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theapocalypseisonlythebeginning · 1 year

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Fallout 4 OneShot: Torture in Existence

Summary: “I lay dormant in body, but active in mind. I existed, but I also did not. Against the background of a rotting environment, I blended in. So please… Pity me then. Stop dragging it out. End my suffering!”

Nate and Gage encounter a Feral Ghoul in Kiddie Kingdom that is a little different from what they are used to…

Notes: CW: Please be aware that there are mentions of being stuck in confined spaces (first POV), gore, blood and death. If you start feeling too uncomfortable, stop reading. Take care of yourself <3

I also might have played a bit with what is canon lore for Feral Ghouls lmao, just to warn yah, it has A LOT of personal headcanons.

A HUGE thank you to the lovely Seth’s Kiss and NekoPantera for beta reading this for me. This was WAY out of my usual comfort zone and I truly needed a few pairs of extra eyes to help me <3 thank you!

This entry is part of Darker Oneshots - Halloween Event 2022. The other participants and extremely talented authors are as follows:

- Alastair - NekoPantera - PhantomGypsy13 - SerenaJones - Seth's Kiss - YaoiHime420 - Mishiko Shinsei

Please give their stories a read-through as well :3

The beam in front of my face was tainted by rust.

Everything was oxidised metal, that was the only reality I’d ever known. I could not imagine a world without its coppery scent and rough touch. For some reason, though, this rust, its sickly pattern where it ate away at the metal, felt important to me.

It was familiar. I saw it every day, 24 hours long, with eyes unblinking, unmoving. It was home. And so long as I saw it, I knew no one was getting hurt.

But it was familiar, too, because I had felt something eat at me once. It had left patterns across my skin, and edged its way down to my bones, into my brain, my soul, my very essence. Left behind were remnants of humanity in shape and form, but deformed into something different... Familiar, but tainted.

I lay dormant in body, but active in mind. I existed, but I also did not. Against the background of a rotting environment, I blended in.

So when a torchlight shone on my face, blinding me momentarily before moving on, I knew they had not seen me.

I wished they had. Yet, I couldn’t do anything about it… I never could. Not anymore.

Most of my kin seemed brainless. As if a sickly hunger had wedged itself into their cores. All they could do was snarl, moan and eat. This hunger guided me too, but it did more to me. At least I hoped I was special. If I believed in my selfish worldview of being the only one tormented, the only one in grief of a life I took for granted, then none of the others would feel the vile self-hatred I had… and that… that was the only bit of hope I had left. I hoped I was the only one tortured this way.

That, and the fact that my eyes were still staring straight at the rust. The building’s visitors had not stirred me yet.

Please… don’t wake me.

Let me sleep. Let me pretend I’m dead. Let me pretend I am in hell.

Please…

“Suppose I didn’t have to sleep tonight anyway…”

“Quiet, Gage… We’re not alone down here.”

“Yer not helping…” Even the muttered whisper was close enough to be loud to me.

They were too close. There was no way I wouldn’t wake – unless they remained silent.

A blink made me realise it was too late. The eyelids had momentarily stopped my never-ending view of the coppery pillar in front of me.

It startled me more than the footsteps had earlier. One blink was followed by another. My eyelids did a poor job of it lately, barely covering what used to be my eyeballs, but it was still a movement. A shuffle alerted me to the fact my feet had moved too. I could no longer feel my body – when I caught sight of my reflection whilst roaming, I was glad I couldn’t feel. The rot must be painful.

“Jeez…” I had no idea what the visitors commented on, however I heard the familiar clicking of a keyboard. After so long, the terminals still worked. Over 200 years of rust was taking over the world, but those damned things still worked.

It had been such a place of solitude to sit in front of a screen and type away the painful feelings. To sort of… keep a diary. No one would read it, no one would use it to understand history – I knew that. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t given me comfort to try and sort out my pain…

Now someone was reading it. For some reason, it felt like my privacy was invaded. But it also felt like a little shred of hope. Maybe they would understand that they truly were not alone. Maybe they would leave.

“Gage, these people slowly turned into Ferals…”

“Okay, boss.”

“That’s it?”

There was a long pause, but the words had gotten louder as emotions ran higher.

Too loud.

I watched, in horror, as my gaze moved away from the rust, jaw parting to let out a muffled snarl between dry, bloodstained teeth over which no lips existed anymore.

The visitors didn’t react yet. I caught a glimpse of them, and immediately recognized them as Raiders – part of the group that overtook the traders who had settled down in Nuka World, no doubt. We had to set up extra defences to keep those bastards out. More radiation. Ferals everywhere…

And it still didn’t work? How did they get in?

Back then, the defences had been to keep them out so we would stay safe.

Now, the defences were to keep them out to stay safe. Oswald didn’t agree. He never saw us as the monsters we truly had become.

“Boss, what the hell are you talking about?”

“These were people once.”

“We’re Raiders. Ain’t got no time to feel sorry for some people.”

Although I physically could not feel my emotions anymore, I knew that I felt scared for the life of Oswald. He still lived, he still had control of his body… He had been our hope for a cure… for salvation…

Slowly, my body moved its hand over to the edge, shaking fingers slowly closing around the concrete to drag my body forward. Blood started flowing again, albeit it slowly… deadly slowly… and another raspy breath was inhaled.

Out, came a snarl. A loud, vicious one. It was happening again. I watched my body move, I followed along as it fell down from its hiding spot, and unravelled itself to stand back up again in almost liquid movements, as if our spine did not exist anymore.

With little blood flow, came little control over muscles. I twitched, I limped, all the way to the sound of the voices. I was not alone. Three others joined me.

I recognized them. They were my friends too once. Jenny, who lost her hair before turning into a Ghoul before losing her entire scalp once she turned Feral; Ken, who had begun to pace, and pace, and pace at first to keep from sleeping, then because he’d lost control over his own body; and George… George, the man who held tight to a picture of his son, lost to him somewhere in Boston… George, who we knew was starting to be touched by the Affliction when he dropped said picture to the floor, into a puddle of irradiated water, without caring…

They limped, and twitched, and moaned alongside of me. I tried to will my neck into turning to look at them, to try and catch their eyes, but nothing happened as I tried. Even if I had caught a glimpse of their gazes, I would not have recognized their eyes anymore, nor would they have recognized mine. I hoped…

I only knew who they were from their ragged clothes… Their eyes held no soul anymore. Their eyes held no emotion.

Nor did mine… They were rotting globes of flesh begging for the day when blood would no longer flow…

“Shit. Incoming, boss!”

I saw our visitors now. They looked rough, radiation having touched their skin throughout their lives, yet it was still smoother than anything I remembered ever having. Slices on their armour told a tale of having met Oswald’s sword already, but they were not scared away by the encounter, clearly. One wore a vault suit decorated with raider armour, the other wore nothing but a raider’s outfit.

They were a strange pair.

But although I was trying to deduce them, my body would not let me think long.

It charged, throwing itself onto the one in blue. Arms flailed, nails tried to scratch, and my mouth opened to try and chomp down on innocent meat.

I hated this. It made my stomach churn – or it would have at least. I did not want to attack, but no matter how much I pushed against the confines I was in, no matter how much I kicked, screamed and threw myself against the walls, my body would not move. It only did that which the Affliction wanted it to do. It hungered. It sought life. It killed anything that moved.

Ghouls, those who were starting to look like us, were left to walk freely among us. Sometimes our bodies would turn and watch them, curious why they seemed stuck between death and life, able to walk a tightrope that let them dangle the dangerous, ominously green, ocean which would turn them into drooling beasts. But unless they attacked, our bodies would not harm them. They looked like us, but weren’t us. I craved for the time I was walking the tightrope again. I would do anything to be able to walk at all.

That is why Oswald lived among us safely. That is why… we… lived among them a long time... Until we became them.

As we rushed at them, charging as if slamming our bodies into them would let us eat them quicker, both intruders shot at random in a state of panic. Then, their bullets rippled through us with a calm precision. Eyes squinted at us through their weapons’ sights and triggers were gently squeezed. Bullets shot through my body, but I felt no pain and kept going. I threw myself at the one dressed in blue once more, but he side-stepped and I went tumbling down a flight of stairs.

I heard a crack. Breaking bones was not uncommon in this state, but this was a big bone. A big crack.

As I stood back up, my body was limping somewhat awful. I could barely make it back up the steps, and when I did, both visitors had dealt with my three friends already. Eventually, a bullet would hit a nerve that would disconnect the body’s connection with the rotting brain, and that was the end of it. Sometimes they decapitated us. Sometimes they just put a machete through our foreheads.

Sometimes they just threw a missile at us.

I’d seen it all as I wandered around the park, but I’d never faced death in any other capacity than being the one to watch, or bring it to others.

This time, they nonchalantly kept their backs to me as I snarled for them, hands flailing in front of me to get to them quicker – like a hungry toddler reaching for cookies.

They clearly heard, but they were busy with their argument. It was cocky of them… or they were simply this good at surviving.

“Boss, you don’t get to feel sad for ‘em. I put my neck on the line making you Overboss, don’t show the others this side of yeh – better yet, get rid of it.”

“They were people, Gage – all of them were people and-“

“What difference does this make? I saw you out there, killing Feral after Feral. Why the sudden change now?”

The one called ‘Gage’ turned to me. He did nothing but point his gun down to the one good leg I still had, and fired until my lower leg existed no more.

I fell to the ground, but my snarls continued and my arms still took over for what my legs could not do. I was moving so slow. They had all the time in the world to take me out as I dragged myself forward, yet they didn’t.

And he dared to say he pitied us?

Pity me then. Stop dragging it out.

End my suffering!

“Are yeh gonna be sayin’ that when the gangs ask you to kill settler for ‘em?”A pause. “We’re all fucked. These creatures don’t have no thoughts no more. Practice on ‘em. Or the gangs are gonna practice on you.”

Gage had pointed down to me, and my hand had tried to reach out to yank him down and sink my teeth into him – but I couldn’t reach.

The man in blue turned to look down at me too, and I caught his gaze. There was pity in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly.

“Look, I know you was some big fancy Minutemen General. I know you was helping them synths. I know you have a big heart – but you’re the Overboss now. You don’t get to have a big heart, or someone will pierce it and take over. That don’t sit right with me, cause then I gotta find some new asshole to bring us where we should be.”

“Always just looking out for yourself,” the man in blue said with a scoff. I couldn’t determine, as my gaze was snapping violently, angrily, between the two victims so close to me, yet so far away, whether the man in blue was angry or sad about it.

“That’s the way the world is now.”

I deflated at those words. It was too true. We had caused harm to so many people, not just Raiders, simply by having our defences up. The traders who had come to Nuka World first were no enemies of ours, but we didn’t know that. We’d heard stories of how Ghouls were treated, after all… Still… We had hurt them. Killed them.

To stay alive.

From the way the man in blue once more looked down at me and seemed genuinely tormented, I could tell that I was not the only one grieving a world long gone. And for a moment, I could no longer live in the selfish worldview of being the only one tormented. Even those alive were.

I remembered that.

I knew… that even if my Affliction could be cured, I would still be in hell.

As Gage turned to me and pointed his gun at my head, I seemed to no longer be fighting to get to them. I knew I was facing death, I knew that I was seconds away from sweet release.

I knew… and for some reason, that knowledge reverberated through my body and allowed me to have one last moment of control. My arms rested on the floor, still for once despite my muscles still twitched underneath my rotten flesh. I lifted my torso up, and rested my forehead against the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you…” I whispered with my final breath and closed my eyes as –

…

“What the fuck?”

Gage stared at the corpse that had uttered words despite being a Feral. The shot still echoed against the walls of the maintenance tunnels before dissipating to allow the background ambience of faint whirring from a far away generator to come back.

“Yeh know, for a Kiddie Kingdom, this place is real fucked up.” Gage turned his gaze to his Overboss, searching, momentarily, for some scoff of a laugh in approval of his words.

But the boss still held that haunted look in his eyes. So, Gage rolled his. “Seriously boss, I-“

“No. I know.” Nate looked at Gage and nodded his head. “I know. We’re all in this to survive. Alone. Nothing more. Nothing less. So let’s find this Oswald bastard and put an end to his misery too.”

Gage felt that his words hadn’t exactly gone through to his new boss’, however… he was aware that a man with a heart might just be what the Raiders needed at the moment – if just to ensure that someone wanted to help them get settled, and have a life here… After that? If the boss was still as warm-hearted and emotional, then he’d have to handle the Overboss … again.

But that was still a way away. For now, Gage could handle Nate.

As his Overboss started walking off, Gage was meant to follow. But he couldn’t quite move away from the body of that one last Feral… His eyes landed on the pile of rotten flesh, meters away from a large, rusted beam up against which splatters of blood and brain had splashed, hiding some of the coppery roughness on the metal.

So let’s find this Oswald bastard and put an end to his misery too.

No, Gage’s words definitely hadn’t gone through to his Overboss but… despite the roughness Gage attempted to show off, he had to agree with Nate this one time.

“Yer welcome,” Gage said quietly down to the corpse.

From up ahead, where Nate was walking, the Overboss smiled gently hearing those words, not yet losing hope that some of these Raiders were a lost cause. If a Feral had something softer beneath its harsh looks, a Raider could have it too.

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#fallout 4 #gage #porter gage #sole survivor #nate #nuka world #oswald #ghouls #feral ghouls #kiddie kingdom #fallout fic #fallout oneshot #my fallout writing

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fandom-go-round · 3 years

Note

Can you do more period sex hcs with Freddy, Pinhead, Nemesis and Trickster?

Warnings: Period Sex, Blood Kink, Rough Sex, Sex with Serial Killers, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex on Period, Implied BDSM, Knife Kink, Cutting Kink, Implied Canon Typical Violence, Voice Kink, Using Blood as Lube, Partners Crying, Overstimulation

Freddy Kruger:

Freddy gives you so much shit about bleeding. He knows that it’s not something that you can control but he acts like it, teasing you and making fun of how much you leak. This is just classic Freddy, don’t take it to heart. He gives you shit about sneezing, it’s just his nature.

He does like the blood, don’t let him fool you. He has no problem being anywhere near blood and likes the way it looks on your skin. Natural lube? Nice color? What’s not to love? Freddy might give you grief the whole time but mention that he cums sooner when you bleed, and he’ll never live it down.

You groaned, burying your face into the bed and pushing your hips back. Freddy laughed behind you, dragging his knives over your hip and leaving thin red lines.

“Done already? After you were just making a big deal out of everything?” He snickered you, slamming his hips against you. You moaned, looking over your shoulder and sending him a glare.

“Y-You’re the one dragging it out.” He scoffed at your words, pushing as deep as possible and rolling his hips.

“Keep complaining and I’ll leave you like this.” You whimpered at his words and didn’t say anything, turning back to the bed. He started moving again and you made a pleased sound, pushing close. Hopefully he wouldn’t be done for a while.

Pinhead:

It doesn’t phase him at all. This isn’t anything new or surprising to him. Now if you aren’t in the mood, that will be a surprise to him. Pinhead generally draws blood during your sessions, so a little extra blood isn’t going to bother him.

Your period isn’t going to stop him at all. Even if you’re a little reluctant, Pinhead will be able to convince you that it’s not a big deal. He finds it amusing if you’re embarrassed about it; the two of you have done much, much worse than this. It’s not a turn on but he does use it to his advantage, liking to use it as lube and aesthetic how it looks when it’s all over your legs.

You groan as Pinhead pushes slowly all the way in again, your legs going limp in the chains. He lets out a low laugh, eyes focused on your face as he begins to move again. You can feel yourself start to leak and your face goes hot, looking away. One of his hands wraps around your throat, making you face him again.

“You should not worry about the mess.” He smirks after he says this, fingers pushing into you to coat his fingers. You groan, clenching around his cock in your ass and you can’t look away as he pulls out of you. Pinhead coats himself in blood and pushes back in, setting a brutal pace. You cry out, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the chains for dear life. A little blood wasn’t going to stop him, that’s for sure.

Nemesis:

Blood doesn’t even register on his radar as being an odd thing to find between your legs. He’s a large man and a little blood here and there isn’t uncommon. He appreciates it honestly; it acts like lube and makes you easier to stretch out. Anything that gets him inside of you faster is good in his opinion.

Because it makes things easier from a size perspective, he does tend to seek you out when you’re bleeding. It’s not a turn on per say but he does enjoy being able to go a little wild. Nemesis will back off if it seems to bother you but overall he’s going to make a habit of it for sure.

Nemesis pushed his fingers deeper inside of you, watching as you bit your palm to keep quiet. It didn’t seem to bother him, adding another finger and fucking into you harder. You moaned, eyes squeezing shut and letting your legs fall open wider. Both of you were eager to get to the main attraction for the night but he was playing it safe.

There wasn’t a lot of warning as Nemesis pushed inside, a quick squeeze to your arm before he was inside of you. You groaned, head going back and palm falling out of your mouth. You could feel the blood on your thighs but didn’t care, not as he began to move. Even if the clean up was a pain, it was still better than waiting for him to get lube.

Trickster:

Blood turns him on like no other. Your blood, coming from his favorite spot? Sign him the fuck up. If you weren’t already bleeding, Ji-Woon would be cutting into you to help get things started. You bleeding saves him the trouble of getting his knives dirty.

That’s a lie, he’s going to eat you out and cut up your thighs while he does it. He likes to have you a mess before pushing into you, the more sensitive the better. He wants you to sing his praises to the sky and let everyone know who’s fucking you.

“Make sure to scream and let them all know what’s going on.” Ji-Woon’s voice is a purr against your ear, his knife digging into the ground next to your head. You nod weakly, tears staining your cheeks and letting out a groan as he pushes into you. He had been between your legs for almost as hour now, setting your nerves on fire and making everything sensitive.

Your thighs burn from the recent cuts, Ji-Woon’s legs against your own making you whimper. He’s not gentle as he starts fucking into you, biting and sucking at your throat. He leaves your mouth free so you can get as loud as possible, a mix of sobs and moans leaving your throat. He won’t be happy until your voice is almost gone and help anyone who tries to interrupt him now.

#dbd imagines #freddy kruger x reader #pinhead x reader #nemesis x reader #trickster x reader #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight #dbd freddy #dbd nemesis #dbd trickster #freddy krueger #pinhead hellraiser #pinhead imagine #freddy kruger imagine #nemesis imagine #re nemesis #ji woon hak #ji woon hak imagine #trickster imagine

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napeoftheneck · 3 years

Text

Rivers of Crimson (Ymir x Reader)

I absolutely can bestie! I had a hard time trying to find out what I could do for some angst without being yk. One of those “I’m not Christa :(“ fics, so here’s some hurt/comfort w/ some extra angst mixed in !! Angst is my absolute favourite to write, I’m so elated that it’s is my first request. Especially with Ymir, too !! Thank u <3<3

Title: Rivers of crimson Genre: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries, angst, swearing, Ymir being kind of a meanie, fighting, implied comphet if you really REALLY squint Word count: ~1.7k

IMPLIED SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF ATTACK ON TITAN !!

(There was no specific request for a WLW reader, so I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as I can :>)

Ymir had never really felt helpless since her youth. Even then, in those moments, she felt as though she had been ruling, that whatever she could do would bring praise and gratitude and triumph. It was only after she had been adjudged when she realised that the reason she sought after that feeling of authority for so long was because of just how dependent she had actually convinced herself she was.

Becoming a god was the loneliest feeling in the world, but solitude brought a power not many had; it brought independence. She never had to worry about others.

She often found herself watching her fellow cadets when they returned from battle. Ymir would often follow as they broke down, crumbling to their knees in wracked sobs upon hearing of the demise of their loved ones. She would listen to the hums of commiseration from other soldiers or watch as they would help the mourning fighter to their feet and lead them away from others' scrutinising eyes. She wouldn't pity them. The feeling of sympathy was foreign to her.

Ymir had been fighting for a grand portion of her life now. She had held herself to those same beliefs since her first day of training, so she was specifically surprised when she had taken such a liking to you.

She fought it for a while. Whenever you would sit with her at lunch, she would make an effort to seem uninterested when you spoke of your day. When you stumbled during training, she would correct you, but would mask whatever tenderness that found her voice with a sigh or a comment implying that you “need to suck it up”.

Yet, despite how she pushed and strayed from you, you remained a constant in her life of inconsistencies. Eventually, you were the closest to what she could call a friend.

Ymir ignored how, whenever you would patch her wounds or link to her on cold nights or how often you would sleep in the same bed, she was far too mercenary to label you as something other than a friend. Even that was stretching it.

Though, in moments like these, Ymir wished that she was raw enough to let you know. Because, in moments like these, she would be terrified to misspeak.

You wouldn’t fight often. Not like this.

You had mentioned having to “get up early” off-handedly during dinner when excusing yourself from the table. Ymir asked about it and you mentioned a scout that had been injured, whom you volunteered yourself to replace for an outer-walls mission. You said it all so casually. Ymir couldn’t grasp any sarcasm in your voice or crack in your authored facade as you brushed through your hair in the mirror of her chambers. She didn’t see you make eye contact with her once. You spoke to her coolly about how happy you were to finally be able to sleep, about the dinner and how it was cold that day, about how Jean had snuck some of your apple at lunch that day.

Ymir just stood in silence, considering and rejecting things to say in response.

“Were you gonna tell me about how you’re leaving tomorrow, or was I just supposed to wake up without you and put it together myself?” She spoke before thinking. You hesitated, hovering over your cupboard. “Ymir, it’s not a big deal,” you finally sigh, running a hand through your hair the moment it’s freed. “I said it was just a capture mission. Hange said we won’t go far-“ “You can't go.” You narrow your eyes. You had now frozen in your tracks completely; no longer pacing around the room to place things in their correct spaces. “I’m not a child,” you speak gently, as if to a rabid dog. The blaze in her eyes was enough to pardon it. “I don’t have to ask your approval to work. I don’t need you next to me,” you deride lightly, insignificantly, as you turn your back to her. You didn’t plan to sound so dismissive. “Are you seriously being this fucking petty right now? You could die out there,” Ymir, however, fully intended her venomous rhythm. She towers over you, if not just in her tone alone. “You’re being stupid. You know you're not strong enough to fight with that squad.” Your breath hitches in your throat. Ymir regrets her words immediately, but she doesn’t waver in her stance. “What the fuck is your problem?” you sneer. “You insist on how little you care about me, but as soon as I do anything without your permission you yell at me?” “That’s not what this is about, (y/n)-” “Then what is it about, Ymir? Why are you so scared?” “I don't give a shit about what happens to you! I'm just-” Ymir catches herself before she can finish her sentence. “No, I-” “Exactly,” before she can correct herself, though, you are biting y our lip the way you do when you're biting back tears and you are in front of her. “Move. I need to go to bed.”

She is wordless as she steps to the side and allowing you to pass her. It isn't until she hears your footsteps down the hall when she speaks.

“If you come back, I won’t be here.” She hears you stop. Ymir doesn't expect you to come running to her, arms open and folded clothing discarded into a pile on the hallway floor. She isn't entirely sure why she's digging such a hole for herself - she doesn't mean what she's saying - of course she doesn't, she adores you, so why is she so set on pushing you as far away as she possibly can? Why does she feel that she needs to? “Good.” you reply. The footsteps continue, then you are gone.

You are gone for three days.

Ymir, at first, didn’t count the hours. She stewed in her angst alone for a grand portion of the morning without you; she dutifully avoided talking about whatever mission you had left for at the table that morning.

Despite herself, Ymir had to eventually confront her weakness after the third consecutive “Are you okay?” Of that day that she wasn’t doing as good of a job of hiding her worry as she had thought.

She thought she didn’t seem too bothered when your name was mentioned at the breakfast table.

She thought she didn’t look too obviously intrigued when, 30 hours since you left (she swore she hadn’t counted), she heard Captain Levi murmur something about a retrieval squad. She thought she didn’t sound so desperate when she attempted to bring it casually up in conversation, yet she couldn’t fight the cracks in her voice and she couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands over her wrists in worry when she thought nobody was looking. Helplessness went from being a stranger to a thorn at her side in a matter of hours.

It had been the dawn of the fourth day when Ymir was awoken by a creek by her door. She remained stiff as she listened to light footsteps approach her bed, but she softens when she hears you. When she sat up, unsure of whether you were actually there or if she had just been consumed by grief and began to hallucinate, you winced.

She blinks.

There are no words exchanged. Ymir debates speaking, though her body moves before she can and, in minutes, you are sat in the bathroom and she is kneeling in front of you.

Ymir isn’t certain (it seems like she hadn’t been certain about anything at all for the past week) why she wasn’t crying. She isn’t sure why she’s so terrified to touch you, or to speak, or to maintain eye contact for longer than a millisecond.

You were in frightening shape. Had she not been petrified to talk, Ymir would be swearing under each breath. Blood still seeped from your open wounds, cascading in small, splitting rivers of crimson down the side of your face. It had likely been far too long since you had fought any kind of titan, Ymir thought. Their blood would've been long since steamed. It was your blood. You must have noticed her hesitance as she wiped it, gently, dreading that she would uncover another wound, because you broke the abundant, pregnant stillness

“They lost two scouts.” “Oh.” Ymir responds. An unfamiliar feeling settles uncomfortably in her gut. “I’m sorry.” You nod, then you are silent again.

Ymir takes a moment to resume her conscientious work.

There is no obligation between either of you to say anything more. Your eyes are fixed downward, resting heavily on Ymir as she squints at the cap of some kind of disinfectant. She’s biting her tongue. “I didn’t mean anything I said,” Ymir spoke to you suddenly and without looking you in the eyes. You’re thankful because it told you that you weren’t the only one too frightened to do so. “I do give a shit about what happens to you,” You laugh insignificantly, shaking your head. “I thought you died. I thought I lost you and the last things I said to you was that I wouldn’t be here, but I will. I’ll always be here.” She is desperate, rambling until she realises it and lulls herself.

You would say something dismissively comforting had it not been for the silence Ymir’s hand brought as it raised to your cheek and gently brushed a stray tear away. It is so small and trifling, yet it is gracious and fragile and kind and it means the universe to you.

“I know,” you respond. You don’t need to hear a long-drawn, significant plea. You don’t need it because, truthfully, you knew you likely wouldn’t get it from Ymir in the first place. However, as she guides you gently back into her bed, engulfing you in the white sheets, and places a small kiss on your forehead, something settles within you.

It was a feeling one would associate with the moments after receiving an apology; it is warm, tender, relieving.

You were home. You were safe.

You were loved.

Although she hadn’t said it, it wasn’t needed, because as Ymir’s arms tighten around you, you certainly felt it enough to maintain a sleepy smile as you drifted off alongside her.

#yall i love ymir so much but i think she is SO hard to write #ymir x reader #ymir #aot #attack on titan imagines #ymir imagines #ymir x you #aot imagines #attack on titan imagine #ymir oneshot #attack on titan oneshot #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #request!

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bamsywrites · 3 years

Text

Mistakes Like These

Summary: Kakyoin never paid much attention to the younger Kujo. Who knew stockings and short skirt were all it would take change that

Rating: 18+, nsfw

Words: 4877

Warnings: cannabis mention, alcohol use

Tags: afab, fem pronouns, modern!au , doesn’t follow the canon like at all, very au, brother!jotaro x sister!reader, kakyoin x reader, soft dom kak, lots of pet names, plus size reader

Notes: I haven’t written any fanfiction in over five years so this might be rusty. I’m sorry for any mistakes made or if its not how the characters would act. I’m still new to the Jojos fandom but had this idea pop in my head and decided to get it out. I want to turn this in to a multi part story and have several parts already planned out, I just want to have feedback to see if people actually like it.

“Have a happy Holidays. Make sure to check in with your financial advisor about the spring semester.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you read the most recent email in your student inbox. Patience may be a virtue, but it was sure one you didn’t possess. At least not right now anyway. Tsking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you moved the mouse over to the refresh button and clicked. Your eyes followed the downloading icon in circles, fingers tapping anxiously over the desk.

“Have a happy Holidays. Make sure to check in with your financial advisor about the spring semester.”

You exhaled angrily through your nose and leaned back in your chair. Your eyes fixed on the ceiling for a few moments before you looked over to your bed where your cat, Miso, had woken up from his nap.

“I know I should be more patient. But this grade is what determines if I move on to the next course which I need if I want to graduate soon and get out of this apartment.” You spoke as if your cat had scolded you for your impatience.

Your apartment was nice. Super nice. Your friends often described it as “apartment goals.” You could have never afforded it on your own. Hell, you couldn’t afford it even when you graduated and got a job. Two large bedrooms with a spacious living room, modern kitchen, and a balcony that overlooked the cities skyline. There were only two major downsides: there was only one bathroom which had to be shared with your roommate and your roommate happened to be your older brother, Jotaro.

Now, you didn’t exactly hate your brother. He was like any older brother, he thought you were extremely annoying and wanted nothing to do with you most of the time, though there were times growing up where he’d come home with scrapes and bruises after dealing with someone who picked on you at school. As you were both older, you found each other more bearable than you did when you were younger. That didn’t mean, however, you wanted to live with him. Especially while you were in college, which was supposed to be your time to let loose and have fun while still receiving an education, of course. Your grandfather, however, had other plans.

Joseph Joestar was a real estate mogul and had some serious money to his name. He loved to dote on his two grandchildren and was upset that for the most part your parents chose to give you a “normal” life without the extravagance that he offered. Birthdays and christmas he would buy you each a present, until Jotaro turned 15 and started asking for money instead. He made your mother an offer that he knew she couldn’t deny: he would pay for the entirety of your schooling, from associates degree to PhD if thats what you wanted, in order for the two of you to focus on your studies he’d also give you a weekly allowance so that you wouldn’t have to work, and he’d buy you each your own apartment and pay to furnish it how you liked. Holly couldn’t turn down the offer, what kind of mother would deny her children an opportunity like that? However, she did ask that her father only buy a single apartment for her children to share. Her hopes were that it would strengthen your relationship and it also meant she could see both her darling children whenever she desired.

You didn’t want to seem ungrateful at all for what Jiji had done for you. You knew you were extremely privileged to have the opportunities that he provided you but, fuck, sometimes you wished you had your own place. You wanted the independence, to know you earned something but also because sharing a bathroom with Jojo was infuriating. He always moved your stuff, never cleaned the shower, and he never had patience for you to get ready in the mornings. A wishful sigh left your lips as you thought of your future, with just you, Miso, and the ability to use the bathroom whenever you wanted.

Your eyes moved back to the computer screen, clicking refresh, and rolling your eyes when you read the same email from the dean again. Like you expected anything different, you just turned the term paper in yesterday. You brought your cup of tea up to your lips but furrowed your eyebrows when you realized there was none left.

Pushing yourself up out of your chair you formulated a plan for the rest of your evening. You would refill your cup of tea, hop back on your computer to play Overwatch with your friends until the early hours of the morning, and then cuddle up with Miso and look at TikToks until you fell asleep. It was foolproof. No way that you would even think about your term paper grade.

And if you did, you could always refresh your email in between matches.

-----------

Your finger tapped your lip as you looked over all the snack foods in the pantry. While waiting for your tea, you realized that the only thing that could make your plan better was a good snack. You had just gone shopping so it meant that all the poky, ramen, and chips you desired were on the shelves and it made the decision extra hard.

In the middle of your contemplation, you heard the front door turn and the sound of your brother and his friends entering the apartment.

“You know it's true, Jotaro. Your apartments bigger. Its nicer. It has that view that drives the ladies wild. Our apartment is cramped and it smells like weed.” Polnareff’s voice was the first you heard as the trio entered the house.

“Don’t forget the upstairs neighbors who are always playing loud polish music.” Kakyoin added, plopping down to sit on one of the chairs in the living room.

You heard your brother sigh and could feel his annoyance. You never understood how the trio became friends, it was a mystery to everyone including them but they had been together since their days in primary school and the bond they shared was one that intrigued you.

“Yes, yes. The polish,” Polnareff nodded. “Known around the world for their ability to ruin the mood with a hurdy-gurdy.”

There was silence, and you could tell your brother was not budging a bit. A party was not Jotaros thing. Kakyoin wasn’t a partier either, from what you gathered he’d much rather stay at home playing video games and smoking weed. Sucking your bottom lip in your mouth, you made your decision, grabbing a bag of chips and a box of strawberry pocky. You did your best to hold those in one hand and your cup of tea in the other.

“Feel that Christmas spirit, Jo. Help Pol in his never ending crusade to get laid. The poorman is gonna end this year with, what, a batting average of zero. He’ll be a disgrace to French men everywhere.” The teasing tone Kakyoins voice almost made you laugh.

“Hey! Batting average of 3. You know this,” Polnareff shot back, causing his roommate to throw his hands up in mock surrender.

“Jotaro,” The french man turned his attention back to your brother, who simply turned on the TV in what seemed to be an attempt to drown out the sound of his friend's voice, “C’mon. I’ll buy your cigarettes for a month…..Two months?” His voice was getting more desperate, his head turned toward you. A smile stretched across his features as he jumped off the couch and threw his arms around your shoulder.

God, you just wanted to go to your room.

“New deal,” Polernaff declared, squeezing you to the side of his body as you tried not to splash your tea all over the floor. Kakyoin looked away from the TV, eyebrow raised, Jotaros attention never faltered from the knock-off Viagra commercial. “If you agree to a Christmas Eve party I will buy you cigarettes for three months, I will never ask anything of you ever again, and I will stop flirting with your sister.”

Kakyoin snorted, shaking his head and turning his attention to Jotaro. Since you had moved in with Jotaro, the frenchman hadn’t stopped making comments about how beautiful he thought you were or just giving you flirty winks whenever you walked through the room. You found it annoying at first, but you quickly got over it when you realized he did the same thing with every girl, and boy, that he saw.

“Good grief,” Jotaro sighed. “Its a deal.”

------------------

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.” Kakyoin mumbled as he and Jotaro watched their friend place the final touches on the decorations and food for the party. Y/N had already put up Christmas decorations earlier that month, there was some snowmen set out on the dining table and a cute tree with some presents neatly wrapped under it. However, Polnareff had decided that wasn’t enough. He had hung up snowflakes to come down from the ceiling, there was garland hung on every wall, and so much fucking mistletoe.

Polnareff had even requested that his friends dress festive. Jotaro, of course, didn’t listen and wore what he always wore. Kakyoin decided to humor his friend and wore a Santa hat along with a dark green v-neck and dark wash jeans.

“You don’t need the money, right? Grandpa Joestar’s allowance has to be enough for cigarettes.” He continued, watching his roommate place a bowl of peppermints by the door.

“I just wanted to get him to shut up,” Jotaro said with a roll of his eyes.

“You think he’ll actually follow through on leaving Y/N alone?”

Jotaro shook his head, “Out of all the people in this city, you’d think he’d leave the only one of limits alone.”

Kakyoin simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

-----------

You smoothed your hands over your outfit, turning to the side to get it from a different angle. You couldn’t decide if you liked it or not. The sweater was cute, it was red with a deep green christmas tree that had colorful little puff balls as the ornaments. Your make-up and hair looked nice, too. That wasn’t what concerned you. It was the white pleated skirt and tight red stockings that caused you pause. You grabbed at your love handles that spilled over the top of the skirt a bit and your eyes traveled to how your thighs looked in the stockings.

Polnareff had told you you could invite some friends over. Which, of course you could, this was your apartment and you didn’t need his permission. You had told him as such and invited over your three closest friends.

You turned around to your bed and looked at Miso, who was comfortably curled up. “How do I look?” You waited a moment before turning back to the mirror and smacking your lips together. You were tempted to take off the skirt and tights and throw a pair of jeans on but something changed your mind last minute. Instead of heading to your closet to change, you instead grabbed the reindeer antler hand band and slipped it on top of your hair before heading out of the safety of your bedroom.

You were so distracted with the new decorations that you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that were glued to your form.

------

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime was playing for what seemed like the fifth time. Kakyoin had never hated Paul McCartney more than he did now. He was just now starting to feel the buzz of all the drinks he had had but it didn’t make the party any more bearable.

“She,” Kakyoin pointed to a blonde girl in a Santa dress, “is gonna hook up with him,” He pointed to a dark haired main that had for some reason felt the need to take his shirt off.

Jotaro simply grunted before eyeing more of the members of the party. This was a game they’d been playing for the past hour and a half, making bets on who was gonna hook up with who and who was gonna get the most shit faced.

“He’s gonna end up passed out in my bathtub,” The dark haired man stated, pointing to the only person dancing to the playlist Polnareff had created.

Kakyoin broke a smile as he watched the clearly wasted man's horrible dance moves. His attention was brought away from the scene by the sound of Y/N’s laugh. For what had to be the millionth time that night, the red haired man eyed her up and down. That outfit looked so fucking good on her but the smile streched out across her lips looked even better.

I wonder what the lipstick would look like smeared on my cock.

The thought slipped into his head and he couldn’t stop from staring at the red painted on your lips.

Does she feel as soft as she looks?

He took a sip from his cup. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his hands running over her thighs or his fingers digging into her hips. It was strange that he was having these thoughts. He’d never viewed Y/N as more than just Jotaro’s younger sister. He never thought she was ugly, in fact there were multiple times that he thought she was down right gorgeous but it had never turned sexual. Something about that outfit had sent him over that edge.

The sound of Last Christmas brought him out of his trance. Kakyoin almost immediately rolled his eyes. He almost missed the hurdy-gurdy.

“Good grief,” Jotaro mumbled and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. “I’m heading out for a smoke.”

Kakyoin watched as his best friend got up but instead of heading for the balcony, Jotaro went out the front door. The red haired man was tempted to follow but as soon as that thought popped into his mind he heard the drunk voice of his other best friend call to him.

“Kak, you gotta show these guys the cherry thing!”

---------

It was well past 3. The party had ended and most of the attendants took an Uber home. The only people in the apartment were you, Polnareff, and Kakyoin. Jotaro had still not returned from that smoke he said he was going to take hours ago. The buzz had long worn off and the reality sank in that you had to clean the disaster of an apartment that was left in the christmas party’s wake.

There were red solo cups strewn about various surfaces and all over the floor, glitter seemed to have gotten everywhere, there were plates of food left half eaten, and there was a candy cane just stuck to the wall. Looking at the destruction, you almost wondered if the fun you had had was worth it. With your parents coming over tomorrow...or, well, today…..for Christmas, you had really no other option than to clean it, with that thought in your head you grabbed a garbage bag and started cleaning.

After a few minutes, you heard the familiar rustle of plastic as someone was opening a trash bag and you turned to see Kakyoin helping you with your task.

“Thanks,” You told him as you threw a plate of half eaten cake into the bag.

“No problem. Pol is passed out in the hallway and I gotta make sure Jo makes it home safe, so I’m kinda stuck here.”

You simply nodded in response and kept about your task in silence. A silence which seemingly bothered Kakyoin because a few minutes later he cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“So I, uh, noticed your man wasn’t here tonight.” He almost smacked himself for asking the question. You thought he was just making small talk, the thought of him having more devious reasons behind asking if you were single hadn’t crossed your mind.

“My….My man?” You quirked an eyebrow, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah, your man. I saw you with some guy a while back,” Kakyoin had put down the now full trash bag and was leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed as he spoke.

“Oh,” You suddenly realized who exactly he was talking about, “Yeah, um, we broke up six months ago,” You said with a laugh.

“Oh...Six months?” He titled his head to the side, “Are you sure? Hmm… Well, sorry I didn’t notice...I uh guess I should be more observant.

You shook your head, placing down your own bag and heading past him to the pantry to grab another. “Its alright, I’m not offended. I’m sure you find me as annoying as I find Jotaros friends.”

Kakyoin raised his eyebrows at your statement, “You find me annoying? I mean, Pol, I get. Yeah. He’s one of my closest friends and even I can’t handle him sometimes. But me? I never talk to you.”

You had busied yourself with cleaning the rest of the cups off the counter, “ I don’t know. You’re just…” You looked up and noticed his eyes quickly flick down to your lips before making eye contact with you again. “I mean, you did one time give me oregano and told me it was weed.”

“First,” Kakyoin started, his body shifted so it was turned toward you, “Thats not annoying. I would call that immature, maybe. But annoying? Nah. Second,” he threw up two fingers to emphasize his point, “ In my defense, you were 15 and I was worried about you finding our stash under Jo’s bed and I thought it would lessen that chance if I gave you your own stash.”

You laughed, setting the bag down and turning to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in that dark green shirt but you quickly willed that thought away. “Kakyoin, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hey, at the time it did.”

You tilted your head to the side, you had plenty of stories that you could use as proof that he was annoying, “ What about that time you and Jojo left me stranded at school because the new playstation came out?”

“Thats not fair,” He noticed the playful hint your voice was taking and it caused a small smile to tug at his lips.

“How about the time that you threw up in my make up bag?”

“Hey, that was all Frenchie. Not me.”

“Or…..” You were silenced by Kakyoin pressing a finger to your lips. You hadn’t noticed that the two of you had just kept moving closer and closer as you were talking. You could get a better look at him now, his eyes looked tired but there was a mischievous glint to them, proof to you that he found this just as amusing as you did.

“What about you, huh? You saying that you’ve never been annoying?” He cocked an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look that let you know he had as many stories about you that you had about him.

“Look, I never once implied that I wasn’t annoying. I’ll own up to it,” You shrugged, “I was a total brat.”

Kakyoin snorted, “Don’t act like you’re not still a brat.”

“How?!” You looked almost taken aback, “How am I still a brat? You hardly see me!”

Kakyoin loved banter and teasing with his friends, it was kind of his thing. It was how he showed affection. If he didn’t gently bully you how was he supposed to show that he cared? But this, this teasing between the two of you was different. It made the room seem hotter and his pants feel tighter. That coupled with how fucking cute you looked in that damn outfit, even if your make up had worn off a bit and the lipstick was smugged. He couldn't deny it was doing things to him.

“I see you now,” His voice was deep, his tongue sticking out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes trailed you up and down.

Your cheeks immediately turned a blushy pink and your skin was hot under his gaze. Your lips parted but no words came out. This was Jotaros best friend, there was no way he was flirting with you.

Kakyoin took a few steps forward so he was as close to you as he could be without touching you. “I see you now,” He repeated in the same low voice, this time keeping eye contact with you, “And I see a brat.”

He pushes a few strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear, a gasp hitching in your throat as his heated skin touched your check briefly, “Unless you’re gonna show me otherwise.”

“I…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly weak at his gaze. “H-how?”

You look into his eyes and you can see it. You can see how much he wants you and how intense that want is. No one has ever looked at you that way before and it made your stomach erupt in butterflies. Quickly, you turn your head away not being able to handle the intensity of his stare. You feel his fingers on your chin guiding you to look back up at him, holding you there so he can take in all the features of your face. Its like he’s looking at you for the first time. His fingers move gently from your chin down to your neck, your breathing hitched in your throat when you felt the soft pad of his thumb move across your lips.

“If you want me to stop, tell me sweetheart,” He’s eyes had gotten a few shades darker and his voice seemed more strained than usual. Kakyoins free hand traveled under the sweater your were wearing, fingers lightly dancing along your side as his other hand stayed on you face, gently tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb. “Tell me right now and I’ll go back to pitching solo cups and scrubbing counters.”

In the pit of your stomach you knew you shouldn’t. You knew that if Jojo ever found out he’d flip, he’d always done his best to keep you and his friends separate. You always thought it was because you annoyed him and he didn’t want to have to be around you more than you already were, Kakyoin knew that it was because no matter how the man acted, he deeply cared for you and would do anything to protect you. These thoughts of Jotaro’s reaction filtered through your mind but your brother wasn’t here right now.

You acted on impulse, your tongue peaking out of your mouth to coax Kakyoins thumb between your lips. He watched with heavy lidded eyes as you gently sucked on the digit, swiping your tongue along the length of it. His breathing picked up for a moment before mumbling a quiet, “Fuck.”

Almost instantly you were hoisted on the counter with his lips against yours and wasting no time to swipe his tongue into your mouth. His hands quickly traveled up your thighs, pushing your skirt to pool at your hips and quickly ripping the stockings down the middle. Your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible as your fingers worked at undoing his belt.

He pulls away from your lips for a moment to help you pull down his boxers and jeans. You licked your lips as you admired his cock, already hard and glistening with precum. You felt his fingers on your face again directing you to look at him.

“My cock needs to be inside you, sweetheart. Can I do that?” He was breathing heavy, he had never wanted someone so much in his life. All he wanted right now was to feel your pussy around his cock. Consequences be damned. “Can I fuck you, princess?”

You whine when you hear him speak, his voice is like nothing you ever heard before. Lust and want seemed to be dripping off every word. The whole situation leaves you speechless. At the nod of your head, Kakyoin pulls your panties to the side and slides inside you. His moan and your whimper are the only noises in the quiet apartment, his eyes watching your face intently for any sign of discomfort or desire to stop.

“Fuck me,” You breath out when your vocie finally comes to you. “Please, Kakyoin. Fuck me.”

He groans and happily obliges, rocking his cock in and out of you. Your small gasps and whimpers only egg him on more as he increases the speed of this thrust, your hands bracing yourself against the countertop. His eyes break from your face to watch his own cock slide in and out, the sight of his cock slick with your wetness makes him moan.

“Thats a perfect fucking pussy, sweetheart.” He breaths out so soft you almost can’t hear him over the slick sound of his skin on yours. His eyes find yours again, hand moving back to rest on your jawline and hold you in his gaze. He leans close and sucks your lip into his mouth, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh before soothing it with his tongue.

“You’re such a good girl,” Kakyoin tells you before pressing his lips against yours again. He picks up the pace because, goddammit, he wants to feel you cum on his cock. He pulls aways, resting his forehead against yours. Your moans are soft and the whimpers that follow cause him to smirk.

“Oh, fuck. That feels so good,” You whisper, looking into his eyes. He can see you getting closer and closer and its making it hard for him to keep composed.

“You take a cock so well, princess,” His lips brush against yours, he tilts your head to the side so that he can kiss down your neck, and then back up again. His lips find the lobe of your ear and gently suck on it. Your moans are getting more and more erratic, every now and then you’ll gasp out his name.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock,” Kakyoin whispers into your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it. “Shit, sweetheart, I wanna feel that pretty fucking pusy come on my cock.”

It’s the sound of his voice whispering those dirty things in your ear that sends you over the edge.

“Thats it, princess. Fuck, sweetheart…I’m...shit. Can I….?” The red heads voice is ragged and incoherent but you knew what he was asking.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Its all you can do to get the words out. “Please, I wanna feel you come in me.”

You both come hard, his fingers digging roughly into the skin of your thighs and loud moans filling the space of the kitchen. The warmth of him spilling inside of you is enough to make you want a round two. After a few moments the two of you are left breathing heavy, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

You stay like that for a moment, trying to regain your composure and come to terms with everything that had just happened. This was a development in events that neither of you ever saw coming. Its you that make the move to separate, pushing against his chest and moving off the counter. You avoid eye contact with him, flating your skirt back down and picking up your, now ruined, stockings off the tiled floor. You could feel his cum drip out of you down to your thighs.

“That was….” Kakyoin broke the silence, buckling his belt and running a hand through his hair. You noticed he too was looking at anything but you.

“Yeah,” You nodded your head in response.

“You know we can’t uh…-”

“Yup.”

“Like, ever.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

“H-Happy...Happy Christmas.”

You just nod and quickly retreat to your room, throwing yourself on your bed and groaning into your pillows. After a moment, you crawled under the blankets and pulled your cat into your chest.

“Miso. I think I’m a slut….”

--------

Kakyoin watched as you retreated away down the hallway, his mind still wrapping around what had happened. The fact that he was the one that instigated it. He was the one that made all the moves and god, he shouldn’t have. But he had wanted to. He had wanted to get you in that position all night.

It was at that moment that Jotaro entered the apartment again, smelling of cigarettes and….perfume? Kakyoin was gonna have to ask him about that one later. “

“The prodigal son has returned,” The redhead teased his friend, doing his best to hide the guilt he had for what he had just done.

“Shut up,” Jotaro mumbled. He eyed his friend curiously, he was very observant and it was very naive of Kakyoin to think that he wouldn’t notice the change in his friend. “What’s wrong with you?”

I just busted a big one in your sister. And would probably do it again if the chance presented itself. No biggie.

“I’m, uh, I’m just tired.”

-----------

Thank you so much for reading this! I appreciate it very much. Let me know what you think of it and if I should continue the story. Merry Christmas!

#kakyoin x reader #noriaki kakyoin #noriaki kakyoin x reader #kakyoin #jjba #jjba x reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #jotaro #jojo #stardust crusaders

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ithebookhoarder · 3 years

Text

‘Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know’: Part 2 (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Description: After the night in your apartment together, things between you and Javi have been... well... awkward, to say the least. If you didn't know any better you’d say he was actually avoiding you, which isn’t ideal considering you’ve now been partnered together for a raid in the jungle. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: So, ok. I did NOT expect such a lovely and overwhelming response to the one shot I did for this prompt. I was so touched that basically I couldn't resist giving in to @delorena‘s request for a part 2... and a soon to be released part 3, as this baby was getting long XD Sorry!

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, canon-typical violence, reference to death, references to drugs, threat, my poor ass attempts at translating Spanish, Javi being an idiot (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

It had been a month since that night in your apartment: the night that had seen you waking up next to your partner, Javier Peña.

Yeah.

Even now, it felt like some kind of surreal dream to think about. It probably didn’t help that neither of you had actually spoken about it since then, simply heading out the door the next morning, off to work like nothing had happened.

Then again, what had happened? Other than you making a drunken ass of yourself in front of the guy who was both your colleague, but also your crush. It wasn’t like you’d kissed or slept with each other, in the usual sense of the word. Instead, you’d actually just slept. Fully clothed. With Javier Peña.

If anything, that fact alone should have been enough to tell you not only had nothing happened, it most likely never would. This was the Javier Peña, after all. He normally slept with anything with a pulse. So, despite his confession that night about his recent lack of companions, you were surprised to say the least that he hadn’t made some kind of move. Not then, and not in any of the days since.

Maybe he didn’t see you as attractive? God. Wouldn’t that be the fucking kick in the teeth you didn’t need. Or, maybe he was just trying to preserve your working relationship? After all, you did spend almost every minute of your waking lives together, watching each other’s backs out in the field and the treacherous world Escobar had created. You couldn’t afford distractions. Distractions could get you killed.

But even if that was the case, why did it do nothing to soothe the hurt you felt in your gut? A hurt that had been impossible to shift since the moment Javi had woken you that fateful morning and hurriedly shot you a ‘goodbye’ as he ran out the door without you.

“This way Steve won’t see me leaving your apartment,” he’d explained casually, pulling on his shoes as you watched from the doorway.

You’d only been awake for two minutes before noticing that the bed had been empty next to you. Not only that, but it was cold to touch, as if no one had slept on it in some time. The thought had made your stomach turn, and you knew you couldn’t entirely blame your hangover for the sudden urge to hurl as you hurried out of bed and found yourself here.

Needless to say, you were more than surprised to see Javi fully dressed, and almost creeping out the front door like some guilty one night stand.

A one night stand who’d made pancakes? God. Could this have got any stranger?

“Y/N. You’re up?”

If you didn’t know better, you’d have said he sounded disappointed by that fact. Like, he’d been planning on being gone well before you woke up. That would explain the stack of pancakes and glass of OJ on the side, and the hastily scrawled post-it note beside it.

- Eat these and drink some water. You’ll feel better.

That was all he’d been planning to give you after last night?

Not even a goodbye?

Just some home cooked food and a crappy note?

You felt like you had to still be drunk. There was no other explanation for this bizarre scenario, not considering the genuine vulnerability Javi had shown you the night before. Had you dreamt half of the things he’d said and done the night before? After all, for someone who had kissed your forehead and called you ‘querida’ he seemed pretty keen to be rid of you.

Had he just been pandering to your drunken state? Had he simply not meant it in any other way than friendly? Had you read more into it, hoping for what wasn’t really there in some kind of grief fuelled haze?

If so, you’d really fucked up and had no one but yourself to blame. It would take more than one good night to prove Javier Peña - the manwhore of Bogotá - had changed. To think otherwise had been foolish and naive, and most likely due to the amount of alcohol in your system.

“You not eating? Why make it if you’re not gonna eat any of it?”

“I already ate,” Javi explained hastily, “I hope you don’t mind. I should get going and I didn’t want to wake you yet. I figured you could use the rest after...”

“Yeah, of course,” you’d stammered, blearily trying to make it make sense as you noticed the freshly washed frying pan beside the sink. How long had he been awake? Had he even slept at all? “You uh, you want some coffee before you go?”

“No, thanks. I’ll grab some at work. This way, I can get back to mine and shower before I leave.”

“You can use the shower here, if you want?”

“No, thanks,” he’d repeated, rubbing the back of his neck and hauling on his jacket. If he sensed the sharpness to his tone, he didn’t address it. Instead, he just scoffed as if this whole thing was just some cosmic joke between the pair of you. “Last thing we need is for Steve or Connie to see me coming out of here and start making assumptions about last night, am I right?”

You’d frozen.

Would that have been so bad? Bad enough to make Javi look like he was trying to escape from sicarios, and not you?

You didn’t trust yourself to do much more than fake a laugh back and nod in agreement. Burying your hurt was for the best as you thanked him one last time for his help the night before. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, then?”

“Sure thing, Y/N. See ya in a bit.”

With that, he’d shut the door and left you staring after him, just as confused as you were now, a whole month later.

It just didn’t make any sense, no matter how many times you’d played that night over and over in your head - which was quite a lot, if you were being honest. The sudden lack of leads from Escobar’s men had seen to that, forcing you, Steve, and Javi, to spend a hell of a lot of time stuck at your desks at the embassy, sorting paperwork and trying to find ways to keep yours minds from wandering.

It was easier said than done.

No matter how many extras files you offered to handle, you still couldn’t get Javi out of your mind. Not when he was always sat opposite you, smoking away or making conversation with Steve… and occasionally you, but only when he had to - something you’d noticed early on.

Even Steve had noticed Javi’s sudden aversion to being left alone with you. It was beyond odd, and had lead to him staring at the pair of you with a baffled look on his face as Javi seemed to always find somewhere else to be just as he was about to leave you two alone.

It was like your own version of hell.

At this point, you’d almost pay one of Escobar’s men to give you an excuse to get out of the embassy and away from the suffocating tension that lingered between you.

“What the hell is going on between you?” Connie had pried, barging into your apartment as soon as Steve had filled her in on the latest situation between you and Javi. One look at her determined expression had warned you she wasn’t leaving without answers. “Did something happen the other night? When he walked you home after the bar?”

With a sigh, you’d told her everything from first to last, hoping she’d be able to make some sort of sense out of it.

“I just don’t get it, Con. I mean… he made fucking pancakes and slept in my bed. Then the next day, it’s like he can’t even look at me.”

“Did he say anything about it?”

You groaned, busying yourself with opening the bottle of wine Connie had brought with her. It was easier than letting her see the guilt on your face as you replayed your failed attempts to confront the man.

“I… I haven’t actually asked him about it,” you whispered.

“Y/N!”

“I know Connie-“

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” you protested, ripping off the cork and emptying a worrying amount of the wine into your glass. Once you’d deemed your glass full enough for this conversation, you passed the bottle back and tried to ignore her disapproving glare. She looked scarily like your fourth grade teacher when she did that. “I know how it sounds, ok? I just can’t! I chicken out whenever I try and, I have tried! It’s like trying to wrestle an eel trying to get him alone with me for more than thirty seconds.”

It was Connie’s turn to sigh, running a hand through her hair as she leant back into the couch. “So Steve tells me.”

“Oh? What else has Stevie been saying?”

“Just that he’s worried about you two,” Connie continued, smirking at the outraged expression on your face. “I’m his wife, Y/N. He’s gonna tell me stuff, and by the sounds of it, you two aren’t exactly being subtle about the whole thing. It’s been driving Steve mad. I had to talk him out of locking you both in a closet until you two worked this out.”

You paused. Oh, Steve was gonna get it next time you saw him.

And he called Connie dramatic? Locking you in a closet? What was this? Some cheesy telenovela?

“For a DEA agent, he can be an idiot sometimes. As if that was gonna work.”

“Who knows,” Connie laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “But at least it might have got you two talking again, even if only about how much you both hated Steve. It would have been a start.”

Sure, but the start of what?

You weren’t sure anymore of where your life was headed, or even where you wanted it to be headed. Your relationship - or non-existent one - with Javi, was just one more murky variable you had yet to decide on.

Did you even want to fix things? He had been the one to cut you off after all. Why should you go running after someone who clearly didn’t want you, or value you? You were better than that. You were worth more than that.

Whatever his problem was, it wasn’t on you to fix it.

“A start of a court case after we murder each other, you mean?” you grumbled, taking another desperate gulp of wine. However, you did your best not to spit it out a second later as Connie said something you’d never thought you’d hear… not outside of your dreams, anyway.

“Or, the start of a relationship? I mean, honestly, Y/N? I think he likes you.”

“What?”

“I mean it,” Connie hummed thoughtfully. “Why else would he spook like this? I saw how he was looking at you that night, gazing at you in the rearview the whole way home. He likes you and knowing him, he probably doesn’t do feelings very often. He’s probably scared to feel like that about someone. Especially, someone he works with.”

You snorted at the absurdity of it. Did Connie hear herself? She was talking bullshit. Sure, Javi had said that he hadn’t been seeing his informants in his usual sense any more, but he could have been lying. Or, he could have found some other source of comfort. Either way, it wasn’t proof he had feelings for you. Not real feelings. Not feelings that would warrant this level of panic.

“Holy shit. You sound like my Mom.”

“What?”

“She used to tell me crap like, if a boy’s mean to you it’s because he likes you,” you sniggered, trying to ignore the brief flicker of hope that lingered, even now. ”But he doesn’t. If he’s mean, he’s mean and you should shove him on his ass.”

Connie smirked. “You wanna shove Javi on his ass?”

“Yes, no, I mean…” you babbled, caught off by her logic. “I’m just saying, he doesn’t like me. I thought he did, Con, but he doesn’t. End of story. He made it perfectly clear when he ran out my apartment like I’d given him a disease. This is Javi, we’re talking about, Connie. You know him as well as I do. He slept next to me and didn’t make a single move the whole night. What does that tell you about how he sees me?”

“I think it says a lot,” Connie sighed. “And that he has enough of a conscience not to make a move on an upset, drunk, grieving woman.”

“Be that as it may, he doesn’t get a medal for being a good person.”

“No, but it does tell you a lot about him and how much he cares about you. Why else would he do all that? And, not tell anyone about it either? It’s not like he did it for the good-guy points.”

You hated how right she was. You also hated how this conversation wasn’t making anything clearer at all. If anything, it had just got more complicated.

It was official: things had been much simpler before Javier Peña had come into your life.

——

As with most things in your life, there was a certain inevitability about things. Like, no matter how hard you tried to avoid something - or someone - they nearly always ended up catching up with you eventually. Honestly, you didn’t know why you were surprised to find Javi was one of those things.

Clearly, the universe was done with letting you two try and work things out by yourselves. Fate had got bored and decided to step in and intervene, or so you grumbled quietly, listening to the Ambassador’s orders with horror: You were off on an assignment.

Not just any assignment either, but a raid. A big raid at that, hoping to bust one of Escobar’s labs located out in the jungle. The intel had come via one of Javi’s informants and had somehow been proven as true enough to act on. But of course, things were never simple.

Not only were you going on a raid, but you were partnered off in teams with individual areas to take charge of once you hit the ground. It was standard procedure and nothing to throw you off your game, but it was who your teammate was that concerned you.

None other than Javier Peña himself - a fact that made you wonder if there was any way you could beg Steve into swapping with you. You’d much prefer teaming up with Carillo instead. Even if he was a little cold towards you, at least he didn’t treat you like a nameless nobody. His nonchalance came from professional courtesy, not personal disgust.

However, you’d never even had the chance to ask. Not when the Ambassador had ordered you all off there and then, piling you into a chopper and dumping your asses on the ground with barely enough time to strap yourselves into tactical gear, let alone negotiate the particulars of the operation.

At least being out in the field meant Javi had to talk to you. There wasn’t really a way he could avoid it, or even you, given that you were supposed to be keeping each other alive long enough to shut down the operation being run out here.

One look at the tents and workstations dotted around the surrounding jungle told you this wasn’t going to be easy. There were a lot of workers, and even more weapons between them. Weapons as big and as powerful as your own.

“Close in on your positions,” a voice ordered, crackling into life over the radio you had hooked up to you. One look at Javi, crouched in the brush beside you, told you’d he’d heard loud and clear. The well-rehearsed signal his hand made, followed by a slow nod, also told you he was ready to move in on the specific area your pair had been told to target.

“Stay close,” he whispered, almost as if it was an after thought.

You wanted to roll your eyes, and had you not been about to entire a life threatening situation, you probably would have. Instead, the best you could do was repeat his words back mockingly.

“You stay close.”

Javi looked surprised by the venom in your voice.

Thankfully, he was spared the chance to reply as a shout echoed throughout the clearing, sending men charging in all directions, gunfire quick to follow.

“Go, go, go!”

The command was clear.

You gripped your gun tightly, raising it and hurrying out of your hiding spot to join the others. Without even looking you could tell Javi was following alongside you, opening fire on the sicarios who were firing back at you.

You were quick to pick off the immediate threats, choosing your targets and pulling the trigger with a familiar ease that - to this day - made you worry for your soul. Still, as Javi had once told you, it was you or them. When it came down to it, pulling the trigger wasn’t a choice but a necessity.

You hated the fact his words brought you comfort as you turned and fired a shot at a passing assailant with surprising speed. If only all problems could be removed as easily.

“Y/N! 9 o’clock!”

You turned, firing again before registering it had been Javi that had warned you.

So, he did remember your name after all.

You didn’t know if that made things better or worse between you considering he’d just been choosing not to use it. Either way, you knew the aggression as you stormed through the tarp flaps of the tent wasn’t entirely due to the men you knew would be inside.

“¡Detener!” you bellowed, watching as Javi mirrored you. “Deje el arma y levante las manos donde pueda verlas.” (*Stop! Put down the gun and put your hands up where I can see them)

“Estas bajo arresto!” (*You’re under arrest!)

Your voice was loud, even if your Spanish was still a little rough despite being in Colombia for almost eight months. It wasn’t like you had Javi to teach you while you worked anymore, but you knew enough by this point to get by.

You also knew a remarkable amount of insults and swears - words that were quickly thrown at you by the men in front of you, hands raised and cocaine powder staining their hands from their nearby work stations.

“Maldita perra americana,” one spat, as if not caring you had a gun pointed at his head. (*Damn American Bitch)

“Puede que sea una perra, pero soy el que tiene la pistola, pendejo,” you warned, reminding yourself that you couldn’t kill the bastards for simply annoying you. They were unarmed and workers, even if people like these had been behind your sister’s OD. It was their cocaine, shipped in to the US, in packages like the ones surrounding you, that had lead to your sister’s demise.

(*I might be a bitch but I'm the one with the gun, asshole)

“Sigues siendo una perra-” (*You’re still a bitch)

“Want to say that again? Huh?” Javi barked, surging towards the one who had spoken and grabbing his sweat-stained wife-beater in his fist. With surprising ferocity, he slammed the man back against the wooden pillar in the centre of the tent and pressed his gun into his cheek. “¿Quieres decirme eso a la cara? O eres un bastardo muy valiente o muy estúpido.”

(*Do you want to say that to my face? Either you are a very brave bastard or a very stupid)

“Javi!” you scolded, eyes wide at your partner. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Javi had been a little unorthodox with his methods, but he’d never been so openly violent or unhinged in front of you. He normally left that to Carillo, or at least waited until you weren’t watching. He knew how you hated it. “Javi! Let him go! Just cuff him already.”

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s one more dead asshole?”

The man had the decency to finally look terrified as he whimpered, squirming under Javi as he looked at you, as if begging for you to rein in your partner.

“I could pull the trigger, here and now. No one would care.”

“No! NO! Por favor. Lo siento.” (*Please. I’m sorry)

“Javi,” you snapped. “Fucking stop, already! What is wrong with you? Jesus!”

Your horror must have finally got through to him as Javi tensed, throwing the man to the floor before looking at you with guilt in his eyes.

This man was just a puzzle wrapped in an enigma. You could never work him out. Never. After all, this man was the man who’d been treating you like you had the plague, but now? Now he was seconds away from losing it over one sicario insulting you?

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to it. You’d been called a lot worse by a lot more terrible people.

What was wrong with him? It couldn’t just be because you were his partner. You were Steve’s partner and it took more than the odd asshole calling you a bitch to rile him up.

Speaking of your partner, you were pleased to hear his voice interrupting over the radio, speaking to you from his position the other side of the site. It was like he knew something was wrong between them. “Come in, Peña? L/N? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Steve. We hear you,” you replied swiftly, unable to look at Javi as he finally cuffed the guy, beginning to hand him and the other workers off to the soldiers that were now joining you. “This side is secured.”

“Good. We’re headed over to you guys now. We’re just processing how much damn product there is. My bet is it’s worth at least a couple million. Carillo says closer to ten million.”

You scoffed. Typical. You’d been in a war zone a matter of minutes ago, and your colleagues were already placing bets like this was just some game?

“Put me down. $10 says it’s five million.“

Steve laughed. “You got it. Escobar is gonna lose his shit. Peña?”

Javi was slow to respond, taking a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair. You knew he was trying to look like he was thinking it over, but his eyes gave him away. Even behind his signature yellow aviators. He was too busy staring between you and the floor to be paying all that much attention.

Suddenly, the tent seemed all the more stifling and it wasn’t because of the humidity of the Colombian jungle.

“Uh… seven, put me down for seven.”

“You got it! Hurry your asses up and meet us at the rendezvous. We need to fucking celebrate.”

You were quick to follow his instruction, turning and hurrying out of the tent before you could pass out. Unfortunately, the sound of footsteps behind you told you Javi had done the same. Perhaps it was Steve’s promise of celebrating that had him moving with surprising speed as you began to make your way back to the centre of the site, where Carillo would be co-ordinating the effort to wrap this operation up.

It would take a while, if not the rest of the day, to catalogue everything and start moving the detainees somewhere for interrogation. Even if they were just grunt workers, you knew someone likely knew something that could give you a lead towards catching Escobar.

That was why you were here, after all. To catch the bastard behind all of this. Not to make friends, or have an adventure, or all the other bullshit you’d been telling yourself since you’d moved down here. This was just a job. One that you’d be glad to finish, sooner rather than later, especially if it meant you didn’t have to deal with the agent walking behind you.

You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you marched across the clearing. It was like he was just waiting to say something but couldn’t bring himself to spit it out.

That was a first. A speechless Javier?

“You want to tell me what happened back there?”

Your words hung in the air, the offer clear even without you looking at the agitated agent behind you. All you could hear in response was the undergrowth crunching beneath his boots as he took a breath, as if debating whether to answer.

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So you don’t want to explain to me why you almost went ape shit back there?”

“I did not,” he huffed, sounding oddly bored by the conversation. “I was merely apprehending a possible threat. He was disrespecting you but also the DEA. You’re not going to make me explain defending a colleague, are you?”

“Like how Steve’s cat was DEA?” you scoffed, disbelief evident as you stopped dead in your tracks and whirled to face him. God. Even through your hate you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked, with his sinful dark green button down clinging to him in the heat. Even with his tactical vest still on, you could see that the top two buttons were undone, which didn’t help matters at all. “All he did was throw a few nasty words my way, Peña. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Javi looked stunned you’d even suggest otherwise. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“Then why did you-?”

You never got the chance to finish the question.

You’d barely even opened your mouth to start before you were interrupted by the sudden chorus of startled shouts, echoing across the clearing. Panic was almost tangible in the air as your head turned, staring towards the structure nearest you as a shout of “¡Bomba! ¡Hay una bomba! ¡Todos se mueven! Es una trampa. Va a explotar. Carrera” rang out.

You weren’t fluent in Spanish, but as you said before, you knew enough words to get by. The words ‘bomb’, ‘trap’ and ‘run’ were definitely clear enough for your heart to race and your eyes to widen in shock.

Before you could even move, you felt arms wrap around your body, hauling you to the ground as an earth shattering explosion sent the world turning.

The entire world felt like it shook as dirt and debris erupted overhead, causing you to curl in on yourself tightly. You could only hear ringing in your ears as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

A bomb.

There had been a bomb.

Fuck. Escobar had likely left it as a fail safe in case the place was raided as it had been today. Someone had likely set it to explode the moment your team and Search Bloc had come running out of the trees.

Oh god.

A weight was pressed against you, arms holding you close to someone as your world began to righten itself. Only as your vision stopped spinning were you able to realise someone was holding you, shielding your body beneath theirs as they’d thrown you both to the ground.

The sudden smell of cigarettes, whiskey and cologne told you exactly who it was on top of you. The feel of his hands around you was also a pretty big clue, given how you’d memorised their feel a month ago, when he’d held you similar to this… in a bed… soothing you as you’d drifted to sleep, safe and sound.

“Y/N?”

Javi’s voice was soft in your ear as he repeated your name over and over until you seemed to acknowledge him. It must have been shock that kept you still for so long, unresponsive as he sat up, releasing you and checking you over with pure unadulterated terror on his face.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

“Javi?” you whispered.

You had to be concussed. Maybe you’d hit the ground harder than you’d thought? There was no way Javi would be looking down at you with such kindness and relief, an expression all too similar to the one he’d worn as he’d put you to bed before.

The old Javi? Maybe. But this new Javi, the one who had appeared in old-Javi’s place, recently? No. He could barely give you the time of day, let alone do something as monumentally stupid as this. Risking his life to save yours without even hesitating?

It was enough to make your eyes water.

“I… I’m fine,” you croaked, pulling away all-too quickly and scrambling to your feet again. The world swayed dangerously, but you weren’t about to give Javi the satisfaction of holding on to him for support. You were fine, all things considered. “You good?”

Javi nodded, also getting to his feet. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

You’d been lucky. A quick glance behind you told you the explosion’s epicentre had been close enough to you both to knock you down, but far enough away to avoid any real damage. Hopefully, no one had been injured… or worse.

Suddenly, it all became too real, too fast, as you realised what had almost happened. You stared at Javi, trying to prove to yourself that you were both ok.

He wasn’t bleeding.

He wasn’t wounded.

He was simply coated in dirt and sweat, and still looking unfairly handsome for it.

It wasn’t fair. Not by a long shot, and considering the hellish day you’d had, it was no surprise your temper finally seemed to snap, terror quickly gave way to relief, which quickly gave way to something else… Rage.

“You asshole!” you seethed, slapping Javi’s arm as hard as you could. The yelp he gave wasn’t nearly as satisfying as you’d hoped for, but his surprise was. He looked at you like you’d lost your damn mind. Maybe you had? Who knew anymore? “You utter asshole, Javi! What were you thinking? Actually, you clearly weren’t thinking else you’d never have been so stupid as to pull a stunt like that back there-”

“Stupid? I was looking out for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to, Peña,” you snarled, pointing at him. “Why would you even care if I got a bit of shrapnel in me? It would do you a favour, actually, if I ended up in the hospital for a few days. Give you a break from me and trying to avoid me.”

“What?” he choked, looking genuinely horrified by your declaration. So much so that it took him a minute to realise you’d started to march away from him, intending on getting back to the others and the hell out of here. “Y/N. Stop. Don’t be ridiculous.”

His hand was warm as it touched your arm, turning you to face him as he had that night in the hallway. Yet again, you were forced to recoil, growling at the pity you found staring back at you.

“Do NOT touch me!”

“What-?“

“You can’t even look at me for a whole month, Peña, and suddenly you’re willing to be some hero? Taking a damn hit for me? Throwing yourself on top of me like that? How dare you!” you hissed, pure rage and hurt coursing through you as the adrenaline wore off. “I am as capable an agent as you are. I know you don’t think all that highly of people without pricks between their legs, but I don’t need you protecting me. I don’t need anything from you. Not when we both know you don’t care. You made that pretty clear last time.”

Javi blinked, hands on his hips, as if trying to process what the hell was happening. Even through your outrage, you hated knowing that the pain in his eyes was your fault. “Last time? Now wait a fucking minute, if you’re talking about the night Xiomara died-”

“What other fucking night would I be talking about, asshole?”

“I don’t know! Stop yelling at me and calm down!”

“I AM CALM!” you screamed, hating the irony of the moment. At least Steve and Carillo weren’t there to witness it. As it was, you could feel the eyes of several officers staring at you as you gave them a show you didn’t need. “Now, why don’t you just do us both a favour and fuck off. You’ve done your hero thing. It worked well last time. Your job is done. Completed. Finished. Wouldn’t want me to think you actually cared about me.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Javi!”

“Y/N,” he snarled, rooting you to the spot as something cold ran down your spine. The feel of his hand loosely gripping your arm was enough to make your heart stop all over again. “Just… let me explain, ok? Please?”

You’d hardly ever heard Javi say that word: please. Let alone so desperately, so brokenly, as if afraid you’d say no. That you’d walk away and leave him standing there.

On one hand, it would have served him right given he’d all but done the same thing to you. However, you didn’t have it in you to be petty, and it would have been petty to carry on this feud just to spite him. To cause him pain. To make him feel how he’d made you feel.

Was it wrong to want that?

Was it wrong to not want that? To replace this rage with something better? Something else entirely that would make the ache inside of you go away and allow you to get back on with living your life.

Then again, how could you? How could you go back to how things had been before, with your shared jokes and hidden smiles? With his habit of bringing you coffee from the place you both liked on the corner, every morning? With his kind words and ability to put a smile on your face even after the darkest of days?

To go back to that also meant going back to him seeing you as a friend and nothing more. To acting as if the private conversations, and the vulnerability he’d gifted you with in your apartment, hadn’t ever happened. To watching as he drank, smoked, and fucked away any real emotion he had.

Be that as it may, despite it all, he’d at least acknowledged your existence…

A minute passed before you took a breath and mustered the courage to look back at him.

“Ok.”

Javi’s body instantly relaxed as he realised what you’d said. “Thank you,” he sighed, gesturing to the waiting helicopter further down the hill. The invitation was clear. “But… just not here, ok? We can talk back at the embassy or at your place, or mine, just… somewhere private.”

You nodded. You had a feeling you’d both need it for the conversation awaiting you both.

“Ok. We can talk back at mine. Let’s just get the hell out of here first.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice.

#ithebookhoarder #javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #narcos #steve murphy #connie murphy #prompt #request #part 2 #pedro pascal #narcos imagine #narcos headcanons #narcos x reader

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter One

ao3 - masterpost

back on my bullshit, y'all! as i have chattered about, this is my fix it for acosf. we've established that because acosf ignores canon from the original trilogy and is so poorly edited that emerie has two--count 'em, two--on-page tragic backstories...i am completely at liberty to ignore what I please, and so are you. i'll let you know chapter by chapter what you should keep in mind.

this one's not critically important, but I just want to say it: in acosf, nesta's revealed to be taller than average, and two inches taller than feyre. wrong. nesta's short. feyre's the tallest and she's only 5'6", elain's an inch shorter, and nesta's 5'3" on a good day.

anyway. enjoy!

---

There's nothing quite like stepping into Feyre's beautiful new home to remind Nesta just how truly ugly she is. The literary part of her, dulled by the wine from last night and the downward spiral of the past year, appreciates the contrast. Sometimes she still likes to narrate her life in her head as though it were a book. What would she write here? The woman curves her foot inside her boot, as if that would stop her from dirtying the marble. That's a nice line, isn't it? A good hook. But she isn't a woman anymore, so it wouldn't work.

"This way," Cassian says, unnecessarily waving his hand behind him.

It's probably supposed to be insulting, that Feyre has sent him to fetch her. But she doesn't care. Feyre can do what she likes. Just as Nesta will do what she likes. She'll sit through this scolding, turn down the invitation to stay for lunch, go home and sleep until she wakes up and has another night like last.

Although perhaps she'll spend less this time. If only to avoid this headache again.

"They're waiting in here," he says, stopping in front of one of the doors. How many rooms are there in this mansion, anyway? Feyre might've mentioned it on the tour, but she doesn't remember. Only remembers that decorating the walls are dozens, maybe hundreds of pictures of Feyre and Rhysand and Morrigan and Cassian and Azriel and Amren and Elain and their father, and none of Nesta. Or their mother, for that matter. She remembers that very well.

"Wait," Cassian blurts out as she lays a hand on the doorknob.

Nesta angles her head slightly. Not a full turn, not to look at him.

"Do you want your tea?"

Rolling her eyes, Nesta opens the door and shuts it--pointedly, she hopes--behind her.

Her sisters look up from the couch where they sit, heads close together. Little cakes and sandwiches and tea are arranged prettily on the glass table.

"Nesta!" Elain says, leaping up."You're here early!"

Nesta bites her tongue to keep from answering Five whole minutes. No use snapping at Elain before they've even begun, is there?

"Let me take your coat," Feyre says, standing up too.

Ah. So this would be this sort of meeting, then. These...luncheons, that they sometimes try to have with her. But it's nine in the morning.

It pulls at her heart, that they still try. And makes her sick to her stomach. She winces as she feels it. Too much alcohol and not enough food to add any extra queasiness. This will not be easy for her.

"Heard you had quite the night," Feyre says, voice bright and cheery in a way that does not quite match her eyes. "Sit down, sit down."

She does, opposite them. They take note.

"Do you want to try these macarons, Nesta? Raspberry. I made them."

"We got this new cinnamon tea...from the Continent. I think you'll like it."

Her sisters try again a few times, and eventually she says, "I'll take tea."

"I'll pour it," Feyre says quickly.

Great. Wonderful.

This isn't so bad, though, she thinks as she sipped her tea. She'll get through this...whatever it is. Force herself to make some conversation, say Feyre's newest art project is pretty, force down half a cookie and tell Elain it tastes good. Then she'll agree to see them for lunch in a week. And that will be all.

How long can they possibly keep her for? An hour? Two hours? She can do that.

And then Feyre clears her throat. "Nesta," she begins. "Elain and I...have something we want to say to you."

Here it is. She should've known better. Tea and macarons, at nine in the morning? Of course not.

"And we're only saying this because we care about you," Elain adds quickly.

"Yes. Yes, right. We are. And...well...what we want to say is..." Feyre looks to Elain, who nods encouragingly.

Good grief. Will this never end?

"We know that...all of this...has been...difficult...for you to adjust to."

Nesta's heart stutters. They wouldn't. This--this isn't happening.

She keeps it off her face, though. She is cool, impassive. Blank. Nothing.

It doesn't make Feyre give up, but it does make her duck her head. "We...understand. But we think...we know that because we love you we can't allow this to go on any longer." Feyre clamps her mouth shut as she finishes, appearing to be holding her breath.

Nesta only raises an eyebrow slightly. Inside, she is not nearly as calm.

"All of the...drinking, Nesta," Elain says, lips beginning to tremble. Oh, no, not this. Anything but this. "And the m-males." She cringes as she said the words.

The color leachees from her face. She wants to die. There is no Mother, she knows, because if there were any being with mercy, they would surely split the earth beneath her feet and take her down.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Feyre says, now the one hurrying to add on to the other. Elain nods, but she looks sick. "Just that--you hadn't really...there was Tomas, but other than that--"

Nesta flinches violently when Feyre says his name. She still isn't making eye contact, though, so she doesn't notice, and continues.

"--so the--switch. From not being with anyone, and then...and these males don't care about you. And I wouldn't--I would never judge you, Nesta, really, but it doesn't appear as though you're...enjoying...yourself." She shrinks back.

"So then," Nesta says, proud of herself for keeping her voice even, "you are judging me."

"We're just noting facts," Elain says.

"And...all right, let's take a step back," Feyre says, swallowing. "We're not here to criticize you. We only want to offer a solution."

"A solution," Nesta repeats flatly. To her problem. To her.

"A--not a solution. Help. We want to help."

Elain clenches her hands into fists in front of her. Feyre stills as she visibly holds her breath.

"Well?" Nesta says after half a minute of this, voice still deadly calm. "What is your solution?"

Who will be the one to say it, she wonders? Elain, frightened as a mouse already, or Feyre, ill at the sight of her?

It's Feyre. Perhaps being High Lady makes her feel responsible. But she exhales sharply, picks up her head, and says, "We think it would be beneficial for you to spend some time in the library."

Nesta blinks. A library? That...doesn't sound--

And then she realizes. Not a library. The library. The one off the side of that mountain, where Hybern had attacked...where Bryaxis had lived...where all those priestesses...those priestesses...

"Are you out of your mind?" she blurts out, losing grip on her faux calm completely. "You want me to go to that library? Are you insane? How is that possibly supposed to help?"

"Nesta--"

"With those--those sycophants? Who worship that thing?" The thundering of her heart blocks the sounds from her sisters' protests. "Is that what you want me to be? Some acolyte of that--you want me to pray to that--how can--how dare--"

"Nesta, please!" Feyre cries, hands thrown up in front of her.

"We don't mean that at all!" Elain says, tears in her eyes.

Nesta's chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her mind too full of that...Cauldron. That thing they all worship--that thing that did this to her--to Elain--to Father--

"Please hear us out," Feyre says. "Sit back down, please."

Nesta falters. She hadn't even realized she had jumped up. She fights to keep her cheeks from reddening in shame. Stupid--she shouldn't have lost control like that--and what if something had happened? Shattered a window, shattered one of her sisters' bones?

"Thank you," Feyre says as she sits. "What we mean is...to spend time at the library during the day...working on entirely secular things. Nothing to do with any worship at all. Not reading those books, not participating in any prayer, not even wearing their robes."

"We would never suggest you do that, Nesta." Elain's voice is tight. Feyre reaches out and holds her hand.

"Just during the day," Feyre continues, "and then at night staying in the House of Wind."

"So you don't even have to share a room with any of them," Elain is quick to clarify. "Or eat with them. And you could go to that private library, too, remember?" She still fights back tears, but her voice takes a hopeful turn upwards.

Nesta latches onto everything inside her and holds it down tightly. "What would I even be doing there?"

Elain and Feyre exchange a look. Was that excitement? They probably take it as her willingness to go. That is not what this is.

"So, day to day, it would involve librarian duties. Reshelving books and such. And over time, if you find something you're interested in, aiding a senior librarian with her research. Or perhaps doing some of your own, if you'd like. But...the real purpose, Nesta..." Feyre sneaks another look at Elain before saying to her, "is for you to heal."

"We're not saying there's anything the matter with you," Elain says, jumping in before she can respond. "Just that...you've been hurt. And w-we take responsibility for not being by your side all this time. That was obviously wrong. We thought...well...we know you've always preferred to be on your own. But you're--you're hurting yourself too much. We can't just let you do that anymore. We love you," she finishes, choking back a sob. Her tears start falling from her eyes, but she does her best to keep quiet.

Feyre squeezes her hand, but doesn't turn to look at her. She keeps her eyes focused on Nesta. "Look, we know...it'd be a big change. But just...give it a few weeks. Get a feel for it. And if it's really not working...and you don't like it..."

"Then what?" Nesta asks, hollow.

"Don't worry about that," Feyre answers, firm. "We'll think of something else."

She's going to be sick right here. She cannot handle this...concern. Their trying. It's too much.

And now she has to say no. And Elain will cry--maybe Feyre, too. And then she'll have the rest of them upon her; Rhysand leading them to storm down her apartment, probably. It'll drive her down further, and perhaps be the last snip needed to finally sever the frayed, sole remaining string tied between herself and her sisters. Goodness knows she has ripped apart the tie between her and Amren, had stomped out the one between her and Cassian before it even had a chance to be something--

"Hey," Feyre says, placing a hand on her knee. "Stay with us, please."

"We know it's not easy." Elain speaks slowly, breathing deeply and fighting back her sobs. "But...don't think of it as a big thing. Just one step. One change. And w-we're not abandoning you to do this alone."

Feyre stands up and moves to sit by Nesta's side. Elain takes her other.

"I know how you feel," Feyre says, quiet and calm, squeezing her knee. "I've felt the same. If you can't do this for yourself...that's fine. Just please, please. Do it for us. Please."

Nesta narrows her eyes on Feyre's hand. She doesn't open her mouth for fear of what might come out. She won't give this voice--can't--

"I killed two innocents," Feyre says in that same voice, and suddenly, Nesta forgets her own thoughts as she turns to face her.

"It was my third trial," she continues, meeting Nesta's gaze, "Under the Mountain. Amarantha made me. I could've killed myself...and I was going to. But then it all ended and she died and Tamlin took me back to Spring. And I..." Only now does a tear slide down Feyre's cheek. But she just wipes it away and musters a small smile. "I promise I know how you feel. Please do this for me."

There are some truths Nesta knows. That she is not worth anyone's effort because of who she is, what she is. Which is defiled. And rotted. And small. And ugly. And these are the reasons why people give up; why she deserves that.

And yet, here her sisters sit, quietly crying, begging, beside her, and they are not giving up.

It's not exactly seeing the chance, rather...knowing it's there. In her periphery. Out of reach from where she is now, but...perhaps she can get there.

And Nesta realizes that there is a small, nearly insignificant--except it's the most important, isn't it?--part of her that throughout this whole drowning tempest, remembers what it is like to breathe. And it wants to breathe.

The girl who gave everything she could against the Cauldron may be buried, but she's not dead yet.

So she nods once.

Elain gasps and throws her palm against her mouth. Feyre squeezes her leg so hard she thinks she might draw blood.

"Thank you," Elain chokes out, crashing her head onto Nesta's shoulder.

Feyre doesn't say anything; only leans onto her other side.

Nesta doesn't relax. She sits there stiff and unmoving. But that distant, minuscule thing inside her flickers and breathes.

#nesta supremacy #nesta archeron #nessian fic #anti acosf #nessian #fatwd #idk what else to tag this as #i trust any nesta supremacy people know where to find me #anyway i hope to post a chapter every friday #really excited about this<3 #lmk what you think<3 #dadrie thanks for your heeeeelp<3<3<3

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

Good hell, your True Form series is the absolute best! (and totally canon for me tbh). I saw that we can drop you a prompt and I wanted to ask, if you can do one where the obey boys comfort an Mc who lost someone dear to them? It's totally alright if you dont want to! I hope you are having safe and healthy days!

Thankie anon! I hope you are well too! My condolences if you have lost someone ;.; I hope you like this and I’m stoked you like my True Form series!

Diavolo

Loss is not a new concept to him. Like many on the student council, he is well versed in it. The emotional strain can be numbing, and was numbing to him at one point in his life. He can’t really remember it now though. When was the last time he actually felt grief over a fallen companion?

But humans are different. Time is a scant commodity to mortals. Lose could stick to a human for their entire lifetime. When you come to him he is distraught. He hates seeing you in any form of discomfort. The best he can offer you is his undivided attention and shoulder if you need it. He is actually full of comforting and wise words from all the lifetimes he has experienced.

If you need time topside he’ll arrange a portal for you and you just take all the time you need. His program is not more important than family in his eyes. If you would like him to accompany you then he shall gladly. Sends the biggest, yet most tasteful flower arrangement to the funeral home and to the gravestone.

Barbatos

Probably has the hardest time relating to such a concept. The finite idea of time is something he struggles to conceptualize. Unless he physically wipes someone from the planes of existence he can, to a certain extent, simply find them in another stream.

He knows not to offer or bring up that idea to you. You don’t ask him to either. His abilities have ironically a time and a place. This situation is not one of those. It upsets you but there is nothing you can do about it.

He will distract you instead, taking you on errands and shopping trips around the Devildom. He will indulge your human curiosity under his watchful eyes. Then, he will take you to the kitchens and brew you something strong. If you need to vent while he cooks please feel free, he wants to listen. Nothing you say or do will pass through this room.

Solomon

Being human, and yet not, he understands the most out of everyone. He has loved and lost a great deal in his lifetimes. Some of which is still a raw wound on his heart. He is very much someone who will avoid talking about his feelings or things that dredge up his past failings.

If you come to him he will give you coping skills and drag you around the Devildom to take your mind off of your thoughts. He’ll take you for walks or to the woods. Is it dangerous? Yes. But the distraction of self-preservation has always worked for him.

During all of this, he will check in on you. If none of his tactics work he’ll cave, taking you to sit on the nearest comfortable surface. He’ll ask you little things about them or your relationship and reply in kind, albeit stiffly. It’s-nice. Some human bonding he didn’t expect. In a way, you both console each other.

Luke

He’s an angel in training. He can help! Simone has been teaching him! He’s excited but knows he has to tone it down. He’ll recite all the verses and words of wisdom he’s picked up from Simone and Michael.

He’ll sulk a little if it doesn’t help. Well, that’s fine, he will just have to study harder for you! Till then he’ll try other methods. He’s goto is homemade cakes and hugs. He will want you to help baking (he can’t reach the top oven shhhhh).

You naturally take over after a while, and as time in the kitchen progresses you teach him a few recipes that your late loved ones had taught you or were their favorites. It makes you feel better, it’s cathartic. The smell reminds you of home. Luke will memorize each recipe and will make them for you whenever he thinks you're feeling down.

Simone

The first to offer you his condolences and a warm hug. He is very vigilant of you and your mood for weeks after you had confided in him of your loss. His words of wisdom and experience with working with souls were more comforting than with Luke.

He will ask Diavolo to take you outside of the Devildom. Just you, Luke, and himself. You may pick where. Whether it be the mortal realm or the celestial one. If you decide you want to go back home to visit your old stomping grounds then that is where they will go.

You lead him around your familiar territory, pointing out where you and yours would hang out. He’ll buy you things from their favorite stores if you allow it. Humans are sentimental and if a little bobble or trinket will soften the pain in your eyes then it is worth more than gold. Will visit the grave with you to place the things you bought on it. If you allow it will pray from them too.

Lucifer

He lashes out at first when you come to him. It makes him feel vulnerable, his pack mark is infused with your storm of emotions. He brushes off your feelings and bristles at you trying to seek comfort in him. Familiar loss is a very touchy subject to him and bringing those feelings back to the surface for him hurts in ways he does not want to remember. It takes Simone politely (or not) reminding him it’s not about him and perhaps swallowing a bit of his pride would help you both.

He will come to you in the dead of night. He just opens up and talks to you. He’ll sit on the floor of your room with his back resting on your bed and share memories. You both laugh and recount the good, bad, and some ugly memories. You give each other great words of advice and comfort too. You fall asleep holding his hand with a soft smile on your face. Your tears have dried up hours ago. He leaves you to rest feeling lighter and closer to you in the long run.

If you invite him to the wake he will join without hesitation and hold your hand the whole time.

Mammon

He will cry with you. Seeing you like this makes him think back to the fall, it’s a lot for him. He’ll take you out drinking. It’s how he copes aside from gambling and other reckless things. Turns you into the responsible party of the night. It keeps you busy though that's for sure and side-tracked. Though, he will notice when you are uncomfortable and dips from the casinos to lead you somewhere quiet. He’ll pass a bottle between the two of you and talk about anything that comes to mind. He is bad at opening up in public. But alone and drunk, he has a bleeding heart.

He slips into his big brother persona pretty quickly once you two are alone. He may be a goofball around the others but he can be serious when the time calls for it.

He will ask all sorts of questions about them. He wants to know all about them if you are willing. He loves learning about your life and wants to make it better if he can. He will listen with rapt attention and interrupt only to laugh or ask a question. He swears over a greasy plate of food he bought you both at Hell’s kitchen to sober you that if you want him at the wake just ask.

Leviathan

For someone who usually stumbles over his words when you come to him for comfort, he is surprisingly eloquent. He’ll be uncomfortable with physically comforting you until you expressly ask for it.

He’ll try to distract you with video games and asinine conversations while you rest your head on his shoulder and watch. If you’re ok with it he’ll also drape his tail across your lap. The best hug he can give you while his hands are busy with his controller.

He wasn't very close to Lilthe compared to some of the other brothers but he’ll exchange little funny memories he has with you or some cringe-worthy ones to hear you laugh. Between the dim light of his room and the blue glow of his fish tank, you chat until you fall asleep. He doesn’t mind and lets you doze, still filling the dead air with little stories.

Satan

Ah...You have his sincerest condolences. It pains him to admit it but he has never truly felt loss for someone before. Things, yes. A loss of a good book, either stolen by Mammon or destroyed in a fit of rage by himself. He knows that feeling-but those aren’t the same and he knows that it is an ill-suited comparison.

He’ll lend you his ear though. Listen to whatever you have to say, or if you need to cry it out. His arms are always open for you. If you get angry he can help with that. He knows how to channel it all to be productive or temper it so you don’t burn yourself out while you process your emotions.

He-like Levi- will give you sage advice or find just the right words of comfort you need. During the school week if you need a break he will gladly take extra notes or turn in your assignments for you while you take some time off. He will give you some books from his personal library too after an off-handed comment about your late loved ones' favorite genre or author. They are yours if they make you happy.

Asmodeus

Sympathy tears like Mammon. He’ll listen with rapt attention and coo over you. Very touchy when he senses you are troubled. He’ll stroke your hair and let you dumb whatever weighs heavy on your heart. Hugs are the best way he knows how to comfort you.

He doesn’t try to distract you from your grief or your emotions. He knows all too well what happens when one bottles up their emotions for too long. Nasty business that. But, if you want a distraction just ask. He'll give you one. Something nice and (hopefully relaxing) maybe a night out perhaps? Or if you want to stay in he’ll pop in a movie or playlist of your choice and stay quiet. You spend the night in enjoying the physical closeness and no need to express yourself or exert energy trying to vocalize your feelings. He’ll bring out his best snack for the movies too, only the best chocolates and dried fruits for you to munch on.

If you have to plan the funeral or wake he will be there every step of the way if you want him to. He can take the reins if you are just too emotionally drained to do it. If you have ideas or plans for it he will follow them to the letter, no questions asked.

Beelzebub

It’s a lot for him. Even though his sister’s death was a millennia ago it’s still fresh in his mind. But he is strong and will do anything in his power to be there for you. The best way he knows how to cope with such pain is to exercise. If you want to, he will take you to the gym and train with you. Let you tire yourself out on a punching bag or weights.

He doesn’t have many words to say so he will just listen. The best partner for this really, you could go on for hours and he would just sit there and truly listen. He won’t judge how you cope, whether it is wailing or you just trying to act normally around campus. He will be a little bit more clingy after you tell him the news. He knows the tells of a breakdown from his twin so he wants to make sure you are not close to one.

If you invite him to the wake he will stay in the back and offer emotional support. Afterward, he’ll walk you around the local neighborhood and ask questions sporadically about how you're doing. Back at school, he will take notes to you and homework if you don’t feel like going in person.

Belphegor

Stays up with you at night if you can’t sleep due to stress or sadness. You can stay up in his room with him as long as you like and do whatever you need to get through this. Stay up or sleep with him though the day is fine. Though, if you stay up too long he will use the pack mark to make you rest. He keeps a close eye on you like his twin does.

He keeps you up in his attic room with him during the school day. Online classes are a thing and he will keep you content and warm with him till you feel up to snuff. He is smart but just lazy, though if you just can’t get the work done he’ll do it for you to turn in. Whatever, you need a break anyway.

He will fill the dead air while you rest with stories of when he would venture to the human realm with his siblings. He likes to hear stories of your childhood and adventures you had with your loved one too. He won’t offer to go to the human realm with you for the wake. But he will give you an elegant star themed decoration for the gravesite if you allow it.

#obey me fandom #obey me requests #tw: death

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perriwinklesblog · 3 years

Text

There are so many possible endings for the egg arc but the one I’d love the most would be a confrontation with Bad.

Once again I got carried away and wrote something way too long.

I know we have many battles and the game would limit the actual things I’m describing but just imagine if they were able to have like the natural disaster mod on the server. Like the wind whipping around as the egg starts the crack the ground. During all of that you have the eggheads versus the others who are trying to destroy the egg before it destroys them.

Puffy is trying her hardest but every time she gets close the egg physically pushes her back. Purpled is trying to snipe from a distance when Punz confronts him. Sam and Ponk are pushed into a corner by Antfrost and Bad before Puffy backs them up.

Eventually they regroup, heal slightly but the situation outside is getting worse.

Puffy: If we can get past Bad and Ant then we can drop TNT on the thing and run. One shot, one shot is all we need. We cannot physically touch it but that doesn’t mean we can’t throw explosives at it.

Ponk: I don’t think we can even get close to them! Have you seen the weather out there? That is crazy man, I swear I was going to be shot into the sky.

Purpled: If I deal with Punz then you wouldn’t have a sniper on you. That takes out one threat. I can’t deal with him by myself, I need the back up. Ponk?

Ponk: Huh? What? Me?

Puffy: We’re running out of options.

Ponk: Goddamn. Alright.

Puffy: I can try and lure out Ant from Bad and the egg’s side. Hopefully he’s weaker away from the egg.

Sam: I guess that leaves me with Bad and the TNT.

Puffy: Yeah. Well you are the creeper King right?

Sam: Hm. I guess so. Alright. Do not kill unless absolutely necessary. I mean it.

Ponk: Yeah yeah.

And so they get back to it. The buildings around them are starting to look a lot like the L’Manhole. The wind has picked up and every now and then things are flying through the air. One by one everyone enacts their plans. Ponk and Purpled deal with Punz. Puffy lures Ant out and Sam confronts Bad.

Bad: Sam. There is no point in fighting. You’ve already lost. Look at this place! Look what the egg has done! Isn’t it beautiful? Come on Sam. I know you hear it too. Just embrace it. There is no need for this foolish fight. We can all live in peace with the egg.

Sam: Bad. Look around you, this isn’t peace! There would be nothing to live with if we let this thing win.

Bad: It just needs some sustenance. And as soon as you and Puffy hand over Tommy, all of this will stop.

Sam: He’s a child, Bad. He’s gone through enough.

Bad: He has done enough to this server.

Sam: This is no way to deal with it. What is really the route of this Bad? What did it offer you? What does it say to you?

Bad: What does it offer you Sam? What does it offer anyone! Their hearts desires! Happiness!

Sam: It told me to kill Fran. That is not happiness. That is not my desire.

Bad: No, no no. You don’t understand. You clearly haven’t spoken to the egg properly.

Sam: What did it offer you Bad? What did it ask you to do? What did you sacrifice for this Bad? What did it ask you to kill? Was it Skeppy? How long have you been corrupted? Did it get you to sacrifice Skeppy so he would stay with you? Stay by you? Or did you sacrifice yourself so you’d be with Skeppy? If you’re both under the influence of the egg, both corrupted, both on the same side then there would be no arguing, there would be not tension between the two of you? Was that it? Bad, it didn’t work. It drove him further away from you.

Bad: No. You all did. Your meddling set things off course. If you all had just succumbed-

Sam: Bad. Listen to yourself. Really listen. Don’t listen to the egg and I know it’s hard, its whispering can be so loud sometimes, it can be overwhelming. You just want to relax into the words, let it wash over you and forget the pain but thats not how you deal with life Bad. You’re fed up with the way people treated you? With the way we’ve all treated you. I know how often we’ve pushed you aside. Fundy told us what this place was meant to be, what he asked you to do but it turned out he lied to you. We all haven’t taken you seriously and Bad I am truly, truly sorry about that. I really am. None of us listened to you. All you had was Skeppy but then he... Skeppy was your friend and you two had a fight. You drifted apart a bit and it was scary because this was your best friend, this was your family and you felt like they were leaving you right? And he had seemed like the only person that listened but now he was gone and it hurt. That hurts. The pain, that agonising pain, the grief, it hurt you and this thing, it’s taking advantage of that, Bad. This isn’t how you deal with it. This isn’t how you heal. Forcing the pain onto others isn’t how you heal. We all need to do better and it’s not always going to be easy but we will try, we will try together. Skeppy isn’t gone forever, your friendship with him isn’t gone forever. We aren’t going. I’m not going. Please Bad. Help me put an end to this. Let me free you. Please.

Bad: You all think I’m a joke.

Sam: I’m so sorry.

Bad: He was my best friend Sam. Skeppy was my best friend but the egg, it forced us apart and then it promised me it could bring us together again. I just had to do as it said.

Sam: I know, Bad. It’s really persuasive. Step away from it.

Bad: No. I can’t. This is the only way Sam-I.

Sam: There is always another way, we just need to find it okay? We will find it.

Bad: I-

So like whilst they’re speaking its just been getting crazier and eventually Ant manages to back Puffy into a corner and either takes one of her canon lives, placing her away from the main fight or forces her to retreat once more. Upon “defeating” Puffy, Ant returns to the room where Bad and Sam have been monologuing.

Ant: Don’t listen to him Bad. He’s lying to you.

Sam: Antfrost. Where is Puffy?

Ant: I’m not entirely sure but it doesn’t matter now does it. Come on Bad. If we can’t give the egg Tommy, we can give it Sam.

Bad: No, that wasn’t the plan-

Ant: Plans change. They’re adaptable.

Bad: But-

Sam: BAD GET DOWN!

And Sam just lets off the TNT. Bad and Sam run for cover, taking some of the damage but not dying. Antfrost screams no as he rushes towards the egg. Puffy manages to run into the area, as it explodes, she shelters behind something panicking about everyones safety. Purpled, Ponk and Punz stop fighting to watch what's happening. Punz grabs his head as a loud piercing noise is heard. Back in the room. Sam and Bad are both covering their ears as they too can hear the noise form the egg. Anyone the egg has spoken too can hear the noise from the egg.

Once the dust settles, Ant is no where to be seen and there is a hole where the egg used to be. But it isn’t a bedrock hole, no its a void. Just emptiness (I realise this also probably couldn’t be done but just for this scenario, imagine). Everything is eerily quiet.

Bad: Ant!? ANT?

Sam: Where the fuck did he go?

Puffy: Sam!? Sam!? Are you still here? Sam where are you?

Sam: Puffy? We’re over here!

Puffy: Are you two okay? Where’s Antfrost?

Sam: I-I don’t know. What is that?

Bad: Nothing. Everything. It’s just emptiness.

Puffy: Let me just cover it up. Do you think thats where how far the roots went down? Out the earth?

Sam: Possibly. Bad?

Bad: It’s quiet.

No one says anything else but Puffy and Sam go to bad and hold him as he cries. Soon Ponk, Purpled and the others arrive to see the destruction of the egg. The remnants of vines still all over the place but the root of the plant gone. They slowly leave the place and head towards Puffy’s (new) house where Bad rests. One by one people rest for the night, waiting until tomorrow to start anew and rebuild what was lost.

Sam and Puffy watch the sunset together.

Puffy: I can’t find Antfrost. I don’t know what happened to him.

Sam: We’ll find him. Don’t worry.

Puffy: What if he...

Sam: I’m sure he still had his lives. Plus he’s a cat. Surely he had extra. And we still have Dream.

Puffy: I’d rather not call in a favour from him.

Sam: Agreed.

Puffy: The voice really gone?

Sam: As far as I can tell, yes.

Puffy: It doesn’t feel like it’s quite over you know? I feel like until I’ve see Antfrost, until I know he’s no longer corrupted, I’m never going to be quite at ease.

Sam: I can get that but we can’t control everything. We’ll sort each problem as we get to it. One day at a time, one second at a time.

Puffy: Yeah. Man, my therapy office is going to be busy.

Sam: Pfft. Got room for one more?

Puffy: Always.

In the distance, Antfrost appears. Eyes are normal. Skin is normal. Everything appears normal. But something isn’t quite right. Something is off. A faint whisper in the wind he blinks and for a second his eyes appear red before going back to normal. A smile appears on his face. He fades into the shadows.

#dream smp #purpled #ponk #punz #captain puffy #awesamdude #bbh #badboyhalo #antfrost #crimson egg #bloodvines arc

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

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An Unbreakable Bond - Chapter 5 (Kylo RenxOC)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren now has everything he could possibly dream of, except for someone to rule by his side. And he’ll do anything to get Cora back.

The final fic in my Kylo/Cora Star Wars canon series. This is most definitely a TROS fix it fic because fuck that movie and shitty writing.

Please leave likes, comments and reblogs if you like it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

Warnings: Language, Long chapter, No Kylo in this chapter, Mourning and grief, Angst and feels

Chapter 5

Cora

It was easy to sneak away in the dead of night from The Resistances camp. But what was surprisingly easy was getting to Onderon. Nobody would know I had left until the next day, and by then it would be too late to stop me from changing my mind. It had felt like a lifetime since I had last seen Varidun, when in reality it had been half a year. The images of him trapped in a First Order ‘medical wing’ still made me shudder. Hopefully, when I found him again, he would have his cybernetics back. Hopefully, I had the right place. I remember when I was a child Varidun had joked about ever needing a place to hide that Dxun was the place.

Thankfully, Onderon offered a shuttle to the surface of Dxun, although the planet itself unnerved me. The force energy was dark here. And the constant rain didn’t help make the planet look welcoming, nor did the sounds coming from the forests. Pulling up my hood to shield myself from the rain, I gripped my saber and stepped off the shuttle. The droid running the shuttle had mentioned a tall, older man who had lived here for a few months. The droid had also mentioned the man’s metal arm and one eye. It was good to know I was on the right track to finding Varidun.

An hour into my trek I had to use my lightsaber to light my path, although after walking a few more yards I saw a fire up ahead. Turning my saber off and clipping it back to my belt I continued forward until the trees cleared to reveal an entrance to what appeared to be ruins although what the building had previously been, I couldn’t tell. Upon further inspection, I found the black stone was carved with runes, but not Jedi runes. These were ancient Sith runes. And there sat under the shelter was Varidun. It felt odd to be filled with such dread at the location, yet hope at the man sat in front of me.

Varidun met my gaze, his expression unreadable. I suppose he wouldn’t be happy to see me, he probably just wanted to be left alone after everything he’d been through. He’d seemed to age more since I’d last seen him, his hair grey longer and covering the scars on the left side of his face where his cybernetic eye once was. He seemed in need of a shave and new clothes too. Now that I was face to face with him, I did not know what to say even after I’d had plenty of time to think about it.

“I know I’m probably one of the last people you want to see, but I need your help. You’re the only person I have left to turn too,” I finally broke the silence. Varidun turned his attention back to the fire, remaining silent instead of inviting me to sit with him. My heart sunk at his silence. Maybe I was too far gone now in his eyes. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried one last time. “Please, Varidun,” I fought to keep my voice steady. Without turning to look at me, he kicked a small box out for me to sit. Hesitantly, I approached, dropping my bag beside me.

The heat from the fire is welcomed after walking in the rain for almost two hours. Glancing at Varidun, I couldn’t help but notice he was acting even more like a grumpy old man compared to when we had met. Although the judgemental silence was bothering me. “There are a few things we should talk about, before this goes any further. I’m sure you have questions, as do I,” Varidun finally spoke. I nodded, feeling like a child about to be scolded for my poor actions. “I came here alone. Nor did I tell anyone where I was going,” I said, as if it’s supposed to make him feel better.

“I’m not worried if you were followed. This planet is rather suited for keeping the faint of heart away. Which leads to my first question. How did you make it through the jungle?” He asked. I couldn’t help but smirk softly at his question, feeling a little more at ease now around him. “I wasn’t given the teacher’s pet nickname for no reason. Besides, a lots changed since then.” “That much I know, I can sense the change within you,” he finally met my gaze, “but do not test the jungle here, Cora. It has killed far stronger than you.”

I sighed softly, understanding the warning, and whilst a few years ago I would have heeded that warning. Now it meant nothing to me, not after the multiple attempts on my life. “I’m sure it would be a much more painless death,” I replied. Nothing would match the pain I felt the day Snoke ripped Kendra away from me. None of the injuries from training matched it, being poisoned by Hux didn’t match it. That pain of losing my child would always be with me, as would the scar across my belly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that...but let’s talk about something else. As I said, I’m sure you have questions for me,” Varidun quickly changed the subject. There were a lot of questions I had, but now was not the time to ask them. “Can you help me? With controlling my anger? I don’t know what to do anymore, but I know it would be wrong to just give into it,” I asked. “Why come to me instead of Luke?” My face dropped at the mention of Luke. The memory of how calm he had been during my outburst only angered me once more. If he had cared, he would have gone after me or said something.

“He decided to show his face at the wrong time. After years of being in hiding, he doesn’t get to decide when he wants to help again. He isn’t the hero I thought he was when I was a child,” I explained. “Luke Skywalker....was hiding?” Varidun asked in disbelief. “After the temple was destroyed, he ran to a planet where nobody would find him, abandoned his whole family and hid for years. It wasn’t until his daughter found him recently that he regained his balls to come out of hiding.”

Varidun fell silent again, staring into the crackling fire. He probably feels the same disappointment I had by Lukes cowardly actions. Luke had been important to Varidun too, taken Varidun in when he thought all hope was lost and there was no good left in the galaxy. “How did you escape?” I asked. “The Supremacy? How much do you already know?” “Snoke died and then you were in my head before I escaped,” I shrugged softly. “Alright, don’t get smart with me. I only asked because the only reason I was able to even break free when the ship took that large hit. Ren.” My brow furrowed as I looked at him in disbelief. It didn’t seem believable, Kylo had no reason to help him, not when Varidun had been so valuable to Snoke.

“Why? Why would he help you?” I asked. “I dont know why he did it, and I don’t really care either. But I wasn’t about to turn down a chance to break out of there. I had planned to cause as much chaos as I could and go from there, but when that ship launched itself into us, I felt a little out matched.” Nodding once, the conversation dipped again. The last thing I wanted to do is talk about or think about Kylo Ren. “So sleeping arrangements? I’m guessing you’ve got yourself a nice little makeshift bedroom and I’m taking the floor?” I asked. “Hmph, lucky for you I’d already guessed why you had come here, I figured it’d happen, eventually. There’s a spare bedroll in the corner, you can take it and sleep wherever your most comfy. Though I’d recommend not too close to the door.”

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I awoke the same as every morning, with a start from the same nightmare, softly panting as my heart hammered against my chest. My skin felt clammy from a light sheen of sweat. Cautiously, I lifted the front of the bedroll and checked for blood. It was almost like a morning ritual now, whilst others woke up and might have breakfast and a shower, I would wake up from the same nightmare and check for blood. I knew I would never find any, but the nightmare was always so vivid, the pain always felt so real. Once calmer, I changed into clean clothes and headed to the entrance of the ruins to make a start on breakfast, although Varidun had beaten me to it.

Varidun was sitting at the fire by the entrance to the ruins. This time, however, suspended above the fire on a spit was a few pieces of meat. Wrapping my now dry cloak around me for extra warmth and a little comfort, I then sit by the fire. Hopefully, I didn’t look to sleep deprived and dishevelled that he’d ask questions. ‘Breakfast’ would at least be full of protein to keep my strength up. “I’ll take dinner duty seeing as you beat me at breakfast,” I spoke, offering him a soft smile. “That will depend if you are able to catch dinner,” he smirks. “I’ll do my best.” I replied, returning the smirk, “so what did you have in mind for training? Or is it a surprise?”

“That eager, are we?” “I just want to feel...in control of things again.” “And I trust you are aware that path is a long one” “I know. But I don’t care how long it takes, you know I’m willing to put the work in,” I nodded. Varidun stands and throws his cloak over himself, pulling up the hood as he walks to the door. “Eat your breakfast, you shall need all the strength you can muster for the coming days.” Eating quickly, I made sure not to leave a scrap of the meat. Once finished, I put the fire out and waited for Varidun to return by the entrance of the ruins. The rain seemed heavier, yet the sound of it hitting the trees and ruins did not dull the other noises of Duxn’s native beasts.

After waiting for a short while, Varidun returned from the jungle. Having now been thoroughly drenched by the rain, he once again took shelter next to me. “Let us speak plainly for a moment Cora, I offer to train you to become strong again, to know the ways of the force, and to hear the force sing within you stronger than it once did. I assume this is why you have come to me?” He asked. Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I couldn’t help but feel this was an interrogation. But I knew better than to lie to him or tell him anything but the truth. “My anger has become a concern to myself and those around me. I want to learn how to bring it under control. Like you did,” I answered.

“And have you come here with any assumptions on how that shall be achieved?” “Not really, I tried meditating more, but that didn’t do much.” “Then that is where we shall start, follow me” Varidun headed out once again into the rain, taking the same path as before. After pulling my hood up, I followed behind him silently. My eyes darted around the surrounding forest, ready for anything. Eventually we came to a clearing, with a circle of large rocks in the centre. “Take a seat, Cora,” Varidun motioned to the rocks. Picking a more comfortable looking one, I crossed my legs and waited for further instructions.

“What is the force to you?” Varidun asked. Now that was a difficult question. One I’d never really thought about before, it had just been something that had always been there. Taking my time, I thought about my answer. It reminded me of the times back at the temple when Luke had been teaching me. I’d always been so desperate to please him and say something smart. Clearly nothing had changed. “An entity greater than myself and anything else in this galaxy, yet it seems to be a guide, a compass almost. Although sometimes I wish it would be clearer with its answers,” I answered. “Let’s narrow that down, what is a Jedi or a Sith?”

“They practice the light or dark ways of the force. A Sith is more in touch with their negative emotions and attachments than a Jedi.” “A simple way of putting it, yes, but also one that is leaning more towards one view over the other. Truth be told, they are both the same. And what are they without the force? Take the greatest Jedi knight, strip away the force, and what remains? They rely on it, depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they would a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman or a man. A child. The same goes for the Sith too.”

Listening to him intently, I realized I’d never really thought of it like that before, probably so deep into Lukes teachings to even consider it in that way. “That makes sense,” I replied. “Jedi and Sith rely on the force so much that they know no other way of life. So much so that a simplest of people could survive where we would not simply because they do not hear the Force as they we do. It is Irony of sorts. And that is among you first lessons. Learn to live without the Force. Once you can make your way without its presence, you will find you can survive much more,” Varidun continued.

My brow furrowed. This isn’t what I had expected from training, but I wasn’t about to question his methods and have him stop when I desperately needed help and guidance. “Okay. I can do that. I mean, I’ve done it before for the first few years after the temple was destroyed,” I said. “Explain?” “After Ben turned, it was best for me to cut off from using the force so he couldn’t find me or the resistance through our bond.”

“Hmm, it will do. Hiding one’s self from others who can sense them through the force isn’t exactly like being cut off from it. Understand this, Dxun is not a friendly place to those who only see the force in one way, and while I know you wouldn’t go wandering anywhere…” Varidun’s tone changed as if here a parent warning a child, “there are many places here that are better left alone. Do you understand?” “I understand.”

The planet had a reputation for its native beasts and ties to the Sith. Wandering off into unknown territory would not be a good idea. “I hope you do; this planet will test you, Cora. In more effective ways than I could. That is why I make it vital you understand how to block out those you do not want inside. I’m sure by now you have already built a strong defence against Ren, but those that rest here are far stronger in such techniques than even Snoke himself. It is part of the reason I have been able to remain hidden here. Should someone attempt to focus on this place and reach one individual, they would be met with a choir of minds, effectively hiding the one they seek from sight,” Varidun warned. I nodded again to reassure him, “okay. No wondering off, no listening to random voices.”

“Good. Now, when you meditate, what do you think of?” “I don’t think of anything. I clear my mind and focus on the feeling of the force flowing through me and around me.” “A standard Jedi use for it. Keep in mind though, meditation can be used not just to clear your mind and feel the force, it can be used as a time of reflection. To look back on events you have witnessed and be a part of, now a Jedi would use that to move on from those events. But if you wish to master your anger, you must learn to not only accept them but use them as a source for your hatred.”

That was not what I had expected to hear, and it concerned me. It went against everything I had been taught. “I don’t understand. I came here so you could help me control it. Not use it to my advantage,” I spoke, unease clear in my voice. “They are the same. When you can learn to control your anger, no matter its source in the heat of conflict, you can control it anywhere.” “If I can control it, does that mean the pain will stop?” Varidun pauses for a minute, unable to quite meet my gaze, “I cannot promise that”

Silence fell between us again. I was unsure if I wanted to go ahead with this. The pain was already unbearable. Even thinking about what could have been brought tears to my eyes and filled my chest with a familiar emptiness. The nightmares weren’t going to let up anytime soon. But what more did I have to lose? “Okay, we’ll try your method, “ I reluctantly gave in. “Remember, the choice is you’re to hold on to the memories, I can show you to focus them, channel them, and use them, but the choice will always be yours to let go of them.” It feels wrong to let go of them when they were all I had left of Kendra. Kylo had not allowed a service, burial, or cremation. Not even a keepsake to remember her. Only the pain and the scar across my stomach. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded softly, looking down at my lap.

“I felt it too, you know...that day, I recognize the feelings within you now, not the same as when it happened, but the roots are the same,” Varidun said solemnly. My gaze met his once more, as I was stunned by his words. The lump in my throat had grown that I knew the moment I tried to speak I’d start crying. “I...I...” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence without my voice wavering. “Close your eyes, Cora, focus on the thoughts. Dont run from them, let them flow. Just as you would the force when meditating”

Unable to hold back the tears any longer, I shook my head, unable to continue. Standing up, I was ready to head back to the ruins and accept Varidun’s disappointment. “I can’t, I’m sorry,” my bottom lip trembled as I forced the words out. “You think you’ll get past these feelings by walking away from them?” “You think a little meditation is going to work?” I snapped, turning to glare at him, “I lost a child, Varidun! I felt my baby being murdered inside my womb and I thought I was going to die with her!” My voice raised with every sentence. “And how long do you plan to let that anger fester inside of you? Until you lose control and hurt someone you care about?” Varidun remained calm.

“Why do you think I came here in the first place?! The Resistance think I’ll turn on them at any moment, Leia thinks I failed her!” “Lady Organa thinks that? Or you do?” “What does it matter?! The point is, I wasn’t good enough to bring Ben home, and neither was our baby!” I yelled, finally admitting the truth out loud. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I let out a loud sob, allowing myself to break down. Varidun sighed but didn’t move to offer comfort, “you have to accept that he may never return. And that isn’t because you failed, it isn’t because you weren’t good enough. He may be too far under Snokes influence by now.”

“I know that now. It’s part of the reason I left. More so when he took away killing Snoke from me,” I said through my tears. “You think you could have killed Snoke? The one who manipulated Ren into the trap he’s now in? The one who kept me bound for so long? He would have killed you without hesitation. Assuming he didn’t make Ren do it.” “He murdered my daughter! Do you think I cared at that point that I was outmatched? He deserved to die!” “He deserved to die for much, but what would throwing your own life away for an attempt at revenge achieve?”

Meeting his gaze, I gave a soft shrug, “nothing. Not that I cared if I died in the process.” “You’re willing to throw away your life so quickly? You’re not a princess who’s lived a life of luxury, Cora. You don’t break when things get hard.” “What would you know?! You’ve never lost a child! She was my chance at finally having a family and she was taken from me like the last one!” “My family was taken from me when I was a child like you, but no, I wasn’t the one who lost a child or a family.” Varidun pauses, “I was the one who took them from others.”

“Then why did you try to help that night? Why did you stay and try to lead some of the padawans to safety?” I asked matter-of-factly. “Because just like you, I had found a place to call home. Somewhere I didn’t have to hide who I was anymore.” My shoulders slumped as I dropped the defensive attitude. I knew we were in the same boat, both taken in by Luke Skywalker where we had found a new family before it was ripped away from us and then our hero had run away and hidden.

He didn’t deserve my wrath, and that’s not why I had come here. He had only been trying to help, even if it was a more unconventional method. “Lunch break? And then we can get back to training?” I asked, apologetically. “I think lunch would be a good idea.”

Taglist: @reverieness, @sweetsec-93, @cltex84, @jana-banana-fana, @neeharlow

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danceworshipper · 3 years

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The Family Business AU: Part 2

Part 1

Alright I honestly don't remember much of the game plot anymore and the memories feature didn't help much SO I apologize for this probably being horribly inaccurate to the game's canon. Eh, canon sucks anyway, this is an AU, whatever! Colette Belrose belongs to @gcldensnitch and Alex Vega belongs to @weirdcursedvaultkid

I do want to mention a couple things before the part starts. First, the way I headcanon Legilimency works is that it's a bit temperamental even for the most powerful Legilimens. Connect enough with a certain person, and disconnecting becomes harder and harder, and eventually you'll be linked forever with nothing to stop the transfer of thoughts and emotions. Second is about the twins. Tessa's got it really hard in this AU. Most of her development in 'canon' comes from her giving up the vaults and becoming more independent from Gracie, but that obviously didn't happen here because her family would never let her, so she has even more self worth issues than she should. About Gracie: from a young age she's been selected to be the heir, right? Her family and the other R members have always put her on a pedestal, and it's gone to her head a bit. She's a little too arrogant, and even too naive in a few ways. And she really doesn't know just how upset Tessa is, or how unworthy she feels, because unbeknownst to Gracie, Tessa's Occlumency is far stronger than hers. But both of them will get their proper development, I promise! They'll figure out just how fucked up their lives are soon enough.

Onto the story!

Are you questioning your grandmother's intelligence? Clarissa's stern voice rang through the twins' heads.

R's planned attack had not, in fact, gone as planned. Instead of throwing a few curses and leaving, as the agents were supposed to, they stayed and decided to duel with the twins and their friends, resulting in Ben getting a nasty curse to his leg that almost caused it to fall off. After a couple risky maneuvers to get the agents to finally leave, he was hurried to the Hospital Wing, where most of the friend group was at the moment. Thankfully they were paying Ben too much attention to notice that Gracie had crept away to the window to scream mentally at her mother - the only other member of R who possessed Legilimency. Tessa hoped that following her would make it look like they were just talking silently to each other. Clarissa hadn't taken too kindly to being shouted at in the middle of her lunch, unsurprisingly.

I'm questioning whether we're being given the correct information in the first place, or if Grandmother decided we don't need to be alerted when there's a change of plans, Gracie snapped. If I hadn't risked being outed by jumping in front of everyone else, he would have lost his leg!

And why do you care? I've heard your complaints about this young man. You don't even like him.

He's our friend!

Gracie, just stop, Tessa pleaded, grabbing Gracie's arm. She glanced over to Ben's bed; Ismelda (why was she even there?) was staring back at the two of them.

Sensing her sister's distress, Gracie followed Tessa's eyes to Ismelda, who kept her gaze. Tessa felt a wave of suspicion from Gracie. Either Gracie was so angry she wasn't keeping herself together well - which was very possible - or the twins' link had deepened without them realizing. Either option posed an issue.

I give you the information I've been given, Clarissa spoke, drawing their attention away from Ismelda. If you're truly this upset, I could have your grandmother stage a kidnapping so you may speak to her yourself.

No, no, Tessa interjected, not letting Gracie agree while still so uncontrolled. We can manage.

Good. I will be in contact on Tuesday to update you.

The intense headache Tessa had been feeling dispersed. Clarissa had closed their link. Tessa sighed, leaning back against the wall and finally dropping Gracie's arm. Legilimency over such long distances really took a toll on someone.

Gracie seemed fine though. Tessa knew she was just weaker.

You'd think the heir to the metaphorical throne would be shown a bit more respect, Gracie hissed. They really aren't doing themselves any favors here; I thought they wanted to bring in our generation? How in Salazar's name do they expect to gain more members if they keep fucking attacking them?!

Stop, please, Tessa begged, pressing her hand into her eyes. The anger Gracie was feeling was unnerving at this point, almost as if it was impossible for her to calm down, and Tessa could feel all of it like a fire burning in her heart. She didn't like being angry herself, so feeling someone else's anger was so much worse. Our link deepened.

Gracie's hand found hers and intertwined their fingers. It helped, just a little.

I noticed. Ismelda's still staring at us.

Tessa's eyes shot open. Ismelda had a blank look on her face. Too blank. Forced blank. What was she thinking? The idea to get into her mind was tempting, but Tessa had never liked using her Legilimency without permission. It just felt too violating; she would hate it if someone did it to her.

Gracie didn't have the same issue - within a second she was in Ismelda's head. This was important enough to warrant the intrusion, Gracie reasoned. No one could know until they had been recruited. The twins couldn't afford for anyone to be suspicious of them before they were able to get their most important people safe; Ismelda could ruin everything.

Thankfully, Ismelda hadn't drawn any connections to R yet - probably because she hadn't been very involved in the vaults and barely knew what R was, Gracie reminded herself. But Ismelda was very observant, and noticed almost every instance where the twins had mental conversations with each other or their mother.

The twins' Legilimency wasn't a secret. It may have been supposed to be, but in moments of blind panic an untrained Legilimens' mind will latch itself onto the nearest person to beg for help, and no one had been fully prepared for the Ice Vault, so Bill, Ben, and Rowan had very quickly realized the twins were not screaming out loud. The information spread quickly.

All things considered, it was fair for Ismelda to wonder why the twins sometimes chose to speak silently instead of out loud, and why they always seemed so upset while they were doing it. It was also fair for Ismelda to think that maybe the twins knew more than they were letting on. After all: it was true, they did. But she hadn't told anyone of her suspicions yet, which was the most important part, and she wasn't going to until she had proof.

Gracie extracted herself from Ismelda's head as smoothly as she could - the exit was always more noticeable than the entrance - but it didn't seem like the girl had felt anything. Gracie squeezed Tessa's hand.

"We're safe," she murmured aloud. No need to keep speaking silently, though neither of them closed the link. It was a strange sort of comfort to the both of them to keep their sister so close, even if their link was getting too deep to be completely safe.

"I don't like it when you do that," Tessa scolded gently. "What if someone invaded your mind without you knowing?"

"No one could," Gracie deflected. "Not even Mother can get in without permission."

Tessa shook her head in disapproval.

"It was important, Tessa. What if she started rumors we couldn't shut down? You know how Hogwarts is."

"I know."

"Come on." Gracie tugged Tessa's hand. "Lets go check on Ben."

The large crowd had mostly left, leaving just Alex, Merula, and Ismelda. Gracie idly wondered what Ben felt like being surrounded by Slytherin girls all the time.

"If they hadn't left I could have gotten some information out of them," Ben was saying. "We almost had them."

Merula scoffed. "If they hadn't left when they did you'd have to hop everywhere."

"A small price to pay if it meant we were closer to stopping them once and for all."

"I agree with Merula," Alex said. "Your health is more important, Ben. You'll have more opportunities."

"I wasn't concerned with his health!"

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It seemed extra dark that night, sitting in the Slytherin Common Room with Colette as the fire died down. It was just Tessa awake; Colette had fallen asleep on her shoulder a while ago. Something about huddling under a blanket with a friend helped Tessa think more clearly, even without talking. The weight of Colette's head on her shoulder helped to ground her and remind her she wasn't alone.

Of course, even being comforted left Tessa feeling guilty these days. This was Colette. Colette, who had always been there, who always brought sunshine to the dark days. Colette, who had no idea that the girl she was sleeping on was technically her brother's superior in a wizard cult. Tessa had done nothing but betray Colette since the day they met. There were too many lies that would tear them apart, and Tessa selfishly remained anyway, taking the comfort Colette offered while tearing the girl down behind the scenes. How could she do this? What kind of monster took advantage of someone's kindness like this?

Times like this were when Tessa cursed R with her entire soul. She cursed her mother for bringing children into R, she cursed her grandmother for starting R in the first place, she cursed Vance for not giving his sisters the option to flee with him and for never contacting them, and most of all, she cursed herself for taking that stupid magical vow that meant she could never tell Colette any of this, because Colette was too good. She'd never join R, and when she inevitably found out, Tessa would never be able to explain herself. When that happened, Tessa would lose Colette forever.

The link Tessa shared with her twin flared just a little, grief seeping in and mixing with what she was already feeling. It was too muted for Gracie to be awake. Bad dream? Tessa let her mind expand into Gracie's to try and calm her - one of them needed to be well rested, at least, and Gracie was the stronger of them in every way. Whatever dream she was having lost its grip on her as Tessa yanked on it, leaving no trace and no more grief spilling over. Good.

This was Tessa's only way of protecting her sister. Gracie was always the one who led in battles, who talked their way out of things, who people respected. Tessa was a follower, nothing more. It hurt, but at least Tessa knew that she could keep people safe like this. Her first practices with using her Legilimency undetected were on her friends as they slept, trying to influence their dreams, and nightmares were always easy to dispel. Fears never mean as much when you can't remember them. To Gracie's knowledge, she hadn't had a bad dream since she was thirteen, except on the nights they shared nightmares.

The only downside was that dispelling a nightmare sent the sadness, fear, and/or pain barreling into Tessa in full force.

As Tessa let the tears she didn't understand fall down her face, the fire flickered more, casting just a bit more light into the room, illuminating Liz as she appeared from the hallway to the dorms.

"There you guys are," she whispered. "I woke up to go to the bathroom and you weren't there."

"Sorry," Tessa responded. She felt Colette stir.

Liz frowned, coming closer. "Are you crying?"

"Yeah, uh, it's nothing." Just the fact that Tessa was a horrible human being.

"What time is it?" Colette asked, lifting her head but not moving away.

"Maybe three?" Liz guessed. "I didn't look. What's wrong, Tessa?"

Tessa shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. "Nothing." She didn't know what her sister had been dreaming about.

Liz and Colette shared a look, then Liz sat down on Tessa's other side and leaned into her.

"You don't have to tell us, but we're here for you."

That makes it worse, Tessa wanted to say, but how could she? How could she explain that she didn't deserve any compassion?

"We love you," Colette said quietly. "You're getting worse, Tessa, and we just want to help in any way we can. But you have to let us."

I'm in a cult! I'm a liar! I'm a monster and you need to get away from me before my family kills you!

Nothing came out but sobs that were fully hers, so her friends held her tightly through the night, whispering reassurances that made Tessa want to throw up.

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"You can admit you have a heart, Merula, it's okay."

"Vega!"

Gracie rolled her eyes. "It's okay, love, we know you don't care about anyone."

"I didn't say that either!"

Alex grinned. "So you do have a heart?"

Merula angrily scooped more fruit onto her plate. "Get me the dip," she demanded, and Gracie passed it over. The seasonal October dip had always been Merula's favorite.

"Why are you so interested in me anyway?" Merula asked Alex. "Shouldn't you be fussing over Copper still?"

"I already visited him earlier."

"I swear you're in love with that loser."

"He's not a loser!"

"At least the two of you would be a good match."

"Merula!"

"Would you two just kiss already?" Gracie taunted, rolling her eyes. "We can't have one breakfast where someone isn't bickering with someone."

"Are you seriously insinuating I want to kiss Vega?" Merula asked in disgust. "You're the one dating me!"

"And I regret it more every day."

"Hey!"

"I could date Rowan. It would be much more peaceful."

Rowan winked across the table.

Merula huffed, but thankfully shut up. She knew Gracie was just joking. Besides, Rowan would never lower her standards enough to date Gracie of all people, and it was well theorized that Alex did in fact fancy Ben. Gracie didn't understand that in the slightest, but whatever made her happy.

Alex was pouting into her eggs. Why did she take Merula's insults so seriously? At this point it should be obvious she didn't mean it. Still, Gracie kicked her girlfriend under the table, jerking her head at Alex.

Merula scowled.

Gracie kicked her again.

"You're not a loser Vega," Merula said. "Copper is though, and I stand by that."

Alex smiled a little. "You can think that, but he's awesome."

"I could kick his ass easily," Merula boasted.

And: more bickering. At least this was a bit more friendly.

"Chiva."

Gracie and Tessa both turned around. Ismelda was standing behind them.

"Yeah?"

"Cursed Chiva."

Tessa turned back around, tension radiating off her. She was always nervous these days. Gracie wished she could help Tessa see that everything would be okay. The two of them could protect their friends if something went wrong, because they knew spells only family was ever capable of, and if it really came down to it, R members all knew that they would be executed if they harmed the twins. They could use their bodies as shields, like Gracie had done for Ben.

On a more morbid note, Lorraine was old. It couldn't be too much longer before she either died or had to step down, and then Gracie would be the leader and exempt from the oath keeping her quiet. Once their friends found out why the twins had been lying to them, they'd understand. Sure, they'd be upset, but they were good people and they'd forgive them. Gracie had a lot of reform she wanted to do anyway, and after that was taken care of, their friends might be more willing to join if they hadn't already by then. Even if not, Gracie would be the leader and she could mark them all as untouchable. So in a horrible way, Gracie was just waiting for her grandmother to die. It would solve a lot of problems.

Tessa just hadn't come to that same conclusion yet.

"What?" Gracie asked, remembering Ismelda had addressed her.

"You have first period free, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We're talking. Courtyard."

"Okay?"

Ismelda reached over Merula for a bagel before leaving the Great Hall.

"What's that about?" Rowan asked, looking at the doors Ismelda had walked through, fork halfway to her mouth.

Gracie shrugged. "No clue," she lied. Shit, had Ismelda noticed Gracie in her head after all?

Tessa nudged Gracie with her leg. Gracie nudged back. It would be fine. If it came down to it, she knew her way around a memory charm.

Don't be stupid, Tessa warned.

Relax.

I can skip out on Divination if you want.

It'll be fine, dumbass. Don't risk your grade over nothing.

"Want me to come with you?" Rowan offered. Gracie focused back on her best friend.

"Nah, I'm sure she's not gonna kill me."

Rowan didn't like that answer, if the glare she gave Gracie meant anything.

----------------

Ismelda stood with her arms crossed in front of the fountain as Gracie approached. It was rather chilly out; the thin school sweater wasn't cutting it. Before Gracie could greet her, Ismelda made her claim.

"You know something we all don't."

It was a split second decision, fueled by the tingle in the back of Gracie's head, that made her agree.

"Yeah."

Taken aback slightly, Ismelda paused, having clearly been ready to argue.

"Okay, so what are you hiding?"

"I can't tell you."

"Chiva - "

"I'm under a magical oath," Gracie admitted. "I can't tell anyone."

Ismelda frowned. Her arms fell to her sides as she took in that she was being told the truth.

"I take it your sister is, too?"

"Yeah," Gracie agreed. "It's a family thing."

That threw Ismelda off even further. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you want to know what we know?"

Ismelda narrowed her eyes. "That felt like a threat."

Little do you know.

This could be a bad idea. Ismelda could take the news very badly and get killed. But Gracie was almost certain she wouldn't, and someone like Ismelda could be a really good ally. She had already proven herself to be rather observant, and she was the type of person who wasn't deterred by violence. And the power aspect would certainly tempt her.

Ismelda hadn't been a priority, but it was a start. Besides, if that tingle Gracie felt was to be believed...

Gracie sat, gesturing for Ismelda to join her, which she did with some hesitation.

"If you find out you'll have to take the same oath."

"I figured as much."

"Believe me when I say this is dangerous. Knowing will keep you safe, but only if you go about it correctly. If you refuse the oath, bad things could happen. And that's before you find out."

Ismelda yanked the end of her scarf out of the fountain with a muttered curse, charming it dry before responding.

"Your family sounds more fucked up than you normally let on, Chiva."

There was no arguing with that. Gracie let Ismelda sit for a moment, turning the information over in her head.

"When?"

I thought so.

"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend right?"

"Second weekend of every month, isn't it?"

"Hope you don't have any plans."

Ismelda stood, and Gracie copied.

"Is this a trap?"

"No."

"You'll tell me?"

"After you take the oath."

She stepped back a bit.

"Then tell me where to be."

Gracie grinned. Lorraine would be pleased.

"Meet me behind Madam Puttifoot's at one. My family - " the oath prevented her from saying grandmother " - will take it from there."

She turned to where the persistent tingle in her brain was coming from.

"You can come too, Rowan." Two in one.

#me: I love my ocs more than life itself #also me: *this*#hogwarts mystery #my writing #the family business au #gracie chiva #tessa chiva #merula snyde #ismelda murk #rowan khanna #colette belrose #alex vega

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navigatrixnarrations · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

#sometimes always fic #charles vane fic #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #charles vane x oc

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genuary-fic-event · 3 years

Text

Harry Potter & Naruto Gen Fics

Almost all of my stories are gen so I picked out a few of my favourites to share! All stories are by FiresFromOurHearts (i.e. me).

Harry Potter

Graduation - Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley, and Penelope Clearwater have made it to graduation, somehow, against the odds. This is their last time at Hogwarts as students; this is the boat trip you leave on.

Tags: graduation, final year, last day, memories, Ravenclaw Gryffindor friendship, changes, change, growing up, final memory of Hogwarts, graduating.

the broken bones of our childhood - blaise thinks about love. about love being shovde down his throat, about a society that makes him think he wants that love, wants to grab it from the stars and let it huddle in his cupped hands. he’s young, fourteen maybe, when he reads aromantic for the first time. reads aromantic, reads asexual, reads queerplatonic relationships. and he thinks, oh, maybe this is it. maybe this is me. he thinks about society’s romance and thinks about friendship, thinks about platonic love, and thinks maybe this is right.

Tags: this could be angst but I don’t think so?, someone let me know about that please, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Aromantic Asexual character, growing up, sexuality crisis, kind of, more like discovery?, sexuality, love, friendship, Slytherin, Sexual Confusion, I don’t know what else to tag, society’s views of love, marriage, but a negative view of marriage, aromantic asexual Blaise Zabini, queerplatonic relationships, character study, I’m so so proud of this work so please give it a try, not really part of the series so can be read alone, don’t copy to another site

she unleashes the magic in her veins - Narcissa has sat alone in Malfoy Manor while her husband is in prison and her son is off on a suicide mission. She sits and she waits and she dares her hands not to shake. Soon, she grows sick of waiting. Narcissa had been a Black once and she still is; her marriage did not take that from her. Perhaps it is time that someone of the Black family shakes the foundations of the world once again.

Tags: BAMF women, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Slytherins being Slytherins, Mother-son relationship, mother’s love, love, Malfoy Manor, house elves, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, horcruxes

Never Been A Love Story (Quite Like This) - Charlie Weasley’s soulmates with Draco Malfoy. Over the years, things manage to work themselves out and they end up as friends. The real problem stems from the world around them saying they must be in love with one another since they’re soulmates. Charlie struggles with this. Luckily, Draco’s there to help out.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, platonic soulmates, platonic male/male relationships, family, grief/mourning, comfort, second war with Voldemort, post-second war with Voldemort, smuggling, a few crimes, friendship, enemies to friends, to even better friends, romantic soulmates, kinda, dragons, I mean it is Charlie Weasley, asexual Charlie Weasley, Aromantic Charlie Weasley, Aromantic Asexual Charlie Weasley, POV Charlie Weasley, I guess, Charlie Weasley-centric, do not post to another site

Steady Feet (I’ve Stopped Running) - Or that story where Charlie Weasley tells his family he’s aromantic and asexual and nothing bad happens.

Tags: Aromantic Charlie Weasley, Asexual Charlie Weasley, aromantic asexual Charlie Weasley, Charlie Weasley-centric, dragons, of course, family, comfort, family feels, bisexual Bill Weasley, Pansexual Ginny Weasley, friendship, it’s in the background, familial love, coming out, self-love

United Within These Walls - Blaise Zabini might be a Slytherin. But he’d been a Hogwarts student first. They all had been. It’s time for houses to matter less and the one thing that brings them together - Hogwarts - to matter more.

Tags: Hogwarts seventh year, warnings for the Carrows, interrogation, torture, (kind of), resistance, students, Dumbledore’s Army, these tags sound bad, but it’s not too dark, Hogwarts inter-house unity

Warning: Warnings for the Carrows and the use of the crucio.

Naruto

Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten) - A story inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice, except there’s no romance and no real gods, except there are brothers and death and the Sharingan.

Tags (a number of tags in this one so just doing the main ones): Alternate Universe - canon divergence, inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice, eye-trauma, Uchiha Madara-centric, canonical character death, canon does not follow from that death though, questionable sanity, ghosts, potential mindfuck

Warning: Izuna’s technically dead? Or he dies and then comes back. Warning for eye trauma. Initial note mentions this in more detail.

follow your heart (it leads you home) - After a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, there are few things Rin wants to do. She will, however, listen to rumours from Obito, eat dinner, and then fall asleep as they both wait to see Kakashi. And Kakashi loves to see his partners when he comes home, especially when he’s been missing them. Meanwhile, Obito conspires so that everyone gets to be happy - himself included.

Tags: Alternate Universe - everybody lives/nobody dies, queerplatonic relationships, Nohara Rin lives, medic Nohara Rin, soft, comfort, no hurt, healthy relationships, these kids are so sweet and soft with each other and I love them, Rin & Obito & Kakashi QPR, Uchiha Obito lives, Good Uchiha Obito, feel-good, love, friendship/love, mistaken for dating, rumours, laughing at rumours

stay with me tonight (there’s so much wrong going on outside) - Sometimes you’re stressed and exhausted and burnt out. But you know what? Sasuke isn’t alone. He can relax and rely on Sakura and Naruto. Just take a break and breathe.

Tags: Queerplatonic relationships, alternate universe - Modern setting, roommates, movie night, softness, bad days, burnout, students, casual intimacy, love, friendship/love, hurt/comfort, more comfort than hurt, fluff, domestic fluff

Here’s To Us (Here’s To Love) - Team 7 is a little bit more lonely, their lives a little less harsh, and they are a team. They will remain a team, no matter what comes. (A short fic on Team 7’s friendship and love as it could’ve been. How their family began and how it continues on after everything.)

Tags: Team as family, Team 7 as family, team 7-centric, team 7 feels, found family, friendship/love, loneliness, comfort, hope, alternate universe - canon divergence, lonely team 7, love, friendship, I cannot tell you how much team 7 love each other, so so much love, gentle, soft, the interent quiet of the darkness at night

Naruto Series

The Overworked Hikaku Chronicles - The Overworked Hikaku Chronicles covers how Uchiha Hikaku accidentally saves the world, creates peace amongst the Uchiha and Senju Clans, deals with Konoha being founded like the normal person he is, and also stops being so overworked and tired with a (slightly forced) nap. It starts with crack and humour, grows to speak of self-care and ends gently and with love.

Notes: Since this isn’t a single work, there’s a number of tags. In total, there are ten works with a total of around 31k. There’s one work with a warning for near-death experience, and a number of the fics deal with burnout and stress, but also focussing on moving past that too. Tags commonly featured include: crack, crack treated seriously, fluff and humour, Uchiha Izuna lives, Warring States Period (Naruto), family, family feels, familial love.

The Sea Never Dies

Uzushiogakure is more than a ruin. Her people wander and they hide themselves away, refusing to be who they once were. Uzushio sees this and she refuses to let the world stay that way. Uzushiogakure may have fallen, but Uzushio is far from dead.

Meanwhile, Konoha kills off almost all of the Uchiha Clan, leaving two - Sasuke Uchiha and Toru Uchiha. Sasuke’s survival was meant to happen. Toru’s survival was due to luck, (and something more, something much, much bigger than luck).

The world is not safe or nice or good. It hasn’t been such for a while. That’s alright though. Toru can make things happen with his own two hands and his words. He can change his world, even if it isn’t the entire world. Toru doesn’t like the whole world that much anyway.

Notes: Like the previous series, this one has too many tags to tag individually. This series is still ongoing and is near the end, though, updating frequently. In total, there’s about 600k words at the moment (and an extra 70k of extra AUs and whatnot) so it is massive. I would argue it’s all about found family, love, hope, building a life out of the ashes, and learning to live for yourself/living on when nothing is left.

Common tags: Uzushiogakure, LGBTQ character, Alternate universe - canon divergence, friendship, queerplatonic relationship, found family, team as family, reincarnation, ANBU, world building, team building, BAMF women, women being awesome, BAMF team 7, friendship.

Warnings: This series lightly touches on PTSD (but still touches on it) and there are depications of the main characters near-death and actual death too, though these can be skipped. There are scenes of torture too, which aren’t explict but are warned about too. Further questions can be asked and I’ll be willing to answer. Overall, this series definitely isn’t dark however. (Oh, and some bad guys die, so character death too, I guess?)

Additional Notes: It’s a lot of words so I can totally understand not wanting to read it. So there are a few AUs that can be read without reading the main series. One is see hope rise with the tide and the other is Desert Oasis.

#fanfic #genuary #genuary 2021 #naruto #harry potter #submission

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

Text

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

He’s getting used to the throne these days. It still feels too big, too cold, polished wood unyielding to his new title — but he’s getting there. Sort of. He doesn’t flinch when people call him ‘sect leader’ anymore, even if it took a war and a few extra months to get used to it. There are still too few disciples, but they’ve started to build again. He’d recalled all the disciples out on night hunts or assisting villages back at the start of the war, and the survivors are still retained in Lotus Pier, training newcomers and repairing the damage that couldn’t be fixed while they were on the frontlines. In a few months, after the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, it’ll be time for the new round of juniors to join the ranks here. He’s already read through the letters from parents seeking admission — not many, not nearly what it used to be back when he was young and still stumbling through sword forms with the earliest classes — but it’s something. It’s a start to the future he always held in his mind. There’ll be fresh juniors and he’ll stand where his father once stood on the deck before Sword Hall while Wei Wuxian directs them through their forms. It won’t be perfect, won’t be exactly the way he always imagined, but it’s — it’s enough. He’ll have his sect and a-jie and Wei Wuxian, and he’ll finally get Wei Wuxian out of his weird funk and wielding Suibian again and it’ll be — right. They can finally push aside the shades of the war and figure out this future together. Or, he thinks bitterly as familiar steps approach, they can if his idiot brother ever gets his shit together.

Wei Wuxian saunters in, posture loose with wine and steps easy and swaying. Irritation flares up his spine first at his absentness and then at the wine he offers, as if that’s any consolation for his brother abandoning him all day. They’re supposed to be working together, rebuilding together. How’s Wei Wuxian supposed to be his right hand if he can’t even stick around?

“Why are you scrubbing your sword all day? How many times a day do you need to clean it?” Wei Wuxian teases, settling on the steps with that damned flute. “Where’s yours?” Jiang Cheng snaps. He found Suibian for him, carried it around for months for him and now? Now it’s like Wei Wuxian couldn’t care less for the sword he carried for years. “How long ago did you clean it?” Wei Wuxian drinks instead of answering immediately, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, sheathing Sandu. Of course he’ll become reticent now, when he’s neglecting his own duties. “I left it in my room,” he says. “Once a month should do.” It wouldn’t be so bad if Jiang Cheng just understood. If he just knew why Wei Wuxian’s been acting so strangely, he could move on. But there’s no explanation except Wei Wuxian’s careless whims, and it grates against Jiang Cheng’s nerves like the fractured end of a bone. He still remembers how awed Wei Wuxian was when they first received their swords, how he clung to Suibian like it was the greatest treasure he’d ever see. He’d thrown himself into training, into outpacing their seniors, with Jiang Cheng chasing after him. Where’s that love now? Where’s that dedication?

“Not carrying a sword in public. Drinking in a tavern all day,” he snaps. “You must think Lotus Pier is the inn where you can rest when you’ve drunk enough.” He wants to leave. He wants to go to bed and wake up to a clear morning with his brother back at his side, ready to take up his responsibilities again. Instead, Wei Wuxian jogs forward and loops his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Ah! Jiang Cheng, don’t be so mad,” he says.

It’s an instinctive thing, the kind of reflexive jab they’ve been giving each other since Wei Wuxian came to Lotus Pier. It’s not like it ever hurts Wei Wuxian; even with a spark of Jiang Cheng’s qi behind it, Wei Wuxian has more than enough to flick the force off like a gnat. He falls. His brother falls from that absent jab, and Jiang Cheng stops short, staring. Surely he’s not that drunk. Even in Cloud Recesses, he’d managed to wrangle Lan Wangji himself after drinking all night. A spark of worry flickers in his chest. “Are you fine?” he asks. “Too drunk to manage your spiritual power? Look at yourself. Talking about reviving the Jiang clan with me.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t answer, stays on the floor where Jiang Cheng put him. Annoyed, Jiang Cheng steps forward to pull him up by the wrist. “Stay there,” Wei Wuxian snaps, arm thrust out with Chenqing in his fist. He doesn’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes, still braced with his hand pressed into the hall floor. “Wei Wuxian?” he asks and can’t spare a thought to hate how scared and small it comes out. He swallows, hand clenched so tight on Chenqing held like a bar between them, and doesn’t meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. His face is ashy and drawn, the way it always is these days, but now Jiang Cheng’s seized with sudden, fierce fear. He’s accepted the ghostly edges to Wei Wuxian lately without question. He’d been missing and there was the war and who walked away without a few new shadows and nightmares nipping at their heels? But Wei Wuxian — Wei Wuxian looks like death has scrolled frostwork in lace curls over his bones. All Lan Wangji’s terse reprimands from the campaign now clamor in his ears: it will damage your body and temperament, your mind—

He leans down, grabbing Wei Wuxian’s wrist. “Wei Wuxian, come on,” he says. “Don’t—” Wei Wuxian says, jerking away too late. A whip of resentful energy lashes out, smacks Jiang Cheng hard enough to break his hold and knock him on his ass. The impact jars him, rattles up through his skull. Wei Wuxian stares at him, wide-eyed with horror. Jiang Cheng stares back. “Your core,” he blurts out. “Your core — what the fuck, Wei Wuxian?” His jaw tightens, eyes too-bright like an animal caught in a snare. Jiang Cheng stares at him, palms still flat on the wooden floor from breaking his fall. It’s impossible. How— When— He said he was caught by Wen Chao back in Yiling, before he disappeared. Understanding, horrible and toothed, digs out of his chest. “Wen Zhulio,” he snarls. “He died too quickly.” Jiang Cheng knows he’s not a good man. He’s too proud and too selfish and he would do horrible, unforgivable things for the people he loves. He wants, viciously, to summon Wen Zhulio’s spirit and break it. “But— Baoshan Sanren,” he starts, hope surging before memory — this is your one chance, Jiang Cheng — snaps its neck. “Wei Wuxian, you idiot. Why did you give me your favor? You could have gone to her, you didn’t—” “I don’t regret it,” Wei Wuxian interjects, strangely vehement. “Jiang Cheng, I won’t regret it.” “You don’t— Are you stupid, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng half-yells. “You—your core is gone! You fought— Gods, you fought a war with—” “I don’t need coddled, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian snarls. “I’m the one who took Nightless City, aren’t I? I’m not fragile—”

Anger surges, crackling, up through his grief, charging it like lightning through water. “I didn’t say— You could have died!” he shouts. “You could have died and you never told us? Were you ever going to tell us?” That silences Wei Wuxian, and he looks away sharply. A muscle jumps in the back of his jaw. Jiang Cheng’s lips part, shock and hurt trembling through him. “You weren’t,” he breathes. The realization hurts like a kick to the chest, a heel to the soft, unprotected spot right below his breastbone. “You were never going to tell us. Fuck you, Wei Wuxian. How fucking dare you. We’re your family. You’re supposed to talk to us. Don’t you trust us anymore?” Wei Wuxian’s gaze snaps to him, eyes wide. “No, Jiang Cheng,” he protests. “Of course I trust you and shijie. Of course, I— I just didn’t want you to worry.” He can feel his disbelief turn scathing even as he drags himself up to grab Wei Wuxian by the collar. This time, he goes without resistance, no flute or energy between them. “You didn’t want us to worry? What, did you think we weren’t worried when you showed up acting weird as hell and commanding corpses?” he spits. “Did you think we weren’t worried when you refused to carry Suibian or when you keep snapping at everyone within ten li?” His brother shakes in his hands, limp and too-light. Tears drip from his cheeks to break on the knuckles of Jiang Cheng’s thumbs. He’s not sure when he started crying, but they burn down his cheeks and choke in his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Why?” he sobs out. His hands are still fisted in Wei Wuxian’s collar, but he’s just clinging now, holding on. “I can’t be your right hand,” Wei Wuxian says, little more than a broken murmur. “I can’t — I can’t wield Suibian or train the disciples or — or do anything. I’m— Useless. I’m useless.” As he speaks, his voice shivers down into a whisper, into a horrified confession. Fear is no longer a flicker but a hand around Jiang Cheng’s throat. None of this can be happening. His brother has always been the one cheerful in the face of suffocating night, the one who has a plan, who sees impossibilities as a dare. It’s why Jiang Cheng distracted the Wen guards, why he gave up his core and life; as long as Wei Wuxian lived, he would be able to figure out a way to keep a-jie safe, to rebuild the sect, to avenge their parents. Jiang Cheng clings to him and doesn’t have any answer at all.

#mdzs #the untamed #untamed fic #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #my writing #this is going to be my low-pressure cql project i've decided #probably going to post to ao3 like 2 parts at a time?#bc making it low pressure means i don't want to force myself to churn out 5k each time #but this way i can post the short bits to tumblr #and then compile on ao3 #anyway this is apparently the everyone-lives AU that i told myself i was not going to write #there's no plan here tbh

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cassiabaggins · 4 years

Text

An Extra Burglar Chapter Six: Orc Chase and In A Hole

A/N: so I actually finished this! Take that all day headache! Ha-hah! The headache is still here but so is this chapter, so that makes it all better. If you enjoy this, please drop a review and/or reblog if you can! Thanks for reading!

Warnings: canon typical violence, language

Rating: T

First ... Previous .... Next

Masterlist!!!

Taglist: @legolaslovely @bluebellcotton @strictlynofrills @floralfi

“You're dead!” Cassia yells, lunging forward. Fili dodges her with ease and knocks his knife into hers. “None can stand before me!”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, lass,” he teases as she whirls around to block a blow.

“Oh, I won’t!” She replies with a quick swipe. “I’m going to beat you!”

“Bold words,” he shoots back. She attacks again, pressing forward with abandon that actually has him on the retreat, but he parries with ease.

“Your footwork needs attention,” he says, coming to a halt and stopping the blade of her dagger with his.

“It’s good enough, I think,” she retorts, shoving back at him.

“Are you attempting to overpower me?” Fili asks incredulously. He barely moves despite her throwing all her weight against him.

Cassia smirks, then falls to the side. The dwarf stumbles forward in surprise and she whirls, sticking one leg out and tripping him neatly, following the move up with a blow to the shoulder.

Fili lands on his face with a groan that has the other company members roaring with laughter. Cassia plants her foot between his shoulder blades and leans over to grin in his face.

“I have defeated you!” She crows, her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“She most certainly has!” Dwalin laughs as Fili grumbles, “come now, Fili, you wouldn't be a sore loser, would you?”

Fili shakes his head. “I would be nothing of the sort, Master Dwalin. Congratulations, Cassia, you have bested me. Truly none can stand before you.”

Cassia straightens up and waves her weapon at the dwarves around her. “You hear that, you rabble? You are but chaff before my blade!”

With her foot still planted on Fili's back, she's already in the perfect position and due to her posturing she doesn't notice him get his arms underneath himself until he pushes up sharply. Cassia lets out a surprised yelp and tumbles back, allowing Fili to grab her by the ankle and tug her down onto the ground and between his arms.

“What was that you were saying about besting me?” he smirks down at her, straddling her hips to hold her down, holding her wrists in his hands.

"No fair!" She cries, wriggling around. "I had already won!"

"I never said I yielded though."

"Yes you did! You said I won!"

"But I never said I yielded."

"What?! That's not in the rules! Someone tell him that's not in the rules!"

"The terms of the fight were whoever yielded first," Kili says, grinning. "And he technically didn't yield."

Cassia gasps indignantly. "Kili! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Hey, I'm just telling it like it is!"

"Ooh," she huffs, "damn you, you insufferable dwarf!"

"Now there's no need for name calling," Fili laughs. "Kili's just holding up the rules we agreed on."

"Oh, you're just as awful! Bilbo!"

Her brother has no sympathy. "It's none of my business," he says.

Fili, of course, is having the time of his life, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter, when she turns her head back to glare at him, not letting her up even as she wiggles harder and even tries to kick him. He tuts at that.

“Uh-uh. None of that. Admit you've lost, lass.”

“Will you let me up?”

“Once you yield.”

Cassia bares her teeth at him. “No! Curse you!” She yells, before breaking off into some Khuzdul swears she's picked up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I'll kiss your face with my fist! That was a cheap trick!”

“All's fair in love and war, you know.”

“Aye, it is, isn't it.” Cassia says slowly, a sly look creeping over her face.

“What are you planning?” Fili says.

Instead of replying, the Hobbit lass surges forward and presses a quick kiss against his lips. He jerks back, surprised, his ears turning a brilliant shade of red, and Cassia cackles in triumph, scrambling to her feet and darting away into the trees.

“I'll never yield to you, Fili!” she calls behind her for good measure.

Fili stares after her, deaf to the laughter of the dwarves around him, his fingertips against his lips.

“Mahal’s beard, she'll be the death of me,” he murmurs.

Cassia continues her headlong sprint into the woods, stopping against a large tree and dropping down to bury her face in her knees. Why in the world did she do that?! Why would she kiss him?! What was she thinking?! She DOES NOT have feelings for him. None at all. She kissed him to beat him. That’s it. Not because he has very kissable lips. Which is, of course, an objective fact and does not at all mean she might have a teeny-tiny crush on him.

There’s a noise behind her, probably Kili coming to make fun of her.

“Go away, Kili,” she grumbles. “I really don’t want you to tease me right now.”

Whoever has approached her snarls in a way that makes it clear that is not Kili, nor is it any of her friends. She leaps to her feet and whirls around. Advancing towards her is, well, it must be a warg and it’s rider. She’s never seen a warg before and she’s definitely never seen an orc, but she can’t imagine the two beasts approaching her being anything else. She has no chance to fight them off, so she does what she can.

"FILI!" She screams, praying and hoping that he's in earshot and that Bilbo was right about him always coming to rescue her. "FILI!!! HELP ME!!!"

Two things happen at once: the warg leaps and Cassia is knocked to the ground by a blond and brown blur. When she gets her bearings, Fili is standing between her and the enemy, his left arm and sword in the warg's mouth, his right parrying a blow from the rider. Black and red blood pours down his side. "Run," he says.

"Fili—!"

"Go!"

She runs. She doesn't have to go far before she meets Kili, Thorin, and the others coming her way. They must have heard her scream.

"What happened?" Thorin asks, catching her as she runs into him.

"Orc," she gasps, "Fili– he's gonna—" she doesn't have time to finish before the dwarf practically shoves her towards Bilbo and takes off at a dead sprint.

"Are you hurt?" Her brother asks, taking her face in his hands.

"No," she says. "I'm not. But Fili—."

"He'll be fine, Cassia."

"No, Bilbo, he won't, it got him!"

"Cassia," her brother says, "take a breath. He's fine. He's a skilled warrior. You know this. He'll be fine."

Cassia doesn't reply, just yanks herself free of her brother and runs after the others.

Fili has the orc in a stranglehold, the warg laying slain at his feet. The expression on his face is miles away from the gentle, kind one she is used to. As she watches, he snaps the orcs neck and drops the corpse to the ground.

"Fili!" Cassia gasps, and instantly the vicious look fades from his face. She shoves past the others and runs to him, ignoring the protests from the others. "Are you hurt? Oh, what a silly question, look at your arm!" She reaches out like she's going to touch him, but stops just before her fingers brush him.

"I think I'll live," he says. "It's only broken."

“You’re bleeding!” She half-shrieks, feeling a catch in her throat. She sniffles. "Oh, Fili…"

“Please don’t cry,” He says, taking his hand off his wound and reaching for her. Cassia recoils, not because she’s afraid of the blood, but because he’s worried about her while he’s bleeding so terribly and in such awful pain, and she instantly regrets it, because Fili seems to immediately get the wrong idea, hurt flashing over his features.

She has no time to explain, quickly shunted out of the way, then, by Kili and Thorin and Oin, and has to watch off to the side as he's tended to.

Bilbo hands her a handkerchief. “See? He’s fine.”

Cassia nods shakily, taking it and wringing it in her hands

Thorin scolds him in a flurry of worried Khuzdul and Fili replies quietly in the same tongue, wincing as Kili helps him out of his jacket. “Ow! Be careful!”

“Sorry.”

“Well,” Oin says in Westron, “the bone is definitely broken, and badly, but he won’t lose the arm.”

“How come?” Thorin asks with a relieved sigh.

The medic holds up a long dagger. “Because of this. It blocked the bite. You were lucky, lad.”

“Told you there was a reason to bring them all,” Fili says.

His uncle sighs and ruffles his hair. “I’ll give you this one.” He steps away and turns to Cassia.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It came out of nowhere.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“This is all my fault,” she says, “For real this time. Oh, I’m so sorry! I never intended-”

Thorin holds up his hand to stop her. “Lass, don’t do that. It was not your fault.”

“But-”

“Don’t.”

Fili lets out a pained cry and Thorin immediately whirls back to his nephew. Oin has just set the bone and is splinting it with some sticks Ori brought over. The leader of the Company leaves Cassia to be comforted by Bilbo and hurries over to Fili, not quite hovering, but doing the next closest thing. Kili is holding Fili’s good hand, muttering lowly in Khuzdul, maybe comforting, maybe scolding, maybe both, Cassia doesn’t know.

“Are you going to be all right?” Bilbo asks, pulling her attention away from the little family. She sniffles again.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Why are you blaming yourself for this?”

“Because it’s my fault!”

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you pick up a sword and chop his arm half off?”

“N-no?”

“And did you take said arm and bash it with a club and break it?”

“What?! No, of course not, I would never-”

“Then it’s not your fault.”

“But he got hurt taking care of me!”

“Did you force him to?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not your fault. Good grief.”

“But why would he-”

“You two are friends, aren’t you? He did it because he cares about you. And you do stupid, reckless things for the people you love and care about.”

“Wait, ‘loves’?”

“Don’t you love your friends?”

“I… yes.”

Bilbo makes a ‘you see what I mean?’ gesture and pats her hand.

Cassia, of course, knows that Fili cares about her, but she never fathomed the idea of him loving her, friends or not. Because the truth of the matter is, she loves him, too, he’s a dear friend that her life would be much emptier without, but like an idiot, she never supposed those feelings would go both ways. Cassia lets out a long breath and ties a knot in Bilbo’s handkerchief as she thinks over this new revelation. Just beyond her, she can hear Thorin in a low-voiced argument with Gandalf.

“If anything, this is all the more reason to head to Rivendell,” the wizard is saying, “Lord Elrond is an accomplished healer, he can-”

“No,” Thorin interrupts, “out of the question.”

“Your nephew is badly injured,” Gandalf snaps, “do you want him to die?”

“He is strong. He won’t die. I’m not leading my Company into Rivendell to face the treachery of the elves. Not even if they were the only ones who could save us.”

The wizard throws up his hands. “Eru save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!”

Thorin scoffs and turns away from the wizard, when suddenly there comes a great shouting from further in the woods and everyone immediately leaps into battle positions.

Someone, maybe Bofur, grabs Cassia and Bilbo and shoves them into the center of the circle of dwarves. She finds her back pressed up against Fili’s chest, and he lets out pained hiss as she accidentally jostles his broken arm. She doesn’t have time to apologize before he’s shoving her behind him and someone comes bursting out of the forest riding some sort of sleigh, screaming, “THIEVES!!! FIRE!!! MURDER!!!”

Gandalf sighs. “It's Radagast. Radagast the Brown.”

“Who?” Thorin asks, not giving the order to stand down as the person, who appears to be an elderly man in brown robes, draws his sleigh up mere inches from the lot of them.

“A colleague of mine,” The Grey Wizard says, “The Brown Wizard. He takes care of the woods around here. You have nothing to worry about with him. He’s mostly harmless.”

Thorin gives the order for them to stand down. Gandalf starts up a conversation with his fellow wizard as Thorin helps Dwalin and Bifur to dispose of the dead orc and warg Fili killed while the rest of them return to their camp to pack up. Cassia tries to speak to Fili, but he appears to be avoiding her and she doesn’t have a chance to. She even offers to help Kili help him pack up his things, but the dark haired brother waves her away. She finds herself shoving her blanket into her pack with quick, frustrated movements when from frighteningly close, there comes a howl, like a wolf. Cassia stiffens.

“Is that a wolf?” Bilbo asks, in a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t think it is.

“Wolves?” Bofur says, “no that is not a wolf.”

“What is it?” Cassia asks. “Wargs,” Fili says, drawing his sword and stepping into the role of leader in the absence of his uncle. “Ori, get the ponies.”

“I can’t,” the other dwarf says, “They’ve bolted.”

Thorin, Dwalin, Bifur, and the two wizards burst into their campsite just then.

“Who did you tell about your quest?” Gandalf asks Thorin.

“No one!”

“Who did you tell?!”

“No one, I swear!” Thorin says again. “What in Durin's name is going on?”

“You are being hunted!” Gandalf says. Cassia and Bilbo look at each other.

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin says. “What of the ponies?”

“They bolted,” Fili replies. “And we’ve no chance on foot. Uncle, what do we do?”

“Not usually,” Radagast says, addressing the others for the first time.

“Sorry?” Fili asks.

“You’d have no chance on foot usually,” The wizard tells him. “But if I draw them away…”

“These are Gundabad Orcs,” Gandalf says, “They’ll run you down in no time flat.”

Radagast grins, and Cassia gets the sense that he’s not quite sane. “And these are Rhosgobel Rabbits. I’d like to see them try.”

“Come and get me!!!” Radagast shouts, taking off on his sleigh. Cassia glances at Bilbo.

“I think he's a little bit crazy, that one,” she whispers.

He nods in agreement. “More than a little bit, I should think.”

“Come on!” Gandalf says, and starts running, the Company in single file behind him.

In the distance, the brown wizard leads the orcs in a merry chase, but he doesn't seem to know where the Company is going, leading them running not far from them. “Stay together,” Gandalf hisses as the Company backpedals.

Bilbo pulls Cassia back to keep her from running out into the open and Thorin stops Ori. They pause briefly, then the grey wizard hurries them on again.

“Where are you leading us?” She hears Thorin ask Gandalf. The latter does not reply.

They duck behind another large boulder, gathered together in a group. Above them comes the deep growling of a searching orc. Cassia's heart is pounding hard in her ears, so loudly she thinks perhaps the orc can hear it. She holds her breath. Her brother squeezes her hand reassuringly and she looks over at him. He seems just as alarmed at her, and for some reason she takes comfort in the fact that she isn’t the only one afraid

Cassia nods, and breaths out. Kili shifts beside her and she turns to spy him carefully, stealthily pulling an arrow from his quiver, and her heart is in her throat again.

Kili moves like lightning, dashing out into the open and losing the arrow practically in one breath.

The warg squeals like a stuck pig, falling and tossing it's rider. The dwarves leap into action, but it's just a bit too late, it's cries echoing over the plains. Warg howls are orcish shouts sound out, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

“Move!” Gandalf cried, “RUN!”

“There they are!” Gloin shouts as the Company crests a hill.

“This way!” Gandalf hollers, “quickly!” He leads them kitty-corner from the approaching enemies. But the orcs are approaching from that direction, too.

“There's more coming!” Kili shouts.

“Kili!” Thorin roars, “shoot them!”

"We're surrounded!" Fili yells. He’s beside Cassia, using his sword with his good arm. She unties her sling from her waist and grabs a stone from the ground. She doesn't know how breakable orc skulls are, but hopes this will do something.

“Where’s Gandalf?” someone cries, for the wizard seems to have vanished.

“He’s abandoned us!” Someone else shouts.

Cassia hits two orcs, but it really doesn't seem to do much beside sting.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin shouts. Things are going to get real bad. And then,

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf says, popping up from behind some rocks.

"Fili!" Thorin shouts, "take the Halflings! Get them out of here!"

"But—!" He blurts, clearly wanting to stay and help fight.

"Do as I say!" Thorin snaps, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Fili turns towards Cassia and Bilbo, who are already running towards Gandalf, and follows after them, his hand on the back of her shoulder. The wizard slides down into a hole in the rocks and the three follow after him with varying degrees of gracelessness. Behind Cassia, Fili lands with a thud and lets out a noise that's somewhere between a yelp and a groan and she whirls around to see him roll slowly over onto his back, clutching his bad arm. He must have landed on it. “Fili!” She gasps, moving toward him, but is prevented by the rest of the Company tumbling down into the hole in disarray. There doesn't seem to be anything stopping the orcs from following, though, and Cassia can't help but wonder what good hiding down here has done, besides trap them, when there comes the clear, brazen call of a hunting horn. It's not orcish. Not at all. Above them comes the sounds of battle and screaming, squealing orcs. An orc comes tumbling down the hole and they all leap back, Bilbo pushing Cassia behind him, his arm across her chest, but it's already dead. Thorin bends, tearing out an arrowhead in the thing’s throat.

“Elves,” he says, like it's a dirty word, tossing it down.

Despite his reaction, Cassia can't help but relax, letting out a little sigh. Gandalf gives Thorin a disappointed look.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads!” Dwalin shouts. He had scouted ahead a bit down the crevice. “Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur replies, hurrying after him. Thorin nods.

“Follow the passageway,” he instructs, and they take off. It’s tight and winding through the mountains, almost claustrophobic in places for the larger dwarves, but no one gets stuck. Eventually, they emerge from the narrow stone passage out onto a narrow ledge. Cassia pushes around Kili to see what everyone is gaping at. There before them is a great sprawling valley and she knows instantly where they are. She’s seen illustrations in her brother’s books. The last Homely House east of the Sea.

“Rivendell,” Bilbo breathes with shining eyes.

#fili #fili x oc #fili friday #cassia #cassia baggins #fili x cassia #bilbo baggins #kili #thorin oakenshield #my writing #an extra burglar

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