#I'd like to initiate contact with some more people but am anxious about doing so
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The Last Three Years (Sherlock x Reader) - Chapter 7
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Chapter 7: Anybody Else
"How could I be so dumb? I'd say, 'run,' to anybody else. [It's] easy when it's anybody else...so tell me why I stay?" -Faouzia (Anybody Else)
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Watson!Reader
Word Count: 3.9k+ (hopefully this makes up for the delay!)
Warnings: IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of miscarriage, description of abusive/toxic relationship, non-graphic violence
Summary: Like everyone, you had some skeletons in your closet. You never thought your past would catch up with you. . .until it did. As you sit with Elora in the park, you begin to reminisce over a moment of tragedy during the faintest time of hope.
Author's Note: To preface this chapter...it's a doozy. Not going to sugarcoat it, I started writing this chapter during a really difficult time in my life and just used it as a sounding board. I've since had a change in lifestyle and am in a much better place right now, but I want to provide a warning because the character of Xavier can be a very triggering one for many readers.
“So you were pregnant?” Elora’s face contorted into a wide-eyed frown. Her left eyebrow lifted ever-so-slightly in disbelief. Her shaking hands crossed across her chest.
You felt your head bobbing up and down in silent nod. It was really the first time you were telling another soul about this secret. Well, one of many secrets. Your gaze darted about the flat, an anxious tick that allowed you to avoid making eye contact with your previous flat-mate. After what had happened, you couldn’t think about fully coming to terms with it. It only made you feel more and more like a failure each time.
“What happened?” You hated that she asked that question. It was obvious Elora already knew the answer. She just wanted to hear you say it out loud. She wanted you to break.
“I, um,” you started. “I. . .” Your breath caught in your throat. Sweat coated your palms as you began to lose your nerve. Anxiety took over your every thought and you could feel the panic course through your veins. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”
The coat fell from your grasp onto the floor as you got up and bolted out the door. Elora’s voice came from behind you, calling your name. But you couldn’t go back. You just needed to clear your head.
You needed air.
You needed to be able to breathe.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The truth was that you had thought you understood love years ago, back when you belonged to another. Strange as it sounded, you were a lone traveller in a distant land. The random sneers and dirty looks from passersby as you attempted to navigate through Beantown felt like daggers. A few months into your degree, you had met him: Xavier. It was clear he was studying political science. His words were always so calming. Any time you were afraid, he would be there to make things right again. When you had finally agreed to go out on a date with him, it had started almost too perfectly. He would take you to dinner, give you small gifts to show his appreciation. It was difficult at times, though, as the paparazzi seemed to find you both wherever you went in the city.
Nevertheless, he had given you a home, a place to call your own in an ever-foreign country. He promised that no matter where you went, he would always find you and bring you back home to him. The world of fame and fortune that you had initially been able to hide from became a constant in your life. You had grown accustomed to the flashbulbs as his name became more common on the ballots. Even when he had proposed, it was sudden at a political rival’s charity hall. The simple wedding of your dreams vanished almost overnight. Instead, you were met with the lush luxuries of an expensive reception filled with people you had never even met before.
Even the attire felt like too...much. You had to admit the lace backing of the design was gorgeous in its own right, but it wasn’t your mother’s dress. It wasn’t personal enough for you. There weren’t any personalised place cards with a specific flower attached for each of the guests. Nobody had a truly sappy and embarrassing speech about you or Xavier at the reception that would instantly make you feel like you were a part of his family. Ice sculptures littered the surrounding area, dripping onto the floor and blocking any hope of partygoers seeing the arrangements you had wanted. Hell, your own brother and sister weren’t even invited!
When you initially approached Xavier about inviting your family, he would become defensive. He would explain how he felt uncomfortable having them there. “They wouldn’t truly understand how to interact with the guests, darling,” he coaxed.
When you had argued against the calmly-delivered insult, Xavier had merely waved his hand. “I know, sweetheart, but this isn’t just about us. If we don’t invite Senator Jackson, I can kiss the election goodbye. We can always have another party just for them. Close friends and family. Doesn’t that sound better?”
Yet, you still couldn’t complain. It was the life almost every young person dreamt about, complete with your own personal prince. You would have felt ridiculous to turn him down after everything he had done for you. It was almost as if you had owed him even the smallest things to be happy. So you did what he wanted: you altered your appearance, limited your interactions with others, and fully became part of his social circle. She would smile for the cameras, waving when necessary. The fake persona would become a mask. You were no longer the same person you were when you arrived.
One point, early on in your relationship with Xavier, you had managed to speak with John during his service. He had been pleasantly surprised to hear that you were engaged, even more so that you had gotten married.
“Isn’t it a bit sudden?” he had asked. “Haven’t you just met him?”
“I suppose,” you relented. “But he really has been amazing. I barely needed to lift a finger– all the planning was done in a few weeks. Even the tiny salad forks were chosen by someone else. And you should have seen where we went on-”
“Yeah, that’s all well and good, Pip,” John cut you off with an old childhood nickname. “You have the fancy objects and the high-end homes. But are you…happy?”
You had hesitated at that moment, but you weren’t sure why. “Of course.” In hindsight, you should have immediately said yes. You were practically living in paradise, why couldn’t you say yes? Something had been holding you back even then. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
There was a brief period of silent static as John paused to reply. “I’m not sure. But as your big brother, you know it’s my job to make sure you’re happy. I don’t want to hear you’re happy and find out later that you were lying to be accepted. Otherwise I’ll need to make a special trip back to teach my new brother-in-law a lesson neither of us will forget.”
“John!”
“I’m only saying that you really need to think about-”
Astonished, you had hung up the phone in anger. John had called a few more times in a row afterwards, which caused Xavier to frown at the phone. “Is he calling again?”
You gave a short nod. “Uh, yes,” you tutted out.
He gave a short hum in response. You had known him long enough to know what certain sounds meant coming from his mouth. “I thought you just spoke with him.”
“I did.”
“ Oh. ”
Concerned, you frowned at your fiance. “What’s the matter?”
Another noncommittal noise left his lips. “It’s nothing, darling, I’m sure. It just seems a bit clingy of John. . .doesn’t it?”
To say you were surprised would have been an understatement. You just sat there in slight shock. “It wasn’t clingy of him to do,” you started. “We just had an argument-”
“Maybe he should be more considerate when he calls,” Xavier cut you off. “Surely he doesn’t expect you to pick up all the time. Especially after he got you upset. You need time to decompress.”
As brief and heated as the conversation was, the brotherly advice from John was enough to make you start questioning things. It was true there were days that you had begun to miss the person you once were. What had happened to the person who always spoke up for themselves, not giving a damn when someone tried to change your actions? Where did the early morning teacups get replaced by soap-streaked coffee mugs and rainy days? You would think back to the carefree days at your family home in the country, where you were truly happy regardless of the circumstances. You, John, and Harry didn’t have the fanciest of childhoods, but you made do. Your parents did what they could to provide for the three of you, but there were days the strain became too much. To make matters “easier,” Harry had decided to move out as soon as possible. John followed soon after, carrying on your father’s legacy within the military as you were left behind to be the baby yet again.
Having nowhere else to go, you stayed with your parents for as long as possible. When they eventually passed on, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't stay in one place for too long. Instead, you would find someone who would give you what you needed. They would be your missing half and travel with you on incredible adventures.
At first, Xavier had given you a chance to make good on that vow. He took you to a variety of beautiful and exotic locations, though it was mostly for him to improve his publicity. Looking back, there were so many warning signs you had missed. If you could have gone back, you wished you could shake some sense into your past self and tell them there was someone out there, but you were too late to save them.
With Xavier, it wasn’t until after the wedding that you realised your first mistake was saying hello. As time went on, his trust with you began to fade. He had started to trap you in a house with nowhere to escape. Your mind became a prison filled with the lies he would continue to scream at you:
“You’re not good enough.”
“You are nothing but a worthless piece of garbage.”
"You only have me to trust... Remember that right?"
“The world is dangerous,” he would say. “You're always going to be with me. I won't ever hurt you and I’ll make sure no one else does, either." Again and again and again he would say this; the comforting phrase would escape his lips every time after hurting you. It was an endless cycle, one you couldn't ever escape from. You had been stranded- both literally and figuratively- far from everything you used to know and completely powerless against it all.
The first scare you ever had with Xavier had left you praying for a miracle. It had been a late night out at the library -- the only place you were able to find true peace. The smell of the leatherbound novels and the crisp pages against your fingertips fueled your curiosity as you turned to the next page. It would be your escape from the harsh reality you were forced to live with every day. You had been so entranced by the paperback world that you failed to realise the time. By the time you had arrived back at your shared home, he was waiting. . .and fuming.
He never believed you when you assured him it was only the library. “What’s the use of going to a library?” he would exclaim. “You were somewhere else. Just tell me where and we won’t have any problems. The last thing my campaign needs is rumours about a cheating spouse.”
Then you heard the snap.
All you wanted was a way out. You didn’t want to be exposed to your husband’s cruelty any longer. John had been involved in the war at the time with no way to reach him. You had had no other friends, a consequence of marrying so soon after university and Xavier cutting off any other outside communications. He didn’t want to risk losing you. He had staked his claim to you right from the start. You had been his and his alone.
You had been trapped in the darkness with any hope for light at all snuffed out the instant it sparked.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When you slipped out the door that morning, you had the worst feeling crawling up your spine. It wasn’t until you had crossed over to North Gower Street that you noticed the black vehicle creeping up behind you. You tried your best to double back, praying that you would confuse the driver. Surely, it was a coincidence.
“There are no such things as coincidences,” Sherlock’s voice snapped in your mind. “The universe is hardly ever that lazy. Pay attention to your surroundings. Be aware .”
As you slipped onto a busy street, you heard the car door open and slam. That was your sign. Someone was most definitely following you. The paparazzi tailing you had been one thing- you could distinguish their random shutter clicks and deliberate steps into the shadows. But this? This was different. The pattern was much calmer, the footfalls of this mysterious stranger were getting closer. Even when you quickened your pace, you could still hear them behind.
You knew you had to think fast. Glancing around, you noticed a street leading into an abandoned alley corner. The fire escape ladder had been drawn to the ground, providing a potential escape route if push came to shove. Your hand slipped into your jacket pocket to fondle the handle of the gun. If things got too out of hand, you could easily attack and claim self-defence. What else could you do? You were pregnant, for God’s sake! Yet, something in you refrained from pulling the trigger. No, you tried to console yourself. Don’t let it escalate. Just be mindful and keep yourself safe.
The footsteps drew closer to your hiding place and suddenly ceased. Your breath caught in your throat. You knew you needed to be careful when it came to celebrating your good fortune preemptively.
That’s when you heard the voice.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Xavier’s vaguely familiar accent dripped with an artificial sweetness. “You can come out now. You know there’s no use fighting it anymore. I’ve got you.”
Your knees threatened to give out as you pressed your back against the brick exterior. Not him, a voice in the back of your mind screamed. This can’t be happening.
“You have no one else to protect you,” he continued. “No brother, no police. Not even your precious detective and his adorable little sister.” You heard his footsteps draw nearer. “Let me look at you. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I know every single thing that you do. Honey, I own you. That includes that little bundle of joy.”
You knew he was right. After your time together, there was nothing you could do that would truly take Xavier by surprise. He knew you too well. You allowed a quick prayer of strength to be muttered under your breath before your hand gripped onto the gun and you sprung from your hiding spot. “Why are you following me?” you called out, the barrel of the weapon steadily aimed at his temple.
Xavier appeared unaffected. He took a step forward and tilted his head to the side. “The holiday’s over,” he replied in a casual tone. “It’s time to come home.”
“This is my home,” you readjusted the gun in your hand as you spoke. “I don’t have a home with you. . .not anymore. . .not ever.”
“It’s cute you think that, doll. But we both know the only home you have is with me. Anything else is just a temporary arrangement.”
“Go to Hell , Xavier.”
You tried to fire the gun, but he was too quick. Xavier stepped forward and bent your wrist back, away from the trigger – your only form of protection. The weapon slipped from your grip and directly into his other palm. He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval as he slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“Hell has me on the waitlist darling, I assure you,” he replied, reaching for your wrist again. “Now, get in the car. We’re going to get your things.”
You let out a growl and swung your knee up to slam into his groyne. Xavier hissed in pain and responded by tossing you to the ground. “That was a bad move, sweetheart,” he cooed. “One that’s going to cost you.”
Just as you felt the first blow, another series of footsteps joined you in the alley. The voice of Greg Lestrade calling out your name flooded your body with relief. “Is everythin’ alright?”
Xavier sniffed and dusted off his coat as he stepped away from you. “Everything’s fine, officer. We’re simply two old friends catching up.” His eyes narrowed at you on the ground, a warning- no, a promise- of what would occur if you said otherwise.
“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Greg crossed over and helped to guide you back to a standing position. “Care to introduce us, Sergeant Watson?” He didn’t look pleased to see this man in front of his employee; something you were relieved to hear. Greg held his hand out. “Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Mister. . .”
Almost as if by magic, Xavier slid into his political alter-ego with ease. “Xavier Managold, sir.”
“Ah, Mr. Managold,” Greg clarified. “Now, uh, how do yuh know Sargeant Watson here?”
“University-” you started, but was interrupted by Xavier saying, “we were married.”
This news took your boss by surprise. “Married?” Greg’s eyes widened as he overcame the initial shock. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning that you were married before. That would have been something I’d remember. Especially seeing as you and-”
In a panic, you cut him off. “We’ve been separated for years now, Greg.”
You were greeted with a sharp tug onto your lower forearm, bringing you into Xavier’s chest. He was attempting to stake his claim. . .this time rather publicly. “Ah, but that is ancient history,” he said in a light tone. “Couldn’t let you be the one that got away, now could I? You just need to be able to give me a second chance.”
“Some way to ask for one,” your boss muttered under his breath.
Xavier cleared his throat. “Right, well, we’d best be off if we’re going to catch the train.” His grip on your arm tightened as he attempted to pull you off toward the car.
“Well, I don’t think that’s possible,” Greg’s facial expression echoed the same surprise as you felt in combination with the anxiety. “I need Sargent Watson’s assistance with a case. The Hartsinger murders. The bloody thing is driving us wild. We could use another set of eyes.”
You drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course,” you replied, snatching the opportunity to grab your gun from Xavier’s jacket pocket. It was an action that didn’t go unseen by your boss.
Greg motioned behind him. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you. The car is just parked in the lot.”
“You see, Detective Inspector, we need to go back home,” Xavier chimed in. “We really can’t miss this flight.”
“I’m sure you can find another,” Greg replied, not being serious. “Maybe with one less ticket.”
As you tried to make your way over to Greg, Xavier let out a low growl and promptly tugged you back into his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Greg tried to reason with him. “How about we let the officer go, mate? There’s no need to escalate the situation.”
You just shook your head at the elder officer. “Greg,” you managed to choke out. “Greg, it’s fine. Just- just go.” You weren’t a stranger to this kind of conflict. Whenever Xavier needed anything from you, he would force you to stay by his side. The less leeway you had to squirm away, the chances for you to agree to his demands increased. You had caved in more times than you liked to admit. Caving into him had always been easy, like a five-year-old trying to resist a cupcake as it rested on the table. Now that you had been free of that pain- of his control- you realised that there were things in life other than people protecting you. You learned how to be her own protector.
Being freed from Xavier’s clutches, you had learned how to protect yourself. Sherlock had helped to unearth that part of you again, the fighter that never left. He reminded you that you had always had the strength within you. It was simply just buried deep down after allowing the fear to be in control for so long. Sure, it may have resulted in him taking a beating of his own for shooting a handgun at three in the morning. Yet it had helped you feel more free; you had felt more alive now than ever before. In the four years you had known him, the consulting detective had brought you back- the person you wanted to be and always were deep down. Sherlock had taken your world of bland greys and white and transformed it into an explosion of colour. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the vast amount of blues, reds, and greens that greeted you everywhere you looked. You never wanted to lose it again, even after his death. . .and you certainly weren’t going to let it happen now.
You bent over, using your own body weight to send Xavier flying into the pavement below. He groaned in pain as he landed, but you could see the fire returning into his eyes almost instantly. This time, you wouldn’t be afraid. You would never be afraid of him again.
That’s when he grabbed your leg and you felt the sharp pain. As your face met the concrete beneath you, you gasped and felt a warm liquid as it dripped down your lips. You wanted to fight him; truly, you did. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to retaliate with lodging a bullet directly into his prefrontal cortex. But you were sent back in time. You felt the fear as it crept its way throughout your body. You could no longer move. Fight back, Sherlock’s voice urged in your mind. Don’t be an idiot and stand there. Fight back .
But you couldn’t. Not for yourself, not even for your unborn child. The panic took over your body and you simply stared up at the clouds as Xavier began his attack. You didn’t feel the contact as his fist collided with your face. You couldn’t even hear the slander he was screaming in your ears. The only thing you could do was whisper tearful pleas. You begged him not to hurt or lay a finger on you. You couldn’t lose what you had. It was all you had left of him, of Sherlock. But you were helpless all over again. Maybe this is my repentance, you thought as your eyes squeezed shut, ready to accept your fate. If I suffer long enough, I’ll see him again. If that’s what it takes. . .
As you felt the weight being lifted off of you, you cracked open your eyes to see Greg pull Xavier off. “Xavier Managold,” he said, pulling your attacker’s arms behind his back, “you are under arrest for aggravated assault of a constable in the execution of their duty. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Xavier glared down at you for a moment before his facial features began to soften. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had done; he was proud of it. You saw the glint in his eye as Lestrade clicked on a pair of handcuffs and began to drag him away. “This isn’t the end, sweetheart,” Xavier called over his shoulder, voice echoing within your mind. “We’ll be seeing each other again very, very soon. I can assure you that.”
======================
Author's Note: Dang. Yes, I wrote this and I'm still in shock of it. Psychotic characters are so much fun to write! We still have one more chapter of angst and pain before we start to lighten up- God knows we need it now. For those curious about Sherlock himself, you shouldn't need to wait too much longer for something more Holmes-centric. I have a few ideas in the works ;)
I'm so sorry that this chapter is super late. Between life, uni, going to see Top Gun: Maverick, and writing an upcoming multi-part series (to be posted this week!!), my schedule has been hell. We're officially all the way through my pre-written chapters from before the creation of this account. It took me a bit of time to wrap up this chaos, especially after needing to update the pronouns in most of the work. I caught a few errors recently in stuff I've already posted that I have yet to adjust, but if you ever spot something that isn't quite right...let me know (I don't bite)!
As usual, don't forget to leave a like, comment, and a reblog to let me know you want to see more of this story! Until next week, my little sparks!
SH Taglist: @ohchoices, @severuined @southernhippie10198
#the last three years: our long game#tlty sherlock#frostandflamesfanfic#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock#benedict cumberbatch#angst#im so sorry for this pain#gender neutral reader#sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes x reader#sherlock imagine#sherlock x reader#watson!reader#afab reader#sherlock#sherlock bbc#sherlock fanfiction#sherlock fanfic
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Hi! Glad I found your tumblr! I'm a big Cleon shipper since I saw 'em in the original😍 I'd like to send you these hearts for Cleon. ❤, ♡ , ღ, 💕, 💘 , 💙 , 💜 , 💛 , 💓 I hope you don't mind if it's a lot. I can't help it😂
No worries! I love doing these because it keeps my creative juices flowing (that’s gross; sorry)
Since your ask includes most of the prompt list, I’ll just do them all! Maybe that will make up for the fact that I’m almost a month late to this request.
(+ this was written at 4 am and hasn’t been proofread, so there’s probably a lot of mistakes or things that don’t make sense. sorry! but I rarely proofread any of my posts anyway LOL)
❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private?
[This is in terms of physical affection]
Claire is for both. Although Leon is only subtly affectionate in public (holding hands, etc.), he does get way more touchy in private. Claire is still way more affectionate overall though.
♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?
Claire is more romantic openly, and Leon is more romantic secretly. Though, he is working on being more open about his love for her. He’s trying his best 🥺
❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?
Leon! Again, he’s trying his best to openly show his love for her. Claire doesn’t think it’s necessary because she fully knows how much he loves her, but still loves grand romantic gestures. She knows that he’s a rather closed-off person, so it means a lot to her that he’s genuinely working on showing affection openly.
ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?
Both are equally likely! Claire does it a bit more and does it subconsciously, but Leon does do it a few times when he feels anxious and wary of their surroundings or in a crowd.
💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?
Neither. Although Claire is openly romantic, she respects Leon’s preference to keep their love lives rather private.
💘: who developed a crush on the other first?
Canonically, Claire did. It all started post-Raccoon at a motel when she was helping Leon clean his bullet wound. Leon was still recovering from the emotional trauma about Ada’s death, so he was oblivious to her feelings.
In No-Zombie/Bioterrorism AU, Leon did. Claire came to visit Chris one day, and as soon as he laid his eyes on her, he developed a crush.
💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?
Both! Leon effortlessly gets her the best presents, which leads to Claire wanting to do the same thing for him. Meanwhile, Leon overthinks wanting to top the present he got for her most recently. Claire says she likes anything he gets her, while Leon never tells her what he wants. They’ve sometimes had to resort to taking the other person on a vacation.
💓: who initiates most physical contact?
Claire for non-sexual, while it’s an even split for sexual.
💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?
Claire! She sends him motivational texts all the time. Although, Leon does send her heart emojis very frequently. And he means every single one he sends.
💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibilities?
Neither. Although, Moira and Sherry have convinced Claire to look it up once.
Moira and Sherry definitely do though. Rarely for themselves. They’ve done possibly a hundred tarot readings with each other abouy Leon and Claire’s relationship.
💙: who is more protective?
(from a previous ask)
Leon acts more on his jealousy and protectiveness. From glaring at anyone staring at Claire with bedroom eyes, to punching a guy for trying to get handsy with Claire despite her protests. It’s not like Claire can’t take care of it herself, it’s just that Leon’s instincts when it comes to protecting Claire are quicker. He does let her have some fun beating up perverts sometimes, though. He also makes sure to let people know that Claire’s taken, especially by wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. Claire thinks he looks cute when he’s jealous.
Claire acts more subtly on her jealousy. For instance, she makes sure to let people know that they’re together by wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her chest against his. Or, when she’s feeling really petty, she loudly asks Leon questions only couples will primarily have, such as “When should we go and meet your parents?”, “Where should we have our wedding?”, etc.
In terms of danger, both of them are very protective, but Leon is a very large man, so he can shield her easily.
💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?
Claire gets sick more often, but takes care of Leon better in the rare cases he’s ill. She’s the maternal type, so she’s very good at taking care of someone. Not that Leon can’t take care of her, though. She’s just a little better.
💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?
This is a little different from a previous ask (& more angsty)
Leon starts breaking down again (most likely after a mission)
He’s clearly given up on everything
Claire desperately tries to talk to him because she genuinely loves him
Leon, struggling with his emotions, kind of snaps at her, asking why she’s pitying him/why she’s still here
Claire finally says: “It’s because I love you”
💛: who believes in soulmates?
Neither. They do think that they’re a perfect match though. But, they believe they’re perfect for each other because of the effort they put into their relationship, rather than fate/destiny.
Sherry totally believes they’re soulmates. Moira too.
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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (2/?)
A/n: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Read Part 1
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Chapter 2: Getting Along
There was so much you still had to learn about mice and Salamandrian men; minus the mice part. You were surprised by V'gha's chattiness. Why, it was no sooner when you two had taken a seat that he began asking about your culture, interests, as well as to what you did for occupation. It seemed that he was fascinated by how both you and Zeta-7 lived; being that you were the only human he's officially met, he wanted answers for the questions which his home world's databases could not answer. You couldn't fool him when it came to your acquaintance with Rick as his neighbor, but you played it off by saying that he was the local mad scientist that everyone knew of but gave little importance to; it hurts you to say this, for he was worthy of the highest praise, with his extraordinary mind and his winsome personality, but V'gha was more familiar with Zeta-7 then you had known; it seemed Rick had a bigger reputation then you had thought, and the chemist hoped that he could make his acquaintance once all this was over; how he could be interested after all your initial rudeness was inspiring and in its own right.
You found his straightforward nature refreshing, albeit at times coming across as nosy, but first impressions at times gave allowances for this; to discover that despite how one may come across in passing, is not always the sincerest, true version of oneself. There was no malice or ill intent in his inquiries or reactions to your answers, and while you had redirected many of his questions, he didn't seem to mind; whatever you shared gave him delight. Over and over you wondered why Rick couldn't have been seated at this table, for this creature could have shared all that fascinated him with a fellow scientist and they could have debated in peace over theories and experiments; for your part, you would have sat there raptly, admiring the like-minded individuals who might or might not have been jealous at one point or another over understandings, discoveries and what not. As you two talked, you scanned the garden with your eyes, and searched for Rick, but couldn't spot his bowl cut anywhere; you trusted that he'd show up one way or another, but you hoped for sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you two discussed how fascinating the planet and its inhabitants were while making remarks on the flavor of the food "My soup is thin and looks as though I stuck my foot in it, but it tastes like honey." you commented as you set your spoon back down. "I'm not sure whether to drink it or to jar it."
"Neither. It's what your utensils will go in once you are done eating."
"Oh, I probably shouldn't have tasted it then."
"No harm will be done." he chuckled, which exposed his fine, sharp rows of teeth. "I've taken the liberty of scanning it to make sure."
If Zeta-7 had been here, he might've tried the utensil cleaner on purpose in the good ole' way of tasting the chemical when he should've tested it. Yet, since he wasn't here, you were ready to admit that you found V'gha a bit more intriguing then you had anticipated. When you had initially boarded the ship and met him upon entering a cabin, you were determined to despise him for you didn't want to appear weak in front of strangers, but it melted away as he decided to apologize once you two had reached your assigned table. Sure, you weren't really into reptiles, but whether it was how his skin glistened in the starlight, his intellect, or how his bright oval eyes seemed to bore into you as you spoke, it was somewhat flattering; you thought only Rick could make you feel this way; hopefully, it was his simple charm and newfound politeness, and nothing more. To ease the anxious thoughts which were building in your chest, you glanced at the empty third chair. "Do you think Noathamas is in trouble?"
"I'm not sure." he confessed in all seriousness. "After all, he did violate one of their laws which was not to eat any of the guests. I don't know what came over him, but hopefully, whatever consequences come his way, will simply be disciplinary action and nothing more."
"Yeah, that would be good."
Though, you blamed the fact that the knight had returned from battle not long ago, and might've been triggered by something done or said; you hoped he'd survive. To distract yourself further, you stabbed your synthesized meal. It was a mass of congealed worm meal, and you pretended to eat it, but you weren't really hungry; it was supposed to be calcium-rich if you were correct. "So," you wondered as you pushed away your dish. "where you're from, do you do stuff like this?"
"You mean attend formal gatherings where I'm not allowed to have fun? Or meet total strangers that I'd rather study then stand next to? Hmm, more often than I'd like. It does have its perks. I'm highly respected in my field and get paid well, but I don't get out much unless it's work-related. A majority of my free time is used to study journals or to sleep. Occasionally both."
"That's a bummer. Not the studying part, because that can be fun if it's a topic you're passionate about, but you strike me as someone who enjoys good company. I'm surprised that at this point you haven't mentioned hanging out with friends or family."
The pause in conversation didn't seem long enough for your liking, but neither was it short enough to keep its natural flow. There seemed to be a distant, far off look, as though he were staring through you, at someone else; longing; one which would've gone without notice if you hadn't been used to reading people who were like Rick; intelligent, curious, lonely people who were less like normal men, but were no less mortal, and not quite a machine. When he started, you hadn't expected the familiarity in his words. "I consider my lab as my friend and my lab samples as my family. It's where I am most of the time."
Before you met Rick, would he have said the same? Almost, for his inventions and things bought, made, or salvaged held meaning; he was very sentimental but desperate to cling on to good feelings; maybe, these two weren't so different. "I used to feel the same way about the characters I wrote," you started, wondering if this was a good idea. Yet, now that you've shared this much, you couldn't stop now. "and the stories which I typed for others consumption and entertainment. It's as though you spill and pour a bit of yourself into these dreams and passions. As a famous singer once sang, 'You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.'"
"What a way to put it. I think I might've heard the song you quoted some years ago. I believe my satellites picked up the transmission."
You smiled at that. You had heard the stories, read the theories, and admired man's will of wanting to make contact with the unknown; if only they would have known what they were getting themselves into. It wasn't all bad, and could very much be as Star Trek would put it, 'To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before!' And to watch an intellectual man like Zeta-7 to almost wax poetic about the marvels and atrocities which were in the depths of space, and listening to how an alien admired what was in another quadrant of space, why it warmed your heart. "That's neat. It's funny," you admitted a bit quietly at first, then you raised your eyes towards him. "I'm not used to these kinds of events, but I gotta admit that it hasn't been so bad. You've made an otherwise tiresome task a joyful one."
You had long since noticed that his face was very stiff when it came to expressing emotions, but he still managed a smile that was no less winning. And unlike most of the evening there was an unaccountable silence. Till now, it seemed nothing could stop the Salamandrian from talking, but whatever had come over him went away as a danceable tune began to play, and you felt a subtle shift as he stood and wondered if you cared to dance. Keeping in mind the strict rules of this planet, you raised a brow, but he seemed to know what to do. "Come, I'll show you how it is done."
With a nod, you followed him all the while keeping a fair distance. Beneath your feet, you felt the bumpy path through your thin flats and relished the strong gust of wind that whipped your hair about. If you had closed your eyes, you could almost imagine yourself back home in Rick's backyard, remembering one of the first times you urged him to dance under the moonlit night, admiring how he colored when you realized it was a first for him; reluctant he stood on the patio unsure of what to do, but you smiled at him and told him there wasn't much to it because it was simply more romantic. Oh, how your heart ached for those days, but there wasn't much time to continue reminiscing, for you were dragged back to reality by the candor of the chemist's voice. "We're here."
On a raised platform was a honeycomb pattern of tiles, which illuminated when stepped on. V'gha took his place and stood very still until a see-through chamber enclosed him in. There was no panic or surprise, which led you to believe that he had done this before. In like manner, you followed his lead and took your place a few feet away and stood still until a chamber rose to encapsulate you in it. You felt a tightness in your chest, and took deep breaths in order not to panic, but a new tune began to play and it struck you with a sense of deja vu.
A glance at the stage revealed the appearance of a tall, veiled figure surrounded by six guards. You pressed a hand over your heart, feeling it quicken as he swiftly, but gently passed his fingers over a golden orbed plant which had very stiff leaves, and when it detected movement, it vibrated, and this, in turn, caused it to emanate a sound a little more delicate than that of a kalimba. Its melody seeped into your bones, buzzing against your skin, and in it you felt a sense of belonging and warmth to a moment. Along with the veiled figure was the being made of pure energy, whose voice added body to the already beautiful tune; flowers bloomed at high frequencies, and thread-thin roots spread along the stage and dance floor; illuminating at rhythmic intervals.
You imagined yourself dancing with Zeta-7, on a plane of nothingness; submerged in a viscous sweetness then rising to the surface; floating, falling, losing yourself in a funny world, with every intrinsic, idiosyncratic, and inviting thing in your path; laced fingers, shared breaths, surrounded by his warmth, secure in the nearness of him, and sure in his grasp; he was incandescently happy, and he was as much yourself as you were of him. "C-can you hear me princess?" he whispered.
You could hear him, but you couldn't answer. Lips ghosted over yours, whispering phrases you thought you recognized; haunting you; trying to tell you something of the utmost importance, but the song ceased, and the figure was gone; breaking the trance you hadn't known you'd been under. When the chamber returned from whence it had come, you followed V'gha back to the table; confused, embarrassed, lost, but with a sense of knowing. You thought to yourself that the veiled figure could've been Rick, for who else could evoke such feelings except for Rick; that or it truly was a tune which was out of this world. "You're quite a dancer." he commented, which interrupted your thoughts.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything."
Taking a sip of his murky beverage, he explained. "There is no physical dancing done on this planet, except to those exclusively done by royalty and that of the Milleannos guardians. What the rest of us did, including yourself, was dance with our soul. None of us can really discern what the other is dancing to, which makes it appropriate and is in line with the laws, but while the others might not have understood what you were about, I could tell from the bliss which you exhibited on your face when we came back this way. It made me conclude you had enjoyed yourself. Call it instinct, but I believe this is the happiest you've been all evening."
Again, he wasn't wrong. Yet, how could you not know? It's possible that Zeta-7 didn't know it would take place either. You remembered how you felt, how real and tangible it seemed, but if that was the case, were you really dancing with Rick, or the idea of him? Did it matter?
The music now, albeit stimulating, was light and nearly silent as though someone was lightly humming. It was not as provoking as the tune earlier had been, but perhaps the experience you had was exclusive to your own feelings. "I did enjoy myself," you replied. "did you?"
"It was fascinating," he admitted smoothly. "but I much more prefer the view of all twenty-nine of this planet's moons. I cannot study the intangible thought of a feeling."
"If it helps, I much would've preferred regular dancing, but the experience...it's… it's one I wouldn't mind trying again."
One you wouldn't mind trying again, but only with Rick.
Tbc
#Doofus Rick#Doofus Rick x reader#rick sanchez x reader#Rick Sanchez#multi chapter#j19ζ7#rick j19z7#rick j19zeta7#j19zeta7#j19z7#My writing#My works#my fanfiction#Fanfiction#rick and morty fanfiction#Rnm#Rick and morty#Rnm fanfic
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Serious real life but vague HoD subject matter:
When I was little I used to see the hat man.
I'm convinced that whatever it is is tied to domestic abuse.
For those who are convinced paranormal things aren't real it might be a subconscious thing that children living in unsafe environments create instinctively due to their trained memory, but the point being that both me and my brother saw the exact same thing and it fits the vast majority of other hat man sightings. We both saw it in the process of, or having succeeded in, entering our own bedrooms. We never saw it take an interest in the other unless we were both in the same room in which it only happened once. It didn't move when you looked at it but sooner or later you would be unable to look at it and it would move after that. Was too tall for the ceiling but stood up anyways. Too long arms. No eye glow but I could tell that it did have eyes. We never had it physically make contact. My brother said he felt it move once. It was more active around him more and more persistent around me. I'd see it more but it'd do more things when he saw it. It rippled sometimes. You were safe if no part of your body was exposed to the open air and you were completely under the blanket. (Which is true for 99% of these things) But once you covered yourself completely you were at the mercy if you uncovered your head for it to have moved and be literally anywhere including right fucking above you. Dim nightlights MADE IT WORSE. I'd be scared of other things if forced to not have one at all, but the hat man only showed up under dim nightlight conditions specifically. I thought it showed up once when I only had a little blue LED light ring at one point. I still have nightmares about only having the little blue LED laser ring. It made a tiny little radius of dim blue light on the ceiling.
Also, somewhat off topic but the origin of the Red Spot we know today was the direct result of me scavenging christmas bulbs from outside, fishing them out of frozen ponds after teens had vandalized neighborhood light displays after my nightlight bulb burned out and having to use a bright red one. He spawned from a red-Christmas-bulb-induced nightmare. I think I've explained that a few times. I'll have nightmares about using a green bulb so it's not like the red one was even the worst one. I for one am glad I got my dobie out of it.
Also, dim nightlights would result in baseboard heaters making the curtains above them move which in turn would cast very specific shadows and that exact type of shadow still absolutely terrifies me to this day. I can close my eyes and see them exactly as they were when I was crying in my gotdang Pikachu pajamas and clinging to my penguin and getting so riled up that I puked a little bit. Back then my bed was an old waterbed frame from who knows where that was half broken but the mattress was a regular mattress and soft but the boards would creak loudly if you shifted on it. That was when I started clawing off the wallpaper. I remember this vividly. It was around that time that we were forced to get new curtains because the ones initially looked like they had demonic faces on them in the dim nightlight. When they moved with the rising heat it looked like the faces shifted.
There were specific walls in that room I absolutely refused to have a bed up against because I was convinced that something would come through the wall and get me. I was also forced to have a mirror that was taller than I was. I have no clue why. I never used it and I hated it and it was shoved in the gap between my closet door and my dresser so I would see it as little throughout the day as possible but at night you had to pass it to go to the bathroom so I wouldn't. This is burned into my brain. I repressed a lot of more serious shit, but the night politics of whatever the hell I thought was in that house are easily recalled.
People are like "lmao you're pretending in order to be more like Andy to be on-brand" but lmao no. This shit was and still is my life and I avoid it whenever possible and try to romanticize it in fiction with self deprecating "I wish the spectres would kill me" jokes to avoid facing the fact that it had lasting psychological damage. It's one of my triggers. I sleep with the lights on permanently. I only sleep with limited lights if I'm forced to in order to make a friend sleep more comfortably. I used to put up with it so I wouldn't be bullied and I was forced to growing up and that why this mess happened.
So yeah. I saw a shadow entity in real life.
I'm bringing it up now because I can't sleep because for some reason it's just in my head and won't go away.
I wish I could think about spectres right now instead. They are cute and made of pixels.
In the HoD universe do you think it'd be another way the Master visits Earth or do you think it'd be a different entity? Part of me likes the idea that there's more shadow forces messing with Earth than just the spectres. Maybe the Master has some competition. Who knows.
Also on that note, is the Master some sort of unique entity or are there others of the species.
It's 4AM and I don't have any sleeping medicine left and I'm running out of iced tea so that's an mmmmmmm issue tomorrow.
Just talk about HoD please. Sorry to vent I just started thinking about baseboard heater curtain nightlight shadows this morning because the new place will have that type of heater and even though the light will stay on I'm still being anxious about it. The original appartment we had had that type of heater. I had no problem with them there. I just need to calm down
#text post#long post#i dont know how to tag this#everybody who's sleep would be ruined by reading this is likely already asleep now#that's another thing#the minute you talk about it then it becomes so much worse until a day goes by
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