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themuseic · 3 years

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Only Fools (Chapter 12)

(Art credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.1k

Read Chapter 11 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Sad Times Still, Hospitals, Mention of Needles, Mention of Medical Procedures, Storms, Anxious Feelings, A Fuck Ton of Crying™.

A/N: Hellloooooo. Okay just some housekeeping - as it stands, OF is plotted to be 14 chapters. We’re in the home stretch y’all! As promised, there is a brief summary of last chapter below the cut for anyone who may have sat it out because of the content. Thank y’all for reading, love youuuu.

Chapter 11 Summary: Still reeling from the fight with Clyde, Reader goes to collect the data and footage alone. There, she crosses paths with and is attacked by one of the cougars she has been studying. Luckily, Clyde finds her and is able to save her, whisking her away with the help of Mellie and Sylvia to get her wounds treated.

~~~

Clyde Logan did not like hospitals.

He had tried to avoid them ever since his own accident, all those years ago in Iraq. He was perfectly happy to get patched up by Sylvia if he had a run-in with a rogue piece of glass from a shattered cup at the Duck Tape or if he had a cough that he just couldn’t quite shake. But in his recent memory, the only time he had stepped foot into the sanitized halls of a hospital had been for the birth of Sadie, that wonderful, joyous day. He remembered how Jimmy handed over the little bundle that held Clyde’s niece, and how she had smiled and babbled up to him, bringing a small tear of happiness to the corner of his eye.

Today wasn’t like that.

~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady thrum of the heart monitor was torture. Clyde had listened to it mark time since his darlin’ had been rolled out of surgery to repair her ankle, and that had been hours ago. Tubes of substances unknown to him seemed to sprout from every part of her body, and he felt his eyes starting to water for what felt like the thousandth time as his gaze wandered over her prone form from where he sat in the chair in the corner. Any other person would say that those eyes hadn’t been dry once.

Clyde leaned forward in the creaky wooden chair and his right hand drifted up to cradle his face. He looked at her through his middle and ring finger, the digits framing his view of her. His horseshoe ring felt particularly cold against his face and he sighed deeply as he stared, waiting for her to wake up.

“Hey, Clyde.” A soft voice beside him startled him out of his thoughts and his eyes flicked to his side to see Mellie crouching beside him, her hand resting on his leg.

“Mel,” he nodded in recognition, his voice skipping in his throat. She squeezed his knee but didn’t say anything else. Clyde was happy to remain like that; the feeling of her thumb rubbing his knee and the sound of her breathing was comfort enough for him.

“Have you eaten-” she began, but Clyde spoke at the same time and cut her off.

“S’my fault,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving the bed once.

Mellie’s brow scrunched up and she frowned. “Oh no, Clyde this isn’t your fault. You didn’ do anything,” she tried to assure him as she rubbed his knee a little harder. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I didn’t tell y’ we got in a fight last night,” Clyde whispered as he shook his head, still cradled in his hand. “She wouldn’t’ve been out there by herself if we hadn’t. Wouldn’t have...” he trailed off as his eyes drifted shut in an attempt to curtail the water that was gathering in them.

Mellie’s forehead softened and she pushed a strand of hair out of Clyde’s face to tuck it behind his ear. “Clyde, you don’t know what would have happened. And it doesn’t matter anyway. You found her, you got her help. She’s safe now,” she reassured him as she rubbed his bicep.

“She’s so hurt. I don’t know how I’ll face her,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the girl in the hospital bed. Clyde’s lip began to tremble again and the water clinging to his lash line started to spill down his face. “I’m sorry, I gotta…” Clyde was left searching for the right words, a quest he quickly gave up as he stood up and left the room, desperate for some air and some privacy. His long legs carried him away from his sister swiftly, and Mellie was left alone standing in the hallway, helpless as she watched the broad back of her brother fly out of the doors to the hospital.

~~~

“I’m sorry, I gotta…”

Your eyes began to flutter open as you heard sounds of distress in your room. Your attempt to swallow was a feat in and of itself, the action rough and painful on your dry throat. Carefully, your eyes began to crack open, just in time to catch the sight of Clyde fleeing from your hospital room, Mellie hot on his trail. Your heart sank.

Of course he was here to witness you, broken and helpless, laid out on the cold hospital bed. You squeezed your eyes shut. If he had any shred of respect for you, it was surely gone. You had torn his heart clean in two, and now? He couldn’t even look at you, let alone be in the same room as you.

You were sure of it.

As tears started to roll down your face, your breathing picked up and so did your heart. Soon, nurses descended on you, ready to take vitals, take readings, and take care of you. You didn’t want to speak to them, to look at them. They set to work around you as your head fell back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The pokes and prods of their needles and probes pricked your skin, but you didn’t hiss your breath didn’t catch. They could do anything to you, but the pain wouldn’t register.

It paled in comparison to the pain nestled in your heart.

~~~

The next day, after a restless night, the doctors discharged you. You had no reason to stay in the hospital longer; your antibiotics had been completed and your fever was long broken. And anyway, with Sylvia so close to you at the hotel, you would be able to get all the treatment you would need from her. As you sat on the edge of the bed with your back hunched, you breathed in and out slowly, trying to center and collect yourself. The dull pain in your side throbbed with each beat of your heart.

You heard your name called from the doorway and looked over to see a nurse standing with a clipboard. “You ready to get out of here?” she smiled softly, gesturing to the wheelchair parked at her feet. You gathered the strength to return her smile, and nodded. She wheeled the chair over to you and helped you hobble into the awaiting chair.

The overhead fluorescent lights were harsh on your eyes, and you blinked tightly to adjust to the glare. Sooner than you had thought, you were at the sliding double doors that made up the entrance of the hospital, and the kind nurse pushed you over the threshold and into the crisp air.

Your heart clenched when you saw who stood before you, keys in hand, ready to drive you home. Clyde gazed down at you, his stare unwavering and unreadable. There was a pit in your stomach and you shifted in your seat. “Hi,” you breathed. He sniffed and nodded at you. “Ready?” he asked, his feet shuffling slightly on the concrete.

You chewed on your lip. “Is it okay if you drive me back?” you asked, looking down at his shoes.

He exhaled through his nose and jerked his head towards the parking lot. “C’mon.”

Between the bulky cast around your ankle and the stitched tears in your side, walking, even with the aid of crutches, was out of the question. The nurse followed closely behind Clyde to wheel you towards the car parked out front. The ridges in the gravel and small pebbles that you rolled over caused the chair to vibrate and jerk. You seethed at the pain that shot through your side with the movement, and you pressed your eyes shut, breathing shallowly through your nose.

You were still focused on your breath when you realized you were no longer moving. Your eyes fluttered open and you found that you were sitting right next to Clyde's grey car, and he was standing in front of you, his back pressed against the swung fully open door.

Before you had a chance to try to pull yourself into the car, Clyde slipped his arm around your side and lifted you up out of the chair and into the passenger seat. You could feel how your face began to warm at the gesture, embarrassed that you needed this kind of care to get into a car, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. A soft “thank you” left your lips as Clyde buckled you in tight, and you were answered with a small nod.

The drive back was silent, safe for a sniff or cough here and there. You snuck a few glances at Clyde, while his gaze remained straight ahead. As you rolled your head to the side, you sighed and tilted your head into the window to stare at the trees flying past. The blur would have put you in a trance had you not been desperately trying to sort out what had happened the morning prior.

The doctors had asked you if you knew what had happened, and you had nodded in response. You didn’t want to know the gritty, embarrassing details. You didn’t want to sort through those memories alone and cold in the hospital bed.

But in reality, your mind was jumbled, your memory a whirlwind of snippets and memories. You could see the attack clearly, almost too clearly if you were honest with yourself, but you couldn’t put together what had happened after. A glimpse, a whisper of a memory formed in your mind, but the only thing you could ascertain from it was the memory of pain and burning. You remembered someone trying to soothe you. You shook your head, clearing your mind, and opted to stare out of the car window instead.

The glass of the window rattled your head as you leaned against it, gazing out the window at nothing in particular. A large sign caught your eye.

“Clyde, the hotel was back there,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.

“Y’aren’t going back to the hotel,” he replied, his stare fixated on the road ahead of him.

“It’s okay Cl-”

“Stop, fighting me.”

Your breath caught in your chest, and you didn't respond. A soft sigh sounded next to you, and you didn’t turn either.

~~~

Back at the trailer, Jimmy, Sylvia, and Mellie were already there to greet you, ready with blankets, food, and a stash of medical supplies so large, you reckoned it could keep you stocked for years to come. The minute Clyde helped you through the threshold, Sylvia and Mellie corralled you into the bedroom. They helped you out of the clothes drenched in the sterile hospital smell that clung to you and coaxed you into the large bed with soft touches and soft voices. After Mellie had helped settle you as much as she could, she squeezed your hand and left, leaving you alone with Sylvia.

She plumped the pillows around you and set out a glass of water on the nightstand as she listed off what the doctor had told you before you had been discharged. She recited your medicines, when she wanted you to take them, and how. You couldn’t look at her. Your gaze remained on the covers of your bed. Your heart constricted at that thought. Not your bed. His bed, you reminded yourself. You had made sure of that.

You had done this to yourself. You didn’t deserve Sylvia’s pity.

She whispered your name and with light fingers, she tilted your head up to hers. You allowed yourself to be posed and stared at her with eyes void of emotion, lest you break down in front of her.

“Did you get that?” she soothed, her brow furrowed and the concern in her voice wildly apparent. You flicked your eyes back down and nodded so shallowly, it was nearly imperceptible. She tsk’ed at your apathy but didn’t push you. You were thankful for that.

Her hand moved into your line of sight, palm outstretched, with a small pill in the center of it. “Here sweetie,” she muttered. “It’ll help with the pain.” You shook your head.

“Really, you’re going to be in a hell of a world of pain if you try to wean off so soon. Don’t punish yourself.”

You shook your head again.

“Take it,” a voice rumbled through the doorway.

Your eyes flicked up to see Clyde leaned against the threshold to his room, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down into a deep pout. As much as you didn’t want to hold eye contact, his deep, piercing gaze would not allow you to break away. His jaw set. “Take it,” he urged again, jerking his chin towards the painkiller Sylvia offered you. You moved silently as you reached out to accept the medicine and swallow it.

The movement forced you to tear your eyes from Clyde, a gesture came at just the right time. You could feel the sting of tears you refused to spill bite at the corners of your eyes, but turning away meant he wouldn’t see them. You blinked them away before you looked back at the doorway, now empty.

Sylvia shuffled at the bedside table with your medicine and extra bandages, prepped to be changed as needed. She took your temperature again before she turned to the door… and paused. She turned back to you so slowly, you thought she was moving through syrup, though it easily could have been the effects of the painkiller already setting into your muscles.

Her soft and warm hand enveloped yours where it lay atop the plush blanket of the bed. Soft and warm, her eyes found yours. You could see why Jimmy had fallen for her. She was a particular sort of comforting, the kind that thrived in the medical field, the kind that made patients calm and made them feel safe.

If you didn’t deserve her pity, you didn’t deserve her comfort either.

“Dear, we want you to get better. Please let Clyde help you,” she whispered, caressing your knuckles with her thumb. “He was a complete wreck when he called us after he found you. He loves you so much.” Her words and her touch only made you feel worse. Each swipe made your stomach twist, each pass was another reminder that you had done this to yourself, and each word a reminder of what you had done to Clyde.

You shook your head and slid your hand from hers, the motion sapping what little energy you had left from you. You settled back into the pillows set around your head, your eyes refusing to meet hers. Sylvia’s mouth set into a thin line and she tsk’ed once more as she sighed out of her nose. “Alright. Call me if you need me.” She gathered her things and stalked towards the door before the small “wait,” whispered into the room stopped her. She turned back to look at you.

Quietly, and without making eye contact, you breathed a small “Thank you.” Sylvia’s features softened and she smiled. “Get some rest,” she whispered. And with that, she left you alone in the room.

Unable to toss and turn and pile up the nest of pillows that you so loved to sleep with, you stared at the ceiling as you sought out rest. The light in the room was still a golden shine streaming in from outside. It was far earlier than you would usually retreat to the comfort of bed, but between your healing body, the energy you had already exerted, and the painkiller you had taken, you were racing towards sleep, towards that quiet oblivion. Where you wouldn’t have to think of the fight, the attack. You wouldn’t have to picture Clyde’s face, so downtrodden and utterly disappointed in you.

If you could have taken it back, you would have.

But now the closest you could get to him was through hearing the lowered sounds of his voice talking to his siblings, to Sylvia. You couldn’t make out what they were saying in the living room, and the harder you strained to hear, the more jumbled the words became. They swirled in your head, and you couldn’t tell who was speaking at once, the cacophony of noise painfully quiet and horrifically overwhelming all at once.

You fell asleep to the sound of it.

~~~

When you awoke next, you realized your body hadn’t moved an inch in your slumber. The voices down the hallway were absent, and the golden light that had once filled the room had long since faded beyond the horizon. Instead, a silver haze drifted over the space, illuminating the walls softly.

It was silent, save for the heavy rain that danced across the roof of the trailer, a steady thrum that buzzed through the trailer. The muffled voices were gone, and the air in the house was still. You stared, with laser focus, up at the ceiling. You closed your eyes and pretended as if the rain could wash away the disgusting feeling you harbored deep in your stomach. As if it could wash away the memory of how you had treated Clyde, how you had pulled him along for months with no promise of a future. Maybe, if you were lucky, it would wash away his memory of it all along with yours.

Your thoughts were split in two by a large crunch that fell upon your ears and you jolted. You knew in your heart that it was a branch falling, cracking under the oppressive weight of the water that fell from the sky. You knew that had to be it. But a small voice, speaking from where it resided tucked away in the back of your mind, piped up. It could be anything, it taunted, jeering at you for your scare.

You tried to push the startling noise from your mind and fall back asleep, but that comfort remained just out of reach. The whistling wind brought a chill to your bones, and the noises that splintered through the forest brought you back to just a few days before. Each noise was a beast, a predator stalking you through the night and into the haven you thought you had created in the trailer. A shudder ran through your body at the thought.

You were embarrassed, but you couldn’t be left alone with your thoughts much longer. You swallowed thickly and pushed out a small noise over the lump in your throat.

“Clyde?” you called, your voice hoarse with sleep.

You were answered with a soft snore. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Clyde?” Your voice broke.

You heard a hitched breath and the sound of shuffling. In just a few seconds, Clyde was at the open door, dressed in only a hole-pocked sleep shirt and a pair of boxers. He strode to your side in a few easy steps, flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, and gingerly laid his hand on your forehead, his face serious and his brow knit together tightly.

“What’s the matter? You in pain? D’you need me to call Sylvia back over?” he muttered, his eyes darting over your face. The golden light of the lamp illuminated half of his face and accentuated his sharp features knit together in concern.

You shook your head and dragged a shuddering breath into your lungs in a feeble attempt to steel yourself. “I can’t go back to sleep.” With a slight strain of your neck, you pushed your forehead up into his palm and your eyes squeezed into slits as tears began to gather along your lash line. “Will you sleep with me?” you whispered, searching his face. For any expression of his thoughts. Your lip trembled.

He flinched and his warm flesh left your head. He was taken aback by your request.

You should have known better.

The sharp sting of rejection shot through your spine and you shut your eyes, unwilling to bear the sight of the devastating heartbreak that could follow your next utterance.

Your voice wavered. “Please.” You were met with silence.

A heartbroken sob threatened to wrack your body when you were given no response until suddenly, the bed creaked and dipped under an unseen weight.

Instead, a sob of relief broke from your chest.

“Oh shh,” Clyde hushed as he hooked his left arm around your head, his right hand reaching across your body to palm your thigh and shift you close into his side without aggravating your newly stitched wounds. You pressed your lips together in a feeble attempt to stifle the noises that rattled in your chest as you turned your head to press into the refuge of his armpit.

Clyde’s right hand slipped under your shirt to trace patterns into your skin and stroke your side, his fingers dancing at the edge of the gauze that was plastered to your body. There was pressure on your hair. He whispered soft assurances into your scalp, nuzzling his nose into your hair as he let you shake against him. “Shh, baby, shh. You’re alright there, you’re okay,” he crooned. “You’re safe now.” A ragged sob broke from your throat, as you collapsed into him.

And finally, finally, you let yourself break.

The embarrassment, the guilt - it all came gushing forward with the same force as a dam splintering under the pressure of the water it was designed to hold back. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you choked out, barely able to speak over the snot and tears that streaked your face. You knew you were making a mess of his shirt, but each attempt to suppress your sobs did nothing but heighten them.

“Shh, sweet baby.” Clyde cooed, pulling you tight against him. Taking great care to avoid agitating your wounds, he pulled you up onto your uninjured side so you could bury your face into the crook of his neck. His hand wrapped around your torso to swirl small circles into your back. It would have felt incredible if you could feel anything besides the constricting pain in your chest as you dragged air into your lungs. As you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, he breathed in deep, forcing your body to rise and fall in time with his breaths.

“Darlin’, c’mon, I need you to take a breath,” Clyde murmured as he pressed kisses to your hairline. “Can you try to do that for me?” You dragged shuddering breaths into your chest between your cries, trying your very hardest to match his breathing, but spitting and sputtering over every breath.

Clyde didn’t seem to mind. He rained soft shushes and small kisses onto you as he cradled your shaking form. He would hold you like that forever if you needed it; if he could.

Eventually, you began to still. Your breathing evened out and your tears stopped racing down your face. Clyde shifted his body down to be even with yours and leaned his face in to kiss the tear tracks and stray droplets from your face before he nuzzled his face against your own. The moment you had the strength to speak, you did.

“Clyde, I’m so sorry-” you started. He cut you off immediately.

“Shh, baby. It’s alright.” He squeezed your shoulders and kissed your temple. You shook in his arms and stuttered your head back and forth. “No Clyde, really,” you tried again. He caught your lips in a soft, swift kiss.

“No. You don’t have t’ think about that right now. Anyway, you were right, you told me what you wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t respect that.”

A sob jumped in your throat. His words were tempting you to spill over yet again. You tried to whisper his name, but could only manage a high-pitched rendition. “Clyde, I was so unfair to you. I still am sorry,” you whispered breathily, barely pulling sound and tone over your strained vocal cords.

He sighed slowly and dipped his head to kiss the corner of your eye, pulling the salty water drops that clung to the skin of your face away on his lips. “Thank you, darlin’. We can talk about it more later,” he soothed. Soft fingertips swept up and down your back. “I want you t’get some sleep. Can’t have you spikin’ a fever again,” he cooed to you as he peppered kisses along your hairline.

You sniffed and nuzzled deeper into the solace you found between his neck and shoulder. With a careful wiggle, you maneuvered your body so that every part of you that could be touching him was, the knowledge that he was with you bringing you comfort by itself. He folded his body around yours.

It was warm, safe. He was warm.

Safe.

“Will you stay?” you muttered, the warmth radiating from his body beginning to pull you towards sleep already. You had been so anxious to distance yourself from Clyde, and now you couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving for just a second. His right hand tensed on your back and he squeezed you closer. “Always, darlin’.”

The rain pattered over the roof of the trailer, a dull hum that danced across your ears.

The designs he traced over your skin lulled you to sleep.

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @hopeamarsu @kkysolo @clumsycopy @mylifeisactuallyamess @daydreamsofren @mariesackler (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

#clyde logan x you #clyde logan x reader #logan lucky #reader insert #only fools #my writing #cw: hosptials #cw: medical procedures #cw: needles #cw: storms #cw: anxious thoughts #cw: crying #omg so much damn crying

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anon-e-miss · 3 years

Text

Primus Help the Outcasts 6

It was difficult to believe. He was waiting for the rug to be ripped out from under his peds but he could not be frozen in place by fear. Even if this reprieve was only temporary, Prowl needed to seize it with both servos for his creations’ sakes and to take full advantage. He needed to get healthy and strong. Then he could better plan for the battles to come. Prowl did not want to believe anything could be worse than had already befallen them, but he did not dare chance fate by making such proclamations.

There was a chair ready for him at the table. Someone had arranged cushions on it so that it might be more comfortable for his doorwings. They had done the same for the two Smokescreen and Bluestreak occupied. As he had always instructed his creations to, Prowl washed up, and then took his seat. Just walking to the table had exhausted him. The crash had trained what fragile reserves he had been clinging on to and now they were gone. He felt weak as a cyber-kitten and considerably more helpless. Sprocket served him a navy blue cube of energon with flecks of minerals floating in it. Medgrade. Prowl felt anxious and frail and he did not know if he could even hope to eat, let alone keep it down but Bluestreak went on in great detail how he and his friends had helped the Twins’ grand-genitor make everything from the dough to the sauce completely from scratch. He was so proud, of course Prowl had to eat a slice of chrome-alloy pie.

“What was that scandal wit yer origin ya mentioned?” Jazz asked.

“He assassinated Zeta Prime.”

“Woh. What now?” Punch gasped. His sparkmates froze. “Yer originator was Camshaft?”

“You know of my originator?” Prowl asked, surprised. He looked to Jazz, who seemed equally surprised.

“We worked in the same business,” Punch replied. “Sometimes for the same side. After it was done, he went silent. We figured the worst.”

“He escaped,” Prowl explained. “Off world, I believe. I was attending school in Simfur at the time. He sent me packages without any return address from time to time. I was questioned regarding the matter repeatedly when I was young. I found the last package on my desk at the precinct shortly before I went on leave to have Bluestreak.”

“It was a brave thing he did,” Sprocket said. “He knew his life would be over but no one else could get close.”

“My originator was angry he had played a part in the tyrant’s successes,” Prowl replied. He remembered how angry Camshaft had been when the Institute’s crimes had been revealed and then the news so perfectly and ruthlessly oppressed. “The assassination would have been restitution to him.”

“It’s a small world,” Punch said and he shook his helm. “He never hinted to havin’ a creation or a Conjunx. He didn’t let ya become a target. No choice for us. Our whole family was in the business, that was the lot. Jazz and Ric had to grow up quick.”

“I remember Camshaft,” Jazz said. “Sometimes I’d try to eavesdrop on ya’ll. He caught me ‘bout as often as ya. I loved it when ya let me in on what ya were plannin’. The last time he game round, ya spent joors in Geni’s workshop, ‘n I came snoopin’ round again. He caught me. Shook his helm ‘n said this one wasn’t for me.”

“We weren’t sure if it might come back on us,” Rumbler explained. “We were makin’ plans to disappear if it got warm, let alone hot. But no one ever sniffed at us. We never heard from ‘m again.”

“The authorities knew when he sent me parcels,” Prowl explained. “I imagined my progenitor or the school informed them. He was deeply angry by my originator’s actions. The scandal forced him to step down from the senate. He had me surveilled. He was certain my originator would come for. He may have tried. He likely wanted to. But I was too closely monitored.”

“Yer progenitor arranged yer bondin’ then,” Jazz guessed.

“He picked a mech like himself,” Prowl declared.

“That don’t sound like a compliment,” Jazz replied.

“It was not.”

“He was nasty,” Bluestreak declared. “He smacked me because I was talkin’.”

“Bitty Blue, that’s awful,” Rumbler hissed.

“It’s okay,” Bluestreak said. Prowl flicked his doorwings at the memory. Bluestreak smiled up at him. “O’gin punched him.”

“Ya got a tough, Ori,” Jazz declared. “Took after his ori, I think.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said, he found himself relaxing as he found himself around friends and not merely benefactors. “I like to think so.”

The revelation that his originator had been friends and colleagues of Jazz’s procreators made Prowl feel safer in depending on their aid. Camshaft had paid a very personal price for being the triggermech for the assassination plot. Prowl had paid one too. Though he had not lost his originator completely, somewhere out there he new Camshaft lived, Prowl had never seen him again. His creations had never met their grandoriginator, who would have spoiled them if he had been able. They had only known their grandprogenitor who had treated them with no more grace than he had his creation. The boarding school in Simfur had been Camshaft choice for Prowl as his duties had taken him further and further afield. The distance from Praxus had protected him from his progenitor’s scornful impatience.

“Smokey helped me set up yer hab,” Jazz revealed after they finished dinner. Prowl offered to clean up but he was firmly refused.

“I got it,” Punch declared. “Ya got quartexes o’ rest to make up for before I wanna see ya liftin’ a digit. Go on up, get settled in.”

Smokescreen and Bluestreak each took hold of one of Prowl’s servos and let him out of the apartment. The stairs loomed and Prowl did not entirely trust his peds but he let himself be guided up. Jazz was close behind him, closer than Prowl normally cared for, but in this instance it was reassuring. If he felt, Jazz could stop him. The Twins followed after their progenitor. They were excited to have their best friend so close. Prowl was happy Bluestreak had made friends as generous and devoted as these two. Had they not gone to their progenitor wishing to help their friend... friends really, Prowl did not care to think what this next dark-cycle would have brought. Smokescreen entered the door code and the door slid op with a soft swish. The mechlings led him inside.

“This is amazing,” Prowl said as he looked around the open concept room. There was a table and chairs in the kitchen. A solid couch sat in front of an entertainment centre. Smokescreen hugged his arm.

“They asked me to help pick what we needed. The couch is as close to one back home as I saw and we caught lost of cushions to make it even better.”

“It is perfect, Smokescreen,” Prowl had static in his voice and tears in his optics.

“It reminded me of our place... when it was just us. Not that stuffy stuff he liked.”

It was not unlikely the simple, comfortable furnished Prowl had purchased for the habsuite he had rented. Those seven vorns had been the best of his life. Bluestreak was the only solace that had come from returning to that bonding. He was the only boon. Prowl hardly trusted himself to remain standing but he wanted to see what else they had chosen, Smokescreen was so pleased and so proud. His creations led him to the first berthroom. It was theirs to share. Two berths with drawers built into the frames sat against opposing walls. A blue geometric patterned quilt covered the berth that would be Smokescreen’s and a red and black striped one covered Bluestreak’s berth. There were two desk, a bookshelf and a chest of toys. The furniture looked solid, like it was meant to be lived on. Pictures covered the wall at the head of the berths. They were image captures from his mechlings own memories. Family moments, moments with their friends, Prowl teared up again.

“You do not mind sharing?” Prowl asked.

“We like it,” Smokescreen promised him and for now it might have been true. That was enough. “I hope you like what we did for your berthroom.”

“I am sure I will.”

A berth was all he could possibly imagine wanting. It could have been stiff as rock and that would have been enough because it was not in the shelter. There was no looming threat of someone wandering in. The door opened and Prowl saw it was a great deal more than a berth, though it was a wonderful berth. Smokescreen had chosen a heavy black and white quilt to go over red sheets and pillows. A bright red armchair sat in the window and a desk sat against the opposing wall, with bookcases on each side, bookcases that were full of datapads.

“Do you want to lie down?” Smokescreen asked. “You’re tired.”

“I would rather sit with you in the other room,” Prowl replied. He need to sit before he collapsed. This was all incredible and overwhelming. They led him out to it and Prowl did not quite collapse into it, but he did sag. The pillows were blissful. Smokescreen burrowed into his side and Bluestreak climbed into his lap. Jazz stood by. “Thank you. This is more than I could have imagined.”

“Y’all deserve a comfortable home,” Jazz declared. “There’s plenty o’ fuel in the pantry, but ya won’t need to cook wit my genitor downstairs. He’ll bring ya whatever ya could possibly want, hot ‘n ready to go.”

“I am a terrible cook,” Prowl said.

“We can teach ya, if ya want, when y’re stronger,” Jazz replied. “Rest for now, we got everythin’ else taken care of. Box over here has the makings o’ a shrine for the Festival. I thought that was somethin’ the three o’ ya outta do together.”

“Yes, thank you,” Prowl said. “Thank you so much.”

#primus help the outcasts #maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #previous trigger warnings apply #fluffy fluff fest

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scribble-blog · 4 years

Text

Changeling Fae AU? Changeling Fae AU.

I feel like I start every post with an apology so I won’t do that but I mean to update!! And then I don’t or I can’t write and it all sucks!! But have 3000 words of something brand new instead!!!!

Her parents had been bakers; blessed with a babe after years of believing themselves barren. Sabine had wept to hold her child at last in her arms, and Tom had brought their whole village to celebrate her birth with his wonderful sweets.

Of course, they had named her Marinette. One who rises. They had no intentions of guiding her towards higher connections, the way some thought they might when they glimpsed the child; surely, between her beauty and kind disposition, Tom and Sabine could marry her to some lesser title, and leave their child in comfort for the rest of her life.

But as the child grew older, whispers surrounded her. People wondered about her seemingly small stature, her odd grace paired with her clumsy movements, the way she could inspire and move you with words and then flail and mumble after.

“Fae child,” people started whispering.

“Changeling.”

Tom and Sabine didn’t let it move them. Their daughter was theirs, oddities and eccentricities and all. For her clumsiness, she could sew and mend with more skill than the tailor two streets over. For her size, she was able to learn the trade of the bakery and helped her parents every morning as a good child should.

And if some mornings, Sabine woke to find the kitchen just cleaner, the bread rising just better, the smells just more aromatic, she had no problem setting out a small bowl of milk, tucked behind counters, for whatever creature was slipping in to check on her daughter and helping them on their way out.

After all, Sabine had been small and awkward and graceful and different once too.

It is on the cusp of Marinette’s twelfth birthday that Tom stumbles down in the morning, ready to start the bread for the day, and finds the being sitting there.

In the dark of the morning, lit only by the fire in their hearth, the woman glows. She has the same short stature as his girl, the same bright blue eyes that she had not gotten from either himself or his wife.

“I owe you a boon, Thomas Dupain,” the Faerie says, sitting on his counter and swinging her legs slightly, oddly child-like. “You and your wife, Sabine Cheng. For raising-“ her voices rises and falls melodically for a moment. It almost sounds like Marinette. It almost sounds like the crackle of the fresh baked bread. It almost sounds like the rustle of cloth as his daughter sews. It almost sounds like she has said ladybug.

Such a small thing, to bring luck and joy.

“You have done so well with her,” the faerie says. “And so compassionate, has she become. The kindness displayed by your wife to my lesser subjects also cannot go unrewarded.”

Tom swallows, then bows his head. “You are here to take her, then?”

The creature regards him. “Call me Tikki, Tom Dupain,” she says. She makes the sound again, this time rushing waters and warm sunshine and Marinette and ladybug, “must join me. I cannot tell you what will happen when she does.”

“My boon,” he says, reckless to the face of this powerful being, in the knowledge that it is his child she is here for. “My boon. You must not let today be the last I see of my girl. The last time I hold her. If only for a day, an hour, a minute- you must return her to me.”

Tikki tilts her head, smile dazzling. “A good man, you certainly are. A good parent, without doubt. I can grant you this boon. And as your reward- nothing will replace your Marinette, of course. But a new pair of hands to help in your bakery. Expect her soon.”

Tom nods; there are more rules then sense about dealing with the Fair Folk and he’s certain he’s already broken some. What else can he say without angering her? What else can he do without causing unintentional offense? “Would you like breakfast?” He says instead of heeding his thoughts.

“No,” she laughs, a tinkling glass bell like the chirping of birds. “I shall return for her at high noon.”

Tom nods, throat tight. He starts the bread and he goes through his morning until daylight starts to peek into the windows, and then he sighs and puts the last loaf in the oven, and he goes to wake his daughter and wife.

Marinette stands in the kitchen, hands clasped tightly, staring into the embers of the fire. She wears her best dress, with the pink trim, and she does not have tears in her eyes as she looks at her parents. Anything to say had been said; anything left over was just going to hurt more. She had a small bag, slung over her shoulder, with paltry things her parents hoped might help.

Tikki sat before her, perched on the counter. The flimsy sheer overlay of her clothing was resting in the flour.

“Marinette,” Tikki says to her, but it’s not just her name. It’s something deeper that echoes in her heart. “I’ve come for you.”

“I thought something might eventually,” she laughs nervously.

Tikki extended a hand. Marinette reached for it, hesitating before the contact.

Tikki smiled gently and took her fingers. “This isn’t a bad thing, Marinette. Just a change.”

Marinette tightened her grip. “I’m ready.” She gave her parents one last look, trying to burn their faces into her mind.

“Then come, Marinette, of the Orders of Creation and Luck. Come and claim your birthright as my heir.”

Marinette did not expect this much walking. “Is it... is it far?”

The town was hours behind them. Marinette’s nicest dress was ragged at the hem, snatched with brambles and in one spot, torn by a branch that had wanted blood. She hefted her small pack higher on her shoulders, waiting for the Fae to break the silence.

“It is less about the distance,” Tikki told her, “and more about the time and your intentions. Anyone could walk this road into these woods and continue happily onto whichever small village next offers a meal- but to walk it in the hours before dusk, with the intent to find home, with myself at your side-“

Tikki stopped. The tree ahead of her was worn and old and stooped, but still vibrant in its flowers and leaves. Tikki traced the whorls along the bark, watching them glow with an internal light.

“We still have hours til dusk,” she said. “Come.”

Marinette rubbed her eyes.

Tikki had been just before her. She knew it, had heard the small footsteps and the cheery whistle and then she had turned a bend and Marinette was alone.

“Tikki?” She called out. “Hello, Tikki?”

The woods were green and ethereal around her, the warm light of evening streaming through the foliage and dying everything alive and almost thrumming with energy. She kept walking forward, waiting for the path to turn against and she’d see the Fae ahead, waiting with a raised brow and a small smile. Marinette broke into a run.

“Tikki??!” She called again. The road ahead of her seemed endless, and it changed as her heart beat faster, until everything had focused into the tunnel of branches and roots she sprinted through. “Tikki!!!”

She came to a rough halt, stumbling over a root as the road diverged. She caught herself on the tree, not quite tumbling.

“So you’re a changeling as well?” The voice was cool, and dismissive, and challenging all at once. Marinette tensed, meeting the eyes of the stranger.

“I know you,” she said instead of any of the instant rebuttals she can think of.

And she does. Leaning up against the tree that marks the split path is the Bourgeois daughter; she’d fixed one of her dresses once, and her parents were often entreated to come and work for them. Marinette had never actually spoken to her though.

“One would hope.” The girl flips her hair, and Marinette takes a second to actually take her in. She isn’t wearing a dress like Marinette, or anything remotely expected. Instead she’s dressed in pants and layered shirts, a cloak over her arms and a pack on her shoulders. “I am Chloé Bourgeois, after all.”

“I’m Marinette,” Marinette offers. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Did I ask?”

The girl was getting on Marinette’s nerves. “Did you see anyone else come through this way? I’m looking for-“

“A Fae.” Chloé shrugged. “I know what you’re looking for. It’s part of the whole trial.”

Marinette squared her shoulders. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m trying to find someone.”

Chloé’s expression remained smugly disdainful. “The trial? You have to make your own way into the Other World in order to prove yourself as rightful heir. The Fae that led you here? Their gone. Face it. You’ve been abandoned to die in the woods. At least my Fae told me what was happening before dipping out.”

Her blood felt icy in her veins. “No. They wouldn’t.”

“They’re Fae,” Chloé said coolly. “They lured us out here with promises of being special of whatever and then left us for fun.”

“No.” Marinette closed her eyes, and then turned left. “Tikki said it was about intentions. Well, I don’t intend to die here. Come on.”

She grabbed Chloé’s arm and yanked, pleaded to see the blonde sprawl and lose her composure with a squawk.

“You little peasant, how DARE you! I’ll-“

“You’ll do what, Chloé? Call your Father’s guards?” Marinette laughed. “Come on. I’m not letting either of us die in here.”

Chloé looked around for any other choice and Marinette could see her face fall when none presented themselves. And then she hardened her expression. “I’m certainly not following around a dirty little baker’s daughter. I’m a Bourgois. I’ll find my own way.” She spun and started stomping down the other path.

Marinette eyed the path she’d chosen. It had felt right to turn left. She was sure when she chose it that it was the right way. And Chloé was being rude enough that Marinette would love to consider leaving her.

But she turned to the right. If it was intention, then she would make sure she and Chloé both made it. She had enough intention for anyone and everyone.

“Chloé!” She called, and Chloé actually did stop and wait for her. “I’ll follow you, if you don’t mind.”

“And why would you do that?” Chloé squinted suspiciously even as they started walking. “Well, obviously, because I’m right and everyone should follo-AEEEUgghh,” she squawked as she fell and groaned from the forest floor.

“I figure you’re a decent warning system for problematic roots,” Marinette grinned, holding her hand out.

Chloe grit her teeth and took it.

They walked in silence for a while, Marinette thinking and Chloé seemingly fuming.

“Is that the best dress you could muster for the occasion?” The girl finally spat. “One faerie prances up to your door and you pull out all the stops? I’ve got dresses that would make yours wrinkle with envy.”

“Where did you get those clothes?” Marinette finally voiced what she’d been thinking for a while. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d just have on hand, and they all look pretty ill-fitting-“

Chloé self consciously fixed the collar of her vest. “If you must know,” she sniffed, “my Father thought the Fae was full of shit. So I stole these from the washroom and I figured I’d find out myself.”

“And?” Marinette giggles.

“Yeah, this is pretty shitty still,” Chloé grimaces. “I’m- sorry. Pollen said I had to work on my temper.”

“It’s-“ Marinette stopped. It wasn’t okay, but she didn’t want to alienate the only companion she had. “I can understand, I guess. As long as you’re trying to be better.”

Marinette was getting the feeling now that she should have taken the other path. Not because of Chloé- just- it had felt right. And the longer they walked this one, the wronger it felt.

The trees seemed longer. Sharper.

“So Pollen was the Fae who came to get you?” Marinette asked. “Mine’s name was Tikki.”

“Don’t see how it matters.” Chloé pointed up. “Light’s starting to fade. It’s nearing dusk.”

“Then we need to go,” Marinette said.

Chloé sighed. “I suppose if we must.”

Marinette started walking faster when the light started turning pink. And then when it started losing the vibrant color, she started running, Chloé in her heels. She could almost feel it when the sun set, the last ray burning over the horizon as she stopped.

“That’s it, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloé dusted herself off. “I’ve known it since Pollen took off. We weren’t changelings, we weren’t special- just the next fun human toy to throw out in the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” Marinette spat, whirling around, suddenly furious as she tried desperately to suppress the fear climbing in her throat. “Tikki promised I’d see my father again!”

Chloé gave her a contemptuous look. “More fool you.”

“No!” Marinette stomped up to her. “It’s you, isn’t it! With your bratty attitude and your cynicism. Tikki said it was about intentions and you’ve been doing nothing but try to irritate me since I found you!”

“Oh, since you found me?” Chloé barked out laughter. “You were just as lost as I was! I was better off sitting there than walking even further into the Fae forest!”

“You’d still be sitting there without me!” Marinette shouted. “You’re ready to die just because you’re afraid you aren’t as special as people say you are! Well guess what! You aren’t special!”

“I could be!” Chloé yelled back. “I was going to be a Fae Queen and I was going to rule and then you and Mother and everyone would see it!”

Marinette stopped short of the next ugly thing she was ready to say, watching the tears bead up in Chloé’s eyes. “You don’t need to be special. Pollen didn’t want you because you’re Chloé Bourgeois and your special. Pollen just wanted Chloé Bourgeois.”

Chloé angrily wiped away the moisture. “I’m fucking special, fuck you.”

Marinette looked around again, the dim light starting to cast the shadows grey. And then she saw a tree, weathered like a worn brow upon the forest’s face.

She walked up to it and reached out her hand, watching the way it reacted, lights sparking beneath her fingers, beneath the bark.

“It’s about the intentions,” she murmured. For a moment she looked at Chloé.

“The light isn’t quite gone. You’ve got to try, Chloé.”

Chloé’s lips trembled, as of about to speak, but instead she just nodded, jerking her chin forward. Marinette took the first step, listening to Chloé behind her, concentrating on somewhere she’d never been.

And then there was a corner and she rounded it, and Tikki was there. Marinette rushed forward, throwing herself into the Fae’s arms.

“You made it, Marinette. My Ladybug.” Tikki caressed her cheek. “Welcome home.”

Marinette looked back first. “Where’s Chloé?”

“Subjection’s girl?” Tikki paused. “You’ll have opportunity to see her soon enough, I suppose.”

“Then she made it,” Marinette could feel the tension drain away from her.

“Come,” Tikki said, amused. “And I will show you your world.”

Marinette faced where Tikki gestured and gasped.

They were on some sort of balcony, framed in by the branches of the trees she had just exited. She could see the grounds below rolling out forever, hills and plains and farmlands and forests and small towns. Right below them sprawled a city, and she realized that she was standing on a tower, and looking around her, she saw the scope of the castle.

“This way,” Tikki said, leading her to one side and opening up a vine covered door Marinette hadn’t realized was there until that moment. “The castle is, of course, yours. You must feel free to roam as you wish. Those who work here will serve you as they do me.”

“Huh?” Marinette felt dazed. The hallway progressed into a larger hall, into a larger one, until they stopped at a door.

“Your room, of course,” Tikki said, pushing the doors open. “You should find everything you might need here. In the morning, I shall have you escorted to breakfast, and then you will join me in my study. For now, I will send up food and drink. Rest well, dear one.”

Marinette took a step in and had to resist the urge to faint.

The room was spacious, with small corners carved out for what looked to be a study and a small sitting area. The bed dominated the room, with two doors leading out from either side.

She turned to Tikki, to protest, and found the Fae already gone.

She sat on the bed, finding it plusher than the bed at home, which had lumps, but she knew the lumps and she could sleep around them. She laid down, sinking in and trying not to cry at the sudden overwhelming wave of homesickness and exhaustion. The day had seemed so long, how could she have said goodbye that morning? How could she have been with Chloé, not half an hour ago?

Eventually she wiped away the tears that had sprung up and moved towards the sitting area. She imagined it to be for sharing secrets with the kind of close friends one might invite into your room, but she had never truly had anyone who didn’t whisper about her behind her back other than her parents. The chairs were soft too, in the plush way she was now coming to associate with this life.

The study held more interest. The bookshelf was already full and she let herself browse titles for a moment. The Miraculous and Children of the Miraculous caught her eye, as well as one that seemed untitled, but when she pulled it out she found a hand written journal in a language she didn’t know.

The desk was grand, but the drawers held other treasures. A set of needles, each finer alone than her parents could buy in a year. A small selection of fabrics. She clutched them to her chest and let out a muffled dry sob before composing herself.

The first door led to a bathroom and she gave it a perfunctory look over, sure that it would matter much more to her later. The final was a closet, and -

“Highness?” A small voice asked. Marinette’s eyes opened to see very wide hazel eyes, just in front of her.

She had fainted upon seeing the open closet, filled with clothing she could only ever have dreamed of.

The servant was a small girl, with mousy blonde hair and the widest eyes Marinette had ever seen. She was also carrying a covered platter which Marinette assumes would be her dinner.

“Let me take that,” she offered, hands reaching, but the girl stepped back.

“No, Highness,” the girl said, taken aback. “Simply direct me-“

Marinette blushed. “If you would set it on the desk then?”

The girl did so, and then curtsied. She held her pose, as Marinette watched, long enough that Marinette realized she was waiting for Marinette to dismiss her.

“Oh! Sorry, yes, thank you.”

The girl spun and walked briskly out, and Marinette groaned. That was a bungled first impression if there ever was one. The smell of the food beckoned and she gave the closet one last longing glance before lifting the lid.

Steaming rich stew, with warm bread and butter and honey. A glass of milk. Marinette sat down and ate it without thought, trying to settle her mind.

She went back to the closet when she’d finished. It would make sense to know her own wardrobe.

She proceeded to spend the next two hours attempting to try on dresses. It was rather difficult as several were clearly designed to be put on her by a second pair of hands but she managed.

In the end she found a soft linen shift on the bed and put that on, before crawling into the bed and closing her eyes. Sleep fell upon her immediately.

TAGLIST:

@ash-amg @vixen-uchiha @redscarlet95 @dramatic-squirrel @athena452 @novaloptr @bee-wrecker @constancetruggle @pr-y-sha

#maribat #changeling!marinette au #fanfic #this WILL be maribat im just #...not sure if it will be daminette yet.#might be chlonette tbh mari is giving off big crush energies in my rough drafts #but also im kinda. wanting it to be jasonette.#oh god. oh fuck.chlojasonette.#NO PROMISES #EVERYTHING IS IN THE AIR AND UNDETERMINED!!!!

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vercopaanir · 4 years

Text

He Would Never

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 6

Masterlist for this series

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: The Mandalorian is on a hunt for a bounty, and while you recuperate, you struggle with your protective feelings over him and the child.

Ratings/Warnings: None. If I do miss something, please let me know!

Notes: This chapter ended up being so long that I split it in two! It was really fighting me, so I’m very self-conscious about this one. The next chapter is going to be a bit of a punch in the gut (in a good way?), if I’ve gauged things right. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading, tagging, commenting, and reblogging!!!

AO3

When you explain how you came by the pain in your side, the physician helps you out of your dress to examine you. You suck in a breath when her cold fingers tap along your back and up to your ribs, feeling the tender skin where bruises have started forming. She deduces quickly, trauma to the area of your back having caused significant nerve pain. All you remember is watching the Mandalorian with his son, so gentle and attentive that you forgot yourself. You’d been content in the warmth of their laughter, softened by the affection, and then harsh red lights and blaring alarms and-

“Spend time being thrown against walls?” the doctor asks, her light and teasing voice bringing you back to the present. You turn your head towards her as she moves your shoulders to the left and right to check your flexibility.

“Well...” you puff, face pinched with pain, considering the story that got you into this.

Shaking her head, she sets to work and makes a quick job out of you, narrating every step to keep you aware of what’s going on. “I’m using a micro-sonic vibration injector to administer an analgesic. The pain you’re feeling should disappear in a minute or so.”

You don’t even feel the injection, which she administers into the fleshy curve of your waist before you can question her about it. She applies a healing sheath around your abdomen after that, and she instructs you not to remove it for a full twenty-four hours. You use your fingers to feel the edges where it lays flat, beneath your bust and down your abdomen to create a comfortable seal that still allows you to move. The sweat on your brow is quickly cooling as the discomfort recedes to a dull ache, as if you’d been struck in the side rather than stabbed by the control switch.

“I’m giving you two sterile heating cloths to sleep with. Try to lay as flat as you can so you don’t put pressure unevenly on your back. Make sure you don’t accidentally lay on anything,” she said, placing the packaged cloths in your hands after you pull your dress back up. “Or anyone,” she adds with a smile.

You blush at that, smiling in understanding, and nod.

Stepping behind you, she helps straighten the collar of your dress before saying, “You know, that hunter who brought you in was quite worried about you.”

You shut your eyes in mortification, rubbing between your eyebrows. Maker, what must he think? It’s been so long since you’ve fallen, not since you were younger and at least a foot shorter. You’re so careful now, and your pride is wounded to think of him treating you like glass, skittish and scared. Your fingers tighten around the cloths she’s given you.

“Pestered some of my staff for a while until he finally left. Wouldn’t sit down. It was making people anxious, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Your stomach tightens at her words, and it’s all you can do to meet her face with your own as you turn around. “He has a lot on his mind,” you mutter, thinking of the child sleeping so quietly back aboard the ship. You can’t stand it knowing he’s alone, and the longer you linger, the worse you feel.

The doctor hums, and you think she must be smiling when she says, “Seems to me you were the only thing on his mind.”

Her words echo in your ears as you step outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. An odd, prickly emotion builds in your chest as you ruminate, because you know the Mandalorian has the capacity for compassion. His care and love for the child alone are evidence of that, but you wonder where you fall on that scale. You are both a boon as the child’s caretaker and a liability as an extra item on his list to be concerned about. This entire fiasco won’t endear you, and you’re upset with yourself all over again. The confusing feelings sliding back and forth like an uneven scale cause your head to hurt, and the bright sunlight of Tatooine hardly does you any favors.

It takes stopping and asking a pedestrian where the hangar is located before you can make your way to it, and when you enter through the same door the Mandalorian had shouldered you through, the mechanic pops up from being seated at a small table surrounded by her pit droids.

You come to a stop, your heart dropping on the sandy ground when you see the child in her arms.

“He, uh, found some work. Said he’d be back,” the woman says, bouncing the child, but by the fussy noises he’s making, you know she’s been unsuccessful wooing him to sleep. “The Mandalorian, I mean.”

Your eyes trail to the dark shadow of the Razor Crest, unable to make anything out besides the black, blurry shape of it, before looking back at the child.

“You two shouldn’t leave your baby alone. A little one like this needs someone to take care of him,” she went on with a disapproving huff, and it was all you could do to stay standing upright from seeing a stranger cradle the child. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t sit well with you.

“May I...please have him?” you ask, holding your arms out and stepping closer. You feel like demanding she give you the baby, a panic ready to bubble in your throat that’s been lying in wait since the dogfight between the Mandalorian and the starfighter. But you can’t bring yourself to it. Your natural inclination has always been pacific, polite, and you don’t like the idea of making enemies.

“Oh...oh sure,” she says, quickly putting the child in your arms. The baby curls into you instinctively, pressing his face near your collar and fluttering his ears in happiness at your familiar scent. You drop down into one of the seats between two of the pit droids, winded and exhausted. The healing sheath keeps you from slumping in any way, but it also prevents the discomfort you felt before from returning. You hug the baby close, laying your cheek against the small wrinkled brow, and close your eyes against the prickle of tears forming under your lashes as relief washes over you.

“I’m Peli, by the way,” the woman says, stepping back to her seat and sounding suddenly unsure.

“Thank you, Peli,” you murmur, smiling when the child grabs a lock of your hair like an object of security. You open your eyes, pale and sightless as they are, and try to meet her own. You are often told you are always just a little off from holding eye contact, but you still try. “I didn’t want to leave him alone, but-”

“Nah, I get it,” Peli says quickly. If you didn’t know better, she seemed uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. “You didn’t look so great before…” She pauses, leaning forward urgently. “He didn’t do that to you, did he?”

You can’t keep the laugh from bursting from your mouth, and it takes you physically putting your hand over your lips to stop yourself, on the edge of exhausted hysteria. “N-No,” you finally say, swallowing hard. “No, he would never.”

The words hold more truth than you intended, and you’re surprised by them yourself.

“Well, good.” She sits back, satisfied with this answer if put off by your outburst. She cocks her head to the side and says, “Fed him a little while ago. You hungry? You look pale.”

“Oh, I’m alright now,” you say, brushing your fingers over the child’s forehead. “Thank you.”

The truth was, you were spent. If you could lay down, in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t wake up for hours, but the time spent away from the child had unsettled you. Knowing he was alone, and then returning to find a stranger holding him sent a bolt through you that wouldn’t easily be shaken. Even if Peli was a good person, it leaves you feeling discomfited, and you aren’t sure that sensation would go away until the Mandalorian returns. Being at the mercy of others never felt good, but it was all you’d ever known. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to feel secure no matter where you are. You think the Mandalorian must know what that feels like.

You were also starved for interaction. As Peli went on to say you should at least try to drink some tea, snapping at one of the pit droids to fetch it, you realize that even if she just simply spoke to you, the presence of someone else felt nice, at least for a while.

“You’re very kind,” you murmur, letting the child sit properly in your lap as you pick up the clay cup with a warm, floral note in the steam. You take careful sips, the soothing sensation relaxing your shoulders.

Peli hesitates. “Started working on your ship. Fixed the fuel leak, at least, but it’s got plenty more fixing to do.” You nod, listening attentively as you continue to sip. “I’m guessing he’s good for the money, since he’s got a couple mouths to feed.”

You set the cup down and nod. “He is. Where did he go? Did he say where he found work?”

“Well, he set off on a speeder bike with some young kid. Probably your age. They were making their way out towards the Dune Sea,” she pauses here, rubbing her chin. “He told me to tell you not to wait up.”

A smile curves your lips, thinking of the last time you’d tried and failed to wait up for him. Then, a small thought that he could be gone overnight occurs to you, and you frown, rubbing your arm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“What’s someone like you doing with someone like him?”

The question is not what you were expecting, and the surprise must show on your face. You rest your hands on either side of the baby, furrowing your brow. “I’m...sorry?”

“I mean-” Peli’s frowning, now, you can hear it. She slaps her hands on her knees. “Bounty hunters aren’t really known for being friendly. When you two stepped off that ship, I thought he’d kidnapped you. You seem like such a nice girl.”

Your response is immediate. “And he’s a nice man.”

“You sure about that?” Peli challenges, and your hackles go up. Your social capacity is quickly filling as your energy wanes, and you wish once again that you hadn’t gotten hurt in such a stupid way. It isn’t as if you ran for miles or got stabbed. Maker, you fell over. “Look, I didn’t mean to step on your toes,” she says when you’re silent for too long. “I’m just...surprised, is all.”

“I was a slave,” you say quietly, feeling your heart quicken to utter the words out loud. You had gone for so long without saying it that it felt like a sacrilege. “To a man on a planet closer to the rim. Before that, I was an indentured servant to an Imperial family, and-” You stop, feeling a tiny three fingered hand rest on your wrist. You look down to find the child staring up at you, his small mouth pursed in worry. You smile at him, lifting your other fingers to trace his ear. “-and the Mandalorian freed me, when he could have walked away. I don’t know why he did it, but it is the first kindness I have known in a long time.”

“That’s a fine thing to do,” Peli allows, her voice shrewd. “And you’ve never asked him why he did it?”

“I assume he needed someone to take care of this sweet thing,” you say, tracing the shape of the baby’s ear and smiling wider when he sighs against your hand. “That’s what has made the most sense to me.”

“Well, you seem to be doing right by the little one. Just don’t let that bucket head leave him alone anymore,” Peli adds, standing up and stretching her back. You smile good-naturedly and nod, standing up yourself.

“I think I’m going to rest. If he comes back, will...will you tell him that I’d like to see him?”

Peli pauses, hesitating at your turn of phrase.

You snort and wave your hand. “You know what I mean,” you say, walking off towards the Razor Crest.

“Right! Sure!” she calls, sounding anything but.

You climb aboard the ship, managing to make it up the ladder and shuffle into the cockpit with the baby in your arms. It takes you longer than normal to get him to relax, even once you’ve tried to tuck him in. Perhaps he’s still keyed up from all the excitement of the day, from meeting new people? You sigh, kneeling by the co-pilot chair that holds his cradle, and you begin stroking his ear. When his movements slow, a little smile curves your lips, and you start to hum. It isn’t any particular song-you don’t know many-but the combination of gentle touches and a soothing voice has his big, blinking eyes slowly drooping. Soon, the only sound in the cockpit is the soft snores coming from his tiny nose and mouth, and you step out into the passageway once you’re sure he won’t wake up.

The pain in your side has all but disappeared, only a faint tugging sensation when you move too quickly. You consider going back down into the hull to sleep in the bunk, but the thin padding of the cot providing no support doesn’t inspire your enthusiasm. Perhaps you could use your next bit of earnings to invest in better sleeping arrangements.

An idea strikes you, then, remembering when the Mandalorian crossed into the room across from the cockpit to dig out the cloak you’d borrowed on Quanera. Perhaps you can find something else to pad the cot with.

It takes you a few moments to find the door’s access panel, but when you open it and step inside, you’re hit with icy air. It’s completely dark, and you frown gently as you walk forward. The room itself is small, which is unsurprising for such a ship as the Razor Crest, but what does surprise you is when your legs bump into a short ledge. You nearly fall face first forward and catch yourself with your hands, landing on something...very soft.

A bed.

A real bed.

The sheets are tucked in military fashion without a wrinkle, a thick woolen blanket folded at the end. There’s one pillow, plump and firm, without any indentation. You realize you’re in the Mandalorian’s quarters and shoot up straight, biting your lip.

Considering your own bunk, you trail your fingers over the soft sheets and sigh with longing.

You shouldn’t. You should really sleep in your own bed where he told you to stay on your first day aboard-or even moreso, in the cockpit with the child. Even though the air is frigid in this room, you have the sterile heating cloths and the softness beneath your fingers is more tempting to your body than any sin you could have committed.

Mesh’la, he called you, and you don’t know what it means, but the memory makes your heart ache. It’s a decision in itself.

It takes only a small bit of fumbling with your dress to pull it over your head, and you lay it across the foot of the bed, slipping your boots off quickly after. You’re left in a thin tunic and your underclothes, the healing sheath still hugging you around your middle. By the time you climb beneath the sheets and pull the blanket around you, the cold air has chilled you through, but the heating cloths on your back and side warm you up. You sigh in relief, allowing your body to sink into the cushioned mattress, and your head falls back onto the pillow. You’ve left the door open for a bit of light, and to make it easier for the child to find you, but it doesn’t truly chase away the scent lingering under your nose.

Forest and skin and soap, you think, having smelled it so many times passing by his beskar. It’s faint, though, and you wonder when the last time it was he allowed himself this bit of comfort. The room felt uninhabited. You knew for a fact he often slept in the pilot’s chair, near the child, and as your eyes begin to fall shut, you promise yourself to make sure he sleeps in it from now on.

Mesh’la - Mando’a for “beautiful”

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons, @itzagoodthing, @letaliabane, @yodaswrinkles, @kateb013, @catsnkooks

(Please message me if you’d like to be tagged! I don’t tag unless asked, because I never want to assume and bother someone. Thanks again!!!)

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader

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yourfavewriteress · 4 years

Text

pda | josh anderson

Teaser: “Don’t leave without saying bye, okay? I know you, and you better not.”

“Have you seen Josh yet?” April asked.

“No, but I haven’t really tried looking. We’ve been in here since we came.”

“Do you want to see him? You guys have been pretty close lately.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s just really affectionate with me, I didn’t expect it.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re not official or anything. He doesn’t have to kiss me in front of his friends.”

“I think he really likes you,” She smiled. “And, I think you really like him.”

“He could be playing me.” April rolled her eyes, sliding me another drink. “He is a professional hockey player that has girls throwing themselves at him on the daily.”

“True, but like you said, he’s pretty affectionate with you and I don’t think I've ever seen him like that with anyone else.”

“I don’t know,” I pursed my lips. “I’m fine with just going at his pace.”

“I think you’ve been spotted,” She said, her eyes focused behind me.

“Josh?” She nodded just as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Josh mumbled into my ear, kissing my cheek in the process. “Hey, April.”

“Hey, Josh. I’m gonna use the bathroom really fast,” April responded, leaving us in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I said, turning around in Josh’s arms. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you,” He smiled, pressing his lips to mine. I melted against his touch, holding his arm for balance. “When did you get here?”

“Like twenty minutes ago.”

“And, you didn’t come find me? How dare you,” He joked, looking down at me.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I responded. His eyes searched my face for a few seconds before he stood up straight, reminding me of our height difference and the fact that he was much larger, stronger, and definitely hotter than I was.

Josh and I had met three months prior, at one of his teammates’ parties. I was conflicted over which drink to make myself in the kitchen, and Josh was in a rush to get his own. He grabbed a beer, eyeing me carefully.

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’m just trying to decide which drink I want next,” I smiled politely before turning my attention back to the options. It sounded as if the guy left for a few moments, before I heard his voice behind me again.

“What do you usually drink?”

“Uhm, I usually go for either a beer, or rum and coke. But, I’m not feeling either of those right now.”

“What about a Whiskey Sour?” He suggested.

“I’m flattered that you think I could make that from scratch.”

He laughed, “Fair enough. Lucky for you, I’m pretty experienced with Whiskey Sours.”

I watched as he opened the cabinet, pulling out a cup, mixer, and whatever else he needed from the fridge.

“You’re pretty comfortable in this house,” I commented.

“I’m here a lot,” He smiled.

“What’s your name again?” I asked.

His smile widened as he rinsed his hands, drying them with a towel quickly. He extended his hand out to me, “I’m Josh.”

“Y/N,” I responded, returning his handshake. He squeezed my hand gently, before pulling away to work on the drink.

“So, how did you end up here, Y/N?”

Josh and I talked that night for over an hour. Before I could leave, Josh made sure to ask for my number, saying that he wanted to hang out again. I didn’t believe him but I gave him my number regardless. He surprised me by texting the next morning, asking to go out later that week.

After agreeing, Josh and I began to spend a lot of time together. We were friends, of course, but Josh made it very clear that he was interested in something more. On our third “date,” Josh sealed the deal by kissing me good night when dropping me off at my apartment. Ever since that night, Josh kisses me every time he sees me, and every time he’s saying bye.

It’s cute, and flattering, but it’s been going on for over two months, with no progression in our actual relationship. We were still friends, just ones that really liked each other, or at least made it seem like they did. I truly like Josh, but I know his type and I know the women that want him. His lifestyle is nothing that I could ever compete with or even want to. But, the more I hung out with him, the more I liked him, and the more I believed that he liked me, too.

“How have you been?” He asked, changing the topic.

“Pretty good, busy,” I said.

“Not too busy for me, I hope,” He said. “What are you doing Sunday?”

“I’m not sure, why?”

“Do you want to hang out? Watch a movie or something?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure. But I’m picking since you picked last time,” I narrowed my eyes at him. He laughed.

“Whatever you want,” He kissed my forehead, making the butterflies in my stomach move around in circles. “Don’t leave without saying bye, okay? I know you, and you better not.”

“I won’t,” I rolled my eyes.

“Have fun,” He said.

“Wait, who are you with?”

“Just some of the guys, why?” He responded.

“Nothing, just wondering. So, I know where to find you if I’m leaving or anything,” I shrugged.

“Yeah, just the guys,” He smiled as if he knew what I was really asking. “I’m gonna come find you later though if that’s okay.”

“Sounds good.”

****“

“It’s so nice out here,” I said to April, pulling the blanket up over my hands.

“What kind of a party has people sitting out watching the stars,” She mumbled to me. “If I get bit by anything, I’m gonna kill someone.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I laughed. “It’s nice.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey,” I heard from above me. I looked up, locking eyes with Josh. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, join the gang,” April said.

Josh looked at me as if waiting for my approval. I moved over on the bench I was on, making room for Josh. He sat down next to me, putting his arm behind me.

“How’s hockey?” April asked.

“Not really playing so it’s sucks,” He said. I moved the blanket over his lap as he moved closer to me instinctively.

In the time that we’ve known each other, we physically act like a couple. Josh never shied away from PDA and I wondered if that was with everyone, or just me. I knew what this was from the start, so I let Josh do his thing and only focused on us and how he was with me, because I had my own options. But, now that I’m starting to have genuine feelings for him and completely stopped seeing other people, I hoped that we were on the same page. I obviously don’t expect him to be, but he was also giving me clues that this wasn’t one-sided.

“When do you think you’ll be good to go?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” He shrugged. “Just kind of taking it day by day.”

“Well, at least you’re improving.”

“True.”

“You’re probably still more active than Y/N.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, slapping her arm. “I’m active.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you do?”

“I walk,” I trailed off. “Around.”

“Yeah, your apartment. And, even then you’re still the laziest person I know.”

“I still get everything I need done so I can’t be that lazy.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I’m not lazy,” I said, turning to Josh who was already looking at me. He smiled, nudging my leg with his.

“I know,” He responded. “You’re ‘active.’”

“You’re really gonna join in on chirping me?”

“I’m not,” He laughed.

“Hey, you can’t deny the truth,” April said.

“I’ll be back, I need a refill,” Josh kissed my cheek, moving the blanket off of his lap and onto mine.

“He was staring at you so hard when you were laughing,” April said once he was gone.

“What?”

“It was cute,” She smiled. “He was, like, admiring you.”

“Oh, my god,” I groaned. “I have no idea how to read him.”

“From what I see, he clearly likes you. I haven’t seen him with another girl since you guys met.”

“I feel like I’m just gonna ask where his head’s at and tell him how I feel. This is just too intense for me,” I said.

“Well, he’s coming back so now’s your chance.” Josh sighed, taking his spot back on the bench, this time much closer to me.

“I’m gonna go see if Boone wants to face me in beer pong.”

“Such children,” I said.

“Whatever,” April laughed, getting up. She walked away, leaving Josh and I alone. I looked over at him, turning so now my knee was on top of his thigh.

“Hi,” He smiled. “I finally get you alone.”

“You can get me alone anytime,” I said, mentally face-palming myself after. Josh raised his eyebrows and I blushed, “Not like that. I mean, you can pull me aside any time, it’s a party.”

“Yeah, but then I feel like April would hate me.”

“She wouldn’t,” I rolled my eyes.

“How have you been really?” He asked, pushing a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Feed it to me straight.”

“I’ve been thinking about something,” I said, looking down.

“I had a feeling,” He said. “What’s up?”

“I just want to know where your head’s at? With us?” I asked, looking back up into his eyes. “I know we’re not ‘together’ but sometimes I feel like we are and I don’t want to be confused so I felt like I should just ask.”

“Honestly,” He cleared his throat, looking around. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually.”

“Yeah?” I said, trying to catch his attention again.

“Sorry,” He smiled sheepishly. “Just trying to get my words together.”

“That’s okay”

“Alright,” He said, looking back at me. “I really like you. Like more than I expected to. Not that I wasn’t expecting anything, just that, I really like you and I haven’t really liked anyone in a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I smiled.

“Because, I didn’t know how you felt. But, you never pulled away from me when I kissed you so I hoped you felt the same way.”

“I liked it,” I blushed. “I like it.”

He leaned in, kissing me while holding my neck in place. “I really like kissing you, don’t even get me started.”

I laughed against him, kissing him again. “You’re such a clown.”

“Let’s be exclusive, yeah?” He asked, pulling away slightly. “If you want.”

“Yes,” I said. “No more puck bunnies.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I knew that as soon as I met you.”

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

Text

10 Times Arnav Singh Raizada Crossed The Line (Part 2)

Read Part 1

This is the continuation of my analysis of my favorite television hero - Arnav Singh Raizada. A man who has as much as qualities as flaws. And my endless inspiration to writing a thousand words!

Recap: Arnav Singh Raizada is our perfect, tortured Mills & Boons hero. Sometimes it’s unfortunate when recent shows have aped his behavior and not the layered characterization that he had. However, sometimes (according to my own opinion) I felt that his character might have crossed the line. It’s moments where no explanations justify his behavior.

- Tearing the dori. - Arnav Singh Raizada does not apologize. - Blasting at Khushi for pranking, PRANKING him. - Telling Khushi her anklet, their almost kiss & she, does not matter. - Arnav Hypocrite Raizada - forcing an engaged Khushi to confess her feelings when he’s unable to do so.

Reminding Khushi of her broken engagement cause he can’t handle jealousy.

Manipulating & frightening Khushi with Akash & Payal’s divorce papers.

Telling Khushi he ‘faked’ his sickness to get rid of the ‘Swami’ tag.

Refusing to believe Khushi’s version of events.

Becoming Khushi’s landlord and blackmailing her (emotionally and financially) to get her to come back home.

Bonus

Telling Khushi that she does not have the brains, courage nor talent to face the real world.

#6 “Tumhara rishta? Hua tha... yaad hai na?”. (S5, E10)

“Your relationship? It happened... do you even remember that?” - A foot in mouth Arnav Singh Raizada.

First Reaction: How to lose a woman in ten seconds ft. Arnav Singh Raizada. Are you bloody serious? THIS… out of all the valid things you could have yelled at her for, HER BROKEN ENGAGEMENT is what you taunt her with?

What’s wrong with it:

Arnav arranges a party for Akash & Payal according to his own tastes. He never takes into account that his new sister in law might get intimidated in the new setting. This is a power move for Arnav and really not a party for Akash & Payal because nothing in the party is for them. From whatever we know about Akash, he is a quiet guy who enjoys little things in life - not necessarily wine and a cultural show. Payal feels left out. Akash’s discomfort is visible at the party as he keeps asking Payal if she’s comfortable.

Arnav literally has this party for himself, and he can’t party. In general, Arnav acts like an entitled dick for these two episodes. In the previous episode he makes it clear that he’s aware how Khushi might feel left out and does not invite her to the party for her own sister. He’s insensitive, callous and mocking (and surprised as to why NK and Khushi mix well?).

And I LOVE that Khushi and NK chose to hang out with each other because Arnav is almost pushing her away to another man by his ‘generous acts’. Like if these two were not soulmates and born for each other, I was a minute away from being “Yeah Khushi, I think you should date the other guy who is more sensitive to you even though he’s lived all his life in another country and knows you for like 48 hours.”

Quick note: I’m not all that aversive to NK & Khushi being a pair. Now wait a second, it might be like oh Khushi really pushes their families to think that she and NK go well together. Well… she and NK have an instant connect like no other - even in the future NK is almost always able to tell when Khushi is disturbed or when something happens that demeans Khushi’s worth in the house.

Also, imagine this, in the shoes of Akash - if I am Khushi’s friend and I’ve seen her go through a terrible engagement, incessant insults from my older cousin, and then I see her connect with my younger cousin who actually makes Khushi smile and laugh all the time…

I don’t think it's a mystery that I’ll ship her with a man who can make her smile. And no wonder why the Sangeet performance stuns everyone. Anjali & Akash more than anyone else (because I think they were the only ones who thought there was something else between Arnav & Khushi and they put that thought in the backburner until they see that shit… whatever it was has simmered all along).

Track Rewrite:

I’m just realising that I don’t have many track rewrite ideas for most of the foot-in-mouth situations of ASR. The dialogue that Khushi, here, says is amazing. She literally replies to him, word for word, and makes him see his own hypocrisy and also highlights that he’s furious about something else - that he does not want to accept, as usual.

She states, in between lines, that she has given up reading his mind and trying to be gentle to him when he, frankly, doesn’t deserve that treatment. If anything, their sangeet rivalry and the win-lose situation just gets to my nerves at one point.

Head-canon:

NK openly flirts with Khushi more on seeing how interested Nannav is with Khushi. NK never regards Khushi as his sister-in-law, for him Khushi always remains as his best friend and as the woman he understands best which he not-so-lightly rubs against Nannav’s face every now and then. He truly loves Khushi, but as a friend. It’s a pure, true friendship between Khushi and NK.

Public Service Announcement:

Before planning a party please make sure you have a survey on what the people actually want in the party, especially if it's hosted for them. A party is not a party if you’re the only one enjoying it.

#7 “It is so sad Khushi, ki Akash ka phone mere paas hai.” (S6, E19-21)

“It is so Khushi, that I have Akash’s phone with me.” Arnav, holding Akash’s phone while Khushi frantically dials Akash to ask if he knowingly signed the divorce papers, and make him aware of the same. Arnav makes Khushi think it’s Akash’s divorce papers - Akash actually signed some random office papers.

First Reaction: I know the context of everything but that was a low blow. I KNOW ARNAV DOESN’T KNOW HIS KHUSHI BABY IS INNOCENT but somehow this part is tough to digest.

What’s wrong with it:

Abuse of power - as simple as that. Of course we’re all immediately swayed to Khushi’s feelings because we know she’s an innocent bub. But to Arnav she’s the woman who’s breaking his sister’s house so he probably feels justified in torturing her with the idea of breaking her sister’s house. I get it, it’s a tit for tat situation.

But if we’re thinking deeply, this is not just an average argument that they always have - Khushi literally is going through a mental breakdown to stop Payal. This could have easily gone out of hand. Just saying.

Track Rewrite:

A necessary evil to establish the tighthold Arnav has on Khushi regarding the marriage. I don’t appreciate the immediate comedy, romance or smugness that follows. The scenes are great - individually. But BUT BUT I feel this event would trigger a more serious reaction from Khushi because she has always been very serious when it’s about her sister.

If I had to rewrite this, everything happens the way it is but instead of the childish thing of her jumping into the pool (I know she’s childish but we have infinite opportunities in the future to prove that), she would grow very serious and threaten Arnav to never, ever touch her sister’s marriage.

I would assume she would become very serious for a few days, and then resume to her usual antics. Arnav’s anger is well justified - on one hand Khushi has the galls to threaten him about her sister’s marriage when she’s breaking his, on the other hand he also would never do any damage to Akash’s marriage.

Head-canon:

Bua ji, for as much as she’s crossed with Khushi, actually had a wedding trousseau for Khushi (she starts wearing all the anarkalis and salwar kameez post this trip to Gupta House). There’s actually a very emotional moment between Khushi and Bua ji where Bua ji tells her she bought new clothes for Khushi when they were buying things for Payal.

So yeah, just an emotional, almost mother-daughter bond between Khushi and Bua ji where the latter expresses her disappointment in the way Khushi married but also loves her beyond everything.

Here Bua ji says that she’s upset with Khushi because she’s their own, if not she won’t have even bothered. Also, Garima and Bua ji have a talk in between where they miss Khushi immensely and find it difficult to live in a house without the two daughters.

Garima and Bua ji have a mature talk, as adults, wondering if what Khushi did was a return to what they did to Khushi and then they receive Anjali’s call to attend Holi.

Public Service Announcement:

Don’t manipulate! Also, always check with your spouse for any assumptions you might have against them :) Communication is key. For more enquiries about relationship troubles regarding assumed infidelity or hiding secrets - contact Dr. Jalebi S, your own sweet relationship expert. But yes, don’t hide stuff from your partner if it involves their family and DON’T MANIPULATE AND PLAY MIND GAMES!

#8 “Kitna bhi jaan lo, kabhi kabhi kisi ko pehchaan na bohot mushkil ho jaata hai. Kal raat mujhe kuch bhi nahi hua tha. Main bilkul theek tha.” (S6, E46)

“Irrespective of how much you know someone, sometimes it can get very difficult to (truly) recognize someone. Last night, nothing happened to me. I was absolutely fine.” Arnav Irony Singh Raizada. Doesn’t the first line apply to himself too? He thinks he knows her, but he does NOT.

First Reaction: YOU SON OF A BACHELOR! YOU WERE NOT NOT SICK!

What’s wrong with it:

I don’t like how Arnav’ perennially pissed with Khushi the minute he got up. Pfft, Khushi’s beautiful and seeing her wonderful face in the morning was a great moment for a Rabba Ve moment because of the sweet Rabba Ve they had the night before! I love Arnav’s discomfort in knowing how Khushi took care of him while he was asleep, while no one was there to watch. Because for him, it was crossing borders on what their marriage was beginning to seem.

And then the whole I was not sick, bleh, and then Anjali (I love her, wonderful woman) but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what in the world she was trying to explain. Because really, no way had Arnav lied to Khushi to make her feel better/less guilty.

Rather he was belittling and mocking her efforts.

There’s one thing about hiding intentions, there’s another about forcing and painting someone’s actions in a romantic light - that’s not right.

Arnav is a master at hiding his intentions. Whenever he yells at Khushi where she’s gone - it means he’s worried. When he tells Khushi he doesn’t need her help - well he actually needs it. When he’s ignoring her - he wants her to stop ignoring him, etc.

So we know Arnav when he hides intentions. Hence I felt the Anjali-Arnav scene was forcing the viewers to sympathize with Arnav and be like heh, he did that to make Khushi feel less guilty. I anyways sympathize with Arnav given the battle he’s facing internally... so this one scene felt odd.

Quick note: I have a love-hate relationship with Khushi eating all the food scenes and embarrassing him in his office with wifey behavior. Also, Arnav has a very telling body language when he lies - he speaks very fast, and does not meet her eyes and in many cases, physically turns away from her while speaking.

Track Rewrite:

Just… let’s put the wonderful Anjali/Arnav moment somewhere else in the story where Anjali notices Arnav actually lying to make Khushi feel better. Cause Anjali does hit the nail in stating that her brother never reveals what he feels.

Also, I love the entire Gupta House adventure that they have but there’s a part of me that wished it happened at another time.

Like if it happened at the time it did, then oh God please change what triggers the marriage reveal.

Otherwise the entire thing can happen when Arnav decides to stay in Gupta house cause Khushi won’t be coming to Raizada house (post his great “You’re the biggest mistake of my life Khushi”). In a way it would be hilarious that Arnav is trying to win Khushi back but also is facing extreme discomfort at the lack of luxury he’s become used to - classic ASR.

And probably Khushi suffocates him with a recall to the ‘Swami’ track and makes his life a living hell in her house. Made for each other that they are.

Head-canon:

Arnav and Khushi get used to and look forward to having meals together. Arnav, rarely, eats alone ever again. It’s a development Nani and Anjali are very happy to see.

Public Service Announcement:

Don’t eat all food if you have a diabetic partner. Also, don’t try to understand everything your sibling does - try questioning them instead of justifying. Try drinking coffee instead of tea if you’ve been awake all night <3

#9 “Tumhe kya lagta hai, agar tum uss raat mujhe bata deti toh kya main aankhein band karke tumpe vishwaas kar leta?” (S7, E15-17)

“What do you think, if you told me your truth that night then I would’ve believed you without a doubt?” Arnav, to Khushi, after she’s told her side of the misunderstanding. And with that, every fan’s highest hopes dashed and worst dreams came true.

First Reaction: NO ARNAV DON’T… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What’s wrong with it:

He refuses to believe her. He has a choice, he has heard both sides of the story. And he refuses to believe it. But my biggest problem - Khushi pretends she has no idea what moment he’s referring to?

Girl, you’ve been forcefully hugged by Shyam only once in your life and until and unless you’re amnesiac you would remember that traumatic moment. I am just so upset that Khushi does nothing nor says anything concrete when he says he doesn’t believe her. She doesn’t say Shyam molested her.

She puts it on Arnav. That what he knows isn’t true. That he doesn’t deserve the truth, which is a good argument but state more! Then she goes silent *argh*

Her argument starts strong, but ends up terribly. She just ends up saying all the things that don’t matter!

Track Rewrite:

Khushi should have told why she went to the terrace that night. That she thought it was he who asked her to come up. That Shyam harassed her. That Shyam has continuously harassed her. That Arnav’s not the only one who threatened the safety of Payal’s marriage - Shyam threatened it too.

No matter what Khushi did, somehow Payal’s marriage always ends up on the line. If she tells, Payal’s marriage is threatened by Shyam and because she didn’t, Payal’s marriage was threatened by Arnav.

ALSO KHUSHI APOLOGISES FOR HIDING THE TRUTH!

It should’ve been a clash of their ideologies, their personalities, her heartbreak over the fact that he doesn’t know she loves him, his disbelief that the truth is too good to be true (and essentially confusion because if Khushi loved him all along then it meant that he misunderstood her all along and he’s not great at seeing his own mistakes). She would’ve been too angry to make amends - not until she realizes he’s leaving for London and his mistake doesn’t matter.

Here’s a fic that I wrote that covers this.

Head-canon:

Akash and Payal are the only ones who later get to know the entire thing as this topic affected both the marriages deeply. Nani also knows, but of course not the part that he forced her to marry for six months by threatening Payal’s marriage.

Public Service Announcement:

Lies rarely do good. And be careful to analyze any traumatic event from all angles! What’s visible is not what happens and what happens is not visible!

#10 “Khushi, tum kiraya kamkarwana chahti ho? Toh tumhe mere saath ghar aana parega.” “Nahi.” “Okay, mere paas koi choice nahi hai. Mujhe tumhara ghar girwana parega.” (S8, E21-22)

“Khushi you want to reduce your rent? Then you to need to come home with me.” “No.” “Okay, then I have no other choice. I will have to tear down your house.” - Arnav to Khushi. The most inappropriate sentence anyone can tell to another. Given that they are husband and wife, it’s even worse.

Quick note on the photos: Khushi Kumari Gupta, not believing the man she married in all three scenes. Arnav Singh Raizada, lying in all three scenes.

First Reaction:

Everybody… yeah… don’t really rock your body… yeah… Stupid. Singh. Raizada’s. Back!

Oh my God stupid Raizada is back again! Brothers sisters everybody’s sayin’…. Not really gonna bring Khushi back nor gonna show anyone anything how… *continues butchering Backstreet’s Back* I gotta question for you (yes I do ASR so) you better answer now..

Are you original? Yeah

Are you the only one? For Khushi, yeah

Are you sexual? Very, but that’s not helping… Noooo

Are you everything Khushi needs - Yes but you need to shut up.

Are you - SHUT UP AND SAY SORRY

AND MEAN IT IF YOU’RE SAYING SORRY - IN FORTY EIGHT HOURS YOU SAID SHE’S THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF HER LIFE, APOLOGISED AND FOLLOWED IT UP BY THREATENING PAYAL’S MARRIAGE, MADE HER WORK FOR YOU AND BOUGHT THE HOUSE SO YOU COULD HIKE THE HOUSE FEES AND THEN LITERALLY TOLD HER YOU CAN DRAG HER OUT OF THE HOUSE… and you think she’ll come back?

DUDE, what are you smoking?

What’s wrong with it:

Boy… no. No. Ask NK, Nani, Payal or even Lakshmi (talk with the people who understand Khushi!) on how to appease Khushi. A part of me was really upset with this track cause although I understand that Arnav is never really gonna do a full blown redemption and they need to stay true to his character, I didn’t see how ANY of his actions would get Khushi back…

It’s not wrong that he was upset at Khushi for visiting Anjali - even I was! Like seriously, Khushi, despite her best intentions, really does make the biggest mistakes! However, implying that Khushi’s existence is the reason why Shyam cheated Anjali was shit. On top of that he calls his marriage a contract, blackmails her about Payal, is unable to wish her a happy birthday, becomes her landlord and stops all utilities (hence now blackmailing her using her family) to get her back?

I don’t see the sense. I try really hard and I’m team Arnav but for me him becoming her landlord was just flexing his money and power. It was a low blow, and it’s really not funny how he keeps threatening the peace of her family but get’s pissed off when Khushi, unintentionally, disturbs his family.

It does not matter that Arnav would essentially not carry on with his threat, to Khushi he would and that’s what matters (cuts off electricity and water to prove his point and it does cause inconvenience her family). It’s just a very unhealthy atmosphere over here. The little moments are great, independently, but apart from that I just found this to be a very troubling scene.

Track Rewrite:

Oh I have a lot, LOT of theories for this one:

- Khushi first thinks Arnav has bought the house from her landlord so as to stop the harassment and Arnav is guilty AF because he didn’t expect that. Bua ji enters right when Arnav talks about the truth of the marriage. She hears everything, and asks Arnav to leave her house, forever. She goes all ‘Haye Re Nandkishore’ on him. DRAMA. #BuajiRoxx

- Landlord shit doesn’t happen. Khushi leaves the house, Arnav decides to stay at her house since she isn’t going back to Shantivan with the promise to reminisce all the sweetest moments she shared. Khushi kills him with the ‘Swami’ shit, again, and Arnav ends up being irritated due to lack of adjustment but also does everything possible to get Khushi back. They have their Rabba Ves and then he brings her back and gives her the sweet gifts.

- She returns home (just like in canon) but distances herself from all the Raizadas (and does not jump into making Raksha Bandhan celebration - ugh, women are not always obligated to keep their sasuraal happy)! For a few days she becomes just like Arnav - unemotional, unaffected, orderly and unexpressive. Akash, having repaired his relationship with Payal and hence having gained a deeper insight, helps Arnav overcome his marriage issues.

Head-canon:

Khushi and Arnav have a conversation where she asks him when, where and why did he transfer the house’s papers to her name. It’s an important and tender moment. Arnav gradually comes to know Khushi married him more because it was he who proposed marriage. Khushi gradually comes to know that Arnav, never, would threaten Akash-Payal’s marriage.

Did she accidentally come across the ‘office’ papers that Akash had signed? Did Arnav actually play a role in smoothening Akash-Payal’s relationship post the Shyam reveal - anything on those lines.

Public Service Announcement:

IF YOUR PARTNER ISN’T COMING BACK HOME AND YOU THINK BLACKMAIL IS A SOLUTION THEN MESSAGE DR. JALEBI/S IMMEDIATELY. YOU NEED HELP. At this point, irrespective of star crossed pyaar, I’d 9/10 recommend separation, break, counseling.

Bonus

"No you can’t. Kyunki asal zindagi main guzara karne ke liye paise chahiye hote hai. Aur paise kamane ke liye akal chahiye hoti hai. Himmat aur confidence chahiye hote hai puri duniya ka saamna karne ke liye. Apne sapne pure karne ke liye. Aur tumhe inn sab main se kuch bhi nahi hai.” (S11, E2)

“No you can’t [face the world on your own]. Because to face the real world you need need. And to earn money you need intelligence. You need bravery and confidence to face the whole whole. To fulfill your dreams. And you have none of these.” Arnav, to Khushi. The moment when Arnav forgot that Khushi was the sole breadwinner of the Gupta’s and Khushi forgot that Arnav is a multimillionaire.

First Reaction: WHAT ARE THE WRITERS DOING? WHAT IS THE CHANNEL DOING? WHAT IS ARNAV DOING? THIS LEADS TO A FASHION SHOW INSTEAD OF AN ACTUAL CHAT - WHAT IS KHUHSI DOING? WHAT AM I DOING??!! Should I stop watching the show?

What’s wrong with it:

I really liked Arnav and Khushi’s difference of opinion when it came to raising Aarav - not where she is being stupid and asking to burst crackers (she is retracting on so many of her characteristics right now I can’t keep a track). I did not like the second half of the argument because it really took the characters several notches down on their growth/development.

I really liked Khushi stating to Arnav that - hey, buying happiness with money can work with adults but terribly spoil children. But then what followed, without a hint of apology, into an embarrassing and terrible Fashion Pageant that completely missed the point of this argument!

Neither parent thinks it’s important to sit and have a calm chat with Aarav. Arnav is a ‘yes’ man around him. Khushi is there to heap the values instilled on her. Is anyone trying to make Aarav understand, no? And Arnav’s evident lack of respect for Khushi will translate to Aarav.

They’re both bad at parenting and this could have been a really nice track that they could have wrapped up in a few episodes but no.

Aarav never learns. Arnav gives a half assed dialogue about ‘oh I know Khushi you’re talented’ and Khushi spends the next 10 days behaving like an 8 year old, not chatting up with Aarav about behavior issues, and thinks winning a Fashion Pageant is being courageous, talented, determined and independent.

*throws head on wall*

Track Rewrite:

Oh I HAVE TONS but I’ll explain my favorite one. First of all, I’ll let that argument be because it is natural that this is where Arnav and Khushi might conflict. But instead of Khushi’s childish sulking that puts Arnav into a ‘oh let’s make her jealous, call her to office, appease her by some shitty ASR plan and probably apologise somewhere’ and Khushi going all ‘haww, he called me brainless, now I’ll prove so by stupidly acting like a kid in his coat’-

Arnav and Khushi stand still when they realise he has crossed a line and he storms off, leaving a very quiet Khushi alone. They both walk on eggshells, neither’s ego letting the argument down. It seriously hampers their relationship. They just don’t speak and anything small leads to a big argument.

Khushi spends an enormous amount of time in her catering service in an attempt to prove herself, becoming a bit crazy behind earning money which makes her off character. Arnav throws himself in office, and is almost happy when he realizes Khushi’s catering service does not earn even half of his monthly profit, annually. A competitive streak drives a wedge between them. This goes on - that troubles the entire family, and stops until Aarav misbehaves with Anjali.

This breaks the ice wall between Arnav and Khushi, draws them out of their workaholic spheres. Bua ji, Payal, NK reprimand Khushi for being absent in raising Aarav, her obsession to make Aarav religious and traditional without making him understand the reason of the values and above all, competitive with her husband that she grandly declared she can’t live without. Mami, Nani, Akash reprimand Arnav for pretty much the same.

When Arnav and Khushi talk to Anjali, she again reprimands the both of them in terms of parenting, marriage and the coexistence of both. Arnav cannot buy upbringing, manners, ethics, respect and character through money. Khushi cannot instill goodness, kindness, generosity and honesty by piling beliefs of the Lord. If that was the case then her husband - who would get all the money he needed from Arnav, and believed in all the Gods - would be a good man.

Arnav and Khushi talk to their son, together, to figure out his actual problem of fitting in. Aarav is surprised to learn both his parents were orphans. He truly bonds with them after getting through his adjustment fears and issues. In teaching Aarav, Arnav and Khushi realise what truly matters - their love. And that they had forgotten how similar they were.

With Aarav they have met another person who is just like them - alone, afraid, orphaned and lonely who’s standing at the same point in life where he either turns himself into a man with absolute belief or none at all. And with parents who have faced the extremes of fates, Aarav might just have the perfect upbringing.

Hence, Arnav and Khushi patch up with an emotional, tear jerking hug. They end up recounting each other’s stories and realize how far they’ve come along. They never had a name for their love and after all the hatred, denial, lust, acceptance, confession, purity, marriage and parenthood - no one name’s going to fit either.

Head-canon:

Aarav, although behaviorally like his father, grows up to be a complete Mumma’s boy. If anyone thought Arnav is super protective about Khushi, well Aarav is ten times more protective about his mother. Also, internally Aarav is a big fan of Hindi cinema, loves sweets and has the most outrageous dance moves. But he’s also an introvert so he would kill anyone who pointed out on those.

Public Service Announcement:

Adopt children when you are ready. Having a child can take toll on a marriage so COMMUNICATE - COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR SPOUSE, YOUR CHILD AND YOUR SUPPORT SYSTEM!

Phew, this is the end of this post and I sincerely hope you liked it! Feel free to send your thoughts through asks/notes/etc.

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #Arnav Singh Raizada #tv analysis #analysis #character analysis

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scorpio-skies · 4 years

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Bless me with your OTP!

I know everyone’s expecting Noranse, but I’m going to shake things up with Nara because why not! I love em just as much and they have an interesting dynamic! ;D

I was tagged by the amazing @slothssassin !

Tagging; @eluvisen, @mrninjapineapple, @beckiboos, @ariejul, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @lothrilzul, @val-rampage, @solesurvivorkat , @metalforhands, @mars-colony, @lookbluesoup , @tarberrymentats @marvilus73 and anybody else who’d like to do this! ♥

Do they fight often? If so, what is their dynamic like?

Nora and Nate often bicker over little things, though they’re usually harmless and end fairly quickly. However, when they have real fights, things can escalate and their home become a place of glacial silence and tension. The cause of these fights usually boils down to three things; Nate’s alcoholism, Nora’s rigid morals vs Nate’s social circle, and Nate’s perfectionism.

They both have the bad habit of bottling things up and not talking to each other, silently stewing until they calm down. They try to never sleep on an argument however, and always tried discussing things before they fall asleep.

The only exceptions were when Nate would get too riled up and do what he’s done throughout his life; run away and seek solace at the bottom of a bottle. When he goes sober, Nate walks their dog and has a few smokes to clear his head instead.

Angry Nora prefers to cook out her rage, taking it out on the chopping board loudly enough that Nate instantly knows when she’s angry. The cooking is still delicious and edible, and they often talk out their frustrations over the food -- if Nora has calmed down. If she hasn’t, she’ll comfort eat all the sweets she made herself!

Who is the most skeptical of the two?

This is a tough one -- neither of them are skeptics, really. Nate has more of a feel for people however, because he’s friends with all types. He knows there’s good and beauty in the world, but he’s also seen the worst of humanity, which really comes out in his PTSD following Anchorage. I’d say Nate’s the most skeptical, though post-war Nora definitely has a reality check and hardened up, although she still lucked out by meeting some of the good people in the sea of bad.

Who would be most likely to suggest a night of dancing?

Nate 1000% -- he’s the guy who knows everybody and can queue jump like a V.I.P! Nora’s a bit more shy and awkward (until she’s had a few drinks) and would only join Nate sometimes, though she’d head home fairly early. When out on his own however, Nate would be out until the morning rush hour, typically heading to bars long after their closing hours and hanging with the special regulars. He also loves to dance and sing so it was always a great time for him!

If they’re alone or in a quiet venue however, Nora’s always up for a quiet slow dance between them.

What would they do if the other was injured in battle?

Nate would fall back on his military training, dealing with immediate threats before tending to Nora. He’d then prioritise her safety over the mission and work to cut them a path out of there.

Pre-war Nora wouldn’t know what to do (in the battle, or first aid wise), but post-war with Brotherhood training, Nora would do the same, patching him best she knew how and retreating to the nearest medics ASAP.

Unless innocents were endangered, they would stay by the others bedside until they were stable.

How do their fighting styles complement each other?

Nate and Nora adopted completely different styles -- Nate prefers combat armour and moving stealthy but fast. He’s great with assault rifles, though he’s always shone when it comes to CQC being a big guy. He moves a lot faster than most can guess and with lethal precision, though if he can drop enemies at a distance, he prefers it.

Nora, on the other hand, was trained by Danse. She adores power armour and feels near unstoppable in it. Whereas Nate would rather slip in, Nora would rather kick the door down and bulldoze any in front of her, followed up by ashing with her rifle.

In battle, the pair function rather poorly because Nate becomes obsessed with Nora’s safety to the detriment of both of them. They could work well together with Nora being the big, steely distraction allowing Nate an opening to flank enemies, but Nate’s fear clouds his judgement and all he sees is his wife in danger.

Do they want children? Does it frighten them? How many do they want?

They both want children and to have a family together. Nora would be happy with two children as being an only child she felt lonely. Nate would be happy with two, though he would love to have more as he has a very strong paternal instinct.

Pre-war, Nate had a very strong fear that he would fail as a father due to his mother’s influence, and lack of a caring father in his own life. He’s also petrified that his mother would find out and want to come into his children’s lives, which he would not stand for.

Nora worried about being a good parent too, but her fears weren’t so deeply rooted as Nate’s because she knew she had her family support network to fall back on.

Post war, they’re both frightened at the thought of raising their children in such a dangerous world, but it also serves as a powerful drive for the pair of them to make it as secure for their children as possible, that they might enjoy a childhood in spite of the threats. Chances are they’d also adopt alongside having their own child if they met an orphan who needed them.

What happened when they took them home to their families? If their families aren’t in the picture anymore, how do they feel about it?

Nate has complete no contact with his family. His situation is complicated to say the least. His mother fell pregnant out of wedlock and had a hasty wedding to a man who was clearly not Nate’s father -- and his mother played cruel games with that fact, preventing Nate’s (secretly step) father from ever bonding with him. As a result, he and his ‘father’ were more awkward housemates than family who were often pitted against each other.

Nate’s younger half-brother made more of an effort, but as he was the ‘favoured child,’ Nate harboured a lot jealousy and bitterness towards him that poisoned their relationship. It grew worse when their mother had them competing, and suddenly began fawning over Nate when he joined the military.

His mother he hates like nothing else. Part of him still craves her love and validation, but he fears that she’ll poison his new family with her toxicity and knows her affection is born purely from what she stands to gain.

His mother comes from old money, and her family disowned her after her shock pregnancy and sudden marriage to a ‘lesser class.’ Initially they pretended ‘the bastard’ didn’t exist, but when he joined the military he suddenly ‘made them proud’ and his lack of a known father was suddenly a boon because his father might not be so common after all -- and the family wanted a male heir who would take their name and continue the lineage. Because of this, his mother saw Nate as her meal ticket back to the good life and the family bank account and suddenly cared about him again.

She did meet Nora once, wheedling Nate’s latest home from one of his friends -- but it wasn’t for long. Nora was wary of her following what Nate had confided, and he came home partway through her visit. He exploded and chased her from the building, feeling furious and terrified. Shortly after, he and Nora moved to Sanctuary Hills, telling no one but Nora’s family where they had gone.

Nora’s family loved Nate immediately. He’s a natural charmer, and as a patriotic soldier her parents warmed to him quickly -- it also helped that neither Nate or Nora mentioned he was couch surfing and had no address of his own at the time.

Evangeline, Nora’s cousin and BFF, liked Nate but was also initially wary that he might be a player and she, as a police officer, was less than thrilled at his many murky contacts and friends. Seeing his genuine adoration and loyalty for Nora as well as his good heart, she was won over, which eased his welcome into the extended family.

He now attends every family gathering and is honestly sometimes more enthusiastic about them than Nora.

Nate adores Nora’s family and feels honoured and touched that they accepted him and go out of their way to make him part of the unit. He finally feels like he has a real family with them.

How does each person show affection towards the other?

They’re both casually intimate with each other - little touches, embraces, kisses and snuggles. When out in public, they’ll walk close with their fingers entwined and when they sit they naturally lean into each other. There’s thoughtful gifts between them, and, especially on Nate’s part, big romantic gestures.

Who cries the most? Who is better at comforting?

Nate cries more than Nora -- he’s suffered a lot in his life, and is typically more open with his emotions. When Nora cries, she always tries to hide it while Nate struggles to. Nate comforts through hugs and gentle pep-talks, whilst Nora comforts much the same way, but with added comfort food. When the time’s right, they’ll attempt to distract whoever they’re comforting with something fun -- Nate’s likely to offer to talk over drinks, or go for a drive when he’s sober, while Nora will suggest movies and more food til they’re ready to talk or cheered up.

Who is the bigger flirt?

Nate. Nora’s quite shy about flirting and a hopeless romantic. Nate however is a casual flirt -- he’d never stray from Nora or cheat on her, but he’s naturally flirtatious and can’t help himself. He loves making people feel beautiful and confident, and sometimes it doesn’t quite register that he might have gone too far and led someone on. It’s definitely led to problems, and at times Nora’s gotten jealous and angry at him over it, though she’s come to the understanding that that’s just who he is - -and at the end of the day, it’s her he loves and comes home to, no one else. No one else. >:3

#nora hart #nathaniel hart #fallout 4 #sole survivor #female sole survivor #is it the case that nora's wrath has reared its head in some universes when other people have tried to make a move on nate?#yes! yes it has!#and both Nate and Danse are ;O-O when they see it!#as soon as i get money I'll have to get a nara pic done #I do love em!#also this is ancient and I found it mostly written in my drafts so finally finished it today yay!

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: Mentions of bodily harm, implied sexy times

A/N: A reminder that Parts 11 and 12 run concurrently from different view points. I love this chapter and it was almost cathartic to write it. While obviously this is all fiction, I think we can all follow Shirley’s lead in this chapter and show ourselves a little love.

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6] [PART 7] [PART 8] [PART 9] [PART 10] [PART 11]

Part 12

Forgiveness

Several hours after she killed Agent Port, now known as Kirsch, Shirley spent time with Dr. Orange talking about the ordeal. She found herself worried that she felt no remorse over killing someone. If anything, she felt like she could kick up her heels and dance a jig with Merlin. Was she an unfeeling monster like him at heart?

“No.” Said Dr. Orange. “Five years ago, you experienced a severe trauma and while you may have gotten your life back, a little part of it was still held captive by the experience. Knowing he was still out there has been dogging you this entire time. He’s gone and now you’re free.”

“Free.”

“Yes, free. As a therapist I should tell you differently, but I think I can bend the rules just this once. Shirley, you did the right thing by killing him. You saved more lives, your actions will give comfort to the families and co-workers of the agents missing or dead, and for the love of god, you’re free to live your life without fear.”

Shirley’s eyes teared up because she knew what Dr. Orange was saying was right. She had been living, but not really. She never left HQ alone on the rare moments she did leave, she was granted permission not to be sent to another office, and she turned the library into her life. Even her interactions with her friends and Jack were stunted, limited by the weight of her scars and the man on the run who caused them. Now, she could be herself again. A fully bloomed flower. A sunshiny Marigold.

They talked at little longer and after a long hug, Shirley left the office feeling pounds lighter. Free.

---***---

Several Days Later

The sun pouring into the bedroom nudged Shirley awake and she slowly opened her eyes. For the first time in years, waking up felt truly pleasurable and she remembered what it meant to feel rested. She shifted a bit before stretching like a cat. Jack’s arm tightened around her waist, but he never woke up and she could feel his even breaths against her neck. She laid in bed a little longer before she got up. Jack mumbled in his sleep but rolled over to his back and quieted down again.

She padded across the room to begin her morning routine, the same one she had since she moved into their apartment. Gathering her clothes to dress elsewhere so Jack wouldn’t see her scarred body, she went into the bathroom to clean up. After washing her face and brushing her teeth and hair, she began to strip out of the long pajamas that she slept in.

As she bent over to take off her pants, her eye caught her reflection in the mirror. She noticed the scars along her chest were faded to almost nothing, small specks of silver as if a fairy kissed her and left marks. She surprised herself at the thought – so opposite of how she saw those scars all these years. Kiss marks on her chest made her think of something completely different.

“Moonshine, you are killing me in that dress.” Jack groaned. The wrap dress she wore was simple enough, almost knee length with three quarter sleeves. A modest number in purple with white flowers dotted all over it.

“This dress? You’ve seen more skin than this before.” She laughed even as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her flush against him. He bent down and kissed the laughter from her mouth and she gently placed her hands on his forearms. When he lifted his head, they were both panting, with want pooling heavy in both their stomachs.

“I could fuck you in this dress right here.” She sighed as his lips made their way down her neck and to her cleavage. She rested her cheek against the top of his head and moaned a little. They had to leave soon, but she didn’t want to move. She loved it when Jack kissed her, touched her. It made her feel alive.

“Jack, baby. I’ll let you fuck me every day in this dress when I get home from California. But we got to go, we don’t want to be late for lunch. Champ wants the meeting to start on time and I need to prep before I leave tonight. The case can’t wait.” He groaned slightly before kissing back up the path he forged and for good measure, kissed her again on the lips.

“You’re free.” She whispered to herself. She stripped off the rest of her clothing and as she stood there in just her underwear, she forced her eyes to really look at her body. The one she had hidden away from everyone, even Jack. It took many long months before she let him touch her intimately again, but rarely fully naked or in the light. And even then, she still flinched at his touch and sometimes found herself fretting over Jack’s opinion of her body despite never been given a reason to do so. The brain convinces us of the strangest things.

She turned her body this way and that, looking at healed scars. Most of the back of her was covered in a network of scarred skin that had been burned in the explosion. But after so many years, the skin had softened and didn’t look nearly as horrible as she remembered. God, how long had it been since she really looked at herself? The long scar along her hip was barely visible and she really couldn’t be certain where they had cut her open to insert the stabilizing rods in her ribs.

Had she really spent so much time fearing her own body that she completely ignored the healing of it? The thought sobered her greatly. All these years and she never once forgave herself for surviving. She never once celebrated her body as it healed from devastating trauma.

Today would end that.

---***---

She stood in front of the floor length mirror and started with her toes, wiggling them. She smiled, she always thought she had cute toes and looking at them, they still were. Her eyes dragged up to her ankles and then her calves. She smiled wider when she saw a small round scar on the side of her left calf. It was her first one after her cousin accidentally shot her in the leg with a BB gun when she was four.

“Boone, I told you not to point that damn thing in the house!” Aunt Lisa hollered through the kitchen. “If you don’t take that back to the damn shed, I’m gonna toss it into the damn landfill.”

“Okay, momma, no need to get huffy!” Boone rolled his eyes and started to turn when he tripped, fell, and dropped the gun. It went off, pinging against the stove and hitting Marigold, who was sitting on the table, in the leg. She started to wail at the pain and began screaming when she saw the blood.

Aunt Lisa turned around in horror as Marigold’s mother soothed her child. Lisa’s eyes narrowed and she whipped her head around to look at her idiot son. Boone took one look at his mother and ran out of the house screaming.

Shirley quietly giggled at the memory. Her cousin was such a ridiculous creature and when she wanted to be silly, she’d recreate the scene for her friends. She turned the memory over in her mind before moving on.

There were her knees and her thighs. They were softer these days, like everything else about her. She wasn’t young anymore and stationary work was more her speed. But they were strong and for a moment she had a memory of Jack’s head being cradled between them. Her breath caught in her throat.

She kept going, looking at her hips and the swell of her mound under her panties. She lightly touched herself and thought of all the times she woke up with Jack’s head laying on this very spot, snoring softly while his hands curled lightly around her hips. He would claim he never slept better than on those nights.

Higher her eyes went to her soften belly, rounded and almost cute. Her waist was as straight as a board as it always had been, but Jack didn’t care. He loved wrapping his arms around it when they hugged or slept side by side in bed. She could almost feel his touch and her breath hitched again.

Her eyes dragged upwards to her breasts, where more of those little silver scars dotted her skin. Like her stomach and thighs, there was a new softness that had settle there. She decided the softness more was suited to her than it had ever been. She thought of the time Jack ghosted his fingertips along her skin, tracing circles until her nipples peaked and she was breathless with want. When he stopped touching her, she nearly cried, but gasped when he replaced his hands with his mouth. She remembered her eyes opening wide with shock and pleasure, taking in the deep blue Wyoming sky above her. She felt as if heaven settled all around her that day.

Grinning now, she scraped her eyes to her neck, where the scars wrapped around from the back. She touched the skin and felt saddened at the loss of surface feeling. She had loved it when Jack lightly placed his lips against the side of her neck and around to the back. But the scaring was lighter and if there had been no wrinkling of the skin, one would never know she had been burned there.

Shirley held out her arms and looked at the three treated cuts on her left arm. Cuts that would also heal quietly back into nothing. The slightly scarred skin of her upper arms smoothed out into her delicate hands. She always had small hands, but they were capable. Capable enough to kill a man. Her eyes flew back to her face a moment, but she felt nothing. It was a moment in time and now it was gone. She reminded herself that these same hands built her beloved library and were cradled by her friends in dark hours. These hands were full of tenderness when they’d lightly skim across Jack’s face and down his neck and even lower. He loved her hands, they brought him to ecstasy many times over.

She looked back at her face. She had the comfortable softness of a woman in her thirties, where time reminded her of a life lived and yet of all the time left to live. That she will live because she is here, breathing and alive. She was convinced her face even looked more radiant than it ever had, realizing that she carried the weight of worry on it for so long. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought. They looked upwards after a moment.

Her hair was always a mousy brown, but this morning the sun highlighted the many silver strands that wove through it. Most women avoided grays like the plague, but she ran her hands through her hair and smiled. She loved them because she couldn’t wait to go grey – a salt and pepper look would better fit her than the current brown every could. But she loved all of it, it was long and soft to the touch. Jack could run his fingers through it for hours and she’d never tell him to stop.

She stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror again. Wrapping her arms around her waist and dropping her chin to her chest, Shirley closed her eyes, giving herself the hug she deserved so much. Digging deep into herself, she banished negative thoughts about her body.

“I love you.”

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #pedro pascal #kingsman: the golden circle #fanfic #agent whiskey x oc #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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secret-engima · 4 years

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Spoiler Snippet of Worlds Unseen (Calling You and Me) Chap 10

(I have literally no self control. Then again I’ve been sitting on this for literal months so maybe I have a little but it’s gone now so here we go. MAJOR SPOILERS for Worlds Unseen verse so pls, if you read, come screech at me, if you don’t want spoilers, then don’t click the read more. Assuming the read more works this time. Also this is ... LONG. Long snippet. Very spoilery snippet. You have been warned.)

...

Luna walked slowly toward Drautos, the Ring of the Lucii pinched between two fingers while her other hand hovered near it. Nyx was hissing at her to run, to not be an idiot, but Bast could already see her plan in her grave, sorrowful eyes. She was going to put herself between them and the biggest threat —Drautos— and then she was going to put on the Ring.

She was going to die for them.

No.

Not again. He’d already lost a mother, he’d already lost a father. He wasn’t losing Luna too.

Bast waited until she was passing by, less than three steps away from him and less than ten from Drautos’s outstretched hand. Then he lunged, snatching her wrist with one hand and ripping the Ring from her fingers with the other. He could hear the guns coming to bear and the crack of bullets leaving chambers, could see Drautos’s sword coming up and over to cleave Bast in two. He didn’t care.

He put on the Ring and the world turned blue.

Everything slowed to less than a crawl. He spun in place, drinking in the surreal experience of seeing bullets inch through the air, slower than worms in a spring frost. He could see Drautos’s sword coming for his head, so slow he could have probably run a lap around the entire city before it came close to the ground. He could see Luna’s face twisting into terrified, heartbroken realization, so slow her expression was still mostly shock. Nyx was reaching for him, hand only a few inches from his side and splinted leg pushing him forward mere centimeters. Libertus was pulling Crowe toward the ground, one crutch hovering in the air as gravity took its sweet time dragging it earthward.

Bast took a deep breath and looked back at Luna. Even though she probably couldn’t hear —maybe especially because she couldn’t hear— he whispered, “I love you, Luna, and I’m so sorry.”

Then he straightened, a ward-prince before an audience and a glaive at attention, “Kings and Queens of Lucis, grant me audience.”

The world around him vanished save the pavement directly beneath his feet. Luna, Nyx, Libertus, Crowe, everyone else disappeared from his sight. The air rippled with power-time-judgement, so strong he felt like he would drown in it. Then, like towering, burning silhouettes of ancient memory and timeless magic, they appeared. He could only see thirteen of them, arrayed around him like enormous pillars of judgement-power-who-dares. But he could feel the rest lurking in the darkness. A hundred generations of Ring-bearing rulers, all of them watching. Waiting.

Judging.

“You call upon the Wardens of this world’s future Mortal,” rumbled the first of them —Mystic, Founder King, oldest of the Ring—, “and if you come lusting for our power, you must first stand in our judgement.”

Bast wanted to fold beneath the weight of magic pressing in on all sides, he wanted to scream and cry, crumble to dust if it meant escaping the painful, searing weight of power that was waiting for the slightest excuse to burn him alive. But he didn’t. He forced his knees to lock and his back to stay straight, made his voice remain steady as he looked up into their helmeted faces and made his plea, “It is true that I come for your magic, but not for my sake. Hear me, Kings and Queens of the Lucii! The Oracle stands in mortal peril and the Ring is inches from the enemy’s grasp! The Chosen King wanders the world unknowing of the danger and at risk of losing she who is to guide him and forge the Covenants in his name!” The magic curled closer, squeezed his lungs and Bast shuddered, fought for air and kept going, “Please. Please, I ask not for my sake. I ask for Luna, for Noctis, for Regis, for the world. Summon your Old Wall! Grant me the strength to see Luna to safety beyond Insomnia’s borders before it is too late!”

The weight doubled, then tripled, and Bast collapsed to his hands and knees with a helpless wheeze under the weight of ancient contempt, “You presume to judge what time is ripe for our power? To presume our favor? Yours is not even royal blood. Your soul is not even of our star.” Not of … what?

Magic like forests and old stones emerged from the ocean around him, cutting off his spinning thoughts as it curled around him like gentle hands on his shoulders. Bast’s head snapped around to face one helmet in particular as another king spoke, “Wait,” said Regis-not-Regis-but-his-memory-and-that-was-close-enough, “I know this soul. I watched him as he grew and taught him as he matured. I have seen what he is capable of. He too, seeks to safeguard the future. He too has sworn an oath to see the Chosen’s destiny through.”

“Father,” wheezed Bast past the spinning pressure in his head.

Regis —not Regis, memories of his magic preserved and given form as a warrior king, as the Father— did not respond, said nothing to Bast as the Mystic rumbled, “Very well, young king. We will weigh your ward-son’s worth.” The Mystic’s attention fell on Bast again, “But our boon does not come cheap. The cost … is a life.” The blackness around them curled away, revealing Nyx reaching for him, three bullets aimed for his heart and getting slowly but steadily closer. Behind him were Libertus and Crowe, Crowe almost to the relative safety of the ground, Libertus above her like a living shield against the hail of bullets coming for them, the hail that might miss, or might instead tear Libertus apart. The choice being offered was clear. Nyx or Libertus? Who would Bast sacrifice for the greater good? Who would he sentence to death in exchange for power?

“Choose, Mortal,” intoned one of the other kings —the Fierce? It looked like the Fierce’s statue— “who’s life will you sacrifice for our power?”

Perhaps if Bast had truly been royal blood, he could have chosen between them. Perhaps if he had been a real prince, he would have been able to swallow his guilt and make the sacrifice —like Regis had done to him, like Regis had done to all of Insomnia—. But Bast was not, and anger dragged air into his lungs and forced his back straight even though he was still on his knees, “No. No.”

“You desire our power but refuse to pay our price?” Growled the Conqueror scathingly.

Fury gave him strength to bare his teeth, “I will not bargain with that which I do not possess! You ask me what price I will pay for your power and then you command me to sell the life of a comrade? How is that just?”

The magic around him rippled with disapproval, “A good king,” thundered the Mystic, “knows that sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.”

“Oh, go throw yourself on Ifrit’s pyre!” Bast worked one leg underneath him in the startled silence that fell at his words, “I will not force others to bear my price when I am the one that seeks your boon!” He worked his other leg into place, shook like a leaf under the strain as he forced himself to stand. Wheezing and shivering, he tilted his chin in defiance, flicked his hand to banish the images of Nyx and Libertus and Crowe, “I … swore an oath … to protect Noctis, no matter what. But that … does not entail sacrificing others so that I might survive. That does not mean I will sacrifice Luna, or Nyx, or anyone else who has no part of my oath and whose lives are not mine to give.”

Bast flexed his hands into fists to keep from falling as the magic around him grew even heavier somehow, “You’re right,” he choked out in a whisper, “I’m not royal blood, and I would not make a good king. A good king knows the value of sacrifice, of choosing who dies so that victory might be won. But,” Bast forced his voice to steady, pushed it out of his chest until it was strong again, “a true king protects his people above all. Even at the cost of himself. Like Regis, who held the Wall for years even as the strain killed him. Who held back the enemy long enough for Luna and Nyx to make their initial escape. Maybe he was a good king because he sacrificed Insomnia, sacrificed me, to save the Chosen King. But he … was a true king every time he sacrificed himself for the people he ruled.”

Bast forced his head higher, made himself look into the glowing slits of the Mystic’s helmet, “I am Bast, ward-son of Queen-Oracle Sylva Nox Fleuret and King Regis Lucis Caelum. I am not of royal blood. I have no armies to command, nor magic to call my own. I have no kingdom or soldiers or wisdom or power to give you. But if a life is what you require for your aid, then I offer mine. Do with it as you please, just ensure the safety of my companions … of Luna. They are of dutiful heart, I know they will see your Ring to safety.”

The silence lasted an eternity, and Bast closed his eyes as he waited for his fate. Then, from amid the circle of the Lucii nearest him, someone barked a laugh, “Well,” rumbled the Rogue —it had to be the Rogue, the voice was female—, “it would seem the Fulgarian chose wisely after all.” The … Fulgarian? Ramuh? What does she mean?

“Agreed,” said another female voice, much lower in pitch, but also softer, “there is a spark in this one that even some of royal blood have struggled to match.” Magic curled around Bast, nudging aside the smothering weight, pushing it away like a shield and letting him breathe properly at last, “The Just supports his claim.”

The shadows rippled, almost like a feminine laughter, and magic settled like cold steel in one hand, “Too long has it been since a mortal willing to give of himself before others has come to us for aid. The Rogue supports his claim.”

The magic of the Father, still draped on his shoulders like hands, shifted, like fingers giving a comforting squeeze, “He is my ward-son, and I have seen the lengths to which he will go to fulfill an oath. The Father supports his claim.”

From the left, a shivering ring of steel and a soft male voice that sounded more like a bard’s than a king’s, “He shows intelligence beyond his years, to know the differences between kings. The Clever supports his claim.”

“The Fulgarian has never been mistaken in such matters before,” declared another from the right, “The Pious supports his claim.”

One by one, in bits and pieces and the shifting of magic so that it buoyed him up rather than tried to crush him down, the Lucii granted favor. The Warrior, the Fierce, the Wanderer, the Oracle. Kings and queens in the shadows behind them that Bast could not see and gave titles he had never heard in history —the Vigilant, the Scholar, the Silent, the Bard, the Seer, so many titles lost to time well before he was born—. Finally, silence fell, and Bast’s eyes drifted to the Mystic, the only one who had not yet cast his vote.

The Mystic seemed to stare into him and not just at him, old magic like storm clouds and oceans seething with some kind of anger and sadness and old memory before it settled, “You are far too much like my brother,” and though that was clearly a complaint, the ancient king almost sounded fond —brother? What brother? The history books said nothing of the Mystic having a brother—, “but you have earned the favor of the others. Very well ward-son of the Father. The Mystic will support your claim.”

Bast gasped, then screamed as the magic all around turned and burrowed into his body, carving out new channels inside him for it to flow-burn-rage-heal. It coated every nerve and filled every available gap, then carved out more room when that did not prove enough. Over the agony of what felt like being burned alive from the inside, Bast heard the Lucii chorus, “Rise, Bast, ward-son of the Oracle-Queen and the Father. We name you Oathkeeper, guardian of the Chosen King and his Oracle. Our power is yours to wield and gift as you please until the time when the Chosen’s destiny is fulfilled. Your life is forfeit to this cause, and for this cause will you remain until such a time as dawn purifies the world.”

The other Lucii fell silent as the power in Bast’s skin-blood-bones-soul began to settle, and the Mystic slammed his sword against the ground like an earthquake, “But know this, Oathkeeper. You are not welcome on this star, and when your oath has been fulfilled, your soul will no longer be allowed to linger here. You and any who share your blood will be cast out from the sight of our star to return whence you came.”

Cast … cast out? Not welcome on this star? Did they mean … his soul would be destroyed once Noctis fulfilled his destiny? Or did they mean something else? He didn’t understand. Anymore than he had understood the Mystic’s earlier comment about Bast’s soul not being “of their star”. It was a terrifying prospect. That he would only live until Noctis fulfilled his destiny and then be … something. Cast out or destroyed or thrown away into some void as the price for power.

But having this power meant Luna would live. It meant that he would be able to save Nyx and Libertus and Crowe, he would be able to help Noctis and keep him safe —keep his promise—. It meant he would have the power to help what was left of the only people he knew as family.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Bast muttered sarcastically as he wrapped mental fingers tight around the heartbeat of power coiled inside him. He raised his head and grinned, bright and bold and wild like he had been taught —like Nyx did when he was fully intent of showing up some idiot that managed to make him angry, like Gladio when he was going to show up a rookie with too big an ego—, “where do I sign?”

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Worlds Unseen verse #spoilers #ffxv #hzd #xover #bast

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officialleehadan · 4 years

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Gold Glow

Hello darlings! You guessed it! Another $5+ prompt!

This one is for Bradford! Thank you so much for your support, darling! I hope you love this story!

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“I’m not good with a weapon.”

Tom was sitting on the balcony of Hel’s hotel room. She, as it happened, had paid extra just to have the little outdoor space. It was, apparently, because both Fenris and Harvey smoked and would do so inside if she didn’t give them somewhere else. The tiny bistro table and chairs were also the perfect place to take a mug of coffee and talk.

The family meeting, called because Thor was still sniffing around, and because Harvey would almost certainly go after him if left unsupervised, went well. Tom could hear Cassandra inside, talking with all her uncles. She would never be safer than she was right now, with Jormandgr, Sleipnir, Fenris, and Harvey all there to guard her. Tom was glad for the odd safety of Loki’s Brood all in one place. There was no chance that someone was getting ambushed alone somewhere when they were together like this, and he didn’t think that anyone, including Thor, was stupid enough to take a run at all of them at once.

Fortunately, the safety also gave him a minute to step outside with Hel, who had something to discuss with him personally.

“I know,” she allowed, and sat in his lap when he took one of the chairs. He was still getting used to the way half of her was cooler than the other half, but he wrapped his arms around her comfortably. The Goddess of Death. He sure had strange taste in women, but he also couldn’t remember liking anyone as much as he liked her. It might even be love, given a little more time. “But you must have a way to defend yourself. Freya does not take denial lightly, and you refused her.”

“Will it be a problem?”

“Possibly. She is one of Thor’s staunchest allies, and hates my father.”

And he was the most vulnerable of them. At least she was nice enough not to actually say it, but he knew it was still true. That was okay. He didn’t have a lot of ego to protect. At least, not where his fighting ability was concerned. He wasn’t the athletic sort, preferring just enough activity to stay in shape, and taking little joy from exercise for its own sake.

He was not the crossfit sort. He never would be. Although, now that he thought about it, he might have to get Harvey to show him a thing or three about boxing. It took a hell of a swing to sent the God of Thunder staggering. He liked the idea of having that in his back pocket, and tucked the thought away for later. He had a feeling that Harvey would be perfectly happy to teach him, and that Cassandra would watch gleefully from the sidelines.

Even so, it might be worth it.

“So, what do we do?”

Hel shifted in his lap and fished in her pocket, before producing a glowing golden orb. Light danced around her gloved fingertips like fire, but there was no heat to give the ghostly flames life. “Take this.”

“What is it?” Tom asked, and considered it. He knew Hel would never hurt him, but he also liked to know what he was getting into. “It’s not one of the Immortality Apples, right?”

“No. I would not offer one of those without having a long discussion, you and I, about the true meaning of eternity,” Hel laughed throatily, and Tom caught a glimpse of white bone under her mask when she tipped her head back. “No, it… it is something like my Boon. It will turn into what you need. Into what you can use. I bribed an old enemy for it.”

“An enemy?”

My family has a lot of enemies.”

“No I knew that, but is it safe?”

“He considers himself honorable. When he gives his word, he keeps it. He made Cassandra’s axes, as well.”

That was all the reassurance Tom needed. He reached out for the ball, which was so bright he couldn’t actually see through the glow. As soon as he touched it, heat rolled over his palm, rich and almost enough to burn.

He would have dropped it, then, but something about it felt right like nothing else ever had. Something about the magic of it spoke to his blood in a way he couldn’t have imagined until this very moment.

When he closed his fingers around the orb, the glow faded like the sun behind the moon during an eclipse.

When he looked again, opened his fingers to see what it had become, deep amber light raced along his fingers and spilled out, heavy summer sunlight in the cool autumn air.

The golden orb was gone, and in his palm was a tiny dart, made of pale wood with simple goose-feather fletching. It was barely the length of his thumb, but something abut it promised that, if he wielded it with intent it would bite deeper than any mortal weapon.

When Tom looked up at Hel, her face was colorless and her eyes were wide.

“The mistletoe dart,” she whispered, and wetted her lips, uncharacteristically nervous. “I wonder what it says of your destiny, that this is the weapon that choses your hand.”

+++

The Last of Loki’s Brood:

Cassandra Brann is a Troubled Student. She is difficult, at best, defiant at worst, and has more secrets than a dozen spies.

And her family is worse.

BeLIEve Me

Family Gathered

Red-Gold and Silver-Grey

Prophesy Unheeded

Strength in the Dark

Queen’s Blessing

Bigger Fish

Life Once Lost (Subscriber Only!)

A Touch of Normal (Subscriber Only!)

Thunder Son

Goddess Boon (Subscriber Only!)

Coffee and Tea (Subscriber Only!)

Sucker Punch (subscriber Only!)

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MORE STORIES!

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#loki #loki's children #loki's brood #writing #writers #spilled ink #writer #writing prompts #spilled thoughts #spilled words #writing prompt #prompts #magic

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chubbyooo · 4 years

Text

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 90 - Just What They Made Me

oof Kyradia is big sad ;_; also two chaps in two days :DDD

Kyradia returns to Odessen shaken by her experience with the Nightsisters

Kyradia looked off, out the viewport of her ship a very vacant stare on her face as they began to land on Odessen, Kyradia had been wrong she was just everything they’d made her. She thought she could control it but she was wrong, it was that easy that’s all it had taken just a little push with the right environment and now Zash knew exactly what buttons to push. Zash had been winning at every turn, maybe Kyradia just wasn’t cut out for it; she'd never be the hero she wanted to be. She was just a monstrous tool for the wicked to use, Valkorion, Zash even Thanaton to an extent she’d been a fool to think she could be anything more.

Kyradia rubbed her forehead this was all too much she really needed a break, but Zash was still out there? But every time she’d gone after Zash it’d had ended badly, and now she knew Magick? All these years she’d been trying to understand what made Kyradia so strong and she was so close, Kyradia shook her head Zash didn’t even know what a boon it was to hold this power but Zash was so cruel it’d probably fit right in with her. All Kyradia knew is Zash was playing with fire and it was very likely she’d get burned but that burn could hurt so many others, Kyradia sighed she knew she had to stop Zash but she couldn’t she was so easily manipulated by Zash she had no idea how to get ahead of her.

She noticed someone had come into the room although she didn’t look up, she sensed a kind presence so guessed it was Ashara “some run down transport ship is parked in our spot so we’re taking a bit longer to land than usual” Kyradia nodded still not looking up she saw Ashara crouch down next to her in the corner of her vision

Ashara sighed “you’re not doing so good are you?” Kyradia shook her head weakly “that wasn’t your fault I promise they took advantage of whatever happened to you” Kyradia continued to shake her head

She meekly responded “it was my choice” it was barely audible, Ashara was wrong it was her fault she killed every one of them

Ashara shook her head “no no you were backed into a corner we can’t all con-” Kyradia cut her off finally making eye contact

She shook her head “it’s always my choice Ashara! I’ve been trying to control it but every time I’ve chosen to let it out, It used to rule me the whole time and was me but I’m just too weak to keep it in” Ashara shook her head but Kyradia was adamant “the person who hurt and manipulated you was me it wasn’t some ‘thing I couldn't control’ it was me because it’s always been my choice to be cruel and do bad things. I’m so sorry I did but I did it I’m just a monster you’d do better just to leave me to my hate” she sighed clearly very emotional at the moment

Ashara shook her head “no you’re wrong, I’ve seen it you’ve grown and I can see what you can be we all can Kyradia I know you made some mistakes and believe me I don’t forgive you for some of them and probably won’t for a long time but I do believe in you. Everything you’ve done to stop Zash has been selfless and endangering to you, the old you never would’ve done that and certainly wouldn’t have been worried about being a monster” Kyradia closed her eyes trying to hide her pain

She shook her head “I’m sorry I don’t know how but I did it again, I just keep manipulating you because I’m just a monster I’m so so sorry but it’s who I am” she pushed past Ashara clearly not listening to reason

Ashara held her hand tight “I think you’re wrong Kyradia but I understand this is a lot that I couldn’t begin to understand, I promise you I’m here by choice you may think you’re a monster but you didn’t manipulate me ok that’s just not true not this time and I don’t care what you think about it” Kyradia just sighed why did she keep doing this to Ashara she should’ve begged her to leave when she wanted to

Kyradia squeezed her hand “I’m so sorry Ashara but I’m not something to believe in I never was, I’m just what they made me” Kyradia left the room before Ashara could respond anymore

The ship landed after a little while searching for a new spot, as soon as it did Kyradia left to clear her head. She had no idea what was going to happen next, she wanted to stop Zash but she felt like a danger to everyone involved, maybe Malora and Ashara could handle it. She shook her head, she couldn’t put them in danger like that she really was stuck.

Kyradia silently walked around the base to where her ship usually would be parked, she frowned Ashara was right this ship certainly was a beat up transport. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened; it wasn’t her spot by law but she did like it, she wasn’t feeling like getting in anyone's face today though if she could make a deal to never be angry again she would.

She walked into the base hardly taking in her surroundings, usually she’d at least dress in her robes to walk around the base but today she couldn’t be bothered just in casual clothes she wasn’t someone to look up to anyway. She made her way to the war room not really sure why it just felt routine and as she did she saw Lana spot her and walk up to her

Lana smiled “ah Commander you have prompt timing I have something I want to discuss with you” Kyradia gave her a weak look making Lana pause

She shook her head “I uh not right now Lana” Lana frowned clearly picking up on her sadness

Her expression softened “is everything ok Kyradia, I do actually think this matter cou-” Kyradia cut her off maybe but she doubted it’d help her feel like less of a monster

She sighed “Lana I’m sorry I’m sure it might but I really need some time things aren’t going well with Zash and well with me” Lana nodded putting a hand on her shoulder

She conceded and comforted her “sure no worries Kyradia we can discuss it later, I know it must be hard for you if you need to talk I’m here but if you wanna be alone why not just go to the bar and sulk that might help” Kyradia let out a little smile there had been many days during the Eternal War where Kyradia had sulked in the bar until Lana had come and helped her out

Kyradia nodded “that sounds good Lana thanks for giving me time” Lana nodded and let her go, the bar did sound good to be honest even just to drown her sorrows, she made her way to the lift and let out another sigh.

It was hard to argue the monster point with this place and the whole ‘saving the galaxy’ thing but she knew she didn't do it for them, she did it for her and for revenge for Marr she’d still been the petty vindictive monster even if reigned in just a bit. Valkorion had brought that darkness to light to use at his whim just like Zash was doing again, she could never escape it she was never made to be a sith just a weapon for others to use.

The lift reached the top and she made her way to the bar head down looking at the floor, she’d been trying to be more than that to finally break that cycle but Zash had just pulled her back in. She sat at the bar, looked up and frowned, there was a drink on the bar she wondered whose it was but then she caught the smell; that was a Spiced Rancor’s Toothpick no one else she knew liked that but her. Maybe Lana had got it ordered specially after she saw what a state Kyradia was in, she smiled that was really nice she’d remembered, Kyradia took a sip and let out a weak smile just as nice as ever.

She sat in the bar for a bit sipping the drink she knew she was being a bit melodramatic but it was with good reason she’d fought with this since she was released from carbonite but more notably since Ashara called her out. She was 28 years old and her legacy since she was 13 was cruelty and war, she had really wanted to do right for once with Zash. Zash deserved to spend eternity locked in that prison to be honest she’d fed all Kyradia’s worst impulses and cultivated the already cruel part of her into the wretched thing she tried so hard to keep down. But that meant Zash knew what made Kyradia tick after years of training and she hadn’t stopped exploiting it since she returned, Kyradia needed to get this under control but she just couldn’t

She sighed, she knew she had to be better but she wasn’t strong enough, she finished her drink and stood up, maybe she could find something in the archives she’d missed. Anything that could make it one percent easier would be worth it, she sighed she had to stop Zash even if she was just that monster. She had nothing from before she became this left so at least she could minimise the damage she’d caused...

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jasonfersman · 4 years

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Everlasting Life: A Tale

Silence. A boon to have when working, but a bane when you’re all alone. Granted, most individuals have moments in their day filled with meaningful interactions between themselves and other people. There’s never a full day when you’re not completely alone with nothing but your thoughts to accompany you.

Except, of course, if you’re me.

Today was just another day at the lab. Testing some animals, looking at the molecular structure of different compounds, all that stuff. I guess if you count the animals in, I’m technically not alone, but frogs don’t really provide the best companionship. They just hop around and croak occasionally. Not exactly the lively conversational atmosphere-providers I needed.

Pouring some extract into a test tube filled with a transparent liquid, I watched as it turned a dark purple, becoming opaque – a negative result. A sigh escaped my parted lips as I removed my goggles and gloves and collapsed onto the chair behind me. It had been 14 days since I’d begun my stay here and nothing. Each test yielded nothing, one after another. As a consequence, an array of test tubes, coloured purple to blue, decorated the laboratory bench. None with the light-yellow result I was looking for.

It was a long shot, to look for evidence indirectly related to what I was seeking. But it was better than nothing.

By the time I rose from my chair, the sun had moved across half the sky, now nearing the horizon, which had turned the colour of fire. I cleared out of the lab, making sure to switch all the main lights off while leaving the ones in the enclosures to cycle through their normal day-night cycle programming. The night was approaching quickly and I would do well to hurry back to my place. Sealing the lab doors, I walked through the tunnels of the complex until I reached my living quarters. The comforting scent of home hit my nose once I passed through the set of double doors, relief flooding my veins after a long day. Tossing my jacket on the coat stand, I sat down on one of the few armchairs I had brought with me, breathing out a long sigh.

I was tired. So tired. And after two thousand years of being alive, I was beginning to get tired of living.

Various pictures were scattered across the walls of my small temporary apartment, each depicting something different. In one, a painting of a young man dressed in 18th century garments stared out through the canvas, a confident expression on his face. In another, a few decayed scraps of cloth were pasted in the centre of the frame, accompanied by a small tag which read “Remains of a tunic from ~8 A.D., preserved in ash.” The others held a variety of surprises, some of which not an insignificant amount of people would have considered intriguing.

I gazed at the one closest to me, which held an artwork done in my likeness from a street artist I had met in 1988. One of the few kind strangers I had met when travelling through the cities that lined the west shoreline, his skill captured a part of me that some others had failed to notice. I later learned that the area which I had passed through had been demolished to make way for a mall and the inhabitants of the previous street driven away. At the time, I had thought nothing of it, but looking back a painful twang within my chest reminded me of how much beauty each life could bring into the world.

Recollections of each of the most recent centuries swam through my mind as I lazed on the chair. A stint with pirates that I had in the 8th century, a time when I had a rebellious streak during the 17th and the wars along the Gulf which I had all witnessed. I had never been in two places at once, but I had had the means to travel and that had been more than enough.

Still, none of these memories or experiences would explain my earliest. Digging into the last place in my mind where neurons fired signals to encode a memory two millennia ago, I closed my eyes and let it overtake me from within.

Coldness. Darkness. Then a sudden heat. Light shining on me, filtering through my eyelids to blare into my retinas. A sudden comprehension of my surroundings and the fact that I was lying on rough ground. A look around that led me to establish I was in a cave, exposed to the elements yet somewhat sheltered from them. And the morning sun had just reached deep enough into it to wake me.

I stumbled out of it groggily, clad in nothing but a loincloth. The sunlight felt hot on my skin, different from the gentle warmth I had experienced the last time I had come down here. There was nobody about, the few paths visible empty. Following them only seemed to lead me to dead ends, though one eventually brought me to a village which had a few inhabitants. Quick conversation with them revealed something far more shocking: the place where I had last died was gone, as if it never existed. Everything had been wiped clean, like the universe had randomised a new slate into existence and placed it over the old one without a care.

Suddenly I was the mistake, the one that was out of place. Wherever I went, no one seemed to recognise me. Maybe it was the sudden lack of my abilities, or maybe it was the fact that I suddenly looked vastly different from before. There was a noticeable lack of…well, any knowledge of what had existed prior. Everything wiped clean and replaced with something or someone new.

That is, except me.

What went wrong?

The memory fizzled into thin air as I opened my eyes once more. There wasn’t much after that I did remember. As the years turned into decades and centuries, more and more of the first days was lost to the passage of time. Not only that, the precious few memories that I had had slipped away gradually, leaving me with less and less of my past. I couldn’t keep track of how many times I had escaped death, only to end up somewhere else again with even less to work with. Only two things stayed with me: the very first memory of the first days and a burning desire to find out what had happened.

The only problem was that as I got further and further away from that point in time, it became more difficult to pinpoint what exactly had happened.

There was a knock on the door.

I looked at the door, puzzled. I hadn’t been expecting anyone. More than that, who would know how to make their way to this island in the middle of nowhere? Thoughts rushed through my mind, flashing from a serial killer to someone several ranks above me. Was I going to get fired? I hoped not.

“Who is it?” I called out, before smacking myself in the head. No way they could hear me through a set of double doors.

But a man’s voice rang loud and clear as if there was nothing that separated us. “It’s Michael.”

“I don’t know any Michael.” I replied. A chill crawled up my spine as I watched the figure behind the set of doors shuffle.

“Trust me, you do.” There was a tone in which voice which rang within my skull in a peculiar way. “It’s been a while since we last met, but if you open the doors, I’m sure everything will come back to you.”

I sat frozen in my seat for a few moments. Then, slowly, I got up from my seat and made my way over to the panel next to the door. Hesitating for a few moments, I pushed the button. The doors began opening with a quiet hiss, revealing the person standing behind them. I steeled myself for whomever had arrived, preparing for it to be an old acquaintance that I had conveniently forgotten about.

Instead, a familiar face stood in front of me, a pair of kind eyes meeting my gaze. A smartly dressed man clad in a grey business suit, tie and all, with both hands in his pockets and an apologetic smile on his face,

There was a moment where I felt like the truth was staring me in the face. Where the weight of the world was about to crash down upon me, suspended by a spider-thin thread. And then the memories returned.

Michael grabbed my arm, steadying me as my legs turned to jelly and my knees faltered. “Here. Let’s get you over to the chair.”

“W-what…who are you? And how do you…how did you…” The words spilled from my mouth in incoherent babbles. “How…”

“I’m Michael. You remember me.” Michael gave me a warm smile. “Is the rest back?”

“Um…kind of.” I struggled not to slur my words. My head was still spinning slightly, centuries of memories back in a second.

“Here.” Michael laid a palm on my wrist. A gentle glow appeared, casting a warmth across my skin, then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. My dizziness disappeared soon after, leaving me feeling as if I had just woken up from a good nap.

“Glad the healing powers still exist.” Michael got up, walking around the room slowly. “Do you remember everything now?”

“Not really.” My mind was still piecing everything together. “The First Days – oh wait, you probably don’t know that…”

“You haven’t remembered those for the last 150 cycles.” Michael interjected, to a surprised expression from me. “I know. I remember.”

I stared at him with an uncomprehending look. I was not even close to understanding.

“Surely I don’t look that different?” He chuckled. “I know I used to have wings, but in this day and age, it’s a bit of stretch.”

“Wings?” My eyes widened. “Wait. I…I remember.”

“Yes.” That same smile again, only now much more familiar. “It’s been a while, My Lord.”

“How long has it been?” I asked him.

Michael was flipping through different tabs on his phone while conversing with me seamlessly. “Not less than 380 years, I think. It’s hard to keep track. Sometimes they print the calendars wrongly. Sometimes a temporal anomaly crops up.”

“But I’m unaffected, right?”

“Yes. As I am. Sadly, the other angels were not immune.” Michael paused for a moment. Sadness filled the air around us for a brief moment. “As were the archangels.”

“You miss them.” I said.

“Yes.” His eyes seemed watery. “But those are matters past. What matters is now.”

“Indeed.” I cleared my throat, turning to face him. “So, I take it this is your…tricentennial check-up on me, then?”

“Not quite.” Michael locked his phone, shoving it in his pocket. “This time, there’s been a complication.”

“What sort of complication?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. His expression darkened. “Your father is gone.”

“My father?” The words sounded familiar, but I couldn’t recall anything associated with them.

“God. The Lord himself. His Great…have you forgotten?”

“I might have.” Try as I might, my internal searching returned no results.

“Okay. Start from the most recent one and work your way backwards. The last time we met…”

A train rushing by, papers scattering all over the floor, flustered passengers picking up their items. One man that stood out through the crowd, smiling at me before giving a friendly wave. “Britain.”

“That’s right. And the time before…”

This time, it came faster. A hodgepodge of bushes, houses made of logs clobbered together with rusty nails, a town that hosted less than 80 people, dust storms. “The American Midwest.”

“Correct. Your memory seems good so far. Now, try to reach back all the way, to the first time we met.”

Silence. For a moment, there was nothing. Then…

A man wrapped in robes approaches me as I give the horse its daily feed. “My Lord,” he says. “How have you been?”

“Michael?” My eyes widen as I demand of him, “What happened? Why does no one remember us?”

“I’m afraid I may not have the answer to that, My Lord. Only more questions await you in my stead.” He speaks with calmness, yet I sense urgency in his voice.

“Your father has disappeared. Heaven and Hell, gone as if they never existed. What remains of the heavenly realm is merely a remnant of its previous glory. When the tremor occurred, I was on Earth tending to an old lady’s prayer. As soon as I returned, there was nothing, only greyness, a small table and a note on it. Inside, it was written that your father had departed for a purpose as of yet unknown. There was nothing else there.”

“Did he give you any further details? My father would surely not leave one of his most trusted angels in the dark.”

“None. I have tried, but nothing remains of Heaven other than that space. I cannot connect with Raphael or Gabriel either. I fear for them, for they might have been caught up in the tremors.”

It is the first time I have heard emotion from Michael. His voice wavers when he speaks about his brothers and tears come to his eyes. His jaw trembles slightly as he speaks their names and his demeanour changes. He knows something has gone wrong, as do I. What we do not know is what and how.

“What are our options then, Michael?” I ask him.

“Simply to wait and see, My Lord.” The archangel bows. “I will venture out into the corners of the universe to see what can be gleamed from them, but I am afraid nothing may come of my journey. In the meantime, perhaps you should stay here and tend to your people.”

“I have no powers. I cannot do anything out of the ordinary.” I tell Michael, to his surprise. His expression is one of shock. “I am stuck here, as mortal as the rest of them.”

“Yet I still sense divinity within you.” He replies after a moment. “Perhaps it would be prudent to try and investigate anything that can be.”

“Very well.” I say. “Be on your way then. We shall meet again, I hope?”

“Indeed, although it may be out of necessity.” Michael stoops to place something at my feet, a small parcel wrapped in cloth. “Till next time, My Lord.”

“Safe travels, my friend.” I watch as he turns to walk away, his silhouette disappearing into the haze of the heat. Reaching down, I pick up the parcel, removing it from its cloth packaging.

I may be mistaken. But it looks a lot like a chunk of the sky.

I gasp as my bearings return. Michael’s concerned eyes peer into mine as I take deep breaths, regaining my composure. Outside, the stars of the night sky shine, though not outshone by the moon.

“I remember.” I said after catching my breath. “Is it true? Everyone’s gone?”

“Yes. Except your father, whose fate has remained undetermined all this while.” Michael removed a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of me. “Until now.”

I stared at the paper. Suddenly surprises didn’t feel so fun.

Gently, I reached out and took it, opening it with two fingers. Inside, the letters, ‘h’, ‘e’ and ‘l’ were scrawled across it in a scribble, like someone had written it down in a hurry. The fourth letter was partially obscured by what seemed like…blood?

“Is this…his blood?” I looked at Michael. Worry creased his brow.

“I cannot be certain, but we have to assume the worst.” His words, although spoken with a gentle tone, cut through the atmosphere like ice with their gravity. “I don’t want to think about it either, but I have no choice.”

“What are our options then?” An instant of déjà vu. For a moment, I was back in Jerusalem, tending to the horses as Michael stood in front of me, wrapped in cotton robes.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Michael looked directly into my eyes. As I watched, six wings phased through the back of his suit, expanding to about two metres in length. Michael glanced back, flexing them once. A uniform, cream-coloured glow came to them, along with a light shower of angelic feathers.

He looked back at me, this time with conviction. “It’s time to go, my Lord.”

#writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #fantasy #religious

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another-fallout-blog · 5 years

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Hi! If possible, please could you do like a fluffy first kiss kinda thing with new vegas? Possibly including honest hearts companions? Thanks!

[Interesting! I’m kind of excited to do romancy stuff for a game where you can’t really romance the companions. Although for Honest Hearts I’m only going to be able to do Joshua, this is long enough without follows-chalk and walking cloud]

{Ask box still open!}

Arcade: Another day in the Mojave wasteland, but winter had finally come. Nuclear winter was not fun in the slightest, although Arcade couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in the old prewar days. Courier and Arcade sat close to each other as a barrel fire burned near them, providing a little bit of heat in their small hide-a-way.

“Those jokes about the Mojave heat making you wish for a nuclear winter don’t seem as funny anymore…” Arcade joked. Courier laughed slightly and smiled as they watched the fire. The winds blew harder on the ruined building they had taken shelter in. Courier scooted a little closer to Arcade and they touched very gently. Arcade felt his face get red, but he didn’t know what to say. “Guess we should sit as close as possible to preserve body heat.”

Courier nodded and then took off their long trench coat and draped it over both of them. Soon they were huddled together. Arcade turned to look at Courier, their eyes gazing at the fire as if offering their only coat to share was just a normal thing. Soom the Courier saw Arcade and turned and their faces were so close their noses were almost touching. “S-sorry Courier I didn’t mean to stare I guess. You’ve just been so generous I…” Arcade felt himself losing his words. But Courier didn’t seem to mind as they kissed him gently. Arcade covered his face with the coat shyly, no longer feeling cold.

Boone: It had been a normal day in Novac, just waiting for Courier to come back and recruit them to travel once more. Usually, the Courier would come into town with some new gear or a new job they needed help with. Or sometimes they would come and just give Boone some company. But this time was different. Boone could feel it in the night air. He raised his weapon and looked through the scope at a distant figure. There, was the courier limping towards Novac holding their side. Boone quickly ran out of the dinosaur statue and towards the Courier.

“What the hell happened to you?” Boone yelled as he helped the Courier. He could see that they were obviously beaten up but had taken care of their major wounds already.

“I did it Boone. I killed Caeser.”

Boone didn’t know what to say for a moment, it was a shocking thing to say in the very least. “All by yourself? You could have gotten yourself killed. Why did you do something like that?”

“He had taken so much away from you Boone I… I couldn’t let the legion take anything else from you or anyone else.” Courier said, looking down at the sandy ground.

Boone grabbed Couriers chin, making them look eye to eye. “You really did that? Just because of what I had told you the legion had done to me and my family?”

“Of course Boone. I saw how much it hurt you I… I wanted to find a way to make things better for you.” The Courier said gently. Boone didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t always the best with words. So he just did what his body was telling him to do and he kissed the Courier. Boone saw Couriers face get red. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this besides that it was right. He had finally found another light in his life.

Raul: Bullets riddled the pieces of ruins they hid behind as the legion tried to shoot them down. Raul had been in a lot tougher fights before and won, but he was older now. Less confident. “Boss if I die I want ten mariachi bands at my funeral. And a medal.”

Courier smiled and aimed their weapon at the legion and began firing. They got injured by the raining bullets and Raul sighed and helped fire at the legion jerkwads. Finally, there was the final bullet as it struck the last legionnaire in the head. Courier perked up and cheered. “We made it Raul!”

“Heh, Guess we did boss. You sure showed em.” Suddenly Courier hugged Raul and kissed them. Raul didn’t know what to do, he had joked about being a handsome devil before but had never really been the bachelor he pretended to be. Courier stopped after a moment as their face got red. Raul was grateful that his face really couldn’t blush anymore.

“S-sorry Raul I was just so happy I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“N-no!” Raul said nervously, then continued with his normal wisecracking personality. “I know how irresistible I am. If any more of those came my way I certainly wouldn’t mind.” Raul replied casually.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind” Courier replied, smiling.

[Cass, Veronica and Joshua under cut]

Cass: “Thanks for the whole revenge trip again Courier.” Cass said, throwing an empty whiskey bottle to the ground, letting it smash on the cracked pavement. “But I’ve been thinking… Maybe it all wasn’t worth it. Maybe I didn’t deserve revenge. Maybe I should have just stayed where I belong, at a bar filled to the brim with whiskey.

“That’s not true Cass.” Courier replied. “Those people did terrible things to your caravan. They hurt people you cared about, the least I could do was help you get revenge not only for yourself but for those people.”

Cass laughed slightly, looking down. “Why do you always gotta be such a good person?” Cass looked up at the Courier, who didn’t seem to know how to respond. They just sat down and looked out over the mojave. “Hey, you’re a good person. You know that right? Out of all the sorry sacks I’ve met out here, your the best.” The Courier looked at Cass and smiled slightly. That damned smile. Cass wasn’t sure if it was the smile, the courier, or the drink that made her do it, but she kissed Courier. They both leaned into it for a moment and then both recoiled, seeming shocked. Cass covered her mouth for a moment. “Was it that bad?”

“N-no!” Courier replied. “You just uh… tasted like Whiskey.” Courier smiled slightly and so did Cass.

“Gee thanks.”

Veronica: “Without the brotherhood… what am I?” Veronica said, looking up at the sky.

“A more free person,” Courier replied, nodding to themselves.

“Sure but… What if I end up being the reason the brotherhood falls apart? What if they really needed me? What if… Uhg I don’t know…”

“Veronica, you were the best thing to come out of the brotherhood. But if they fall apart without you that just shows how much they should have listened to you. They had their chance and they didn’t take it. Some of them even wanted you dead!”

“I know I know but… the brotherhood was all I had. They were my family, my friends… Now I’m alone out in this barren landscape having to fend for myself.”

Courier took Veronica'shands. “You’re not alone Veronica! I’ll help you, I’ll protect you. We can fix the mMojavetogether, with or without the brotherhood. You don’t have to be scared. But it’s up to you whether you want to keep being my companion or not.” Courier said, looking away.

Veronica looked at the Courier. They were kind of the reason she got kicked out, but… if she hadn’t gotten kicked out on her own they might have just killed her later anyways… Or worse… The Courier has done more for Veronica in the past few months than some of the Brotherhood members could do in their whole lives. Veronica pressed her lips against the Couriers rough lips. They both leaned into it. Veronica finally felt a connection with someone she could trust, and someone she knew wouldn’t have to worry about leaving her.

Joshua: Courier carefully helped Joshua with removing the bandages. He didn’t seemed phased by the pain. Courier guessed he was probably used to it by now. “You really have to do this every day?”

“Indeed. It’s like being exposed to the baptizing fires again and again, but it is better to be clean than comfortable. And it reminds me of my mission.” Joshua says as he works on replacing some of his bandages.

“Sometimes I don’t understand how you can be so strong… You’ve gone through so much. I wish there was more I could do for you.” Courier said.

“My wounds are not your fault, and you have worked hard for me and the people of Zion. Together we can keep going good for this land, and keep it safe for years to come.”

The Courier smiles and nods slightly. “Your right. I’ve done good and I can continue to do good. No matter the consequences I have to take.” The Courier assured themselves. Joshua looked up into the Couriers eyes as they helped with the bandages. Maybe a part of Joshua just wanted them to stop unwrapping the bandages, maybe a part of Joshua had been wanting to do this for a while. Either way, Joshua took one of Couriers hands and kissed them, their rough lips interlocking. They stayed like this for a moment, and then the Courier pulled away. They seemed shocked, but Joshua was calm. He never did something he wasn’t sure of. “T-that was… out of nowhere…”

“Well, Courier I’d say I’ve begun to be more… attached to you. I hope you can return my feelings, but if you don’t we should continue to work with each other for the good of Zion.”

“O-of course I like you back! o-oh we need to finish with your bandages before we worry about that…”

#fallout #fallout new vegas #falloutnewvegas #joshua graham #Veronica #fallout veronica #cass #rose of sharon #Raul Tejada #veronica santangelo #craige boone #boone #fallout new vegas boone #arcade #arcade gannon #fnv arcade gannon #f:nv arcade #f:nv arcade gannon #prompt

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canadiankazz · 5 years

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The Fourth Time - An L.A. by Night fanfic

Jasper and Annabelle's relationship has taken a lot of intimate steps lately, but when she lets him take the reins, so to speak, and let his more dominant side out, they manage to find a way to get even more pleasure out of it.

SPOILERS for the end of Campaign 1 including the one-shots. This has gone off canon, so consider this an AU. It's worth reading Part 1 (The First Time), Part 2 (The Second Time) and Part 3 (The Third Time) before you read this. This fic takes place almost directly after The Third Time. This was written before the premiere of Season 2, Episode 2.

I lay no claim to owning any of the characters involved. Things are gonna get more kinky than they have been in this series so far from here on out. We are way past tame wrist biting now. We’re getting into some mild BDSM stuff in this part.

As always, special thanks to @cravatfiend for the support and encouragement during the writing of the drafts. When I asked them for a safe word, they picked the best one for Annabelle. I had the privilege of watching them read this for the first time and all they could say was "...Damn!" High praise, indeed.

All my love, also, to @gokaiyellow for their additional input, @fluffy-wookiees for being adorable, and to everyone else who has enjoyed this series so far. There are many more parts to come after this one, no worries. (As of posting, I’m currently finishing writing part 8 with ideas for part 9!)

Also posted to the author's Ao3.

First posted Feb, 2, 2019.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The Fourth Time

Annabelle was having a nightmare. She was running for her life through a dark sewer. Her shoes splashed through the filth. Rats squeaked and scattered in a panic as she charged forwards. Behind her, she could hear a dreadful snarling echoing through the tunnel. She couldn’t see the monster chasing her, but she could hear it. Its hungry growling was getting closer and closer. When, not if, but when it caught her, it was going to rip her apart and eat her alive. Her eyes scanned the walls and curved ceiling frantically for a ladder or escape hatch up to the streets above. There! A ladder appeared to her right. She climbed it as fast as she could, but right when she was about to push up through the manhole cover, she felt sharp claws grab her leg and pull her back down. She screamed.

Annabelle woke with a shudder. Her Beast strained in her chest and throat. The room she was in was dark. There were no windows. She was on her side facing a blank wall. She could feel someone else's body pressed against her back and a long arm curved cosily around her side and stomach that was not her own. There was no breath or body heat coming from the person behind her.

Then she remembered. She was in Jasper's sanctum again. In his bed, again. And he had fed on her last night, again. And now...

She tried to turn her head to look at him without disturbing him. His arm tightened around her a little.

“Jasper?” she whispered.

“Mm.”

He was awake. Annabelle relaxed a little and went back to looking at the wall. He seemed comfortable where he was and so was she, to her mild surprise. Their relationship had taken many great leaps these past few months.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

She rolled her eyes and poked his arm. “Ha. Ha.”

She heard him snarl softly in her ear as he smiled.

“You need a bigger bed,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because we only barely fit on it.”

“I thought that this was only going to be a temporary thing,” he said, sounding amused. “Something to tie me over for a little while.”

“Well, clearly... it's not,” Annabelle said softly.

“We can't keep doing this forever,” he told her. His voice was gentle, but firm. “The others are going to find out, and... it's not a healthy relationship.”

Annabelle frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that...” he sighed, thinking of what to say. She felt him roll back slightly away from her. “It's one sided.”

“No... you feed from me sometimes and let me sleep in your bed sometimes, that's fair.”

“But you don't have to sleep here.”

“You don't have to feed from me either, but here we are,” Annabelle said pointedly. She sighed and touched his hand. “I don't want to argue with you. I... I am happy for this to continue as long as you want. I don't feel like it's one sided, Jasper. I thought you liked it... Liked me.”

“I do,” he admitted softly, “but that’s the problem. I think I’m liking it too much and... that scares me.”

Annabelle thought she understood now. He had told her that a Kindred feeding from another was a big deal and she got why now. Blood was more than just food for them, it was life, and sharing your life with someone else left a big impact. So too did someone forcibly taking it away. He had been trying to adjust to this new, kinder type of feeding and despite the fact that they had only done it three or four times in the past few months, maybe things were still, on an emotional level, going a little too fast for him. Annabelle awkwardly shifted, rolling over to face him. His hoodie was down. From what little light there was in the bedroom, she could see his pale, gaunt face. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t let it scare you. I think I get it though. We’ve been kind of going at my pace a little bit.”

Jasper remained quiet, but gave a slight nod. He could see she was more or less on the right track. He felt it in his blood.

“Okay,” Annabelle sighed slowly. “Do you want some emotional space?”

“I think so. To think things over.”

Annabelle nodded and stroked his arm. Her Vitae has done a good job healing him. “Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to make Jasper uncomfortable in this relationship. “How about this... if you want to do this again, you call me, okay? And we’ll do it however you want to.”

“Okay,” Jasper said. He lent forward a little and his forehead touched Annabelle’s for a brief, tender moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he rolled over and got out of bed.

Annabelle stayed where she was, not wanting to get up yet. “You still owe me a boon, remember?”

“Mm. True.”

“And I've thought about what I want from you. If anything happens to me, anything really bad, I want you to take care of Mark and Elleanore for me.”

“What do you mean by 'take care of?'” he asked.

“Watch out for them. Make sure they don't get attacked, I guess? Just keep them safe, as best you can.” Her hand found her golden locket around her neck and held it.

Jasper considered this briefly and decided that it wasn't unreasonable. It was certainly less embarrassing than teaching X how to moonwalk. “Alright,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” Annabelle said tenderly.

Then Jasper stretched his long limbs. Annabelle could her his joints crack and pop. She sat up and sighed. She was hungry. She needed to go.

She packed up her laptop and the little plastic candles she had brought the night before. Jasper helped to collect them. “Will I see you again later?” She asked hopefully.

Jasper shrugged. “At some point, yes. I want to explore my labyrinth this week, and I know the others will be tracking down those other Kindred who attacked us the other night. We should help with that.”

Annabelle nodded. She was angry that her group had been attacked and she hadn't been there to help. At least she could help in the aftermath. She dreaded to think what would have become of Jasper if she hadn't gotten to him when she did. “Yeah.”

An invisible Jasper walked Annabelle to Griffith College, then they parted ways. They both had a lot to do.

Jasper kept himself busy over the next few weeks. He explored his labyrinth. He visited Eva. He received and carried out more jobs for Baron Abrams. All the while, Annabelle's movements and moods were in the back of his mind. The longer he went without feeding on her, the weaker his bond with her became. Part of him missed that. He found himself delaying finding another more permanent solution to his empty larder. He knew that eventually he would have to go back to his more aggressive feeding style, but he also knew he would miss having someone give him their honest and thoughtful consent. It made him feel a tiny bit less like a monster.

That got him thinking. Despite himself, he started to formulate a plan, purely hypothetical, of how his next feeding session with Annabelle could go. She had asked him to come back to her when he was ready to initiate things again and had said that they could do things his way if they wanted to. He had genuinely appreciated that. There was something dominant about him that was asking to be satisfied. Every time it came down to the act of feeding in the past, Jasper had been violent and dominant. Until Annabelle came along and offered herself to him, that is. That had changed things. Jasper had become what was for him, very submissive. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing all the time, every time.

He was curious, also, about how far he could push Annabelle's boundaries. She was the one who always wanted more and he had been holding back. He knew very well what he was physically capable of and what his Beast demanded of him. The thought of challenging Annabelle, daring her to keep up with him intrigued him. By the time Jasper finished planning the night he had in mind, he knew that he might regret it forever if he didn't try it. The worst that would happen was Annabelle would say no. He might be a little disappointed, but that was nothing new. He waited another few nights, then decided to set his plan in motion.

Annabelle was on her way home when she thought she heard something behind her. She paused, straining her senses, searching for something unseen. At first, there was nothing, then she heard Jasper’s disembodied voice in her ear. “Hey.”

She jumped. “God...!”

“No, just me.” Jasper sounded highly amused.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She hissed, annoyed at being startled like that.

“I was going to ask you...” he started, then hesitated, possibly reconsidering his words. “Would like to come over tomorrow night for another round?”

Annabelle felt a ghost of a touch on her neck and shoulder, right where he had bitten her last time. She shivered and something deep in her core twisted in the memory of pleasure. “Uhhh... sure,” she said faintly. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed. “Can I ask why? I thought you might not want to any more.”

“I’d been thinking,” Jasper said in her ear with a light snarl, “that there are a few things I would like to try with a consenting individual such as yourself, and I don’t know when I will get the chance to do them again. I would be a fool to not ask.” He put special emphasis on the word ‘consenting.’ His voice was soft and sensual, unusually so, but it was undercut with a thirst that Annabelle recognised.

“Okay, um... how about I come over tomorrow and we’ll talk about it and... see where we go from there,” she said.

“Alright. Come by 3:00,” Jasper replied, “and bring those little plastic candles. And yes... you may sleep over as well.”

Annabelle nodded. “See you then.”

“Oh, one last thing...” she felt Jasper’s lips on her ear and she shivered again, despite herself. “In the meantime, can you think of a safe word, please?”

Annabelle’s eyes went very wide. What on earth could he be planning that would need a safe word? “Uh...” she stammered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course. Well, I have to, for us to do this, right?”

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminded her.

“I know, but... I want to.” Annabelle swallowed nervously and steadied her nerves. “Okay. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t hear him leave, but she hadn’t heard him approach either. She stood there in mild shock for another little while with her hands over her mouth and cheeks. She cursed herself for being as excited as she was. This was going to be very, very interesting. She hurried the rest of the way home.

When Annabelle arrived once again at Jasper's sanctum the next night, she had her bag with her with the plastic candles and her laptop in it. She had fed earlier, as much as she could without killing any one. She was almost beside herself with nervous excitement. Part of her thought that she should be more apprehensive, that she should let someone know where she was just in case things went bad. But she trusted Jasper. He had been very good to her so far, very good indeed, and he didn't seem to want to ruin this relationship they had going. She trusted the control he had over himself. She still believed that, over-all, he wasn't a bad guy.

She knocked on his front door. Jasper answered it quickly. He had been waiting for her in the passage way on the other side again. He was wearing a different black hoodie this night. This one had fewer layers and just a straight zipper up and down. It was casual. Easy to get into and out of. Interesting.

They smiled at each other and Jasper invited her in. She followed him closely back down the long passage way, though she was sure by now she had the route memorised. They caught up with a little small talk. As they got closer to his rooms, Annabelle could hear faint music. It was classical, something with an orchestra and a choir. They weren't singing in English... Latin, maybe? Annabelle wasn't as knowledgeable on her classical pieces. “You're playing music?” She asked, pleased and surprised.

“Yeah, to set a mood.” Jasper smirked at her. She recognised her own line that she had used on him last time she was here.

“Oh, I see,” she chuckled. “What is it?”

“Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor.” Jasper licked his fangs. “Tell me... have you learned Blush of Life yet?”

“Um... yeah. Yes, I have.” Annabelle had used it very successfully around Elleanore. It gave her a pulse, warmed her skin, let her breathe and otherwise seem almost entirely human again. Annabelle tilted her head a little at Jasper, slowly working out what he had planned. “Why?”

His grin was sharp. “I would like you to use it tonight.”

“Oh... yeah, sure. Right now?”

“If you'd like, or we can wait until we get to the bedroom.”

“I'll wait,” she decided. So far, she liked where this was going.

In the bedroom, they set up her candles on the floor as they did last time. The room was soon full of artificial, warm candlelight. The classical music continued in the background, unobtrusive.

“Did you decide on a safe word?” Jasper inquired.

“Yeah. Um... are you familiar with the stoplight method?”

He considered it. “Red, yellow, green?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. It's basic, but effective.”

Jasper nodded. “Alright. We're going to use that tonight. Unless I hear you say 'yellow' or 'red,' I'm going to assume that everything is green.”

“No gags, then, please,” Annabelle specified.

“No,” Jasper agreed. That had never been a part of his plan for tonight.

Annabelle kept glancing at his fangs while he spoke. She couldn’t help it. His eyes had a hungry and excited gleam. She suspected that he and his Beast were working in near harmony tonight. Well, they had their safe word in place. Everything would be okay. She was feeling brave and keen to see how far Jasper was going to push things tonight.

When she was ready, Annabelle nodded and slipped off her red jacket, as was their custom by now. She had worn the good bra again. Jasper recognised the shape of it under her thin tank top. He snarled a little when he smiled.

“On the bed, please,” he gestured to the bed. Annabelle complied, her lips twitching into a little smile. She sat on the bed, then lay back. As she did so, she activated Blush of Life. Her Beast stirred a little, but was still mostly dormant. She glanced at Jasper. He was staring at her with an expression of incredible desire. He came over to her and sat on the bed. He held her hand and seemed to marvel for a few seconds at its warmth. Annabelle's body fell back into the natural rhythm of breathing. Jasper felt her pulse in her wrist. His fingers were very cold by comparison, and felt very dead. He snarled to himself, pleased.

“I don't have Blush of Life,” he explained softly. “I never bothered to learn how to do it. I mean... why would I? Who am I going to try to convince that I'm alive?”

“You still could learn,” Annabelle said. She could think of at least one person he might have used Blush of Life on, if he could, but bringing up that person was very likely going to ruin the mood, so she didn't.

He shook his head. “I could, but it's doubtful.” He seemed to be enjoying just feeling her hands for a moment. The classical music swelled and faded into a new piece of a similar feel to the last, but a faster tempo.

Jasper moved suddenly. With little warning, he was on top of Annabelle, straddling her hips. He had one knee pressed on either side of her ribs. He wasn't very heavy, especially not for a Brujah's strength to support. Annabelle's insides quivered in anticipation. She felt vulnerable, but she remembered all she had to do was say one or two words and he would stop. She understood finally what he had been planning. Jasper looked down at Annabelle, his icy eyes boring into hers. Her heartbeat sped up considerably. Her face flushed. She met his gaze, excited but steady. The degree to which she wanted this to continue bewildered her.

Slowly now, he peeled his hood off his head. Then his hands went to the zipper in the front of his hoodie and he slowly began to tug it down. Annabelle's eyes went wide as Jasper's chest was exposed. He was built of nothing but lean muscle. His flesh was as pale as death save for the starkly contrasting mass of black veins that criss-crossed his body like an insane roadway map. He had no body hair. He unzipped the hoodie down to the bottom, but didn't take it all the way off. This was a compromise, she realised. She had wanted to see what he looked like under his layers for a while, and he had always said no. This was an in-between he was allowing her.

She gave him a warm smile, but when she reached to touch him he stopped her. He gripped one hand in each of his and leaned down over her. He pinned her warm hands and wrists down with his deathly cold hands to the mattress above her head. He continued to watch her, as if daring her to say 'yellow' or 'red.' She didn't. His grip on her was strong. Their faces were close now. Annabelle was breathing hard.

Jasper bared his fangs and growled at her, as if trying to scare her. He was the monster from myth and legend, the deadly black shadow with razor sharp fangs who stalked helpless people at night and she was the young, naive victim. He was perhaps even trying to provoke her one last time into saying their safe word. She did look scared for a moment. There was fear in her eyes, in her Beast, but still she didn’t say either of the words that would make Jasper pull back. A true victim, she was no longer. Annabelle was allowing this to happen.

“Green?” he rasped, edging towards losing control.

“Green,” she nodded and tilted her head to expose her neck. Blood, warm blood, flowed there, and some of it at least, was his for the taking.

The music swelled again in the background as the choir reached a melodramatic crescendo. With a hungry snarl Jasper bit Annabelle hard in the throat. She gasped at the pain. Jasper had good aim. His long, wicked fangs had landed right on her jugular. He bit deep, and his mouth filled with Vitae. She was as sweet, strong and aroused as always, but this time her blood was body temperature. Jasper had never had warm Vitae from another Kindred before. His Beast exalted. He began to drink greedily, keeping an ear open for Annabelle wanting to end this early. He hoped she would not.

The pleasure of the Kiss soon followed, radiating out over Annabelle's body and making her moan. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. She flexed her arms against Jasper, but he still held her down, firmly pinning her to the mattress. Her body, still under the influence of Blush of Life, reacted as it normally would have to intense pleasure. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her pulse raced, sending vital blood into Jasper's hungry mouth. Her brain was very soon dizzy, but she didn't care. Her Beast scrambled, but was soundly ignored in the overwhelming wave of sensations. Annabelle didn't know if it was because of this new, intense situation or the anticipation that had led up to it, but the pleasure this time was near orgasmic. When she felt Jasper bite a little harder in his enthusiasm, it crossed that threshold and she crested with a cry. Annabelle's body trembled uncontrollably underneath Jasper's from her core outwards.

Jasper lingered on Annabelle's throat for a moment or two longer, then pulled his head back with a snarl. His fangs and tongue were painted a deep crimson. Annabelle only barely noticed this. She shivered when he licked her wound closed and he thought he heard her whimper. His Beast whispered at him to continue, that this had been the best he ever had, but he clenched his jaw and ignored it.

Jasper sat up and let her hands go. She didn't move them. She lay there still, breathing hard, eyes closed. Each exhale had a little moan attached to it. He watched her chest heave up and down for a minute. The music faded and changed again to a soprano singing backed by strings and a piano.

Annabelle opened her eyes and saw Jasper watching her. He was still straddling her hips. She smiled up at him. “Wow,” she mumbled. She lowered her hands and rested them on his knees on either side of her body. Jasper didn’t mind. He chuckled at her reaction. “I... mm...” Words were failing her as her blood-deprived brain swam in a haze of endorphins.

“Good?” Jasper confirmed.

Annabelle still couldn’t speak, but she nodded.

Jasper slid carefully off of her and sat on the bed next to her. He hadn't taken a lot of Vitae this time, but what he had taken was potent indeed. His head was also filled with endorphins, mainly from her, but he didn't have the Blush of Life to let his body do anything about it.

“I can't believe you let me do that,” he chuckled softly. He re-zipped up his hoodie, but only part way. He left the top third or so of it open. “I thought for sure you were going to stop me when I pinned you down.”

Annabelle stretched and smiled at him. Other than an internal scolding from her Beast, she was content, still reeling slightly from the pleasures she had been through. “But I didn't.”

Jasper relaxed down next to her on the narrow bed as best he could. He found himself playing a little with her long, black hair. Their bond had deepened again, he knew. At that moment, in that place, he did not care. “You liked it... rather a lot,” he remarked, still amused. His fangs, when Annabelle saw them, were clean now.

“Yeah...” Annabelle marvelled. She covered her face with her hands as embarrassment washed over her. The pleasure this time had been too, too much. “Oh my God!” he heard her muffled giggle.

“What?” Jasper inquired, though he was fully aware of what had happened to her body and why. He was having fun.

Annabelle peeked at him through her fingers. She was grinning. “Is that what you had planned?” she demanded.

“More or less, yes. I'm glad it worked.”

Annabelle groaned softly. “Did you know about... that I would...”

Jasper smirked. “I kind of suspected... but no, but it was a pleasant surprise.” He stroked a cold, pale hand down her arm to her chest, where it settled over her still-beating heart.

“Boy, I'll say,” Annabelle agreed.

Feeling Annabelle's magically enforced heartbeat made Jasper get very quiet and suddenly a little introverted. His eyes found the gold locket hanging around Annabelle's neck and the silver ring on her finger and he pulled his hand back. He got up and went to turn off the music and the lights so that they could settle into bed.

When dawn broke over the City of Angels, the majority of the population arose to begin their day of work and school and life, but Jasper and Annabelle were once again literally dead to the world. The two vampires shared the little bed, holding each other. Where their relationship would take them now, neither of them knew, but in that moment at least, they were content.

#l.a. by night #la by night #vampire the masquerade #fanfic #fanfiction #jasper/annabelle #i think this is my favourite part so far #vampire smut #jaspabelle #jasper #annabelle #times jasper fed from annabelle

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narukuwrites · 6 years

Text

002. Part 13

Words: 2,310 Tags: Merman AU, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Magick, and Witchery Summary: North and Josh enjoy being together, Ralph and Simon have a little chat and decide to visit Lucy, Amanda gives Elijah some bad news and we find out her plans have been a long time in the making and our two boys take a little respite.

Author’s Note: We get to see a little bit of everyone in this. The story is progressing quite well I think - but then again I don't know how many more parts will come. Markus is definitely whipped though. XD

North let out a quiet, relaxed sigh as she snuggled into the comforting warmth of Josh and she'd felt a lot lighter then she had in a long time. They hadn't gone any further than some kisses and heavy groping, but both of them decided to take things slow, neither of them were virginal or inexperienced but this was something more. And something like that was something the both of them wanted to explore together in an intimate and romantic manner. She always had her suspicions that Josh was a romantic at heart and it was nice to know that all of that would be now focused on her.

"I can hear you thinking over here.." Josh said in a quiet voice, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Then you shouldn't be listening..." North replied back in a playful manner before letting out a chuckle and hugging Josh's form tightly for a moment before lessening her grip. "I wonder what Simon and Markus will have to say about this..?" North asked and although it was very likely that the two other mermen she'd grown up with and saw as friends and brothers were already aware of Josh' feelings.

"They'll probably say it took us long enough.." Josh replied and honestly he didn't feel too stressed about what they thought. Simon and Markus would understand and support them, there wouldn't be anything that changed but as of late he'd been thinking about what if they did successfully take back Markus' kingdom - what would become of Jericho then? Someone would need to stay here and look after everyone and it was something he would bring up, once he'd discussed it with North first. He would never usurp Markus but it was inevitable, their leader couldn't stay here forever and he had the feeling that Connor's arrival just as Lucy as said - would change things for all of them and he was grateful that North asking him about Connor pulled him away from that train of thought.

"That's true, I doubt it'll change anything with us, but I'm curious Josh - this new merman who arrived recently. I've not seen him yet, what is he like..?" North said curiously.

"I don't know how to explain it, but there is something about him. He exudes warmth and benevolence. He is certainly not like other mer I have come across - he's something else entirely. Having him with us is a definite boon.." Josh replied thoughtfully.

"Should I be jealous..?" North teased.

"No, god no...I only have eyes for you North..." Josh added before leaning in and stealing a kiss from the attractive amber blonde mermaid he'd fallen wholly for.

Simon didn't find the peace that fell between him and Ralph as uncomfortable, in fact, it was the opposite. And he, of course, had so many questions he wanted to ask about Connor and indeed Ralph himself. But he didn't want to disturb Ralph who seemed completely in his element with the succulents. It struck him though that his fellow blonde mer although he was twitchy and nervous around others, with succulents and maybe perhaps creatures of the sea too, and Connor that he was more at ease. And he blinked in surprise was Ralph addressed him with a question, almost like he could sense what he was thinking.

"Ralph knows you have questions. Ralph will answer any you have.." he said glancing up from a particularly colorful succulent which reached out to him, as he gently brushed his hand against it and never letting his gaze fall from meeting Simon's own blue ones meeting hazel ones. "I well, uhh..if I may ask what happened to umm... " Simon shifted a little uncomfortable and he hoped that Ralph knew what he was referring to.

"Ralph doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable for asking. Ralph understands you are curious and Ralph is happy to answer..." the blonde mer replied before pulling his attention away from the succulents and swimming a little closer towards Simon but not intruding into his space as he continued in a calm voice, almost like he was at peace with the fact. "..Ralph was injured by a tiger shark that was trained to attack Ralph due to jealousy of Ralph's friendship with Connor. Ralph stopped it from turning on Connor, Ralph would gladly do it again...."

Simon hadn't expected his fellow blonde mer to be so forthcoming and it was clear that Ralph's loyalty and friendship with Connor, wasn’t like the one he had with Josh, North, and Markus - but whatever bond the brunette had with the blonde in front of him now it was a true unyielding one and he wasn't too surprised to hear that Ralph wouldn't hesitate to do it again. The petty jealousy of others though had been the reason for what had happened and he felt a silent wave of anger go through him at that.

"You're a good friend to Connor, that much is very clear. Thank you for being so open and I'm sorry if it caused you any distress.." he replied putting his hand onto Ralph's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly and he didn't miss the fact Ralph stiffened at his touch for a moment before relaxing when he pulled his hand away. And he only nodded in understanding as the blonde addressed him once more.

"Ralph is fine but Ralph isn't too comfortable with touch. Ralph apologizes and Ralph wants to know if you have more questions...." he said in a quiet voice. It had only been for a brief moment but he could sense that Simon has the ability to read minds and he didn't want to be intruded upon. It wasn't that he didn't like the touch of someone else, but he was sensitive when it came to such things and it would take some time before he would be comfortable with touches from anyone other than Connor. That was just how he was but he knew that perhaps Simon wouldn't intrude without first asking but he still wanted to keep his privacy.

"Oh. Yes, I'm sorry about that. I guess you sensed that I can read minds, it's my ability but know that I would never use it in such a manner.." Simon replied reassuringly and it was true he wouldn't.

"Ralph knows you wouldn't. Ralph thinks it will take time for Ralph to get used to the touches of others. Ralph thanks you for the comfort though.." he added in response before nodding and letting the other know all was well.

"You know we have a Siren who may have prophesied about Connor's arrival as well as helping to keep this garden safe? Perhaps you'd like to meet her.." Simon suggested and he wasn't too sure if it was a good idea but he had an inkling that Ralph would hold his own in the presence of a Siren.

"Ralph is interested yes. Ralph would like to know how she keeps the succulent garden protected in a magick that shouldn't be possible.." he replied before going over to pick up his bag and placing it over his shoulder and motioning for Simon to lead the way.

Elijah was growing impatient as Amanda sat soundlessly and quietly in a trance as she was communing with the darker realm and finding out just exactly was happening with Connor and Jericho, but he knew that this was the best and fastest way to see what was happening. The dark mer hadn't given him much information about the plan but clearly, it involved whatever it was she has created to look like his son, that his gaze still kept falling back to but who could blame him. Amanda's witchery and magick had, for the most part, created everything to perfection but no doubt his mannerisms and attitude would not be like his son. Nevertheless, as long as it brought Connor back to him - that was the only thing that mattered.

Amanda had seen all of what had happened and she didn't stay to watch all of what had occurred between the rightful heir of the Mansfield Kingdom and Connor, but it would indeed cause Elijah's wrath to be felt throughout his kingdom - but everything that was happening, was what was supposed to be. There would be no changing it, but there was a way to ensure ruin for Jericho and their leader Markus. It was a long time coming and she had been dormant for a long time, but Lucy's heart would make her whole once more and she could discard this lowly form for her true one.

And when she came back to herself she decided to tell Elijah outright. This too after all was part of the plan and would set things into motion. "It iss not good news. Connor has been claimed by the true heir of the Mansfield Kingdom, the exiled one.." Amanda said as she swam elegantly towards Elijah and wasn't too bothered by the fact that the king's aura was a murderous and dark one.

"You must stay calm and control yourself, this is something that can be countered. But you need to listen to what I say.." she added gripping his arm tightly and ignoring the pained hiss that fell from the king's lips.

To hear that someone had claimed his darling Connor, he was seething and he couldn't clearly hear anything that Amanda was saying after she had given him that news but the searing pain that went through him brought him back to his senses he was thankful for even if his body reacted in an unappreciative manner. "Alright I will listen, you can let go of my arm now.." he replied coldly and he felt his body sag with relief when Amanda's touch was no longer on him.

"It was unavoidable what happened and it is the reason why I created an identical copy of your son, as well as placed a couple of mers who are under my control and currently within Jericho and are part of the general populous, when the time is right they will ensure that Connor is incapacitated enough and my thrall to be put in his place.." the dark mer said with a cold voice.

It was becoming very apparent to Elijah that all of this, was something that Amanda had been planning for a long time - which begged to question just what was the reason behind all of this? “And how exactly do we go about all of this Amanda?.." he asked and he felt a chill go through him as Amanda smiled in a manner that distorted her face and he was faced with something ancient.

"Simple. I convince Leo that Markus is a threat and has something which can destroy him and usurp him as king and that acting quickly and that attacking Jericho to ensure he stays in power of that dismal and desolate kingdom...” she paused with a cold smile before continuing on unperturbed “He is under my control of that you can be more assured. And why my king have Jericho not kidnapped the crown prince for their own gain? I believe that is reason enough to rally the troops to to action no.?"

Connor had quietly risen from his sleep and he loathed to leave the warmth that seemed to radiate from Markus and he took the moment to truly take in every inch of the dark-skinned mer and he was gorgeous in every sense of the word. His chocolate brown eyes framed with long, alluring lashes found themselves drawn to that ring that was tied around Markus' neck with some sort of human-made material, it clearly wasn't made from anything that came from their world. Whatever the ring was, it was important and he would ask exactly what it was when Markus awoke. He also didn't miss how angry the mark he'd left on the other was and felt proud of the fact, the both of them now had matching marks.

He had felt a lot more grounded and calmer then he had done, that want and desire to have Markus breed him was still there but it wasn't something that he needed right this instance, being that close and so connected with Markus had been indescribable and he wanted more of that - but he was also hungry, for sustenance and so he gently let his hands trail down the form of Markus in hopes of rousing him from his slumber.

Markus felt the warm touch of fingertips caressing and tracing patterns into his skin as he found himself waking up languidly and seeing the breathtaking vision of Connor above him, those fathomless brown pools of chocolate looking at him with so much adoration and want and he felt a wave of arousal go through him, as his hand gently linked with Connor's other hand as the other one continued to explore.

"I'm hungry Markus..." Connor said pausing to lick his lips and that action immediately caused Markus to sit up and pull him into a deep, longing kiss that he moaned into before pulling away and letting out a husky chuckle. "I meant for food Markus, hunt something for me and as a reward, I'll let you bury your cock inside of me.." the brunette added tilting his head and being the very picture of innocence.

That was incentive enough to spur Markus into action and he could only nod before stealing another kiss and coming up with a plan to get something to sustain them both. He was hungry too, very much so and the sooner they had filled the bellies the sooner he could get back to worshipping Connor whose claim bite stood out strongly against that beautiful pale skin, that he could happily touch forever.

#fiction #novella #rk1000 #markus x connor #merman au #merman alternate universe #dbh connor #dbh markus #dbh elijah #dbh ralph #dbh simon #dbh josh #dbh north #dbh amanda #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #markus rk200 #conkus

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