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thalia-amongst-the-thorns · 2 years

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Whumptober No. 6 - Screams from Across the Hall

Back again for your daily dose of whump! Still chugging along with the supernatural story last seen in Whumptober No. 5.

For now, let’s see how resident werewolf Owen is coping...

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Pulse racing in his ears, Owen rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt to expose the scarred skin of his residual elbow and cautiously pressed it against the metal doorknob. Immediately cold electricity surged through him at the point of contact and Owen yelped, stumbling back. Definitely silver. Not just the knob, but the surrounding locking mechanism too by the looks of it.

Owen stretched out his arm, trying to shake off the lingering pain piercing through it like needles of ice. The reaction was always worse the closer it was to a full moon. During a new moon phase he could even handle Signora Rottelo’s silver and mother of pearl inlaid jewelry box with only mild discomfort. But with less than three hours until the full moon rose, touching the stuff was like handling acid.

Sweat slicking his palm, Owen worked his way through the bedroom, opening bureau drawers, checking under the mattress, feeling for any mysterious seams along the bare walls that would hint at hidden cabinets or doors, but came up empty handed. Not that he’d expect a serendipitous key to be laying around, but it would be a shame to overlook one should it exist. Someone had also gone through the trouble of emptying out his pockets, and Owen shivered at the thought of unknown hands crawling over him.

A sudden queasy ripple passed through his body and Owen groaned, bending double as bones creaked ominously and meaty bits shifted around inside of him.

What should he do? What could he do? The bedroom door was sturdy, but not impossible to break through in his current state. It’d be easy enough to avoid the silver parts, and even if not, silver burns would heal with time. But if he broke through… then what? Assumedly this was a house of some kind, which either meant more people were inside it or there was a whole neighborhood full of potential victims outside the front doors. He did still have about two and a half hours before he Changed. Enough time to run away from civilization, to seclude himself in nearby woods and minimize the damage he could do. Maybe. Or maybe he’d run out and find he was at the heart of a city, a jungle of concrete and metal and bodies pressed in on him like so much penned sheep.

If he stayed put then his captor, assumedly the woman with the soft voice, was as good as dead. So would anyone else in the house. The thought scared Owen. Such certain brutality he would commit but be unaware of doing. But there was apparently a demon to contend with, one in his captor’s service if she was to be believed…

A scream sliced through his divided thoughts and Owen’s head snapped towards the sound. The voice was familiar, a painful rasp from somewhere in the depths of the house but which Owen’s sensitive ears picked up on at the edges of his hearing. Chest tight with dread Owen rushed over and pressed his ear to the opposite wall.

“Hello,” he bellowed, trying to be heard through who knew how many layers of wooden walls and furnishings. “Hello, is someone there?” He didn’t say a name for fear of fate taking his suggestion.

A moment of silence that wasn’t really, his ears picking up on the creak of shifting floorboards, pacing footsteps, a sticky thing being put down.

Then, Owen?

“Val,” Owen yelled in surprise at his friend’s voice echoing faintly through his mind. Not who he had been expecting, and relief flooded Owen’s chest quickly followed by a different kind of fear. “Val, are you okay? Do you know what’s going on?”

There was an uncomfortable sensation of… something grasping at Owen’s mind, like a hand scrambling for purchase on a slick cliff’s edge, accompanied by a jumble of mumbled half words in Val’s voice and a sudden spike of sourceless pain in Owen’s throat, a burning thirst that made an unpleasant kinship with the pangs of the Change already tormenting his body.

“Val I- I didn’t catch that,” Owen called, pressing his ear more firmly against the wall as if that would help him better receive a psychic message.

Sorry, Val said, the word faint but giving the mental impression of being yelled through a long tunnel. I think you’re testing the limits of my range.

“Yell again, I’ll hear you!”

Ah, well, that wasn’t exactly me, Val clarified and again Owen felt that searing pain in his throat that wasn’t really his own. I’m in a room with Raquel and she’s… she’s lost a lot of blood. She tried to explain how to make a tourniquet but I fucked it up, put it in the wrong spot or something and–

Val’s voice warbled away into silence and Owen roared in distress. He’d known it was Raquel’s voice. He’d heard her scream in agony from visions enough times that the sound was etched into his memory. But now she was injured, bleeding out in a room with Val, and Owen thought of the pain in his throat that had disappeared along with Val’s projected voice and terror and sympathy clawed at his insides for what he knew Val was fighting against and what Raquel had no choice but to endure being trapped with.

“Val,” Owen bellowed, aware of the sound of footsteps fast approaching his door and the accompanying red human smell tantalizing his nose again. “Val, what’s going on? Is Raquel okay?”

“What are you doing,” his captor snapped from the other side of the door, voice no longer soft and smug. “Knock that racket off at once!”

“You have my friends,” Owen continued to bellow, and there was something cathartic in the noise. “You’ve kidnapped my friends and one of them is injured!”

A moment of hesitation, perhaps as she wondered how he’d found out about this bit of information from a locked room, before she responded coldly, “That’s none of your concern.”

Something inside of Owen snarled at her callous tone, drove him forward to pound on the door so that it shook in its frame and prompted a pig-like squeal from his captor just on the other side. The orange smell of fear mingled with the red. Was it Owen’s imagination, or were his teeth sharper as his lips pulled back over them?

“It is! And I may not know what you’re planning here, but I’m guessing it needs all of us to be alive to work. Otherwise we’d all be dead already.” Owen took in a steadying breath, let it out through clenched teeth, tried to make his voice calm and reasonable like his sister’s. Indisputable. “You need Raquel alive, at least for longer than she will be if only Val’s there to help her. Put me in the same room as them and I can help. Stabilize her until you don’t need us anymore.”

A pause wherein his captor’s heartbeat was like thunder in Owen’s keen ears. “I thought you wanted to escape your cage, beast? What happened to all the hollow words about getting away from here so you wouldn’t hurt anyone? Surely being in the same room as your friends of all people is the last thing you want.”

On cue another spasm rocked through Owen’s limbs, twisting muscles so that he had to bite back a scream. Less than two hours now. Less than two hours until everyone in this house was dead. But Raquel already had less time than that. And Owen had heard the undercurrent of panic in Val’s thoughts, felt a hint of the unbearable thirst he was enduring. They were in trouble and if Owen could help then there was no question here. And if things got bad… well, then Val would know what to do.

“If I don’t help, Raquel will be dead long before I Change,” Owen reasoned. “If I’m with her to help slow down her blood loss she at least has that much more time. And so do you for whatever you’re planning.”

Silence. The sound of fingers tapping.

“I promise not to fight back or run away,” Owen begged, forehead pressed to the cool wood of the door. “Please, please let me help them.”

More silence, every second grating on Owen’s already frayed nerves. Eventually there was a rustle of fabric, footsteps as his captor shuffled away from the door and stopped.

“I have need of you, Shuelat,” she whispered, and immediately there was a rushing sound of a high wind that came to an abrupt stop and her red human scent was joined by something smelling of orange interwoven with streaks of gold. Warm and vibrant, a living smell touched with the bitter notes of ashes from a bonfire and sun soaked sand. The same smell from right before Owen had been knocked unconscious.

“Yes, Mistress.” A clipped masculine voice. Smooth English accent in contrast to the woman’s American one.

“I want you to take the beast and put him with the others,” she said in hushed tones. A zipper being undone, something small being taken out. “If he tries anything, use all of it. There should be enough this time to keep him unconscious until the moon fully rises.”

Owen imagined a syringe of ketamine exchanging hands and shivered.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You didn’t tell me the woman was awake,” his captor groused, and Owen recognized the critical tone of someone who made sure to maintain a healthy distance between themselves and the “help”.

“I was unaware she was, Mistress.”

“Honestly, decades of service and you still can’t think past the nose on your face,” she muttered. “After bringing the beast to the room I want you to make sure all three of them are good and secure before you collect the necromancer. Kill the woman if you need to make a show of force, but only the woman. It won’t do for all of them to be dead before she gets here.”

Owen’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good.” She stepped back to the door, her voice returning to its normal volume. “I’m going to open the door and have you escorted to the others’ room. If you try to escape, if any of you try to escape or fight back or do anything untoward, you will be restrained again and the woman will be killed. Assuming your vampiric friend hasn’t already done so,” she added with that same undertone of smug relish, as if the notion amused her, and Owen had to fight down the urge to claw the door open and growl in her face.

Instead he nodded, head light with relief. “Yes, yes, I promise I won’t do anything, please just let me help them.”

“Step back from the door,” she commanded and Owen complied. About a minute passed before a key slid into the lock and the knob turned, opening the door to reveal a wisp of a woman, skin flimsy as sallow onion paper and covered in fine wrinkles that puckered her mouth and eyes. She barely reached Owen’s waist yet held herself with the domineering mien of one who was used to being catered to. Snow white hair was pulled into a tight pun at the crown of her head and she was dressed in a loose fitting day dress and fuzzy cardigan in complementing shades of pink and red.

“Come out slowly, arms up,” she continued and again Owen did as instructed, hand and residual elbow raised in submission as he stepped out into a musty hallway.

He could now see that hovering just behind the elderly woman was a young man, perhaps a few years older than Owen himself, the source of the orange and gold smell. He was of a wiry build and a good deal shorter than Owen (although to be fair most people were), wearing a worn but respectable jean jacket and heavy boots, his long dark hair tied back to reveal eyes like molten gold in a chiseled, warm brown face. Heat radiated off the man in waves, and Owen’s gaze slid down to where he cradled a long syringe in one hand.

The woman tipped her head towards her companion. “He will escort you to the others and make sure you’re all settled. With force if necessary.”

Owen nodded, heart hammering against his ribcage. Raquel was running out of time and he had no intention of wasting what was left.

“Carry on then,” she demanded, waving a dismissive hand at the man. His lips pressed together into a severe line before he bowed slightly at the waist, golden eyes never wavering from the woman’s face.

“As you desire, Mistress,” he murmured before gesturing with his empty hand for Owen to walk in front of him towards one end of the hallway.

Owen quickly did as directed, noting that the woman continued on in the opposite direction. The hallway was bare, without a trace of window or decoration to break up the uniform mahogany paneling. Their footsteps kicked up a cloud of dust from the threadbare carpeting, and the general design of the vaulted ceilings and intricate baseboards put Owen in mind of the lovely Queen Anne houses the cirque would see when touring through the New England area in America. DC wasn’t all that far away from New England. Perhaps the others weren’t that far away. But that was no doubt part of the plan if the necromancer they were after was who he suspected it was…

A wet tearing noise followed by a familiar shriek reached Owen’s ears and he almost bolted toward the sound before remembering the man (Demon? He certainly had the eyes of one, but the smell was off…) with the heavy syringe behind him, his presence an oppressive heat baking into Owen’s back. His body shuddered with impatience and discomfort from the coming Change, but Owen held on as the two of them continued their silent walk through a maze of corridors.

The wet sound was getting louder and more insistent when the man came to a stop, pointing to an unassuming door like the countless others they’d passed but which Owen could smell a strong current of scent wafting out from under. Deep human red and the light gray he associated with the undead, but with faint red threads spread throughout. Raquel and Val..

“One moment,” the man said, bringing up his free hand and tracing an intricate pattern in the air before the closed door. Sparks crackled under his fingernails, trailing behind his gestures to form glowing white sigils of blue tinged flame. The gold colored scent around the man intensified as the sigiled pulsed and smaller symbols flared to life in response at the doorknob and four corners of the door. It reminded Owen of the protective wards Val maintained at the entrance of his penthouse and Owen briefly wondered what would have actually happened if he had tried to break his way out of his room before.

Something moved on the other side of the door, and Val’s voice sounded in Owen’s head once more. I don’t suppose that’s room service?

The sound was much stronger than before now that Owen was closer, and given the man’s surprised expression it wasn’t limited to Owen’s mind.

“No,” the man said stiffly. “I’m bringing over your friend to help with the woman’s injuries.”

“It’s going to be okay Val,” Owen reassured him even as another spasm twisted his guts. “Just do what he says and we’ll be able to help each other through this.”

The man’s molten gold gaze cut to Owen before dropping abruptly to the ground, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His grip on the syringe tightened.

Owen! Val’s tone swerved between relief and panic, and Owen was overcome by the sensation of his friend’s mind pressing down on his own. Owen, I’m only speaking to you now. I’m hurt, no weapons, but still able to throw down as a meat shield if nothing else. Can we rush this guy and escape? Cough once for yes, twice for no, I’ll hear you from there.

“Both of you stand back from the door,” the man instructed at the same time, unaware of the one way mental conversation going on. “If any of you try to force your way out you will be subdued, and I have been instructed to kill the woman if necessary.”

Charming, Val quipped and the man flinched. Switching back to just Owen, Val asked, voice firm, Can we take him and get Raquel out? Yes or no?

If only he could swap places with Adrienne in this moment. His sister always had a plan, always knew just what to do. Instead everything was riding on Owen this time, his mind swimming with fear and panic as the Change agonizingly consumed his body bit by bit. There were only seconds to act but Owen couldn’t think beyond getting inside the room and tending to Raquel’s wounds. Val was always up for a fight, but could he hold his own against a possible demon? Owen certainly couldn’t, and if they lost then Raquel would go from wounded to dead and none of them could fix that.

Owen coughed twice, the man distracted as he kept talking. “Do you understand?”

Yeah, Val sighed in both their heads. Yeah, I understand. No funny business.

“Yes, I understand,” Owen echoed, both relieved and guilty at his choice.

“Okay.” The man gestured Owen towards the door. “Everyone inside the room keep back, your friend is coming in. I’ll be locking the door immediately after him.”

The man tapped a finger against the doorknob. There was another gold spark then an audible click as the lock slid back. After a moment of hesitation the man reached out and turned the silver knob, making eye contact with Owen as he pulled the door open.

“Time to join your friends.”

#whumptober2022 #no.6 #fic #oc #magic kids #owen #val #werewolf #dhampir #screams from across the hall #whumptober #monstrous transformation angst is my jam #how many character struggling with their humanity can we fit in one story?#the answer will surprise you!

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary. You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway. You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle. Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple. You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body. The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping. The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases. Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone. Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button. Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off. FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail. Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi. I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe��”

You raised your eyebrows at that. Moldova? Who the hell was calling you from Moldova? Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth. This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side. He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family. He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased. Your mother was an only child, yes? It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot. The information you were being given was a lot to handle. You didn’t have that large of a family. You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents. Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10. Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year. Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone. You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears. “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual. What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address. I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information. The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone. Fly to Moldova? Is this true? The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova. That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous. But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information. “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut. You heard Ron chuckle. “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament. If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head. Your mind was whirling. None of this sounded remotely true. You felt as if you were dreaming. This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative. What are the odds of something like this happening in real life? You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N. I will send this as soon as possible. I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details. Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call. All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight. Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated. You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert. Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat. Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest. You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back. He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed. Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother. He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old. He had remained in the country until his death. Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you. Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises. All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes. Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude. I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear. Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you. You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams. I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours. There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag. “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from. Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept. It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone. It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop. You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed. Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him. Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well. You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you. Bruce was kind and nice to talk to. The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn. Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured. You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat. Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle. You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane. The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands. The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself. Some of your eye makeup was smudged. You told yourself once you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing you forward towards the sink and mirror. You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still. “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat. You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside. Natural light from the start of the day began to show. The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce. He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch. “We should be there in three hours. I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window. The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below. Tall, snowy mountains came into view. You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was. You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school. Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood. You shook your head and smiled to yourself. You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe. The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet. What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was. You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place. Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village. You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches. You took everything in with total awe and appreciation. It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention. You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window. What the fuck is that, you wondered. It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving. It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity. As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane. Was the plane descending? Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane. The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off. You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall. “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane. Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit. The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm. The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face. “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could. Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm. The plane shook as it fell. Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact. You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory. He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh. A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel. He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance. He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise. Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance. Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village. Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet. He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth. Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

Text

The doctor (part 3)

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - When a 25-year-old single father Cedric Diggory was woken up by his daughter to get shots he knew something was going to happen but not in the slightest bit did he know he was going to find new love. (Muggle AU)

Warnings - none

A/N Ahhh I am soooo sorry! I'm updating this is series after ages because my interest shifted from Cedric but its back! So have these! Sorry once again!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You were indeed anxious for what might be the result of the hearing and that alone made it difficult for you to sleep that night. After tossing around in the bed trying to find a comfortable spot for you to fall asleep, you gave up the attempt and made a good decision in opening the psychology textbook that you have read over and over again for years.

Your eyes were blankly staring at the words that made no sense in your mind, the thoughts of the hearing leaving no space for it. You knew how much it meant to Charlotte and Cedric and you could only hope for Cedric to get his daughter’s custody.

It was wonderful seeing Cedric with his little girl. You watched as he held her in his arms, looking at her as though he would bring the stars down for her. You had also seen her mother in a situation that made you simply despise her. How could she leave such an angel in the care of a man who loved her so dearly and hope for them to be a family? And then fight for custody of the very daughter she left after years? It would always bewilder you.

Charlotte was indeed such an angel, and you could see how much she adored you that immediately felt a surge of protectiveness washing over you when you were with her.

You didn’t know when sleep had overtaken you but the next thing you remember was someone shaking your shoulder.

You blinked your eyes to clear the sleep out of them and the first thing you saw was Cedric’s sparking grey eyes, smilingly in hurry although never failing to captivate you. He stopped fretting for a moment before shaking his head and whispered, “I have to leave now. Is it alright for you to take care of Charlotte today, right?”

“You're leaving already?” You checked the time on your phone and it was 4 in the morning.

“Yeah, you will be able to be alone with her, right?” Cedric asked, concerned.

You nodded, “Yep,” you managed to stand up straight and followed him outside your room. Cedric grabbed a cereal bar from the kitchen counter on his way to this door.

Before leaving he turned around, looking at you unsure, “If you don’t mind can you be in her room? There is a couch in the room. I'm sorry but she is afraid to-”

”Cedric,” you chuckled, “I will be with her, don’t worry. She's in safe hands,”

He breathed of relief and looked at you for a second standing there awkwardly. You took a deep breath and pulled him in for a quick hug, not providing Cedric enough time to sink in the comfort of your arms, and think of dropping all his plans.

“Your gonna rock it, I promise,” You smiled at him and patted his arm. Cedric looked relieved when he stepped out of the door and took a deep breath. He dreaded the day.

You sighed and closed the door after him. Dragging your feet to the kitchen, you gulped down a glass of water. It was all a mess beyond any ability of comprehension in the sleepy state of your mind. Blindly complying with what was told, you left to Charlotte's room, silently.

Smiling at the elegantly placed pillow and blanket on the couch, you glanced at a fast asleep Charlotte, and allowed the sleep to take over you once again.

"(Y/N)?" For the second that day, you had shot up in alarm, only to recognise a similar pair of shining grey eyes and relax.

“Charlotte, what’s wrong?” You sat up and asked with a hoarse voice. She whimpered and looked at her hands. You noticed how her breathing rate quickened and her bottom lip wobbled and you didn’t need to be a detective to know what had happened.

“Come here, honey,” You opened you arms as an invitation for her to climb onto your lap which she did without an ounce of hesitation.

“Its alright, darling, I’m right her with you,” you said and patted her back. You rocked the two of you slightly and tried to calm her down.

“I love you,” you heard her whisper and felt your breath get caught in your lungs. You blinked twice and slowly let out a breathy chuckle.

“What did you say? Charlotte? Darling? You asleep, already?” you said but received no response in return.

You sighed and mumbled an “I love you too,” back and leaned against the couch. Rubbing circles in the small of her back and you were certain you would not be able to sleep any longer.

Charlotte had laid in your arms till noon and prevented you from doing almost anything. Unable to control you’re bladder anymore, you laid her on the bed and quickly left to the restroom.

When you returned to the bedroom after brushing your teeth, you were thankful to see Charlotte stirring, “Good morning, love,” You greeted warmly and grinned. Crawling onto the bed, you sat next to her and leaned against the headboard.

“Good morning,” She threw an arm over your lap and rolled over towards you, her eyes still closed. You chuckled and ran your finger through her curls.

“Where is daddy?” she asked and pulled away to look at you in the eyes.

You sighed and thought of reason to tell her, not having the energy to tell her he was out in a court fighting for her with her mother. You resorted to a simpler and easier answer, “Your daddy is out, darling, he will be back soon,”

“When will he be back?”

“I don’t know, honey. He will call us when he leaves,” you said, massaging her scalp. She hummed and pouted, “Why didn’t papa tell me he was going out?”

You took a minute to wonder why she called her father with different names at different times without any reason. You blinked and shook your head, “It was – uh – a sudden plan, darling! That’s why he couldn’t tell you because you were fast asleep when he decided it,”

“When did papa tell you?” She asked, her big eyes staring at you, hopefully, like you had answers to every question of hers; perhaps, it was trust. It wrenched your heart as you provided false answers to her question but she didn’t need to know of them just yet.

“Early in the morning. I think about 4 when my little girl was fast asleep, snoring,” You tickled her sides and watched proudly as she giggled but didn’t pull away rather moved closer to you and tugged at your hands.

“Alright, alright,” You took her into your arms and stood up from the bed, “You’re going to go brush now and I’m going to try to make you some-”

“Pancakes!” She yelled, raising her hand in the air.

You chuckled, “Pancakes, is it, then!” you let her down and pushed her gently to the bathroom, “Now, go brush,”

She stood at the entrance of the bathroom, and turned to glare at you with her hands on her hips, “Papa used to brush me,”

You narrowed your eyes at her playfully, and copied her position, “I live with you for over a week, darling. Now, go brush,”

“I can’t reach!” She whined, stomping her foot.

“Your just like your father, aren’t you?” You shook your head and took her in your arms again and placed her on your hips.

“What?” she scrunched her eyebrows, adorably.

“Both of you get what you want,” you said, pinching the tip of her nose, lightly. She giggled and buried her head in your shoulder.

Hours passed and Charlotte spent the time without much thoughts of her father rather warmed up to you in the comfort of your couch, happily watching Disney movies with you. Then, came your much awaited ring. You darted to your phone and picked up immediately, Charlotte bounding after you and jumping up and down the couch as you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“The hearing is finished. I’m coming home, now,”

“How did it go?”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there,”

“Alright. Oh, wait, wait, don’t cut the call, Charlotte wants to speak to you,”

“Yep,”

“Daddy!”

“Hey darling. Are you enjoying your day, puppy?”

“Yes, papa! (Y/N) is soo fun! When you come back can you get me some chocolates, papa? You told me you’d get them,”

“Of course, my love!”

“Love you, papa!”

“Love you too, darling!”

“Papa is coming home with chocolates!” She jumped into your arms. You chuckled and spun around with her secured in your clutch.

Within fifteen minutes of her excitement, the door bell rang and Charlotte was more than happy to receive her father. Opening the door for her, you anxiously leaned to look at Cedric, worried of the result of the hearing.

You were relived to see him catch his daughter in his arms and pepper her face with kisses, a wide grin on his face, “I love you, darling!”

“I love you too, daddy!” Her little arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and her head was buried into the crook of his neck when he stepped into the home.

The beautiful grin on his handsome face brought tingles to your stomach and you felt your heart swell.

‘We won,’ he mouthed, tears stinging his eyes. The years of struggle finally paid off and he had his daughter t himself. He no more had to fight to be her father. He no more had to leave her alone to that damned hearing every other time.

You placed a hand over your mouth and nodded asking for a reconfirmation. A rapid nod in response and both of you resisted the urge from just pulling the other into a tight, warm hug.

“Puppy?” Cedric leaned back to look at charlotte in the eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed over her cheek as he kissed her forehead, “You’re my little girl, darling,”

Charlotte giggled although he could see the confusion in her eyes. Cedric ruffled her hair, “We are going out tonight,”

“Where, papa?!” Charlotte asked, smiling widely making his heart swell with love and pride.

Cedric kissed her cheek, “To the restaurant down the street,”

“Can we get shawarmas!?” She asked, excitement bubbling in her eyes.

“Anything you want, my love!” Cedric said and looked back at you, “Get ready, alright? We will leave within half an hour,”

“Me too?” you asked, taken aback.

“Yes, of course,”

“Uh, alright,” You fiddled with your fingers, nervously and nodded your head, hesitant, “Sure,”

The sun was already setting by the time you left the home, dressed casually. Cedric and you stood on either side of Charlotte, who held your hands tightly and spoke as she pleased.

To the onlookers the three of you would have looked like a little happy family with a loving father, a caring mother and their little princess. They would have noticed him looking at you with much admiration in his eyes and watch your eyes skim over his handsome features when he wasn’t looking. They would have seen love weaving the three of you into a tightly knit family wrapped in warmth and protected against everything.

#guys plaese dont let this flop #i loved this #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric amos diggory #cedric x reader #cedric x you #cedric x y/n #domestic!cedric diggory x reader #father!Cedric Diggory x Reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory x y/n #dad!cedric diggory #dad!cedric diggory x reader #harry potter

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Lightning

Thor Odinson x Odinsdottir!reader, Loki Laufeyson x Odinsdottir!reader (platonic)

Summary: After the death of your brother Loki, and Frigga, things in Asgard change drastically, just like your father. Where he was once cold and distant before, now he’s caring and attentive. And you didn’t mind his change, in fact you loved that he had this new time for you, yet when you find out the truth behind his actions, how will you react?

Warning- Fluff, slight angst

———-

“This is stupid.” You groan as you kick the mirror back and fall back in your seat.

“What did that poor mirror do to you?”

At the sound of your fathers voice you throw your head up and turn to see him standing by your doorway. It was a surprise for sure, but you knew how to react by his sudden appearance.

You stand up and straighten out your shoulders, offering him a small smile. “Father.”

Said man walks into your room and picks up your mirror, standing beside it and keeping his attention on you. “What’s wrong?”

“I,” you blink, keeping your gaze on him for a brief second and silently questioning his behavior before sitting back down and refocusing on your appearance. “I can’t do my braid, it’s hard,” you sigh, feeling your smile fall, “without mother here I can’t seem to do it. I also don’t like when the handmaidens touch my hair, and Thor isn’t here to help, and Loki...is gone too. So I can’t do my braid.”

“I can help you.” Your father suddenly offers.

“Are you sure?” You ask unsurely, watching as he made his way behind you. “Aren’t you busy?”

“I can make some time,” he says as he begins to braid your hair, peeking your curiosity even more.

You don’t question it, you find it odd that he’s been so attentive lately, so involved with your days, but again, you don’t want to question it. You actually like receiving his attention. It was a good change.

“Father, do you know when Thor will be returning?”

Through his reflection from the mirror in front of you, you see him shrug and briefly lift his gaze to look at you before focusing back on your hair. “No, it seems after the dark elves attacked he hardly tells me anything. Why bored of me already?”

You narrow your gaze on his reflection, but you dont think to get too deep into what was going on. “No, it’s just I find myself bored most of the day after school, and well after mother and Loki died he always tried to make time to do something with me.”

“Do you miss Loki?”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

“Even after all he did? All the terrible things he’s caused?”

You sigh and look down at your hands and create sparks of lightning between your fingers. “Loki was always nice to me, he never did the things to me that he did to, Thor. Plus, mother always said never to think of him badly,” you pause and close your fist, feeling your eyes sting with tears whilst going unaware of your “fathers” stunned pause after your comment. “So, yes I miss my brother.”

Your father clears his throat and goes back to finishing your braid in silence, patting your shoulder to signal you that he was done. When you stand up and lift your gaze to examine the braid, you gasp and feel those salty tears you withheld roll down your cheeks.

“What? Did it come out wrong?” Your father queries.

You reach for your braid and gently run your fingers down it, responding in an almost breathless manner. “It’s how Loki would braid my hair.” You turn around to face your father and you offer him a short, sweet smile. “Thank you, father.” You move to your desk and grab your things to go to class, stopping at your doorway and looking over your shoulder. “I’m going to go to class now, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Just as you turn to leave, he stops you. “Wait. Do you want to skip class today and do something else?”

“Uh,” you part your lips, spinning on your heels to face him still in your room. “But you always say learning is the fundamental of being a good princess.” You tilt your head and narrow your gaze on his face, searching it for any sign of trick.

“Well,” he shrugs as he slowly makes his way to you. “Learning magic is the fundamental of becoming a good princess too and then even better when you become queen.”

You scoff and manage an amused grin. “Queen?”

“Why yes, after I die who will rule Asgard?”

“Thor,” you respond.

Your father clasps his hands on his back and falls beside you, shaking his head as he’s quick to correct your answer. “What if I don’t want it to be, Thor? You my sweet si—daughter, will make a perfect fit to be queen, with your powers and knowledge. That’s why learning magic is beneficial.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and turns you around to walk off with you at his side. “What do you know about magic?”

“Not so much,” you shrug, “just a bit of what Loki and Frigga taught me.”

“Don’t you want to learn more?” Your father presses as he guides you out of the golden castle. “Just imagine with your powers and magic combined, you’d be powerful.”

Perhaps you should question his behavior deeper, really just think about what he was proposing—learning magic from your father?

But that part of you that felt your fathers negligence in the past loved the attention he was recently giving you. You desired to be loved by him like he loved Thor. So that’s why you didn’t want to question this strange new behavior.

You smile widely and finally come to an easy agreement. “Okay I want to learn more magic.”

“Good,” your father pats your shoulder, guiding you to the green gardens outside. “First let’s see your power, what’s your highest running record now?”

“Forty-five seconds.”

“Hmm,” your father hums as he parts away and stops you both in your tracks, stepping to the side to stand before you. “Have you tried incorporating your lightning when you run? It'd be like when you travel with your lightning from one place to another; it’s instantaneous and happens in a blink of an eye, right?”

“Right,” you nod whilst you place your books down. “How come I’ve never tried that before?”

“Try it,” your father insists.

With a newborn eagerness to impress your father before you, you summon lightning and do a quick outfit change, feeling a new surge of happiness within you at this moment. Albeit a small hint of doubt sparked in your brain. You began to stretch and didn’t fail to question what irked you. “Father, are you not busy? I just mean, lately all you’ve done is been with...me.”

Your father walks back to stay at a safe distance from you when you run, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging, “well is it a crime spending time with my only daughter.” He finishes with an almost nervous chuckle. “Anyways stop thinking too much about it and break that record so we can get to teaching you magic.”

You stand up straight and nod apprehensively, getting into a running stance and then looking at him one last time to see him point his head in the way you were going to run. That single gesture sets you off to super speed your way through your usual running coarse, but this time unlike the other using lightning like your father suggested and finding that it gave you an incredible boast. Even the way you saw your surroundings was different, before you would only see the same greenery, the great blue water and beautiful green lush forest; now you saw lightning, it was like traveling through the Bifrost.

And regarding your personal running record, it did wonders to it.

Once you returned to your previous spot you saw your father smiling at you for what seemed to be the first time in ages. “Good job, y/n. You got twenty-five seconds off your previous record!”

At first you’re confused on how to take his positive feedback, his appreciation that you just stare at him dumb-struck and in slight awe. It isn’t until much later do you find your right reaction; you beam at him and utter, “thank you, father.”

——

“Oh, brother. This is it. I take my leave.”

“You fool, you didn’t listen!”

Tears fill your eyes and you wipe away the tears that had already rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lady Sif, get help!”

“Somebody help!”

Yeah, you didn’t really agree with that slight part, Lady Sif was a spectacular warrior and deserved more than that part in the play. But nonetheless it was just play.

“I’m sorry for all I’ve done.”

“Shh. It’s all right. Hold on.”

“I’m sorry I tried to rule earth.”

“They’d be lucky to have you.”

“I’m sorry about that thing with the Tesseract. I just couldn’t help myself. I'm a trickster.”

“Yes. So mischievous.”

“I’m sorry about that time I turned you into a frog.”

You yawn and lean back in your seat, grabbing a piece of fruit and throwing it in your mouth as you continue to watch the play, crying one last time when fake Thor cries out, after that you grew bored and watched as the play ended. Once it was you jumped to your feet to attempt to leave, but then at your side you saw the real Thor.

When he noticed that you saw him, he smiled and waved and you followed by speeding towards him, instantly getting welcomed by a hug. “Hello, sister.”

“Thor! You’re finally back!” You beamed up at him.

“Yes, for a more permanent stay this time.” He informed you as you parted away, drifting his gaze to your father now. “Father.”

“Uh, my son, Thor, has returned!” Your father announced, “greetings my boy.”

The crowd around clapped and Thor seemed to be unamused by this whole ordeal. “This is an interesting play, what's it called?”

“The tragedy of Loki of Asgard. The people wanted to commemorate him.”

That’s very doubtful, considering what he did.

“Ah, indeed they should. I like the statue. A lot better looking then he was when he was alive, though. A little less weaselly, less greasy, maybe.” Thor continued making your father laugh nervously and made you just look at him amused and confused. “Do you know what this is?” Thor asked as he lifted the huge Skull in his hand.

“The skull of Surtur. That’s a formidable weapon!”

Thor proceeds to hand the skull to a guard, “do me a favor. Lock this away in a vault so it doesn’t turn into a giant monster and destroy the whole planet.” Thor walks forward and gestures you to follow him.

“Thank you, dear. Um, so it’s back to Midgard for you, is it?” Your father questioned Thor, gaining your full unwavered attention even if he had answered that to you already.

“Nope.” Thor answered as he threw his hammer up and then caught it with ease. “You know I’ve been having this reoccurring dream lately. Every night, I see Asgard fall into ruins.”

“That’s just a silly dream,” your father turned Thor down, “signs of an overactive imagination.”

“Possibly.” Thor quipped, “but then I decided to go out there and investigate. And what do I find, but the nine Realms completely in chaos.” Thor repeats his previous action with his hammer and gets closer to your father. “Enemies of Asgard assembling, plotting our demise all while you, Odin, the protector of those Nine Realms are sitting here in your bathrobe, eating grapes.”

When you look at your father you notice that he appears quite nervous, it was strange, very strange, but considersing that Thor wasn’t amused and appeared threatening, you stayed silent.

“Yes, it is best to respect our neighbors’ freedom.”

“Yes, of course the freedom to be massacred.” Thor throws his hammer forward, frightening the crowd and puzzling you even more.

“Yes,” your father tries to excuse himself and his negligence, “besides I’ve been rather busy myself.”

“Watching theater.” Thor remarks.

“Well, raising a teenage daughter, board meetings and security council meetings.”

“You’re really going to make me do it?” Thor quips, receiving just a simple question from your father before Thor throws his hammer far and walks behind your father, to threaten him. “You know nothing will stop Mjolnir, as it returns to my hand. Not even your face.”

“Thor!” You call frighteningly, receiving a quick smug answer.

“Watch this, sister.”

“You’ve gone quite mad. Y/N, stop him. You’ll be executed for this.”

“Then I’ll see you on the other side, brother.”

Your eyes widen and you freeze in your spot, keeping your gaze stuck on the pair beside you and gasping as your father transforms into Loki.

“But,” you try to question through your confusion, “but…” you pause and Loki turns to you, trying to approach you as you stay frozen and in disbelief with tears filling your eyes. “You...lied.”

“Y/N, I can explain.”

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dollsonmain · 2 years

Text

Tired ramblings:

This is my poor computer right now:

Hello, tiny compy guts.

Thinking about how big individual computer components were just 20 years ago….. And keeping in mind that those boxes are quite a bit larger than the components in them……..

For lack of anything better to do (I do have a couple ponies to work on but am not in the mood at all) I may see about getting under the desk to manage this mess of cables. The desk is huge and heavy, and I hate it because I can’t move it by myself (big, heavy, not attached hutch would surely fall, likely on me, if I dared try to move the desk) so it’s both distressingly dusty back there, and a server tech’s cthulu of cables nightmare.

That stereo is older than some of my followers/follows.

That Guy gave me shit for pointing out there was a flashing red light on the front of the new computer all of a sudden when he touched it. He very condescendingly informed me it was the hard drive access indicator light and I was like well for one your hand is covering it so I can’t SEE it exactly and for two THAT DIDN’T EXIST ON THE OLD ONE so cut me some slack, buddy. I probably would have figured it out if his hand weren’t covering it up.

The newer one also has fewer USB ports which is kind of a problem because all of my peripherals including the stereo are USB.

So that’s keyboard, mouse, stereo (which is on an adapter because there’s not dedicated audio port on the back of newer PCs, they all rely on HDMI which is all well and good if you’re attached to a television or a monitor with a speaker but my monitor doesn’t have a speaker), printer, phone, SD card reader (there is an on-board reader that’s difficult to access so I don’t use it)…. Tl:dr more plugs than ports.

So I have a lot of items on one plug with a splitter out the back, and another splitter out the front for just the card reader and phone.

The mouse is also on an extender because the cord is too damn short, and the extender likes to retract all of a sudden which is irritating. I could probably get a non-retracting extender. That Guy decided I would have the retracting one and it’s annoying.

On the NUC7 there were two USB ports on the front. On the NUC11 there is one USB and one lighting port.

That Guy insisted there are two USB ports even after me pointing at the not-USB port with the lightning symbol on it.

Regardless, most of my peripherals are either very old USB2or USB3 so that lightning port is 100% useless to me unless I buy another adapter.

I think I’ll pick up a pack of command strips and attach these new surge protectors to the desk underneath on the side of the foot hole. That should make them easy to get to and also keep me from kicking them.

It would also free up a little more space for the other cables which literally lay atop the door for the little cabinet which is laid atop the stereo because why the hell not……

Think I’ll also plug the printer back into the desk-mounted power strip and that power strip into one of the surge protectors so I can easily turn power to the printer on and off from up here so I don’t have it listen to it scream all of the time.

There’s only one outlet behind the desk, too, or I’d have more options for where to put what. Hate having it all on one pair.

I don’t know it’s a mess under there.

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amiechuchu · 3 years

Text

Magic, Mayhem, and All Things in Between.

There's something about magic and mayhem that just goes together so perfectly. Maybe it was because it bent the rules of science, the rules of logic.

So unreal.

So unnatural.

So chaotic.

But... Wasn't that the same as love?

[AN: It’s been awhile since I’ve written and, well, throws this at you. I hope you enjoy! I’m not a very experienced writer when it comes to things that are creative. This was also not reviewed due to time constraints of medschool HAHAH pain :’)]

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: Problem and Hypothesis

Everything in this world was meant to have rules bound to logic – bound to science: from the concept of life till death and everything in between.

Systematic. Methodical. Logical.

Or so you thought.

It was until you were recruited by a certain Mr. Tony Stark, a very close friend of your uncle, Bruce. Confused, you asked your uncle why they needed a medical doctor. You were far from being good at grasping anything about physics, more so astrophysics. To your dismay, even your uncle was just as clueless; however, because Mr. Stark promised him that you would not be doing anything dangerous, he left him to his endeavors.

The anxiety of embarrassing yourself tugging at your throat. Your mind rambled on as you walked under the hot New York summer sun. Wiping the droplets of sweat from your forehead, you made a mental note to yourself to wear scrubs instead of slacks and a turtleneck along with your pristine white coat when in New York. Finally, you see the silhouette of the ever-popular Stark Towers. A troubled sigh came out from your mouth upon entering the building. You enjoyed the surge of sudden coolness though.

You whipped out your cellphone to text your dear Uncle that you had arrived at the lobby, asking if he could pick you up from there. Knowing your anxious tendencies, it was no surprise that he agreed, and, so, you stood there waiting, enjoying the last few moments of not being crushed by expectations.

A familiar voice called out your name as you fiddled with your phone.

Looking forward, you saw your uncle, Bruce. Your eyes lit up, and you smiled.

“It’s been a while,” Bruce said, pulling you into a hug, “how’s our little doctor?”

“Clueless and absolutely terrified,” you answered.

The both of you pulled away from the hug and began to walk towards the elevator. Your steps, out of tempo, as Bruce’s strides were difficult to catch up with. Walking beside tall people should be a sport, you thought.

Bruce let out a chuckle as he noticed your struggle. Slowing down, he reassured you, “Well, I’m certain you’ll do fine. You have an amazing brain, so full of potential – new ideas.”

“That’s the problem, uncle,” you sighed, “I absolutely have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m not an astrophysicist. I’m a physician! I’m a doctor, but they’re two different things!”

Both doctors made their way up to Stark Labs, chit-chatting along the elevator ride. Trying to catch up with your uncle.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a full-blown laboratory.

Your eyes twinkled in awe as it surveyed the area.

There was a main table right at the middle of the room decorated with a variety of beautiful glass apparatuses. Looking at the far end, you noticed that there was sophisticated machinery lined up. To its right, there was an isolated room, a little bit dimmer than the rest of the room. Squinting, you noticed a biosafety cabinet and smiled. A small hallway can be seen to the side of the said room. You ignored your uncle as you were entranced by the beauty of scientific experimentation and walked to check what that small hallway had to offer. It was just the reagent room.

That was a bit anticlimactic, you thought to yourself. Shrugging that thought away, you continue admiring the pristine white machines against the steel walls, the little laboratory trinkets that littered the table, and the faded laboratory precaution signs. This. This felt like home.

It did not take much more for you to realize that this entire floor was an experimental laboratory and a top-notch one at that. Giving a sigh of relief, at least it was something you were sure you could handle. You finally looked at your uncle, “So… You needed a doctor for actual doctor things?”

“Yes, precisely!” someone had answered.

Looking back at the elevator, you see the one and only Mr. Tony Stark. He crossed his arms, “We need a medical doctor to do medical doctor-y things.”

You had mumbled a confused okay, hoping to get more context of what you are actually here in this lab for. Tony extended his arm to the duo that accompanied him. Two tall men exuding absolute polar opposite auras.

Your brow raised, still visibly confused. Your uncle giving a deadpanned look at Tony, begging him to just tell his niece the details.

“Okay…” Tony clapped, the sound bouncing off the steel walls, “Uh, Thor, Prince of Asgard, here will be your personal test subject. Reindeer games, Prince of Asgard’s brother is just here, so your uncle dearest can babysit him.” Thor, the blond, waved and gave a light hello. Reindeer games, on the other hand – you assumed he was talking about the tall, raven-haired, brooding man – furrowed his brows at Tony, visibly insulted.

Why Reindeer games, though? And Asgard what place is that? The longer I’m here the more questions I ask I swear to God.

“You see, these two are gods. Literal gods,” Tony continued.

You blinked in disbelief.

“Gods?” you asked, eyes wide-open, voice filled with skepticism, “you’re joking. I can believe mutations and possibly aliens, but gods? If you’re playing a prank on me, you have to try better than that, Mr. Stark.” You gave off a light laugh and looked at your uncle. Bruce, giving you a nervous smile, and nodded.

Oh, he’s serious.

Tony Stark smirked at you, enjoying your visible confusion. The man of iron knew you were an unbeliever when it comes to things that bend the concept of reality. Your uncle wanted it to stay that way to keep you safe from this line of work, but there were more pressing matters to attend to, or so he assumed. Again, he was kept in the dark by Tony. However, you were accepting of it so long as the data matched.

He glanced at Tony, curious at what this plan of his was. You, on the other hand, were staring intensely at the duo, mentally asking how in the world were they gods?

Your eyes met the raven-haired God's, entranced by his emerald, green ones. There was a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble, or so you’d think.

It would be a terrible lie that Loki didn’t enjoy your naivety towards the existence of Gods like him. Something in him felt like

“Mortals,” he thought, “so weak, so pitiful, so naïve.”

Tony broke the tension, “So… The reason why you’re here, little doc, is Thor here will be your personal Bugs Bunny. The goal is to identify whatever he has in his system that us, non-gods, can be able to utilize.”

Thor raised an eyebrow and muttered, "So... I'm going to be turned into a rabbit? How? Is my brother going to conjure something for that?" He looked at the other with bright eyes, excited for his rabbit-faith.

You smiled at this interaction but gave out an exasperated sigh as you tried to wrap your head around everything, “What you’re saying here, Mr. Stark, is that I come up with, say, a serum that could help turn cute little, tiny mortals like me into a god?”

Loki rolled his eyes at her statement.

How could cute little, tiny mortals like you ever turn into a god? Midgardians were meant to be used, ruled, subjugated.

Then, something clicked in him. The God of Mischief smirked.

You looked over to him, confused. Was there anything wrong with what you just said?

“Hmmm, yeah that’s about right. Or anything really. You have free reign over your very own Bugs Bunny here, little doc. You’ve done a fair share of research regarding whatever makes the body tick. What’s so different about doing it on a god?”

You paused. He was right. Good point.

You were horribly curious regarding what makes a god, a god.

“Alright, so for the benefit of humanity, I’m here performing experiments on Thor-“

“Bugs Bunny, yes."

You could've sworn there was a twinkle in Thor's eyes.

“Alright. I’m in.”

This is going to be a fun scheme, Loki thought.

The room was filled with the sound of your heels pacing to-and-fro. Because Tony had not given you any context regarding his request, you had no method to begin with - no plan. You held your arms close to you, with a hand resting under your chin making a stern thinker-like expression. All eyes were on you, and you absolutely hated the feeling. You now had more expectations to live up to, and, oh dear did that anxiety pool to your chest, scratching at your throat.

A plan. I needed a plan.

Loki, observing from afar, entertained by your meltdown. It was interesting to Loki that you, a mortal who was just dragged out of the blue to participate in that Man of Iron’s scheme, was already devoted to the betterment of mankind. He scoffed at this saying. Mortals would never be on the level of gods like him. They were meant to be ruled, subjugated, and used. The raven-haired god’s eyes followed your pacing, attempting to understand how the little mortal’s brain worked, how he would be able to use her to scheme his way out of this hell hole.

He peered over to Bruce, and Bruce did the same. Except, there was anger written all over his face. His brows furrowed and lips pulled to a frown. As if, telepathically, he was telling Loki not to try anything funny to his niece or he was going to snap him in two. The god could’ve sworn that Bruce began turning green for a split second. However, this did not faze him, knowing that the uncle’s beloved niece was nearby. Loki raised a brow to him, feigning innocence, and shifted his gaze back to the pacing doctor.

You were pulled to your own world. A world filled with research designs, methods, and principles. So deep in thought, you had blocked everything and everyone in your periphery. Unbeknownst to you, the God of Thunder had put his hand on your shoulder and laughed, pulling you out of your science-inhabited mind, and laughed. Your ears rang. The sound of tinnitus followed thereafter.

“Perhaps the little doctor’s thoughts have travelled past Asgard! So, have you devised a plan that turns me into a rabbit as what the Man of Iron said?” Thor boomed, his laughter reverberating through the laboratory. You flinched, not used to sounds so boisterous.

Loud. But, a sign of reassurance. You murmured an apology to Thor for having to intervene with your internal thoughts.

You closed your eyes and exhaled, trying to pull yourself together. Until, you felt a light tug on your shoulder.

Curious and confused, you opened your eyes to the direction and found Loki’s gaze set on you. He gave you an apologetic smile, seeing that you flinched slightly to the loudness of his brother. You smiled back at him, warmly.

“You don’t have to worry, little doctor,” the God of Mischief began. His voice, silvery - like ear candy - filling up the gaps of awkwardness that you had oh-so naturally set up. Shooting a glance at his babysitter, he carefully made his way towards you, as if he was trekking through landmines. “Knowing that you were just dragged into this nonsense, it’s understandable that you don’t know where to start.”

You watched as Loki made his way to your periphery. The room filled, once more, with the slow pitter-patter of boots.

Up close, he was tall and imposing. Raven curls slicked back and so chaotically organized, draping the sides of his face and accentuating his jawline. sharp, it could cut a man. Eyes so alluring, yet so full of mystery. Then it hit you, the god was attractive - very attractive.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” Loki gave a low chuckle, snapping you back to reality, “but I suppose I do have that effect on everyone.”

Flustered, you immediately put your hands in the pockets of your pristine white coat, looked away, and choked on an apology. You were having word vomit. You, a professional, was caught admiring a person - a deity - that you had just met. A shame.

“I am terribly, terribly sorry. I didn’t know what-” and so began the second wave of your word vomit.

The sound of joyful, boisterous laughter rang in your ears again, and, once more, pulled you out of your trance.

“Now, brother, you’ve just met her! No need to start bullying the maiden,” Thor echoed. Playfully, he slapped Loki’s back as a sign of brotherly affection.

Loki stiffened at this action. “A little softer next time brother,” he mumbled and got his bearings together, “I apologize for that. I didn’t mean to. I just have the habit of playing tricks on people.” He stole a glance towards Bruce, who still had his guard up.

The God of Mischief extended out his hand, “I am Loki of Asgard, Son of Odin, God of Mischief.”

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff <3

#loki/reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki/you #loki imagine #amie drabbles #magic mayhem and all things in between #mmaatib

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

Happiness Looks Like You

So I think I have been poking at this thing for two years now. Anyway, its done, I am kicking it out of my WIP files, and y’all get lots of fluff.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Fluff and Humor; Drinking; Drinking & Talking; Drunken Flirting; (Only Somehwat Drunken);New Year's Eve;New Years; Caroline Forbes Travels the World;Ignoring TO;Ignoring Anything Canon I Don't Like;Happy Bonnie Bennett;Everyone deserves better

You can read it here on A03:

Caroline felt a bit silly that it took her so long to realize what her nose was trying to tell her. She wasn’t even really that drunk, just kind of tipsy. It'd been a really long two days of moving, after all, even for a vampire, and she’d totally deserved those Bloody Mary’s. And that shot of whiskey. The bottle of gin. She’d turned down the vodka, hadn’t she?

It was New Year’s Eve, and she was maybe an itty bitty, tiny bit drunk.

The sage, potent and familiar, had helped to throw her off. Spells were common on this night, the need for private conversation and so she’d merely wrinkled her nose as she moved away from the exit she’d been pushing towards, wondering if another drink would suffice for the next half hour or so. Witch business on New Years was not something she wanted to be involved in.

Been there, done that, used Enzo as bait.

Really, it was an evening she just wasn’t up to repeating. Bonnie would have kittens, and the lectures had been bad enough the first time. Better to just find a safer spot even if it meant food options would be limited. She didn’t need blood, and the craving for something deep fried could wait. Turning on her heel, she just started to move when a different, old and recognizable scent teased her nose. It was familiar and intricate, something she’d never been able to fully name but knew well.

Hybrid.

With that single breath came a deluge of memories her alcohol induced haze couldn’t quite block, and she exhaled on a rush of air. Ignoring the jostling around her to rise up on her toes with her heart in her throat, she’d barely caught a glimpse of tousled curls she’d know anywhere, the arrogant set of a pair of broad shoulders moving deeper into the crowd she’d just left.

Klaus.

Caroline landed back on her heels with a thud. It’d been nearly a century since she’d walked away from Mystic Falls, and a series of noisy, converted warehouses in Amsterdam in the midst of a New Year’s Celebration was the last place she’d have thought to find him. Once or twice over the years when she’d allow herself to think of him, she sometimes wondered if it’d really be centuries before the next time they’d talk. Some nights, that seemed like a very long time.

But for all her occasionally morous musings, she knew Klaus wasn’t one to fade quietly into the background. In the back of her mind she’d known it had always just been a matter of time before they’d run into each other. The world had become much smaller and much bigger than she could ever have imagined back in Mystic Falls, and now her feet felt frozen to the floor.

Did she follow him?

Did she say hi?

Behind her, someone cursed and stumbled drunkenly into her, and it broke her out of her daze. Post-ball drop, the converted warehouse around her was a madhouse and for a moment she weighed the chance that he’d seen her and chose to avoid her, and immediately discarded it. It wasn’t Klaus’ style. If he’d seen her, she knew down to her bones he’d have taken the opportunity to say hello.

Her lips curled at the realization that for once, she’d have the chance to surprise him. It seemed fitting, in the early hours of the new year. Decided, she moved through the crowd in the direction he’d gone, hoping she could catch him. Reaching up smooth curls turned frizzy from hours dancing, Caroline was thankful she’d chosen to dress up.

She almost hadn’t.

The last two weeks had been a chaotic mix of boxes and paint samples, arguing with Enzo via VC as he complained about her ditching him and Bonnie in London. Her witchy best friend had mostly ignored their bickering, her fond exasperation clear in the commentary she ran from the background. She hadn’t managed to buy more than a few of the basics, it was seriously going to annoy her until she found the perfect headboard, but at least the mattress was off the floor and she’d found a pair of super cute side tables with pretty motifs that brought in the colors she wanted.

Decorating agreed with her.

So did living outside of the US.

Leaving had been hard, but it hadn’t been lonely, not with Enzo and Bonnie with her. They’d all changed, the way she’d been told she would, but they hadn’t lost themselves, the way had worried her. Bonnie might have learned to accept her friend’s choices, but she was still Bonnie. Dangerous, opinionated, and a lovelier friend you couldn’t find. She was also a witch madly in love with a vampire who was totally pro-murder. Enzo had no regrets about who and what he was, and he’d been so good for her friend who had packed enough hurt and troubles in her late teens and early twenties for ten lifetimes.

And once she had been surrounded by fewer judgements and no expectations, Caroline had finally found the balance between the vampire and girl that made her happy. It had taken time, she’d needed to outgrow the parts of humanity she’d held onto for all the reasons that had never been her own, but she’d never felt so steady in her own skin. She suddenly found she wanted to know if it was something Klaus would notice. She rather thought he would; he had always seen her better than anyone else, sometimes even better than she saw herself.

Amsterdam was her recognition of that, the first place she'd picked to be hers. Just hers. And hours before, when she’d sat in her first house, if not her first home studying two days worth of work, it had been done with a sense of pride. The urge to go out, to celebrate, had sunk into her bones and she’d dug a dress out of her closet, found her favorite heels and gone dancing.

She’d never really been able to turn down a New Year’s Celebration in a new city.

And now here was Klaus, brushing back up against her life just as she was opening for new opportunities, letting herself go after she wanted because she wanted it. Caroline wondered if she should take it as a sign and if Klaus put any stock into New Year’s traditions. She’d make a point to ask him, she decided.

Nerves fizzed along her skin as she realized when she caught up to him she was going to talk to him, and her steps almost faltered. She pushed aside that unease, refusing to balk now. She wasn’t a quitter. Talking with Klaus had never really been her problem, really, and even if the last time she had seen him his mouth had still been wet from her arousal as he’d murmured his last goodbye, that was a long time ago.

And that thought wasn’t going to help her play this cool, at all. Rising back up on her toes, she scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes. If he’d moved to the VIP floor she was likely going to be out of luck, but there was another bar on the back wall that held all the overpriced booze. He might’ve headed there. Impatience had her moving people out of her way with a little more force than was advisable, and the crowd finally parted in front of her and she caught her first real look at him.

He looked good.

Klaus wore a pair of dark slacks, but if he’d had a jacket, he’d already discarded it. The crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled nearly to his elbows, and the hint of leather cords at his throat were tantalizing. He was holding a tumbler of whiskey, and for a moment he left her breathless. The last of her buzz disappeared under a surprising rush of feelings she didn’t want to look at, and her teeth sank into her lower lip.

He stood parallel to the bar, expression mildly bored as a witch spoke to him with a nervous face, the flush of his cheeks young. Amusement bubbled as she realized she was watching someone hit on Klaus even as something like jealousy coiled low in her belly at the realization, good taste or no. The idea that she was interrupting something was surprisingly sharp in her throat. Caroline considered leaving, even as the sudden hesitation annoyed her.

She was saved from having to make a choice when his shoulders suddenly straightened, his head coming up sharply as he clearly caught her scent even in the mosh of people. A half a heart beat later, and his head turned, eyes finding hers unerringly in the dim light.

Really, his hybrid senses were just unfair.

Dark and intent, the flicker of surprise behind his gaze that she’d always privately delighted in melted quickly into something hotter. His mouth curved slow and tempting, and she inanely lifted a hand in a small wave. His smile widened, and clearly the witch didn’t matter, because Klaus sat aside his drink immediately and cleared the distance between them in mere strides.

“Caroline,” Klaus murmured, dimples peeking through the scruff of his beard. “This is a surprise, love. A delightful one.”

She arched a brow, unable to help her own answering smile, and finding that she really didn’t want to. “Hi, Klaus. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Can I interest you in a drink?”

Around them, the music blasted at the whim of the DJ, the crowd surging, and Klaus threw a glare over her shoulder as someone bumped into her. Unbothered, she stepped closer to the heat of him, amused by the way his brows arched a little but he made no move to put distance between them. Assured that she was welcome, Caroline shrugged and moved by him. “Sure.”

He beat her to the bar by half a step, but she’d expected that. The witch had disappeared, and as Klaus moved to catch the bartender's eye, she took the opportunity to skim her gaze along the picture he made now that she was closer. She really liked that he’d forgone a tie, the open collar showing off the line of his collarbones beneath his usual tangle of necklaces. His eyes were amused when she glanced back at his face, but she was hardly embarrassed.

Particularly when he didn’t bother to mask the flicker of heat in his gaze as his eyes dipped along her body in a perusal that was anything but casual. The tip of his tongue flickered across his lower lip, eyes warm when they met hers again. “What brings you to Amsterdam, Caroline?”

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder and dropped it, knowing exactly what the motion would do for her boobs. Flirting with Klaus wasn’t new but having no rules against it was and, she realized, fun. “I live here.”

Interest sparked on his face. “Do you?”

Letting out a low hum, she bit the edge of her lip when a bottle of champagne and two glasses appeared. It would never cease to amaze her that the most deadly monster in any room he entered was such a giant cheeseball or how much she liked it. “What about you? Please tell me you're not stirring up trouble. I just finished renovations and would like to actually live in my house, Klaus.”

“Not this time,” he said easily as he poured the champagne and handed her the first glass. “I am here for a bit of business that has now been concluded, and I thought I’d visit an old friend or two. It’s been some time since I spent any time in this city.”

Caroline sipped her drink, letting it fizz on her tongue for a moment as she considered that. “Friends…” she said skeptically. “You have those?”

His eyes gleamed. “Of a sort. Though my current company is far more charming.” She scoffed, ignoring the way she could feel her cheeks heat. Klaus was undeterred by her skepticism. “Why Amsterdam, love?”

She considered his question, all the questions he hadn't asked. “I’ve been in Europe for a few decades now. When we left the states, well. Europe wasn’t our first stop, but Enzo kept insisting, and he’s amazingly persistent. And annoying. London is lovely, he might have been right about that, but I loved it here more.”

“Enzo?”

A hint of something dangerous flickered behind his eyes and she deliberately moved closer to nudge him with her hip. “Nope. Enzo is my friend and happily married to Bonnie. You break his neck and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

His lashes hid his gaze for a moment when she didn’t bother stepping back into her previous space, the heat of him pressed firmly against her side. His gaze held the tiniest flecks of gold at the edges of his eyes when his lashes parted and her pulse skipped. “And have you enjoyed making your home here, Caroline?”

“Yup. I have a few apartments I’ve bought, here and there. But I decided I wanted a house of my own, you know?” It had been an urge that she hadn’t satisfied with her tiny apartment in Cape Town or her flat in London. But Amsterdam was her first house. It’d felt bigger, more significant somehow. “And sometimes a girl just needs a bit of space from her friends, but not too far so, Amsterdam.”

Buying her home had been a touch of serendipity, mixed with careful planning and maybe some online stalking. When she had finally found the home she wanted, she might’ve shamelessly used a teeny tiny bit of compulsion to ensure her offer was accepted, but Real Estate was cut throat and she liked to win. Besides she'd done her research, and she knew exactly what the property was worth. But not even compulsion could make the buying process run completely smooth.

“I’m glad,” Klaus murmured, eyes warm.“I can see how this place would suit you.”

His words settled something in her chest and she took another sip of the excellent champagne to hide it. This monster who only wanted her to fly. Head tipping, Caroline studied his face curiously. “And you? What have you been up to? The PG-13 version, please.”

Pleasure and amusement flickered across his face at her question. “Less murder and mayhem than you’d imagine, sadly, as it does liven up the occasional bit of boredom. But there is always an idiot or two who has decided eternal life is just not the existence for them. I’m generally happy to oblige.”

Her lips pressed together to hold in a smile at his mock exasperation, and his eyes gleamed at her. “That can’t be all you do. Surely.”

Klaus reached up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, fingertips lingering. “I’ve spent the past few years moving through parts of Europe, but not much to report that would surprise you. The occasional sibling idiocy to correct, a painting here or there.”

She was willing to bet there was a lot more to that statement but she didn’t push. She’d heard rumors of what had happened in New Orleans and had no desire to bring that up here and now. “And how long will you be in Amsterdam?” Caroline asked, making no move to step away from his touch. “Visiting your… friends.”

“I suppose that depends on my welcome,” he replied lightly, but his eyes were dark. His mouth tilted in a small smile before he took a drink of his champagne.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the hint of coaxing in his voice. “I am not inviting you to my house, Klaus. It’s mostly empty and boring and my grandmother would roll over in her grave.”

“Ah,” he agreed mock-seriously, the glimmer of amusement behind his eyes also lingering in the dimple in his cheek. “We can’t have that, can we?”

She pushed at his shoulder with no real force, trying not to laugh. “No, we cannot.”

Klaus didn’t budge, she hadn’t expected him too, if anything he leaned into her space with an amused little noise. “Invitation or no, I’d be delighted to hear of your plans. I have set up a home or two myself, and have a few contacts should you have trouble finding a piece you want. Dining room tables for instance, can be quite vexing.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have your budget, but I’ll probably take you up on that,” Caroline said. A lot could be said about Klaus’ home that she’d seen in Mystic Falls, but his taste, while a little stuffy, had been impeccable.

“Excellent,” he murmured. “You’ll also have to let me know what you consider an appropriate housewarming gift as well. Such things have changed over the years, and I haven’t had a reason to brush up on that particular etiquette.”

Something warm tugged at her chest and she shook her head to cover it. “And here you were just trying to tell me you had friends.”

Before he could reply, and the glitter of mischief on his face told her he had a response, the music skipped, jarring the crowd. All around them, the lights that had been dimmed started to turn on. Klaus scowled murderously, and she laughed once her ears stopped ringing.

And realized she wasn’t ready for this to be over.

Looping her arm through his, she tipped her head towards the exit, stomach a sudden tangle of butterflies. “I was actually on the hunt for food when I saw you and decided to say hi. We’ll probably have to fight the crowds now, but any interest in joining me?”

He had gone carefully motionless when her arm had taken his, but at her words, her admittance that she’d come back to see him, his smile left her breathless. It was such a delighted, boyish thing. Picking up the half full champagne bottle, he handed it to before stepping next to her. “I’d be delighted. I might even have a suggestion or two on a location that will be open this time of night and willing to find us a table.”

She took a long swig of the bottle, letting him start her through the crowd before offering it back. “Pancakes, Klaus. I want pancakes.”

Klaus ignored the bottle, his hand lifting so his thumb could trace her wet lower lip. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the champagne from his thumb and her body immediately heated, her body becoming intensely aware of everywhere they touched. “Hmm, I’m sure we can find a place to meet those exacting standards.”

Taking a calming breath, she narrowed her eyes at him in warming and he seemed entirely unrepentant. “Uh huh. Pancakes or I won’t show you any of the pictures on my phone of my house.”

His laugh was soft and he started moving again. The crowd never quite pressed close, and people moved out of their way as soon as they got a look at his face. He looked human, the monster tucked away by the amusement and indulgence of him, but his presence was hardly affected by either of that.

“A tragedy, but one we can avoid.” He glanced at her, that dimple tugging at his smile. “Should I warn you that I might have a… suggestion or two?”

She snorted. “By suggestion, you mean opinion. And as long as those opinions are that my taste is flawless and I’m absolutely correct about everything, you may have as many as you want.”

Another laugh, this one deeper, and he led her through the crowd out into the darkness of pre-dawn. The air was cold, she hadn’t bothered with a jacket, but with Klaus next to her she didn’t feel it. Taking another long drink of the last of the champagne, she knew it wasn’t just the booze that fizzled in her veins.

She might not have kissed him at midnight, but she knew in her bones that this night was changing things. Klaus would take her to breakfast, would keep to whatever boundaries she set between them, boundaries she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted anymore, but she’d invited him back to her life. Klaus wasn’t the type to ignore that kind of opening.

Sliding her hand down his arm to link their fingers instead, she found herself smiling widely as his palm pressed tightly against hers.

Happy New Year indeed.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabble #part of my Caroline Travels The World #Because I Hate TO & TVD Endings

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 4

No. 4- Trust fall

“Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

Previous/ Chapter Index/ Next

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Zelda’s room was an absolute prison.

There was no way that someone built this room for comfort, or peace. No one would find a sense of calm and relaxation in here. It was built to inspire fear, and that’s exactly what it did.

The door was locked, of course. No amount of jiggling the handle would do anything to help her. But when she turned, she was met by a sickening, neon orange wall, with white floors; her eyes hurt simply from looking at it all.

There was no window in the small room, but she hadn’t expected it. She figured they were in the middle of the compound, just based on what little information she’d managed to gather. But there was nothing on the walls, nothing but the painful color. It left the room feeling barren and empty; a cold place rather than somewhere warm and inviting.

The bed was small and set on a metal frame, and when she sat on it, she sank into an uncomfortable gap that had been left by an apparent, numerous occupants. And the sheets didn’t appear to have been changed in the time between people either, given their frayed, tattered, and—to Zelda’s utter dismay—odorous state.

No, this room was not meant to be lived in. This was another tactic, another measure for her to overcome. This was to scare her out of joining the Yiga, as if she had any other choice right now. Joining was the only way out.

She sat in the corner of the room on the floor, hoping that was a safer bet than the bed was, and pictured just how many people were gathered in that room. Not one of them tried to defect? Every one of them was here of their own volition?

Zelda shuddered. What if there was a ploy, a twist? What if somehow, they really could convince her to become a Malice-loving zealot? Who would she even be?

Perhaps the room was meant to test her in more ways than one, because the only time the door opened was for someone to drop off food that she was too afraid to eat, and then they’d leave with the tray and Zelda would wander the empty room trying to keep herself entertained.

She’d been in the Yiga’s hideout for a week now: three days in the cells, and four in the room.

Four, right?

She’d lost count, honestly.

On day… two—she believed—she accepted the food with caution. They wouldn’t try to pull the same trick twice, right? Besides, she’d need her strength if she wanted to have a chance of fighting.

That was what this room really did: broke people until they no longer had fight left inside them.

Before the Malice had taken over, Zelda was fresh out of school. She did some sports in high school, and she ran in her spare time, but athleticism wasn’t her forte. After, however, Zelda had become proficient in fending off the more annoying crazed creatures, and the occasional human. She could use a bow, a knife, and herself to throw an enemy off balance. But here? Here she was surrounded and completely alone.

Zelda loved rulers, but there were none in the room.

She took her arm and placed it beside the pillow she refused to use on the bed she wouldn’t sit on. The pillow was about 1 ¼’s of her arm. The blanket was 5 arms in length, and 3 wide. The door was 2. The room was 14.

Goddess, there was little else she could do to keep herself entertained.

She took her place on the floor, stretched out and groaning as her bones snapped and cracked, begging for her to be kinder to them. She flipped onto her back and let out a heavy sigh as her back thanked her.

“Let me out,” Zelda said to no one in particular, and in a very normal voice. She didn’t shout or call for help, but she needed to speak. “Please, just let me leave this stupid room!”

Her stomach growled. Weak. She was weak with hunger. Her legs didn’t want her to stand back up, and she was okay with that.

How many fibers were on the frayed end of the blanket, Zelda wondered?

It was faint, but Zelda’s ears perked up at an unfamiliar noise outside her door, causing her to sit up faster than she ever had before. It was quick, and gone in an instant, but it was there.

She crawled to her door, staying low in case… well, she didn’t know why. Just in case.

With her ear to the door, she closed her eyes to block out her other senses, and listened.

Boom!

Zelda shrieked and fell backwards as the sound of something hard and heavy connected with her door, shaking it with her head still against the wood.

There was the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, and the door shook with several thuds, occasionally followed by a grunt or two.

Then, it was silent.

Zelda ran to the door and pressed her ear there once again, but she heard nothing.

“Hey!” she finally called, banging her palm on the door as hard as she could, a surge of adrenalin bursting through her tired, sore, and hungry body. “Hey!” She tried, banging incessantly.

Zelda had hoped it would get someone’s attention. She hoped someone would open the door, and allow her to escape.

She didn’t expect to hear a man’s confused voice on the other side.

“Yes?”

Eyes bugging out, Zelda banged the door again. “Hey! Who’s this!? Let me out!”

She heard the man grunt. “Who is this? Why should I let you out?”

“Aren’t you a Yiga?” she asked jokingly.

“No.”

No?

“No?”

“No.”

Zelda let her hands slide along the wood, trying the door handle one more time, fruitlessly. “My village was massacred, I was betrayed, and they’re trying to kill me! Please let me out!”

“I don’t know you,” he said with a scoff.

Zelda banged her fists on the door. “Please! Let me out! It’s locked from the outside!”

“Stop doing that and maybe I will!”

She saw the doorknob jiggle before it stopped. “Hang on,” he said, just before she heard retreating footsteps.

She wanted to beg him not to go, but she simply held her breath and waited, trying to think of the best way to attack. There were literally no possible weapons in the room, so she imagined the door opening, and her coming out swinging instead. Of course, if they had a weapon, she’d be done for and back in the room.

Footsteps were on the other side again. “You in there?” he asked.

“Where did you think I went?”

She could hear him chuckle. “Help me out,” he said to someone else.

A woman muttered something that she couldn’t hear, but there was a thud, and the door shook.

“Back up!” the man called.

Zelda did, wondering what they were doing.

And she yelped when a giant metal sword pierced the wood.

Then again.

Another sword, and the wood was splintering.

“Goddess,” she mumbled, watching the wood be torn to pieces in random places.

It didn’t make sense until there were a few more thuds, and the center of the door was a hole just big enough for her.

“Hello?”

Zelda waited, unsure if they were just going to stab her when all was said and done. But that was probably too much effort.

“Damn,” a woman said, her voice deep and authoritative, but also melodic and charming. “That was fun.”

“Good thing we cleared this area,” the man said, his voice moving, as if he were looking around.

“Hey,” the woman said, peering at Zelda in the room. She was hunched over, so she was very tall, and her red hair was long and wild and wavy as it hung in front of her face. “Coming? We’re on a tight schedule.”

“Yes,” she breathed, rushing toward the gap.

The woman disappeared. “Can you help her out? I’m going to go find Daruk.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Zelda watched the woman run by the door, and a new figure replaced her.

The man was not nearly the same height as the woman, and Zelda wondered if they might actually just be the same, judging from where he stood. His partially gloved hand ran along the gap just before he shoved his whole arm inside, ready to take Zelda’s hand.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze. I’ll help pull you out.”

“How do you know I’m not really a Yiga?” she asked. “How do I know you’re not a Yiga? Am I supposed to take you at your word?”

“That would be silly. Let me prove it to you instead,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

Hesitation was not something Zelda liked experiencing, so she fought past it and gripped the man’s hard, calloused hand. His fingers closed tight around hers. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to pull.”

“I will,” she said, getting her leg up, but then getting stuck. “Oh, this is just going to hurt a bit.”

“What is?”

“I’m stuck. I think… just pull me. I just want to get out of here.”

“We don’t injure people for no reason, he said with an exasperated sigh. Come on, let me help.”

His hand didn’t move, waiting for her permission. “Fine.”

“What are you wearing?”

Zelda’s heart was already racing from the nerves, and the excitement of getting out of here. But this man… was something. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t see well. What are you wearing?”

“Pants and…”

“Good enough,” he said, reaching forward and sliding his hand quickly down her back before grabbing her by the waist of her pants and pulling her with him.

She didn’t land on the ground, but instead, found herself out of that cursed room, and in the arms of a total stranger.

Sudden tiredness washed over her. “Why did you even let me out? Do you trust me, or something?”

“No,” he snorted, letting her go when he felt she was solid. “No, but we’re already on a rescue mission. Let’s just add one more.”

“A rescue?”

“Yeah, a man with blue hair should be prisoner here. We’re here to break him out, but we’ve been scouring this place.”

“Wait, blue hair? I think I know where he is.”

The man’s blonde, messy mop hung in front of his eyes. It must be annoying, Zelda figured, but she wasn’t going to voice that opinion. Some of his hair was tied back, but not enough to be neat or helpful.

“You do?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“I believe so.”

“What’s your name so I can thank the Goddess for you at night?” he laughed, before picking up a long staff he’d leaned against a wall.

“Zelda,” she said, instinctively holding out her hand for a handshake.

“Zelda? Good to meet you. I’m Link.” He held his hand out beside hers. She stared at his hand like it were doing a trick before simply sliding her hand into his.

Smoothing her hand through her hair awkwardly, she looked around, getting her bearings. “Okay, let’s go.”

#legend of zelda #loz #loz au #breath of the wild #botw au #whumptober #whumptober2021 #whumptober 2021 #whump #no. 4 #Do you trust me #Link #Zelda #zelink #urbosa #Yiga Clan #malice #writing

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

Text

Breeze

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: reader request: [Hello! I read that you would like to write something other than x reader from time to time, so I have a (hopefully cute 😳) Geraskier-request for you: Geralt saving money and surprising Jaskier with buying him his own horse. And Jaskier is deeply moved by that action (maybe he's crying) and Geralt just laughs and gives him cuddles/kisses him. 😌] awe dumb softe bois

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being a wonderful beta :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, ~yearning~, geralt has to use his voice to communicate

Two idiots and a horse get another horse.

“Geraaaalt. Why aren’t we staying at the inn? I can literally see it from here, the soft bed and the warm bath beckoning to me through the dark. ‘Come to me, Jaskier,’ it’s saying, Geralt. It’s not like we’re strapped for coin, either. The alderman actually paid you pretty well for that bear ghost-”

“Barghest.”

“Yes, yes, exactly. But back to my earlier line of inquiry. I ask again, why in the shit are we staying out in the middle of the woods for what feels like the thousandth night in a row?”

Geralt sighs, staring up at the stars on the clear night. “I’m trying to save my coin.”

Jaskier scoffs, drawing a raise of the brow from the Witcher. “For what, pray tell?”

“New armor.”

“Oh, so the Witcher can get new armor every other week and it’s fine, but when I go and buy a new outfit for a performance, it’s a ‘waste of coin, Jaskier?’”

` Geralt hums with finality, listening as Jaskier just continues prattling on. There’s no real heat behind it though, and Geralt does feel bad making Jaskier rough it out here with him. But he knows that if he lets the bard wander into town on his own, Geralt will end up having a much larger and more annoying mess to clean up.

“Jaskier,” Geralt hums, listening as he stops his ranting. “Come get some sleep, I’d like to get down to Blackbough by the new moon.”

Jaskier huffs in response before he undoes the little buttons down the front of his doublet. He shucks it off of his shoulders and drapes it over a log on the ground, rolling up the sleeves on his chemise up to his elbow. Geralt tries quite desperately not to watch, but his eyes are drawn to every new inch of skin revealed under the low light of the embers.

Jaskier’s bedroll flaps loudly as he sets it between Geralt and the fire. He plops down onto it, stretching out and turning to face Geralt. The Witcher peers over at him, admiring quietly the way that the last few sparks of light dance over the high planes of his cheeks.

“Ah, Geralt. Another day, put to rest. Sleep well, dear Witcher.” Jaskier turns over with his back to Geralt, scooching back a bit, close enough that Geralt can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Geralt hums, his fingers flexing at his sides, itching to touch, to hold, to gather Jaskier into his arms and never let him go.

Instead, Geralt only gives a whispered, “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

***

The sky is black when they do finally arrive in Blackbough, bespeckled with stars far and wide. Jaskier leans against a post while Geralt checks over the notice board in the center of town, the bard kicking off one boot and digging his thumb into the tender skin of his sole.

“Fuck, Geralt. My feet are exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I would happily trot along at your side until the end of my days, but I may need to invest in some new boots sooner rather than later if that’s to be the case,” Jaskier groans, sliding his foot back into the soft leather of his boot. Geralt hums as he tears a slip of parchment from the board, watching it flutter between his fingers.

“Wind’s howling,” Geralt rumbles, tucking the parchment into his pack atop Roach.

“Yes, dear Witcher,” Jaskier’s hair flaps about his face, “thank you for the weather update.”

“Why don’t-” Geralt starts, peering over at the bard. “Why don’t you head to the tavern, see if they’ll let you play for a night in a room. I’ll be out scouting this contract, so you should absolutely stay here.”

Jaskier looks back at the little building, noting the light shining from the windows and the voices still floating in the din of the evening. He nods, and Geralt raises an eyebrow at the lack of argument. “Oh shut it, Geralt,” Jaskier grins, “you know that I would typically be more than happy to traipse through spooky fog and poky underbrush. Alas, I am fucking tired. So, on this one occasion, I will admit that you are right.”

Geralt gives one of his rare smiles, a cheeky turn of the corner of his lip, and turns to lead Roach out of town. “I’ll come collect you in the morning. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

Jaskier scoffs half-heartedly, swinging his lute case around as he turns towards the tavern. Geralt listens to be sure that Jaskier is secure in the building before he changes course, heading instead to a large structure situated just on the edge of town.

***

Geralt stands in Jaskier’s room, surrounded by the dulcet tones of his deafening snoring. He has called out to the bard several times, but nothing has been able to wake him. That is, nothing until Geralt decides to grab a sweet bun from the innkeeper and a cup of steamy tea.

Jaskier hums when he smells the herbs next to his face, smiling a bit when he sees Geralt brooding in the corner. Jaskier takes a great bite out of the pastry, moaning quite obscenely at the taste. “Have a nice night, Geralt?”

Geralt hums, gathering Jaskier’s stuff from around the room. By the Gods, he was only here for a few hours. There is a doublet over a chair, trousers on the dresser, one boot by the door and one by the fireplace, and blankets and furs all over the place.

“Alright, Bard. Let’s go, I have something to pick up before we leave town.” Geralt chucks the pants to Jaskier. They hit him square in the face before falling into his lap, revealing quite the impressive side-eye.

Jaskier sighs, sipping his tea as he goes about getting dressed. Geralt watches once more, chuckling to himself as Jaskier tries to ruffle his hair into something that doesn’t quite resemble a harpy’s nest.

The two of them head out of the tavern soon after, the morning sun greeting them through the dew. “Geralt, where’s Roach?”

“Stable.”

Jaskier responds by strumming a chord on the lute with a look over to Geralt, confirming his permission to play for the time being. Geralt gives a short nod of the head and Jaskier begins, something quiet and slow as the world warms in the dawn.

The stableboy sees them approaching and ducks inside, leaving Geralt and Jaskier standing alone. Geralt closes his eyes and just listens to the tune that Jaskier hums, relaxing into the sweet tone that drips like rainwater off of a fresh flower.

The stableboy comes back out, followed closely by Roach and a second horse. She is palomino blonde and slender with a spring in her step. Jaskier quirks his brow at the latter, stepping confidently towards the stablehand, who most certainly does not get paid enough for this.

“Thank you sir, but it’s just Roach for us. Geralt, would you mind-”

Geralt tosses the kid an extra coin as he takes both sets of reins, passing the palomino to Jaskier. But Jaskier only looks at him, even when he gives the soft leather a good shake in the bard’s direction. Roach butts Geralt on the shoulder, wisely prompting him to use his words. “She’s uh...she’s your horse, Jask.”

“What? Geralt, I don’t have a horse. Did you get hit on the head or something, you silly Wi-”

“I bought her, Jaskier. I bought her for you.”

Jaskier finally shuts up, taking the reins from Geralt’s hand with a tentative grip. The palomino steps closer to Jaskier, snuffling his hair. He giggles, setting something quite tender alight in Geralt’s heart.

“Geralt, I-I don’t quite know what to say...I thought you needed new armor?” Jaskier’s voice is quiet as he scritches along the horse’s nose.

Geralt shakes his head, fiddling with the straps on Roach’s saddle. “No. Wanted this to be a surprise.”

Jaskier goes silent, and Geralt can’t quite bring himself to look over at him. But then Jaskier sniffles and Geralt looks up, finding tears on his cheeks and a soft look in his eyes.

“You-you got her for me?”

Geralt nods, struck by a sudden boldness. He moves forward, grabbing the soft fabric of Jaskier’s doublet at his wrist. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. You-” Geralt huffs, grappling for words. “You’re far too important to me.”

“I-do I need to actively hold onto the reins all of the time, Geralt?”

“No, why?”

“Because I would very much like to kiss you right now, and I would love to have both hands free for that.” Geralt’s eyes widen a bit and he nods, his breath catching as Jaskier drops the reins and surges into him. Jaskier’s lips are so much softer than Geralt had ever let himself imagine, and his fingers in Geralt’s hair feel like the closest thing that he will ever get to true paradise.

They part, but only far enough to look each other in the eyes. Geralt looks into those eyes, the clearest blue rivers rushing to raging seas. Geralt’s hands rest on Jaskier’s hips, his thumb rubbing little circles into his sides. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead onto Jaskier’s, reveling in the way that Jaskier’s heart speeds up and his breathing tightens a bit in his embrace.

“Thank you, Geralt. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you,” Jaskier whispers, light as a feather between their lips.

Geralt hums once more, still holding fast to the bard. “We should be leaving soon.”

“Can I have another kiss?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear the smirk in his words.

“I suppose,” Geralt smiles as he leans back into him.

#geraskier #fluff #THESE TWO #i love them

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

Hello dear

Wanted to share with you how i FINALLY got iver and done with uni finals. So yay me! And so, i got the chance to reply to your...reply... yes. That madr sense.

I guess i can understand why writers in general (but specially you because you have a place in my heart now) fee like writing and posting on an anxiety void. I admire you all. Trully

I loved what you wrote to me. I love what you write to others. I love what you write put of your own wishes and impusles and imagination and-

I adore it all. You are a ge

Your nonnie ^.^

My dearest Nonnie, we’re getting into a loop here XD But I can’t reply and not bring you another ficlet like a cat dragging in a wet leaf from a “successful” hunt. Also, congratulations on finishing your uni finals! May whatever comes next be filled with happiness and success. To celebrate, here’s the promised wet leaf I’m bringing you :D

There was a rise and fall in creature numbers that Geralt was used to. Some years kikimora would be rampant in parts of the continent and the following year there would be a surge in cockatrices. One thing was odd though, there was a decline in forktails, wyverns and any other draconids. In the last decade or so there had been barely any he came across which was most unusual. Yet each winter he complained, neither Lambert nor Eskel had found such a decline. Neither had Aiden when he joined them for winter.

All it meant was that when the forktails got too close to Kaer Morhen, Geralt jumped at the chance to help, keen to keep his skills sharp. It worked in everyone’s favour, the others didn’t have to fight forktails, Geralt got to stay in shape and the keep was forktail free. At least, that was what happened until Geralt brought Jaskier with him. That year, Vesemir greeted him with worrying news.

“We were worried for you.” Which was unheard of. “A few days before your arrival, the forktails took off in a mass exodus. Something big is coming.”

They spent the whole winter worrying about what might have driven the forktails off. Alas, nothing reared its ugly head and they made their way down the mountain safely in the spring.

It went on like that for a few years. Each winter, any forktails that strayed to make their home on the mountain took off and left. Whatever it was that drove them away obviously led a migratory life and was likely nocturnal because no matter how much Vesemir kept a lookout, he never did spot what it was.

The fifth year Jaskier joined Geralt at Kaer Morhen, the journey up the mountain was a little different. As they climber, Jaskier fell quiet and uneasy, glancing around. Whenever Geralt prompted him, his worry was brushed off as a sweet but unnecessary concern. After four long days of hiking, they were finally outside Kaer Morhen, breaths puffing in white billows.

Vesemir greeted them at the gate. “The forktails left early this year.”

There was a snort of “I bet” from Jaskier which was confusing but mostly went ignored because the others were appearing from the keep to greet them.

“It’s a full keep this year, Lambert, Eskel and Aiden found a friend.”

“Mate!” Aiden called cheerily as he gave Jaskier a hug. “We’ve found a mate which sounds much cooler than boyfriend.”

As greetings were exchanged, another figure appeared from the doorway. He stopped a fair distance from Jaskier and the two of them stared, unblinking at each other. It was funny for a moment then got really awkward really quickly.

Trying to break the tension, Lambert laughed. “It looks like you’ve got smoke coming out your mouths.”

Two sets of dark eyes turned to glare at him. One red pair and one black. Immediately the witchers were taking steps back, uncertain what the hell was happening and cursing they didn’t have their swords. Given the appropriate space, Jaskier turned back to glaring at the intruder.

“I’ve already made my nest here.”

“I have three mates to your one.”

Eskel frowned and tried to wade in to peace keep, hoping his eyes had been deceived. “The fuck you on about Cahir? Oh shit that’s actually smoke.”

Both Jaskier and Cahir had smoke trickling from their noses. On close inspection their nails were darker too and Cahir had black scales creeping up his neck. Not that Jaskier looked in better shape, his eyes were a dark red and his teeth looked sharper in his mouth.

All of a sudden, Vesemir turned and walked through his pups, cuffing them all on the back of the head.

“And someone needs to smack me for being an idiot too,” he declared. “How the fuck did none of you realise you’re bedding dragons? And how did I not realise I was playing winter host to one, well, now two. Of course the forktails left.”

Little monologue finished, he walked up to Jaskier and Cahir. “You’re both guests here, this is my territory. So none of this posturing now, got it?”

Jaskier had the grace to look a little sheepish but his eyes stayed red and nails more like claws while Cahir struggled to get his scales to hide again. The four witchers stared at them agape, suitably stunned.

“This is why you hate the cold!” Lambert looked so smug at having figured something out at long last.

“Yes, Lambert, this is why I hate the cold,” Cahir replied, smoke still wafting out.

“Fly with me,” Jaskier suddenly said and he didn’t wait for Cahir before there was a red dragon beating its wings and taking off. With a growl, a smaller, black dragon was launching after him, leaving the witchers to stare as the two dragons twisted through the air.

It wasn’t an easy start to the winter, two territorial dragons trying to establish their claims. However, by the time spring rolled round, it wasn’t uncommon to find black and red tangled in a scorching warm pile in one of the cleared out storage caverns.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #lambert #eskel #vesemir #dragon jaskier #dragon cahir #tldr: witchers are dumb dragonsexuals

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beautifuldarkwolf · 3 years

Text

The Clockwork Girl

Original Story

Word Count: 1 650

Summary: A old man tells the story about a machine who was more than just gears and wires.

Warning: Abandonment

________________________________________________________________

Ah, hello! You must be new here, would you like me to tell you a story?

Usually another young man comes to visit me, but it seems like he did not come in today. He usually sits right where you are and listen to my stories. Do you mind taking his spot for tonight?

I promise it wont take long, my stories are always quick.

You will? That’s great!

Have you ever heard of the Clockwork Girl? No? Well, it is quite an interesting story, I’m sure you will love it.

***

This is set in the steampunk era, or so you kids call it. There was an inventor how had come up with a magnificent creation, a beautiful machine of gears and steam. It moved just like you and I, so smoothly that it could almost be human if it wasn’t a being of metal. The machine could do anything you wanted, it would clean, it could protect, and it could dance as graceful as an elite ballerina. The inventor had called it the Clockwork Girl, having made it in the image of his daughter. Something that was meant to help her and keep her safe while he was away, it was the perfect helper. That’s why it was shocking when the inventors daughter had rejected the machines help.

You see, she had lost her legs in an accident not many months before the creation of the machine. She was never to walk again. The poor girl had wished to be a dancer like her mother, having trained her whole life for it to be ruined in mere seconds by a hit and run. Clockwork Girl was meant to make her happy, keep her company as she went about her day. The best playmate you could ever wish for. But the girl hated the Clockwork machine, always finding new ways to ruin for fathers creation. She hated the sight of a mindless machine being able to move and dance while she was forced to watch from the side lines. It was a constant reminder of the pain she had gone through, of the dream she had lost.

After the many attempts to keep the Clockwork Girl running the Inventor decided it was no loner worth the trouble, his daughter would only continue to destroy the machine. It was his masterpiece, but the sight of his daughter breaking down at the sight of it was unbearable for him. So, instead of fixing it he decided to place it in the old shed filled with failed inventions. Locking it away to rust in the darkness of his failures.

What the Inventor didn’t notice was the pleas from the silent machine as he left her there. Years had passed, dust collected and red rust settled into the gears. The Clockwork Girl watched each day come and pass with the small sliver of light the came through the creak in the old wooden door. She waited for her inventor to return for her, her silent cries for help going unheard for decades.

***

I know you have questions but they will be answered in the story! You must be patient.

Okay, okay. I will make sure to hurry it up than.

Hahaha, impatient youth.

***

The Clockwork had lost all hope of her inventor coming back, thinking she would be left there until her metal became one with the dust. She had stopped keeping track with the days, the creak in the door long since covered. But it seemed as she lost hope her inventor returned, noises came from beyond the door as her eyes moved to look towards it. The eyes being the only thing left of her that seemed to still move without fail. Soon the door was torn open, blinding sunlight pouring into the room, before her a shadow of a human leaning against the door frame for support. A small gasp could be heard from the human as they struggled to move forward, falling to their hands and knees to crawl across the dirt covered floor. An image of a woman reflected off the Machines eyes, “You’re still here.” She breathed, stopping before the Clockwork Girl and letting her fingers run across the degrading metal. Both sets of eyes scanned the one before them, the woman looking though the damage while the machine tried to figure out who this woman could possibly be. “I’m so sorry for abandoning you, you were only ever doing you job.” The woman whispered, the sound of gears turning and steam releasing echoing through the shed as she struggled to push herself off the ground. It wasn’t her inventor who came to her rescue, but someone she least expected.

“Wait here. I promise I’ll be right back.” The Clockwork Girl was told as the woman moved out of the shed with some struggle. It wasn’t too long after when she returned, a young boy at her side who helped collect the pieces of the machine and placed the gently in a wheelbarrow.

They wheeled her into the workshop. The same one she had been created in, but this time it was much different than her last visit. Everything seemed newer, more technically advanced than the old steam powered shop she remembered. Different machines laid around, whirling and repeating the same motions as the woman and boy lifted her pieces onto the table.

“Mamma! Her eyes are moving!” The boy gasped and moved back from the table. The news caused the woman to smile and rush to the head of the Clockwork Girl, taking out an old rag to clean the eyes of the machine.

“She is grandpas creation, everything he made always seemed to come to life.” She spoke sweetly, her eyes glowing with admiration as she watched the girl scan her and their surroundings. “You recognize this room, don’t you?” she questioned though she knew she could not answer. “I’m going to fix you up. Even better than before.” The woman placed a kiss on the metal cheek of the Clockwork Girl, “Then you can dance for me like you did all those years ago.”

***

The end!

What? You don’t like how I left it off?

Well, I didn’t want to keep you so late.

Haha, fine. I’ll tell you the real end.

***

The woman got to work fixing the Clockwork Girl, following the directions and notes her father left her after his passing. She worked day and night to make everything perfect, only throwing in a few of her own techniques when she knew they would work. After her accident she had become selfish, finding everything unfair and against her. She grew up without hope of achieving her dreams. It wasn’t until the day her father brought her to his shop, having her sit and watches as he captured life in his machines. She learned to accept everything, that even without her legs she could still do something she loved. Sure, dancing had been her dream but inventing was her passion. Taking after her father had showered her a new life. One that would allow her to build herself new legs and learn to walk. It wasn’t until after his passing did she remember the Clockwork Girl. Digging through piles of notes until she found what she was looking for. Found the Clockwork Girl.

“You were a lot more work than I anticipated.” The woman chuckled as she wiped her face, spreading even more oil across her face. She looked down at her fathers master piece, though what he made was barely there she could never take credit for his creation. “Now, just to connect everything.” She watched the Clockwork Girls eyes follow her, waiting to finally move again. The woman moved around the table, carefully connecting each limb before moving to the head. Her hands shook from anticipation as she slid the head into place, locking it in place.

The machines in the Clockwork Girl immediately begun to turn and whirl, electricity sparking where the points and limbs met. With a sudden surge of energy the machine sat up, turning her attention to the smiling inventor next to her. “I can’t believe it actually worked… I cant believe I actually got you to work.” She whispered as the machine moved to slip off the table, metal scraping against metal. The ability to move once again was a shock to the Clockwork Girl. She wiggled her fingers and toes, moving her arms up and down while squatting with her new legs. “Would you dance for me again?” The words of the Inventor caught her attention, causing her to turn towards the woman her destruction but also her salvation.

With a small bow and the turn of the key in her chest the Clockwork Girl began to dance. A sweet melody playing as she spun and danced around the workshop. The woman watched in awe as the machine moved gracefully around her, the song bringing back memories of her and her father dancing together. Tears began to slip down her cheeks but she let them, refusing to wipe them as she relived the memories she allowed her anger to push away.

As the Clockwork Girl came to a stop she stood in front of the woman, looking up at her. She slowly reached up, going on her tiptoes to wipe the tears from the Inventors cheek. There were many things she wished to say, ‘thank you’ being on the top of that list. But she was unable to speak. Instead she continued to play the only melody she knew, taking hold of the woman’s hands and gently pulling her into a dance. The Clockwork Girl supported the woman as they both danced around the workshop, the woman’s feet on hers, “Thank you.” The Inventor cried as they dance, something she never thought she would do again.

***

The End

#writing #character growth #clockwork girl #storying telling #forgotten #found #creative writing #short story #original writing

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vantaenims · 4 years

Text

bittersweet | yoongi

pairing: idol!yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au | fluff, bit of angst

word count: 7.6k

warning/s: alcohol consumption.

summary: Being miles away from you, Yoongi’s starting to feel like he’s missing out in your life and he can’t help but be guilty about it hence the reason why he made it his mission to be with you as much as possible now that he’s back home.

Part of BTSGhostieBingo (idol!au prompt)

masterlist

—

Yoongi has his hand around the steering wheel, drumming his fingers against it whilst his other arm is placed beside the window, knuckles pressed against his temple as he impatiently stared at your door for about five minutes now. Unlocking his phone, he was about to text you again until a blue bubble popped up saying ‘wait’ as a reply to his first text when he told you he’s outside already, making him wonder what’s taking you so long.

During your call last night, you mentioned to Yoongi that you’re running low on food and that you’ll be going to the grocery store tomorrow, causing him to immediately tell you that he’ll join and accompany you even though he still has a song that he needs to work on which he didn’t told you since you’re probably going to decline his offer to help if you happen to know it.

It’s a song he’s been working on ever since the tour started which is exactly three and a half months ago but he only got to finalize it last night just so he could spend the weekend with you hence the reason why he’s running low on sleep for today but it’s not like that mattered to him right now.

Given the circumstances of his idol life, the majority of the time spent in your relationship is being far away from each other that’s why he tries to make up for the lost time by being with you almost every day ever since he got back last week.

Truth be told, Yoongi never really believed Long Distance Relationships could work and as a matter of fact, he thought that this relationship would just be some sort of a fling to him, bearing in mind that it’s hard for him to enter in a fully committed relationship given his hectic life but luckily, his opinion about it changed when you two somehow managed to make it work - for about two years already and more years to come.

His thoughts were then cut off as soon as he heard a knock coming off from the window of the passenger seat, unlocking the doors once he saw that it was only you whom he'd been waiting all this time.

“Finally, what were you doing for the past ten minutes?”

“Hello” you greeted in such a cheery voice as you always do whilst you leaned towards Yoongi to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you just got out of the shower?” Yoongi chuckled as soon as he saw how the upper half of your hair is dry while the other half is still damp.

“Sorry, i just woke up when i read your text that you’re on your way” you said as you buckled yourself in your seat.

“I got out of my house at 2 p.m.” Yoongi said, looking at the time that’s displayed on his touch screen stereo, “What time did you sleep?”

“I think it was about 1:30 or 2 in the morning”

“You’ve slept for twelve hours!?” Yoongi bewilderingly looked at you, slightly jealous at how you’ve managed to get a full sleep while he’s only running on four hours of sleep even though he willfully did that on purpose.

Of course, he wouldn’t tell you the lengths he had to go just so he could free his time for today because knowing you, you’d probably scold him and tell him to just rest which he thinks is surprisingly the last thing he wants to do, not when time’s limited for him as he needs to leave in a few days to continue the tour.

“It’s just one of those lazy days” you said whilst yawning as you stretched your arms to fully awaken yourself.

“You haven’t eaten anything yet then?”

“Not yet but I’m fine, I don’t really feel that hungry” you smiled, grabbing Yoongi’s free hand to intertwined them with yours when he gave you a discontented look that didn’t last for long as he return back the smile, raising your intertwined hands to kiss the back of your hand before he freed his hand to switch the gear.

Yoongi proceeded to drive towards the direction of the grocery store where the grocery is but he thought that a little detour won’t hurt, not when that detour is towards the Mcdonald’s Drive Thru.

“I’ll have the six pieces McNuggets meal and can you make the drink and fries into large, thanks.”

As soon as Yoongi got the paper bag, he then placed it on your lap as he continued to drive to exit the drive thru and onto your real destination, not even sparing you a look, making you laugh at how he’s still trying to appear so nonchalant after all these years when he does caring things like this but it’s fun to tease him when he’s acting to be one.

“Aww Yoongs, Thank you” you pinched his cheek which only caused him to scoff as he tried to remove your hand away from his face even though you could clearly see he’s trying to hide his smile as he rolled his eyes.

It has been a year since your relationship with Yoongi was announced to the public but you still have to be very cautious whenever you two go out in public as to not raise any unwanted attention and you were both given a set of rules that you need to abide with but there’s this one rule you always seem hard to follow - lessen any displays of affection in public as much as possible.

You put on your mask and put the hood of your jacket up once Yoongi turned off the engine as he followed you in disguising himself, wearing his black bucket hat and mask. As you got out of the car, your hand instinctively went to reach towards Yoongi’s until you realized the situation you both are in, causing you to keep your hands inside the pockets of your jacket as you walked distantly beside him.

It was weird for you to act so secretive when you two started to date and it was way too hard when you both have to keep your meetings a secret when your relationship got official like that time when you were told that you can only eat out in public at this designated place which is an exclusive restaurant that’s owned by one of Yoongi’s trusted friends for the sake of protecting both of your privacy.

Eventually, talks about your relationship with Yoongi gradually died down after it was publicly announced as time passed by though it can’t be helped that it’ll be sometimes brought up in one of their interviews even though it’s totally unnecessary in the first place but you guessed that you just have to live and deal with it.

“What do you want for dinner?” Yoongi asked as he got one of the carts from the aisle, volunteering to push it around while you scan for food.

“Are you going to cook dinner?” you looked back at him with wide eyes, a surge of excitement crashing at the news.

Yoongi knows how big of a fan you are of his cooking and he’s certain about it because you basically bombard him with messages whenever you get a sudden craving for it or how you’ll express your disappointment whenever you buy something he would cook only for it to be compared, saying how it’ll never taste as good as his which he’s taken pride of.

“Does steak and mashed potatoes sound good?” Yoongi asked as he put the frozen sirloin into the empty cart only to see that it wasn't empty anymore as he spotted the bottle of red wine.

“I knew you’d say my favorite, that’s why i got the wine”

“You never liked the taste of wine”, Yoongi stated, remembering that time he brought a wine with him when he visited your house only for it to be only consumed by him as you can never stand anything that tastes bitter which is one of the things he first learned about you.

But there was that one instance when you got him amused when you decided that you’ll be drinking with him although it’s totally way out from what he expected. The memory is still as clear as day when he remembered you walking out of his kitchen with a wine glass on hand that you placed on the centerpiece table of his living room.

“Are you going to have a wine?” Yoongi asked with his brows raised, settling his glass filled with wine on top of the table.

“I thought it’s not fair for you to drink alone so might as well join you” you adjusted yourself as you sat down on the carpeted floor beside Yoongi.

“You really don’t have to drink -” Yoongi didn’t get to finish his sentence when you whipped out a grape juice box behind your back, watching as you poked the covered hole with it’s straw to squeeze out the contents into the glass.

“Cheers?” you said as you swirled the liquid in the glass, making it look as if it’s the same wine he’s drinking and Yoongi can’t help but laugh at your quirky attempt.

“A grape juice?”

“Hey, wine is also a grape juice except it’s fermented and i can never like anything that tastes bitter so what do you expect?” you reasoned out but nonetheless find the whole thing funny too.

Yoongi can only watch in delight as you get more defensive about the topic of grape juice vs wine, convincing him that both of the beverages are sourced from the same fruit, the only difference is that the other one tastes bitter whilst the other one tastes sweet.

“It’s okay baby, it’s the thought that counts”

You stopped yourself from talking as soon as you heard the term of endearment come out of Yoongi’s mouth. It was always you who would call him ‘baby’ until now and you can’t help but blush as you try to conceal your growing smile when you remember what Jungkook told you.

“You are indeed cute when you’re drunk” you looped your arm around his as you rested your chin on his shoulder to kiss his cheek, making his smile bigger.

Yoongi clinked his glass with yours before he downed the remaining wine in one go as he try to quickly cover up the embarrassment he felt although there’s no use in hiding it anymore once he felt how warm his face feels like, not knowing if it’s the effect of the alcohol or if it’s your effect - obviously, it’s you.

“Can we grab a coffee first before we leave?” Yoongi asked once he felt his energy slowly depleting, the cup of coffee he had in the morning clearly out of his system now that he’s feeling a bit grumpy which is more of a reason that he needs to refuel with caffeine.

“Sure” you said as you closed the trunk of the car after you helped him load the groceries, following Yoongi to the cafe that’s right beside the grocery store.

Thankfully, there aren’t many people dining inside the cafe that’s why you’ve gotten to the counter right away as Yoongi did the work of telling your orders to the attendant whilst you scanned the cakes that are displayed as you munch on a pack of Skittles you got back in the store.

“Do you want anything else?” Yoongi asked just before he could finalize the orders.

“I’m fine, there’s no red velvet cake” you said as you managed to stand beside Yoongi, a piece of Skittles in between your fingers ready to go straight to Yoongi’s mouth until you stopped when you felt the cashier attendant’s gaze on you as if she’s trying to recall why you looked so familiar.

You’ve clearly forgotten that you’re still out in public and that your face is perfectly visible as you’ve lowered your mask to eat but it’s too late to hide your identity as you saw how her eyes widened once she recognized who you are. She definitely got starstruck once she glanced beside you where Yoongi’s standing though she remained professional and offered a smile towards the both of you which you both gladly returned with a bow of your head.

“Your orders will be ready in a while”, she said as she handed the receipt to Yoongi who let out a little chuckle as you both made your way towards the claiming area, still finding it hilarious how you quickly retrieved your hand to eat the candy instead when the attendant recognized you.

“I think i should eat this later” you muttered as you placed the mask back again on your face, sealing the pack of candy for later.

Looking over your side, you bumped your hips against Yoongi’s when you saw his shoulders still visibly shake from laughter and how his eyes turned into little crescents from smiling.

Yoongi went over the counter as soon as your orders were called, getting his Iced Americano while he handed to you your Caramel Macchiato, muttering a thank you to the staff as you made your way out of the shop and back to the parking lot.

“Ah finally, i could eat in peace” you said as you got inside the car, discarding your mask and taking your hood down. You reopened the pack of Skittles, pouring them over your palm as you straight out put it on your mouth and also pouring more for Yoongi but he offered his palm instead when you reached your hand out to feed it to him.

“Say ah” you said as you picked one piece of candy instead, zooming in your finger like an airplane into his mouth.

“What am i? A child?” Yoongi playfully grimaced but obeyed nonetheless as you popped them into his mouth.

“Yes you are” you chuckled, resting back in your seat as you raised your leg to tuck it under the other leg, “Why don’t we play a game and you try to guess the flavor of the skittle i’ll feed you?”

You strictly instructed Yoongi that he could not cheat and inspect the color of the candy, telling him he could only look straight ahead at the road, causing him to laugh, saying how he’s going to look straight either way as he needs to keep his attention on driving you both home safely.

“Raspberry”, Yoongi said in full certainty.

“How can you tell Raspberry apart from Wild Cherry?” you squint your eyes at him, skeptical if he cheated or he’s just really good at guessing it because you’re positive that those two flavors taste exactly the same - for you, atleast.

“Maybe my sense of taste is better than yours”

“Yeah you’ve got all the flavors right” you’re impressed to say the least as you try to feed Yoongi another piece of Wild Cherry to test him again until he gently grabbed your hand to stop you as he felt his throat itch from eating too much sweets.

“Doesn’t your throat itch from eating too much sweets?” Yoongi looked over at you, watching as you devoured the candy you were going to feed him instead and as if that isn’t sweet enough, you grabbed your caramel based beverage to sip on it which just made Yoongi cringe in distaste.

“I just really like anything that’s sweet”

“You’re going to get Diabetes at an early age” Yoongi warned as he always has but he knows that his warning will just be disregarded as you continue to satisfy your sweet cravings as you always do.

“That’s why i’m eating as much sweets as i can before i’ll not be able to”

“What kind of logic is that?”

“You like anything that’s bitter as much as I like sweets so shut up” you shrugged as you pointed out but you totally get that he’s just looking out for you and you appreciate that.

“I atleast won’t get any chronic disease from it”, Yoongi retorted, chuckling at how silly this banter is to begin with and that reminded how adverse you two are and he’s not just talking about your taste preferences but personality wise too.

You and Yoongi are too different from each other - you’re more of an outgoing and friendly person while he is more reserved and quiet one. All his life, Yoongi thought he’d prefer someone who’s similar to him yet here he is, eating up his own thoughts as he eventually got you and he’s not saying that as a bad thing because he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your relationship is a living testimony that opposites do attract and it’s not as bad as what everyone makes it out to be though there were still a lot of differences and barriers you both have to overcome in the beginning of the relationship which he thinks is inevitable for every relationship to work.

The reason why you two get along so well is because you complement and balance each other, like how you both are able to strengthen each other’s weaker aspects. You’re always able to get him out of his comfort zone and he could always let you be vulnerable to him, let you out of that happy facade you’re always trying to keep up.

In conclusion, you bring out the best in him and he could hope you felt that way about him too, making you two a perfect pair, not even minding a bit how cheesy that thought is to him because it’s only a matter of fact.

“Why are you still here?” Yoongi sets aside the sirloin he’s been seasoning, getting distracted how you’re standing so close to him as you peer over his shoulders at what he’s doing much like a curious kid.

“What should i do next?” you asked him for the second time even though Yoongi told you that he’ll just call you whenever dinner’s ready but you’re so persistent in helping him out, causing him to gave in as he told you that you can set up the table which he think is done now that you’re pestering him again.

“Lounge in the sofa, i guess”

“But i want to help you, Yoongs” you whined, making him chuckle, “Should i peel these potatoes?”

“I’ll do it” Yoongi grabbed the potato from you as well as the bowl that’s filled with it, keeping it close to his side so that you won’t be able to touch it and help him like what you’re suggesting, keeping in mind that he’s doing all of this to make up for the times he’s away.

Guilt would always creep up on him whenever he’s far away from you because you don’t deserve to be neglected like this, dating someone who’s mostly physically absent that’s why he’s doing the most of his ability as much as he can whenever comes back home so that he could actually fulfill the duties and responsibilities of being your boyfriend.

“Let me atleast wash the dishes later then?” you frowned with a pout, causing Yoongi to shake his head at you as he sheepishly smiled.

“Fine if that’ll get you to stop” Yoongi kissed your forehead before he diverted back his attention towards the potatoes but before he could even do so, you grabbed both sides of his face as you inched towards him until he felt your warm lips on his.

Yoongi closed his eyes as he kissed you back, hands almost going towards your waist to reel you in once you kissed him fervently until he remembered how his hands are still dirty and covered with sauce and seasonings for the steak but that didn’t stop him from wanting to deepen the kiss as he slowly tilted his head to the side only for you to break the kiss.

“Right, you don’t need my help” you teased as you peck him once more and also patted his bum right before you left to disappear towards the living room.

Yoongi scoffed that you got him stunned for a moment but nonetheless busied himself as he went back in preparing the dinner that didn’t take too much time to finally get it ready now that you’re not there to bother him anymore.

Withdrawing a plate from your cabinet, Yoongi then began to place the mashed potato first whilst he set the steak beside it, dripping some sauce around it as he tried to recreate those plating presentations that’s normally seen in high end restaurants.

Yoongi grinned as soon as he entered the dining area, catching the sight of how you set the table into some sort of a candlelit dinner that’s accompanied with pieces of nearly wilted rose petals which he suspected came from the bouquet he bought for you last week but it now surrounds the four sides of the table.

“Y/N! Dinner’s ready” Yoongi called out as he placed the plates on the table. It didn’t take less than five seconds before you emerged in the dining room with a delighted look adorning your face.

“Oh wow it smells really good” you enclosed Yoongi in a back hug as you tipped your toes to kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you, baby.”

Yoongi hummed as he pulled your chair back, guiding you to sit before he made his way to his place as the gentleman he is. Picking up the bottle of wine, uncorking it as he poured it over his glass and onto yours right after but he let the mouth of the bottle hover on the rim of your glass before letting it pour as he looked at you.

“You sure you’d like some wine?”

“It’s fine”

“If you say so” Yoongi smirked, filling your glass up even though he knows full well that you’re only going to take a sip or two before giving it all up. Clinking both of your glasses, Yoongi watches you whilst he takes a sip of his wine only for him to chuckle after he has seen you scrunching your nose from the bitter taste.

“It tastes better with this” Yoongi said as he cut up a portion of his steak to feed you with it. The dissatisfied look on your face now gone as the bitterness mixed with the savory taste only made the flavor stronger.

“Your brother told me he taught you how to cook one”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Yoongi tried to rack his brain, recalling if he had ever informed you that his brother is the one who taught him to master the art of cooking but he can’t remember telling you that, knowing how he likes to take credit in his cooking skills.

“Your mom invited me over to their house on my birthday and your brother took in charge of cooking the food. I’ve sent you pictures, remember?”

You took out your phone to went over your photo gallery, scrolling over the pictures until it landed over the series of photos you took on the day of your birthday, showing Yoongi a picture of you and Holly nicely cuddled up in the sofa, earning a warm smile from him and on the corner of the picture he spotted the bouquet of tulips he assumes is the one he arranged in advance right by the local flower shop near you, instructing them to deliver it on your doorstep with some note he had written himself.

Lastly, you showed him the selfie you’ve taken on the dining table that’s filled with a sumptuous meal along with his whole family gathering around - his mom, dad, older brother and Holly whom his brother carried in his arms to fit in the picture.

“I’m glad you had fun” Yoongi gave you a faint smile as he felt his guilt creeping up on him once again.

It has been two months since he had dearly missed your birthday because of the tour and he felt bad for missing out on a special day like this but that’s how it’s always going to be and he hates how this is conceived to be normal in your relationship when it’s unfair, specially for you.

You must’ve noticed his mood faltering a bit as you’ve put your phone down the table, placing your hand on top of him to squeeze it, making him stop focusing on slicing over his steak as he directed his eyes at you to give you a warm smile that indicates not to worry about him.

“I think the tour must’ve been a whole lot of fun, no? How was it this time?” you said, sipping on your wine that had you still scrunching your nose though albeit less noticeable now as you get more accustomed to the taste.

“It’s still great but more than ever now that we get to see more of our fans” Yoongi beamed a smile, taking pride how their hard work and the support from their fans has taken them to where they are now like how they were able to do stadium tours around the world or how they’re able to play concerts in places they’ve never imagine which is something beyond their goal and expectations.

“I’m proud of all of you and will always be, how about we toast on that?” you raise your glass as you take a big gulp of the alcohol out of courage which is a totally bad idea as it had made you immediately regret it, coughing up the bitterness away, causing you to give up the drink all in all.

“Just grab your grape juice from the fridge” Yoongi suggested, chuckling when you stood up to go over the kitchen to do as told and guessed right that you’ll never be able to withstand the alcohol.

The dinner went on with Yoongi urging you to talk more about what you’ve been doing lately but you protested that it has been practically boring and uneventful like his which he interjected that it goes the same for him as well. Apart from performing, he spent most of his time holed up in his hotel room to produce and compose songs or sleep like you’ve never known this or how he’ll just go out to buy some music equipment he needs for his studio.

He’s pretty sure you’ve told him over the phone the story of how you’ve managed to step on a puddle that reached up to your shins on your way home from work, remembering how you’ve complained that it ruined your favorite pair of suede flats.

“Have i told you about this before?” you said, noticing how he continues to smile unfazed like he’s already familiar with this story.

“Yeah but go on” Yoongi assured you that he doesn’t mind at all if he’s heard it before. Nothing compares to all those facetimes and phone calls because this is what he truly missed - getting to talk to you in person with no distance and time difference in between you two.

Soon as you know it, the table looks almost empty now that all the food are completely gone except for Yoongi’s wine glass that’s still filled with the alcohol as he still continuously drink from it while you opted to go for dessert and eat the cookies ‘n cream ice cream flavored you’ve got in the grocery.

The conversation’s still pretty going at this point with you doing most of the talking as you relaxly laid back against the chair with your crossed legs and Yoongi would just stare at you as he rested his elbow against the table with his cheeks pressed against his palm, casually laughing or putting in a few words.

“Tired?” you asked once you noticed his half lidded eyes and how he’s blinking them ever so slowly.

“No, i’m just a bit buzzed i guess” Yoongi denied as he tried to fight off the exhaustion but you did not buy his excuse as you abandoned your pint of ice cream by placing it on the table to stand up and get the plates to put them towards the sink.

Yoongi tailed behind you as he got the pint of ice cream to put them back in the freezer and the wine glasses which you got off of his hand as soon as he was next to you.

“I got this, why don’t you go up and pick something to watch”

“I’m not tired” you laughed now that Yoongi’s cute side is starting to come out as he placed his head on your shoulders with his arms around yours whilst you opened the faucet to run down water over the kitchenwares.

“Just go and let me do this” you turned around to push him away from you with all your might though it’s useless as he stubbornly stood his ground but nonetheless let you guide him when you grabbed his hand and led him towards the end of the stairs.

Standing on the first step, Yoongi leaned down to leave a kiss on top of your head that had you giggling whilst he told you to hurry up before he ascended to leave you to do your task. You ran back to the kitchen as you cleaned up the place as quickly as possible but still making sure not to miss a spot.

You wiped your wet hands with a towel now that you’re done with the dishes which leaves you to your routine of checking every corner of the first floor - unplugging the appliances, getting your water container in the fridge, and securely double checking the locks.

As you went up and open the door to your room, you were immediately greeted with a dimly lit light setting thanks to the television and on the edge of your bed, you see Yoongi clad in a loose white shirt and gray shorts that has been kept in your closet for times he chooses to stay over in your place as he drys his hair with the towel on his hands, signifying that he had just gotten out fresh from the shower.

“What are we going to watch?” you asked as you stood in front of Yoongi to grab the towel from his hand so that you could do the work of drying his hair instead.

“What do you want? I haven’t seen anything that’s interesting yet” Yoongi grabbed your waist to set you aside so he could have a good view of the television as he clicked on the remote to scan the films but still remained his hand on your waist even though you’re not obstructing the view anymore.

“Well, you decide. I’ll join you in a second” you detach yourself from Yoongi’s hold as you go over to your closet to grab some comfortable clothes to change into. You let the damp towel dry as you hang it on your chair before you could enter your bathroom to take a quick shower.

With his hair damp and unruly, Yoongi got up to go over your vanity table where your hair comb is as he drag it along his hair until he noticed the corkboard hanging on your wall just beside the table which he has never seen before, guessing you might’ve put it up while he was away.

It was filled with polaroid pictures of the both of you but mostly of Yoongi and he looked unaware in mostly all of it as you like to candidly take pictures of him but there are also random things attached to it like movie tickets, flower petals, and other things you deemed sentimental but what catches his attention the most is the tissue with some scribbled words on it.

It was a tissue from Baskin Robbins and it has a badly drawn stick figure on it with a text bubble on the side - ‘It’ll be okay’ is what’s written on it. The smudged black ink giving away that it has been sometime ago - two years ago to be precise.

If he remembers it right, he had drawn this when he picked you up from work that time and you remained silent for the whole ride, reasoning that it’s just one of those bad days at work.

It was also a time when you still find it hard to be vulnerable around him given how the both of you just started dating and that just gave him an idea to go to an ice cream store first on the way to your house, knowing how sweets could always lift your spirits up.

You both got settled inside the car once you got your ice cream and finally be on your way to your house which is something you’ve been dying to do ever since you got from work. Yoongi’s clearly concerned for you but you’re glad he’s not pushing you to say anything but at the same time you felt bad for being silent for the whole time, not wanting to pass the burden you’re feeling.

“Here, have some tissue with you” Yoongi handed it over to you as he got the car out of the parking area until he felt your hand on top of his.

“Thank you, Yoongi” you said with glassy eyes and he’s glad that it’s what took for you to confide in him and for you to start trusting him enough that you managed to show the weak side you’re trying to conceal from him at the start.

Yoongi removed his hand from the tissue at the sound of the bathroom door opening as you came out with a towel wrapped around your hands, dressed in one of those short sleeved top and bottom silk pajama sets he got for you back when he was in Japan.

“I didn’t know you kept this”, Yoongi said with a smile tugging on his face.

You discarded your clothes towards the hamper as you came closer to Yoongi to see that he’s pertaining about the board you’ve recently hung, making you flushed at how he’s not supposed to even see how you keep every piece of something that just reminds you of your time with Yoongi but it’s just the way you are with how those pieces serves as a token of your memory.

“Yeah, I know it’s weird” you said as you look over the board and spot the receipt from the restaurant you both have your first date, embarrassed even more as you sit on the chair to remove the towel from your head as you focus instead on keeping it dry.

“It’s not weird, baby”

Yoongi enjoys making you fluster as much as you like doing it to him too that’s why he’s taken this as an opportunity to tease you more. He took the towel from your hand as he gently blotted and squeezed it against your hair much like what you did to him awhile ago, setting aside the hair you purposely let down to cover your face to the side and place it behind your ear.

“Ow be gentle, let me do it” you complained when Yoongi yanked your hair a bit as he combed through the tangles.

“Sorry, let me just take care of you” Yoongi swatted your hand away but his sweet words got you giggling and also a blushing mess.

As soon as your hair got fully combed, you stood up as Yoongi grabbed your wrist to drag you with him on the bed. He first got himself settled as he sat down with his back pressed against your headboard whilst he pulled you in to let you sit in between his legs, encircling his arms around you as you laid the back of your head on his chest.

“I really can’t find anything fun to watch, why don’t you choose?”

Getting the remote on the nightstand, you scan through the wide variety of movies as you read the plot and watch each trailer but nothing piqued your interest much as what Yoongi told you, sighing in discontentment as you turn off the television.

“Do you want to listen to some music instead?” you suggested, looking up to see Yoongi nod in agreement. You turned on the bluetooth speaker as you paired it with your phone, searching for some songs to play until you just thought of an idea that had you stifling your laughter.

“Ah why play this one?”

Yoongi’s proud of his recently released mixtape but you had him cringing upon hearing Daechwita play which is the least thing he’s expecting for you to choose. His mixtape just doesn’t fit the mood right now, he’s thinking you’ll be playing those mellow songs you could easily sleep and cuddle into which is something he feels like doing tonight.

“Why? It’s your song” you chuckled even though you can’t clearly see Yoongi’s reaction right now but you just know he’s scrunching his face, “Fine, i’ll change it.”

You chose another mixtape to play and that is Honne’s No Song Without You. Pressing shuffle, the track By My Side instantly played that got you smiling as you remember how you thought of Yoongi when you first heard this song. Actually, all love songs remind you of Yoongi if that isn’t cheesy enough.

Humming along to the song, you grabbed Yoongi’s hand to face his palm towards you as you set your palm against his just to compare how small your hand is compared to him. You decided to trace along the lines with your fingers as you write down the letters of the word that perfectly describes what Yoongi is to you - Home.

“Are you going to do some palm reading and tell me about my future?”

“Hmm your future’s still pretty bleak but there’s one thing that’s clear”

“And what is it?”

“I’m in it” you said that had you giggling which also caused Yoongi to do the same.

“Of course you are”, Yoongi hugged you tighter, swaying the both of you side to side as he kissed your cheek.

You twisted your body to the side so that you’ll be able to put your arms around his neck, the side of your face still remaining on his chest whilst you closed your eyes as you get even more comfortable in this position until you’ve thought of a better idea to make it more comfortable or rather relaxing for Yoongi.

“Lay down on your stomach” you commanded, sitting up straight that made Yoongi’s hold loosen around you.

“Why?”

“Let me take care of you” you repeated the words he told you, sitting yourself on the other side of the bed as you watched Yoongi plopped the side of his head on the pillow where he also kept his arms under. You then straddled his waist after he got himself settled, pressing both of your palms on his shoulder blades, massaging it gently to untie the knots.

Ever since Yoongi got back from tour, he did as much to be with you and to literally take care of you which didn’t go unnoticed - he helped you in assembling your bookshelf that you never bothered to open or how he even changed one of the bulbs from your chandelier that you didn’t notice had burnt out already.

“Your muscles are a bit tense” you said as you dug the heel of your palm to apply more pressure to his shoulder that had Yoongi humming in pleasure, “Have you even rested properly ever since you got back?”

“I’m okay” you sighed, grabbing his shoulders as you instructed him to turn around so that he could face you but you remained to be straddling him still.

“Yoongi, you’re almost with me everyday and i know that you’re still working on some songs”

The least thing he wants right now is to make you worry about him because he’s the one that should be worrying about you when you’re always the one that’s being left behind here and no, he’s not actually worried but scared that it might literally happen with the two of you growing apart that one day you’ll wake up and suddenly feel the whole long distance thing to be overwhelming and unbearable.

“I just feel guilty for leaving you here and i also want to make the most out of the days i have left with you” Yoongi finally confessed as he sat himself up to be closer to you, hands on your waist as he drew circles on your exposed skin where your shirt rose up before his other hand made way to the side of your face to reel you in for a kiss.

Yoongi bit your lower lip, causing you to slightly open your mouth which he took as a sign for him to slid in his tongue to clash it with yours, making sure to kiss you gently and passionately as he could as he pour his raw feelings into it, wanting to savour the moment slowly rather than taking it in a rush.

The kiss was nothing but pure longing for each other - longing for all the times you’ve missed and for the time he’ll leave again which will be in three days to continue the Asian leg tour. It isn’t also a bad thing because when he comes to think of it, it’s the last part of the tour but that still isn’t an excuse to make Yoongi feel guilty again as he’ll be gone in a span of three months.

It was clear that your kiss is getting more eager as you play with the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him in close as much as possible when you wrapped your legs around his waist whilst your other hand has made its way under his shirt, resting it above his chest where you can feel his heart that’s beating erratically.

You’re making it hard for Yoongi to take this slow reason why he detached his lips from yours, chuckling when he heard you emit a disappointed grunt but not for long when his warm lips then invaded the base of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he work his way up to your jaw, pecking the side near your ear as he whispered.

“I’ve missed you”

He was about to kiss your cheek until you pulled him in by his shoulders, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck that had him quite puzzled at the sudden action but nonetheless let you do so as the both of you stayed like that for a while - you sitting on his lap with your legs around his waist and your arms securely around his neck, head still hiding from him while he rubbed your back and gently caressed your hair.

The warmth of your bodies and gentle touches against each other are exchanged between the two of you, not minding how you’re just basking in the silence as you solely focus on enjoying each other’s presence with the music making everything seem so melodramatic and it was just one of those moments you’d call to be bittersweet.

The silence between you two was soon gone as he heard you sniffling, alarming him even more when he felt hot tears falling onto his neck. Yoongi tried to pry you away as he leaned back to get a proper look at you but that just made you tighten your arms around him, burying your face even more into his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, chuckling a bit to mask the reason why you’ve suddenly gotten so upset, “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Yoongi asked as he laid back down the mattress, joining you with him.

“I'm sorry, it’s just that i still can’t get quite used to it” your voice was muffled but he perfectly heard you and catched on that you’re referring to him leaving so soon again. Finally, he was able to see your face as you adjusted yourself, wiping the tears as you pressed one of your hands on his chest where you rested the side of your face onto.

“You don’t have to be sorry about it” Yoongi comforted you as he gently ran his thumbs along your cheek, “I should be the one saying sorry to you.”

“Yoongs, you don’t have to be sorry about it too” you leaned in towards his touch as you rested your hand on top of his that’s cradling your face, earning Yoongi a smile.

“I know our relationship is far from normal and it’s sometimes hard for the both of us but I just want to assure you that the distance wouldn’t keep us apart. I won’t leave you because you’re my home and my safe space, Yoongi.”

It’s a rare sight to see Yoongi get emotional but here he is tearing up at your words and how you instantly eliminate the doubts and guilt he has been carrying with himself. Yoongi chuckled as he covered his eyes with his arm, making you laugh too with tears welling up your eyes at the sight of Yoongi crying as the emotionally sensitive person you are.

Turning to the side, Yoongi set you to lay beside him as you both completely faced each other, fondly staring at you whilst he thread his fingers in your hair that had you closing your eyes. Your left hand in between you two caught his attention, fingers immediately landing on your palm as he wrote down the word you’ve written on his.

Yoongi looked up at you as soon as you enclosed your hand around his, watching how your eyes are still close but a small smile is now adorning your face. He scooted closer until your foreheads touched, closing his eyes as well but before he could drift off to sleep, he dearly whispered the words to express the same sentiment.

“You’re my home and I'll always come back for you.”

A/N: The tissue with scribbled words was based on irl and it just gets me soft everytime, reason why i had to write it down hehe. Anyways, hope you like this one and if you like, you could give me feedback about it hehe.

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achliegh · 3 years

Text

Bronze

Alright, I had this wonderful idea come into my head about Clayton, honestly he deserves his own fic. So here is his version of events! Lots will tie together with Golden so I recommend you read that as well. But you don’t have to of course.

Explaining:

Before Letter is the present.

Letter is updating the lives of the people back home, of whoever wrote it mostly.

After Letter is memory.

The first few letters will be very awkward because writing letters and not being sure what to talk about and what not to talk about is hard and confusing. Stick with me! Yes, this prologue is just a letter.

TW/CW: Discussions of death, miliatry training, smut, cringy jokes, underage drinking, dumb choices, swearing, and more later on.

Beta: @walking-crisis

Some Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Chapter 3:

Dear Uncle Sam

Copperhead Road (Line Dance Skip to 1 minute)

It was an uneventful night, they had just gotten back from an assignment that came up with nothing. Taking off his boots Clay was sitting on his cot, rolling his neck to crack it. Stiff from looking through a scope all day. A song that Clay wasn’t familiar was playing over the satellite radio, something old.

As he took his boots off the picture he always keeps in his left boot falls out and flutters to the floor, smiling he picks up the picture of Leo, Reg, Eloise, and himself smiling at the camera during Christmas one year at the Dumias’ house. He sets it next to him and tugs off his other boot where his other photo falls out. He can’t help the sad and lonely smile that creeps onto his face. Running his thumb over their faces he reminds himself that he has two weeks until he sees them again.

Thomas and Noelle were the last faces he saw before a loud bang and bright lights were all he saw.

Sitting up as soon as the light dulled he felt a shock flow through his body and gasped for breath. Grabbing his chest a sudden heat shot through the back of his head to the left side of his forehead.

“Hey, hey, hey, it's okay.” A voice caught his attention, looking around he spotted a man that looked familiar but not at the same time.

“Where am I!? What happened? Am I dead!?”

“Do you feel dead?”

“... I don’t know”

“We’ll come back to that in a moment. Do you remember your name?” The man moves to sit at the edge of Clay’s bed from where he was standing in the doorway.

“Clayton London Bruss. Now where am I?” Clay lifts his hand up to his forehead where the pain still throbs and feels bandages.

“You’re in a recovery center, you were shot by one of your superior officers.” Clays eyes widen and he lays back down. Then he remembers his pictures and a feeling of guilt washed over him.

“I’m Grev Kinter, I’ll be helping you recover.” The man held out his hand for clay to shake.

He didn’t take his hand.

Dear Dancer,

Long time no write, haven’t heard from you in a couple months. I hope you’re still kicking ass out there. I do miss you… a lot. You come home in 2 weeks. I can survive, but I am getting impatient.

Oh! Remember that dance and song that made me realize I liked you? I finally learned the dance! That means we can dance when you get home.

I may be able to skate like it's nothing but I can’t line dance for shit. But, I learned for you… and because it gets stuck in my head all the time.

When you get home we have to go to this new restaurant that sells a bunch of southern foods because I need to know if it's authentic or not. I eat there everyday you're deployed just to remind me of you.

Was that too cheesy?

Well, I haven’t gotten to be cheesy in a while to you so… Deal with it.

I hope you get this before you are on your way home or else you’ll have no clue what I’m talking about.

All the love,

Thomas

P.S

Noelle says hello!

“I fucking hate those boots.” Leo runs the back of his thigh where Clayton just kicked him with his cherry red pointed toe boots. Smiling, he pats Leo’s shoulder.

“You're just jealous you can’t look this good.” They went to sit at their normal table, Reg sat in between them. It’s where he feels most comfortable. They ordered drinks as they waited for the team to arrive, the music was swinging, people were laughing. It was a relaxed night.

Clay was a bit nervous though, he had gotten close to a specific person on the team and he recently found out that that person was already in a relationship. He had gotten her number from Logan somehow, he didn’t know how those two knew each other, he had called the girlfriend to let her know that he and the teammate had been talking. The next thing he knew he was on the phone with her for hours, talking about him, life, hockey and how Clay had no idea how to follow the game.

She was something special, but Clay knew that those two were happy together so he tried to just be friendly with them. New friends never hurt anyone. Then he saw them in person again and being just friends suddenly became a lot harder.

Thomas, a whole 6’2” man of solid muscle broader than clay himself and just the light in the room. He has the nickname Talkie because he loves to chat with anyone, for hours, including Clay. It felt like he had known Thomas for years when really it was only a number of months.

Noelle balanced him out perfectly, she is smart as hell, quiet but still goofy with Thomas. She was taller than Logan by an inch and won’t let him forget it, her long brown hair was constantly up in a ponytail. She also plays hockey but not professionally, she plays for fun. Clay doesn’t know her job yet but he wants to know everything about her.

It was just the guys coming out tonight because Judy invited the women and whoever didn’t want to come out over to have a wine tasting of Garland’s homemade wine. Clay was out on the floor dancing with one of his friends from highschool when the team came in. He made his way back over to them when the song ended and joined them in a round of shots.

He makes eye contact with Thomas for a second too long and he quickly looks away to Reg who is coughing from the burn of the drink and pats his back. After a couple of minutes of chatting and joking Clay's favorite song came on.

“Leo! Come on!” Clay drags Leo onto the floor right in front as the music gets past the intro. Logan was supporting himself on the table next to a smug Finn. Thomas and James were watching as they started the dance. The light changed to this dull yellow light that swirled around the floor landing on dancers every once in a while.

Clay and Leo were constantly under the light because everyone knew them there. Anytime Clay looked up he always felt a specific set of eyes on him. Dark brown and soft. Clay lost himself in the music, dancing was something he enjoyed to a fault. Once he gets in the zone he can’t be talked to.

Swinging his legs, kicking to the beat, stomping in time he smiles to himself. Starting to sweat he untucks his tank top from his jeans. He tips his head back until the stomp comes up and whips his head forward when he stomps.

The words in this song always get to him, especially something that he was planning to do already… without telling anyone.

“I volunteered for the army on my birthday.” He hums along kicking in a circle and kicking Leo’s ankle just to mess with him. He laughs when Leo flips him off. Smiling as the song ends, he is panting and sweating.

“I always forget how that dance makes me feel out of shape.” Leo flings his arm over Clay's shoulder as they walk back over to the table and take gulps of their drinks. “I’m going for a smoke, anyone else?” Clay nods, Sirius and Logan follow them along with Thomas. Clay didn’t see him as a smoker but everyone has surprises.

“Light me.” Clay holds out his cig as Leo finishes lighting his own, rolling his eyes Leo does after he passes his own to Logan. Sirius came outside for some fresh air and is chatting with Thomas who also came out here for that reason. Taking a drag and leaning against the wall, he looks up at the stars that are poking through the clouds. Closing his eyes he falls back into his own world for an unknown amount of time.

“Coming back in?” Clay blinks his eyes open to see Thomas standing by himself in front of him. His heart feels like it stops beating for a moment. “I mean it is pretty nice outside, I wouldn't mind staying out here. Especially with you.” Clay choked on the drag he was taking from his cigarette when Thomas mumbles the last thing he said. He feels a large palm on his back, not patting but rubbing his back.

Clay looks at him and takes a deep breath and shrugs the hand off of him.

“Let’s go back in. this isn’t something you want, Thomas” He stumps out his cig on the bottom of his boot and pushes off the wall.

“What do you mean?” Clay looks back at him and his face softens when he sees a look of hope and confusion in Thomas's gorgeous eyes. “I mean, I’m straight… or I think I am, but maybe I’m not and I just- I don’t know anymore.” Thomas reaches out to Clay and grabs his pinky finger with his pointer and pulls Clay closer to him.

“I don’t think you are straight, maybe you forgot but I am a man.”

“I know.” Suddenly Clay's back is to the brick of the alley and rough hands are on his waist. He watches Thomas lean forward, pausing for a second to make sure this was what Clay wanted. Clay stares into his eyes then glances down at his lips. Nodding slightly he feels Thomas surge forwards and connect their lips.

It was like his blood turned to fire, a sensation he has never felt before. Their lips moved in sync with each, Clay constantly being pulled against Thomas with his greedy hands and his own arms gripping Thomas's t-shirt. After a couple of minutes they pulled away for breath and Thomas backed away.

Thomas Left. Clay went to find Reg.

Noelle needed to know.

#leo knut #clayton bruss #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #thomas walker #noelle tremblay #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #sweater weather #lumo

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lygerastia · 3 years

Text

1. Introduction (Takamaki Ann)

You're a model that just got the best gig: working with the famous Ann Takamaki! You didn't know what to expect; certainly not love at first sight. And she might be interested in you too.

Warnings: none

Chapters: 1 [completed]

Words: 1536

READ IT ON AO3

***

You step on the set as confident as you could. Never mind that your nerves were high, your heart beating fast in your chest, palms sweaty. This was your first model job, and you were afraid you’re going to screw things up—despite all the training you went through to get here. It has been a painful and frustrating journey, but finally, you’ve been accepted in the big leagues. Today, you had a photoshoot with a huge fan favorite, so the stakes were high. One wrong move and you’ll be the laugh of everyone. You didnțt want to give a wrong impression to your coworker, the famous blonde superstar. You knew of her, even followed her on social media (she didn’t follow back). She looked gorgeous in the pictures, some showing delicious skin and others putting her in an innocent light. You could understand why she had a cult worshipping her; she was a natural at modeling.

You usually don’t care what people think, but you care what your partner will feel when she meets you. Which should happen soon if you decided to move out of the way. People were starting to stare at you, standing secluded in front of the exit.

You took a deep breath—

“[name]!” the voice scared the hell out of you, and you were embarrassed that you jumped a little at that. You turned towards the person that called you and then let out a sigh of relief. It was your manager, Tanaka-san, even if she looked rather annoyed. “I told you not to be late!”

“I’m sorry, I—” you steady your nerves; Tanaka-san was your friend, and she liked you. It said a lot judging by the fact that she disliked everyone else. But she seems interested in you as a person. She’s not here just for the money. “I wanted to calm down before the big meet.” You put on your best charming smile, which earned a huff from the fussy old lady.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “Alright. Let’s say I forgive you—”

“Thank you, Mi—”

“But—” she stops you with a hand; never use her real name when others are around, “—you have to get it together. We rehearsed this before.” Tanaka-san put her hands on your shoulder, squeezing them motherly. Her gaze softened. If someone saw her, they might say she was possessed. But this was your real manager. And you were grateful for having her here. “You can do this.”

You nod, “Yeah. Let’s go.”

She quickly adopts her professional persona again and signals for you to follow her. You walk with her into the set, where people are flocking around someone. You assumed it was your beautiful partner. The scene today was a beach: go figure. Of course, they wanted to show off your colleague’s body again —what leeches. Then again, this meant that you had to be exposed too. You wished that your first job would be more professional, but what can you do? Just endure and move on. Something better will surely come sooner or later, especially if you do a good job.

Tanaka-san doesn’t hesitate to push through the crowd, packing elbows left and right. You follow her, muttering apologies with a smile. You finally reach the one you were trying to meet, and for a few precious moments, time seemed to stop.

Because you’ve never seen anything like her before. She was gorgeous in pictures, but she was even more rapturing in real life. Your heart seized, and your breath halted, staring at her beauty. That long and wavy blonde hair, so natural and unusual in Japan. That flawless face with perfect skin, those lips painted with an innocent rose tint, and those eyes… You could get lost in them for an eternity. As bright and blue as the summer ocean. You barely even gave attention to her body, which was a favorite among her fans; but you could see why everyone was going crazy. She was slender and curved in all the right places, her long legs so enticing. She was just perfect , the proportions just right.

Simply enchanting.

“Close your mouth, you fool,” Tanaka-san chastises you with a whisper, and you wake up from your reverie. This was no good; if you got this distracted by her, you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere. You won’t be considered a professional, and that was a big no-no. ‘Focus, [name]!’ you shook your head just as Tanaka-san opened her mouth, “Excuse me!” Everyone turned around to watch her, even the blonde beauty. You tried to hide behind your agent, afraid to say or do something wrong in front of your partner. But Tanaka-san was sharp; she elbowed you hard in the stomach, and you took the cue to come up with a huge smile (and hopefully charming) on your face.

“Hello, everyone,” you say in your most persuasive voice, just like Tanaka taught you. It was always good to be polite and friendly.

“This is [name], here to be your model,” the old woman says, smiling widely. Another agent, a male this time, approached Tanaka and shook her head respectfully. A surge of pride went through you, knowing that your agent was talented and respected in the modeling world.

“Welcome, welcome,” the other agent shook both of your hands, bowing. “It’s so good to meet you. Here,” he invited you over, “let me introduce you to our star.”

This is it. Despite yourself, you gulp nervously. This was the moment that will change your life. The male agent guides you towards your partner, and, finally , your eyes meet. A spark went through your body, and you saw on her face that she felt it too. The undeniable attraction was there, and it caused butterflies in your stomach, the old cliche syndrome.

And she—

“This is Takamaki Ann,” her agent introduces her.

Then, just the two of you were left. Neither seemed to make a move; a surprised expression painted on her face. Her pink lips parted as she checked you out, just like you did earlier. You felt your cheeks redden at the attention, but you also wanted to show her the best in you. She was already splendid and you—you were magnificent in your own way, but compared to her, you paled. Ann—her name oh, so sweet —was like the sun.

“I—” she finally moves to speak, but it was unbecoming to let her do it first.

You jumped in eagerly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Takamaki-san.” Thoughts ran inside your head about what you should do now. Should you take her hand and shake it or not? The decision was made by the blonde herself, taking the first step in meeting you halfway. She was also unsure whether to shake your hand or not, but the temptation was irresistible. She extended her hand at the same time you did, and your palms met. Hers was warm and smooth, yours cold and sweaty. But, at that moment, it did not matter. You’ve connected, and it was a wonderful experience.

Ann smiles brightly, cheeks tinting pink, “Likewise. It’s nice to meet you, [name].” She let go of your hand, and you felt longing. You did not doubt in your mind that Ann was your soulmate, but it embarrassed you to think that. You felt like you were exaggerating, but this was something you’ve never felt before.

You sigh dreamily, “Looking forward to working with you.”

The blonde model wants to say so much more, her blue eyes sparkling with an unknown sentiment; you felt your heart leaping in joy. “I am sure we’re going to have a lot of fun!” she adds, giggling cutely while twirling a strand of her hair flirtatiously. But before you can go ahead and say something stupid (like ask her out all of a sudden), someone else captures her attention. She turns around, but not before she waves at you, a gesture that promised a lot.

After she was gone, you stared after her like a fool; but you knew for sure that you were done. Irreversibly, you were in love.

After so much time, she was your introduction to everything. And you were glad that she was there for the ride. Your first secret kiss behind the stage, when the emotions before a big show got too high. Your first time in your new apartment after you moved together. Ann stayed by your side no matter what—and you wouldn’t trade her for anyone else.

“I love you,” she whispers on your lips, and you laugh sweetly. You embrace her tightly, picking her up and twirling her around. Years have passed since you first met—and now, at the peak of your careers, you both felt happy. She giggled happily and, as you put her down, the blonde girl kissed you passionately. You’ve been through a lot, through adventures, but you overcame everything. As you stared into her blue eyes, you knew you made the right decision in asking her out.

It has been a cliche, the idea of soulmates, but it worked out in the end. So you leaned into her, your heart singing:

“Love you too.”

–

[masterlist]

#persona 5 #takamaki ann #ann x reader

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babysizedfics · 4 years

Note

oh if you're still taking prompts, maybe something with logan helping roman with his fear of the dark? (unless you've already written something about this for the main fic, in which case feel free to ignore this!) i love your work!

I combined these two since you both had really similar ideas! Thank you both for requesting, this was really fun to do 🥺

This is one of what I am calling Little/Big asides - short one-shots that happen in the same universe as the series, but that aren't essential to the overarching plot!

Title: The Little Prince’s Rescue

Summary: Roman is up past bedtime and regrets it when there is a sudden blackout.

Word count: 2,250

Also on AO3!

oOo

Really, Roman should not have known there was a blackout.

It was hours past bedtime, and he was supposed to be sound asleep. He should not have been huddled under his blanket at 2am reading The Princess Bride. He should not have noticed the moment his Disney lullabies coming from his speaker suddenly cut off. He should definitely not have been aware of how the projected stars from his nightlight quickly faded out. But regardless of what he should or should not have been doing a few moments ago, right now he was bouncing on his toes by his bedroom door, trying to work up the nerve to go out into the hallway.

The pitch-black hallway.

His phone torch lit up his corner of the room in a harsh white light, shaking slightly in his hand. It did not do much to dispel the feeling that something was going to pounce on him. Maybe from over there! He gasped and flipped the torch to point at a darkened corner, biting his lip when he only saw his painting easel.

What about behind him? He whimpered and jumped, spinning around quickly to watch out for any sign of monsters. It was only his dressing gown.

Roman groaned quietly under his breath though the heavy beating of his heart drowned out the noise. He wanted his Dad. He wanted to be held.

Even though Roman certainly could have been big at that moment… he really didn’t feel like it. He was scared and shaky and tired and alone and did something just move behind him?

He backed up against the wall, covering his vulnerable back. Then something truly awful happened. The torchlight went out.

Roman looked down at his phone in panic, seeing the power down screen flashing at him mockingly before going completely black.

‘No, no, no, no,’ he whimpered. He had forgotten to charge his phone!

He had no defence against the dark now. He really, really needed Dad.

‘Okay, come on, come on, come on,’ he whispered to himself. He reached for the door handle and squeezed it tightly. ‘I’m a big boy. I can do it.’

He twisted the knob with a squeak and tugged the door open.

His stomach twisted.

Roman’s room had several windows that allowed the light of the moon and stars to penetrate the darkness. Not the hallway, though. Looking out of the open doorway, Roman felt as if he was staring into a black hole.

Ice-cold dread washed over him, but there was no going back now. The door was open and if there were any monsters they would surely creep into his room before he closed it again. He needed Dad. He needed Mom.

‘I’m a big boy, I’m a big boy, I’m a big boy,’ Roman muttered under his breath as he stepped into the hallway, completely swallowed by darkness. It felt suffocating.

‘I’m a big boy, I’m a big boy!’ His whispers became more frantic and shaken as he moved further into the void, his knees trembling with each step. He wished he could run, but the hallway was adorned by several bookcases and a coffee table, not to mention the top of the staircase. It didn’t sound very clever to risk hurting himself. He just had to be brave and walk slowly.

After only a few steps, there was suddenly a metallic click and a shuffle. Before he had a chance to react, Roman bumped into something warm and soft. He jumped back against the hallway wall with a shriek.

His head spun so much that he felt like it would take off from his body and fly away. The panic clouding his thoughts almost distracted him from the quiet sniffles and whimpers coming from a few feet in front of him.

‘H-hello?’ Roman squeaked. Please don’t be a monster!

‘Wo-Wo?’

It was Virgil! Roman let out a massive, shaky sigh of relief and rushed forward. He found the soft warmth again and wrapped it in a tight hug. Trembling fingers clutched tightly at the back of his shirt.

Embracing his little brother, Roman felt his terror trickle into a softer fear. He felt vulnerable, but in less of a dangerous way. It only took a few seconds for tears to spring to his eyes. He ducked his head down to bury his face against the top of Virgil’s head. They clung to each other tightly for a moment, both sniffling.

As Roman readjusted his hold, there was a small creak of the floorboards beneath them and they both startled. Virgil’s hand flew out, presumably to hold Roman’s, though it being so dark he missed and his fingers only dug into his hip.

Roman felt a small surge of courage (though it was distant). He was terrified of the monsters, but he had his little brother to look after too now! He had to be brave and get them to their caregivers. Even if all he felt like doing right now was crumbling to the floor and crying.

‘I-it’s okay, Vee-Vee,’ Roman said shakily, reaching down to wrap his free hand around Virgil’s fingers. ‘Let’s get Dad.’

‘Papa?’

‘Yeah. We just -’ he had to pause to gulp around a lump in his throat, looking around and not seeing a single break in the blackness ‘- gotta go through here and find him.’

The fingers around Roman’s hand tightened. ‘Scawy.’

Blood pulsed loudly in his ears. ‘M-maybe a bit,’ Roman stammered. Admitting how scared he was to his baby brother would just make him seem weak. Princes had to be big and strong!

He tugged on Virgil’s hand and treaded carefully forwards, being slow and careful in case he was facing the wall or a bookcase. He grit his teeth as his first step found no obstacle and started slowly following that direction. Virgil stayed directly behind him, squeezing his hand so tight his knuckles ached. But it kind of made Roman feel better. It meant he wasn’t alone anymore, and that also meant he wasn’t the only one who was scared.

‘Nearly there,’ Roman whispered, trying to offer comfort to both Virgil and himself. In reality, they had barely moved a metre.

Virgil whined, trying to step past Roman and go faster.

Roman’s heart jumped and he pulled Virgil back quickly. ‘No, Vee! We need to be slow, we don’t wanna fall down or anything.’ Or get eaten by monsters!

Apparently not caring about that, Virgil whined again then pushed lightly at Roman’s back, making the older of the two stumble forward.

‘Vee!’ he yelped and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He stood frozen for a moment. The shaking of his body was uncontrollable now and hot tears finally fell to his cheeks.

That had been terrifying! What if he fell down the stairs or was pushed right into a monster’s mouth?! Now he understood why Virgil cried whenever he fell over.

‘D-don’t just…’ Roman choked, silencing when he could feel a sob working its way up his throat.

A muffled bang came from the other side of the wall and they both jumped. Roman felt a sudden downward pull on his hand before it was released, and he realised Virgil had dropped to the floor. He’d probably been startled into a younger headspace and could no longer stand on his own.

‘Wan Papa,’ Virgil whimpered, sobbing quietly.

Roman gave up trying to hide his own tears. He was scared and it was dark and Virgil wasn’t holding his hand anymore and it felt cold. Who cared if he was meant to be a big boy? He wanted to cry, he wanted his caregivers!

‘D-Dad, Mom!’ he cried loudly. He didn’t want to be brave anymore. He clenched his eyes shut to try to pretend that the darkness was only behind his eyes, not all around him. There was a weird melty feeling in his chest and Roman’s lip wobbled. He hugged his arms around himself. His breath shuddered.

‘Daddy, help!’ he wailed. ‘I want Mommy!’

Roman didn’t even care that he had used new names for his caregivers, he just needed them right now!

There was another metallic click, louder this time. Roman’s eyes flew open with a gasp. Having to squint past the blur of his tears, Roman was relieved that the area of carpet in front of them was now lit up with the bright beam of a flashlight.

He saw Virgil sitting on the floor by his feet, crying into his arms.

‘It’s okay, boys,’ Mom’s voice said very gently. ‘Mama’s here, everything’s all right.’

Roman barely had a chance to realise that Logan was walking towards them before another door opened further along the hallway.

‘Sweethearts, are you okay?!’ Dad yelled, panicked.

Roman’s head spun to see Patton jogging over to them in his dressing gown, holding his own torch.

As Patton dropped to the ground and pulled Virgil into his lap, relief overwhelmed Roman. But even though his fear was mostly gone, he still felt shaky and vulnerable. It was new and he didn’t know how to feel about it. His tears didn’t stop either.

‘Little Prince?’

Roman looked back over to Logan who was now standing right in front of him, looking worried.

‘You were so very brave.’ Mom held his arms out in invitation.

A sob ripped from Roman’s lips and he rushed into the hug. ‘Mommy, it was really scary!’

‘I know,’ Mom whispered and cradled Roman’s head in his hand. It felt safe. ‘But it’s over now, we’ve got you both.’

Listening out, Roman could hear Patton cooing at Virgil and shushing him as he whimpered, though Roman didn’t care to recognise the words. He only cared about Mom hugging him right now.

‘Why don’t we all go back to bed?’

Roman’s arms clasped tighter around Logan. ‘N-no, don’t go!’

‘Logan, I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Patton whispered from the floor.

‘I meant we could all sleep in my bed tonight,’ Logan said calmly. He brushed his hand across Roman’s hair and it calmed the rushing thoughts in the age dreamer’s mind.

He really wanted to sleep with his caregivers, especially since he felt so weird. His body felt weak and he didn’t know why but for some reason he felt… small. Not little like usual, but small. Like he needed to be held and protected from all the big, scary things. He curled his fingers in Logan’s pyjama shirt, staying quiet. He couldn’t admit that, it made him sound like a scaredy-cat!

‘Oh, isn’t that a nice idea, baby?’ Patton asked in his baby-talk voice.

Roman turned his head on Logan’s shoulder and saw that Patton was rocking a still-crying Virgil in his lap.

Virgil squeaked and hid his face against Patton’s neck, but nodded lightly.

Emboldened by his little brother’s agreement, Roman pulled back from his mom. When their eyes met, Roman suddenly felt very aware of the tear stains at his cheeks and lowered his gaze to the floor. ‘Yes, please,’ he breathed.

‘I just need to change this little one,’ Patton announced quietly. ‘We’ll be back in a few minutes.’

Roman heard him stand up and shuffle Virgil back to the regressor’s room, the light from Patton’s torch going with them. He didn’t bother watching them go. His eyes were secured on the carpet. The dark corners in the hallway still haunted his thoughts, he didn’t think he’d be able to bear actually looking at them.

It didn’t take long for Logan to lead him into his bedroom, keeping his arm firm around Roman’s shoulders. It made walking a bit awkward, but Roman didn’t even think he’d be able to take a single step without his Mom guiding him; he was so shaken. Everything around him was hazy. Probably due to a mixture of his tears, his previous panic, and his lack of sleep.

Logan only released him when he pushed Roman down onto the mattress of his king-size bed. The feeling of vulnerability returned in full force and Roman whimpered quietly. Though at least it didn’t last long as within a few seconds Logan had climbed in beside him and pulled Roman to press against his side.

‘Would you like me to leave the flashlight on?’ Logan’s body rumbled slightly with his voice.

Roman sighed at the comforting feeling and rolled to push himself closer against his mom’s warm body. His head dropped to Logan’s shoulder and nodded against it. He was too tired for words.

A little clatter sounded as Logan placed the flashlight on his bedside table, pointing the beam of light against the wall. It reflected onto the room dimly and eased the remnants of fear that had been buzzing around Roman’s head.

‘There we are. That’s better isn’t it?’ Logan murmured. His arms wrapped around Roman. ‘You’re safe now.’

For the first time since his nightlight had gone out, Roman really believed that to be true. He hummed in agreement and nuzzled his nose slightly in Logan’s shirt.

Mom spoke softer than Roman had ever heard before, ‘Let’s get some sleep.’

Glad that he could finally rest, Roman allowed his heavy eyes to fall shut. He swore he was never going to ignore bedtime again.

‘Love you, Mommy,’ Roman mumbled into Logan’s shirt.

Something soft and light pressed against his forehead. A kiss. ‘Love you too, little prince.’

Roman was fast asleep before the other two had returned.

oOo

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#little/big series #little/big series fics #little/big asides #the little prince's rescue #requests #olliedollie1204 #agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #cg logan #cg patton #sanders sides agere #ts agere #agedre roman #long post

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