had a dream.

He was standing in front of a familiar hut, wondering what he was doing there. Muriel was about to knock when the door was opened by an older woman.

“Muriel!” The woman enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Khamgalai? What are you doing here?”

“What kind of question is that? I live here,” she huffed, bringing him inside. The inside of the hut was just as warm and inviting as he remembered.

Khamgalai bustled about, making Muriel sit down.

“Why... why am I here now?”

“The Hermit told me you seek guidance...”

Muriel’s brows furrowed together. He knew what was troubling him but he didn’t want to be a burden.

“You’re worried you won’t be a good enough father to your new found daughter...” It was more of a statement than a question.

Muriel opened and closed his mouth a few times before simply nodding.

“I’m here to tell you that you will be a wonderful father to Kalila... and to the child your wife is carrying.”

Muriel’s eyes widened.

“Y/N is not... I mean... she...”

“Oh, my! Yes, it is still a little too early to tell yet,” Khamgalai chuckled to herself. “But assure you, Y/N is pregnant. Your prayers have finally been answered.”

Muriel stared at the smaller woman in shock. How did she...?

“I answered them. Dear boy, I know you have doubts but I promise you this, Kalila will grow to be a strong young woman under your guidance. You will teach her all she needs to know. Same with the new baby Y/N will bring into the world.”

“But...”

“No buts! No more self doubt! I will come back to smack some sense into you if I have to!”

Muriel managed a small smile and got up to hug Khamgalai.

“Thank you...”

“You’ve got a long journey ahead of you. I will always be watching over you. Rest assured. Give my love to Y/N...”

...

You woke in the middle of the night to Kalila softly wailing. Stirring, you went to get up to tend to her but Muriel beat you to it.

“I’ve got her...”

You watched as he carefully took Kalila out of her basket to give her a bottle. Muriel hummed to her as he prepared the warm milk for her. The baby stared up at him adoringly as she waited, the sound of Muriel’s rumbling voice gently soothing her. Your heart melted at the sight.

When Kalila was fed, burped and put back to sleep, Muriel returned to you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and placed one hand on your tummy.

“You’re going to make a wonderful father,” you sleepily purred, nuzzling him.

Muriel thought about Khamgalai’s words. He suddenly found himself excited for this next chapter of his life, knowing he had all the love and support of his family and friends.

#muriel x mc #muriel of the kokhuri #Khamgalai #julian devorak #asra the magician #baby #Fluff #the arcana #The Forest Provides #Muriel as a father

60 notes · View notes

symphonyofthewrite · 3 years

Text

If These Walls Could Talk

Freaking GORGEOUS cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!! Definitely go check him out!! His art is incredible, and from what I can tell he’s really nice dude. He absolutely went above and beyond with this prompt. 10/10 would commission again. (And probably will once I save up enough money XD)

The wonderful art later in the chaper is by niuan_ on instagram!!

It wasn’t made/commissioned for this fic--(though I’ve since commissioned her to make cover art for me, so stay tuned for those!)--but when I saw it I couldn’t believe it!! That’s one of my favorite images in this chapter, and I couldn’t believe another artist made a piece for the same idea independently!!

I'll put the links to their profiles either in the replies or a reblog (since tumblr is dumb about links)!!

Also, FYI, I'll be using this post as my "reblog post" meaning I'll reblog this post with the later chapters of this fic, so they're all in one place. So if you want to read more of this fic, check the reblogs on this post, chances are more chapters will be there!!

Comments and reblogs are MORE than appreciated!! If you have a spare minute you will really make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary:

“My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Chapter 1: "Lisa”

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at the foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

412 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

40 notes · View notes

demonslayedher · 3 years

Text

An Attempted Timeline: Kibutsuji, Tsugikuni, Ubuyashiki

Compiled as much as possible in chronological order from canon, Taisho Secrets, and fanbooks, which a few general facts thrown in for additional interpretation. Also, a little comparison of the amounts of humans consumed by different demons. Please feel free to let me know if I’m missing anything or made any mistakes.

We begin with Muzan’s birth in the Heian Period...

It’s the Heian Period (794-1185), and since Muzan is side to be over a thousand years old, I’m placing him born around the year 900-ish.

Muzan is born into what would be the future Ubuyashiki Clan, likely in the Heian capital (modern day Kyoto). Assumed stillborn, he is barely rescued from cremation (a sign of being born very high class nobility).

Muzan grows up sickly and has never had much regard for other people, seeing them akin to bugs, and from around the time he was human to shortly after turning into a demon, five of his wives committed suicide due to his harsh tongue.

A doctor who lived around Mt. Kumotori in the Kanto region (modern day Tokyo area) uses the blue spider lilies that grow there to try to create a medicine to treat Muzan.

Muzan, thinking the medicine isn't working, kills the doctor partway through treatment. It works, but he is no longer able to go in the sun. No qualms about satisfying his cravings for blood, but he is really ticked out about the possibility of the sun killing him.

The Ubuyashiki clan's children keep getting ill. They are told their family carries a curse for Muzan having come from their bloodline, they swear to eliminate Muzan.

No one is safe when born into the Ubuyashiki name (which may have been chosen with origins in ancient Shinto mythology, perhaps with reference to no matter how many of them you kill, they will stubbornly keep birthing more). Girls must marry out and change their surname by age 13, or no matter how careful they are, they will die young by illness or accident. There is only ever one surviving boy per generation, the others all die.

Heian period ends, the Genpei War (1180-1185) sweeps Kyoto and many other parts of Japan into violence, over the centuries thereafter the seat of power switches from Kyoto to Kanto (it’ll switch back later for a while). At some point Muzan has moved to Kanto (likely in search of the blue spider lilies, but possibly because Muzan likes being among those in power too). Swordsman in the Corp do not yet use Breaths and fight in whatever method they can, at some point they began using Nichirin blades because the ore soaks the sunlight. While their sword forms are already in reference to the basic Breath forms we’d know later, they are not yet using Breath techniques. The Pillar system is already in place.

(Rengoku family already practices Kankagari, hence the hair color.)

We get a little fuzzy here. Generally then Tanjiro and company make reference to Yoriichi’s era, they say “over 300 years ago” but according to Kokushibo’s recollection, he last met Yoriichi 400 years ago. That makes us a little too early for the Warring States/Sengoku period, defined as 1467~1615. It’s also possible Kokushibo was rough in his estimation, so I’m splitting the difference and putting them at early Sengoku, giving Kokushibo 370 years since last meeting Yoriichi.

The Onin War occurs 1467-1477, plunging Japan into the Warring States period as it is more technically defined, so we can assume a lot of the important events in the twins’ early life take place in this period of chaos. I’m assuming based on the demon attacks at Mt. Kumotori that they, Muzan, and the Ubuyashiki clan are already based in the Kanto (future Tokyo) region, but a lot of the early, heavy violence of this war took place in Kyoto.

Around the early 1460s, twins are born to the Tsugikuni Clan. Their father, worried about succession disputes, wants to have the second-born twin with a flame birthmark killed (in order to avoid some tragedy that may strike their clan before they are the age of 2), but their normally very quiet mother Akeno puts a stop to that. She names that baby Yoriichi so that he may value relationships, their father names the older one Michikatsu to value victory.

The boys are raised in separate conditions, the illness on Akeno's left side slowly progresses. Michikatsu feels bad for Yoriichi and brings him presents, including a handmade flute that doesn't work well. For years Yoriichi is quiet so as not to trouble his father, so he is assumed deaf. Akeno gives him the earrings when he is seven and prays to a sun god to open his ears, at which point he says his first words, informing her that he can hear. Michikatsu is beat by his father for going to play with Yoriichi, which Michikatsu insists he doesn’t mind, but this leads to severe arguments between their parents.

Still the age of 7, Yoriichi has been watching Michikatsu's sword lessons and is allowed a shot at one of their father's retainers, whom Yoriichi very swiftly defeats. Yoriichi has little interest in swordsmanship but because Michikatsu asked, he explains how he sees the see-through world. Michikatsu's jealously begins.

Because the retainer was so impressed, Yoriichi and Michikatsu's roles change completely, Michikatsu is then the one fated to be sent to a temple at the age of 10 to follow a monk's path. When they are 8 (1470, give or take), Akeno dies at the age of 24, Yoriichi says farewell to Michikatsu, and says he's going to the temple.

Their father loved Akeno very much and he becomes distraught, for he never knew of her illness. As it was her wish to have the boys raised as equals, he tries to amend his ways and goes to the temple to try to bring Yoriichi back, but Yoriichi is not there. (To Michikatsu, this looks like their father is desperate to bring back the more powerful heir.)

Instead of entering the temple, Yoriichi runs a very far distance and encounters an orphan named Uta. They soon become traveling companions, and it's thanks to Uta that Yoriichi learns his ability to see the see-through world is not normal.

10 years later, (roughly 1480, Yoriichi is age 18), Yoriichi and Uta wed and settle on Mt. Kumotori.

By or around this time, Michikatsu is also wed. Their father dies shortly afterward at age 35. Michikatsu goes on to have 2 children.

When Uta is soon to give birth, she is killed by a demon and when Yoriichi finds her, he stays by her corpse for about 10 days. He is found by a Rengoku ancestor, who invite him to join the Demon Slayer Corp. (By the Taisho period, blue spider lilies grow at the spot where Uta was buried. He never falls in love again.)

Yoriichi begins teaching Breath techniques to other Corp members, their demon fighting abilities rapidly get stronger. He gets along very well with the Pillars, who improve their swordsmanship rapidly. They cannot quite manage Sun Breathing, but make the five basic off-shoots: Rock, Water, Wind, Thunder, and Flame. Rengoku keeps many records of this time which are handed down throughout his family.

Yoriichi rescues Michikatsu from a demon. Michikatsu is so taken by Yoriichi's Sun Breathing that he abandons his family to enter the Corp and dedicate himself to learning that technique. He does not pick it up, but develops Moon Breathing. He attains a mark like Yoriichi's, and many other slayers have attained marks as well. Michikatsu is concerned about being the best and passing on his legacy, Yoriichi still doesn't care about these things.

It's very likely that Tamayo is a demon by this time.

Muzan lays low a while, but Michikatsu brings him the head of Oyakata-sama (it is unclear from Gotouge’s notes whether this was immediately upon his becoming a demon, or if it was a few years later and this is the head of the child who oversaw Yoriichi being exiled). The Corp henceforth enacts much stricter secrecy, and this is also around the time Kakushi are organized.

The young Kamado newlyweds, Sumiyoshi and Suyako, come across Yoriichi's empty former home on Mt. Kumotori (early 1480′s-ish now). It’s a little run down, but they tend to rescue a lot of people who try to pay them back later. As they refuse the money, the people insist on fixing up the house for them. (More specifically, they rescued a Daimyo’s wife and her son who went into hiding in the mountains when they were under attack in a succession dispute.)

The young Kamado couple (including a very pregnant Suyako) is attacked by a demon, but Yoriichi, who happened to be passing through and wanting to stop by the place he lived with Uta, rescues them. Yoriichi is also the one who fetches a midwife (extremely quickly) for Suyako to give birth to Sumire. Shortly after Sumire is born the following day (in early spring), Sumiyoshi already insists that he’ll tell future generations about Yoriichi, but Yoriichi sternly tells Sumiyoshi that he hasn’t been able to save anyone, and not to see him as any kind of special person, and disappears. ***THIS MAY TAKE PLACE LATER.***

Those with marks begin to die off by the age of 25 (according to ancient practices for counting age, this may have put them around age 23 or 24 as we think of it today. This would also have made Yoriichi around age 6 when he beat the retainer and left home). Michikatsu is distraught, and Muzan approaches him, declaring that he is curious about what will happen if he makes a demon out of a Breath user, and giving him the choice to live on forever or die early because of his mark. Michikatsu choses to become a demon, and he maintains a loyal and open relationship under Muzan ever since. This is likely still around mid-1480s, or roughly two years after Yoriichi saves the Kamado family (if this indeed happened in advance).

Shortly after that, Yoriichi encounters Muzan, Muzan declares he no longer has any interest in Breath users (after all, he didn’t master the sun, dang it). Yoriichi feels he was born to defeat this man, delivers a stunning display of Sun Breathing, but the little pieces of Muzan that get away altogether form roughly the size of a head. Tamayo is freed from Muzan's curse and tells Yoriichi as much as she can about Muzan, including that he probably won’t appear again in Yoriichi’s life. Yoriichi lets her go.

Yoriichi is then informed by Corp members (including Rengoku) that Michikatsu has become a demon.

This, in addition to Yoriichi failing to kill Muzan (give him a break, guys) and letting Tamayo go, makes some Corp members demand Yoriichi's suicide to atone, but the 6-year-old Oyakata-sama (whose father is still alive, but likely incapacitated) puts a stop to this. Yoriichi is exiled from the Corp and told to kill his brother. Some members of the Corp (in particular, Rengoku) stay in touch with Yoriichi with Oyakata-sama's tacit permission.

After being kicked out of the Corp, Yoriichi visits Sumiyoshi one fall, wanting to tell someone about his life. After sharing his story, he receives flowers from Sumire, and at Suyako's request, he performs Sun Breathing. Sumiyoshi memorizes it by watching, and promises to pass it down. Yoriichi leaves him with the earrings his mother Akeno gave him, and keeps the toy flute from Michikatsu and a scrap of Uta's kimono.

***It’s also possible Yoriichi’s first visit back to Mt. Kumotori was after explusion from the Corp, and it was after two years of being out on his own that he sought out Sumiyoshi again.***

In 1545-ish, Yoriichi is over 80 years old and finally finds Michikatsu/Kokushibo. Yoriichi barely fails to kill him and Breaths his last. Kokushibo cut the flute in half when cutting Yoriichi's standing corpse, but keeps the pieces with him.

After Yoriichi’s death, Muzan goes on the offense again, eliminating anyone with knowledge of Yoriichi’s Sun Breathing techniques. The Corp is essentially erased for a time, and thereafter, they no longer find themselves as strong as they were in Yoriichi’s time. According the Rengoku records, this is because there was never any teacher as good as Yoriichi after that.

Over two hundred years pass of Muzan trying to find the blue spider lilies or create a demon that can master the sun, and swordsman polishing their Breathing techniques as they slay demons. By this time we can assume most of Muzan's activity is based around the Kanto area in the bustling Edo period. (Fun aside, lots of popular kabuki plays would be developed with themes of demon slayers. Also, based on his tastes and fashion choices, Muzan likes to be among the affluent and influential people of society.)

Around the later decades of the Edo period, Muzan gets the idea to make the Twelve Moon Demons with a large amount of his blood. Hantengu might had been one of these first experiments, and Akaza, meh, I'm putting his formation any time between 1785 and 1800, put that’s really loose.

Douma's formation was after this (and he probably got busy eating lots and lots and lots of nutritious humans right away) and Gyutaro's still later. All of the Upper Moons were in place by no later than 1802, as they have not been called to the Infinity Fortress all together in 113 years.

My assumption is that once Muzan got the idea, he went around and made the Upper Moons in a very short period of time, and Kokushibo likely already had a lot of Muzan's blood in his "Maybe a Breath user will master the sun" experiment. There isn’t much indication if the Lower Moons were also formed around this time, or if they came later on a second whim.

The following hundred years is full of a cycle of Pillars and the Twelve Moons pit against each other while the common riffraff fight the common riffraff. While the Pillars kill Lower Moons as a rite of passage and they are constantly changed out as openings occur, the unchanged Upper Moons routinely kill and eat Pillars. Even at the bottom rung, Daki has eaten 7 and Gyutaro has eaten 15. For each of those Pillars, at least one Lower Moon or fifty demons has died.

As a point of comparison, the Hand Demon has been a demon for roughly the same amount of time, or a few years longer (he was locked away on Mt. Fujikasane around 1868). Although not granted any special amount of Muzan’s blood like the Lower Moons, it’s nursed a grudge and eaten 50 children (13 of which were Urokodaki’s), surviving and growing much, much powerful than most of the demons on the mountain who had only eaten 2 or 3 humans. On that note, former Lower Moon Kyogai seemed to find it difficult to consume any more humans, and wanted to consume Marechi (rare blood) to achieve the equivalent of eating 50 humans. While Akaza is allowed to be picky and focus on training, I have to wonder if it is generally a difficult part of many demons’ existence to have to consume human flesh.

But I digress.

You know who doesn’t care about that? Muzan.

If we take 1915 as the year Tanjiro’s Final Selection takes place and assumed modern age counting methods as opposed to the standard used until Meiji (which was still often used in Taisho), then Ubuyashiki Kagaya was born around 1892-ish. His father couldn’t take the sorrow of being in that position, so when he committed suicide at the age of 19, Kagaya assumed the role of the 97th generation Oyakata-sama at age 4 (his other siblings, all brothers, had died). He very soon married Himorogi Amane when he was age 13 and she was age 17. While this was her own volition, the Ubuyashiki family has long since married daughters of family closely associated with shrines as any means of trying to use this spiritual influence to lengthen the lives of their offspring. (We may assume Amane served the role of a miko, and she continues to perform daily spiritual ablution to pray for her family’s safety). Of the current Pillars, Kagaya first met Himejima in 1906 at the age of 14. The quintuplets, including Kagaya’s heir Kiriya, would had been born around 1907.

It’s when he’s settled into a husband and (probably step-)father role that he is discovered by a member of the Demon Slayer Corp in 1915, possibly for the first time in roughly four centuries. He makes a clean getaway, but not without those hanafuda earrings freaking him out first.

Muzan is busy being a Tokyo business man (among other things) with interests in foreign language and new contraptions. He is still motivated to discovered all he can about the blue spider lily, which is why he focuses his demons around the Tokyo area. In 1913 he takes a stroll to Mt. Kumotori and snacks on a family out there, tries making one of them into a demon for the heck of it (maybe or maybe not knowing anything about the Kamado lineage), assumes it didn’t work and she died so he forgets about her (giving Nezuko an opportunity to break free of his curse). He finds no blue spider lilies and goes back to Tokyo.

Wanting to get close to business partners, he identifies a high society woman named Rei, kills her husband, and swoops in to be her new lover. At other times, he takes the form of some other power person when it’s convenient, or when he’s juggling multiple identities, like an adopted boy with access to medicinal research or a performer with who can boss humans around to search out the flowers in daytime, he may sometimes leave a piece of his flesh behind to assume his form when he’s busy elsewhere.

And the rest is basically as we see in canon.

Of the Lower Moons, the former Lower Moon 2, Hairou, was a Shinsengumi member, and therefore became a demon sometime between 1863 and 1869. Than means he had been a demon roughly fifty years or less before Rengoku Kyojuro defeated him and became a Pillar.

#phhhhhhew #I feel accomplished #KnY References #KnY Nerdery #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

125 notes · View notes

out-of-jams · 3 years

Text

Across the Board || i || kth

(banner done by the great @kimtaehyunq )

↠ Across the Board ↞ You’d hit a low point in life. With bills piling up and your bank account empty, you were starting to get desperate. So when you got the invite to your oldest friend’s birthday party being hosted at the most popular underground casino in town, what did you possibly have to lose? You took what little you had left in your savings, put your card skills to use, and entered a private blackjack game.

And you’d won. And went back for more, and more, and more.

Until you lost.

And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Genre: Set in the Roaring 20s! Gambling. Mature themes. Mafia!au. Mafia Don!Taehyung. Violence. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Death of minor characters. Explicit language. Enemies to lovers. Short series. 18+

|| Next | Masterlist | |

Danger.

It was a word right up there alongside the definition for the term “stupidity.” While not next to each other in the dictionary, they were close enough that your brain was unable to pick out the subtle differences. Perhaps you’d just always had a habit for screwing your life up, or maybe it was just genetics. Who knew?

You should have listened to the warnings, should have stopped yourself before you got in too deep. Hell, you should have done a lot of things. But you had no one to blame for your current situation except for yourself. However, if you’d learned anything throughout your twenty-two short years of life, it was that life lessons didn’t mean jack if you didn’t get yourself into messes into the first place.

Though staring down the barrel of a revolver sure was a funny way of going about it.

The air in the dimly lit back corner room was tense enough to hear the sound of a casino chip fall to the ground somewhere beyond the shut door. None of the six men sitting around the round, green felted table spoke a word. Their attention — and yours, consequently — was fixed on the single man in the room who barely even batted an eye at the clear panic evident on your face.

He sat on the opposite side of you; the scowl pulling down his bow shaped lips and the narrowing of his fierce gaze had fear chilling your veins. That man was much like an exotic animal; beautiful beyond belief, but dangerous right beneath the surface. A carnivore staring down his prey. The single light above the table threw his shadow against the wall as he casually aimed his pistol right between your eyes.

“You were saying, dollface?”

His neatly parted, straight black hair fell across his face when he leaned forward as if the next words out of your mouth would seal your fate. Not that the thought of having to have your blood cleaned from the expensive carpet beneath his expensive shoes seemed to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he’d look almost bored if it weren’t for the dangerous gleam behind his espresso irises.

“I—” You cut yourself off, swallowing roughly and glancing back down at the table. A depleted deck of cards sat in the center, two hands laid out on the surface. One was yours — a ten of diamonds and a ten of clubs — and the other his. A red ace of spades and a black jack of hearts.

You were out of money.

Having bet more than you possessed, you were also out of chances.

“It’s simple. You owe me money as promised,” his deep, baritone voice spoke up casually over the noise of your heart beating through your chest. “Either hand it over, or you won’t be leaving this room alive. Your choice.”

You closed your eyes for a moment too long to be called a blink, and cursed yourself for ever getting into this situation.

One Month Ago

Final Notice of Payment

Ms. L/n,

This is a reminder that you have a balance of $20.54 that is past due. Please make a one time payment no later than—

“Oh, please.” The bill enclosed envelope hit the top of the small, circular dining room table. Or was it the kitchen table? It was hard to tell, seeing as how they were one and the same.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the creaky wooden chair, fingers massaging your temples. That was the third bill you’d come across that morning and every single one of them was the final notice of payment. The last warning they’d give before sending someone to collect what was owed.

It hadn’t always been like that. You hadn’t always been in such an insurmountable amount of debt, not until recently. Two months ago your mother, the last bit of family you had left, died. Passed away clinging to the sheets of the hospital bed she’d been laid up in for the past half a year. Cancer, the doctors had said. From all of the cigarettes she’d burned through in the past decade or so.

Irrecoverable, they’d said.

No amount of “sorry’s” or meaningless condolences could fix the massive amount of money that the hospital billed you. Or the debt that your mother left behind, along with her slim-boned corpse that you’d had to bury in the corner of the city cemetery. Perhaps if you’d known who your father was, you could’ve laid her to rest in the space next to his own, but you didn’t. Weren’t fortunate enough to.

Bills had piled up. Rent for the tiny studio apartment the two of you had shared was demanded by the pigeon-toed old woman who owned the rundown, overpriced building. Her husband had passed away two years ago and ever since then, she’d been relentless. She pounded on your door at approximately eight in the morning everyday, shouting through the thin wood that you had until the week was up to pay what was owed. Otherwise you’d be tossed out onto the street with only the clothes on your back.

Combined with the utility bill and the fact that you still had to come up with the dough to feed yourself, you were trapped. The meagre pennies you got from your waitressing job at the diner three blocks away weren’t nearly enough. Nothing would be enough. Not unless you wanted to sell your body on the street corners in the late of night.

Which you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You’d be more likely to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut than out of debt. The city wasn’t safe for women, less so by those men who saw prostitutes as no more than an object to relieve stress onto. And you refused to become another headline in the paper.

Tossing the opened envelope across the table, you paused when familiar handwriting caught your eye on top of the rest of the mail pile. Addressed to you in a curling script that only ever came from someone who could afford a private tutor. You sighed, carefully sliding a knife along the top to slice it open. A waft of sweet, cherry scented perfume filled your tiny kitchen and you almost rolled your eyes at the unnecessary addition.

Jennie, your oldest friend since high school, always had an inclination for the unnecessary. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold digger for a mother, she’d had nothing else to waste her time on. How you’d even gotten on as friends with such a gap between tax brackets was still a mystery to you. Maybe it was because she’d always used her wealth and status to get the two of you out of trouble. Whether it was from breaking into the school late at night to get wasted in the halls with the rest of her friends, or to get away with slipping things from the corner store into your dress pockets.

She’d always been a rule breaker.

Which was exactly why when you read the contents of the letter, a laugh tumbled from your mouth. It was an invitation to celebrate her upcoming twenty-third birthday in three day’s time. That wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, however, if it weren’t for the location. There wasn’t an exact address, there never was. Just a thin piece of cardboard the size of your hand that fell from the envelope. A playing card — a red ace. One that looked normal except for the center that had the name of a restaurant in the heart of the most rich part of downtown printed on it.

It was a ticket to the most popular underground casino in the whole city. No one knew how to get one, how to get your name onto the list that only catered to the rich and powerful. Located beneath a restaurant, it had grown to be infamous almost overnight since gambling and alcohol was outlawed. Even the coppers knew well enough to leave the establishment alone.

The only way to gain entrance was by flashing a ticket to one of the restaurant staff. That was what you’d heard, at least. You had no idea how May had managed to secure one, let alone enough to cover what you knew would be a large party of her closest friends.

Flicking the corner of the card, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Your mother hadn’t taught you very many things, had been too busy gossiping with her friends over a carton of cigarettes to bother. What she had passed down, however, was her ability to draw cards. To play blackjack with the best of them. That’d been the only thing she’d ever bothered to teach you; when she’d had too many sips of wine and her eyes had glazed over with memories of the life she used to live.

She’d sit you down and make you memorize the names and faces of the cards until you could count them forward and backwards. Could predict what card would be drawn and when. Where she’d learned it, she’d never told you. But that didn’t matter now. Couldn’t, seeing as she was dead and all.

Grinning, you flopped back into your chair.

Maybe you’d be able to pay off your debts after all.

And you had. Paid off your debt, that is.

After clearing out your savings account of the last fifteen dollars you had left to your name, you’d dolled yourself up and gone with Jennie and her friends. Had left the group of flappers tittering and groaning drunk at the line of slot machines at the back of the casino. Calls of bets being placed, dough exchanging for chips, and illegal cocktails pouring into glasses played as a soundtrack.

None of the card tables scattered across the underground establishment held what you’d been looking for. Neither roulette, nor craps, nor slots. The bartender had been the one to tell you where the real games were, where the cash was. A door down a tiny back hallway led to a room where private games were held. If you managed to win at one, he’d told you, then you’d win not only the pot, but an invitation to come back and play again.

Which had been an opportunity that you just couldn’t pass up. No matter the risk.

You’d won.

And now you were addicted.

To the money, the lifestyle, the adrenaline that shot through your veins like a particularly harsh sip of gin. Which was exactly why you’d gone back. Again, and again, and again, every single week for the past month. It wasn’t your fault that it was so easy. So simple to swindle your way into getting your name permanently written down on the entry list.

Oh, and the men.

It was a different group every week, but they weren’t all that dissimilar from one another. They’d sit there and smoke their cigars and drink their whiskey, all while silently mocking you with their eyes. Like they thought they were better than you just because they had a dick between their legs.

You were addicted to that too.

To watching the way their faces would fall in disbelief every single time you cleared the pot and took their money. And how their voices would raise in pitch with their countless complaints about how some lowly broad conned them out of their pocket change. Because that’s all that money was to people like them.

Change.

They were rich. You could tell by the custom suits they wore, the cologne they bathed in, the way they carried themselves. The money they gambled with always had a cap, a max amount that they were willing to bet. And the games never got too crazy, didn’t escalate once they lost to you. Which was a shame really, because you wanted more. Craved more. More of what, you weren’t too sure, but the high that playing brought only lasted so long until you came crashing back down.

Which was exactly when fate decided to change the routine.

“Here to play again, miss?” Felix, the same teenage boy who always manned the door to the gambling room, asked with a slight tilt of his head. His light brunette hair was tucked beneath a bowler hat, different from the usual fedora. Back to the door, he was standing up straight instead of his normal slouch. And the way his mouth was taught around the edges was out of the ordinary as well.

The boy didn’t have a cigarette clenched between his teeth, which should have been enough to set off the bells in your head. But it didn’t. Because you were too bullheaded, had gotten too cocky in the terms of things.

“You know me too well, Felix.” You reached out a hand to pat the lanky boy on his suit clad arm lightly, a smile pulling up at your red painted lips. “Is the usual table ready?”

The volume in the casino wasn’t as loud either, nor were there quite as many patrons. But you’d just chalked that up to the heavy rain pounding a path into the concrete outside. Though the lack of customers did nothing to eliminate the permanent smell of cigarette smoke that lingered, hidden in the walls beneath the fancy looking wallpaper.

“I don’t know if you want to play today, miss.” Felix glanced away from you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You blamed the flickering light in the corner of the hall for the way his freckles stood out amongst his slowly paling cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. Silence lingered in the hall, drowning in the soft jazz music coming from the band on the stage near the back of the joint. It took the raising of your other brow for the underaged boy to finally answer.

“It’s just not a good day for gambling.”

Now that had you leaning forward until you could finally catch his flighty gaze, voice hushed in a playful whisper. “Oh really, how so? Is there a stool-pigeon running about somewhere? Should we be expecting the coppers to come kicking down the door any minute?”

“No. I—”

“Then why can’t I play, Felix?” You were starting to get irritated. The week had been long and you were ready to forget about it all for the next few hours. Buried beneath the weight of a handful of cards and glass full of gin.

Either Felix could see your growing impatience, or there really was something he was hiding, because he stepped even further in front of the door. “You don’t want to play with this group, miss. They aren’t as welcoming as the others are. It’d be best if you just went home.”

“You ca—”

“And what’s going on back here?” That wasn’t Felix’s voice and neither was it yours. You whipped around, surprised at the new addition.

The man behind you had honey brown hair parted and styled carefully until it was brushed back away from his heart-shaped face. Though some of it still hung in front of a single, dark eye. His other was uncovered, a scar running through his eyebrow and cutting it in half. Everything about him was angular, sharp. From his jawline to the slope of his nose and the corners of his full lips.

One look and you already pegged him for a cake-eater, a ladies man, if you’d ever seen one. Hell, he even dressed like he came right off the front cover of one of those Time magazines that littered the newspaper stands on every street corner. With a navy blue suit and perfect, unscuffed shoes.

“No, sir,” Felix attempted to pull the man’s attention from you unsuccessfully. “The missus here was just leaving.”

The Stranger hummed, tilting his head to study you with those sharp eyes of his. “Were you, bunny? Just leaving?”

You couldn’t help the twitch of your nose at the unfavorable nickname, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms with a scoff. “No, I wasn’t. I want to play a few rounds, you see, but he won’t let me.”

Perhaps you should have felt bad for ratting out the kid, but you didn’t. Especially not when the Stranger huffed a laugh, a distinct ha-ha-ha! in amusement. Though there was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Didn’t want to acknowledge. “You want to play a hand of blackjack, is that right?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.” You raised an eyebrow at the man and waved a hand through the air. “I can play.”

“Oh,” He asked, taking a step closer until you had to crane your neck back to meet his imploring gaze. “Playing isn’t cheap.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I can pay too.”

He must have been waiting for that answer if the smirk that pulled at his lips was any indication. And he finally, finally broke eye contact to wave aside the boy behind you. “Well, did the dame make herself clear or not? She wants to play.”

You happened to turn just in time to catch the alarm that flickered across Felix’s face as he stepped to the side to reveal the door behind him. Felix reached out with a ringed hand to twist the brass knob of the door. It swung open without a sound and he gave you a quick, wide-eyed stare filled with a warning you couldn’t interpret, before looking away.

“Well?” The Stranger questioned from over your shoulder. You could smell his cologne now; husky with a hint of sweet orange.

His words were an invitation if you’d ever heard one. And you didn’t want to look like a bluenose, a prude, so you stepped inside without hesitation. Though perhaps you should have taken Felix’s unspoken warning, for you had no idea just what it was that you were walking into.

Inside the cramped room was filled with a haze of cigar smoke, which wasn’t unusual at all. What was, however, was the group of six men sitting at the circular table as you rounded the corner with the Stranger at your back. They were beautiful, all of them. A huge contrast to the usual rabble that came to play. Hell, even underneath the dim light you couldn't spot a single flaw on them.

No one noticed your entrance at first.

Well, at least not until the Stranger cleared his throat. “Gentleman.”

His greeting sounded like it toed somewhere on the line between amusement and respect.

All movement in the room came to a halt as six men looked up from where they’d been bent over the blackjack table. If you’d been a little less prideful and a lot more careful, then perhaps the overbearing confidence that bled from their pores would have given you pause. But as it was, you stood standing, back straight and head held high. Even while their eyes roamed your figure like tigers behind a cage at the zoo right before feeding time.

A pause hovered in the air, lingering with a tension that crawled onto your skin. What seemed like hours passed merely in seconds before it was broken.

“And who’s this?” The question came from the fella who sat in the chair closest to where you stood. He was turned around with his arm propped up on the back of it, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His hair was styled similar to the Stranger’s, though his was darker and the gel pushed through the strands made it gleam silver beneath the dim lamp that hung above the table.

High cheekbones and skin the same color as molten honey, his jaw worked around a piece of gum stuck between his teeth. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth, dark eyes glittering with a touch of interest. With a black and white suit that complimented the shade of his hair, the man was nothing if not a billboard: flashy. Handsome.

“I found bunny here outside arguing with Felix. Something about wanting to play a few rounds of blackjack. Isn’t that right?” The Stranger placed a heavy palm between your shoulder blades. What might have been intended to come off as comforting, only succeeded in making you feel the opposite. Like you were being put on display.

You didn’t let it show on your face. “That’s right.”

“Oh?” Gum Chewer’s smirk grew broader at that, but he said nothing else. Just leaned back in his chair.

“What do you say, should we let her play?” Blond hair, pink kissable lips and dangerous, dangerous eyes. The slim man sitting next to Gum Chewer was attractive in a pretty way that made you envious of his easy-on-the-eyes looks.

While the question may have been asked to the whole room, none of them answered it. Instead they looked towards one of the men sitting in the middle who had yet to speak. If you’d thought the rest of them were a sight for sore eyes, well, they had nothing on him. How your attention hadn’t been drawn to him the moment you walked through the door, you didn’t know.

He wasn’t even looking at you and you already felt tongue-tied. Busying himself with shuffling the cards in his hands against the green felt table, the expensive looking rings adorning his slender fingers caught your eye. He was what your mother would’ve called a timeless beauty. The type of handsome that meant he could walk the streets of the city in nothing but a sack and he’d have women throwing themselves at his feet.

Hair the same shade as a moonless sky made him look intimidating, like he belonged to the shadows themselves. A straight nose, cupid bow lips and long eyelashes that would make any broad jealous; he gave off the type of power that could make even the bravest of men cower at his feet. The longer he took to respond, the more the room grew still. As if your fate was in the hands of a man who’s name you didn’t even know.

Though perhaps it was.

A muffled thud echoed throughout the room as he tapped the deck of cards against the table once, twice, before sliding them over to the fella to his left. Plucking up the glass of scotch in front of him, he finally looked up. And graced you with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, dollface?”

tagged: @bewitch-me @jxngkooksthxghs @kaitswrld @clarissalance @namurkive @ifntelyinspirit @kotaevln @red--aren @ggukkieland @moonlitmyg @i-like-puppy-mg @aianloveseven @drumsofheaven @figurativehoe00 @wonhoandonly @wacdon @hear-me-growl @milaridez7 @1088x1088 @alana-ba @vlntaeg

#bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #magicshopnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #hoseok #seokjin #yoongi

330 notes · View notes