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iustitians · 4 months

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ooc; headcanons - on Neuvillette and rain

Oh you came back for another 3 Google Doc pages of me going insane? In that case, welcome to Neffi rambling about the man, part 2. This one has been bouncing around my head in disorganized bits and pieces practically since the beginning, so I guess sit back and enjoy as I attempt to stitch it all together.

As per usual, spoiler warning for story content and reveals from 4.1, 4.2, and his voice lines. You know, typical Neuvillette stuff.

Let’s start with the kinda elephant in the room and also a common misconception I see that admittedly bothers the hell out of me whenever I come across it: no, it doesn’t ONLY rain in Fontaine when Neuvillette is sad. The country does not require the Hydro Dragon to suffer from chronic depression in order to have a healthy climate. Not only that, but we have multiple mentions in both his story and voice lines that Neuvillette actively enjoys the rain and rainy days. What sense would it make for him to do so if it only rained due to him experiencing grief?

“Neuvillette has always favored rainy days over sunny ones, as the moisture-laden air helps him relax. However, it has been a long time since he last delighted in standing under the rain.” – Neuvillette’s character story 5

“Some days, my mind wanders, and I fantasize about walking into the rain… *sigh* Ah, but don't worry, my flights of fancy don't distract me from my work.” – Neuvillette, Something to Share: Rainy Days

And also my personal favorite on the topic,

“I was once summoned by Neuvillette to discuss some matters with him in his office. When I approached the Palais Mermonia, I saw him standing by the road, completely drenched in the rain. I held out an umbrella for him, and while he thanked me politely, his expression was a little… distressed, I guess. I can only assume that I had disturbed him in the middle of something.” – Wriothesley, About Neuvillette

Neuvillette was literally disappointed when he got shielded from the rain falling on him, but couldn’t show it too much because he has to play his role of a Proper Completely Normal Human Being (Except 500 Years Old). He has issues, okay.

At any rate, I suppose that with him being the Hydro Dragon, it makes perfect sense that he prefers moisture. If anything, it’s warmth and the state of being dry that would be… borderline unnatural to him. Sure, over the years he has gotten used to it, but that doesn’t mean he will have grown to like it. And he doesn’t, really. His voice line about sunny days confirms that he likes to stay indoors during such weather - heck, he goes so far as to hesitate to call it beautiful (and it’s not impossible that, again, he did so just because he thought he should). We can also figure out from his quotes about snow and the desert that cold temperatures bother him a lot less than hot ones; the former is entirely neutral, with Neuvillette not raising a word of complaint, whereas the latter flat out has him go “are you trying to kill me?!”

Of course, I can’t really write about him and the rain without analyzing his quote on the rain, now can I. It is a short, but still interesting one.

“Ah, my apologies. This heavy rain must be quite an inconvenience for you.” – Neuvillette, When It Rains

Why is he apologizing? Well, setting aside the fact that he apologizes for just about everything ever (again, he has issues), I think this quote can mean two things: “I apologize for enjoying the weather you find problematic” or “whoops, sorry, I had an emotion and I didn’t like it” - and I feel like it’s going to be either one, depending on the particular situation. The same goes for the melancholic “It’s over…” that he utters when the rain stops. Either the weather he enjoys has come to an end and he’s a little disappointed, OR what’s actually over is whatever he felt that caused the rain in the first place, in which case this would be an expression of relief.

So as I said, Neuvillette experiencing emotional turmoil is not a requirement for rain to happen around him. It can come as simply part of the climate and natural order, and I imagine he can also make it rain at will without negative feelings being involved. Such rain he can also stop when he wants - which we know from his idle animation. What Neuvillette’s sadness and grief do is cause additional rain to happen - and that is the main type of rain that is not truly and entirely under his control, because once this starts, it doesn’t stop raining until he can either put his mind at ease or strangle those feelings within himself.

This is something we have demonstrated to us full force during Act II, where we receive our first (and extremely blatant tbh) hints on his identity. We visit him in his office during a nice sunny day, he accidentally angers Navia and she snaps at him in tears, and when we exit the building, bam, rain. Navia also remarks that it was raining on the day her father was convicted, which is like, wow, you don’t say. Later on during this act, we find out and reveal the truth behind Callas’ sacrifice and the serial disappearances case, prompting Neuvillette to experience immense sadness and guilt that cause it to rain for literal days without pause - something that he indirectly confirms by outright saying “This regret has filled me with a sadness that has haunted me for days” to be his fault. (Shout-out to the fact that no one realized who he is right then and there. My only explanation for that, honestly, is that people probably expect a whole dragon when they think about the Hydro Dragon, not someone in human form. I mean come on, Navia isn’t stupid.) But Neuvillette and Navia manage to make their peace and come to an understanding, giving him some peace of mind, and just like that the rain stops, giving way to a beautiful sunset.

There’s also the moment from Act IV that results in the Traveler figuring it out, where Neuvillette’s grief and concern for the events to come prompt rain out of nowhere. And finally, of course, there’s the Act V cutscene - you know the one - where the rain comes crashing down heavier than ever before as he casts his judgment.

There is something very interesting to note in all of those situations. Namely the fact that during all those events, in spite of the severe emotional turmoil and grief he is experiencing - especially in that last case - Neuvillette still fails to shed a single tear of his own. He doesn’t do it in front of Callas’ grave, doesn’t do it in his story quest after Carole sacrifices herself and he has to exile his best - and possibly only - friend, doesn’t do it after he literally watches Focalors kill herself, doesn’t do it when he fulfills her wish. (In that last one some people like to speculate that he actually does, but sorry to tell you, no, as far as I’m concerned that really was just rain rolling down his face for the effect.) There comes a point where this can no longer be explained by him “maintaining his composure as expected of his station” or whatever - not only is that not necessary in that situation, but also he clearly loses said composure in front of Focalors. He can express positive emotions by himself just fine, however subdued and muted his reactions continue to be, but when it comes to situations where you would expect tears… It almost seems as though he is incapable of crying in a “normal human” manner, and the rain is something of a catalyst or conduit for him to express these emotions.

Which is, in fact, a headcanon that I am currently rolling with: Neuvillette does not have the ability to cry in a regular fashion.

As for what rain does for him, well…

“I don't think that the Hydro Dragon would "weep," per se. I think he just finds himself a little stirred when he gets a taste of the tears that have been shed on this land, on account of all the emotions they contain.” – Neuvillette, About Neuvillette: The Weeping Hydro Dragon

I believe that by causing it - willingly or otherwise - Neuvillette gives himself an outlet not only to express certain feelings, but also to release an accumulation of strong emotions that wash over him during certain periods of time and events, such as trials. We have multiple mentions of how it tends to rain in Fontaine especially on days when trials are held, and of course trials are a situation where emotions can and often will run absolutely wild; as well as a situation that directly involves Neuvillette.

Yet whenever we are shown a trial - be it the ones from Neuvillette’s character demo, Vautrin, Lyney, Marcel or eventually Furina - we can see that amidst all this turmoil, he maintains perfect composure, stability and impartiality, even at times of greatest uncertainty. It’s what he has to do, what he’s known for, and one of the reasons why he is so trusted. For his part, he calls it “routine”, and yet… Can it really be that easy? We know that he doesn’t have a heart of stone (hell, proving he doesn’t is one of the main points of his character arc, really).

So what I believe he can do, is that the events brought up during those trials and the powerful emotions of those involved that are attached to them will affect him, resonating with his own. Given that he does not allow himself to outwardly react or give voice to said emotions - and in come cases, cannot do so - he instead lets them wash over him, and then releases them outside. It is through rain that he can then not only give expression to his feelings in a way only he knows, but also let them out as they gather and accumulate. It’s almost like both a channel for excess and strong emotions, and a cleansing mechanism, in a way.

It is not possible for him to be entirely unaffected by emotions, and in truth it’s not what he wants, either - he doesn't aim to be an unfeeling piece of wood, and it’s through this resonance that he hopes to learn more about both humans and himself. But because he has limitations - both actual and self-imposed - on how expressive he can be… Every once in a while, Fontaine sees a bit of extra rain. Its residents go around praising their Iudex’s impartiality and self-control, and wonder about his rumored apathy, all while proof of his emotions pours on their heads, much to their dismay.

#✦ ooc.#✦ headcanons.#long post.

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synthshenanigans · 11 months

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HMS OTGW AU

Synopsis of the few episodes that i have planned its a lot of text i apologize + i wrote all this very late yesterday so it might be a lil rough lol.

Also I am very very tempted to write chapters on ao3 about this AU, so if you dont want spoilers on it you prolly dont wanna read the rest. Tho I gonna leave some things out just to save that for the fic. (i cant promise that theyll all be written and posted soon but i will try my best)

tw for depression and suicide (I mean have you seen the album)

Episode 7- For Whom The Bell Tolls

Instead of Laura and Aunite Whispers being there, the house is empty and wanting the get away from the cold, they decide to stay for the night. Soul goes out for firewood and leaves the other 2 to clean up and make a place to sleep in for all of them. They've all been getting along from that point so Soul isnt worrided about anything. Things are fine for awhile, but after searcing around, they find the bell from the original episode. But instead whoever holds the bell, can command another to do whatever the holder wants (kinda like the og bell but slight different). It at first goes fine, Hearts mainly just goofing off and messing around with it for a bit. Though, the concept of one controlling the other starts an arguement (like in the album) and without Soul to calm things down, it eventually breaks into a full fight. When Soul finaly gets back, one of them is just about to kill the other (again like the album). Which leads to a similer fight like TSE and The Bidding but now with Soul going with the fact that since they cant get along, they should just go their separate ways and find their own ways out. In the end none of them stay in the house and all go split up into the woods (which is definitely the best idea to do in the dark winter woods)

Episode 8- Cacophony

Instead of the drug trip dream that Greg has, itd just be the 3 of them trying and failing to go through the woods on their own. Each of them eventually having their breakdowns like in THA, TME and TSE. Leaving them all doing horribly mentally and attempting to sleep in the snow. (Like how Wirt and Greg do). Before Soul can (attempt) to rest, The Beast finds him, wanting to do a trade with him. If Soul were to go steal the lanturn from the Woodsman and become the new lanturn bearer, The Beast would let Heart and Mind go free out of the Unknown. And as long as he keeps the lanturn lit, theyd live happily and finally get along. Saying that as soon as hes even being near the Woodsman, they would already be free. The Beast of course is lying, and plans to kill off Heart and Mind and turn them into edelwood trees. Still, Soul has nothing else to go for, and so begins to search for the Woodsman.

Episode 9 - Into the Unknown

Flashback episode bby. I thought about making HMS go relatively through the same thing Wirt and Greg did (minus the whole Sara and school bit since none of the go to high school being like 20ish years old). Then I instead thought of Whole. (ps gonna try and write Whole as a separate person from CJ, since it feels weird to me to write about him so Wholes kinda his own character in this)

On Halloween, Whole would go through a rough day (one that would likely cause him to split into 3). Being frustrated with a lot of things he decides to take a walk to clear his head. Tho the rainy moody weather of *whatever this takes place* doesn't help his mood at all. Hell it makes it worse if anything. Its now night time and he eventually ends at a cemetary (like in the show).

Suprisingly no one is there, so he takes a break from walking by sitting up top a certain garden wall. At this point, this thoughts are getting worse and more depressing (his thoughts are also now spliting into 2 and then 3 voices). He gets knocked outta his thoughts when the rain really starts to pick up. Tries to get down but falls off on the other side onto train tracks. And like in the show, a train starts to head straight down them. Whole (still not in a good state of mind) stays there and waits for it. Its not till he suddenly feels him throwing himself out of the way almost involuntary. (The "Wait, no please wait!" sorta moment by Heart and Mind). And like Wirt and Greg, he falls into the pond/lake and passes out.

Episode 10 - The Unknown

(im using the stuff i typed last night so if it's incomprehensible and stupid, thats why)

Heart and Mind wake up similer to Wirt (in the snow with the edelwood branches on them). Now with clearer head, the both immediately panic worrying where the other 2 have gone and go looking for them. Heart gets disoriented with the harsh snow and winds, since hes ya know, blind, and ends up on the frozen lake in the show. And just as Mind finds him there, like Wirt, Heart falls into the frozen lake. Mind barely saves him and has another mental breakdown. Heart wakes back up in the middle of it and they have a lil bonding moment (they siblings your honor). They eventually get up and search for Soul. When they finally find him, hes like ONE second away from just fuckin murdering the woodsman for the lanturn. (hes given up at living at this point and just wants the best for Heart and Mind so hes like...less sane than usual) The Beast told Soul they should've already been out by now so Soul is now pissed he was lied to. The Beast gives up and decides to kill all three of them and have the (knocked out) woodsman stay at the bearer. Soul tries to fight it with the woodsmans axe but is too weak to do anything. The Beast and grabs the hatchet and throws Soul against the trees, leaving Heart and Mind to fight it themselves. Mind (and Darrell) can barley fight it off while Heart tries to find the not knowing its near Soul. Beast swats Darrell away and slams Mind into the tree, holding him there. Just as its about to wrap him in edelwood, Heart suddenly is like "haha bitch fear me" thinking he has the hatchet then realizing its actually the lanturn. Mind just slays there for a sec just like "god damnit juno you had ONE fucking job" Tho obviously, The Beast gets immediately pissed, not wanting the fire to burn out. Heart goes through the same realization that Wirt went through of "Why do you even care about the lanturn anyway? Its almost like your spirit is...wait" Beast moves, droppig Mind and threatens Heart. Although scared, Heart finally stands up for himself, tired of being ordered around at what to do. After freeing Soul, Mind then steps in front of Heart now protecting them while Soul uses the hatchet to stand back up in front of both of them. Willing to fight for his life again while also being pissed at the Beast for lying to him (also that it thought it could give him a purpose and tell him what hes supposed to be and do. Basically Soul has the realization he has in Two Wuv) Beast panics and tries threatening them/negotiate with all of them to let it live. Of course it doesnt work and they blow out the lanturn. Soul holds Darrell as Heart and Mind work together to hold Soul up as they finally walk out of the unknown.

Whole wakes up in the hospital in a similar fashion that Greg and Wirt do, reassuring close people that hes alright and just accidentally fell. He wants a bit of time to himself tho to comprehend him almost dying and the weird dream he had. Tho just as hes about to be like "twas all a dream" he finds that Darrell is laying next to him in the bed. The nurse saying that the chicken wouldnt leave him no matter what they tried to do. Darrell luckily didnt get too in the way and they figured it was his so just left him there. Whole then is like "yea...i guess he is" while mentally being like "WAIT WHAT THE FUCK HOW IS HE REAL??" The nurse leaves him be and he sits there thinking over everything and decides that he is a lot better mentally since that adventure and is happy his selves have gotten better and in turn he himself has gotten better.

Maybe he can talk to the three of them eventually or he gets inspired and starts making a certain album idk. As a wise man once said

Also had the ideas of 1.Heart and Mind being lost in the unknown with Soul as the woodsman trying to help them get back while also trying to save "Whole's" spirit in the lantern and 2.Heart and Mind are lost in the unknown with Soul being the Beast

#my tumblt has been WACK today so this has been stuck in my drafts and wont post #this probably is incomprehensible #if anyone actually reads this and like #made any sense of it but thank you for hearing my dumb little thoughts :}#but im still so glad you're listening you could say #greener my beloved #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #HMS OTGW au #do i rlly need to make a tag for this? idk why not

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umbrellagoblin · 2 years

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A Game of Cat and Arse

Hello!

I was, once again, greatly inspired by @kwillow 's characters and I wanted to write up something interesting, as well as delightfully-torturous for Ambroys to go through. So why not make him old and grumpy? Oh, AND there's also older Mortimer who has some devious plans looming ahead of Comte DeLuxe! Now, I know this is very, very self-indulgent, but I might as well make it a series since I just love tormenting the pissy, prissy angelpony so damn much. We'll just see about that...

// CW Mental Anguish/Torture, Medical Themes, Nightmare Sequence, Harrowing Displays of overall Despair and Fear.

The last days of summer are a truly depressing time. The early harvest is long gone from the once-ripe fields, the greenery’s starting to wilt even before the calendar obliges it to, and the last rays of scorching sunlight make their way across dry, worn-out land. It’s summer, still, so the warmth is there for the most part, and there’s still plenty to enjoy! About the good days, that is.

Yet today was certainly not the day to enjoy such pleasantries.

It’s pouring as if out of a bucket. The sky is dim and maintains a veil of boring-gray. It’s also foggy, somehow. Certainly not the best time to enjoy a vacation from town and overall noble duties. And yet, one flamboyant count got an interesting stroke of luck by arriving just a day early for his well-deserved rest. The old-timey coach was brought up close to Bringham Manor - a quaint, isolated nook of English architecture amidst gorgeous rocks of Massif Central, surrounded by red brick and more cobblestone than one could possibly fathom in one gaze. And it’s so, so green and quiet and simply nature-filled here… Truly a perfect vacation spot.

Saint Maud’s Monastery’s bells could be heard, as the structure of olden cobblestone rests right nearby - hence why most locals simply dub it the manor’s chapel. There is always someone out to greet guests by the manor - even in such cranky weather. With the coach arriving, the half a dozen nuns standing close by, huddling beneath three umbrellas in their delicate hands, tensed up and prepared for the count’s arrival. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long to see their sponsor once more after nearly a year of absence:

Lord Ambroys DeLuxe always knew how to make a frivolous entrance. Though, this time, he chose to be more conservative with the fanfares. Dressed in naught but a three-piece suit of vibrant pumpkin color, with gold embroidery woven into it in tiny bits and pieces of course, the shining light and the paragon of virtue let his hair down loose. A mixture of gold and silver alike, the halo shone brighter than ever - in spite of a few wrinkles making it onto the glimmering unicorn’s face. His hands remained just as nimble, sharp nails and fingertips toying around with a crimson neckerchief as he stepped out of the coach. Thankfully, all this beauty would not be presented for the sisters in vain - as they rushed over to hold their umbrellas over Ambroys’s weary head instead of theirs.

“Your Eminence, careful!”

“Here, let me hold it for you!”

“You’ll get wet, Your Holiness, come closer!”

“Thank you, thank you, that’s enough, my holy darlings~” Ambroys crooned with mirth in his voice as the flock of lambs tended to him. His silky-smooth voice oozed over their ears like honey, simply forcing others to pay attention to it instead of rain’s constant pitter-pattering. And of course, the holy sisters fell silent, gazing up at their living saint and biggest benefactor with admiration. “...Well! First order of business,” Ambroys continued after a short pause, “Take me to the inner courtyard, please. I yearn to see how my rose bushes are faring!”

And so, Lord DeLuxe’s little helpers did just that. The walk inside was still quite long and a little tedious - especially since the dandy unicorn’s hooves felt cold and wet. The insides were… Average. To Ambroys, of course. He’s so used to baroque furniture, gold embroidery everywhere, and ornate patterns and columns that he simply passes by all the beauty within. The beauty without is what really makes him cherish the Manor nowadays. Ambroys is pacing through the corridors with unseen swiftness. Has he really been that desperate just to see how a dozen of his thousands was faring? Perhaps even so. Lord DeLuxe hasn’t had a chance to rest up so well in a while.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his destination. Sister Ovis, a once low-ranking sheep of the flock now running the manor’s chapel, has been waiting for him there since early morn. Ambroys really picked up gardening as a major hobby here, and it is of utmost importance that the tools for such were presented to him immediately and whenever necessary. Ovis held just the right size of the garden scissors, alongside a watering can in her other hand and a tiny shovel. One small problem, though - the sheep is right in the hurried unicorn’s way. Ambroys stopped, greeted Ovis with a subtle bow of his head, then dismissively gestured to her with a hand just so she could step away. This instant.

Ah yes, and there they were! The magnificent, poofy roses of white and beige, some even slipping into yellow as a matter of fact. It wasn’t just this particular palette, though - there were as many roses in the inner courtyard as there were natural colors. But the centerpiece was, of course, tended to the most, as it was His Lordship’s favorite. The nuns, in the midst of Ambroys gasping and preening over the flowers, went off to the corner just to gossip and plan on their future arrangements for the count’s vacation. Because, in fact - it was Sister Ovis that requested Ambroys to come down and rest for a week. In a place he’s grown to adore so much for such pleasantries, no less.

The unicorn’s delicate hands reached to gently brush over the raindrops atop his roses. He didn’t care much for getting wet anymore - he was home, his servants and the nuns alike will find something for him to be modest in. For now, all he cared for was the state of his pretties. And they were kept up just about perfectly. His halo glimmering, rendering raindrops around it into steam with a loud hiss, Ambroys almost crouched down and went in to give them a whiff… Honeylike and fresh. Delightful, simple as. Though, it’s evident he reached in a bit to deep, as suddenly:

“Auh! Nnff…” A surprised yelp slipped past the count’s lips. He retreated the grasping hand, only to find his fingertip pricked by one of the thorns. And so, his halo flared up in suppressed rage for the first time in ages… The younger Ambroys would have scorched the bush to the ground, even if it was his favorite. And yet, age muddled this prissy pony down. He simply laughed it off and went back in, just to ruffle those pretty flowers of his. And yet, as his hand was turned the other way, Ambroys could see the back of his palm start to… Bubble. Dark warts suddenly appeared on his fingers and ravaged his delicate skin with pus. Naturally, the unicorn gasped in horror and shook his hand away. Ambroys quickly stumbled back, and his eyes caught a shadowy figure - more cloak than man, really - disappearing behind the courtyard’s columns.

“Your Holiness! Milord, what happened?!” Ovis and others yelled out loud, rushing over just to see… A pricked finger. Typical Ambroys - such a drama queen over such minuscule inconveniences.

Though, at least Ambroys had the decency to shake off others’ worries - or at least try to: “Nothing! Nothing, I’m alright,” he said. Though the sisters and servants both flocked around him to see the pinprick with a droplet of golden blood coating it.

“...Are you sure you’re alright, Your Eminence? It’s almost like you saw a ghost,” Ovis inquired, whilst urging him to come back inside. Ambroys, in turn, made a content face and nodded along, stepping aside and out of the rain.

“Oh, there’s no such thing as ghosts around here! Especially with you safeguarding it, Ovis, dear,” Ambroys continued, schmoozing the stalwart nun who made him wipe his hooves on the carpet. “I ah… I thought it was a wasp, and I don’t quite like those, as you know, hm-hmh!”

Still, His Lordship looked quite shaken-up by the experience. He must be cold and tired from the long trip here, Ovis thought. Thus, with a somber nod of her head, and with a rude little whiff down his side, she concluded: “...You need a bath. And a fresh set of garments before dinner. And swiftly, Your Eminence.”

Surprisingly enough, Ambroys wasn’t one to argue currently. So, while still bringing the whole thing down, he nodded in affirmation: “Certainly. Let that be arranged, lest you already have.”

Something strange is happening with the Manor. Yet Ambroys chooses to ignore it and get his rest anyway. Out of sight - out of mind!

“Ahhh…” A warm bath certainly hits the spot. Finally left in complete solitude after exchanging pleasantries with local servants and Ovis, his beloved manor-manager, Ambroys cherished the quiet and his own thoughts being less intrusive. No more rich garments - only natural perfection. Though, the rose-prick stung a little as he sunk in, steam rising from a bath of both porcelain and brass while the water levels changed altogether. Ambroys sunk down deeper, deeper, until all that peeked out of the rippling water was his weary head and wet mane.

Truly, the water’s embrace was more warm and comfortable than a blanket’s. A veil of soothing, transparent void enveloped the whole of Ambroys’s body, and he let himself relax - slowly, muscle by muscle. The intrusive thoughts stopped for a while, as, indeed, the best way to confront these was alone and directly. Perhaps Sister Ovis was right. Perhaps he is seeing things thanks to exhaustion from the trip. A moment of weakness others allowed him to have - but nothing more than that! And so, all worries melted away with the strain and stress within Comte DeLuxe’s muscles… He opened his eyes, and let the glimmer of candles take up his vision, with many other pleasantries surrounding him, too.

Ambroys felt himself going stiff again. It was time to change poses, or actually wash through the wet golden mane. And so the water rippled again, as the count stood tall and proud with oils and floral soaps making their way into his hands. Eyes still in a haze of sorts, Ambroys then used the big brass ladle by the side to douse himself in more flower water, washing the whole of his tiresome state off along with all that soap. He spent about three minutes enjoying the remaining heat and preening himself, all in the privacy he oh-so missed in Ovis and others’ presence. Little did he know it’d come to bite him in the shin:

As the count’s glimmering eyes looked down again, they found Ambroys’s silhouette in the still-rippling reflection. But alongside it - there was that same hooded, shadowy figure, pinned to the ceiling by its own claws. Ambroys’s face froze in terror, as it slowly craned its neck back, and then - krr-kHRRk - it snapped backward, with its cheshire-cat grin glimmering in dim candlelight.

“GAH!-” Ambroys let a shrill scream slip through his lips, as his own neck craned back and nearly snapped on its own accord. That caused the count a lot of pain, and, as he reached to grasp at his wincing spine - his own hooves slipped on the tub.

The thud was loud, but the splashing that followed was louder. And as Ambroys stared at the ceiling with a bitter scowl - no one was there to be found, once again. In pain and frustrated beyond reprieve, his own bodily heat got the water boiling, but then - Sister Ovis came by, and the count had to steady himself before his most trusted agent.

“Milord? Are you alright?” Ovis’s voice faintly came through the door.

“Why yes! Of course I’m alright, I err…” Ambroys paused, then continued with a slight stammer in his voice: “I ah… I tripped in the tub. Embarrassing, I know-”

Sister Ovis’s dramatic gasp then interrupted the count. “Oh my days! Are you hurt?!” she inquired, as the door handle twisted and she was ready to barge in.

“No!!!” Ambroys raised his voice, all of a sudden. Truly, he didn’t wish to be in his birthday suit before Ovis of all people! “Ahem, I mean - of course not, I’m quite alright,” Ambroys continued, now in a less volatile manner.

It seems crisis has been averted. Ovis fell silent for a short while, but then replied: “...Well, regardless - I do hope you’ll have the time to come by for dinner. We’ve prepared a whole feast for you, Milord - and my experience tells me you’re going to love it!”

“Right on, Ovis, dear! I’ll be there in fifteen,” Ambroys raised his voice again, yet with a certain jive - he sure made the naive nun think everything’s alright with him... When everything was, in fact, not fucking alright.

Even as Ambroys haphazardly put his shirt and pants back on, and fixed the pre-tied bow over his neck, he still couldn’t get the shuddering out of his body. Just what… Was that creature?! Something about it spoke of a familiar experience, way deep in the past. And yet after such a long time, who knows just what might have happened. But this was certainly not fitting the “seeing things” theory anymore. Someone is sending harrowing visions his way, and there might be someone dangerous really close by. That all-too familiar feeling of restlessness and paranoia returned. There will be no rest in this manor any longer for Count DeLuxe. He needs to find the traitor, weed him out, and - oh! Dinner is just about perfect for attending to it.

The once-shimmering unicorn came to dinner with his hair still wet and mop-like. Furthermore, all of the makeup washed off, and the subtle, yet noticeable flaws of his physique were slowly revealing themselves to the public: Decades of secretive bloodletting left Ambroys’s skin pallid and ridden with unhealthy freckles. Constant stress and paranoia made the dark bags under his eyes so prominent it’s almost as if he doesn’t sleep at all. Poor diet was starting to take its toll on the once-nimble body, too, as Comte DeLuxe appears much less toned, even if his garments remain the same, and flatter him just as well. Worst of all, the scars from that aforementioned endeavor were barely withering away, so he certainly had to wear long sleeves around others. Always. And that sure made him a little bothered within, especially since the dining hall was warmed by a grand, ornate fireplace.

Nevertheless, Ambroys took his rightful seat at the head of that grand table, and, indeed - the table was stuffed aplenty with all sorts of delicacies. In particular, the count noticed some of his favorites laying around. The golden rose-petal jam simply called to him… Now, it would be uncouth to start off with dessert, so Ambroys indulged in some other dishes placed around here. Oh, the potato salad was simply gorgeous! And yet, nothing seemed to halt his train of thought.

There it was, the cowardly gaze, scanning the table in search of oddities in pleasantries’ stead. Nothing entertained the count in his cozy castle anymore. All he thought about was that harrowing visage, of some thing grinning at him. Surely, there must be a demon somewhere around here! And, with his undisputed expertise, he shall find it. However, that stare Ambroys has surely attracted Ovis’s attention. She says nothing, sitting by his side, but the tension is there. Ambroys keeps looking, with fork still in hand and salad dripping back onto the plate… Nothing. Until the shadowy figure suddenly makes its entrance, and it’s right there! At the table! Dining at the other end!

“There it is!” Ambroys bellowed, jumping up from his seat and aiming his fork at whatever he just saw. The nuns, the servants, and the occasional guest shuddered and leaned back in sheer terror. Ambroys was supposed to be the paragon of virtue, and yet - he looked ill. Malnourished. Mad. And as the count tried to rush himself towards the seat by the other side, Ovis tried to interfere.

“Milord, what happened? What did you see? What are you doing? Please, put the utensils away, let us talk!” Ovis pleaded, holding onto the limping unicorn’s forearm. And yet nothing could stop Ambroys in his quest for the shadowy silhouette he just saw. Only to be made a fool again, as the seat was utterly empty, alongside most of the others at the back.

“But… But it was right there… He was sitting right there, I saw him with my own eyes!!!” Ambroys raised his voice yet again, standing still and holding the knife as if it was glued in his fist. Ovis tried her best to remove it, then simply urged him to try and sit down, but - the stubborn arse didn’t budge.

And yet again she inquired, this time without much hope: “What was there, Milord? Who was it that you saw? What is-”

“The Killjoy Mage!!!” Ambroys bellowed, hysterically shaking and trembling in sheer rage and fear. This was a fit like no other, truly. “I see him everywhere,” he continued, “At the bathchambers, in my own garden, in- In my private quarters! He chases me! There must be a witch around here… Yeees, there IS a witch here…”

Delusional as he was, Ovis chose to step away, her own hands trembling in terror the demented, frightened little nobleman brought into her. And still she looked up to him. He needed help! But sometimes, help isn’t able to come where it matters.

“Which one of you betrayed me, you loathsome bastards? Who let a witch into my own sanctuary?! WHO?!” Ambroys continued yelling, and slammed his knife into the ornate table. His halo burnt brighter than ever, with clouds of steam puffing out of his nostrils, clouding his enraged face in the midst of it all.

“If no one confesses, I will personally gh… G-Grngh…” Something interrupted the raging donkey. He couldn’t swallow - his throat swelled up within, to unimaginable proportions. It was like something was stuck in there, and, simultaneously, caused the worst heartburn of his many years on here. The free hand grasped at his chest, trying to tear the shirt off, as his eyes, nose, and lips suddenly got wet with their respective fluids. He was crying, but stiff and unable to perform any expression but a perpetual gasp. It was difficult to breathe. Ambroys was heaving in and out, with gross, sloppy gurgles oozing past his grit teeth. Has he been… Poisoned?!

The warts returned. Not just to his hand, no - they slowly spread across the entirety of his body. Furthermore, it seems as if fungus starts to take over while he’s still there, breathing, somewhat. Ambroys collapses onto the table, holding on for dear life, feeling tremendous pain across the whole of his body, and the shadowy figure sitting right next to him. That paw. Its silvery claws stroke through his mane. The too-hot touch all-too familiar to the angelic being. And soon, as his lungs grow tired and collapse over themselves, Ambroys DeLuxe slips into the blissful retreat of unconsciousness…

***

Fire. It was close by. The wood’s crackling way too loudly for it to be real, and yet - the flame’s glimmering feels like such. It seems that Ambroys received a smooth awakening right next to the fireplace. His skin felt… Waxy. Strangely enough, it didn’t feel unpleasant - it’s more so a consequence of how tiresome and stiff his joints have become. Slowly, but surely, the count tried to open his eyes - and although his eyelids felt heavy, too heavy, he managed to open them and give his surroundings a look-over:

To be frank, it wasn’t his manor anymore. Far from it. The house he’s in is darker, dimmer, simpler in design. And with that in mind - a fair bit more sinister. Nothing feels right about it, even though the warm tones of furniture around him create an aura of some coziness. Ambroys’s eyes dashed around, as they couldn’t focus on the fireplace alone. The fire was too much. Somehow, this fire is too much even for someone like him. And boy does his wood creak as he tries to move his neck elsewhere! Wait. Wait a second - wood?! That wasn’t right. Nothing besides his eyes could move, and the texture of whatever lied beneath was wooden, for some reason. Ambroys could feel it - he could feel the fire getting closer, warming him up within and without, until he could possibly catch fire and suffer in surprising silence.

Then, Comte DeLuxe’s pink peepers glanced at the mirror: What in the name of the Lord… He’s been turned into a puppet! Indeed, Ambroys was only a third of his “normal” size, yet most of his body still looked quite similar to one of flesh. It was no cheap mockery, but rather - something a possible admirer of his could build. Something to truly immortalize him in heart and mind. Though, of course, he looked a lot younger, especially since he was dressed in his old, pastel-pink garments. It was the same bow, the same pantaloons… The same buttons, even. The replica was almost-indistinguishable from his earlier portraits, and yet - something was certainly off. About everything this new body of his represented.

“Gnn… Gnneeehh!...” Ambroys’s artificial jaw fell down, revealing more of his teeth of real ivory, alongside ornate fangs of gold. By God, someone tried to make him real QUITE fervently, huh? It’s some movement and noise, at least. Maybe someone, or something, that occupies these grounds would notice him. As, still, something was awfully familiar about this place. Maybe that’s where he gets the sinister chill down his spine from.

Then - it was that voice that made Ambroys remember everything. Indeed, it was him. The Killjoy Mage. Someone who haunted him for decades after making a deal with him - one of many haunting bastards, go figure! And yet, this one’s special. This one’s persistent, and fervent like hell when it comes to getting what he wants. Either way - his voice sent more chills down Ambroys’s spine: “Ah, wonderful. It seems that my little lordling is finally awake. Splendid, we have lots to catch up on…” The shadowy, hooded figure said, and, after taking said hood down - stepped out of its comfortable darkness:

Even by looks alone, it is evident that Baron Killjoy and Mortimer Killinger are two separate personas. While Ambroys remembers Morty to be a timid man, always focused on his books and research instead of socializing, Baron Killjoy was his “real” self - to be put out into the world and be admired, or harrowed, by the masses.

Not much changed about Killjoy, but the imperfections were polished off with age. And, speaking of age - Killnger aged like fine wine: His once-black fur now stood at a classic gray for his breed, the somewhat-short muzzle of a British Shorthair ever-expressive. With the fur graying out, mind you, the hair, too, followed the Killinger line, and turned snow-white instead of the nut-brown he once possessed - trimmed short and layered neatly into a “doctoral” side-part. And the garments, oh, the garments! Simple, but effective. A black, double-breasted coat encapsulated his entire upper half, though the beige sleeves and collar of his shirt still made him look a-la Gepetto of sorts, beneath all that fancy leather. His workpants, too, seemed a little too casual for such an encounter - and the heavy, studded workboots seemed a little out of place for someone as gentle as Morty usually is. He’s playing a character, however, and he’s doing it exceptionally-well.

Ambroys still couldn’t move, mind you - and he wouldn't. Not in this damned Mage’s presence. Killjoy, in the meantime, stepped forth and let his gloved hands caress through the silky-smooth mane of the puppet. His puppet. And then, the hands picked the little pony up by his waist, letting him see the big, paunchy cat’s face from up close… As well as such minor details as his own cadaver laying down in the shadows. The room seems to be neverending, and there’s nothing to look at besides Mortimer’s smug, grinning mug. With gray fur, his eyeliner is much more noticeable. And, somehow messier. Indeed, it dribbles down almost to his dimple-ridden cheeks! And boy does it work as a tactic of intimidation!

“You wouldn’t believe what lengths I had to go to just so we could meet in person again, Amby,” Mortimer said, still grinning.

“What… What did you do? Give me my real body back, you foul sorcerer! Release me at once!!!” Ambroys replied. Wait - he replied! Yes! And now he could move his limbs around, too! Naturally, he went in to try and slap, as well as kick, Killjoy where it counts, but alas - that was comical. Almost akin to a baby trying to protest being put to bed.

And just like how his movements returned, they once again stopped in their entirety. Now Ambroys couldn’t even move his eyes around - only make a few faint noises through the crackling voicebox wedged down his throat.

“Now-now, this isn’t how we greet the host, do we? Ah, perhaps you’re cold - let me move you closer to the fire!” Mortimer spoke, swiftly, making decisions upon decisions for Ambroys and in his stead. The puppet was, once again, placed in its respective seat, and moved so close to the fire there was a danger of sparks setting it on fire. And by God was it hot. Ambroys can’t stand it, he yearns to move away, and yet - all there is to it is some frantic whinnying and whimpering out of the damned voicebox.

While the shimmering unicorn-muppet is straining and suffering, Mortimer continues to monologue, unencumbered and unbothered with his captive’s harrowed state: “You must understand, my darling Count, that this isn’t a permanent fixture. You’ll return back to your mortal shell in a good few, but I still wanted for you to have a… Temporary vessel. So that you could witness just what it is like, to be a witch in the less tolerant times - just how you left me behind, actually. I really needed your help, and you were nowhere to be found as the mob swarmed our frat house. Don’t you remember, Amby? Well, I do. And now you get a bitter aftertaste of MY memories…”

Whatever Mortimer meant by that could not be anything good. Sparks flew closer and closer to the armchair, as Ambroys couldn’t move his eyes away from the flame. It was getting too dry, too hot, too uncomfortable. And as he sits there, helplessly, the fire licks at his lacquered booties. Suffering of the past, the present, and the future comes in assaulting tidal waves of visions through the firepit, causing his mind to flow into overdrive already. The panicking donkey is making just a bit too much noise, so Mortimer buries a nut in between its jaws… Then another one, and another one, enjoying the sight whilst using his puppet like a nutcracker.

“Mm. Feel it already, don’t you?” Morty asked, cheekily chuckling, “Usually, you suffocate with carbon monoxide before the flames engulf your body in full, but, well - it’s a fireplace… A single spark can’t do much harm to you anyway, right? Oh, my little Pinocchio - you have so many debts to repay! Not just to me, but all that you’ve duped - and I will make sure you repay all of them, and way, WAY above, in full! Ha-ha-HEE-HAWW, you slimy, frilly, fffruity fucking donkey! You will HEE-HAAAW for my entertainment, for ALL eternity, you conniving little shit! Ha-ha-haaahhh!!!”

Truly, by the end of his monologue, the accursed mage turned as unhinged as Ambroys once was. A spark finally hit his stocking, and it started going ablaze. The pain was unbearable, and yet the trapped count couldn’t even scream. He saw dozens, hundreds of replicas just like his mind was placed into, hanging off the walls in various poses, with various tools used to pulverize their bodies. And as he’s gone fully ablaze, the smell of burning lacquer soon filled his nostrils. Baron Killjoy’s deep, sinister laugh filled his consciousness, until all he could hear were his own, shrill screams of pain and terror. And then… It was no more.

***

T’was a rude awakening for Comte DeLuxe. Eyes open wide, his chest heaved as he felt the rush of adrenaline from the fever dream he’s just woken up from. And yet, Ambroys didn’t move. He chose not to, because the worst heartburn of his life and the muscle pain from the poison still flooded his senses - as soon as the adrenaline wore down, somewhat. He was conveniently placed under a blanket, which covered him from the neck down, and it was… Comforting. Seems to be cold, too, which is surprising all things considered.

“Musta been here for a while,” Ambroys said out loud, after feeling just how sticky and wet his back has become. And, in the midst of it, he heard voices. One of Ovis and one of… No. It couldn’t be. Was Ovis of all people not smart enough to figure out she shouldn’t bring strangers into the Manor?! Frustrated as he is, Ambroys chose not to lash out this time, and instead - carefully listened to what the “good doctor” and his supposed most loyal servant were talking about:

“I don’t… I don’t even understand how something could happen, you know?” Ovis spoke, audibly nervous and on the verge of tears, “Comte DeLuxe does have a temper, but this wasn’t him there. It wasn’t like him, Doctor, I just…”

“You panicked, Sister, I understand,” the physician replied, somber and calm in comparison, “Perhaps it was simply out of your reach. I am glad you called me for help right away, however. I have been conducting therapy with Comte DeLuxe for ah, quite some time, so perhaps I can provide some proper assistance.”

A pause followed suit, as if they listened to the count breathe through the door. “So, what could be the reason for such a… Flip-out?” Ovis asked, sniffling and trying her best to calm down.

The doctor, in turn, didn’t reply for a good few seconds: “Hmm… It’s hard to say for certain at this stage, Sister. But as I have experience with Monsieur Ambroys, his mental health condition has been severely neglected by himself and his surroundings.”

“Y-Yes, yes, that much I know,” the nun stammered, “But maybe… Any predictions? Wild guesses? Please, Doctor, I just want to know how I can-”

Ambroys could still see their silhouettes. With each sentence said, his nightmare was becoming more and more real. The doctor’s round, feline ears flickered, and his paw was raised to stop the scared sheep from speaking. She might say too much. And so, the doctor spoke, instead:

“Help him, Sister? In all honesty, the best you can do is provide care as if nothing odd is happening. If my theory and experience might help you anyhow, I do believe the Count is going through a severe episode of depressive psychosis. We don’t usually get such strong outrages from diagnosed patients, but who knows. He does have inclinations towards antisocial personality disorder, as well, from what reports I have read on the matter…”

Ovis was shocked. And oh, Ambroys couldn’t scream, either - he’s too tired and terrified to even blubber out some sort of distress signal. In the meantime, the higher sister broke down crying, in spite of her best attempts to steady herself:

“Dear God, I… I don’t know how it could of happened, Doctor, I’m-”

“Devastated, I know. Perhaps the Count you knew and loved is buried somewhere beneath this veil of madness. I’ll do my best, I promise. I will help Comte DeLuxe return back to his holy, lovable self.”

Mortimer pat Ovis’s shoulder, and then guided her towards the door: “So - shall we check in on our patient? I believe I heard some rustling nearby, which means he must be doing better, somehow…”

A short nod from the sheep’s side later, the two of them entered Ambroys’s smaller, yet oh-so private quarters. Indeed, the worst possible scenario for Ambroys was unraveling right before his eyes. Dr. Killinger was right there, next to a devastated Sister Ovis, dressed quite formally and rocking a white labcoat once again. His red cravat contrasted well with that beige shirt of his, and, oh boy - he appeared almost the same as he was in Ambroys’s harrowing nightmare. The eyeliner’s cleaner, however, and his gloves are a sickly-cyan - ones expected to be found around proper medical doctors. Amber eyes hidden behind big and round, metallic glasses, he still held Ovis by the shoulder as if to comfort her.

“I h-heard… Every-thing you said…” The Count hissed, as his eyes fixated on Mortimer instead of Ovis. And then, they flickered on over to the nun, staring her down with judgment and sorrow: “Do you… Do you actually believe this man, Ovis? What did I tell you about letting strangers into-”

“I apologize, Milord, but I believe it is no stranger,” Ovis suddenly interrupted Ambroys, “He is your court physician of many years. Mortimer… Killinger, was it?” Mortimer nodded. “Yes, yes - he was written down in your phone-book, and he also ended up to be quite nearby, so…”

“So I came running,” Dr. Killinger said, “My, you certainly look a lot worse than I thought. Maybe it’s the heat?”

“The heat… The heat?!” Ambroys asked, giggling in the most unhinged manner possible, as his eye twitched, and he tried to yank himself out of the bed. And yet - it didn’t budge. His limbs didn’t. Ovis was quick and careful enough with the blanket, and the Count could see just how utterly fucked he was: His wrists, ankles, waist, and neck were strapped in shut. The cowhide wouldn’t budge, but the straps in question also didn’t hurt - the bracelets are padded well enough for that to never-ever happen. His head and mane are both wrapped up with more straps - ones that monitor his brain activity, while his right forearm bears a needle taped taut to it, and a drop counter with a mysterious, transparent fluid.

Ambroys tries to yank himself up, again and again. And when that doesn’t work - steam oozes out of his nostrils. Ambroys prepares to use fire, and burn this whole place to the ground! Everyone around him is a traitor, now! Misguided fools! And yet - nothing comes of it, as well.

“My… My halo. Where’s my halo?!” The Count bellowed, as if to himself, his eyes going wide at the realization: The magic within his blood is-

“Suppressed, for the time being,” Mortimer said, “You could pose a danger to yourself and others, Comte DeLuxe. Please, remain outstretched, struggling won’t get you anywhere.”

Oh yeah. Now Ambroys is terrified. His teeth grit shut, his gaze shifts to the sniffling, misguided sheep once more: “Ovis? Sister Ovis. What did you do? What did you let him put IN me? What is going on?!” The unicorn stammered, as his body still shifted and squirmed in an attempt to at least loosen the straps.

“I-It’s for your own good, Milord,” she said, “It’s some sort of suppressant, I’m not quite aware of it, the- Dr. Killinger knows better. I…”

Ambroys, in the midst of it, continued to rile himself up more: “Ovis, please, y-you can hear me now, I am coherent, I am truly and utterly sane, release me. Release me at once, th- this is treason, you can’t-”

“I think it’s best you go, he’s getting rowdy again,” Mortimer said, and Ovis obeyed. All to the utter horror and despair of Ambroys DeLuxe: “Ovis! No! Stay here! Observe what you did to me! D-Don’t leave me with him! Don’t leave meeee!!! Please!!! Please…”

Now it is the Son of God who’s on the verge of tears here. Ovis stormed out of his chamber and locked the door shut. And from this point on, Mortimer and Ambroys could speak tete-a-tete.

“Hm-hm-hmh! You sure got me, you sssslimy motherfucker,” Ambroys hissed at the big cat in front of him, giggling some more afterward, “So? What’s it going to be? Magic? You’re going to show off just how cool of a puppeteer you are, by guiding all of MY sheep to do YOUR bidding? For shame, you’re pathetic, you’re disgusting, and I was right to le-EENNFF!!!”

A gloved paw clasped over Ambroys’s muzzle. And then - Mortimer grinned like the Cheshire Cat he is. “You look upset,” he chimed, “Why don’t we check your stomach out a little? It must ache quite a lot after such a plentiful feast, Milord.” And with that said, Dr. Killinger reached in for his bag, and pulled out a strange metallic contraption. It looked like braces, of sorts, but the teeth were meant to be slotted into the surrounding metal sheathing. And there was this harrowing “tongue” meant to pin one of flesh strictly downward. There was also a long, long thin tube of plastic ready to be shoved in… Oh no.

It isn’t often Ambroys would prefer to keep his mouth shut - but now is one of those rare occasions. His jaws are clasped taut, and steam keeps oozing out of his nostrils in clouds. There isn’t much he can do, but Mortimer simply sighs in disappointment, and clasps the gloved hand over his nose, instead. “Really, Ambroys? I thought you already knew better than to resist my assaults. Especially when you’re this powerless,” Mortimer kept talking in the meantime, all-too condescendingly at that. Still, Ambroys at least tried to be brave in the face of the enemy. And even though his struggle was valiant - it was, indeed, rather pointless. With his lungs burning and his mind about to shut down again, the shimmering unicorn relented and parted his jaws for a gasp - all for Dr. Killinger’s convenience.

A taste of polished steel soon made its way onto the Count’s tongue. His jaws were forced to part just a little wider, so that the “feeding vessel” could fit in without any interruptions. With the tongue pinned and the teeth sheathed by more sturdy metal, Ambroys started to yell obscure obscenities at the healer-mage - in a last-ditch effort to summon Ovis, someone, anyone to help him. That help never came, so the unicorn shook his head and tried to make it as hard as possible for Mortimer to work. Though, with a knee roughly pinning his chest further down, Ambroys couldn’t quite move anywhere else. And so, with more yowling to come - the semi-transparent thing slowly made its descent through the stubborn bastard’s maw.

“GhkhKHAAAUFF!- GhRGHRL- GHRNGHKK!!!-” Ahh yes - there it is. The muffled noise of sheer desperation and the gag reflex working against one’s whole body. Ambroys thrashed and held his eyes wide-open, while Mortimer only continued to shove it further down his esophagus.

The doctor, in the midst of his captive patient’s agony, simply enjoyed himself and kept on babbling: “Ahh, so you can feel it already, huh? Silly little lordling, you think I’d waste my magic to torment some trash of your kind? You’re still so naive, even after all these years! No, why would I use my precious resources, when I can make you sob like a bitch with some metal and plastic? Ah, looks like I missed a spot, hold on…”

All of a sudden, Mortimer yanked the tube back from Ambroys’s trachea, and crudely shoved it back again, causing the Count to retch and hurgle while still pinned in place. A few more ins and outs followed suit, nice and slow. The feeling was horrible. It’s almost like Ambroys was ready to spill his breakfast out, and yet - his pathways for such were blocked off by that damned instrument. Dr. Killinger smiled quite fully and smugly while he tormented Ambroys, casually pushing the tube in and out to his desire. After all, “he’s just observing.” Ambroys’s whole body was stiff. His fists repeatedly slammed against the bed while still strapped in - not unlike his younger self throwing a pitiful temper-tantrum. His stomach vibrated from the amount of times it tried to spill its contents, then disallowed to do so. Truly, pain would be preferred to this sort of draining humiliation…

This went on for several minutes. Ambroys counted seconds. In, out, in, out, in, out… He lost count by the time Mortimer’s done. His whole face, and the pillow beneath, is coated in tears, snot, and drool, as well as whatever other bodily fluids Ambroys could possibly produce in his sorry state. His bellows and yowls were reduced to pitiful whimpering. His whole body was trying to move away from “his” healer, utterly terrified of what else he could do. But, all Mortimer concerned himself with was wiping the filth off his patient’s face, and gently petting through his gilded mane.

“I believe we’re just about done with the examination part,” he said, “You, my little lordling, have one hell of an ulcer. We will have to put you on a strict diet and see if it improves in a week or two.”

“Gh-Ghhmmff… Pweeebff!...” The unicorn pleaded and tried to reason with Killinger, still trapped and entirely in his grasp.

“Please what? Oh, don’t you worry - I’ll set you up alright! It’ll be a full-body detox for a sick stomach, and a sick mind alike,” the good doctor replied, finally dismounting Ambroys and taking a seat next to him. Seems like he has some notes prepared in his clipboard… As well as a spare pencil, and a few sheets of paper. Those are all given to the simpering count, as he lays and tries to regain some forces before the next bit of his “healing process.”

“Now,” Morty continued, “Before we begin - I must say, dear Ambroys: Out of all the four dozen shit-smeared angels I’ve found over the years, you are still the most entertaining. That’s good for you, long-term. Because it means you aren’t boring to me. And I hate boring people, which meeeaaans you still get to live! After we’re done, of course- But that’s besides the point! Let me explain how we’re going to do things around here…” And so, Mortimer leaned in really close, his ever-present smile vanishing in place for a horrible, dead-within face:

“I will ask you questions. Many of them. You will give me a detailed, but straightforward answer. Depending on how well you answer these, your healing process could be swift or slow. I will not let you be until all have been answered, and I have been satisfied with the quality of said answers. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh, Uh-huhhmf!” Ambroys nodded and desperately mumbled. He got the assignment, alright.

“Good. Now for the consequences: Avoid the answer, resist, go off on a tangent - I don’t care. This all counts as dissatisfying me. Dissatisfy me once, and I’ll force-feed you the leftover slop from that feast. Dissatisfy me twice, and I’ll ensure you get a daily, thorough colon-cleansing with ginger-water. Continue to act like a lowly ass, and I’ll find ways to make you talk. Believe me. You do not, want, to resist me this time. Do you?”

“Nghogh! Nogh aff aghll!” The olden angelic bastard shook his head for emphasis, and thus - received some more head-petting for cooperation. With the pencil already in his trembling hand, he’s ready to answer questions - just to get rid of his tormentor as soon as possible. And so, without any more instructions - they could begin their long, arduous process of putting Ambroys DeLuxe back on good track. Though, the first question already made the poor count wail, as Mortimer leaned back and casually ordered:

“...Tell me all that you know about the trials and whereabouts of Lord Hyden.”

To Be Continued.

#amaranthine #ambroys deluxe #mortimer killinger #baron killjoy #my writing #prose #short story #self-indulgent stuff #boy does this absolute ass fit a lot of medical tubes into him #imagine being an angelic witch-pawn

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irisbaggins · 4 years

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Do you ever just want to be...held?

#Iris Whines #A headache is settling in at 1:20 AM and I have school early tomorrow and I’ve been in a funk all day #Like fun times baby #Also of course it’s raining and the weather’s going cold it’s not like my depression changes with weather #I just want to be held softly and just tucked away from reality for a bit #Friday really punched me down and I hate having to go on with school as if nothing happend #I’ve realised University life really does not help me because its brand of teaching just doesn’t vibe with me #I need more attentive learning and a smaller enviroment #But this is just lonely and overwhelming and too much self study #That my poor little ADHD brain can’t keep up with #Urgh I’m just in a funk and can’t sleep #And my head is starting to bother me A Lot #URGH I AM TIRED #And am not looking forward to 4-5 hours of being outside in pain

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multifandomfanficss · 2 years

Text

Unmasked

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Fem!Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Request: “Would you do a Adrian x reader where reader is friends with Adrian but doesnt know he's vigilante and he doesn't know that she's also a superhero/antihero? Maybe Reader teams up with 11th street kids by accident when staking out Groffs place and reader helps rescue Adrian and he does his goofy little faces but reader immediately knows who he is and reveals herself!”

Warnings: Cannon Typical Violence, Adrian being Adrian

A/N: I accidentally got a little carried away with this one so let me know if you guys want a part two. I might make a second part to this if you’re interested. I hope you enjoy! ❤️🧜‍♂️❤️

You approached the time clock in the back and punched yourself out for the night.

“Need a ride home?” Adrian asked as you shoved your apron into your bag. At the bottom of the bag was your combat suit.

“No, thank you. It’s nice out. I think I’ll walk.” You smiled at the thought. The weather was perfect for crime fighting. The weather didn’t matter in any case. Crime would still happen if it was raining, but on nights like this, when the temperature was just right, it gave you a little extra energy.

“You should be careful. There are scumbags who prey on women in the streets at this hour.” He reminded you. Your smile refused to falter.

“I’ll be fine, Adrian. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” The truth was you could more than take care of yourself. Those scumbags should be afraid of you, not the other way around.

“Of course you can.” He laughs awkwardly. “But you know you have my number if you need me!” He quickly adds.

“Thanks, Ad. I’ll be fine.” You smile, going out the back door.

The night had been so boring. Apparently instead of doing crime criminals were too busy taking advantage of the nice weather. You were beginning to head home until you heard a scream about a block away. You took off running. When you get to the scene you’re disappointed to find somebody’s already taken care of the issue.

“Hey, that one was mine.” You frown as you watch the man in black and teal turn to face you.

“Did you call dibs?” He asks.

“No…” You respond, a little thrown off by his cheerful manner.

“Well if you didn’t call dibs, then how was I supposed to know? You snooze, you lose, Blue.” You could hear the smile in his voice. His voice… You recognized it, but you couldn’t put your finger on where from. You smiled under your mask at the nickname he had given you, no doubt due to the dark blue color of your suit.

“My name’s (H/N)” You inform him.

“Vigilante.” He offers.

“I’ve seen you in the news.” You tell him.

“I would say I’ve seen you, but I don’t watch the news. It’s depressing.” You let out a laugh. The man who’s currently standing over the body of someone he just killed thinks the news is too depressing. Interesting.

“Sure.” You say before turning to head out of the alley.

“Hey, Blue! Where are you going?”

“(H/N)!” You correct him.

“And don’t worry, Teal. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You smile under your mask before heading home for the night.

Apparently you were serious when you said you’d see him again. You didn’t expect to find him lurking behind a bush while you were trying to do some recon on Senator Goff. Despite the fact that he was a cold, uncaring politician, something else seemed very off about him and you intended to find out what.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in a hushed.

“I’m following my best friend. What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I’m following my target.” You whisper back.

“Who’s your target?” He asks.

“Goff.” You respond as if it’s a no-brainer.

“Oh. Good. I was gonna say if your target is Peacemaker, I’ll have to kill you.” He laughs. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not so you just laugh with him. You look a few feet in front of you to see the famous Peacemaker and some blonde woman you assumed he was working with.

“Are they trying to flirt?” He asks. You shake your head.

“I don’t know, but I don’t have time for this.” You say as you watch the blonde woman get up and walk away.

“Let me ask.” Vigilante says before standing up from behind the bush.

“Psst. Psst. Hey! Hey, Dude. That was a really interesting conversation that you guys had.” You try to pull him back down, but you’re too late.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Man?” Pacemaker asks.

“I followed you guys in my Vigilante Mobile.” He says, sounding very proud of himself.

“I also brought I friend. See! You’re not the only one who can have other friends!” He says, pulling you up from your hiding spot.

“Thanks a lot, Vig. So much for recon…” You sigh.

“Sorry, Blue.” He apologizes.

“Who’s this chick?” Peacemaker asks.

“Let me guess. You don’t watch the news either?” You ask him.

“No, I’ve been in prison for four years. I kinda missed out on a lot of shi-“

“Fuck!” Vigilante says, cutting off Peacemaker, as he pulls you down back behind the bush. You know why when you hear a twig crunch in the distance and the blonde woman appears again.

“Guys, they know you’re here. Get out of the bushes.” Peacemaker calls back to you. You try to stand, but Vig pulls you back down again and places a finger over where you assume his lips are.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You face palm as the words fly from his mouth.

“What is he supposed to be; a talking bush? I don’t even understand what he’s trying to do.” The blonde woman says. You stand up and walk to the woman.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. I’m (H/N). I assume you guys are here to take down Goff too?” You extend your hand.

“Harcourt. Is that what you two are here for?” She asks.

“Well that’s what I’m here for. I honestly have no idea what he’s doing here.” You say pointing to Vigilante.

“I’m obviously here to watch out for my BFF Peacemaker.” He says matter of factly.

“Dude.” Peacemaker says.

“You’re a fucking clown.” Harcourt tells Vigilante.

“So, what do you say we work together?” You asks.

“Well, I’m not allowed to let either of you out of my sight so you might as well make yourself useful.” She says sitting back down on the ground.

The night goes on as you sit side by side with Vigilante, watching the Goff residence, and observing your new acquaintances. The more Vigilante speaks, the more Harcourt begs him to shut up, but you hope he doesn’t. He’s funny and intriguing, but most of all familiar. You wish you could pin where you knew that voice from.

The next hour isn’t very interesting until you see the family enter the dinning room through your binoculars. You watch through the binoculars, eyes wide, as these straw-like body parts drop from their mouths and into the bowls below them.

“Those things are not human!” You tell Vig.

“I-I knew Goff was doing some shady shit. That’s why I was here. To figure out what he was doing, but this-“ You shove the binoculars in Vigilante’s hands and he takes a look.

“I don’t know if I can hit them.” Peacemaker is clearly struggling to kill the so called Butterflies. You nudge Vigilante in the shoulder.

“Help him.” You push him towards his friend. You watch as Vigilante puts a hand on Peacemaker’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dude. Move over for a sec.” He says in a very calming voice. You were surprised he could take the edge off and be so soft. From what you knew about Vigilante he always seemed to be very energetic to say the least. Vigilante then hummed to himself as he shot the family. You wondered how he could do it so easily, but it had to be done either way. Just before he was about to shoot Goff, Judomaster, Goff’s bodyguard, came out of nowhere and kicked him in the head. Suddenly the four of you were in a fight against him. Harcourt was the first out, being knocked unconscious. Peacemaker was the next to go down, not too long after accidentally stabbing Vigilante instead of Judomaster.

“No, fuck this. It’s over. You won. Fair fight. We gotta go. Fuck.” Vigilante says as he grabs your wrist, trying to run. You follow him until you feel a sharp kick to the back of your head. Everything goes black.

When you wake up the first thing you see is Vigilante tied up. You try to move your body, but there’s no success. You realize you’re bound to a chair as well. You look to your side to see Peacemaker talking to Judomaster. He starts flicking hot Cheetos at his face and you begin to wonder to yourself why the fuck you did this. Why did you decide to team up with these idiots? You could have finished the job and went home for the night, but no. It’s not like you had a shift at Fennel Fields the next day or anything. Your body was so sore. Maybe you would take Adrian up on his offer for a ride tomorrow. You’d have to check to see if he was on the schedule. Your thoughts are interrupted when Goff comes into the room carrying a shotgun. You watch as Goff takes account of his torture tools and Judomaster pulls the rope holding Vigilante’s hands tied higher. You watch as Goff attaches clamps to Vigilante’s crotch.

“What the fuck?” Vigilante questions, slowly starting to wake up. He’s going to electrocute him. You try to keep your composure. You need to find a way out of here. You need to help him. You slowly start to wiggle your hips so you can reach into your pocket. You can feel that they didn’t take your keys and if you can just get to your pocket, you can use the seatbelt cutter on them to cut through your bindings. Goff places two hands on Vigilante’s mask and starts to pull up.

“Wait wait wait wait no no no” Vigilante begs for his mask to be left alone. After you see a mess of brown hair flop out of the mask the man underneath starts pulling a series of…interesting faces. You see through the faces and know exactly who’s in the suit. Adrian Fucking Chase. You’ve got to be kidding me. No wonder he seemed so familiar. You curse yourself out for not realizing sooner.

“What are you doing?” Peacemaker asks him.

“If I keep changing my facial expressions he won’t be able to recognize me in a lineup!” Adrian says with confidence.

“Adrian???” You say in shock.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He denies it while still making the faces.

“Oh god this is like the bush all over again.” You sigh.

“You need to tell me what you know, how you know it, and who sent you, otherwise you will know pain unlike ever before.” Goff orders.

“I’m not telling you shit.” Peacemaker says and Goff electrocutes Adrian. You cringe at his screams. Peacemaker only eggs Goff on further.

“You’re not gonna break me, Motherfucker.” Peacemaker declares.

“Peacemaker, are you fucking joking?!” You ask enraged.

“Don’t worry. I’m not giving this guy anything.” Peacemaker promises Adrian.

“Maybe you could just give him a little?” Adrian asks. You hate to say it, but Goff’s torture was just what you needed to be able to move enough to get your keys without being noticed. Once you had slipped them out of your pocket you began working on what was tying your hands together. You watch as Adrian shakes from the jolts of electricity and it pushes you to work quicker. You need to help him. When Goff threatens to cut of his toe you start to worry.

“Fuck it cut off all his toes. I don’t care.” Peacemaker says and you stop what you’re doing just long enough to give him a death glare. He almost seems proud of himself as he gives Adrian a wink.

“I’ll tell you anything you want just fucking stop.” You beg as Goff starts to cut Adrian’s toe off.

“I know who you are. You’re (H/N). You usually work alone. You’ve been stalking me all week. I don’t think you know anything. You’re just a little girl playing dress-up in my backyard.” He mocks you as he continues to cut through Adrian’s toe. Now you’re really angry. Just as you cut through the bindings an explosion happens behind you. You and Peacemaker are thrown from your chairs, now free. You fight with Goff in hand to hand combat just long enough to hold him off so Peacemaker can find his shotgun and shoot him.

“Peace out, Motherfucker.” He says before pulling the trigger. You take a second to breathe before running to Adrian. You untie him.

“Adrian, are you okay?” You ask. He’s still shaking from the electricity.

“How do you know who I am?” He asks.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You say reaching up to pull your own mask off.

“(Y/N)?” He questions.

“What are the chances that two costumed crime fighters work at Fennel Fields?” He ponders.

“Oh, very likely. You have to be hero with a high tolerance for pain to put up with that place.” You joke.

“Wow. I guess you really didn’t need me to protect you after the late shift.” He laughs, but it turns into a whine as his pain grows.

“I need to put my mask back on before they come down.” He points to the mask on the floor. You pick up his mask while Peacemaker gives him a hand to stand up.

“What the…” Adrian’s voice trails off and you turn to see what he’s looking at. A butterfly looking creature is crawling from Goff’s brain.

“Oh. Project Butterfly.” Chris says as the creature begins to fly away. You watch as Chris takes an empty jar from underneath the table and catches the creature inside.

“And what are you going to do with that?” You ask.

“I’m taking it home. I want answers. Don’t you?” He asks. Goff was right. You do usually work alone, but were you starting to sense a team forming? Were the guys letting you in? You and Adrian quickly shoved your masks back on as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Smith? Vigilante? (H/N)?” The voices called.

“We’re fine.” Peacemaker called back. He snuck the jar into a bag near the tunnel and headed up to meet them.

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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Your so great at writing omg- so could you do a part two of the yandere techno and philza?

And other idea for a different request!

Maybe ghostbur? 👀 With florist reader? And someone burned down there shop so they are very upset so ghostbur comforts them and helps build then a new one?

Again please take as long as you need.

- Your beloved Moosh ( platonically! :3)

Moosh, darling! Hello! How are you doing today? Part two of the yandere Tech and Phil chapter is up! Thank you for your requests, your ideas are just chefs kiss!

This is a tad bit short. I really really have to get out of the habit of writing 10k+ stories, because then I have no energy to write the other requests that have been waiting for a while <3

Also. This turned out to be angstier than I had hoped...

TW: Depression, emotion repression, large mentions of past Wilbur x Reader

Dead Blue Flowers (C!Ghostbur x GN!Depressed!Reader)

How...? How did this happen?

You tried so hard to remain neutral in this war, even going as far as to avoid telling people your opinions on things. Wasn't raising your tax weekly back when Schlatt was in control enough?

You just gave people flowers, for god's sake! Why did they have to burn the shop to nothing but cinders?!

Standing in front of the charred frame of your shop that had once been your prized possession. Every dollar you had raised, every smile that appeared on the faces of people you gave flowers to... You remembered the genuine smile on Wilbur's face when he gave you this plot of land to build whatever store you wanted...

Now it was all ashes that slipped through the cracks between your fingers...

"(Y/n)?" An echoing and airy voice echoed through your ears and you glanced up slightly to see a pair of shoes levitating a few inches off the ground, "What happened to your shop- Oh, you're crying, here. Take some blue. Calm yourself."

Crying?

While the levitating figure dug around, trying to find this so-called blue, you rose your hands up and touched your cheeks to find them slightly damp. When you pulled your hands away, a small cold pouch of blue dye was carefully placed in your hands, causing a small shiver to crawl down your spine, "Thanks, Bur..." You whispered softly, trying to smile to calm him down, but you just found your eyes welling up with more tears, so you put your head down in an attempt to hide them from your ghost friend.

"Did it not work? Perhaps that blue was broken..." Ghostbur reached into his small bag with his dye-stained fingers, digging around for a pouch of dye that wasn't 'broken'. You could feel a faint bit of panic in his voice as he mumbled about how blue always worked for him, so he didn't know why it wasn't working for you.

"No, Bur... It's just... I don't know what to do. My shop is gone. It was my pride and joy. Now I don't have anything left..." You murmured, holding the, now two, dye-filled packages in your cupped hands, "Even the cornflower seeds I used to make the blue flowers I gave you... They're nothing now... His mem- I'm nothing now..."

Ghostbur was panicking and the blue clutched in his hands was evident of that, "No, no! Don't say things like that! Come, come-" He gave a few coughs, his negative emotions seeming to affect him physically as well as emotionally.

You slowly pushed yourself up into a standing position, rubbing your eyes with your sleeves as your fingertips were tainted with dye. While you didn't feel much happier, despite Ghostbur's best efforts, you knew that emotionally he couldn't handle your sadness, "Thanks, Bur. I do feel much happier thanks to your blue. I'm gonna head home now." You gave him your best smile, watching as the sweater-wearing spirit studied your eyes to see if you were lying.

"Oh, okay!" The ghost perked up slightly, but his smile looked a tad bit hollow in your eyes. Guess you were in no place to judge, you did just give your best friend a smile to get him to stop panicking... Was this emotion suppression? Probably. Yeah. Ah well... As long as he's happy now. "I'm gonna go see Phil now, maybe you should come to visit sometime soon. He makes really good tea and biscuits."

"Yeah... I'll hop by his place sometime soon." You gave him the empty promise, knowing very well you didn't want anything to do with social interactions for quite a while until you found something else to put your time towards.

Over the next few days, Ghostbur would wait outside your house for you to come out and walk with you to your flower shop, but he then began to realize that you had nothing to walk to. Hell, you didn't have a reason to leave your house anymore... There was no point in coming outside. After standing under the awning above your front door for a few moments, he got an idea in his head, so he set off towards the house of Alivebur's father.

"Phiiiiiil?" He called softly, opening the front door to see the injured avian sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, "Ah, Philza! Just the man I wanted to see!"

"Hey mate," The blond greeted softly, setting his cup of tea down on the table before getting up to properly interact with the ghost of his son, "What do ya' need from me?"

For a few seconds, hesitance filled Ghostbur's veins. He hadn't completely thought through this idea and didn't even know how you or Phil would react to it, "My ange- best friend, (Y/n)... Well, they were very very important to Alivebur, and I still have many happy memories of them... But they aren't happy now because someone burnt down their flower shop... They haven't left their house in a few days, and I'm getting a really bad feeling, Phil!" Despite the fact that a pouch of blue was tightly grasped in his hands, the ghost didn't seem to be feeling any calmer, ultimately chalking it up to the flowers he had made the dye out of must've been from a bad place.

Philza grabbed onto the ghost of his son, giving a faint hiss of pain at the icy buzz that attacked his palms, but ignored it and kept his hands on his son's shoulders. Or what was left of the son he killed, "Wil- Ghostbur. Calm down. I want you to go visit them and make sure they're still okay-"

"But I think they'll only be okay if their shop is built! I want to rebuild it for them!" Ghostbur whined softly, not exactly understanding why he felt so strongly towards you, "Alivebur really really cared about them, which means I care about them. And they're sad, even with the blue I gave them..."

Phil pursed his lips together, trying to keep quiet about exactly why Wilbur cared about you so much, "Okay, okay... I want you to go visit them and find the blueprints of their shop... If-If you can't, then I'm sure we can build something similar... Just please, make sure they're alive, eating and taking care of themselves..."

"Alive? Of course they're alive- right? right, Phil?" Ghostbur hiccuped slightly, bringing up his dye-stained fingers to his mouth in shock when the avian hesitated, "Phil?"

"Just, go check on them Wil... Please."

Without another word, the ghost hurried out the door and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, as he floated towards the person his alive self adored so greatly. "(Y/n)... Why did Alivebur care for you so much? Why did he want you in his life so bad?" When the transparent male arrived at your door, he hurriedly pounded his fists on the door before pressing himself against it to hide under the awning as rain began to sprinkle down from the sky, "(Y/n)! Please, it's raining!" He cried, not wanting to melt.

There was a few seconds of silence before there was a rushing sound of footsteps coming from the inside of the house. Before the ghost could react, the door flew open, causing him to tumble onto the floor inside the house, "Bur! You should've checked the weather!"

He looked up at his saviour... And gave the softest smile he's ever worn. Even it had only been a few days, he began to realize just how much you meant to him as well, not just Alivebur. You were a guardian angel... A saviour from reality...

"Y-yeah, I know..." You murmured, trying to flatten down your unbrushed hair before shrinking away from your friend's gaze and into your oversized sweater that had once been Wilbur's, "I haven't really bothered to... Uhm... manage my appearance..."

"No worries, angel..." He blurted out, causing you to flinch as you stared at him. He didn't even know why he called you that to be completely honest, but he pushed himself off of your floor and dusted himself free of invisible dust, "Why haven't you been coming outside? I've been waiting outside for you every day... Phil was also worried about you losing a life in here alone!"

Pursing your lips together, you couldn't help but avoid the gaze of the ghost as you shut the door, "Sorry Bur, I've just been really tired..." You gave him a tired smile, but this time it didn't work on the poor ghost.

"I- I uhm... I know I'm forgetful, I know I'm an amnesiac, but I still feel this... I still feel things, and I try my best to make sure no one else feels it... But it's not working for helping you." He nervously grabbed onto a pouch of blue in his messenger bag, gritting his teeth together for a moment, "I figured out why that shop means so much to you... It's because it was a gift from Alivebur... Your lover... And now you feel like you have nothing left to hold his memory."

He watched as your eyes went wide and beginning to fill with tears before he went to his bag, going to grab some blue for you, but he paused upon seeing something else. A cornflower, one that never got turned into a dye, but it was withered and dead from being in the bag for so long, "Wil-Gho... Bur..." You hiccuped, trying to form words to create an apology, but your throat felt like it was tied in knots.

"That's also why you call me Bur... Because you don't want to accept that Aliv-... Wilbur... Is now a ghost..." He walked closer to you and put his hand on your arms, thankfully you were wearing a sweater to prevent frostbite from attacking your skin, "And that's okay! It's okay, (Y/n), you loved him... And he loved you, which means I love you... but I know you need time to cope with Al- Wilbur's... Death..." He carefully reached up and took your wrist, bringing your hand up into view so he could press the dead cold cornflower into your palm, "Until then, I'll stay by your side as your best friend..."

You slowly reached up and put your hand against his cheek, even though the contact burned your fingertips and he hardly felt solid... He was there... "Thank you... Ghostbur." You lowered your hand and smiled down at the dead flower in your palm.

"Now, come on, let's get you cleaned up! Me and Phil will help you rebuild your flower shop... When the rain lets up of course!"

#dream smp #ghostbur #ghostbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur dream smp #dsmp wilbur #mcyt x reader #c!wilbur #dsmp ghostbur #ghostbur dream smp #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt oneshots #dream smp x reader #wilbur x reader

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 3 years

Text

Under My Umbrella

Summary: Mr Pigeon 72 and how it should have ended if fandom had a saying in it. An alternate ending to the Adrinette final scene. Contains spoilers and fluff, you have been warned.

For @floweryotter, a gift in my celebratory giveaway.

********

Adrien’s day had started bad and it only got worse from there. So far the only peaceful moment was when he got turned into a pigeon. Blissful time, when he was unaware not only of himself, but also of allergies, extracurriculars and modelling. When he was free from ridiculous advertising ideas. He almost felt sorry, when the Miraculous Cure swept over his bird form, turning him back to his regular, slightly underdressed self.

Rain drummed heavily on the swimming pool’s roof, while he changed into his clothes and gathered the now half-empty duffel bag. Plagg claimed he needed the extra load for all his heroic deeds of the day. Camembert was possibly the only thing in the universe that got him to shut up about it.

Adrien shuddered and braced himself for the rest of his afternoon, which he suspected wouldn’t be any different than his morning. He stepped outside and promptly forgot about everything that was waiting for him later.

Because there, in the middle of the rain, stood his good friend Marinette under a familiar umbrella. Strange warmth bloomed in his chest.

‘Wow,’ he drew a breath full of humidity and some subtle, yet familiar smell, he couldn’t quite identify, ‘you’ve kept it all this time!’

A thunder rolled over the street. Marinette froze. For a second Adrien was afraid that maybe there’d been another akuma attack and his friend had fallen victim to an unknown villain.

‘Marinette?’ He called hesitantly.

She turned, smiling. The signature word salad spilled from her lips, but Adrien was used to it by now. He actually found it quite endearing. Politely, he waited for her to stumble her way through anything she had to say, until she arrived at a comprehensible sentence.

‘Now I can give it back to you!’ she finally said, offering the umbrella to him.

Both the gesture and the sentiment somehow made her even more adorable.

‘You’ll need it to get home,’ Adrien replied. At that his car pulled over and an idea came to him. ‘Or maybe… we can give you a lift?’ he asked hopefully.

Marinette smiled at him and nodded. Did she… just agree? Just like that? Without another word stumble or an excuse to leave? He had no idea why, but her calm approval made him inexplicably happy.

She moved to his side and linked their arms together, shielding him with the umbrella. The brush of her skin sent goosebumps all over his forearm. His heartbeat quickened.

Whoosh! The canopy closed over them, squishing them even closer together. The laughter they shared at that was delicious, like a secret, a reference only the two of them would get out of the entire world.

Adrien opened the umbrella, smiling at his friend.

‘Hmmm, since we already have a good umbrella, maybe we could put it to better use,’ she said. ‘Maybe we could take a walk home? What do you think?’

He liked having her so near and he wouldn’t mind for it to last longer. Especially when she seemed so comfortable and open. He realized how much he missed spending time with her. He was never bored with Marinette.

‘I… ‘ he started, when sudden movement caught his eye. His bodyguard opened the car door, urging him to go inside. Adrien’s smile faded. ‘My Chinese class,’ he remembered. ‘You know, how my dad is. I need to be there.’ He sighed. ‘But I’ll see you at school!’ He added, not to end on such a depressing note.

‘Of course. Till tomorrow, Adrien,’ Marinette smiled reassuringly and he knew she understood.

In two leaps he was at the car door, but he wanted to catch one last look of her before getting inside, so he turned.

Thump.

The back of his head hit the side of the car.

‘Ouch,’ he winced.

Marinette chuckled and he was happy to chuckle with her. His lips stretched into a wide smile. Her laughter already soothed the pain in his skull. He was about to close the door when she called after him.

‘Adrien, wait!’

He looked at her questioningly.

Marinette bit her lip. ‘How far is it to your lessons?’ She asked. ‘Maybe we can walk there?’

Oh sweet Plagg. Yes, please.

Adrien turned his best pleading eyes to the Gorilla. ‘See you after Chinese lessons?’ he mewled.

His bodyguard rolled his eyes, but he nodded with a grunt and turned to the steering wheel.

‘Thank you,’ the boy whispered as he basically floated outside, lifted by the joyous anticipation.

‘Mademoiselle?’ he offered Marinette an elbow in invitation.

‘Monsieur,’ she stepped next to him, linking her hand through his arm. ‘Shall we?’

And then they set into one of the most exciting walks of Adrien’s life. Some people would say it was a mundane stroll in murky weather, but it was far from it.

Almost instantly the two of them hit a comfortable rhythm, allowing them to walk without bumping into each other. Adrien offered to carry the umbrella for them, so that Marinette could rest her hand, as it snuggly lay in the crook of his arm.

They talked about everything and nothing, shared gossip about the upcoming patch for the Ultra Mecha Strike II they were excited about. Marinette kept Adrien from getting cold. Just her presence warmed him inside. In return he kept her from stomping into puddles and getting her feet all wet.

At one particularly large puddle, edging on a street lake, Adrien just lifted her off the ground and leaped over the water, with his friend easily tucked in his arms, princess style. The move felt so familiar, so right, it made him stumble in his step. But Marinette didn’t notice, she chuckled lightly under her breath. Adrien was stricken by the trust she had in him. The feeling filled him with delight and stayed with him, even when he deposited the girl safe and dry on the other side of the great water.

It all ended too soon. Suddenly Adrien wished his Chinese tutor lived much, much further from the pool, alas their time was up. Marinette bid him goodbye. Her smile, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes were the best send off he could imagine.

After that the afternoon went in a blur. Evening came and brought more rain with it. Adrien sat at his huge windows, a wide grin on his face, while he gazed outside, reminiscing upon the unexpectedly pleasant afternoon walk he had. For a second he even considered transforming and running over the roofs to the bakery to see Marinette again. The thought sobbered him up. Ladybug would have his hide, if he did it.

And then he froze, hit with yet another realization. He hadn’t thought of Ladybug even one time in the entire afternoon. He gasped. Did it even mean something?

But he never learned it, because he decided to text Marinette the funniest meme he saw earlier. He didn’t hear Plagg’s snicker from the duffel bag and even if he had, he wouldn’t know the meaning of it either.

#ml spoilers #mr pigeon 72 #adrinette #alternate ending #umbrella scene #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml fanfic #perdita writes #for floweryotter

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wolfsneedles · 3 years

Text

perhaps a small meta like thing i wanted to write and share on robb. I was thinking about that very haunting and pivotal moment in ASOS, when rickard karstark a loyal man of robb and starks killed the two prisoner/wards kids from lannister family when he realised catelyn released jaime. Catelyn releasing him is different and a very realistically emotional thing but robb acting and defending his mother when rickard says It was Lady Catelyn who was responsible for murder of the two kids....he just slaughtered in sleep and dark of their cells (reeks of bit sexism and misogyny tbh). Not realising however that jaime wasn't gonna get killed anyways that to by rickard or Robb was never gonna let them hurt him. basically so if karstark was avenging his sons...who died in battle with Robb, it is understandable but this was rickard's individualistic revenge - he was fighting for robb too. For North and for Starks and for his KING. i never understood how he killed two children but thats not the concern really. It is how robb reacts to murder of two children by karstark which is so foolish and stupid and honestly cruel considering his revenge was not gonna succeed anyways when jaime had...already escaped (and no omg cat wasn't responsible for karstark betrayal). And then Robb says, "

"I owe their fathers truth," said Robb. "And justice. I owe them that as well." He gazed at his crown, the dark gleam of bronze, the circle of iron swords. "Lord Rickard defied me. Betrayed me. I have no choice but to condemn him.

He made up his mind anyways to execute karstark not for betrayal but also for justice. Poetic Justice maybe...but the entire scene of rickard karstarks execution is very hauntingly beautiful however uneasy and eerie, and you see robb from Cats POV doing something from his own hands himself. The imagery and environmental gloom is perfect. Even weather grrm wrote like, was hauntingly unsettling.

Lord Rickard's fought at my side in half a dozen battles. His sons died for me in the Whispering Wood. Tion Frey and Willem Lannister were my enemies. Yet now I have to kill my dead friends' father for their sakes." He looked at them all. "Will the Lannisters thank me for Lord Rickard's head? Will the Freys?"

He obviously knew, the death of karstark's liege lord will earn him worse betrayals and series of more unfortunate events,, yet he still in despair asks brynden and others, that freys and lannisters will obviously not thank him for this. Infact they repaid him worse.

How then can you call this vengeance? This was folly, and bloody murder. Your sons died honorably on a battlefield, with swords in their hands.”

I wanted to describe the scene which is so poetic. But the fact that there is constant thunder and rain can highlight the fact that it was or can be synonymous to misery and death and...robbs ultimate betrayal when karstarks leave in the night same day. Catelyn described the weather outside as,

"Outside the thunder crashed and boomed, so loud it sounded as if the castle were coming down about their ears. Is this the sound of a kingdom falling? Catelyn wondered"

In the next sentence u see, robb more mature and dauntless when he decides he will execute rickard, "Robb reached down with both hands, lifted the heavy bronze-and-iron crown, and set it back atop his head, and suddenly he was a king again. “Lord Rickard dies.”

(also makes me mention how ppl criticise dany too mostly from the got show, but in books why she kills people, i think....if u put yourself in those historical framework and mentality of medieval society with loyalties and devotion tied to each other whether based on federalism or personal love, betrayal and treachery or going behind a king or queens back doesn't...go unpunished. Treason never goes unpunished when we also think of jon snow executing janos and robb with karstark. You have to realise emotions of both people. the one who carries sentence and one who dies.)

Back to the scenic description i found in this chapter. Catelyn again talks about weather and i absolutely loved contrast bw the weather and grimness of it and an execution soon to be carried in godswood,

"When day broke, grey and chilly, the storm had diminished to a steady, soaking rain, yet even so the godswood was crowded. River lords and northmen, highborn and low, knights and sellswords and stableboys, they stood amongst the trees to see the end of the night’s dark dance."

"Robb flung the poleaxe down in disgust, and turned wordless to the heart tree. He stood shaking with his hands half-clenched and the rain running down his cheeks. Gods forgive him, Catelyn prayed in silence. He is only a boy, and he had no other choice"

I think the rain is perfect thing. the way it is pouring down and then previously it was mentioned how remaining men who took part in killing young boys of lannisters with karstark were hung from trees ...but their faces were darkened and washed and grrm mentions this a lot everytime he mentions a depressing scene with death and ppl hanging from trees esp when lady stoneheart or brothers without banners or brienne and pod encounter people hanged. Its also sooo haunting how karstark was executed in front of heart tree and godswood...by hands of Robb as well (similar to what ned said that man who passes sentence will swing the sword so he knows what he feels too and robb did it last moment too)

" That was the last she saw of her son that day "

This line by catelyn also describes horror of war and how young people like robb in this case are dragged into the lords game of thrones, sometimes half-heartedly sometimes intentionally she describes how war is affecting her son who is after all a boy.

".....rain continued all through the morning, lashing the surface of the rivers and turning the godswood grass into mud and puddles"

This weather is same as it was described and was on the day or eve of when Catelyn and robb along with edmure were making for the Twins and and something more horrific which was about to unfold there as well ( red wedding ) and on their way to twins the rain is mercilessly beating and falling too.

Last i wanna mention is day when robb and his men with Catelyn made for the Twins for wedding and weather was same miserable since last time it was when karstark was executed...which I was thinking DOES point to robbs failure and demise in the end as weather has a lot of impact on story and so does the ice and fire contrast that has always been made where winters and cold winds welcome the coming of darkness and enemy force in this case the Others, and fire reflects passion, warmth and hope for me in passages. prob why i love mention of dany and her dragons because they do represent an entirely different aura and hope against the dread that is building on the Wall and beyond it for coming of the actual-evil-forces the Others.

This is how perfectly the differences bw robbs victory in Whispering wood taken as sign of pride and hope is mentioned with --> emphasis on how warm the weather was, and now their travel to the Twins for red wedding as --> rain, mud, puddle, banks overflowing, their stark banners flooded and hanging down (another excellent indication for how house stark did have their back and strength broken after the wedding hence banner hanging low, or when arya later travels to twins and sees the banners on fire due to the massacre taking place...)

"..As the gods would have it, their route took them through the Whispering Wood where Robb had won his first great victory. They followed the course of the twisting stream on the floor of that pinched narrow valley, much as Jaime Lannister’s men had done that fateful night. It was warmer then, Catelyn remembered, the trees were still green, and the stream did not overflow its banks. Fallen leaves choked the flow now and lay in sodden snarls among the rocks and roots, and the trees that had once hidden Robb’s army had exchanged their green raiment for leaves of dull gold spotted with brown, and a red that reminded her of rust and dry blood"

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

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End of the Tunnel: I

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: (future as well as present) suicidal thoughts, smut, angst, fluff, depression, attempted SUICIDE, self harm, torture, mentions of torture

A/N: So, this is pretty dark, just FYI. There will be happy moments but a lot of the time it will get pretty dark. Trigger warning applies now, just be forewarned. Please enjoy though if you are willing to suffer through the tragedy to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

MASTERLIST

***

The world ended on May 2, 1998.

At least it did for George Weasley.

He was not dead, of course. His mother and father still loved him. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Ginny all still hugged him. His business was doing splendid, far better than it ever had before the war, Ron was even helping him run it. And yet, the world felt as if it no longer turned because Fred was gone and that was all that really mattered.

May 2 had been awful, but the funeral was even worse. Friends, family, and strangers wanting nothing more than to hug him or shake his hand when all he wanted to do was destroy everything that touched him. He hadn’t shed any tears that day. He figured he was all out, but now that he considered it, he was sure he had just grown numb.

He had never had a problem smiling before, and even in the winter he was constantly warm, denying every coat his mother sent his way. And now, he was sure he had forgotten how to smile and even in the hottest part of July he wore a sweater, fighting off the chills that ran along his spine.

His mother had pleaded with him to go to therapy, to talk to someone about the tragedy but he had refused. There was nothing a therapist could tell him that he didn’t already know.

He knew he was depressed; he knew Fred was never coming back, and he knew he needed to move forward. He had no interest in reliving the moments when he had witnessed the cold lifeless body of his twin lying on the floor of the school they had once attended. All he wanted to do was the lock the door to his new flat and never come out. He had considered returning to his home above the shop but every time he thought of the memories he had built there his stomach churned and before he knew it he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest sink. So, he gave it to Ron and Hermione and bought himself a smaller one.

He was laying in the bed that occupied most of the studio flat, thinking about the day he moved in as he struggled to get up. The walls were grey, and the bedsheets were white. He hadn’t bothered to buy curtains, so the dingy light of the cloudy morning was highlighting the dust he had let build up over the months. No pictures hung on the walls; no Knick knacks sat on the shelves. Dishes were piling up from the last spout of motivation, not that he ate a whole lot these days. Most importantly, there were no mirrors. He had ripped the bathroom one from the wall and shattered it in the street the moment he moved in, completely satisfied with giving up his security deposit for a little bit of sanity. His world was completely colorless. His skin was pale and the warmth that had generally resided in his face had seeped away like water from a washcloth. In fact, the only color one could find in the small room was his hair, shining just as brightly as it had the day the world ended.

He had dyed it once. A dark brown, the most boring color he could think of, but the moment his mother had seen it she burst into tears and begrudgingly changed it back, if only to avoid the dirty looks that Ginny shot him through the very uncomfortable family dinner.

Today was the first of March, and George could feel the anniversary of Fred’s death drawing nearer with every movement of his body. His muscles ached and his bones creaked like an old rocking chair no one had touched in a century.

As he laid there he considered never getting up, but eventually with great effort he pulled himself from the cold sheets and pulled on the dullest clothing he owned. A grey tailcoat covered a white button up and black slacks, severely pressed hung a bit short over his ankles. The shoes were so old they no longer shined. He didn’t bother brushing his hair, sure that the howling wind would mess it up anyway.

He left the door without eating breakfast and turned down the street in the opposite direction of the store. He couldn’t bare to go to work today, and Ron could handle it.

Ron had gotten a lot better at handling it.

He was right about the wind, it battled against him like it was trying to force him to go to work, but he pushed on, determined to spend his day in miserable loneliness. Somedays he imagined Fred was screaming at him from the clouds, telling him to stop being a git and move on with his life, but he had never been good at taking orders. So, without any regard for the signs of the universe he continued to push on, wrapping his arms around himself as he tried to keep warm.

In honor of his mood, it began to pour and before he knew it, he was drenched to the bone, the neat he clothes he had donned pressing tightly against this skin. By now he was in a muggle town he had never been to. The streets were completely empty, no one wanting to get caught in the torrential downpour.

He was going to turn around, go home if not to work, when he heard a voice shouting through a roll of thunder. He glanced around, searching for the source, and was met with the sight of a woman hailing him towards her store. He looked behind him, checking for someone else, when he heard a sharp laugh.

“I’m talking to you, silly. Now, come in before you catch a cold,” she called, stepping into the rain to usher him closer. He walked quickly, ducking through the doorway as he followed her inside. He watched as she shoved the door closed against the atrocious wind, the bell jingling ferociously overhead. When she had succeeded, deadbolting it for good measure she turned to face him. She wrung out her blonde hair as she studied him with bright eyes (they reminded him an awful lot of what his used to look like). “What on earth are you doing out in this weather?” she laughed, and he shrugged, unsure of how to approach the situation. He had not been met with such glee in an exceptionally long time. When he didn’t respond he smile faded and concern rested heavy on her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, and she nodded.

“Then I think you need a drink.” She ushered him to barstool and disappeared behind the counter. “Butterbeer or tap?” His eyes snapped to her when she mentioned the magical drink. “Butterbeer then.”

“You’re a witch?” he blurted, and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh no, but I know my customers, and you are clearly a wizard.”

“How can you tell?”

“The wand in your tailcoat.” He glanced down and sure enough, a faint outline of his wand was visible against the fabric. “No need to obliviate me though, I’m no snitch. I’ve had all types in this little pub of mine, vampires, werewolves after a particularly bad night, wizards, what you call muggles, I’ve even had a couple goblins gamble in my back room, no bias here.” He didn’t say anything as she twittered on, setting the mug in front of him and leaning on her elbows as she took him in with earnest curiosity. A few minutes of silence before she spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it, that’s what bartenders are for to hear all your tragedies while you drown them in the best liquor we have?”

“Who are you?”

“Hannah Gladdis. And you are?”

“George Weasley.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, twenty in June. You?”

“Twenty-one in April. How’d you come to own a magical bar at nineteen?”

“It was a tragic thing really, last year the owner died in a war with your sort. I was a waitress then, but he left it to me in his will, so now it’s all mine. Honestly, I’m surprised I survived long enough to own it, luck I guess.”

“What happened?”

“These men in masks came and tore the place apart looking for the owner, shouting something about blood traitors, but he wasn’t in. It was just me, hiding right behind this counter praying that they wouldn’t find me.”

“Did they?”

“Yes,” she whispered, fear creeping into her eyes as she thought about the night she was describing to him. “They used two spells. One made me feel like I was on fire and the other made me bleed, I can barely remember it. The whole thing was awful, by the time they were sure I didn’t know I could barely move. They set the place on fire and left me to die, still hunting for him, I guess since he’s dead now. Somehow someone saved me, I don’t even remember them but they must have performed a counter curse because I got out with only a few scars, but you would know all about those,” she said noting his missing ear. “Were you in the war?”

“Right in the center of it. Do you have any firewhiskey?” She nodded and dropped beneath the counter and pulled out the familiar bottle.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“How do you know I lost anyone?” he growled, and she offered him a sad smile.

“I lost friends and I’m not even a witch, I figured a hero right in the center of it wouldn’t come out unscathed. Also you’re missing an ear.” He grunted and threw back the shot of liquor she had poured. “You won though?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way,” he mumbled, and she nodded, taking one of his hands into hers. He watched her hands cradle his as if he were the fragile one, but he could see the scars that were etched into her fingers. He ran is thumb along one of the more prominent ones. When he glanced up, she was biting her lip, eyes focused on the thumb that was stroking the harsh scar. He whispered her name, but she didn’t move. He said it again and this time her eyes met his. He wanted to say they were blue, but that didn’t seem quite right. Her dark eyelashes were hanging heavily over them, casting shadows into the two small pools of ocean that stared back at him. He was going to say something more, let the light buzz from the liquor take control and pull her against him, but she moved away before he could. With an awkward laugh she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and pulled herself a shot, downing it just as quickly.

“It’s not even noon,” she laughed to herself and he shrugged.

“I’ve been drunk before noon before, nothing to ashamed of.”

“Isn’t that a sign of alcoholism?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of before.” He flashed her a tight, unpracticed smile that made his heart cringe against his ribs but it seemed to work. Pink washed over her cheeks and she was quick to busy herself among the empty glasses, searching for one to clean.

“So, what’s someone like you wandering the streets during a downpour?”

“Escaping.”

“By catching a cold?”

“Or something like that.” She laughed awkwardly, running a damp washrag over the top of the bar, avoiding eye contact at all costs, and it was killing him. He wanted to look into her eyes all day. He had to think of something, do something, say something that would draw her back.

“Why didn’t the Ministry take your memories?” he asked, and then silently cursed himself. Out of all the topics he could have chosen, he chose the one that terrified her. He hadn’t spoken to a stranger so domestically in such a long time it seemed he was out of practice.

“They don’t know, as far as I know they don’t even know I exist. And I would like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to forget?”

“To forget what?”

“All that pain and fear.”

“I considered it at first, but then I decided it was better to know what was coming then feel broken all over again.”

“No one is going to hurt you like that again,” he growled, far more aggressively than he had intended and she laugh, taking his hand and finally allowing their eyes to meet once more. She didn’t seem scared when she looked at him, it was if she almost wanted to believe him. She really seemed to believe the idea he could chase away her nightmares. He knew he would disappoint; he could barely chase away his own.

“You sound so sure, George, but alas, you won’t always be sitting in my little bar to protect me.”

“Then come home with me.”

She was shocked to say the least, at least that’s what her eyes said.

“I barely know you.”

“Then get to know me.”

“I’m working.”

“You said it yourself, no one is out in this rainstorm.” He sauntered towards the window and flipped the sign around and locked the door. “And anyways, it seems you’re closed.” She studied him closely, and he was acutely aware that she was still holding his hand. Finally, she nodded and for the first time in ten months his heart jolted with joy. He spun her around the bar and caught her in his arms. “Ready?”

“For what?” she began to ask but they were already gone, whipping through the air as he apparated them to the small flat.

She was laughing when they landed, clutching her stomach as she tried to catch her breath.

“My god, that was exhilarating,” she gasped. She was still holding his hand, tighter than ever. He watched her as she looked around and cursed himself for not keeping the place cleaner. “I like your place.” He was sure she was lying; it was so dull and lifeless it was almost a prison cell. The counters were dirty, and the trashcan was overflowing. “It could use a little color, but maybe that’s the beauty of it. I can never decide how to decorate so I’m constantly having to remodel, this way I can just close my eyes and imagine the walls orange.”

“Orange?”

“Or maybe a soft teal, I don’t know, it depends on my mood.” He caught him smiling again for the second time on the day he woke up feeling like death. She was like a ball of sunshine and she was standing in the little place he called home. For the first time since he had been born, he found himself wishing his home was bigger. Even when he was a kid he had never cared, but now that there was someone he was dying to impress he wished he owned the minster’s mansion.

“It’s not much…”

“It’s lovely.” Color tinged his cheeks and now it was his turn to busy himself in the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, yes, why thank you,” she said as she glanced out the window, “What part of town are we in?”

“Just on the edge of Diagon Alley.”

“Oh really! I’ve always wanted to come; I’ve heard it’s absolutely beautiful. Wow, a real wizard town. Is it true what they say about Hogsmeade?”

“It depends on what they say,” he chuckled, bathing in her excitement. It was a welcome tone, something he had not felt since months before the end of the world.

“That it’s absolutely picturesque. Someone showed me a post card once, and I called her a liar, told her nothing but a painting could be that beautiful, but she assured me it was all true.”

“She wasn’t lying, if you want, I’ll take you sometime.”

“Wow, not even a first date and you’re already promising to whisk me off to some beautiful village in the countryside.” He blushed when he realized what he had said, abashed that this woman had gotten into his head so quickly. He had never been so infatuated with anything. He turned quickly, spilling hot tea over the side of his hand, but he barely even noticed. Her eyes were big and blue as she stared at him, cheeks pink and lips parted. “George…” she began but the teacups hadn’t even hit the ground when he was taking her into his arms and kissing her as softly as his feelings would allow.

She tasted like Christmas. Cinnamon from the firewhiskey and butterscotch from the beer tainted her lips like frosting on cake he had only eaten in a distant memory. He wanted to throw her to his bed and devour her, experience every inch she would allow him, but her tentative fingers stopped him. He was stranger who had apparated her to his flat in a place she did not know, and now he was doing everything in his power to ravish her like the goddess she appeared to be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling away as far as he dared. He was not sure he would ever be able to be far from her again, not when he knew how wonderful she was. She stepped forward, still hesitant, and cupped his cheek in her hand.

“No, don’t be. That was brilliant.”

“Then would you mind if I did it again?” She laughed and leapt into his arms, pressing her lips against his. He had never understood people comparing others to home, but as he wrapped his arms around her and he felt her fingers unbuttoning his shirt as fast as she could manage. His hands dropped to the hem of her shirt, prepared to pull it off and admire her entirety but she jerked back. He stopped immediately, pulling away as he searched her face for what he had done wrong. She wasn’t looking at him again, eyes crossed over her chest as she shuffled her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and he shook his head, taking her cheek in his hand.

“Don’t be. Tell me what you want. If it’s nothing then we’ll do nothing,” he whispered and with tentative fingers she brushed the place where is ear had once been. He wanted to pull away, but he didn’t dare, not when she looked like she was going to break.

“Very few survived your war without scars, even us muggles.” She pulled her hand away and took a deep breath before pulling her shirt over her head. He watched it hit the ground before trailing his gaze over her skin. She hadn’t lied. Scars were etched across skin that had once been soft. They were harsh and angry, still red after what he had assumed was months of healing. Silence crept into the room as he stared, anger coursing through his veins as he imagined the kind of pain that had caused these scars. “Say something,” she whispered, words catching in her throat.

“If I ever find who did this to you, I will not hesitate to kill them,” he growled and she let out a short laugh. “I’m not kidding.” She leaned up and kissed him softly, gratitude laced in every touch. He pulled her closer, fingers trailing the scars that plagued her. They tipped into his bed with unexpected grace, laughing between kisses. Quick fingers undid his pants and he followed suit, exposing soft skin raked with more scars. She didn’t pull away anymore, in fact he was sure she was trying to get closer than possible. Her legs pressed against his hips as her fingers explored every inch of skin. He flipped them over, admiring her against the bedsheets, blonde hair spread out like a halo. He leaned down and kissed her softly as she giggled against his lips.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered before he could stop himself and with all seriousness she nodded.

“Not in a thousand years.”

#george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader fanfiction #end of the tunnel

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ineloqueent · 3 years

Text

dreaming of you

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: a storm results in a power cut, after you get locked out of your flat. luckily, your neighbour is home.

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i hope you don’t mind that i took a few creative liberties with the prompts, m’dear <3

see the moodboard here!

⭒

London, 1973

It was one of those days that simply went from bad to worse. And then fell down the stairs. And into a frying pan. And then leapt out of the frying pan and into the fire. Except the fire was not simply a fire, but a flaming pit, that was somehow also freezing cold and pitch black.

In short, you’d had a terrible day. And as life would have it, your day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

It had started that morning, when you’d got out on the wrong side of the bed, quite literally. You had fallen face-first over your office chair, which stood mere millimetres from the left side of your bed, because you lived in a tiny flat on Camden High Street, above a shoe shop, where, in the winter there was rarely hot water in the pipes, and you were forced to scrape ice off of the bathroom mirror with a razor in order to see your reflection.

So, you’d fallen out of bed and bruised— your forehead— instantly, only to realise that you’d slept through your alarm, and forgotten to lay out clothes for the day the night before. This was then followed by a rushed— cold— shower, and jumping in front of the iced-over mirror to glimpse the large bump already forming on your forehead.

You’d made it to the kitchen, and found that you’d run out of both coffee and tea, forcing you to decide between going without caffeine, or being late to work in the process of getting a takeaway beverage. You opted for the latter, and sprinted out the front door with your scarf only half-slung around your neck.

You’d shouted a hasty good morning to your shop keeper neighbour from the lower floor, before running straight into your other neighbour, the one who lived right next door to you, and shared your rice paper-thin walls.

He’d narrowly avoided spilling his cup of scalding coffee down your front, but in avoiding spilling it on you, the poor bloke had instead dropped the mug at his feet, and watched it shatter to pieces, coffee spattering his white shoes.

Still, he was the first to apologise.

He was like that, Brian May. Very polite. Well-mannered. Ever the friendly neighbour.

And very beautiful. You’d noticed.

Off to work you’d rushed, once you’d helped him to clean up the mess, because you weren’t about to leave him standing in a pile of shattered porcelain, the existence of which was quite honestly your fault.

You’d been not five, not ten, not twenty, but thirty minutes late to work, and your boss had been none too pleased.

“Deadlines,” he’d told you. “We have deadlines!”

Deadlines your arse. You’d watched that man leisurely read his morning paper, with his feet on an ottoman, whilst you scrambled to get your affairs in order.

It’d then been a drab day, working at the newspaper, because it seemed that nothing was happening in the world, outside of your own little corner, where everything seemed to be happening all at once, and thus, there was no story for you to write. You’d been reduced to running fax and photocopies for various people, and— ironically— doing a coffee run, because everyone else was too busy for such a frivolous thing as a coffee run. Funny, though; for all they shunned the coffee run, they could not do without their precious caffeine to fuel their productivity.

The day seemed to drag on, and when it finally let up, the rain came down with the night, and you, with no umbrella and a good walk on either side of your tube ride, stared miserably through the window at the depressing weather.

But at home, pasta and television and your lovely, soft bed awaited you, and so, you were desperate to get home as quickly as possible.

With a sigh, you stepped outside, and let the rain soak you as you went on your way, having once read in a scientific study in the newspaper which had concluded from a series of experiments that one got more wet from running through rain than from walking through it.

The tube was crowded, as usual, and like a good citizen, you offered your seat to an elderly lady, only to realise upon second glance that she was not elderly at all, and you had just morally offended a rather prim-looking business woman. And lost your seat to the smirking man who’d watched the exchange occur.

You tracked mud all the way up to your flat, nearly breaking your foot at least twice when you nearly slipped on the rain-slick wood of the stairs.

The final nail— or so you thought— in the coffin of your terrible day came when you fumbled in your jacket pockets for your key.

The sinking feeling in your stomach was perhaps the heaviest you’d ever felt.

In your rush that morning, you’d forgotten your key.

Brian May walked up the stairs just in time to see you kick your shoe off in frustration, and let out a laugh at the sight of you.

You looked up from your abused shoe to find Brian paused at his door, one eyebrow slightly raised in concern.

“Alright?” he asked, dubiously.

You took a deep breath, in an attempt to remain calm and appear normal at the height of your despair. “I’ve had a shitty day, since before you saw me this morning, and now I’ve locked myself out of my flat. Alright, you think?”

“No,” he conceded, “but it seemed polite to ask.”

“Do you always just do what’s polite?” you sighed.

“Now that,” said Brian, inclining his head, “wasn’t very polite.”

You shook your head quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I meant it in a much more flattering way, like, you never fail to be polite, even when it’s hard to be, or when I’m sure you’d much rather say something sarcastic, or even just plain rude. You know,” you rambled, “you’re good at that—” you waved a hand, and amusement flitted across his eyes— “filter thing. You have a filter, I mean.”

“And you don’t,” he observed.

“Exactly.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, for once,” said Brian, “you look an absolute wreck, but—”

At that moment was when the real final nail of the coffin fell into place.

Because at that moment, accompanied by an ear-splitting peal of thunder, lightning struck, and eradicated the power supply of approximately one-third of the London metropolitan area.

“Bloody hell,” Brian remarked, as the rumble of thunder receded. The two of you stood in darkness on the landing, and while before, there had only been one bare lightbulb to light your surroundings, it was greatly different to be standing in total darkness when the city outside had become equally as dark.

“The power—”

You thought Brian nodded across from you where he stood, in the blackness of the hall.

“So…” you muttered. “What now?”

“Well, given our presently rather strange circumstances, I’ll offer to let you sleep on my sofa, and we can talk to Clarisse in the morning.”

Clarisse owned the shoe shop beneath your flats, and therefore your flats as well. She was yours and Brian’s landlady, but, as with her shop, she was only ever in from nine to five. Given that it was now six in the evening, she was most certainly long gone.

You considered Brian’s offer.

The two of you had shared a landing for four, almost five years now, since you’d each come to London, and yet, though you were friendly, you’d never got past having coffee together. You knew that Brian was studying astrophysics at Imperial College, which was very impressive indeed, and that he was the guitarist in a talented, but relatively unknown band. You’d encountered the other members of the band a few times here and there, every year, given that they sometimes practiced, or held meetings, at Brian’s residence. Clarisse didn’t mind the band playing, and as the next door building always had loud music pounding, there was no danger of annoying the neighbours to the point of the police being phoned, so Brian and his band were free to hold their rehearsals. You knew they were talented because you could hear them playing through said rice paper-thin walls.

And having had coffee with the man in question at least three times, you felt safe enough in taking up his offer. You only regretted that in all your years living next door to him, you’d never invited him over. Then again, he’d never invited you over either. But here he was now, in your hour of need, and that had to count for something.

You nodded gratefully, then remembered that he probably couldn’t see you all too well, and said,

“I think I’ll take up your offer. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nonsense,” said Brian. “I’m just polite.”

You thought he might have winked, but of course, in the dark, you couldn’t be sure.

He unlocked his front door, and you followed him inside.

“Watch out for the—”

You stumbled over what felt and sounded to be a guitar case.

“Oh shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” you apologised profusely.

He chuckled. “It’s fine. It’s empty.”

“Oh, thank god,” you muttered. “Thought I’d just destroyed something, again.”

“Yeah, it was bad enough that you ruined my coffee cup this morning.”

Reflexively, you covered your blush with your hand. “Please don’t remind me,” you groaned.

“I won’t miss it,” Brian assured you, tossing his keys onto a little table. “It was a hideous thing. Something Fred got me once from Kensington Market, where he works. Pretty sure the thing was second-hand too.”

Fred. Freddie, lead singer of the band you’d only heard through walls. Funny, charming, friendly though shy.

You wrinkled your nose. “Second-hand…”

“Yeah. He’s got no taste, silly bugger.” Though Brian’s remarks sounded harsh, he spoke with a fondness that could only have been reserved for the highest regard of friendships, and you thought that he and his bandmates must be quite good friends.

“Hungry?” Brian asked. “I’ve only got some left-over lasagna, unfortunately, since I wasn’t expecting company, and it’s vegetarian, but we can heat it up in the oven, and there’s enough for the both of us.”

“Honestly, Brian, that sounds delicious.”

Your eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, and so you saw his smile in response to your comment.

“Well, great. I’ll heat that up, then. Make yourself at home. If you can find the living room,” he added with a laugh. “There’s some candles in the chest of drawers by the window, so if you get those out, I’ll find some matches too, and we can have some light.”

“Will do.”

You set about your task, managing to only stub your toe once after removing your shoes, and set up candles about the living room, where you assumed Brian intended to set up dinner.

He brought you matches, and brought with him a glass bottle.

“Wine?” he offered you, having poured himself a glass, and you accepted, because it was Friday night and what the hell.

You lit the candles as Brian went back to his cooking, and before long, he returned with the lasagna dished up.

As your host sat down across from you, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

With the candles providing a rather romantic glow, catching on Brian’s pretty ringlet curls and dancing in his eyes, plus the wine, and now, the static-y music coming in over a battery-powered radio, this atmosphere was a lot cosier than you had expected.

Brian furrowed his brow at your noise of amusement. “What..?”

“Are we on a date right now?”

With a glance about the room, with its overstuffed cushions and stitched drapes, the two of you eating a meal by candlelight, Brian laughed too.

“It would seem that way.”

He raised his glass to you, and you would have been lying if you’d said that the gesture and his words hadn’t made your heart skip a beat.

You ate in silence for a few moments, until Brian spoke again.

“Would you mind awfully if we were?

The question startled you a little, and you swallowed your wine carefully.

“No,” you said honestly.

A small smile graced his mouth, before his eyes dropped to his lap. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I always meant to ask you out.”

You blurted, “Did you really?”

He smiled fully now. “Yeah. But I’ve always been so damn shy.”

You were the one to raise your glass this time. “Well, here we are now. And you’re not getting rid of me. At least until tomorrow.”

He laughed gently in response, and you thought of how lovely and warm the sound was.

If only you were as warm as that laugh. The rain that had soaked your clothes was beginning to take its toll on you.

You finished dinner in silence, and Brian cleared the plates in silence too.

He came back after washing the dishes, just in time to see you shiver.

“Oh, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Extra blankets.”

He fetched them, but then looked down at the bundle in dismay. It was very little; you could both see that.

You watched him close his eyes briefly in the wash of candlelight, saw him grit his teeth. You waited with bated breath for what he was going to say.

“It gets really cold here at night.”

This you already knew, from your experiences at your own flat.

“Yeah.”

“And it’ll get even colder now that we’ve lost all form of central heating… Forgive me if this is entirely over the line...” he sighed, and opened his eyes, watching you with a cautiousness that betrayed nerves. “But it might be best if I sleep here, near you. Body heat, and all that.”

“Oh,” you said, blushing slightly. Stupid blush. “Yes, that’s probably a— uh— good idea.”

“Right. Um. Bathroom’s down the hall, if you wanted to chan— oh. Well. Hang on. I’ll get you a jumper or something to change into.”

Your blush only deepened, knowing that you would be wearing his clothes.

You couldn’t look at him when you took the dry, clean clothes he handed you, and hurried to change in the bathroom, before returning to the makeshift bed now established on the floor of Brian’s living room.

He brushed past you to use the bathroom himself.

You slid under the duvet laid out, and shifted the pillow beneath your head, making yourself comfortable.

Brian returned, and began extinguishing the candles around the room.

Finally, a soft shuffling sound announced that he had laid down beside you, and you released a breath of relief, knowing you could soon go to sleep and forget the awkwardness you were so adept at in your conscious state.

But then you noticed that Brian, in his flannel pyjama trousers and t-shirt, was going to sleep with only a single blanket pulled over him; he’d let you have the duvet without a word.

You weren’t about to let him freeze to death on his own living room floor.

With a courage you knew not from where, you rolled over to face Brian. Or rather, Brian’s back. He was turned away from you. He probably thought you’d already gone to sleep.

You laid your hand gently on his shoulder, and he turned slowly.

“Hey,” you murmured, as his eyes met yours. “Sleepover?” You offered the duvet, a gift of peaceable intentions.

He smiled softly, and accepted with grace. But it was a stretch, with how far he lay from you.

“Oh, come here,” you said, and draped your arm over his lithe waist, drawing him closer to you. A little wine-tipsy and a little tired, a little cold, a little lonely, you nestled your cheek against his chest, your hands against warm skin beneath thin fabric.

Slowly, his arms wrapped around you too, and you breathed a soft sigh against his skin.

“Is this alright?” he asked carefully.

In silent response, you lifted your head, and kissed his pretty lips.

He reciprocated almost immediately, his kiss sleepy but tender, and you pecked his mouth gently once more. Then you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and touched the skin there with another caress of your lips.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered, and he ghosted a kiss upon your temple.

“I can wait for tomorrow,” he said.

And soon you both drifted off, you in warmth and contentment, and Brian dreaming of you.

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #brian may x reader #fic

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phonecallwithsatan · 3 years

Text

Rain

a.n.: ugh sorry for my leave of absense. was depressed. something new... now writing for Spencer, i hope yall like it! if youre here, hey, if youre not, welcome back! <3 gender neutral fluff, maybe at 1.5k 💛

y/n surprises Spencer with his favorite book amidst admiring his hair while sitting in the car with rain pouring down in D.C.

✩

Being the Representative for D.C.’s at Large Congressional District was your dream job, and is your dream job. It does however leave for no free time, but today was different.

You were able to take off surprisingly earlier than usual, which led to a rare night off. Luckily your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, also had a free night from the B.A.U., something that was also rare for his line of work. You were planning to meet him at his apartment at 6.

The leaves on the sidewalk had turned into mush piles of orange and red as your boots walked through piles of water and leaf-mush. You were walking to your all-time favorite book store in D.C., the one Spencer had taken you to countless times.

You looked up and saw that the already darkened sky from the Autumn weather had clouds rolling in, leading to more rain. Luckily you were already at the book store, stepping in and brushing your boots off on the doormat at the entrance of the store.

“Hi, Grace!” Your favorite sales clerk was working today.

Grace looked up from her book and smiled at you. “Hey, y/n. We got some new shipments, do you want to look through them? I haven’t put anything new out yet.”

“After I look around if you’re not busy? I’m kind of in a rush,” you looked down at your watch and saw that it was 5:30. You may not make it for your date at Spencer’s apartment.

Grace nodded and you carried on into the depths of the bookstore, cascading your eyes on the different colors of the book spines, some cracked, some not, and some nearly falling off.

You plucked Fahrenheit 451 off the wall and recognized the cover to be from the 70s, smiling at yourself because of the glorious find. You’d always known this bookstore had amazing books, but not something like this. This was your favorite book, and you probably owned copies, but not this one.

Ray Bradbury was displayed at the top, followed by the title, finishing off with a woman’s face at the bottom, lit up in between a blaze of fire coming from two books. Spencer would freak out if he saw this, you thought to yourself.

You had decided to look for his favorite book too.

Still under B in the book store, you searched through more of Ray Bradbury’s work until you found your boyfriend’s favorite- The Illustrated Man.

You found two copies. One which was the other that Spencer kept around his house all the time, and one that had a particular cover you hadn’t seen before. Pushing the other book back into its spot, you tucked Fahrenheit 451 under your arm and flipped to the first few pages. You gasped at the publishing date. 1951. An original.

Spencer would be running circles if he was next to you. You looked down at your watch when the thought of Spencer came to your mind. 5:51, read the clock. You took the book and walked up to Grace who asked you for the new shipment once again.

“Not today, Grace,” you said as you placed both books on the counter. You looked outside as Grace was ringing the books up and explaining the significance. Rain. Hard, pouring rain, ruined your chances to get to his apartment at a reasonable time and pace. You were planning to take the Metro to his apartment but those plans were diminished when you saw the bolt of thunder paint the sky a slight white for a moment.

“$9.53 for today, y/n.” Grace said. She must have not known about the covers, even though she had just explained the history.

You gave her your card and she fiddled with the new system. You took this time to call your boyfriend. He never said no to picking you up.

The phone rang once when he picked up.

“Hey, y/n. Where are you?” He asked not-so-patiently.

“Spencer, can you come pick me up? I’m sorry but it’s raining, like, really hard over here. I’m still in the city.”

Your man stuttered and you heard him run to get his keys.

“Yeah, where are you? I’ll come.” The keys jangled in the background.

“I’m at Second Story,” you said. You knew he would be mad.

“Without me?” You heard the door of his apartment open.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I was in the area.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up and you went back to Grace. She was wrapping up the books and the machine was screaming for you to take your card out of the chip reader.

You took it out and placed it in your wallet. You loved this place mostly because of the atmosphere, first off. The second was because of the memories you had with Spencer.

Grace carefully wrapped the edges of your book with the brown wrapping paper that you knew and love. It was her special touch.

“Hey, while you’re wrapping those, can I look through the boxes?” She looked up and nodded. You turned and knelt down to open the first box. You picked up a few biographies, some cookbooks, and a Sci-Fi novel with an interesting cover. Just as you were about to pick up the book, your phone started to buzz in your pocket. Spencer.

You got up and saw a text from Spencer. Here.

You thanked Grace and grabbed the books from her hands. “y/n, I marked 451’s wrapping on the side so you don’t mix them up.” You thanked her once again.

Pushing the door of the bookstore open, you scanned for Spencer’s blue Volvo. You finally saw it parked with its signature circle headlights shining bright way at the end of your street. You began to walk through the hard and cold rain and quickly tucked the two books in your coat so they would not get ruined.

You were still far from the car but you saw Spencer get out and walk to you.

“Spencer!” You called out, confused as to why he was getting himself all wet.

You were getting closer to the car but further from dry clothes. Spencer smiled at you and opened the car door, making you grin at the gesture. You sped up and cupped your hand to his face mid-stride before getting in the car. He closed the door after you placed your right foot in the cars interior.

He jumped around to get to the driver’s side and you waited for his expression for when you gave him the book.

Spencer got in and closed the door before smiling at you. He leaned over and kissed you, not too eager but also not too light, you took one hand and cupped his face once more before pulling away. He didn’t move from his position and placed a hand on your leg.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up, I got you something actually.” You took the books out of your coat’s protection after he said, “of course.”

You made sure his book did not have the marking on it before giving it to him. Spencer took his hand off your leg and took the book in his hands before shedding the wrapping off.

He looked up at you, then down at the book, just to look up once again.

“y/n, you found this in Second Story? I can’t- thank you, y/n/n,” he cut himself off before flipping through the pages and back to the beginning to look at the publishing date of his favorite book.

He kissed your forehead and you felt his hair drip on your face and you made a face and you looked up at his half wet and half dry hair. His expression changed when he saw yours. He quickly forgot though and he went back to analyzing the book you picked up for him.

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your hand and ran it through his hair, previously slicked back which was now hanging down in sections. You pushed it back and past his ear, going back to tuck it in so it wouldn’t pop out again. You took this chance to go ahead and go back up and comb your fingers through his damp hair and watch it separate and slick back because of the water.

Raindrops hit the glass infront of you while the wipers worked hard.

Spencer’s hair was one of the first things you had noticed about him when you had started dating. He liked to style it in different ways but he always played with one piece that stayed behind his ear. That piece would always pop up while he was working, reading, writing, you name it. Even now, it had managed to escape.

You took this particular piece and began to lightly twirl it around in your fingers. You leaned in a bit and leaned your arm a bit on his body to get a better look at the book in his lap. He analyzed the pages and you were very pleased with the outcome. You spun around the slightly curled piece and ran your hands once again through the side of his head, tucking the piece in behind Spencer’s ear where it usually stayed. You smoothed it down by using the backs of your fingers. Your thumb grazed his cheekbone as you once more moved it up to secure the piece in.

He was flipping through the pages and began to talk about the novel he had in his hands. You loved listening to him ramble.

Your hand moved to the back of his head and you ran your hand up the direction of growth, feeling the wet pieces mix with the dry ones. He explained the unrevised wording in this and that page, and you watched his dimples appear and disappear with every pronunciation of “a” and “s” that came in a word.

You scratched lightly at the back of his head before moving onto the nape of his neck. There, you had noticed that he had gotten a haircut so there were no stray hairs. You massage lightly and then noticed him tilt his head towards you. This was his favorite.

“I mean, look at the font. This is nothing like the ones I’ve seen before.” He continued on and you noticed that his hair dried quickly. You left his neck and moved back up to the front where a good amount of hair was dry and frizzy.

You smoothed it out once again and heard him hum lightly. His hair was soft and had noticeable layering because of the haircut. Your fingers glid through his brown locks and you slid it back this time, taking some of the hair behind his ear with it.

Instinctively, he took a hand to tuck it back but he met yours instead.

He looked up and took your hand from his head into his, leaving the book in his lap.

“Thank you, y/n. Truly, I just, can’t even process that this is in my hand.” He continued to talk to you about the first edition novel and your poor boy couldn’t finish his sentence as the loud thunder startled him. You laughed and watched the sky light up in various places in front of you.

“Come on, sweet boy. Let’s go home.”

“Home?” He asked.

You let home slip out in your sentence even though you probably spent a good amount of your time there. You probably slept there four times a week.

“Your apartment.” You corrected yourself. You looked away, mentally kicking yourself that you let home slip in.

“So, home,” Spencer said, looking away and taking his hand out of yours to hold onto the shift knob.

You looked back and as he switched to drive. He took your hand back to his as he turned the wheel to the left to exit his parallel parking spot. He looked over and smiled.

“Yeah,” you responded. You took your hand out of his quickly to brush that annoying piece back behind his ear and took his hand in yours once again. “Home,” you said.

#spencer x y/n #spencer reid #spencer #reid #spencer x you #spencer x your name #reid x y/n #reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #reid fluff #spencer fluff

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

A Past With Her, A Future With You - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Author’s note: This is a sequel to “Scared of Love, Scared of Time” I decided to write after being reminded of the events of RE6 and a certain Ada Wong. Again I made the reader as generic as possible. I hope you’ll like it. PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon.

Warning: Angst of course, maybe language.

It was a weird cold night for a summer month, nothing the capital had experienced in a while. The storm was raging outside, flooding the green terrace, and huge droplets of rain were pouring loudly against the large patio door. Legs hanging from the armrest of the confortable leather armchair, you were casually sitting in the living room, half-listening to the awful weather and to the burning wood softly crackling in the modern fireplace, the dying flames gently warming your skin. You had been reading the same page from your book over and over again for the last twenty minutes or so. The reason behind this sudden monopolizing distraction? Leon sitting on the couch opposite to you, staring at the amber whisky stirring in his crystal glass in silence. Nothing you would have found truly unusual if it hadn’t been for the ice cubes slowly melting in the beverage. Leon always had been a sucker for a nice glass of old Glenfiddich - though he preferred the term “connoisseur”- always having one glass after dinner. He was not the kind of man to let the fancy liquor be wasted. Ice cubes melted in a thousand dollar whisky, definitely a waste. “Are you okay?” You finally dared ask him. “Sure.” He surprisingly emptied the glass in a single mouthful. You weren’t used to seeing him do that. You observed him in silence as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed almost soundlessly. You could tell that the events of Lanshiang were still haunting him, probably filling his mind with bloody atrocities he would tell you about only in a few weeks. But there was something else, something you couldn’t pinpoint in spite of your many tries. And it was worrying you. The last thing you wanted was for Leon to fall in another vicious depression. The last one had already been awful enough.

You closed your book and put it on the black Asian coffee table placed between you and Leon. Soon you approached him and went to stand before him. Your hand cupped his cheek and he looked up at you. He seemed terribly tired and almost sad, guilty even. “What is it? Talk to me.” “Nothing.” Leon grabbed your hand and kissed it delicately. His dry lips lingered on your fingers for a while before he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to straddle his laps. “Did something happen in China? Something you wanna tell me about?” Leon froze and stared at you with an unmissable confusion. “What do you mean?” In addition to the small panic, his tone was almost harsh and angry but you chose not to react to it. “I don’t know. I… You’ve seemed… different since you came back.” You weighed your words to be sure to find the correct ones; ones that would not vex him and make him push you away. Leon was always thin-skinned and hypersensitive after gruelling missions and you had seen enough of the Lanshiang viral outbreak on national television to know that what happened there must have been very afflicting for him. “Different?” He repeated, curious to know what you truly meant. “Distant.” Yes, distant was the word. Since his return from China, Leon had been rejecting your affection on many occasions and had been constantly isolating himself, if not physically then in a bubble you couldn’t manage to penetrate. “I’m not distant.” He shook his head, pretending he did not know what you meant. “I’m just tired. That’s it.”

You stared at him. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the truth was that even if Leon had been back for over two weeks, it was almost as if he was still absent, as if his mind was still in China somehow. He barely smiled at you and when he did, it was nothing like the way he used to smile at you. His kisses were different also, more rare, less tender. And sex … well, sex was non-existent. It was as if everything about Leon was almost deprived of all the affection and the love he used to give you, as if everything that made his feelings for you so beautiful and so pure had been stripped away and replaced by… you didn’t know what exactly but something that felt like your boyfriend was slipping through your fingers like running water. Shouldn’t it have been the contrary after the beautiful confession you had finally told him before leaving? Shouldn’t Leon be even more in love with you? Shouldn’t your couple be more solid now more than ever? Shouldn’t you be both happy to be reunited again? But more importantly, should you doubt his feelings for you right now?

“Have I done something wrong?” Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the worry slowly setting in your eyes. “No.” He quickly said, wrapping his arms around you. “No, sweetheart. You haven’t done anything.” “Then what is it? Why are you almost avoiding me? What’s going on?” You begged and he gulped, his blue eyes looking down but especially away from you. “Nothing you should worry about.” “But I am worried. And I want to know.” He sighed, annoyed, before slightly shifting in his seat to grab the bottle of whisky and pour himself another drink that you took from his hand before he could even bring it to his lips. “I want to know.” You repeated as you slammed the glass on the table. “I want to know why you’re like this. I want to know why you barely acknowledge my presence, why you barely touch me, why you refuse to have sex with me.” “So it’s about sex?” He stared at you right in the eye and you scanned his features, not even able to tell if he was annoyed, weary or just indifferent. Truth was, he looked atrociously blank and it was scaring you. He never looked at you like that. “We can have sex if that’s what you want.” His sudden casualness left you dumbstruck. Speechless, you barely realised Leon’s hands venturing on your naked thighs until they reached the elastic of your underwear and you slapped them away. “What is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t understand him. “Are you shitting me? You’re the one who just mentioned sex.” He replied with a tone similar to yours. Guess you couldn’t read him the same way he couldn’t read you – or was it ‘refused to’? “You don’t want to get it, do you?” He didn’t answer, staring back at you with the same emptiness as before. You shook your head, exhausted. “Fine. When you want to talk, I’ll be in our room.” You stood up and escaped in the helical stairs without adding another word.

Leon didn’t join you that night. He even left the apartment, slamming the door loudly on his way out only to return early in the rainy morning, drenched, stumbling and more especially wasted. Curled up in your bed, you chose to ignore him in spite of the many times he almost tripped in the room, telling yourself how miraculous it was that he had been able to find his way back home safely. After he took his wet clothes off, Leon clumsily lied down on the bed and you felt his grave blue eyes upon your figure. “Please forgive me” You did not know if it was the pain in his voice or simply his words that tied your stomach in a knot. But what you knew was that Leon was not asking forgiveness for what happened earlier tonight. He was asking forgiveness for something else, something he was still hiding from you. And yet, you didn’t dare ask him what it was this time, too terrified that the truth would make you lose Leon for real. Eyes closed, tears forming under your eyelids, you curled yourself into a ball to look for comfort and protection. “Y/N?” You shivered and soon you felt Leon’s cold body spooning you, holding you tight in his strong arms, his nose buried in your hair, his wet hair dripping on you. “Don’t you love me anymore?” The question was like razor blades on your tongue and the short silence that followed it was like a knife in the heart. “Of course I love you.” Leon finally said but despite his sincerity you could tell one thing was missing: warmth. “But …” You continued, persuaded the word was on Leon’s lips and that he was trying to keep it from you. “There’s someone else, isn’t it? Is that what you can’t tell me? That you cheated on me?” He sit up, alarmed. “I didn’t.” His response had been quick and shivering. But there was no anger in it. Leon was not even vexed. “I never will.” He could not see his future without you but he could not see his past without Ada either.

Ada. Her name had been burning his tongue and his heart like a hot poker since China. He had wanted to tell you about her, about what happened with her, ever since his return. But telling you about Ada was admitting his feelings to himself, feelings he knew would break you and your relationship in millions of pieces. Telling you about Ada was admitting he had failed you, that he had failed your love. And he couldn’t do that you as much as he could not let her go. The hold she had on him, in spite of all those years of manipulation and games, was scary yet intoxicating. She had him wrapped around her little finger and he couldn’t seem – or want - to escape her. Ada was a part of his past he couldn’t let go, forever sewed to the thread of his life. And he didn’t know how - or if - he could cut her from it. A long time ago, he thought you would be the one to help him forget about Ada, the one to unstitch her from his heart. You did for a while. You breathed hope and a new love in him, something pure and sincere. In your arms, he dared imagine a bright happy future. He dared imagine the two of you building a home together, growing old together and dying together. He dared imagine you carrying his name and his child – a desire he had never thought he would have. He dared imagine a life with you and without Ada. But now she was back and with her his feelings for her he thought he had buried deep down his chest years ago. And he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to feel… and for who. He was lost.

“Who is she?” Your voice was broken and exhausted as if asking this question had swallowed all your energy. Leon shivered and his silence made turned around to face him. He was looking down at his trembling hands, bracing himself to tell you the truth. “Ada.” He almost chocked on her name and you blocked a sob in your throat that Leon noticed nevertheless. Of course, it was Ada. Who else could it be if not Ada Wong? A tear formed in Leon’s eyes. He never wanted to hurt you and god knew how much he hated seeing you miserable. But you were miserable and you were miserable because of him. And when he saw you quickly blinking to prevent your tears from falling he grabbed your hand with a firmness that meant ‘Don’t go. Don’t leave me.’ But his hand was freezing, such as the flame of your dying love. “But you’re more important. To me, you mean the world, Y/N”

Once upon a time hearing that would have made you cry of happiness and thank the world for giving you a person like Leon. But tonight, nothing he could say could mattered to you. Tonight, you couldn’t believe him. Ada. Your mind had paused on her name the second Leon had said it. And your heart had broken along with it. Ada. How stupid had you been to believe that you could be the one to replace her in Leon’s heart? How naïve had you been to think there was a possibility for Leon to forget her? And at that very moment, you told yourself you should have never opened up to Leon. You should not have trusted him with your heart because here it was, shattered and unfixable. Loving Leon Scott Kennedy was a mistake.

You managed to wriggle your hand out of his grip and got up from the bed, wiping your tears away. You wanted to be alone but you knew it was not in Leon’s intention to abandon you in the darkness of the room. You could tell by the way his guilty blue eyes were observing you in silence, waiting for you to say something, anything. Maybe was he even thinking about jumping from the bed to pull you back in his arms as well. “I want you to leave, please.” You whispered and a tear rolled along Leon’s cheek. That’s not what he hoped to hear. However, he complied and slowly got up from the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” “No. I want you. to leave” You declared, insisting on each segments of the sentence with a firm yet broken tone that stopped Leon in his tracks. You couldn’t be serious? You didn’t mean it? “Y/N” He begged but you ignored him. You couldn’t look at him right now. “You can’t…” He tried to approach you but you brutally stretched out your arm to keep him away from you. “Don’t!” You raised your voice. “Don’t come any closer.” Leon froze, astonished and scared. “I trusted you.” You cried out, refusing to believe that this was happening to you again, refusing to believe that someone was crushing your heart again. “I know, sweetheart. I know … I” But you were not listening. You weren’t even hearing him. You didn't want to. Lost in your thoughts. Drowning in your regrets. Seeing the future you had dared imagined slipping away. All that because of a woman you thought was part of Leon’s past. “I told you I loved you … despite all my fears, despite all my insecurities. I opened up to you because I thought you loved me too and would never ever hurt me.” You cried out, hoping screaming would would make Leon realize he had screwed up, how much he was making you suffer. You hoped screaming would ease the pain. A silly hope. There was no escape from a broken heart, no relief. “And I do! I do love you!” He shouted as loud as you for you to pay attention to him. In vain. But you somehow managed to stop yelling to glare at him with contempt “I was wrong. Trusting you… no loving you was naïve and foolish. Gosh, I wish I had never met you.”

You took an awful delight seeing Leon crumple after hearing those words. But your delight was not enough to fix your heart. You knew that would take months, if not years. But a question was still burning your lips. “Why wasn’t my love enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

You got no answer. You only had a pair of miserable blue eyes staring at you with pain, begging you to stay. But you couldn’t stay. You deserved better than a half a heart, than a man. “It’s Ada or it’s me, Leon. It can’t be both.”

You can’t let go of your past. Your past made you. It built you. You can’t forget it, despite all your tries. Your past means that you have lived. But can you let go of your future? Can you let go of a life you never lived? A life you desired? Apparently you can. But not without pain. Not without one heart or two shattered on the floor among of the pieces of hope you had gathered through the years.

#Leon Kennedy #Leon Scott Kennedy #Leon S Kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fanfic #resident evil #re6 #re6 leon

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shyinadarkplace · 3 years

Text

Bucky are you still there?

Summary: When their Soul bond is broken, the reader unable to bear the pain tries to end it all. The only question is will Bucky make in time to save her? (Please be kind this is my very first time publishing a work)

Pairing: Bucky x reader. *I do not own Bucky Barnes or Sebastian Stan or any of his works*

Word count: 5k (I am sorry I might have gotten carried away)

Back ground info: This is an AU where there are Soulmates. If the connection between soul mates is somehow broken the mates have usually at max four years before everything gets unbearable. Also Tony is alive.

Prompt: Mountains/Forest and the song “Jealous” by Labyrinth. I also included another song “Dark side of me” by Coheed and Cambria. There is also an original poem by me in there. *I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF MY WORK AS A WHOLE OR IN PART, IN ANYWAY, ON ANY PLATFORM. *

Warnings: Proceed with caution. TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of blood, extreme depression, suicidal thought and tendencies. That’s all I can think of, but please if you need help with any of the above mentioned things https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ 1-800-273-8255. Please please reach out.

Title: Bucky are you still there?

Outside a winter storm raged deep in the Taiga, and while you were warm physically inside you felt just like that storm. You felt like the swirling mass of ice and snow, like the -54° C that currently raged outside your home. The added fire that sat blazing in front of you did little to assuage the pain that wracked through your chest. The ring on your hand glinted in the firelight. A familiar wave of heartbreak began crashing through you, even after all this time. When the much too familiar tears fell, another layer of ice layered around your heart. You stared into the fire and let your mind wander where it would, allowing your grief take its course.

Memory of your first meeting:

There was a pull in deepest part of your being. A tingling in the back of your mind. He was close. You could feel him brush across your consciousness like a gentle rain, and you returned the gesture. The room seemed to full of people why did Stark tower feel so crowded today? All you could do was stand frozen where you were running up a metaphorical flag screaming here I am. Your eyes quested searching desperately for someone doing the same, for the one who turned your spark into a firestorm. Suddenly there he was. Your eyes met and suddenly it was like you were falling, but gently, into warm blue eyes, into dark strands of hair and stubbly jawline. In man and muscle. Falling into him. Your feet were moving before you even realized it. Standing face to face with him, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest “Hello, I’m (y/n). I have been waiting for you.) Your voice barely above a whisper almost afraid that if you spoke to loud it would somehow be just a dream. “Hello doll, my name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am so glad you waited.” Thus began your world wind love affair with the Winter Soldier, Bucky, White Wolf. And it was perfect. You two were perfect for each other been through so many of the same things. It was like you had discovered the theory of everything right then and there.

“6 years ago. Can you believe it Benji. Just six years ago Earth was upside down as a planet, but personally I was in heaven. I had met my soul mate.” The big wolf hound/wolf mix just laid his big black head on your lap, offering the silent comfort he always did. “We were married for three years. It was like magic.” A fresh batch of tears ran down your face. It had been 3 excruciating years. 3 years of feeling utterly alone. You had heard what it was like when someone lost their soulmate, it was like they were a zombie. They lost some of their humanity. It was like when a clinically depressed person masked, they looked and sounded fine for the most part but something was just off. Most of the time when one lost their soul mate they died too, unable to carry on without them or unwilling too. So many times you had been tempted to walk out in weather like this and let the Taiga take you. So many times you sat staring into the flames and thought about ending it all. After all there were thousands of ways to die. It had been 6 years since what the world came to call the Endgame. Since something had snapped inside Bucky during that battle and he had vanished. The end of the third long and bitter year was coming up, a person can only take so much.

Memory: You were probably 100 yards away from him when it happened. You could feel something wrong with Bucky, you had to get to him and help him. You got distracted next thing you knew a long thick metal rod had you staked to the ground. You couldn’t move it was embedded too far in the ground behind you. So you fought on like that, on the ground taking blasters and weapons from anything you fought with as the Super serum running through your veins kept you alive, easing the bleeding. You kept fighting hoping somehow you would be able to get up to get to Bucky. Hot tears streamed down your face and a scream ripped savagely from your throat as suddenly the constant connection that you had with Bucky was gone. It was like it had never existed. All you could feel was an iron wall. Utterly impenetrable. You couldn’t tell if it was just the limit of your consciousness or if it was him somehow cutting you off. Or if the worst had happened. Then the world went black.

When Steve found you, you had passed out from blood loss. You were in a coma for a week due to the severity of the wound but you remembered your dreams and they were sweet.

In your dreams it was just after you and Bucky had gotten married. A week to the day actually. You had curled up beside him and asked you could read him something you wrote. He didn’t need to say anything. All of his attention focused on you. A blush crept up your neck as you read what you had written.

“You always looked like trouble but the very best kind.

Even before I knew what you looked like.

You looked like everything I wanted at 16.18.20.26.

You looked like whiskey and smoke before I even knew the taste.

You looked like a hot rod idling at a stop light.

You looked like my addiction before it developed. Like my favorite kind of pain.

I don’t know how but I always just knew, that your eyes where blue. Blue. Such a cool tone. The kind that reminds you glaciers or ice cubes against passion heated skin. Like Blue flames, that seemed to sear clothes off with a glance, and pool fire in my belly. And when you smiled I really knew you were trouble then. But the best kind. The kind I couldn’t live without. The kind that kept me breathing. When you smiled at me the first time, I was yours.

The first time with you…oh god it was like nothing before. I had spent so many hours over the years before I met you, day dreaming about my fingers in your hair, your hands blazing trails of fire against my skin. Your lips crushed against mine…

By the time you placed your hand against my cheek and started kissing me, it was like you had kissed me a thousand times before. By the time your hands caressed my skin in expectant reverence (a shock to my system) it was as though your hands had always known my skin.

When I touched your skin, I was in awe at the newness of the sensation and yet it was so familiar. As I felt like your hands had always known my skin, I felt I had always known yours.

That first time didn’t feel like the first time. It felt like we had been together since the beginning of time. I didn’t need to question anything, because we knew each other so intimately words were not needed.

No need for words because I knew where to kiss you, as if some instinct worked within me. Knew where to touch. Knew how to kiss you wherever my lips landed. Knew when to bite and when to soothe. I knew it because you had always been mine. I was made for you.

No need for words because you knew, knew when to be gentle, when to be firm, knew everything you needed to get me high. With you it was natural as breathing. You brought me back to life the way a smith does a cold forge. With you it was the first time but it felt as though we had been there a thousand, thousand times before.

When I first saw you it all became real, I had already spent years falling in love with the idea of being with you. In the ease and comfort and debauchery of your presence. Suddenly every dream I had ever had about my soul mate blazed into existence.

You looked like my addiction when it formed, like my favorite kind of pain. You looked like someone I had loved a thousand, thousand times. “

You two had been so tangled up in each other it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, the line between him and you blurred. You were in complete bliss. At least while you were sleeping.

Steve was there when you woke up. As soon as you saw him and not Bucky your heart began to fracture. It looked like he had been crying, like he had not been to slept. Everything inside you went cold. Your mind reached out for Bucky, for the comfort of your soulmate and touched…nothing it was like he was dead. But he couldn’t be right? Even though you felt like you were dead, with the only sign that you were alive being the beeping of the monitors in the room, he couldn’t be, right? But that is what it felt like because there was just…nothing like the connection had never been. You tried again and again to push past whatever was stopping you but it was no use because there was nothing for you to grab on to. “(y/n) you have to stop pushing against that wall. It won’t help.” Steve’s voice broke and he took your hands. “It won’t help, he’s gone and…and we don’t know where he is or if he is gonna come back. So you…you have to stop pushing and focus on you right now.” He wiped the tears from your face and gave his best smile, though it did little to ease the pain “You have to be stronger than ever. I know that I am asking a lot. But you’re his best girl and you gotta be ready to kick his ass when he comes back.” All you could muster was a small twitch at the side of your mouth. “If …I was his best girl…why’d he leave me Stevie?” you whispered so softly he could barely hear but damn if it didn’t break his heart.

Then it was dark again. This time there were no comforting dreams. Steve sat there by your bed and let his chest heave as he cried quitely. He cried for a lot of reasons. After a while he stood up, and left the room for the first time in days. He knew he would have to be there for you if you were gonna make it so it was time to get cleaned up and eat something, maybe try to catch some sleep. There was a long road ahead.

It was a whole day later when you woke up again. Steve was sitting in the window of your hospital room. “Hey Stevie… see anything good out there?” He jumped at the sound of your voice and grinned at you. “Hey there sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he said softly coming to sit next you once again. He took your hand and when he squeezed gently, you squeezed back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Honestly? I feel like my insides have been scrubbed with sandpaper. I feel raw and bloody…I feel the most incredible pain and yet completely numb. But…” You paused trying to steady the sick feeling in your gut. You looked directly in Steve’s soft blue eyes and they offered a little comfort in their familiarity. “But…” you continued “I know I need to get out of this hospital bed. I need to regain my strength and take care of myself, because I know he is out there. I have to find him Stevie. Now I need you to tell me everything.” Steve nodded a slight grin coming to his face “I knew there was a reason you were meant for that punk. I will tell you everything but how about you shower, get changed and we get you some food first huh?” You sighed, it bothered you to put off the inevitable but you knew you probably smelled like a trash truck and you were hungry. So you did what Steve asked and you two had lunch together. For a couple hours you both pretended like all was right in the world.

When Steve finally started talking it sounded more like a debriefing and less like his best friend was missing, honestly though it was almost easier that way. Thinking of it like another mission rather than losing your soulmate. “Well, to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot. All I know is that Buck and I were maybe 10 feet apart. Everything was fine. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. I can’t say what happened, one second I looked over and he was fine. He was Bucky. The next he was Winter Soldat. Then Tony snapped and the fighting stopped, but I lost sight of him. I guess once there was no enemy he just took off. We do know that he stole a Wakandan air ship, but he must have damaged enough of the important components to make it untraceable. We don’t know where he is. I can guarantee though that he learned from last time, we won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

You took a deep breath eyes closed. The urge to just give up right then and there was almost overwhelming. You knew there were ways to kill a super soldier. Hell you had come pretty close to it in the past. “Sweetheart, don’t go there. We both know it won’t it won’t work.” Steve’s voice yanked you sharply from the dark thoughts that crept into your mind. You sighed “Yeah, I guess you are right Stevie.” There was nothing either of you could do, except move on. Survive.

After that you and Steve were as close as could be. When you couldn’t sleep you it always seemed like Steve was up to. If you needed comfort he was there. You did everything together. Both of you knew it wasn’t really healthy but at the same time it helped with the healing. You went to therapy and got mental help. You stayed combat ready. You continued blowing minds working with Tony and Shuri on tech. You picked up new hobbies like gardening, and painting and drawing. You did everything you could to keep yourself somewhat distracted from the hollowness that ate at you.

You never cried in front of anyone but Steve, but everyone knew. Even if they couldn’t hear the crying they could hear the music that came from your room. No matter the tune no one knocked when the soft static of your record player was on. You were living in the past, trying to cope the best way you could dancing alone to songs that you and Bucky loved. Listening to your past and his with every pop of the speaker. Sometimes Steve would stand outside your room with his head pressed against the door and just listen. He’d sway along with the music because it brought back memories for him too. Eventually he would feel guilty because he wanted nothing more than to go in and take you in his arms. Kiss you. Comfort you. Part of him believed that Bucky really was gone. Part of him didn’t think he even had a soul mate and he was so fucking lonely. But he never did. If anyone ever noticed, they never said anything.

A year had passed since Bucky left. A year you spent in therapy, spent pretending every god damn day that you didn’t want to just die so the pain would stop, clinging to Steve like a fucking life raft and Steve clung back. You both knew it wasn’t healthy but you needed each other in ways that other people couldn’t understand. Steve was the only other person who really knew Bucky. Who could understand the things that you had went through. Who was just as lonely as you. Steve was your best friend. The day after the one year Painaversary, something incredible happened. Steve finally met his Soulmate. It hit you like a slap in the face from Hulk. You had already lost your Soulmate but now you had to lose your best friend too.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed staring daggers in to the floor. He kept his eyes down when you came out of the bathroom. “Hey there (y/n/n). You wanna tell me why you have what’s the word ‘ghosted’ me for the past week.” His voice was cold and harsh. Not what you expected. Not that you had been expecting Steve to be sitting on your bed when you came out of the shower but the tone he used was the more shocking thing at the moment. “You know why Stevie.” You said moving quietly to get dressed, unable to bring your voice above a whisper. He didn’t look up until he heard a soft sob. You were standing fully clothed in Bucky’s sweats and a worn t-shirt, with your head against Bucky’s dresser. “You know why. Just because Soulmates can’t be unfaithful doesn’t mean this is okay, Stevie.” In his heart he knew you were right but it killed him, gently he picked you up, turned off the lights and tucked you into bed. Then like most every night before he climbed in behind you. His body heat a silent invitation more of a pull like a magnet, one that you couldn’t resist right now. So you snuggled into his arms your back against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered voice rough with emotion, “This doesn’t have to end (y/n/n). “You knew what he was trying to do. “Stevie. It’s okay. We’ve been holding on to each other so tightly because we both were drowning. You can’t make Janey hurt. It’s okay. We will still hang out, but no more late nights like this.” It hurt to say. If it was possible he pulled you closer and held you closer. His heat wrapped you up like another blanket. You sighed. He just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He could feel your tears on his arm as he held you. Why did it feel like his heart was getting shredded? For a while there was silence. “Stevie?” “Yeah sweetheart.” “I miss him so much, this hurts so fucking bad. Why did he leave me? I wish I would have just died there. It would better than this.” You curled up in a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping somehow it would help. Steve sat up, propped all the pillows behind him, picked you up like you were a child and tucked you safely against his chest. The sobs and half screams that tore from your throat brought tears to his eyes. All he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, kiss the top of your head and whisper “I know sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I got ya. We’ll find him I promise. We will make all of this right. I promise.” Eventually there were no more tears to cry and you relaxed. Your voice was hoarse when you whispered “I was to move to the Taiga.” “Alright sweetheart we will make it happen.”

A month later you had everything you needed to move. Tony had help you engineer a sort of mini arc reactor that supplied your home with 100% clean energy, and all of the wood used to build your house and furniture (which admittedly was a lot) was sustainably farmed, all of the pipes that brought water to the house from the lake had all been lain with minimal disruption to the landscape.

Stevie was the one who came along and helped you actually build the little house. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. It was a cozy little place, all the modern amenities but an old time feel. Plus you had your 1945 Jeep and a snowmobile. You had everything you needed.

You and Steve held hands as you stood back admiring the house one last time.

“Looks good sweet heart. You sure you are gonna be okay out here?” His voice was light but the concern was evident by the gentle squeeze he gave your hand.

You heaved a deep sigh “Yeah. Yeah. I think I will be fine. I feel better here and now than I have since he left. I promise I will keep in contact. I mean how could I not according to Tony I have my own satellite.” You returned the squeeze of his hand to reassure him. Gently he pulled you into a great bear of a hug. You were pretty sure if you hadn’t been a super soldier he probably would have broken you, you just laughed and hugged him back. “I want you to know I love you (y/n/n) and hell I’m going to miss you. So please be safe and if you need anything call, okay?”

“I love you too Stevie, I will miss you too. I promise I will call okay. Hey you better get going you got places to be.” He held you for a moment longer, kissed the top of your head and said “Yeah you are probably right. But before I do I have one more thing for you.” He goes over to his jeep and pulls out a box with holes in it. As soon as he sets it down you open it, to be greeted by the most adorable ball cute you had ever seen in your life. You picked it up finding that it was a puppy. “Janey picked him out for you. He is probably going to be huge, but she thought he would be perfect to keep you company out here.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I think this is just what I needed.” You said cuddling the sleeping puppy to your chest. Steve nodded and smiled. You watched as he went and started his jeep and drove away. You felt as close to content as you could with your heart in ribbons.

Present

By the time you snapped back to the present the fire was low. Benji was asleep at your feet and the howling outside had stopped. You decided to grab some coffee, bundle up and go outside to watch the night sky. It was breath taking. The Northern Lights danced and swayed shifting colors as they went. The stars shone brilliantly uninhibited by light pollution. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly started to hum as you watched the night.

No one knew you could sing. All evidence destroyed from your operative days, no one knew except Bucky. Your heart swelled and your eyes closed. You lifted your face toward the sky and started to sing and you thought it was fitting when the words only came to you in Russian, while the one person you wanted to hear was god knows where. Still he was the one you sang for…or perhaps you sang for the memory of him.

“Я завидую дождю. (I envy the rain)

Он падает на вашу кожу (It falls on your skin)

Он ближе, чем мои руки.(It’s closer than my hands)

Я завидую дождю.(I envy the rain)

Я завидую ветру (I envy the wind)

Она течет сквозь твою одежду (it flows through your clothes)

Он ближе, чем твоя тень. (it’s closer than your shadow)

О, я завидую ветру(oh I envy the wind)

Я завидую ночам. (I envy the nights)

Которые я не провожу с тобой (which I can’t spend with you)

Интересно, с кем ты лежишь рядом? (I wonder who you lay next to)

О, я завидую ночам. (oh I envy the nights)

Я завидую этой любви (I envy this love)

Любовь, которая была здесь. (this love that was here)

Осталось поделиться с кем - то еще (left to share with someone else)

О, я завидую этой любви (oh I envy this love)

Потому что я пожелал тебе всего самого лучшего. (Because I wished you all the best)

Все, что может дать этот мир.(all this world can give)

и все же ты меня бросил. (still you left me)

но мне нечего прощать.(but there’s nothing to forgive)

Но я всегда думал, что ты вернешься и скажешь мне, что все, что ты нашел, это ...

(but I always thought you would come back and tell me all you found was…)

Горе и страдания(grief and suffering)

Мне трудно сказать, я завидую этому пути.(its hard for me to say, I envy the way)

Ты счастлива без меня (you are happy without me)”

Your voice broke as the last note sounded. Subconsciously you reached for ghost of the connection you shared with Bucky. For a moment you almost thought you felt something brush back. Tears welled up as you fell to your knees in the snow. You couldn’t take it anymore. A scream of pure anguish ripped through your body.

After a moment you collect yourself and took the knife you always carried from its sheath. You stripped off your coat and laid it on the ground. Rolling up your sleeves you smiled softly thinking that maybe once you were gone in a way you would be with Bucky again.

There was no hesitation as you drove the knife blade into the pulse point of your wrist and slashed up, not waiting to repeat the process to the other side. You lay on your back and gaze up at the sky. In the distance you hear a motor. No it couldn’t be. Felt something brush against your mind. You smiled at the thought of your brain trying to make you fight. You knew it was going to take a bit longer to bleed out since it was so cold. You didn’t mind it would be over soon anyway.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Black started creeping into the edge of your vision. You let out a sigh finally.

“(Y/N/N)!!!!!!!! NOOOOOO (Y/N/N) PLEEAASSEEE!!!”

You could see a blurry figure coming toward you. You knew that voice. It was like they were moving in slow motion and talking underwater. But that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly you heard that stupid motor again. Then something touched your skin. For a moment you felt fireworks. You opened your eyes. “Fuck (y/n/n) please hold on. I am so sorry doll. I’m so sorry, please don’t go. Please.” Bucky’s voice rang in your ears like a call to prayer. “Baby girl please.” His voice was hoarse and choked up. Barely able to speak through the lump in his throat at the sight of you.

You forced your eyes open and took in the sight of him for what would probably be the last time and whispered “Buck?” Then the world went dark as a scream that was like the torture of a thousand hells ripped and tore through the landscape.

In the aftermath a melody played

"In those discouraging days

I always missed the mark When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

Oh, you safe and unexposed A portrait of time repeats This moment now replaced With an empty wish to give I give, I gave

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Now in your absence I wade Through the coursing, lonely, lost And in this tragic dismay I never could believe what I became

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Oh, I couldn't give you What you needed It's all my fault Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me"

"Buck are you still there? I don't want to die."

#@imanuglywombat #@littlefreya #first ever posted fanfic #please be kind #would love feedback #bucky barnes x reader

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blu-archer · 3 years

Text

Cold and Comfort

Sickie: Hybrid Jungkook

Caretaker/s: Taehyung/Hosoek

Snz and comfort based.

Poly pairing.

Alternate universe

Magic and hybrids are a thing, this is technically a universe that I write in often but I’ll probably categorize it differently from my previous Yoonmin based one...

I thought I’d post this since it’s been sitting in my files for a while, it’s probably not great and feels a little unfinished but I’m going through some stuff so it’s probably not going to get better than this... so yeah.. Sorry for any grammatical errors

Word count: 4894

****

Perfect. Because a storm was exactly what he needed right now.

Jungkook sniffled meekly as he burrowed his face further into his scarf, glaring tiredly at the icy rain that flooded the streets just outside the safety of the campus Fine Arts building. His studio class was technically still in session, but after trying and almost completely abolishing the wood block that he needed to carve his image into for his print media class, Jungkook was calling it quits almost two hours early.

His head and throat ached in a way that could only mean one thing, and he really didn’t appreciate the timing.

His printing project was due in just over a week and his lecturer already had it out for him for the amount of times he’d had to skip class or post pone meetings due to clashes with his minor dancing course. He couldn’t exactly help it though. It wasn’t his fault that his schedule tended to overlap a lot.

Jungkook stepped closer to the double doors, huddling behind the one that had remained shut in order to limit the amount of cold wind that entered the building. It was pouring buckets outside. The entire sky was painted a dark charcoal grey, making everything outside seem a lot more depressing and gloomier than what it should have been. It also didn’t help that while Jungkook was quite padded for warmth, his coat and jacket were not waterproof, and he did not think to bring an umbrella.

To be fair it hadn’t been raining when he’d left that morning.

He sighed heavy and rearranged his scarf so that his droopy, black ears managed to just slip under the material, making his neck marginally warmer. Ultimately he could wait for Yugyeom or Jaehyun to finish with their classes, while they didn’t have a car they did store umbrella’s in their lockers by the dance studio’s, but that would be a while still. And he couldn’t call any of his friends or boyfriends because they were all either working or out of town and he didn’t really want to make them come out of their way for a distance that would literally take him thirty minutes to walk through. It would honestly take them longer to get to him than it would for him to get home. He really just needed to stop over thinking the cold and rain and just walk now. He knew he was getting sick anyway, he could already feel the heaviness settling into his body, so a quick walk probably wouldn’t make it that much worse. Hopefully.

Before he talked himself out of it or his lecturer could possibly come and find him hovering in the hallway instead of class, Jungkook stepped out into the brisk and awful weather. He hugged his arms around himself and tried to stick close to the buildings so that he had some form of shelter, but there was nothing that could really shield him from the immediate sheet of icy water that smothered and drown him with each step he took.

So maybe walking hadn’t been the best idea.

His body trembled until it had finally reached a peak point of numbness about halfway back home. He had crossed over the bridge by the highway and was beginning to weave his way through the streets that held all of his favourite cafes and stores, but there was no stopping for anything today. It was like a spell had been cast over the town so that no one even thought to wonder outside. He had only seen a few cars as well, none of them stopping in their journeys – not even slowing down when passing by the soaked bunny hybrid. There was one car in particular that had driven so close to the sidewalk that the puddle it had gone through had shot up high enough to smack straight into his face. If the rain and wind hadn’t been so loud Jungkook was sure he would have been able to hear the water in his shoes squelching with each step.

He tucked his chin deeper into his chest, rubbing a wet hand against his nose as the cold caused a ticklish buzz in his sinuses. He could feel cold rivulets streaming down his ears, leaving him feeling uncomfortable and heavy headed.

He really hated the rain.

Eventually he turned up at home, walking up the three flights of stairs with shaky caution after he’d slipped on the first few before sighing at the relief of being sheltered and indoors when he finally reached the corridor that held their shared apartment. He sniffled and shook as he fumbled for his keys, taking far longer than usual to find the right one for the door. His neighbour had passed him with a look of sympathy as she carried on to her apartment, seemingly coming back from fetching her small child from school. He accidentally dropped them when he tried to slip a key into the lock. He could feel his neighbours gaze one final time before she disappeared, in which he then promptly sneezed deeply when he bent to retrieve the keys from the floor. After a few more shaky attempts he managed to get the door open, taking off his soaked shoes and bulky layers as soon as the door was shut and locked behind him, almost immediately sneezing twice into his fist from the warmer change of temperature.

Jungkook let out a wet sniffle and groaned as he shook his head to try getting rid of some of the water that had soaked into his ears and hair. It was mostly unsuccessful. There was now a puddle of water in front of the door where he had been standing and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care about the trail he was leaving as he went down the passage to steal clothes from Tae.

He took his time in the shower, just standing under the hot water while his skin turned red and he burned the chill out of his skin. It was only when he started to feel light headed from the heat that he decided to get out, drying quickly to avoid the cold before changing into the softest baggiest clothes that Tae owned – it also happened to be Jungkook’s comfort clothes and had been since he and Tae had first started dating in high school. There was something about the scent and feeling of the material that made Jungkook feel completely and entirely safe. Perhaps it was because Taehyung had had the set of clothes for so long, and Jungkook couldn’t even begin to associate the items with anything besides his childhood best friend.

He scrubbed his hair with a towel, not feeling up to the effort of blow drying it, before grabbing the fluffy green blanket from Hobi’s wardrobe to drape around his shoulders. He needed something from both of his boyfriends, needing something with their scents. Hoseok had claimed that the blanket had magical properties purely because his mother had given it to him when he had studying overseas for a year, and it had kept him from most of his homesick thoughts or general dips in his mood. And therefore, it had quickly become a shared item for whenever one of their household felt down or off, there had even been a time when Jungkook had stolen and nested with it before Hoseok had moved in with them. It had been mildly embarrassing at the time, but if anything, it had helped ease any concerns Hoseok had had when he had first decided to try a relationship with two people – no longer fearing if Jungkook had just been tolerating him for the sake of Tae.

The bunny got to work on heating up some of the left-over pizza from the night before, grabbing a carton of banana milk from the fridge before finding his phone that had surprisingly fared well, despite how wet it had gotten from his walk.

Skipping past the group chat that he had with Tae and Hobi to avoid any unnecessary concerns, since he didn’t need Tae to know he had walked through a storm when the witch wasn’t anywhere close to check on him, he shot a brief text to Taehyung asking how the little workshop that Namjoon had taken him to for the day was going, then switched to Hoseok’s contact.

To: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Hobi, left studio early. Wasn’t feeling the mood… When are you coming home? It’s cold.

From: ~♥Sunshine☼~

One more class, then solo session with a senior. How’d you get home? Gyeomie ask Jackson to drop you?

Jungkook cleared his throat gently, taking his newly heated food from the microwave so that he could sit in the lounge and sprawl out on the couch. He looked at his phone again to see that Tae had answered him as well.

To: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Walked. Yugyeom was still in class.

From: ~♥Tae♥~

Learning so much! I met this really cool person that owns a crystal shop, so I can restock on things while I’m here. Might be home a bit later than planned but will definitely be back tonight! Love you!! Give Hoseok kisses for me when you get home!

From: ~♥Sunshine☼~

Bun…

Jungkook quickly sent a ‘stay safe’ to Tae before he tossed his phone aside so he could focus on nibbling his food with little interest while he played some anime softly on the TV. He snuggled down in the cushions to get comfortable and emptied his mind of any stressors that had been plaguing him.

He doesn’t quite remember at what point he had fallen asleep, he hadn’t done much besides lay around or make coffee since returning from class, so he hadn’t expected to be able to slip so easily into resting, but he wasn’t complaining about it. He’d been stressing enough over his upcoming assignments that sleep was a blessing that he hadn’t been getting enough of right now.

Jungkook rolled over on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as he did, hoping that he would just go back to sleep. He rubbed his face into the blanket, scrunching up his nose as something tickled at his sinuses. He sniffed and tried to ignore it, but when he realised that it wasn’t going to subside he pushed himself up right. Squinting in confusion as he realised what he had thought was still natural light was in fact fluorescent, the TV had been turned off as well. He frowned with a sniff. He was waking up enough to realise that it had gotten dark outside and that meant that he probably wasn’t home alone anymore. Which… would make sense.

It took a few moments for him to get to his feet. His head had spun for a bit before he chanced putting any effort into being vertical, but he did manage to stand and stretch – not waiting a second longer before grabbing the blanket once more and wrapping it around his shoulders. Making his way to the kitchen to find water, his nose twinged once more and he snapped forward sharply with a throaty “Huhe’TSHhh”, merely tightening his grip on that blanket before he ducked down again.

‘Heh’ehhhshheww … Heh’eehhhTCHsheww!’

“Bless you, Kookie.”

Jungkook sniffled and blinked blurrily into the kitchen space, only noticing that Hoseok had been seated at the table going over what he could only assume had to do with the dancers students.

“Thangks.”

Hoseok’s brows were furrowed with concern as the bunny hybrid just made his way towards the cupboard to drag out a glass before taking it to the fridge to find cold water. Jungkook wanted to cringe at how wet his sniffling had now become but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“How you feeling?” Hobi asked, concerned but toned down enough for the bunny to know that he disapproved of his actions. The elder glanced away briefly to continue checking his exam schedule, not looking at Jungkook as he said, “The walk must have really gotten to you.”

“mmm…” Jungkook gulped down his water before he discarded the glass and moved so that he was behind his boyfriend, rubbing his face gently into the crook of Hobi’s neck even if the dancers body language had first implied that he was mildly annoyed. “I’ve been feeling off all day. But it’s worse now, my head hurts.”

That caught Hobi’s attention. He twisted in his seat so that he could hold his hand to Jungkook’s face. “You’ve been sick all day? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you even go to class?”

Jungkook shrugged. “If I said something then Tae wouldn’t have wanted to go to that workshop thing, or you would have tried to get the day off, even though you’ve been trying to work at the school as much as possible for your students right now. And anyway, I was hoping that I would be able to get some work done. I didn’t think it would rain.”

“Oh god, you walked in that while sick?” Hoseok pulled the hybrid into his arms so that his head rested on Jungkook’s shoulder. “My poor bunny, I swear you’re going to shave years off of my life with how easily you just disregard your health. Have you at least taken something?”

Jungkook grimaced. Hoseok let out a heavy sigh before getting to his feet and tugging the hybrid back to the couch that he had fallen asleep on earlier. Because of course Jungkook wouldn’t have taken something. Of course he would have waited until someone came home, and would have not bothered to mention anything about how he had felt before then – always quick to not be any form of immediate inconvenience.

“We don’t have much of anything left from last time… I’ll call Tae to pick something up, hopefully somewhere is still open.” Hoseok left Jungkook after covering him with the blanket, moving into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a box of allergy meds and a thermometer. “I know it’s not much, but if you want to take something now…”

Jungkook didn’t complain, merely dry swallowed two pills before allowing Hobi to slip the thermometer under his tongue. He pulled the blanket tighter around him as he coughed – lips drawn tightly together to avoid spitting out the device before it was ready. Hoseok took a seat beside him, running a hand up and down the length of Jungkook’s spine. He peered at the hybrid with a heavy, concerned gaze as he waited patiently for the small alerting beep – pulling the stick from Jungkook’s mouth when he did finally hear it. His concern didn’t ebb.

“You’re a little warm… but that’s not particularly surprising.” Hobi murmuring, watching Jungkook’s lips fall into a soft pout and his ears droop further into his face. Hobi peeled some of the blanket back, having to tug it a bit when the bunny gripped tighter, and half pulled Jungkook into his lap so that they were both covered by the fluffy green warmth.

He sent a somewhat lengthy text to Taehyung with stern instructions before he let his arms become a frame around the larger boy that had pushed himself into his chest. A wet nose pressed to his neck.

Hoseok sighed but didn’t put forth any humorous complaints like he usually would to lighten the mood, he had a feeling as much as Jungkook would probably try laugh at them, he wouldn’t necessarily appreciate them. So, he merely embraced the other, kissing at his hair line as the bunny drifted off.

….

Hoseok had been catching up on some series when Jungkook had woken up, wanting to shift positions so that he could lie length ways on the couch and use Hoseok as a pillow while he slept – which had maybe lasted an hour before he had begun to cough and rub at his nose insistently.

“Do you want to sneeze maybe?” Hobi asked gently as he ran a hand over Jungkook’s ears. “It might help…”

Jungkook whined and sniffled into his boyfriends lap. It had to have been over three hours now since he had taken the allergy meds and he was a mess. The itchy feeling wasn’t leaving him and he wanted to sleep, or at the very least be able to focus on whatever series Hobi had put on. He rubbed his nose into Hobi’s stomach with very little progress. Hoseok took to slowly running his hand up and down the length of Jungkook’s left ear, hoping to send some sort of content through the hybrid.

It was mostly working, Jungkook sighed and relaxed his tense body. While he was still feeling the active buzz in his sinuses, a familiar warmth flooded his system and he was left uncurling his tightly pulled in body as the fuzzy sensations started to travel down his spine.

Hobi smiled. He easily forgot how soft and submissive Jungkook could be when he wasn’t feeling well, it wasn’t something that Hoseok particularly enjoyed to see, since the hybrid was usually sick or in pain, but it wasn’t all bad. Especially from the caring side of things. It wasn’t terrible to have Jungkook cling to him or Tae and seek general comfort and closeness more than being keen on isolating like he himself usually did. Or at least he usually tried to. Living with Taehyung and Jungkook had taught him that there was no running from cuddles.

Jungkook gave small pleased ‘hums’ as Hobi gently began to rub at the soft ears, moving in massaging circles from the bottom all the way up. When he reached the base, Jungkook subconsciously raised his head to push his ear harder into Hobi’s fingers. His body giving a light tremble as Hoseok laughed and focused his attention on where Jungkook’s ears met his hair, enjoying the soft sounds that escaped the bunny.

“Is it good?” Hobi asked teasingly when he noticed Jungkook’s foot twitching into a tapping motion on the couch. He wondered what it felt like. He had always been too shy to ask Jungkook about what he went through each time he or Tae played with his ears or tail, despite being in a relationship with the bunny for almost 2 years now and seeing that what Jungkook felt was clearly one of pleasure, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask the details. As a human he’d probably never understand it properly, and he didn’t want to seem jealous of it or something – because he wasn’t. He was just curious, and he’d much rather be able to be the giver if it meant seeing his bunny writhe and moan at his touch.

He’d have to remember to ask Jimin, maybe he could give a better explanation and pointers than what the internet did.

Jungkook moaned as Hobi found a particular spot right at the base of his ear, the bunny had been leaning into it so much that he was holding himself almost upright with his arms propped under him, hovering over Hobi’s lap now. His mouth hung open a bit with heavy breaths and glazed eyes peered through dark lashes. Hoseok rubbed harder, watching as Jungkook sniffled persistently and shivered against him.

“You okay still?”

“mmmhh, it’s good…jus-just ti-ticklish..” he sniffled wetly. “I’b gonna sne-hih-sneeze.”

Well this was new, but not entirely unfamiliar territory. Taking pity on him, Hobi started to rub at the other ear as well. A deep bubble of heat burst through him as he watched Jungkook’s expression switch from pleased to downright euphoric. His breath stuttering and hitching as Hoseok become more determined in his activity. Jungkook was so beautiful, even when he looked like a mess. It was a hot mess, one that Hoseok had been a participant of creating. It didn’t take much longer before Jungkook was crumpling into his chest, tears brimming in his eyes.

Heh’ ehHHESHEW! ISHHHEW’uh Heh’EHHTCH’ahh… Hih..snf… Hiehh’TCHshhiew!

“Bless you.” Hoseok could feel the spray settling on the visible skin of his collar bone. “Are you done?”

Jungkook sniffled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh that forced him into a bout of soft coughs. “It still.. ugh.”

“Tickles? Should I fetch you tissues? We can coax them out if you want…”

Jungkook didn’t answer verbally, just sunk his face back into Hoseok’s neck while his hands clung to the elders shirt with an iron grip. That was as much an answer as he was going to get.

They remained in that position, both having fallen asleep at some point, until Taehyung came sneaking into the house later that night. The witch winced as he accidentally bumped into the trellis of plants by the door that Jimin had gifted him a year ago when he was shaking water droplets from his hair. The sound resonating through the silent apartment with more volume than he would have liked. His wince returned as he realised that Hoseok was blinking wide, blurry eyes through the darkness in his direction, the only source of light being the T.V. that his boyfriends must have forgotten to turn off.

“Sorry, it’s just me.” He reassured softly before flipping on the passage light so that Hoseok could see him better without bothering Jungkook too much. Tae lifted up a large, damp paper bag that hadn’t been able to fit in his backpack with the other materials he’d bought throughout the day. “I got some stuff. Most of the places had closed already but I found this one pharmacy that had just closed and convinced one of the workers that it was extremely vital that I got medication and stuff, so he let me inside for a bit. Praise that guy. Much thanks was given. A saint amongst people.”

Hobi let out a soft chuckle at Taehyung as shuffled closer to set a gentle kiss against his temple before leaning down and brushing the hair back from Jungkook’s face to press a kiss too his forehead as well.

The witches brows drew together at the slight heat that radiated off of the hybrid. He ran his hand through the bunnies hair, giving a gentle scratch at his ears as he watched Jungkook cuddle closer to Hoseok in his sleep. The blanket that covered them slipped down a little and Taehyung was quick to tuck it back under Jungkook’s chin.

“Is he feverish? This came on so quickly, he seemed fine earlier.”

Hobi yawned widely, shifting in his seat but not making a move to push Jungkook off. “I thought so too, but he told me that he woke up feeling sick. He also left class early and walked through that storm to get home.” He sighed and Taehyung’s brows raised with surprise, his mouth slightly ajar as if he wanted to say something but no words came out. “I think we can be grateful he isn’t worse. I gave him some allergy med’s since its mostly his sinuses that were bothering him and that’s all we had, but they didn’t last very long. He was miserable for a while before he got to sleep. I don’t think he ate much today either…”

“…Should we give him something now?”

Hobi bit at his lip. He knew hybrids could tolerate certain things a bit better than humans could, but he still didn’t like the idea of giving the bunny medication on an empty stomach. And eating at this hour… it must be at least close to eleven pm now.

“ If we feed him now he is probably just going to get nauseous. I don’t want him to feel worse..”

Tae nodded in agreement, still carding his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “We can make a nice breakfast tomorrow and give it to him then. I got some new herbs and crystals, so I’ll make him some new charms as well. For you too.” Hoseok smiled at Taehyungs concern. “You still have classes tomorrow right? Yoongi is still out of town so I don’t really have to go into work. Namjoon is probably sick of me hovering anyway. Between him breaking jars and me doing the wrong measurements and methods, Yoongi may just bury us alive when he gets back.” He chuckled nervously, but Hobi knew that Tae had mixed feelings of disappointment and worry when it came to his work. “I just mean, I’ll be able to stay with him.”

“I know.” Hobi replied, staring at Tae’s downward gaze. “I think we’ll both appreciate the effort, Tae. I’ll try get home early, but it will probably be just the two of you in the morning. Just email his lecturers.”

“Of course…” Tae pressed another kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, then to Hoseok’s lips before the elder broke into another yawn. “I’ll pack this stuff away quickly then we can head to bed, just give me a second.”

The witch disappeared, not trusting himself to try to levitate anything like Yoongi had taught him -he was still only getting it right a third of the time. So it took a bit longer than he planned, but he eventually packed away the food and goods that he’d gotten and left his charm materials and medication on the table to be dealt with in the morning. He re-entered the dim lounge to see Hoseok gently shaking Jungkook to a somewhat state of consciousness so that the elder could get up.

When Jungkook let out a deep whine Tae moved beside them and slipped his arms under Jungkook’s legs and back to lift him up. It was a bit of a struggle at first, since the angle was weird, but he bumped the bunny up in his arms to get a better grip and then carefully carried him to their room down the hall. Hoseok was a bit slow to follow, taking a moment to stretch and get life in his legs before he joined them. Jungkook buried his face into Tae’s shoulder as the lights in the passage forced him further into the land of the living.

“Tae…?” Jungkook sniffed, then pushed harder against Taehyungs body. “Eh’hii’ehSHHieww. Eh’iishieww!... … ‘m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Bun. Bless you.” Tae murmured. His shirt was still a little damp from the rain when he had to climb the stairs anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, Hobi is bringing your blanket so you can stay warm and comfortable.”

Jungkook nodded before sneezing again. Behind him, Tae could hear Hobi’s soft blessing and sloppy, half asleep movements as he used furniture and the wall to no doubt help him walk. Taehyung forced himself not to grimace at the delayed thought of how both of his boyfriends had kept him in the dark about things for most of the day. Hoseok had probably been exhausted from his classes and yet he had chosen not to bother Tae with any concerns until it was late, and Jungkook had acted like nothing had been wrong at all when he’d spoken to him earlier…

He kicked open the bedroom door with a shake of his head, walking into the dark room with perhaps a bit too much force. He was being dumb. This wasn’t necessarily about him, and he knew that. It’s not what he was supposed to be focusing on.

He set the hybrid down on their bed, opening up the duvet and encouraging him with little pats to roll towards the center, before he went and grabbed the ‘magical’ blanket from Hobi who was still only halfway up the passage – sparing an embarrassing chuckle as Tae picked him up as well – so that he could give it to the bunny before he started to look for it.

“You should change.” He said once he had set Hobi down and left him to handle settling Jungkook with gentle pats. He tossed some sweatpants and a T-shirt at Hoseok, before grabbing his own pajama’s to change into. “How was school?”

Tae listened to Hoseok tiredly ramble on about his students and the upcoming exam preparations while they both got dressed for the night. Overall, it sounded particularly stressful, and some of Hoseok’s kids weren’t the most hardworking – even if they had the talent to be amazing. Hobi more often than not would break down in spiralling rants about how they needed to work harder or at the very least pay attention in class. Honestly, Taehyung couldn’t fathom who wouldn’t be interested in having Hoseok teach them. The man was one of the most passionate people he had ever met, it was actually what had drawn him to the human. Of course now there many other traits that he loved, but Hoseok’s passion would always be his first.

He added a brief skim of his daily events, knowing that even if Hoseok was trying his best to pay attention, the elder needed to sleep more than he needed an immediate recap. Tae merely ended his tales by saying that it was ‘Knowledgeable and fun’ before he ruffled Hobi’s hair and jumped onto the bed, cuddling up to Jungkook’s sleeping figure. He imitated the bunnies deep snores and earned muffled laughter from the elder as he joined them on the other side of the bed.

“Good night TaeTae.”

“Sleep well, Hoseok.” Tae murmured. The lump in his chest from early slowly melting away as sleep dragged him into darkness.

#bts sickfic #bts fanfic #taekookseok #bunny hybrid jungkook #witch taehyung #dance teacher hoseok #sick!jungkook #sneeze #colds #alternate universe #ended badly #sorry

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dakotacrisis · 4 years

Text

Stay

I had feelings and they got out of hand.

Spoilers for the ML New York special under the cut!

Read on AO3

---

Today had been terrible. Marinette tucked Chat Noir’s ring into her purse. She had been angry and upset about what happened in Paris but she had never expected Chat to give up his miraculous. Maybe she had been too harsh.

What was she supposed to do without him? He was her partner. He had fought by her side for so long now and though they may have butt heads on occasion that never meant she wanted him gone. She loved her kitty. He was a great partner and a good friend. Marinette couldn’t bear the idea of choosing someone else as her partner. No one else deserved to wear this ring.

As if the city knew she was depressed the rain had been coming down hard as she meandered back to the hotel in a daze. Her clothes were soaked and her hair was plastered to her head. She couldn’t even find the energy to care about the cold she’d probably get from being out in this weather. What did any of it matter? There were so many other things for her to be worried and depressed about.

She came upon the hotel and looked up to see Adrien walking up the sidewalk from the other direction. He looked about as miserable as her. Not even seeing Adrien could lift her spirits right now.

The students inside the lobby of the hotel flooded out asking where they had been and if they were okay. Questions Marinette didn’t have the energy to give. She climbed onto the first step when she heard a car pull up along the side of the road. Strange since the city was on lockdown due to the supervillain.

The car door opened on its own and Adrien’s father’s voice barked out from a screen demanding Adrien get in. “I should have never listened to your friend. This city is much too dangerous.”

That hit something in Marinette. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault! Everything had been her fault! The villain getting away, Chat Noir abandoning her, and now Adrien was being forced home. She gripped the railing of the stairs as she looked back at Adrien.

“I have to go. I’m sorry, Marinette. You fought so hard for me to be here.” He gave her a waning smile, “I wouldn’t have minded being stuck here a little longer with a friend like you.”

“Wait!” She shouted. He looked back at her with a small sigh.

“Marinette, I know you went to all this trouble to get me here but--”

“Don’t go. Please, don’t go.” She was already too emotional but now it was flooding out like a tsunami. She already lost Chat Noir tonight. She couldn’t bear losing Adrien too. “You have to stay! You have to because I--I--”

“You what?” He took a step away from the car.

“I like you.” Marinette was surprised by how easily the words came out, “I care about you so much and not just in a friendly way. I’ve been trying to ignore it or move past it this entire trip but I can’t. You mean too much to me.”

He didn’t say anything. The only sound was the patter of the rain on the pavement and Marinette’s own labored breathing as she tried fruitlessly to keep the tears at bay.

“Today…” She looked down the barren streets of the city, “A lot has happened today and none of it good. But if there was ever any moment that wasn’t bad it was when you were there. So I am asking you not just as your friend but as a girl that cares about you more than anything...don’t go. Come inside and we’ll dry off and watch movies with our friends. We’ll go sightseeing. We’ll eat hot dogs and walk through Central Park and just be normal teenagers on a school trip. Don’t you want that too?”

She hadn’t noticed but she had been walking towards him the entire time she had been talking. She was right next to him in the pouring rain. Tears slid down her face but they were lost in the mix of the rain that soaked her. “Please stay. If not for me then for yourself. You deserve to be here, everyone wants you here...I want you here.”

“Adrien!” His father’s voice shouted from the car’s screen, “Get in the car!”

Marinette held out her hand towards him. “Come inside, please.”

“Normal sounds great.” He closed the car door behind him.

She couldn’t help it and hugged him tight. He didn’t hesitate to return it lifting her slightly off her feet as he crushed her against him, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She knew that she needed this hug but apparently Adrien had as well. She waited until he set her back down on her feet to let go.

There were still questions left unanswered but at the moment it didn’t matter. Adrien was staying and Marinette had finally been honest with herself. She could say that Adrien was just a friend a million times but it could never make it true. Even if they never ended up together he would always be more than a friend in her eyes. She could be a friend to him if that’s all he ever wanted from her but her feelings were her own and she wouldn’t deny them any longer.

They walked inside and everyone got dried off and changed into pajamas before congregating in the meeting room turned movie theatre. When Marinette came out of the bathroom Plagg and Chat Noir’s ring were missing. Marinette started to have an anxiety attack before Tikki explained that Plagg knew Chat Noir was nearby and went to return the ring to him. Marinette wasn’t sure how safe that was but had to believe that Chat Noir would take the miraculous back. If she saw him again she was going to give him the biggest hug in the world.

Marinette and Adrien were the last ones to leave their rooms and met in the hallway on their way to join the others. Oh boy...

“Marinette,” Adrien stopped her before they got to the elevator, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I wanted to say thank you for convincing me to stay. It had been a bad day like you said and I was ready to fly back home and forget everything. A part of me still thinks that maybe I should have but you made me realize that there is more for me to do here. Hopefully something good.”

“You deserve to be here. One bad day shouldn’t ruin what is supposed to be a fun trip.”

“It’s more than that. I…” He sighed heavily, “There’s a lot going on in my head right now and I really needed a friend.”

There was still the ever present question hanging above them. The one neither wanted to ask. Adrien started to reach towards the elevator button.

“Adrien,” Marinette pulled his hand away, “I want to talk about what happened outside.”

“Is it about what you said? That you like me as more than a friend?”

“Yeah.” Marinette squeezed her arms to her chest as if that could protect her from anything Adrien would say. “I know that it came out of nowhere and that you’re with Kagami but in the moment I needed to say something and I said that and it was the truth. It is the truth. I do like you and I have for a long time now. Basically since the day we met. I tried to tell you multiple times before but never could. Then Kagami came along and you seemed to really like her so I wanted to let go of my crush on you so I didn’t end up getting hurt and could be happy for you.”

“Marinette--”

As soon as she started speaking she couldn’t stop. All the thoughts she had been keeping in coming out now in an endless torrent of jumbled emotions. “That’s why I’ve been all jumpy during this trip cause I thought I was doing the right thing by avoiding you and telling myself you were just a friend. But you’re not. You mean so much more to me than just a friend and I know I’ve made things awkward between us but I needed to say it. You needed to hear it. I know I shouldn’t expect you to return my feelings since you are with Kagami now and if you say that you only see me as a friend then that is perfectly okay. I am more than happy to be your friend cause you are an amazing person and I love that you’re in my life. I love you. What isn’t there to love? So if you can confirm that I am just a friend to you then--”

“Marinette!” Adrien shook her by the shoulders and she clammed up. She had said way too much.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“That actually explains a lot.” Adrien chuckled. “Marinette,” He spoke softly, “Marinette, can you look at me when I say this? Please?”

With a great deal of effort she opened her eyes to look at Adrien. He gave her a small smile that made her already racing heart skip a beat.

“I um…I’m not sure where to start.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He opened and closed his mouth looking for the right words. “You…” He started than thought better of it and began again. “You’re amazing, Marinette. You are. You’re an amazing girl and a wonderful friend.”

“But?”

“No but.” He shook his head. “You are. You’ve always been there for me. You do so much to include me in things even when I can’t leave my house. You help me whenever I ask or whenever you know that I need it. You are always there with a smile and comforting word when my world is at its bleakest.”

“But?”

“Stop trying to insert a but into this conversation.” Adrien smirked and the lopsided grin made something in Marinette ache. “Listen to what I’m saying. You are a great person and I know that I have a learning curve when it comes to friends and relationships still. You say I’m with Kagami and maybe I am. I honestly don’t know. I mean we have definitely flirted but outside of almost kissing her once we haven’t really talked about it. I feel like I should like her like I know she likes me. She’s a great girl and we have a lot in common and we get along great. But…”

“We don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“Yes, we do. I think we’ve been long overdue for this conversation.” He leaned against the elevator door. “I feel like I should be with Kagami because that’s what seems to be what’s expected I guess. She expects it. I expect it. Everyone else that knows us seems to expect us to date so I thought that was that. A nice girl that I get along with that I also find attractive. That’s what a relationship is supposed to be, isn’t it? At least that’s what I always thought. The more time I think about it though the more stale it sounds. When I look into the future I can see two paths before me. One is on this path with Kagami. It’s well paved and neat with little checkmarks telling me how far I’ve gotten and I can even see where it ends in the distance complete with a big old ‘Finished’ banner. The other path though is covered in fog so thick I would get lost immediately. It seems obvious which one I should take, right? My whole life rolled out in front of me with a clear goal and an easy road but the fog keeps calling to me. It promises so much more. Maybe something terrible is waiting for me in that fog but the fear of getting hurt is nothing compared to the fear that if I step onto that first path that I’ll never be able to get off it.”

“You don’t want to do something because it’s what everyone else expects of you.” Marinette leaned against the door next to him, “You want agency over your life. You want the choice to be with Kagami or to not be or whatever it is you want to be your own. No one else’s.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. But the problem now is that I don’t know if me choosing to be with Kagami is because it is what I want or because I’m still being influenced by everyone else. It’s all just so confusing.”

“The problems and questions will still be there tomorrow no matter what. You can’t avoid it but I say that we’ve had enough excitement for one day and that all these issues can at least be delayed until we get back to Paris. That sound agreeable?”

“You still deserve an answer though. You confessed how you felt and I--”

“Adrien,” Marinette took his hand, “You’ll give me answer but only after you get your own head in order. Don’t go worrying about my heart.”

“But--”

“I can wait a few days or however long it takes for you to understand what it is you truly want.” She assured him, “Remember that it is what you want. You need to be selfish in your thinking. Don’t worry about how anyone else may feel about your decision. It’s not theirs, it’s yours. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.” Marinette took a deep breath to center herself once more. “But you also have to promise me that you’ll leave all those troubling thoughts and worries tucked away for after the trip.”

“Only if you promise to do the same.” He booped her nose, “I understand better now that you overthink to the extreme.”

“We’re both over-thinkers.” Marinette laughed lightly, “Maybe two over-thinkers cancel each other out. We’re not thinking ourselves into knots right now.”

“I think we got it out of our systems for the time being.” He twisted the ring around his finger. “Thanks again for convincing me to stay. You helped me out more than you could possibly know.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her smile was quickly replaced with a cringe, “You don’t think your dad is going to be super mad that you didn’t get in the car, do you?”

“I say that is a problem to deal with when we get back Paris. Right?”

“It’s Future Adrien’s problem now.” Marinette nodded. “Get your dad a souvenir and I’m sure that’ll smooth everything over.”

The pair laughed and then promptly fell as the elevator doors opened up next to them and they went tumbling to the ground. Aeon and Jess were standing in the elevator staring down at them.

“Everyone was wondering what was taking you two so long. We wanna start the movie.” Jess said.

“Sorry,” They stood up, bonking heads in the process. “We were talking.”

“About what?” Aeon looked at them expectantly.

“Aeon, boundaries,” Jess pulled her back. “You done talking?”

“Yeah.” Adrien and Marinette shared a knowing look. “For now at least.”

“Cool.” Jess hit the button for the appropriate floor. “Hopefully the rest of tonight can be normal.”

Normal. Marinette glanced at Adrien and blushed when she saw he was already looking at her. Normal sounds great.

#GET THESE KIDS SOME COMMUNICATION!#a much needed talk #sliding doors of all kinds are their enemy #things got kinda angsty #i hurt myself writing this #you all will suffer with me!#miraculous ladybug #ml new york #ml spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #writing

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