#these three can fit so much angst and conflicting feelings

[artichow]

Mayblade 2023 day 1: The Past

#ehe i posted something after all!!! #mfb #metal fight beyblade #beyblade #beyblade fanart #mfb oc #beyblade oc #ryuga beyblade #reiji mizuchi #the dark nebula trio babyy #these three can fit so much angst and conflicting feelings #mayblade 2023 #ryuga #beyblade metal saga #shoyo beloved

[streets-in-paradise]

Third Fate - Achilles x Fiancee!Reader

Requested by Anon

" Hey, I found your tumblr and I'm loving what you do here, mostly troy. I don't know if you're getting requests, but if you are, you can make one for Achilles based on that scene where he's told he can go and win glory in battle and have his name spoken for centuries or he can stay and be loved, have children, wife? I would love to see Achilles receive more love, with a wife and children. Feel free to make any changes you want, thank you very much in advance."

Hi, anon! I got this way sooner than what i expected because I was really in the mood to write it. The bittersweet mix of angst and fluff was exactly what I wanted to get into this week. Hope you will enjoy it :)

For a lenght concern i kept it in a pre war, pre marriage discussion of the prophecy. If once you read it you happen to like what i wrote here let me know and I can post a continuation showing what happens next ( i originally planned to do so, but it became too long so i prefer to save that for a second part)

Word Count 3.200

Warnings: Standard Achilles sexyness ( no smut, but if you watched the film you understand what I mean with this.) Some aspects of both, the canon of the film and the source material it is based on, were changed to fit the request in my envision of the story.

Summary: Terrible news disrupt the eve of your engagement to Achilles. He is called to fight in Troy and the spectacular war that the gossip foretells seems to be the destiny of greatness he had always dreamed with, but the price he has to pay for it is his happiness with you. The three days ultimatum Odysseus gave him is his moment to decide, but he won't do it without you.

Note: Inspired by two prompts by @creativepromptsforwriting

Prompt 1014 - " Well, the prophecy was a bit unclear about this part."

Prompt 1010 - " Let's not worry about the future. Let's just take this one kiss at a time."

"I like how that sounds."

Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @helie-brain

There was no easy way for him to explain to you what he had just found out. After Odysseus arrived bringing the news of the war in Asia you were already sad thinking of the distance that would keep your fiancé far away from you for an uncertain amount of time, but the real hardships surpassed your expectations. The whispers of fame claimed the conflict escalated enough to become the greatest war your world had ever seen, but you still imagined it as one war like many others he fought before. No matter the challenges found in battle, Achilles would always return to you. 

Except that he wouldn’t,not from Troy. His mother told him of an old prophecy announced before his birth assuring that war would be the peak of his consecration as a hero, but the price for this glorification was his death. From this fact fate allowed him only two options of choice. He could either stay in Greece and be loved during his lifetime knowing history would forget him, or go to Troy to make his name immortal facing his doom. 

To the end of his tale all you could do was cry, convinced that you were losing him forever. All your plans faded in just one instant, the life you dreamed together was gone. 

“ I’m not dead yet, look at me.” He sweetly mocked you. “ How can you be so sure already that I’m here to tell you I’m abandoning you to get myself killed?” 

You could tell he was trying, but that wasn’t making it any better. 

“ If you don’t go, you will regret it. “ Was your dry comeback. “I know you, Achilles. You live to fight, staying away from the battlefield feels to you like a punishment. I can never keep you for long, not even when war calls you to fight other greeks. Why would it be different this time? You were born for this war, not to labrate the fields and raise goats. If Troy is the fate of greatness that you deserve, I can’t ask you to abandon this life purpose for the sake of our wedding.” 

Despite how much he loved to see people worshiping as a hero, he was very aware to be a man in your eyes. Your approach was realistic and showed how well you knew him, much better than some of the men bleeding with him in war. If you fell for him, you did it knowing what to expect. Begging him to change his nature to fit the requirements of peaceful domesticity was never in your plans and you wouldn’t try it even if you were desperate. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to surprise you on occasions, exactly as he did when he proposed to you freshly arrived from the victory against King Triopas and his giant Boagrius. 

“ Do you think I wouldn’t give it all away for you? Then I guess you don’t know me as well as you claim. “ He teased you with insistence. “ I can do well raising horses, I have some magnificent ones already. Do you know that horses are one of the most remarkable exportations of the trojans? If their city gets sacked by greeks and I manage to buy a few of theirs to mix with mine we would get an excellent rare breed. “ 

You cleaned your face and warned him against the mockery. 

“ Don’t play with me! With the memories of your proposal still fresh, fate demands me to let you go. Being your wife is my dream, but I can’t have you knowing I would be destroying everything you worked so hard for. The immortality of your name is a cause bigger than me, the happy marriage we could have had or the children I could have given you. It can’t be a coincidence that this war gets unleashed precisely now, just as we are taking the first step to formalize our union.” 

“ They are pressuring me to choose, it’s true, but the load of this decision lies in the fact that I want both more than anything.” 

Achilles interrupted himself to take your hand, inviting you to abandon the distance you were forcing ever since he began to explain the situation. 

“ I need you by my side, it’s the only vulnerability I have ever allowed myself. A glorifying death doesn’t scare me, but surviving far enough without you would be torture.” 

Your lips parted in sincere amazement for that confession, so unusual of him. 

“ A slow agony. If the war doesn’t kill me first, lovesickness will.” He continued. “ The comfort of lonely men fighting in foreign lands is dreaming with their distant wives at night, the hope of returning to them makes life bearable. I would not have this, from the moment I would board my ship I will be aware you are lost to me. All I would have is the wound of my pierced heart still bleeding love for you and plenty of time to wonder how wonderful it would have been to make you mine… Sooner or later I would lose my mind. Knowing glorious death would be the only comfort already promised to me, I would roam the battlefield searching for it. It’s most likely I would perform incredible acts worthy of being remembered, but I would do it as the insane man who is desperately looking for the warrior meant to kill him. The poets would write for centuries about the madness of Achilles.” 

“ Aren’t they singing that already? Many people have described you as a madman.” You teased him, unsure of how to comfort him. “ Not that I mind, but that is a fact.” 

“ They have no idea, unfulfilled passion would consume me in such an incredible way that Paris would feel a reasonable man hearing about me.” 

He dragged you even closer so he could hold you in his arms and you fell for his touch chuckling sweetly. 

“ Would you be competing against both princes at once while fighting the trojans?” 

“ The warrior prince and the lover boy wish they could compare to me, I win in each one of their expertise areas. “ He followed your provocation, then whispered at you. “ I fight as fiercely as I love. “ 

You bit your bottom lip to avoid an audible response, but your flustered face was speaking for you. For an instant you felt as if nothing had changed between you and you have never heard the terrible omens. 

“... Maybe that’s why no woman is meant to have you, the great goddesses would be jealous. “ You theorized out loud while caressing his cheek. “ It’s too much, like Icharus flying too close to the sun… Although I would be lying if I deny I would gladly burn and fall for you.” 

Achilles stopped the flow of words taking your breath away with kisses that numb your senses, but not your mind. He had the habit of expressing important things in short, ambiguous phrases or not saying anything at all. When the hungry kissing began to escalate and you felt his hands roaming the sides of your body you understood that was his answer. If he would be saying goodbye, he would at least try to keep himself distant to make it easier for both of you. Given that his involvement on the war would ruin your chances to formalize, he would be encouraging you to find someone else. 

 He was pulling up your skirt slowly, evidently searching for the heat underneath. The opposite of what you would need from him if he would be about to leave you, so you stopped him right away because you realized what that meant. 

" This isn't the time to act impulsively. I know you love me as strongly as i love you, but you have to choose what truly matters the most to you. If you decide to stay, others will be making history and maybe the pleasures of the thalamus will not be enough to cure the resentment for what you will be missing. Think carefully, hearts can change and the future wife you adore now can one day become the load that brought you down. " 

Although a sensical objection, that didn't seem to preoccupy him much. 

" Never, you were made for me. The omens were very clear, staying grants me a blissful life with you for the price of letting my name fade. I have only two options: be loved and forgotten or waste my life following the fool's orders until death will reward me with immortal glory. Between spending the rest of my life with you or with Agamemnon, I think it's clear where I would rather be. "

The sacrifice was too great, ultimate proof of his love for you. Behind that relaxed phrasing Achilles attempted to de-dramatize giving up his biggest personal dream for the one you shared, what you still considered wasn’t fair. 

Responding with an equal offer was not only what your heart began to crave, but an alternative solution neither of you had considered. 

“ There has to be another way, your mother never said what I must do in all of this.” 

He wasn’t sure of where you wanted to point, but began to suspect it. 

“ Well, the prophecy was a bit unclear about this part.” 

The mischievous happiness renewed in your eyes let him know you had just found hope in the most insane of places. 

“ Don’t give me that look, this is what happens for leaving you a while alone with Odysseus! Now you think you can outsmart destiny and find me a third end.” 

You smirked with pride before presenting your idea. 

“ I can’t interfere with yours, only my own. If no part is clearly stated for me in this sacred command sent to you, then nothing stops me from choosing one. Instead of having you abandon your dream to stay with me, I’ll follow it with you.” 

His eyes were wide open staring at you, disbelief making him feel you were then playing with him. 

“ Are you telling me we could just get married and board the ship to Troy the morning after our wedding night? What kind of honorable nuptials would that be? When all the wives of the country would be giving their farewell to their husbands, would you follow me like slaves are meant to? War holds no virtuous position for a woman to occupy, it would be a stain to your reputation your parents would curse me for. “ 

“ If your baby cousin can go, so can I.” You justified yourself.” To stop me you will have to stop Patroclus and we know that is not going to happen.” 

The exactitude of your threat made him feel frustrated. Not because he wouldn’t love having you with him, but since he was refusing to publicly humiliate you like that. All Greece would know you were going to be the only wife following her husband to Troy for unexplainable reasons and they could judge your morals. Decent wives were meant to wait for their husbands and take care of their homes, not let passion distract them from their social duties. War camps were masculine places meant to be despised by the women, since their only female presence was typically in a state of degradation. Besides, Helen had already caused a moral breach shaming the greek concept of marriage and that was the reason pushing the fight. People would be judgemental of your relationship, they would question you for immorality and him for lacking authority to make you stay like a normal wife should. 

He wasn’t thinking about him anymore, of protecting his name and the weight of his masculine prestige. He was extremely worried about you and the consequences it could bring when he wouldn’t be there to protect you. 

“ Do you sincerely want to go to Troy and watch me die?” 

“ It’s still better than watching you sail knowing you will never come back.” You terminated in response . “ I have heard the city is built to withstand a ten year siege, enough time for us to have a life together before destiny will reclaim you.” 

Arguing with you was hard, even if the idea was insane you would find ways to make it sound logical. 

“ A camp on the trojan beach is no place to start a family. “ He replicated softly, just letting you know he was trying to make you understand you couldn’t ask that. “ What are we going to do when the children come? Because they will, eventually. If you become my wife no omen of death is going to stop me from making love to you.” 

You smirked innocently, ready to deliver a justification. 

“ I'm not naive, Achilles! Do you think I don’t know what happens in those camps? Captives get pregnant all the time, so it's not impossible to go through it there. It may not be ideal, but I can make it. If you would leave me here and break our relationship to protect me from your fate, you could still put a baby inside your finest war trophy girl.” 

“ And who said I’m leaving?” He questioned you. “ I’m not doing it and I am not breaking up with you. Now stop with this nonsense, my wife can’t be giving birth surrounded by death.” 

“ But trojan women can? Because births aren’t going to stop there. “ You insisted, sitting near and acting as if you were two civil parts on a trial. “ Hector has a baby boy, if he can be a father in this mess so can you.” 

The provocation made him hold a groan, but he turned back and kicked the nearest surface as a frustration release outlet. 

“ It’s different for him, his wife is a princess and they have a city to defend. “ He tried to articulate in fast speaking, doing all he could to not show signs of anger growing because of your stubbornness. “ I don’t want you to have the life of a war captive, to denigrate yourself for me.” 

It was very sweet, you were feeling his pain but he had to understand yours too. 

“ As long as you are still breathing I will not accept a life without you. When the time comes I will embrace grief, but I’ll cry for you as your widow. In the meantime I don't want no one else, I’ll have the ground of your tent as thalamus and I’ll have your children.” 

He gave a few steps towards you, presenting one more solid concern. 

“ What will be of all of you when I'm gone?” 

That should have been a strong preoccupation making you desist, but it didn’t. 

“ We will be alright. They will inherit your share of the sacking, we know your death is linked to the fall of Troy so I can assume we will win something. Given that the House of Aeacus would possess fresh new heirs to renew the bloodline, I may even be able to bargain with Agamemnon the throne of Phthia for one of them. He hates you, but he would not be politically capable to refuse if you become the maximum fallen hero of the war he just won.” 

At that point he felt true powerlessness because he just couldn’t convince you out of it for your own good. 

“ They can’t grow in a warzone, think of the ruthless people they will become.  Those kids would not know any better until it would be too late for them. I don’t want a soulless soldier as heir, people saying Achilles’ son has surpassed the brutality of the father.” 

“ Let our little monsters run free through the camp, they will turn out fine if we guide them right. “ You imagined out loud, not scared at all by the dark warning. “ I can’t wait to see them messing around, you will be in tears the first time one of them will grab a wooden sword trying to copy their father.” 

Illusion was starting to make his negative stance harder to maintain, he loved what you were saying. It sounded so wonderful that he couldn’t help find some sensical feeling in it. There was only one detail you haven’t solved for his resistance to fall completely. 

“ How would I fight the enemy worried for you? You will be the only married woman around thousands of men and although I'm terrifying to most of them, I can’t keep control at all times. Some of those men will not be myrmidons, they will not know who you are.” 

“ That’s the best part: I’ll keep Patroclus bussy.” You announced with excitement, knowing well he wouldn’t resist it. “ I know you don’t trust him in an open battleground yet, but he would not accept being left behind so you have to take him or he would never forgive you. With me on board you have a safe mission to give him that would keep him away from combat but still make him feel a hero. By the time you will judge him ready to charge into battle my presence will be naturalized and his vigilant eye won’t be needed anymore.” 

Hope was truly hitting him because he started to feel as if the crazy plan could work if you all would make it work out. Most of the persons he loved the most could be with him for the rest of his lifetime, making the surviving gap before the consecration worth living. His little cousin, his best friend and his wife along with his future children all gathered like some warrior family. 

A taste of happiness before the end, walk the two roads simultaneously into a third fate. 

“ Blessed be your stubbornness, you wonderful woman! “ He praised you, surprise making his attitude switch as he rushed towards you. “ How can you be in every detail? You are insane, but I love you. I don’t deserve you, I can’t believe this.” 

He made you smile and by that point you knew you were about to win. 

“What exactly? My incredible ingeniousness, my gorgeous looks?” 

“ That you love me so much, '' He admitted, then picked you up bridal style. “ That you will be my wife and I will brag about having you to both greeks and trojans. I will not rest until you will be the most honored person in that camp alongside me, your sacrifice will be part of my legend and maybe that will be my start to repay you. “ 

His immense gratitude was making you chuckle due to the unusual intensity, but he wouldn’t stop. 

“ I’ll love you to my last breath, I promise you that.” 

You were all smiles while caressing the strands of hair falling at the sides of his face. 

“That’s all I want. No other payment you can offer matters to me because my will for sacrifice comes from love, just like yours.” You purred blissfully. “ Let’s not worry about the future, let’s just take this one kiss at a time.” 

Mesmerized as he was, he replied against your lips. 

“ I like how that sounds.” 

#troy 2004 #achilles #brad pitt #achilles x reader #brad pitt x reader #troy #troy (2004)

[cgogs]

dear atlas, c!dnf | 4.7k | angst with a happy ending

@dreblrsecretsanta for @purpleglitch !! Sorry for the early upload, it's just that I'm about to be BEYOND busy for the holidays and figured I'd upload this now while I have time. I hope you enjoy it so much!! Happy holidays to you <3

Each step up the castle tower sends a razor-sharp, bone-deep bolt through Dream’s legs. It’s his boot’s fault, mostly. He’s been meaning to replace them, it’s just that every hour more important things are added to his to-do list. Mediate this conflict, protect George, meet with someone here, monitor status on this, go here, deliver that, and try not to die until the day’s itinerary is complete.

Shopping just isn’t a high priority, but he’s beginning to reconsider that sentiment. He really should just give in and invest in another horse, but it would probably just be killed within a month and they’re just far too expensive for that. 

His armor clinks quietly as he moves, uneven and exhausted. A small part of him alerts like a guard dog– straighten up, nobody can know you’re vulnerable, anyone could hear how hurt you are– but another painful step quiets the barking. He traps the groan behind his teeth.

Dream stops for a moment to lean against the wall, hand braced on where the candelabra fixture hooks into the stone. This spiral staircase is dearly kicking his ass, more so than usual. Without the climb to focus on or the pain to blur his vision, he has the opportunity to take in his surroundings.

The castle is quiet, quieter than usual, candles burning low and dripping on the floor. Moonlight cuts through the windows at an angle sharper than it should. 

Dream pulls his communicator from his belt to check the time, a curse slipping out under his breath as the numbers meet his eyes. It’s nearly three in the morning. He’s coming home late. Very late. They talked about this, Dream promised he’d try to get home earlier. 

Guilt settles thick in his gut, despite barely having the brainpower to feel much of anything at all other than exhaustion. He blows the stray hairs out of his eyes, chuffing like an annoyed horse.

Four nights ago, George had been waiting behind the door at the top of the tower. Dream knew he was in trouble before George even opened his mouth. He was holding a clock and asked Dream to guess how late it was. When he guessed wrong, George shoved it in his face, too close to even see the hands, and angrily proclaimed it was nearly one in the morning, and that Dream had been coming home at one in the morning every night the last week after spending all day ‘doing god knows what, who knows where.’

Dream had done his best to be earnest and honest, as much as he could be. If George had it his way and was privy to every little thing Dream did, he’d be stoned in the street or tied to a pyre. Dream’s not sure what events would bridge the gap between these two truths, but he knows it would happen.

He had told George he would try, but that he had so much to do this week. George was anxiously picking at his cuticles the way he did when he was thinking hard, and asked him to promise he wouldn’t come home later than this. Dream thought he’d be able to. And, yes, he’s sorry he broke his promise but… it’s all so important. So important.

He hadn’t meant to let time get away from him. He just had so much to do, and so many stupid things got in the way, Tubbo and Fundy, then Q… and he got in a scrape on his way back and it was all just so fucking stupid.

Guilt grows like a vine up his throat.

He’s sorry. He thinks about what he’s going to say, how he’ll explain himself. He can’t grip on a coherent sentence or script, eyelids heavy like mud, mind fuzzy, feet aching.

Maybe it’ll be fine. George will be asleep, and they can talk about it in the morning. He’ll open the door and see dark hair splayed over feather pillows, still as death. Dream will strip his armor and curl into his body and fit whatever position George fell asleep in, and he’s so excited for it. Though currently, he’s not sure which lover he’s looking forward to seeing more– the bed or the boy.

The last seven days have felt like seven years.

Wax drips onto his fingers. Wincing, he takes another painful step forward. Suddenly things like guilt and excitement were as far away and abstract as distant planets or stars. 

Dream nearly falls through the door when he reaches the summit. He catches his breath, straightens his posture, and prepares to get ready for bed without waking his king. 

He opens the door as quietly as possible. Thankfully, it squeals only a little bit. He tiptoes in, craning his head to look at the boy already fast asleep. He’s curled all the way to the edge of his side of the bed, back facing the door. Dream wonders if it means something. 

He unhooks his cloak first, folding it gently on the table in the middle of the room. It’s a large room that can fit a round dinner table, as well as bookcases and couches and a fireplace. The kinds of things George doesn’t appreciate as much as Dream thought he would.

The boots are next to go, then his sword and his axe, then armor one by one until he’s stripped to his pants and shirt. After a moment’s thought, he shucks off his pants. Shirt and boxers. He looks at the bed and practically salivates, not even thinking to bother with changing his bandages. He sets his comm on the bedside table and attempts to lift a leg to climb in.

Dream’s legs wobble and give out as soon as he leans his weight on the bed. He collapses onto his side, a symphony of pained noises trapped behind the cage of his teeth. He looks up, wide-eyed, to see if he’s woken his Sleeping Beauty. George remains still as a corpse. 

He rather pathetically pulls himself up to spoon him, arm laying limply over George’s side. A sigh of utter relief slides out of his lungs as his chest decompresses. It’s relief like an ice bath in the desert or hot soup in the snow.

The bed is soft on his aching body, George’s sweatpants soft on his bare, bruised legs. Dream drags his calves to tangle with his, allowing himself a relieved whimper into the crook of George’s neck. He sometimes teases George for dressing like he’s living in constant winter, but really he wouldn’t change it for the world. It means soft hugs when he drags his miserable body into bed at the end of the day. If he didn’t wear his sweaters, George wouldn’t be able to cradle his head in his sleeves when he’s bleeding, and Dream wouldn’t be able to bite down on the thick fabric when he had to scream. 

He feels the tension in his body slowly unwind. Every breath has him sinking further and further into the mattress, a taut string slowly, slooowly let to rest. He pulls George closer, hooking his arm tighter around his waist. If he wasn’t used to it it might feel a little like cuddling a corpse. 

That dog in the back of his mind starts growling again. Telling him to check, check, check. 

Dream obliges since it’s a simple request, and he knows he’ll never be able to sleep otherwise. He slides his fingers down George’s arm to find his wrist, pressing on his pulse point. It takes a few adjustments, but he finds that steady beating pressing against the pads of his fingers. Alive. Safe. The last requirement needed to sleep is fulfilled. Dream sighs, nuzzling his head against George’s neck, hand still loosely wrapped around the bone of George’s wrist. 

The midnight air is clear and cool. Dream is warm and holding the love of his life. Nothing outside that horrible wooden door matters here. Nothing else matters. No blood, no bone, no war. Just George.

That is, until he hears the unmistakable sound of his communicator buzzing against the table behind him. Dream ignores it at first, but it comes again and again. His eyebrows knit in frustration. He buries his nose further into the dark space between George’s neck and the pillow, like he could outrun the nagging in the back of his mind. 

It vibrates again, breaking Dream’s resolve. He groans miserably, more than half asleep, as he untangles himself to reach back for the comm. His vision is blurry with sleep, making it near impossible to read the screen until he’s blinked a dozen times. The light of the screen shines too bright for how dark it is. He uses a hand to shield George’s direction so it won’t wake him.

It’s Punz. Punz, in code, telling him he’s finished the reconnaissance he’d been told to do two days ago. Updates on the pet experiments, no luck yet. Their theory about the revive book being exclusive to human souls is seeming more and more solid, but that’s not something he wants to be thinking about at the moment. 

<Dream> thkx

<Dream> domt text me this lat e

He fumbles the buttons, accidentally sending Punz a string of gibberish before giving up entirely on typing a coherent goodbye. He’s about to throw the device down and shove his nose back into the crook of George’s neck when the body next to him begins to tremble.

Dream stares for a moment, wondering if he’s hallucinating from lack of sleep. Then there’s a hiccup, followed by two sharp breaths, both so quiet Dream would have missed them if he wasn’t holding his breath. 

“George?” Dream whispers, voice wrecked from all the yelling he’d done today. He drops the comm on the bed so he can lay his full hand on George’s shoulder. He could be having a nightmare, but he’s not sure. All he knows is that he wants to fix it. “George?”

George gives up on keeping it in and starts crying honestly. Whiny but guttural, more hurt than angry– but it’s with his teeth, not throat. Dream sits up in bed, the exhaustion that had been possessing him instantly chased away. 

“B–by?” Dream whispers, word cracked in two from his shredded voice. “What’s wrong?”

He feels like an idiot trying to catch something that’s about to fall, chasing it around with his arms outstretched. He wants to fix this, but doesn’t know how. George is mad, he can tell, but he’s hugging himself, and that isn’t something George does when he’s mad. It’s something he does when he’s scared. 

“You’re safe.” Dream rubs his arm, pushes those beautiful brown curls out of his face, watches the tears fall over the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here.”

“Why’d’you– why’d you lie to me?” George says, strangled. He seems to decide crying is stupid and embarrassing, because he furiously wipes at his eyes. “Why are you always lying to me?”

Dream bites his lip anxiously. The same guilt from the hallway lacquers his insides again. 

“I didn’t– I’m– I didn’t lie. I lost track of time. I’m sorr–”

“You’re lying to me.” George sits up, eyes red and stubborn. He’s pulling his thoughts together to form an argument, Dream can see the gears turning. “You’re hiding things.” 

“I’m, that– okay, just. What am I lying about?”

“Where you go all day!” George has grabbed a pillow to hug, rocking himself back and forth. Dream thinks, briefly, that he looks cute. He wants to hold him, but the way they’re sitting is classic parley formation, facing each other with crossed legs, knees touching. Neither of them can cross the middle line until the argument is over. That’s just how they do things. “I don’t– I don’t know exactly what, but…”

“I’m not lying to you about where I go. I have a lot of projects, and I’m helping–”

“I know. I know. Helping, helping, helping. Fingers in a lot of pies.” George puts up an honorable fight against the wetness in his voice, still furiously wiping his tears. The skin under his eyes has turned an irritated pink. “But why? Why do you have to do so much? You’re my knight. I’m your king. You should be with me.”

George has a way of shooting arrows straight through him. Dream rubs his eyes as the words dig into his gut. His voice sounds defeated already. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Dream. Like, I– I just don’t understand…”

“Yeah, you don’t.” His voice breaks and turns quiet halfway through, like he could’ve softened the blow.  He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s just tired of this same argument, over and over. It’ll be over soon. So soon. He wishes George would just believe him.

George’s expression screws into desperation, fingers digging into his pillow. “Then tell me! Just, tell me, Dream. I’m not– stupid, I can understand things. I’m not stupid.”

It’s not that Dream is angry. It’s just that he’s tired beyond tired and this is the only time of the day he doesn’t have to wear his armor. The one room where nothing else matters but the people who occupy it. He burrows his head in his hands. 

“Why don’t you trust me, Dream? Did I do something wrong?”

“Why don’t you trust me? Why don’t you just–” 

“Because I can’t even trust you to keep a super simple promise! I’m– you can’t expect me to just, like, be fine with never getting to see you.”

“Well maybe if you tried to be king even a little bit, I wouldn’t have to go do all your shit for you.”

George damn near barks, sharp and angry. Dream watches his mouth form the beginning of a thousand different sentences, hands clenching into fists before his expression breaks entirely. His angry grimace turns into a quivering frown, eyes wet with fear, voice pitched and tight.

“Are you cheating on me?”

Dream feels like he’s swallowed a bucket of ice. His back straightens as he shoots up. Instantly, he regrets antagonizing him. He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s lined with dog teeth.

“No! What? Absolutely not.” He wants to break the rules to touch him. So he does. His side stings as he leans to brush his fingers against George’s knuckles. “Never.”

Whatever angry force of nature George had been channeling before is dying now, Dream can see it fading in his eyes. Fading into some kind of relief. Maybe it was the reassurance, or the touch, but something is pacified.

“Did someone tell you that? Or make a joke?” He knows people don’t have many kind things to say about him these days. George picks at his cuticles, rocking slightly. Dream rocks with him a bit, too.

“No. I guess. Not really…” He sniffles. There’s a stiff silence. Dream searches his eyes, trying to read his mind. “I’m sorry. I’m just crazy.”

“What happened?”

“I just really wanted you to come home tonight. I stayed up.” George shrugs hopelessly, looking anywhere that isn’t Dream. “You have to understand from my perspective. I never see you, and then when I do see you you get into bed and start texting someone else. This isn’t the only time it’s happened.”

“It was just Punz,”

“I don’t care. I don’t care. Not, not my point.” George stresses, “you swore you’d be my knight but you don’t even. Knight. And I guess it’s whatever because I don’t really king either. But I… miss you. I miss you.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth like an idiot fish, trying to find a way to comfort him but not make a promise he can’t keep. George waits for it. It never comes. They both feel it when the other gives up on a solution. Defeat on both sides. 

They look at the sheets silently. Their knees rub together. Moonlight makes the room glow, lines the edges of George’s hair in silver.

His voice is small when he speaks next. “Where were you tonight?”

Dream was going to lie so he wouldn’t worry him, but. “I had some trouble with monsters. I got pinned down in the forest. I’m sorry.”

George scoffs. Somehow, Dream knows the frustration isn’t directed at him. “Oh my god. That’s not even your fault.”

“I don’t know. I could have texted you or something. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

George wipes his nose with the edge of his pillow. Dream would think it was gross if it was anyone else. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I’m not around. I want to be. This, it’ll all be over soon. Things will settle down.”

“Does it have to be you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

George nods weakly. He knows he won’t get a better answer. Dream doesn’t have a better one to give him. He’s too tired. 

“And you’re not cheating on me?”

“You are the prettiest thing in the whole world. I’d be an idiot.” He doesn’t know if flattery will get him far, but he can see the corners of George’s mouth flicker, and that’s enough. “You’re the only one that would put up with me anyway.”

“Why is your voice so messed up?” George lays his pillow back down on the bed. His legs unfold and he moves to lay back down. Dream wants to scoot closer, but thinks twice. There’s a moonbeam shining there. He doesn’t want George to see his legs. 

“Screamed a lot.”

“Why?”

“Scaring people to cut their shit out.”

“Mmh.”

This is George’s script for end-of-day. It doesn’t have a lot of heart this time. Dream is realizing it never truly did. He feels bad. George lays his hand in the empty space, beckoning him to come forward or lay down. Dream doesn’t move. He sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay? Did… Dream, are you hurt?”

He’s an idiot for thinking he could keep it from George, of all people. But he didn’t want to worry him.

“Uh. Well, yeah. But it’s okay. I promise. I already treated it.” Dream knows this won’t work. He tries to lay down, legs twitching through the pain. George clocks it immediately, propping himself up on his forearms.

“Show me.” 

It’s not a request. So, Dream does. He pulls his legs into the light in all their bruised glory. His foot, the one that was giving him the most trouble, is a far deeper shade of purple than he anticipated. 

George runs his fingers over each bruise, marble white and cold as stone. His expression is stone. He must spot a hint of bandage from under Dream’s shirt, because his eyes flit from his bruises to his side, and Dream knows the jig is up.

“I promise it’s okay. I promise, George.” Not that his promises mean anything. 

George must think so too. He ignores him in favor of gently pulling up his shirt, spying the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his middle. Dream hisses when the fabric of his shirt catches on the gauze. George frowns.

“Why would you let me just yell at you for being late? You should have told me.” 

“To be fair. I was late.”

“To be fair. You were wounded. You literally got jumped.” 

George gives it an apologetic look, tracing the blood stains with the tips of his fingers. Guilt doesn’t look good on him, but Dream doesn’t know how to fix it. 

“Change those first thing when you wake up.” George sets his shirt back in place. He gently tugs on Dream’s neck to lay down. Nothing sounds better. “And don’t jump around and stuff.”

“I know.”

They curl up together, noses nearly pressing. It’s faint in the dark, but Dream can see the pitiable expression on his face. Thin, cold fingers come to rest on Dream’s jaw. Dream holds his hip in return. Equal and fair, reciprocated and even. George searches his eyes for an anchor, something to respond to. He just looks sadder and sadder as the minutes press on.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I just miss you.”

It’s hard for Dream to whisper back. “I miss y–u too.”

“Do you really?”

“This is my favorite part of the day. Getting to hold you. ‘N be held by you.”

The fingers on his jaw twitch. George’s thumbs cradle his face. Dream watches his face carefully. Though he knows every curve and edge and nasty imperfection of George’s being, it only hits him in moments like this just how much he has to protect. The whole world fits in the curve of his arms. The whole world has a kiss like a nine-volt battery and fury like a god. The whole world waits for him to come home every day, hoping he’s in one piece. Dream wonders if the world knows he’s trying to save it. 

“I love you.” George whispers, barely tethered to the waking world. Maybe he realized he hadn’t said it when they were fighting, or after they decided to stop fighting. Maybe it's the last thing he thinks before going to sleep, and the first thing he thinks in the morning. Maybe it was coating the back of his throat like Dream’s guilt coats his, and he just had to tell him.

“I’m sorry.” Dream kisses him. “I love you.”

George falls asleep with tear tracks that have just barely dried. Dream wipes them away with his thumbs, admiring how peaceful he looks. 

Dream sleeps like the dead, but wakes with the dawn no matter what. He lingers in the warmth for a while before the sun’s light is too much to bear. Properly waking up to pain first thing in the morning is beginning to be a more and more common occurrence. His legs pulse with every beat of his heart, and his side isn’t much better. There’s a few droplets of blood on the sheets, which is what finally gets him to untangle himself from the mess of limbs that snaked around him in the night. 

George stirs lightly, but it’s unlikely he’ll truly wake before eight. Dream gently tugs at the arms around his neck, and they retract with a sleepy, confused mumble.

“I have to change these bandages.” Dream whispers against his temple. 

George makes an agreeable noise before moving to hug his pillow instead. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Dream spends the morning planning his mental itinerary. But also, redressing his wounds, and trying to figure out what to do with his legs. Salve, maybe. A healing potion, but he’s running low and wants to save them for an emergency. Besides, he took a few sips when it happened. It should be fine.

He’s supposed to get up now and meet with Punz. And then work on the book, and then go here and do this, and patrol that. But his legs just won’t move. 

He thinks, maybe for one day, he can spend it doing nothing. Besides, he actually is wounded. He does need to recoup. It’s not an excuse, yeah?

He wants to make it up to George. He’s not much of a romantic, and really he sucks shit at being a boyfriend, but he knows one thing that always makes George smile. The big toothy kind that makes his cheeks pink. He wants to see it before he has to get back to work.

Dream leaves a note on his side of the bed telling him that when he wakes up he should go to the hill outside. The one with the big tree.

Dream hobbles himself to the florist. He hopes that with his mask and baggy clothes, Niki won’t notice his limping. A dozen red roses. By the time he’s gotten there and halfway back, he’s convinced himself he’s walked off his bruising. 

Under the oak tree on the hill overlooking the castle, Dream spies a red cape blowing in the wind, and the glint of gold. The person faraway raises a hand over their eyes to peer, then uses his entire arm to wave at him hugely. It makes Dream laugh. 

They hurry to meet each other. George just seems excited to see him, like he always seems to be, except late at night when he’s already too angry. George doesn’t leave the shade, but he holds out his hands for Dream to take so he can pull him up the hill. Dream gives him one arm, the other holding the bouquet behind his back. 

“Wow. You’re actually in the sun. I never see that.”

“I got you something. I’m, uh, making it up to you.”

George pauses, wide eyed, trying to lean to see what’s behind his back. 

“It’s not a puppy, right?”

“What? No. What? Why would I get you a puppy?” Dream keeps turning to keep him from seeing. He can feel his own smile cracking his face. 

“I don’t know, I got scared! Now gimme.” George tries to blindly reach behind him. Dream grabs his wrist and pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist. George smiles at him smugly.

“Not even a thank you or anything?”

“I don’t know what it is yet, idiot. You haven’t given it to me.” George’s busy hands settle for pushing his mask up, instead. The breeze feels cool on the light layer of sweat that’s formed on his forehead. George smiles warmly at his face. It’s a smile Dream doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. But not the exact one he’s aiming for.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Ohh, you want me to give it to you? Here? Outside??”

“Oh, shut up! Show me. I demand it. As your king.” He tilts his head regally, crown glinting in the light that’s casted through the leaves. Dream almost forgets they ever had a fight at all.

Dream pulls the flowers from behind his back and presses them to George’s chest. He tries to give him a smile with it, but knows it probably looks a bit forced. George doesn’t seem to notice at all, face erupting into a smile nearly immediately. The smile. Dream can’t help but stare.

Dream thinks this must be what sunbathing is meant to feel like.

“Dream! I love it. I looove it.” George hugs them close, still beaming. Dream thinks he understands religion. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Huh? Oh. I’m sucking up.”

George laughs. Takes a brief break, then laughs again. “You’re so stupid.”

“I wanted to cheer you up.” Dream rubs his thumb on his side idly, soaking in the feeling. 

“You derailed your whole day just to get me flowers?”

“Uhhh, well. I canceled my whole day to recover from my grievous wounds. My life threatening injuries. Oh no. “ Dream spins them a bit dramatically, just to make George laugh. There’s a few rose petals on the ground.

“Oh, you need someone to kiss it bett– wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. Hey, what was that you were offering just now?”

“You’re not doing anything today?”

Dream shakes his head. George’s face lights up. 

“Stay!” He blurts, “You should stay. Stay here. With me. I’ll kiss the stupid boo-boos better.”

“I don’t have anywhere better to be.” Dream shrugs, casual, aloof. “And I like kisses. Sure.”

Unexpectedly, lips crash into his. All of George’s weight crashes into him, really. Arms snake around his neck, and he tries to support them both before he realizes George is trying to make them fall. He goes limp, letting George tackle him into the grass. George is still kissing him. He pulls Dream’s neck to the side, which Dream allows because he hadn’t realized they were on the edge of the hill.

He yells into George’s mouth as they go tumbling, wrapping his arms around George’s head to make sure he doesn’t hit it. Someone is laughing, maybe both of them, as they spin and spin and spin and leave a trail of petals behind. 

The world finally comes to a stop with George cradled on top of him, gloved hand still covering the back of his head. 

George sits up, looming over Dream’s face, laughing like the whole world is laughing with him. Dream might have gotten the wind knocked out of him. The sun is eclipsed by George’s hair, a halo hanging behind him. His actual crown has probably rolled further away, but neither of them can care about such stupid things when there’s so much in front of them. 

Dream breaks the mirage to sit up and kiss him. Then kiss him again. There’s a buzzing in his back pocket, but it’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Today, the world loves red roses and fits in the curve of his arms.

#c!dnf #my writing

[theficblog]

HEARTS [chapter one]

CHAPTER ONE: WHAT ARE WE?

Pairing: Jeno x Reader [ ft. Jaemin, Haechan, Chenle, Renjun ]

Prologue: Jeno is just another friend, is all that you have been thinking, denying your feelings. It’s better to shut the emotions of the heart than to lose him. What happens when he learns a secret?

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU + Suggestive + Fluff + Angst 

Wordcount: 2,547

Warnings: Suggestive Content [ rough + angry sex + nudity + biting + making out + moaning ] Language

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And perhaps falling off a bridge would hurt lesser than falling for a friend. Your head and your heart would ultimately be confused and conflicted by an enigmatic companion. - The morning was unconcerned with the impending alarms, the warm yellow rays of the sun rising above the horizon were concealed by the heavy black curtains. An aura of sloth, sultriness, and wilderness floated in the room like the aroma of a freshly baked cake. The only source of light was the mood lamp that had been projecting the same seductive crimson and tuscany hues since the previous night.

Jeno hovered over you, placing kisses as he worked his hips just right. You gripped his face with your hands, soaking up every pleasure he gave you. It felt as though the world was dying since the two of you had been going about this business for so long and the only thing on your minds was getting each other to scream and react physically. You were familiar with every inch of his body like a road map that you had memorised, and you were also aware of the vital spots where even a light touch from your flesh would send him into a fit. Jeno was skilled in the same domain.

"How the fuck did you manage to cover me in so many hickeys?" Jeno voiced as he rolled over his side, engulfing you in his arms as he nuzzled his face into yours.

"I don't even like biting but there's something about you, I can't control myself." You replied, letting out soft moans as he brushed his fingers against your naked body.

"Why is it so soft?" He gushed, bringing himself nigher. He started to place kisses all over your bare arm.

"You really like my moisturizer, huh?" You made a joke, which caused the boy to giggle softly yet deeply.

The alarm went off, signalling it was too late and better for you to be out of bed. Yet, it was difficult to come out of the dreaminess of addictive acts with Jeno.

"You ought to go." He twisted his legs around yours and tightened the grasp after hearing what you said, which made him pout.

"Can we not just stay like this? I love it so much." Jeno tried his best to earn a yes from you but even after domestic dynamics between the two of you, what you had with him was still not bound by any official terms of a relationship.

"Lee Jeno, think of skipping one more class and you're dead meat." You declared, pushing him away by the chest. He finally got up, his back offered you a spectacular view as he put on his hoodie. He was hot.

-

The classes began as usual. The vibe of the weekend could be felt and seen on everyone's faces as they walked towards their lecture halls. College was about to end soon, unlike the day that would turn out to be a long one. 

Jeno came sprinting from behind, tapping you on the shoulder. "Lend me the notes from the past week. What did we do?"

You handed him a folder as you both kept walking. "Only if they taught football." He thanked you. 

"Even if they did you'd barely come to class." You commented as you took his hand in his. He wore a plain blue shirt over a white tee and that was enough for the rest of the onlookers to feel jealous of you. 

-

Business Majors was as dull as it sounded.

Where had the last three years gone? It would sound cliche to anyone but it in fact did feel like yesterday that you bumped into this athletic guy, the exchange of glances and phone numbers gradually led to things heating up between you. Matters started to range from baseball games to bedrooms.

-

But who was Jeno? A lover? A friend? An acquaintance? That's the complicated part. Friends with benefits. 

What everybody else thought was contrasting. For them, you two were the hottest couple on the campus. After all, you did everything a couple would do and the best thing to do when unfounded rumours keep coming up like a creeper is to ignore them and take pleasure in the drama.

-

"Had you been three minutes late I could've won a new pair of headphones?" A young boy who had donned a red jacket with fluffy brown hair, seated right in front of your row cried.

"Don't you already have more than enough?" You questioned seating yourself and placing your supplies on the desk.

"Renjun, explain." He elbowed the other one beside him.

"He made a bet. Lost again, of course." Another boy in yellow explained. He didn't seem to be in the mood to skip the lecture and squander it engaging in the gossip and petty bickering that you and your friend loved.

"Haechan! Grow up!" You jokingly hit his head.

"Over there!" With a harshness in his voice, the professor snapped his fingers. "Lee Jeno! Explain this." He called him out as he pointed toward a phrase on the screen.

Jeno, who was seated to your right, glanced at you momentarily in an attempt to pick up a cue, but the timing didn't seem appropriate.

"This.." He began. "I kind of don't know." He earned a roar of laughter from the rest of the class, every single one of them but you.

"Out!" The professor shouted, his brows wrinkled.

You turned to face Jeno once more, this time with worry reflected in your eyes, but he did the exact opposite of what you expected. He gave you a wink and grinned as he slung his empty backpack over his shoulder and exited the hallway regretlessly.

This made you think about the Jeno you met three years ago, he wasn't at the top of the class, but he did secure one of the highest grades, never missed a class, and turned in assignments on time but that only lasted for a semester or two. It was like slow poison, it would start to spread slowly and gradually, taking its time in the best way possible until one day would come and everything would cease. Serene yet explosive.

This was what had you concerned.

There were other occasions when people criticised you, saying that you were ultimately responsible for doing this to a sincere young man like him, that you were taking advantage of him, and that it was not for the talks, but the fact that they did, in fact, ring true to you was onerous. 

Given your social and financial status, you didn't think much of college and didn't care if you passed or not. If you fished a decent job placement or not. If your professors liked you or not and this was what had been going on ever since you could recall memories, things that appeared to be a hard-earned necessity to others were insignificant to you.  There were a dozen more methods, good or evil, to do things, and if you didn't succeed, your family would step in and fix them for you. This was how life went by; the only reason you went to this esteemed university was to have it documented on a piece of writing that you put some work into. Worse things may be anticipated in a society where paper was valued more highly than the human conscience. Money was paper, after all, it sure was different from the other kind of knowledge-stuffed papers the others applied with, but well, it was paper and your family did not mind spending racks to fit you into an image that was not yours.

-

"Y/N? The class got over ten minutes ago." Haechan attracted your attention by abruptly waving his hand in front of your eyes.

"Oh, yeah." You murmured. 

"This is why they say people go crazy in love." He commented.

"Shut the fuck up!" You were annoyed. Picking up your bag, you left the class, still in deep thought.

Life did not make any sense at that point and your heart was not helping either, you were a walking puzzle.

-

Love was not what you two shared.

Together, you did spend days and nights. Every time someone else looked at him, you grew envious, and Jeno too. You'll never forget how he pouted whenever you spent time with someone who wasn't him. There was a natural sense of belonging that you two had developed for one another, but perhaps that's what friends did. Every time Haechan brought in new acquaintances, you did experience jealousy; it wasn't as strong or as intense, but it was enough to persuade your heart. Only if hearts came equipped with remote controls would the world be a simpler place to live.

The one time you could not control your heart was when you told Jeno you loved him, drunk.

"I love you too, Y/N~" He replied back, not even in a sense of distinguishing colours or shapes, let alone feelings.

Because you were certain Jeno had no memory of it, and because you knew it would be terrifying to dig out the dead, you gave up trying to think about that time. Losing a friend as valuable as he was was not on your list because the only ghosting that could occur was from his end to yours.

This took you back to another night in your bed. You and Jeno were cuddled up, wrapped in blankets as he laid his head on your tummy, trying to watch Netflix but the only thing you could ever do was smile at each other's face, for no reason whatsoever.

"What?" You giggled, interlocking his hair in your fingers, trying to focus on the screen projected in the front.

"Can't I just stare at my-" He cut the sentence halfway, turning his face away to the movie. A scene of love confession was going on, the two main leads were oblivious, still in a denial, and you could swear that watching porn instead of that would have been way easier for you.

At least five times, if not more, Jeno looked up at you in the hope that you would say something, but you chose to ignore him like life troubles, as if they went away with your ignorance. And wasn't romance trouble too? You thought to yourself. No matter how bad you wanted Jeno, the more you thought of confessing, the more you denied your feelings.

No, it would still not count as love.

-

"Be careful where you go!" Someone's screams jolted you back to reality. "I'm sorry." You walked away.

"Y/N!" You turned your head toward the source, Jeno. He was already outside, waiting for you.

"Here!" He shouted.

You began to move in the direction of the blanket, pillows, and woven basket of food that he had already spread out on the floor.

He patted on a spot, asking you to take a seat.

"Jeno, this is a study date." You asserted while raising one of the soft pastel green pillows loaded with fur.

"Because of the way the brain functions, we need to get some rest before engaging in any kind of mental training." He laughed.

"How do you plan to sleep here, it's 11 am?" You pushed him away, laying beside him.

"Hmm because you kept me from getting any sleep last night." Right near to your ear, he whispered.

"I could say the same." You exhaled.

"Yo! Lovebirds, and then you guys say you are not in love." You cocked your head to the side only to see Chenle.

"Come, sit." You said getting up.

"I'm in a rush, Jeno I needed you to help me." He declared.

"With?" You questioned.

"You already forgot? Do you need a second invitation?" Chenle teased you while you were still confused.

"I told you I'm throwing a party tonight, nothing too fancy." 

"Will there be booze?" Haechan jumped into the scene, startling you. 

"Everything, Jeno!" He pulled him by the arm until he succeeded in taking him away.

"Hmmm." Haechan hummed.

"What now?" You questioned.

"I don't know what kind of kinks you have but sleeping under the open sky here at the campus is definitely a bad idea." The only thing holding him up was his elbow, he said as he laid down.

"You don't get to speak crude things just because you're single." You flicked at his forehead.

"You are also single." He was obviously on something today since everything he said struck you right in the heart; if it weren't for the luxury of being your closest friend, he may have gotten into trouble.

"Whatever." You shrugged him off.

-

You were in your room later that evening, contemplating what to wear to the party. Other significant life decisions were open questions for someone who struggled to make decisions about their clothing.

You saw a text from your mother when the phone's alerts appeared, but you chose to ignore it. Knowing what it would be, the wisest course of action was to ignore it once again.

Haechan also phoned, but because you were adamant that nothing would spoil this evening and Jeno was on the way, the two of you chose to go together.

KNOCK KNOCK! The door signalled a visitor, your favourite one.

"Jaemin Na—who the hell is he?" Before you could even see Jeno's face, he hissed. You were taken aback. How did he know about him? You never told him, did you?

"What- who told yo- Jeno what?" You sounded muddled.

"Come inside, let's sit down and speak about it." You suggested it after noticing the others in the hallway, and he stepped in.

"Who is he?" Jeno was tearing up, gripping you by your arms. Meanwhile, you thought of a thousand different excuses. There was no way you wanted Jeno to know who Jaemin was. 

He was sobbing when you glanced up, but he was in a subtle rage. Why? Not as if he was yours. The two of you had nothing official, only lingering feelings and this would be the complete opposite of whatever was, and would happen between you and Jaemin.

You kissed Jeno impulsively, not knowing what else to do. And he kissed you back, roughly.

Two bodies breathing heavily, crying, yet never breaking the tongue contact. You were so mad at him, and surely he felt the same.

You pushed Jeno onto the bed, his eyes never meeting yours as you straddled him, sitting on his lap, forcing him to lay on his back.

"This is all because of you." He grunted.

"Oh, so now you are going to say this too?" You bit his neck, earning a groan from him. His hands rushed up and down your waist all the way back.

You ripped apart his black shirt, and moments later his pants met with the same fate. 

You kissed and bit every part of his body like some bloodthirsty vampire, with zero control over yourself. The bed was a weird mix of fluids, including the sweat from the heat and the tears from the pain. Maybe they were right when they said sex was a great escape mechanism. 

"Fuck you!" Jeno cursed, you had not seen him like this anytime before.

"You literally will." 

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↳ HEARTS MASTERLIST

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#jeno #jaemin #nct ff #jeno ff #jaemin ff #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct fanfic #nct series #kpop ff #haechan ff #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #jaehyun ff #mark ff #chenle ff #nct dream angst #nct hard hours #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #nct arranged marriage au #nct x reader #nct college au #i dont know anymore tags lol

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 3

Author's Note: I'm truly proud of this one, I love how it came together and I'm so excited to keep going! (I haven't forgotten about Collision, I'm just slightly addicted to Oberyn right now. You're just gonna have to forgive me.)

Description: Oberyn works to uncover the mystery of your survival, but when the time comes to go home, you find yourself conflicted.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader gets a nickname, this one is mostly Oberyn's pov and he thinks a bit more old-fashioned. Small time jump. Angst. Word Count: 5740 Author's Masterlist

   His fingers are deft and practiced as he draws samples of your blood, but the silence between you is awkward, and you’re not sure why.    Maybe because of how shocked he’d been at your embrace earlier. It makes you wonder how long it’s been since he was touched by someone. Even just platonically.    You’d been too distressed to notice your own reaction to him this time, but it had been there once you’d pulled back. The same inexplicable heat.

   “How much do you need?” you ask, mostly just to break the tension.

   “Four vials should do for now,” he replies in a tone much more neutral than what fits with his expression.

   “I’m sorry about… before,” you try, but he doesn’t get the vague reference.

   He looks up and meets your eyes with a silent question in his brows.

   “The hug,” you elaborate, averting your gaze before the two small words have even finished leaving your lips.

   You’re not really ashamed to have needed comfort, that much no one would judge you for after the last twenty-four hours of your life. What bothers you is that you don’t understand why you felt safe to seek it from him.    No matter who (or what) he is, you shouldn’t be this at ease around him, it goes against every grain of reason and common sense. The man is holding you against your will.

   “Don’t apologize to me, young one. I have you at a terrible disadvantage,” he says, and he sounds entirely unamused by his own words.

   “Okay, can you start calling me something other than that, please. No matter how much older than me you might be, it sounds so wrong when someone who looks to be my age calls me that. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl.”

   He looks somewhat perplexed at that.

   “What would you prefer?”

   “I don’t know, just make up a nickname for me that has nothing to do with age.    I’d tell you my real name, but you have enough power over me already.”

   Finishing up the blood-draw and placing a small band aid on the punctured skin, he seems to ponder that, and something about it amuses him.

   “How about Kaivalya? It means freedom,” he suggests, and you raise a brow in scrutiny.

   It’s a mouthful, but kinda beautiful too. Still, if he’s gonna name you something with that implication, he’d better own up to it.

   “I’ll consider that a promise.”

   “As intended,” he agrees, smiling slightly while he inclines his head at you in a little bow.

   Why does that tiny indication that he respects you, make your stomach flutter?

   “Let’s shorten it to Valya or Val, though,” you suggest, trying to kill the highly inappropriate butterflies with bland conversation. “The whole thing is too cumbersome.”

   “Well then, you’re all done for now, Valya. Thank you.”

   “How long do you think it’ll take to analyze it?”

   “That’s hard to say. It all depends on what I find,” he says and then gets up to put three of the vials into a fridge, leaving one for him to get started on right away. “But you have my word that I will keep you informed.    Until then, as I said, you move around the castle at your own risk.”

   “Will the dragon come back?” you ask, only slightly less frightened of the prospect, now that you know that he has some sort of relationship with it.

   “Yes. But not for a while yet.”

   “How do you know?”

   “He brought you here after he had tried to feed on you and failed. And he stayed for a while to find out if you would mutate, after noticing that it had not happened as quickly as it usually does.    But he had still not fed, so he had to hunt again. That’s why you saw him leave the castle.    He was successful this time, though. Which means he’ll be laying low for a while now.”

   “Oh. I didn’t realize that he was the one who’d brought me here. But I guess that makes sense. Dragons fly, after all,” you ponder, and you’re starting to feel quite ambiguous about this beast.

   On the one hand, it tried to eat you, but on the other, it also tried to help you.

   “If something should happen… I mean, if I should start to feel strange or anything, how do I call for help?” you continue after a moment.

   “Scream as loud as you can for as long as you can. If your door is open and you’re facing the stairwell, the sound will travel with the stone.    But I really don’t think that you’re at any risk of that kind of mutation, at this point.”

   “I hope you’re right, and I’m sure you are, I’m just trying to navigate being here. You are keeping me furthest away from absolutely everything, which seems kinda unnecessary.    Wouldn’t it be easier if I just stayed somewhere down here?”

   “I’m not keeping you away from everything, I am trying to keep everything away from you.    You’re safe up there, where the pull from the creatures in the basement cannot possibly reach you, and nothing else is going to find you,” he explains, while he works on taking a first look at your blood through a microscope.

   For a second, you wonder what the hell he means by “nothing else finding you”, but you quickly decide that you don’t wanna think too closely on that.    You get up and start slowly moving towards the door of this makeshift little laboratory of his, somewhere on the second floor of the main body of the castle.

   “Okay, um… Before I go, is there any food?”

   “Of course,” he answers immediately, looking up from the microscope with an apologetic set to his features, as if only just now realizing that you do need food to survive. “The kitchen is at the end of the main hall. That’s the same corridor as the one to my study and the main stairwell you take to get to the tower. Just follow it to the end.    Do you think you can find it?”

   “Yeah, I think so. That’s the one hallway I’m beginning to feel familiar with.”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   What he had hoped would only take a few days, remains unsolved even after two weeks. He is not skilled enough in genetics, nor does he have the right equipment to try and find anomalies within your DNA. All he can do is visually analyze your cells and the levels of vitamins and minerals in your blood, hoping to find something deviant, as that might indicate where changes have been, or still is, taking place.    But he has yet to succeed. Thus far, every test has come back normal.

   If not for the extremely rapid healing of the bite, he would not have thought that anything about you had been affected, but clearly, something has been.    By rights he should take your samples to a lab and ask that they run a full diagnostic on it with more advanced technology, but he’s afraid that they might discover something about his own genetics, and the thing within him that is responsible for so much death and suffering.

   He has spent thousands of years trying to avoid humans as much as possible, and to do that, he has had to study their psychology rigorously, so he knows what they would do if they ever learned what he is and what he is capable of.    The few sightings of him that have occurred over the millennia, have generated an entire mythology surrounding dragons, and he would much prefer that it remains nothing but stories.

   Still, to his astonishment, you seem to tolerate him quite a lot better than one might think that a victim of assault and kidnapping might. After that first tumultuous day, you have apparently decided that things could be a lot worse, choosing to focus instead on the fact that you are alive and doing very well, despite the worry of mutation.    You insist that he join you for dinner every evening, to keep yourself from going stir crazy with isolation, and he finds that he is increasingly intrigued by your character.

   You are kind and considerate, but only when you feel that it’s justified. You like to be useful and you’re clearly accustomed to handling yourself and whatever problems you face, but you will ask for help if you come across a task that is too difficult for you.    Pride seems to be something you take only from knowing your own strength, not necessarily needing to show or prove it to anyone else. Which is an attractive trait for anyone to have, but especially someone so attractive in other ways as well.

   The monster that he is, he has always refused to take a partner, for fear that he would end up eating them and then having to live with that regret.    You are the first woman to test his resolve in this matter for at least two thousand years.    Before then, he had still tried to hope that he might not have to live all alone for eternity. A hope that had died for good after he had turned a young woman into a creature like those in the belly of this castle right now, forever poisoning him away from the allure of the fairer sex.

   Or so he had thought.

   There are moments when he is around you, when your gaze seems to shift into something warm and inviting, sparking a heat within his chest the likes of which he has never before known. It sets a blush to his usually so tempered skin and triggers a craving in his blood that has nothing to do with sustenance.    It is a frightening feeling to him, something forbidden and dangerous, so he tries to quell it whenever it awakens, but he knows that you notice it and that it makes you curious.

   Today, he awaits your arrival at the dinner table, ready to finally announce the results of his efforts, but he knows that they are unsatisfactory. He has failed to provide the answers that you seek, that you might need in order to lay these horrible events to rest in your soul, and this shames him.    So, when you walk in, smiling at the sight of him having beaten you to the table once again, he does not reciprocate, and you’re instantly on edge.

   “What’s wrong?” you ask, as you take your seat opposite him at the narrow table, and you look more worried now than he’s seen you be since that first night.

   “I have reached the end of my knowledge in my analysis of your blood. I can’t learn anything more than I already have, which, as you know, is unfortunately not much.    You have my sincerest apologies, dear Valya, but I’m afraid that I have no concrete answers to show for it,” he explains, bowing his head to you in the hopes that you will be forgiving.

   Even though you know nothing of the transformation which he may undergo at will, and which is the worst deception he has yet committed against you, there is still more than enough cause for you to despise him.    But instead, your eyes soften at his words.

   “Maybe that’s good news. Maybe it means that there’s nothing wrong with me,” you shrug, and he wants to say that to his eyes, there is absolutely nothing wrong with any part of you.

   But he refrains. Flattery will not do your impressive character justice, and he has every intention of protecting you from his own misguided heart, no matter the pain it might cause him.    Fifteen days. That is all he has had of you, and yet, you seem to have crept into every carefully concealed crevice of his being, entirely without effort.

   “I’ll bring you back to your home later tonight,” he replies, unable to fully mask the sadness that the thought of the castle once again echoing of emptiness, brings him.

   He is, however, most surprised to look into your eyes and see that same sadness within. Surely, you can’t be sorry to finally be free of this haunted and terrible place.

   “Why tonight?” you question, and even that smallest hint of defiance is enough to make him want to change his mind and ask you to stay.

   “I kidnapped you. And while I’m not proud of this, I wish to remain a free man despite my actions. So, I can’t very well return you in broad daylight, as anyone who sees us might grow suspicious,” he says, the last part being yet another lie.

   The real reason is that he needs the cover of night to conceal the span of his wings, the glimmer of his scales, and the size of his claws and teeth.

   “Right, of course,” you say quietly, turning your gaze back down to your plate, before you remember to add something, and look up once more. “And just to ease your mind, I’m not gonna report you to the police, or anything. You may have kidnapped me, but you haven’t mistreated me in any way.    Quite the opposite, really. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so well cared for.”

   He lets his head fall slightly to the side as he considers your words, but your own resolve seems to falter then, and you return your attention to the dish before you. Either to avoid his gaze, or perhaps the thought that you will likely never see him again once this night is over.    The meal passes in silence and the clock seems to spin so much faster than usual, as though time itself is rushing to end this unnatural coupling.

   “It has been my pleasure to have your company in these weeks, Val. It’s been a long time since I had company for so long.    Aside from the living nightmares of the basement, that is,” he tells you, already dreading the rapidly approaching goodbye.

   “I don’t like to leave knowing that you’ll be all alone here,” you reply, surprising him.

   He wants to say that you may visit him at any time, but he holds his tongue, offering only a grateful smile in return.    Because aside from the fact that you don’t know where the castle is, he also desperately wants you to be free of him. Even if his lonely heart screams entirely different things through the dungeons and catacombs of his being, to which he has condemned all thoughts of romance and passion.

   “We should get ready for your departure,” he says softly, sidestepping your concerns as gracefully as he can, before he rises and steps away from the table, gesturing for you to accompany him.

   You follow without protest, and a part of him wishes that you would rage against the lack of choices you have been afforded. But he is also relieved that you don’t.    There are no possessions to pack, you will leave his house as poor as you entered it, save for the clothes he has given you, so there’s no need to delay.    He brings you back to the lab where he already has a syringe filled and waiting.

   “Please, don’t be alarmed,” he asks when he sees your expression turn wary with the sight of the unknown clear substance behind the needle. “It’s a strong sedative. I’m afraid I cannot let you see the journey back, as this place needs to remain as hidden as it can be.”

   “Oh…” is all you say, but the sadness in your eyes grows deeper with the realization that you will never be able to return.

   You step closer while shrugging of your jacket, the garment returned to you already on your third day here, as he had learned by then that you would not run from the answers you sought.    There is no hesitation or questioning in your frame. You roll up your sleeve, trusting this stranger not to kill you, or cause you harm in other ways, and he wishes so dearly that you had never crossed his path that night, so that he could have been spared this ending.

   “It will only take you a few minutes to fall asleep once the injection is done. But you may start to feel unsteady within seconds, so I suggest you take a seat,” he cautions.

   Defiant on this matter, for reasons which evade his understanding, you remain on your feet, holding out your arm as you wait for the unknown substance to be administered into your blood.    He is not going to fight you, so he merely gives you the injection and then quickly puts the syringe away, preparing to catch you if you should grow dizzy.

   But the moment that he steps closer to you, so that he may reach you should he need to react quickly, you raise your hands to his shoulders, holding him steady as you steal a kiss from his lips.    It’s brief, but not rushed. Your lips are soft and the pressure moderate, but there is curiosity and desire within the touch. A wish, perhaps. Much like the one that burns his own chest and is responsible for how he responds to your affectionate gesture, kissing you in return as soon as your lips have left his.

   Then your legs wobble, and the moment ends. He catches you, pressing you against his upper body to prevent you from falling, as you already struggle to keep your eyes open.    He worries that he might have given you too strong a dose, but he needs you to be completely unaware of the journey back.    Only moments later, you are beginning to doze off, but you stubbornly keep your eyes open for as long as you can, as if trying to commit his features to memory.

   When you go limp in his arms, the image of your seemingly lifeless body on the ground in that forest, flashes before his waking eyes, and all at once, tears are gathering in them.    You should not have suffered such a fate. You should have been spared from ever knowing of these monstrous things, and he can only hope that your paths will never cross again.    He swoops your legs up and carries you outside, the strength of the beast making the burden easy to bear despite the distance.

   Once out on the courtyard, next to the prancing white horse, so noble and proud, he sets you down and steps away to let the transformation happen. He knows the feeling so well, and yet it never grows any less unsettling.    The dragon and him are one and the same, but the beast has a different mindset. A primal and largely thoughtless existence. It knows what the man knows, and if need be, it will think rationally, but that is not its default manner.

   It is an animal, still. Despite the many centuries of life that it has shared with the human. It feeds, sleeps and repeats the process as needed, nothing more. And as that mindset takes over, Oberyn fades into the background. Conscious and aware but drowned out by the sensory input of the much larger animal and its superior senses.

   However, even the beast is enchanted with you, recognizing your scent at once and having no adverse reaction to it.    Instead, he feels only protective over you. He doesn’t think unless he has to, but his heart is no less sensitive within the body of the beast.

   He gently picks you up in his front paws, cradling you to his chest for warmth, as his body will remain quite hot regardless of the temperature of the air, the fire within always stoked and ready.    Leaning back to rest heavier on his hindlegs, he leaps off the ground. His wings are long, wide and powerful, easily taking up the extra strain as they bear you both into the skies, heading south and away from the snow.

   There was a time when all the heavens belonged to him. When he was the largest, fastest, and strongest creature up there. But no more.    Now, when he flies, he must always keep a watchful eye on men, as they jump from city to city in their metal birds. Airplanes. What a terrifying way to move, locked in a box, thousands of feet above the ground, having to trust the skills of a complete stranger to operate it.    Oberyn will never set foot in such a thing, of that he is most certain.

   There is no such obstacle in your way for this journey, however. Concealed by the night, he lands softly in the still green grass on your backyard, before instantly shifting back to his human form, so that he may fit through the door.    Your scent around this entire place is so strong that he could sense it even from the air above, so there is no question, he’s found the correct address.

   Rounding the little cottage, he finds the front door and shifts you over into his left arm so that he may unlock it.    During dinner eight nights ago, you had asked him about your personal belongings, and he had confessed to taking your keys and the small mobile phone which he had found in your pockets, only the first of which he would be able to return to you.

   The fire in the ballroom, where you had sat to warm yourself on your first morning in the castle, he had set in order to burn that phone, not trusting even the outdated model to not be traceable somehow.    But you had explained that you only had the phone with you for emergencies, as there are many ways to get yourself hurt in the mountains. Beyond that, you do not like to be too reachable, apparently.

   You work in a store which specializes in holiday themes, such as Halloween, Christmas and Easter, which is perhaps why these ordinarily festive seasons appear to have lost their charm for you. You had spoken of them only briefly and with a great sense of emptiness.    Listening to you, he had often felt a great loneliness behind your words. But perhaps not the obvious kind. Something deeper, to do with unfulfilled dreams, maybe.

   It was only when you had spoken of working outdoors, chopping your own wood or tending to your horse or your vegetable garden, that he had seen peacefulness in your frame.    You’re not a typical modern person, drawn to various forms of digital media, preferring instead to work with your hands and be rewarded for your efforts with things that are useful to you. Things you can not only see, but touch and experience in real time.

   He steps inside, finding a quite large and inviting living room directly to his right, decorated to feel warm and somehow intrinsically you. As well as he knows you, at least.    To his left is a small kitchen and straight ahead is a short hallway with two doors on the left. The closest leading to the bath, easily discernable by the smell of scented disinfectants, and the other to your bedroom.

   He can sense a lavender fragrance from your sheets. Not the concentrated fabric softener that most people use, which is filled with chemicals, but something natural and clean. Probably your own concoction, created with lavender grown in your own garden.    It’s a pleasant fragrance to his sensitive nose, as is most of the scents he feels from this house. Your home.

   He brings you to the bedroom and sets you down on top of the covers, noting that your bed is large enough to comfortably accommodate two adults, but then quickly wrenches such thoughts from his mind.    You look peaceful in your unconsciousness. Unlike when he had flown you to the castle. You’d been restless then, twitching and trembling as your body had attempted to adjust to whatever foreign process had been taking place within you.

   Had he known how wonderous you would turn out to be, how tolerant and kind and patient you are, he might not have been so frightened as he had waited by your bedside, dreading having to watch another mutated monster emerge from another innocent soul.    Even if he will never know how you survived, he will forever be grateful to have been given the chance to know you. And… he will greatly miss your company, for however long he may remember you.

   He puts a thick quilt over you and steps back to leave, but then decides that there can be no harm in stealing a kiss of your forehead before he walks out of your life entirely.    Your skin is exactly as warm as it should be, which feels quite cool against his own, since he runs at a much higher base temperature than humans. Your heartrate is steady and strong, your breathing even and deep, so he feels certain you will recover from the sedation without any problems.

   As he walks back through the house, he steps into the living room and over to the fireplace. The autumn chill has found its way into the half-timbered building, and he does not want your first day back to start with you feeling cold.    The heat within the dragon’s chest is still there in his human form, so a little huff of superheated air is all it takes to ignite the dry wood. He waits for another minute, just to be sure it will not go out, and then he slips back out into the night, never to return.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   You come around slowly, feeling drowsy and heavy at first, in a more than natural way. Your brain is sluggish, leaving every movement feeling like a mountain climb, but your bladder has woken up and is demanding the rest of you do as well, so you climb.    First into sitting, which results in your tumbling forwards out of bed, only just managing not to hit your head against the floor. Then your nerves start to feel more responsive, perhaps with the slight rush of adrenaline at the fear of getting hurt, and you’re able to rise to your feet.

   Every step gives you back a little more control, and by the time you’ve reached the bathroom, you don’t need to hold onto the walls anymore.    Once done in there, you walk over to the kitchen to run the taps for a few minutes, which ends up being the longest minutes of your life because you’re suddenly absolutely fucking parched.

   You down two full glasses and you’re working on filling a third when there’s a knock on the door.    Startled, you nearly drop the glass in the sink, because who’s gonna show up here when it’s barely even light out? Who even knows that you’re back already?    Irrationally hoping that it might be Oberyn, you walk to the door and open it.

   “Good morning, miss,” officer Park of the local police greets you, and you’re momentarily stunned.

   Not that it isn’t your much too desired former captor, but that the police would be the first to come knocking. You haven’t had anything to do with them in your life at all, you’ve always been very well behaved. So, naturally, your mind jumps to the thought of crime, wondering if you could’ve committed any without realizing it.

   “How nice to see you alive and well. We’ve been looking for you for two weeks and then someone reported seeing smoke rising from your chimney this morning,” the officer helpfully explains, easing your worries, but creating new ones at the same time.

   Since you haven’t lit any fire, your gaze is automatically drawn to your right and the brick fireplace at the middle of the far wall, where there is indeed a fading flame.    He must’ve lit it before he left, to make sure that the house wouldn’t be too cold when you woke up, and the thought tugs at something both painful and wonderful within your gut. No one has ever shown you that kind of consideration.

   But you’d expected to have at least a few hours to come up with a plausible story to tell anyone who asks where you’ve been, not being slapped in the face with it the first damned thing after you’ve woken up.    Of course, you have played with an idea or two, loosely, while still at the castle, but not enough to have a solid plan ready and waiting.

   “Yeah, um… I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your resources on me. I fell off my horse in the dark and ended up getting completely lost during the storm. By the time daylight broke on the next day, I couldn’t recognize anything.    Has anyone found my horse, Casper?” you ask, hoping to buy a few seconds to think but also genuinely worried about what happened to him.

   “He came right back here, safe and sound. We found him grazing in the backyard when we came to check on you after you hadn’t showed up for work the next day and no one could reach you. He’s over at the Mackey farm.”

   “Oh, great, thank you so much.”

   “Sure. But I’m a bit confused,” the officer starts, clearly wanting to bring the topic back to you, so you try to stay cool and think fast. “If you’ve been lost in the woods for two weeks, I’d expect to find you in a lesser state.    Honestly, miss… you look fresh enough to have just came from a beauty salon.”

   Shit. You haven’t looked in a mirror, so you have no idea how you might look, but you do know that you definitely don’t look starved or dirty enough to have been living rough for that long.

   “Actually, I was helped by a stranger, if you can believe it,” you say, deciding to weave as much truth as you dare into this lie. “After several days of wandering in the wrong direction, he found me and let me stay with him for a bit. And once I was fully recovered, he brought me back here. It was a long trek, which is why I didn’t get back until the middle of the night.”

   “This guy have a name?” Park challenges, years of experience making him skeptical of such an unbelievable story.

   “No. I mean, I assume he does, but we didn’t exchange names. I just called him the good Samaritan.”

   “He saved your life, and you didn’t ask for his name?” the officer asks, raising his brows in disbelief, but you’re not even really lying about this.

   After all, he’d said that his name is Oberyn, and you don’t think that he made that up, but you also remember him telling you that he doesn’t recall his own mother’s name, so there’s every chance that it’s just a name he’s heard at some point over the years and liked the sound of it enough to take it for himself.    And if he’s as old as you were made to believe, then his identity is highly unlikely to exist in any records anywhere in the world anyway.

   “He’s a recluse and a hermit who’s put himself as far away from people as he can get. Saving me was an inconvenience to him, but he still did it. He didn’t want to tell me his name because he doesn’t want anyone to come looking for him, so please, let him be.”

   You keep your tone a bit sharper for that part, to let the officer know that you have no intention of helping him pursue that lead, and he seems to get the message.

   “Alright, well… so long as you’re sure everything’s okay with you.”

   “Yes, sir. I am very grateful for your efforts, and again, I’m sorry that it was all for nothing, but I’m fine.”

   He nods politely, somewhat gruffly wishing you a good day, and then he leaves.    You close the door, exhaling deeply in relief that you managed not to panic. But then his words about you looking like you could’ve just walked out of a beauty salon pop up in your mind, and you head back to the bathroom.    There were no mirrors in the castle, at least none that you saw, so when you now see your own reflection in the one over your sink, you momentarily lose your breath.

   The wrinkles around your eyes and mouth have smoothed out. In fact, there isn’t a single visible flaw to your skin. And… has the color of your eyes shifted slightly?    Your hair is both shinier and much less damaged overall, and it seems to have changed color. Not drastically, but the tone is fuller, richer, and the shine has a distinct shade of orange, which is far from what it’s ever been close to before.    Even your teeth have been altered. Each one sitting perfectly aligned and each one apparently now flawless in shape and size.

   “The bite…” you whisper to yourself.

   The mutation which had turned those creatures in the basement into the worst things ever concocted for a horror story, seems to have turned you into the perfect version of yourself.    Just like Oberyn has looked to your eyes, ever since you first saw him.    Oh, god… Does that mean you’re becoming whatever he is? But no, that makes no sense, it was the dragon that bit you, not Oberyn.

   For a moment, the room disappears, as your brain is suddenly laying a puzzle you didn’t even know existed, and a series of images are displayed before your eyes.    The green coat, exactly the same color as the scales. The golden embroideries on the cuffs and lapels, in the exact same shape as a classically depicted serpentine dragon.    And when he’d talked about humans, he’d used the words “them” and “you” instead of “us”. He’d even said that he was tethered to the dragon…

   You droop to the floor as the unthinkable becomes an inescapable truth, gasping for air while you try to find rationalizations, anything that could make it explainable in some other way, but it all fits too well to be coincidence.    You probably put these pieces together even from the start, but chose not to see them because you liked him. Because he was sweet and kind.

   But he’s a monster. A viper lurking in the dark.    It was all a lie.

Part 4

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #spooky season fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

[sodabranch]

Halo here, still waiting for the next time their irl friends are up to play Lethal Company together... Justice time!

1. One thing that would suck about the Company is that I doubt it you get time off for illness/injuries. So imagine the dilemma of Justice having to leave to look after the employees heading to the bunker, but also being worried about the one needing to be left to rest on the ship.

Other than the issue of the employee being unable to react timely to an enemy lurking near the ship, I see Justice's past experiences worsening their mental conflict. They were always there, when the master or someone in the household got sick, so leaving them feels unnatural.

And what if it's something they can't simply recover from? Earning a disability is bound to be as easy as death itself, on the job.

2. Okay, this one isn't a Justice specific one. I was thinking, man, even the freakiest and erratic of nutcracker OCs will find a human out there who thinks they're really cool! Suddenly, an idea popped into my head.

Because the nutcrackers have parasites, making them semi living, what if one could apply a freaking soulmate AU to it?!

3. Justice, in the past, waiting for the master to come home from work, but they're coming home late. How would Justice react? I could imagine it thinking about how it can't just make a phone call.

Sure, you could easily turn the idea into angst, but I see it that the master simply had overtime, and eventually came home just fine. But Justice is a bit angy they never warned it, because it was worried...

4. The employees and Justice were gathering scrap from a mansion. Everyone is back inside the ship, confident that Justice will soon return safely. In the midst in the snowstorm, they see its approaching silhouette, but something about it is different? Oh, that's right, it's carrying scrap, too. But what?

As Justice steps inside, they see it's a—

Oh no, it's a somehow decently preserved and clean puffy dress?! Justice is irradiating excitement; isn't this fitting for a partner to wear for a waltz? The employees, on the other hand, are thinking 'Oh crap, it's gonna make one of US wear it!' They then push the one who they know Justice sees as the master to the front of the group, like a sort of sacrificial offering to wear the dress.

~ Halo

Oh, I'm also waiting for my friends to have a free night so we can play Lethal together and totally suffer the consequences of our own actions...

I just arrived home a moment ago so brace yourself:

Aaaand no, I also doubt the Company would be so kind to offer you some time off or even compensation lol. Once you're away from Gordion you're on your own, buddy;; better read the fine print.

Justice would be torn between staying with them or helping the team. On one side, it would be able to provide care for the injuried person, aiding them on their needs and staying guard in case any entity was to take advantage of their state; on the other side, there's no way it is going to abandon the team!!! four people is still better than three. Yes, of course it believes that the team can totally fend for themselves!! but maybe just maybe,,, what if some monster sneaks up on them and it can't do anything, then what!

In the amidst of this mental dilemma, Justice settles on giving the crewmate a walkie and gestures for them to use it if something were to happen, then helps tucking them in the uncomfortable bunk bed (to much of Justice's dismay. It really has ought to look for a way for them to rest more comfortably...), and there's no way it is going to forget the "healing kiss" to the forehead before heading out with the rest of the crew. Then maybe it would keep checking on them from time to time, excusing itself to "bring some scrap back to the ship".

Oof I let myself get invested in that one,,,

AND UMGMMGGMMGMG, SOULMATE AU???? ON MY BLOG?? MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK- I REALLY need to think of a way to make this real???? I never thought of it as a possibiity, but you're kinda so right? Preach.

Asdhsdhd also choking up from thinking of Justice waiting by the door to see if their master makes it home safely...

At the start, it would be a bit confused, they were supposed to arrive some time ago! Well, could have been a slight delay, but that doesn't erase the nagging thought telling it something might have happened. What if they got injured on their way back? What if someone did something? What if this? What if- Enough for now, it should think more rationally than that. So naturally, Justice decides to busy itself with some cleaning while it waits... Only for more minutes to pass and for it to start growing more and more worried. Now without any tasks to do while it waits it just sits motionless on the entryway, expecting to see them any second now...

And it's not until the sound of keys turning and the door creaking open that it can rest, seeing the face of their master and mentally restraining itself from running up and hugging them. For now, it is glad it got to see their face for another day.

AAAAAAA THE LAST ONE THE LAST ONE

Just just imagine,, while exploring this mansion, Justice finds itself in some sort of bedroom. Rummaging through it, it wasn't long before something caught it's attention: a perfectly preserved dress stored inside some sort of garment bag... The sight alone brought back so many memories of packed ballrooms and the many dances that took place, most of which Justice had to spectate. As a guard, it was supposed to watch over the people, never let in the fun.

So it guesses the crew won't have much trouble when it brings the beautiful garment back to the ship!! One of them even stepping forward, how sweet!

and im cutting it here because it may be getting too long :9 but I have so many new ideas giggles*

#ask #my guys #im so tired ughhghghg #but i got too excited and wanted to answer this before going zzz

[smol-and-scared]

Incidental Tinies

A g/t concept we all use (mostly in daydreams) but rarely discuss!

G/t is kinda unique in that it can tell any story it wants and still fit the trope. Even if that story is mainly happening to someone else!

You can have a huge epic story with an ensemble cast of 30+ characters...But the entire story is told from the perspective of a tiny that they happened to pick up along the way!

This tiny may not actually... do anything in the plot/story. Their entire contribution to the epic world-saving quest could just be moral support. Maybe they act as a "therapy tiny" helping the others through their panic attacks and PTSD or simply acting as a stim. Regardless, the main cast of characters adore their tiny friend. Even if they get totally left out of serious plot-heavy moments.

This means that you can have all of the soft, fluffy interactions without trying to revolve the entire story around size stuff. And by telling it from the perspective of a tiny, you ensure that all interactions are still g/t (even if the conversation and drama is about humans)

You may be thinking "That seems really specific, I don't think we all use this trope. You're exaggerating"

...Okay but have you ever added a borrower OC to an existing story like Fire Emblem or Genshin Impact? Hell, it doesn't even need to be an OC. Just take any beloved side character or NPC that doesn't do much in the source material, shrink 'em down and have them ride along for original plot! You've probably created an "incidental tiny" without really thinking about it!

But the dynamic should absolutely be discussed and explored!! I think there are three main reasons it works so well:

A tiny can be a proxy for home: If the heroes go into a dangerous situation, they likely won't willingly bring the tiny. But now they have a helpless little friend waiting back at the camp/base for everyone! And if their day isn't dangerous, just stressful? A character might come back, kick off their shoes, and start petting the tiny to themselves calm down.

It leads to size-angst as a B-Plot: Sure, the main story may be about a band of misfits trying to solve some problem. But if the tiny doesn't play an active role? They might start to feel useless. Because when things get serious? all they can do is watch... Or maybe the tiny gets hurt! And one of the main characters becomes very overprotective! To the point where they try to control or cage the tiny for their safety. Or what if the heroes realize that the tiny is actually in more danger with them, than they would be out in the wild? There are so many ideas to explore and the Tiny's lack of agency only enhances them, not detracts. Of course, this angst would happen alongside the main story (and likely at the worst possible time)

It's just easier to write: I love g/t fics, and there are many incredible fics where the entire story comes from the size dynamic. But I think we can all agree: it's much easier to write an engaging story if you have another, more flexible, plot that you can shift over to when the story needs conflict and intrigue. In the case of "incidental tinies"? You have the main plot, then the slice-of-life and/or size-angst.

Sorry for the long post, but I feel like this is one of those g/t tropes everyone knows about, but no one every talks about.

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t concept #g/t community #giant/tiny #tinies #borrowers #g/t angst #giant tiny #g/t discussion

[annas-hair-donut]

My Favorite 2023 Fanfics

Instead of posting a master list of the fics I published in 2023, I'm just going to give you some of my favorites.

Knock on Wood (Kristanna, T)

“So, like, I’m not really a superstitious guy or anything, you know? But I saw this girl, right, and I’m about to ask her to dance.” He strummed a few times before stopping the strings with his hand and knocking three times on his guitar. “I don’t know, I figure every little bit helps. Couldn't hurt anyway.” A few people clapped and whistled as he strummed the opening to a song Anna hadn’t heard before. Then he smiled. “Maybe y’all can 'Knock on Wood' for me, too.”

I wrote this one for the FHWM Friday the 13th event. It was really fun because I got to set it in a time and place that is near and dear to my heart and I haven't seen many similar AUs. It's also a song fic, and I just had so much fun with it.

Pretty Please (Kristanna, E)

“Show me how bad you want it, Kristoff. Show me how bad you want me to spank you.” “You think I only want to sink my tongue into your $!@# so you’ll spank me?” His smile made her heart flutter as much as his words, but she tested him anyway. “Pretty men say pretty please.’” “You think I’m pretty?” he asked, each word punctuated by a sloppy, wet kiss on her thigh, "when I wear my lace panties?" When she didn't answer, he looked at her with lifted brows and puppy dog eyes. She cupped his cheeks and said, “You're not pretty, Kristoff; you're very pretty."

I wrote this one for the BDSM Exchange. It's not for everyone, but it's probably my favorite fic I've ever written (of all time).

Waffle Waltz (Kristanna, T)

Anna travels to Tromsø, Norway to attend her sister Elsa's wedding, and ends up renting a room with Bulda and her grumpy and resentful son Kristoff, who is the king of waffles. 1. Waffle, Noun: (1) A soft indented cake cooked in waffle iron; (2) Empty or pretentious words 2. Waffle, Verb: (1) Equivocate, vacillate; (2) To blather

This was for the Candy Hearts Exchange. It involved a ton of research and drew on my own knowledge of/experience with folk music and dance, and I consider it to be one of the best (quality-wise) fics I've ever written. I also really love the fun relationship between Anna & Hans.

Hey, Little Girl (Kristanna, E)

Loner Kristoff gets hired by cheerleader Anna’s parents to teach her how to drive because they’ve lost all patience with her. She isn’t what he expects, though, and when he realizes the feelings he’s been harboring for years are reciprocated, he lets down his guard. Then one thing leads to another... and quite possibly the hugest mistake of their lives.

This started as a driver's ed lesson and ended with a prom for Kristanna School Days. In between, I wrote Kristoff probably the most conflicted and tormented I've ever written him (other than Sophisticated Grace). And it was all set to songs by the Ramones! It really has it all, fluff, angst, high school drama, teen pregnancy, first times. Also some of the OCs were really cool.

The Chaise (Gaston x Adam, E)

Adam debates buying a small chaise longue at his local antique shop until he finds out it comes with an extra large delivery man.

I wrote this for my a friend, and TBH I'm still completely tickled by it. Adam seduced Gaston through flattery and it was just so much fun to write!

The Moment I Bit My Lip (Kristanna, E)

Anna shivered as she packed her suitcase. It was winter, the furnace was broken, and they’d run out of firewood. And Kristoff had run out of time. Based on "Love Me Harder" by Ariana Grande ft. The Weeknd

This was a reader request. It was a huge challenge because I tend to write more female-dominant stuff and the song lyrics screamed Kristanna, but at the same time didn't really fit with the kinds of things I usually write. So I had to get a little creative and I absolutely love that. Anyway, I came up with one of the coolest AUs I've written and I absolutely adore this piece.

Boom, Clap! (Kristanna, E)

A sharp pain sears across Kristoff’s face from the force of Anna’s hand slapping him to the present. Stars twinkle just inside his field of vision as he rubs his cheek, and his heart beats faster in excitement. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Until an irate voice says, “What the fuck?” Anna stands in front of him, angrier than ever, and he smiles a little more. “You think that’s funny?” she asks. The correct answer is no, of course, but the right answer is that he’s elated. He looks down to hide the smile he couldn’t make go away. That’s when he sees his brace and remembers his injured leg. The only pain he feels, though, is on his cheek. “I had it handled,” she says and shows him the red rhinestone-encrusted mace attached to her keychain, which her thumb sits on top of. He grins, and says, more bravely than he would have had he not been floating on Cloud 9, “Or you could just slap me again.” Her red lips slowly curve into a cat-like smile. She folds her arms and coolly leans against the wall. Her eyes glitter with mischief, and she purrs, “Well, now you’ve got my attention.”

I wrote this for Smut Week, but it's so much bigger than that. It was a monumental task writing about Kristoff, a war-injured vet, and Anna, the woman that uses pain to take away his pain, but so rewarding as their relationship turned into something so much bigger than h/c for them. It's two people bringing out the absolute best in each other, Kristoff healing in a way he never thought he could, and discovering that he was worthy of giving and accepting love. It's one of the most meaningful things I've written.

Rain Check (Kristanna, E)

Newly divorced Anna goes for a walk to work off some pent-up energy, but gets derailed by rain, a good Samaritan’s garage, and some really great D.

Another Smut Week fic, a follow-up to a cute little one-shot I wrote for myself last year (Future's So Bright, T) and wanted more of. I really love the way Anna and KB love each other. And Anna really goes for what she wants, but ultimately chooses herself and what she needs. I like this AU so much that I did a follow-up fic (Here Comes the Sun, E) and I'm also planning a 30+ multi-chap fic tentatively titled "And If I Change My Mind" to be published hopefully in the next few months.

Valentine Bear (Rydoff, T)

Kristoff gets some unexpected help setting up the Peeps Valentine's Day display at Weselton's Grocery Store when Anna, the assistant manager--and Kristoff's best friend--assigns Ryder to assist. Will Anna's Cupid's arrow strike Kristoff's heart? Or will it knock him down, along with his display?

I had this idea of Kristoff playing with Peeps and using his fake voice to talk for them. Who else talks for Peeps? Ryder of course! It's such a fun concept and I loved writing for them so much that I wrote a short multi-chap sequel (Mint Jelly and Onion Jam). Oh, and I got to explore Anna & Kristoff as adorable best friends and Anna/Hans (Alive and Burning Brighter), also a first!

Behind Adjoined Doors (Kristanna, E)

After seeing her recently engaged ex at her cousin's wedding, Anna sneaks through the adjoining door of her hotel room to have meaningless sex with Kristoff - because it’s not possible to fall for someone you can’t stand, right?

I wrote this one for Smut Week and it still tickles me. Cocky Kristoff is just so... he's a bro. Sort of. At least it seems like he is. And Anna has to open her eyes (and her legs) to see the diamond in the rough hiding right next door.

What's up for 2023? I'm working on a Kristanna Valentine's Day fic (short multi-chap), finishing up All Tied Up and Head Over Feet. Chugging along with The Refugees, and my new upcoming long fic "And If I Change My Mind," set in the Bandana AU.

#frozen #kristanna #master fic list

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Twelve: Plaything (Mickey’s POV)

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, mention of Mickey’s murder and backstory, conflicted feelings, talk of murdering Dahlia, deception, betrayal, threatening, Nancy Loomis being a cunt, etc.

A/N: we’re getting into the nitty gritty of it all, the pace is going to be picked up after this. Expect smut, angst, fucking feelings and everything in between. Writing from Mickey’s POV is so much fun, especially when he’s so torn and confused about his own feelings and actions. Who knows how this is going to turn out? I know, @bisexual-horror-fan who has once again helped me by beta reading and editing this knows. Thank you again, you absolute fucking star!

Tag: @lizey-thornberry

Dahlia was fun to play with, at least initially, but watching how worked up and upset she’d get every time her phone would buzz, how she’d jump at the sound and the flash of fear that took over her features was beginning to concern me, something I’d never expected to feel. Maybe I cared about her more than I wanted to admit, maybe Nancy’s relentless phone calls to her were messing with her head too much, and it bothered me enough to mimic the feeling of worry, at least part of me hopes it is mimicking it, as opposed to me actually worrying. Either way, it had to stop.

I looked down at Dahlia, fast asleep with her lips slightly parted, her dark curls framing her pretty face, and I sighed, rubbing a hand through my hair and down my face. I pushed myself up slowly and carefully from beside her, trying my best not to jostle her awake.

It was easy to pretend to care about people that I felt absolutely no connection with, Sidney, Randy, Derek and Hallie, it was a lot more difficult to pretend like I didn’t care about her when she’d somehow managed to find her way underneath my skin.

My phone buzzed quietly from her bedside table and I picked it up quickly, seeing the name printed across the screen; Bankroller.

I didn’t bother throwing anything on other than my sweats before leaving her room as quietly as I could to take the call, already feeling the anger building in my chest as I pressed the phone to my ear and hissed out, “Nancy, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nancy Loomis scoffed at me down the phone, I could picture her snooty eye roll as she exclaimed, “Well, good morning to you too, Mickey. You’re late. We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”

“I’ve been busy.” I snapped, immediately hushing my voice as soon as it raised, “But you already knew that. Why are you calling her?”

I heard Nancy sigh before she said, “We’ll discuss this when I see you. You know where to go. Don’t keep me waiting,” before the line went dead, and I heard the dull hum of the dial tone.

Fucking bitch.

I gripped the phone tighter, pulling it down to my side as I let out a sharp breath, glancing back at the door and hesitating for a moment, eyeing the door knob.

The plan was in place, it had been for a while, I wasn’t having any doubts about it, about my motive. I knew what I had to do, what I wanted to do, but Nancy was already beginning to cross a line.

They were mine to torment as I saw fit. It has been made explicitly clear that I do what I have to do, get as close to the three of them as I possibly can, learn everything about them, their routines, habits, down to their favourite kind of drinks. It was fine with Randy and Sidney, fine with Derek and Hallie. But I’d found myself beginning to feel something for Dahlia.

Do I care about her? Probably. Do I care enough about her to stop what’s to come?

Fuck no.

I pushed the door back open, trying to be as quiet as possible as I stepped in, beginning to pull my clothes on, eyes fixed on her sleeping form. She’d rolled over onto her side, arms curled around her pillow with her face buried in mine. She looked so peaceful, her face was perfectly smooth, and her full lips had turned up into a small smile.

It was hard not to take pride in the fact that I’d made her this way, gradually snipped away at the deadbeat, emotionless shell of a person she used to be and dragged out this version of her, so endearing and warm and soft. Once dressed, I leaned down and brushed some of her hair from her face, pressing my lips softly to her forehead in hopes I would not wake her up. She always smelt amazing, like vanilla and coconut, it’s something that I’d found myself getting used to and missed when she wasn’t around.

What the fuck was going on with me?

Maybe it was selfish of me to have wanted to test this out in the first place, see how far I could get with her. But the plan remained the same, Dahlia was going to die alongside Sidney, alongside her precious Randy. But what if that wasn’t in the cards, for her, anyway?

I thought about it as I walked off campus once I’d left her dorm, thought about all of it. Maybe she didn’t have to die. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to die. Perhaps the sole reason she’s still alive was an act of fate. She had died back in Woodsboro, but she’d come back, and something about that had been sticking in my brain like crazy for the last few months. Who the hell was I to test and play fate like that? She was obviously still here for a reason.

Was I the reason? Was I supposed to meet this girl, find her and make her a part of my life, heal her, make her feel something for me, make her feel things again in general? Would killing her be a monumental mistake? The last thing I wanted to do was give a great big fuck you to the universe. I had my own reasons for being here, she must have one too.

Nancy was sitting in the regular coffee shop a couple of miles off campus, just outside of town, her head bent over a notebook she was scribbling in erratically, clearly planning out the next move. I couldn’t help but wonder her future intentions with Dahlia as I cleared my throat once I reached the table, eyebrows raised expectantly.

She looked up at me, brown eyes blank as she raised a hand, gesturing to the chair in front of her with a simple, “Sit down, Mickey.”

With a roll of my eyes, I sat, thumping my hands against the table and drumming my fingers against the wood, staring her down just as she was to me, dropping the notebook in front of her.

“So?” I asked after a few moments of increasingly uncomfortable silence, “Why are you bothering her so much?”

Nancy’s hands clasped together as she leaned forward to speak in a hushed tone to me, “The question is, why do you care? Look, Mickey, I understand that you are getting frustrated with the waiting, that you want to go ahead and begin all this, but this girl is distracting you. You’re supposed to be getting closer to Sidney, but it would seem as though you’re wasting your precious time with Dahlia.” She spat out her name as though the taste of it disgusted her and picked up her cup, taking a sip of coffee. I felt a twinge of anger flicker in my stomach and frowned, my fingers halting the drumming motion to dig into the table.

“Why are you calling her, Nancy? It isn’t time-“

“I am the one who makes these decisions. Not you.” Her tone was firm, as though I was a child, and she was a parent, disciplining me. I couldn’t help but laugh a little, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms as I called her out, “Who are you, my mother? I don’t take orders from you. I’m doing this because I want to. Don’t forget, you need me a whole lot more than I need you. You sought me out, not the other way around.”

Her cockiness wavered for a moment before she sucked in a sharp breath, her hand moving to press against her temples as though the conversation was exhausting her.

So dramatic.

“I’m calling her because this was always part of the plan. She’s part of the reason my son is dead, Mickey. My son, my Billy, stabbed her, Sidney caught him off guard, and now he’s gone. You always knew you’d have to kill her, why does it matter if I’m doing this?”

“Because it’s not fucking time.” My voice raised a little, I noticed her recoil slightly at my tone and her hand dropped back to the table, her head tilting a little before her eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Mickey, don’t tell me you’ve come to care for this girl?”

I scoffed again, head falling back with a loud groan, before I looked at her dead on with a hissed, “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s my plaything, you told me to keep myself entertained, that’s exactly what I’m doing. So, leave her alone.”

“No.”

I scowled at her, feeling the anger bubbling in my chest once again. “I’m warning you-“

“No, I’m warning you. I might need you more than you need me, but remember, I can pull the plug on this. I know your past, I know what you’ve fucking done. Those people in your hometown, what you did to your family? I have the receipts of our conversations. I can turn you in, Mickey. Don’t think for a fucking second that I won’t if you don’t get back on board.”

I watched her face for a second, trying to find a bluff in her little speech. I couldn’t, and she knew it. A smug smile lit up her pinched face, and she said softly, “Don’t think you're not replaceable. You are. Get back to being the killer I’m paying you to be.”

I pushed away from the table shortly after that, stepping toward her, so I could bend down to whisper into her ear, “Leave her alone. I’ll kill her, but she’s mine, Nancy. I mean it.” Before turning my back on her and leaving the café, feeling her beady eyes glued to my back as I walked out the door.

Being bossed around like I was a child was beginning to piss me off, I wasn’t her son and I didn’t appreciate her treating me like I was.

Maybe I cared about Dahlia more than I wanted to let on. I knew I was suppressing these feelings, not wanting them to take a hold of me. But saying the words, “I’ll kill her,” out loud sent something unfamiliar and uncomfortable through my chest, something I hadn’t felt before.

I have killed a lot of people. It’s fun, adrenaline induced and manic. Nothing compares to holding someone’s life in your hands and being the one to snatch it away, the sight of watching the light of life leaving someone’s eyes. I always thought of myself as unfeeling, uncaring. I didn’t care about absolutely anyone, but maybe I cared more about her more than I cared about that.

But did that mean I wasn’t going to do this? Absolutely not. Maybe to some extent Nancy was right, I had allowed Dahlia to distract me. I did need to get my focus back on the task at hand, but I didn’t want to stop playing with her, see how far I could take things with her.

It’s all about balance, after all.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I grabbed it quickly, expecting to see Dahlia’s name printed across the screen. It took me by surprise to see Randy’s and I halted in the street, pausing in hesitation for just a moment before my thumb pressed on the green button and I spoke into the phone, “Yeah?”

“Mickey, hi. Um, I was wondering if we could talk? It’s about Dahlia.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked sharply, turning around to look back at the café.

“No, no, nothing! I just need to talk to you about her, can you meet me outside the library?” Randy spoke quickly, the clear backtrack of his previous words evident, and I let out a small sigh before agreeing to meet him.

It’s not that I hated Randy, as a matter of fact I didn’t really care much about any of them. I’m not a jealous person, I just can’t wrap my head around why Dahlia cares about him as much as she does and needs him as a part of her life so much.

Initially I thought he wanted to fuck her, who wouldn’t? Even before when she was practically a zombie, she was still one of the most beautiful and endearing things I’d ever seen, it was hard to imagine anyone not wanting her. But maybe I was wrong, maybe it really was entirely platonic. Either way, I already hated that she needed anyone else other than me in order to feel whole. I was the one who had fixed her, not fucking Meeks.

As soon as I was back on campus, I walked slowly toward the library, seeing Randy sat perched on the wall, his feet dangling as he sat and waited for me. His head was leaning against the brick as he stared dimly into space, jumping when he suddenly heard my voice, “Okay, Randy. What’s up?“

Randy turned himself around, so he was facing me, a nervous look evident on his face. I couldn’t help but feel a little amused by his anxiety. Was I that intimidating to him? I wasn’t even trying.

“Mickey, I, uh…” He kept trailing off, eyes dropping to his hands and back up to my face every so often, until I finally lost patience and asked him to, “Fucking spit it out.”

“Okay… Look, Dahlia is my best friend, she always has been. I know her better than anyone, and I know she really does care about you for some reason.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that broke across my face when he said that, you had to admire the balls on the kid.

“I promised her that I’d try and get along with you, even though I really don’t know what she sees in you.” I could visibly see the confidence he had in his own words, it was oddly kind of sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.

“I just want to ask you for one thing, please don’t fuck her over, Mickey. She’s been through enough, and I don’t want to see her fall apart again.”

My smile immediately fell, and I frowned at Randy, head tilting to the side as I asked, “You think I would?”

“No, I know you would. I’ve known you longer than she has, I saw how you are with girls. Dahlia is a sweetheart, but sometimes she’s really fucking oblivious to when someone has bad intentions.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I finally clicked onto what this talk was about, actually having to lean against the wall for support as I managed to get out the words, “Oh, for fuck's sake, Meeks. Is this that if you hurt her, you’ll have me to deal with speech? For God’s sake, man.”

Randy’s face flushed slightly, clearly not liking that this was my reaction to his pitiful attempt of intimidation.

“I’m serious, Mickey.”

“So am I. Come on, Randy. You really think I’m going to fuck her and dump her? I thought we were closer than that by now.”

It was Randy’s turn to scoff at me, and I thought for a second that I really had to do some more work on getting him to like me. Not for any other reason that to make him actually fucking trust me.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” I made sure my tone sounded as genuine as possible, watching as Randy jumped down from the wall and stood in front of me, about as intimidating as a fucking kitten.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Her voice made even me jump, fuck, she was stealthy. I turned around and looked at her, ignoring the slight flutter in my heart as she stopped next to me and I felt the warm, smooth skin of her arm brush against mine.

“Just… Doing what you wanted. Getting along.” Randy’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm and I don’t know if she noticed and chose to ignore it, but Dahlia smiled so big I thought her face might split. I felt her hand slide into mine, squeezing it gently as if saying thank you before looking at Randy and asking, “Hey, Randy. Are you ready?” To which he nodded his head, eyes dragging away from me and settling on her, expression immediately smoothing out to an obvious affection.

“Ready for what?” I asked her, looking down at her curiously.

“We’re hanging out, it’s obviously been a while.” Randy said, his tone very obviously targeted. Dahlia shot him a look, and he smiled as if in apology.

“No, you’re right. It's been a while since the two of you have hung out, you should.” I told her, my free hand reaching to push a strand of her hair behind her ear before tilting her head up by her chin with my fingers. “I’ve got a lot I need to get done tonight anyway.”

Dahlia smiled at me, that fucking smile that made my stomach flutter and reached up on her toes to press her lips softly against mine, her scent automatically making me unconsciously melt into her.

She really did have some kind of weird hold on me. No matter how much I tried to suppress these feelings, they’d constantly bubble up to the surface. It was unfamiliar, but not necessarily unwelcome. I never thought I’d end up caring even slightly about her, certainly not surpassing my initial fascination with her built-up purely out of boredom and morbid curiosity. I tried to tell myself I was feeling this way because I wasn’t killing, I didn’t have anything to do. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. But I knew I’d just enjoy whatever I was feeling until I inevitably grew bored with her.

“Can I come by your dorm after?” She asked once she pulled away, and I nodded immediately, eyes briefly flickering to Randy who was uninterested by the entire interaction, focused on his phone before I focused back on her.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting.” I confirmed, letting go of her hand in favour of cupping her face, pulling her back to me, so I could kiss her again. It was like I physically couldn’t stop myself from touching her, it was an unconscious reflex.

I felt her breath hitch, felt her heartbeat drumming against my own chest as her fingers gripped my shirt tightly. If I could have, I would have fucked her there and then, in front of Randy, in front of half the student body. I wanted to. To prove that she was mine, whether she was just my plaything or not. But I didn’t, regardless of the fact that I wanted to, I wanted to wait. Instead, I let her go, watching as she and Randy began to walk away toward the exit of the campus.

As I watched Dahlia walk away, her head falling back and hearing her laugh loudly at something Randy had said, playfully pushing at his shoulder, my mind raced back to how I felt about her. I’d dated girls before. A lot. I knew I had a reputation, it never bothered me, and it still didn’t. But serious relationships? I’d only been in one before. Lexi.

Lexi was a girl I’d dated back in my hometown during my final year of high school. She was the opposite of Dahlia, Latina with thick black hair and a confidence that was almost overwhelming, but beautiful. Not as beautiful as Dahlia, but stunning all the same. We’d ended things on bad terms after a particularly awful argument after sex. I did and said some things that any ordinary person would see as just awful, to me, it was pretty regular and mundane. She’d told me, all dramatic, that she’d make sure no girl ever went through what I’d put her through. I hadn’t thought about Lexi in a while, but for some reason, the fight we’d had the last time I’d seen her kept poking and prodding around the corners of my mind.

I didn’t love Lexi. Thinking back, I don’t think I ever cared about her at all. As I watched Dahlia slowly disappear, my mind shifted back to her and I realized I’d never want to treat her the way I treated Lexi, but what if I simply couldn’t help myself? I didn’t care about anyone, why was this girl that was just supposed to be someone I could use to entertain myself having such an effect on me?

Once they were out of sight, I shook my head out, sinking against the steps of the library and resting my head against the cool brick.

I thought about what Nancy had said about Dahlia distracting me. I really didn’t want to be off my game. Would the bitch really turn me in? I didn’t want to be caught until I was damn good and ready, but even now I couldn’t help the one nagging thought that repeatedly began swirling through my mind.

When I went through with this, after they were all dead, if I didn’t end up going through with killing Dahlia, would she ever forgive me?

#poor mickey #all conflicted #I’m so excited to carry this on #make him KNOW how he feels #crazy babe #hope you enjoy! #scream #mickey altieri #dahlia levine #mickey altieri x dahlia levine #his perfect victim #scream 2

[stardustbarbarians]

I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4)

A Jake Kiszka/Daniel Wagner & Samuel Kiszka/Daniel Wagner Fic

Summary: Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for.

Tags: pining, unrequited love (maybe), angst

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of drowning

A/N: Sorry this took me months to update! But, I updated the cover! Title taken from Drop the Guillotine by Peach Pit. Also this chapter is dedicated to @dannythedog as she encouraged me to update this fic. As always, enjoy!

Words: 4.6 k

+++

After his talk with his siblings, he attempted to talk to Jake. However, it had seemed to become increasingly impossible. With each passing hour, Jake and Danny were becoming closer and closer. One place Jake went, Danny would follow and vice versa. It was one of the most infuriating yet painful things for Sam to watch. The pitying looks he kept receiving from Ronnie and Josh weren’t helping at all. 

On top of it being practically a hopeless venture, the activities that occurred that day proved to be Sam’s bane. Right after breakfast, Sam’s mom sent her children to the grocery store to get fresh produce for that night’s dinner and Danny tagged along with them. Sam liked to think that it wasn’t intentional, but almost immediately Jake and Daniel split off by themselves to try and find the tomatoes and whatever else they needed while the other three were left to search for the other items. 

Sam could hear Danny’s boisterous laugh from aisles over, cackling at whatever Jake was doing. Each time it happened, Sammy just looked over at where the sound came from forlornly, pining after the warm feeling that usually took residence in his chest when he made Danny laugh in such a way. It was replaced with a bitter yet empty remorse.

“Jake has the dullest sense of humor, how can he even be laughing that much?” Sam spat, his grip on the shopping basket so tight, he could actually feel the plastic buckling under his grasp. 

Ronnie looked over from checking over the list she was given, scanning her little brother’s body language and feeling the heavy sympathy sinking within her like an anchor in the ocean. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sammy.” 

“I got it,” Josh said to his sister, “usually someone only laughs that much or that loudly when they’re attracted to them,” Josh explained insensitively. The look Sam shot his brother was enough to slaughter ten people. 

“Oh, I had no fucking idea! Thank you so much, Joshua!” Sam hissed, trying his absolute hardest not to clock Josh with the basket in his hand. Seemingly guessing Sam’s intentions, Ronnie stepped between her brothers, arms out and facing the youngest. 

“Ok, that’s enough. Sam, give me the basket and go wait in the car. I know that this whole thing with Jake is shitty, but you can’t take it out on Josh,” she delegated, holding her palm out so Sam could place the plastic grocery basket into her hand. He did so, the black plastic leaving a dust on his hand as well as angry red marks from how hard he was clutching it earlier. 

Without any further words to his siblings, Sam followed his sister’s order and went to go sit in the car. Except, he was locked out. And Jake had the keys. 

Angrily kicking the tire, Sam decided to just sit on the roof of the car and wait for everyone there. The metal was burning the skin of his legs that he had crossed in order to fit them comfortably on the car, but it was a far cry from the boiling rage festering under his skin. He truly loathed the way he was reacting to the whole situation, but he just couldn’t help it. He was just so fucking mad. Even though it felt justified, it was only a hollow victory. 

All he wanted was for Daniel’s happiness. And even with his hunch that Jake didn’t actually like Danny and was just using him, the evidence disproved that. Sam hung his head, looking at his hands fidgeting in his lap. The only time he had felt this conflicted in his entire life was the moment he realized he was bisexual. 

Strangely enough, he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for about the thousandth time because Jake was able to pick the movie that night. As per usual, he thought Elizabeth was absolutely stunning; who didn’t find Kiera Knightly attractive? Also as was usual for a viewing of this film, Sam admired Will and his dedication to Elizabeth. It was only meant to be a passing joke to get maybe a few laughs from Ronnie or the twins, but it ended up shattering his entire world view. 

“If he asked me to, I’d totally go gay for Will.” It was only meant as a joke.

“Y’know, if you say you’d go gay for someone, it typically means that you are gay,” Ronnie piped up while flipping the page of the magazine she was reading. She had said it so casually and unbothered just as if she would have talked about school work she needed to get done. Despite her tone, she had just completely shattered Sam’s world view with one sentence. 

Sam had felt the ground shift beneath his feet as that sentence sank its claws into his conscious brain. He couldn’t see his own appearance, but if he had been told that he looked as though all the blood had been drained from his body, he would’ve believed it. His hands felt like TV static, his feet following soon after. He felt cold suddenly, his eyes unable to move from the spot they’d been in since Ronnie had spoken. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. 

“Sam? You ok?” Josh asked, shaking his little brother’s shoulder. That finally roused him from his trance. He looked over at Josh, seeing concern written all over his face. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Before anyone could stop him, Sam got up and shakily ran outside. He needed some air; he felt as if he was suffocating. 

Am I gay??

The grass was cold underneath his bare feet, the September night air chilling his lungs as his long legs carried him deeper into the wilderness that surrounded his house. 

I can’t be- I like girls…

He finally stopped when his arm caught a tree, leaning against it to catch his breath and to support his unstable legs. His hair was hanging down into his eyes, his panting breath visible in the chill of the night. 

…right?

Turning over so that he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated why he felt so completely gutted; why he felt like Ronnie was able to see something in his soul that Sam couldn’t even see himself. He’d hoped that the stars would be able to calm him down, but it was cloudy. Regardless, he watched the clouds float across the sky, swirling and dancing into different shapes before his very eyes. He felt his breathing slow as he continued to gaze upon the swelling and dissipating shapes thousands of feet above him. His mind was still racing, but he at least no longer felt like he was going to faint. 

Sam had no idea why he was freaking out so much. His parents weren’t the type to kick him out for being gay and his siblings wouldn’t think of him any different, but there was something eating away at the back of his mind that told him he should be worried. But… he didn’t even know if he was gay, so there’s no reason for him to be so worried… right? 

“Jesus, there you are! We’ve been calling you for half an hour!” Jake reprimanded, approaching his brother while trying not to trip over any loose sticks that were covered by the vibrant autumn leaves burning with orange and yellow color. His footsteps crashed through the leaves, the loud crunching reminiscent of static. 

“Sorry, I just-” 

“You can’t just run off like that, you little bastard! We were all worried about you!” Before Sam could answer, Jake pulled him into a tight hug, his head being crushed underneath his big brother’s arms as they embraced. Out of all his family members, Sam expected to be missed the least by Jake. He didn’t know why, it was just what he thought. 

“I’m fine! Goddamn; I won’t be for much longer if you keep suffocating me!” Sammy yelled, lightly smacking Jake on the arm. He was finally released, dramatically gasping for air as he pulled away. Jake gave him a look that told him to stop being such a drama queen, but there was a smile threatening to break out on his lips. 

“What got you so spooked that you felt the need to run away and live a life of solitude in the woods?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree near Sam. 

Sam froze up, not wanting to answer that question. How do you casually tell someone that you’re questioning your sexuality?? “Oh. Well-” 

“Was it what Ronnie said?” 

Once again, Sam froze. 

Noticing his brother’s defensive posture, Jake sighed. “I told her not to say anything to you and let you figure it out yourself.” 

That caught Sam’s attention. It made about a thousand warning bells go off in his head. 

“You… You what?” 

Jake’s gaze darted away from Sam’s when he tried to make eye contact. He knew that what he had just admitted was a huge bombshell and implied a lot more than Jake even understood. 

“You guys knew?! You-” 

Suddenly, Sam was both flabbergasted and angry at his family. He found himself looking at the clouds once again, measuring out his breaths so that he wouldn’t explode on his older brother and say something he regretted. It took a moment, he eventually got to a spot that was calm enough. Jake waited Sammy out; he had no other choice. 

“Do mom and dad know?” the youngest eventually asked, refusing to take his eyes off the clouds swelling above him. 

Jake made a noise that could’ve been the start to a word, but it sounded as if it got tangled inside his vocal cords. Trying again after clearing his throat and taking a breath, he answered. “Yes. They know.” 

It was only three words. They shouldn’t have made tears come to his eyes. Despite all the logic in his brain telling him that crying was irrational, his emotions stubbornly refused to pay attention. He felt ridiculous as the hot tears rolled down his cold cheeks. 

“Sam, you know nobody gives a shit, right?” 

That was what finally snapped Sam’s restraint. He whipped his head around, his hair nearly whipping his own face as he faced his brother. He felt a rage on his blood that was unfettered, his hands readying for violence as they balled into fists. He clenched his jaw so hard, he was afraid of shattering his teeth. 

“Yeah? Well, guess what, asshole?! I DO! I fucking care that you guys have been discussing my sexuality behind my fucking back! Am I nobody now??” 

The older brother went to open his mouth thinking that Sam had finished, but he didn’t get to even take a breath before Sam cut him off. 

“Do you understand how invasive that is?? Or did you not even care? No, I bet you all played a little game over it. Did you bet money?? Who won? Veronica? Is that why she ‘pushed’ me along?? So she could win the prize?!” 

“Samuel!” Jake cried, reminding Sam of how Josh would sound when screaming. “Just calm down, alright? We didn’t bet on your sexuality.”

Jake was holding out his arms in a placiting manner. It was as if he was trying to calm a startled horse; acting calmly but afraid of being violently struck if something went wrong. He tried walking closer to Sam, but he approached very slowly. 

“Ok, I’ll admit that we did talk about you behind your back, but it was for a good reason.” Sam felt the disgust and self-preservation surging in his veins as he watched Jake get closer, but he didn’t move. 

“Are you gonna start talking?” Sam impatiently snapped after Jake remained quiet for a moment. 

“We talked about you because we were trying to discuss how to be supportive of you when you do come out,” he finally explained, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. 

Immediately, that struck Sammy in the heart. He’d gotten mad over them talking about his sexuality when it was for a wholesome reason. Suddenly, he felt awful. Tears pricked his eyes once again and he looked away from his brother. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hair. He felt ashamed. How could he think so horribly of his family like that? 

“Sam, it’s ok. You don’t-” 

“No, you don’t understand! I thought the worst of you guys when all you did was be supportive,” Sam cried into the darkened forest around him. The only response he got was that of the trees shivering from the cold September wind. 

It was clear Jake didn’t know how to handle seeing his baby brother cry, so he just stood there awkwardly. He eventually put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comforting him. 

“You’re right; I don’t understand. But I don’t have to understand. My job is just to support you and be there for you,” Jake reassured, the hand on Sam’s shoulder sliding across his back so that he was able to hug Sam. 

Knowing neither of them had any appearances to uphold, Sam leaned into his older brother and just let his tears fall. They both stood that way for a moment, the night air causing goosebumps to form on both of their skin. It was Jake who broke the silence. 

“We’ll catch a cold out here, let’s go inside.” 

Sam tensed up. He didn’t want to face the rest family yet. He himself wasn’t 100% sure that he wasn’t straight. He wasn’t aware that he was actively shaking and he couldn’t blame the temperature. 

“You don’t have to see everyone just yet; I’ll handle them,” Jake offered, pulling his brother just that bit closer to him to reassure him. 

“But-”

“I won’t mention anything about why you ran. You have my word,” he promised, making sure to look Sam in the eyes. 

Sam was reluctant. He knew that Jake was telling the truth, but there also was a part of him that didn’t know who he could trust anymore. He looked deep into his older brother’s eyes, gaging how genuine he was being. Finally, he decided to put his faith in Jake. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through this by himself after all. 

Jake had kept his word. He guided Sam back into their house and dealt with their family as the youngest curled up under his covers in an attempt to rid himself of that dangerous chill that had seeped deep within his body from being outside improperly dressed for the weather. The younger twin managed to deflect all questions about why Sam had run and the subject wasn’t brought up again. Sammy didn’t officially come out to anyone in his family until he told Ronnie a few months later. 

Where did that Jake go?

“Hey, princess! Are you deaf?!” 

Sam was jolted out of his own thoughts as Jake banged on the hood of the car. There was an amused smile faintly pulling at his mouth when Sam nearly jumped out of his skin and almost fell off the roof of the car. 

“What, Jacob?” Sam snapped, annoyance in his veins at the sight of Jake’s smirk. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists; there was also a death glare aimed right at Jake but he didn’t know that.

“Unless you wanna be strapped to the hood like a deer, get the fuck off the car so we can leave.” He looked at Daniel to see his reaction, a smile on Jake’s face at the expense of Sam. To his dismay, Danny was giggling along with Jake. 

The anger simmering in his blood intensified tenfold. Underneath it all was a feeling of betrayal. 

Without saying a word, Sam climbed off the car and slid into the back. He stayed silent the entire car ride. No one acknowledged him. 

+++

The water of the lake glimmered like glitter as the waves caught the blistering sunlight in their undulating waves. They weren’t big enough to have any white caps by any means, but the waves were just enough to rock you and make you feel the need to hold onto anything you could inside the boat. The boat cut through those sparkling mounds like a sharp knife through paper; gliding right across the surface and leaving a white trail behind it like it was leaving bread crumbs in the forest in case it would get lost. The wind was a welcome feeling as it hit Sam’s Sunkissed skin, the watercraft moving too fast for the sluggish heat to touch him. Even though he knew it would be nothing but a fight for him later, he left his hair down and allowed it to get tangled into all kinds of snarls and knots. He faced the bow of the ship, watching as trees and land would approach as they reach a bend in the lake. He wasn’t driving, his mother was. She was watching the water as well as her husband for any direction he might give her. 

Danny was attached to the back of the speedboat, grinning widely. He was enjoying himself but he was also gripping onto the handles of the inner tube with a white knuckle grip. Jake was watching with a smile on his face, waving at him and encouraging Daniel to let go of the handles. He had already had his turn on the tube, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his long hair haphazardly twisted up in a bun. 

Danny just kept laughing at Jake’s attempts, shaking his head. The smile never left his face and he was laughing for his entire ride. After about five minutes he signaled Mr. Kiszka to cut the engine so he could get back aboard the boat. 

“Alright Sam, do you wanna go next?” Ronnie asked him. There was something she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but he couldn’t tell what. 

“Uhh,” he stalled, still scanning her eyes for her subliminal message, “sure,” he eventually answered.

It was the one she was looking for, apparently. Her eyes glimmered and her smile grew. “Get on, then. What are you waiting for?” 

Sam, more than a little confused, climbed into the innertube while Josh held onto the rope to keep the tube from slipping out from under him. Once he was secure, Sam signaled for Josh to shove him off away from the boat and its propeller.

“Danny, why don’t you watch Sam for us?” Ronnie asked. Sam saw Josh look at his sister over her shoulder, a smile on his lips. They had something planned and Sam was suddenly very afraid of being on the water. Danny nodded, his blinding smile gracing his lips and making Sam’s heart stutter momentarily. 

“You hear that, Sam? Your life is in my hands!” Daniel yelled across the water, cupping one hand close to his mouth so his voice would project. 

“No safer place for it!” Sam called back. He didn’t even realize he had a dopey look to his face, but Josh and Ronnie noticed it. 

“Are you good to start?” 

Sam sent his best friend a thumbs up. A spike of fear lanced through his chest as he realized that Daniel turned to Ronnie who then told their mother to start. That meant that Ronnie was essentially controlling his mother’s every move. The engine kicked up, the propellers beginning to spin once again. Sammy would never forget the devious look in his sister’s eyes as she waved at him. 

He had the right to be nervous. As the ride continued, Sam realized that Josh would periodically distract their father at the same time that Danny would look away to talk to either Jake or Ronnie. He wouldn’t know why until he realized the speed increased all on its own accord. He looked up just in time to see his sister lower her hand from making their signal to speed up at their mother. It was getting harder to hold onto the raft, the waves rocking Sam a considerable amount. He made the signal to slow down, but the only person who saw him was Ronnie. Daniel and Jake were engaged in their own conversation the same as Josh and their dad. The youngest was really starting to get nervous as they approached the bend in the lake, his grip tightening even further as the watercraft began to turn. 

It all happened so fast. 

Sam slammed into the side of a particularly large wave, sending the tube flying into the air. In a panic, Sam made the vital mistake of letting go of the handles and was launched into the air. He only had a brief second to gasp before he was violently plunged into the rocky waters of the lake. He was disoriented while submerged, unable to find where the surface was. That only made his panic spike as he struggled to emerge his head from the water to breathe. He somehow managed to surface, taking in a huge gasp and removing his hair from his face and eyes. He saw the boat stopped a few yards ahead of him as he tread water, looking around for the innertube that would pull him to the boat. He was able to find it to the left of him, grabbing onto it as he coughed. 

Daniel jumped up, pulling the slack rope in and by proxy his best friend. He wore a face of pure concern that Sam noticed as he approached. His hand was warm as Daniel heaved him into the boat, his arms wrapping around Sam and pulling him into a tight hug. Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he returned the hug. Maybe he closed his eyes and let himself divulge in the intimacy of the moment, but you can’t fault him for that. Daniel was warm and welcoming; and hell, they were both shirtless so Sam also got to enjoy knowing what Daniel’s bare chest felt like against his own. 

“Sammy, I’m so sorry,” Danny rushed, his arms tightening around Sam as he buried his face into the crook of Sam’s neck. “I should’ve been watching.” 

Sam’s own arms pulled Daniel in closer, his heart clenching at the wavering voice of his best friend. Despite wanting to tell Danny that yes, he should’ve been watching Sam instead of flirting with his older brother, he bit his tongue. It was a conversation to have after all the high emotions of the moment subsided. 

“Sam, are you alright?” Sam heard his father ask. He went to look at his dad and let go of Danny, but the man wouldn’t let go of him. 

“I’m alright, I wasn’t under that long. I’m just shaken up, is all,” he answered. He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt Danny’s arms get even tighter around him. 

“You were under for nearly half a minute,” Daniel informed him, whispering it into his ear. 

At the information, Sam felt his blood turn cold. It hadn’t felt like that long, but in retrospect, maybe it was. He was going to kill Josh and Ronnie for this. They endangered his life all for a stupid fucking-

“Daniel, you take care of him. Let’s go back to shore,” Josh posited, his hand landing on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comfort. 

Oh, that’s why they did it

Danny nodded his head, finally detaching from Sam. He felt cold when his best friend let go. Daniel led Sam over to the spot where he was sitting, urging him to sit down and even wrapped his own towel around Sam’s shoulders. He pulled Sam into him, tucking Sam’s head beneath his chin. He kept rubbing his hands up and down Sammy’s arms, occasionally squeezing his arms around his best friend. Sam didn’t do anything, just breathed as Daniel held him. 

In fact, no one spoke as Mrs. Kiszka drove the boat to the shore. 

Sam would open his eyes every once and a while to check his surroundings, his eyes always landing on Jake. He wasn’t looking at Sam and Danny, instead out at the water behind them. The way his jaw was set tipped Sam off that he was annoyed; more than annoyed. Reveling in the vindication of seeing Jake so sour, Sam smiled and snuggled into Danny a little more. He was so warm and solid. To Sam, he was the very embodiment of summer. 

Daniel never left Sam’s side for the rest of the day. Everywhere he turned, his best friend was always within sight. He’d never felt more content in his whole life, his heart feeling ready to burst each time he took in the sight of Daniel’s smile. His mind supplied him with the thought that this is what it would be like if he was dating Daniel. Suddenly, there was a consistent thrumming of pain in his chest each time he shared a look with his roommate. 

Jake had tried to get Danny away from Sam on multiple occasions, but it never worked. Daniel was attached to Sam’s hip. Sam guessed he had Josh and Ronnie to thank for that and they both knew. Each time they passed the two best friends, they each gave Sam this look that made him want to shiver. And while he was thoroughly enjoying all this attention from Danny, he still needed to talk to Jake. 

While they were out in the hammock, laying side-by-side as they gently swayed back and forth on the temperate summer breeze, that’s when Sam talked to Daniel. “Hey, Daniel.” 

Danny lazily hummed in response, shifting his head up to gaze at Sam with an easy smile on his lips. Sammy’s heart thundered in his chest as he lost the ability to breathe momentarily. 

“I-I really appreciate you hanging around me and all, but if you don’t mind I gotta talk to Jake about something,” Sam hesitantly hinted, tripping up his words as his brain was filled with thoughts of Daniel and how soft his lips would be if he kissed them. 

Sammy felt awful as he watched Danny’s smile falter. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s really important,” Sam rushed, a hand coming up to Danny’s curls and petting them absently. 

“No, it’s alright. I understand,” Danny reassured, sending Sam a smile as he sat up in the hammock, “I'll go get him for you.”

“Tell him to meet me on the dock please,” Sammy requested, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Daniel and pull him in for a kiss on the cheek. 

Daniel nodded, the hammock shifting as his weight was removed. Sam, watching his best friend enter the house, sighed both out of weariness and contentedness. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the hammock and made the trip down to the dock, captivated by the burning vibrance of the sunset on the water. Mentally, he was preparing to relinquish Daniel over to Jake. he was severing all the ties he could so that it wouldn’t hurt quite so much when he would tell Jake that Daniel was all his and that Sam wouldn’t make any moves. 

As he dipped his toes into the water, he waited for his older brother to show. Tears painfully burned his eyes as he prepared his speech. On the breeze, he whispered his goodbye to his best friend, his chest aching Sam he spoke his name. And that was how Jake found him, ready to break some hearts. 

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @gabyvanfleet @sarakay-gvf

Taglist Form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #sam x daniel #sanny gvf #jake x danny #janny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

[nowis-scales]

Rating: Mature Audiences

General Warnings: Brief mentions of self-Harm and suicide, no explicit mentions or descriptions of specific acts

Fandoms: Fire Emblem IF/Fire Emblem Fates

Additional Tags: Revelation Route, Childhood Abandonment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — PTSD, Family Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Therapy, Post-Canon, World Building, Character Death, No Deeprealms

Chapter Word Count: 6,266 words

Chapter Summary: When Corrin is summoned to a meeting with Kagero, she knows it can be nothing but bad news.

[Read it on AO3.]

“Still water runs deep.”

That was Xander’s favourite phrase when she was a child growing up in the Northern Fortress. Any time she had any question about something seemingly normal being complicated, or challenging, or just not what she thought, it was always that phrase he fell back to. 

At the time, she wondered if he ever grew tired of saying it. It seemed to apply to so many situations, one would think that it would come more easily than it did. Common sense status would even be reasonable in this circumstance, but it just never seemed to catch on. Even with her, she supposes. Repeatedly believing in the goodness of others often meant that she would get caught in that snare trap like a rabbit. She would do well to remember that. 

And she does, when a mere three days after the pilfering of Ryoma’s journals, Kagero asks her to come to an evening’s meeting. 

“To discuss Lord Ryoma’s well-being,” is the way she phrases it. Corrin may have been a little naïve by most people’s standards, but even she could see that was a problem from a mile away. 

Or maybe she was just paranoid. She had been a bit, as of late. 

The days had brought hours of almost non-stop reading. Of the journals she received from Hinoka, she’s managed to make her way through about one and half – and has found herself still no closer to her father. When she began, she told herself that her neglect of the paperwork for Valla’s reintroduction was being done for its benefit, given that she was preventing another Anankos. However, she found that the further her reading went on without result, the more guilty she began to feel.

It certainly didn’t help that the contents of Ryoma’s teenage mind were… much more disturbing than she expected.

Some of it was normal. Writing about training, about studies, about dreams, memories with siblings, people he’d had crushes on. She might even say that these stories dominated his writings. However, the more she read on, the more she found herself picking up some harmful patterns in his behaviour. Not just for others, but for himself as well. Every few entries, or perhaps even in the midst of seemingly normal ones, there would be these deep, mournful paragraphs expressing serious anxieties, regret, and guilt that Corrin could barely begin to wrap her head around. 

The responsibility of it at all is what struck her as most peculiar and difficult to explain. 

Accountability for anything he did was often tough to get out of him in real life. Stubbornness runs in Masahide blood by Ryoma’s own admission, and even then, he is known to be more stubborn than just about anyone else. Self-righteousness is something that she knows Ryoma is no stranger to as well, given the conflict with Nohr, but the journals present a completely different side of him. The amount of accountability he takes is startling, particularly because it is for things that he could not possibly be responsible for. 

Queen Ikona’s death is his fault. She took her life when he was nine. In a fit of rage at Sumeragi, she confessed that she never wanted Ryoma or any of their other children, and he’d overheard. When she begged for his forgiveness, he was too hurt to grant it — so when she ended things, he took all of the blame. He compared being loved by her to being loved like a doll, but still it was his fault. Hinoka had scorned their mother’s apology just the same, but he never breathed a word of blame to her. She was six and didn’t know any better, he wrote. Like a nine year old should know of his mother’s intentions to kill herself and be able to stop it.

King Sumeragi’s death is also his fault, as is Corrin’s kidnapping. Ten years old and still grieving the traumatic death of his mother, Ryoma blames himself for not acting when the enemy attacked them. He thinks himself to have been jealous of her charisma, to have seen the glint of something he could not be in her, and to have let her go because of that. 

And even more tragically, he thinks that Sumeragi died simply because he dared to love his son without conditions. 

The rest of the journals, after expressing these thoughts, are littered with what can only be described as legitimate terror over the idea that something else will come to touch the family he has left. He describes it as a curse from the gods, some sort of divine justice that even he cannot find a reason for. All he can seem to think about is how to protect and destroy his relationships, going around in a circle of pushing everyone away and then begging to be loved, desperate to preserve those he cares for, but so starved of affection that he cannot stay away. 

He plays it off as aloofness, devotion, and hotheadedness, and while Corrin would never say that those aren’t truly who he is, how often are these traits hiding the fear that lurks underneath? 

Still water runs deep, indeed. 

Only having these books has been enough to set her on edge, but now knowing this additional forbidden knowledge, Corrin only finds herself feeling more upset. Though she has little need to hide her doings from Lilith, she still leaps at every opportunity to hide the books, and ends up all too stiff when trying to talk with her normally. Besides, the excuses about not feeling great after her spat with Ryoma will only get her so far. Eventually, Lilith will clue in. 

Of course, she is getting ahead of herself there – such a thing will only happen in the event that Kagero’s request is not Hinoka’s plan exploding in their faces.

______________________________________________________________

It is late afternoon when she finally entertains Kagero’s summons. The ninja had simply asked the princess to come whenever she was available; no specific times were required. Yet when she enters the quarters the staff have prepared for their use, it seems as if her arrival is perfectly timed, for there are already a collection of other people sitting in the room. 

Hinoka, Takumi, Azura, Hinata, and Setsuna are all crowded around a low table, trying and failing to not look terrified. Azura is staring at her cup of tea, Hinata at his lap, Setsuna at nothing, and Hinoka and Takumi at each other. As for Kagero, she is standing at the head of the table, with her sharp eyes boring into Corrin. Ninjas never betray their secrets in their faces, yet Corrin finds herself searching Kagero for any inkling of emotion anyway. She needs to know how badly they’ve screwed up. Seeing everyone here is all she needs to know that she will spend this meeting fighting for her life. 

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Corrin.” Kagero says in a calm, flat voice. Her face offers no pleasure beyond an eyebrow twitch that gives off more annoyance than anything, but she doesn’t sound particularly upset to see Corrin. 

That’s how they get you, she remembers Kaze telling her once. Of the three ninjas, he was the only one who would ever let her in on any of their tricks. Being the retainers to the future king, Kagero and Saizo had to be much more tight-lipped. She can see that Kagero is unwilling to slack on that even now. 

“Of course,” she replies, doing a soft curtsy out of habit (before realizing that it looks quite silly in a kimono). “Is there somewhere in particular you would like me to sit?” 

In Nohr, there would be a chair or something cementing her position, but in Hoshido, she could easily ask one of her siblings to scooch over. Nonetheless, in Kagero’s reply, she makes it clear that she does not want her to do so. She extends an arm out as if to say that she should be seated at the other end of the table, so that she may look upon her face. 

Corrin gulps. This cannot be good. Chills run up her spine like pattering rodent feet. How long will it take for Kagero to summon her master? Now that they’ve so clearly been discovered, an appearance from her disgraced step-brother is sure to follow. 

Even with this in the back of her mind, she knows it would suit her best to not let her anxieties show. So, with all of the grace she can manage, she takes up seiza at the end of the table, smiling politely and thanking Hinata as he pours a cup of tea for her with shaky hands. She doesn’t even bother trying to clean up the drips he’s slopped over the edge from nerves. 

And that one last motion is all it takes before Kagero begins.

At first, they expect her to speak, but she is quick to remove the leather bag she has had draped around her body from the moment they arrived. A few eyebrows raise in curiosity as she reaches her hand in, but Corrin’s stomach can only drop. Glancing at Hinoka, her sister is as pale as a sheet of paper. Both girls know exactly what to expect as Kagero’s hand comes swooping back out, holding a cream-coloured notebook that features two different years written in Hoshidan characters.

One of Ryoma’s many journals. 

Takumi, realizing what it is, curses under his breath. 

“Lord Ryoma recently informed me that many of his personal journals from over the years went missing suddenly. The move to the King’s Suite was not so rapid that he would not notice the loss of something so personal. Lord Ryoma takes great care of his things.” 

Gods, the feeling of wanting to die from a few days ago is suddenly coming back to Corrin very, very quickly. 

“He did not trust that whomever took his records had his or the country’s best interest in mind, so he asked me to pursue the culprit and return his journals to him.” 

She tosses the notebook so it hits the table with a loud thwap, making Setsuna jump and everyone else cringe. 

“After a few days of searching, I noticed that Setsuna had left her book behind after an afternoon of reading under a peach tree. I thought I would hold onto it to give back to her, until I noticed what it was.” 

If looks could kill, Setsuna would be dead by Hinoka’s hand. The typically oblivious retainer melts under the anger of her master, her shoulders slumping and her eyes giving off all of the power of a scolded puppy. 

“However, given the current state of things with Lord Ryoma, I considered perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for why Setsuna was in possession of his records. So I plotted out which among you had journals, and I have gathered you to give an opportunity to explain yourselves-”

Everyone gives a collective sigh of relief.

“- before I tell Lord Ryoma about what happened.” 

And then their shoulders tense again. 

Kagero shows no sympathy for them. 

Her arms fold across her chest, and her eyes glare down at the book on the table, as if Ryoma’s records themselves are the offenders in this situation. Maybe they are for her. After all, she never officially declared allegiances. She managed to secure meals without Ryoma for the past few days, which Corrin is grateful for, but she is still his retainer. She cannot abandon him just because she is upset with him. But maybe she wants to. Maybe that’s why she is letting them have their say before she does her job. 

If the rest of the group recognizes this in her face, they do not recognize it with their words. Their lips remain sealed tight, prepared to go down with the ship. Everything about each of them is so tightly wound, but she finds herself wondering if this is really the best course to take. If they say nothing, will Kagero just tell Ryoma everything she knows? Does any sympathy she has actually get to play a part in the narrative? 

She glances quickly around the table, trying to meet the eyes of the others to silently ask them what they plan to do. Unfortunately for her, most of them are still doing what they were doing before — avoiding looking at anyone at all. Even Hinoka, whom she had expected to see standing a little more strongly, has slumped in her seat and is staring at her cup of tea.

“Well?” Kagero asks sharply, still not daring to look individually at each one of them. “Is there nothing to say? Have you all stolen these records to betray the crown?”

Hinoka winces, and for a moment it seems like the silence might continue to permeate the air… Then finally, the first princess of Hoshido can no longer hold and cracks under the pressure. 

“It was my idea,” she blurts out, eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping at the table, “But I didn’t do it to hurt him. Even if… I know he’s been… He’s my brother. I would never want to do anything to hurt him, but…”

“But?” Kagero prompts, still seemingly unconvinced.

“I couldn’t let Corrin live the rest of her life in fear. If Ryoma knew something about Corrin’s father, her real father, then it didn’t seem fair to me that he would try and keep it from her.” 

Kagero blinks in surprise, a frown etching itself into her expression. It’s the first time in a long time that Corrin has seen her emote so openly. It should comfort her, yet instead she finds it strangely chilling. “Does he know?” 

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. When she asked, he insisted that he didn’t, but he… If he lied about all of us being siblings, who’s to say that there aren’t other things that he’s lying about? Having a reputation for being honest and actually being that are two very different things.”

The ninja hums in response, almost like she is prompting Hinoka to go on. 

“I just didn’t want Corrin to get hurt because Ryoma’s…” She pauses, shaking her head. 

“Lord Ryoma is…?” 

“… I’m not sure anymore.” 

After what seems like eons of standing above and staring at them accusingly, it is this comment that brings Kagero to sit on the ground across from Corrin. The tension is still thick in the air, that much anyone can tell, but the willingness to listen is there. It helps to finally draw out some of that anxiety from Corrin’s shoulders, even if only by a little. 

“What do you mean by that, milady?”

The two of them had little communication about the journals after their delivery, so even Corrin can’t be sure. The need for secrecy was relatively obvious, so she never bothered to pry. Nevertheless, Hinoka’s words and her overall demeanour reveal something about what she read. Did she have more recent journals than she did? Were there more pertinent things said?

Or was it those entries, the ones that crop up every once in a while, filled with a pain and anguish that he dared not to express to the world around him? The ones that have him blame himself for every bit of death, dishonour, and damage? 

A mere look at her step-sister’s face tells her so little. 

“I thought he was being selfish before, when he refused to tell us about Father’s true relation to Corrin. And honestly, maybe he still is, but…” She turns to look at the rest of the group, all of whom seem to be hanging onto her every word. “The rest of you read his journals, too, right? You know what I’m referring to?” 

Hinata nods reluctantly, followed by Azura, Takumi, and Corrin herself not long after. Setsuna, as always, is dazed and clueless – but still tuned in and listening somehow.

Kagero’s frown deepens, leaning towards Hinoka. “Is there any reason to be concerned for Lord Ryoma’s well-being?” 

Hinoka licks her lips, gaze still turned down, focused so intently on turning the thoughts over in her mind that it almost seems like she has nothing to say. The hesitation makes sense; to anyone who knows Ryoma, his writings are difficult to describe. They sound so much like an unconvincing lie when spoken aloud. But they are real, very real, and it is extraordinarily challenging to put them into words because the thoughts and feelings are just perfectly illogical, like a human’s. With the image Ryoma has so carefully crafted for himself, is there anybody who would believe that he felt such intense fear and self-loathing? 

He approaches love like a man dying of thirst would when he finds an oasis, is the only way Corrin can think to describe it herself. 

“I’m sure you know by now, Kagero, that things with Ryoma aren’t always as perfectly put together as they seem.” Hinoka lifts her head to smile at the retainer, but it is so obviously pinched that it hurts to look at. “It was why Mother urged you to stand beside him.” 

Kagero nods thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the other eyes watching them. It is as if only she and Hinoka are in the room. 

“He got better with time. We all did, really. Learned to turn our pain into hope and plans for the future… But I don’t think that what happened in Cheve ever left him fully. I think part of him is still there.”

Part of Ryoma is… still in Cheve? 

Corrin almost opens her mouth to ask Hinoka what that means, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. Whatever is being said now, she wants to hear. No, she needs to hear. It will help her understand. Maybe it will make her the person he said he thought she was. 

“Something inside him snapped then. And even though we tried, nothing fixed it.”

A moment of silence hangs over them as Kagero processes, her brows creasing further than Corrin has ever seen them go before. She does not move much more than that, just looking forward and thinking. 

It’s hard not to feel even more shut out of the conversation now than before. Even with her forbidden knowledge, somehow that of Hinoka and Kagero seems a fruit so much sweeter. She finds herself glancing at Takumi in hopes of meeting his eyes. Maybe he knows something more. 

In the end, however, it is Azura who reads Corrin’s mind. 

“Is it truly so severe?” She asks, bouncing between the two women with her eyes. “Nightmares, self-harm, the like?” 

“Self-harm?” Takumi exclaims, head jerking back. 

He must have had the oldest journals, Corrin thinks sadly. It makes sense. Nobody would want to impart a big brother’s burden upon the little one. He would only blame himself. 

“It’s not like that.” Hinoka explains, responding to Azura more so than she is Takumi. “It’s… different. The nightmares and self-destructive behaviours are under control as far as I know, but the way he thinks, it’s not…”

“He reminds me of Camilla.” 

Somehow, that thought manages to slip past Corrin, far before she can even question whether it is worth saying. What does writing like Camilla mean to anyone in this room? It will take some explaining, but it is the only way she can think of to rationalize what they are seeing in their brother and king. Maybe it will help her rationalize all of the feelings she’s been having herself. 

When the others don’t respond with more than a few confused blinks, she takes it as her cue to continue. 

“The two queens of Nohr were mothers only to Xander and Azura respectively. Camilla, Leo, and Elise were the children of concubines. Actually, most royal children were those of concubines…”

“They fought amongst themselves often, and saw their children as paths to power.” Azura cuts in, face held stoic but with eyes brimming with emotion. She may not remember what happened to Camilla, yet she surely remembers the days she spent there. “Camilla’s mother, Hortensia, was rumoured to be among the most ruthless.” 

It helps to have Azura to fill in the backstory gaps. Truth be told, Camilla never told her the story personally. It was Leo who told her the truth. Xander and Camilla were always concerned with protecting her from everything, so they wouldn’t have spoken a word. Why they did not extend Leo the same courtesy, she never knew, although she supposes she should be grateful. If it weren’t for him, she might have had a far worse relationship with her older sister… and maybe, just maybe, it will save her from having a bad relationship with Ryoma now, too.

“Hortensia was a cruel woman. She withheld a great deal of love from Camilla, and would show her affection only when she did as her mother expected. King Garon was never around enough to do anything about it. It taught Camilla that she had no one she could count on. That’s why she’s so… Overbearing, at times. She thinks everyone needs someone to count on unconditionally.”

Both Takumi and Hinoka grimace. In terms of one-to-one comparisons, it’s not perfect, but it’s about as close as any of them have gotten to saying it out loud. That has to count for something, she wagers.  

“Make no mistake, though,” Azura continues their two-person monologue, “As much as Camilla cares, she is not always selfless in it. It is clear that she craves love as unconditional as the kind she gives, and if I am correct, I believe that Corrin is saying that it might be a similar case for Ryoma.”

“What I read did convey as much,” Hinoka murmurs at the table more than anyone else, “I just don’t know how I didn’t notice.”

Takumi places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Corrin can’t help but notice how much softer his voice gets when he consoles his sister. “You didn’t notice because he didn’t want you to. You know how he’s always been about having those walls up.”

Kagero nods helpfully. “Queen Mikoto did say that he never let his guard down. It’s not your fault.”

The grateful smile that Hinoka gives is weak, but it is given, and they suppose that is a better answer than anything else. She hasn’t admitted defeat yet.

“But how do we help?” Hinata asks unashamedly. If he has any sense of how tender this moment or subject matter is, he doesn’t show it. It’s only once Takumi shoots him an accusatory glare that he throws his hands up in defence, ready to clarify. “I’m not saying we can’t, I’m just saying, if this is what we think is happening, we need to come up with a plan so we don’t end up prolonging his fight with Lady Corrin. Same way you would for any fight, really!”

A brief silence permeates the air for what feels like the millionth time. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, Hinata isn’t wrong. It’s not as if we can just leave things like this,” Hinoka sighs, “Now that we know what we’re up against, we have a better chance of beating it and fixing things, but we can’t do that without… some way to get through to him.” 

“I believe I’ve heard talk of healers that specialize in the mind, but…” Azura looks down. “They are relatively few and far between, especially in Hoshido. Not to mention that the cost would likely be greater than what we are used to.” 

Takumi shrugs. “It’s not like Hoshido couldn’t afford to pay. Royals have spent gold on much more frivolous things in the past. Trying to keep positive relations between two kingdoms and preserve the well-being of our king is a lot better than King Akinobu the Third’s gold-soaked concubine’s quarters.” 

“But there would still be a question of finding someone like that,” Corrin points out, not really thinking before she speaks once again, “Don’t get me wrong, I think we should, but it’s not going to be easy. And that’s if we can find someone. Do we even know for sure that Ryoma will be willing to talk? He hasn’t been open with any of us. I… I didn’t even know half of the stuff he wrote in his journals.”

Determination flares in Hinoka’s eyes, and within a matter of seconds, she is sitting up far straighter than before. She can’t see them, but Corrin is willing to bet money that her fists are probably clenched tight, too. 

“We have to try. It may very well be the only way that we can find out the truth about your father, Corrin, and save Ryoma from hurting himself in a way he can’t come back from.” 

Corrin nods carefully, her heartbeat picking up in her chest. She gets the feeling that she knows where this is going, but she’s a bit afraid of that outcome. 

I’m all for honesty, but right now seems like a really bad time for it. 

“So what are we going to do?” 

“We’re… going to talk to Ryoma. All of us, like Kagero said we should.” 

Damn it. 

She was really hoping it wasn’t going to come to this, but if Hinoka has made her decision, there’s little that can be done about it. The plan did belong to her, after all, and so long as Corrin is an accomplice in it, she has to answer for what she’s done just the same as the ringleader.

Hinoka turns to look at Kagero with pleading eyes.  “You’ll be there with us, won’t you? I think it would really help to put everyone at ease.”

“Of course, milady. There is nothing I would not do for yourself and Lord Ryoma.” 

“Okay… then it is settled. We’ll have Ryoma meet with us at nightfall, and tell him the truth.” 

Little else is discussed after that. Just minute details, really, and most of them fly over Corrin’s head. She doubts anyone can blame her for being as overwhelmed as she is. They’re all overwhelmed, really. The contents of Ryoma’s journals weren’t really something that they bargained for, especially not when the original intention was to confront her parentage. Going in to find out if she was the daughter of a mad god or not was already a heavy task, but this only serves to make things worse.

Honestly, it seems like her whole plight is a little forgotten in the midst of all of this stuff with Ryoma, which she understands at least partially, but it doesn’t do wonders for anxiety. She must show it on her face, too, because as the group agrees to adjourn their meeting and reunite later, Takumi stops her for a moment. 

“Everything okay, Takumi?” She asks politely, knowing that the answer can’t be truthful if it’s anything close to yes. He’s just discovered there is another side to his older brother, after all, and it’s one that presents a danger to him. 

“… Me?” Takumi quirks a brow. “Yeah, I’m… good. A little stunned, I guess. Guilty.” 

Her expression softens. “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. It’s like you said yourself, Ryoma has always had walls up. He didn’t want to let us in.” 

This doesn’t seem to do much for Takumi. “N-No, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head again, letting out a bit of a huff. “Sorry, but this really isn’t about me.”

Corrin tilts her head. “It’s not?”

“No. I stopped to talk to you because I wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, the only reason why we even know any of that stuff about Ryoma is because we read his journals to try and figure out stuff about your background, right? But nobody really acknowledged that the whole time we were there. You didn’t even bring it up.”

“Oh.” 

The panic is still there, that much she knows, but the situation with Ryoma’s fragile state has tempered things a little. It’s given her something else to think about, really, so while she is still eager to know, she doesn’t mind having something else… Even if it is still rather distressing. It’s probably something that Flora would scold her about, telling her that she can be too self-sacrificing. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still anxious to figure out who my father is, but… If I can at least fix things with Ryoma and see if whatever’s going on between us is actually just some unresolved pain talking, I might be closer to getting the answer I need. You know what I mean?”

Takumi shrugs in that same, non-committal shrug that all teenagers love to use. No one can say that he doesn’t act his age. “I guess…”

Even with his recognition of her stance, though, he still won’t meet her eyes. She squeezes his shoulder comfortingly to draw him back to her. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, though. I really do appreciate that.” 

“I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what’s going on here. We all care about you a whole lot – we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t. It’s just sometimes, people around here get… tunnel vision. Especially when anything has anything to do with Ryoma. Hinoka’s the worst for it. She doesn’t mean to ignore you. I mean, she’s always been crazy about looking after you like a sister. Her and Ryoma just have this like, weird sort of loop that only the two of them are in on, and it can make her blind to anyone else,” the next set of words come more bitterly, “It’s frustrating.”

Makes sense, Corrin thinks to herself. Based on what Hinoka mentioned of their childhood, she and Mikoto were not the best of friends. With no other adult figure to defer to aside from Yukimura, who would obviously take Mikoto’s side, Ryoma must have seemed like the next best option. Maybe that’s what Ryoma meant earlier, when he said that he and Hinoka did not used to be close. 

“It’s okay, I understand. There’s a lot of dynamics at play here,” she pushes a smile, feeling it only for him, “But thank you anyways for taking the time to check on me. It was very thoughtful of you.”

She almost laughs at how his face flushes a little, but she knows that will only make him grumpy. As much as she thinks of Takumi as her cute little brother, she knows he’s quite eager to be thought of as a man. 

“Well, blood or not, you are my sister. Hinoka and Sakura like you too much for me to not be stuck with you.”

For what feels like the first time in ages – or what the very least must be a few days – Corrin laughs and shakes her head, all too eager to ruffle her brother’s hair and listen to him complain about it. 

Oh, how they will need to treasure this calm moment between the two of them with the incoming storm. 

______________________________________________________________

It amazes Corrin how the same room a few hours later can make things terrifying all over again. 

The same room, the same smells, tastes, sights, and sounds… The only thing that is really all that different is that another person will be joining them within it, but somehow, the prospect of that one person just completely ruins everything. Not a surprise. She’s had a few days away from him, where he’s just been avoiding meals, potential run-ins, and even meetings about the reconstruction of Valla. They have brought her some peace. Nonetheless, now she knows that he is going to be back again, and the anxiety is setting in anew. Even the hours she has spent away from this situation following her conversation with Takumi have done little to soothe her anxieties. She knows he’s going to be angry about what they did. Admittedly, she is a little afraid that the brunt of that anger is going to be aimed at her once again. 

As she sits in the meeting room, the same spot as before, she finds herself glancing around the table in hopes of seeing something more in the other participants. For once she is looking to others to give her courage, and not the other way around. Unfortunately, the only one who even seems to be remotely putting on a brave face is Azura, and she knows better than to believe that. The rest are either Setsuna and Hinata, who have already resigned themselves to the scolded retainer position; and Takumi and Hinoka, who are still filled with guilt at having betrayed their brother’s trust. Everyone is right to believe that this whole situation is probably going to be one gigantic mess. She just wishes that they could have some false hope about it being okay. 

The minutes they spend waiting for Ryoma feel like hours. No words are spoken, few gestures made. Just complete silence as the group is overwhelmed by their incoming guest. 

Naturally, that means the moment the door slides open, the entire group’s heads all snap up to the door. 

Ironically, it seems to startle them just as much as it startles Ryoma. 

His expression is difficult to read as Kagero leads him into the room, ensuring that he knows that his seat is at the head of the table. It always is. It comes with being king. Perhaps this is a sign that Kagero, too, is nervous. He doesn’t need her to micromanage him.

Still, if it perturbs the Hoshidan King, he makes no note of it. He simply sits and waits, his dark eyes focused exclusively on Kagero, like he’s afraid to look around the table. It squeezes Corrin’s heart a little to know that a few days ago, she might have thought of his refusal to look at them as an act of aggression. She sees so much more of him now, even if she hasn’t forgiven him for the way he acted. 

“Thank you for granting us your audience, Your Majesty,” Kagero says with a voice so controlled and perfect, one would think she was conducting court, “We appreciate you giving us your time.” 

He only nods, though it looks like more words are forming behind his mask. 

“I understand that this will be a difficult time for you, but I would like to ask that you hear what everyone here has to say before making any decisions. Our conversation will not be nearly as productive without all the appropriate context and emotion.” 

Corrin’s heart squeezes as she sees Ryoma’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. In the time that she’s known him, she’s discovered that it can be a fifty-fifty chance if he is going to notice something. Often it’s the things that are relatively obvious that he might miss, like when a woman is flirting with him, but the strange stuff… that’s where he tends to shine. And in this moment, the strange little thing that has happened as of late…

No matter how hard he tries to maintain a strong expression, the colour is draining from his face.  

He knows exactly why he is there.  And, as expected, he is not happy about it.

#FE Blood-Splattered Child

[willel]

That’s the point, there’s no competition but ofc sttwt has to make up one, and justify it by saying Bob was better for her family… I’m not sure where it is coming from but it’s disingenuous and annoying, let the Byers-Hopper fam alone :)

If you're the anon still arguing that Bob didn't fit in because Jonathan didn't like him, then I feel like you're being a little disingenuous yourself?

Joyce wasn't lying to herself about Bob, she really appreciated him and loved him. Would they have gotten married and moved away together? Who knows, but she cared about him deeply. It wasn't just a front, he legitimately made her happy and she was devastated when he died. That's what makes it so touching when Hopper was there for her quietly as she cried right after his death. And when he gave her reassuring words and comfort at the Snow Ball.

(that's why I really didn't like how season 3 made it feel like Hopper was rushing her to move on when it was barely even hadn't even been a year yet. I feel like season 2 Hopper would've been more patient and understanding. But whatever. Water under the bridge, he's gotten much better and Joyce has moved on.)

Jonathan had a problem with Bob because he was dating her mom and he doesn't like male authority figures. I feel like you're really reducing Jonathan's character by implying something was actually wrong with Bob or BobxJoyce when it was really just Jonathan working through personal issues.

Even Will sets him straight as says Bob is good actually and treats him like a normal kid, the exact same way Joyce feels. (which could've made things doubly traumatic and tragic if Will had killed Bob directly like they were originally planning)

If you recall in season 1 when Hopper came into the picture, Jonathan didn't trust Hopper at all for the ENTIRE season. He took every opportunity to disobey Hopper and do his own thing. First it was when Hopper bluntly told him to say with his mom and not go to Lonnie's. He didn't listen, he went to Lonnie's. Secondly when he refused to tell his mom or Hopper what was going on with the monster and tried to take it down himself with Nancy. The third time when he insists he should go along to save Will and Hopper tells him hell no. Jonathan doesn't listen and happily goes with Nancy to finish out their big plan to take on the Demogorgon. I still remember how pissed off he looked when Hopper told him no.

It's not until the end of season 2 that it seems like Jonathan is placing a bit more trust in Hopper and follows his instructions, but then you wonder if he's really trusting Hopper or is he content with the plan because he's with his mom and his brother.

As per usual, season 3 drops the development of pretty much everyone so eh.

Anyway, this is an ongoing thing. I'm sure once Jonathan heard what happened with Bob, his entire outlook on him changed. The same with Hopper, probably.

It really is just his trust issues. I really hope they touch on those issues with Hopper next season, it will be delicious angst.

Which is why the bickering is pointless, and getting upset at the twitter kids making stuff up is also pointless. BobxJoycexHopper was the most tame least dramatic love triangle in history. Hopper was sour about it yeah, but there was never any direct conflict between the three of them. I don't know what the point is in getting mad at Bob or trying to tear down Joyce and Bob's relationship. BOB IS DEAD! Joyce is not dating a ghost! Bob is probably happy Joyce and Hopper finally found each other and have a family! I think he started to realize that already in season 2. He really was a nice person and he was good for Joyce in his own way, but he is dead. Now Joyce has another who is ALSO good for her in his own way.

Can Bob rest in peace without twitter kids using him to bash people with, or people finding irrelevant reasons why Joyce and Bob didn't work out when he's... dead?

#ask

[laufire]

ALL OF YOUR SPN WIPS SOUND SO GOOD. okay hard to narrow down but for the wip game can I ask about 1) caswena met before 2) endverse sastiel 3) demonblood kids 2.0 and 4) time traveling jack?

also on the btvs side, 100% support the vampire kendra sequel she deserved wayyy more screentime

Thank you <3

Okay, one by one.

-Caswena met before: this is... one out of three, maybe four? WIPs where I plan to address Castiel's stolen memories. Because I still think it's ridiculous that the show dropped that information to never address it again!

The basic premise is simple: what if Castiel and Rowena had met in the past (likely in less than friendly circumstances), and that memory was stolen from him? She wouldn't be aware of it either, as Castiel would've showed up with a different vessel. Maybe I'd bring back the one from "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", because of totally not shallow reasons.

I don't have much more yet, as it's lower on my list of priorities than other WIPs. I just got the idea and added it to the list because I think Caswena is a hot, fun rareship people should pay more attention to xD (I also plan to indulge in some fake married!Caswena in the Desperate Housewives crossover lmao).

-Endverse Sastiel: we never saw endverse!Castiel dead, so I choose to believe he isn't. I mean, I'd consider it very in character for Lucifer to leave Castiel alive (especially season 5 Lucifer, who lbr, feels different than the rest...). Maybe out of some distant sentimentality. And/or enjoying having a righteous angel to torment (like Lucifer taunting him with the possibility of returning some powers to him, for example).

This Castiel would feel even more defeated than we saw in the episode after Dean's death and he'd just... give up. At least, until something happened that, for a brief moment, was enough to bring Sam to the surface. And anger and hope would return then.

I both envision this as one of my "darker" ideas, even for the Endverse (the others don't deal as much with Lucifer. Lucifer is awful xD), yet somehow the one with a chance at a happy-ish/bittersweet ending lmao (within the parameters of the Endverse, where err... about everyone and everything is dead ^^U).

-Demon Blood Kids 2.0: this was an idea surged by some asks from a mutual. Basically, what if at some point demons in Hell tried to bring back this experiment, albeit with different goals than the original?

The story would, ofc, centre around Sam. My idea right now is making it 100% canon compliant. As in, including the information about his life in 15x20 lol. I find the idea of trying to make All Of That make sense and fit within this plot (the random blurry woman, the kid, etc.) a stimulating challenge, what can I say xD. I want to see if I can pull it off.

So the premise would be Sam finding out about those new experiments and being thrown back into that world, with all his conflicting feelings about him. Other returning cast members would be Rowena, as queen of Hell of course; Castiel, Meg and Ruby from the Empty (because Drama. But also because I have this headcanon of Meg as a demon blood kid 0.1 version. I think Hell tried this before and Meg was one of the original Azazel kids, basically. Tom as well). Eileen, because even if I don't ship it and I'm disappointed with how canon wrote them, the resolution is bullshit. And some others.

-Time Travelling Jack: I love time travelling fics and time travelling angst in all its forms. It's actually preposterous it took so long for me to get a solid idea with this premise, tbh.

I started thinking, hey, what if Jack not only was stuck in the past, but specifically in season 9? human!Castiel, possessed!Sam era? And, to make things even angstier, what if it happens after 15x18, precisely at that moment in 15x19 where he's on the street alone, quietly mourning Castiel?

So yeah, that's the Jack that travels back in time. Before Dean gets the Mark of Cain, setting the chain of events that lead to Lucifer escaping the cage. Which, spoiler alert, Jack is going to be determined to prevent. Yeah... he's not in the best emotional state on this one asñdlkfjasf.

Oh, one thing I'm looking forward to with this fic is the possibility of Jack interacting with Gadreel. I think it would be very very neat LOL. Another spoiler is that Kevin doesn't die here, of course :)))

-Vampire Kendra sequel: it would be a continuation of "Beware of Greeks bearing gifs", a one-shot I wrote a couple years ago. I have a lot of ideas of what happens after (Buffy returning to Sunnydale and finding out, Kendra and Faith meeting and how that would alter s3, Angel & Kendra bonding, Kendra & Drusilla's... very messy sire/sired dynamic xD, and so on). It's just I don't have anything concrete inspiring me at the moment. But I love Kendra and I want to write more about her, so I will eventually return to that AU.

ask me about my WIPs!

#homosexualslug #replies #talking to the void #my thoughts #my wips #writing woes #spn thoughts #supernatural #caswena #sastiel #sam winchester #jack kline #kendra young #buffyverse thoughts #buffy the vampire slayer #ty for the ask!

[saatorubby]

After all, I am just a mortal

A/n: as promised part 2 of the series. This will have third installment. I am aware that this is malleus x reader but I needed that found family trope for personal reasons.

parings: malleus draconia x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: slight angst, fem!reader

part one

part two: you are here

part three: coming soon

Before you left diasomnia, malleus assured you that you don't need to pack anything, he had plenty of women's clothing back at his castle.

His pale cheeks turned light pink as he understood the implication of his statement causing you to laugh.

"I mean that you'll be taken in for a fitting, and you can wear my Grandmother's clothing while the dresses get prepared. I assure you, you'll look absolutely radiant in the royal robes." Malleus smiles and tilts your chin with his forefinger and thumb so you are looking up at him. His eyes were soft, so very soft. His dark hair falling before his glowing green eyes and his dark lips capture yours for a blissful moment.

You could only sigh with content as his soft lips moved with yours.

You pull back before you get lost in the moment, as you had to get some rest before leaving for your trip.

Giving him a last peck on his jaw bone, as his cheek was too high for you to reach, you bid goodbye for the night, deciding to meet the next morning for your trip.

You walked back to your dorm alone. Malleus tried to let him walk you back but you refused, you just needed some time to think, so he left it at that.

You opened the now-repaired door of your dorm, finding the lights off as it was night by now, grim was probably in bed by now too. You sat on the couch for a moment with your face in your hand and hands rested on your thighs.

You were just...no there is no light way to put it. You were having second thoughts. You let out a long sigh. You would have to leave so much behind if you did this. Leave Ace and Deuce, grim, all of your friends at nrc and teachers, who you've grown to see as a family, too.

You didn't know what to do, you pulled out your phone and contemplated calling ace and deuce for a second but decided otherwise since they are probably asleep anyway.

You put down the phone on table close your eyes and leaned back.

"Puppy? Are you still awake? I heard about your trip to briar valley from dire, and also about the specificati- are you okay?" Divus Crewel, your favourite teacher at NRC, called out from the door, that you had unintentionally left half opened.

You looked at him with watery eyes as you shook your head 'no'. No, you weren't alright.

Divus let out a shaky breath as he engulfed you in a hug. He was feeling....conflicted. On one hand, he was happy that you've found the love of your life on the other hand he felt...sorry? Not quiet, he felt sad that you have to go through all of that to achieve your true love.

That you'll outlive almost everyone you know.

He knows that he can't start to understand how you are feeling, but he can at least be there in your time of need.

He rubbed you back as you continued to silently cry on his shoulder.

"Sho-should I...? You asked, voice cracking from all of the ugly crying.

Divus sighed, he doesn't know how to comfort you, a thought that makes him feel useless in your time of need. "I don't know, puppy, I really don't." He let out a shaky breath.

He may not be able to help you, but he only wishes you happiness.

"Ahem, a-are you okay, prefect?" Came a voice from the door, you looked up from the alchemy professor's chest (noticing the blotches of tears on his red and white waistcoat) to the main door, only to see headmaster crowley awkwardly standing in the doorway.

You hastily wiped the tears from your face and tried to give the headmaster a smile, which came out strained.

Crowley looked at you with a glint in his glowing eyes, something that you couldn't figure out. He walked forward and sat beside you on the couch, his golden eyes glistening in the nightlight.

He suddenly pulled his mask off, making you gasp, from the corner of your eyes you saw divus' eyes widening as well.

Dire Crowley was a handsome man (I know, a shocker). The glow of his eyes, now subdued, were amber now, with dark purple eyeshadow. Be still had those two strands of hair on both sides of his face.

He suddenly let out a loud sob, startling you even more. "Ohhhh...my sweet little hatchling, leaving her nest..." He covered his face with his hands as he continued to sob, with divus giving him a disappointed and disapproving glare. You hesitantly raised your hand and rested it on his back, running it back and forth.

Divus rubbed his temples and stood up, crouching in front of crowley, he put both of his hands on his shoulder and gave him a good shake. "Dire, stop it, you are acting like a child." Divus was about to throw crowley out of the dorm, when crowley unexpectedly threw his arms around you.

"Ohhhh...y/n, do not worry, where you will be we will always be with you..." Dire continued to sob, holding you tightly in his arms. You looked at your careless headmaster with surprise in your eyes.

As long as you've known him, he was never the one to show emotions, true emotions, but for once you allowed yourself to believe that he will be with you, despite the decision you make.

"Dire is correct, pup, we will be with you, despite any despite the decision you make." Divus moved away from crow man and crouched in front of you. You nodded at him, silently thanking him for his support.

You gently pried yourself away from the headmaster's grasp and thanked him as well. The teachers bid you goodbye, Crowley giving you another hug (or at least he tried, professor crewel held him back) and divus gave you small headpat before they left.

You have made decision, and this time you were ready.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia twisted wonderland #divus crewel #divus crewel x reader #twisted wonderland divus #twst #disney twst #twst divus #dire crowley x reader #twst dire crowley #twst crowley #hurt/comfort #diasomnia #briar valley #maleficent #twsten #dire crowley #lilia vanrouge #grim #twst grim #ace trappola #twst ace trappola #deuce spade #twst deuce spade #ace #deuce #heartslabyul #malleus x reader

[anime-kia]

Teach You

So I'm obsessed with Dadmonger. This is not the first and definitely won't be the last fic of Erik being a father. 

Warnings: Angst, violence, death and a bit of smut (it's not really suppose to be a sad story, just the beginning)

P.S. It takes a while for the reader (you) to come in.

Relationship: Single Father Erik x Reader

If you told Erik a year ago he would become a single father to premature baby girl, he would've laughed and called you a damn clown. But there he sat, staring at the four pound baby, crying her little lungs out. 

He didn't make it to the birth of the child due to fear, as he was not ready or expecting to become a father so suddenly. Two days later, when the family members had cleared out, he finally stepped into the relatively silent room, watching the mother rock the baby.

No, there was no happy-gushy feeling. Violet was just a fling and Erik happened to be too careless that night. They both knew there was no relationship. Some could call it friends with benefits, but he considered it even less than that. Maybe a one-night stand?

When she had announced to him through text that she was pregnant, Erik was furious. He called her stupid and careless, when in reality he knew that he meant it to himself. She considered getting rid of the child, but it disgusted her to even think about an option such as that. 

Violet: I'm keeping it...

Read: 4:36 pm  

He was frustrated and angered as he read the message over and over. Erik didn't know what compelled him to drive to the hospital eight months later, but he did. 

"What's her name?" Was all that he could ask.

"Nyasia Stevens."  

Erik avoided Violet's pregnancy completely, focusing on his goals, which he semi-achieved. Had he been in New York with Violet, he would've known how many complications she had experienced, almost losing the baby three times. 

Despite not being together, Erik made sure to visit them, specifically Nyasia as much as possible because he didn't want his first child growing up with one parent. In his eyes he was doing the right thing, but his arrogance blinded him from seeing how odd it was from an outsider's perspective. 

Erik sat on the carpet cross-legged, bottle feeding the three-week-old. 

"She has your big ass head." Violet said, a few coughs following after.

"And she also has all of my good lo-" Before Erik could retaliate, Violet went into a coughing fit, collapsing to the ground. "Yo, you good?" He got up and rushed over to her.

"Y-yeah." She rubbed her palms together, but stopped as she felt something warm smear in between them. 

"You're bleeding, what the fuck?" For once in his life, he actually showed some concern for a person who was not himself- or his daughter.

"I'm alright."

"Nah yo, you need to see a doctor."

"I said I'm good!" She brushed him off and went to wash her hands. 

Erik had noticed Violet's changes. Prior to having the baby, she was a healthy, curvaceous woman with pure confidence. She was bold, and not afraid to speak her mind. What Erik was looking at was not the same woman who he'd got into his bed after an hour of knowing her. She looked feeble, weak and sickly.

Erik: Aye, I'm comin' over 

Violet: Can you come tmrw? 

Erik: Nah, I'm goin' out of state tonight 

Erik stared at the three dots that popped up, then went away and popped up again.

Violet: Fine, but make it quick

Erik: Don't rush me girl

Read: 5:44 pm

"So what was the issue?" Erik questioned, cradling Nyasia.

"What are you talking about, Erik?" Violet asked while taking a pill. She finally took his advice and went to go see the doctor, though she didn't tell him what was happening.

"You was acting like you got places to be."

"No it's just..." Her eyes avoided his, "My ex. He's suppose to come by and get the rest of his shit. I just didn't want y'all to start conflict cuz... Ya know."

He nodded, catching onto what she meant. "So, how you been?"

"Eh, somewhat better I guess." 

He looked at the baby who was lulled into a sleep, "...What'd the doctors say?"

"Oh..." She bit her lip, still avoiding his gaze, "It's just pneumonia."

Erik knew she was lying, "Oh." But he went with it.

Suddenly her phone went off, and he noticed her mood change completely as she read the name. 

"Hello? ...Yeah it's all packed... I can bring it down to y- ...Okay... Okay." She looked at Erik, "He's here."

"Aight."

She went into her bedroom and shoved a garbage bag to the door with her foot. 

"You need help?"

"Nah, you got her. I can do it."

By time she got the last bag to the door, she was winded, taking deep breaths. Three knocks rapped against the door and she opened it ajar allowing Erik to see less than half of the man's face. 

"Whatchu got the door cracked like this for?" The man's voice was harsh, cold and had a hint of aggression in it. A familiar tone that Erik recognized. 

"All your stuff is right here. You don't need to come in."

"Stop playing with me." 

"Tim, all your stuff is at the door, I'm not hiding anything from you. Just grab your shit and go."

"If you don't get the fuck out my way, Vi." A loud boom and Violet flying backwards caused Erik to raise his eyebrows and stand from his seat. The man, Tim, entered the apartment staring down at Violet with a crazed expression. She tried getting up, but was pushed back down. "Stay down, bitch."

After setting Nyasia onto the table, wrapped in her blanket and his sweater, Erik cautiously peered around the corner. He had noticed an elevation on the side of Tim's hip, shaped like a gun.

"You got some nerve. After I gave you all that I had you out here cheating and being a slut. Then you gon' break up with me cuz you had some other nigga's bastard kid?"

She glared at him, "Don't talk about my daughter like that." 

"Nah, fuck that. You said you loved me. Why you gotta do me like that, Vi?"

"Because you're fucking abusive. I could never love you and I should've left your sorry ass long ago."

He started to laugh, "I ain't losing you."

"And I'm not giving you a choice. Get the fuck out!"

His hand moved under his shirt, pulling out the pistol. Violet's eye's widened. 

"Are you fucking crazy!?"

"See, here's the thing... I told your ass from the jump you ain't leaving me for anyone. I'll kill if I have to." He took the safety off and aimed at her. "So either you get that through your dumb ass head or my bullet will be the only thing going through it." 

She didn't respond, only angering him even more so he shot at the ground by her foot. Violet flinched, pulling her foot up to her chest.

"Answer me, bi-" His head turned sharply towards the kitchen as he heard the sound of a baby crying. 

During the fiasco, Erik turned the kitchen lights off and hid behind the archway out of Tim's sight. He watched as the chunky man stormed into the room, searching for the light switch, pistol still in hand. As he flicked on the light, Erik grabbed his arm and slammed it against the wall, trying to free the gun from his hand.  

"You!" He growled and tried bending his arm to aim at Erik. 

Tim managed to knock Erik onto the ground and aimed for him, but Erik was fast, kicking him in the knee and hopped back up. Erik elbowed him in his stomach and tried grabbing the gun, but the grip he had on it was unbelievable. Tim shoved himself and Erik backwards into a wall, causing paintings to crash onto the ground. Their arms were intertwined tightly as they continued to scuffle. Violet tried to break them up, but only ended up getting shoved into her kitchen table, where Nyasia was crying. Tim started aimlessly shooting, hoping to hit Erik somewhere, stray bullets bounced around the room. Erik finally managed to unarmed Tim, but the loud scream of Violet silenced them both. 

They looked over and watched in horror as she held onto her bleeding neck. Not only that, but she was shielding Nyasia with her entire body. Blood started to seep through the back of her shirt and onto the white tiles. At least four bullets had penetrated her, one surely hitting a major organ. 

As Tim stared in horror, Erik took advantage to knock him out with a punch. He rushed over to the two girls.

"It's okay. You're okay. Keep your eyes open, keep 'em open." He pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around her body, then took his own hands and applied pressure onto her neck, "Don't you fuckin' close your eyes, Vi." It was the first time he called her by her nickname. "Think about Nyasia, she needs her mom." He could feel tears welling into his eyes as the light in hers began to fade. "Come on, I can't do this shit on my own! Don't you close your eyes!" He shook her body, but she was long gone.

When reality finally hit him, Erik was filled with rage and anger. He looked at the unconscious man, and picked up the gun. He aimed at his head, ready to pull the trigger until Nyasia's cries grew louder. In his past, Erik would have no problem pulling the trigger, but her cries compelled him to stop. He broke down and held his daughter, the distant sounds of sirens became louder. 

This was going to be a long night...

After Violet's funeral, Erik had to go to court for two different cases. One being the trial of Tim, his full name, Timothy Banter and the other which he believed was beyond unnecessary, fighting for custody of his daughter.

Of course the trial for Timothy was easy enough, he was guilty. He even admitted it himself. But the fight for his daughter was something else. A very long and drawn out process and Erik could've easily given up the battle and allowed Violet's parents to take custody of Nyasia, but he wasn't having it. Not after what happened to Violet. He needed to be there to protect her from the world, and from psychotic men like Timothy. 

He got emotional in court a few times until the judge finally decided he proven himself worthy enough to take care of the child. There was no way he was going to stay in New York anymore, so he moved back to his first home in Oakland.  

That was three years ago, but now Erik had rebuilt his relationship with his family in Wakanda and started working with their Wakandan Outreach Centre in Oakland. He had gotten his life together. Somewhat...

He lived in a nice two bedroom, two bathroom bungalow outside of the city, with his three-year-old daughter and drove a Dodge Charger, souped up to his liking.  

He put his hoe tendencies away after the whole incident, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking for someone. The problem was, all the women he had been with wanted him, but not his daughter. He thought it was ridiculous that someone would run away just because he had a kid, but then it reminded him of his younger self. He would pretend to care about his date's personal life and if she had a child, he would pretend to care for the kid (as long as it got him some pussy). But he would leave right after and never contact her again. He thought this was karma getting back at him for all those years.

Erik was laid out on his back, his daughter on his chest fast asleep. He had woken up a while ago from his alarm. One thing Nyasia didn't take from him was his light sleeping. She slept like a rock, whereas the slightest thing would wake him out of his sleep. 

As she got older, she started to look like him, but more so like Violet. She got her mother's round hazel eyes, and nose, and Erik's lips and honey brown skin. Her body was still smaller than your average three-year-old and still weighed a lot less, but she was healthy and he made sure of it. Every time they went to her paediatrician, he was glad to hear that she didn't have any arising complications due to her being a premie. 

She was his world and he would never let anything happen to her.

"Ny?" He rubbed her back and watched as she whined and snuggled more into his chest. "Wake up, baby girl."

She mumbled and groaned, holding him tight. 

"Daddy's gotta get up." 

"Nooo." She whined. He sat up and held her close to his chest as he pulled the covers off. 

It was nine and Erik had to be at the centre for twelve. They were hosting a convention to celebrate Black Excellence. He first opened the idea to his daughter, asking her if she wanted to see why being black was probably the greatest thing ever and his daughter of course was down for that (obviously she didn't know what he was talking about).

Their first trip was to the bathroom. Erik ran her bath and helped her wash off as he brushed his teeth. While lathering her body in soap, she grabbed the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and started to pull. He grabbed her hand and scolded, "Aye lil mama, don't be doing that." She pouted. "Nah, don't be sad now, you could've broken one of my damn teeth."    

He got up and spat the foamy toothpaste out and rinsed out his mouth then attended back to Nyasia. He washed off the soap, took her out and wrapped her in a yellow towel with a hood that resembled a duck.

"Daddy?" She asked as he sat her on his bed and got out an outfit and moisturizing products.

"Yeah, princess?"

"Where we going?"

"To the centre." He responded, and began to moisturize her soft skin with shea butter. 

"Why?"

"To see the greatness of folks who look just like you and me." He moisturized her face then sat her upright. "Aight, so do you wanna match daddy or you tryna rock your own fit?"

"I wanna match!"

"That's my girl." He poked her nose and she giggled pushing his finger away. 

When Erik finished dressing his little girl, he'd noticed her bedhead. He wasn't an expert on haircare, even with his own hair, he just went to a black owned salon in the city. The best he could do with Nyasia's 4b tresses was moisturize and put them into a little puff. Two if he felt like being creative, and toady he did. 

He turned on his PS4 and went to the Netflix app, "Whatchu wanna watch?"

"My Little Pony!" 

"Hell naw, not that girly ass shit." He frowned. Her lip started to quiver, eyes becoming glossy. "Ugh, fine. No crying." He turned on the show and tossed his controller to the side. Erik shook his head as he went into the kitchen to grab her some fruits. 

Nyasia was quite the spoiled little girl. Her tears alone could win his heart and he would stop at nothing to give his baby girl the world. 

"I'ma go take a shower, so don't do nothing bad. And eat all of your fruits." He said, while placing the cut up strawberries and apples in front of her. She didn't take her eyes of the TV for a second, only nodding and grabbing a fruit off the plate with her tiny hand. 

Erik knew she was smart enough to be by herself for a little while. But just in case, he had security cameras installed around his house so he could watch through his phone. He occasionally peeked out of the shower to make sure she was okay and she was. Her little voice singing along to the theme song put a smile on his face as he washed off. He could already tell she was going to be a great singer. 

By time he was out the shower, lotioned up and dressed in his white t-shirt, black jeans and gold chain, Nyasia was poking her head through the door asking him to change the show, but he told her it was time to go.

"Daddy?" She asked as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Wassup?" He looked at her through the rearview mirror.

"Why you didn't eat?"

He turned off the engine, got out and went around to get her, "Cuz I'ma get something in here."

"You not hungwey?"

"Yeah I'm hungry." He lifted her out of her carseat and set her onto the ground. 

"Wait!" She screamed as the car door shut. 

"What!?" 

"I need my dolly!" 

"Aight damn, girl." He opened the door and grabbed the African inspired plush doll, careful not to knock off the gele. "Here." He handed the doll over and she happily hugged it.

"Yo, E!" A tall, slim-built dark skin called to Erik. 

"Shamar, what's good, bro?" He said as they did a quick hand shake.

"Nothing much- Aye who's that back there?" He playfully smirked at the little girl hiding behind her dad's legs. "Is that Ny Ny?" She gave him a smile and ran into his open arms. "Wassup, lil mama?" He tossed her in the air, sending her into a fit of laughter. 

"Hi, Shamaw!" 

"Your r's ain't come in yet?" He chuckled. "Oh shit, look at y'all matching. And you got the same 12's! Bruh, I can't wait for my lil man to get here." 

"How many weeks y'all got left?" Erik took Nyasia back into his arms when she reached over. 

"I think two. Tiana been bitching though. She almost slapped the f- I mean crap outta me for breathing."

Erik laughed, happy he didn't have to experience a moody woman for nine months. "I hear you."

"Anyways, they about to start. I think yo' cousin is here too." 

Erik sighed, as they proceeded to the auditorium. "Of course he is."

"The other day I was scrolling through Twitter and I saw this tweet. It made me laugh, where they basically said- and pardon my French but; 'I love being black, shit kinda dangerous, but it's lit.' And they added a Jaden Smith meme." The auditorium laughed at your comment. "And I just thought how accurate that is. We are so amazing, so beautiful, so creative. Literally everything we do is copied; our hair, our music, our dances, our food. Even the shapes of our bodies! They paying for lips!" And all the women in the audience yelled 'preach' or 'amen'. "But yet still, we're prosecuted just for existing."

"Great point, I just wanna add onto that." Another lady, Shyanne said. You known her from her blog  where she discussed black American issues and different political topics, "I also saw a comment that said, 'They want our rhythm, but not our blues.' And when I tell you I almost got that tattooed onto my damn face!"

The auditorium erupted in shouts and applause, giving off a church-like vibe.

"Makes no damn sense." You laughed and adjusted your red dashiki, "Look, it's so much we can get into, but I know we're running out of time and we gotta get those workshops going so if anyone wants to add anything quick we can do that. If not, we're gonna take a lunch break and get started." A few questions were answered, then everyone was dismissed to get lunch. 

Throughout the conference, Erik could not stop looking at you. You were so full of energy and just genuinely happy to be there to express your love for your culture. He's never seen you before, but he was going to make sure it wouldn't be the last either. 

"Cousin, you know if you take a picture it lasts longer." The familiar accent caused Erik to let out an annoyed sigh. "But that would be quite creepy I suppose."

"Shut the hell up." He said, averting his attention from your backside.

"Hey, don't speak like that in front of the future princess." T'Challa covered the little girl's ears who was seated in his lap, toying with his kimoyo beads. 

"She already heard it all."

"Tsk, tsk." T'Challa shook his head, disappointed, but not surprised. "So why don't you go and talk to her?"

"Who said I wanna talk to her?" He looked at his daughter, and picked a lint out of her hair.

T'Challa chuckled, "You're not fooling me, N'Jadaka."

Erik kissed his teeth, "Don't call me that, bruh."

"If you don't go I will." He teased.

"Keep yo' happy ass here. I don't need ya help." Erik snapped, getting off the sofa. 

"You have ten minutes before the workshops." T'Challa called to Erik as he walked over to you. 

A tap on your shoulder turned you around. Your eyes met with a rather large chest until you craned your head upwards and met with dark brown eyes. "Oh, hi." You shielded your mouth with a hand and tried to finish the sugar cookie faster.  

"Hey, your speech was really good and the points you brought up."

"Thank you." You held out your other hand for him to shake it, "(Y/n)." 

"Erik." He took your hand and shook it. 

"Hold up, as in... Erik Killmonger?"

"Uh, I don't go by that title anymore."

You nodded, "Yeah, so I heard. You turned over a new leaf or something?"

"You could say that."

Erik's story of his accomplishments, uprising and life changes were well known around the country. It was surprising to hear how much mercy was shed on him, even after the whole Wakandan incident. He became a tabula rasa within the following years, starting over his life. 

"I'm hosting one of the workshops. It's a seminar on black female beauty for all ages- and genders. You could swing by if you'd like." 

He looked down at you, rubbing is bearded chin, "I'll think about it." 

Of course he would go, even if it was just for a second. Erik knew that he had to teach his daughter how to love herself from the beginning. He always made sure to remind her how beautiful her brown skin was or how gorgeous her coily hair was. He never wanted her to second guess her appearance, but there was only so much he could do for her. One day, she might want straight hair and lighter skin, and he would feel guilty for not being able to assure her of her beauty. He knew that eventually she would need a role model that she could relate and look up to. A woman like you even...

"Okay great, nice meeting you, Erik." You picked up your purse.

"Yeah, same to you, ma."

In the crowded space, you stood out as you walked upstairs to your workshop. Chocolate skin glowing, hair was styled neatly into lemonade braids, bright red dashiki contrasting against the grey walls and tiles, black heels clicking against the floor growing quieter in Erik's ears as he watched you leave.

"So cuz', did you take a picture?" T'Challa was suddenly at his side, with his fussing daughter. 

"What, nigga? No."

"Brother! Come on, it's about to st-" The voice of his teenage cousin called out. "Oh, Erik!" She hugged his side. She had grown taller, her head was just above his armpit now. 

"Sup, Shuri?" He hugged her back, "What, the whole family here?"

"No, just us. We had to come support your big event." T'Challa said.

"Showi!" Nyasia reached out to the teenager.

She took the child from her brother, "Hello Princess Nyasia. How are you?" 

"Good!"

"And how old are you now?"

"Fwee!" She held up four fingers in Shuri's face.

"No, Ny." Erik corrected her and put her pinky finger down, "That's three."

The cousins all laughed and Shuri gave Nyasia back to her father. 

"By the way, Erik..." She began with a cheeky tone in her voice, "I saw you talking to that woman." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"So what?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

Her grin was the wickedest thing Erik had ever seen, "Are you trying to get Nyasia a sibling?" 

Erik was about to chase Shuri around the building until T'Challa interrupted reminding him that he was holding a child and that the workshops were about to begin.

"See ya later, cuz'!" They called out and parted ways.

Erik sighed, "It's just you and me, Ny."

"Yay!"

After going to five different workshops, Erik finally decided it was time to visit yours as the day was almost over. Unfortunately- or fortunately, Nyasia was fast asleep in his arms. The room was full so he stood at the back.

"Is anyone here a parent to a girl?" You asked looking around the room.

A few put up their hands, some young and some middle aged. Erik slightly raised his hand, enough that it wouldn't wake his daughter.

"And how much do you remind her that she's beautiful? Maybe once a week? Every day? Never?" You paused, "I cannot stress enough how important it is to make sure your baby girl knows her worth. Because one day she'll step into the real world, and they'll tell her: Your hair is not good enough for this job, your skin is too dark, your nose is too big." You shook your head, "Or maybe they'll tell her that she's 'beautiful for a black girl'." You scoffed. "No, she's beautiful because she is beautiful."

The audience clapped, and agreed. 

"Growing up, I always wanted straight, long hair. I wanted to be white, I wanted to marry a white man. Anytime I looked in the mirror, all I saw was an ugly black kid who was not good or pretty enough. But what the hell is pretty these days? Society tries to tell you what is and what is not, but they are so damn confused. Like I said earlier, they tell us big lips and curves are not good enough. But look at who's trying get all that we naturally have. They try to tell us our hair isn't good enough, but they don't want us to wear weaves or extensions, like make up your mind! Damn!" 

You spoke with your hands, conveying your annoyance and the audience cheered again, Erik found himself smiling a bit.

"Even our boys, they need to know their worth too. But that's in the seminar across the room." You smiled, "I want you to remind your daughter that she is worth it. And she deserves the world. But- be careful, you don't want to raise a narcissist. That's another case on it's own. Now I don't have a daughter or any kids for that matter, but if I did, I would make sure she is proud of who she is."

The convention had finally come to an end and Erik was relieved and very content with how everything turned out. The parking lot was mainly empty, leaving you, the Royal's and him behind. 

"So y'all going back to Wakanda?" He was looking behind his cousins, once again at your behind as you were putting equipment into your car.

"No we wanted to try Chick-filla tomorrow." Shuri said.

"Chick filla?" Erik frowned with his arms crossed. "Oh. You mean Chick-fil-A? It closed on Sundays."

The teenager huffed, "Dammit!" 

Erik's time was running out, you were almost finished packing away your things.

"That is alright Shuri, we'll come again next month. Now come on, we need to head back."

She sighed and gave Erik a hug one last time, "Goodbye, N'Jadaka. Don't miss us too much." 

He chuckled, "I ain't missing shit." 

She lightly punched his chest and laughed. "Whatever, cuz'. Tell Nyasia goodbye when she wakes up for me." She waved and went into the aircraft. 

"Sure thing, kid." He waved back to her then looked at T'Challa who was staring at him with a smirk. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He held his hands up in defence, "You better hurry, she's almost done."

Erik scoffed and shook his head, "Stay out my business." 

T'Challa laughed, "Drive safe, cousin."

"Yeah, you uh- fly safe." He nodded to his cousin and began walking towards you. "Yo!" 

You turned around and saw him getting closer, "Oh hey, Erik."

"You're not in a rush, right?" 

"Nope, just going home." You locked the car trunk. "I didn't see you at the workshop."

"I was there, I came to the last one."

"Where were you?"

"Chillin' at the back. You got a good voice."

"Thank you. So did you like the presentation overall?"

"Yeah, it was really good."

You slightly frowned at him then chuckled, "Yeah right."

"Nah, I'm serious. It was a presentation I never knew I needed."

Your arms crossed over your chest, "Look, Erik. You don't gotta suck up to me if you want to take me out on a date."

He had an idea of what you were getting at, and he still didn't tell you he had a daughter. "First off, shorty, I ain't suckin' up to you. I'm being honest." Then he smirked, "Secondly, how you know I was gonna ask you out on a date?"

"I've been in this scenario too many times." You sighed, "And quite frankly I'm sick of it."

"So if I do ask you out, you're gonna say no?"

You were hesitant to respond, and Erik seemed like a genuine guy, unlike the ones who wanted you temporarily because they had no intentions of settling down. 

"...I dunno." You shrugged one shoulder, casting your eyes to his shoes.

"Give me one chance." His words came out both as a question and a statement. "If I disappoint you, you don't gotta call me back."

You looked back into his eyes, soft and honest. "Alright." You said with a smile, giving him your number on a piece of paper. 

"You free tomorrow?" 

"After four."

"Then I'll get you after four." He smiled, you noticed his gold grills shinning under the evening sky.

"Okay, see you then." You waved at him with a silly grin.

"Yeah, see ya." He said walking backwards and you laughed at him.

So yeah, it was a little crazy going on a date with an ex-psychopath-murderer, but you believed that people do change. Though this was your first time meeting him, something about him was so genuine and caring, and it felt as though he was an entirely different person. Then again, maybe you'd be regretting this a few months later. But, let's be optimistic and hope for the best.

Erik shot a quick text to T'Challa asking him if he could stay one more day. If he did, he'd promise to take them to Chick-fil-A next time. And of course Shuri would not allow herself to miss an opportunity like that.

"Ya daddy done got a date, Ny." 

"Date?" She questioned him.

"Yeah." Erik smiled at the three-year-old through his mirror. 

"Can I come?"

"Nah, lil mama." He said, adjusting the collar of his navy blazer.

He could already see the tears forming and her mouth shaking. 

"Aye, don't start crying, princess. You get to hang out with Shuri today."

She wiped the crocodile tears out of her eyes, "Showi?"

"Yep. And T'Challa." He internally shook his head, she was already learning manipulation. 

The sound of the front door opening made Erik rush to the dresser to grab his pistol, clicking the safety off. He aimed at the two culprits, and let out an aggravated sigh as he stared at his cousins holding their hands up.

"Whoa! Don't shoot!" Shuri screamed. 

"Why the hell y'all breaking into my crib? That's a big no, unless y'all trying to die." Erik turned the safety back on and set the gun high onto the fireplace mantel.  

"You gave us a key, remember?" Shuri insisted, but he had no memory of giving either of them a key to keep. Unless...

"Y'all made a copy of my house key?" Erik raised his voice, glaring at the two.

"Uh..." Shuri cheekily grinned.

Erik would've chased her, but Nyasia came out of the bedroom, running into T'Challa's legs. "Hi, Uncew T!" 

T'Challa lifted her off the ground, tossing her in the air. "Hello, Princess Nyasia!" Then she reached out for Shuri.

"Showi!" 

"Hello, sweet girl!" She hugged her tightly.

Erik checked his Rolex, it was almost five. "Aight, don't destroy my house. If she gets hurt, I'm kicking both y'all asses."

"Relax, cousin. We got this." T'Challa said, placing a hand on Erik's back.

"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes, then leaned towards his daughter, "Gimme kiss." He positioned his cheek by her lips and Nyasia placed a kiss on it. "Behave."

"Bye, daddy!" She waved at him from Shuri's arms.

"Later, y'all."

"Make sure you come home and don't do the you know what!" Shuri reminded him as he made his way down the stairs.

"Shut the hell up." He did his best to hide his laugh as he got into the Charger. He shot you a 'OMW' text, turned on his hip-hop playlist and drove towards your address.

Erik was quite excited to finally be back on the dating scene since it's been so long. Actually, he's never really had a proper relationship, just flings. After the incident with Violet, he was left scarred and afraid to mess around. But as always, time heals all wounds.

When the bass of an old Lil Wayne song died down, another one started up making him nauseous. Someone just cut him off and he was on his horn for a good twenty seconds. 

"Bitch ass motherfucka!" 

All the rage that was built up in him had found it's way back. The song still played as he didn't have the chance to stop it due to the idiot driving 90 on a 60 in a damn Beetle. This song forever scarred him, reminding him of the time he unintentionally conceived Nyasia. He vividly remembered exactly what went down and he remembered that song coming on as they changed positions. 

 He realized what had just happened, scaring himself. If it were his past self, that Beetle and it's driver would've been on the news with the headline reporting 'fatal car crash on interstate 980' not that Erik would've been apart of the crash, rather he'd be the one to cause it. But your text brought him out of those thoughts. It was just an 'Okay', but you might've saved someone's life just then. He switched the song and made a mental note to delete it as soon as he got out the car.

When he pulled up to the apartment complex, you were seated outside, talking to another female with a gigantic afro, around your age. 

Erik: I'm here

He watched you look at your phone, then get up and hug the girl you were talking to.

You: What car?

Erik: Black Dodge Charger, keep walking straight. I see u

You: Oh

He watched as you walked closer and closer to his vehicle, still a little unsure because his windows were tinted. But he got out to open your door.

"Hey, nice car." You awed and got into the passengers seat.

"Thanks." He looked you up and down, "You look good."

And you did the same, "Aw thank you, same to you." Your outfit was canary yellow, above the knee, v-neck dress that you paired with brown heels and gold hoop earrings. Erik on the other hand wore a nice navy blue blazer, a white button up, matching navy bottoms, black loafers and of course accompanying it with his gold chain.

"So who was that?" He asked, driving out of the complex.

"My roommate, I asked her to come down with me cuz I didn't want to wait alone. We got crazy ass people living there."

"Why didn't you just wait inside?" He glanced at you from time to time.

You shrug, "I live on the tenth floor. It would be a waste of time for you to come all the way up just to go all the way back down."

 "Hm." Was all he said, "Wanna listen to some music?" 

"Of course, what's your playlist looking like?" 

"A lot of hip-hop, rap, r&b, Cali rap, throwbacks, and I think I got some Canadian dudes in there too."

"Ooh, well put it on shuffle then. I'm tryna hear it all and I'd love to hear your 'sad nigga hour' songs." You playfully quipped. 

"Oh you got jokes." He grinned, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. 

You nodded, giving him your best smile. "We have to pull up to that restaurant in style. You said it was in some rich caucasian dominated neighbourhood, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well let's add some flavour to their dull lives with good music." You smirked.

"They ain't gonna call it good, they think it promotes rape and violence." He chuckled.

"Well fuck what they think then." You shrugged and Erik could already tell he wanted to keep you around. You turned up the volume, the speakers booming to Quavo's WORKIN ME.

Erik helped you out of the car, locking the door behind you. 

"Thank you." When you stood up and looked around, your eyes met with multiple blue and green ones staring at you both. You nudged Erik's shoulder and whispered, "We did it."

He smirked, looking at the confused and appalled people. "Good." You pulled up playing Kendrick's Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe. 

"You think they'll call the police?" You said under your breath as you walked to the entrance.

He shook his head and chuckled, "Nah."

"I'll get the six ounce top sirloin, well done please." You pointed a manicured nail at the menu.

"Sure. Potatoes, fries, rice?" The waitress asked.

"Fries."

"Okay," She picked up the menu, "And for you, sir?" 

"Lemme get a full rack of the barbecue ribs. I'll take fries with that too."

"Alright, your orders will be out soon." She picked up his menu and left you both alone. 

"So." He began, folding his arms on the table.

"So?" You copied him.

"What do you do for work?"

"I organize events; weddings, birthday parties, that sort of thing. But I also educate the culture as much as I can. So when I saw the Oakland Outreach was hosting a convention, I signed up immediately."

"I'm glad I could help you educate the community." 

"Huh?" You tilted your head to the side, "Oh! You run that centre right?"

"Yeah." He nodded, enjoying your astonished expression.

"That's honestly so amazing. Progress in the community." You smiled. 

By the end of the date, you were stuffed and happy. The food was great, and the conversations you had with Erik were even better. He was very intelligent and insightful, you definitely learned new things that never crossed your mind before. You also told him some things he never thought about before. 

The drive back home was very chill, he played Good Kid, m.A.A.d City with the windows rolled down. The air was chilly, but refreshing. Something you haven't felt in a while. The dates you've went on in the past were dry and a big waste of time. The end goal was obvious, sex. You would've rather they just tell you flat out that they were looking to get you into their beds versus taking three hours out of your day to go on a cheap date that you had to pay for anyway.

Erik was kind enough to walk you up to the front doors of your apartment building. He even waited for your roommate to buzz you in.

"Goodnight, Erik." You gave him a hug, your head met his scarred chest. You could see how toned and muscular he was when he took off his blazer back at the restaurant, but you didn't expect his chest to be that hard. "Oh and, I had a lot of fun. You should... Hit me up again." You suggested.

"Sure." He smirked, "Goodnight."

It was like a snowball effect after he called you to go on another date with him. Once a month turned into once a week and before you knew it, you were seeing him almost every day.

You were getting ready to go over to his house for the first time as he had some big news to tell you. Hopefully he wasn't planning on moving too quickly because you both were just friends, but a little bit flirty. Your relationship was moving at a nice pace and you didn't want anything to mess that up.

You fixed your curls into a half up, half down style and you wore a comfy red flannel, a white tank top, black leggings and full black Nikes. 

"Who you getting cute for?" Yalani, your roommate asked as you applied beauty supply store lipgloss to your lips. Her hair was styled in a slick back ponytail with three braids on the side, done by you. You had some talent for hair. 

"Girl, this ain't cute." You looked at her with an arched eyebrow. "This is casual." 

"Uh huh, is that right?"

"Yep."

"So where you going then?"

"None of your business." 

"Dick appointment, huh?"

"Wha- No!" 

"You are definitely whipped over that nigga, trust me, sis. You beat your face just to grab some coffee with him the other day."

"I ain't whipped, girl bye." You grabbed your purse and keys leaving before she could pester you anymore. 

"Don't forget to bring a condom!" She screamed as the door shut. Your elder neighbour, Miss Celia had a shocked expression on her face, as she pushed her walker towards the elevator.

"Good afternoon." You greeted her with an awkward smile. "Sorry about her." 

This was going to be a long ride down...

"I invited my friend over." Erik told Nyasia. 

"I gonna meet him!?" Nyasia jumped up an down, clapping her hands.

"She's a girl, not a dude." He corrected her.

Nyasia's face lit up at the mention of another female. Despite her being a daddy's girl, she loved having female company as it was rare. Erik would usually have his guy friend's over. The only female who had actually been in his house other than his daughter was Shuri.

"You better behave too."

"I will!" 

"Pinky promise?" Erik kneeled in front of his daughter and held his pinky out.

She wrapped her pinky finger around his, "Promise!"

"That's my girl!" He surprise attacked her with tickles, which turned into them full on playing. He blew raspberries on her stomach, flipped her with one hand, tossed her into the air, and she laughed and screamed.

You stood outside his front door, a little confused when you heard the voice of a child coming from inside. Hopefully this was the right address... You rang the doorbell and the laughter stopped. 

Erik checked through the peephole and saw you standing there. He liked the casual look you were sporting today, usually your outfits were dressy. 

"Daddy! Again!" Nyasia laughed and hit his calves repeatedly.

"Aye, stop it. She's here, remember you promised to behave." 

She pouted and went to sit on the couch as Erik opened the door. 

"Hey." He began, looking you up and down. When his eyes finally met yours, you regretted listening to Ella Mai'sTrip, the song put you in your feelings and his stare was not helping. 

"Hey, Erik." You grinned at the man in a black Nike sweatsuit, his dreads resting across his forehead. You reached for the ring attached to his gold chain, "Do you ever take this off?" As you stepped closer, you could smell his home, it reminded you of that sandalwood candle you smelt in Bath and Body Works.

"Only if I'm sleeping or in the shower." He replied and stepped aside to let you in.

"I see." You took in the surroundings of his home. Open concept, a lot of browns, blacks and beiges, giving the house a warm and welcoming feeling. You expected something colder, masculine and minimalistic. It was surprising to see a group of plants cornered to one side of his living room, but what was even more surprising were the children's toys scattered across the floor. "So, what did you want to tell me?" You hesitantly ask.

He bites his lip and asks you to follow him towards the sofa, and your eyes widen as they make contact with a little girl folding her arms with a scowl on her face. Your feelings die down as reality hits you. Erik was a father, meaning that he was with someone already. You were strictly just friends... It made you wonder why he took you out on all those dates in the first place.

"This is my daughter, Nyasia." He goes to pick her up, "Why you making that face for? I said we can play later. Now say hi to (y/n)."

She looks at you, her expression softens, but she hides her face into his neck. This only causes Erik to sit her on his other hip, but she does the same thing again.

"Come on, Ny. I know you ain't acting shy all of a sudden." You could hear the discomfort in Erik's voice, almost like he wished that he didn't have to do all of this.

You walk over to them and try to look at the little girl hiding from you. "Hello, beautiful." 

Erik turned his body so she could have a peak at you. "I dunno why she's being all shy. She was excited when I told her you were coming."

"She'll warm up to me." You smiled at him, "...So why am I just finding out you have a kid? After all those dates?" He could hear the disappointment in your voice. 

"I'm a single father." He admitted. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." You felt bad for asking, but also shocked. You had so many questions, but you would let him tell you when he was ready.

"Nah, we cool." He placed a kiss on his daughter's temple, "Right Ny Ny?" She looked at him with her fingers in her mouth and nodded. You finally caught a better look at her. Her hazel eyes were gorgeous, and you saw a bit of Erik in her. You assumed the mother was a beautiful woman seeing the outcome of the child. 

"How old is she?" 

"Tell her, Ny." He set her down and she held up four fingers. Before Erik could correct her, she dropped her pinky finger.

"Fwee!"

You were genuinely shocked, she was so small. Her father was so large, you half expected him to have a chubby kid. "Three?!" Erik knew you said it like that because of her smaller than average three-year-old frame.

"She's a premie." He chuckled and you 'oohhh'd' in understanding.

"What's a pwemie, Daddy?" She asked, staring into his eyes, they were so soft as he looked at her.

"A baby who came out too early." He sat down on the sofa and she climbed into his lap.

"Oh." She replied, surely not understanding the concept properly. 

"So." Erik looked at you as you sat down beside them, "Whatchu you wanna do?"

"We could watch a movie." You suggested, watching as Nyasia's hand fondled with the ring on his chain. 

"Which on- Aye, don't yank my chain!" He scolded, pulling her hand away. 

Nyasia's face contorted into a frown, her eyes watering and mouth quivering, eventually turning into a cry. You immediately wanted to comfort the baby girl, but Erik was already handling it.

"Ny, you can't be doing things like that. It's not nice." She continued to cry so he pulled her into a hug, muffling her cries as she held onto his chest. "She's alright." He soothingly rubbed her back until her cries died down.

You stared at them in awe.

He pulls her away from his chest so she could look at him, "Now what do you say?" 

She rubbed her eyes with a fisted hand, "Sowwy, Daddy."

"That's alright." He said and allowed her to cuddle back into his chest, hiding her face. "I spoil her a bit too much, but she gotta know there's consequences to bad behaviour."

"You seem to be doing a good job at that." You assured him.

"For real?" And you nod.

"Daddy?" You hear her muffled voice say.

"Wassup, princess?" 

"I'm hungwey." 

"Same." He looks at you, "How bout you, (y/n)?" 

"Yeah, I could go for something."

"You like wings?" 

"Sure."

As Erik got up, he tried to set Nyasia down, but she only clung onto him even tighter. "Come on Ny, I gotta get my phone."

"No." She whines. 

"Then I guess you ain't getting nothing." 

"Noooo!" She whines even more and you're just giggling at the two.

"So chill here, I'm not leaving. Talk to (y/n), she's really nice." She huffs as he sets her down. "Sorry, she woke up from her nap a while ago, so she's cranky."

"I get it, I'm like that too." 

Before he leaves to go order the wings, he gives you the remote and tells you to find a movie.

Nyasia stared at you, she looked almost hesitant to approach you, so you smiled at her. She bit her thumb and gingerly crawled over to you. 

"Hey, pretty girl." You said and she gave you a grin as she waved.

She pointed at your head, "I like yo' haiw." You found it very cute that she couldn't quite pronounce her r's yet.

"Thank you." You replied in a higher voice that you used with all babies and young children. "Who did your hair?" 

"My daddy!"

"Wow, he did a good job." You weren't lying when you said that, it was clearly moisturized, and styled into two puffs with a very clean part down the middle. It was frizzing up a little, but you assumed that it was from her playing.

She rolled off of the sofa and ran towards one of her toy dolls, picked it up and placed it onto the sofa, then climbed back on (with your assistance).

"Who's this?" You ask.

"Mimi. She's the queen. Showi got it for me."

"Who's Showi?"

"My cousin. It's actually Shuri." Erik had finished placing the order and sat back down. "She spoils her too."

"Oh, you mean the princess?" 

"Yeah." He nodded. "The wings should be here in thirty minutes or so. What movie did y'all choose?"

"Oh crap, I forgot. I was so caught up talking to Nyasia."

"It's all good, I'll find something. But I got a request."

"What's up?"

"You do hair, right?" 

"Mhm."

"Can you braid my dreads back?"

You were a little surprised at first, but agreed anyway. He grabbed a pillow and placed it in between your feet and sat down, resting his large arms on your thighs. The amount of heat that radiated off of him almost made you sweat.

"Aren't you hot?" You asked, sectioning his hair. 

"Nah, are you?"

"A bit." 

He chuckled and asked with a suggestive tone, "Is it cuz I'm in between yo' legs?"

Your jaw dropped, "Boy, please. Your body is like a damn heater." If you had a comb, you would've popped him in the head.

He laughed and scrolled through Netflix looking for a film. Nyasia climbed off the sofa and into his lap.

"You're not tender headed, right?" You ask.

"I don't think- Ow!" He held the spot that you pulled. "Damn, what was that!?"

"I had to check and the results are in... You are tender headed!" You joked.

He pinched your thigh and you yelped, "Pay back." Nyasia just laughed at you both.

Erik decided to play an action movie with spies and lot's of explosions. You weren't paying attention to the title, and you didn't bother to ask, so you just went with it. But you did ask him if it was appropriate enough for Nyasia, and he told you that they've watched way worse and she was fine with it. You didn't want to tell him how to be a parent, seeing as you had no children, but your maternal instincts kicked in and you said she shouldn't be watching violence. He didn't argue with you, only shrugging instead. At some point, Nyasia climbed back onto the sofa to watch you work your fingers through her father's hair.

You finished the last braid and watched him get up and stretch. He took off his sweater, finally becoming too hot after exchanging body heat with you for almost twenty minutes. He was now in a white t-shirt that gave you a better view of his muscles and keloids. 

Erik noticed you staring. "Thanks, ma." He said with a mischievous grin. 

"Yeah, no problem." You went to go wash your hands as the doorbell rang.

The wings finally arrived, everyone was happy to finally eat. He paused the movie and placed the takeout bag onto the coffee table. The smell of the sauces filled your nose, and had you drooling. 

"I got lemon pepper, and buffalo." He opened the individual containers, then took out another one, "Oh and fries." 

"Oooh, yes I'm here for both." You excitedly said. 

He served Nyasia's in a plastic plate, and firmly reminded her not to get anything on the couch and she complied. 

Erik walked over to the fridge, "I got sprite, Cîroc, ginger ale- oh shit, I still got some Henny." He said, inspecting the half empty bottle. "...And water." 

"I'll take a sprite." 

"Aight." He grabbed the can out, and filled a glass with ice and the drink. 

"Daddy, I want drink!" She called out, standing on the sofa.

"You gettin' apple juice, baby girl." 

"Okay." She said and plopped back down.

He got back with all three of your drinks, and he decided to go with sprite just like you. If Nyasia wasn't home, he'd go for a mix of alcohol and fruit juice.

Nyasia stared at Erik and your plate noticing that her plate didn't match. "Daddy, I want that one." She pointed at the buffalo wing. 

"Nah, it's too hot." 

"Pwease?" She begged.

"No, Nyasia."

Her shoulders dropped and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you." Erik gave her a wing with the least amount of sauce on it and she sparked up. He really did spoil her, but this would be a lesson. You thought it was a little cruel of him to do that.

She bit into the wing, relaxed for half a second then you both watched her face contort like she sucked a lemon. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth as she fanned it, while complaining.

"Owwww!!" She screamed and cried at the same time. 

Erik gave her the cup of apple juice to cool it down, she drank it and still complained. She started crying for real, tears running down her cheeks. 

Erik gave in and lifted her into his chest, cradling her and hushing her. "It's alright, mama. You good, you good." He rocked her lightly, "That's why you gotta listen to me, right?" She nodded her head and hid her face in his chest again. You understood that he did it to teach her a lesson, but now she would never eat anything spicy again.

The first movie ended, both you and Erik thought it was absolute trash. He asked if you wanted to watch another or do something else, but you suggested another movie. It was dark outside, and Nyasia fell asleep. Somewhere during the second movie, Erik went to put Nyasia in her room. When he got back, he pulled you into his arms. 

"You look sleepy." He said.

"No, I'm good." You lied, but then you ended up yawning. 

You nodded off at some point, only waking up to the soft snores of Erik. He too fell asleep. You were lying down on his chest and his arms were wrapped around your waist. The clock on his wall read 10:34 pm. The movie had long ended.

You rose up and gently tapped his chest, "Erik?"

He shifted slightly and pulled you back in, "Five more minutes." His hoarse voice responded. It was very deep and sensual almost. 

"I gotta go." You tried to get off, but his grasp was so firm. You tapped him a bit more aggressively and he finally opened his eyes.

"Oh, uh. Sorry." He let go and allowed you to get off.

"It's okay. We should do this more often."

"Sleeping or you coming over?" He followed you to the front door.

"Both." You winked at him then laughed it off.

 He smirked and pulled you into a hug. "Drive safe."

A few weeks later, Erik sent you a video of Nyasia talking about you. It was about eleven in the morning and it sounded like he had just woken up. Nyasia's hair was all over the place, defying gravity as she jumped up and down, pushing her face into the camera.

"You said what?" He asked her.

"I like (y/n)!" She gave the camera a huge smile.

"For real? Why?" 

"She's really, really pretty!" She said and ran away to a corner of his room.

"Ny come back." He was laughing at her antics. The three-year-old ran back into his lap, "What else?"

"She's so nice!" 

"Yeah, what else?"

"Uhh..." She looked up at the ceiling, "Daddy always says he likes he-!"

"Aye, whoa now!" He covered her face with his comforter. "Ignore that." He turned the camera back onto himself, his dreads were still braided back from the last time you were there. "Anyway, Ny said she misses you, so you should come over again."

You already knew Erik was the one who missed you. Work had you too busy to stop by and visit so all you could do was text and call him. 

"Oh yeah, she's been bugging me about her hair. Can you come through later?"

So there you found yourself sitting on his couch with Nyasia in between your legs, braiding her hair into a bun. Luckily, she wasn't as tender headed as her father, but you were way more gentle with her. Erik watched you, and his daughter converse about anything. It was something he could definitely see himself getting use to.  

You caught him staring and gave him a grin, "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It's looking good." He got up and sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and leaning his head onto your shoulder.

"Stop, you're tickling me." You laughed and tried to pull away, but he only drew you closer planting kisses on your neck. "I'm doing your daughter's hair, you better stop." You whispered. 

"You're almost done." He started sucking on your neck and chills ran through your body. 

"Daddy?" Nyasia tried to turn, but you held her in place. 

He unlatched from your neck, "Yes, Ny?"

"Can I have juice?" 

"Please."

"Pwease?" She repeated after him. 

"Sure, and what about you (y/n)?"

"Just water, please and thanks."

When he got up, you thought about his recent actions. It was strange, but neither of you really said anything about moving onto the second base, it kind of just happened over the course of you spending more time with him. You wouldn't say you were dating, but you were definitely more than 'just friends'. 

In the past, Erik's friends would've clowned him for actually being in love, but after his whole incident three years ago, they were quite happy for him. Yalani was a bit more skeptical, but happy for you nonetheless. 

When he got back, you finished Nyasia's hair, adding a bow hair clip.

"My baby girl looking fly as hell!" Erik gassed her up, taking multiple pictures on his phone. "Stunt on 'em den, okay! Okay!" You were amused by the father-daughter duo photoshoot. "Damn (y/n), you did that!"

"Thanks, E." You smiled at him, still laughing at his hype. 

"I gotta reward that ass later." He gave you a flirtatious look and you grinned. Nyasia stared at you both in confusion, then went over to the mirror to go an admire herself even more. 

"F-fuck, ohhh!" You cried out, bitting your bottom lip. Your nails raked across Erik's back as he rocked his hips into yours. 

"A-almost there." He breathed out, connecting his lips to yours. He had your toes curling, eyes watering and core shaking. You couldn't hide your moans if you tried, and you did, but he was working magic into your lower half. 

Nyasia was asleep in her room and he assured you that she wouldn't wake up. 

"Unnngghh- I- I- Ohhh, Erik!" You squeezed your eyes shut and held onto him tighter as he thrusted faster and deeper. "I'm gonna cum!" 

"Do it, ma. Cum all over this dick."

So you did, and almost blacked out too. His thrusts slowed down, hitting you deep each time. You whined, feeling overstimulated. Your legs felt like jello and you didn't know how much more you could actually handle. 

"E-Erik, I can't, it's too m-much. Ohhh." 

"Almost baby, ngh, just a bit more." He rocked into you a bit faster until he finally hit his climax, releasing into the condom. He collapsed onto you, allowing himself to go soft before pulling out of your warmth. He went into the bathroom to get stuff to clean you both off. 

He stared at you the entire time.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You keep staring at me and then say it's nothing. Tell me, E."

"I dunno, man. I been thinking about this for a while, but I really like having you around."

You turned on your side to get a better look at him and his physique, "So what does that mean?"

"You tryna be my girl yet or what? We been seeing each other for hella time now." His question came off as a demand and it made you laugh.

"That depends."

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped on his boxers, "Depends on what?"

"Are you ready to explain some things to me?"

"Like what?"

The patter of little footsteps caused you both to stop talking, the door creaked open. 

"D-Daddy?" Nyasia called out with a sniffle, tears were falling from her eyes.

"What's wrong, princess?" He picked her up into a hug.

"I-I had a bad d-dream." She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"It's alright," He placed her on the bed in between you both. 

You managed to slip your underwear back on and one of his t-shirts. She laid on his stomach and you lulled her into a sleep by rubbing circles onto her back. Her sniffles eventually turned into soft snores, her tears ran down Erik's chest and onto the bed sheets.

You snuggled closer to Erik's body, "I guess you want an explanation on her?" He suddenly asked and you nodded.

"Well... I was messing around a lot with different girls. Not giving a fuck about anything or anyone. When I met her mom, I was still mad at the world and my family. She found out she was pregnant right before I left to go to Wakanda... I was mad." He sighed, "I wasn't ready to be no damn father. But eventually, I decided to go see them. I didn't want my first kid to grow up how I did."

"So what happened to her mom?" You looked up at him, but his eyes were empty.

"...She was murdered by her crazy ass ex." 

You gasped, "I'm so sorry."

"Nah, she protected Ny... Son of a bitch was sending shots every where. I tried to stop him, but I wasn't thinking straight. Then I almost lost my daughter too... Her family tried to take her away from me, and blame me for Violet's death. The crazy thing is, I blamed myself too, but I didn't feel bad about it either." He shook his head, "But I would never let them take her away from me. She was all I had..."

The three-year-old shifted, holding onto him with a firm grasp. He rubbed her back calmingly. 

"I honestly don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for her... She taught me how to love and care for someone other than myself. I'd probably destroy the whole world if she ever asked me to." Erik smiled at Nyasia then looked at you with that same look he gave you earlier.

"She does deserve the world." You shared his smile. 

"And she deserves a mother too." His words made your heart drop. "Besides, she really likes you and I do too."

You raised an eyebrow and inched closer to his lips, "You like me or you love me?"

"I love you." Nyasia mumbled, snuggling closer to you both. 

"I thought you was sleep." Erik said, narrowing his eyes. He waited for a response but didn't get one. 

You giggled and stared him in the eyes, "So?"

"So..."

"What's your answer? Do you love me or like me?"

"Hold that thought." He got off the bed and quietly went to put Nyasia back into her room. When he came back, he had that same mischievous smirk on his face, "How bout I show you the answer instead." He said, dragging you by the ankles to the edge of the bed. He stripped and pulled your panties off, "Maybe we can both get an answer tonight."

Yup, love. It was definitely love...

WOW! I say this every time, but this was definitely my longest one-shot ever!!! 11K + words!!! 

I'll definitely be writing more lighter and happier Dadmonger fics in the future, this one was quite serious.

Thanks for reading!

(Start/Finish: December 10-12, 2018) 

#killmonger x reader #killmonger fic #black reader

[ayamturd]

late│technoblade

summary: three times you said i love you, and the one time technoblade says it back

prompt: “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to”

warnings: fluff and major angst, blood and death descriptions, dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @burntcilantro​‘s 500 writing event!! much love and congratulatory to min, they’re an amazing writer and an even better person (they’re so nice, give them the support they deserve)

also i separated some of the dsmp events and spaced them out (so there’s more time between for plot purposes lol)

wc: (2.0k) - m.list

“Why are you so stupid?”

You were sat on top of a chest, holding one leg with your arms while the other was currently being wrapped by Technoblade. While you giggled at his insult, you winced once he tightened the gauze on your ankle with a glare. 

“It’s not funny, y/n.” He leaned down to bite off the rest of the wrapping, finishing the fold as you huffed at his seriousness.

“I told you to watch the house, not climb onto the roof and play a fun game of risk. What were you thinking?”

His stare was heavy and made you feel little as he looked down at you. The tone of the room changed as you lost the humor in the situation, his concern overpowered by the anger laced in his voice.

“I just wanted to help,” you stated, turning your face away, discouraged, with your arms crossed. “You’ve been getting the all the resources lately and haven’t let me even step off the damn property.”

Looking down, you fiddled with your fingers as to avoid his gaze. “I wanted to try and fix the wood panelings that have been leaking, that’s all.” 

The silence was harsh, and you swallowed deeply at how uncomfortably stiff the air became. Technoblade opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it shut with no words to voice.

With a shaky breath, you gripped the edge of the wood and slowly lowered yourself onto your foot; you didn’t plan on staying here just so he couldn’t say anything more. Technoblade was quick to steady his arms around you in case you fell, but you immediately pushed his hand away aggressively and stood with all your weight on your healthy foot.

Arms out to balance, as you tried to take the first step on your bad foot, you crumpled into your self with a yelp from the pain and collapsed. Ready as always, Techno caught you from behind and guided you to the nearest chair. 

You flinched from the small movement but sighed once sitting again. Techno crouched in front of you to check how you physically were, but your eyes were closed shut as you tried to collect your breathing. 

“Y/n,” Techno call out. Calming yourself down, you opened your eyes to meet his; he was much more sincere before, his face soft as he spoke gently to you. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Looking down, Technoblade paused as to gather his thoughts before explaining himself further. 

“I know I’ve been overbearing since the attempted execution,” you reached a hand towards his cheek when he mentioned the recent event, which he leaned into as he continued with closed eyes, “but please know it’s from a place of concern. I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t let anything happen to you. I-I…”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You spoke for him as you pulled him into your chest, hugging his large frame as best as you could. He relaxed into your hold with a sigh of relief. 

“I love you, Techno.” You kissed the top of his head, and he only burrowed himself deeper into the hug.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Technoblade was hunched over on the front lawn, hands on his head while trembling from the overwhelming pain of the voices. He whimpered at your words, indicating he heard you to some extent.

He had come home, alone, and fell to his knees at the sight of you when you opened the door. Immediately, you had rushed over to him and skid to your own knees to comfort him, but he grunted from your attempts to touch him; even when under the influence, he was still conscious enough to fear for your own safety relative to the blind rage of the voices. 

You had tried talking to him, attempted to get him to give you any context to what was causing his anger, which he answered with snarling growls in return. “Tommy… left… betrayed. Chose government.” 

While broken into murmured words, you understood instantly and tried to bring him back in spite needing to quench your own anger from Tommy’s departure. You rested your palms into the snow, lowering your head as much as possible to meet his bowed head. 

You peered up at him despite his own eyes screwed shut from the unbearable chaos that roared within his head, and called out to him as softly as you could. It was a stretch, but you hoped you could soothe him down by talking.

“Hey bubs, just listen to my voice, alright? You hear me now yes? You can understand what I’m saying?” Patiently waiting, you watched him closely until he gave the smallest nod, fists still pushed against his skull and twisting from the ache. 

“That’s good, that’s really good, love. You hear my voice, now listen to my words.” Slowly, you leaned close enough to whisper to him directly. 

“I’m here, okay? I’m so sorry about Tommy, I know how much you cared for him. I still care for him too, and I know it hurts right now, but rest assured I’m still here. I’m here Techno, and I’m never leaving you.”

With clenched teeth, he let out a sob at your declaration and pushed his head against you. You took his permission to touch him promptly, gripping him with as much strength as you could carry so he felt stable and secure. 

You squeezed him, desperate to ground him from slipping further, and rocked the both of you. He released a shuttered breath, and you kissed his skin gently.

“I love you, you know? I will always be here and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

He clutched you with his entire being, your words and presence more than he could ever ask and want. 

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?”

You grinned widely at his words, smile almost sadistic as you glanced at him with your arms propped on the axe you carried above your shoulders. 

“What ever could you mean?” Despite the roll of his eyes, he did nothing to hide his own amusement to your eagerness to the upcoming destruction you were to bring. He chuckled, his deep laughter making you smile more softly to how genuine he was as you walked besides him. Hand raised to wave his rocket launcher, he focused ahead proud. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Turning to look at you again, you stared at him adoringly and smirked slightly while bashful to his confident manner. “We are indeed.”

It became relatively silent as you walked through the layered snow, feet crunching from your steady pace. You continued to take random glances at him, Technoblade doing the same until you both heard a loud groan. 

“My god, you two are insufferable, I can’t deal with this right now.” Dream sneered at you specifically, as if you were the cause for his own discomfort, and walked through you both.

“I’ll meet you guys there instead, but hurry.” Swiftly, he pulled out an ender pearl and threw it a few yards ahead towards the portal, his figure disappearing altogether. 

You stared in disbelief from his actions until a cough interrupted your thoughts once more. “You know what,” Phil avoided looking at you both, his hands tapping together awkwardly as he walked ahead as well but turned to address you while moving backwards. 

“I’ll see you guys there too, just, be sure to be quick?” You both nodded wordlessly, and he took his leave in fast haste. 

Standing there alone, you risked another glance at him and met his eyes, laughing loudly at the circumstances. 

Technoblade held a hand to his face, body shaking from his laughter while you were endlessly giggling, holding your stomach from the pain. Eventually, your fits faded with large smiles, and you faced him with a shake of your head. 

“I didn’t realize we’d be one of those couples.” Technoblade sighed, though you could tell it was for play, and nodded. “A shame really, I never thought this day would come.” 

You giggled again, and chose to move closer, tilting your head upwards at him with a sweet beam while leaning onto your axe. He gave you a small smile in return, however his faded immediately after. 

Lifting his open hand, he cupped your cheek and bent down to kiss your forehead, touching yours together after with his eyes closed. “Promise me you’ll be safe? I trust you to protect yourself, but for me, stay safe when things start to go bad?”

While you knew it was impossible to guarantee you’d stay away from the majority of the danger, you knew better than to leave his concern unanswered and open. 

“I promise,” you murmured, “for you, I promise.”

He pulled you against his chest this time, engulfing you completely and holding the back of your head earnestly to his heart. 

“I love you,” you voiced, your words muffled into his armor and coat. He hummed while looking ahead, his eyes trained on the glowing portal that called towards him. This was a war he refused to leave with mercy, the price of your peaceful lives together on the line. 

“No…”

There was too much blood. The thick liquid stained every surface and soaked through his coat that he pushed against your wound. 

Internally panicking from your tight expressions of discomfort, Technoblade desperately searched through his inventory for something, anything, that could heal or at the very least help you. He was forced to face the reality that he used all his potions during the midst of battle and combat. He couldn’t do anything. 

“Why, why why,” he snarled, his eyes clouding with an outset of tears he couldn’t care for. “Why are you so stupid.” His voice caught in his throat from his conflicted emotions and he tightened his hold on the fabric pushed against your stomach; the pain had faded at this point, and you were numb to the constant pressure he tried to hold. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I lied.” Your voice was light and strained, but Technoblade refused to accept the situation for what it was. He turned to a perched crow, screaming at it to get Phil and scaring it away with a slash of his sword, before tucking his head down in an almost silent plea. 

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?” he whispered. Though he tried to be delicate, he couldn’t help how tight he held your hand. 

“I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.” You gave a tired grin as your eyes began to droop, hand tightening on his, however incredibly weak in comparison. 

“I asked you to be safe,” he cried, body stricken with grief as he abandoned his hold on your stomach and instead shakily held your face, your own blood smearing against your skin from his callous fingers. “I needed you safe.”

You placed a hand over his, using all your strength to relish in his touch and kissing the inner of his palm. “Yet you needed my love more.” 

He choked out a sob from your admittance, and pulled you into his chest, your body limp, as he rocked you slightly. “I’ll always be there for you, and love you more than I could for my own safety.”

The ruins echoed the wails of a tormented heart on the broken landscape of a haunted battlefield that called for death and devastation. The smoke and clouds of destruction reigned above, and despite the final end to the corrupted nation that was built on nothing but lies and deceit after a helpless man’s death, Technoblade couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I love you,” he uttered, the words he struggled for oh so long to express finally free from its cage. “I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

His words fell on deaf ears, and he screamed in agony at the truth that laid before him.

He was too late.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you