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delimeful · 3 years

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the end of being alone (4)

warnings: mentions of Roman's tragic backstory, health concerns, chronic fatigue mentions, but really mostly fluff

“Roman!” A hushed whisper-yell came from halfway across the cave.

Roman looked up from where he was carefully taking apart and cleaning out his communicator, feeling a stab of exhaustion upon seeing Patton crouched next to their resident baby Human. They’d just spent what felt like half a suncycle entertaining the kid, who seemed to wake up with more energy than all three of them combined.

Virgil was in fact the source behind the crumbs of mud and dirt that had worked their way into the cracks of his communicator: Logan was currently at the ship working inventory, and the kid had insisted on checking up on him as often as he remembered that the Ulgorii wasn’t with them, which was often.

Still, they’d managed to tucker him out eventually, and he’d fallen asleep in their presence for the third time ever, which felt like some kind of accomplishment in itself.

An accomplishment that they were about to undo if Patton didn’t stop making a ruckus. Roman drew his hands apart slowly, signing ‘quiet’ at his friend as he cast one last look at the partially assembled communicator and then padded over.

“What is it?” he signed, since whispering was both rough on his throat and not always guaranteed to come out as low volume as he’d like.

Patton took a moment to gesture wildly at the Human, who was slumped over on his side. Roman felt a sudden stab of fear, and leaned over to check his breathing.

To his relief, Virgil was simply sleeping, no injuries or illness visible in him. He turned a frustrated stare onto Patton. If the Ampen had called him over here and scared the scales off of him just to have another fit about how cute the Human was, he was turning right around and walking to the nearest river to dunk his head under and scream.

Before he could say as much, Patton finally found his words. “Roman, he’s purring!”

Roman jerked back slightly in surprise. “He’s what?”

“Purring!” Patton looked up at him, antennae fluttering back and forth rapidly like he couldn’t contain his confused alarm. “He’s never done this before! Do you think…,”

Roman moved closer, ears pricking forward attentively. Sure enough, there was a low little buzz coming from the Human. He couldn’t help but notice the purr’s odd tone, the weakness of it, the way it stuttered and paused and occasionally seemed to falter entirely.

“It’s not right,” he muttered to himself, placing the pads of his hand on the Human’s torso and feeling the faint buzz.

Patton whistled in worried query, glancing between them both. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s Human, Pat, I don’t know if—,” Roman froze midway through lifting his hand away; Virgil was making a short, high noise, almost like a whine. His little face had crinkled up in sleep, the way Human distress looked, and his purr had turned to hitching breaths.

Roman glanced at his broken communicator and swore under his breath, feelings strong enough to make Patton fluff up with secondhand panic.

“I’ll go find Logan!” he said, twisting and scampering out of the cave, quick enough that his skittered footsteps had vanished by the time Roman’s wordless sound of protest made it out of him. Roman had longer legs, and Patton was better with the kid, so why had things turned out like this?!

He looked back down at Virgil, who had begun to unconsciously curl inward, leaving his back exposed. The motion hardly made sense; according to the body scan Logan had coaxed the kid through, the center of all his nerves met there, with only a thin layer of skin and muscle surrounding it.

He had no scales or rough hide or even fluffy plumage to protect his back, but he still curled up with it facing out, as though defending his squishy underside like a Crav’n.

The thought made something in him twist, and his scales went slicked back as another whimper tore through the tiny Human. He glanced at the cave opening: There was no sign of the others’ return. It would probably be a while yet.

Regardless, Roman couldn’t wait around and watch a kit cry any longer. He carefully lifted the Human up into the curl of one arm, crooning lowly at him. Virgil settled slightly, but the tiny, haphazard purr had yet to start back up, and the thought was enough to make him feel nauseous with worry.

He reached back and only hesitated a fraction before unhooking his plate armor, pulling it free and setting it away for the first time in the kit’s presence. Despite the sounds of metal, Virgil didn’t wake, head slumped against a shoulder and gangly limbs pulled in tight.

Still, no purr. Not even that sickly little stutter.

If Virgil had been a Crav’n, a true pup, he would have spent each night cuddled up with his family, falling asleep to their low rumbles and quickly developing his own. It was an automatic reflex, a vital part of deep sleep, a vibration that kept their bodies in good condition.

There were ways it could go wrong. If a pup was abandoned, they’d have problems developing their purr alone. If a pup felt... unsafe enough, they’d stop purring entirely, quiet even in the deepest sleep. When it was a choice between being healthy and not being hunted, even the smallest pups knew which to choose.

Even after rescue, it could be a struggle to regain the reflex, especially without close family. It had taken Roman years to manage, and he could still remember how much better he’d felt when he’d woken up after a full night of low, purring sleep. The sense of relief that came with realizing the ache in his bones didn’t have to be permanent.

Roman wavered, looking down at Virgil. The kid was Human. There was no guarantee this was even what he needed.

But if he did need it, the way Roman had needed it so long ago…

He pressed a thumbpad to the little crinkle in the Human’s brow, smoothing it out, and then sat down with a little grumble of acceptance. He shifted to lean back, his tail keeping him balanced as he settled Virgil’s little curled up form atop his chest.

It had been a while since he had purred while conscious. Parents got plenty of practice, of course, but once a kit was old enough, everyone would greet them with their own rumble, let them know they were safe. It was the best way for older kids to keep practicing their purrs while awake, too.

He hadn’t practiced in a long time, but looking down at the kit, he found his own deep, consistent purr started up with barely a hitch.

It took a few moments, but Virgil cuddled closer, seeming to lose a little of that fearful tension. Roman carefully adjusted him as he got floppier, and frowned at the little sharp bits of bone he could feel under the skin. Patton was right; the kid needed to eat more.

Embarrassingly, his purr got louder, as though he could heal months’ worth of living off a scavenger diet through pure force of will. He should tone it down. He wasn’t a brand new parent looking after their first pup. He didn’t even know if this would help at all.

…

Well, it couldn’t hurt to keep trying, though, could it?

—

When Patton scrambled into the cave ahead of him and then stopped short, Logan feared the worst.

He’d always known that this venture could end in disaster, from the moment they’d realized they were dealing with a Human. Roman had been worried about aggression or violence, the classic fears when it came to Deathworlders and the expected response considering the Cravon’s past.

Logan had been more worried about the situation itself. The black market trafficking industry had led to an abhorrent number of cases with rescued feral children. Very few of them had been successfully socialized, and though Virgil was older and seemed to be improving with them, his worry about the child had never quite gone away.

“Is he…,” Logan felt his throat buzz with some sort of wordless grief, and Patton turned to look at him with wide eyes.

He chirped a negative as quietly as possible, and Logan felt some of the weight on him fall away. Reaching out, Patton curled his little fingers around Logan’s wrist, tapping an apology against his chitlin.

“They’re okay,” he whispered, and then pulled him forward excitedly. “I was just surprised, really surprised— look!”

Once his eyes had adjusted to the slight change in lighting, Logan could see Roman, who was laying on his back up against the wall of the cave, his face lax with sleep and a low rhythmic rumble emanating from his chest. This in itself wasn’t entirely unusual; Roman needed a lot of sleep, and he often took naps here and there.

No, the unusual element was the Human that currently had his cheek squished up against Roman’s neck, sprawled out in the most relaxed position he’d ever seen from the pupa. Roman’s chest plate had been set aside entirely.

“They’re cuddling,” Logan said, bewildered.

“They’re cuddling!” Patton squealed, ecstatic.

He clapped his hands over his mouth, but going by the way Roman’s purr shifted to a growl, the damage was done. Roman’s eyes slit open, and without a moment’s pause his tail curled in front of him defensively, his scales pricking up to make a wall of sharp points between them and Virgil.

The Cravon looked entirely ready to disembowel whoever had dared to try and disrupt the kid’s sleep.

“Roman,” Logan called dryly, “it’s us.”

He ran through his identifying ‘friend-safe’ clicks to cement the statement, but Roman was already settling his scales back down and averting his gaze.

“Sorry,” he forced out, ears flattened back with embarrassment as his growl settled back into that low purr Logan normally only heard while they were settling down to sleep. “Didn’t mean to—,”

“It’s quite alright,” Logan interrupted, unable to completely conceal the amusement he felt. Roman had yet to shift in any way that would jostle Virgil. “Though this is a touching scene, I was under the impression that something was wrong.”

Patton piped up to answer his non-question, though his antennae had yet to stop their excited swaying. “We found out Virgil purrs!”

As if on cue, a haphazard little buzz started up, a rough, faltering pattern that was barely audible. Roman lowered his own purr’s volume, though it seemed to make his ears twitch with reluctance.

They all went quiet to listen to the undersized sound for a moment, the Human still blissfully unaware of all the attention.

“It’s too weak by far,” Roman said, his Common a little more accented through the purr. He was looking at the Human in his arms with blatant worry, a far cry from his original reluctance to interact. “I didn’t know a purr could be this weak.”

“That’s because it’s not a purr,” Logan said, trying to keep any hint of fondness from his voice. His shipmates turned to look at him with wildly varying expressions.

“I’ve seen this phenomenon before,” he continued. “I used the medscanner to check Virgil over, because I had also originally assumed it was a purr, and if it was…,” he faltered.

He’d been just as alarmed as the two of them now were, hearing it. If it had been an internal maintenance process like a Crav’n purr, it would have been even quieter than Roman’s when they’d first started travelling together. He and Patton had witnessed firsthand the difference in Roman’s mood and health once he’d gotten through those rough nights.

Next to him, Roman’s ears were tucked completely flat, as though he knew exactly what Logan was remembering. Logan didn’t understand why Roman was so embarrassed by moments of weakness-- was often frustrated by his friend’s reticence, even-- but now wasn’t the time to address it.

“I was simply concerned about the possibility,” Logan finally settled on, “but after investigating his scan thoroughly, I found it was simply the result of soft tissue vibrations from a partially blocked airway.”

Patton blinked up at him. “What does that mean here?”

“It means I-- we freaked out for no reason,” Roman grumped, carefully pushing himself up as his purr ground to a stuttering halt.

Logan held out a stilling hand. “Not necessarily.”

“So, it is a bad thing?” Patton asked, drooping.

“Not at the moment, however,” Logan cast a meaningful look at Roman, “I have no control to work off of, but I do believe Virgil’s general skeletal and muscular health is in worse shape than they should be. He may not have the capability to self-maintain like you, Roman, but that doesn’t mean he gains no benefits from this. The opposite, really.”

Roman slumped back down immediately, eyes wide. “It’s helping?”

“Yes,” Logan confirmed. “I was planning to bring the topic up with you, actually, once you were more comfortable around him.”

“I’m so proud of you!” Patton chirped delightedly, darting forwards to bump his head against Roman’s chin. “You really stepped up when he needed you, Roman.”

“Of course I did, who do you think I am?” Roman shot back confidently. Everyone politely pretended not to notice the flustered twitching of his tail. Patton peeked over Roman’s shoulder, crooning slightly at the sight of Virgil.

“Cuddle pile!” he cheered softly, using Roman’s arm as a helpful bar to climb up onto him. Roman shifted obligingly, shifting his horns into range for easy handholds when Patton inevitably slipped.

As soon as Patton was settled, feathers puffed out for maximum soft padding, the two of them turned to look at Logan with matching pleading expressions, as though choreographed. Logan clicked with faux reluctance even as he stepped closer.

“Oh, very well,” he conceded, and was pulled into the haphazard pile posthaste.

He mentally tabled the rest of inventory for later, knowing quite well that nothing was going to get done for as long as the impromptu session lasted.

Still, with his friends beside him and Roman’s pleased purr rumbling through him, he couldn't seem to find anything to complain about.

#sanders sides #teoba #wibar #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #writing #my writing #the end of being alone #humans are deathworlders #yaaay i wrote #*claps for myself*

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outer-bnks · 3 years

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Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ X OC) Ch. 11

The Pogues get a surprise visit from Agent Bratcher, causing tensions to rise in the group. JJ exposing Elle and Topper’s budding romance doesn’t help either.

Warning: swearing, brief mention of death

Word count: 1.5k

“This is so messed up”, JJ sighed, keeping his eyes down to the ground, shaking it in disbelief.

The Pogues silence that followed allowed them to mull over the possibilities of what could happen with their ongoing police investigation, before it was broken by knocking, Elle removing herself from the living room to answer it.

Opening the door she froze, coming face to face with Agent Bratcher. He took in her reaction, looking over her shoulder, “Hi, I’m Agent Bratcher of the SBI. I’m investigating the disappearance of John Booker Routledge and Sarah Cameron. I believe you and your friends may have some information that could help me.”

He definitely had come to the right place. Crossing her arms over her chest, she felt her heartbeat begin to quicken as a wave of anxiety washed over her. They had already given their statements to Deputy Shoupe, did they really have to recount the occurrences of this Summer again. “We can’t speak to you without a lawyer present sir, sorry to disappoint”, she spoke with confidence, hoping that it was enough to create a facade that he wouldn’t be able to see through.

Hearing footsteps approach her from behind she was soon joined by the others, relieved that she had some backup. “All due respect Agent, but it’s best if you leave”, JJ spoke, stepping in front of Elle and sizing up Agent Bratcher.

“I know you kids are going through a lot right now and the last thing you want to do is answer more questions regarding what’s happened,”,a look of genuine sympathy was displayed before it was replaced by seriousness, “but I think there’s more to the story than anyone is letting on”.

“We’ve already given our statements to Shoupe, there’s nothing more to say”.

“Look, between us, I think Shoupe is… overlooking some aspects that I would like to dive deeper into”, JJ turned to the others standing behind him, biting his lip whilst silently asking him with his eyes what Bratcher was talking about.

Bratcher took their curious faces as his signal to carry on. “The day of the storm, Sarah came to the SBI tents very aggravated… hysterical almost. It looked like she had been crying, she had a very anxious energy to her. But her father brushed it off as her recent diagnosis,”, he flipped through his pocket sized notebook searching before reading off, “Bipolar Disorder”.

Kie’s head flicked up from the ground that she had previously been staring at, confusion and surprise making her head fill with questions. Stepping forward between JJ and Elle she made sure she had Bratcher’s attention before speaking. “Sorry what? Bipolar Disorder?”, she turned her head to look at the others to confirm her own thoughts, “Sarah...wasn’t Bipolar.”

Bratcher shuffled on his feet, bringing his notebook down in front of his body before it was joined by his other hand, his eyebrows lifted at the news, eyes flitting from one Pogue to the other to check that they all thought the same.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. Her Dad said that she had been recently diagnosed”.

“You really believe a thing Ward Cameron says? Come on man, you don’t need to be a detective to tell that he’s full of shit”, JJ expressed. Pope following that up with, “Wouldn’t that information be on her medical records sir?”.

Bratcher nodded, his eyes holding a pleading look as he skimmed over the Pogues once more. “Do you guys see why I need your help in this investigation now?”

Based on the silence that followed his question, he realised that the group may need some more convincing. “Listen, you all knew these two probably better than anyone else on this planet, let alone this island. Every little insignificant piece of information you have about them could lead us to either finding them, solving the case, or both. I need you to do this, not for me, but for them. They would’ve done the same for you right?”

His emotional tactic seemed to work, the Pogues glancing at each other before once again silently reaching an agreement. JJ stepped to the side, his arm outstretched to welcome the man into Elle’s house, “Come on in sir”.

---

“And then they were chased into that raging storm”, Pope finished. They had spent the past 2 hours in Elle’s living room describing the gold game and everything that occurred during their Summer, Agent Bratcher sipping on the tea Elle had prepared for him, in between jotting down notes on his pad. There were multiple instances where everyone had to hold back tears, when the memories of John B and Sarah became too painful.

“So that’s where the story ends?”, Bratcher enquired.

“Yep, forced into the storm by your men after being falsely accused of murdering Sheriff Peterkin”, JJ snapped sarcastically.

“So why didn’t anyone tell the police, try and clear John B’s name?”.

“Were you not fucking listening? We tried, and no one believed us. No one will ever believe us because we’re scum from the poor side of the Island”.

Bratcher maintained his gaze on a disgruntled JJ, before turning to others. “Look guys, I know the tension is high right now and you’re all grieving. But I’m not the bad guy here. I just want to solve this case. I want to find out what really happened to Big John, Scooter Grubbs, the Sheriff and your friends. And it seems like you have the answers. If you can all trust me, I can get the justice you all deserve. That your friends deserve,” he paused, “aren’t you guys tired of fighting this on your own?”.

The group pondered on his words. They were. They were all so tired.

Nodding his head, Pope spoke, “Yes, Agent Bratcher, we want justice, and we’re willing to do anything to get it”.

----

After another half hour of deconstructing the recent events, Bratcher decided it was time to leave. The Pogues all meeting in Elle’s living room, with solemn expressions, the exhaustion of the day catching up to them.

Letting out a sarcastic chuckle, JJ was the first to interrupt their thoughts, “Well that went well”.

Elle shook her head, fed up with his attitude, “JJ you didn't need to be so rude, he’s trying to help”.

Rising from his seated position on her couch, his tone became even more sarcastic, using his hands to exaggerate his point, “Oh yeah really Elle? Why should we trust anyone!”.

“Because we don't have much of a choice anymore!” Elle exclaimed, “Sarah and John B are gone, and now we’re being held responsible for this shit show! You really think they would’ve let us take the fall if they were still here?”.

JJ and Elle were face to face now. “Don’t try to play the emotion card with me! You might be naive enough to spill our secrets to Kooks in hopes for some sympathy and attention but I’m not. The more we tell them, the more they have to pin on us!”.

Kie and Pope snapped their heads to Elle, JJ’s revelation clearly surprising them.

“Wait wait, hold on,” Pope stepped forward between the two, turning to Elle, “Who have you been talking to?”.

Frustrated, she ignored Pope’s question, “God JJ you’re blowing it out of proportion!”.

“You’re falling in love with a Kook but I’m blowing it out of proportion, yeah right”, JJ replied, running his hand through his hair and walking away from the argument to the other side of the room. If Elle was paying attention to the blonde boy she would realise that his reaction wasn’t truly one of anger, but rather hurt.

Kie stepped forward, taking JJ’s place, “I’m sorry, you’re what now?”, she spoke bewildered by the accusation.

Continuing to ignore the other two, Elle’s attention remained focused on the boy who had his back to her, staring out the ceiling to floor windows at the sun setting below the horizon. She walked closer to him, hoping to regain his attention. “Jesus JJ, I get asked on one date and all of a sudden I’m the enemy”.

Taking his cap off his head, he ran a hand through his hair, before taking a breath. Turning his head to the side to face Elle, he held her eye contact. She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. She’d seen him angry and upset before, but this was different. She had seen this emotion only a few times, trying to place a finger on what it usually meant. Suddenly, the emotion had disappeared, replaced with one of betrayal, “when that date is Topper Thornton then yes Elle, you are the enemy”.

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#jj imagine #jj maybank #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #rafe imagine #twoburningheartsaredaredtobreak #JJ x Elle #jj x oc #john b #kie x pope #outer-bnksimagines #outer-bnkswritings #jj series #outer banks series #outer banks netflix #jj x kie #jj x pope #jj x reader

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glitxhwayventeen · 3 years

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We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow

Minghao: Chapter 4 (Broken Coastline)

Characters: Minghao x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, blood mentions, mentions of sleep seducing (If that’s a thing?), death mentions, lots of tension. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: So this is a bit short, but I’ve had a long week and have homework to finish. So I split this chapter in two.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Tag List- @studioreader @imtotallydef

Unable to Tag For Some Reason- @qiuscloud

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow Master List

Chapter 4: Broken Coastline

You hadn’t come out of your room for nearly a week. You didn’t want to. The entire pack was downstairs and knew SOMETHING had happened between the two of you, they just weren’t sure WHAT had happened. And because they didn’t know any better, they were treating him rather normally. It made you sick.

Even if you didn’t have the energy to go and explain why they should hate him with you, you still just wanted them to go with it. They were now your pack too, you expected them to be just as upset as you were. Logically, you knew they had no idea what had happened, they probably all just thought it was a fight that had blown up. But they were wrong. You wanted them to side with you and to be mad at him for you because you didn’t have it in you to hate him.

The only time you’d allow him near you was at night. He would come and sleep in your shared bed at night, then he would leave first thing when he woke up so he wouldn’t upset you. But him just being there upset you. Knowing he was so close to you yet so far away upset you. Knowing he had done what he had done upset you. Loving him even after it all upset you. And it was just getting worse as they days went on.

It took everything you had in you everyday not to claw his golden eyes out of their sockets whenever you saw them now. Part of you even wanted to kill him for the hurt he put you through honestly, but you knew that would solve nothing and would only make you hurt more. He was still your mate after all, your cheating victim playing mate.

He just wanted you to forgive him. He knew it was selfish to want such a thing so quickly even though it had only been days since the incident. But he couldn’t help it. He loved you, he wanted you as close to him as possible all the time. That’s why when you said you didn’t care whether he slept next to you not, he jumped at the chance. Though you wouldn’t face him and you’d hide and retract under your covers till you knew he had went.

You’d hardly let him within spitting distance of you other than that. It hurt him deeply to hear your cries from downstairs. He knew he had broken you and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to repair you.

But he was determined to try whenever you’d let him, he’d do anything for you. Even if it meant getting the door slammed in his face every hour, he would still do it if it meant you’d even speak to another person because as of that moment, you hadn’t since it all happened.

You told him once that you did that from time to time. Whenever you’d go through something traumatic or tore you to your core, you’d go mute for a long time. He really thought you were joking when you had told him that, but now, after about a week of you being absolutely silent other than your cries, he knew you were telling him the truth.

Him and the other boys were shaken, you had become quite the chatterbox since they had known you and now all of a sudden you barely made a sound to breathe. Even when one of the younger boys would bring you food, you never said so much as a thank you. Which was strange for you, you were usually very respectful and grateful.

Now, it was like the light that had been burning inside you had been blown out. Like the laughter and all the joy had been sucked out of your lungs and replaced with depression and disdain. And it was all Minghao’s fault.

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it: what the actual fuck happened to (Y/N)?” Jihoon finally stated, slamming his hands on the table after Hansol had gotten no response from you while delivering your dinner.

There was a roar of agreement that spread throughout the table, “Yeah, she used to be so happy and cheerful all the time and now it’s like she… i dont know just want to die or something” Mingyu scratched the back of his head in worry.

“Yeah. So what the actual FUCK did you do to her Hao?” Jihoon stood up from his seat and pushed himself to stand in front of the younger wolf.

The other boys were upset that Minghao had upset you sure, but the quieter members of the group were the ones that were the most pissed off. You had gone out of your way to speak with them and connect with them. And suddenly it was as if you couldn’t care less about anything or anyone. Jihoon was one of those pack members and he was angry and wanted answers.

Minghao swallowed a lump that had accumulated in his throat before he spoke up, “N-Nothing happened. She’s fine. She just… needs some time is all…”

“Yeah?” Junhui rolled his eyes, “Well how MUCH time then? Because she’s definitely not getting better, if anything she’s getting worse by the day!”

Part of the younger Chinese wolf just snapped at his elder giving him shit. He wasn’t even sure why. He had every right to be upset and want answers for your odd behavior, they all did. But he hated the 3rd degree everyone started to give him and the fact that one of the boys he looked up to the most came for him too really sent him over the edge.

“I DONT KNOW OKAY??? She’ll be better whenever she feels like it! I dont fucking control her and she’s the one that decided to be upset with me! So how about you all just cut me some fucking slack and realize I’m just as messed up okay!” He snarled, quieting the rest of the boys whispers and small talk.

All the boys looked up at his now standing form, his eyes had shifted from their usual golden glow to their blood red simmering gaze. They weren’t used to such a level headed member of the pack going off so easily so it took them all for a bit of a spin.

Just as one of the alphas was about to speak up to tell Minghao it wasn’t his place to shout at Jun in such a disrespectful manner, they heard a bedroom door from upstairs close.

The entire kitchen and living room went silent as they listened to where the footsteps that stepped out of the bedroom where going. And of course, they began making their way down the stairs.

It felt like hours before your form finally appeared slowly making your way down the stairs. You looked… rough to say the least. Your hair was in a very messy bun that looked as if it had been caught in a wood chipper, your skin was paler and looked as if all the color had been drained from it, and your eyes were red and puffy.

You had streams of tears stained on your face and your nose was runny and leaky. You looked like you had been crying the entire time you locked yourself up in your room. You had a cotton blanket wrapped around your tired body and had been dressed in some gray sweats you had managed to steal from the market for comfort. You looked so weak that one good gust of wind could’ve probably sent you flying.

It sent a sharp pain to Minghao’s heart to see you so disheveled. All the boys hoisted themselves on their feet to basically stand attention to you after having not seen you in so long.

“(Y/N)?” He managed to whimper out.

You simply narrowed your eyes at him in return and made your way past all the boys to the cabinets. They all watched as you lazily grabbed a glass from one of them and positioned it under the sink and turned the water one. You waited for the cup to be almost full before you turned the tap back off and brought the cold glass to your lips before tilting your head back. You downed the entire glass before you sat the empty vessel down into the sink’s basin.

After regaining a bit of breath and composure, you made our way past them again, making sure to give Minghao your best look of anger on the way. Though to the guys, it looked like you were trying your best not to cry again after having not seen him in so long.

You made your way back up the stairs and retreated back up to your cave of a bedroom before hitting the door closed. The room stayed so quiet that you could’ve heard a pin drop to the floor with ease.

Finally, Joshua was the one to break the silence, “Dude… what did you do to her…?” He turned to Hao with watery eyes.

As Minghao looked up to defeat himself, he was met with 12 sets of teary eyes. They knew he had done something to absolutely destroy you based on your appearance just moments ago, they just weren’t sure what.

He let out a shakey breath before he sat back down on his chair with his hands covering his face, “You guys might want to sit down for this…”

(Updated 9/25)

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt au #seventeen minghao #svt minghao #minghao #the8

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embidedbythesand · 3 years

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how nature points out the folly of man (fanfic)

gvk spoilers!!! you have been warned!!!!

AN - After being diappointed by Ren's lack of character development, I decided to take matters into my own hands and at the very least gave one of the most important characters of the Monsterverse's angsty son a redemption ark. (To give sum credit where it's due this is partially inspired by 'Abraxas' (if u havent read that yet read it it's *chefs kiss*)

(Constructive criticism is always appreciated)

fanfic availiable on ffn and ao3 (when ig et an account jgjehgaeg)

Summary: For the first time in five years, Ren Serizawa was almost glad his father was dead.

We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'

He never meant for things to end up this way.

He just wanted peace.

All Ren Serizawa could think as he trudged his way up the stairs of Castle Bravo up to the flight deck was how tired he was. Yet, another sleepless night brings him back up to his best hiding spot, away from all the lights and noises and everyone and everything reminding him of what he did, what it led to.

It led to over four thousand dead.

Simmons ignored his pleas to at least test the Mecha with the energy they extracted. The man was blinded by his own fantasy of humanity reigning the earth once again to see the entity they had awoken, and Ren had been too blinded by grief to see that Walter was merely using him for his own gain, and wasn’t afraid to put him or his own daughter in harm’s way to get what he wanted.

The last thing he remembered before waking up confined to a bed in the Argo with a throbbing headache is being paralyzed by a force beyond comprehension in Monster Zero’s skull. The distorted computer’s warning drained out by the ever growing hum. And then the hum began to cackle.

Then nothing.

They said it was a miracle he was able to walk, talk or think, moreso that he was even alive.

Ren disagrees. He sees it as a curse.

The breeze greeted him immediately as he opened the door to the deck. He inhaled, tasting the salty air and exhaled, letting go of all the tension in his muscles as he did so. The night was silent minus the waves crashing below. He tried to focus on the sound as he walked towards the railing, trying to drown out the flashbacks of the god forsaken sinister voice that overflowed his brain in that machine, tormenting him, taunting him. Almost as if saying, “Now look what you’ve done little one. You awoke a force your pathetic little mind cannot even begin to conceive. You never learn. And now you will feel my rage until you can feel no more. I’ll show you. I’ll show all of you.”

As he lights a cigarette with shaky hands, Ren thinks, for the first time in five years, he was almost glad his father had died.

Blowing the smoke into the air and watching it until it diminished into nothing, he wonders what he would say to him, if anything at all. Would he even be able to even look at him? Perhaps his miraculous survival was at the thanks of him, his way of punishing him for his deadly error. He’d rebelled against his upbringing to respect the course of nature, never to fight against it. He let himself be manipulated into playing God only to become the Devil’s advocate, and he was now living in his own personal hell.

Because living with the heavy burden of his mistake was a punishment worse than death.

He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even see the blue glow in the sea below beckoning closer and closer until he spots familiar dorsal fins breaking through the surface. He tumbles back and collapses to the floor, dropping his pack in the meantime, staring up in shock and amazement as the king of the monsters rises before him, staring directly back at him.

The titan his father died for. The titan he nearly killed himself trying to destroy.

Gojira.

The king looks down at him with curiosity, leaning closer with a deep bellowing rumble, close enough that he could have named the colors in his irises had it not been so dark. He huffs, the hot wind so forceful, it nearly pushes him back down again. Gojira lets a rumble escape his throat, as if he was saying, “I know you.”

Ren slowly gets back onto his feet and takes a step back, trying to control his breathing. The titan continued to stare him down inquisitively almost looking like he was trying to pinpoint where he had seen him before. Every alarm in Ren’s head rang at him to run, to say something, to do something, but he’s frozen. Whether it was from fear or awe, he’s not quite sure.

He wonders if this was how his father felt when he entered his chamber.

A growl brings him back to his majesty’s full attention, and his blood went cold.

This is it. Gojira recognizes him. He knows what he’s done and how he tried to destroy him and now he’s here to get his revenge. He braces himself and cowers down, waiting for the king to finish him and put him out of his misery. He continues to wait for the end to come, but it never came.

He just stood there, now with a mischievous look in his eyes. Ren’s blood begins to boil.

<“You BASTARD!”> he shouts in Japanese, so forceful that even Gojira looks taken aback.

<“How dare you torment me after everything! Who do you think you are?! You think you can just show yourself whenever you like, come and go as you please?! Take whatever and do whatever your heart desires and expect us to rejoice in your grace and sing kumbaya?!”> Ren stops to regain his breath, his vision beginning to blur, tears beginning to fall. He squeezes his eye shut as tight as he could, refusing to let the king see him begin to finally break after years of keeping his composure. <”My father gave you his life to you and what do you do? NOTHING! You don’t even blink! You have no remorse! He saw you as a God and valued you more than anything and you go on as if nothing happened! You took everything from me!”>

<”Then you come and taunt me! To show me how much of a coward my father’s pathetic excuse of a son is! You don’t think I know this already?! IknowIknowIknow!>”

He’s screaming through sobs now. He doesn’t care.

Looking up to the sky he shouts angrily at his father, <“Look what you’ve DONE! Look what your choice led to! Here I am breaking down to a giant ancient radioactive lizard,”> he dramatically motions his hands towards the beast while shouting to the stars, <”because you left me here! You left me behind! And now I’ve ruined everything! Is this your way of punishing me?! Is this what you want?!?!”> He hoped he could hear him.

Ren chokes and gasps for air and screams with all of his might before collapsing down onto his knees, pounding his fists onto the hard pavement like a child not getting his way, not even noticing that Gojira had moved closer to him until he falls and lands on his snout. He continues to slam his fists with his body onto him, before residing and burying his eyes into the heels of his palms, crying, <”Why did it have to be you?”> into them.

“<Why did you have to go?>”

He sobs for several more minutes, now shouting, <”I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”> into his hands over and over until he has no more tears left to cry. Once he finally regains his breath, he shakily stands up and pats his pockets for his cigarettes again. When he doesn’t feel them in there, he looks around and doesn’t see them. Assuming they fell into the ocean during his tantrum, he sighs defeated.

Gojira rumbles to remind him he’s still there. Ren looks up at him in his eyes again. This time however, he sees the strangest thing. Recognition. Compassion, even.

After a moment, He slowly takes a step forward, and reaches his hand out to rest on his face. (Ren doesn’t have to wonder if his father did the same, he knows.)

“Sorry for hitting you.” he says. (It roughly translated to, "I'm sorry I tried to replace you. For betraying him, betraying you. I'm sorry for all of it, for evrything." and everything his throat was too sore to speak outloud)

Gojira huffs in reply.

(That roughly translated to, “I Forgive You.” he wasn't referring to the poke on snout)

Ren pulls his hand away and Gojira pulls back as well, they share one final look before the titan turns and dives back into the ocean, splashing Ren in the process and disappears below the waves.

Ren sleeps that night, a lifetime’s worth of wounds finally beginning to heal.

#godzilla spoilers #gvk spilers #godzilla vs kong #ren serizawa #dr ishiro serizawa #godzilla #monsterverse

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dahmerthepeoplenomer · 4 years

Text

Hiya!

I felt like Caesar doesn’t get enough love so in this, the reader finds themself having a nightmare from being a past tribute and he is there to comfort them. It’s also a little backstory on their first meeting! Enjoy! :)

I can’t breathe. My legs are moving faster than my lungs can take and the blood is starting to seep through the makeshift t-shirt bandage on my thigh. I glance over my shoulder, ducking immediately as a blade swishes over me. Looking ahead, I dive for the knife and roll off the slight rock ledge and into the creek. I hear the running footsteps behind me stop as I look up to see the final District 2 tribute in the air above me with a dagger in his grasp. Hastily I throw myself to the side, the edge of the blade nicking my arm in the process. I stumble back, and my hand comes in contact with a large stone. I throw it as hard as I can in his direction. He groans loudly, dropping the the weapon in his hands, as it makes contact with his jaw. I use his moment of weakness to my advantage and dart full force into his midsection with my scavenged throwing knife. The blade sinks into his side as we tumble down the muddy hillside. He kicks his legs, launching me away from him. My head collides with a mossy boulder - everything starts spinning around me. I gasp in an attempt to regain my breath. Meanwhile, he dislodges the object from his abdomen. As my daze starts to dissipate, I attempt to stand only to be kicked back down into a rocky pool of water. Not having the energy to defend myself, I watch with obscured vision as he stands above me, ready to end my life - only he doesn’t. He grabs my face and starts to shout at me. “(y/n)...(y/n)!” I look up at him confused, heart still pounding. “(y/n)! Wake up!”

“(y/n), sweetheart wake up”

My tear filled eyes fly open, focusing on the person in front of me - Caesar. I take in my surroundings to reassure myself that I’m actually safe before I look back at him. I cling to him as he pulls me onto his lap, holding me close. He allows me weep into his stark white button up and soothingly rubs my back, whispering some words of comfort.

After a few moments, my crying starts to cease. I breathe in his scent. Not the fake, fruity, flowery scent of the Capitol’s ‘Master of Ceremonies’. But the real, musky and natural smell that’s just purely Caesar. Burying my face deeper, I feel him kiss the top of my head.

“Are you okay?” He whispers gently.

I nod against him. Pulling away, I look into his eyes. “I’m okay now.”

“The usual?” He asks, knowing all too well of my chronic nightmares of being thrown back into the arena. I give him another nod.

“I hate that you have to live like this, (y/n). If I could take the pain and dreadful memories away from you then I would. I would live through it just so you wouldn’t have to.”

“I know.” I sadly smile at his sincerity. “But I wouldn’t let you.”

The fact that he would take my place and do the suffering for me, only makes my love for him grow. From the first time we locked eyes with one another, it was an instant connection. Of course, with it being a pre-games interview, we were forced to remain somewhat professional. He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss. His eyes never leaving mine. This small interaction didn’t go unnoticed by the audience, however. It was different. It had more feeling than any of his other exchanges with previous tributes. I had always admired him though - even before meeting him. He’s the only member of the Capitol that truly cares about the tributes - trying to bring out the best in each and every one of us in an attempt to help us with sponsorships. Does he come off as loud, somewhat pretentious, and overwhelmingly confident? Yes, of course, but that’s the only way he’s allowed to be under the eyes of the order. What others don’t see though, are the many nights of guilt ridden anxiety for being the beginning of the end of 96% of tributes.

~~~

After the show tonight, Caesar pondered whether or not reaching out to me would be a good idea. Obviously it wasn’t. That didn’t stop him though. He needed to see me. I needed to see him.

I hear a tap at my door. Pulling it open, I’m greeted by a thin line, smiling, Blight- friend and now mentor.

“There’s someone here to speak with you.” He announces. I instantly know who it is.

Guiding me to the living quarters, he leaves me by the main entrance where the same man who caught my eye only hours ago, now stands. He’s no longer dressed in his flashy midnight blue suit, but instead, dons a purple, plaid vest covering a black shirt with trousers to match. I’m more surprised however, to find that he has short, sandy-brown hair as opposed to vibrant blue. His eyebrows remain the same navy color though. I suppose all citizens here alter their appearance as much as possible when in the eye of the public. The once overly confident and boisterous Caesar Flickerman now fumbles over his own words.

“I...uhm...hi.” He sucks in a breath before continuing, “(y/n), would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” I smile.

And so we do just that. We go back and forth with casual conversation as he takes me through a series of twists and turns, allowing me to stop along the many rose bushes to admire them. Everything is so alluring that I can’t help but gawk at every little detail of...well, everything. My hand glides across the railings and structures I go by. I keep passing glances his way, catching his eye a few times before looking away shyly. He talks about life in the Capitol and how it gets to be rather daunting at times. He then asks questions about my home and where I’m from out of genuine curiosity. I’m not sure how far we’ve gone but it doesn’t matter, I’m enjoying his company - I’m enjoying him. The final destination being an extravagant, secluded terrace with a beautiful view. Not a view of the buildings and man-made structures of the capitol, no - but of the natural beauty of foliage and greenery with pops of floral coloring.

“Wow”, is the only thing I say.

“Not much different from what you’re probably used to, huh?”

“No, that’s why I love it! It reminds me of home.” Smiling, I turn to him.

“Well I’m glad.” He smiles back. “(y/n)? I know I these are very...odd, circumstances we’re in but I know that I’m not the only one who felt some sort of...tension between us. There’s something about you that seems to draw me in. And the way you presented yourself with such honesty and truth on stage made it feel like you were talking to me and only me.”

“That’s because I was.” I interject, unable to contain my growing smile.

With that he makes his way over to me, cupping my face and pressing his lips firmly against my own. For a split second my mind goes blank. The only thing I’m consciously aware of is him, his lips, and the feeling of his vest covered chest underneath my palms.

We break apart for air, foreheads resting on one another’s. After a few long moments of silence, he whispers to me - almost commanding.

“You’re going to win...come back to me.”

~~~

I had decided to take a nap after my recent series of restless nights. Thankfully, Caesar was here to pull me from yet another night terror. I know he worries about me profusely in moments like these. He does try to reassure me though by saying that he’s honored to be the one I can lean on for support. I know he’s being truthful when he says things like this but it doesn’t make me feel any less bad for putting him through it. As I’m lost in thought, thinking and being grateful for him, he stands from the couch - pulling me with him.

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. If you’d like, we can go for a walk on the trails in the forest after you’ve finished.”

“Caesar, you hate nature.” I giggle.

“I don’t hate it. It makes you happy which, in return, makes me happy. A win-win in my eyes.” He winks at me.

“I love you.” I say. He leans over and kisses the top of my head.

“I love you too.”

#caesar flickerman #Caesar flickerman x reader #Caesar x reader #hunger games #hunger games imagine #stanley tucci

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malethirsty · 4 years

Text

Tangle - Cal Jacobs

The Others

Summary: Cal’s one night stand has left you reeling. As you reassess everything you’d ever known about chemistry, you wonder if you should gamble on something so risqué yet so perfect.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Daddy Kink

Inspired by: The HBO series Euphoria & the title is inspired by the TV Rock remix of Dukes of Windsor’s The Others. All rights go to their proper sources.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7R7ywVoiR0

Other individuals cross your path for a season, a reason or a lifetime, and you’d never quite understood what that meant, well at least until you met Cal Jacobs. The man had presented himself as sweet on Grindr but the minute he had you in his clutches, he became rough and aggressive, and you’d loved it, played the submissive to his Dom so well. You used to think that relationships were meant to be sweet with a bit of sour, but Cal managed to include both at once, it was intoxicating and you needed more. So you had taken the week to scripting how to interact with him on Grindr, what if he ignored your messages? You had to make sure you’d give him some hard hitting stuff so he would pay attention. So you took a seductive selfie with bare ass on display, sunlight shining onto it through the windows, making it look like gold shining from a newly opened chest and sent it off to him with a simple message ‘So what’s a sexy Daddy like you still doing in a place like this?’

You waited for a response, and waited. Minutes seemed to go slower than usual as you waited for your silver saviour to swoop in and save you, seeming less and less likely as time elapsed. You were almost going to put your normal clothes back on and get some food from the pantry when your phone dinged, causing you to hastily check back into the app quicker than usual, the message simply reading ‘Admiring the view, I’d love to get a close up’ You grinned, you had him right where you wanted him ‘I’m sorry but there’s quite a set of requirements for that’ you smirked as you sent off the message, it was a dangerous game tempting someone like this dominant man, but you were passed the point of caring, you needed him, all of him. You kept your eyes on yours and Cal’s messages, anticipation coursing through you as you waited for the response back, and eventually the new message flashed up ‘I can pay whatever price, try me’ as you simply sent back ‘Same place, same time.’ It dinged back almost immediately with ‘Yes’, with a grin, you turned off your phone and began to get ready.

Later on in the night, you crossed the familiar territory to Cal’s room, neon lighting and pumping house music playing, except this time in more revealing clothing, you had paired a normal dress shirt with some leather pants that were cut off enough to show off your ass, and also made sure to include some leather pasties on your nipples, with pink dots in the centre. It was chilly, the wind making you almost icy, but you didn’t care, as you knew you looked a sight, as several individuals looked down from the top floor and wolf whistled, crying their lust out, making you grin and sway your hips from side to side in a more confident manner as you made your way over to Cal’s room, knocking on the door. You heard movement as he made his way forwards, and soon the door opened. His usual soft expression greeted you as it had done the first night you met, but this time it turned stonier as he observed your outfit “Get inside” he said rather bluntly. The confident demeanour fell from your face, what had you done wrong? But not wanting to provoke a negative response, you scuttled inside, innerly thankful that he had put the heating on, before Cal shut the door.

He stood across from you in sort of a silent standoff “Y/N, we need to talk about what you have on.” “What I have on?” You questioned “Yes, all of it.” He responded gesturing to you. Regaining a bit of confidence you responded “If it upsets you Daddy I can take it off.” He crossed to you and took your hands, it wasn’t a rough grip, but had enough pressure as if to say ‘Don’t’ “Did you walk around like this?” He questioned softly “Yes I did sir, I wanted to look good for you tonight.” You said sweetly, he ran his hand down your cheek “You look beautiful.” He commented “But” he tapped your nose as if in a reproachful way “You shouldn’t walk outside of here looking like this, people will look at you oddly.” “I don’t mind sir, I’ve always been odd, I gladly own it.” Cal huffed, clearly his message wasn’t sinking in “That’s fine, but they won’t have that same view point, they’ll think you’re a slut, a good for nothing slut, determined to bend over and take anyone cause that is your only point in life.”

Now you understood what had to be done, you straightened up, looking at Cal in the eyes “What if I want to be a slut Daddy, what if I want people to look at me as if I’m nothing but a piece of meat, only for their pleasure. You can’t say you disapprove, you didn’t mind when you sunk your cock into me last week, crying out your pleasure as you fucked and filled me with your load. You’re envious, and envy looks ugly on you, Cal.” You said the last part very pointedly, you wanted to provoked him, you could tell from the energy he was radiating, even with the firm look on his face giving nothing away, and you stood with a cocky grin, waiting for the monster to unleash itself. Without warning he grabbed you by the neck, you shockingly gasping for air as he tossed you onto the bed face first as he surveyed your ass. The first slap to your ass was swift and stung like a motherfucker, reverberating around the room “This ass is mine” He growled out, another slap raining down “No one else’s but mine.” You moaned into the bed, as he went to town, hitting your ass angrily as if he was letting out a massive load of tension “Pathetic fucking slut, desperate for a man to fill him with his load” Another slap “Yet never being filled, so you spread yourself for the next man.” Slap “And the next” Slap “And the next.” He slapped your ass again, having turned from a slight pinkish red from the cold to full blown red, he pulled you up by the hair as you exclaimed loudly “I’m sorry Daddy! I’ll dress better! I’ll never go out like this again!” Instead of calming him, he hit even harder making you cry out again, droplets of tears falling from your eyelids now, as Cal continued his assault on you “NO! You will dress like this again but only for me, I’m the only one who should ever see you naked, is that understood?” You whimpered, causing him to somehow slap even harder than before “ANSWER ME!” “YES DADDY!” You got out, droplets of tears and snot now running down your flushed up face, Cal finally releasing his grip as you dropped back to the bed, gasping for air.

It lasted for a few minutes as you got back your strength, Cal soon ended up smoothing your ass, placing kisses onto it, before moving up you, lifting your head only to place fingers in your mouth, making you gag “Spit” he instructed, and you obeyed, not wanting to push him much further, the time for that had gone. Cal removed his fingers, using your spit to slick up his cock before barreling down into your ass, your voice breaking as your walls stretched to accomodate him. Compared to the previous week, his pace was a hint slower, taking into consideration the fact he had rained down a parade of slaps, the feeling of Cal above you was strong and made you relax slightly, he was taking care of the business you wanted, all you had to do was moan out for him, which would encourage him to fuck harder, or so you thought. He eventually pulled out, you whining at the loss of his cock before he spun you round and lifted you up, carrying you over to the wall where you could still hear house music thudding, to your utter disbelief, had your cries really not caused a disturbance? You thought about that as Cal wiped your face with his hand, soon placing it on the wall before thrusting back in, making you groan, him grunting as his cock again got used to your heated walls. “Fucking people next door keep playing the damn music, I’m gonna give them a taste of what they’ve given me.” He growled out “Really Daddy?” you asked “Yes baby boy, I am, and you’re gonna help by telling them all about how good Daddy fucks you.” He resumed his rough pace, his growls and grunts sounding louder than usual “Oh God, Daddy fuck me, fucking use my ass!” You cried out “Fuck yes I will.” Cal responded as he went harder “How you liking daddy now?” “So fucking much sir.” You responded “Kiss me.” He instructed as he moved forwards, you meeting him halfway, wet hot mouths colliding as you parted your lips and let his tongue through, as you moaned together loudly, intending to piss off the individuals next door.

Eventually Cal backed away from the wall, lowering himself to the bed “I haven’t done this in so long, ride me Y/N, ride Daddy’s cock.” He growled out, and you instantly obeyed. Slowing down the pace at first so you could appreciate his length, you then began to take his cock rougher as he bucked up into you “God, so tight, so fucking good.” He got out, before moving towards your nipple pasties, pulling them off with his mouth, a slight sting left behind as each was removed, he soon bit into one, working the other with his hand. As they hardened you went faster and faster, crying out your pleasure as he worked you over passionately, the familiar sensation of heat rising in your stomach faster than usual, so fast that you couldn’t warn Cal as you came between you both. He gazed down and looked back top at you smiling “Good boy” he breathed out, before taking control, slamming down even harder “God, your walls are like heaven Y/N, clamping down on my cock, I’m gonna come, and you’re gonna take it all like the slut you are, aren’t you?” He cupped your cheek as you nodded “Good! Your Daddy’s good slut, gonna take my load, take it all!” He let out a massive groan mixed with a shout as came, grunting as he worked out his load, soon falling onto the bed with you. “I’ve got to shower Y/N.” You nodded and made to move up but he clutched your back “No no, you stay here, I want you to think about if you want to see me again.” He used your confusion to push you down on the bed as he moved to the bathroom as you pondered what he said.

He took slightly longer than he did last week with you with him, which was confusing you thought, as Cal could get showered easily himself. Eventually you heard the water turn off, and sat up as he emerged from the bathroom wearing a towel. He breathed in deep and began “Look Y/N, I know you must be hung up on me and I don’t blame you, but I’m generally a one night guy, I show up, wait for my hookup, make small talk, fuck, then leave. I never go back, but you insisted, so I decided to show what I’m all about. I’m not sweet, nor sour, I’m a mix of the two, I can be really nice, and really violent, you should know who I am as a lover before you want to get attached, tonight you saw me at my best and worst. I’m leaving this in your hands Y/N, do you want to keep going or do you want to stop, I won’t stop you either way, but I need to know now.” Cal took a deep breath as he finished, and looked at you waiting for a response. You swallowed deeply, it was a lot to take in, the fuck had been amazing, thrilling even, but you also cast your thoughts back to how he’d responded to your tempting, could you handle that sort of man? Cal looked you deep in the eyes, wanting to know what your answer but also not wanting to rush you for fear of pushing you away. You looked into his eyes, as they stared seemingly into your soul, and you knew your answer. “Yes Cal, I’ll stay with you, if I couldn’t handle you before, I wouldn’t have come back, and I see no reason to stop now.” A smile crossed his face “Thank you Y/N. Now, I’m going to go out and get you some clothes to go home in.” “Am I staying the night again?” You asked “Yes but this time I’ll be here, my son Nate is bringing his girlfriend Maddy over, and I don’t think me barging in would be good.” “No it wouldn’t.” You agreed “Don’t take long Cal.” “I’ll be back so quick you won’t even know I left Y/N.” Cal responded as he opened the door and crossed over “Good” you sent back as he shut the door, grinning as you also realised that the loud dance music had also stopped as well.

#Cal Jacobs #Male Reader #Cal Jacobs x Male Reader #Cal Jacobs Smut #Euphoria #EuphoriaHBO #Euphoria Smut #EuphoriaHBO Smut #Tangle

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elsanna-week · 3 years

Text

Thicker than water [3/3] - Prompt: Healing

Authors' notes:

Written for Elsanna Week 2021 prompt: Healing

Thank you for your patronage so far. A quick shout out to cs6ice and JYN044 for beta-ing this piece. It's been a struggle to write this given my RL situation, but I saw it through, thanks to your lovely support. I am resuming my multi-chapter story, You Belong to Me soon so if you are into War AU, check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067358

Chapter 3: Finale

Ana miscalculated. A red energy blast knocked her on her chest, hurling the mage through the stone wall. She cried out as white-hot pain exploded at the bottom of her skull. Her world was spinning — she was at the cusp of blacking out. Her tired eyes blinked, willing herself to stay conscious. She could not afford to pass out right now. There was too much at stake here, including her Servant’s safety.

Focus, Ana. This fight is far from over.

Just when Anatasia was about to regain her composure, her keen eyes spotted a blur of motion entering her periphery. She lunged sideways only in time to dodge several blade-like projectiles flying towards her. The mage rolled away and sought cover inside a narrow gap underneath a heap of rock debris.

“Foolish girl. You are just prolonging your death.”

Her temporary shelter shook as her enemy rained fury from above.

“You are the worst opponent I have faced so far,” Morgan mocked. “Why don’t you grow a spine and fight me like a true Master? Or you are just as useless as your Servant?”

Anatasia chewed her lower lip. Things were not looking good for her. It would only be a matter of time before the makeshift fortress collapsed under the Sorceress’s continuous assault. She would have to come out of hiding and face her enemy head-on.

The grinding pain below her chest was a grim reminder of her precarious situation. Had it not been for Elsa’s ice armour, she would have been paralysed or died of internal bleeding when the Berserker struck her with his club. The impact was so severe that it left visible cracks on the armour. Without Elsa’s magic to reinforce the structure, the armour would soon break. Being vulnerable chilled Anatasia to the core.

A glint of gold caught her attention. Her eyes traced it to a necklace hanging around her neck. She fingered the diamond-shaped pendant, swallowing a lump forming in her throat. Pabbie’s words rang in her mind.

“The Aeternus amplifies the user’s Mana, giving the person unlimited supply.” The shopkeeper pressed the bridge of his spectacles, his ominous gaze piercing. “However, a word of caution. The pendant feeds on the wearer’s life force. If you are not careful, your body will collapse.” He placed the jewellery in her hand and closed it. “Use it with care, Ana. Once it’s activated, there is no turning back.”

She clasped the pendant in her palm and yanked it off.

“I’m sorry, Pabbie.”

A green hue enveloped her body as she uttered an incantation. Rich Mana swelled inside her magic circuits, evidenced by the raised markings on her forearms. Her pain ebbed away into nothingness.

She smiled.

It’s time to up my game.

Anatasia cried out as she threw her fist forward. A crackle of lightning shot out from her fingertips and flew towards her enemy.

Sorceress Morgan evaded with ease. “Your tricks won’t work on me, girl. I am aeons more experienced than you. Argh!” Her bragging was cut short by sharp pain from her back. The Servant crashed into the ground with an earth-shattering impact.

Anatasia snorted. “You talk too much.” She cracked her knuckles and dived in like a hawk. As soon as Sorceress Morgan emerged from the rubble, Ana produced electricity from her fingertips and landed on her enemy. An explosion followed, forming clouds of dust in the surrounding area.

Did I get her?

A blurring shadow zoomed past Anatasia. She backed off and crossed her arms. A translucent screen appeared in front of the mage, just in time to shield herself from a cluster of energy balls. In the subsequent fraction of a second, she dissolved her barrier and retaliated with a few thunderbolts. The opposing elements collided with an explosive bang, littering the ground with shattered fragments. Anatasia’s keen eyes spotted an opening amid the chaos.

The Sorceress seemed to be disoriented by the blast. The mage charged forward with sparks of electricity crackling on her fingers. Their gaze met for a brief second before Anatasia somersaulted and plunged her fists into the Sorceress’s back. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the older woman chuckled.

“Is this the best you can do?”

Blinding pain exploded at her midsection. She glanced down and saw a dagger lodged into her torso. Blood splattered from her mouth, staining the ground beneath. She staggered a little as her body took in the shock and fell backwards. Before she could react, cruel fingers clamped a fistful of locks and yanked upwards, forcing the wounded mage to face her. Teal eyes widened like a saucer plate at the sight of her menacing glare. A hand connected with her cheek, the sudden force snapped her head to the side.

“Arrogant bitch!” the Sorceress spat. Black spots filled her vision. “I wanted to let you off with a quick death, but now I have changed my mind.” Anatasia let out a hoarse cry as Morgan grabbed the pommel and twisted the blade. “I will make you rue the day you crossed me, Mage. Now sing for me.”

Anatasia flailed as her frame levitated in mid-air. The pain Anatasia was experiencing multiplied tenfold with a flick of the Sorceress’s wrist. An invisible force forced her to spread eagle; each limb stretched to the limit. White-hot pain frayed her nerves when her joints gave into the tension and popped out of their sockets. She could not hold back an ear-piercing scream as her arms and legs twisted further, wringing her like wet laundry. Tears of anguish poured from her red-rimmed eyes.

“I wonder how long it will take to break you down.” Morgan hovered next to the tormented Mage, stroking her cheek. “You will make a fine addition to my collection of puppets once I possess you.”

Anatasia nearly blacked out for a second when she was rammed into the ground, face first. Her nose fractured with a sickening crunch. Blood trickled down her throat. She turned sideways to expel the tangy liquid from congesting her airway, but to no avail. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

“You don’t get the luxury to pass out, girl. Not when I am having so much fun with you…”

A blood-curdling shriek ripped out from Anatasia’s throat. An invisible pressure was crushing her organs, threatening to smash them like a tin can. Sorceress Morgan played with her victim like a fiddle; she pulled her from the edge of unconsciousness to a full-blown agony under her ministrations, leaving the poor Mage with no reprieve from her suffering.

Please, just let me die.

Begging for the Sorceress to grant her a quick death seemed to be a desirable proposition at the moment. All she needed to do was to surrender.

I’m so sorry, Elsa. I failed you.

Anatasia chewed her lower lips in disdain. Shame engulfed her as the words of defeat played in her mind. She wished the ground would crack open and swallow her whole.

“Morgan, I…”

Before she finished, thick rows of ice spikes sprouted from the ground like bamboo shoots. Much to her delight, the ice barricade severed the Servant’s control over Anatasia, providing the wounded Mage much-needed respite.

“Ana!”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of arms wrapped around her.

“Please, no more…” she sobbed. Her mind did not register that the pair of arms were wrapped tight around her. A familiar scent triggered a whirlpool of emotions inside the young Mage. When the Arctic orbs came into Anatasia’s line of sight, she knew everything was going to be fine. She buried her head at the crook of Elsa��s neck, nuzzling for comfort.

Elsa’s here. She is not an illusion.

“Why did you…How?”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I can’t abandon you like this.”

Anatasia’s sharp ears caught Elsa letting out a soft hiss. She noticed slight tremors on her frame. Pabbie’s words came back to her. It was the counter effect of the Command Spell she had placed on her Servant. Elsa defied her commands, causing her a lot of pain.

“Elsa, you are hurting!” She struggled to wriggle out of Elsa’s hold, not wanting to cause more harm than necessary. “Get away from me!” The Servant paid no heed to her words, tightening her embrace around Anatasia.

“No, Ana.” Elsa retorted. “I am not leaving you.”

The Mage shook her head. “You will only hurt more if you are near me. The Command spell…”

Elsa interjected.

“A little pain doesn’t bother me. Besides...” Her heart stopped beating when Elsa lowered her head and caught her lips with hers. Shades of pink coloured their cheeks when they broke their kiss.

“I love you too much to let you go.”

Elsa’s words sent Anatasia to cloud nine. When their foreheads touched, she could no longer hold back her tears. All the tension bled out in hot tears streaming down Anatasia’s face. Elsa’s fingers intertwined with hers.

“Let’s get you out of here, Ana.”

With a flick of a wrist, Elsa teleported them away. Her transportation circle reappeared at an unknown location and spat them out. Elsa’s quick reflexes kicked in; she manoeuvred her body so she would cushion Anatasia as they crash-landed. Her heart stopped when she saw her friend sob hard, fearing that she had injured her in their hastened escape.

“And..?”

She shook her head. “What about the Grail? We are just one Servant away from summoning it.”

Anatasia might not have knowledge of her Servant’s past, but she knew how much the Grail meant to Elsa. Her strong-headed friend had been giving her best since day one, pushing herself in every battle they fought. It pained Anatasia to see her Servant endangering herself for the sake of duty.

“I carry an unforgivable sin, Ana. The Holy Grail is my only chance at redemption.”

Anatasia had never understood why Elsa was hell-bent on finding the Holy Grail. She recalled the flash of determination in her Servant’s eyes when she uttered those words. Something about Elsa’s unwavering resolve prevented Anatasia from pressing for answers. She trusted her Servant to share her story whenever Elsa was ready.

If winning the war would bring her friend eternal happiness, she would support her without a doubt. As much as she loved the woman, she did not have the heart to let her friend astray. Yet, the selfish part of her wanted to keep Elsa to herself. Unlike Elsa, Anatasia had nothing left to lose. Had it not been her moral compass, the Mage would have damned the universe to keep her Servant from harm’s way without batting an eye. Alas, Elsa’s well-being came first. Everything else was irrelevant to her.

The blonde caressed her cheeks. “I’ve had an epiphany. Some things are best left behind…” Anatasia shuddered when Elsa’s thumb brushed the corner of her lips. “And sometimes you need to take a leap of faith.”

“Elsa, are you sure about this?” she asked. It would not sit well with her conscience if this were a rash decision made at the expense of her Servant’s goals.

“Yes.”

That was all the assurance Anatasia needed. The moment was interrupted when her companion applied too much pressure, earning a yelp from the Mage.

“Oh, dear.. I’m so sorry.”

A frown etched on Elsa’s forehead as she examined the damage done on her Master. A slight involuntary hiss of pain escaped Anatasia’s lips when Elsa applied pressure to find out the situation. She chewed her bottom lip in disdain at the blotches of purple appearing on her skin. Some places were worse-off. One of the dislocated bones had pierced through her skin at the hip area. Elsa shot Anatasia an apologetic look.

“This is going to hurt.”

Her Master gave a weak nod. She let out a long sigh, resigning herself to the imminent pain. She fixed her gaze to Elsa’s, drawing strength from her Arctic orbs. I trust you. Unspoken words reflected behind Anatasia’s teal coloured eyes and reinforced Elsa’s vigilance. She wanted to make the experience for her Master as pleasant as she could, given the circumstances. The last thing she wanted was to cause additional pain to Anatasia.

Her left leg was Elsa’s priority. A thin sheet of ice encased her open wound with a flick of her wrist. She then laid her Master on the ground, propping her head against a flat rock. She pinned her weight on her hips while her other hand secured her knee. She chanced a glance at her friend for reassurance before getting to work. Anatasia gave her a weak smile, head bobbing in consent. The redhead did not register when Elsa moved in one quick motion, snapping the dislocated bone back into its original position. White-hot pain flashed at the affected area, but it lasted barely a fraction of a second, leaving her no opportunity to cry out.

S oft lips pressed against her damp temple, trying to reassure her. “You are doing good, Ana. Just a little more.” Elsa’s heart broke watching her Master trying to compose herself. “Please continue. I can handle it.” The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words. The sudden flinching when she touched her was a telltale sign. Anatasia was still pretty shaken from her ordeal. Yet, despite what she had been through, Anatasia still soldiered on putting a brave face when Elsa worked on her. Come hell or high water, Anatasia vowed to bring Morgan down and end this nightmare once and for all.

Anatasia had exhausted her last bastion of strength by the time Elsa finished tending to her. She could not help herself; her body sagged into the blonde’s embrace like matching puzzle pieces. She suspected Elsa’s magic had a sedative effect on her; she could feel it in her tired eyes. Her limbs felt responsive again, despite being heavy and sore. Being able to feel her hands and legs again felt alien to her. She stood with a particular difficulty but gradually regained her balance with each step. Her movements, much to her chagrin, were still clumsy like a toddler’s. Frustrated at her snail-like progress, she pushed herself even more.

Elsa clutched onto Anatasia’s forearm when she misstepped and slipped. “Whoa, not too fast, Ana,” she remarked, hoisting her to a sitting position. Her sharp ears caught a faint sound - a mix between a sob and a choke. She lowered her head to meet her eyes, but Ana diverted her gaze. “Ana, what’s wrong?” Worry tightened Elsa’s chest when the Mage stayed silent.

“I screwed everything up, didn’t I?” Anatasia let out a mirthless laugh. “This happens when you trust an orphan girl to play the hero.” She wrung her hands together, chewing on the inside of her cheeks.

Elsa shot her a bewildered look, not comprehending her Master’s cynical remark. “What do you mean?”

Anatasia’s shoulders slumped. “I thought I had what it takes to win this war. I was wrong.” She cringed at the thought of her near-death experience. It took little effort for her to imagine her fate had Elsa not rescue her. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as realisation set in. “I have doomed humanity with my selfishness, Elsa.”

Elsa’s sympathetic eyes landed on her Master. “Ana, it’s not your fault.” She rested one hand on her tiny back while the other reached out for Anatasia’s “You did what you thought was best for everyone.”

The Mage scoffed, pushing Elsa’s hand away. “Well, I thought wrong. And now, innocent people are going to pay for my mistakes.”

“Please don’t say that, Ana. We still have a chance.”

“Don’t.” Elsa startled. “Please, Elsa. Don’t give me false hope when there is none.” Anger and frustration seethed behind the blue orbs. “We’ve lost, Elsa.” she snapped. “No amount of words can wash the blood off my hands.” Anatasia folded her legs upwards and buried her head into her knees. Watching her Master withdraw in her shell of defeat triggered Elsa. She would not give up on her Master. Not when she got the chance to right the one thing she had spent an eternity regretting. If there was anything she learned from battling her demons, it was to have faith. And now, it was her duty to make Anatasia believe in herself again and support her until the end.

Elsa lowered herself, combing her soaked bangs with her fingers. “Ana, look at me.” she tugged, coaxing the other to meet her gaze. “I know you are scared.” She noticed a slight flinch on her friend’s figure hearing her remark. Elsa caught her hands and held them in hers. “Deep down inside, you don’t want to give up either.”

“Yes.” Crimson coloured Anatasia’s cheeks at her admission. Her grip on Elsa’s hand tightened. “I wanted to fight, but I am scared of the outcome. She already bested me once.” She clasped her hands, willing them to stop trembling. Her voice broke, “What if I fail again?”

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it. No matter what happens, I will be there with you.” Elsa closed the gap between them. Arctic blue eyes flashed with devotion. “We can do this, you and I.” She pulled Anatasia into an embrace.

Anatasia hugged back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s see…. argh!”

Elsa cried out as a sharp pain lanced through her. It took a few seconds for her to register that she had been stabbed. She looked down and identified the source of her pain buried in her side. She frowned in confusion when her Master’s fingers clawed on her back, a soft giggle rumbling at the back of her throat.

“Ana...?”

Anatasia’s unpropitious behaviour triggered Elsa to look up. Her eyes widened when they locked on the Mage. Her pupils were dilated into blackness, swallowing her teal orbs. Her lips quirked into a disquieting smile. Sensing impending danger, Elsa jerked away and put some distance between them.

“What’s the matter, Elsa? Why are you avoiding me?” Her tone had changed to an eerily familiar voice. The Servant fell back into a resting stance, throwing her hands out in defence.

“Let her go, Morgan,” Elsa warned. Magic pulsated on her fingertips, crackling for release. Anger flared inside her, knowing the Sorceress Morgan had taken control over her Master.

Anatasia smirked as she sauntered over to Elsa. “You don’t get to demand things from me, Elsa.” Her hand glowed red, sparkles of electricity sizzling on her palms. “Consider this your retribution for declining my offer.” She charged forward, firing a series of thunderbolts towards the Servant.

Elsa leapt backwards, dodging the attack. Once she landed, she swung her hands—a sheet of ice encased the ground, trapping her enemy’s legs. Just as tendrils of ice sprouted out to immobilize her, she broke free of her bindings and threw her next attack. The blast caught Elsa off guard; it sent her halfway across the clearing. She exhaled a painful wheeze when her body slammed on a cluster of rocks, breaking her fall. Before she could gather herself, Anatasia appeared on top of her; a predatory glare flashing in her eyes. Elsa let out an excruciating scream when Anatasia stomped on her stomach. She almost blacked out when the heel of her boots smashed on the area where she was stabbed earlier.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins ignited her fight-or-flight instincts. Amidst her struggles, she caught hold of her enemy’s leg and froze it. She rolled to her good side and used the remaining strength in her legs to trip her adversary. Once she fell to the ground, Elsa summoned her magic and snared her in an ice cocoon. She raised her hand once more, ready to deliver her finishing blow.

“Elsa?”

Familiar teal locked gaze with Arctic blue. Excruciating pain frayed her nerves as the adrenaline rush ebbed away, causing her to double over. The ice encasing Ana vanished.

“Elsa!”

Her lips dried at the sight of Elsa’s wounds.

“What have I done?”

A soft caress on her cheeks distracted her for a moment. Ana’s heart skipped a beat.

“I should have been more vigilant. Forgive me, Ana.”

“No, Elsa. All of this is all my fault.” Her breath hitched. “Let me heal you.” She clasped Elsa’s palm, closing her eyes. Frustration coiled inside her when her magic did not heed her call. It was like lighting damp firewood.

“Don’t bother.”

Both Master and Mage shot a death glare at the offending voice. Hovering above them was Sorceress Morgan.

“My curse has locked your Mana. Your body is just a tool to do my bidding.” She snapped her fingers. Fine threads, almost invisible to the naked eye, appeared around Ana’s limbs. In just a split second, her body was no longer hers. Her concentration wavered.

“Elsa. Run!”

Elsa yelped when the sole of her Master’s boot connected to her unguarded side, sending her sprawling on the ground. Before she had the chance to retaliate, Anatasia sprung on top of her. Unforgiving fingers tightened around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Elsa clawed for air. Amidst her struggles, tendrils of ice escaped her fingertips and froze her opponent’s skin. Anatasia backed down from the unexpected attack, releasing Elsa. The Servant took the window of opportunity to tackle her. Two sets of frost shackles emerged from the side as soon as her enemy hit the ground, immobilising her.

“Let her go, Morgan.”

"It's too late, Elsa. I have integrated my consciousness with her." Morgan flexed her host's hands. "She is me and I am her."

"This is your last warning." Her voice tethered, losing patience.

Morgan laughed. “You are all bark and no bite, Elsa. You are just as weak as I thought...” A sudden drop in the surrounding temperature stalled her speech. Her stomach knotted in fear as layers of ice snaked to her other parts of her body. She gulped at the piercing of Arctic blues above her.

Morgan let out a nervous laugh at Elsa’s baleful aura, her taut voice bleeding with panic. “This is just a farce, right?” Her heartbeat raced when the sheet of ice approached her torso. Morgan stuttered, “She is important to you, is she not?”

Nimble fingers brushed against the woman's damp forehead, combing her bangs aside. Something about Elsa's gaze struck a chilling chord inside her, akin to a hungry predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, she is." Elsa clipped. "Now that you have officially crossed the line, I don't have to hold back anymore." A high-pitched shriek reverberated in the air when spikes of ice tore through her enemy's flesh. The edge of her lips curved upwards when she spotted unfettered fear pooling in the Sorceress's eyes.

"Do you know why they called me the Snow Queen in my past life?"

Her hand travelled south and rested above Morgan's chest. "Nothing stops me from getting what I want, not even my sister." With a flick of her wrist palm, a snowflake sigil appeared on her torso. Morgan screamed as the biting cold seeped into her skin, numbing all her senses. "You will feel what it is like to have a frozen heart, just like her." Within seconds, silence took over. And Sorceress Morgan was no more.

Elsa sank to her knees.

I’ve won.

Tired eyes travelled to the frozen statue.

But at what cost?

The Servant buried her face in her palms, mourning for the death of her Master. No matter how hard Elsa had pictured this outcome in her mind, she still could not accept it in reality. Losing was part and parcel of the Holy Grail War - something which she had grown accustomed to after aeons of endless battles. Yet, her victory offered no solace to her. Deep down Elsa knew she had failed Ana, like how she had let her sister down aeons of years ago.

A booming voice echoed in the background.

“State your wish, Caster.”

Maybe this was her chance to redeem herself.

THE END

Epilogue

Elsa's brows furrowed at the sight of silver nestled in between her platinum blonde locks. She knew she should not be bothered with such triviality but it somehow disturbed her. She picked one strand and twirled it around her finger.

“What are you doing?”

Elsa nearly jumped out of her skin when Anatasia tapped her shoulder. She mentally cursed herself for not being careless with her surroundings.

"Nothing…" she replied nonchalantly.

Anatasia's lips curved upwards.

“I'm not going to love you less if you have a few greys on you.”

A shade of pink coloured Elsa's cheeks. Anna had read her like an open book and called her out. Her fingers dug into the edge of the sink in response.

"What about in years to come? When I'm grey and old..."

Elsa fidgeted at the inconvenient fact. Time was finally catching up to her - Her body was already showing alarming signs of ageing in such a short period of time. At this rate, she would probably have aged out.

"I would still love you the same, Elsa." Nothing will ever change my feelings for you."

"Wouldn't it be weird for people that you are in love with an old hag?"

"Let them think whatever the hell they want. They have no right to judge us."

Anatasia hand caught Elsa's. She lowered her head to meet the other's gaze.

"I understand that in your past life you are required to live up to others' expectations. But now, you don't have to do that any more."

Her hold tightened.

"I want you to be your own person, Elsa."

Elsa's eyes widened. Anatasia's words struck deep inside her heart. It's hard to imagine a life free of responsibilities when she was born into a line of duties. Times like this were a reminder that she was no longer Queen Elsa.

Just Elsa.

"I'm sorry. Old habits die hard."

Anatasia grinned.

"If anything, I want to announce to the world how lucky I am to have fallen in love with you, Elsa."

Anatasia pulled her to the open window and shouted.

"I'm in love with Elsa. Do you hear me?"

"Ana, you are going to wake up the neighbours." she scowled.

"I'm sure the forest inhabitants don't mind sharing my excitement."

"Ana…"

The redhead put up her hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. Message well received."

Elsa let out a yelp in surprise when the other scooped her from the floor and carried her bridal style.

"May we continue this in bed, love?" she asked, flashing a toothy grin.

Elsa smiled back.

"We may."

7 notes · View notes

rymndsmth · 4 years

Text

pretty please

is this thing on? anyways this is my first time posting writing on tumblr in like. 3 years so pls be nice!

a/n: ray is walking around looking like That all the time and she’s had enough of it. 18+ (reposting because tumblr did me dirty and blackballed me?)

He was stuck in her mind today, well, if she were to be completely honest, at this point he lingered in the nooks and crannies of her brain daily. It was just how annoyingly dapper he was at all times. A vest over a button down under a long trench or teasingly tight cardigan.

Or maybe it was that smooth but subtly rough Geordie accent of his. Perhaps the thing that drove her the most mad about him was his demeanor-the togetherness. Never a hair out of place, beard always trimmed in shape. He never spoke unless it was necessary, carried out his actions with precision. Fuck, it was everything about him.

She placed the glass into the tray to join its other overpolished counterparts. And then she picked up a tinier one. A little hair of the dog would hopefully ease the tension she felt mounting between her shoulders among more southern regions of her frame.

“A bit early for that, isn’t it?”

When she first started tending the bar at Mickey’s place, his silent method of entry often made her leap like an Olympic high jumper. It took her awhile to realize that he never used the front entrance equipped with the bell like everyone else. Why would he when his position outranked all but the boss himself?

“I don’t know, Ray. Five o’clock and all that nonsense.” Her words dripped with irritation.

Ray didn’t neglect to notice her tone, he never did. She was sure that he had a mental tally going on of how many days it’s been since her attitude had become sour towards him. That hamster wheel turned and churned, she saw it behind his hybrid blue/green eyes as he adjusted his glasses.

“Right. I think I’ll have one as well then.” He slid his coat-the dark blue one that made her picture many scenarios, all of them dirty-off.

She cocked a brow.

“A lady should never drink alone.” The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. Smiling now, are we? It must be her lucky day.

Her back turned to him, only to find that pretentiously expensive scotch she knew he favored so much. Coaster, glass, and a slow pour of two fingers. She did the same in another glass, actually excited to see what all the hype was about.

“Cheers to company.” Her teeth flashed as the crystals clinked off one another.

Oh how it burned on the way down, and joined the molten pit already bubbling in her abdomen. Her palms pressed onto the slick wood of the bar as she watched Ray enjoying his sip as if it was going to be his last. In his line of work she guessed that was possible.

“So, where’s Big M?” She hated breaking the silence, but feared if she didn’t he’d hear her blood rushing as loudly as she did.

Ray blinked before bringing his gaze to meet hers, “Meeting. He sent me here to talk to you, actually.”

The sound she made was somewhat the mixture of an exhale and a wheezing laugh. Her inability to conceal her emotions was why she would only ever be a part of the legitimate side of the business.

“I can’t imagine what for.” She took to busying herself again before her throat let out a dolphin call or something.

“He seems to think I did something to make you crossed with me.” The barstool groaned as he relieved it of his weight.

Hamster wheel. If she didn’t know him any better, she’d think that he was on a fishing expedition. However, Ray was nothing if not a straight shooter. That actually made this encounter that much more embarrassing, now having the knowledge that even Mickey had picked up on her...mood.

“You haven’t done anything to upset me.” Her eyes shut for a moment. Good god, it was ridiculously warm. She lightly fanned herself with a spare coaster.

“I know, but you’ve been treating me as if I have. Why?” Ray pressed, a hand coming up to run along his beard.

Fuck off Raymond, you know why. It was so close to spilling from the edge of her tongue. Her chest heaved with the effort it took her not to scream those words into his face. Instead, she set her jaw and looked at him dead on.

“Misplaced annoyance, I’m sorry.” She even batted her lashes for the cherry on top.

Ray finished his scotch, and rounded the bar. Her heart rate suddenly felt like it did in those last few minutes of that spin class she took one time. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip, walking until he stood directly in front of her.

She took one step back, he took one forward. He led the dance until there was no more room, and then placed his hands on either side of her body on the bar behind it. Jesus Christ, did he always smell as good as he did today? She wanted his scent on her pillows, under her duvet, on her-

“I was asking as a formality, but since you insist on lying, you leave me no choice.” Ray looked down at her.

“No choice? Can you not be so cryptic for one minute?” She surprised herself with the witty response.

Apparently, he hadn’t calculated that in his master plan either. His expression shifted from professional poker player to white guy blinking meme, only for a split second before he regained his composure.

A low sound came from his throat as he moved his hand to trail up her arm. She couldn’t contain the shudder that followed, or the gasp that came next as his finger brushed her neck. Whatever strength she had left, she used it to refrain from whimpering when his knuckles brushed across her warm cheekbone.

“Look at you,” Ray whispered. “You’re falling apart.”

“Case solved, I guess.” She shrugged.

He must’ve had enough of her smart mouth. Ray dipped his head to catch her lips between his. She inhaled deeply, chest rising to press against his as she cupped his face. They stayed there for a moment. From her perspective she was in shock, relieved, and worried that he would regret it all and pull away.

Then his tongue swiped against her bottom lip, and it was like her soul had an orgasm. Sweet vindication. She knew deep down that the tension wasn’t one sided, after all, that was the very nature of it. A band had to be stretched in both directions for it to reach a point of tautness. The energy she gave him was merely of reflection of his.

She opened her mouth to give him full access and was immediately rewarded for it. Ray spread a large hand across the small of her back, bringing her closer to him as his tongue did a dangerous dance with hers. She writhed against him, muscles coiled tightly, desperate for release.

“Please.” Her voice was thick.

“Tell me.” He kissed the edge of her mouth, her cheek, the shell of her ear.

In between moans she managed to respond, “I want you to take these stupid clothes off, and touch me.”

Ray caught her lips in a searing kiss again as his hands settled on her ass. He gathered the fabric of her mid length dress up until the material was balled into his fists. Their tongues took a break from grinding against one another’s for him to lift the dress over her head and discard it off to the side.

Her bare nipples stood to attention, something he noticed immediately. He rolled the left bud between his index finger and thumb coaching a curse out of her. The same was repeated with the right, leaving her breathless. He abandoned them to kneel before her, fingers hooking into either side of her underwear. As painfully slow as he could, Ray slid the cotton down her legs until it pooled around her ankles. She not so unhurriedly kicked them aside.

He made a small noise of amusement before tossing her left leg over his shoulder. She gasped, gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself. Ray dragged two fingers along her swollen, soaking core. That was the only warning she received before he plunged them into her and curled them.

“Fuck!” Her hips bucked.

“Is this what you wanted?” He spoke clearly, as if he was unaffected by the fact that he was knuckle deep in her.

Her juices spilled out of her and onto said knuckles as he drove his digits into her at an increasing pace. She dropped her head back, lost in the lewd sounds filling the room and the sensation of his fingers sliding against her walls.

“I want more.” She whined.

Ray’s beard tickled the thigh that was slung over his shoulder as he gave it a small kiss. He worked his way up until his lips closed around her clit. Her eyes took a tour of her skull, a hand reaching to thread through his hair.

He continued to drive his index and middle fingers out of her at a steady rhythm. It never let up as his tongue ran circles around and over her sensitive bud, lapping up her fluids. Her stomach clenched, and clenched. Oxygen began to feel scarce as her chest tightened.

“Go ahead.” Ray’s voice was like another caress on top of everything.

And then she let it all out. With a cry she was sure could be heard down the street, she came on his face. Her grip tightened on his hair as she rode out her release, thrusting her hips with each wave of pleasure that slammed into her.

She slumped with the last surge. Ray pulled his fingers out of her, and dipped them into her mouth. Her eyes never left his as she sucked off every remnant there was of her on them. He then raised her from her feet and placed her on the edge of the bartop.

Finally, he began to get rid of the way too many layers of clothing he had on. The grey vest was the first to go, followed shortly by his tie. By the time he unbuttoned his shirt she was basically salivating, which only intensified once she saw what he had been hiding under there all this time. She knew he was fit but goddamn, her imagination didn’t come close.

Ray discarded his pants and boxers in one go, his thick cock standing to attention right beneath his navel. She couldn’t help but reach out to take it into her palm, giving it a few good tugs. He groaned under her touch, and tilted her head up so that their lips could meet again.

She pressed her forehead to his, breaking the kiss to look between their bodies as she lined him up with her entrance. Ray pushed forward inch by inch, hands moving to rest on her hips. The stretch was that perfect balance of pain and pleasure, a delicious burn.

When he finally bottomed out, her ankles crossed behind his hips, locking him there. He might’ve been the epitome of control on the outside, but his breath came out in struggling puffs. It tickled her lips as he deliberately withdrew his length all the way to the tip, and slid back into her once more.

Ray repeated the motion, keeping his thrusts slow and deep. Her toes followed the curve of his backside, fingers pressing into his shoulders with increasing force. She drove her hips forward, matching the tempo he set, eyes still trained on the place where their bodies met.

“Christ, you feel amazing.” He grunted.

She nipped at his bottom lip before swiping her tongue over it, and into his mouth. Her walls began to constrict around him, forcing him to pick up the pace. It wasn’t long before the carefully crafted performance became lost to passion and raw lust.

He drove into her relentlessly, and she fucked him back just as feverishly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tight in anticipation of the orgasm she felt mounting. With a few more snaps of his hips she was a writhing, crying mess.

Ray pushed on, gaining speed and extending the trembling that overcame her from head to toe. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, small moans passing his lips as he started to let up. A stagger, and another, and then he was emptying everything he had into her.

His hips bucked and came to a halt, leaving them both panting and heaving. She stroked his hair as she floated back down to earth, her body feeling used in the most satisfying way. It hit her after a few moments of holding him that they really just did that. They had sex in their bosses bar in the middle of the day.

“I should probably,” She pulled back just enough to look at him. “You know, clean all this up.”

“Right.” He smiled, a full one too at that.

They gathered up their clothing, and maneuvered to the back where they arguably ought to have been. She washed up first in the restroom, making sure she looked somewhat presentable though that freshly fucked look was one that only went away with time.

While he got himself together, she made her way back to the front to straighten up and disinfect. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea that they did what they did because now whenever she came to work it would be all she could think about.

“I’ve got to meet up with Mickey, but I can pick you up later.” Ray exited the back looking as sharp as he did when he entered the bar.

“Uh...sure? Okay.” She nodded more than necessary.

“Great,” The bell dinged as he pulled the door. “I make a great Wagyu steak.”

#charlie hunnam #raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #ray smith x reader #the gentlemen #fics.n

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wolvesofinnistrad · 4 years

Note

Travis and emmett share a shower at the firehouse (prompt)

And also @wholockian-221b said:The team find out they are together

Read it on AO3

“Travis?” Emmett's voice calls from the hallway and Travis knew he should have closed the shower room door. The cool tile feels good against his overheated skin as Travis rests his forehead on it; equal parts weary and cautious.

When Emmett had come out to the station, and subsequently broke that poor girl’s heart right before their engagement dinner Travis didn’t really know how to feel. As any gay man, he was happy to see Emmett taking steps to live his truth and not be afraid anymore, even if Chief Dixon still didn’t know the exact reason for his son’s sudden breakup or even that he’d come out to most of the people in his life besides him.

And Travis couldn’t deny that he was happy for Alicia to be rid of the lie she had been brought into unfairly. He still regretted hooking up with Emmett when he was still with her, because sure the first time he didn't know, but the second time he had. The only thing he could do was blame it on some undeniable connection he had with Emmett, where no matter what emotion he felt for him it seemed to heightened to the extreme. Desire that first night, rage and disgust later after finding out his litany of secrets, and compassion and pride once he finally came out.

Now, well now it seemed he’d somehow circled back to desire and it was really messing with his head. Emmett was a newly out guy, a baby gay if ever the term had applied to anyone, and Travis knew the first thing the guy needed wasn’t immediately falling into a relationship. Travis himself didn’t need to be a rebound either, he deserved better than that after the string of relationships he’d had.

Then again, as much as his mind wanted to remind him that dating a firefighter hadn’t turned out well in the end last time, that it did seem to be his type.

Besides, the little rabbit was kind of adorable, when he wasn’t being terrible at his job at least.

“Travis, you in here?” Emmett says again, and this time he pushes open the shower room door and catches sight of Travis. The younger man wastes no time heading over and pulling back the curtain. It’s so reminiscent of that first morning they’d spent together that Travis tries to mentally ward himself for whatever it is Emmett is about to say.

Except, Emmett doesn’t say anything, he just stands there, staring at Travis in some strange mixture of shock and arousal.

“Probie?” Travis finally asks, sneaking a peak out of the corner of his eye, watching Emmett gulp and try to drag his eyes away from Travis wet and naked body and back to his face.

They’d been dancing around one another since Emmett’s coming out, not giving in to the gravitational pull they clearly both felt.

“Fuck it,” Emmett breathes, and Travis only has a moment to raise an eyebrow in question before Emmett is tearing his uniform off. They’re alone in the station, the rest out on a call, but this is still at terrible idea. They both know it.

It doesn’t stop them.

Travis forgets about all the reasons he’d given himself to stay away, to give Emmett time to find himself on his own, to ignore the sexual tension, to consider all the problems them being together had already caused and would cause in the future. It all slips away like the droplets of water running down Emmett’s alabaster skin as he steps beneath the shower and reaches for Travis.

A hand on Travis neck, on his hip, one reaching for Emmett’s body in kind to complete the connection like a live wire searching for grounding. Their lips meet and for all that Emmett seems to be afraid of fire, neither of them shy away from the roaring conflagration that embrace creates.

One hand slides down to cup Emmett’s ass, warm skin a caress against his palm. His other glides into that short blond hair, tugging just so, the way his mind recalls made Emmett moan so prettily. It doesn’t fail to this time, Emmett groaning, pressing his shower slick body closer until there’s nothing between them but the rivulets of water cascading down their bodies.

For his part Emmett has one hand sliding up and down Travis’ flank, as if he can’t decide if he wants his chest, his abs, his hips or something lower beneath his fingertips. His other hand reaches around to find Travis back, the muscles taut and strong, Emmett’s own fingernails dragging against skin and leaving marks.

“This is a really… Really bad idea,” Travis bites out between kisses, his own advice doing nothing to curb the fervor growing within him. His teeth nip at Emmett’s lip, tugging on it as his hand skims across the man’s backside, sliding between those mounds of flesh and eliciting a sharp pang of pleasure from his partner.

“I don’t care anymore… I just, I want this, I want you Travis.” Emmett pulls back a moment after his words, staring into Travis eyes so eh can see the certainty in them. “What I said the last time I was in this room with you… It was premature, and stupid and me grasping at the first real connection I’d ever felt but I...” Emmett bites his own lip, the skin already red from where Travis had worked it over. “But that emotion beneath it, that feeling it is there… And in time, I think, maybe, that I could mean it. About you, with you. If you’ll give me a chance. I-”

Travis cuts his apology, or confession, whatever it is off with a kiss. His hands travel up, cupping Emmett’s face in his palms and holding him still as he kisses him slow and deep. The passion rolls off him in waves, and its not just his body that feels inflamed now.

“I’m done fighting what I want, you’ve been showing me you can grow, that you can change, and I see it. I see that desire, not just to do better, but to be better. I want to be there to help you on that journey, for however long I get to be.” Travis smiles, kissing Emmett again, taking his time to really let it sink in and settle in the other man’s bones, that certainty about it that only comes in the moment, the clarity of the adrenaline whether its on the job or a stolen moment like this.

Their hands roam and explore, finding the places desperate for touch, for more than a caress or a parting glance. Emmett almost sobs when Travis takes him in hand, forgetting for a moment to return the favor but getting a throaty moan from Travis when he does. Travis twists his wrist just so, drawing a broken sound out of his partner, watching with glee as Emmett drops his head to the crook of Travis neck and shoulder. The man tries to suck and bite there to regain his composure, to give as good as he’s getting, but Travis has far more experience and knows just how to wreck poor Emmett.

A sly smile splits Travis lips as his hand winds it way up that delicious back towards Emmett’s blond locks. “Why don’t you show me just how much better you can be?” he asks, licking his lips as he remembers how awkward Emmett had been their first time together. The second time he was less wildfire and more controlled burn, it was time to see if the man had gotten the hang of things after Travis expert teaching. Gently, as if a suggestion more than a demand, his pressed against Emmett’s head and shoulders, watching the mans ink to his knees with a grace he seems to only have in the bedroom and the art studio.

Emmett’s lips kiss and suck, teeth nipping and grazing skin as he works his way down. His fingers wrap around Travis length, stroking once, twice, eyes cast upwards to watch the way Travis eyes flutter close and mouth slides open. In imitation of it Emmett follows the motion, reaching out with his tongue, flicking over his lover intimately. The taste is all salt and skin, water and something uniquely Travis.

His hands work in tandem, one on Travis teasing and caressing in time with his mouth, the other dragging down his own body until he can help himself. It’s a sight Travis can barely stand to look away from, all thoughts lost to the feel of Emmett’s mouth, Emmett’s hand, the breathy moans. His body feels aflame, so hot he wonders why the water isn’t turning to steam the moment it crashes against his skin like rainfall after a forest fire.

“Emmett… Fuck, Emmett I’m...” Travis’ body begins to coil in on itself, building and building. His hands are in Emmett’s hair tugging, pulling, haphazard motions meant more to burn restless energy than to instruct or lead. Emmett’s efforts seem to redouble and he doesn’t want this to ever end, despite knowing he’s on the precipice of falling, in more ways than one.

Of course, so lost in their passion, neither man hears the firetrucks pulling back in, the clamor of bodies undressing and bee-lining for the showers, full of soot and smoke. So when Jack and Dean stroll into the shower room their eyes travel immediately to the sight of Travis crying out in ecstasy just as Emmett, on his knees before Travis, finds his own release.

“Oh shit!” Jack laughs, Dean’s jaw going slack behind him in shock.

Travis only has a split second to feel the intense pleasure of his orgasm before he hears Jack and his entire body jerks, nearly tripping as he presses back against the tile of the shower wall. He nearly slams his knee into poor Emmett’s face in his haste.

Emmett on the other hand seems to be in total shock, mouth still hanging open, a trail of spit and something that definitely isn’t shower water hanging from his lip as he stares at his fellow firefighters. It’s only when the commotion draws a half dressed and weary Maya and Vic to the door that he grabs for his own clothes on the floor, trying to cover himself a bit and blushing from head to toe.

“Really?” Maya says, sighing as she turns and walks out of the room.

“Aww yeah, get it boys!” Vic says, shrieking with laughter as Dean pushes her out of the door in his own haste to leave.

Jack just gives them a supremely awkward thumbs up before giggling like a maniac as he walks out. “We’ll give you two a minute. This is the best day ever now.”

“Well… I guess there’s a second time for everything...” Travis says before starting to laugh as he leans against the wall.

Emmett looks up, his embarrassment turning to confusion.

“Me and my, uh, late husband also got caught in the fire house showers once.” Travis wonders if that isn’t going to be a mood killer but is pleasantly surprised when Emmett just chuckles.

“Well, at least I’m in good company.” The smile he flashes Travis is so adorable and soft that he can’t help but kiss the idiot again.

“Come on rabbit, let’s get out there and get this over with.”

“Rabbit?” Emmett asks as he’s trying to dry off.

Travis laughs, shaking his head as he towels himself dry. “Long story, I’ll tell you after our shift is over. Maybe… Over dinner at my place?”

Emmett’s smile looks wider than ever as he nods enthusiastically. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Now, prepare for the ever so wonderful world of being grilled about firehouse fraternization rules and being the hot new gossip.”

Almost the moment they walk out past Jack and Dean heading for the showers they’re stopped by Vic and Maya who pull Travis and Emmett away respectively to talk in private.

Later, sitting in the kitchen eating while everyone else showers Travis and Emmett try to just put their heads down and get through the rest of the shift.

Of course, the station is never that kind.

“I cannot believe you two got caught hooking up in the showers. I’m not even sure who I should be more surprised about, Travis the vet or Probie who only just recently came out” Jack says, pointing between them.

“Considering how often Travis last boyfriend was here, I’m going to say probie on this one.” Dean goes to grab some food, shaking his head as the rest of the team files in.

“Listen, as your Captain I have to say don’t fool around in the showers, but I can’t really scold you because, well, if my office could talk.” Maya winks before sitting down by Emmett.

“Oh, are we talking about the hot new firefighter couple?” Vic asks as she comes swaggering in, no longer full of dirt and grime. “Because I’m all about this, it’s kind of adorable.”

“He is,” Travis says before he can help himself and then rests his head on the table in shame.

“Oh, he’s got it bad!” Jack busts out laughing again as he grabs a whole carrot and starts eating it.

“Who’s got it bad?” Andy asks as her, Sullivan and Ben, the only ones that didn’t see Travis and Emmett in the shower, walk in.

“We caught Travis and Emmett getting it on in the showers.” Vic cackles as she relays this to them.

Sullivan gives them a stern look. “Do I need to have a discussion about workplace rules?”

“Oh, save it Mr. me and Herrera got married in secret,” Maya says which shuts Sullivan up.

Ben just laughs, congratulating them before heading over to help with food.

“So, is this like, a one time thing or…?” Dean asks, to which Vic, Maya, Emmett and Travis all reply at once ‘no.’

Travis and Emmett smile at one another, a shy little thing that everyone teases them about. It’s good. Beneath the table Travis grabs Emmett’s hand, and it doesn’t take an expert to see the joy, the admiration and the sense of freedom written in every line of Emmett’s face to be living life the way he wants.

Next on Travis list, making sure to train Emmett out of his panic, fears and into being the best firefighter he can be. If the kid is gonna do the job Travis is going to make sure he does it right, he’s already lost one firefighter, he’s not going to lose another if he can help it.

#Tremmett #Travis montgomery #emmett dixon #travis montgomery x emmett dixon #station 19 #mine #my fic #fanfic #Anonymous

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 4 years

Text

Back to you (prologue)

Summary: Y/N Stark and Peter Parker are unconditionally in love with each other, being friends for years was just the step before making it official. BUT, just the weekend they became official Thanos and the snap happened, leaving Y/N broken: without friends, avengers family or Peter Parker. So, she has to move on, at least that’s what everyone’s telling her and she really tries to do it and who better to help her than Harry Osborn. But, has she really let Peter go? What if Tony Stark -genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist- knows how to bring Peter back? And what happens when he does? Is Y/N going to avenge again? Who’s going to lead the avengers now? Who is she going to choose? Harry or Peter? and who the hell is mysterio? *He doesn’t even go here*

word count: 3.9 k

author’s note: First official Spiderman fic, damn okay I don’t know how this is going to turn out since it’s my first time in like three years that I’m going to write another series, literally my last was GMW and I’ve been soooo fucking in love since I saw Homecoming and then everything of this new reincarnation of Spiderman that I just knew I needed to write something. I love y/n Stark fics and I just came up with this because why the hell no. If you like it *youtubers voice* give it a like and reblog and comment and let me know if you have like blurbs that you would like (?) i guess and thanks before hand for (maybe) reading thisss. ok enjoyy. btw there might be a mistake or two, like I might have skipped a revision buts ok. and no civil war in this timeline ok.

series masterlist

_______

“All that for a drop of blood” The Mad Titan whispered and as you saw how his lips pursed into a smirk you felt your stomach dropping.

Before you could react, even get a scream out of your mouth to tell your dad to be careful, Thanos took a hold of your right ankle and threw you across the arid, orange and light-weighted planet.

“Y/N” Tony screamed as The Mad Titan dropped him into the floor, like a rag doll, as he repeatedly got punched and thrown down.

Soon you fell into the ground, hard and you felt as if there was no more air in Titan for you to breathe. The nanotech automatically removed your helmet as you desperately tried to find the air you had lost.

“Shit” you grumbled when you took a breath again, closed your eyes for a second and groaned.

This was more than you could handle, this was even more than anything you had ever thought you would ever do and for the first time in a while you were actually scared shitless about what was going to happen. It was even worse than New York than Ultron and you hadn’t even been on the field by that time but now you were and you had spend so many years trying to understand your father’s fear for so many years, just now you actually did.

As you tried to get up, you felt Peter’s presence behind you as he held you, helping you get up. His eyes were full of fear as he tried to inspect every part of your body, trying to figure out if you were seriously hurt in any way. It was normal for him, always checking in when you were fighting together.

“Oh my god, Y/N? I’m here. Are you -?” Peter started before you cut him.

“M’ fine, we need to help dad Peter, please” You whimpered as you got up with his help and turned around, your eyes desperately trying to find your father while holding Peter’s hand.

And that’s when you saw it, you were hardly able to blink as you saw how the blade entered your father’s torso and a whimper left his lips.

“DAD!” you screamed as tears rolled down your face. You felt as if your whole body was shaking uncontrollably and the urge to get to him as fast as you could overcome your mind.

You tried to run and fly towards him as your suit quickly materialized your helmet once again, but you felt a strong pair of arms around your torso, they were so tight. You knew if Peter had pressed more, it could break at least two of your ribs.

You screamed as you tried to fight Peter’s hold on you, you watch blood coming out of your father’s mouth as Thanos spoke to him.

“Y/N wait, wait, he’s going to kill you if you go near, please,” Peter begged, you could feel that he was crying as well. “I can’t lose you.”

He was holding to you so tight, you thought you might pass out. Peter never used his super strength with you. He was always soft with you, always careful but this was a desperate grip on you, on your body, he didn’t want you going and as you turned around you could see the terror on his chocolate eyes.

But when you saw Thanos pointing the gauntlet at your dad, the infinity stones shinning more and more every second, you knew if you didn’t make it, you wouldn’t see him again.

“Peter” you stated as your lips trembled, you felt your heart crumbling inside your chest, you had promised a future together before this happened. “I’m sorry Peter,” you whispered as your suit quickly transformed your feet into a rocket canon.

Peter sensed the buzzing coming from the charges in your suit, he tried to hold you tighter, his mask appearing in front of his face and covering his chocolate eyes.

“Y/N please, don’t-” Peter cried, as the rocket canon finally broke his grip on you, sending him backwards and sending you flying as fast as you could towards your dad.

You landed right between them and the mask quickly came off, you knew your suit didn’t have much energy now, less than 10% you figured with all the fighting, and you had lost H.A.P.P.Y, your AI when you got out of the earth. But it didn’t stop you as your hand filled your repulsor with the energy you had left, and you pointed it at Thanos.

“Y/N NO!” your father yelled between shallow breathes as he tried his best to protect you. “Please Y/N, it’s okay, please”

But you didn’t flinch, still glaring at Thanos as you pointed at him with your repulsor and he pointed to you with the gauntlet. This was it, you knew what it was coming.

He chuckled.

“I hope they remember you” Thanos stated as he looked at you solemnly. “You remind me of my daughter”

You felt a knot in your stomach as you prepared for impact or however the Mad Titan decided to get rid of you and your father.

The infinity stones started gathering more and more energy and so did your repulsor as you closed your eyes for a second. Please, don’t let Peter see this, you thought to yourself as your eyes opened and braced for the attack.

But then Stephen’s voice broke the silence, the tension, your last thoughts. You turned around, your arm never going down as Thanos watched Stephen carefully as he tried to lean into the remnants of Titan.

“Stop” Stephen cried as he breathed heavily. “Spare their life’s and I will give you the stone” He said as he gazed at Tony and you for a second. “No tricks” Thanos stated as he began facing Strange but didn’t let his arm with the gauntlet down.

Your stomach dropped as you watched as the time stone materialized in Stephen’s hand from the sky, you heard your father mumbling something but soon you couldn’t hear anything as desperation washed your whole body. This couldn’t be. This was your last chance to save the earth, to save the universe.

The stone levitated from Stephen’s hand to Thanos and as he was about to grab it, you attempted to move, to take it away, maybe die in the process, but you didn’t care anymore, you knew it was your duty, you were an avenger and you had to do it.

But as soon as you tried to lift your foot from the orange ground, something pulled you back and soon you got this cold sensation spreading from your feet up, your body was humming, and it felt as if every muscle in your body had frozen, soon you couldn’t even turn your head or open your mouth, you felt trapped. Your eyes squinted slightly and turned to Steven as he gazed back at you, his left-hand twitching as it pointed to you and you realized, it was him.

You wanted to scream, shout and cry as you felt Thanos glaring back at you for a moment and then placing the stone in the gauntlet. Flashes of green light traced his purple skin as you tried to move, you wanted to fire your repulsor, you wanted him gone.

“One to go” he whispered to himself as he gazed longingly at the golden gauntlet.

Your eyes widen as you realized what was going to happen now, he was going to earth again for Vision, Wanda, for all the others. You closed your eyes and begged that your repulsor worked as you aimed towards The Mad Titan, and in that moment a pulse rifle sound shot into the air and you thought you had made it.

You opened your eyes to see yellow flashes of light hit Thanos -repeatedly, with such a desperation that if it had been blue flashes it would’ve been you- but a scream ripped the sky and it was Quill, either way nothing hurt Thanos as blue steam grew from behind him and as soon as you felt you could breathe again, he was already engulfed by the cloud that formed behind him.

You felt into the floor as you tried to regain composure, you tried to shake off the feeling of not being able to control your own body. You hated when magic was used on you and you had been trained by no other than Clint and Wanda in order to know the signs and try your best to avoid it. Either way, fighting against Strange’s power was a whole other thing.

“Where is he?” Quill screamed again as his eyes frantically looked for the Titan, he tried pointed his gun anywhere and his whole face was tainted by panic and anger.

But you couldn’t even look at him as you glared back at Strange, he looked right back at you and simply shook his head and looked down. You were about to curse the hell out of Strange, because you could’ve tried to stop him, at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

But your thoughts dissipated as you heard your dad fixing his wound as his breathing came a little back to normal, you stood up as soon as you could and ran towards him.

“Dad, Dad” you sniffled as you hold his hand, “How is it, are -are you okay?” You could barely get out as your eyes were fixed in your father’s wound, trying to check out if it was okay.

You sighed heavily as Tony simply nodded and squeezed your hand a little bit tighter, he tried to smile but it simply faded as he gazed back at the ground, he hated when you saw him like this. It had been around three years when he had finally allowed you to be on the field, but he never liked it. He felt his heart on his throat every time you were on a mission, he was uneasy which didn’t serve the team very well when he was always worried about you but with time he had learned how to cope with it. Still, it never got easy for him seeing you hurt, it never got easy for him when he had taken a blow and you had to risk your life to be beside him. In all honesty, Tony didn’t like the idea that some time you might see him die.

“Did we just lose?” Quill let out in a sighed as you felt someone landing next to you, you turned around to see Peter, he was a little bit shaken up from the way you threw him back.

You sighed of relief as you saw him, you knew he had super strength and healing powers, but you guessed it was more about the emotional burden -he was scared of losing you. You crashed your body into him as he held you so tight you thought that you might pass out. He wanted nothing more than to protect you, he wanted you to be okay, he just wanted to go home with the girl he had been in love with since he met her and just be with her.

“Peter, I…”

“I know Y/N, it’s not your fault,” Peter said softly as he held you tight, “It’s going to be okay, they are going to stop him” Peter reassured you as you turned around to see Tony.

It wasn’t good, you were all tired and alone in this desolated planet, you looked around to see all the Guardians coming towards you. A scowl on their faces as they felt every little blow from the battle, the adrenaline was gone and as you knew very well, the injuries where now being felt.

“Why would you do that?” Tony asked Strange, his voice soft and defeated.

You knew your father, how he thought, and you saw how everything, all the weight of keeping the world safe that he had carried on his shoulder since he became Iron Man was now crumbling, the anxiety and the fear were now gone and only defeat was left. He had failed the world, that’s what he thought.

You turned to see Strange, gazing solemnly at Tony. It wasn't completely defeated but he was somber, in the little time you had gotten to know the Supreme Wizard you knew he had to have a reason, a tangible reason for him to let Thanos go.

“We’re in the endgame now” He whispered ambivalently.

But you were furious, you were fucking tired of not knowing what was going to happen but most of all you felt the panic creeping on your back, but it was because you felt betrayed by time or the universe that this had to happen now.

“Babe…” Peter mused as he took a hold of your chin to make you look into his eyes. He gave you a little smile as he placed his forehead against yours.

He knew you well, well enough to feel your heartbeat going insane as you glared at Strange, but he also knew you well enough to calm you down.

��It’s just, we were just on a school trip today…” You mumbled as you closed your eyes.

It had been whirlwind since this morning you had been kind of official with Peter for the first time at school, you had been to the MOMA and there hadn’t been a moment where you weren’t sneaking around between exhibitions, running away from Mr. Harrington so Peter could lean forward and press his lips to yours every chance he got.

“Spider-ling stop kissing my daughter and help me get up” Tony muttered from behind you.

You gave your dad and Peter a little smile as Peter blushed, his cheeks red as he ran towards his mentor to help him stood up as you feel the group getting closer together. They were just re-grouping in order to see what your next step was.

“We have to get out of here” You stood in silence as you watched your father lean into Peter, watching you take the lead.

Mantis was next to Quill who was holding her, she had been badly injured while Drax just stared down, a somber look in his eyes. He had to be feeling worse than your father as he had been trying to avenge his family, at least that’s what you thought.

“How are we supposed to do that? The donut is gone” Peter asked as he gazed at the broken space-ship that was close to you.

You bite your lower lip as you thought about what you could possibly do to return home. There was no food or water here for you to survive long enough and you had to be as possibly fast as you could in order to help the others. It had taken you like one day to arrive at Titan, now you needed to go back. At least, you really wanted to believe there was a chance to help others.

“We have our ship, we don’t know if it’s 100% usable after the fight” Quill muttered, as he checked Mantis and gazed back at you.

You didn’t even want to look at Quill at the moment, so you turned around your gaze at Stephen. You weren’t particularly thrilled about having him your face, but you knew he was the best option you had for a safe and quick return to earth.

You smirked.

“Thankfully, we have a Wizard that can help us go back to earth in les-”, You began but was quickly cut off by Mantis.

And that’s when you felt goosebumps appearing on your own skin, as Mantis muttered.

“Something’s happening” Mantis shuddered as she gazed at the orange sky in Titan, thunder could be heard.

All of you did the same as you tried to figure out what was wrong, it was ominous and frankly terrifying. You quickly turned and took a hold of Peter’s hand as you watched your father carefully, you wanted to be close to them.

You turned around to ask Mantis what was going on but as you blink she wasn’t there anymore, there were just ashes falling into Quill’s body, following the gloomy wind and you felt your knees going weak as you just understood what was happening. You squeezed Peter’s hand as you frantically pulled him closer to you.

“Dad…” You sniffled as you watched your father carefully. Tony had a haunted expression drawn across his face, he blinked too fast to make sure what he was seeing was real as he struggled to walk towards Quill and the others.

Soon you heard Drax’s trembling voice, the fear was palpable as he had just seen Mantis fading away, literally fading into dust.

“Quill?” He managed to say before half of his body turned into dust and he looked up into the sky as a sigh left his lips.

You felt like you were going to throw up and you felt Peter’s hold growing tighter around your waist, almost as if he was protecting you of what was coming next. The terror on everyone’s face was there, he did it, you thought to yourself.

You watched Quill, hoping he will stay, hoping it was just them and that it would stop by now. Two people had died in front of you, they had turned into ashes, you wanted it to stop, you needed it to stop.

Forehead puckered, Quill gazed at Drax with fear on his eyes, he was supposed to be the leader, he was supposed to help them but he was helpless, he didn’t know how to stop it and you could see the terror in his eyes, as he turned around to see your father.

Tony got closer to Quill, as he looked at him trying to be the pillar that the younger guardian needed. But as you saw him, you knew he was just as lost as everyone else. As helpless as you all were because there was no way you could possibly stop this from happening.

“Steady Quill” Tony said as he watched him, trying to somehow remain calm.

But as soon as he managed to get the words out the eerie sound of the wind mixed with a bit of energy from the stones -you thought- cut your father’s words.

“Oh man”

Those were the only words Quill got out before his body quickly turned into ashes. You fell on the ground, in silence as Peter went down with you.

“It’s going to stop soon Y/N, it’s going to stop” Peter assured you as he whispered in your ear while he gazed at Tony for any confirmation that was going to stop.

Tony turned around, shocked by the way their team had to disappear in a matter of seconds, to find Stephen already looking at him.

The blood on Stephen’s cheek was still going down as he tried to shake his head in affirmation, trying to somehow calm your father.

“There was no other way” Stephen stated, he breathed deeply as his gaze fell on the ground, on what was left of Titan.

One. Two. Three breaths and then he was gone.

Your father quickly turned around to see you, to make sure you were still there, and you gazed back at him. You didn’t know if you were next, neither of you so you stood up as fast as you could, leaving Peter behind because you were sure it was going to be okay, he was Peter, he was always okay.

But as soon as you were going to give a step forward, Peter’s hold on your hand stop you. You gazed back confused as you saw him looking at the ground, a haunted expression on his face as he looked at his other hand, he looked at his arm and his body. He seemed like he was looking as if his body was full-on ants.

“Y/N…?” Peter managed to get out as his gaze frenetically found yours. His breathing became heavier as he stepped forward.

You knew.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good” Peter mumbled as he linked eyes with your dad who walked as quickly as he humanly could towards you two.

You frantically tried to see what was wrong with him, you knew what was wrong with him but your brain still tried to do any calculation on how to keep Peter together for what was coming. It was a bizarre thought but there was nothing else coming up as you tried to gaze at his beautiful chocolate eyes.

“I- I- I don’t know what’s happening” Peter stuttered as terror grew on his eyes and he walked towards you like he was holding onto dear life itself.

You held him too, you wanted to hold onto him as if somehow it was going to avoid that he turned into dust. Your features overcoming with fear and dread as you hold onto the boy you had been in love with for three years.

“Pete-” You managed to get out before you felt his whole weight into yours and your words were quickly cut off as you both fell into the ground. You placed him into your arms, his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep his breathing normal, he wanted to be brave, he really wanted to be brave. His hands were holding yours as you placed them in his chest, trying to check his heart beating.

“I don’t want to go Y/N, I don’t want to go Y/N, please” He cried as Tony kneeled down next to yours, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Your father wanted to help so badly but he knew what this meant and all he could do was watch as the boy’s legs began to crumble.

“You’re going to be okay Peter, please”, you whispered as you nodded your head between your tears.

But suddenly, his eyes looked up into the orange sky, like he was embracing this like he knew he wasn’t going to be okay. His chocolate eyes quickly found your Y/E/C eyes and they stayed together, with those knowing looks you both knew what it meant.

“M’ sorry” Peter finally whispered, without fear on his voice rather resignation as he held your gaze and you saw how the boy you love was fading.

You gazed at his chest and his hands were no longer holding yours and you felt panic invading your body and then watched him carefully as his features disappear, leaving at last his eyes that quickly turned to dust.

“No, no, no” You sobbed, shaking your head as you tried aimlessly to hold on to the ashes of the boy.

“Y/N…” Tony muttered as he held onto you, he didn’t know what to say. He knew how much you loved him, and he knew the sorrow you must be feeling.

He knew Peter was your first love.

“PETER!” You screamed at the sky, the cry ripped your chest and the sky as you felt like you were going to pass out as sobs started coming out from your mouth and you hold onto your dad as you cried.

You lost your mind as you looked at your hands filled with the ashes of Peter.

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grandcollections · 4 years

Link

by myashke

Summary:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to to remain in his life?

Comments:

I read this seven years ago. And although I couldn’t remember much about the fic, seeing the name struck a chord in me— so cliche, but it felt like an electric shock. Instant recognition. I remembered it was one of my favorite fics ever. I remembered images of freezing cold and bonfires, and lots of delicious hurt/comfort, probably the best you’ve ever read, my mind told me. And I remembered the tale centering around Merlin, on how much everyone loves him— I saw more images, snippets of the knights and Arthur trying to protect him— one of my favorite parts of the show and something I love to see in fics.

Arthur laced his gloved fingers through Merlin’s bare ones and lifted them up to his lips. “They’re gone,” he said, lowering their hands to rest on his thigh again, hoping Merlin’s ice cold fingers would warm beneath his own.

Merlin took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest pressing tightly against Arthur’s back. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered, squeezing Arthur’s hand.

“Yes.” Arthur looked down at their joined hands, wondering if it would always be like this, Merlin touching him, their attraction sparking and being smothered over and over under the weight of duty for as long as Merlin stood at his side.

I am so, so glad I decided to reread this now. I needed it. I took my time with it, watching the page count anxiously, not wanting it to ever end.

To be able to read something like this is a gift. Truly. This fic is not only one of the best merthur fics I’ve read, but one of the best pieces of writing.

TLDR: Merlin risks his neck to save Arthur without thinking, of course, nearly freezing to death afterwards. Along with the knights (who play a very active role), they revive him and nurse him back to health slowly. Merlin and Arthur’s feelings come to the surface, along with plenty of angst and big sacrificial energy from both boys. Featuring: hurt/comfort, magic reveal, angst (so much angst) the best characterization of every character, Ealdor shenanigans, wonderful smut and delicious sexual tension, the whole gang of knights and a smattering of mergwaine. And my goddamn favorite thing, the best way I’ve ever seen it: Arthur recognizing everything Merlin has done and truly, truly valuing him.

the rest of my long-ass review below the cut lol!

Everything I said in my first review holds true. It’s beautiful and heart-wrenching. It’s pure, sickening hurt/comfort— if that’s your jam (and it sure is mine), oh boy you’ll be in heaven. It’s full of tenderness— the way Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot care for Merlin, the depth of Merlin’s feelings for Arthur, the supremely physical nature of this fic— the first half is a mess of tender touches and skin-to-skin, bodies trying save Merlin’s, described in excruciating detail.

"It’s just me,” Arthur whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead, his hand slowly rubbing down Merlin’s neck and back, fingers ghosting along his spine, settling finally on his hip.

Arthur held him tightly in place. He brushed slowly, gently back through Merlin’s hair, whispering in his ear, soothing him. “Shh, it’s alright, Merlin. I’m right here. You’re safe. Sleep now... you’ll feel better in the morning... I promise I’ll be right here...”

This is the stuff of hurt/comfort *dreams*. It’s achingly tender and beautiful and full of angst as Merlin stays near death, ice cold, goes through fever, and says and does things as his mind isn’t fully presence in his fever-addled state.

Arthur whispered prayers to God Almighty, to the Gods of the Old Religion, to Merlin himself. Be alive. Be alive.

He’d give up his right to the throne for a blood curdling cry from Merlin right now.

Arthur spends so much of this part of the fic panicking over Merlin, desperate for him to be alright. (One of my favorite merthur tropes)

“Trust me, he’ll thank you for it tomorrow.”

“Gods allow he has breath to thank me with tomorrow,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head as his own words stabbed into his chest. He lowered his cheek to Merlin’s again, whispering,” Gods allow he has breath to rant and rave, if he wants.”

I really love the characterization of everyone in this fic, but I want to focus on Arthur. The entire time I was reading I believed it was him, I believed I was reading about Uther’s-son-the-prince-of-Camelot, First Knight, all of it. I felt his burdens and his pain, the weight of the heavy choices (and one specific heavy choice, the main plot of this fic I suppose) he made.

Arthur pressed Merlin harder against the tree and he opened his eyes, gasping.

“I’m choosing Camelot over you, Merlin. An entire kingdom’s welfare. My bloodline’s future. My gods-damned destiny. And yours, if you stand by me.”

This sort of realism may not be every shipper’s cup of tea, but god is it mine. Because it doesn’t lessen Arthur’s love, need, longing for Merlin. It just incorporates the rest of Arthur into that, alongside it. And produces so much goddamn pain.

Arthur is not always gentle, he is possessive and jealous, but always quick to bury those feelings— unless he can lash out with his authority at his back. And if he does that, he apologizes.. sometimes. If he regains control quickly enough. If it’s one of the knights. (Not always if it’s Merlin). He misunderstands things often and is quick to believe the worst. But he never fails where it’s important— he tries, and that’s key. But he can be intuitive, too— I love how the magic reveal is handled, how it marinates in his mind for a while. How he knows before the reader even knows he knows, and long before anyone else does. It’s a credit done to Arthur we don’t see often— sometimes he reacts badly, or is shocked above all else.

“I thought you’d want rid of me,” Merlin said... “Someone who lied about who I really am.”

“Who? Oh, you mean the Merlin that is actually brave, intelligent, and loyal to the death?” he heard, low and close to his ear. “I’ve known him for a while, too.”

This is JUST.... everything I’ve ever wanted. The way Arthur values Merlin and sees everything he’s done post-magic reveal is one of the primary reasons I love this fic so much, as I’ve said, and I’ll talk about it more later. But another result of the magic reveal is Arthur becoming so protective of Merlin once he does realize. It’s the backbone of this fic.

Merlin grinned as everyone laughed, the light in his eyes a gift Arthur wouldn’t soon forget.

He would have to extinguish it, he knew, but he wouldn’t ever forget what Merlin had looked like in that moment, so entirely at peace with himself and everyone around him....

Pressing his leg harder against Merlin’s, Arthur clenched his jaw on the scream of frustration that welled in his chest.

^ this is Arthur’s reaction as he watches Merlin practice magic, glowing and happy and powerful and whole, because he is afraid that magic is the reason Merlin will die.

Had Merlin watched the executions and thought of himself tied to that post? Had he thought he would be able to escape before the fires were lit beneath him?

The very image of Merlin bound there made Arthur’s stomach curl into a tight knot.

The way Arthur would doom himself to be the villain, to deny himself happiness and even SAFETY— because now he knows he’s only lived this long because of Merlin— to protect Merlin, to prolong his life.

Merlin backed away as Arthur stepped forward again, reaching out to him. He didn’t know how to do this, to push Merlin away when his body felt half-empty with the desire to touch him.

The way he uses his authority as prince and what he is to Merlin to ensure it. (The way Merlin refuses to comply.) I love it so much.

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reigning in his anger. “You’re right. I would defy my father and my king to protect you... but it wouldn’t be enough.... it makes me ill to think of how close you’ve come to the pyre.”

“I don’t care. I belong in Camelot, even if I end up a pile of ash.”

excuse me while I scream

“I have my company of knights to protect me.”

“They follow you, they don’t protect you,” Merlin whispered, letting go of Arthur’s arms and worrying the edge of his tunic, then looking into Arthur’s eyes, pleading. “Please don’t ask this of me.”

He’d expected a fight, defiance, but not this, not what amounted to begging.

DELICIOUS. ANGST. Arthur’s protectiveness coupled with Merlin’s stubbornness means we get a whole lot of angst and longing. They have to stay away from each other, but they can’t.

“I should never have let you,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head, “You’re enough of a distraction as it is.”

As they stared at one another, Merlin felt as if something irrevocable was slipping between them. “Arthur, I--”

“Enough,” he breathed, the word a plea more than a command. “We cannot-- I’m not free to--” Arthur sighed, brushing his thumb across Merlin’s lops, shaking his head. “This cannot happen again. Do you understand?”

... “Yes, sire.” Merlin pushed at Arthur’s arm, unwilling to wait for Arthur to let go, unable to lie there, so close, touching, when Arthur was already through with him.

.. Like a bucket of cold water, Arthur’s words had shocked him back into reality, holding up in front of him what he’d tried so hard to forget.

He was a servant, and he would obey.

excuse me?? do you see why you have to go read this fic right NOW, do you SEE?!!

“I knew. I knew and it still feels like I’m splitting open,” Merlin whispered.

ugh.

If anyone else had put that look on Merlin’s face, Arthur would have laid them out flat.

ughHH

“Your life is worth more than this,” Arthur said, smoothing the pad of his thumb across Merlin’s kiss-reddened lips...

Arthur clenched his fists and stared after him, desperate to follow. They couldn’t keep tearing each other to shreds like this. Something had to give.

God this fic is full of GOD-TIER PAIN. It’s genuinely baffling. amazing. groundbreaking, never been done before!!!!

And now I must, I must, discuss the clowning glory of this fic. The thing I wanted most from the show, that pained me the most when I was denied, that frustrated me most about the ending. Arthur seeing Merlin as the hero he is, the powerful sorcerer who did so much for Arthur, Arthur’s family, Arthur’s kingdom. But more than that. Arthur seeing and valuing Merlin, the man. Gaius, Hunith, Gwaine, Lancelot, the knights— they don’t value Merlin because of his magic, or because what he has done or can do for them. It isn’t gratitude they feel. It’s love. And it’s the same for Arthur, here. And I can’t tell you how dear that is to me. How lovely it is to read.

And despite knowing him so well, Merlin had believed in his ability to become a better man from the beginning. Arthur wasn’t blind; he could see that Merlin had reshaped his attitudes over the years, had taught him to think for himself instead of blindly following his father’s example. He learned from Merlin to see beyond pride and the nobility, to be a servant to the people instead of ruling them as his father did.

From the very first moment they’d met, Merlin had encouraged him in gentlest, surest way to seek out the right thing and do it, say it, help it to happen if he could.

again:

Merlin listened even when Arthur couldn’t say a word. Especially then, in fact.

and again:

“I’ve never know someone like him. He’s so... selfless. How many times has he saved us without our knowing? He never asks for reward or recognition. He’s a servant when he could-- he could do anything. Does he not want anything for himself?”

Gwaine chuckled softly. “He wants one thing with all of his being, but you and I both know he would never presume to ask for it.”

and again:

Being alone with him was Arthur’s escape, his sanctuary, no matter where they were.

and again:

“This isn’t negotiable,” he whispered, stepping closer, wanting to comfort Merlin but knowing it would neither be welcome nor fair, given what he was ordering. “You shouldn’t be a servant, Merlin. You shouldn’t have to give up your gift and you shouldn’t waste it on a kingdom that would murder you for it.”

There, he’d said it. Camelot wasn’t worthy of Merlin.

I can’t even react to that line— it’s too wonderful. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from Arthur. and oh, Merlin returns the favor tenfold. Arthur is Merlin’s existence.

“Please, Arthur,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”

Hands sliding up to either side of Merlin’s neck, Arthur leaned closer, not quite daring to press their foreheads together. “I won’t watch you die.”

“Then close your eyes, but let me... stay with you.”

One of the most GORGEOUS, pain filled lines I’ve ever read!!! The way Merlin swallows his pain over and over again and does what’s best for Arthur is so hard to read but so Merlin. But I do love how this fic balances all that classic devotion and sacrificial energy with a few instances of Merlin taking a stand, standing up for himself and being selfish, without sacrificing the integrity of the character.

Now, let’s talk about mergwaine. Because it’s definitely a side-ship in this fic and I have NO problem with it!!! It’s so well done, and only adds another layer of pain. First of all, Gwaine is just perfect in this fic— shameless, cheeky, all-about-Merlin. A good friend to both Merlin and Arthur— and I loved every time he called Arthur out on Merlin’s behalf, while also saying nothing but good and reassuring things about Arthur to Merlin— but he shines in his scenes with Merlin. His presence allows Merlin to show his pain, something he desperately needs as he can’t always do it with Arthur. I love this depiction of them; a close friendship, one Merlin feels completely comfortable in and full of trust and safety, one that could be something else, but. But. As Gwaine himself puts it, he’s not Arthur. That doesn’t take away from the extreme tenderness he displays with Merlin. It’s truly touching.

Emotions stripped too raw to accept either without the tears starting again, Merlin closed his eyes and pleaded softly. “Don’t let go of me.”

“Never,” Gwaine swore. He laid his forehead against Merlin’s inhaling deeply before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, my friend.”

and:

“Arthur is hurting too, and he is alone.”

“And I have you,” Merlin whispered, tears threatening to spill from his over-full eyes. “I always have you and he always had me.”

and:

Gwaine kissed his shoulder and hair, arms tightening around his chest. “You deserve him, Merlin. Don’t ever believe that you don’t,” he whispered, drawing out the tears that Merlin had been desperately holding back.

and, for a bit of levity:

“But we’re all better off with me clothed,” Merlin said

Gwaine shook his head disbelievingly. “You really have no idea how handsome you are, do you?... Ah, well, it’s probably for the best. You’d be impossible to live with if you did know.”

There’s so many more wonderful parts of this fic. Arthur and Hunith’s lovely, heartbreaking scene (I was thoroughly crying throughout). Arthur’s loneliness upon return to Camelot. The incredible explicit scenes between Merlin and Arthur. But just do yourself a favor and read it. We’re so lucky to have it.

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eeveevie · 4 years

Text

distractions

Deacon wakes up injured and confused after the Institute attack on the Castle. Good thing Madelyn is there to care for him, in more ways than one.

A/N: @gingerbreton prompted from this list and I... got very, very carried away. Merged it with an idea I had for another lingering prompt/idea. Obviously there is sexual content here. Yay!

Deacon x Madelyn Hardy (Agent Charmer)

4150 words (Under a cut for length and naughty-naughty) | Ao3

Deacon was an idiot.

But he knew that already. Had known that for years, not like it was a startling revelation that needed to come to him upon first waking up. And yet, that was the first clear thought he had when he regained consciousness—that he was a bona fide idiot.

Okay brain, but why?

He figured the best, first thing to do was to open his eyes and move but curiously, his limbs felt heavy and there was a lingering, metallic taste on his tongue—had he been drugged? Wouldn’t be the first time. His chest tightened in fear momentarily, thinking of Charmer and her safety. If he was indisposed, where was she? He groaned, trying to shift against the dull ache that radiated through his body, keeping him frozen.

“Oh no you don’t,” Charmer’s exasperated voice echoed nearby, close enough that whatever imagined worry had begun to stir in his mind instantly dissipated.

He fluttered open his eyes, wincing at the overhanging light. It was dim, but still too damn bright, especially without his shades. Instead, he glanced to look at her as she sat down on the edge of the bed he occupied. He wasn’t sure what he was protesting, but he wanted to speak, so he did. “Hmm yes I do.”

Charmer gave him an uncharacteristically stern look, one that brought back his earlier panic, or at least some concern. “Do you even remember what happened?” she asked in a whisper, and his heart stilled at the misty look in her eyes—she had been crying.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, grimacing at the pain created from his movements. “No?”

“Right. Okay,” she sighed, shifting so she could occupy more of the mattress, be closer to him. She leaned over, fluffing up the pillows under his head and shoulders, helping so he could sit up just a little, the blanket falling just enough for him to notice the mass of bandages covering various parts of his naked torso. Well—that explained a lot.

Charmer’s touch lingered along his shoulders, frown persistent as she continued to speak. “We were in the area when the distress call came over the Minutemen radio, barely made it to the Castle in time when Coursers and Gen-1 synths started relaying in.”

Bits and pieces of Deacon’s memory started to fall back into place, but it all seemed so hazy, like a wayward dream. Maybe he had a concussion, or whatever pain meds he’d likely been pumped full of had dulled everything away. He briefly remembered taking pop-shots from the Castle walls with some Minutemen, all while keeping a careful eye on their General in the courtyard below. She had stuck close to Preston near the radio tower, a goddamned force of nature with her laser rifle, firing in all directions. But the Institute’s teleportation relay gave the synths a clear advantage in the field.

“You pushed me and Preston out of the way of a grenade blast, shielded me from a Courser’s shot,” she hushed, tears threatening to spill over once again. It took a considerable amount of effort for him to lift one of his hands to rest on her waist, gripping the fabric of her faded green dress. “God, Deacon, there was so much blood, we—I—thought you were going to die right there in the middle of the fort.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything at all. “That bad?”

“Yes,” her voice broke harshly, blue eyes wild as she gazed at him, one of her hands quick to wipe at the tears falling down her cheeks. Deacon cursed the fact he couldn’t lift his injured arm fast enough to perform the task himself. “Most of the blood came from a flesh wound on your thigh, probably shrapnel from the grenade. We had to stitch you up, so you’ll have a decent scar.”

“You have another shrapnel wound on your hip, but it’s mostly superficial, it’ll heal faster than everything else,” she continued in a sober tone. Her hand drifted to rest cautiously on his bandaged right side. “Energy blast from that Courser. Thank God for Ballistic Weave or you’d have a gaping wound straight to your ribcage and guts,” she recoiled, blanched at the very mention. “More likely a pile of goo in the cornfield.”

“Don’t let Tinker Tom know you compared him to God,” Deacon breathed a joke, trying to cut the tension, biting his tongue when it didn’t land. He thought maybe he should’ve gone with ‘goo being better fertilizer’ but decided he’d rather not ruin the moment with a crude joke about his near-death. Charmer flashed a sympathetic expression, her fingers ghosting across the thick padding of gauze wrapped around his right shoulder.

“Through and through from a stray bullet. Ricochet in all the gunfire maybe, most likely friendly fire,” she explained, devastated to admit it. “Your shooting arm.”

Deacon hardly cared—he was alive, he would heal in time. If he never shot a rifle or a gun again, so be it. He still had all his appendages (that he was aware of—he really needed to lift the blanket to double check), and if his sense of humor was already back on the clock, well then—he was sure to be fine. Charmer was there, also alive, with no major injuries save for a few scrapes and bruises. They had survived, the Minutemen had survived, and the Institute were knocked down another peg. For some reason, it hardly felt like a victory.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled.

“What?” she questioned, clearly surprised by his apology. He wasn’t always one to admit fault, unless he had royally fucked up. “Why?”

Deacon nodded, squeezing at her hip, all he could do to show some kind of comforting touch. “If I stayed where I was supposed to, where you needed me, this wouldn’t’ve happened.”

“You’re an idiot,” she sighed after a long pause. There it was—at least she finally offered the slightest glimmer of a smile, letting him know she wasn’t truly admonishing him. “Brave and resilient in the face of danger, but still—an idiot.”

He managed the best grin he could. “Your idiot,” he paused, wiggling his fingers along her waistline. “Do brave and resilient idiots get rewarded with fancy Minutemen medals or can I negotiate for something…else?”

“Deacon.” Now she was scolding him, even if she was smiling at his antics. She pushed at his chest, distancing herself. “You nearly die and all you can think about is sex?”

“I didn’t necessarily ask for that,” he replied with a smirk. “But now that you mention it.”

Charmer leaned closer again, eying him carefully before placing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. She lingered, kissing him a few more times—delicately—like he could break at any moment. When she broke away, she brushed her nose against his. “All you’ll be getting is some more pain meds and a good night’s sleep.”

Deacon, stubbornly, thought otherwise. Her kisses were another stark reminder of life—sweet and gentle—and he wanted more. Much more. Perhaps too urgently, he tugged her closer, kissing her with more fervor, resisting the urge to grin when she eased against him, returning his kisses eagerly. It was so very easy to get lost in her, so he did—just focused on her lips, on her tongue, on her soft hand resting against his chest. He felt lightheaded, unsure if it was from breathlessness or his injuries, but didn’t want to pull away, not when she tasted so damn wonderful.

And then, something sharp jabbed into his arm, causing him to flinch. “Ow, ow, ow—needle!”

Charmer breathed a laugh, despite his painful reaction and he watched as she finished injecting the Med-X syringe she had snuck by while he was distracted by her mouth. He was a sucker for sure, but almost immediately he could feel the medicine doing its intended job, alleviating the pain he hadn’t realized was pulsing through him. He sunk back into the pillows, staring up at her as she offered a guilty expression.

“No fair.”

“You can thank me in the morning,” she insisted, moving to adjust him so he was lying flat, tucking the blanket back into place.

Before Deacon allowed himself to fully succumb to the darkness of sleep, he slowly blinked up at Charmer, and hoped his smile didn’t look too ridiculous. “Love you.”

She didn’t say anything in return, only smiled and brushed those soft fingers across his temple, down his cheek before sliding across to his nose in a gentle tap. He knew what it meant.

-x-x-x-

The next time Deacon woke up, the room was completely dark, save for the soft glow of Charmer’s Pip-Boy resting on the bedside table. Knowing his full catalogue of injuries, he felt considerably weirder—the aches and pain had subsided, but there was still a humming static in his bones that no amount of Med-X or Stimpaks could relieve. His lips and throat were also dry, but that was nothing a glass of water couldn’t fix. His brain still couldn’t digest what had occurred—maybe he had a concussion too, causing his denial. Some part of that squishy lobe in his skull wanted to believe that he’d wake up and none of this would’ve happened, that he and Charmer would still be surveying the coastline, cracking jokes about big boats.

Instead, he needed to face reality. He was at the Minutemen’s Castle, in the General’s private quarters, a little worse for wear, sure, but alive. Deacon stared up at the speckled ceiling, quietly thanking whatever guardian angel or saved up good karma had helped him out this time. In spite of his penchant for danger, he wasn’t quite ready to leave this retched Wasteland, not when he found a second chance with Charmer.

All he wanted was to desperately kiss her right then. Kiss her over and over until he couldn’t feel anything but her, drowning in her love and affection. Of course he wanted more—his dreams had brought some form of her to him in an attempt to satisfy the need, but it wasn’t the same, and only left him craving the real thing. Oh, and with a morning stiff. At least things below the waist were in a working order. Deacon awkwardly reached to adjust himself, softly groaning at his own sensitivity. Briefly, he considered continuing with his own ministrations when he realized he wasn’t alone.

He turned his head, further adjusting his eyes find Charmer asleep, curled up on her side and facing him on what little space remained in the bed. At first he didn’t dare to move, not wanting to wake her so easily, knowing it was a real possibility. With her it was always hard to tell just how far away in dreamland she was. A voice in his head finally encouraged him to turn, slowly (and somewhat struggling) rolling onto his less-injured side so he could face her.

She looked so different in the low light—face clean of her usual makeup, soft blonde hair tousled but clearly recently cleaned from whatever blood and debris she had collected from the firefight on the Castle grounds. She had a small, healing cut on her temple, another below her chin. Deacon frowned, hating that her beautiful face had even been scratched in the slightest way. Hesitantly he reached out, resting his hand along her waist and the soft cotton of her dress. Charmer didn’t wake up, instead she seemed to lean into his touch, encouraging him to inch closer. He ran his hand up and down her side in slow swipes, curling around to run softer patterns along her spine before passing over her hip for a gentle squeeze.

Charmer let out a soft sigh, her hand reflexively reaching out for his chest. Only then did her eyes flutter open, but she didn’t seem overly surprised to find him so close. “Hmm…Dee,” she greeted, suppressing a yawn. “Are you okay?”

A loaded question, all things considered. Deacon didn’t respond at first, needing to quash the overwhelming sensation at the forefront of his mind and captured her lips in a needy kiss, gripping his hand along her side to pull her even closer to his body. Thankfully, she didn’t move away, but did tilt her chin for a sharp inhale of breath, breaking the kiss. He took the opportunity to nuzzle her brow, inhaling the sweet scent of whatever she had used to bathe.

“Clearly I’m feeling a little better,” he finally responded.

Charmer’s thigh shifted, and he couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not until she spoke, the warmth of her leg pressing against his growing erection. “That’s not little,” she breathed, still unable to tell if she was teasing, or fully responsive to his state.

They’d been there before—not necessarily in that exact scenario—but they’d gotten each other worked up only for nothing to happen on more than one occasion. Deacon was silently hoping this wasn’t one of them. Instead of cracking a joke, he zeroed in on her lips again, relishing in the quiet little noises he coaxed from her as his hands continued to roam. It was all too slow for what his brain was demanding, and foolishly, he tried to roll his body atop hers, underestimating the effort it would take to support his weakened limbs. Charmer shifted at the last moment to avoid being crushed as he practically collapsed back onto the mattress with a defeated groan, closing his eyes tight in a lame attempt to block out the pain.

“Maybe we should stick to sleeping until you’ve healed,” she softly laughed, leaning up on her elbow to peer down at him.

Deacon huffed, glancing at her. “If you’re going to mock me, please just take me out back and end my suffering.”

Charmer regarded him with a tiny smile, her hand resting along the side of his face, thumb gently caressing his cheek. To his surprise, she closed the distance between them, her lips gentle when she placed them over his. “Lay still,” she instructed in a soft whisper, barely braking away.

Deacon didn’t dare to disobey once he noted the mischievous hint in her eyes. Her lips trailed across his chin and jawline, the softest giggles fanning across his skin as she mumbled something about his ticklish stubble. Her kisses continued along the line of his throat, up and down before focusing on a spot below his ear, causing him to groan when she gave the tiniest of bites.

“Frisky,” he breathed, gripping her waist a little tighter, encouraging her to shift to straddle his uninjured thigh. Charmer chuckled against his ear but must’ve decided her actions spoke louder than any witty response she could respond with, trailing her tongue and teeth down to his collarbone—now he’d just have more markings in the morning. Good. He’d wear and show them off proudly.

Meanwhile, Deacon had continued running his hands along her sides and back, finding the task more and more difficult as she shifted lower down his body. Every time her leg brushed against his aching groin, he bit back a hiss, a moan—frustrated he couldn’t just flip her beneath him and rut like his mind was screaming out for. Then again, there was something agonizingly wonderful about this slow, calculated torture. Not everything between them had to be rushed, especially if she was taking the lead.

Charmer’s fingers were soft and warm against his chest as she explored his skin, wary of his bandages but firm against the lean muscles he knew she loved. Wherever her hands touched, her mouth followed, smooth and whispered kisses that zigzagged left-to-right, never lingering in one spot for too long. Soon enough she had adjusted so she was at his waistline, trailing along the hemline of his underwear.

She breathed a laugh as she pressed a series of kisses from his bellybutton to his bruised hipbone. “Are you sure you don’t want a medal?”

“How shiny is it?”

Deacon lifted his head, as painful as it was to crane his neck, to watch her movements as she removed his only item of clothing, careful not to disturb his bandaged thigh as she shimmied them down his legs. Charmer settled back down across his uninjured side, and she glanced up at him through her long lashes, eyes shining even in the darkness. The moan that left him when she gripped him was loud, even if her touch was feather-soft at first.

She resumed her kisses along his skin as she pumped him—slowly at first, as if she knew that any faster and he wouldn’t last long. Something about the setting, or the pain meds in his system, or maybe the adrenaline of surviving an Institute raid—who knew? He was already on edge. Deacon shut his eyes and slammed his head against the pillows, resisting the urge not to jerk up into her hand.

“Nuh-uh,” she argued, her free hand sliding up across his chest. “You should enjoy the show.”

Jesus fucking Christ—Deacon snapped open his eyes, tilting his chin so he could look at her just as she maneuvered to run her tongue along the base of his cock, fierce blue eyes meeting his as she licked up to the tip, only pausing to smile before wrapping her sweet lips around him completely. If he had been loud before, he was sure he had just woken up the entire Castle with his sounds of pleasure, unable to hold back as Charmer took him further into the heat of her mouth. Her warm tongue swirled around his crown while her fingers gripped tightly onto the base where her lips couldn’t reach—just unbelievably delightful.

Deacon strained to reach though the aches in his body down to her, combing his fingers through her hair as her head slowly bobbed, lips gradually tightening to tease him closer towards orgasm. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted that—all of this was fucking spectacular, but what he really, truly wanted was to chase that end with her. With his other hand he gripped her fingers splayed across his chest, lacing them and pressing them against his rapidly beating heart.

“Charm—”

Her mouth fell from him with a resounding pop. “After all that bedside care, you’d think I’d at least get a Mads.” She spoke her other nickname in a throaty sigh, teasing him. All the while her hand never stopped pumping, slow and deliberate as she nipped the skin of his inner thigh.

Deacon swallowed the hard lump in his throat—if he wasn’t already buck fucking naked with his lover’s hand around his cock, he would’ve blushed. Give it up to Charmer to call him out in the middle of a stellar blowjob for not using her given name. The rational part of his brain tried to remind himself that he liked to use it only under special circumstances, but what was more special than making love?

God he loved this woman. “Come here.”

Charmer hesitated to move, but he silently encouraged her, moving his hands along her body so she was perfectly situated, straddling his waist—right where he wanted her. She lowered herself across his chest, giving herself a little space so she could study his face, eyes dancing across his features. One hand rested across his cheek, thumb brushing across the tip of his nose and lips.

“Deacon?”

“Madelyn,” he answered in a whisper against her skin, watching the sparkle in her eyes ignite into a flame. He shifted her down his body so she was resting along his hips, gripping her waistline tightly so he could roll upwards once, twice—show that he was still very much aroused. “I want you.”

“Oh?” She always liked to play coy.

Charmer circled her hips, allowing the length of him to drag along the clothed crux of her thighs. He lifted his head up so he could kiss her in earnest, swallowing her groans as he brought her even closer to him, driving the friction between them even higher. Finally he began lifting up her dress, breaking away from their kiss for the quick moment it took to toss it to the side to wherever she had discarded his underwear. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but Deacon was more focused on getting her panties off—Charmer was already one step ahead of him, carefully moving without breaking their kiss or bumping into one of his injuries so she could wiggle them down her legs. Within seconds she was back on top of him, arched across his chest as they panted between heated kisses.

He whispered her name again—her real name—as he trailed his hand from her waist to her core, teasing his fingers against her entrance, shuddering at the wetness he felt. She trembled at his touch, whining incoherently as she writhed atop him. Still, he probed a few fingers, grinning into their kiss as she broke away in a heady moan. Soon enough she was reaching down to bat his hand away, stroking at his length and aligning it where his fingers had just been. When she sank down, she kissed him hard, almost taking the breath from him. Charmer stayed close in those initial moments, steady drags of her hips against his in-between fevered kisses and heated touches.

Her breath was beautifully ragged. “You doin’ okay?”

Deacon laughed. Even if he was in pain, he wasn’t going to admit it now. “God yes.”

Charmer seemed heartened, gradually leaning back on her heels, resting her hands along his chest as she steadily picked up speed. He gripped her thigh, one hand trailing up along her waist to palm at a breast. Beneath her, he found that he was already losing rhythm with every thrust, clenching his teeth in a desperate attempt to focus—he wanted to last just a little bit longer, for her sake. This didn’t have to be perfect, but damnit, he wasn’t about to come early and leave her hanging, not when he was too injured to make love properly, the way he wanted to.

With a determined focus he met her every move, sliding his hand down to where they were joined to circle his thumb against her clit. That certainly seemed to do the trick, Charmer arching back in a symphony of sounds, movements interrupted as a wave of ecstasy washed over her. Her thighs tightened against his torso, quivering as she cried out, practically begging him to not stop. He wasn’t planning on it, not until she was an unmade puddle in his arms. Her hands clutched at his chest and shoulder and under her breath she muttered little curses between God and Deacon.

He could only grin.

Deacon pulled her tight against his chest as he noted her strength waning, kissing along the side of her face and neck as he pushed up from the mattress, holding her hips to his with every uneven movement. She clenched around him and he knew even without her hushing his name, a silent trigger for him to let go. Even so, he continued thrusting until his orgasm hit him like a derailed train, blinding him and seizing his limbs in a way that had him clutching Charmer to his body as he came, barely giving her enough space to move so that he could spill across his stomach rather than inside of her.

No need for any baby Deacons walking around, he thought. Not yet, anyways. A flittering thought made him wonder if Charmer—Madelyn—would even want to have a kid with someone like him. But that was a thought for later. Much later. Breathless, mind swirling, he blinked hard and glanced down at his lover. She was flashing him this sideways, satisfied smirk—a good sign, chest still heaving as she caught her breath. A moment passed and she reached behind them for a few washcloths, passing one off to him so he could clean himself of their coital activities.

“That was fun,” she commented with a smile. Deacon could feel a but coming. “You know, you really need to rest now. Heal up.”

He sighed, nodding as he relaxed against the bed and pillows. “Lucky for me, I have an excellent nurse,” he flashed her a wink. “Grade A bedside service. Can’t wait to see what the sponge baths are like.”

Charmer chuckled, bringing the previously discarded blanket with her as she settled against his side. He tucked her closer for a snuggle. “With care like that, we’ll split open your stitches.”

He shrugged. This time, he could feel sleep calling to him naturally, without the need of a medical syringe. “Worth it.”

😎 leave a kudos

#fallout 4 #deacon #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon x mads #otp: my hovercraft is full of eels #fanfic #insert captain holt screaming BONE #because there be boning here #f'n finally I have written these two gettin' busy #a little angst a little fluff and a whole lot of sexy

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tmrmary · 4 years

Text

rubbing salt deep in the cut

A two-week account of a witch in need of preservation

Saturday Night

“Like a kleenex - use once and throw away!”

It couldn’t have been any earlier than 2 AM. Few minutes after hooking up with a man she had picked up at the bar just down the street from her flat. Both of them laid in her bed. Yet, Danica paid no mind to his presence. She stared at the ceiling and let her mind carelessly wander to the events from earlier tonight. The shite, sorry game of Quidditch. The lush, smug meeting with the towering Broadmoor. How he had made her roar with laughter and pout with propriety all within the same conversation. These thoughts sent a shock through Danica’s chest, and in reaction, she pushed the man from out her bed, followed by a loud thump on the floor, a frail shriek from his mouth and on her command, she snapped at him. “Get out.”

Tuesday Afternoon

“Unannounced and uninvited. The nerve!”

Never in her imagination would Danica have foreseen herself at Wanda’s pristine, marble decorated home on her own accord. Here she was, willingly listening to her older sister bitch and moan on how she hadn’t previously scheduled a time to come by, and now, Wanda was left with the plate settings all uneven at the lunch table. Not to mention how Danica was teaching her nephew Clement how to conjure up licorice wands from the cabinet, when Wanda had specifically insisted on no funny business, as she had implemented a new strict only-one-candy-per-week kinda diet.

So here Danica was, suffering through the repercussions, after she had attempted to do something - for the first time in her life - that was actually kinda selfless. However, it wasn’t long that Wanda’s sporadic fractions of lectures drove D prematurely out the door. Why did she even come by Wanda’s place in the first place? Last she remembered she sensed a pain in her chest and then found herself making small talk with the random store clerk at Quality Quidditch Supplies. What was the pit feeling she had at the bottom of her gut that just made her feel so... empty?

Saturday Night

“Screw you. I want you and your self absorbent drama out of my life, sister dear. Screw you!”

This time was much earlier than 2 AM. In fact, Danica was home much sooner than she had anticipated. The evening’s plans? A Quidditch game that’d regain the pride it lost last week and a night out in the town to cause mayhem in true twin fashion. Regardless, those plans had come to a large halt at what grew from a small, underlying tiff of tension between Danica and her sister Sloane, to a full on fallout with the person D most cared about in her life.

As she apparated into the center of her living room, Danica tripped into her unbalanced footing only catching her balance out of reflex. Immediate as the blink of an eye, she let out a loud shriek in pure rage, firing out from the lowest inch of her gut. With her wand still in hand, she noticed the photo of her and her twin sitting on the sofa’s end table. At its instant glance, Danica threw a jarring hex at the frame, letting it shatter all over the floor. With the remains of the frame, but the photo still intact, a forceful grunt escaped her mouth and another curse fired from her wand to rip the picture apart.

At this moment, Danica began to spit curses rapid fire from her wand around the room, first starting as quick gips that were following the remains of the photo, growing to literal fire spells that she led drag on all over her furniture. In between, you could hear her grunts intensify with every spit of exertion, growing louder with every flick of her wand, until her living room was lit up in flames.

With one last exasperated spell, counteracting her previous hexes and partially putting out some of her fires, a blood-curdling shout released from inside Danica, sucking the energy from her body enough for her to fall onto her knees. Danica leaned against her hands, staring at the ground as she collapsed into a child’s pose. Her back remained bent over as her empty hand went to touch her face, only to find that she had somehow managed to emit a few tears in the midst of all the chaos she had created. Knowledge of this discovery only made her blood boil once again.

Sunday Morning

“Just calling to check up on you... call me back. Love, Mum.”

Call it ‘Mother’s Intuition’, but Danica could give zero fucks for it at the moment and deleted the voicemail off her muggle phone.

Monday Morning

“There’s a message from Scamp Young-Broadmoor. He insists you get back to him by the end of the day.”

Fuck that, she thought. Then told her intern to move onto the next item on the list, with all intention that she would be ignoring the man’s advances.

Thursday Night

“... Just come by my place Thursday night, if you really need someone to talk to ...”

Junior had written to Danica practically a week ago. If he really wanted to meddle into the situation, since Wanda clearly wouldn’t speak to her face to face, then she would have to take him up on his offer.

The conversation quickly escalated, as Junior tried his very best to rationalize with his sister.

“I’m not saying Wanda and Sloane don’t have any blame in this-”

“But it is. That is what you’re saying-”

“Can you just listen to what I’m trying to say for a second?”

“No! No. You’re really that fucking spineless, Junior, that instead of choosing a side, you’d rather ride your fiancée’s fucking dick out of it and stay intact.”

“Hey. Hey! Relax, D.”

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Danica slammed her fist knuckles first into Junior’s dinner table, unaware that the wrath inside her subconsciously powered a bit of wandless magic into its punch. Now the dinner table sported a gaping hole where her fist used to be.

Half a minute of silence passed by, as they’d both had been processing how their bickering had escalated, leaving even Danica a little bit shaken up.

She stated, "This conversation is fucking useless.”

Junior could feel the anxious tension tingling through every nerve of his body. He probably wanted to cry, unsure of what to do and slightly hurt by the whole thing, so he just sighed.

“D... I’m only trying to help.”

The truth was neither one of them knew how to help the other. Danica wasn’t ready to help or be helped and Junior... well, he had a lot going on on his own. Especially after Danica mentioned Amy in retaliation, his mind had fogged up and all he wanted to do was walk away.

Luckily, Danica had rather beat him to the punch.

“I’m gonna go. Bye.”

Danica disapparated out of her brother’s flat and found herself now just walking blocks away down from her own. She could have immediately ended up back home, but honestly, she could use the walk.

After all, she found she really did need just a bit of time to herself... to think... Maybe it was the couple shots she took before heading to Junior’s place or the leftover anger resonating from half an hour ago. But Danica finally accepted to herself that she was hurt. She was upset. She was angry - and it might not have been mature of her, but she damn well wanted her sister to feel the same.

Not sure how one and one finally clicked inside that demented mind of hers, but Danica had come to one conclusion that night.

She thought, Fine... I’ll have the intern call him.

#drabble #snakekiss #juniorvictor #i. mean what??#who??#nothing to see here??#im runngin away sglkdgjk;

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carmenlire · 5 years

Text

Satiable

Trigger Warning for disordered eating.

read on ao3

He doesn’t notice at first.

He doesn’t notice that he’s subsisting on coffee, that he can’t quite remember the last time he had a real meal. He’s just not hungry and he can’t figure out why his headaches have come back.

When he was a teenager, Alec suffered from terrible, pain in the ass headaches that made him want to collapse into bed where he could cry until he finally fell asleep and get some relief from the pain. It’s a dull ache in the back of his head, a sharp pain in his temples.

It’s been awhile since they’ve been this bad, though Alec doesn’t notice that their intensity-- and frequency-- has been ratcheting up. All he knows is that by mid afternoon he can hardly focus. He takes a deep breath and as his lungs expand, he feels a quiet easing of the bands that seem to tighten around his chest a little more with each day that passes. It’s a temporary relief from slogging through paperwork and approving expense reports but it keeps him from screaming.

Sighing heavily in the quiet of his office, Alec tosses his pen onto the blotter and brings a hand up until he can press fingers into his temples hard enough so that the blunt pain can drown out his headache for a brief, blissful moment.

Glancing at the clock, Alec sees that it’s almost six. Shadowhunters should be coming down to ops soon for their assignments and Alec’s glad that he gave Jace that responsibility a couple of months ago. He doesn’t know if he could leave the sanctity of his office right now and go into the control center where everyone would be talking, eager and ready to head off on patrol as their runes kicked in for the night.

The very thought of the controlled chaos makes his head pound a little more viciously.

Shaking his head a little, Alec works another hour or so until he deems the day done. He still has a thousand things that will be waiting for his attention in the morning-- and he knows a thousand more will drop in his lap overnight, no doubt-- but he’s done all he can for today.

Standing, Alec feels himself sway a little in his spot. Blinking, he frowns and reaches for the mostly empty mug of coffee that’s never far from his elbow. He takes a last swig and while it’s gone cold and more than a little gross, his shoulders lose some of their tension.

Reaching behind him, Alec shrugs into his coat and pockets his phone and stele. He’s out the door a minute later and manages to avoid everyone on his way out. Fall is sneakily fading into winter and Alec huddles a little tighter into his coat.

Magnus is out of town for a few days, tending to a werewolf pack illness in Dubai, so it’s just him as he swings the door open to their loft.

Alec briefly debates making dinner-- maybe heating a can of soup up or scrounging for some cheese and crackers-- but just the thought is exhausting. As he goes to walk past the kitchen, however, he abruptly stops as he realizes that the only thing he’s had today is six cups of coffee.

Suddenly, he’s starving and with a sigh, he enters the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge. Opening it, his head throbs as the fluorescent light pierces into his skull.

He’s not seeing a lot of options. He’s definitely not in the mood to cook and Alec briefly wishes that he’d had this realization just ten minutes before. He could’ve stopped by the pizza joint down the block or ordered takeout from the Thai place halfway between here and the Institute. Undoubtedly unhealthy but he needs calories and he's too tired to worry about their quality. He figures something is better than nothing.

Now, if he could just find something that wasn't too damned exhausting to prepare, something he wouldn't need to wait an hour for. He wants his bed so fucking bad he feels his eyes burning.

He’s just about to give up altogether when a deep blue Tupperware container catches his eye on the bottom shelf. Leaning down-- and that feels like so much goddamn effort-- just a little, he slides the box out enough to see a bright pink post-it on top.

This is for you, darling. I shudder to think what’s passed for a meal since I left you a few days ago. Before you collapse into bed, I want you to eat this entire bowl.

Love, Mr. Lightwood-Bane

Huffing out a laugh, Alec wonders idly that Magnus knows him too well. He hadn’t looked in the fridge in a few days but he’s filled with a quiet wave of warmth at Magnus taking the time to prepare-- or summon, for Alec’s not quite romantic enough to think that Magnus toiled away over this pasta when he wasn’t looking-- dinner while he was away. It's well known that Alec gets tunnel vision when he's at work. Magnus is used to Alec coming home and devouring the whole fucking kitchen once he's out of the Institute and breathign fresh air.

Alec tries to tamp down on the guilt that Magnus doesn't know that that's not what this is lately. It's not enough to be cause for concern, he tells himself and ignores it when the thought strikes hollow.

The pasta-- chicken fettuccine, his favorite-- warms up perfectly in the microwave. It’s delicious, even if Alec barely manages to eat half of the container before he’s too full to continue.

Figuring he’ll have leftovers tomorrow, he pours a glass of tap water and downs it while standing in front of the sink. Placing the empty glass next to the fork he’d used, Alec runs a hand through his hair before giving the room a once over and stepping out to the hallway, turning the lights off as he goes.

Pulling his shirt over his head and pushing his pants down until they pool on the floor next to his side of the bed, Alec slides between cool sheets and sighs into his pillow.

The weight of the day sloughs off him and he closes his burning eyes, finding almost immediate relief from the headache that’s held him in a vise grip for most of the day.

Sinking into the sheets, he falls asleep quick, pulling Magnus’s pillow to his chest and breathing in the scent of his husband’s shampoo.

The weeks blend together and Alec feels like his whole goddamn life is a never ending dumpster fire.

Well, that’s not quite true but he’s overwhelmed and stressed to the max and if Jace asks for special permission for a dumbass mission one more time, Alec won’t be responsible for his reaction.

His vision blurs as he reads over a request from the Clave that’s as subtle as a fucking grenade asking for his expertise to calm rising downworld tensions in St. Petersburg. Their flattery falls flat and Alec’s well aware that he’ll be portaling his ass to Russia by week’s end to deal with shadowhunters who will need to be brought to heel quickly and with as little bloodshed as possible.

That’s a headache for future Alec, though, he thinks with a grimace.

Reaching for the last bite of his pain au chocolat that he’d picked up along with his quad latte this morning, Alec barely tastes the damned thing. He figures it’s more than enough to get him through a day that’s busting with meetings and reaches for his coffee to wash it down only to scowl when the to go cup is unforgivably light.

There’s not a drop left and Alec growls a little-- there’s no one around to hear his irritation, at least-- as he stands, rounding his desk to head to the canteen, hoping to hell that someone’s bought more hazelnut k-cups since they were out last week.

Thankfully, Izzy is the only one there when he arrives and she bites into her sandwich as he grunts at her, the bare minimum greeting she’ll take and the most he can summon the energy to give.

“Rough day,” she asks dryly, reaching onto her plate for a cheddar and sour cream chip.

“Everything’s a pain in my ass,” Alec replies roughly. “If I have to hear another recruit talk back I’m putting them on ichor duty for the rest of the goddamn decade.”

Rasing a brow, Isabelle doesn’t say anything. She just watches him as she makes her steady way through lunch.

Alec opens one of the cabinets and breathes a quiet yet fervent sigh of relief when he sees the red box, almost three quarters full of his favorite k-cups. Placing his mug under the drip, Alec fires the Keurig up and selects the biggest size, tapping the button for strong before hitting start.

Almost immediately, the fresh smell of brewing coffee hits the air and his shoulders relax. It’s like coming home. It’s a brief respite and Alec inhales the notes of hazelnut and beans and prays that his headache stays away until after he has a chance to peak into the new recruits' training.

He’s just reaching for the almond milk in the refrigerator when Izzy asks, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I had a croissant this morning,” Alec says absently.

“And before that?”

Alec’s quiet for a moment as he tries to remember. There was that granola bar he’d forced down last night as he’d been reading over a treatise draft. Frowning a little, Alec can’t remember anything else that he’d eaten yesterday and shit if he can remember the day before that.

He’s too busy to eat, he thinks with a frown. He’s never hungry in the mornings and by the time he gets to the Institute, he’s too busy to take a break. Most nights, he’s so damned tired that he takes a few mechanic bites of food before going to bed, just to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

His plate is full to bursting and eating is as low a priority as he can have right now. There’s a little voice, though, that tries to slither its way through his head.

It’s not that he likes not eating. It’s not that it makes him the tiniest bit happy when he’s realized that he’s managed to go sixteen-- or twenty four or thirty six-- hours without anything but coffee to serve as a meal.

It’s something he can control. He can ignore his hunger pains through sheer force of will, even if nausea sweeps through him occasionally and he has to close his eyes to regain his equilibrium.

It’s something that’s plagued him off and on since he was in the Academy. When Alec was stressed-- when he was tired and the only thing he felt he could control was his eating-- his appetite vanished. It’s nothing unusual and Alec knows that in a few days, a few weeks, he’ll feel better one morning. Waking up won’t be so exhausting and he’ll go over to the East Village and have the best bacon burger in the city with an extra large fry and Oreo milkshake. Everything will go back to how it’s supposed to be and Alec won’t have to wonder when his last meal was, won’t feel his sister’s piercing eyes over a bag of Ruffles potato chips.

He doesn’t answer her and Iz doesn’t push. He pours a healthy dollop of milk into his coffee and leaves, resigned to going back to his office and getting through the day’s work.

Distantly, he wonders if he’ll have time to sneak in a quick training session before he calls it a day. He feels light and there’s an energy that’s simmering low in his gut that he knows from past experience just needs an outlet. Blowing across his coffee, Alec takes a slow, deep sip and wonders if he could persuade Jace to a sparring match tonight.

The next morning, Alec wakes up to a long line of warmth along his back. Sinking into the sheets, his breath catches at the dull throbbing in his ankle. He’d used an iratze after sparring Jace last night and he’s pissed that his ankle still feels off. Deciding to deal with it later, Alec relaxes further against Magnus and his eyes fall shut as he feels his husband nose along his spine.

He lets himself be urged onto his back and stares up at a sleep-rumpled Magnus. It’s a vision that still makes his heart ache in the best damn way, no matter that they’ve been together for a few years now.

Magnus studies him in the low light and Alec closes his eyes again as Magnus leans forward and nibbles across his collarbone, along his deflect rune.

“What do you say to waffles this morning, Alexander?” Magnus’s voice is a low rasp and Alec smiles a little even if words get stuck in his throat.

As though he knows Alec’s thinking, Magnus raises his head and studies him carefully. The intensity in his unglamoured eyes is a little unnerving.

Running a thumb over a stubbled jaw, Magnus smiles. “What do you say? Surely the Institute can wait a couple of hours.”

While there’s a part of Alec that’s uneasy-- while Magnus could be coy when needed, with Alec his attempts at subterfuge had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer-- Alec knows that Magnus has realized that his appetite has been damn near nonexistent lately.

Resigned, Alec thinks that he wouldn’t be surprised if his husband knew about his over-training. Alec’s not dumb. He might be pissed off but his ankle is screaming and the only reason that ever happens after applying an iratze is because his energy stores are too low.

Things have finally come to a head and while he still feels like he’s in a fog most days, he knows that something had to give sooner or later.

“Sure,” he replies hoarsely. “Let’s have waffles for breakfast.”

Magnus’s gaze eases just a tad even as the gold warms. He leans down and kisses Alec.

“Right answer, darling.”

The two of them get ready slowly, showering together, lingering under the warm spray. Magnus catches Alec’s wince when he forgets not to put his full weight on his left foot and his eyes sharpen.

He doesn’t say anything though, merely lowering until he’s kneeling on the marble of their shower, reaching a hand out to wrap it around Alec’s ankle. Alec watches as azure flows into his skin and the relief is immediate.

Magnus kisses the delicate bone of his ankle before lowering his foot back to the ground and stands, pulling Alec closer with arms around his middle.

They stand there for long minutes and Alec feels warmth that’s been missing for longer than he wants to admit.

He’s finally hungry. Not starving, not ravenous. But he can admit that he’s craving food.

It’s the breaking of the dam. It’s a start.

Alec knows the next few hours won't be easy but Magnus hasn't stopped looking at him, warm and open, and suddenly he's tired of hiding from his husband.

It feels like the quietest of snicks as the puzzle pieces align. Maybe, he wonders, if he felt guilty about keeping something from his husband then it was time to come clean.

He breathes easier at just the idea.

#satiable #my writing #malec fic

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cynnymonsnaps · 5 years

Text

Let the Tides of Change Come

Part 1

Pairing(s): Carlos de Vil/Jane/Oc, Ben/Mal, Evie/Doug, Gil/Jay

Word Count: 2,062

Summary: Sometimes the power to rewrite things comes in the form of jumping right into the Descendants universe and giving everyone a piece of your mind.

Doug’s stereotypical nerdy band kid shtick? Out the window it goes. The adults not knowing how to do anything right? Not on my watch. Kids being stuck on a prison of an Island? You’re all coming with me now.

For Micha, they’ve taken on the grueling task of heading to the surface to help teach the kids of Auradon and the Isle that it’s okay to talk things out and to not give into the rules and expectations of the older generation.Will someone at least give these teens a moment to breath in between saving the kingdom please? Jesus.

A/N: A few notes before we get into things: "Michael" is pronounced "MI-kha-ehl" "Micha" is pronounced "MI-kha" and "Marius" is pronounced "MA-ree-oos"

Having been a long way from any civilization, it took a while for Micha and the stranger (whose name they found out was Marius) to maneuver through all the vegetation and ruins. It seemed that because the Atlanteans were so focused on surviving they never truly stepped out of their city limits and stayed within its walls. Which, Marius remarked, was the reason why the two of them had ventured out so far initially; to search for any other clues behind their people’s past and possibly find more resources.

While the two moved along (albeit very slowly as Micha were getting slightly distracted by everything around them.) Micha had come to some conclusions:

The first thing was that they would take on the name of “Michael”. Or as Marius had called them, “Micha” for short. It’d be easier to take on a new name instead of trying to convince others that they were someone else. And seeing how they were stuck in this body for however long, they’d need to get used to the name change.

The second thing they found was that though they’ve never actually worked out in their previous life, the muscle memory for their current body was strong. Whenever it came to dangerous ledges or crumbling stones, they were able to instinctively get over any obstacle in their way. Climbing rock walls was easy without having to breaking a sweat. And if they wanted to, they could have gone up a couple flights of stairs with the energy they had left. Just from feeling the firmness of muscle on their body showed how often the previous Micha probably exercised. It was kind of scary, not gonna lie.

It was like they were thrown straight into a storybook. One where the main character got transported into a new body in a whole different universe. Which was kind of cool but also made them question a few things like: Where did the original soul go? Did they switch bodies when they were underwater nearly drowning? Did Micha straight up die in their sleep like all the other protagonists? Was this just an Atlantis plotline or some sort of weird Disney multiverse universe? How did all this work anyway?!

All these questions ran through their mind like race cars on a track crashing and swerving into each other. Just trying to pick them out from each other gave Micha a huge headache. So, they decided it was best to not think about it anymore and just kept their eyes on the trail. For now, it was best to decide what they were going to do from here on out. Lightly scratching their chin, they began to think of what others did in similar scenarios. Ah yes. What would that one anime protag do?

“Would you stop acting like a dazed fool? We’re here.” Marius called out to them. Snapping out of their stupor they hadn’t realized they had even passed into the city. They really needed to start paying attention to their surroundings.

Looking up, they saw Marius standing in front of a pair of doors. On the door there was a large engraved spiral going outwards from the center with door handles that were stone carved heads. Though it looked to be worn down with age, you remembered it that same exact door leading to the throne room in the movie. There were even guards standing next to the door who weren’t telling the two of them to go away. Not understanding why they were there, Micha gave Marius a weird look. Was he some sort of hot shot or something to be able to go to the throne room? But he said they were going “to Mother and Father.” Wait. Did that mean he was a part of the royal family? Were they a part of the royal family? Are they even siblings?

With no further explanations Marius nodded to the guards to open the door. He righted himself and stood with his arms behind his back like some sort of official. Not knowing what to do exactly Micha stood beside him awkwardly. “Stand up straight. It’s not good to slouch in front of the King and Queen.” He chided them, not even looking their way as he did so. They could only roll their eyes and did as he said, trying to push away the slight anxious feeling down in their gut.

With the doors fully opened, Marius sauntered in. Micha on the other hand, couldn’t help but lag behind to take in the wonder of the throne room. “Mother. Father. We’re back.” He went to formally bow but was stopped by a man with an American accent.

"You know you don't need to be so stiff with us, right?" The American called in a teasing tone, coming closer to the two of them. Before them was Milo Thatch who didn’t look a day over 30. He was still lanky like before, but they could see he had grown some amount of muscle required to live here in Atlantis. "My own son, bowing down before me. Come on! Give your old man a hug." He stood Infront of Marius with his arms spread wide, a warm smile on his face. Marius looked like he wanted to resist, but Milo’s smile was too bright, he could only hesitate before slowly sinking into his father’s arms with a face full of embarrassment. Micha almost let out a laugh at the sight, but the daggers sent their way made them look away like they hadn’t seen anything.

Without anything really to look at, their eyes naturally landed on the older yet still charming Kida Nedakh. She hadn’t seemed to age as much either and retain much of her beauty. It felt like there was more of a mature aura around her now, and her hair had grown past her waist. She hadn’t lost the gleam of adventure in her eyes, but her posture told them that she had many years of knowledge under her belt. It must have been the magic of the crystal. Since it helped the Atlanteans be near immortal it must have cause them to physically age at a much slower rate as the years went by.

Kida was so beautiful that when she went to chuckle at the two men, Micha actually felt themselves blush. Feeling flustered they immediately looked down at the ground to avoid eye contact. For people they once thought were fictional, the couple were pretty breath taking to look at. It felt kind of wrong to look at them both for too long. How were you supposed to talk to breath taking people? Heck! How were you supposed to talk to breath taking heroes who were once cartoons? Oh god this was starting to get to real. Reality was starting to crash into them. They took in a shaky breath and held their head to try to regain some sort of ground.

"Michael?" Kida’s smooth voice called above them, bringing them back. Before they had realized it, Kida had made her way in front of them, a look of concern on her face. Usually when the two children would come into the throne room, Micha would always jump in at the prospect of Marius’ embarrassment and join in on the fun. It was odd that they were just standing there looking like they were out of sorts. It worried Kida a bit. “Is there something wrong my dear?”

Realizing their probably out of character behavior, they straightened themselves out and quickly shook their head. They didn’t want to speak out loud incase they’d say something else out of character. Though that probably wasn’t hard because who knew what the previous Micha was like before.

At Micha’s sudden muteness, Milo unwrapped his arms from Marius and went to kneel in front of them. “Are you feelin’ alright pumpkin? Usually you can’t wait to jump on your brother.” He reached to touch their shoulder, but the quick moment had Micha stepping back a bit. Not knowing what he did, Milo looked to be a little hurt by their action. They cursed at themself. Milo was a good guy, but Micha was just thrown into a whole new world with strangers that they didn’t know, and they weren’t really feeling touchy feely right now.

"I…" Micha began. They tried to find some way to explain themselves. Something to possibly relieve the tension, but things were coming up blank.

Seeing their troubles, Marius spoke up, “Michael almost drowned themselves today at the cove.” When the couple gasped in shock he further explained, “There was nothing wrong with them physically. However, they have been acting strange ever since.” Of course, he had to make the situation worse. What did they expect? Since they’ve first met, he’s only been a jerk to them and now, he had to open his big dumb mouth. They gave him a dirty look, hoping it could somehow beat him over the head or something.

Before Micha could look back to see the older couple’s reaction, they were suddenly embraced and cradled like a baby. Kida pulled back enough to try and find any injuries while Milo took to crying in their ear about the thought of his child almost drowning. “Oh, my baby! That must have been horrible! Daddy’s so sorry you had to go through that!” He whaled as his embrace tightened.

“Please… let go.” They squeezed out.

Not hearing them, Milo proceeded to only hug them tighter. So much so that their face started turning blue. Thank god Kida smacked him over the head to let them go or else they would have popped like a balloon. “Can’t you see that they’re suffocating? Let go already.” Realizing his mistake, he gave an awkward laugh and let go.

He stood up besides the two and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry. Force of habit.” Kida gave him a nod and brought Micha closer to her, rubbing small circles in their back as they gathered their breath.

“No Father. Do go on. I don’t think Micha’s been squished enough.”

“Well if you say it like that, I’d have to say someone else needs more hugs than Micha right now.”

“I prefer to disagree.”

“Aw come on. Not even for your pops?”

“Especially for you, your highness.”

“So cold.”

“Enough you two.”

With all the chaos going around them, Micha didn’t know where to focus exactly. The Nedakh family were so comfortable with each other that they could bounce off each other like pin balls. It made it hard for them to try to interject. They had questions that needed to be answered, and though this little family back and forth was funny, they needed the information now. With renewed confidence they shot out a question on top of their head.

“Are… Are you guys my family?"

…

Oh my god! Micha smacked themselves in the head. Really? The one question to start out with and that was the one they just had to pick? Fuuuck! I’m so screwed.

While Micha was screaming at themselves silently, they hadn’t noticed the room fall silent. It wasn’t until Milo threw his hands up in hysteria that they noticed.

“Oh my god! They don’t remember us! What are we going to do?!?” The room filled with his panic like the world was coming to an end. He grabbed onto Marius and began shaking him wildly back and forth as he dissolved into crazy ramblings. Being the unfortunate victim of his father’s chaos, Marius tried to calm him down but was thrown here and there by Milo’s mysterious strength.

Ignoring the commotion behind the two of them, Kida knelt down on her knees and gently touched Micha’s shoulders. She searched their eyes for something. When she couldn’t seem to find it, her face melted into something of concern and something else that was unreadable.

"Do you really not remember who we are?"

There was something in Kida’s clear blue eyes that made them want to tell the truth, but at the same time they couldn’t. There was no way of telling how all of them would react. What if they thought Micha was some sort of crazy person? Would they be locked up forever because of it? Of course, they knew that Kida and Milo were at least going to hear them out, but would they actually believe a small child?

Micha’s expression scrunched more and more with all the heavy thoughts weighing down their mind. They were so lost in what to do. And they had only just came to this world not even an hour ago.

Seeing the intensity in their face, Kida squeezed their shoulders to get their attention again. She brushed a stray hair behind their ear and without missing a beat she looked them in the eyes and gave the gentlest smile. “Whatever is on your mind. I will listen. Anything you have to say, I will not judge you for it.” The words filled Micha with warmth. Kida was trying to reassure them, and it was somewhat working. Her touch seemed to ground them, calming their nerves and helped them drown out everything else.

Kida and Milo believed in each other to find the truth. And when they found it, they protected it with everything they had. The two of them wouldn’t judge a person just because they said some improbable things and would absolutely listen to them all the way through. Not to mention if Micha wanted to get through this whole situation, these two were probably the best help they could get.

Micha only hesitated for a second longer before gathering up all the courage they had. With tightly clenched hands, they began. “Have you ever heard of reincarnation?”

There was a confusion in Kida’s eyes. It didn’t occur to them that with the crystals help, their people had rarely died out and tended to live for long periods of time. So of course, she had never heard about reincarnation before. In their effort to try to explain it somehow to the older woman they hadn’t realized that things had gotten quiet around them.

"You mean like a rebirth of a soul into a new body?" Milo interjected, suddenly kneeling down besides Kida to join in on the conversation. There was an unseen sparkle in his eye.

Give it to the man who’s a linguist, cartographer, and plumber to also know philosophical concepts. Micha nodded their head, glad to know at least someone knew about what they were talking about.

"Father I don't understand." Marius called behind the two.

"Well, it's a philosophical and religious concept that non-physical essence of a living being starts a new life in a different physical form or body after biological death." Milo began, turning to Marius like he was an audience member. "It's a central tenet of Indian religions, namely Jainism, Buddhism, Sikhism and Hinduism, although there are Hindu groups that don’t believe in reincarnation but believe in an afterlife." God it was like he was a Wikipedia article listing off all the information like a machine. Before he could completely lose himself in his history lesson, Kida cleared her throat to bring him back on track. He coughed awkwardly and faced Micha again, giving them a somewhat serious look. Behind his glasses they could see the scholarly look he had and there was something else behind it too. "Usually reincarnation happens after death, but there have been cases of near-death experiences triggering some sort of past life memories."

It took Kida a bit to catch on, but as she pieced things together her eyes slowly drew back to Micha. A look of astonishment crossed her features. "So, Michael almost drowning-"

"Could have been the trigger for such a thing to an occur, yes." Milo finished.

Marius frowned. "That would explain the amnesia and personality difference."

Giving then all a moment to figure it all out, Micha couldn't help but be surprised on how well they all were taking it. Granted Milo was an exception because he was a history nerd and he liked going deeper into unsolved theories. But they couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. The whole thing about transmigration was that the original host had to die for them to use the previous owner’s body. Meaning they had basically lost their own flesh and blood and was now met with a stranger wearing their skin. Just the thought of it all made them feel sick to their stomach.

"Micha, my sweet child." Kida called to them, pulling them into her arms with a warm embrace. The sudden hug gave them a start and on reflex their whole body stiffened. As you've probably guessed, they were never one for close contact. Whether or not that was the social awkwardness from their previous life or just the fact that they were guilt stricken, they just didn't know. Though the longer they were in her arms, the more they seemed to relax. It didn't even take two minutes before they just accepted it and leaned into Kida's touch. "No matter who you are, whoever memories you possess, or whoever you feel like being, I will always love you to the absolute core." She held them with a delicate firmness, careful to let them break free whenever they wanted to but still showing that she wanted to be as close as possible. She was so close in fact, that they could smell the remnants of the sea in her hair mixed in with a dull scent of bitter incense. She had been nothing but kind to them since they've shown up and it really moved them. They could hear the sincerity in her words as they hit their heart. All in all, it almost made Micha want to hug her back. And they did. They slowly yet surely snaked their arms around her waist and returned her hug, earning them a soft chuckle from the older woman.

"Yeah! It won't change the fact that you're our little troublemaker. And heck we'll just have to spend more time with each other to get to know one other better." Milo cheered as he ruffled their hair. At the amazed look they gave him, he laughed and gave them a quick side squeeze before wrapping his arm around Kida's waist.

Milo and Kida shared a look before they turned their attention to Marius, who was staying in the back with his arms crossed. It wasn’t surprising he was distant. He was the closest in age to the original “Micha” and probably spent the most time with them before the incident. To his stand-offish attitude, Milo and Kida began a physic chat with him through only their eyes. It wasn't until he gave a heavy sigh that they knew he had lost. He came over and knelt in front of Micha, putting his finger right on their forehead. "You may not have been "Micha" before, but you are "Micha" now. We're family now and will be for a long time." He pushed his finger hard enough on their forehead to make a mark and chuckled when Micha grumbled in pain. He looked away triumphantly when his mother gave a scolding look. Even though the poke had hurt a lot, Micha couldn’t help the smile that spread across their face. They didn't want to admit it but right from the beginning he had already acted like their big brother through and through. Just the thought made them burst out in laughter.

Their laugh was infectious and soon everyone was laughing along, filling the atmosphere with a relaxing warmth. Micha took the opportunity to look at each of their family members, taking them in. It felt right to let them into their walls. The journey was quite a hard one, and maybe just maybe they could get through it okay with their family by their side.

When the laughter died down Milo gave an excited grin, holding out his hand for Micha to take. “Now that we’ve got things straighten out, how about we go sit down and talk more? We could even show you around to get used to the scenery and everything!”

Micha gave one look at his hand and grinned. Grabbing on with a firm grip, they looked up at him smiling ear to ear. “Let’s go Dad.”

One couldn’t hear it, but Milo’s heart seemed to explode from the cuteness that was Micha. He couldn’t help but cover his chest and take a breath before slowly leading them off. The others following close behind.

#Carlos de Vil x reader #Jane x reader #Carlos de Vil imagines #Descendants x reader #Carlos de Vil x Jane x reader #descendants imagine #Carlos de Vil #Jane descendants #descendants fanfiction #Descendants #Descendants 2 #Descendants 3 #Disney Descendants

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