#and so now like. my father swallows everything until he snaps and then he gets retaliatorily nasty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

Note

Any new ideas for congratulations! It's triplets? Love the idea of Jason just freaking out and trying to figure out how to build a relationship with his kids while being made fun of by his family and said kids. Especially if he goes overprotective mode because Danny has clown trauma too and gets snagged by the joker

Jason watches as Danny- his son.- impatiently taps his fingers against the table. His boy's gaze was looking at everything, taking in the big fancy Wayne Mannor with a sort of disinterest he was not expecting of a child so young.

His sister and Brother- both with alarmingly similar names- were also disinterested, but Dani was swinging her legs, and Dan was tapping his spoon and fork against the table in a fast-paced drumming.

It's strange to know he would fidget a lot as a kid but he always resorted to finger tapping. Was the tripples little habit from him? He wonders what else they inherited and what he missed out on seeing.

"I don't understand," Jasmine said, overlooking the contract Bruce's lawyers wrote up. " Why would you want custody now? It's been five years."

"I didn't know." Jason swallows past the lump in his throat as she gives him an unimpressed stare over the paper. He feels Bruce place a hand on his shoulder, and the silent support allows him to continue. "If I have, I wouldn't have ever let them grow up without me."

"Jason doesn't want full custody," Tim cuts in with a soft voice that has tricked lesser men into selling their shares. He and the rest of his family are all sitting across from Jassmin Fenton, as she is carefully lured back to the manor to discuss their next step. "He just wants to be part of his kid's lives and would happily share that with you."

"Not telling him about the kids sort of played into that," Steph mutters tactlessly. Unfortunately, her voice carries, and the woman across from them bristles.

There is a tense moment where he thinks Jassmin is about to curse them all out before she sighs and slumps in her seat. "Well, it wasn't like I had a means to contact you when I found out. You gave me a fake name."

Jason winces. "I sort of forgot I told you my name was Petter."

"Wasn't a total lie" Dani chirps "It is your middle name."

Jasmine rubs her eyes. "Look, Jason, I don't want to stop you from seeing the kids, but this is all too much right now. I'm dealing with a lot right now-"

"You are currently homeless," Damian cuts in, causing Jasmine to stop in genuine bewilderment.

"No, we're not." Dan scoffs. "You were waiting for us at our house. Waiting to ambush us."

"The house that was on the street that Poison Ivy just destroyed," The boy says, showing everyone his phone screen. There, clear as day is, their home is nothing but rumble. Jasmine's face spams, and she quickly checks her phone, paling at what she reads.

"Oh, Ancients. It's gone. It's all gone," She whispers, gripping the phone. The three kids immediately stiffen, watching their mother with strange intensity. Too aware of what this means.

They were mature for their age, and that is never a good thing.

Oh gods. Did his children live on the streets? Had Jason's carelessness hurt his children like his parents have hurt him?

"Mom?" Danny asks and that seems to snap Jasmine out of her spirl.

"Hotel!" She gasps, hands shaking as she quickly starts tapping on her phone. Jason catches a glimpse of her screen and realizes she is making a to-do list. "I have to book a hotel room. Call the insurance company, go and try to salvage whatever we can....what else?"

"You can stay here, Fenton," Damian surprisingly offers. "Until your home is rebuilt"

"We couldn't possibly-"

"Hotels are expensive, and you must focus on other more important needs. Father certainly has the space."

Jason jerks into action. "This will also give me a chance to connect with the kids!"

Jasmine bites her lip, turning to her children. Jason could appreciate that she was willing to include them in big decisions. The three nodded, so she eventually sighs.

"Alright. But only until I can get our housing settled. And I'll pay rent"

Jason would argue but he recognized the look in her eye. She would not be sway from making payments. So he agrees, tapping his fingers on the table in a specific rhythm to make sure his family agrees too.

He knows it pains Bruce- the old man already thinks of the triplets as his grandchildren and the idea of charging them to live with him will kill him.

Jason notices the way Dan's eyes zero in on his tapping and the glance around the family members. He fights a proud grin when realization bleeds into his boy's eyes. He's got a smart one, likely aware of that the tapping is a form of Morse code.

Tim did say- after pulling up all files of the four- that his children had developed insane intelligence. Maybe he should get them tested for certification geniuses.

"Hey Mr. Jason," Dani suddenly speaks up.

"Yes Darling?"

"I suggest you remove your eyes from my mom before I remove them from your face." The little girl even punches her palm in a poor intimidation attempt. His heart melts.

Then his face turns a dark red hue at Jasmine's raised brow. Unwillingly flashes of thier last time being face-to face rise in his mind. He coughs awkwardly as his sons face become as protective as their sister, Dan cracking his knuckles and Danny reaching for a knife.

"Oh yeah" Tim deadpans watching the kids reaction "No need for DNA test. Those are definitely Jason's kids"

He agrees, he just hopes he can show his children he plans on sticking around and being the father they deserve.

No one notices Cass and Steph slip away to deal with Posion Ivy. Jason kinda wants to send her a thank you gift for making it possible to have his family move into the manor.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Congratulations! Its Triplets!#the Dannies are protective of Jazz #Jason is more focus on being a dad but he does have a interest in Jazz #Damian is plotting on being the best uncle #The Waynes vs the Custody battle

2K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 22 days

Text

The Perfect Life || CL16 {3}

Summary: Charles is beginning to see the cracks in your facade and it only leads to more questions than answers in his quest to get to know you. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents, flashback to Jules WC: 2.1k

One || Two || Three || Four

Ten Years Ago The nurses greeted you by name as you walked into the ICU ward with a book in your hands and your school backpack slung over one shoulder. For the last six months you had visited your friend twice a week and learned the names of all the staff while you sat at his side.

“I have the new, unreleased, Jack Reacher,” you said as you took your seat between the bed and the window. The only other sounds in the room were the quiet whoosh of the ventilator and the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor. “Father knows the Editor at Bantam Press.”

You dumped your bag on the floor and opened the novel. The action thriller wasn’t something you would choose yourself but Jules had liked the series so you read it aloud. The neurologists seemed to think it could help him and the psychiatrists seemed to think it could help you.

“Moving a guy as big as Keever wasn’t easy,” you began the story. Time slipped away as you turned each page and you were so engrossed in the words that you didn’t notice your phone vibrating in your bag. You were late to your piano lesson, but more importantly someone else was arriving for his weekly visit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Charles snapped as he breezed into the room and crossed his arms.

“Same as you, visiting,” you murmured as you packed your bag up, leaving the novel on the table that had a vase of fresh flowers. You touched Jules’ hand with a silent farewell and kept your eyes low as you made your escape.

You were almost to the door when an arm blocked your way. “Don’t come back again,” Charles growled.

Your fists clenched at your sides as you dared to lift your head and meet his glare. “He is my friend too.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re just a stupid little girl. He avoids you because he finds you annoying.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know he wouldn’t want you here.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded because he was probably right. That was the last time you visited Jules, and the first time you truly hated Charles.

“That was harsh,” Lorenzo stated as you passed by on your way out of the room.

Charles waited for the door to close before he asked his eldest brother, “Were they friends?”

Lorenzo chewed his lip and shrugged. “They weren’t friends,” he admitted and Charles turned his back with a scoff as he made his way to Jules, missing the quiet confession tacked on to the end, “They were closer than that.”

You had been so furious when you left the hospital that you smashed your fist into a wall in the car park where your driver was waiting.

“Phew, that’s quite the punch you pack, little lady,” a stranger had chuckled between the drags he took on his cigarette. “With a bit of training you could do some serious damage.”

You looked at the blood running over your knuckles but you were numb to the pain. “I like damage,” you commented quietly. “Do you know any trainers?”

Present Day Charles drove along the scenic coastal road towards Saint Tropez rather than the faster highways. He lowered the windows and donned a pair of sunglasses as the breeze whipped his dark hair back. Everything about his ostentatious image screamed old money until he smiled and it was too carefree. Old money didn’t show such emotion, your mother said it was uncouth to feel anything except superiority. Those weren’t her exact words but it was the gist of the conversation.

“You frown too much,” he commented as he handed you his phone.

“I hardly have anything to smile about.”

“For starters, we escaped that - whatever that was, because it certainly wasn’t charitable. And now you are in control of the music. I think that is enough for a little smile.”

You tossed his phone back on his lap and turned your attention back to the waves breaking against the rocks. “I don’t listen to music.”

“Everyone listens to music.”

He fiddled with the stereo and the slow melodic beginning to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the car. Each note sent echoes of pain shooting through your fingertips and you closed your hands as they began to shake. Your knuckles throbbed with the memory of sitting before your mother and reciting the classical greats you had been made to learn. You were constantly showcased to her friends, placed on a pedestal to flaunt skills that had no real purpose other than to illustrate the other families' mediocrities.

Until you made a mistake.

You flinched as the allegretto movement began and your hands snapped close to your chest as you felt the piano lid come slamming down on them again. It was like falling in a dream and startling as you woke up. Charles was watching carefully as you found yourself back in the leather seat and not the velvet bench.

“Turn it off.”

He hit a button on his steering wheel and silence descended in the small space. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Charles thankfully let it go and concentrated on driving to Monaco. You didn’t even bother to argue with him when he passed around the outskirts of Nice without stopping, you had found a small distraction by making shapes out of the clouds. It was only when he slowed to drive through the signature winding street that passed the casino that you looked down at your chiffon gown and frowned. “I am overdressed, even for this place.”

“You can wear something of mine.”

“No thanks,” you said, quickly shutting down the offer with a shake of your head. You grabbed your phone from your clutch and sent a quick message to Arthur. “I have some spare clothes at your brother’s place, we can just pick them up.”

Charles’ brow lifted. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to stay in this dress all afternoon?”

“No, why do you have clothes at Arthur’s?”

“For when I stay there, obviously. Do you think I stay in a hotel here?” You rolled your eyes. “No, wait, you probably thought ‘Daddy bought me a penthouse’.”

He had the good sense to look guilty but it also confirmed your suspicion.

You knew the small city almost as well as Nice and found your bearings as he made his way to Arthur’s apartment complex. It wasn’t far from Charles’ but you had never been there, Arthur had just pointed it out on one of the many outings into the city.

“You have a key too?” Charles asked as you unlocked Arthur’s door instead of knocking.

“You’re starting to sound a little jealous now.” The door swung open and Arthur waved as you shot past the sofa he was relaxing on and ducked into his bedroom to change into a pair of leggings and one of his old Prema shirts.

“Who’s jealous?” he asked as you flopped down beside him and used his thighs as a pillow.

You draped a hand over your forehead and sighed dramatically. “Your brother is madly in love with me, but he can’t get over how close we are, Tur. There may be a duel at dawn, ready your pistols and kiss your mother in case it is the last time.”

“You really need a nap don’t you,” Arthur teased. His fingers carefully plucked the bobby pins from your hair and Charles watched on silently as the haunted look that had been in your eyes the entire ride faded away. “Dare I ask why you are here? You didn’t kidnap her did you?”

“I’d probably be floating facedown in the riviera if I tried that,” Charles replied with an indignant snort. “She voluntarily got into my car.”

“Ah, that’s progress, I suppose.”

“It was the lesser of two evils,” you corrected as you closed your eyes. The late night was beginning to catch up with you and a yawn cracked your jaw before a soft blanket fell over you. “Mm, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your brain hadn’t realised Arthur’s hands were still busy and the voice came from the blanket box where Charles had stood. Rather than question the goodwill, it was easier to pretend he hadn’t been nice because it was starting to really confuse you.

“Did your genius brother tell you his plan?” you asked as you shifted around until you were comfy and looked up at your best friend.

“He may have mentioned it on the drive home last night,” Arthur said. “Honestly, it was all he talked about.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.” Arthur turned his attention back to you. “Are you actually considering it?”

You barked a laugh that was a big enough ‘no’ but followed it up with, “Absolutely not. It wouldn’t even work anyway.”

“Why not?” Charles asked, taking a seat in the armchair opposite.

“No offence, but what do you bring to the table? Outside of F1 your name doesn’t mean anything.”

Growing up in Monaco where one in three people were millionaires, Charles wasn’t blind to reality, he knew first hand how elitist the ‘old money’ families were. “So why marry Jules?”

You heard the pain that one question held and sighed as you sat up, woefully abandoning the idea of sleep. Charles didn’t like how the question made him sound petulant, or that he was somehow a better choice than Jules was - he didn’t think that at all, he just couldn’t understand why the plan wouldn’t work.

“It wasn’t about Jules. You forget that while he raced under the French flag the Bianchi’s came from Milan. The Italian market is one Father wants to break into.” You got up and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of Prosecco from the fridge. It was a little flat after being open a few days and you swirled the drink around, watching the bubbles rise to the surface. “Father’s five year plan was for Jules to win a championship with Ferrari, cementing the name back into Italian households, and then train his new son-in-law to join the family business.”

The silence was heavy but Charles eventually recovered from staring out the window deep in thought. “Did Jules know this?”

“He knew enough.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He knew he was important enough to blackmail my father, kind of ballsy if you ask me, but it worked. Jules threatened to quit racing if he revoked the funding for your driving academy.” You drank down the Prosecco in a few unladylike gulps before refilling it as the bitterness in your belly grew. “Must have been nice to have someone fight all your battles.”

“I’m trying to help you now, but you’re being stubborn,” Charles said as he crossed the room and took the bottle away. “I don’t understand why.”

“You don’t understand? Maybe it’s because you treated me like shit for years and I can’t trust you.”

“I thought Jules didn’t like you, I figured it had to be for a good reason.”

“No, you figured you could judge me without even trying to get to know me. That’s pretty fucking shitty, but you know what? I’ve come to expect it from everyone. The only person that’s ever treated me like a fucking human being is sitting right there.”

Charles followed the angry point of your finger to his brother and sighed. “I can’t change the past, okay, but I am trying to make up for it now. Please, just let me help you, it’s the least I can do - for you and for Jules. It’s just a job.”

You crossed your arms and tipped your chin back to look him in the eyes. “What makes you think I would even protect you? I could let you get mobbed and point them in the right direction.”

Charles smiled and you realised you were no longer impervious to the fact he was quite handsome but it was his words that shocked you more. “Because I believe you’re better than that.”

“That might be your biggest mistake.”

Charles held his hand out. “We will have to test it and see. Deal?”

You looked at Arthur and so much hope filled his face it was impossible to stomach the idea of watching it fall away. So, you shook Charles’ hand and swore you heard Jules’ laugh in the seagulls' cries. Yeah, he would probably be laughing, he always laughed when you made a mistake.

“There’s no use crying, lapinette, might as well laugh and learn,” Jules would say.

You only wondered just how bad this latest lesson in the school of hard-knocks would be.

Part Four.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

691 notes · View notes

book-place · 1 year

Text

Anti-Hero

Warnings: tua season 1 spoilers, mentions of killing and death, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of heart attacks, drinking, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Hargreeves siblings x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: When you left, all of your siblings hated you, and now you were facing them once more

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

You let loose a long breath and glanced hesitantly up to the tall, menacing building before you. The building of your childhood, if you could even call it that.

To be completely honest, you didn’t even know why you had come back. You hated your father and your siblings hated you, so why would you show up to the man’s funeral, when they would all be there?

As much as you wanted to turn back around and hail another cab to get you as far away from this place as possible, you put on a brave face and pushed the door open, stepping into the vast entryway.

Barely three small steps had been taken inside by you when you froze at the sound of your name being called.

“Y/n,” Allison had her lips parted slightly in shock from where she and Vanya stood at the end of the hall.

You swallowed thickly, “Hey, guys,” You greeted in a voice that was barely even audible to yourself. You toyed with the ends of your gloves nervously.

“Oh, um,” Allison cleared her throat and strode across the room to see you, stopping a healthy three feet away, “It’s so good to see you, Y/n.”

The words were forced, and you knew it, but you gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod anyway.

“Yeah, same here, Y/n!” Vanya called, and you knew in that moment that after everything, she must have been almost as uncomfortable with being here as you were.

If your original gut instinct wasn’t any indication before, then this interaction told you everything about how this visit would go.

The sight of Diego crossing to the staircase caught all of your attention and he snapped something about Vanya not being welcome back before his eyes snapped over to you.

“Y/n,” He spoke in an awkward greeting before skirting past the three of you and clambering up the stairs.

Not only did your siblings hate you, but you just got confirmation that they were also still scared of you. After all these years, when they had grown up beside you and learned how to deal with your ‘gift’, and yet, they were still wary of what you could and possibly would do.

Midnights become my afternoons

You sat on the windowsill in the attic, legs dangling out the window as you looked up at the moon and stars.

“I figured that I would find you up here, Miss. Y/n.” You heard a voice sound behind you.

Unconsciously, you smiled and turned around, “Pogo,” You greeted kindly.

His smile was something that hadn’t changed a bit over the years, “It is so good to see you.” He said genuinely, walking over until he could grasp your gloved hand and squeeze it gently.

He had always been the only one who wasn’t afraid of you. Of what touching you could do to them. Of how painful their deaths would be if they laid a single finger on your bare skin. How without meaning to, you would slowly and excruciatingly kill them.

That’s why you wore gloves and long sleeves at all times, so that no one would unintentionally be hurt by you.

“It’s late,” You hummed when you pulled away, “What are you doing up?”

“Why, I came up here to ask you the same question.” He mused.

You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning your back against the wall, “I don’t usually go to sleep until really early in the morning.” You informed him.

“Well, that can’t be healthy.”

You laughed loudly, the first time you’d done so in what felt like many months, “It’s probably not.” You agreed once you sobered up.

Too busy looking back out the window, you failed to notice Pogo glance behind him and give a hidden figure a single nod of reassurance.

The only thing that brought your attention back to him was once he gave you a slight pat on your clothed knee, “I am always available if you wish to speak about anything.”

You smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Pogo.”

“Hey, n/n.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a new voice that spoke as soon as Pogo had left.

“Diego,” You breathed out.

“Listen,” He cleared his throat awkwardly as he shuffled into view, coming to a stop right in front of you- less than a healthy distance away, “I’m sorry about earlier. I just didn’t think you were actually gonna show.”

You smiled tightly, pulling your knees up to your chest, “Yeah, that makes two of us.”

He sighed, dropping down into a crouch before you and looking up into your eyes, “I know none of us left off on a good foot- especially with you- but I want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened at his words. After all these years of thinking every last one of your siblings despised you for who you were- what you could do- you never thought one of your brothers would be telling you that he didn’t actually hate you at all.

“T-thank you, Diego.” You choked out, eyes filling with tears, “That means a lot.”

When my depression works the graveyard shift

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took tentative steps towards your fathers old office, the one that was supposed to be vacant now that he was dead.

The clattering of objects only got louder the closer you got, and it was making you nervous. Perhaps someone had broken in when they heard that the billionaire was dead? The last thing you wanted was to have to resort to using your powers, because you doubted any of your other siblings would come to your aid. Expect of course, maybe Diego.

“Hello?” You called out slowly when you stepped into the room. At the sound of your voice, a head popped up from behind your fathers old desk with a wide grin, and you couldn’t help but relax slightly, “Klaus.” You breathed out.

“N/n!” Your brother squealed, jumping up the rest of the way and scrambling over to you with outstretched arms.

Alarmed, you took a sudden step back, and he stopped short when he noticed.

“Oh!” He giggled, placing a hand near his mouth, “I forgot about the whole no touchie thing!”

“What are you doing in here?” Your eyes shone in curiosity, pushing down the thoughts that threatened to swarm your mind about Klaus’s first instinct being to hug you.

“You know,” He waved a dismissive hand, “Just getting ahead on my inheritance.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched upward slightly at the words, “Really?” You asked in slight amusement.

The man’s jaw dropped open and he stared at you with wide eyes, “Was-was that a smile I just saw? Gosh, my memories from when we were kids consisted of you being completely stone-face.” He let out a shrill giggle again, “Though, I suppose I’m now the one that’s stoned!”

Whatever form of a smile had adorned your face immediately fell and you crossed your arms tightly over your stomach.

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

This was terrible.

The silence was painful to sit through. You must have looked like you had an itch with the way you were shifting back and forth on the couch you stiffly sat on beside Vanya.

Nobody was making eye contact with one another, it was just all of you- once siblings, now complete strangers- sitting in a tense circle in your childhood living room.

Finally, Luther cleared his throat and pushed himself off of the couch that was directly across from you, “So, I guess we should get started.” Everyone’s eyes snapped over to the man that had grown more than a little bit over time, “So, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad's favorite spot.” He spoke awkwardly.

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison’s eyebrows had shot up alongside yours in surprise.

Luther’s own eyebrows furrowed, “You know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time.” He looked around for anyone to agree with him, only to be met with bewildered looks, “None of you ever did that?”

You shook your head softly, looking down at your hands that fiddled with one another from where they rested in your lap.

Klaus strolled over and began talking loudly, and you sat back and watched silently as everyone went back and forth a little bit.

“Listen up,” Luther tried to reign the family in once more when they got off track, “Still some important things that we need to discuss, all right?”

“Like what?” Diego asked with a roll of his eyes from where he was leaning against a pillar near the fireplace.

“Like the way he died.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open a little as you looked at him, everyone else adorning similar looks.

“I don't understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Vanya piped up in confusion.

“Yeah, according to the coroner.”

“Well, wouldn't they know?”

“Theoretically.” It was clear that Luther was beginning to realize that he had made a mistake by bringing this all up.

“Theoretically?” It was the first time you had spoken up, and you felt a couple of the others glance at you as you did so.

Yet again, your siblings began to bicker back and forth, and you sank lower into the couch cushions, not at all liking the way their voices raised more and more by the minute.

“Oh, isn't it obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed Dad.” Diego’s voice snapped you harshly back to the present and a dangerous silence overcame the entire room again.

You looked up at Luther in disturbance, only to find him already staring down at you. And all at once, you felt your mouth go dry and your throat begin to close up slightly, “You don’t actually think-“

All around you, your siblings caught onto what Luther was really indicating and they adopted looks of shock. Diego let out a low whistle, “That’s messed up, man.”

“Look,” Number one stressed, “I’m just saying, according to the corner, there was nothing wrong with him. With your powers- you could painfully kill a person without showing a mark.”

You hadn’t even realized when you had stood up, but flinched back violently, as if struck, “You think I would kill him?” You whispered with tears forming in your eyes against your will.

Allison pursed her lips and averted her gaze when you desperately looked around for help, making you realize that she was uncertain as well.

“Wow,” You breathed out tearfully, shaking your head back and forth softly before shuffling out of the room.

“Y/n, wait-“

“Good job, Luther.” Diego scoffed and hit his shoulder against his brothers as he trailed after you, “Way to lead.”

I should not be left to my own devices

Somehow, not too long after leaving the living room, you ended up in the courtyard surrounded by your sibling, gazing up with wide eyes at something floating in the sky.

“What is it?”

“Don’t get too close!” Allison called, moving to place her arm in front of you and Vanya, who had your mouths dropped open and took unconscious steps forward.

“Yeah, no shit!” Diego yelled back over the wind, eyes glared against the harsh wind whipping straight at all of you.

Per usual, everyone kept shouting back and forth at one another about what to do, and in doing so, Allison dropped her arm and you were able to slowly creep forward.

Just then, someone fell out of the thing in the sky, landing in a heap right in front of your feet, but everyone was too busy glaring at each other to notice.

“Guys…” You called back cautiously, “Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?”

They come with prices and vices

You sat on the stairs with your head in your hands, still trying to wrap your mind around everything.

At the beginning of the day, you had come back home expecting to say your goodbyes and possibly even make peace with your father. But now, your long lost brother is back, and not only that, but he claims to have been way older than any of you, whilst being stuck in the body of his thirteen year old self.

“Hey, n/n,” Said brother greeted, strolling over to where you sat with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a sandwich.

You linked your fingers behind your head and tried to smile at him, but you had no doubt that it came out as a grimace, “Five.” You greeted.

Before his disappearance, Five had been the only one who truly was never afraid of you. Even if Diego claimed not to be now, you knew he was still slightly wary, and with good reason too.

“I take it things didn’t go well after I left?” He asked, plopping down onto the stairs beside you.

A small chuckle left your lips at his bluntness. Same old Five.

“No,” You agreed, “They never stopped being scared of me. And I never stopped being scared of myself.” You admitted.

He had always been the only one you could tell everything to about yourself without the fear of judgment.

The two of you fell into a silence that consisted of him munching on his sandwich thoughtfully, “You know,” Five spoke up once he had polished it off, “I think the others have always been more intimidated by you than anything.”

Your eyebrows went up, “How so?” You never really saw yourself as an intimidating individual.

“Because you’re so much more powerful than we all are… and the old man knew that.” He stood up and gave you a tight lipped smile, patting you once on your clothed shoulder and disappearing up the stairs, leaving you to dwell in your thoughts.

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

Allison placed a finger over her mouth to signal for you and Vanya to stay silent from where your backs were pressed up against a wall opposite of her.

A large figure in a mask came creeping through the door that you stood on either side of with a large gun resting in his grip, making your heart tighten.

Right on cue, your sister lunged out, kneeing him in the stomach and punching him in the face the second he doubled over in pain.

Quickly, you ushered Vanya out of the room and made sure she was a safe distance away before spinning on your heel to face Allison and the man, the two now throwing punches at one another with the gun discarded to the side.

Without hesitation, you dove at the man and jumped onto his back, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground.

When he fell, Allison reeled her foot back and sent it straight into his head, effectively knocking him out cold.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, panting and trying to catch your breaths.

“You know, Y/n,” She spoke up, surprising you, “I don’t actually think you killed dad. I would never think that of you. I was just in shock that Luther would say such a thing that I didn’t know how to react. A-and I’m sorry for not saying anything when he accused you and I know I should have-“

“Allison.” You cut her off gently, “It’s okay.”

She visibly relaxed as if a weight had been taken off of her shoulders, “And listen, I know you think we all hate you,” She took a step forward and slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, eyes searching yours for any sign that you were uncomfortable with the close proximity. “But we don’t, I promise you we don’t. You were just always isolated from us by dad- and I’m not saying it isn’t partially our fault- because it is, but we’re not kids anymore so there’s no excuse for how we acted. I’m sorry.”

First Diego with the apologies, Klaus acting like everything was normal, and then Allison. You couldn’t believe that your siblings were actually trying to make up with you.

Similarly to how when your brother first talked to you like this, tears began to form in your eyes and you smiled up at her, “T-thank you, Allison. That- that means a lot.”

She shook her head gently, “I’m just sorry that it took so long for me to be able to say it.”

I wake up screaming from dreaming

You gasped, shooting upright with heavy pants as you tried to regain your breathing and keep it under control.

You have been through this routine enough times to know what to do so well that it’s almost like second nature to you at this point.

“Y-Y/n?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Vanya's voice. She stood in the slightly opened doorway of your childhood room, where you had just been sleeping.

“Vanya,” You breathed out, leaning your back against your headboard, “What’s up?” You swallowed thickly and tried to seem as normal as possible.

The woman hesitated, “I… I left something here so I came back for it but I heard a scream…”

You let a breath loose and allowed your head to fall back, “Sorry,” You apologized in a whisper.

She shook her head back and forth vigorously, “No, no, it’s not your fault. I get it… I get nightmares too…”

You lulled your head to the side and looked at her, “Yeah?”

She nodded, hesitantly shuffling into the room before slowly sitting down on the end of your bed when you moved your feet for her.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked gently.

It was then your turn to shake your head, “No, no, it’s nothing I can’t handle- nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured.

“Well… I’m here if you ever need anything.”

You smiled softly, “Thank you, Vanya.”

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

“Five?” You looked up from your plate filled to the brim with breakfast foods your mother had cooked for you as you watched your brother swiftly walk by, “What’s going on?”

“I need to run an errand.” He answered curtly, “I’ll be back soon.”

Anxiety began to set in the pit of your stomach, “O-oh, do you want me to come with you?”

He quickly shook his head back and forth, “There’s no need, it could be dangerous.”

That made the fear double inside of you, “Are you sure you have to go?” You saw him freeze in his steps when he heard the worry seeping through your tone.

He sighed softly and turned around to face you, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, “It’s just… you didn’t come back once. What’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“Me.” He reassured you, “I say that it won’t happen again. I won’t let it. I promise.”

With that, he gave you one last of his rare smiles and continued out of the kitchen.

'Cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)

“Oh, sorry,” You mumbled, eyes immediately turning downwards the second you entered the living room, “I didn’t realize anyone was in here-“

“Y/n.” Luther immediately shot up from where he had been sitting on the couch, “No, I’m glad you’re here.” Your quick steps to exit the room paused, “We should talk.” He cleared his throat.

You eyed him hesitantly, “About what?”

“I’m sorry for saying that you killed dad!” He blurted out, cheeks turning red as he spoke, “It’s- it’s just that I was so upset and I didn’t know what really happened so I was creating scenarios that I didn’t even want to come true and-“ He stopped himself and took a deep breath to calm down, “And I know that it’s not an excuse, but I’m still very sorry for saying that you would ever be capable of something like that.”

You stayed silent for a moment before slowly nodding your head, “It’s okay,” You said softly, “I forgive you.”

“Really?” He sighed in relief, “Good, because I was scared for a moment there because I was acting like such an ass and-“

“Luther.” You tried to push away the small smile that threatened to grace your face, “I already said it’s fine, just leave it.”

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

“We’re like outcast buddies!”

You looked over at Klaus with a raised eyebrow at his words.

The two of you sat on the stools near the bar in your living room, sipping on some concoction of alcohol that was no doubt older than both of you combined and would have given your father a heart attack at seeing if he was still alive.

“I’m pretty sure all of our siblings are outcasts.” You reminded him.

He sat there, pondering your words for a moment before signing and swirling his straw in his drink, “No, no, I suppose you’re right.” He frowned a little bit and slumped his shoulders slightly.

“Do you… want to be outcast buddies?” You asked hesitantly, eyeing your brother.

Immediately, he perked up with a large grin, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” He shrieked, “We can start a club! We can print t-shirts! We can invite new members-“

You chuckled, sitting back and watching in amusement as your brother got excited over seemingly nothing.

At tea time, everybody agrees

“Thanks for the food, mom, it looks delicious.” You said sincerely.

The woman smiled softly and reached over to cup your cheek, and you immediately leaned further into the touch. Because she wasn’t actually human, she could touch you without consequence. And though you knew it wasn’t the same as if another person touched you, you still took what you could get because it was all that you would get, even if it wasn’t real.

“Of course, sweetie.” She answered with that wide, kind smile of hers gently removing her hand after a moment and leaning down to place a ghost kiss on your forehead, making your eyelids flutter shut.

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

“It’s really weird to look at, isn’t it?” Five asked, walking up and standing beside you, gazing up at the wall.

It was a portrait of you and all your siblings, before Fives disappearance and Ben’s death, hanging in some random of the many hallways of the home.

“It is.” You agreed with a sigh, eyes taking it all in.

The way Five was the only one standing even remotely close to you in the painting didn’t escape your attention. Nor did the way everyone but him seemed to have their bodies angled away from you just slightly.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and you cleared your throat, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we never had these powers?” You asked suddenly.

It had been a thought that had been eating away at you since you were at least seven, never having been voiced out loud by you.

“I try not to dwell on it,” Your brother admitted, “‘Cause there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Despite his words, you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to picture what it would be like. To be able to hug people and shake hands without them having to worry for their life. To not be the scariest, most deadly person in any room you stood in.

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

All around you, walls were crumbling down and falling every which way. Each small piece of flying debris threatening to hit you.

Not so gracefully, you stumbled through the shaking building, blindly grasping onto the walls for support as you watched in horror as the house came apart all around you for reasons unknown to you.

“Y/n!” You whipped around at the sound of Luther, Allison, and Diego each calling your name and you began sprinting in their direction at the opposite end of the hall.

They each took a large step back when you neared though, causing you to pause, despite the fact that you needed to push on so that you didn’t get hit.

“What is it? What’s happening to-“ You began asking anxiously

“What did you do?” Luther’s words and tone of horror made the rest of your sentence die in your throat.

“How could you do something like this?” Allison whispered, and despite all the chaos, you somehow were still able to hear her. Her eyes shone with betrayal.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“Dad always said that you only reached the tip of the iceberg with your powers.” Diego was glaring at you coldly in a way that made even your heart freeze, “But I never thought you could be capable of something like this.”

“What-“

“Your powers are to destroy.” Luther hissed venomously, “You can kill everything around you, so why can’t you demolish everything in your path as well with just the touch of your bare fingers?”

Your lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, much like the walls around you, “I would never- I can’t even-“

“I can't believe we trusted you.” Allison shook her head and slowly began backing away once more, “We’ll never make that mistake again.”

The other two trailed after her once they threw more harsh glares your way, not even caring as you sank down to your knees in shock, oblivious to the house that was still caving in on itself all around you.

You had nothing to do with this, you had no idea what was happening. How could they think that you did? After everything, all the progress you all made?

Your suspicions that you had first stepped into this house what felt like years ago- when it had only, in reality, been days- were true.

Your siblings truly did hate you.

The Hargreeves 🦹- @lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee @i-writes-things @kiyomi-uchiha777

866 notes · View notes

gyu-effect · 1 year

Note

hi, congrats for 250 followers!!! i love all your works so far and couldn't wait to read more of your works. i also read your svt as love tropes and i AM DYING bc you wrote joshua as enemies-to-lovers (bc obviously joshua is my bias and the trope is my fav🥲). i guess this is very specific, but for the event, can i req joshua + enemies-to-lovers with the "who did this to you?"???? thanks!!

PAIRING || Joshua x Female Reader

GENRES || Fluff, Enemies To Lovers AU, A Bit Of Angst

WARNINGS || yn's dad being a typical asian parent (sigh), mention of getting hurt

WORD COUNT || 1.6k (i got carried away-)

A/N || Oh my god thank you so so much! i actually am not that great at writing e2l but i had great fun in writing that one so i'm so glad you liked it! thank you for requesting, i tried my best and i really hope you like it too!

TAGLIST || @romeosbreastmilkmilk @y00nzin0 @cecedrake2217 @candidupped [if you want to be added to my taglist send me an ask!]

[09:51]

“i heard your report card came two days ago.”

you stopped on your tracks, turning slowly to face your father who was sitting on the living room couch, reading the newspaper. you let out an awkward laughter but it did nothing to calm down your now racing heart.

“ah, it must have slipped out of my mind.” you said, praying you wouldn’t get into more trouble. “you know how busy i’ve been with cram school and extra classes-”

“go get it now.” his cold voice cut you off as he placed the newspaper down, giving you a look that you were so familiar with. you swallowed hard, mind racing to find some excuse but you just couldn't; the fear was so engraved in you that it felt like your entire body had just stopped responding to you.

“isn’t it- isn’t it too late? how about i show it to you tomorrow-”

“now. i want to see it now. or did you have some reason to hide it?” he stood up and walked up to you, and you tried moving back as far as you could, but your back hit the wall very soon.

“no- why would i-”

“or,” his voice dropped an octave as he bent to your eye level, causing you to flinch, “did you come second again and that hong boy come first?”

your silence seemed to be enough for your father.

he straightened up as he regarded you coldly. “you are so pathetic, don’t you have any shame? i spend millions behind you and you can’t even do the one thing you are supposed to! do you know how embarrassing it is to tell everyone that you, the always second rank holder, are my daughter?”

you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin as you balled your fist in anger. tears stung your eyes but no matter how much you clenched your teeth, your heart still seemed to ache from your father’s harsh words.

“fine!” you finally snapped. “why don’t you just disown me and adopt joshua as your child then?”

as soon as you had finished your sentence, you heard a loud slap and your knees hit the ground. your cheek stung from the intensity of the slap but before you could even take everything in, you felt your father yank you up by your hair.

you screamed as you tried to pull yourself away but that just earned another slap from your father, this time feeling a sting on your lips. finally breaking free from him, you ran out of your house onto the street, blindly running until you finally reached the park.

the park wasn’t actually a park. it was an abandoned playground with a few trees here and there that hadn’t been touched by the development of your posh neighbourhood. yet. you had discovered this place in your sixth grade, and seeing that no one ever came by, it soon became your escape spot for whenever your parents scolded you too much.

you sat down on one of the creaky swings, finally feeling the tears fall down your cheeks.

your lips stung, your cheeks hurt, your head was throbbing but mostly it was your heart. it was clenching painfully at the thought of how meaningless you were to your parents, no matter how hard you tried. it hurt from the amount of hatred that had piled up against your parents and mostly hong joshua.

hong joshua.

the stellar boy of the school. the secret crush of every single girl in your grade. the favourite boy of all the teachers that had taught you.

he was well mannered, sweet, handsome and smart.

so no matter how much your parents pitted you against him, it shouldn't have bothered you since he obviously deserved it, right?

but it seemed like he knew your parents did that, and that’s why every time he would win first he would always smirk at your direction as though trying to rile you up. that sweet boy facade disappeared everytime the two of you were alone or competing with each other.

he made sure to point out all your mistakes every time, never take your suggestions despite being in the same student body for so many years together and argue back for almost everything you said.

in other words, the two of you were sworn enemies and you hated him with your every living breath.

sometimes, you wished he would just disappear so that your life could become easier. everything was so easy for him, while you had to struggle and work hard for everything. even if it was just making your parents proud like his.

you sighed for the umpteenth time, once again blaming joshua for everything.

“well, well, who do we have here?”

you whipped in shock towards the direction of the oh so familiar voice, praying it wasn’t who you thought it was.

but like always, your prayers were never answered.

your eyes met hong joshua's teasing gleaming ones, and it took every bit of your willpower not to retort back.

"cat got your tongue, darling?"

you hated that nickname but this time, you just smiled at him, wincing a little at the sting on your lip.

immediately his smirk fell, eyes finally taking in your messy hair and the wound on your lips.

"who did this to you?"

if you had been in your right mind you would have heard the coldness and anger in his voice, but you weren't so instead you turned away from him, hoping he would just go away.

you heard his footsteps from behind you and within seconds you found the boy you hated the most in this world crouching in front of you. your eyes were now at level with his, and he looked concerned.

"y/n." he asked once again, gritting his teeth. "who did this to you?"

"can you just go away?" you whispered, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against the metal threads of the swing. "i don't need you to find another thing to pick on me.”

“pick on-” joshua shook his head. “wait here, i’ll be back in a minute.” saying that, he got up and ran from there. you muttered a ‘whatever’ but within a minute you heard his footsteps, along with his heavy breathing.

opening your eyes, you once again found joshua kneeling in front of you, this time dabbing a cotton bud onto an antiseptic cream. he raised his hand to apply it on your lip but you just turned your head away from him.

“hey,” he said so softly that you nearly turned back to look at him in shock. “i’m not going to hurt you, okay? but we need to take care of that so that it doesn’t leave a scar on those pretty lips of yours, okay?” he continued, still speaking softly to you as though he was afraid you would break if he spoke to you otherwise. the hong joshua you knew had the could speak this softly to you?

when you still didn’t turn to him, he sighed. then, you felt warmth prickle your hands as he took them in his, causing you to finally look at him.

“what are you doing-” you began but he cut you off.

“i’m sorry if you thought i was picking on you.” he said, his eyes filled with so much sincerity that your heart nearly skipped a beat. “i didn’t mean to hurt you, i swear. i just- i just thought you wouldn’t mind if i teased you a bit. it was just that…it was so fun bickering with you and you look so cute everytime you are riled up. i didn’t mean it in a bad way, i swear. if i had known how your parents were…”

his voice trailed off as you mulled his words in your head. was it really true that he had never meant it in a bad way?

the more you thought about it, the more you realised that he might be right. after all, he had never insulted you in front of others, not even if he had beaten you in yet another exam. he had just bickered with you and that was about it.

you wanted to ask why didn’t he try being more nicer to you then but instead you asked-

“you think i’m cute?”

even joshua seemed taken aback by your choice of question but after a second he broke into a laugh. his eyes pulled into the half moons you were so familiar with as he displayed his bunny teeth as he laughed. you always knew he was handsome but right now he looked cute, beautiful and handsome.

“is that what is bothering you?”

“i- no. i mean, yes.” you stuttered, all of a sudden unable to meet your ‘enemy’s’ eyes.

“yeah, i think you are cute. really cute and pretty. especially when you are riled up. or flustered like now.”

“i’m not flustered!”

he laughed once more and this time you couldn’t stop the sudden stuttering of your heart. was just joshua’s laugh enough to make you forget your hatred for him and like him?

no way.

“i’m still mad at you.” you muttered, as he gently patted down your hair. he looked at you apologetically.

“i’m sorry. i really am. i didn’t know i was hurting you. is there any way i can make it up to you?”

“well..” what could he even do to make it up to you? it wasn’t exactly his fault that he didn’t realise he was hurting you. should you just ask him to be your friend? hating one less person seemed to be a great idea to you.

“if you aren’t sure could i suggest something?”

“er, okay?” the cocky smile on his face made you suspicious of what he was going to say but decided to give it a try.

“do you want to go out with me on a date tomorrow?”

581 notes · View notes

lucienarcheron · 1 month

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - IX

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering.

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for being on this journey with me ♥️

Find it all here.

Eris blinked at the ceiling of their bedroom. Not that he had tasted sleep from where he lay on their ornate couch.

Like a coward.

He had waited for a half-hour that night before approaching the bathroom door and asking her to come out, but she had ignored him — refusing to come back and sleep in their bed. He hadn’t felt like sleeping in it either.

Eris had listened carefully through that night, waiting to see if she’ll change her mind or if she was crying or whatever the fuck was going on in her mind, but Iris hadn’t made a peep.

He might’ve been proud of her for standing up to his father had she not brought him down in the process. Had she not locked him out of his own bathroom like a child.

A day and a night had passed.

She slept in the bathroom. He slept on the couch. Neither of them so much as acknowledging one another.

Iris only left the bathroom when he left their suite and immediately went right back in the moment he stepped back into the room.

He hated himself with the fire of a thousand suns and sat in that bitterness until dawn broke each morning for those two days. Eris debated for quite some time if he should just burn himself from the inside out and be done with it. But instead, he sat up with a groan. If she didn’t want to talk to him, fine. He wasn’t going to beg her. In fact, he wasn’t going to be nice to her at all. It clearly hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

Like a coward.

The words kept repeating themselves in his mind and anger surged through him each time, burning him, his self-loathing festering.

Getting up, he decided he wasn’t going to be gracious and leave her alone today. Eris stalked over to the bathroom and pounded his fist against the door.

“I need to use the restroom. Get out.”

Eris let a few minutes of silence pass between them before knocking more firmly. “Open the fucken door, Iris."

It took a few seconds before her muffled response came. “Go piss somewhere else.”

He clenched his jaw. “If you don’t open the door, I will break it. You’re not going to lock me out of my bathroom for another day.”

Eris heard her stomping before she ripped the door open with a glare. “Your little boy bladder couldn’t wait a few more minutes? I was sleeping.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.” Eris sneered and Iris flushed. “You can resume your beauty sleep in the tub once I’m done with my business.”

They glared at each other and the moment seemed to stretch between them, all the nastiness of the last two nights weighing between them.

“You’re just the fucken worst, aren’t you,” she grumbled, shoving past him. “Talk about a terrible start to my morning.”

Eris bristled and turned to glare at her back. “You want a terrible start? We can start training today and see where that mouth of yours will get you.”

Iris snorted and turned back to him. “Going to use training as an excuse to put me in my place?” she snapped. “Land some blows where people can’t see, hm?”

Eris froze, staring at her in disbelief. After everything he had explained to her. After everything said — “Take that back.” he breathed. “You take that back right now.”

But Iris only swallowed and stared him down. “No.”

Slowly, Eris fully turned to her, and he watched her as she watched him. Watched her as she braced herself — fixing her stance — clenching her own fists even as she eyed his fisted hands.

He took one step towards her, and she took a step back.

And all the fight left his body.

Eris let out a humorless, choked laugh and shook his head. “You — you have some nerve.” he said. “You’re just waiting for me to lay a hand on you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m not trying to.” he snarled. “Don’t you get that?”

But Iris held her ground and it was the look in her eyes that told him the last two nights had impacted her far worse than he had thought. He noticed then, the puffy eyes, the stiff back, and the slight tremble in her bottom lip.

Eris grimaced and shook his head again. “I’m not — I’m too tired for this shit.” he muttered and without waiting for her to do or say anything else to put him on edge, he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

He didn’t remember washing up, changing or even leaving the room. He hadn’t spared her a single glance as he slammed their chamber door behind him.

Eris made his way through his morning routine of checking in with his hounds and his sentries, then kept his check-in with his mother very brief as she hardly needed his shitty mood.

She had only sighed at him and said, “Remember kindness. You both need it.”

Personally, what Eris needed was a break. He needed distance, if only for a short while. Some time to think.

A fresh perspective from people outside of his wretched home.

And because he knew it was still early enough that they wouldn’t have left their home yet, Eris departed the Autumn Court and winnowed to the front gate of his brother’s home.

—

Iris had watched him walk off this morning and only clenched her teeth when he slammed the door and left. Her lip trembled momentarily, but she refused to let herself cry anymore.

Because it would make no difference. Nothing would change.

She could handle beatings; she was used to those. It would be fine.

But it was the way Eris could hurt her — the way Beron had only snorted as if his son abusing his wife the other way was an absolutely appropriate response —

Iris shuddered and ran a shaky hand through her hair. She had barely slept a wink the last two nights, watching the door and waiting to see if he would break it open and come in anyway.

Whenever she would finally drift off, Iris would jolt awake, sweating and panicked, because in her nightmares, Eris had barged in, and he had put his hands on her and put her in her place exactly as his father expected.

He’ll break you in ways that I couldn’t. Her father had said the night of their wedding and bile would rise in her throat.

Her response to him this morning was the aftermath of those dreams, even if he truly had done nothing. Iris rubbed at her eyes and took several deep breaths. The dream was not the reality. He had not touched her. He seemed to have no intention of touching her. He had just...left.

She grimaced and every terrible thing from the last two nights and this morning slammed into her mind all over again.

“Why settle for the son of a high lord when the high lord himself could give you the attention you want?”

“If you decide to switch which Vanserra you spread your legs for, you’ll get to that goal much faster with my father.”

“Stop looking at me like that. I do everything that I can.”

“But I allow him to do and say whatever the fuck he wants to me as long as my mother has to stop taking the brunt of his shit.”

“You were just ready to use that against me, weren’t you?”

Mustering what little energy she had left, Iris blinked tiredly then made her way back to the bathing room and cleared her things from it. Mechanically, she bathed and dressed as the thoughts replayed in her mind. Just as it had replayed when she brushed out her curls and continued to repeat as she stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror, barely registering what she was doing. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to be.

Iris had felt his hurt at her words and knew, knew it didn’t have to be this way, but she didn’t know what else to expect. How else to react. All she knew was anger.

Maybe she could go see the hounds and feel better. Or maybe she could take a horse and ride off.

Cauldron knew where he’d gone and when he’d come back. He didn’t seem likely to stop her. She could just —

A light knock on the chamber door had her pause at the vanity. Who the hell would be coming to see them this morning?

“Who is it?” she asked quietly.

“It’s me, Iris.”

She froze at the voice of Lady Enya and whatever anxiety she had clamped down on since waking up, came barreling back into her.

What could she be here for? Had Eris gone to complain? Would — would she be reprimanded? She couldn't see Lady Enya doing that but —

Realizing she hadn’t replied, Iris shot up from her seat, quickly smoothed down her dress, and looked over the room, cringing at the sign that the two of them clearly hadn’t been anywhere near each other.

It would be fine. Lady Enya was kind. Iris needn’t expect the worst.

Taking a deep breath, she cautiously approached the door and opened it halfway to find her mother-in-law before her, standing alone. She gave Iris a small smile.

“Hello, Iris.”

“Hello, Lady Enya,” Iris replied and bowed her head slightly. “How – how are you?”

Her mother-in-law smiled tightly. “Well enough. You?”

The anxiousness prickled at her skin and Iris’s grip tightened on the doorframe, giving Lady Enya her own tight smile. “Well enough too, I suppose.”

Enya nodded knowingly. “Understandable.” She paused for a moment before asking, “May I come in? I was hoping to sit with you for a bit if this isn’t a bad time.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Iris replied and swallowed. “Eris — he isn’t here though.”

“That’s okay. I came to see you.” Lady Enya replied with a small smile and Iris blinked. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Of — of course. Please come in.” Iris said immediately, opening the door wider.

Lady Enya smiled more fully as she stepped in, and Iris felt her cheeks heat as her mother-in-law surveyed their room with a knowing gaze.

“We...didn’t have time to tidy up this morning. I’m sorry you have to see it this way.”

Enya chuckled. “I’m surprised he left the room so frazzled,” she said, continuing to glance around, her lips twitching. “Knowing my son, he would’ve had a stroke to walk out like this.”

“He’s too busy trying to give me one,” Iris mumbled then panic slammed in her as she quickly looked at her mother-in-law and cleared her throat, the color in her cheeks intensifying. “Sorry.”

Enya waved a hand with that small, knowing smile and walked toward their seating area. Iris watched as the Lady paused in front of their plush couch. She felt the heat spread through her body as she watched her mother-in-law’s lips twitch again, her gaze on the pillow with her son’s lingering scent, thrown there haphazardly. But Enya sat without a word and Iris stood for a moment before awkwardly taking a seat next to her.

A moment of silence passed before Iris shot up again. “I, um, I can have them bring tea?” she quickly said then blinked. “I’m not actually sure how to ask for it, the tray usually just comes up — but if you’d like? Or — or a brew of coffee? Or —”

Lady Enya seemed to be fighting back a smile as Iris’s face heated. Gently gripping her hand, her mother-in-law slowly pulled her back to sit next to her.

“That’s not necessary. I just came to check in on you and chat,” she said and Iris blinked again.

“Oh.”

“I see the two of you are getting along splendidly,” Enya said, glancing at her, and Iris grimaced before quickly fixing her expression.

“Um. We, uh —”

But Enya chuckled again, and Iris realized with a flush she was teasing her.

“I’d say we were a perfect match, but I don’t want to jinx it,” she said with a dry laugh then swallowed. “Dinner the other night certainly set that in stone.”

Enya gave her a sad smile. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see how you were doing,” she said, and Iris avoided her gaze. “I’m sorry it went the way it did. It was just supposed to be the three of us.”

Iris shook her head, her eyes on her hands settled in her lap. “Please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

Lady Enya sighed. “That whole evening was wrong,” she said, her lips a thin line. “I’m sure Eris wasn’t happy with how it went either. I assume the two of you have discussed it.”

“Discussed it. Yes.” Iris said with a snort then straightened, glancing at her mother-in-law who gave her a small smile.

“I’m assuming you two had it out. I hope my son isn’t bleeding out somewhere.”

Iris’s flush deepened. “He’s escaped unscathed for now,” she mumbled. “Dagger was too far.”

“As his mother, I am grateful for that.”

They shared another small smile and it fell silent again. Iris bit her lip and then met her mother-in-law’s gaze.

“I am sorry if anything I said caused you any additional distress,” she said quietly. “My mouth has gotten the better of me before.”

Enya shook her head. “I’m sorry you were put in a position to deal with it at all,” she replied with a frown. “I know Eris is very upset about it as I’m sure you are as well.”

Iris tensed and her fingers gripped her dress. “I am...deeply unsettled.”

Lady Enya’s expression tightened, and it was a moment before she could answer. “The High Lord believes things should always be a certain way. He is accustomed to his way of things and will offer no accommodations for anything to be different from what he is used to. Including the way he speaks to people.” she said carefully. “His way, however, is not the correct way nor is it a way I agree with. Neither does my son.”

Enya paused and surveyed Iris. “We have found ways to work around it,” she said slowly. “But now, you’re in the picture so the scope of our methods needs to be adjusted. I hope you will grant us patience with it.”

Iris digested this for a moment, biting her lip and her mother-in-law reached out a hand.

“I know this transition hasn’t been easy on you at all so please know, you can take all the time you need to get used to it,” she said and smiled at Iris. “I am here for you and happy to be here as you adjust.”

Iris’s face softened and she placed a hand atop Enya’s. “Thank you, Lady Enya. I am grateful for your words and...am glad you feel this way.”

“Please don’t call me lady.” her mother-in-law said with a smile. “You’re my daughter now too. If you’re comfortable calling me mother, I would be thrilled.”

Iris flushed and blinked rapidly, emotion rising through her at the word. She had never been given the chance to call anyone mother. She had never been given a chance to do a lot of things.

“I would love that,” she said softly, and her mother-in-law smiled brightly at her, squeezing her hand.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said and as they fell silent again, she watched Iris curiously for a moment. Then Enya quietly added, “Eris left early, hm?”

“...Yes,” Iris said and at her hesitation, her mother-in-law tilted her head. “I’m not sure where he went but...he didn’t leave on a good note.”

“Mmm.” Lady Enya mused, then patted her hand. “He’ll be back. Do you think you’ll be open to talking to him when he returns?”

Iris blinked. After their discussion earlier, she wasn’t sure Eris would want to talk to her, much less listen to anything she had to say. Maybe he would prefer she kept quiet for once and he did all the talking.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice in whether or not he’ll want to talk to me.”

Lady Enya pursed her lips. “With the son I raised, you will always have a choice, Iris.” she said firmly, and Iris’s brows furrowed. Enya paused for a moment. “May I speak freely? I’d like to give you my opinion if you’d like to hear it.”

Iris flushed at the question. As if she’d say no.

“Of course, La — of course. Please speak as freely as you’d like.”

Her mother-in-law gave her a small smile and then gently spoke. “I never want to overstep between the two of you as you navigate this relationship of yours, however...know that this will take time and patience. It will take effort to build something of value between the two of you.” Enya paused and took a deep breath. “I think the most important part is whether you want to put in this effort. Your intentions play a big role in how it will proceed and truly, I understand if you are hesitant. The question becomes...do you find that you want to know my son as a husband? As a partner?”

Iris bit her lip and looked down. Would it matter if she did or not? She was already his wife. Nothing about that would change, regardless of her intentions. So, she answered honestly.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “There’s so much I’m unsure of...I don’t know what to believe about him.”

Lady Enya hummed then sighed. “I know this might be hard to believe because of what people think they know about him but...know that my son has a good heart. Even though he’s always been forced to hide it,” she said quietly. “And I’m not only saying this because he’s my son. I’m saying this because I’ve lived with someone who has gone out of their way to make my every waking hour difficult. Who does the same to him.”

Iris looked up in surprise at the words. At the very vulnerable confession. She met the firm gaze of her mother-in-law.

“My son is not his father,” Enya said very, very softly. “Even though he has to pretend otherwise. He will not be that way with you.”

Iris straightened as a tense silence filled the room and Lady Enya’s eyes didn’t waver from hers.

“But that doesn’t mean he won’t make mistakes. Or say foolish things. You both will and should hold each other accountable for them each time. He will listen.” she said, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “Threaten to stab him a few times, if need be, goodness knows he needs it at times with that mouth of his.”

Iris bit back a smile at the knowing look Enya shot her then sobered as she added,

“But also...grant him a little patience. He’s never had something like this before.”

“Did you even consider what this has been like for me?” He had snarled at her the other night.

She hadn’t. Not really. Iris pursed her lips, rubbing a finger to her brow as she quietly spoke. “We...haven’t been very kind to each other. I — I haven’t been very kind.”

Lady Enya nodded knowingly. “I’m sure with the heightened emotions, kindness was the last thing on either of your minds. That night was a stressful evening for you both,” she said gently. “If you are willing and you find yourself wanting to, be honest with him. He will meet you in the middle if you are willing to meet him.”

Iris grimaced and before she could stop herself, she muttered, “The idea of being vulnerable with him makes me want to vomit.”

Her mother-in-law laughed softly and gave her a knowing look. “I don’t want to speak for him but as his mother, I can tell you with absolute certainty, he feels exactly the same way.”

Iris’s lip twitched, and then she sighed, her fingers curling in her lap. “I guess that makes it a little better.”

“Mutual embarrassment does make things a tad easier.”

Iris gave a small shrug with heated cheeks, wondering if Eris would ever feel as embarrassed as she had felt at this moment. “I suppose I can find it in me to be nice to him when he comes back.”

Her mother-in-law gave her an amused smile. “Don’t be too nice, now. We do need to keep him in check,” she said with a wink and Iris chuckled. The two sat in a few moments of comfortable silence as Iris processed what she was being told.

“I — I don’t know how to not doubt him,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to...trust him.”

“Time and patience, my dear,” Enya replied with a small smile. “As much as you think you’ll have a hard time trusting him...Eris trusts people even less than you do. You were thrust into his life as suddenly as he was into yours and he isn’t very good at expressing his feelings.” she said and gave her a gentle smile. “You both are coming from the same place. Trust yourself and your judgment. But also...give him the chance to prove himself to you. Kindness will go a long way.”

It was one thing for Iris to be worried about trusting him, but it was a completely different idea to think of him being scared of trusting her. Eris being scared of anything that had to do with her was a thought that hadn’t crossed her mind at all.

Iris bit her lip, the idea of being even more open with him, giving him the chance to find ways where he could hurt her through this vulnerability —

Lady Enya squeezed her hand gently with a short chuckle. “You’re making the same face he does when he’s overthinking things. Both of you have come to expect the worst from others. Don’t let that seep into your marriage.”

Iris swallowed and then licked her lips. “It — it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be a real marriage,” she whispered.

Lady Enya reached out a hand and gently brushed back a loose strand of hair from Iris’s face, then rested a hand on her cheek with a sad smile. “I know it can be scary to start a new chapter of your life with so little choice in the matter, but you are not alone,” she said then firmly added. “I am here. So is Eris, if you’ll have him. When he returns, talk things out. You two get to decide how real you want it to be.”

Iris blinked and her throat bobbed as emotion clogged in her throat, at the tender touch of a mother to her cheek. She resisted the deep urge to hug her. She hadn’t been hugged in so long. By anyone soft-hearted. By anyone who understood. By...anyone at all.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and her eyes welled up at the look of understanding that crossed Enya’s face.

Lady Enya smiled softly and pulled her into her arms, giving Iris a bone-crushing hug, one that she had been craving. She sagged in her arms and Enya seemed to hug her tighter, especially when Iris let out a sniffle.

It took Iris a few minutes before she shakily pulled away, sniffling quietly. She let out a breath and quickly wiped at her eyes, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s been a very stressful few days.”

“I’m sure it has.” her mother-in-law said kindly. “Never apologize. I’m here. I understand.”

Iris nodded, hands gripping her dress to restrain her from asking for another hug. “Thank you.” she said again then licked her lips before testing the word, “Mother.”

Lady Enya beamed. “It sounds so lovely when you say it,” she said and squeezed her hand. “I hope all we discussed doesn’t make it seem like I’m trying to speak for Eris or justify anything that has happened but...I hope it helps your willingness to understand him a little more.” Enya bit her lip then added carefully, “I hope you feel more comfortable allowing him the chance to understand you.”

Iris swallowed as the word hope clanged through her. The morning after, she had woken up with hope. Hoping for something more. Hoping for things to be different even though she still had her doubts.

Her eyes dropped down into her lap. Iris’s grip tightened in the folds of her dress as she looked up at her mother-in-law’s face and then back to her lap, her heart thundered wildly in her chest. “I just —” she began then continued in a whisper, “I want to trust him. I want to but I’m afraid. I’m so afraid he’s going to be just like my father — that he’ll hurt me too and I —"

Lady Enya’s hand came to gently lift Iris’s chin and met her gaze. The fire blazing in them had Iris widening her eyes.

“My son would never lay a hand on you,” she said quietly but Iris didn’t miss the firmness in her tone. “He has been abused and has watched others around him be abused his whole life and knows what that does to a person. I raised him as best as I could to know better. To try and be better as much as he could in the circumstances we’re in.” Enya paused and released Iris’s chin to touch her cheek with a sad smile. “I wish I could take away your doubts about him but alas, I cannot. You will have to allow yourself to discover what he has to offer you. I can only assure you as best as I can that you are safe with him. He will keep you safe with everything he has. You only have to allow it.”

Iris swallowed and then nodded tightly as Lady Enya stood and Iris stood with her.

“I will give you some time alone then,” she said, squeezing Iris’s upper arm. “I simply wanted to see how you are doing. I don’t want to impose.”

Iris gave her a small smile. “You could never. I had hoped you and I would spend as much time together as possible.”

Lady Enya smiled. “We certainly will. I will make sure of it,” she said and then taking both of Iris’s hands into her own, she met her gaze. “Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances of you joining our family, I am thrilled you’re here and to have you as my daughter. I look forward to us getting to know each other well.” She gave her a knowing look. “Don’t hesitate to come to me for anything, understood?”

Following Lady Enya slowly to the door, Iris felt the weight that had been sitting on her chest lift as her mother-in-law turned back to her one last time. “I expect to see you with Eris for tea starting tomorrow, alright? Then we’ll shoo him and spend time alone.”

Iris gave her a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Lady Enya gave her another smile and quietly departed, leaving Iris to stand at the open door to process.

Shutting it silently, she leaned against it for a moment and took a breath. Iris knew her fear was valid. Her apprehension was valid, even if Eris was trying his best. Even with all his mother said.

But then Iris thought back to his shocked face from this morning.

His disbelief when he said, “Take it back.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and walked towards her vanity, slowly sinking into the chair. She gazed at herself in the mirror, her eyes taking in her expression of worry. Iris was certainly entitled to how she felt but... reacting the way she did hadn’t made her feel any better. She sighed then turned and gazed around her living space. Her new home.

Home yet…

What did she want? Did she want something with Eris?

She wasn’t foolish to think this marriage couldn’t play out to her advantage. That already, he wasn’t planning to limit her entire existence the way she had been with her father. But at what cost? Did it have a cost? How much would she have to endure?

And when he came back...would he want to talk to her? And more importantly, what would Eris have to say?

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfics #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #if you'd like to be tagged or removed please let me know #thank you for reading :)

61 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 11 months

Note

Would you be up to do a little drabble with them as kids?🥺

I crave something soft, it can be about the reader defending him from Aegon and her brothers or him helping her learn Valyrian.

Hello sweet pea! I have so many ideas for little Drabble and memories of the pair in S,F&A when they were young before shit hit the ceiling.

So please enjoy this little soft Drabble of the reader defending Aemond when they were young 🖤🖤🖤

“Aem?” You called again, blinking in the dark, trying to see where the young Prince was hidden.

Though his sniffles revealed him.

“They gave me a pig.” The voice cracked to the side of you, a small shadow curled into itself on the stone floors.

“What?” You responded, kneeling down onto the dusty floor in front of your uncle, not caring for the dirt that would mark the knees of your skirt.

“The Pink Dread. A pig with wings.” Aemond spat, and you saw him flick his head away from you, scowl shadowing his features.

“Why didn’t I get a dragon like you?” He sniffled, and you crawled closer, your knees knocking against his leather shoes.

“Aem-“ You reached out a hand to touch him and the boy slapped it away.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He spat at you, and you recoiled, feeling anger instead of empathy take over.

“Don’t snap at me.” You snipped back, “It’s not my fault they gave you a pig.”

“They’re your brothers.”

“And Aegon is yours.”

“If father only gave me an egg like-“

“But he didn’t. And you don’t have a dragon.” You quipped, pushing your knees into his feet so that you could get closer to him, “But there are dragons out there that you could claim. Big ones. My father Laenor has told me-“

“Laenor is a deg-“

“Be nasty and I will feed you to Syndor.”

The boy quietened and looked back at you, face covered with dirt and hair wild. His violet eyes were reddened from crying.

You reached a small hand out to touch his face and he let you.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

The secret passage grew quiet, till all that could be heard was the occasional sniffle from Aemond, and the shifting of his shoes on the floor.

“Tell me about the other dragons.” His voice was so quiet, and you grinned, cheeks widening as you began to tell him everything Laenor had told you.

“There are many unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. There is Vermithor, The Bronze Fury, King Jaehaerys’ dragon who still spends his days waiting to be claimed again.” You began, watching as Aemond pretended to be disinterested, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Sheep-stealer my father tells me, steals the sheep from farmers and is a brown dragon who is vicious and strong. Grey Ghost is said to be like mist, pale and so quick you can barely see him! And then there is The Cannibal…” You quietened, Aemond shifting in front of you.

“What’s The Cannibal?” Aemond asked quietly.

“He is a dragon of coal with glowing green eyes, covered head to toe in horns. He is said to be grumpy, I think you would get along.” You teased and Aemond kicked out at you with his foot softly, “And Father says that he eats other dragons and their eggs…”

“None of them would let me claim them.” He said glumly, “I’m weak.”

“You’re not weak.” You all but shouted, “Princess Laena claimed the mighty Vhagar when she was young, she didn’t have an egg put in her cradle. I didn’t have an egg put in my cradle either, and I ride one of the largest dragons in the world. That means something.” You leant forward, looking into his pale violet eyes.

Aemond swallowed thickly at how close you were to his face, watching as your eyes darted back and forth on his.

“Two riders without an egg placed in their cradle, claiming and riding the mightiest dragons known. The Gods have something waiting for you. Something big. I can feel it.”

“All I can feel is your knee on my toe.”

You slapped his shoulder and leant back, sitting on your haunches.

“You may not ride a dragon now, but you will. And it will be one of the mightiest and most fearsome of dragons. And until then, you can ride with me on Syndor.”

When Aemond had calmed down, and you had both sat together in the shadows until the day had almost past, you emerged and returned back to your seperate chambers to be bathed and sup for the evening.

You went to bed without a fuss and woke the next morning and was readied for the day by your mothers maids.

Septa Marlow, an old withered woman, had told you to go to the teaching room with Helaena for the day.

Another day that would be spent embroidering at the side of your aunt, listening to the old crone list ways on how to be a good and dutiful wife.

But after you had finished your breakfast and were dressed, you snuck out of your chambers and made your way down to the training yard, worried for Aemond after yesterdays events.

The boys were already in the yard, Ser Cole and Ser Harwin Strong already watching and correcting their movements.

Aemond pitifully hit the straw man with the dull side of the wooden blade, smacking it low on its chest whilst Ser Cole barked at him to hit higher and harder.

You made your way down the steps, looking at the training yard below you on the landing.

Aegon giggled with Jacaerys as Luc swung his sword so hard, it flew from his hands and at his feet.

Aemond turned to see the noise, and let out a soft laugh, a laugh that made you feel warm in your tummy.

Aegon stepped towards Aemond with his wooden sword at his side lazily, sinister smile winding its way on his cheeks.

You watched as Aegon leant towards him and snorted like a pig, causing your two brothers to erupt into loud laughter, small snorts of their own filling the air.

Aemond stiffened.

And your jaw clenched.

“Come, My Lords. Enough of this childishness.” Ser Cole moved to take away the eyes of your brothers and eldest uncle from Aemond.

“Oink. Oink. Oink.” Aegon loudly mocked Aemond.

Your hands curled into fists as you looked at your younger uncle hang his head, hand on his sword tightening as he moved to turn away from the boys.

“Shall we take him for a ride?” Aegon cooed.

Your legs carried you down the steps before your mind caught up, body scooping down to pick up the wooden sword Lucerys has dropped.

“Princess,” Ser Criston began, “You should be with the Septa.”

“I’ve come to train.”

Aegon laughed loudly at you, flicking his eyes between your two brothers who’s smiles had dropped from their faces completely.

“I want to practice with my uncle.” You declared again, eyes set on Aegon who continued to giggle at you.

“Practise? Do you even know how to hold a sword?” He mocked, looking at your brothers with a wide grin as they looked at each other nervously.

“Are you afraid of losing to a girl?” You snipped, body feeling hot and anxious to move.

Anxious to do something.

Ser Cole moved to stand in front of you, hand outreached to take the wooden sword from you, but Ser Harwin came to your defence.

“Let the Princess try. I am sure the Prince will not harm her. Let it be a lesson.”

Aegon smiled a sickly sweet smile as he looked you up and down, eye pausing on the lax way you held your sword, wrist limp and fingers far too tight.

Aemond stood on the side unsure of what to do, anxiety moving through him as he saw you standing in front of his brother.

Aegon would hurt you.

“Alright niece, a duel. I promise to not hurt you.”

“Promises, promises.” You grinned.

Your brothers looked at each other before looking at you, eyes wide. They knew. And your uncles didn’t.

They knew that you trained in the yard when the eyes of propriety were gone, and Ser Harwin came to assist you. To channel your anger, to help guide it. To calm the flames that rose within you quickly.

Aegon moved into a cocky, and yet still lazy fighting stance as he grinned at you, Ser Harwin and Ser Cole standing close by to make sure nothing bad happened.

Ser Cole worried about Aegon’s strength.

Ser Harwin worried about yours.

You moved forward lifting the sword to hold it properly, legs bent as you looked at your uncle who continued to smile.

“I’ll take it easy on you, little girl.” Aegon smiled, and you smiled wildly back.

He shifted forward, arm raised bringing the sword to attempt to swipe your side. You jerked back, feet sliding on the ground to avoid it.

Aegon’s grin faltered and you felt pride swell inside of you.

Let him underestimate you.

He came forward again, arm raised to swipe at your same side. You shifted away drawing your sword up, and swinging it into his shins with a crack.

Aegon cried out and his legs buckled, sword falling to the dirt ground beneath him as you swung the sword back to hit him against the side of his arm, another cry lifting into the air.

The world around you muffled as you moved to swing the sword again, this time higher.

Power was what you felt.

Pure power, and rage, and spite, and anger, and justice.

The wood of the sword moved towards his head at great speed, but before it would connect you stopped, pausing at his neck, the worn edge of the wood brushing against his flesh as he scrunched his eyes shut.

“That’s enough.” Ser Harwin commanded, coming up to your side to take the sword away from you which you gave him willingly.

“Get up.” Ser Cole barked, embarrassed at the Prince.

Lucerys and Jacaerys snickered loudly at Aegon, who was still on the dirt floor, hissing as he rubbed his arm and shins.

You smiled at Aegon and stepped back turning on your heel as you made your way swiftly to Aemond, looping your arm in his as you tugged him away.

His feet stumbled dropping his sword as he looked back at his brother and then to you, who was seemingly unfazed except for the sharp nails that dug into the flesh of his arm.

You tugged him away and up the stairs, ignoring Ser Cole who called out after you. Aemond followed your step and eventually matched your pace, no longer shocked by what he had witnessed.

“Let’s go to the Library. I want to read ‘The Fourteen Flames’.” You declared as you passed through the halls, enjoying the feeling of calm that spread through you by having Aemond at your side.

“I refuse to spend another day with the Septa drone on about being a good wife.” You teased, mirth in your voice, eyes finding the Princes on yours already as you dragged him through the Keep.

“Zaldristos.” The Prince whispered.

Your steps faltered, head tilting as you looked at your uncle, who stood just a bit taller than you.

“What did you say?”

His robes were all green and he still wore his training yard kit. His violet eyes searched your face, hair messy and cheeks rosy.

You loved his eyes.

“Zaldristos.” Aemond repeated.

Little dragon.

Hope you enjoyed!! 🖤🖤🖤

#smoke fire and ash #drabble

150 notes · View notes

wolfylady · 3 months

Text

Accursed Urge

I could not sleep until I tried my hands at Durgetash. Their first interaction had so much tension I couldn't stop thinking about it! So here it is.

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Enver Gortash X Gender neutral Dark Urge/Durge

Word Count: 2,568 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The opulent hall, adorned with ornate gold and weathered stone, glimmered in luminous hues of gold as the stained glass filtered streams of light. Yet, the resplendent glow illuminated only one figure. His attire, adorned with bronze accents, shimmered against his sun-kissed complexion, further deepened by his dark wardrobe.

“Ah! Welcome!” His voice boomed, rattling around Durge’s mind, conjuring a feeling of familiarity that tugged at their heart.

“Gortash!” Karlach snarled. She sounded like a wild beast at the end of her chains, half-crazed by rage. It would take only Durge’s allowance for her to burn everything to the ground; even without it, she might still snap should Gortash say the right or wrong thing. “This is it! I can practically taste his blood from here!”

“Karlach!” Wyll urged, voicing his concern for his father. But Karlach looked wild, so ready to strike that Durge doubted she heard him.

Gently brushing hands with Karlach was like placing their hand within a roaring fire. But Durge swallowed the yelp, using the slight contact to grab Karlach’s attention. Meeting the flames that burned within her gaze, Durge urged softly in what they hoped was a calming tone. “I couldn’t bear to see Gortash get his hands on you again,” they squeezed Karlach’s hand. “Let’s wait for a more opportune moment.”

Karlach sank with a deep breath, her skin cooling and the flames returning to a more comfortable heat. “I hate how you can do that.” She whispered in defeat, squeezing Durge’s hand and letting go with a grimace upon seeing the burn that now resided there.

Stepping closer, Durge’s mind churned, trying to decipher the sudden swell of emotion this man’s face conjured and how their body vibrated with anticipation.

For a moment, Durge regarded Duke Ulder Ravengard, but his mind was an empty husk, a pawn to the absolute awaiting orders.

“My lord, it seems your guest has arrived.” Ulder bowed their head to Gortash, Wyll tensing.

“Exquisite timing, as always.” Cerulean blue eyes bore into Durge’s red glare, a smile more tender than it should for a stranger, pulling on his lips.

“Lord Enver Gortash at your service.” He spoke of Kethric Thorms’ downfall, and a sadistic satisfaction rose up at the memory of the man’s death. But then he looked at Karlach, and Durge felt rage not only for Karlach but also for how the word darling rolled off Gortash’s tongue. It felt almost like jealousy.

Then he spoke of the netherstones and the elder brain; as crucial as that was, Durge was fixated on his mouth. A tirade of emotions swept through Durge, their fingertips tingling, begging to touch the enigmatic lordling.

And then, before they could stop, words came tumbling out, sounding so much more confused and lost than Durge ever wanted to be known. So much of themselves was missing, and despite fighting the dark urge as best they could, Durge desperately wanted to know themselves and the life they’d lived. “Do you know me?”

“Of course, we were partners,” There was a flash of heat not only in Gortash’s blue eyes but also in Durge’s stomach. “You, I, and Kethric were in on this plan from the start.”

For some reason, Durge felt disappointed.

“I seem to have trusted you once before, and it ruined me.” Durge leered through clenched teeth. They were a Bhaalspaw with a fractured mind and no true memories of who they had been before they awoke on the Mindflayer ship and began the journey to rid themselves of the parasitic tadpole that chewed through their hole-riddled mind and uncover who had tried to kill them. Durge suspected that Gortash may be the key to knowing who they had been before they ended up on that ship. A flicker of a memory fluttered through their tattered and hole-addled mind. There was something painfully familiar about the phony lordling before them, their heart fluttering and fingertips aching to reach out, to touch or maime, Durge didn’t know. They had already felled Myrkull’s chosen, and even though Kethric had recognized Durge, Durge had not been overcome with these odd emotions; they hadn’t even felt any familiarity with the now-dead general of Myrkull’s undead army.

“Together, we can restore authority over the elder brain.” Gortash grinned. “I am changed,” Durge sneered. “I have no interest in whatever plan we concocted; I wish only to avenge myself and be rid of this accursed tadpole.”

“Then our goals are still aligned!” He grinned. “Ousting Orin and helping you reclaim your birthright would be my greatest honor,” Gortash spoke in a hush. Still, his tone was sincere before shifting into a business-like manner. “With Kethric gone, Orin proves treacherous. She wants the netherstones for herself.” He sneered. “She only cares about blood.” Gortash gestured to them. “And your blood and mine are of particular interest to her.”

Durge clenched their fists. They had suspected as much. If they were a Blaahspawn, and Orin worshiped Blaah, the god of murder, it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume it was Orin who had tried to kill them.

“I cannot trust easily,” Durge spoke, the dark urge subdued but not extinguished. “But if your words hold truth, and if ousting Orin aligns with my path to vengeance, then we may have an alliance of necessity.”

“Understandable.” Gortash grinned. “Why don’t we step into my office? There are matters I would like to discuss without... extra ears.” His eyes took in Durge’s company.

It was an eclectic assortment of victims of the tadpole, each with a tragic past and circumstance to overcome. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, and Halsin: the only one without a tadpole. Though Durge had no memory of who they had been before the tadpole, they were lucky and happy to have their company. Particularly Astarion and Halsin.

“Hardly.” Astarion scoffed. The vampire’s gaze hardened upon Gortash. His suspicion seeped from his crimson gaze, sticking in the tension-filled room. “Not a chance, you scheming–”

But Durge was already following Gortash.

“Durge.” He croaked out, clutching Durge’s arm in an uncharacteristic display of desperation. It felt too much like handing Durge over to the wolves and hoping they’d return.

But then Durge met Astarion’s gaze, not wavering or holding fear within those crimson eyes. “Just a moment, Astarion.” Durge soothed, bringing their free hand to gently cradle Astarion’s cheek, thumb smoothing away the distress that danced in Astarion’s icy red gaze. Durge looked deeply into Astarion’s eyes, that gentle smile settling Astarion’s troubled heart. A reassurance. A promise. “I’ll be right back.”

Gortash turned around with his smooth words to say, “Hurry along, I won’t keep you too long,” already on the move, with Astarion growling like a starved dog. However, Astarion was halted as Durge gently brushed their lips against his hand, a sign of tenderness that sent shivers down Astarion’s spine and ignited something protective within him. Durge was far too important to risk.

“You had better be.” He warned lowly to Gortash’s retreating form, glaring at the man’s back before turning his eyes back to Durge, dropping his voice to a mere whisper for Durge alone. “Stay sharp. We’ve fought too hard to be taken out now.” Durge smiled before looking up at Halsin and offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand as they passed.

When the pair reached Gortash’s office, a surprisingly humble room for such an extravagantly dressed man, Durge felt their chest constricting, an unnatural tightness that no measure of strength or spell could loosen. Durge could hear the beating of their own heart resonating loudly within the walls of their skull. Their head pounded, filling with disjointed fragments of memories that danced teasingly out of reach. Something deep within stirred, reacting to Gortash’s presence as he shut the heavy wooden door behind them.

“Relax,” Gortash turned and offered a tight smile, though his usual charm was not fully present in his deep voice. He approached the window, hands on the sill as he glanced out over the land stretched beyond.

Durge bites their lip, tasting the iron flavor of blood. Even without a memory of who they used to be, Durge’s instincts and gut intuition remained a formidable part of their psyche, and they didn’t trust Gortash. And yet... something lingered at the back of their mind, a fond remembrance and gentle whispers of warmth and care they couldn’t comprehend.

“You remember us, don’t you?” Gortash asked softly. It felt more a challenge than a question, and Durge clenched their hands. A flood of disjointed memories welled within Durge. Though some were more distinct than others, the feelings of warmth, confusion, and sorrow mingled together to create a cacophony of dissonance in Durge’s mind.

“Gortash,” Durge’s voice hardened as they squared their shoulders, maintaining the distance between them. The word sat heavily on their tongue, carrying a bitterness they could not place. “If this is what you wanted to speak about, then this conversation is over.”

There was a cold flash of emptiness in Gortash’s eyes that, for a split second, caused Durge’s heart to clench uncomfortably. And then it was gone, replaced by that charming mask once again. But that fleeting emotion shook Durge.

Durge paused. “Were-” they struggled to form the words. “Were we in love?” Durge’s question hung in the air between them, shrouding the room in tension.

Gortash drew in a shaky breath, folding his arms across his chest as he closed his eyes momentarily, opening them again to pin Durge with a heavy gaze. His usual charm disappeared, revealing a vulnerable man who clearly hadn’t expected such a question.

“I like to think so,” he answered softly, without the usual veneer of confidence and charisma he wore. His gaze dropped to his boots, “But when I lost you, I thought my heart would stop beating too.” He confessed, his eyes not daring to meet Durge’s. Something clenched inside Durge; it was sorrow and regret, but they weren’t their own. A long lost feeling that buried deep within, so foreign yet so familiar.

Following his confession, Durge remained rooted to the spot, struggling to process Gortash’s confession. After a while, Gortash stood and walked toward Durge, stopping in front of them with barely a hand’s breadth between them.

Gortash broke the distance and whispered in a husky voice full of desperate hope and anguish. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers hesitated near Durge’s face before gently grazing their skin.

His act was so swift and spontaneous that Durge barely registered it until it was happening. Gortash had closed the distance and pressed his lips against Durge’s, pulling them closer, crushing his body against theirs. His fingers tangled in their hair.

Lost in the throes of memories and connection, Durge surrendered and responded to the kiss as Durge’s tattered memory sought something familiar in Gortash’s taste and warmth; they could almost feel their old selves tingle in their veins. A lingering sweetness fluttered within their chest. Overwhelmed by their mutual need and yearning, they met him halfway, their guarded suspicion replaced by growing warmth.

However, as quickly as the memories welled up, Durge cut off the kiss. Stunned and overwhelmed, they stepped back, attempting to catch their breath and clear the mental fog clouding their rationality.

“Whatever we had is over, Gortash,” Durge spat, their voice catching slightly in their throat as they grappled with their feelings. Durge wiped their mouth with the back of their hand as if to rid the lingering taste of Gortash. “We’re nothing.”

Gortash regarded Durge, a shimmer of heartache crossing his handsome face before he quickly wiped it away with a sardonic smile. Eyes darkening. “That is where you are mistaken, darling,” Gortash moved towards Durge, predatory. Durge could feel his voice vibrate against their skin, each word stinging. “We were never over.” Gortash seemed to radiate certainty; an eerie air of resolve clung to him as though he intended to claim Durge back. “I have always cherished you, Durge, even if you don’t remember your body does,” Gortash’s tone was painfully sincere, which made Durge wince internally. His words seemed to open up a wound in Durge, yet their body felt the flicker of emotions stirring beneath their skin. The flame that once danced in Gortash’s eyes burned brighter as his hands softly cradled Durge’s face, “And I have every intention of reminding you, love.” His fingers slid over their cheek, pushing away a stray lock of hair before sliding around Durge’s neck. His thumb brushed over their lips, and Durge almost felt something soften in their chest.

“But-”

“I’m patient, my dear. I’ll wait.” He said softly, leaning closer to kiss their forehead softly.

“I hate you.” Durge rasped out. Their fingers tightened into fists at their side, rage coloring their voice.

“You love me,” Gortash said simply. There was a challenge in his eyes, an intensity Durge had missed.

“I…” Durge stuttered, faltering under his intense gaze.

“That’s right, you do. And you can’t deny that.” He murmured against Durge’s ear, a note of certainty weaving into his voice.

Durge swallowed hard. “Even if I did, I am no longer the person I once was. We can’t go back, Gortash.” Durge spat, tugging away from his grip. They stood, both figuratively and literally, at odds with each other.

He was silent for a moment, eyes lingering on Durge. A sigh slipped from his lips before he said, “Even if that is the case, it changes nothing. My feelings haven’t altered. We will sort this out together, just like old times.” Gortash said resolutely, turning his back towards them as if to shut out the hurt he had been unable to hide.

He was immovable, like a sturdy rock standing against a violent sea. Durge tried to speak, to push away his claim. To tell him to get over whatever phantom was stuck in his head because they were not the person he claimed to remember.

But as Durge opened their mouth to speak, Gortash suddenly closed the distance, clasping Durge’s chin firmly, drawing them to look into his cerulean blue eyes. “We’ll have all the time in the world once you get the last netherstone from Orin.”

In that moment, Durge knew the inevitable truth. Despite all that they wished for, despite all the confusion, there was an undeniable connection. It was raw and turbulent, much like the man who held their gaze, not flinching, not yielding.

Durge pulled back sharply from his grip. Their breath hitched as a strange pain gripped their chest. “We’ll see about that, Gortash.” They bit out.

There was no compromise with Gortash. He had his own peculiar way of stirring the still waters, making the familiar unfathomable, pulling out an obscure string of feelings that Durge had so stubbornly kept hidden beneath a carefully maintained façade of stoicism.

Gortash chuckled dryly, turning his back towards Durge, crossing his hands behind him as he looked out the window. He was content with his ultimatum.

And in that moment, despite their fragmented and distorted memory, Durge was acutely aware of the storm that awaited them in their shared future. For better or for worse, Durge was aware that Gortash had set them on a path, a storm that neither could escape.

With that, Durge slipped out the door, leaving Gortash behind. Their body tingled from the brief yet intimate encounter, leaving their mind spinning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

wolfYLady: I posted this on my other accounts and got some request to continue so I have another chapter up with another on the way!

Please be kind and leave a comment, I would love to know what you think of my angsty work!

Part 2 > Part 3 (Smut)>

44 notes · View notes

quite-an-odd-fellow · 7 months

Text

Normal Oak-Swallows-Garcia-Marlowe-Lee-Wilson-Swift-The Unworthy, a not so Perky Peppy guy (spoilers through season 2, episode 44 of Dungeons and Daddies)

Will Campos is a brilliant role player, which was already evident from watching him play Henry, but to me Normal shines as the one that actually suppresses his emotions effectively, leaving him emotionally isolated.

Taylor never really tries to hide what he’s feeling, but even Scary and Link who do try to hide their feelings are usually pretty obvious about it anyway. Her tummy never hurt, she just wanted the attention. “Boss Kicks” is pretty clearly not a mature person who’s moved on from learning the truth about his father.

But Normal? He always backs down. Always lets it go. Puts on a grin, because he’s a mascot at heart and he at least needs a mask if he can’t be wearing the Teenie head. Everything gets pushed down so he can carry on with enthusiasm. He loves these people, because they’re his only friends and he can’t rely on his family. None of them really notice him, though.

Somehow perfectly reminiscent of Henry’s anxieties in a realistic generational way without playing into things too heavily, Normal is standing on the edge of a tightrope that’s always threatening to snap. He takes about a dozen punches to the trauma center of his brain throughout these adventures, from his father not being proud of him, to Taylor and Link bonding and becoming closer to each other while he’s left to the side, to Scary trying to sabotage everything he’s working towards, to Hermie rejecting him then immediately offering a date he doesn’t care about if he’ll kill Scam, you get the picture.

In the end, he tries so hard to get everyone to be close, happy, good, and better than their fathers that he sometimes crosses the line without realizing it.

In episode 44, he tries in his own way to bring Scary to a better place. He figures it’s a good idea for her to apologize to Tony Pepperoni, he felt guilty about their involvement, so surely Scary must want to get some of that weight off her chest too, she was the reason he died! Even if misguided, his heart was in the right place. Inevitably, he's met with anger and disdain from Link and Taylor, who never give him an inch.

What can he say, though? Lark and Sparrow don’t like the way he is. His ‘friends’ often don’t like the way he is, and they all partner up with each other without him. Hermie rejects him pretty harshly and then tries to use him to get with his 'better' friend/wife.

Nobody likes him, from his perspective. Honestly, from my perspective too. Link likes (crushes on? It feels that way to me) Scary the most, from how I see it. Taylor feels like his best friend, and Normal’s… his childhood friend that’s a part of the group? They aren’t the same kind of close.

Taylor is mostly just chaotically Taylor, but often butts heads with Normal’s ideals. He doesn’t really show any signs of caring. Even he focused in on Scary, although it was with negative feelings. He’s besties with Link and loves to get into shenanigans with him. But he never really pays attention to Normal, or has fun with him.

Scary I think actually does somewhat like Normal, but has been too in her own head to give thought to him. Clearly she opposed and was angry with him at her worst, but in lighter moments she actually sort of looked out for him in her own way. In the most recent episode, she clearly puts a bit more thought towards him than before now that he’s so obviously upset. Link is too, but it comes off more as guilt for now than concern. Unfortunately that’s kind of the only time she actually shows real thought towards him, and he’s already been pushed off the edge.

I’ve been waiting a long time for Normal to have his full breakdown. His sister is literally named Hero, she was made for this, not him. Nobody liked Teenie until Link danced in the costume. His friends aren’t actually his friends. His parents don’t even like who he is. He thinks he’s good for nothing.

So he throws on that crumbling mask, putting back on the shell he’d tried to break out of, and stews in silence. Hides because there’s nothing left holding him together but the tiniest thread of the mascot surrounding him keeping him from shattering.

It’s beautiful, and this season has absolutely knocked me on my ass.

Normal is such a well crafted lonely teenager who can’t seem to fit in. It’s why I think he was so connected to the Doodler. The Doodler is in his family’s blood, they all either desire it’s demise or were literally born to bring it about, but he empathized with it. Wanted to show it unconditional love, because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And even that connection is overshadowed by Scary’s connection with it.

This poor, poor boy. All of the cast has had great moments that made me feel like this too, but damn is he a well roleplayed teenager. I feel that gut punch every time he’s pushed to the side or laughs off his traumas like I was in high school all over again.

I absolutely cannot wait for the next episode, and am cautiously hoping that by the end of his arc we can see the kid be happy and know that he’s loved.

#dungeons and daddies #normal oak #scary marlowe #taylor swift #lincoln lee wilson #sparrow oak #lark oak #unhinged rant #seriously just me talking way too long about normal oak #will campos #beth may #matthew arnold #freddie wong #anthony burch #give the poor lad a break maybe

81 notes · View notes

chronicowboy · 1 year

Text

wrote this on wednesday then promptly forgot about it (thabk @danielsousa for reminding me) but there's like a tiny chance eddie could be trapped in that van with someone so the bones of this fic could still technically apply

Eddie makes it out alive. Again. Somehow.

(Except somehow is 6ft2 and looks a lot like an angel when the last piece of rubble falls away and the light filters into what Eddie had thought would be his grave.)

Eddie makes it out alive, but Joel isn't so lucky.

He had been on a motorbike when the first crash had happened, in critical condition before the bridge had collapsed. It had taken them far too long to extract him from the cluster of cars, and then, when they'd finally gotten him ready to transport, the bridge had swallowed both Joel and Eddie whole.

It had been a long two hours of trying to keep Joel from bleeding out, but eventually he'd lost the fight and the man had taken in one final, wheezing breath before going still.

Now, Eddie's staring into a hospital mirror covered in dust and another man's blood. The bathroom door creaks open, and Buck's reflection appears in the mirror.

"Chim's okay," he offers softly. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut in relief, its the most Buck is going to get out of him. "Maddie's just waiting for him to be assigned a room and then she'll go up and sit with him until he's awake." Buck joins him by the sinks, turning the faucet on and grabbing a wad of paper towels. "Hen and Bobby have been checked out too. Nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. Karen and Athena are looking after them."

Buck picks up Eddie's bloodied hands with a gentleness that makes Eddie want to curl up in a ball, but he lets Buck wipe away the grime on his skin and doesn't think about Maddie with Chimney, Athena with Bobby, Karen with Hen. He catches the bandage peeking out from under Buck's shirt sleeve and his stomach clenches.

"What about you?" he croaks, voice hoarse from begging Joel to stay with him. Buck looks up at him with earnest eyes before following his gaze down to the gauze.

"Oh, that's nothing." Buck shakes his head. "Chim needed a blood transfusion, and..."

"You're a universal donor," Eddie mumbles to himself. Buck nods.

"How are you?" he whispers, guiding Eddie's hands under the lukewarm stream of water. Eddie fixes his gaze on the pink liquid swirling around the drain.

"Unscathed," he spits.

"Eddie," Buck murmurs. "You did everything you could for him."

"It wasn't enough."

Eddie jerks his hands out of Buck's grasp, pumps three drops of soap onto his palm, turns the heat up to full and scrubs and scrubs and scrubs. Buck shuts the tap off just as the water begins to burn, and Eddie slumps into a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head.

"He had a kid at home, Buck." Eddie bites his lip, revels in the gritty taste of dust. "A little girl. Jackie. God, you should have seen his face when he spoke about her." Even in the darkness, even in tremendous amounts of agony, Joel had lit up like the fucking sun when he spoke of his daughter. For a single moment, Eddie had been back in the well, fighting to get home to Christopher.

"And I know that you did everything in your power to try and get him back to her," Buck says with conviction.

"Well, it wasn't enough, was it?" Eddie snaps. "He died in my care, Buck. I let a little girl lose her father."

"Eddie, that was not your fault," Buck warns him, tone stern. "The universe was working against you in every possible way."

"The universe!" Eddie laughs coldly, meets Buck's eyes in the mirror. "The universe has been working against me my whole goddamn life, Buck. But I'm still here." His voice cracks, but he doesn't take his eyes off Buck. Can't. "Why am I still here?" Buck opens his mouth, but Eddie doesn't want an answer as much as he wants to spit in the universe's filthy fucking face. "Shannon died, my convoy died, Joel died. You died." Eddie takes in a ragged breath, cursing the oxygen in his lungs. "Why am I still alive?"

"Because there is a little boy, who's not all that little anymore, waiting for you at home. A little boy who loves you more than anything in the world. A little boy who needs his dad."

"Wasn't enough for Joel," Eddie croaks.

"No, but." Buck sighs. "You made Chris a promise. To always fight to come home to him. You were just keeping that promise."

"He had a wife," Eddie whispers. "A wife and a kid to get home to. And he fought for them. But..." He squeezes his eyes shut again. "Why am I still here, Buck?"

"For Christopher."

"Christopher would be fine." Eddie shakes his head in dismissal. "He'd have you."

For a moment, the only sound in the bathroom is Eddie's ragged breathing and the drip-drop of a leaky faucet. Then, a low and furious noise, like the grumble of thunder -

"Eddie, you are not expendable."

Eddie huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

"Clearly not," he snaps, spinning around to face Buck head on. "Clearly I'm not expendable when everybody around me, everybody but me keeps dying."

Eddie storms out of the bathroom before Buck can say anything else. The itch under his skin turning into a haunting chorus telling him to run. He follows the winding hallways of the hospital in a blind need for air, suddenly claustrophobic trapped in between four walls, just waiting for it all to come crumbling down around him. He doesn't stop until he's outside, collapsing onto the bench just left of the exit as the tears start to fall. He hunches in on himself and cries into his hands for what feels like hours.

Eventually, somebody eases down onto the bench beside him. He doesn't have to look to know its Buck, can feel it in the warmth where their shoulders touch. Eddie braces himself for whatever Buck is going to say, but nothing comes. Buck just. Sits beside him. Sits with him in his grief. And Eddie is so thankful for it that he almost doesn't remember Bobby's words to him in the hardware store.

a motorcycle accident... it was a bad one... I wasn't at my best at the time... I needed to take a minute and she sat with me.

"Eddie, you said it yourself." Buck smiles at him. "Experiences like this they change us, so you're gonna have to make a choice. What's this gonna change in you?"

Oh, Eddie thinks, that's what its going to change.

#sami rambles #this isn't technically spec but i can't stop thinking about a traffic accident being the moment bobby realised athena was more than #a colleague and the focus of next episode being a huge traffic accident #so yeah have this :)#911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 spec #911 spec fic #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 ficlet #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic

146 notes · View notes

cyberphuck · 1 year

Text

Assassin’s Apprentice Abridged: Part One

EDIT: Tumblr randomly swallowed like 500 words in the middle of this, so I've added that back in.

I am finally embarking on my long-threatened project to summarize all of the Farseer Trilogy for my friend Razz so they can understand my shitposts about it but don’t actually have to read it. I started with this post about the cast of characters in the first book.

This is being broken up into sections because the trilogy and AA in particular (as well as Royal Assassin... whew, that one’s gonna be hard) is so insanely long and complex.

And now, Ladies and Gentlequeers, AA Abridged: Part One.

We open on the narrator musing both about writing a history of the Six Duchies (but being unable to because every time he tries it turns into a salty rant about everything bad that's ever happened to him) and also about how very old and decrepit he is. He is hunched over his writing desk, his fingers gnarled and knuckly, literally crumbling away like a Thanos-snapped MCU character as he sorrowfully attempts to make some record of the long and storied life he's lived before he lapses into the sweet void of death.

Fitz is 35.

"I bet you're wondering how I got here," Fitz writes. "It all began when I was born. Neither of my parents bothered to show up."

Actually, the curtain opens on Fitz as a six year old, being hauled up to the front doors of a fort by a cranky older man. "Surely you must have memories of your childhood before six," someone in the audience asks, but Fitz replies "No, I definitely don't, I never did and I'm tired of you asking me that." It never really becomes super important what he was doing before he was six, unless you count the time where he was traveling from the King-In-Waiting's ballsack to the sweet hot vagina of Some Lady He Never Spoke To Again.

Fitz is scooped up and brought inside the fort, and presented to Prince Verity. You'd think Verity would be at least a little upset that his older brother has muddied the line of succession with his long-ago nut, but Verity acts as if Fitz's existence is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Yep, looks just like him," Verity confirms, then instructs a soldier to bring Fitz to Burrich.

That's right, the cranky old man hammers on the front door, waits for someone to open it, says "this is Prince Chivalry's kid and I'm tired of dealing with him," and then walks off. Despite this, Fitz never develops any abandonment issues and only has healthy and honest relationships with people for the rest of his life.

"Those are all the memories I have of that fort," Fitz writes, "except for that one night that Prince Verity, Burrich, and Prince Regal stood and looked in on me in the stall and Regal complained that I was muddying the line of succession."

Burrich does not think this situation is as funny as Verity did.

But he's honest and loyal, so he sighs and says "C'mon, Lil Accident, I'll find a place for you to sleep." That place is in a horse stall with Vixen, the hound dog, and Nosy, her pup. Burrich looks down at all of them, mutters "Patience is gonna have a fucking aneurysm" and then walks off.

After a couple of weeks, Burrich puts Lil Accident on a horse behind him and they ride away from Moonseye and towards Buckkeep. During this time, offstage, Fitz's father Chivalry gets word of his appearance and does the only sensible and logical thing, which is to ollie out the window while flipping everyone off and yelling "GOOD LUCK FIGURING THIS ONE OUT, LOSERS!" He abdicates and retires to a farm with his weirdo wife, which pisses off basically everyone.

Burrich and Fitz arrive at Buckkeep, the capital of the Six Duchies, a tall castle on a hill overlooking the ocean. Burrich is the stablemaster, in charge of all the critters large and small at the keep. He'd also been Chivalry's right hand man until he'd jumped in front of a boar to keep it from killing the Prince and fucked up his leg. Burrich comes home to Buckkeep with a bad leg and a six year old bastard to find that his bestie has just fucking peaced out without saying anything to him. He's kind of having a bad day. He hands Fitz off to stableboy Cobb, who leads him and pup Nosy to the kitchens to get something to eat.

Cobb sits FItz-and-Nosy just outside the kitchens and goes inside for delicious pie. A burly man walks by Fitz, does a double-take, then points and yells, "Hey everyone! It's Chivalry's Bastard!"

Fitz shrinks down.

"I heard you don't even have a name!" Burly man hollers, then gets right up in Fitz's face. "Is that true, tiny and defenseless six year old boy that I'm accosting? You don't have a name?"

Fitz yells "NOOOOOO" and, like a tiny, dirty Jedi master, force-shoves the man onto his ass. The crowd, assuming that the dude was just a coward who couldn't handle being yelled at by a toddler, has a laugh and carries on with their tasks. Fitz gets up and he and Nosy run away and spend all day hiding in a hole.

Burrich does eventually find him, and with a hearty "what the fuck you can't just burrow underneath the shed, get out of there," returns him to the stables, where his new home is Burrich's little bachelor pad above the stalls. In the days and weeks that follow, Fitz wakes up, eats breakfast, and immediately escapes the keep to go down to the town and run around with a bunch of street kids.

Fitz doesn't say much but he's game for anything and he has a dog, so he's accepted into the gang as "Newboy." He and his new friends generally just run around making trouble, stealing food, and bothering people. One of the notables in the bunch is Molly Nosebleed, called that because she always looks like someone just got done beating the shit out of her. Wholesome!

One sunny day, Fitz, Molly and Nosy are on the rocks near the beach looking for sheel to eat. I have no idea what sheel is and neither does Google. Then Molly's dad shows up to hit her with a stick to teach her a lesson about having a drunk, violent dad.

Alarmed, Fitz force-shoves Molly's dad into the sand. Molly immediately freaks out and struggles to get dad back on his feet to stagger back to their candle-making shop (or chandlery if you're feeling fancy). Fitz is confused at the intricacies of abusive relationships, but relieved that no one yet knows that he has force-shoving powers.

Aside from his brief encounter with childhood trauma, everything is going great for Fitz. Then one day, while he and his fellow urchins (and Nosy) are running from a dude whose sausages they just stole, Fitz runs right the fuck into Burrich.

"You get your butt right back up to the castle, young man," Burrich says, dragging Fitz along by his ear. "And if I EVER find out you've been down in town hanging out with someone again, I will personally have sex with them a bunch of times," he added foreshadowingly.

"I don't have to do what you say," Fitz barks.

"Bark," says Nosy.

Burrich's eyes narrow. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asks.

"I don't really know numbers," says Fitz.

"Bark," says Nosy.

"Nosy says that's three," Fitz translates.

"Alrighty then, no more puppy for you, the puppy is going to live on a farm upstate," Burrich says. He drags the puppy outside.

Presumably something cool happens to it.

So now instead of slumming around Buckkeep Town, Fitz spends his days following Burrich around and being taught how to manage horses and dogs but not birds because birds apparently hate bastards. Fitz is careful not to let Burrich see him being friendly with any animals.

One day, Fitz is sitting underneath a table in the Great Hall, being friendly with a bunch of puppies. It's the morning after a party and there's plenty of leftover food to be had, and he's happily stuffing pies down his shirt and sharing pieces with the pups. Then he hears footsteps and who should show up but KING SHREWD!

Shrewd is technically Fitz's grandfather but has never really spoken to him. He's walking along with Prince Regal (*crowd boos*) and the king's new fool, a weirdo albino child who's just cartwheeling along behind them.

Fitz goes "hmm, time to bounce" and crawls out from under the table. Shrewd stops to look at him. "Ah, the Little Accident," he says. "If you leave weapons laying around, someone will eventually pick them up and stab you with them."

"What?" says Regal.

"What?" says Fitz.

"I am not going to leave you laying around for someone else to kill me with," Shrewd says. "Lil Accident, take this pin. I am going to to feed you, train you, house you and clothe you. If anyone's got shit to say about it, show them this pin. It means you belong to me."

"...Okay, sure," Fitz shrugs. He puts the pin into the collar of his shirt. Shrewd nods magnanimously and walks on. Regal flips him off. The Fool cartwheels out the door as they leave.

That night, Fitz goes home to Burrich's bachelor pad, but Burrich turns him right back around. "You done gone and did it now," he says. "King Shrewd noticed you and now you're gonna have to go live inside the castle like a fancy lad. Go on."

"But despite my fear and resentment of you, I see you as a protector and father figure," Fitz says.

"Oh little boy who blew up my life, I love and resent you too," Burrich assures him. "If you get lonely, you can come back down here and I'll murder another puppy for you."

Fitz trudges up to the castle. He has a room of his own. There's a fucking weird tapestry on the wall of the ancient King Wisdom consorting with... what is that thing? Slenderman? It's creepy.

Weeks go by. Fitz is kept busy with new lessons in reading and writing and 'rithmetic, as well as swordery. Once in a very long while, he makes the trip back down to the town to visit his buddies, but those trips become fewer and farther between.

It's the middle of the night.

Fitz wakes up to a draft and a light in his face. There's an old man at the foot of his bed, holding up a lantern. "Come with me," the old man says.

"Oh," Fitz yawns, getting out of bed. "It's the call to adventure."

The old man leads Fitz to a doorway in the wall that hadn't been there before. This is where the draft was coming from-- a steep staircase leading up between walls. Old man leads Fitz up a maze of passageways and then finally to a huge hidden room with all the amenities a crazy old wall-man could want, like a fireplace and comfy chairs and a big bed and a library and a science lab.

Also, the old looks like he took a hot frying pan to the face. Like he really looks like hell.

"Wrow," Fitz says.

"Wrow indeed, boy," the old man agrees. "My name is Chade. I bet I look familiar to you. Well it's because I'm King Shrewd's brother and I blah blah blah I have a weasel named Slink. Next you're going to ask what the fuck happened to my face. I can tell everything you're thinking, because I'm a master spy and assassin and-- now this part you should take to heart-- I am always right about everything. Never doubt me."

"Okay," Fitz says.

"Good. That out of the way, let's train you to kill people."

#rote #robin hobb #farseer trilogy #fitzchivalry farseer #aa abridged #farseer trilogy abridged

109 notes · View notes

anonymousewrites · 7 months

Text

There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Twenty-One

Dazai Osamu x Fem! Reader

Chuuya Nakahara x Fem! OC!

Chapter Twenty-One: Together

Summary: (Y/N) gets to have everyone alright and together.

Mouse Note: Final chapter of Book 4!

(Y/N)’s eyes opened to a plain white ceiling. She groaned and pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her body no longer ached, free of wounds, but she had no idea where she was. (Y/N) could be dead for all she knew.

“Hey, hey. Don’t strain yourself.”

A bandaged arm supported (Y/N), and her eyes snapped up, widening.

“Dazai!”

The man she loved smiled at her from he sat at her side. “(Y/N),” he said with a voice of pure adoration.

“You’re alright,” said (Y/N), relief and joy in her eyes.

Dazai held her hand and smiled. “So are you.”

(Y/N) leaned up, ignoring how tired her body was, and pulled him to her. She kissed with the passion their separation had caused, with all the love she had in her body for him, endless and powerful.

�� Dazai’s arms wrapped around her, and he tilted his head to kiss her deeper. He too had missed her, and to have (Y/N) back in his arms to love and to cherish was an incredible feeling. He threw all of those emotions into his kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, (Y/N) and Dazai were unable to stop smiling at each other.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” admitted (Y/N).

Dazai chuckled softly and cupped her cheek, smiling gently. “What? So little belief in my intelligence?”

“You were trapped with Fyodor,” said (Y/N). She swallowed at the memories of Fyodor. “I couldn’t help but worry.”

Dazai’s gaze became fierce, and he gently turned (Y/N)’s face to look into her eyes. “Fyodor is gone. I made sure of it. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “He’s gone?”

Dazai nodded. “I made sure of it. He’ll never hurt you again.”

(Y/N) let out a breath of relief and relaxed. Fyodor was dead. He’d never try to take her for himself again. She was alright, and Dazai was back with her.

“But while I’m glad he’s gone, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to support you through everything,” said Dazai. “I saw your injuries before Yosano healed you. You fought almost until your own death.”

(Y/N) smiled ruefully. “I needed to protect the people I cared about. I couldn’t let Fukuchi hurt everyone.” At his name, her expression faltered. “Especially not after everything he’d already done.” She looked at Dazai. “He was my father. He killed my mom, just like he killed Akira’s. And now he’s dead. What type of messed up family am I a part of?”

Dazai kissed (Y/N) gently to reassure her. “You’re not Fukuchi. Blood doesn’t matter, in the end. You were the hero the world needed when you fought him. He could never have been a hero like you. You are your mother’s daughter. And if I had to guess, Akira is her mother’s daughter since she was willing to do the right thing.” He was calm as he heard the Akira Mori’s mother, Ougai Mori’s wife, had been killed by Fukuchi, since his mind put together the scenarios with ease. (That, and it meant he had ammunition against Mori if needed).

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Oh, god! Akira! Where is she? Is she alright? She was really hurt, there was a lot of blood, did Yosano get to her—”

“(Y/N).” Dazai calmed her with a squeeze of her hand. “Akira is alright. Yosano healed her. She’s alive.”

(Y/N)’s heart jumped for joy. Akira, her dearest friend, her sister, was alive. She was alright. (Y/N) let out a sob of joy as all the stress and exhaustion of the past few days caught up to her.

“Everyone’s going to be alright,” said Dazai, pulling her into a hug.

(Y/N) hugged him back, shoulder’s shake as relief washed over her. From the truth of her mother’s dead to Fukuchi being her father to the vampires to the people she cared about nearly dying to taking control of One Order, (Y/N) was filled a complex array of emotions. And finally in her love’s arms, she let go.

Akira sat up the moment her consciousness returned. “Where’s (Y/N)?!” she said, looking around herself wildly. She was nearly out of her bed and ripping the curtains from her hospital cot away when someone stepped around them, alarmed at the shouting.

“She’s alright,” assured Yosano. “She’s just resting, like you.” She gave Akira a stern look. “Get back in the bed.”

Akira scowled. “You don’t tell me what to do. I need to check on (Y/N).”

“I swear, Akira, (Y/N) is alright. Dazai’s with her now,” said Yosano, catching Akira’s arm and turning her back to the bed. “But my ability can tire people. You need to rest.”

Akira shrugged out of Yosano’s hold. “I’m fine. My gift means I heal quicker than others.” She paused and glanced at Yosano. “But…thanks. You probably saved me and (Y/N)’s lives.”

Yosano smiled. Their old friendship was broken, and whatever they had now would never be the same, but at least Akira was speaking to her. “Well, you and (Y/N) saved all of us first.”

Akira tsked and crossed her arms. “I killed the guy who murdered my mom. It was about my own revenge.”

Yosano smirked. “Sure.” She wouldn’t point out that if Akira was that selfish, her first thought wouldn’t be about if (Y/N) was alive. “I’m still glad you fought with (Y/N). We couldn’t have done this without you.” She cleared her throat. “But I’m mostly just glad you’re okay. I-I know I messed up when we were younger. I should have tried to find you after I joined the Agency. I know what Mori is like. I should have made sure you were okay. And I didn’t. So, I’m sorry, and I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but I really am happy you’re alive. You’re still…important to me.”

Akira paused, red eyes piercing into Yosano’s expression. And then, she smiled ever-so-slightly. “Thanks.” Her eyes flicked up to Yosano’s. “And I’m glad you’re alright, too. I’ve hated a lot of people in my life, but you…I don’t want you hurt, Akiko. Mori is an asshole. What he’s done doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Yosano smiled. There was a long road to real friendship, and there would always be history, but Akira and Yosano had something again.

(Y/N) smiled as she watched her friends run around and laugh and drink and dance. After everything that had happened, she was glad they could have fun. They all deserved it. In fact, people were just so relieved to be alive and to have Yokohama (and the world) safe that they didn’t care if they were around Port Mafia or Agency members. Even Akira was fine with Port Mafia members in her bar (though (Y/N) suspected that was mostly because Akira wanted to see Chuuya but was too proud to say anything to his face).

(Y/N) chuckled lightly as she watched Dazai run around with Kunikida’s notebook while the blond chased him. This was what she liked her life as: fun chaos instead of deadly chaos.

“(Y/N) (L/N). Or should I call you (Y/N) Fukuchi?”

(Y/N) crossed her arms and turned. “If you’re try to irritate me, you’ll have to try harder, Mori.”

The boss of the Port Mafia smirked. “Irritate you? Nonsense. I don’t condescend to irritate a mere Agency member.”

“And yet you approached me,” remarked (Y/N). “What do you want?”

“You possess One Order,” said Mori sharply. If (Y/N) wasn’t going to beat around the bush, he wouldn’t, either. “Your Gift allows you to use it.”

“It responds to me, yes,” said (Y/N).

Mori’s eyes narrowed. “That is a significant amount of power to wield. It threatens the very world, and left unchecked, it could cause trouble.” The curl of his lip as he spoke directed his message clearly. If you’re left alive, there could be issues.

(Y/N) just smiled. “I don’t go looking for trouble, and I want One Order to be properly locked up again.” Her smile turned to a slight smirk. “But if you want to try to ‘check’ any possible danger, remember that you’re a smart man who knows when he’s out of his depth.”

Mori’s gaze was cold. “I very much doubt I’m out of my depth.”

“Believe what you’d like about me—” though (Y/N)’s ability sparked at the idea of getting to fight the infamous Mori “—but I’m not the only person you have to deal with. Setting the entire Agency aside, I don’t think you’d want to cross Dazai on his own.” She cocked her head. “And I’m not foolish enough to think you don’t know about our relationship. So I also that you’re aware of just how much damage Dazai is capable of if anything happened to me.” She smiled. “Just recently he killed Fyodor Dostoevsky for me. I don’t think you want to be on his bad side.”

“Are you threatening me?” said Mori lightly.

“Not at all. I’m just doing what you did, pointing out facts about the situation,” said (Y/N), all smiles and pleasantries.

“Facts? Yes, like how Dazai is also unwilling to risk Yokohama as a whole, and my leadership of the Port Mafia holds a delicate balance,” said Mori.

(Y/N) chuckled. “If you think Dazai doesn’t have a breaking point just because you haven’t found it, you’re more foolish than I thought.” Mori’s eyes narrowed. “But even if Dazai wouldn’t do anything to hurt Yokohama, I know one person who would burn the city for the ground if they cared enough.” (Y/N) smirked as Mori furrowed his brow, and she went straight for the jugular. “Akira isn’t exactly known for holding back.”

Mori paused at the mention of his daughter. “She is hardly a threat.”

“No? Then you haven’t seen her fight,” said (Y/N), continuing without a care for who she was speaking to. “I mean, she went berserk and nearly killed Fukuchi on her when she found out he killed her mom.”

Mori hid any reaction behind a pointed sip of wine. The truth of his wife’s death weighed heavy on him, and he longed to bring Fukuchi back just to get the chance to make him suffer for what he’d done to Nanako.

But Mori was not a vulnerable man. He refused to be, so all he said was, “If she did try anything, I have people who could fight her.”

(Y/N) smirked. She knew for a fact Chuuya wouldn’t harm Akira, but she’d leave that truth a secret. “I don’t think you do. In fact, I think Akira is the biggest threat to you.”

Mori’s eyes flashed imperceptibly. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll spell it out for you. If you were to try to ‘check’ One Order—” if you try to kill me “—you wouldn’t be able to handle Akira—” you wouldn’t be able to kill her if she came for you.

“If someone threatens the balance of protection for Yokohama, I have no mercy,” said Mori coldly.

(Y/N) hummed in acknowledgement and was silent. Mori gripped his wine glass tighter. He thought the conversation over and was glad. It had not gone the direction he intended. He wished to ensure One Order was handled properly and not left in the power of a young woman who seemed to have too much power of the world already, but it seemed she was remaining steadfast and not cowering from anyone trying to push her around.

“You know, Akira told me that Elise used to be pretty stiff and quiet,” said (Y/N) suddenly. Mori stiffened, and his red eyes went to (Y/N) as she continued with a calm smile. “Interesting that she has a personality now, right? Pretty energetic, a bit sassy, and very stubborn, so I’ve heard.” She tilted her head and looked across the room at Akira. “Funny. I bet Akira was like that when she was younger, maybe about eleven, like the age Elise shows up as.” Mori was silent, and (Y/N) faced him with a smile that felt as threatening as Dazai’s. “Actually, the same age you abandoned her.” (Y/N)’s smile turned sharp. “Quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

Mori had a steely expression. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“No?” said (Y/N). “I think Akira is safer in this city than she realizes.”

Mori’s eyes narrowed. “You think you understand more than you truly do.”

“No, I think I understand perfectly.” (Y/N) smiled. “And you understand too.” She picked up a wine glass and took a sip. “Have a nice night, Mori. Try to remember our discussion.” She paused. “And be careful. If I can see what you hide, I’m sure other people do. And as you said, other people aren’t as merciful as me.”

(Y/N) walked off and left Mori alone. He wouldn’t be trying anything against her just for having One Order’s obedience. He would be risking far too much.

Mori’s eyes went to Akira and felt unable to leave as he watched his daughter smile and laugh with others. He hadn’t seen that in over a decade. Unbidden, his fist clenched his wine glass as Fukuzawa walked up to Akira and she brightened.

(Y/N) was quickly joined by Dazai as she walked away from Mori. His gaze was sharp and flicked between her and Mori. It didn’t take a genius to know that the Port Mafia boss was most certainly threatening her. She got One Order to respond to her, after all.

“Did he try anything?” said Dazai.

“He threatened me,” said (Y/N). She smiled. “But he won’t be trying anything.”

“Are you sure?” said Dazai. Mori was not one to be trusted in any way.

“Oh, yes,” said (Y/N), smirking.

“Did you threaten him?” said Dazai incredulously.

“No, just pointed out that I know his weaknesses and that they mean he can’t try to hurt me,” said (Y/N) brightly.

“You’re cunning. I like it.” Dazai put an arm around her waist and smirked fondly.

(Y/N) chuckled. “Only you would be attracted by the idea of me basically blackmailing someone.”

“Well, if it’s you, then yes,” said Dazai. He leaned in to give her a kiss, but a blur of red nearly threw him to the side.

“(Y/N)!” chirped Akira as Dazai groaned and picked himself up. “Guess what?”

“What?” said (Y/N). “You and you-know-who talked out your issues?”

Akira scowled. “No.” She brightened again. “I got a job offer from Mr. Boss Man.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. “You what?”

“I’ve got an offer work at least part-time with the Agency,” said Akira. “Fukuzawa asked me a minute ago.”

“What did you say?” said (Y/N) excitedly.

“I said yes,” said Akira. “I think I want to try helping more people like you do.”

(Y/N) nearly squealed in excitement and hugged Akira. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Akira, but she was just as excited to work with (Y/N), and she hugged her best friend just as tightly. “It’s just part-time, though. I can’t give up the bar, not after all I put into it.”

“Of course not,” said (Y/N). “But I can’t wait to have you with me.”

“We make a hell of a team,” said Akira, grinning.

“Have you told Yosano?” asked (Y/N).

“Akiko? No, I should,” said Akira. “But I’ll be back!” She bounded away, and (Y/N) watched in amusement.

“All three of Mori’s kids or proteges are going to be at the Agency, hm?” said Dazai. He grinned. “He’s going to hate this.”

“Probably,” said (Y/N), watching Akira tell Akiko in amusement. She glanced at Chuuya, who kept glancing from over with his people towards Akira. (Y/N) raised a hand, and There’s a Will; There’s a Way activated. She waved her hand, and a green glow subtly appeared around Chuuya and Akira. They were pulled from their places and bumped into each other.

“Oh.” Chuuya stared at Akira.

“Oh.” Akira glanced at (Y/N), knowing full well who had pushed them together. (Y/N) smiled encouragingly.

“…You’re alright,” said Chuuya. He glanced over Akira as if searching for wounds. “I’d heard you were badly hurt in your fight against Fukuchi.”

“I was,” said Akira. Her eyes returned to Chuuya, (Y/N)’s silent encouragement in her mind. “I heard you invaded Mersault.”

“I did,” said Chuuya. “But I wanted to be fighting Fukuchi directly.

“It did feel nice to kill him,” said Akira.

“I’m sure he didn’t stand a chance,” said Chuuya, smiling.

“Oh?” Akira felt an unbidden smile appear on her face.

“You’re fierce and powerful. Anyone who fights you is bound to lose,” said Chuuya.

“High praise from Port Mafia Executive Chuuya Nakahara,” said Akira.

Chuuya winced at the drop of his job title. That was the rift between them, after all, her trauma with the Port Mafia and his lies about it.

Akira caught (Y/N)’s gaze again, and she nodded at Chuuya. Akira paused and gazed at Chuuya, someone she truly cared about in a deeper manner than she cared to admit.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” said Akira.

Chuuya blinked. “You want a drink with me?”

“I think I can put up with you for one drink.”

An olive branch.

“You do have good taste,” said Chuuya.

“I know I do,” said Akira, a slight smirk on her lips.

A second chance.

Dazai and (Y/N) watched the interaction from across the room. (Y/N) smiled as she watched Akira and Chuuya sit down and pour a drink together. That was step in the right direction.

“Huh. Akira and Chuuya,” said Dazai.

“You’re not allowed to tease either of them,” said (Y/N), knowing exactly what her boyfriend was thinking.

“I love you, my light, but I will absolutely be teasing them,” said Dazai. He grinned. “It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up.”

(Y/N) chuckled and rolled her eyes. She leaned into his side, and Dazai held her close. This was how it should be. Her friends around her, happy and laughing. She was with Dazai, the man she loved. They were together.

22 notes · View notes

daydreaming-in-letters · 1 year

Text

Earth & Fire

Chapter I - The end of everything

04/10/2023

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 3,943

Warnings: attempted rape, angst, violence, nudity

Summary: As the All-father, Zeus is used to getting whatever his heart—or loins—desire. But when his attention falls upon Hephaestus’ daughter, for the first time he is met with unexpected resistance.

A/N: I had a blast writing this. Enjoy!

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Picture by Mark Olsen via Unsplash (cropped)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Despite his elevated position in the pine tree, a pair of sharp eyes drew in every single detail about her naked form. From her tantalising curves and the petite mole that decorated her behind to the tiny hairs that stood erect all over her body as she entered the gentle waves. They were lapping at her skin, swallowing inch after inch and for once he found himself envying his brother, who, if he had felt the same torturing ache in his loins as he himself did now, could have easily taken the sweet diversion this woman promised before she would even know what came over her. Her consent wouldn’t matter. He wanted her, needed to have her, to move inside her, possess her in every way possible, and who was she to deny the king of the gods his satisfaction? A nobody, nothing but a mere mortal, she should be thankful that he had singled her out and even considered sating his hunger on someone as lowly her.

True, her beauty and voluptuousness were rare. They had mislead him at first. If he didn’t know better, he would have guessed she was a goddess, a fertility goddess perhaps, or at least the descendant of one. But then he had found out who she was and felt foolish for thinking so highly of her. She truly was a nobody, an orphan, left at the doorstop of her foster father, unwanted and abandoned even by her own flesh and blood. Her only luck had been that the man had such a soft heart. He had taken her in without hesitation and loved her like his own, the sappy fool. Maybe she reminded him of his own fate or he saw her as his only chance of a happy family, one he had never had as a child. Whatever it was, this circumstance made it almost impossible to fulfil his burning aspiration.

Almost.

Because even though the All-father was not known for his patience, he had planned this day meticulously. Not long now, before Hephaestus would leave his home, before she would be on her own, unprotected and ready for the plucking. He shuddered as another wave of desire rippled through him, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent his mighty wings from flapping excitedly as a shriek of pure anticipation pierced the silence of the morning.

Immediately she turned, her eyes finding his white head amidst the sea of green at first glance. He knew he should have taken off, it would have seemed only natural, but instead he stayed put, hypnotised by her sudden motion and the quiver of her full bosom it had caused, the two hardened buds urging him to close his mouth around them and suck until she would beg for his mercy.

More and more of her form ascended from the water, glowing like liquid gold in the morning sun until finally a triangle of short curls was revealed. Another pulse of desire electrified his whole body. He felt dizzy, his want for her almost too much to bare, even for a god, and it cost him every last bit of self-restraint not to discard his careful plan and take her right here and now.

He didn’t even notice the low growl of thunder in the distance or the rustling of the pine cones around him, it was only when she had secured the white fabric above her shoulders and her nakedness was finally covered from his view that he snapped out of his trance. She was still starring up at him as she hurried to get away from the beach.

He kept on watching, following her with his eyes until the thick underbrush had swallowed her and as soon as she was gone, he couldn’t help the unease from growing when he recalled the notion in her eyes the moment she had spotted him in the trees. What if she knew? What if all his patience and plotting had been in vain? Ruined by one moment of carelessness. A carelessness she was entirely to blame for. The things she did to him. He would make sure she would compensate him generously for all the agony she had caused.

Not long now. Not long.

With a sigh he tightened the last leather strap around his leg. He already hated it. It wasn’t so much that the leg brace felt uncomfortable. It did. But the memories it awakened were far worse than any discomfort it could have caused.

Luckily there was no need to wear it at home. He managed well enough around the house and at the workshop, and neither he nor Anthea minded the slight limb in his step when he didn’t wear his orthesis. But he didn’t intend on granting Zeus the satisfaction of seeing him like this. He would consider it a weakness, an affirmation for his decision to throw him off Mount Olympus as a child even though it had been that very act of brutality which had made him a cripple in the first place.

Zeus. That jealous oaf. A child in the body of a mighty god. How anyone could have ever agreed to make him the ruler of the cosmos would forever remain a mystery to him.

But it was as it was and if the All-father called for him, Hephaestus would have to follow that call, however much he disliked it. If he didn’t, he would only risk Zeus showing up at his home and that was the one thing he disliked even more than being among the other Olympians. There was more than one reason he never went to Olympus even though he wasn’t technically banned from that place, and why he also didn’t care for any kind of relationship with the other immortals. It said a lot how little they had cared about the violence he had suffered from Zeus’ hands. Nobody had spoken up for him apart from his own mother. And even her protest had fallen silent rather quickly and she had taken to secret visits instead.

For a long time he had resented them all and wallowed in self-pity, thinking that staying away and denying them his company was their rightful punishment, but ever since Anthea had come into his life, he had been thankful for the distance he had built between the Olympians and himself instead of lamenting it. As far as he was concerned, Anthea was never to meet any of them. Aside from his mother. And even her visits made him uneasy sometimes. Sure, he had made his peace with her, had even named his daughter after her as an act of grace, but she was still an Olympian goddess and as such, lying and scheming was an inherent part of her nature. She couldn’t be trusted, and neither could Zeus and Poseidon or basically any god when it came to a beautiful young woman like Anthea.

Hephaestus had made sure she knew that as well, had taught her about the insatiable appetite of the immortals and the methods of deception they used to silence their hunger for a while before it rekindled and the circle would begin again. There were plenty of examples to pick from and he would make sure his daughter would not become one of them some day.

He sighed again as he pushed those dark thoughts aside and shouldered the leather bag that contained a few of his tools. He had no idea why Zeus was summoning him, but he assumed the god was in need of yet another weapon or some sort of tool to keep the other gods or a few unruly mortals under control. Whatever it was, he didn’t intend on staying long. A day or two at most. Actually, he was hoping Zeus would simply place an order that could be forged here on Lemnos and delivered upon a later date. That way, he could be back and forth within a few hours and wouldn’t have to leave Anthea on her own for too long. For his sake more than hers because it made him uneasy to know she was unprotected. Not that she was helpless, far from it. She could very well manage on her own, inside the house and outside. She knew how to handle a sword and a bow, how to properly use a shield and spear. He had forged all those weapons himself, weapons fit to kill a god, and personally trained her. And still he loathed being apart from her. Especially without saying goodbye. It had almost ripped him apart when she had asked that of him, but he knew how much she hated goodbyes. And so he had pretended that nothing out of the ordinary was to happen today as he had seen her off to her morning swim. He had tried so hard not to hug her a little tighter, a little longer, to inhale her familiar scent a little deeper while he held her, but he had failed miserably. He had known when she had tried to wriggle out of his embrace with a grunt, just like he had known that she would forgive him his lapse as soon as a soft smile had started to curl her lips.

Gods, please let him be there. Please let him still be there.

But she knew the second she hurled the door to her home open that her father was gone already. And so she hurried to close it behind herself and push the wooden bar into place. Anthea felt her heart racing in her chest and even though she knew it was stupid to get this upset about a bird, she only felt her sudden panic subside a bit when she had crossed the kitchen and reached the wall that held the sharp carving knife. She didn’t need to look down to know her knuckles were immediately whitening from her tight grip. A grip so strong it didn’t even loosen the slightest bit when she was caught off guard by the mighty thunder that made the pots and pans rattle and forced her heart to stand still for a moment. She didn’t dare move in the treacherous silence that followed, didn’t even breathe until the cry of an eagle reached her ears and made her gasp. White noise flooded her ears, making it impossible to tell whether the flutter of wings that came from behind her back was real or a mere product of her imagination. But she turned anyway, knife ready to strike, just to be frozen in place once more by the sight that awaited her.

He was breathtaking. More handsome than any man she had ever seen. Golden hair fell around his shoulders, matched by a thick, equally golden beard that framed a winning smile which never fully reached his electric blue eyes. The same blue fading into a darker shade before turning into a rich purple coloured his chiton, a piece of clothing so minimalistic that Anthea doubted it deserved to be called that as it revealed more of his sun-kissed skin than it concealed. His strong chest and rippling stomach were on full display aside from one diagonal stripe along his front, shoulder and back. Everything about his appearance called to her. His muscular arms and legs, thick and veiny, surpassing every ideal by far. Even the V-line on his abdomen, put so conveniently on display to lead her gaze right to the very center of his masculinity. It was ridiculous how attractive this man was, only that he wasn’t a man, she guessed. And even if she had never seen any other gods than her father and grandmother, she recognised the hubris only divine power entailed in the way he carried himself. But while it gave her a sense of security around her father, being in the same room as this creature awakened her primal fears.

“Anthea, I believe?” he asked, his voice deep, rolling in his chest like the thunder she had heard mere seconds ago. All she could muster was a nod, her mouth dry, her tongue too heavy to speak. “I was hoping to find Hephaestus.”

He moved while he spoke, slowly, careful not to scare her, but as he drew nearer her survival instincts finally flickered to life and she found her voice again.

“I’m afraid he has been summoned to Olympus. He won’t return any time soon. So there will be no use in waiting for him.”

She delivered her statement with a steady voice. Maybe if she showed strength and made it clear that he wasn’t welcome to wait for her father’s return, he would leave. It was only when she watched the wolfish grin spread on his lips that she realised her mistake.

“What a shame. All this way for nothing.”

His smile grew even wider, contradicting the regret his words held, as he drew in closer and closer. The weight in her hand was her last hope, and so she steadied her stance, fastened her grip, ready to drive the blade as deep as she could. Her attack wouldn’t kill him, not if he really was a god, but maybe it would buy her enough time to make it to her room and fetch her sword.

It wouldn’t. In the blink of an eye a blazing light shot from his hand, hitting the knife in her hand. A sharp pain spread through her whole arm as she felt her fingers open and heard the sound of metal hitting the ground.

Once again her instincts took over, telling her to back off. Stupidly so, as with the first step back Anthea could see a flicker of excitement in his eyes. The reaction of a predator, thrilled by the stirring of his prey. Her move had marked the beginning of the hunt, even though she had nowhere to run. All it took was one more step before her back hit the wall. He had her cornered, fixed in place to do as he pleased. He had won and he knew it.

“Well,” he cooed as his fingertips ran along her arm, eager to occupy his newly gained territory, “maybe I didn’t come all this way for nothing after all.”

One hand raised to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight, Hephaestus glanced up at the heap of clouds that covered the mountain top and veiled the home of the gods from the rest of the world. He could easily avoid the arduous climb, travel through the ether as he had done to get here and be at the summit in seconds, but he liked the challenge and the view was phenomenal.

He hadn’t gotten far, trees were still lining his way, when a thought suddenly crossed his mind. From the moment Hermes had sought him out in his workshop at the foot of the Mosychlos a few days ago to let him know that Zeus wanted to see him, Hephaestus had not been able to shake the feeling that something was not quite right. He just hadn’t been able to figure out what exactly it was that upset him. But now it seemed so clear to him that he wondered why it had taken him so long to realise. It wasn’t one particular thing that was odd, but the whole endeavour.

Why had Zeus sent Hermes himself to summon him? Why not just send word what it was he wanted, have Hephaestus manufacture and then deliver it? Why make him travel all the way to Mount Olympus when Zeus clearly didn’t want him there just as much as Hephaestus didn’t care for being there if it wasn’t to—

Hephaestus didn’t manage to finish that thought, cut short as the earth began to move underneath his feet. It was only a light tremble in the beginning, hardly enough for him to notice, but it grew stronger by the second, until the trees started to shake dangerously and the first forest creatures fled their hideouts in terror. The god struggled to keep on his feet as another violent tremor shook the ground underneath his feet.

The shadow of an eagle brushed across his face and darkened the sun for a moment as the mighty bird rose from its nest with a high-pitched cry. But even with the bird long gone, the sun didn’t touch his skin again. As he looked up into the sky, Hephaestus found his fear confirmed. An eclipse.

This was more than a mere earthquake, he was sure of that now. Something was terribly wrong here. He needed to get home immediately, Olympus be damned. The All-father could wait, his daughter couldn’t. With a quick motion of his fingers he opened the ether, willing the destination of his journey to the center of his mind before he stepped through the opening.

The stranger was so close now. She could see the golden flecks dance in the blue of his eyes as he leaned in to grab her chin. The heavy scent of petrichor on his skin made her dizzy and washed away her last shred of doubt who the intruder was. She could feel him, everything of him, pressing heavily into her body while his mouth came inexorably closer to her own. Giving in would have been easy. If it was true and she was indeed locked against the cold wall by the king of the gods, he would have her anyway, regardless of her opposition. Resistance seemed pointless, but her father had not raised a coward. And so she turned her head just in time before he could close the last distance and hissed, “Let go of me.”

She also tried to push him off, but however much she tried, he didn’t even move one inch.

“I said, let go of me, kyon,” she pressed out between gritted teeth and revelled for a tiny moment as he blinked upon the unexpected insult. She was trembling, shaking in his tight hold, heat flooding her body as she readied herself to spit her venom at him again. But before she could, a familiar voice boomed through the strained silence and the shaking stopped.

“You heard her, Zeus. Let go of my daughter.”

So it was true. It was him. They had never met before, but her father had told her all the stories. She had always thought he was merely exaggerating, being the protective father he was. But she could see now that he hadn’t told her all the gruesome tales of violation to keep her away from Olympus but to prepare her for the inevitable encounter with its inhabitants.

But even with Hephaestus present and Zeus’ plan destroyed, Anthea felt that the All-father was reluctant to let go. His slowness was not only testing her own patience, but her father’s nerves were wearing thin as well. He was already taking a step forward, ready to pull her from the impertinent god’s grip with force if necessary, when Anthea took matters into her own hands and pushed the violator aside. She hurried past him until she reached her father. His eyes quickly ran up and down her quivering form and Anthea was sure that she had never seen an equal terror in them before. Not even on the day she had wandered off from his workshop into the cave labyrinth that lead deep into the Mosychlos on her own.

“Go wait in your room,” he whispered, every fibre in his body tensed and even though she feared what might pass next between the two gods, she did as she was told, squeezing his hand in passing as she left.

“What are you doing here, Zeus?”

The blond sneered, raising his arms in an excuse as false as his smile.

“Does a father need a reason to visit his son?”

“You are many things, Vrontios, but not my father. You made that unmistakably clear when you hurled me from Mount Olympus.”

“A mere misunderstanding. I didn’t think you would still hold that against me after all these years.”

Hephaestus disagreed. He had every reason to still hold it against the All-father. Being thrown down the highest mountain out of spite because his wife had decided if her husband could have a child on his own, so could she, wasn’t exactly what he would call a misunderstanding.

“You never saw the necessity to visit me before. Why now?”

Zeus grinned. “I admit, you got me there.”

“Then what is it you want that couldn’t wait until my arrival at Mount Olympus—to where you summoned me?”

“Well,” a deep chuckle made his bare chest quiver, his eyes briefly flitting into the direction in which Anthea had left seconds ago. Had Hephaestus blinked in the wrong moment, he would have missed it. But it had been there and it made his blood boil with fury.

“I feared as much. But I will not let you defile my daughter like all the others just to throw her away once you sated your hunger on her.”

“Defile is such a harsh word. I can make her feel good if she gives herself to me freely. And why wouldn’t she? Am I not the mighty Zeus, King of the Gods?”

“I’m afraid you are. Though I still fail to understand who put you in that position.”

Zeus’ blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Careful, Hephaestus. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now and simply take what I desire.”

“Because we both know that killing her son and raping her granddaughter might very well be the last drop to let my mother’s hatred for you finally overflow.”

They both knew Hera’s patience with her husband was held together by nothing but a frail thread after all his affairs and constant lies, and if it would snap, that might very well lead to the end of the reign of Zeus. The All-father was fuming as the realisation slowly sank in. Just this once, he wouldn’t get what he wanted, a sensation that was entirely new to him.

“Know this, Hephaestus. I will have her. And even though you think you can protect her, you will find that you two have nowhere to go. There is not a stone big enough in this world for you to crawl under that I will leave unturned. She will be mine, Hephaestus. Mine.”

In a flash Zeus was gone, leaving only smoke and a foul aftertaste in his mouth. But right now he didn’t care about the threats that still lingered in the air as he hurried out of the room. He wasn’t in the least surprised to find her rushing towards him halfway. She must have been frightened to death by this encounter. As was he after finding his worst fears, everything he had been so careful to avoid, had come true.

She threw herself into his arms, her head secured against his heaving chest by a huge palm.

“I’m sorry, my flower,” he mumbled into the softness of her hair. “So, so sorry.”

“What for, father? Nothing happened. I am unharmed.”

Zeus may not have touched her, and Hephaestus was grateful he had been there in time to prevent the worst. Still his heart broke for his daughter with every beat because he knew that this was only the beginning. Zeus’ greed knew no bounds and in the end, his greed for her flesh would cost Anthea everything. It would mark the end of her life as she knew it. And there was nothing Hephaestus could do about it.

Chapter 2

Tag List:

@ashesofblackroses

#hades!hozier x ofc #hades!hozier #hozier #hozier fanfiction #greek mythology au #earth and fire

42 notes · View notes

katherinejess · 5 months

Text

The Volunteer (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Thanks to everyone who has read this far!

The training room lays over a long expanse of different sections in one room. Mats lay in the center next to weapons racks that take my interest first. They sit right below the viewing area for the Gamemaker and a select group of people.

After a long warning introduction telling us to not kill each other or break any bones before the games, we are sent to do as we please. I guide Titan over to the survival station, knowing that while everyone is off fighting, we have little knowledge how to fully survive in most climates. We have no idea where we are going either but it can’t hurt to learn a few skills.

Thankfully he listens to me, though his eyes trail and follow to where the careers from One and Two make straight towards the sparring mat, playfully challenging each other. The careers are a few years older and look like they could snap him like a twig. The girls are chatting, their eyes scanning over everyone while the boys take up the mat. “Patience is a virtue. We can wait them all out if we survive where no one else dares to go.” I distract him, looking over instructions on how to make a fire.

District Four is typically warm, we don’t get snow and it’s only cold in the water really. Fires aren’t common unless it’s an usually cold breezy day, and I have no idea how to make one without help from proper tools.

He shifts next to me, “Well how about not looking weak so they don’t go after us first?” He questions as he looks around at everyone else in the room.

I stop and look at him until he fully turns to me, “We are a team, they will go after the weak singled out ones first because that is what they do, what they are trained for. The weak will fight and die or run and die. Not a whole lot of options. We have each other, even if the careers are allies, they can’t trust each other like we can, right?” I question, he pauses for a second but nods.

“Right.”

“Great. Now let’s make a fire. We can deal with heat, but cold would set us back. If there is a tundra or snow or anything cold, we are at a disadvantage. Better be safe than sorry. We need to learn basic survival skills as quickly as possible. We can focus on weapons tomorrow.” I give him the instructions and go to the station with the materials. I can only hope that this goes in our favor.

Dinner that night is full of talking between Finnick and Titan, about the other tributes from training and what to show off for our Scores tomorrow. “How are you feeling about survival skills?” Mags questions me over the table, turning away from the boy's conversation.

I quickly swallow my food before I answer, “Fine. As long as I actually remember everything. There’s a lot of variables.”

She gives a soft smile as she nods, “It’s hard to not know what the arena will be. That’s why they give you the first minute before you move so you can adjust. It’s hard but you have to make a plan in that minute, it sets you ahead.” she advises, I swallow heavily and lean back in my chair.

My plate is half full but I don’t think I can stomach anything more. I take a sip of my water and glance over at Titan who is still eating. He’s already on his second plate. Part of me wonders whether he is made for this or if he will be in for a rude awakening once he actually hits the arena. Sometimes things sound better in your head than how it is, especially when everyone around you says it's so great. I thought he understood that, but I underestimated the people in our lives. My father for one. The man who thinks the games will bring honor to our district, his hope only got worse when Finnick Odair won.

Later that night the apartment is empty as I walk through it, the lights are off and the only bright light is coming from the windows. We are lower to the bottom of the building but there is still one wall that has windows. I pull one of the plush chairs over until it makes a loud creak.

When there is no sign of anyone coming to see what’s happening, I finish pulling it as quietly as possible. Settling in with my hands tucked under my legs I stare at the lights from all of the buildings. It’s crazy to think of all the people that live here, it’s loud and overwhelming. Even though most of the apartment is soundproof, you can hear it just by the window.

Lights flicker on and off from different levels of the building, people must be setting up for the parties that happen during the games. I’ve heard rumors of what the Capitol is like, though seeing it is a different experience. Viewing parties is a sick thing to think about. I’m sure they’ll have lots of food and get drunk until they pass out.

A shadow to the left of me almost sends me reeling off the side of my chair until I realize it’s Finnick. “We should work on your awareness.” He smirks down at me, his dimples deepening as he stands next to my chair. He’s shirtless besides a pair of navy blue pajama pants, the tan skin flawlessly smooth.

“Well I thought everyone was asleep.” I mutter in response, pulling my knees close to my chest. I choose to wrap my arms around my legs instead and tear my gaze from him to the window again.

“I was until I heard an awful screeching noise that I am assuming was you.” He says, moving away for a second. Looking over my shoulder to see him moving his own chair. Except instead of dragging it like I did, he just lifts it like it weighs nothing. I face forward as he brings it over, setting it next to mine, “Most tributes can’t sleep the week they're here. Titan seems to be doing okay though. Careers usually do.”

“Did you sleep easily? Before your games, I mean.” I question, glancing at him. He’s staring at the city now too but returns my gaze.

“Yes. Mags prepared me well. I slept like a baby until the night before. The night before is when you have the most jitters.” he answers, “Though it’s worse for you. You probably won’t make it past the first day.”

Anger rises in me and I sit a little straighter but he doesn’t let me talk before he continues, “You’re not eating enough and you’re not sleeping. You won’t be in any shape to protect yourself, let alone Titan. We all see it. Titan says you’re just nervous.” he points out.

“Who wouldn’t be?” I spit out incredulously, a scoff coming from me as I run my hands over my face, “I volunteered to go into an arena and try to save my 13 year old brother and kill a bunch of other kids. I’m not exactly thrilled, because only one of us is coming out, if either of us.”

He nods in agreement, “That’s not just being nervous. This here, it’s fear. Terror. You’re horrified that he volunteered at 13 and that you have to kill to save him. My job is to get you to work with that and use it to help you because right now, you’re stuck in fear.” he leans forward in his chair as he faces me, “It’s fair enough but in there, you need to use it to survive because being paralyzed with it will kill you. I don’t think Titan will walk away from you so you need to be strong enough to go with it or you will kill both of you.”

I run my hands through my hair, ‘So what do I do? I came here to protect him.” I rub my eyes to try and stop the sting of tears coming. I breathe deeply to pull myself together.

“Eat. Try to sleep. Survival skills was a great start but don’t forget to work with the weapons, work with Titan and take it easy. Stay under the radar enough where you aren’t a threat but not their first priority just because you’re an easy kill. Start acting like a career tribute because that’s what you are.” he reminds me, settling back into his seat once he’s done.

“Easier said than done.” I reply, “Besides, Titan is the career tribute. I’m just- a sister trying to protect her brother.”

“It’ll be easily done when it’s them or your brother.”

~~~

The shiny blue gown sticks to my body until it flares out at my waist. I’m covered in enough glitter and body foundation that I’m scared I will leave an imprint on Flickerman's chair. But none of that matters when I walk onto the stage, waving to the crowd with a bright smile.

“Cyrena!” Caesar holds out his hand for me. I place mine in his as we sit back, “Welcome to the Capitol! You look stunning.”

“Thank you. I have the best stylist, you all truly know how to do things here.” lying straight through my teeth.

“Clearly.” he agrees, “That outfit? For the tribute parade. With all the scales, that was magnificent. What was the inspiration because it wasn’t really a fish, now was it?” he questions, tilting his head at me.

I shake my head with a giggle, “No, goodness no. We do like fish in district four but that’s a bit much.” the crowd roars with laughter that I join in with, “It’s based on an old myth. Sirens, a woman born from the sea, with a tail but the voice of a mockingjay. They can sing the most alluring songs. They’re supposed to be really beautiful but deadly.” A soft smile settles on my face.

He awes before looking at the crowd and back at me, “Well I think you made all of us do a double take. You two may be the most attractive siblings we’ve seen in the games in a long time.” He raises his eyebrows at the audience who cheers in agreement.

“Is it hard knowing that only one of you will be leaving the arena?” He furrows his eyebrows and frowns, taking my hand in his again and squeezing it gently.

These are the kinds of questions I prepared for. Mags gave me a fake interview herself for practice. “Of course, we trained together growing up but I don’t think we ever thought we would be in the same arena.” I respond, pressing my lips together in a slight frown.

He nods, “Why did you volunteer? I mean you had to have known only one can win.” He questions.

I inhale deeply, “He’s 13, I know he’s a strong tribute but he’s also my brother. I’ll do anything to see him win.” He awes in sympathy with the crowd.

“Well he has a strong mentor with Finnick Odair, he may be the next youngest victor. Will you be proud? What about your family?” He settles back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. I nod, shaking my head slightly as I laugh.

“Oh, of course. My father would’ve volunteered if it weren’t for my mother and older brother. Young love.” I admit, “My older brother always wanted to volunteer, this was his last year actually but it seems we beat him to it. '' I shrug, laughing with the crowd. Caesar joins, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“So you have another brother. Your parents must have a lot of love. Speaking of-“ the crowd quieted as he pauses for effect, “is there anyone in your life we should know about? Someone who may be missing you at home?”

I pause for a second as I think about what to say. There honestly isn’t anyone and im not sure what will help me in the long run. “You know, I’ve been so focused on training that no one has really caught my eye yet.” I tell him, trying to escape the question.

“Well if you win, we can find someone to set you up with. There’s lots of eligible men between here and district four!” He jokes, motioning to the crowd who cheers in excitement. I shake my head laughing.

“I hear victors have higher standards, Caesar.” I tease, making him roar with laughter as he sits forward.

“Is that so? Who would qualify for some of those standards? Another victor perhaps?” He raises his eyebrows and I put my hands in defense as I shrug.

A bell goes off, signaling that my time is over. He frowns as he stands, I join him and he puts an arm around me to face the crowd. “It was so lovely to have you here, Cyrena and I am so excited to talk to your brother next. I truly hope this works out for you and may the odds be ever in your favor.” He squeezes my arm before letting me go and I wave to the crowd before exiting the stage.

Once on the other side I find Mags and Finnick waiting for me. Both have grins on their face as they move so I can stand between them. From here I have a perfect view of Titan walking onto the stage.

“You did great.” Mags says, patting my arm. I roll my shoulders, trying to get the stress out of my body.

Someone pops up from beside Finnick, handing me a jacket that Finnick ends up taking before it reaches me. The man quickly scurries off as Finnick thanks them monotonously before motioning for me to turn. He slips the jacket on me before turning back to the interview and I realize it’s heated.

Finnick straightens his back, his arms crossed in front of him and he seems more tense than ever. I turn to Mags, curiously raising an eyebrow but she just gives a small shrug and turns me back to where Titan is laughing with the crowd at whatever he said.

I wrap the coat around me, relishing in its warmth as I watch my brother sway the crowd. They love him, his goal to be the youngest victor. He tells them how i’m trying to protect him but that he’s going to do the same for me. Despite all the cameras and the crowd, I can’t help but feel a little cozy between the jacket and the fact that he’s winning them over by just being himself. Of course it’s easy for him to just be the loveable kid that he is.

After the interview he comes jogging over to us, skidding to a stop in front of us with a grin that takes over his face. “Hey! Did you have fun?” I question, beating both of our mentors to whatever they were going to say.

“It was so cool! I have a feeling we will be getting a lot of sponsors.” He tells me, sort of hopping with excitement that I laugh at.

His slicked back hair starts to move as his energy takes over his body. “Alright well why don’t we get you cleaned up? You hungry? I imagine you’re sick of that suit.” I ask him, tilting my head in the direction of the exit.

He nods in agreement, “Yeah, this thing is hot. Imagine wearing a suit at home. Coming back from the tour would suck.” his eyes are wide as he turns to Finnick, who clearly has done that the last two years.

“It does.” he nods in agreement, his face amused from Titan’s demeanor, “I usually head straight home to change. Otherwise you sweat right through it.” he informs him, taking a step back that gets us all of us to start moving towards the exit.

“That’s gross. Cyrena hates when Pyxis and I are all sweaty.” Titan says, I shake my head at his honesty and pass through the door that a peacekeeper is holding open for us to get to the elevator.

“Sweaty boys smell terrible, something you’ve probably noticed from training. That doesn’t go away just because you’re siblings.” Mags tells him, equally amused by Titan, “Girls are very different from boys and for good reason.”

Titan presses the elevator door in a hurry, before taking off his suit jacket. “Cyrena isn’t that much different from Pyxis and I. Besides her hatred for the games.” he points out, looking towards me.

“She spends a lot of time with you. But when she’s around others, she probably acts differently. Siblings always are a little different with each other. I’m sure you wouldn’t trust anyone like you do Cyrena. Siblings have a bond unlike others.” Mags smiles at him, I see Titan turn to me and think about it for a second before nodding in agreement.

“Though sometimes she acts like she’s my mom.” he wrinkles his nose at the thought. I roll my eyes and the elevator doors open, we waste no time entering it.

“Well she might just have good maternal instincts. Some girls just have that.” Mags laughs as she tells him, looking over at me, “Not every sister would volunteer for her brother. You’re very lucky.” My amusement starts to fade and I turn towards the window but keep my smile up.

“She wasn’t supposed to.” Titan tells her, “My parents were not happy with her.” he tells her, before quieting when I shoot him a look. The elevator doors open and it’s quiet for a second as we all shuffle out.

“Well I am sure they are proud. It’s just a tough situation.” Mags murmurs, I tug at Finnick’s arm to stop him as they start down the hall for the apartment.

He stands back and I let go of him, “We’ll meet you for dinner in a second.” I call out, Mags nodding at me while Titan just looks confused. Once they enter the apartment, I glance at Finnick and the door when I realize I can’t look at him and say this.

“Titan is strong, and he is tough but you and I both know what the games do to people.” I tell him, or rather the hall. “My parents won’t comfort him and Pyxis isn’t the gentlest.” I start, shaking my head as my throat clogs.

Finnick seems to understand what I am trying to get at, “I’ll take care of him.” he promises, and I let out a deep breath.

“He trusts you. You are his idol.” My voice cracks and I let out an uneasy laugh to try and stop crying. I wipe away my tears, trying to pull myself together as I continue “He’s a sweet boy. Confident, Pyxis can be hard on him and my parents aren’t there. I don’t intend on Titan watching me die if I can help it but-”

“You can’t control everything. You’re his sister and it’s going to hurt him.” he tells me, moving so he is in front of me and I finally look at him. His face is stone, his jaw clenched as he looks at me, “I will do everything I can after the games. I won’t let you down.”

“Thank you.” I whisper, exhaling heavily and wiping my face again, “He’s only 13 and I worry about him.” I worry the world has brainwashed him. But sometimes I still see him peeking out, I always worried what he would be like as a teenager.

“I know you do.”

#finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #Hunger games #finnick odair angst #the hunger games #slow burn #friends to lovers

15 notes · View notes

ficreadergirl · 1 year

Text

Dangerous Inquiries (ch.29)

Jason stared at you blankly. His mind was spinning. This was the last thing he'd expected. You would never believe him. Even when you found out the truth you wouldn't trust him. Why would you? What difference does it make? He thought to himself bitterly. How could you possibly trust him now? But you needed to know. He owed you that much. So he cleared his throat. He closed his eyes briefly and looked at you seriously.

"Yes. Yes I'm Red Hood." he said simply. You blinked, processing what he had just admitted. You were speechless. Jason sighed tiredly. "I'm so sorry hiding-" but he was interrupted by your slap. The impact echoed around the room making everyone jump. You glared at him, panting in annoyance.

"How dare you..." you whispered in astonishment. Your eyes were burning with fury. "How dare you kill my father and come in to my house like nothing happened?" you exclaimed angrily. Jason stared at you, looking stunned, before lowering his eyes and lowering his head. You clenched your teeth. "Don't act like you have anything to feel guilty about! You came to my house like nothing happened! You kissed me!" you snapped loudly causing him to flinch visibly. He refused to look up at you. You felt anger rise within you. You balled your hands into fists as you glared at him. You turned on your heel and stormed away without saying a word. You were seething with rage. You wanted to scream. You wanted to hit something. You couldn't bear to be here any longer. It was too painful. You walked past the rest of the crew and headed towards the door. Before leaving though you heard Dick call after you.

After you left Dick turned to Jason. "We should go after her." he stated firmly.

"No." Dick answered coldly. "She'll be fine. We need to talk about what you did." he added.

"There's nothing to talk about," Jason responded curtly. Dick frowned at him disapprovingly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bullshit!" he retorted angrily. "You kissed her?" he repeated. Jason remained silent, refusing to respond. Dick sighed frustrated. "Come on Jay..." Dick murmured. Jason kept his gaze trained on his shoes.

"It wasn't my purpose. I saw Rose was getting out of her house and I thought she might left something for her." Jason muttered. Dick raised an eyebrow, his arms falling to his sides as he gazed at Jason curiously. "You saw Rose?" he said confused. Jason nodded shortly. Dick furrowed his eyebrows.

"Was it her? The murderer?" Kory inquired. Jason looked up at her. His expression hardened as if he remembered a bad memory. Dick glanced at him worriedly. He knew there was more to this story than Jason wanted to reveal. Jason's lips twitched a little, he turned his attention away from Kory and toward Dick. "Let it go." he said. Dick narrowed his eyes.

"Stop doing it and tell us the truth Jay-bird." Dick demanded calmly. Jason didn’t answer. He seemed lost in his thoughts, his brows knitted tightly together. “Jay?” Dick asked gently. Jason’s expression remained unchanged. He sighed defeatedly before glancing up at Dick and Kory.

"I wasn't the murderer. Just know that." Jason muttered. Dick's frown deepened.

"Why don't you-" he started.

"It wasn't me I told you! Stop asking me-" Jason's sentence was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. The three of them turned their heads. They glanced at each other, silently agreeing to not say anything until Jason heard Mrs Harper's voice.

"Jay sweetie, are you home?" she called out. Kory and Dick looked at one another.

"Yeah!" Jason called back and went to the door, opening it to see her standing there. "Hi Jay sweetie. I heard some yelling coming from here and I wanted to check and see if everything was ok…" She smiled warmly at him. Her green eyes scanned the group behind him, taking in all of their appearance as if memorizing what they looked like. "Oh! Where's that pretty lady from the earlier?" she asked curiously. He swallowed hard, not sure how to answer.

"Uhm..." Jason said awkwardly. He glanced back at the others nervously. "She... uh... she went out to take a walk and… I think she went home." Jason explained vaguely. Mrs Harper's face fell immediately.

"Well. I hope you'll be okay. You understand what I mean." she said quietly, giving Jason a small smile. Jason nodded. She pulled him into a hug which made Dick and Kory smile. He returned the embrace before pulling away and nodding politely. Mrs Harper smiled before walking out of the house. Once she left, Dick approached Jason and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright Jason?" he asked gently, concern shining in his blue eyes.

"I'm fine Dick." Jason replied, trying to sound casual and unaffected. Dick studied Jason carefully. He knew something was wrong.

"Wanna come with us to the tower?" Dick questioned, his tone light. Jason looked at him sceptically. He took in a deep breath before turning to Kory who shrugged.

"I'm fine here. Thanks." he muttered quickly. He watched as they turned to leave the apartment, closing the door behind them, leaving him alone.

Dick turned to Kory after leaving Jason's apartment. "He was weird." he commented. Kory nodded slowly.

"It was like... he cared so much of what Y/n would think about him." Kory mumbled thoughtfully. "She cares about him as well." she added. Dick smirked slightly.

"So, how do we get him to admit it to himself?" he asked. Kory shrugged. "We can't. He won't listen to us." she replied.

Dick chuckled. "I've got an idea."

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #jason todd #red hood

34 notes · View notes

purestxblood · 2 years

Text

𝕱𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖕𝖘, 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰.

𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 – 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝘁𝗼 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦! 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 4 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨.

1, 893 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘹

“Can I ask you something, Angel?” you tilted your head sideways, your finger tracing the outer open of the beer bottle in your grasp.

His gaze remained forward, the warmth of his body radiating from the close proximity from his shoulder to yours; however, his smothered eyes held his distance. He was physically beside you, his arm swiftly resting atop of the couch around your frame yet mentally, elsewhere, and by the way his head ever so dainty nodded up and down, you knew he wasn’t focused upon the words that left your mouth.

Angel was agreeing without reason – more than likely acting upon autopilot as if you were speaking of the weather.

“Ninguna respuesta de mierda,” you snapped, lifting the beer to your mouth. The vein in Angel’s temple twitched as he hummed, his eyes meeting yours while he twisted his frame towards you. Your eyes held his as you leaned back slightly to swallow a swig of beer before placing it down on the wooden floor besides your foot. “Be honest Angel,” you said, “no para mí sino al menos para ti mismo.”

Angel sighed and chugged the remnants of his beer then tossed it aside the porch and placed both hands, palms open upon his knee. “Well shit,” he looked at you then aimlessly looked around the dim lit yard, “that’s my cue to get the fuck outta here.”

“Angel,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing ahold of his wrist as he quickly stood, tugging him back down on the couch. He was more your weight, however, he gave in without struggle and with ease, allowing you to trap him upon the loveseat beside you.

After all these years, you still managed to be able to read your ex-boyfriend like an open book. It was written all over his facials how much he didn’t want to have this conversation. He had been avoiding the thought entirely, putting on his hopeful shoes, and playing the role he so desperately wanted.

In the beginning, he was managing.

He absolutely treasured Nails.

She was sweet, caring, funny, had the most contagious laugh that had him grinning and breathing nasally laughs (even when he absolutely had no idea what she was talking about), got around great with the boys, knew her place yet still managed to call him out on his bullshit when he needed – and damn, he needed it often.

She was his second – no third shot at a family. Third times a fucking charm he’d tell himself.

You had been the first, Luisa the second, and now Nails. In his mind, he thought he was lucky – this was his moment of being blessed with a family, something whole and complete. She was there right in front of him, carrying the child they made together, no complications…no deaths…no break-ups…no fights.

When Luisa left, Angel found himself once again seeking comfort and security within your bed; and like always, you welcomed him home.

Once Angel found out about Nail’s being pregnant with his kid, after that one drunk night at the club you both decided that once again, sex was all it was between you both… even though deep down, the both of you knew it wasn’t.

It was different, his relationship with Nails.

Everything with her was simple. It had been the piece he wanted to complete his puzzle but he couldn’t shake the constant heavy feeling of a darkened void.

Something was missing.

Still, he went about playing the happy father to be only for it to drag into the night where he’d linger and get deeply lost in his thoughts. He vowed to be the best father to be, that he’d be present through it all until eventually he found himself spending more nights with the bottle at the club, taking on runs and tasks to simply be away more.

You could see it in his eyes, the swirl of fear in his pupils.

Angel was trying to suppress his thoughts. His pride was too high for him to ever admit defeat, that he was struggling and lost. At least, that was true for everyone but you.

It had been building, and once his name began popping up on your phone with slurred voicemails at three and four in the morning, you knew he was drowning. You were the only person he allowed himself to be vulnerable with, even if it took him being drunk to willingly admit it; and then at times, you prying it out of his mouth.

That’s the only reason you found yourself around him as of the late.

It started to annoy you slowly, how he’d only come around to sulk in your presence. Granted, in this stance you were in his presence. Leaving the party at the club to sit in silence at one in the morning with Angel was not a part of your Friday night plans but alas, here you were – catering to his needs when he should have been at home vocalizing them to his girlfriend instead.

It was always you he’d run to – in this case, slowly drag his feet.

“Are you happy?”

Those three words brought on a feigned laugh and Angel looked down at his feet, then casually grinned once he looked back at you. Your eyes narrowed and you shook your head, “here I thought we were done lying to each other,” you stated before standing to copy his own attempted escape.

“Where’re you goin?”

You stopped in your tracks then turned, shrugging your shoulders while tossing your hands aimlessly in the air. “To get a drink,” you motioned towards the door, “why else should I waste my time standing out here in your damn pity party.”

Your eyes were dark and narrow, both brows arched, lips smothering the other in a line.

“I’m not having a fucking pity party,” he grumbled in defense and squinted his eyes. You licked your lips, “oh, then what is this?” you retorted, taking a step closer, “the same shit you’re good for, ‘poor pathetic Angel, woe is me, I have everything I fucking want but yet I’m still not goddamned satisfied.”

Angel quickly stood from the couch and stalked towards you. You stepped back with each stride he took towards you until your lower back pressed against the banister of the porch. His index finger was pointed directly at the tip of your nose, his face inches away. You could feel every breath through his noise fan across the tips of yours, matching the aggravated expression upon the coil of his forehead and brows pressed together.

“I’m fucking happy,” he said through gritted teeth.

You didn’t say a word, your eyes widening slightly in amusement.

Silence.

You didn’t utter a sound, completely mute while your eyes observed his facial exterior. Every time your attention met his irritated eyes, yours grew in satisfaction. Angel knew you were teasing him with your expression, you hit him right on the head without him even having to utter a sound.

The rise you got out of him was all you needed to get the answer you wanted.

Angel could deny it all he wanted, act as if the three words out of your lips were the most stupid words to exist but, you were absolutely right. His defense to prove otherwise only signed the warrant that he was in fact not happy.

You could slightly hear the grinding of his molars, matching the way his finger shook as he held it in front of you. Glancing from his finger to his face, you sighed.

“This is getting old Angel,” you swallowed and shoved his finger away from your face.

This was your new relationship.

Him running back to you when things went wrong in his other relationships. For some reason, no one besides yourself knew how to handle him…yet you both still couldn’t get right. What started off as a painful reminder of the man you lost and failed relationship turned into a bittersweet revelation.

You were friends, sort of.

Not really.

At least the pain of being his lost soulmate slowly dissolved to numbness. Yeah, numbness – exactly what you would dub your feelings towards him as. You refused to allow him to hurt you as he did. It was easier to pull an ‘Angel’ yourself and act as if his solace in you didn’t break your heart with every expression.

Now, you were used to it.

You tore your attention off him, looking over his shoulder. “You’re not happy,” you told him, placing your own finger in front of his lips as he once again began to deny your claim, “no puedes mentir conmigo.”

“I think you’re trying to find something…someone…in Nails,” you uttered softly, training your eyes upon his face to observe an inkling of silent truth and agreeance.

Angel’s eyes drifted downward to his boots.

“I know it’s not me,” you joked awkwardly, forcing a light laugh up your throat. Deep down you did, you desperately did but someone…something, had not been a dig towards your past together. It was a hint towards Luisa and his lost child. “I don’t think you’re over her,” your hand reached, lightly touching the tips of his fingers in comfort, “it’s okay not to be… but it’s not fair for you to play happy family, you can’t replace them.”

Angel’s eyes snapped to yours and you gave the tips of his fingers a squeeze upon seeing the blur of his expression. He was still in mourning, granted he hadn’t been able to fully mourn. It all happened too fast for him. He was mourning more people, relationships than just the two late.

There were a lot of skeletons Angel hadn’t made peace with.

“But you can keep them in your heart,” he uttered, tapping your palm lightly upon his chest where his heart thumped underneath. Angel looked at your hand placed upon his chest and his eyes met yours. “As cliche, but you know it’s true, you have something good, Angel and you know I’m right.”

He hadn’t said a word in rebuttal or agreement.

Angel didn’t have to say anything. He never said anything in moments like this, he just listened to your reason. His silence was your sign that nothing would progress from there. From the way his jaw tensed occasionally, his eyes molded upon his body, attention fixated elsewhere in his thoughts than the present did you know he had listened and was processing it.

Sliding your hand out from underneath his, you stepped away from his frame, allowing him to be left with his thoughts. You walked to the door, your hand hovering above the handle before you took one last look at him.

Angel’s shoulders were slouched, his head hanging low while his hand was still placed upon his pec where yours once was.

“You’re going to be a good dad Angel,” you admitted, “I always knew you would be…” The truth left your lips slowly and softly before you opened the club door and left him alone on the porch.

Angel knew you were right.

However, you had also been wrong.

Though he was mourning the loss of Luisa and his child, he had yet to mourn the loss of you and your children together.

Luisa was to replace the void of you… Nail’s had just been added to the list.

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧, @rkil98 , @chazubagi

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!

#purexblood #purestxblood #mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes one shot #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc one shot

183 notes · View notes