#i cried in my mother's arms which does not sound like me AT ALL and i couldn't even explain why because it was way too silly like oh my | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

georgiapeach30513 · 2 months

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With Your Touch, Part 2

Summary: Lloyd has some rules, and very little control.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Au Pair!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual tension, video sex, a bit of voyeurism, implied male masturbation, teasing, daddy issues, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Shh, sweetheart. We’ve got to tell your daddy you need a proper middle name. Unless you’re European. Can you tell me if you are?” Lyla giggles a bit, reaching a hand up to touch your face. “Oh, I knew it. You want one. So what do you think your dad will like an A name? A B name?” The baby squeals so loud you hear Lloyd’s loud banging stop. Pausing while he focuses on Lyla’s voice.

“Was that a good sound or bad? I haven’t learned her noises. Cries. Voice. I don’t know what the correct terminology would be, but I haven’t learned it.”

“It isn’t bad. She’s communicating with me.”

“What?” His voice is laced in so much confusion that you find it so endearing. He was obnoxious, but trying. His rules for you as the au pair were a bit too much, but the pay was ridiculously good. And Chase didn’t live too far. He could sneak in.

You walk into Lyla’s room, wanting to laugh as Lloyd curses at the crib he was trying to put together. Looking down at the sweet baby in your arms as her daddy throws something else, “He’s pitching a fit.”

“No the — no, I’m not. This stupid thing is impossible with these dumbass directions. And she can’t sleep in her bedroom. I don’t want her to sleep in the portable crib anymore. I want her to have a space of her own. I highly doubt her whore of a mother gave her that. And yes, she is. Any woman that drops off a baby with their father who knows fuck all about kids is a whore and shitty human being. And Lyla, I apologize. I’m working on not talking like an asshole around her.”

Working on it, and failing miserably, it is still cute he thinks he’s going to change that quickly. Even just acknowledging that type of language isn’t suitable for her is a start. “And here I am in over my head, putting together an overly pink bedroom for her because she didn’t ask to be born, and I am extra.”

“Yeah, designer baby clothes aren't what a lot of parents do.”

“How did your father dress you?”

Chuckling, you put Lyla in her carrier. You place her slightly behind, but still beside Lloyd, and plant yourself beside him, grabbing up the directions. “Roman didn’t dress me. My mother did. Roman might have paid for things, but my mom was the one that was there always. So you’re doing a lot better than him.”

“Is this a moment you tell me you have daddy issues?”

Snorting, you look up at him, shaking your head no, “This is me telling you my experience with my father. Having a dad in a girl’s life makes a difference. I call him Roman. What do you want Lyla to call you?”

“Dad.”

“You know you didn’t hesitate?” Taking a deep inhale, Lloyd grabs the directions from you, busying himself in reading them. You don’t think he actually is looking at them, he’s absorbing what you said, while also refusing to look at you and show you his vulnerability. “Speaking of which, why doesn’t she have a middle name?”

“Why does she need one?”

“What’s your middle name?” You counter quickly, and he leans back. His eyes gazing over your body. Wondering where the hell you came from because clearly you didn’t know who he was.

He narrows his eyes, looking at you and then his daughter. Lyla can’t help but to giggle at him. Tiny little thing. You wonder if she was malnourished or just a bit miniature anyways. “Bennett,” he waits to see if you react before continuing. “Why does she need one?”

“Beatrice,” he looks down at the baby who chuckles again. “She likes you, and she told me she wanted a name that started with B, and now I find out your name starts with a B. I think you and your daddy are a perfect pair, don’t you Miss Lyla Bee?” Despite whatever nonsense her mother had her living in, she's a happy baby. One that is very much aware of her daddy. Her bright green eyes focus on him when he looks at her.

“Lyla Bee. I like that. She’s like my little bumble bee. Should we get rid of all the pink and change it to bumble bees? Did I make a mistake with the pink? What if she doesn’t like pink?”

You shrug your shoulders. It really didn’t matter what she liked. She seemed to like her dad, and he adored her, and wanted to do right by her. “I think we should keep the pink. Here, you tend to the baby, and let me have a go at this crib. You’re messing everything up. And she really likes you.”

“But you’re the au pair?” He says, holding onto Lyla. He gives his finger to her, and her little baby fingers wrap around him tightly.

“And you’re mucking up this crib. Can I? I helped my mom with my little brother’s crib. It was a long time ago. But,” you go silent, grabbing the directions back from Lloyd. Using the same tactic he did earlier. Focus on this and ignore the questions, “No, Roman is not his father.”

“Didn’t ask,” he didn’t have to. Everyone else did. Your brother was an angel, and his father was…well, he was there. He made sure that Vincent was taken care of. Might not have offered you any attention, but you weren’t his responsibility.

“You thought it, so that was enough. I like the simple, but extravagant theme you went for in her bedroom though. Even if the Dior bunny is a bit much.”

“She likes it,” he chuckles, looking down at his daughter. “My partner told me buying things is my love language.”

“You must really love your daughter then,” he whispers out ‘yeah’, not realizing how much it hurts you that he loves someone he just met. And your father knew about you during the pregnancy. You didn’t have daddy issues. You had men issues. Men couldn’t be trusted. There were to be looked at, and put to good use.

You flop down on the seat next to Lloyd on the couch with a cup of microwave macaroni and cheese. You take a bite of the easy dinner, glancing at the television while Lloyd scowls. His eyes drift over your body, slightly confused. Watching as your jaw pulses with your chews.

“I feel you watching me,” he didn’t hide his facial expressions. You could read exactly what he was thinking by the quirks of his brows and mouth alone. Not that you had been paying attention to his mouth.

“What is that dreadful shit you’re eating?”

You turn your body towards him, and slowly take another bite. Noting how his eyes go to your mouth as he watches you chew in disgust. “It only took three and a half minutes to make.”

“It smells like it did. But what are you eating?” This man has been rich his entire life. Didn’t even know the joys of microwaveable food.

“It’s mac and cheese,” you giggle. Scooping out a bit, and you hold the spoon out for him. “Try it.”

“I’d rather not,” his face no longer disgusted, but more indifferent.

“Because you’re scared to eat after me?” He rolls his eyes as you take another bite of the sinfully delicious and preservative filled dinner. It probably had too much sodium in it, and the way you dressed it up surely didn’t help. But it was simple and comforting all the same. Lloyd could learn to loosen up a bit. Bring himself down to a ‘normal lifestyle’.

“While sharing a spoon with you does repulse me. The idea of eating something that came out of a microwave is just as disgusting. Did your father not feed you well?”

“Roman,” you emphasize his name. One day Lloyd would understand that Roman was nothing but a sperm donor and a bank. “He didn’t feed me. My mother did. And she wanted me to be normal.”

“Eating proper food is normal,” you liked him. Legitimately liked him. He also didn’t get offended when you popped back. He probably always had someone around him ready to take orders. That is until you.

“I mean have the American dream.”

“Yes, the American dream is definitely to eat food that is cheaper than toilet paper.”

Slowly blinking, you watch him watch you. Something that should be uncomfortable with the lack of a baby as a buffer wasn’t. You wanted to bring him back down to earth. He was a bit pompous and a lot of an asshole, and you still liked it. “I’m going to make you a cup.”

“Please don’t,” his voice is flat as he watches you jump up from the couch.

“And you’re going to at least try it.”

“I’d rather not,” he is too stiff and robotic with his movements. You want to reach over to his shoulders and make him slouch. Maybe if you made him laugh or shook him? Made him dance with you? You were going to make him break.

“And after you’ve tried it, if you still think the same we can drop it. But what I put into my body is my business. What you put into yours is your business. We won’t judge one another. You can oblige me by cooking me and Lyla Bee a delicious dinner one evening. I’ll humor you, and try your rich people food, mkay?”

This isn’t at all what Lloyd had bargained for. A girl who was given no boundaries. But you had helped him get Lyla’s bedroom in order. She was even sleeping soundly in her crib while a monitor sat on the coffee table. You hadn’t complained when he would start throwing things in a fit. And somehow managed to calm him down.

“Fine, but I don’t cook. I have a private chef,” he responds, following you into the kitchen. Eyeing you as you go into the pantry. “Where did this come from?”

Sighing, you open up the fridge producing a container of shredded cheese, and walk to the counter. “I had it delivered while you were taking a nap with Lyla. It’s really cute to see you sleeping with a baby on your chest. You know, I could watch her. Nap time leaves me nothing to do but use Roman’s card to have some food delivered here.”

“I read you should try to bond with your baby whenever you can. I missed time with her. Wait — you were watching me sleep?” It was quick, but you saw his smirk. Did he like you watching him sleep? That almost feels like an invasion of privacy. Or did he like that you looked at him? Called him cute? What was this?

“It got quiet in the apartment. So I went to find you,” and you might have wandered around the giant apartment as well. His bedroom was just the first place you looked. And you might have enjoyed what you saw, and you might have created a quick but stupid scenario of your husband doing that. Not Lloyd in particular, just a blank faced man who may or may not have had a mustache.

“You’re a snoop?”

“I’m curious by nature,” it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t looking for something to hurt or burn Lloyd with. Just wanted to give a gander through everything. “So what exactly are my hours? When you’re here do you want me to be here? Can I request time off? Have a social life? You won’t exactly let me have people here, and I do respect that. This is yours and Lyla’s space, and I know with your line of work discretion is advised. But I can’t have my only friends be you and a baby. I do have a boyfriend, and I fear I won’t if I don’t see him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Lloyd smirks. That smile dies quickly as he watches you mix up the cheese concoction to the now completed noodles, and slide the disposable container to him. “You’re not going to put this in a real bowl?”

After washing your hands, you splash a bit of water on him. Giggling when his face turns into a snarl, “Loosen up. This is microwave food. And I need to see other people. Do you not like Chase?”

“His name is dumb,” rolling your eyes, you look away from him. Listening for any signs of movement on the monitor while Lloyd takes a tentative bite of the mac and cheese. Curling up his nose until the spoon touches his tongue, and you see his eyebrows go up. “But this isn’t that bad.”

“What’s wrong with his name?”

“Chase is a verb,” he answers matter of fact. He was going to be one of those. Complete alpha male, and you were bringing someone into his home that was hurting his ego. You weren’t even sure if Chase was the one, but he is definitely the one right now. You didn’t meet your forever person in college, and you’re not even sure you believe in that. You just find someone you tolerate and make sure the sex is good. Plus Chase was amazing to look at and a lot of fun.

“And I don’t want boys in and out of Lyla Bee’s life,” he liked the way the nickname you gave her sounded. It suited his sweet little bee. She had proven to be the sweetest and most cuddly baby he’d ever met. But he had only met one.

“I can respect that as long as you respect the fact that he is my boyfriend,” Lloyd didn’t really want to or have to for that matter. But you were new to this life and to him. You’d eventually see that Lloyd commanded all. Not that he would torture you like he did some. As long as you followed the rules.

“Fine.”

“Is it okay that I came out here tonight? Would you rather me stay holed up in my room? Alone?”

“No,” he answers, walking to the garbage can to dispose of the trash. He heads towards the sink, washing his spoon quickly before leaving you to go back into the living room. Leaving you with more questions than answers.

“No, as in it’s okay that I came out?”

“Were you supposed to stay in your bedroom and starve?” Well that was a simple question to answer. But it was your first night here, and you didn’t know what boundaries he had that you shouldn’t cross. “I don’t expect us to be best friends. But we live together. You’re the woman that takes care of my daughter, and I’m the man.”

Saying it in such simple terms made this arrangement sound strange. You didn’t want to be an au pair, and didn’t see yourself living with a man and his daughter. His baby daughter, who couldn’t even crawl. Currently you think about this weird living situation, and how lines could easily become blurred here.

“What are my duties?”

“You’ve already told me that you have daddy issues, and now you’re asking me what your duties are? Please. I’m going to bed. This line of question is — it’s not good for me. Goodnight, Dolly. Stay up as long as you like, but in the morning I’ll be gone. Tomorrow will be all your responsibility. I’ve added a monitor to your room. If it’s before five, I can tend to her.”

He walks off leaving you with even more questions. Why did he suddenly have that outburst? What had made him seem so sensitive? And you didn’t have daddy issues. You were just fine without your father. You didn’t seek the approval of a man, or needed one to keep you in line. Sure you might watch Lloyd with Lyla and wish that Roman had even an ounce of care that Lloyd had shown in the first few hours that you met him.

Lyla is lucky to have a man that stepped up to be her father. He didn’t have to. From what you understand he didn’t even know of her existence, but it didn’t matter. She was his priority.

Exhaling deeply, you turn off all the lights, and walk to your bedroom. You’d promised Chase you would call once you were settled in bed. You’d leave the awkward talk with Lloyd for tomorrow, or whenever he decided to show up. Giving a look towards his door instead of Lyla’s telling yourself you would crack him. It was one day, and things wouldn’t always be this awkward.

Sitting on your overly plush bed, you call up Chase, and he answers on the first ring, “FaceTime me. I want to see you.”

Flipping it over to a video call, you see his handsome face, and smile like a schoolgirl. “Nice room. Have you figured out how I’m going to be able to sneak in there?”

“Chase!”

“Oh, come on. It will be fun. I’ve never fucked an au pair before,” you roll your eyes. Letting the camera drift a bit before pulling apart your pajama top. Giving him a quick flash of your chest. “Oh, princess, I like that. Is that why you called me? We’ve never had phone sex before.”

”Being around a baby and a man child today made me miss you,” you give him a little pout. The performance that he loved so much, and you just enjoyed to see him get feral. “All I could think about was falling asleep because you wore me out.”

”I could fucking wear you out.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you do to me?”

“I know how you like an audience. Maybe not actually seeing you, but you love when people can hear you. You think daddy Lloyd would have a problem hearing you whisper my name?” Daddy Lloyd? Now why did that give you a bit of a pause. A rumble in your belly that you hadn’t expected. Ignoring a few of Chase’s words as your mind ponders, going in so many different directions of why those words strung together made you…feel.

“He’d hear you gasping for breath as I stab into that sweet little cunt. Or maybe he’d walk in to see you riding me. Why don’t you remind me how you ride me,” you hum at him, and he pans the camera down to his lap, and he’s gripping the base of his cock so tightly. Beads of precum gather at the tip. Normally he’d have his cock already covered in a condom. But seeing him in all his glory is doing something to you.

“Grab a pillow, and pretend it’s me. I’ll stroke my cock to whatever pace you set.”

—

Lloyd flops to the other side. Grabbing his pillow he covers his head thinking about anything besides what he is hearing. He shouldn’t have added the camera to your room. But to be fair the cameras were in every fucking room in the apartment. How was he going to protect you and his daughter if he didn’t know what was going on?

Maybe the ones in the bathroom were too much, but they weren’t pointing at the toilet. My god, he wanted to look. Wanted to turn the volume down. Wanted to get that stupid verb out of his mind. But the verb wouldn’t stop talking. It isn’t even fair that you are whispering. It is normal for people to masturbate. You’d just sound better without his pathetic attempts at phone sex.

“Ugh,” Lloyd growls. He could exit out of the app if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Is it because he didn’t want to? Is it because he liked the sound of your sweet noises? Or is it because it had been too long since he had felt something besides his hand? He isn’t sure. The only thing he was truly positive about was you were killing him.

All fucking day. Acting all innocent and oblivious. He’d been away from women for too long, and you were…you knew what you were doing. Your cute little domestic moments with his daughter. You made him army ration mac and cheese that were at least edible. You helped him. You didn’t even ask, you just sat down and helped him. And you were sweet with his baby.

His emotions are conflicting with his need to…

He had to stop this utter nonsense. He isn’t a rational man, but he did what he had to do with the cameras. And now it’s backfiring on him because you can’t fucking whisper a moan. Why did your heavy breathing sound so sexy?

Why did he want to look? Were you topless? One peek wouldn’t hurt. But it would be crossing a line. How would he feel if someone was doing this with his daughter? He wouldn’t like it. You were Roman’s daughter. Even though he didn’t tell him you had the prettiest…

Nope. He is spiraling down into a sinful rabbit hole. His cock is too hard and angry and it is killing him to not look. He even fears grabbing his phone to turn down the volume will make him want to watch you. See you do whatever the fuck you are doing. Judging by the sounds and whatever The Verb was saying, you are grinding on a fucking pillow.

One look won’t hurt.

Nope, he can’t do this. He throws the blanket off him. Sitting up in the bed, he rests his elbows on his knees. Head in his hands as he tries to make his cock calm down. He was lonely. But it feels even wrong to fuck his fist because your voice is what got him hard.

This arrangement was needed, but this is difficult. Feeling a bit impossibly hard right now. Everything was hard. Including his fucking cock. It was quaking with the need to be dealt with.

Shaking his head, he stands up. His cock pressing uncomfortably against his boxers. A walk through the apartment is much needed. Get away from the noise. Maybe eat another somewhat edible peasant mac and cheese.

This was a bad idea. He sees the soft glow underneath your bedroom door, and has a deep desire to sling it open and get on to you for being…

No. He can’t do that. You’re not ‘breaking’ any of his rules. You’re just mutually masturbating with your boyfriend, and you’re taking too long. Not that he would make sure to fuck you quickly. He just doesn’t want someone else taking their time with you.

What the fuck is he even talking about? He can’t fuck you. You were Lyla’s. He just paid you. He could pay you in other ways.

No!

You fucking asked him what your duties were. He’d love for your duties to be getting to your knees and letting him see how pretty your mouth looked with his cock in it. His tip nudging the back of your throat while tears fill your eyes, and your lungs cry for air.

What the actual fuck? Why was he like this? Why was this a struggle? And why is he going the opposite way of the kitchen? Landing directly in front of your door? Listening to your sounds live. Panting. Whimpering. Not saying The Verb’s name. He’d have you screaming his name. He would have you begging for him to let you come. Have you edged all day because you wanted to tease him with silly little questions about your duties.

He’d have tears falling down your cheeks as he smirks down at you. Letting you know what a pathetic and needy little slut you were. Fuck you so hard your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, and you’re completely dumb. So dumb that you’re just spouting out random words until he’s left his seed inside your belly.

Walking to your bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up before leaving you blissed out. Making you so needy that you beg for his attention. Start being a good girl so you get more time with is cock in — inside of you. Ready to crawl on your knees after Lyla was put to sleep, and telling him you’re his little sex doll. And he would make so much use of your body and holes. Fucking you every night. Special time just for you. Just so he can feel your tight…tight…tight walls milk him dry.

”Lloyd?” Your voice pants on the other side of the room. “Lloyd is that you?” Getting closer to the door. He tucks his cock back in his boxers. Not even realizing he had been rubbing one out to your sounds. Wiping his hands on the silk of his underwear when you sling the door open.

How did you become prettier? A sheen of sweat around your hairline, and yep…you’d been grinding on a fucking pillow. Your bed is a crumbled up mess and a pillow is right in the middle of the bed. “Is everything okay? Sorry, I was…I was telling Chase goodnight.”

The Verb. You had shorts on earlier. Now it’s this t-shirt that was barely covering your legs. Were you naked? Did you show him your pussy? Your chest continues to heave, and he hates The Verb. He despises him. He’s got to go. You can’t spend time with Lyla and him if The Verb was in the picture. “Lloyd, are you okay?”

“I’m hungry.”

”I’m confused,” what was his reason for being at your door, telling you that he was hungry.

”I like ramen. The gross kind. The kind that…”

”Like top ramen?” You ask him confused. Mouth still slightly open as you try to catch your breath and his eyebrow quirks up. Did you know he was listening to you and stroking himself?

“Yes. You made me your cheap noodles, would you like me to make you some of my cheap noodles?”

“It’s after midnight.”

“Fine, I’ll eat the noodles by myself,” spinning on his heels, he walks away from you into the kitchen. It isn’t long until he hears the soft pads of your feet following him. “I told you it was okay.”

“You — did you…I was almost asleep.”

“Yes, yes. I understand. You were almost asleep as you were telling your…boyfriend goodnight. That’s exactly what almost asleep sounds like,” that list bit of his sentence sounds a bit implying. Did he know?

“Did you hear our conversation?” Was it even a conversation? He couldn’t remember. He just heard you telling him you were going to come. Not The Verb, but Lloyd. You are a tease. He didn’t mean to get off on your voice. “How long were you out here?”

“Grab me a pot?” Oh you were obedient, bending over to get a pot, and standing up quickly. Not quick enough. No panties. He pretends to see nothing. You can sleep with no panties. That’s a good habit to get into because he can just slide into your bed, and start fucking you. When you get there of course. Consent is key. And he feels like a bastard for what he did tonight. But that movement you just did was on your own.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” He asks with a devilish grin.

“Nothing,” it wasn’t just nothing. But he wasn’t going to make you feel guilty for the need to show him your cunt still glistening. He’d have your legs drenched. “Do you do anything special with your ramen? Or do you make it as is?”

“There’s some eggs and spring onions in the fridge. Does that answer your question?” He nods his head towards the fridge, trying to figure out what else he could make you do to get a little peek. He’d play oblivious. Let you decide what you are comfortable with. “Mind getting me some bowls from the top shelf?”

Standing on your tippy toes you dance around a moment. The bottom of your ass cheeks make a little appearance, and he steps behind you to reach the bowls himself. Taking too long to cage your body with your own. And when you gasp, pressing your ass into his crotch he bounces back immediately. Dropping the bowls into the floor and they shatter into thousands of pieces.

“Shit,” Lloyd whispers under his breath. And without asking, places his hands on your sides to lift you up onto the counter. “Stay there while I clean this up. I don’t need you stepping on glass.”

He doesn’t notice the odd glances that you give him as he picks up the larger pieces and starts sweeping up the rest. “My mom always uses wet a paper towel to get the tiny pieces up.”

“That’s smart,” he follows your instructions. And stands up straight. You have already gotten more comfortable, and your legs are not so tightly pressed together. He has to bite his tongue in order to not look. But as high up as that shirt is sitting on your thighs, he knows. And you are aware that he knows.

“Not that Lyla can even crawl right now, but the idea of there being these tiny pieces of glass for you to step on when holding her,” his words stop, and he stands in front of you. How did you not realize he was shirtless? Why is his chest so close to your face as he reaches above your head for more bowls? Why does he smell like a wet dream? Push the thoughts away.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself and dropping her in an accident.”

“I won’t drop her.”

“Knock on the cabinets immediately! That is bad luck,” you do as he says, not pegging him as a superstitious man at all. “I had some chance to think about it. I think on Sundays you should have the day off completely unless I’m out of town. Saturdays, is it fair to ask for you to work half a day? Just until around noon?”

“I think that’s fair.”

“And maybe we should not talk about The Verb?”

“The Verb?” What was he even talking about? You notice his eyes flick momentarily to your lap, and you realize how comfortable you had gotten on this counter. Your legs are too far apart. He had to have seen something. Was he disappointed? You didn’t want to disappoint him. You had just started to get to know him. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you could care for a baby.

“That Chase boy.”

“My boyfriend?” You giggle. Why did he have such an issue with Chase?

“Why is he even your boyfriend?”

“He’s better than a dildo. I mean,” you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and have to look at the floor. Missing how big Lloyd’s smile spreads across his smug face. Or the way he is stalking towards you like he’s ready to pounce on his prey. “We’ve been together for awhile, but it’s not that serious.”

“Sweetheart, don’t settle for better than a dildo,” he stands right in front of you. Both hands on your knees as he goes to push your legs apart. Inserting himself in between your thighs. The weird feeling in your tummy returns, and you hate having no panties on as slick floods to your core. Throat dry as his finger touches your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “And when I’m speaking to you, I expect you to look me in the eyes, do you understand?”

You nod your head slowly, but he clicks his tongue, “And I expect you to verbally answer in my home. Little head gestures are easily misinterpreted, okay?”

“Okay,” he raises an eyebrow, wanting you to finish your sentence, but words are impossible, and your brain is mush. Everything is delayed as you feel the heat between you and Lloyd, “I understand.”

“If you need something better than a dildo and more than The Verb just use your words,” what the fuck does that even mean? He steps away from you much quicker than he inserted himself. The air in the room is heavy and stifling, and you wonder if you even knew how to breathe without reminding yourself to inhale and exhale.

“Do you like creamy ramen or brothy?” This bastard is really changing the subject. You can’t even think with the two heartbeats you feel. One inside your chest, while the other is between your thighs and throbbing. Why is your heart beating so fast? Why is your body betraying you?

“I don’t think I’ve had creamy.”

“You want to get me the heavy whipping cream?” He gives you a cheeky smile when you jump off the counter and head towards the fridge.

“Why are you asking me to do all these things?”

“Because you listen so well,” you pause before reaching for the heavy whipping cream, and turn to look at him.

“What is this?” He’s playing a sick game. He had to be. He saw this ‘vulnerable little girl’ that he had to save. You didn’t need saving, you were fine all on your own.

“You’re very well behaved. Your mother did a good job. Until just now you didn’t even question it. Just did as I asked,” what is he getting at? He is talking in riddles, or backwards, or you are just reading too much into whatever this exchange is. Keeping your mouth closed for the rest of the evening.

Keeping your eyes off him as you squirm around uncomfortably in your seat. Is this uncomfortable because of him? Or are you weirded out because you are feeling things because of him. If you look up, you’d see him smiling as he watches the weird inner turmoil going on in your head.

Finishing before you, he stands up to put his bowl in the dishwasher. Walking past you towards his bedroom, he stops. “And Dolly?”

“Yes?” You ask, turning around in your chair.

“When you leave your room make sure you have on panties,” oh. My. God. He knew. He saw. He didn’t say anything until now. “Because next time I won’t force myself to stop my need to lean you over the counter and spank your ass.”

“Okay,” you didn’t know how to respond to that, and you couldn’t believe how your body was internalizing his words. Heat. Fire. Desire. Embarrassment. Lust. How you have immediate visions of Lloyd doing just that, and spreading your cheeks to see if he made you wet. He did. Uncomfortably so.

“Good girl, I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he needs a cold shower. He needs away from you because his cock has been at full mast since you questioned why he was asking you to gather things for him. You could try to deny it, but he turned you on as much as you turned him on.

And yet here is your employer, and you are just the sweet au pair with daddy issues. No matter what you say. And he supposes he’s the sick bastard that didn’t mind teasing you. Giving you something to think about. Options? Something for the spank bank? He hopes you go to bed wet and frustrated. Wake up to needing to fuck your own fingers as you think about the close proximity he had to you.

He hopes that you are dripping with need for his cock, and his care and protection. And he hopes that a cold shower is enough to get visions of you yipping with every smack to your ass. That you would be the perfect and obedient girl for him. Woman. Girl sounded gross in this context. Thank you, Roman for making sure your daughter had daddy issues. But fuck him for not loving his daughter the way you deserved.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmedasylum @honeyhoneylovelylove @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ughdontbeboring @lostinspace33 @abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey

#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfic #daddy issues #au pair au #lloyd hansen x au pair!reader

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maximumkillshot · 5 months

Text

I Can't Lose You- Part 7

Warnings: Descriptions of Grief, PTSD Flashback, Intense Grief, Mentions of Miscarriage, Pissed off Lee Know, Anxiety, Panic, Everyone is hurting but you knew this... right?

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader, Nurse, Soo?

A/N: Okay her we are with part 7 the song that I linked is what I had on repeat for part 6 &7 for the most part... I am so sorry and as always I'll be around for therapy after. If you really wanna cry, listen to what I listened to while writing this about 98% of the time, Can You Hold Me by NF and Britt Nicole.

I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

BEFORE: His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge. Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge. “Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.

NOW:

The boys were trying their hardest to be calm, but some just couldn’t handle it. I.N. and Felix being the two that were physically holding their heads, crouched in the fetal position, trying to cover their ears as they heard your screams in the hallway.

Hyunjin went over to them and picked them up, their forms curling into him as they cried. Hyunjin couldn’t pinpoint why your screams sounded so unhuman, subconsciously trying to find a way to help. Once reality set in he realized, none of them had ever heard the scream of a mother who lost their child… not until today. That made chills go up his spine as goosebumps riddled his skin. That was why it sounded so unhuman. His mother once told him, “Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around.” He found himself repeating those words out loud as tears fell down his face. He never thought he’d understand those words, but now that he does, he was numb, numb with pain.

I.N.’s heart was breaking for you as he heard you calling out to no one, asking for the impossible. He was trying to be strong but hearing you in so much pain was too much. “I want to help her Hyung but I don’t know how.” That broke Hyunjin even more because he couldn’t do anything. No one could.

Hyunjin rubbed his back saying,“We can only be here for her, Innah. We need to be here, make sure she knows we aren’t going anywhere. That’s all we can do. I wish we could do more, but we can’t.”

Felix was crying because the only thing that could happen was him hearing the screams of a person that he loves, a best friend he considers as his sister, while he can’t do anything at all. The frustration combined with the sadness sliced through him.

Seungmin was the one member whom no one expected to cry yet there he was, crying. No one in the entire group knew he was one of the most hurt. His reactions to everything were visceral. If he wasn’t using the railing lining the hall, he was certain his legs would give out. He faced the wall sobbing, feeling the cold wall on his forehead. He didn’t care that he was in a hallway in a hospital full of nursing staff and strangers. He had been holding all of it in for weeks now…

It all started about two months ago. When Seungmin had come over to the 3Racha house, he noticed some things. He was making some lunch while he waited for the others to come back from the gym. The minute he opened the kimchi, you ran to vomit. That coupled with the fact that you looked like you were glowing raised his suspicion. When you came back to the kitchen he said, “When was the last time you took a pregnancy test?”

You cocked your head to the side quizzicaly as he giggled, “I’m 99.9% sure that you’re pregnant. Pee on a stick just to be sure but… Yeah, congrats. I’m going to throw away everything that smells like kimchi while you check.”

He was there for all of it. Everything from staring at the test with you waiting for the verdict. He spun you around congratulating you. He helped hide the evidence. Helped plan, he was even there when you got the ultrasound, filming it for Chan so he didn’t feel like he was left out. In many ways Seungmin had a better tie to that child than anyone else aside from you. He imagined everything with you.

Ever since he saw I.N. storm out to kill Chan… he checked out emotionally. He couldn’t handle the pain. He couldn’t ignore it anymore when he heard your screams. He thought of all the names you’d send him to see if they’d sound good. If it was a boy, you were incessant on Seungmin. You wanted to name the baby after him because he had “noticed first.” But he got you to change it to Chanseung, meaning “lingering victory”. This whole time...Every scream you let loose he heard the baby’s heartbeat as the memories flashed in and out of his mind.

He remembered the times when he would come over just to clear the kitchen of anything that’d trigger your gag reflex. His Hyungs would get pissed at him because they even labeled the items with "do not touch”, but somehow, mysteriously, Seungmin didn’t see it and ate it all… whoops. He even got up at whatever time you called to pick up whatever you were craving. Another was when you went out for a walk with him and you were telling him about all of the new things you were noticing about your body.

But his favorites were whenever you and himself would be alone in the kitchen or on the couch while everyone was distracted he’d look down at your belly, he would glance around and go to your ear just to say “They have no clue… That there’s 10 people in this house.” He’d do that just to see you try to suppress the smile on your face.

He even had dreams of going to the hospital to meet the baby. The dream always started with the phone call. Changbin would be on the other line as he picked up, “the baby’s coming, they’re already at the hospital, see you there.” Then the dream would jump to Chris walking out, “Congratulations everyone, you have a beautiful and healthy nephew. Once Y/N is cleaned up, you guys can come back to meet Chanseung.” In every single one of those dreams Seungmin would cry happy tears. When he’d be taken back, he was met with the cutest bundle, eyes like yours, a head full of curly hair like Chan’s. Chan would hand the baby to Seungmin and Changbin would say “what about me?” And you’d say, “godparents always hold the baby first.” Seungmin would look around shocked as more tears fell from his eyes, he would look at you and say “really? Me?” You’d look at him nodding with tears of your own, “How could it be anyone else, you took such good care of us, Minnie. You’d do anything for him. Your the one I trust the most with him.” He looked down to the baby and whispered “Hello Chanseung, I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you. My name's Seungmin, I’m your godfather.” He cuddled with the baby as he cried tears of joy, nothing but love and gratitude in his heart. Now that’s all they’ll ever be… Just dreams.

While everyone else was mourning as a friend, a brother, an Uncle, he mourned like a father. He felt like he lost a child. It destroyed him, ripping him apart inside, making him reflexively grab his chest, the air abundant but still suffocating, leaving him no other choice but for his chest to collapse inward as the sobs escaped.

Minho noticed that your screams didn’t sound human, closer to a wounded animal. Minho looked at Chan’s face as you screamed for your baby. He could see that Chan was sad, but it didn’t seem like he was truly grasping it. It was only when Chan’s phone lit up, that Minho’s patience snapped. He saw the name “Soo BFF Y/N” light up the screen, and before Chan could do anything about it, he snatched the phone. Minho grabbed Chris by the back of his neck, his nails digging into the meat of it. Minho spoke with a lethal air as he spat, “Waiting room… NOW.”

They ducked into the waiting room down the hall. The rest of the boys followed suit, locking the door to the room as Minho answered the call and said nothing.

“Hey Baby, you haven’t been picking up, is everything okay? What happened after I left?” Her voice rang through the waiting room.

Minho looked to Chris, and nodded to the phone, Chris responded, “No. Everything isn’t okay. Y/N was pregnant.”

There was a beat or two and she said, “Was?” Then she said, “As in not currently? I guess that is a good thing right? Considering you were going to divorce her for me anyway. A baby would’ve made it messy, no?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Some looking for confirmation, that they indeed heard what they did.

Chris looked at the phone like it had offended him his jaw slack, “what the fuck did you say to me?!” His face showed more emotion than hearing his wife’s soul being torn to shreds about losing the baby, “My child is dead and your response is ‘at least it’s less messy now?!’ How fucking heartless are you?” he asked.

Minho couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing out of Chris. He just heard his wife scream that she wants to die, that she wants to no longer exist because his child is dead. Yet the thing that gets him offended, have any reaction at all was his sidepiece saying something. Taking the first opportunity to skirt over how this all even happened. Minho wasn’t going to let him get away that easily, he spoke up, “You really are a fucking coward, huh, Chris? You won’t even tell her how all of this happened?”

Chris just bowed his head as Minho continued, “She miscarried from the shock and trauma of seeing you and her husband fucking right in front of her on their 3rd anniversary. YOU and Chris killed that child,” Minho seethed into the phone. “You want to hear what is happening to your so-called best friend? What you call, less messy?”

Minho took the phone off of the speaker and stormed down the hall. His heart was hammering in his chest, hearing of what she said playing in his head on repeat. His pain clouded his generous nature. For once, Minho doesn’t want to protect someone. He wanted Soo to feel the pain that you feel. He wants her to hear your screams. To hear your soul fracturing, hear the blood as it falls from the stab wound in your heart. That knife that no one can take out. That permanent piercing is now festering. The piercing that she and Chan personally put into one of the nicest people he’s ever met. He wants her to hurt. Just the thought of hearing Soo cry, made him smile. He wants her to suffer, truly suffer, just like he wants Chan to suffer. A part of him hates that this is what he wants but the rest of him knows, this is justified. A righteous anger. A human reaction. Which Soo cannot be.

Minho stopped outside of the room and held the phone out for Soo to hear your screams. He could somewhat hear Soo gasping at what was happening. Minho turned on the video to show her what little he could see from the door, which was your form rocking with Bin gently holding you, trying to calm you. “Hold on to me and breathe for me,” He heard Bin talking to you, trying to get you to fight.

“Binnie, please, my baby.” Minho heard your voice trembling, seeing you clutch on to Bin’s forearm. Your voice was worse than haunting, Minho could hear you trying to will your baby back.

“All you need to do is breathe and hold on to me. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I can’t Binnie I can’t I need my baby! Pleassee help me!” Your voice nearly gone from all of the screaming taking place.

It filled Minho with rage. The person on the phone caused this, along with your husband. Here Bin was, trying to will you to stay, to hold on to him, not anyone else. That made Minho feel better, if anyone could put you back together, make you want to stay, it’s Bin.

After being there for a minute or two Han barreled by him, all Minho did was flash the phone at him and point to the waiting room and Han nodded. He was telling him that when he was done making sure you were okay, for him to come to the room they were currently occupying with no words.

The minute Minho went back to the waiting room, he turned the speaker on to hear Soo. There was no response, only fast breathing and sniffling.

Minho tried to be quiet as he said, “Did that sound clean to you, Soo? Did that look less messy? She almost died last night, almost bled out from a hemorrhage that you both caused. She just screamed that she just wanted to die already. So tell me, what part about any of this screams a clean break?!”

Soo was silent for a moment and she said, “I never meant to hurt her, Minho.”

Minho’s blood boiled as he said, “People don’t get into cars with the goal of causing an accident and killing someone, but it happens all the same. I am so happy that you called, actually. I wanted to say this to your face but this’ll have to do. I couldn’t do this last night because I’m a decent person who was worried about one of my best friends... But now that she is being helped I can tell you. You are a sad excuse of a human being, I truly mean that. It takes a certain level of desperation to take your best friend’s sloppy seconds. Even more desperate to actually believe that he’d leave Y/N for your sorry waste of an existence. ”

Chan prickled at that, cocking his head, “As a matter of fact, the sloppy seconds is glaring at me while I say this and I don’t fucking care, as soon as I am done with you on the phone I’ll deal with him. You both destroyed someone very close to my heart. A person who has done nothing to either of you and yet you do this.”

Han walks in as Minho is grilling Soo, he whispers something to Felix and Felix goes out of the room. Minho continued, “As if what you did wasn’t enough you have the audacity to say that it was a good thing that Y/N miscarried because it would make the divorce less messy.”

Han’s eyes bulged out of his head at hearing that. No wonder why Minho wanted him here. Han felt rage at those words. Calling the death of a child that was wanted, a good thing? Minho’s lip was tight as he calmly finished his say, “I hope you know what you’re wishing for when you say you want him to yourself. If he did this to his own wife, imagine what he’d do to you… A nothing, a speck compared to Y/N. I hope you can live with yourself, but at least you’re breathing, something Y/N’s child never even got to experience because of you and Chris. I hope you rot and I hope it’s painful. Above all else, I hope that you pay in full for what you’ve done.”

Minho looked around, “Anyone want to talk to IT?” he punctuated “it” as he stared at Chris, daring him to say something. Everyone was silent and he said, “I would say it’s been a pleasure speaking to you, but that would be a lie; the only pleasure I’ll ever have is seeing you suffer.” With that, he hung up and walked to Chan, shoving the phone into his chest.

Minho stared at Chan, “Now it’s your turn… What are you doing here? Were we not clear enough for you?! What part of ‘stay away’ did you not get? Or are you that fucking stupid. She was making progress, she was sleeping and you had to come in, didn’t you.” His eyes burned into Chris.

“I just wanted to see her.” Chris said.

Minho got tunnel vision as he bore into Chan,“I… I … I.. That is all that exists for you, huh? It’s all about you. What you want, when you want, who you want, where you want. YOU wanted to see her, you didn’t even think about her wellbeing did you?! Of course you didn’t! That’s why you came in here and played the husband card over and over again. You are nothing to her. NOTHING! It baffles me how Changbin isn’t even married to her yet he’s a better husband than you will ever be!” Minho’s body betrayed him as he started to shake, “YOU DIDN’T JUST KILL YOUR CHILD… YOU KILLED WHO WE THOUGHT YOU WERE. YOU KILLED EACH ONE OF US! MOST OF ALL YOU KILLED Y/N. THE FUN LOVING, HOPEFUL Y/N IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! That alone is something I will never forgive you for.”

“I’m going to give you one chance to walk out of here willingly. If you don’t, I will tell the boys to go back to the room. Then I am going to lock you in here with me, and believe me when I say you won’t like what happens next. When I’m done with you, I’ll go right back to Y/N and act like nothing happened.”

His tone was too calm, too monotone, the sound sending chills down Han’s spine.

The pain that Minho is in is something that he never shows anyone. He doesn’t like to be vulnerable. He couldn’t help but look at Chris’ wedding ring and think that he should’ve done something, anything to stop him from marrying you. He told himself that it wasn’t his relationship. He even asked Changbin if he was actually going to let this happen. Changbin just looked at him and said, “Does it kill me? Yes. Do I want to be the groom instead of the groomsman? Absolutely. But she’s happy. What I want is nothing compared to seeing her happy.” Just that singular memory gave him enough fuel to do what he had to do. He made a promise to himself in that moment, he will never let Chris close enough to be able to hurt you again.

Chris didn’t make a move, Minho could see that he was shocked. Which only fueled his rage.

Han had to cut in, “Minho… she’s asking for you.” Minho's heart twisted again as he loomed over Chris.

Minho sucked his teeth, “Even after nearly killing her, killing her child, ruining her life… Even now she’s still saving you without even knowing it. You have your chance, if I were you, I’d take it.” Minho stormed out of the room.

With that, Han looked at the rest of the boys, “Make sure he leaves, he’s already banned from the room. You are all welcome to come back up since it was clear who caused her to spiral. She wants you all as well. She’s scared we’re worried or that we’ll leave her.”

Hyunjin looked at Han and said, “We’ll be there. Go to her.”

As soon as Han left the room he saw Minho duck into your room.

When Minho came in he heard you saying, “Where’s MinMin? I don’t know what happened, m’scared Binnie, where's MinMin and Hannie? Lixie did they leave me?” Minho knew that whenever you were scared, you started using pet names. They felt safe to you. With your MinMin, Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie around, you'd be safe. Your voice is low and quivering, fear and panic clear. It's ripping him apart, reminding him almost of a child. A child trying to not let on how scared they are. You were a lot like a child in that way, you were so hurt you didn’t know who to trust, but the minute you see people you are sure won’t hurt you, you start asking for the others, knowing you can trust them to say the truth. You also reminded Minho of someone trying to cry silently, the quake in your voice giving you away.

From Minho’s view, all that could be seen is Changbin, grabbing his sweatshirt and putting it on, hood up. It was your favorite hoodie that Binnie wears, full of different stitches and felt like a cloud. He made fleeting eye contact with Minho. Just in those few seconds he could see Bin’s eyes trying to focus on not collapsing, yet trying to get Minho to understand. Minho could only imagine that what happened minutes ago was something that he had seen last night. Since Bin knew to call out to Han to get the nurses. It made his heart twist yet again, he knows that Bin isn’t used to caring for people. But you aren’t just people. You are more than that, you always have been more than that. That’s why it’s second nature to him.

“Binnie I’m scared what happened, where are my boys? Did I do something wrong, did I scare them? Will you leave too?” You asked through sniffles. Minho could see the effect those words had on Bin as he pulled the hoodie back, he spared one last gaze and flitted it towards the bed as if to say, watch me. If you can’t do what I’m about to do, don’t come in. Then he changed his face completely before turning to you and walking out of Minho’s field of vision. That killed Minho too. How Bin knew instinctually to change his face, his gaze softening.

“What happened isn’t something you need to worry about. You didn’t do anything wrong and the boys aren’t scared. I’m not going anywhere, see I was just putting my hoodie on, its your favorite. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here. So is Lixie.” Bin’s voice was soothing, calm, steady, eventhough Minho identified the cracks in his foundation with only two seconds looking into his eyes.

Felix added as he tried to calm you saying, “We aren’t going anywhere okay? We are just making sure you’re going to be comfortable. MinMin’s coming and so is Hannie, Okay?”

Minho put on a smile, “I’m here”, hiding his pain for now. Your eyes were darting as you looked at him. Tearstains still painting your cheeks, fresh ones about to fall. You looked so dazed and confused as you looked around the room like you haven't been in it before.

You smiled at Minho, “MinMin…” more tears fell as you gaze fell on Minho’s eyes, “You didn’t leave? Binnie, Lixie, and Hannie said so but… m’scared… I don’t remember what happened,”

Minho wanted to curl you into a ball and shelter you, make sure no one could sneak up on you, that Chris couldn’t get his hands on you again, spew more poison all over this healing space, your personal space. He wanted to tuck you in and stand watch, everything in him drove him to shield and protect you. He couldn’t show that though. He couldn’t call attention to what just happened. It could upset the balance that you are in. Instead he decided on another approach.

“Binnie was right, Beautiful. What happened isn’t important right now. What matters is that we are here with you, we’re going to keep you safe, okay?” Minho reached out and dried your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

The nurse was just finishing giving you medicine, “What��d they give you? Something good?” Minho smiled warmly. He looked to the nurse who said, “Yes, she’ll be able to sleep no doubt. We’re also giving her medicine every six hours for the anxiety,” she smiled. That made Minho smile wide. He couldn’t help but be relieved for you. You are finally getting the medicine you need.

Minho looked at her and said, “Thank you so much, for taking care of her and coming so quickly.”

She just nodded and turned the lights off.

You yawned and started tearing up a little as you reached for Bin, “Don’t leave, Binnie…Lixie.” Felix was right at your hand as he said, “M’right here, it’s going to be okay. MinMin, Bin, all of us are here to make sure you’ll be okay.” Felix could see your shoulders slowly drooping as the medicine hit you. It was clear that the medicine was making you sleepy. That made everyone smile. You have had nothing but panic, havoc, and destruction. You deserved rest.

You looked at Minho and said, “I’m tired but I want my boys. You’ll wake me when they come back MinMin?”

Minho nodded and said, “Of course, Beautiful.”

You nodded then looked to Bin, “Binnie, I’m tired, if I sleep you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to ask too much, but can I have cuddles while I sleep?” Everyone in the room could tell that you were looking for constant reassurance. You just got out of a bad PTSD flashback, triggered by the man that caused the trauma, all on top of getting no sleep. Han walked in after making sure that Chris couldn’t make it back into the room, only walking in after he was sure Chris was in the elevator and clear of the area.

When Changbin heard you calling out to him, saying you’re scared he just wanted to hold and protect you. He successfully coaxed you out of the flashback. His whole being broke when you came out of it so disoriented. The first things you asked Bin was, “Why did he do that? Why did they do that I don’t know why? What happened?” Then immediately after, “I’m scared.” He didn’t know what to say to that first half. It’s inconceivable how anyone could cheat on anyone, especially someone like you. Trying to answer that question would only prove to be more frustrating for you than anything. Apparently the shock was written on Bin’s face as the nurse explained.

The nurses gently talked to Bin about what he was seeing, he’s never seen you like this and they explained that when someone comes out of a flashback episode, they are very confused. Sometimes they don’t know where they are or what happened. He learned that it was necessary to be very calm in repeating yourself, and ensuring the person coming out of it that everything is going to be okay and that they are safe. The nurse that was in the room with you was the one who coached Bin through the worse of it. He just had to keep pushing, to make you feel safe. He himself was also on the brink of collapse. The wall he made in his mind, to hold all the emotions inside around you, started failing long ago. More rubble falling by the minute.

Bin was trying to be as strong as he could be as he got into the bed with you, pulling you to him, and petting your hair back, “Of course we can cuddle. I am not going anywhere okay? I wouldn’t dream of it. Just take deep breaths. Let the medicine work, Angel.” He looked at you, so small, sweaty, tired, fragile. Felix immediately started tucking you in. Taking time to ensure sealing all of the edges of your body to stay nice and warm. Then he moved your hand to cuddle Bin, knowing that you’d want it there. He resumed his place at your back, he re-tied your gown that was coming loose, then slowly rubbing circles on your back, trying to soothe you. Bin tried to figure out how Chris could hurt someone so precious to him, to all of them. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. Like that, more bricks fell from the wall.

“M’safe?” You asked Bin, eyes still brimming with unshed tears as you looked up at him. As soon as they were knocked free he used his thumb to wipe them away.

With me…“Always. No one is going to hurt you.” Not while I’m here. He brushed your cheekbone, you head leaning into his touch reflexively. More of the wall crashed to the ground. He gently guided your head down to his chest.

Even though you were being forcibly calmed by the medicine, he could see it. Your eyebrows were tense, still a quiver in your lip. The worst was the shaking. As he held you he could feel the tremble in your entire body. Your hands shook as you held on to his hoodie, rubbing the pattern to calm yourself.

After a few minutes passed, the boys went to come back in, but Han stopped them, just to explain to them what happened. He also gave them the rundown of how to talk to you and redirect and reassure you, that way you can rest.

“She doesn’t look like herself right now, that’s because she is still in a very fragile mental state, she’s going to repeat herself, she’s going to say she’s scared, a lot of things that will make you want to break. You cannot break in front of her. That can make her worse. If you need I can guide you through it. Just stay close to me, okay?”All of the boys nodded and went in. Minho let you know.

“Minnie, you here?” You asked.

“Yes I am, Birdie.” Seungmin said as he walked into your field of vision getting down to your level, “Getting sleepy, Birdie?” You nodded as tears started to spring to your eyes.

Seungmin’s nickname for you is Birdie. When you started hanging out with him more, he noticed something. Whenever you had a song stuck in your head, you would sing it on repeat. Your voice was always very soft, shy, melodic. It reminded him of the morning birds, so one day he called you Birdie and you smiled ear to ear. No one heard him call you that until now, since Seungmin is more an observer than a talker.

“If I sleep, you won’t go anywhere? I’m scared you’ll leave and I won’t see you again.” your tears fell as you looked directly into Seungmin’s eyes.

Seungmin whispered, “Oh my sweet Birdie,” as he kissed your forehead trying not to cry, drying your tears immediately, “You don’t need to be scared, I’m not going anywhere without you. You will always have me, okay? Right now all you need to do is rest, okay Birdie?”

You nodded then said, “Jinnie and Innie too? They’re here too?”

“Mhm, everyone’s here, Birdie.” Seungmin is doing his best to see you relax, lightly petting your hair, “So just close your eyes for me, let yourself rest, we’re here.” As if on command you slowly closed your eyes. What he doesn’t know is Innah is trying not to cry. Seeing the interaction cracking him open again.

Your breathing started calming and as Bin felt your body relax into him, your grip completely loosening. Seungmin didn’t stop petting your hair until he was sure you were out. Only then, did he go to IN’s side, where IN’s tears soaked into his shirt.

Bin played with your hand for a few seconds, seeing how delicate they are as well as gauging how asleep you are. Seeing no reaction from you he draped his hand over yours as he heard a ghost of mere minutes ago, ‘Please just let me die. Let me go.’ The wall collapsed and he started crying. Trying not to shake you at all as he kissed the crown of your head.

“No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I got you. You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” Bin didn’t care who saw him. He felt so helpless, his soul is breaking for you as he cradled you. He can’t help but think that it’s all his fault. How could it not be? He didn’t follow his gut, he didn’t make the move, and now you’re suffering because of it. He kissed your hairline as he did his best to stop the pain in his chest, worried that you’d hear his heart breaking.

Minho watched as tears fell down his face. Seeing you like this and Bin, the one who gave up his own happiness… Handed his heart over to another man, only to see his heart used and abused. He could feel the pain radiating off of Bin. Minho heard a sniffle and looked to Seungmin. Seungmin always had a placid smile to his face, all Minho found was a quivering lip, tears falling, as he watched Bin.

Seungmin was seeing how perfect you are together, like he always saw, and seeing how broken you both are, yet you are both so strong together. That made Seungmin cry. Even though both of you are in agony right now, torn to shreds, you still clung to eachother, making a silent pact to make it together.

“You can’t leave me here…” He leaned back to see you. Another specter paid a visit, ‘Binnie it hurts. Help me pleaseee’. He felt his chest caving in at the memory. He willed himself to breathe normally, each pull of air burning his lungs, the muscles wanting to constrict. He cradled your head, trying to keep you as close to his heart as possible, “I need you, My Angel.” Bin felt Felix’s hand wrap around his shoulders, much like Bin would do for Lix when he cried.

Bin couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. A life without you. He knows the pain alone would kill him, kill all the boys. Your love, friendship, and loyalty is second to none. You are just that way. That beautiful, that kind, that irreplaceable. That is what makes Bin distraught, the thought of no you in the world… even finishing that sentence is unimaginable.

Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris.

Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now.

Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”

That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”

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cvpiddszn · 1 year

Text

𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: first time writing on tumblr, just needed some angst. it's an au that i made, sorry if the names are confusing. might make a part two.

summary: birdie is tired of feeling like jack doesn't love her anymore

warnings: babies, swearing, angst, a whole lot of frustration

word count: 2.7k

series: part one, part two, part three

I never thought that after five years I would’ve gotten into a routine with my children but with time, I did. I loved my two boys but with our newer arrival; Amara Lane Hughes, being born in the summer didn’t have all the perks. Sure it meant that Jack was around for her birth and there to help me but it also meant that Amara became more codependent on her father being there every waking moment.

It seemed only a minute ago –it had been two hours– that I had put down the little hothead. She was falling asleep in my arms after crying out. It was clear that she missed her father. Sometimes I wished that Jack had just left the girl alone, but he always caved desperate to hold the little girl. He refused to let her sleep in her crib, setting her in between us late at night when I was only too exhausted to argue. I often wondered if our spark was gone, that we didn’t have any of our youth left and with Jack constantly with our baby, there was never a second alone for us. Kisses on the cheek and small praises were all that were exchanged between us.

I knew that it was wrong to feel this way. Especially when I knew that I loved Amara with my entire heart. I should be thankful that I have a husband that loves their kids so much but some part of me was selfish. I just wanted a minute with my husband, but it seemed that when he was home and when it was time for the little girl's nap, Daddy always tucked her into our large bed and fell asleep with her.

The loud cry from my daughter’s room snapped me from my daze. I blinked at the screen, Jack’s hockey team’s highlights playing on the screen. I pushed myself from the couch, the twins; Lowen and Lake, sitting on the other end of the couch happily watching their father’s game highlights, pointing at the people they knew.

I flipped the lights of Amara’s bedroom on, I knew that the little girl preferred our bed now, after too many times that Jack took her in there. It didn’t help that I had just finished breastfeeding, resorting to formula now. Amara was not okay with the change in her life. I picked up the girl whose eyes adjusted to the brightness, realizing that it was her mother rather than her father, she instantly began to cry.

I bounced her softly, cooing in hopes that it would calm her but she continued to cry, “Sh, Mara. It’s okay, Daddy’ll be back tomorrow. How does that sound?” I spoke quietly, admiring her blue eyes much like J’s. At the mention of her father, the girl’s eyes frantically looked around searching for her protector upon realizing that he wasn’t there she cried louder.

I hoped that at the sight of her brothers, she calmed, so I took her into the living room settling on the couch. Lake perked his head up at his little sister, settling beside his little sister and I but the little girl only whined further. The little girl’s head snapped at the sound of her father’s voice, she perked up towards the TV, showing an post-game interview. A gurgling noise came from her as her smile came shining through. Amara’s other hand –that was not gripping onto my finger– made a grabby motion at the TV.

“Do you boys mind finding me your sister’s soother? I think it might be in Daddy and I’s room on the bedside table.” I asked, to which Lake and Lowen both nodded being the angel children they were. I couldn’t remember a time that they never listened to me, being momma’s boys all the way. I was beginning to miss that stage when my babies needed me and didn’t cry constantly. They were good babies. Upon the boys' leave, Amara only cried harder, the echoing sound beginning to hurt my ears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish your dad was here too,” I began to speak, feeling the knot at the back of my throat, “You should be lucky, Mara. Daddy loves you so much. If he could steal the world for you, he’d do it.”

Tears of frustration began to fall as my daughter threw her hands out in a tantrum, I laid her back against my thighs, and the girl squirmed from side to side unsatisfied with how everything was going. I attempted to keep my voice light, but with tears continuing to fall I couldn’t help but feel my heart get lodged into my throat, “I don’t know how to make it stop, sweetheart. You’re probably just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she hadn’t gotten much sleep in her bed which she had never gotten used to, but it was always me who had never gotten any sleep.

Lake stopped in front of me, noticing my sadness, he frowned. “Don’t cry, Mommy.” He said, his thumb coming forth to wipe away the tears falling. With the pacifier in his hand, he placed it into Amara’s mouth, whose crying began to stop. Lake crawled in beside me placing a pillow under his arm patting it softly and I took his hint. Passing Amara over to her older brother who had this gentle look in his eyes as he stared at the infant.

All the while, Lowen Hughes had gotten ahold of my phone, calling his father immediately. Pressing the phone over his ear, to listen to the ring. It wasn’t unusual that Lowen called his father, they made sure to check in on each other constantly, talking to their father through my text messages or calls.

“Hey, Bird I’m kind of busy right now. So I’ll need to call you back. Later tonight with the boys-”

“Dad?” Lowen asked gently making sure to keep his voice down to that I wouldn’t hear. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble for calling Dad while he was working.

There was a silent pause for a moment, one filled with confusion on the other end. “Hey, bud. What’re you doing with your mom’s phone?” A door shut on the other side, for privacy.

“Lake said that he saw mom crying with baby Amara,” Lowen stated quietly, he peered out the door checking to see the three of them were still occupied. “Mara is giving Mom a hard time. When do you get back?”

“I get back tomorrow morning, bud. I’ll be there when you wake up. Do you want to hand the phone to Mom?” At his father’s question, Lowen nodded, not realizing that his father couldn’t see him. The younger boy walked out into the living room, holding my phone out to me. I raised my brow in question and he mouthed back “Dad”.

With Lake and now, Lowen, being preoccupied with their little sister that was sleeping soundly in Lake’s arms. “Hey,” I spoke into the phone, my voice soft as a small smile finally graced my face, warmth filling my body at the thought of Jack calling me to check up on her.

“Lo called,” my heart dropped, “How’s my girl doing?” Jack’s voice was a comfort to hear, better than the screaming cries of our daughter on the couch.

The warmth was back, “Good, she misses you,” I spoke, clearly talking about myself as I kept hushed over the phone like it was a secret that I couldn’t share with anyone else, certain that Amara would scream in jealousy at me getting to talk to her father.

“Really? Lo said she was giving you a hard time. I’ll be home soon, babe.” The tears began to well up in my eyes again as I crouched into the corner, away from the sight of my children but my eyes were always trained on them. I had truly thought that he meant me. It was an honest mistake. I felt so fucking stupid and selfish thinking that I deserved more effort from my husband. This was the life that I had wanted.

My hand covered my sobs over my mouth, letting out a half hum of a reply. Everything was tuned out as I could hear the beeping of the other line completely missing everything that my husband was blabbering on about. Too focused on trying to slow my heart rate and compose herself for my children.

Through blurry tears, my finger hovered over the contact before pressing it, listening to the rings go through one after the other. The one person I knew would be there in a second without hesitance. Her best friend. And she would be sure to call Isla right after, knowing that she would want to know exactly what happened, though I didn’t need a mediator right now, I needed comfort that I was right to know that it was okay for me to feel like this rather than having to talk to my husband about it.

“Hey, Bird! Did you see that picture I sent you? Holls is a little troublemaker just like her father is.” Kiera cooed softly at her child, but I couldn’t hold it in, I sobbed into the phone curling my hands before pushing my nails deeply into my palms like I did when I was younger. “Oh my god, Bird! Are you okay? Fuck, I’m coming over, bringing Holls with me. You’re telling me everything!”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Holland and Amara were sleeping soundly upstairs. Kiera used one of the twins’ old cribs for Holland. Amara was quiet most of the time, having her Aunt Kiera set her into her bed while I cuddled up to Holland who was rather fond of me. Kiera soon took up her daughter –who had fallen asleep in her my arms– into a crib.

The brunette let me lean my head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. The twins put on some movie that they liked but eventually, it was going to be their bedtime too. “I swear, babies like everyone but the person that birthed them.” The brunette commented, her hand running through my hair in a soothing manner that I was sure could have me falling asleep in a few seconds.

“I don’t know how you do it, Kie.” I sighed, my body comforted in warmth between her sister and a blanket that my boys had placed on us.

Kiera just laughed, “Bird, you’ve got two amazing boys. And they’re twins by the way! With Amara, you’ve got three kids to take care of you. One isn’t even a year old yet! You’re doing great, Bird.” She kissed the top of my head letting me be lulled to sleep. “I’ll put the boys to sleep, Bird. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Her arms tightened around me, squeezing me every once in a while to let me know that she was always there and when I could hear hushed whispers and small steps on the floor I finally calmed to sleep. The first time that I had in three days.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"You listen here Jack Hughes,” Kiera Finch’s finger pushed against her brother-in-law’s chest, “I’m taking your three children sometime this week. You are going to take out your wife, and show her that you still love her.” She spoke quietly, looking rather intimidating as baby Holland was placed onto her hip.

Nico kissed his wife on the cheek to which she smiled softly, patting his cheek gently before he grabbed onto the diaper bag pulling it up onto his shoulder. “Let’s go, firecracker.” He joked, beginning to poke Holland’s sides to which she giggled, hands reaching out towards her father.

Kie hummed, snapping her head back as she glared at Jack. “Understand? I’ll text you the details and when you will be doing it. Don’t screw this up, Hughes.” Despite his confusion at his sister-in-law’s speech and rather harsh scolding, he nodded along wishing nothing more than to curl up with his baby girl.

When the door shut, Jack smiled at the smell of his home knowing that his wife would be asleep in their bed. He decided that he didn’t want to wake her up, he would take some weight off her chest, get the two boys ready for school and little Amara up from her sleep.

He learned that he shouldn’t question when Kiera Hischier came over to their house, though he at least thought that she would’ve stopped with the nine-month-old but she never did. No matter how young the baby was or how tired they were Kiera always made time to see her big sister. Sometimes they even had Flora and Wren –Flora's step-daughter– come over with them. Wren was good with the younger girls, and it wasn’t a surprise when Bird told Jack that Wren had asked Flora when she and Dawson were going to have a kid.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I didn't sleep as long as I wanted to. If I could’ve stayed asleep in a coma, I would’ve, but the overwhelming smell of bacon filled the room. I realized that early on during my pregnancy with Amara, I hated the smell of bacon, the sad reality was that it turns out that it was something that never ended after she was born. Which was extremely upsetting because I really loved bacon.

After getting ready, I walked into the kitchen. Smiling at my children, Lo and Lake sat at the table chowing down their pancakes. Their appetites were quite large for five-year-olds but it wasn’t something unusual. Ellen said that J’s eating habits were the same as a kids.

“Babe, you’re up! I thought I’d let you sleep in a bit.” Jack’s voice made me jump. I knew that he was supposed to be back but something in my mind had pushed it back. As he leaned forward for a kiss, I turned my face allowing him to kiss my cheek. No ‘I missed you’ or ‘I love yous’ from either of us, a tension filling the room.

I ignored my husband, kissing my boys on their heads. Smiling at Amara who giggled softly, in a much better mood with her father home now. Pressing a kiss to her head, I ran a hand over her head feeling the amount of hair. There was quite a bit, especially for so young but I loved her regardless, certain that she picked it up from my younger sister; Flora, who had a full head of blonde hair practically as soon as she was born.

The two boys placed their dishes into the sink, grabbing their lunches that had been packed the day before. The three of us had a routine down by the start of October with Jack’s morning skates. Normally they consisted of Amara tagging along with us but I assumed that Jack wanted the little girl to himself for a while. Getting in their constant father-daughter bonding time.

I grabbed my phone off the charger, seeing the missed call from last night. I could the van door slam shut outside. “Shit, sorry I missed your call.” I frowned, shoving the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. At the sudden grasp on my waist, I gasped, steadying myself by holding onto Jack’s shoulders.

“We should do something today. You, Amara, and I? What do you say, Mama?” His charming smile almost made me want to say yes. To spend the entire day together, hoping that the hole that was in my heart filled with borrowed time. A sudden whine interrupted Jack from saying anything more, he sighed leaning his head onto my shoulder.

“Your girl is calling you,” I teased, and I know that I shouldn’t have made the dig. It was our baby. It was my baby. It felt wrong that I felt so jealous of something so small, something so big in our life, something I knew might’ve happened. I didn’t have a right to feel like this, it wasn’t right to feel like this. “I’ve got errands to run today. Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, okay.” It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t see the sadness on his face, our daughter squealing in anger needing some sort of attention from her father, but Jack couldn’t even stay focused watching me, his wife, walk out of the house like there was nothing wrong when we both knew deep down that something was so very wrong.

#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #jack hughes #nhl x reader #nhl hockey #nico hischier imagine #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #hughes brothers #cvpiddszn writes

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insomniakisses · 11 months

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The king’s Daughter and the Queen | 2

Character: Alicent Targaryen Neè Hightower (HOTD)

Taglist: @fuckinglittlekitten, @sydneyyyya, @federalclassroom, @watercolorskyy

Warnings/notes: death of the king, brief mentions of plotting to take the throne, omega!alicent, Alpha!reader, omegaverse au, tw; Otto.

One. / Three. / Three (Alt. Ver)

Just then a knock sounded on the door, a servant entering with the news that would change your lives.

—

“Princess, I have a message” you hear your handmaiden call from out side the door.

“What is it?” You call, pulling alicent closer in your hold. A smile pulling at her lips when you kiss her cheek.

“The king… he is dead.”

You feel Alic stiffen next to you and your eyes widening at the news. On one hand you feel a rush of happiness and relief. With your liver now a free woman you could marry her, and publicly parent your kids. On the other hand you felt saddened by wishing your fathers death all of this time.

Then one thing came to mind, Rhaenyra. Though you loved your sister, you knew that she would forbid the marriage between you and Alicent and put your children to the sword for you could not tell her they were your own. Unless… maybe it wouldn’t hurt?

“What do we do?” Your broken out of your thoughts by your Alicent’s voice, “We… We invite Rhaenyra here, we discuss whats to happen with her. She is heir.”

“We cannot!” She gasps, “She will kill our children, Y/n please don’t do this!”

You couldn’t bare the look in her eyes, the pain and fear of losing your children. You sigh agreeing and excusing yourself to check on the children. While it was not a total lie, you took the time to send a raven to your sister not mentioning great detail just that the king had taken a turn for the worst and there were things to discuss.

The next stop you made was helaena’s room finding her awake you asked if she needed anything to which she asked for her mother’s presence. You coo and tell her to go to your chambers.

Aemond is next you find him leaving his room as you approach you see him try to hide his smirk bowing slightly, “I am sorry for your loss mother,” you smile kissing his forehead and pulling him to a hug one he reciprocates eagerly.

“Oh my sweet boy,” you coo kissing his head once more. “If you want more cuddles you can join me and your mom in my chamber? Hel is already there?” He nods a smile pulling at his lips heading off in that direction before he pauses turning to look at you once more.

“D-does this.. mean i can call you mama in public now?” He asks hesitantly, though you hear the excitement hidden in his words. “Yes baby,” you smile, “you can call me mama whenever you like.”

Pleased with the answer he takes his leave again, as you make your way to your eldest son. Pushing open the door your greeted with Aegon sitting on his window ledge staring blankly at the sky.

“Aegon?” You question making your way to him, he turns to you then face soaked in tears as more escape his fearful eyes. His expression emotionless and a quiver in his voice, “Mama.. I don’t want to be king,” he cries. Moving to burry himself in your arms. “Please don’t make me”

You wipe his tears grabbing his head and placing a firm kiss to it. “Never.” With the confirmation he relaxes slightly, his exhaustion taking over. Scooping him up you make your way back to your room, smiling at the sight of your love cuddling with your children, placing Aegon down next to Aemond you climb in too wrapping your arms around him as you all cuddle up together. Enjoying the calm and freedom of the moment.

Your eyes begin to shut and your mind falls back to your promise. It’s then that your mind is made up. You could save your children from a life of fear by telling your sister of their true parents, but you could not save them from the misery of duty to the crown. No. You would all swear oath to your sister and you would save your children and Alicent no matter the cost.

Soooo part 2 is out! I hope you like the dynamics! What do we all think? Will Rhaenyra see the good or the bad in the news she will receive? Will she be over come by anger at her once friends hypocrisies or the love for her dear sibling? 🤔

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon imagines #hotd imagines #hotdu #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon omegaverse #hotd alicent #queen alicent #alicent targaryen #alicent x reader #alicent hightower #alicent imagines #alicent targaryen x reader #alicent targaryen imagines #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower imagines

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moeitsu · 1 month

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: The battle begins, and the past is revealed.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh

“I’d known death since I was a child. It’s everywhere. In every form you can imagine. And a few your worst nightmare couldn’t muster. As if death was not the result of accidents and disease, death was its own disease. But it had never touched me. It had never placed its rotten finger on my heart. Yes, freedom has fangs. And it sunk them in me. ” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Lorena's hooves pounded against the slope, carrying Kate down into the valley where a few wagons had come to a halt, isolated from the main caravan. Raiders swarmed around them, gunfire echoing in the night as chaos unfolded. With the sun sinking below the horizon, Kate strained to discern the attackers' numbers in the darkness.

Six horsemen emerged from the west, joined by several more riding over the slope from the north. Kate's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. What are raiders doing this far south in the plains? She asked herself, trying to plan a course of action.

They used the cover of night to their advantage, weaving between trees and shrubs, it was difficult to get a clear shot of them. But she witnessed Charles and Arthur spring into action. Their guns blazed as they lit up the night with each round sending orange sparks into the darkness. As Lorena closed the distance, Kate spotted two wagons left behind: one belonging to John and Abigail, and the other a supply wagon driven by Lenny and Sean. She knew the raiders would target the supplies and likely attempt to steal their horses too.

This left the fighting to Arthur, Charles, and Javier. Who turned back at the sound of the commotion. Lenny and Sean leapt into the wagon for cover as they began shooting blind into the night, the horses crying out in fear. Kate couldn't see Abigail, and she prayed she was well hidden in the wagon with Jack. She made headway to his wagon first.

She pulled her rifle from her saddle and called out to John, who was firing round after round from his revolver, doing no good against the fast riding raiders.

“John!” she shouted, catching his attention, he looked down from his seat in the wagon.

“Kate?” He said, taken back by the sight of her, “you need to find cover!” Concern laced his voice.

She ignored his statement, holding the rifle up for him, “take this, it's a better shot. Aim for the shrubs, they're using them as cover.” She urged.

John nodded and took the weapon without hesitation, quickly counting the rounds in the ammunition, “thanks, what will you use?” He asked, already getting in position to take aim.

“Don’t worry about me,” she answered, determination in her voice, “protect your family.”

Lorena brought her around to the back of the wagon and she peered inside, sure enough Abigail was clutching Jack to her breast, white knuckled and face scrunched in silent fear. As if she was hoping this was just a bad dream they would wake from. Jack, trying to be brave, trembled in his mother's arms. Without hesitation, Kate leaped into the wagon, placing a comforting hand on Abigail's shoulder. She startled at her touch, “easy Abigail, it's just me, you need to take this.” She held out her own revolver. Abigail opened her eyes and shook her head with a sob. Kate's heart throbbed at the sight of her.

"I’m not letting go of him!" she cried, her voice quivering with emotion. "When is this going to end?" Her plea carried the weight of past traumas, threatening to overwhelm her.

Knowing they had no time to waste, Kate pressed the revolver into Abigail's trembling hand. She needed a means to defend herself if the worst was going to happen. Jack whimpered at the sounds of gunfire coming from John at the seat of the wagon. She gave him a reassuring look, “be brave for your momma okay? If anybody comes, you shout for me and I’ll come runnin’,” she added with a smile, placing a hand on his little head. He nodded in understanding.

Lorena waited at the back of the wagon as Kate mounted her and took off towards the fray. She needed to come up with a plan, and fast. She gave her firearms to the Marston family. Which left her with only close range weapons. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a tomahawk. It had been a long time since she’s used an old weapon of war.

With determination she nudged her mare in the belly and took off. The familiar leather grip of her tomahawk left her with a sense of bitter nostalgia. Memories of an old friend came flooding back, and old instincts she had long buried bubbled to the surface.

In the distance, she spotted Arthur, locked in combat with a raider. His skill and ferocity were undeniable as he dispatched two foes with swift precision. Kate watched, her heart heavy with unspoken truths.

Arthur is wrestling with a giant, Charles' words sounded in her mind. She had faced her own giants, and kept them at bay like a hunter taming a wild beast. She never got the chance to tell him. She would release her giant tonight, and if they survived, she vowed to share her secrets with Arthur, laying bare the depths of her soul.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Under the cloak of night, time seemed to stretch endlessly, though mere minutes had passed. The raiders fell one by one, a testament to their careful strategy. It dawned on the others that shooting wildly was futile; they needed to close the gap.

For Kate, the chaos played to her strengths. While she lacked skill with a gun, in close combat, she was unparalleled. The sickening crunch of bone echoed as her tomahawk met the skull of a raider, sending him crashing to the ground. The scene before her, once familiar yet now unsettling, reminded her of the darkness she had left behind. Yet, there was no joy in the violence; only relief that she no longer found pleasure in such brutality.

With only a few foes left standing, Arthur's gaze found hers, his worry palpable. She reassured him with a nod, urging him to focus on the task at hand.

Scanning the chaotic scene, Kate spotted a lone raider sneaking up on John's wagon, his focus fixed on protecting his brother. With a swift movement, she sprang into action.

She hollered to get the man's attention, as well as Johns. It didn't matter who took him down, as long as he was stopped. Closing the distance, she gripped her weapon high, readying for the strike. The raider turned just as Kate swung, narrowly missing his head as a shot rang out. She was unsure if it was John’s or the bandits until pain shot through her side. The man barely squeezed by her horse and the wagon, and took off in the opposite direction. Ignoring the pain, Kate followed.

Arthur joined the chase, and together they pursued the raider. Lorena surged forward, fueled by the thrill of the chase. Leaning down to her horse's ear, Kate whispered, "Feels like old times, huh, girl?" Lorena snorted in agreement. Despite her clingy and skittish nature. She was bred to be a war horse, and in her blood she fought just as savagely as her rider.

She closed in and brought her mare tauntingly close to the last man. With a swift motion she collided the blade with the man's ankle, nearly cutting his own foot off, causing him to fall out of the saddle. He did not reach for his weapon, as he used his last round in an attempt to kill her, instead he lay on his back and put his hands out in mercy.

Kate dismounted and trudged over to him.

“I-I’m unarmed!” He pleaded, “please miss you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man!”

She tossed the tomahawk to the ground and the man eased for a moment, until she pulled her hunting knife out of her belt. His eyes widened and he tried to stand, but his ankle was only holding on by a bit of flesh.

Arthur finally caught up to them and dismounted, “don’t kill him yet Kate, we need to find out who they are. They could be O’Driscolls.” Kate ignored him, the pain in her side igniting into a blazing fire. The metallic tang of her own blood filled her senses, but she pushed past it with a fierce glare.

“Don’t look like an O'Driscoll to me,” she rasped. Fighting the urge to drive her knife into his belly. Echoes of an old mantra rang in her ears, “our job is to ensure our enemies fear is greater than their greed.”

“I-I aint an O’Driscoll, we’re just a couple of horse thieves. That’s all,” the man pleaded, using his forearms to distance himself from her.

The world felt dizzy, her memories of her past began mixing with the present. “That’s all?” She mocked, “you would take these people’s lives,” her voice hoarse, “just for a few horses?” Before he could answer she forcefully kicked him in the belly, hard enough to break a few ribs. The man rolled onto his stomach and spit up blood.

In a flash, Kate mounted the man from behind, gripping a fistfull of his hair and forcefully pulling back towards her chest. She placed the knife at the edge of his throat, Arthur saw the fire in her eyes as she ended the man's life, sickeningly slow.

As she drew the blade over his neck she muttered the words low in his ear, “what you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.”

As the raider choked on his own blood, Kate dropped his head in the dirt. The wound was not deep enough to kill him quickly. He would asphyxiate for the next several hours, a combination of bleeding out and choking to death. He would teeter on the brink of consciousness, not knowing if he is alive or dead. It was a slow sentence, a merciless one. It was pure torture.

Arthur stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Kate. He had witnessed his fair share of violence, and dealt with his own. But the intensity in her eyes was unfamiliar, unsettling. She seemed transformed, a wildness emanating from her like a primal force.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” he said awkwardly, unsure if it was the right thing to say at the moment. He had seen a different side of her. And he had a feeling it was one that she was clearly trying to keep buried. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and he was left grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Kate retrieved her tomahawk and mounted her horse, her movements strained with pain. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Morgan," she replied tersely, her usual sharpness replaced by a somber tone. "We need to keep moving," she added, urging her horse forward. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain mixed with rage and shame and fear. A whirlwind of emotions, it had been years since she killed somebody. She vowed to give that life up. And now, she was riding off with a bunch of outlaws. Leaving behind a bloody battlefield. Arthur watched her ride off, a knot of worry forming in his stomach.

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They rode past Dewberry Creek and down to Clemens Point. A hidden spot on the peninsula of the lake, only a few miles from Rhodes. It was a decent hiding spot. As the last of the caravan pulled in, the members who made it ahead of the chaos came rushing out to greet them.

As Kate was the last to reach Clemens Point, the weight of the recent events hung heavy on her shoulders. She gazed out at the lake, its surface reflecting the dim light of the moonlit sky. A secluded spot on the beach offered a brief respite from the chaos that had engulfed them, and Kate welcomed the solitude.

Dismounting her horse, she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones like a heavy blanket. Her hands, streaked with dirt and blood, trembled slightly as she reached for the saddle buckles. With a heavy sigh, she removed the burden from Lorena's back, the weight of it suddenly feeling unbearable. As Lorena trotted off to the water's edge, letting out a contented sigh as the coolness soothed her weary joints, Kate couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps she had pushed her loyal mare a bit too hard today.

Grabbing a brush from her saddlebag, Kate set to work cleaning Lorena's coat, the rhythmic motion a comforting distraction from the chaos that had unfolded. In the distance, she could hear the other members of the gang recounting the night's events, their voices a mix of concern, exhaustion, and celebration.

As a pair of hooves approached, Kate knew without looking that it was Arthur. Dismounting, he joined her by the water's edge, letting Belle cool herself alongside Lorena. "Mind if I join ya?" he asked quietly, uncertainty lacing his voice. Kate nodded in response, and Arthur settled onto the sand beside her, kicking off his boots to let the water lap at his feet.

The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of frogs and cicadas filling the night. It felt strange to be going back east, but somehow it didn’t bother her that her journey had been interrupted.

After a moment of silence, Kate broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "You wanna tell me what happened in Valentine?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Arthur sighed heavily, his gaze distant as he recounted the events of the day. "It started with the train job. The law showed up fast, too fast, and we barely made it out of there," he explained. "Cornwall's men nearly killed John the next morning. We made it out, but not without killing half the town.”

Kate shook her head in disbelief, her heart heavy with the weight of Arthur's words. Before she could respond, Arthur spoke again, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I never wanted to drag you into all this mess. Especially after what Micah did," he added with a bitter scoff. "I don’t know why you turned back."

"I didn't do it just for you," Kate replied after a moment, her gaze meeting Arthur's with unwavering determination. "I did it for Abigail and her boy. From one mother to another." Arthur looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He caught the new information, but his heart fluttered at the idea that she turned back for him as well.

“I’ve never seen a woman fight like that, it was,” he trailed and Kate was the one to interrupt this time.

“I know, you don't have to say it. I’m not exactly proud of it,” she looked down in shame.

Arthur offered a warm smile, “I was gonna say it was real brave.”

She smiled sadly and shook her head, “still don’t make it right.”

“It was either us or them Kate, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Arthur reassured her. “You know, I’d understand if you still want to leave. But we could surely use some of that bravery around here.”

Kate nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself to share something important. “I’ll stay Arthur,” she began, “but, there’s some things I think you should know about me.”

“We all come from different places, your past is your past,” he said sincerely, “If you don’t wanna share that I don’t want you to think ya have to.” Her heart warmed at the gesture, he was being considerate. After everything he saw he would still grant her the privacy of her past, but that wasn't her plan.

“No, I want to tell you,” Kate paused, collecting her thoughts, “I think you’ll understand me better. And after what happened at the Downes ranch, I owe it to you.”

Arthur’s curiosity peaked, the conversation from a fortnight weighed heavy on his mind. And he wanted to know how her story tied into that. His mind already raced with assumptions, after seeing the way she fought he couldn't help but wonder if she was on the run from the law too. Or something worse.

“Alright,” he settled back against the sand, giving her his full attention. “I’m here to listen, Kate.”

With a heavy sigh, she decided to start from the beginning. “I’ve known death since I was a child. It began with a railway accident in Boston that took my mother and little sister from me, leaving behind my father and older brother. At the time, my father owned a ranch where we raised dairy cattle. He didn’t take their deaths well, and fell into a depression. My brother and I couldn't keep up with the work alone, so we were forced to sell and move. Thankfully, a family friend took us in on their farm. It was there I met my husband, and for a while, we were sweet on one another.”

Kate recalled the memories, her heart flooding with grief, “we lived there a few years. And when my brother was old enough he joined a mining company, and it was another accident that took his life too. It sent my father over the deep end, and so he hung himself in the barn. Like he suddenly forgot he still had a living child.”

Arthur's face softened, understanding the weight of her losses. To him, it sounded like Kate had a proper family—one that truly loved and cared for each other.

“I got married the next year, and finally things felt like they were turning for the better. My husband and I built a little ranch together. In a few years, we welcomed a baby girl into our home.” Her voice choked with emotion. “My life felt as perfect as it could get. I miss my family dearly, but I felt like I was carrying on their memory by starting my own.”

Arthur didn't want to think about where her story was going; it was painfully familiar to him. Kate shifted in the sand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up her side. She had forgotten about the bullet in her flesh. The area had gone numb, and the mixed feelings of grief and searing pain caused tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Lorena didn’t even make it through her first summer before disease took her from me, and as if death couldn't have enough, it took my husband from me too.” Her voice shook with pain.

Arthur sighed, his heart full of sympathy as he observed Kate's emotional turmoil. "Oh, Kate," he said softly, reaching out to comfort her. However, his concern heightened as he noticed the sand around her stained red. "Kate, you're bleeding!" His voice rose with worry.

She nodded, wincing as she reached around her side. "I got shot," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Arthur was already getting up to inspect the wound. "Let me see."

Kate untucked her shirt and lifted it up for Arthur to examine. The bullet had entered just above her hip bone, lodged in the fatty area of her waist. "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

With gentle fingers, Arthur prodded at the wound. It was angry and swollen, and she winced at his touch. He concluded that the bullet was still inside, "the bullet’s still in there, but I think I can get it out. I don't think it hit anything important," he noted, assessing the severity of her injury.

Kate nodded and lifted her shirt further, revealing deep faded scars scattered across her back in the moonlight. “Jesus, Kate,” Arthur muttered softly in surprise. He paused before touching her again, afraid that she might break beneath him like an old clay pot. "What happened?" His voice was as soft as a whisper, fearful of what her answer might reveal.

Closing her eyes, Kate winced once again as Arthur’s hands returned to her wound. “I’ll tell ya once you get this thing out of me,” she replied.

Arthur nodded and, with a gentle hand, held the front of her waist while using his other hand to extract the bullet like it was a cyst, squeezing it out agonizingly slow. Instinctively, she grabbed onto his hand around her waist for support, finding solace in his warmth.

“There, got it,” Arthur said, a hint of pride in his voice as he handed Kate the small pebble that had caused her so much discomfort. “Think of it like a souvenir,” he joked.

“I’ve got plenty of souvenirs,” she mused, tossing the bullet into the lake. Arthur understood she was referring to the scars.

“Come back to my tent,” Arthur suggested, “I’ll stitch you up while you continue to catch me up on the last 10 years of your life.” His tone was playful, an attempt to lighten her mood. Arthur could already tell that her life had been incredibly hard, and seeing the marks on her back only confirmed his fears. Kate nodded, and Arthur helped her walk back to his tent.

To her surprise, the camp was put together rather quickly. Most of the members had settled down around the fire or had gone to bed. Arthur’s things were off to the side of the small clearing, offering him some privacy. His wagon had not been completely unloaded, but there was a cot, as well as a milk crate and an oil lamp. It was no hospital but it would have to do. He gently helped her sit down on his cot while he rummaged through his belongings for the right supplies to stitch her wound. Kate took the opportunity to continue her story.

“Funny thing about this land,” she started, “our constitution says all men are created equal. But I’m a woman, a widow. They tell us our land is free, but what freedom do I have? I cannot own land, can’t take out a loan, can’t purchase anything in my own name. Choices come with freedom, but I had no choices at all.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look, he wasn't always proud of his sex. Most of the men in his life were not good role models, and he himself couldn't understand why some men treated women the way that they did.

“I had an aunt in Southern California, I never met her but my father had talked about her growing up. So I wrote to her, in a handful of pages I explained everything. And begged her to let me live with her,” she inhaled sharply as Arthur cleaned her wound with alcohol.

“I was a sorry sight,” she remarked, “I was so terrified to be on my own, and travel across the entire country just to avoid being sent to a nunnery or sold to another man as his bride. I had enough money to get me to Virginia, and after that I had to find my own way.”

In the dim light Arthur sat crouched on the ground beneath her while Kate sat in his cot. She looked down at him, working diligently and so tenderly to clean her wound as painless as possible. His gaze was fixed and intent while he worked, but Kate knew he was taking in every word she said.

“So I joined a caravan that was heading west to Arizona. I figured they could at least get me close enough. Only problem was they were all German, and had very little knowledge of how to travel across the American west," Kate said with a bitter chuckle, “there were a few ranchers that came with us, and we tried to teach them what we could. Most of them couldn't even ride a horse!” She exclaimed.

Arthur blew out a breath, “oh they were doomed from the start.”

“It started with 72 of us, and we began to lose people as soon as we hit the Appalachian trail. Their carelessness became contagious; sickness and snakes, bad horses and poison berries. But of all the perils awaiting us, there was one word so feared it was barely spoken and barely whispered… the river.”

Arthurs blood went cold. He couldn’t imagine the fear and terror as innocent families were ripped apart by dark waters. Punished simply for seeking a better life. The land was more merciless than any outlaw he knew. He noticed Kate relax under his touch, he worked gently as he ran the pad of his thumb over the flesh of her scars. Small bumps and lines, like tiny mountains in a cartography map. Like these scars mapped her history. Where she stood tall and brave in the face of danger. He admired her, being young and alone in this world was terrifying. He knew that feeling well.

“The Kanawha river nearly took all of us that day. We came out the other side with barely 15 people,” Kate shook her head at the memory, “I thought we had seen the worst. But it was only the beginning, Arthur.”

He looked up at the sound of his name, her voice trembling with fear. Their eyes locked and he saw a broken girl looking back at him. They shared a silent moment of understanding. He had heard stories from Appalachia, it was something a child could not muster even in their worst nightmares. Reaching for her arm, he squeezed her gently, “Kate,” he said softly, like he was crooning a baby, “you don’t have to tell me if the memories hurt.”

Warmth spread over her cheeks as silent tears fell, her heart was in her throat. It had been so long since she talked to someone about it. For the first time in years she felt like Arthur was the only person truly seeing her.

“We had crossed into Lakota hunting territory,” she continued, “there was a feud over the land between the tribe and the Virginia government. But it didn’t matter for us, the Indians came anyway. They killed all the men, leaving only myself and two other girls. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. I was no use with a gun and I had no idea where to go. So they took me.”

“And I knew I was going to die.”

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

Note

Forgive me for the bad English, I'm using google translator. I'm really loving Daemon and his stepdaughter, could you do one in which Aegon or Viserys tries to play with one of the reader's daughters and one of the brothers gets jealous and hits him, I really wanted to see a jealous Rhaenyra demanding justice and Daemon protecting her sons and stepdaughter

A/N: I hope you like it! It's totally alright!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader

summary: Aegon or Viserys tries to play with one of the reader's daughters and one of the brothers gets jealous and hits him, I really wanted to see a jealous Rhaenyra demanding justice and Daemon protecting her sons and stepdaughter

Word count: 1,2K

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"What are you doing?" You looked up from the cloth in between your fingers. Daemon stood a couple of feet away from you leaning against the back of the chair in front of you. You smiled brightly at the sight of your beloved husband.

"I am attempting at make a shirt for Baeron" You answered, holding up the piece of cloth that resembled a shirt but with no sleeves.

"Our child will get hypothermia in that" Daemon teased moving to sit down on the chair. A glare grew on your face much to his amusement.

"I am still not done with it, husband" You replied, hugging the cloth to yourself. Daemon's laugh boomed around the room making you giggle as well. Your eyes trailed to the side where your mother was sat with your brother Jacaerys as Aegon and Jacaella played with each other and surprisingly Maelor was sat to the side with your mother.

"I am sure it will be perfect, you did sew all of Jacaella's clothing as a babe" Daemon earned your attention again. Your heart melted at his soothing words, it almost made you melt right then and there.

"Yes, although I have not found time to do the same for the rest of our children since they kept coming" You joked. Daemon chuckled, pushing himself off the chair and moved over to your chair crouching down placing a hand on your knee.

"I can give you another if that is what you desire" Daemon drummed his finger letting them slide up your thigh teasingly. One of your hands came down slapping his own, not strong enough to hurt though.

"No, I think six is enough, an even number of boys and girls" You dismissed the idea. Daemon's lip pouted pulling at your heart strings but you will not yield besides this man had ten children, what more did he want from you?

"No Daemon" You were firm this time around. Daemon huffed exactly like Valeron does when he does not get what he wants, his father's son.

"Maelor!" You both jumped at the sound of your mother shouting angrily. Daemon moved to stand in a flash and you threw the cloth on the floor also jumping to your feet. Jacaerys was holding Jacaella as she cried while your brother Aegon was sitting on the floor looking shocked but what made your blood boil was how your mother was towering down over your son holding his bicep in what looked like a very tight grip.

"What has happened?" Daemon asked. He moved close to the scene also noting the way your mother was holding your son. You moved over to Aegon helping him up from the floor before also turning to your mother.

"Maelor pushed Aegon to the floor" She answered. She glared at Daemon but moved her gaze giving the same glare to the six namedays boy.

"Let him go, I will scold him and teach him that he should not do that" You moved closer to your mother and took hold of your son's arm gently. She did not let go though and instead she glared at you.

"He needs to be punished, not scolded" She shook his small body as if he were a ragged doll.

"Rhaenyra!" Daemon yelled making you all freeze. Your mother had let go of Maelor shocked at the tone Daemon was using with her now.

"Daddy, Maelor only wanted to help, Aegon was pulling my hair" Jacaella sobbed. She barely found the bravery to peek out from Jacaerys' chest to look her father before hiding again.

"That is not excuse for him to push Aegon down" Your mother hissed. Aegon moved closer to you hugging your waist as you stepped back with your son also hugging your waist. One of your hands moved to comfort your son while the other moved to comfort your brother.

"You are a real hypocrite you know-" Daemon stepped closer to your mother almost in a threatening way.

"-you want to punish a child for a mere push to protect his sister but refused to punish another for pulling out the eye of another" Daemon looked your mother up an down in disgust. You shivered at the memory of Aemond loosing his eye. You had been there trying to break up the fight and ended up unharmed but the nightmares were still there.

"It was a different situation" Your mother tried to defend. Her eyes caught sight of Aegon seeking your comfort instead of hers making her realise that maybe she may have overdone it.

"Tis not! One was your son hurting your brother and now tis your son hurting your granddaughter" Daemon pointed at the children. Aegon sobbed against your hip feeling fear of the fight going on between his father and mother.

"I did not mean to! My finger got caught in her hair" Aegon tried justifying. You shushed him with a small kiss on his hair line making his tense muscles relax a little.

"He is your son as well" Rhaenyra ignored her son's words glaring heatedly at her husband, your husband.

"He is and I would die for him but if he were to have done something wrong I would teach him that it is wrong, not spoil him y demanding justice when he should be the one being punished" Daemon replied. You knew that he would have done the same if it were your child who had down so.

"You would punish your own child?" Your mother seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack, eyes as wide as possible and her chest heaved for breath.

"I would but this situation requires no punishment" Daemon responded. He turned to face you and the two children hugging you. He crouched down to their height gentle.

"Come here you two" He ordered. The two boys let go of you and faced their father hesitantly.

"Apologise to one another" He demanded. The two boys turned to look at one another almost shyly.

"I am sorry, Aeg, I did not meant to hurt you" Maelor spoke up first. You had taught him to always admit when he was wrong, that was what a true king should do and it was your job to teach your heir so.

"I am sorry too" Aegon responded twiddling with his fingers shyly.

"Now Aegon, apologise to your sister for hurting her" Daemon pointed at Jacaella. She pulled away from Jacaerys wiggling for him to place her back on the ground while she rubbed the tears away from her eyes.

"I'm sorry Jacy I did not mean to hurt you" Aegon walked over to hug her. She accepted the hug happily wrapping her small arms around him with a smile on her face.

"Tis alright! Do you want to play hide and seek?" She asked brightly. She pulled away to look at her uncle/brother.

"I would like that, Maelor would you like to join?" Aegon turned to his brother. Maelor nodded his head and moved to follow the two leaving the room.

"You should teach your child not to use violence next time" Your mother seethed with anger.

"Maelor used anger because he was jealous, he was sulking the entire time and I think he used the hair pull as an excuse for the violent act" Jacaerys explained. You and Daemon turned to look at each other, you were worried while Daemon only smirked brightly.

"Ah I see how it is then" Was all Daemon replied laughing to himself but you could not find it in yourself to join him, instead you eyed your mother who was still glaring angrily at you.

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tobitofunction · 1 year

Text

Child of Mine

The children of one of the Champions look suspiciously like the Hero of Hyrule aka Harwin Strong and Rhaenyra from HOTD minus the death

TW: childbirth, pain of childbirth and blood

Also just for clarity:

Alec- oldest (your hair colour + blue eyes), Lenor- middle (blond + blue eyes but looks like you)

Jace- youngest (looks like a mix between both you and Link)

Part2

The sounds of a crying newborn filled the room which was previously filled with the sounds of screaming, crying and cursing from a certain Champion,” It’s a boy. Hylia bless the mother” a nurse said handing you the newborn, tears of joy began rolling down your sweaty cheeks,” Is he healthy?”,” Kicking like a horse, my lady” the nurse said with a smile, you giggled and pressed your lips against his small head, the baby snuggled into your embrace,” Lady y/n, the Queen wants to see the baby” a maid said, it was Zelda’s personal maid, you didn’t say anything but just pulled the blanket closer over your son before you slowly got up with the help of the nurses and maids,” I will take him myself than” you said closing your eyes as you felt a sting of pain flow through your body and blood flow down your legs,” You should remain in bed, my Lady. The Queen wouldn’t want you in any pain” the maid said trying to get you back down on the bed,” Get me dressed” you said ignoring what she said previously. You sighed in pain as they began dressing you, the baby in your arms seemed to have fallen asleep but it didn’t last long as you had to hand the baby over so you could be dressed probably, the second the baby left your arms, his cries began to fill the room again making your heart clench.

“How much do you wanna bet that the child was born with suspicious golden hair or brilliantly blue eyes?” Teba asked playing with his bow,” Shh” Yunbo said nervously looking around for either the Queen or her loyal knight,” Why? We can all see it, well all besides our Queen and that husband of hers” Teba continued,” Are you sure that Master Link is the father? Lady Y/N, the husband is a Sheikah, isn’t there a small possibility -”,” How does a white-haired man with red eyes and a woman with h/c and e/c make children with golden blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, Mmmh?” Teba cut the young Goron off,” You might be a Champion but your words still will be seen as treason,” Riju said making the Rito roll his eyes,” I am just being truthful”l,” Nature works in mysterious ways, my friend”, Sidon reasoned”,” I don’t care if Link is the father but I doubt the Sheikah’s would like someone being their chief with no blood connection to them” Teba shrugged, soon Zelda entered the room ending the questioning of your children parentage.” Did the maid bring the baby yet?” Zelda asked hopeful, just at this moment you walked in with the baby in your arms, and your husband Priven who was at your side helping you walk,” Y/N, why are you walking? You need to be in bed” Zelda gasped,” You wanted to see the baby” you said with a fake smile trying to mask the pain,” I didn’t expect you to bring the child, I should have come to you” she said with a sigh,” Here sit” she said helping you sit down,” He looks so cute” Zelda smiled peaking down at the child,” The two of you must be happy, he kind of looks like you Lord Priven” she said looking between you and your husband who smiled widely, you looked Priven up and down before giving a fake smile,” Can I hold him?” you nodded, Zelda smiled when you handed her the newborn, a small cry left the boy but he settled in quickly in the arms of the Queen,” Do you have a name?” she asked,” No-“,” Jace” your husband said cutting you off, you gave him an annoyed look,” An unusual name for a Sheikah?” Teba said gaining an elbow in the ribs from Riju,” How would you know? You aren’t Sheikah after all” she lifted a brow making the white Rite grumble” Did the birth go alright,” Riju then asked sitting down beside you,” I called the midwife a cunt, so all went well” you smiled,” If you're in much pain, I could try to heal you,” Sidon said,” I have been practising” he added, you gave him a smile,” I should be fine Sidon, he isn’t my first child, but thank you. Talking about children where are my other sons?”,”They’re with Link in their chambers” Zelda said cooing at the baby in her arms,” One day you might get a baby which will actually look like you?” Teba commented looking at the child and back at Priven, who nodded with a tight-lipped smile, you send the large bird a glare before looking at Zelda who didn’t seem to hear the comment,” We should see the children, they probably want to meet their baby brother” you said slowly getting up with the help of Riju and Sidon.

Link meanwhile watched the two boys playing with their toys with a fond smile,” Master Link, do you believe we get another brother?” the former youngest of your sons asked, his striking blue eyes staring into Link’s,” There is a possibility” he said ruffling his blond locks. The door swung open revelling you and your husband,” Mom, Dad look what we made for the baby” Alec your oldest said,” Purah helped us make it” Lenor said holding up the egg,” It’s a Sheikah egg” he added,” I let Lenor choose the design” Alec said making you ruffle his hair which was identical to yours,” That’s very sweet of you” you said sitting down in the couch,” How was the birth?” Link asked,” Painful like the others but it was worth it,” you said smiling down at the boy,” Have a name in place already?” you hummed,” My dear husband has,” you said looking up at the Sheikah male,” Jace” he smiled happily making Link nod,” Would it be alright for me to hold him?” Link said his eyes lingering on the sleeping baby in your arms,” Of course, come on boys. Let’s give some privacy to your mother and the baby. Sidon is still here if you’re fast enough you might still catch him” he said making the two boys faces light up with happiness and making them speed out the room. The Sheikah male turned to you and Link, he gave you a nod and a small smile before walking out of the room. Once they were gone you handed Link the baby,” He looks like a good mix from the both of us” you whispered, making Link blush and nod,” Hey, don’t sleep in front of Hyrule’s Knight Commander” Link said to sleep child making you chuckle, Link gently stroked the babies soft cheek with his thump,” It gets harder every time I see you guys, seeing the boys, how they carry some of my features but knowing that they never call me what they call your husband” he said looking down at Jace who was snoring softly. You sighed, you loved Link and he loves you back, but Link was the hero of Hyrule, his purpose was to protect the goddess descended and defeat the evil, this doesn’t leave much space for a wife and kids, doesn’t matter how much Link wants to, he doesn’t want his family to live in constant danger. So when Impa proposed a marriage between her grandchildren and one of the Champion it seemed like a gift, as the Priven who was the oldest of her Grandchildren, seemed to have little interest in you, so he agreed to the bargain of Link fathering the children and he just have to keep up the good husband and loving father front with you as his loyal wife, but another promise of never telling the children about their actual father was also put in place, something Link thought would be okay for him, as it was for their own safety but he never thought that it would hurt so much seeing his boys call someone else father,” Once the Sheikah elders find out it’s over for us...me” you said rubbing your now empty belly,” I hate to say it to you but the Sheikah’s are already talking” you bit your lip at Link’s words,” I know, so are our fellow Champion’s and your fellow knights, some are nicer than the others” you confessed,” Tell me who they are and I make sure they regret it” Link said with narrowed eyes,” Don’t, it will only bring more suspicion on you” you caressed his face gently,” I love you Link”,”I love you y/n” he said gently kissing you.

The door swung open revealing Zelda, the two of you jumped apart” Isn’t he the cutest?” Zelda asked Link plopping down beside him,” I don’t know how you do it y/n, 3 children. Maybe one day I can experience this as well” she said looking at the baby in her friend's arms blissfully unaware of the situation.” Zelda? Have you heard any rumours about my son’s parentage?” you asked as Link’s eyes widened,” Yes, but do not worry anyone who dares to spread those lies while punished” Zelda said firmly looking at you,” Thank you” you said trying to avoid her gaze.

“Lady Impa, news from the castle. Lady y/n gave birth to another boy” a messenger said,” Another boy, how wonderful” Impa said,” Those this message state a certain resemblance to the hero of Hyrule?” Robbie hummed making Impa shoot him a look,” Robbie please”, Robbie shrugged,” We all know it’s true. I love those kids but they aren’t Sheikah”,” Be careful my friend, these words can be seen as treason and the Queen won’t be kind on those who question the children’s parentage” Symin, Purah’s assistant said,” Not only that but blood doesn’t make family, love does and my grandson loves those boys to bits” Impa said,” Tell that to the other elder’s, they won’t see it as you do Impa” Robbie said making Impa sigh,” Your right but I am the Village main elder, so they will have to suck it up like the younglings say”.

Link walked outside the Castle, the boys were currently training with a fellow knight, a knight who doesn’t seem to like Link in the slightest,” Hello Commander” he said with a smirk,” Hello, how is the training going?” Link asked folding his arms over his chest,” Those boys are sloppy, which is surprising for having two- I mean one parent who is a Champion and another as Sheikah” he said making Link bit the inside of his cheek,” Well they are quite young, give them time” Link said,” Yeah, it’s just surprising, as you were besting soldier at their age and even pulled that fancy sword” he shrugged,” What do I have to do with it?”Link lifted a brow,” Oh nothing Commander, just because you put some much effort into their sword training and it’s not even showing progress” he said,” How I said they’re doing fine” Link said when suddenly Alec crashed to the ground, a small whimper leaving his mouth,” Alec, are you alright?” Link asked helping him up,” Yeah, I am fine Master Link,” he said dusting the dirt off his clothes, Link nodded and picked up the wooden sword he dropped,” Commander you need to stop babying them. If you want them to be like you, like father and-”,” Finish that sentence and you be done for” Link snapped,” Why? It was just a metaphor. It’s rare to see someone put so much effort into a child, usually, we see this kind of care only for family” he smirked. Link clenched his jaw, his fist tightening around the wooden sword. The Knight was about to say something when a familiar voice cut him off,” Link, may I speak to you?” Zelda said sternly, Link nodded and shoved the wooden sword into the knight's chest.

“Are you the father of y/n children? Tell me the truth” Zelda began as the two friends entered her chambers,” No-”,” Don’t lie to me, please, aren’t we friend?” she said softly. Linked hummed,” What gave it away?”,” Your reaction to the Knights' teasing. You usually don’t care about rumours, you brush them off like it’s nothing but all of a sudden this rumour made you nearly punch one of your knights”,” It’s a rumour about my honour, of course-”,” There were rumours about us being lovers, that you and Mipha were secretly married even though it was against her father wishes. These were rumours which could have damaged your honour as well but you didn’t care” Link sighed again,” I love her Zelda, and I love my boys. I don’t regret anything” he admitted,” Then why didn’t you say anything. I would have wedded the two of you in seconds” she sighed in frustration,” It’s not that. I’m the Hero of Hyrule, I have so many enemies. If they find out that y/n is my heart and that her boys were fathered by me, people will come after them. I couldn’t live with myself if they died or even got hurt because of me. Having Impa’s Grandson as a father to them is safe, no one would dare touch them, as in their eyes they can’t prove that I am the father of them. Blond hair isn’t evidenced enough when the father is white-haired” Link said making Zelda nod,” I understand, I won’t tell anyone but please, stop having kids. You two are walking a very fine line here” Zelda warned Link, nodded knowing she is right,” I thought I was going crazy, I know nature works in mysterious ways but when I see one of the boys they always reminded me of you somehow, either in personality or looks, but now I am glad that I am not crazy” she joked lightening the mood,” They got some of my features, yeah but they mostly take after their mother” Link nodded,” Thankfully, as a few similarities to you can be explained away but a child which looks like you exactly will be impossible-”,” I know” Link cut her off.

Zelda watched as your boys were saying their goodbyes to the other Champions, mostly to Sidon, who the boys adore and vice versa. Alec's blond looks glisten in the sun, identical to her knight,” You called for me?” your voice said from behind her,” I’m sorry for disturbing you, but I wanted to talk to you” Zelda said helping you sit down,” It’s fine the baby is sleeping” you smiled,” I know about you and Link” Zelda said directly making your smile drop,” I don’t-“,” Y/N, please don’t lie” you looked at your lap,” I’m so sorry” you whispered, Zelda sighed and grabbed your hand, giving them a squeeze,” It’s fine, I just feel so stupid that I didn’t see it from the beginning” she scoffed with a smile,” Maybe it’s a good thing?” you said softly making her nod,” Hopefully not many people will continue to see the resemblance” she gave your hand another squeeze,” I love your children very much, and I will do whatever is in my power to make sure they are safe” you placed your other hand on top of hers and gave a grateful smile,” Thank you”. The door suddenly swung open revealing Link,” The Yiga clan, they have attacked Lord Priven on his way to the Sheikah Village” Link said, you gasped and Zelda’s eyes widened,” Do the boys-”,” No, they aren’t aware of this, yet” Link answered you,” How is his condition?” Zelda asked,” Impa message said it was critical, they will try everything in their power to bring him back to health” Link said,” Why was he attacked? The Yiga never posted a problem to him... us” Link sighed,” I wish I knew, but until your husband recovered we will not know” Link said softly,” Link, make sure the Champion’s don’t leave and when they have sent a messenger for them to turn back. I have a feeling this attack has something bigger in mind” Zelda said getting up and folding her hands together, Link nodded, his gaze was fixed on you who was staring into the ground.”I leave the two of you” she said walking past Link, she patted his shoulder before leaving her room.

“Is it our fault? Did the Yiga clan find out about us? Is that their way of telling us?” you said, Link sat down beside you, grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles,” Don’t blame yourself, my love, Priven was the grandson of Impa, they might have targeted him for this” Link said, “ After 25 years? He never was attacked by a Yiga member, not even once. People have been whispering about our children for years, maybe it has been to a larger extent than we thought” Link didn't answer, knowing that you are probably right. He wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you closer to his,” Whatever will happen, I will protect you and the boys, even if it means dying” Link said cupping your chin and looking into your eyes, which had tears building in them,” I never felt so scared Link, if something happens to them-”,” I won’t let that happen. You and the boys are my worlds, and I rather see Hyrule burn down than see you or the boys hurt” you smiled sadly at him,” If Hyrule burned down we wouldn't have a place to live, so you better not let this burn down” you joked making Link chuckle, you kissed his lips,” You need to go, I will be fine. I’m just a little bit useless right now” you said,” You gave birth a few hours ago, you are allowed to be” he said getting up.

#botw link x reader #botw x reader #loz link #loz breath of the wild #loz x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda link #legend of zelda #botw zelda #botw sidon #botw teba #botw riju #botw yunobo #Botw sheikah #botw yiga

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hekateinhell · 8 months

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Vamptember, Day 7: Reverse AU

adult vampire!Claudia and little mortal!Lestat | M | 1.3k | tags: abuse and SA mentions/references, gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

New Orleans, 1808

Winter in New Orleans makes the evenings draw on longer.

Meaning that Claudia has to create her own entertainment lest she go mad with boredom; she takes what she wants and does as she pleases.

How many other women can say that?

Sitting in front of the vanity, turning her head from side-to-side, pondering which role best suits her temperament tonight.

Pity she had been a poor white’s daughter at her death, malnourished to the point of missing her menses at the mature age of twenty. Oh, how utterly brutal the beatings were when her father and brothers caught on and arrived at the wrong conclusion!

Whore. Slut. Witch.

Such a rabid pleasure to crush each of their skulls between her hands the night she’d returned to the dingy little shack by the river. A giggle escaping her at each agonizingly slow crack of bone, delighting in their futile struggles. Dark torrents of blood igniting the demonic thirst inside her, and finally, the gelatinous messes — more fun than mud pies — gushing as she digs her thumbs into their eye sockets.

Eyes that had violated her long before their ever hands did.

“Witch!”

“And yet it’s you that shall burn at the stake tonight, father dearest! Fancy that!”

She beams at her reflection at the memory, the blonde ringlets that cascade over her small breasts bouncing as she trembles with poorly suppressed anticipation. Not a wasteful eater, no, but she does enjoy playing with her food.

Finishing touches, a robin’s blue ribbon in her hair, her corset cinched tight to create the hourglass figure she most certainly did not possess.

Childbearing hips that would never bear onto her a child, the son that the Lord she once prayed to for deliverance had sent to her in her dreams. A promise that one day she would have final dominion over the male sex.

Flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood.

Holy Mary, mother of God.

It’s humid when she sets out, but then again, it’s always humid in New Orleans: a sinner’s city, a gambler’s paradise. Fragrant roses combine with the stench of urine and decay as she makes her way down the cobblestone streets, taking in the sounds of the night. A child cries, a man yells to his wife: You stupid bitch!; a horse and carriage trot by, the mud almost reaching her shoes; a drunkard’s piercing laugh.

“Hey, pretty lady, what are you doing all by your lonesome? Don’t you know what happens to dainty little things like you in places like these?”

Sounds like a tramp but means well. He has two sisters at home; one older and one younger. Claudia reminds him of the youngest.

“Oh, I didn’t know! I’m new to the area, you see, and terribly disoriented! I don’t mean to trouble you Sir, but it is awfully late and now I am awfully frightened… If you could please escort me to my home, I have been trying to find my way back for hours to no avail!” She knows what men like to hear.

She can be demure.

Helpless.

“Of course, darling,” he proffers her his arm which she graciously accepts, “I know this city like the back of my own hand.”

Perfect.

A quick, satisfying break of his elbow and his knees soon follow before she takes her first drink of the night, the gambler’s luck running dry as his sweet blood runs down her throat. His heart pounding on her tongue, the glorious resistance she craves gradually fading. No, no! Fight me more, handsome. Fight me just as hard as I fought them! Alas, it is finished and Claudia pulls back, wiping her mouth on her lace glove.

She stands in the shadows, still clutching the body, savoring the aftertaste. Not an evil soul, merely one made unfortunate by virtue of his sex, as she had once been.

A hunter as shrewd as she, a woman who’d been raised to have the survival instincts of a prey animal in the jungle, shouldn’t have been caught off guard by sudden wailing so high-pitched, Claudia cringes into herself. Relentlessly loud and surely bound to attract attention!

The body hits the ground with a wet thud as another, much smaller body barrels into her skirts, clinging to her legs.

Images flash through the child’s mind; he can’t be older than five. A brute of a father raising his fists. A mother cold and impassive, her nose in a book as her children wept for her affections, even her scolding lacked interest. “Quiet down, Lestat.” Blonde and beautiful yet gaunt — Claudia had she lived another ten years, perhaps. Lived the wretched life she was destined to have, like her mother before her and her mother before her.

This woman doesn’t want her child, and the decision is made.

“There, there,” she drops to her knees to embrace the boy. His hair tangled unkempt, a shade strikingly similar to hers. His face covered in dirt, the scrapes along his arms and legs still oozing blood. Delirious from terror, hunger, and exhaustion, and in the darkness, he thinks she is his mother.

Claudia swallows back her thirst.

“I didn’t mean it!” he sobs as he presses himself flush to her chest, burrowing into her sharp collarbone. Tears, dirt, and mucus smear all over the cotton of her dress, her hardened skin. “I didn’t mean to run! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I want to go home! I’ll be good! I’ll listen, I promise!”

Yes, Claudia's decision has been made, but not here.

“I know, dearest,” she lifts him off the ground and he settles momentarily, soft and warm. Pulls back to stare at her face, large grey eyes blinking at her.

He touches her cheek, curious and gentle. Frowns.

“Mama, you’re so cold.”

There’s a second where she can feel his hummingbird heart quicken, little rosebud mouth pinching as he sniffles loudly, the tears gathered on his long lashes suspended as he holds her stare with intensity. But then it passes, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

“You need a blanket, Mama,” he sighs and drops his sticky fingers from her cheek, bringing his thumb to his mouth instead. She, too, had suckled her thumb until far too old an age.

Back home, she cleanses his face.

He whines in his sleep, whimpering into her palm. Fragile and pitiful as the newborn kittens her brother Edgar had drowned to punish her.

Her clothes are too big, and the doll’s clothes are too small. She cuts a nightgown three-quarters of the way short. The candle flickers and so does her confidence, but it’s too late now. His lifeblood flowing over her tongue, his little heart going and going, refusing to give up! Burst after vibrant burst, innocence devoured.

Mama, Mama… I love you, Mama.

Claudia groans with it, the flavor of unrivaled purity unlike anything she's ever sampled before. She's never had to catch herself at the very edge of the precipice before; the shadow of a thought passes through her mind that perhaps she doesn't have to — she'll gorge herself on this one and find another to suit the same purpose: make for herself a son sculpted in her unholy image alone.

But this precious heart! It still won't surrender! How can she trust that she will ever find another with not only the looks to match hers, but one that reflects back to her her own unbroken tenacity?

“Mama’s here,” she tears open her bodice, exposing her breast, the dark blue vein at the underside. Makes the incision, guiding the child’s mouth to it. She will be Thetis reimagined in the spirit of the new age, submerging the baby Achilles in the River Styx to grant him immortal life, this time careful to fully saturate the heel.

The greedy thing latches quickly, reflexes of an infant still nestled in his subconscious as he takes all that Claudia has to offer.

It must be the male in him.

“Mama’s here,” she repeats, stroking his hair, humming a long-forgotten lullaby.

Once, a poor woman’s only comfort to her daughter. Now, a little boy’s dirge.

“And you’ll be good for your Mama, won’t you, Lestat?”

#my first vamptember this year rip ACTUALLY I WANTED TO WRITE THIS ONE LAST YEAR AND NEVER GOT AROUND TO LMAO #claudia #lestat de lioncourt #vampire chronicles #vc #vamptember #prompts

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 year

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Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #snz fet #snez #snzfic #sniction #sickfic #coldfic #male cold #original charater #m cold #oc sickfic #snzblr #aight im going to bed lol i feel like a teenager again up late writing snz fic christ ive regressed lmaoooo

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mkmgwrites · 9 months

Text

Draco and Potter lock eyes across the battered courtyard. A single point of contact in a mirage of shattered innocence and war.

Ah fuck.

Wails of grief echo off blood splattered walls, mingling with the cheers of victory to form a choir of human emotion. Draco and Potter stood still in the middle of the spectrum. Emotionless.

Merlin’s Mothers tits-

As The Dark Lord’s body grows cold, Draco feels a warmth bloom in his chest. His shoulders lighten. And for the first time in years he realises he is free.

Thank Fuck…Oh shit.

He struggles to find the words as Potter approaches. To remember what he had forgotten. His childhood nemesis, now saviour closes in fast, and it isn’t until he sees the cracked lenses of his glasses that Draco realises his feet are carrying him closer too.

Shit. Shitshitshitshit.

Green meets silver. Two faces on a double sided coin. Spectators gather to watch it flip.

Harry stops in front of him. “Malfoy,” he states, though it isn’t filled with its usual malice. It almost sounded like a question.

Shit. What do I do? What do I say?

“Potter” Malfoy replies, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice.

He wanted to say more but he couldn’t get the words out. How do you thank someone for saving the world? How to you say sorry for the years of teasing and torment? How does one say, “I am happy you killed him. Please don’t kill me too. I can be better. I will be better.”

I can’t fucking breathe. Oh fuck. I think I’m having a panic attack. Can he tell? Do I look cool? Fuck I hope I look cool. Mum spent ages designing this robe.

Potter remained silent, and somehow that rung louder than all the cries and the cheers. Draco waited.

Shitshitshitshitshitfuckingshit.

Potter stuck out his hand. It was muddy and bleeding and oh for Salazars Sake is he missing a nail- but it was stretched towards him.

Wandless. Open.

A peace offering. A new beginning. That feeling he had forgotten.

Hope.

Seven years later and Harry Potter finally wanted to shake his hand.

Draco didn’t know what to do.

Oh fuck I don’t know what to do.

He had never thought this would happen.

I never thought-

Had never dreamed.

What the fuck-

Dracos mind spiralled. He couldn’t even remember how to shake a hand.

Do I go in with the right? Shit, no I’m left-handed. Wait I can’t use my left hand cause he’s using his right hand. Is he? If I stood where Potter is which hand am I using?

He paused. The crowed held its breath.

Right. It’s my right hand.

Draco jerked his hand forward and clasped their palms together.

Oh fuck it’s happening. It’s finally happening.

Relief and elation flooded his bloodstream, his brain filled with fog. Harry Potter began to raise his arm up. A minuscule movement one did to begin the shaking motion. So minuscule in fact, that one wouldn’t even notice it.

Though Draco, in his heightened state, sensed this adjustment. And with his addled brain and pureblood breeding- he reacted purely on instinct.

Draco Malfoy bent down and kissed the hand of Harry Potter.

The moment his lips touched his skin, Draco knew he made a mistake.

WHAT THE F-

His mothers endless lessons on social etiquette had etched itself into his muscle memory. And for a moment he wished she had never given birth to him.

I’M GOING TO KILL MYSE-

The crowed laughed. Malfoy’s face turned beet red.

He stood and ripped his hand away. Furious at himself for ruining his moment-

SHITSHITSHITFUCKINGSHITSHITFUCKITYFUCKSHIT!

-missing the faint blush that had began to spread across Potter’s cheeks, and the gentle swipe of his thumb as it traced the outline of Draco’s lips.

#ao3 fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #draco fanfiction #harry potter ao3 #harry potter #harry x draco #drarry #draco malfoy #drarry drabble #drarry fanfic #harry potter fandom

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

That Thing in The Closet

Summary: RoRo and KitCat hear a monster in their closet. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, KitCat Barber, RoRo Barber

Warnings: Fluff, Protective Katrina, Monsters, Scared Barber Girls, Andy Fighting Monsters, Monster Spray, The Need for a Plumber, Minors DNI

A/N: Hope you enjoy. All mistakes my own.

___

Aurora climbs into bed with Katrina, her little body trembling. “Sissy.” She shakes her. “KitCat! Wake up!”

“Ehh?” The five-year-old cracks open an eye.

“Der’s monster in dah closet.” She tells her big sister. “Heard it!”

“What?” A worried KitCat sits up, looking around the room. “RoRo, I think we is okay. I don’ see nuffin’.”

And then she hears the bang coming from their shared closet.

“Oh no!” She whimpers, clutching her baby sister to her tiny chest. “Is’ okay. I got you.”

The sound of another bang makes them both jump.

“I got you, RoRo, okay? Not gonna let nuffin’ happen tah you.” She sniffles. “Gonna call for Mama and Daddy. Dey get dah monster.”

Her baby sister nods, her little eyes flush with tears.

“We just gotta get outta bed real slow. Real slow. You stay in fron’ ah me. I keep safe. Once get tah door, we run. Okay.”

RoRo nods.

“Das’ dah plan. I get out first.” Another bang. “I got you.” They both tiptoe towards the door. “Okay, now run!”

Holding hands, they both take off towards Mama and Daddy’s room, screeching the whole way. By the time they both make it to their destination, both of their parents are already away and out of bed. Katrina throws herself into her Daddy’s arms, while Aurora does the same with Mama.

“Girls - girls. Calm down.” Andy murmurs as he pats his little girl’s back. “Tell us what’s going on?”

“Monstah in closy.” His two-year-old tells him. “Hear it. Woke sissy. She hear too.”

“I did, Daddy.” KitCat whispers. “I heard. Is in der. Pwease get it out!”

“Okay, okay.” You murmur, kissing them both on the top of their heads. “It’s alright, my babies. Daddy and I will take care of this.” Wrapping them both in your arms, you stand up, letting them settle on your hips as your husband goes to retrieve the “Monster Spray”. In truth, it was really just a bottle of hairspray with a label on it, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Ready, Daddy.”

“Yep.” He grunts, as he rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles. “Can’t believe a monster tried to go after my girls. Absolutely not. I won’t stand for it!” He playful snarls as he leads you all down the hall.

Upon reaching their room, you watch as Andy shakes up the “Monster Spray” canister.

“Alright, ladies.” He takes a dramatic deep breath. “Daddy’s going in there.”

“Oh Dada, no!” RoRo cries.

“S’okay, sissy. BiBi say Daddy is dah best monster fighter der is.” She assures her tearful sister.

“Now, it might get rough. But Daddy’s got this. He’s gonna beat up these monsters and make them regret ever scaring my babies.” Your husband looks down at them and ruffles their curls and then offers you three a fist bump, which you three return.

“I got this.” He growls as he walks inside, slams and locks the door.

It’s not long before you hear something.

“Alright, you monsters! I don’t know who you think you are scaring my girls like that, but I’ve got something for you - oh! There’s two of you, huh?! Well, how would you like a face full of “Monster Spray?” Ope, yeah. Bet that hurt!”

God, your lovely man was so theatrical sometimes.

“Oh, you wanna fight? Well, let’s go, Grumpus!” You hear a loud thump, followed by a couple of quieter ones. “”Your turn, Beetle Bugger! As my wife would say, come catch these hands!”

You smother a giggle.

“Dada so brave.” RoRo whispers into your leg.

“Yeah.” KitCat responds as she holds onto your nightgown. “He really fightin’ dah monsters like dat!”

“Oh, you two want some more? Pow!” You hear your husband hiss. “That’s right, run away. And don’t you ever come back. Because if you do, I’m gonna call their mother in here, and if you think I’m bad…woo! You have no idea. Yeah! Run!”

Eventually Andy opens the door, his hair even more mussed than when he went in. He dramatically leans himself against the door.

“Daddy sent them away, ladies.” He kisses his fist as a completely heartwarming and also unnecessary show of strength. “If you hear any more banging, it’s because they’re running away and warning other monsters too. Okay?”

Your little girls both nod.

You both help them back into bed before kissing their foreheads. And then you watch as Andy sprays some more of that anti-monster spray in front of the closet door.

“Goodnight, my loves.” Andy whispers, blowing them both a kiss. They curl up in bed together and wave.

___

You look up at Andy. Your hand is rubbing his back, while he rubs yours.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

“You’re welcome. It’s the pipes making the noise. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more.” He grunts.

END

#chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans #andy barber #chris evans woc!reader #chris evans black!reader #cevansbrat0007 fics #andy barber x black reader #andy barber x woc!reader #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber x you #katrina barber #aurora barber

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cleolinda · 1 year

Text

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 10

Chapter 9: Flora Bannerworth blasted a vampire, twice, then swooned into an Undisclosed Someone's arms, and personally, I think she earned it.

CHAPTER X.

THE RETURN FROM THE VAULT. -- THE ALARM, AND THE SEARCH AROUND THE HALL.

James Malcolm Rymer actually has a fairly cinematic eye despite this being the 1840s; just after Flora dramatically raising her arm to shoot a vampyre in the face (okay, it didn't say "in the face," but I live in hope), we cut over to:

George and Henry Bannerworth, along with Mr. Marchdale, had just reached the gate which conducted into the garden of the mansion when they all were alarmed by the report of a pistol. Amid the stillness of the night, it came upon them with so sudden a shock, that they involuntarily paused, and there came from the lips of each an expression of alarm.

Whereupon her brother Henry SPRINGS THE FUCK INTO ACTION,

he cleared the gate at a bound, and at a terrific pace he made towards the house, passing over beds, and plantations, and flowers heedlessly

legit ducking bullets and my laughter the whole way, and flails back into the family mansion only to discover his SISTER in the ARMS of a STRANGER:

To grapple him by the throat was the work of a moment, but the stranger cried aloud in a voice which sounded familiar to Henry, -- "Good God, are you all mad?" Henry relaxed his hold, and looked in his face. "Gracious heavens, it is Mr. Holland!" he said.

THAT'S RIGHT, IT'S CHARLES MOTHERFUCKIN HOLLAND, BABY

You... you know...! The guy! The guy they couldn't move away for! Who saved Flora when she swooned off a cliff! He's come to reunite with his beloved and he has no idea what the fuck you people are going on about.

Such a strange scene as that small room now exhibited had never been equalled in Bannerworth Hall. There was young Mr. Holland, of whom mention has already been made, as the affianced lover of Flora, supporting her fainting form. There was Henry doing equal service to his mother; and on the floor lay the two pistols, and one of the candles which had been upset in the confusion: while the terrified attitudes of George and Mr. Marchdale at the window completed the strange-looking picture.

Listen, I give Rymer a lot of shit, but the man can paint a picture (which is, in fact, worth one thousand words).

Having exhausted all his executive function, Henry goes limp again:

"What is this -- oh! what has happened?" cried George. "I know not -- I know not," said Henry. "Some one summon the servants; I am nearly mad."

I also give Henry a lot of shit, but I'm not packing a whole lot of spoons on a daily basis, either, so: fair enough. Although he could do better than subsequently telling the servants, "Flora's dead, or fainted, or whatever, someone else figure it out."

Marchdale, however, is focused on The Stranger Present in the Room, straight-up pointing his finger at Charles Holland. Like, he might as well be snarling. Charles Holland retorts, "Sir, I may be a stranger to you, as you are to me, and yet no stranger to those whose home this is," so who the fuck are YOU? Henry tries to placate everyone by fawning over Charles Holland (you have to say his full name. It just sounds right. I don't make the rules), and it... does not work.

"I am proud to know you, bitch sir," said Mr. Marchdale. "Sir, I thank you," replied Holland, coldly. It will so happen; but, at first sight, it appeared as if those two persons had some sort of antagonistic feeling towards each other, which threatened to prevent effectually their ever becoming intimate friends.

I want to say this might actually pay off later, but I can't remember for sure. Meanwhile, the servants WAIT! WAIT THE FUCK A MINUTE! I THOUGHT THEY ALL QUIT? Sorry, going back to chapter 6 to check this—

[Henry] calmly paid the servants, and allowed them to leave him at once without at all entering into the matter, and, for the time being, some men were procured, who, however, came evidently with fear and trembling, and probably only took the place, on account of not being able to procure any other.

Well, at any rate, Some Guys don't know what happened with the fainted ladies and the vampyre, which well they might not if they're just there for the paycheck and are staying out of this. I know all these thinkpieces nowadays are giving people shit about "quiet quitting," but listen, if I am working for the Bannerworth family just to scrape by with ye olde healthe insurance, I am keeping my head down under the bullets flying and my nose out of their vampyre business. So, exit the unconscious Mrs. Bannerworth, borne away by Some Guys, because she only functions to scream and faint. (It's not an issue Stoker much improves on with Mrs. Westenra fifty years later.) Flora, on the other hand, begins to revive in the mansome arms of Charles Holland, who is, uh, still embracing her. Like. You could set her down in a chair or something? No?

"Oh, do not now take her from me, after so long an absence. Flora, Flora, look up; do you not know me? You have not yet given me one look of acknowledgement. Flora, dear Flora!" The sound of his voice seemed to act as the most potent of charms in restoring her to consciousness; it broke through the death-like trance in which she lay, and, opening her beautiful eyes, she fixed them upon his face, saying, -- "Yes, yes; it is Charles -- it is Charles." She burst into a hysterical flood of tears, and clung to him like some terrified child to its only friend in the whole wide world.

Maybe I've just gotten maudlin in my middle age, but: ;_;

Has Flora been ill?? Oh, brother, we've ALL been ill, say George and Harry Henry (Rymer, buddy, pay attention), and "nearly mad," because no one has ever gone through anything as terrible as having a sister bitten by a vampyre. And in the middle of Charles Holland standing there with his erstwhile ladylove sobbing on him, like, what the fuck are you two talking about, Flora suddenly "extricates" herself and demands that Charles Holland break up with her, now, immediately, posthaste, forever!!! NEVER LOOK UPON MINE ANGUISHED FACE AGAIN!!

"I -- I am bewildered," said Charles.

Ayyyy, it's a reader proxy. Flora and Charles Holland argue about about this a weepy minute, until Henry interrupts to ask Flora what happened in the previous chapter while the menfolk were looking for matches, in an exchange that I would call wonderfully naturalistic if I did not want this book to hurry the fuck up and get on with it:

"Has it been again?" "It has." "You shot it?" "I fired full upon it, Henry, but it fled." "It did -- fly?"

That is to say, the vampyre has fled; it did not fly like a bat per se, because that would have actually been cool. I did forsooth merc that motherfucker, avers Flora, but surely it will come again! Marchdale ventures to suggest that perhaps she actually killed it, maybe for good this time. And meanwhile Charles Holland is like,

…you

you did what now

George offers to explain ("'You seem to be the only rational person here,' said Charles"), but Flora interrupts to break up with Charles Holland again:

"Hear me, Charles," said Flora. "From this moment, mind, I do release you from every vow, from every promise made to me of constancy and love; and if you are wise, Charles, and will be advised, you will now this moment leave this house never to return to it." "No," said Charles -- "no; by Heaven I love you, Flora! I have come to say again all that in another clime I said with joy to you. When I forget you, let what trouble may oppress you, may God forget me, and my own right hand forget to do me honest service." "Oh! no more -- no more!" sobbed Flora. "Yes, much more, if you will tell me of words which will be stronger than others in which to paint my love, my faith, and my constancy."

If you tell me of... stronger... I don't know how Rymer manages to say something that I can technically understand, but still makes me go all blonde math lady dot gif. Dig the emotionally available love interest, though. But Henry's like, buddy, not now—

"Nay, upon such a theme I could speak for ever paid, by the printed line. You may cast me off, Flora; but until you tell me you love another, I am yours till the death, and then with a sanguine hope at my heart that we shall meet again, never, dearest, to part."

What happened to me since 2010 that I kind of love this now? It's 2023, I've had covid five thousand times, and I want this man to sweep in, go "You live like this?," and start swearing his eternal love to me while promising to fix everything. And I'm not even straight.

Flora sobs that him being such a dreamboat just makes it harder to break up with you, Charles [Holland]—

"Oh, say that word again!" he exclaimed, with animation. "It is the first time such music has met my ears."

What—his first name? That she's said seven (7) times since he got here…?

See, this is the thing. Continuity aside, the problem with Varney the Vampire is that it's not difficult to summarize a chapter in maybe three sentences, tops, if you really put your mind to it. But you start explaining it, and paying attention to it, and then the quicksand gets you. You start quoting it for the absurdity and then... the endless, real-time dialogue... you just... start... sinking:

"It must be the last [time I say your name, Charles] [Holland]." "No, no -- oh, no." "For your own sake I shall be able now, Charles, to show you that I really loved you." "Not by casting me from you?" "Yes, even so. That will be the way to show that I love you." She held up her hands wildly, as she added, in an excited voice, -- "The curse of destiny is upon me! I am singled out as one lost and accursed. Oh, horror -- horror! would that I were dead!"

Love it. Quality gothic content. Had to wade through fearsome verbiage to get there. Charles Holland blanches, he staggers, he reels! "Is -- is she mad, or am I?" Henry, tell him I'm mad! No, Flora, I'M mad! Mad at the very thought! MAAAAAAD!! You'd think they were all clawing their eyes out over some cosmic Lovecraftian horror and not one (1) tatty vampyre falling on his ass, over, and over, and over. Seriously, they've already shot him three times and killed him at least once, the Crawling Chaos over here ain't that deep.

At any rate, it's time for Henry, as the head of the family, to take his would-be brother-in-law aside and Tell Him All!!

Never was mortal man so utterly bewildered by the events of the last hour of his existence as was now Charles Holland, and truly he might well be so. He had arrived in England, and made what speed he could to the house of a family whom he admired for their intelligence, their high culture, and in one member of which his whole thoughts of domestic happiness in this world were centered, and he found nothing but confusion, incoherence, mystery, and the wildest dismay.

Can you imagine—you've spent a couple years off doing fuck knows what, and now you're finally returning to look up your apparent fiancée, only to have her wild-eyed brother buttonhole you in a tiny side room and start ranting about matches. That's going to be the entire next chapter. Good luck, Charles Holland!

(Chapter 11 will go up Friday, April 21.)

#varney the vampire #vampires #recaps #vampire studies

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twoidiotwriters1 · 6 months

Text

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: There is something so perfect about Merry in my head, I haven't been able to write another couple as utopian as them -Danny

Words: 2,310

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter

2010—2011

"That's not how dragons throw fires!" Emmeline squealed.

Harry looked up at the tree branch where his daughter was hanging and scowled. "Lin, I can't spit out fire, unless you want me to not talk ever again."

The toddler scrunched up her nose in the same way her mother used to when she was little. "Not that, daddy! I mean your head!"

Harry's confusion increased. "What do you mean?"

"Dragons don't raise their heads when they throw fire," Regulus walked out into the garden carrying James on one arm, the toddler was stuffing his face with biscuits. "They press to the ground, 'cause their targets are smaller than them."

It was the summer prior to Reg's fourth year at Hogwarts, and he was spending most of his free time at the Potter's house. He helped Mel and Harry with the kids when they were at work. Today, however, is Harry's thirtieth birthday.

Everyone had promised to pay a visit and celebrate together, but Mel was on the verge of getting her obscurial treatment project greenlit, so she was working even more than when she was researching for the werewolf cure, which leaves Reg and Harry to interact in a way they hadn't been able to in a long time.

"So I take your lessons with Hagrid are going well?" Harry grinned.

"They're my favourite! Apart from Charms, of course," Reg admitted, sneakily handing a biscuit to Emmeline as he approached her tree.

"Heard you're on your way to become the Captain of the duelling club," Harry raised a brow. "That's amazing, Mel is really proud of you."

"Yeah, mum is too. Says my dad was a good dueller."

"He was the best, he and my dad," Harry confirmed, then added quietly so Emmeline couldn't hear him. "Took advantage of it when they were younger, you know, in case that McLaggen kid tries to get the best of you."

Reg laughed. Whenever he did this, it kind of sounded like a bark. He had no way of knowing he inherited it from Sirius, but those who knew his father picked up on it as soon as they heard it.

"Dad!" Jamie swung his wooden sword around. "Matty and Lily woke up!"

They stayed silent for a second, the cries of Harry's younger children coming to them right away.

"Thank you, Jamie—Don't know how he does it, he's got super hearing," Harry chuckled, getting up from under the tree. "I'll go."

"No, no," Reg stopped him, putting James down and going back to the kitchen's entrance. "It's your birthday, let me do it."

"Looking after my kids isn't something I enjoy avoiding, you know?" Harry mused.

"I know," the boy smirked. "But I rather deal with those two than the twins."

"Daddy, I'm stuck," Emmeline groaned in perfect timing, hanging upside down above her father's head.

Mel fell on her bed groaning, absently rubbing her backside. "I'm starting to understand Fred a little, you know? Every family reunion we attend nowadays is packed with children..."

She rolled over and groaned again, so tired she couldn't bring herself to start changing into her night clothes.

"Am I allowed to ask how was work, or will you kill me if I bring it up tonight?" Harry teased her.

Mel glanced at him with the shadow of a smile. "You're a lost cause, Harry James Potter."

"Full name treatment?" He raised his brow. "What did I do?"

Mel pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Three whole decades and not a single one has been enjoyed at a proper pace, you just don't know how to relax, do you?"

"That's rich coming from you," he retorted, kicking off his shoes and crawling to her side.

"I'm a hard worker, that's different," Mel responded, kicking off her own shoes while he got closer. "I'd argue that I at least respect my birthdays."

"Mel, it's time you accept that my way of enjoying life is different from yours, that's all."

The woman eyed him sceptically. "Please, do elaborate."

"I don't enjoy my job, not exactly. I find it gratifying, that I catch dark wizards before they can do real damage, before they can ruin the world we built for our kids. Which brings me..." he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. "To you."

"Me?"

"I know I ask you about work a lot," he continued happily. "But if I'm honest, I don't care about your job. You could be a stay-at-home parent and I would still ask about your day, 'cause it's my favourite part of our life together."

Mel frowned. "Really?"

"When we were twelve," he explained, casually helping Mel out of her robes. "I realized that life didn't feel right without your squeaky ramblings buzzing over my ear every day."

"Hey," Mel hit his chest, laughing. "Rude!"

"I'm going somewhere with this, let me finish!" He pressed, catching her wrist before she could push him away.

"Get on with it, then!"

"Well, then we started to spend more time apart, and when the bad times came... part of my comfort was knowing that I'd be the one who would die and not you, a life without your ramblings was a life not worth living."

Mel stared at him, her throat tightening against her will. "Harry..." she whispered. "Don't say that."

He kissed her palm. "I've always admired you for the way you handled everything. I saw it in your eyes that night, Mel, you had come to terms with it," he sighed. "I could never. I would've kept my promise 'til the last moments of the war, but not a moment after."

She spoke quietly, lovingly brushing his hair back. "You say that now 'cause you know you'll never have to do that, but just like you told me, you would've found someone else too."

Harry shook his head, pushing himself up and reaching for one of his shirts so Mel could change into it. "Like I'd be capable of forgetting that easily..."

"I wouldn't be forgetting..."

"My point is..." the man tossed the discarded clothes out of the bed and dressed his wife with gentle hands. "Hearing about your work it's a daily reminder that I'm living my dreams."

"Having a dull life was your dream?" Mel teased him.

"A life with you is never dull," Harry shrugged, then smirked. "Though I wouldn't hate it if you buy me a Quidditch team for Christmas."

"I'm sorry, sir, can you repeat that?"

"Mel, I never repeat myself, let alone when I know I've been heard," Mr Greengrass stated.

"If you wish to retire, I understand," she continued, still not able to breathe right. "But risking to sound rude, Mr Greengrass... Have you lost your mind?"

The man showed a big smile—the first one since she'd met him—and spoke in a bemused tone. "Miss Dumbledore, you are quite rude," he looked at her pointedly. "But only with yourself."

Mel sputtered out a reply and stopped, looking at him wide-eyed. "You just offered me your position in the Department of Mysteries, what am I supposed to do?"

The man looked away as if pondering her question. "Well, I'd start by moving the stuff from your desk to mine."

Mel laughed—with incredulity—and shook her head. "With all due respect, sir, there are Unspeakables here with more years of experience—"

"Other Unspeakables," he interrupted her, "lack your integrity, your intelligence, and your commitment to our cause. I've known, for twelve years now, that your heart is stronger than your magic, which is a good thing in our line of work. What we do here isn't just tinkering with ancient powers, and you..."

Mr Greengrass stood up and placed both hands on his desk, eyes shining.

"You care about making existence a beautiful experience for all kinds. You're the change the department so desperately needs."

Before Mel could argue, the old man raised a hand to stop her and brushed it off.

"Save it. I'm an old man, holding to my position any longer would rot the whole place. Better step out before I lose my good streak," he chuckled. "Do you know, out of all the good work I've done during my entire career, the one thing people bring out the most is your hiring?"

Mel laughed, feeling lots of gratitude. "I don't know what to say..."

"Say yes," he sighed, going back to his seat. "Some people might not like this, but no one with a good head on their shoulders would question your promotion, not after all you've done in the last decade."

"What about Erick Flint?" Mel questioned. "He's my equal in all the ways that matter. He ought to be considered for the spot too."

"Oh, he was," the man raised a brow. "Unfortunately for you, Mrs Dumbledore, he threatened to quit if I didn't choose you as my successor. But between you and I," he lowered his voice. "I know he's quitting anyway."

Mel smiled. Erick was planning to open a shop with Anne in Diagon Alley, but she thought that maybe he would reconsider if Mr Greengrass offered him his position. However, not even the chance to boss Mel around was enough to distract him from his own projects.

Worse yet, now he'd be able to say he heroically rejected a job so Mel could get it, and he would definitely be insufferable about it for the rest of their lives.

Mel sat on her desk quietly, she could feel Erick's eyes on her, but she ignored him the whole time until their lunch hour.

"You're coming?" She asked, getting up from her chair.

Erick jumped out of his seat and hastily grabbed his stuff. "Yeah."

Mel conversed with him about everything except Mr Greengrass, and she was having a great time torturing him, seeing his expression get tenser the more she stalled.

They found Ron, Hermione and Harry eating in the corner of their favourite cafeteria. Mel approached them and Erick followed, almost vibrating with expectation.

"Did you know Reggie won the duelling match last Tuesday?" She asked the whole group.

A stream of compliments and cheers came after that, from all except Erick, who loudly dragged his chair back and pushed his plate away. "Come on, Mel, spit it out!"

The group of friends stared at him in shock, but Mel started cackling.

"What's up with you two?" Ron frowned.

"Nothing, just Erick being his usual nosy self," Mel mused.

"I'm your best friend!" He argued.

"Oh, so that's what you want me to say?" Mel raised a brow, still laughing. "You want me to tell the others how generous you are, Prince? Like I don't know you weren't going to take the job in the first place!"

"Did you take it?" Erick asked eagerly.

"Two things," Ron intervened, lifting his fork and pointing it at Erick. "I'm Mel's best friend, you git. Second," he pointed his fork at Mel. "If you don't explain what's going on before the hour ends, I'll force-feed you veritaserum."

"Ron don't go around saying that!" Hermione scolded him. "What would people think if they heard an Auror threatening to misuse their resources?"

"They would think he's an idiot, trying to force-feed Mel Dumbledore anything," Harry responded with a grin. Then he turned his attention back to Mel and Erick. "So what's going on, then?"

"Mel got offered the position of Head of our department."

"What!"

"Are you joking?"

"What?" Harry looked at his wife in surprise. "And what did you say?"

Mel kicked Erick's leg under the table. "He's getting ahead of things! Mr Greengrass is retiring, yes, and he said he would like me to take his spot, but—"

Ron lifted his fork again, now with a carrot in it, to shut her up. "No buts! You're taking it!"

Mel was aghast. "I can't be the Head of the department!"

"So you could be Head Auror at nineteen but you can't be Head Unspeakable at thirty?" Erick taunted her. "I thought you'd grown out of being exasperating..."

"She takes breaks more often than before, but she hasn't quit it," Hermione joined his teasing. "Mel, this is silly, you deserve the position."

Mel fidgeted with her wand, sinking into her chair. "Being Head Auror was easy 'cause it wasn't so different from what I'd been doing back then... this is not the same."

"You'll get to review all projects, of each room in the Department of Mysteries," Erick counted. "Mel, this has been your dream since you were fifteen."

"But you're quitting this year," she frowns. "What if I discover that I hate the position? What if it turns out to be restraining, or I lose my mind a little like my uncle and—"

"You can change the rules, if they don't work there's no reason to keep them," Harry argued. "You told me that when I took your place. But after all you've been through, I doubt you'll be like Dumbledore, mostly 'cause you've learned from past mistakes, his and yours."

Mel heaved a sigh, running a hand through her hair. "A higher rank means less free time, less chances to go out and enjoy the kids..."

"I'll keep an eye on you, we all will," Harry assured her. "If you overdo it, we'll let you know. As Head Auror I'll be in the same meetings as you, I'll see you more often this way, like old times, don't you miss that?"

"I see you every day at home, so not really."

Erick and Ron snorted and laughed. Harry pouted a little. "Sometimes I wonder if you married me out of pity."

"Give it a try, Mel," Hermione patted her hand encouragingly. "We'll be right here if it doesn't work."

"I can always employ you as my secretary if you get fired," Erick joked.

Mel glared at him in annoyance and flicked his nose. "You should quit already."

"Ouch!" He turned back to Harry while rubbing his nose. "You know, sometimes I wonder if she's my friend out of obligation, too."

"Well, anyway, I hope you take the job," Hermione concluded. "You deserve it, and we're all supportive—it's great news."

Harry looked at her trying to convey all the sincerity and love he was feeling. "Whatever comes out of it, we'll manage."

Mel only smiled in response, stealing a piece of chicken from Ron's plate.

"Oh, and just to clarify," Hermione added, looking at Erick and Ron. "I'm Mel's best friend."

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali3 @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @na1ven3vy @kai-wifey

#twoidiots writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #hp fanfic #witt fic #UTVE fic

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tvreadsandsleep · 1 year

Text

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Domestic Establishment #2 — Continuation of We need more room «

The scan Okoye had performed with her Kimoyo Beads had informed her that none of the bones in her foot had been broken, but the throbbing, which had just begun to settle down after five minutes of icing, had her doubting those results. On a positive note, her ears had finally stopped ringing. Instead of crying and shrieking at deafening decibels, her boys both sat happily in their highchairs. They babbled at one another as they ate the food, she’d hobbled back and forth in the kitchen to prepare for them.

They were the only babies she’d ever seen who ate everything placed in front of them without fuss or delay. They inherited their father’s appetite, she thought to herself, smiling as she remembered the antics she’d witnessed, as a teen, when her younger cousins had fought and cried, throwing food about because they didn’t want to eat. That could never be her boys. The most they did was bang their little plates, demanding more.

Her amusement with her sons’ stomachs was interrupted with the entrance of her husband and daughter. Uproarious laughter came from the pair, Attuma tickling Naleli as the girl snorted and begged him to stop, that was until he took note of the ice pack Okoye had placed on her foot, the limb elevated on the seat in front of her. Naleli, following her father’s eyes, also glanced at her, cackle stopping short.

“What has happened, my love?” Attuma asked over their daughter’s, “Are you okay, mom?” Attuma unhanded the girl, and she promptly made her way to her mother, engulfing Okoye in a hug.

“I’m okay, sweetie. My foot just had a run in with your brother’s highchair. It hurts, but the pain is fading.”

“Oh, okay,” Naleli smiled, “Should I kiss it to make it better,” the preteen joked, eyes bright in good humor.

As always, Okoye’s heart melted, everything within her chest turning to mush, when confronted with the adorableness of one of her children. Naleli had taken after her father, his dimples carved into each of her cheeks and creating the sweetest, most charming expression whenever she smiled. Okoye was hard-pressed to deny that face anything, but had learned early on that allowing her daughter’s every whim would lead to ruin.

“That won’t be necessary,” she answered, wiggling her fingers into Naleli’s abdomen. The girl giggled then jumped back out of Okoye’s reach.

“What you can do for me is take your brothers into the living room so that your father and I can talk.”

That piqued Attuma’s curiosity—drawing his attention from his sons, who both had begun gurgling and vying for his focus, while attempting to climb from their highchairs, from the moment he’d arrived. Placing the boys, who’d been climbing all over his person, on the ground, to their loud protests, he sat in a chair he moved adjacent to Okoye.

“Let’s go Eloy and Taavi. It sounds like dad might be in trouble,” Naleli threw over her shoulder as she dragged her toddling brothers out of the room.

Attuma snorted, but turned soft eyes on Okoye, faking a pout when he asked, “Am I in trouble, my love? What can I do to win your favor?”

Okoye gave him a hard look, glaring briefly and crossing her arms before sighing deeply to relax her face and limbs. She rolled her eyes, sighing again, unhappily.

“You were right,” she finally admitted. “We need more room. We have to move now, sooner rather than later.”

“I was right? It is not often that I hear such from your lips.” He leaned back in his seat, smug as he moved her foot from its perch on the chair to rest on his lap. He removed the ice pack to scrutinize the damage that had been done. He noticed several of her toes were swollen, but was satisfied that she was able to move them without difficulty.

“It doesn’t hurt as much,” she supplied, watching while he began to massage the rest of her foot.

“Does this have something to do with your sudden acceptance?”

“Yes, that and having to climb over your gigantic furniture and all the kids’ stuff in order to get across a room. The house is always a mess, and I can’t organize anything because there isn’t room for everything! We just need more space!”

Attuma increased the strength of his kneading, silently urging Okoye to calm.

“While I never want you hurt, I am pleased that you have finally agreed with me, especially as I have commissioned architects from both our nations to collaborate on the design of our new home.”

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #black panther wakanda forever #mywriting #attoyedailyprompt #domesticattoye #destseries #what do y'all think of the names for their kids?#i suck at choosing names

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therealityhelix · 6 months

Text

Shards of the Nexus: Talking to a Wall

Puzzles is often impulsive, and initially had some Ideas about the separation of masculine and feminine.

Song: 6 Underground-Sneaker Pimps

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

He hunkered down behind his sturdy ancient couch as bullets and other objects whizzed by. Blood blossomed dark on the sleeve of his kelly green suit. It was only a flesh wound, only one bullet, it wasn't that deep. Sure, it seemed like a lot of blood, and it had to soak through his shirt, and the suit lining before showing up on the surface like that, so it was actually more blood than it seemed, but...

The stranger wailed in horror, firing again. The bullet tore a hole through a weak point in the couch, and he dropped down lower, phone pressed to his ear.

“Come on, pick up. Pick up you skinny lunatic!”

There was a soft click, then an exasperated voice.

“All right puzzle boy, you'd better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this hour...never mind. I can hear it. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“I'll have you know I didn't instigate this at all.” he protested. “Some weirdo showed up and claimed to be me! Which is impossible because, number one: I'm me, and number two: he's wearing a dress! What kind of self-respecting man does that?”

“What, claim to be you, or wear a dress?”

“Jonathan! This is serious! I've been shot! This man is deranged!”

“Did you hit him with my fear toxin? Is that what's going on?”

He hesitated.

“Eddie? Did you-”

“He touched me!” Eddie snapped. Jonathan heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fool child. Wait it out. The stuff I sell you works fast, but it burns out fast too. It's meant for distraction and escape, not much more.”

“Did you miss the part where I've been shot? You know, with a bullet?”

“You dying?”

“I...don't know?”

“Then suck it up and-”

He missed the rest of what Jonathan said, his eye catching the flash of light off a thread-thin filament looping towards his face.

With a yelp, he threw himself flat on the floor, slipping away from the garrote before it could snare his neck.

“He's got razor floss!” he cried into the phone. “He's trying to take my head off!”

“It's coming! I will stop it!” The stranger yowled. “Sweet mother, I'll protect us this time!”

He braced his good shoulder against the couch, and toppled it over on top of the deranged stranger, diving behind a nearby recliner. He was beginning to get light headed. He couldn't have lost that much blood, could he? But his arm was soaked, and hard to move, cold but burning.

Cephalic vein. Trouble. Either that stranger had better aim than Robin Hood, or he was the luckiest bastard on the planet.

“You said he claimed to be you?” Jonathan asked.

“Ridiculous, I know-”

“No, the same thing happened to me. Some muppet-looking fellow with a burlap mask, but he had my fear toxin formula. He knew things I'd never told anyone. Pamela tells me that she also met such a being.”

“You're not being serious!”

“Don't you already know someone from another world?”

“He's not-”

The Monster wasn't from another world. He was merely...attached to a being that was. And that was only if the 'Hell' that being claimed to come from was an actual physical place somewhere other than this material reality. It was a whole complicated thing, and he hadn't winkled all of the information out of his acquaintance yet.

And this was not the time to think about it!

“Jonathan, I am actively dying as we speak!”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

He paused.

“Don't let them put the wrong name on my headstone.”

“Oh, come on now.”

The sound of a scuffle. Someone else was in his apartment now, wrestling with the homicidal stranger.

“Jonathan, someone new has shown up, I don't know how much longer-”

A figure vaulted the overstuffed recliner he was hiding behind, landing astride him. This new man glared down with dark brown eyes, and took a palm sized capsule from his belt, holding it threateningly in front of Eddie's face.

“Stay still.” the new man demanded, soft lisp slipping between a gap in his teeth. “What did you do to them?”

“I defended myself...” he began, faltering both when he noticed the mans expression harden, and when he noticed the question mark on the shoulder of the mans green jacket.

“It's fear toxin.” he said. Fine. If this really was another Riddler, he'd know what that meant.

The stranger climbed up on the chair, his bright orange hair a wild mess. The new man snatched another capsule from his belt and thrust it into the strangers face, pressing a small button.

A puff of aerosol surrounded the stranger's head, and he reeled back, coughing, collapsing into a moaning sprawl on the floor. Some kind of antidote to the toxin? The new man replaced the empty capsule on his belt.

“Why would you do this?” the brown-eyed man asked. “It's not very mannerly to poison a guest.”

“Some stranger showing up at my door with a cockamamie story and a questionable fashion sense is...not...pardon me...I think I'm...bleeding out...”

The brown-eyed man glanced down at the capsule still held threateningly in front of Eddie's face, and pushed the button.

A whiff of gas entered his lungs. His head spun into darkness, and he knew nothing more.

Unexpectedly, he woke up.

He felt awful, but he was very, extremely alive.

His apartment seemed to have been converted into an emergency medical center, just for him. The makeshift yet professional equipment had all the hallmarks of...

Jonathan. He could hear his deep voice murmuring. Jonathan and...another, smaller Jonathan?

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. No, there really were two of them.

The other men were there as well, the stranger having fixed his mussed hair and rumpled clothes. Aside from a bruise on his cheek, he looked as if there had been no altercation at all.

And that annoyed Eddie.

“You unbalanced, effeminate psycho!” he snapped. “You nearly killed me!”

The stranger drew himself up to his paltry height, hand over his heart like a scandalized matron.

“I?” he huffed in his fluting voice. “You hit me in the face and injected me with fear toxin, you young ruffian!”

“You showed up at my door dressed like a strumpet, with a story only an idiot would fall for-”

The brown-eyed man raised one thick eyebrow at him.

“-and expected anything from me?” He continued. “Anyone claiming to be me ought to at least know what basic caution is!”

“I was pleased to have found you.” the stranger said, turning his nose up. “If I've made any mistakes today, it is that!”

“Oh just that? Not shooting me, not trying to garrote me, not nearly murdering me? Just having an unpleasant time?”

“Unpleasant? Do you know what you made me experience? I would have done none of those things if you hadn't drugged me, scoundrel!”

“Sorry excuse for a drag queen!”

“Hooligan!”

“Come on everyone, let's not start another fight.” the brown-eyed man cajoled. Eddie tensed, but the stranger closed their eyes and sighed.

“I beg your pardon, dear one. That was all very undignified.”

The brown-eyed man patted the stranger's hand consolingly.

“You weren't exactly in your right mind. I've worked with Jonathan Crane on my world, and so I had a reason to have an antidote with me. After all, why would you expect to be drugged like that when talking to one of us?”

Again with that nonsense. The brown-eyed man at least seemed competent, but he was pushing that fairy tale too.

He struggled to sit up, but Jonathan placed a thin hand on his shoulder to hold him down. The smaller Jonathan looked him over impassively.

“Stay down, puzzle boy.” 'his' Jonathan said. “Good to see you've still got your fire, but that body needs rest.”

“I don't want them in my apartment!” he groused. “Going through my things.”

Offense sprouted across both mens faces.

“We're not thieves!” the brown-eyed man asserted.

“Oh?” Eddie drawled insolently. “Weren't you trying to tell me that you're the Riddler?”

Jonathan chuckled, but the stranger scowled.

“How shall we prove this to you?” he asked.

“How can you prove it?” Eddie countered. “It's a ridiculous story, pure imagination! You are untethered from reality, and I have no intentions of joining in on you and your friend's little folie à deux.”

“And what of me?” the smaller Jonathan asked.

He looked so much like 'his' Jonathan, a little shorter, perhaps a little older, but they could easily have been brothers. It proved nothing.

“Jonathan Crane is not unknown for his habit of mindfucking people.” Eddie pointed out. “Myself included.”

'His' Jonathan shrugged.

“S'not wrong.” he admitted. “But this guy is me. Somehow.”

“You experiment on your friends?” the stranger inquired.

“We're not friends.” Eddie said quickly.

“He's just a reliable customer.” Jonathan backed him up. “And this way, he knows for sure that my wares are reliable.”

“And that's good enough for me. I don't need friends.”

“Well, wait. What about that odd fellow from outside of town? The one with the weird eyes?”

“I...guess he counts? We're more like acquaintances.”

“What about Jervis?”

“Occasional partners in crime do not a friendship make.”

“Your standards are bullshit.” Jonathan sighed.

“I should like to meet your Jervis.” The stranger said. “I wonder if he is anything like my Jervis? We are partners, though not in crime~”

He said that last part with some defiance flavoring his sing-song voice. Eddie shrugged.

“Good for you? Is there a reason I should care about your home life, or do you just like to overshare?”

“Actually, given your incredibly negative reaction to my physical appearance, I expected you to have a thing or two to say about my romantic proclivities.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. I don't care. If you're gay, you're gay, but you don't need to pretend to be a woman because of it.”

The stranger blinked.

“Oh, I think there's been a miscommunication. I am not a man.”

Eddie looked the stranger carefully up and down. He-she?-was wearing a very elegant and classy dress that reached nearly to the ankles. It wasn't revealing, but it was perfectly tailored. Eddie could see the shape of the shoulders, the chest, the waist and hips. The jewelry didn't hide the adam's apple, the curve of the jaw. Still...it was possible wasn't it? That this was a woman? Eddie didn't really get along well with many women, and never cared to focus on the shapes and forms they could take.

“Ah, don't mistake me. I am not a woman either. I am...both. Upon occasion.”

“They're sort of in between.” the brown-eyed man offered.

Eddie's eyes narrowed. They. He'd heard of this before, but hadn't taken the concept seriously. Then again, he'd also never personally met such an individual, and rarely believed anything he was told without proof. But on the other hand, as a person of logic, he also could not refuse proof when it was presented to him. 'They' it was then. That was easy enough.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” he complained.

“I'm afraid you didn't give me much time to explain before poisoning me with fear toxin.” the stranger said coldly.

“Again, you just showed up at my door out of the blue and began babbling about what seemed to be nonsense, and touching me. How could I have possibly known you weren't an enemy? Are you telling me that the Riddlers don't have enemies?” he scoffed.

The two looked at each other.

“Well...” the stranger said slowly. “I...don't really. Not anymore.”

“I have a lot of enemies.” the brown-eyed man admitted. “But none of them would just show up at my door to say hello!”

“Well mine do! Some of them think it's funny, some of them do it as some kind of domination tactic, whatever. I have to dodge death weekly, and that isn't even counting the Bat and the cops!”

“You seem a bit young to be facing so much danger.” the stranger said gently. Eddie bristled again, hating for the thousanth time how slowly he seemed to be maturing.

“I am an adult, and have been for years.” he grumbled. “That should be all that matters. And your opinion about it isn't going to change the minds of my enemies.”

The stranger had enough grace to look abashed.

“I suppose I did not give you enough time to explain either.” they conceded.

It would have to do.

#shards of the nexus #puzzles!riddler #Detective!riddler #YJ!riddler #jonathan crane #the scarecrow

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