#i’ve also had dreams when i’m dozing off? like i’m still aware of what’s happening while awake but i’m also dreaming. it’s freaky
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Pokemon Scarlet - Day 18
Before I get into things: last night. Not another dream—I haven’t had one of those for some time—but remember when I mentioned I thought I heard Mint speak before?
Well, it happened again. And not just Mint this time.
I was dozing when I thought I heard voices. I listened harder so I could actually make it out.
“I’ve actually been between dimensions, Mint. It’s scary out there. I don’t like the pace of our progress.”
“What can we do about it?” another voice chimed in. Gyms are open Saturdays and Wednesdays. We can’t very well make it go faster.”
“I know,” said the first, “but I’m worried.”
“I don’t think anything’s going to happen until we finish our quest,” said a raspy voice. It sounded like how Mint had sounded before, but a little deeper.
“You think or you know?” asked the first voice aggressively.
“Hey, quit it!” a higher voice said.
“Soren?” the one who sounded like Mint asked. “If you’re here, who’s watching Scarlet?”
“Oh, it was my turn!” Wingbeats. I sat up and Soren was flying towards me. He squawked in surprise finding me up. The rest of the team nonchalantly gathered around and started acting like normal.
“Okay guys, I heard you talking,” I said. “Please don’t make me feel crazy.”
My Pokemon looked at one another, before Mint spoke up. “Sorry,” he said. I had identified him correctly before.
“What I don’t get,” I said, remembering what Pearl had said, “is if this world isn’t real, what does that make you guys? How are you talking? How do you know what’s going on outside of Paldea?”
Garganacl spoke first after some lengthy silence. “It’s not that simple. You were speaking to one of the Daughters of Arceus and she told you that, yes. From their perspective, this world would seem false, because many of them came into consciousness in false worlds that were constructed from actual events but placed them in the center of it all.
“And truly, the events of this world revolve around you, Scarlet. This world has also not been around as long as it would seem. But every person, every Pokemon here is real. They are clones and splinters of people from events in a different timeline, but they are alive. They have hopes and dreams and thoughts. They are just ignorant of what’s going on outside our version of the planet.”
“But,” I stopped him. “What about Nemona? She acts like she doesn’t realize the actual strength of you guys when she challenges us.”
“She’s just going off of how her journey went,” Grafaiai said. “At least, I think that’s how it is. She’s not using that team to actually explore or anything.”
I wasn’t fully convinced, but I decided not to push it. I’d have to stay confused. “Anyway, what’s this about us not going fast enough?”
Pin looked sheepish. “I’m just worried, that’s all,” he said. When I evolved, I went between dimensions. Going to and from a different world that’s very much like this one, you know. And I saw the splinters in the universe. They looked bad.”
“And I’m… aware of more than I should be, so I’ve been worrying them,” Mint said. “You know how… you probably don’t. Most of the Daughters of Arceus are protected by a… uh, do you know about Beasts?”
I shook my head.
“Well…” Mint continued, “Beasts are, essentially, the precursors to Pokémon. Powerful shape-shifting energy beings. In ancient times, a bunch of them settled on one form and became Pokémon. Some are still around—we know them largely as Legendaries. But there are some that still shape-shift. And one of those protects the Daughters of Arceus. That one can split her consciousness between several forms, though her most true self resides with the girl called Ruby, and her most true self’s form is that of a Blaziken.
“Usually that doesn’t matter. Her split self can become whoever it wants to. I am one such split. At least, I should be. But I don’t have any powers or connection to Blaziken. I just know things. And I think it’s because the Pokémon Blaziken does not exist in this world.”
“Is that the reason I know things I shouldn’t, too?” I asked.
Mint crossed his arms and tilted his head. “No, it shouldn’t affect you. What kinds of things do you know?”
I described them—how I knew about Ditto not being in Hisui, about items and Pokémon I’d never encountered before while others seemed brand new to me, and so on.
“That’s a mystery I don’t know the answer to,” Mint said. “Maybe ask Pearl or something.”
“She was going to bring Yellow in to resurface some memories—she didn’t seem to know what was going on, either. I haven’t heard from her since, though,” I said.
Mint shrugged, then yawned. “Big mysteries all around. And I don’t think we’ll find out anything tonight. All in favor for calling it a night?”
There were mumbles of agreement. And so we rested.
———
More because of Pin’s worries than anything else, I decided today was the day to fight the Fighting-type Team Star Base.
Cassiopeia mentioned that ultimately, we are going to be tracking down the big boss. Which… confused me, since I was under the assumption that Cassiopeia was the big boss themself. Either they’re trying to throw me off track, or they have some other connection to Team Star.
Honestly, taking this base down made me feel pretty bad. The leader acted like a protective older sister to her grunts, wanting to fight at the gate herself rather than having a grunt do it, and even to the end just seeming to want to protect them. One grunt talked about how she (the grunt) bullied the leader, but then classmates started to bully the grunt and the leader took her under her wing in full forgiveness.
I have to wonder what happened to turn Team Star into the class-skipping bullies they themselves are as a whole.
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Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ruki Ecstasy [10]
ー The scene starts with a dream in the dining room of the Mukami manor
Kou: ...Nnh...!?
Yuma: Guh...!
Azusa: ...That’s the last of the fried shrimp.
Kou: Excuse me, Yuma-kun? This is mine, you know.
Yuma: Haah!? You’ve obviously eaten the most already! Can’t ya let yer lil’ bro have the last one for once?
Azusa: You’ve both eaten the same amount so far...
Yui: U-Um...You two. Why not split it in half then? That sounds fair to me...
Yuma: Fuck off! This is a real men’s fight, we ain’t ‘bout to be pussy and call it a tie!
Kou: Even if we were to split in half, we’d just end up arguing over who gets the bigger piece next~
Azusa: The dinner table is a war zone...Eve...
Yui: No way...R-Ruki-kun!
Ruki: Just leave them be.
Yui: Eeh!? Are you sure...!?
Ruki: I don’t mind. However, anyone who continues to make a fuss at this table will have to go without any dinner tomorrow.
Kou: ...!
Yuma: ...!!
Kou: ...Sorry, Yuma-kun. My temper might have gotten the best of me just now.
Yuma: Nah, I also gotta say sorry. I mean, we’re bros so...Let’s just do it the fair way and split it in haーー
Azusa: ...Mine... (1)
Kou: Aah!!
Yuma: Azusa, ya sneaky lil’...!!
Ruki: ...Kou, Yuma. No dinner for you two tomorrow.
ー The dream ends as the scene shifts to the bedroom at the orphanage
Yui: Nn...
Ruki: ...Are you awake?
Yui: Huh...I...?
Ruki: You dozed off while resting. You can sleep, don’t worry.
Selection
→ You should get some sleep as well... (♡)
Yui: I’m fine. You should get some sleep instead...
Ruki: I’m used to this. I don’t think I’ve been able to sleep soundly since the days I spent here in this place.
Yui: Really?
Ruki: I didn’t have the best reputation and there’s no way to keep one’s guard up while asleep.
I was constantly surrounded by enemies. You can’t afford to sleep deeply around a bunch of people who can’t be trusted, right?
However...Now that I think about it, I was able to sleep just fine by your side for some strange reason.
Yui: Now that you mention it, we did sleep side-by-side. It’s taking me back...
Ruki: ...I might have been subconsciously aware of the fact that you were someone trustworthy.
→ I don’t want to
Yui: No, it’s fine...I don’t want to.
Ruki: ...Don’t push yourself.
Yui: Thank you. But I’m fine.
( It’d be a shame to sleep now...When we could be spending time together. )
( I’m sure this will be our last moments together after all... )
Ruki: ...
...They’ve arrived, it seems.
ー The other Mukami’s step in
Ruki: Took you long enough.
Kou: ...We had a few happenings along the way. But better late than early, right?
Ruki: I guess so.
Yuma: ...Why are ya here out of all damn places?
Ruki: I assumed you guys would be able to figure it out. And indeed, you’ve come here.
...When I first met you three here, I would have never fathomed we’d become family one day.
Of course, nor that we would become Vampires.
Kou: ...Cut it out. It isn’t like you to take a trip down memory lane.
Ruki: Let me have my fun at the end.
However...I suppose you’re right. We might not have the time for that.
There’s something you guys must do, right? What is the order you were given?
Azusa: ...He wants us to bring you to him.
Yui: What about me...?
Azusa: You can come along as well...However, as for what happens afterwards...
Yuma: ...Oi, Ruki! Right now ya can still ruーー!
Ruki: Stop, Yuma. Be careful with what you say.
I...can be the only traitor.
Yuma: ...Are ya sure that’s what ya want?
Ya finally got her for yerself. Are ya sure...Ya can just easily let go again!?
Ruki: ...Ever since we came here, I’ve started to think.
Back then, I was simply desperate to grab hold of that blue sky. We all were.
Therefore, none of us chose death. Instead we decided to become Vampires without a moment of hesitation.
To live, and see those blue skies again. Am I wrong?
At first it was but a trivial dream. I wanted to hold onto the blue sky, even if it would only last one moment.
Because...After witnessing it once, I couldn’t help but yearn for it.
I couldn’t stay away from it, despite knowing it would be like committing a sin.
And then, once I touched it, I was done for. By the time I realized, I could no longer let go again.
Rather than simply touching the blue sky I sought after, I held it tightly in my arms. ...It would be greedy to wish for any more, no?
I’ve been dreaming for far too long. That’s why, I think it’s time to put an end to it.
If I desire any more, I will most definitely be punished. And I can no longer afford to risk involving you guys...or her.
From the very beginning, it was a dream out of my reach.
Even if it did not last long, I was happy to have my wish fulfilled.
I - the person who became a Vampire solely to seek revenge - was able to love someone, and be loved as well...
That fact alone is plenty.
Ruki: ...I’m sorry for being so selfish, but please understand, Yui.
At first, I considered taking you with me as we would run away somewhere.
However, I couldn’t bring myself to do that.
Because I couldn’t bear the thought...Of you becoming unhappy or suffering as a result.
It’s hilarious. Despite being this selfish of a man, I can’t even choose the life I deeply desire.
Even so, I’m already satisfied. While it did not last long, I was able to live for your sake, as well as my own.
There is no longer...anything else I wish for.
Yui: ( Deep down, I just want to shake everything off and be together. That’s obvious, but... )
( Both of us know...That we would not be able to gain anything by doing so. )
( As well as that...It wouldn’t make us happy. )
( Even if we remain together, I will only cause him pain. )
...Yeah, I know.
I feel the same...It’s been enough. I was happy...
Monologue
We made it this far, walking hand-in-hand.
I truly felt blessed, being able to live as I wanted,
simply harboring the strong desire to be together with Ruki-kun
even if it did not last very long.
However, in the end,
we were simply unable,
of living solely for the sake of someone other than ourselves (自分以外の誰かのため).
Whether this will result in happiness (幸せ) or misfortune,
I chose to let go of the hand,
I wanted to hold onto more than anything.
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
Translation notes
(1) いただき or ‘itadaku’ literally means ‘I will humbly eat/take this’, but given the context, ‘mine’ seemed to fit better. It is often used when characters claim something as theirs after all.
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<- [ Ecstasy 09 ] [ Ecstasy Epilogue ] ->
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the cheating scenario w/ hannibal was so good omg! would you do a part two? maybe reader has found comfort with Will and they start to pursue each other, would also love to see some jealous Hannibal 😏 I love your work!
Part 2 as requested ✨ I didn’t write much Hannibal in this, actually rhhdjshf I’m sure he’s great at hiding his true feelings.
*spoilers*
Will is sweet and all but I really like the idea of Hannibal setting him up as some ticking time bomb for Y/N to witness.
Warnings: Implied future mindbreak and dead pets.
Your presence in Will Graham’s home felt different. It was unlike what he had become accustomed to but things seemed to get better with time.
It was meant to only last a short while, giving you enough time to get yourself back on your feet with a clear mind and savings for your own place... but something bloomed between the two of you. Unintentionally, you might add.
So you stayed.
A human being often takes part in stupid things when life feels out of their control. But the decision to be with Will, physically and emotionally, never felt wrong. He was sweet, even kinder than Hannibal had led you to believe.
You had known Will for a while, but never well until this point. Up until now, Hannibal had never seen you around Will when you two had been together.
So when he had caught the slightest hint of your perfume on Will’s collar, you can only imagine his reaction.
“New cologne?” He asks Will, smoothing out his jacket.
“Mhm.” He replies, not giving it much thought as he sits down.
Hannibal notices his lack of care on the matter and drops it from the conversation.
“Alright, let’s begin.”
Hannibal likes Will, genuinely. But he doesn’t want you near him. Especially when he eventually breaks— and trust him... Will Graham is a twig under his boot.
But, as he’s listening to Will express the changes in his life— the new dog, the new diet and you- Hannibal quickly comes to a grim realization:
You’re going to have to be collateral damage.
“-he’s pushing me too hard. I’m inclined to believe her.” Will finishes.
Hannibal brings himself back into the conversation, having dozed off in his thoughts for the first time in a long while.
“Who’s pushing you too hard? Could you repeat yourself?” Hannibal asks.
Will shifts in his seat before speaking again.
“Y/N tells me Jack is pushing me too hard. And I’m inclined to believe her.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I stay up until ungodly hours for work.” Will laughs, looking at his feet. He’s silent for a moment as he rubs the inside of his palm. “The truth is... I still have nightmares. Things have been looking good lately, but I can’t sleep at night.”
Hannibal watches him intently, feeling content with the revelation. He knows how to proceed.
“Have you spoken to Y/N about it? I’m sure she’d appreciate the transparency.”
“No.” Will shifts again. “Dr Lecter- I’m sorry, I— I honestly don’t feel comfortable speaking of her with you—” He rolls his wrist. “-given your shared past.”
“It’s no problem.” Hannibal stops himself from gripping the armrest and, instead, reaches for his notes. “Let’s move on.”
Will nods.
“I can prescribe something that will help, but you have to take it daily. Every night before bed.” Hannibal begins writing on his notepad. “It should help you sleep.”
And it did.
Will Graham had managed to sleep, but wild dreams still flooded his mind.
They felt vivid— real. But they were far from his previous nightmares. They were more along the lines of something a child would dream of- unhinged and randomized as they were.
He had taken the meds for about a week, and would always wake up in a different room than he had fallen asleep in. Hannibal had assured him it was because of his level of stress, and it would balance itself out with time and rest.
The sleepwalking was nothing to be scared of.
But on the seventh night, as he dreamt soothingly, his mouth became flooded with warmth, an unfamiliar beating played on his tongue and against his gums. When he had opened his eyes, falling away from the trance-like dream, Will Graham nearly choked.
There, in his gripping hands, he tightly held the twitching body of one of his smaller dogs. Bloodied and struggling, he could barely recognize it like this.
Will spat at the ground, his fingers dropping the animal as he tried to assess the situation. But his mind wouldn’t respond, only focusing on the here and now. He darted his eyes around as his breathing quickened at an alarming rate. He looked about his other dogs, all of which sat awake and cowering in the corners of the room.
As he later observed himself in the bathroom’s mirror, he became aware of the shaking in his hands and the bloodied mess covering his face. He felt sick.
His hands nearly stopped him from turning on the sink, but he needed to wash up as soon as possible.
As quietly as he could, he retrieved his phone from the bedroom and called Hannibal from the tight comfort of his car, explaining to him what had happened and wasting no time on blaming it on the medication.
“What if I killed her? I-I don’t know what to do— Hannibal, what if I killed her?” Will frantically begins to talk, spitting at the dirt from his open door between stops as if blood still flooded his mouth. “I don’t know what to do with the body.”
“Y/N’s body?” Hannibal asks.
“No—no, god no. I mean... the dog. The dog in my living room.” Will shuts his eyes and exhales. “Y/N is sleeping.”
“Will, it’s a dog.” Hannibal persuades, smiling as he does. “As sad as losing a pet may be, you haven’t committed a crime.”
~
The next morning, you awoke to a certain smell. It stung your nose until your eyes shot open at the realization.
You jumped out of bed and rushed to the kitchen. Will stood by the sink, filling up the water filter, but didn’t seem to notice the smoke coming from the iron pan on the stove.
“Will!” You shouted, grabbing a rag to move the pan away from the heat. He turns around and sets down the filter. Will grabs your arm before you could throw anything into the sink.
“It’s just a little charred.” He says quietly.
“Don’t you smell the smoke?” You look to him with concern. His responses have been slowed, almost slurred.
“I think I’m congested.”
You look down and observe the food. It’s burnt scrambled eggs with equally charcoaled diced ham.
“You can’t expect me to let you eat this—” You say, shrugging his hand away. His arm falls to his side as he watches you dump the iron pan, along with the blackened food, into the sink. “-especially if you aren’t feeling well.”
With a heavy exhale, you lean against the counter and look at him. Your observation lasts a while, and he seems to watch you as well. His eyes look weighted and tired.
“You’re exhausted.” You say, bringing your hand forward to brush the hair out of his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?” You ask.
He twitches.
“... No,” Will takes your hand into his own, rubbing gentle circles above your knuckles as he looks dazedly at your fingers. “I’ve been busy.”
#hannibal#hannibal x reader#will graham#will graham x reader#x reader#yandere#hannibal lecter#hannibal lecter x reader#yandere x reader#ask#request
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Lesson 52 analysis + 53 predictions
Turning this into a routine thing now! They’re fun to write and they’re popular (moreso than my actual commentary posts lmao).
Y’all like my ramblings.
Things guessed correctly from prior lesson
The House of Lamentation was an illusion produced by the fairies
The arc culminated in the completion of the Trial of Patience (star received via Simeon)
The illusion did a number on Simeon's feelings as well due to his fondness for Lucifer and the brothers
They shoved Mammon and Luke off to the side and plopped them back in only after the Satan/Simeon arc was complete. There was no arc for Luke. To be fair, though, they did get more content than I expected even so.
Things guessed wrong
The banshee didn't show up at all. It was a red herring.
There was no significance to the geranium found in the mysterious book
Our adventure also completed the Trial of Generosity. (I incorrectly attributed this to Diavolo, who actually gave us the Star of Gratitude)
Still ???
Whether or not there is some kind of transfer of memories/experiences going on between the brothers' past selves and present selves due to our meddling in time. We've confirmed that past angel Beelzebub has turned into a glutton in between the time we last saw him and now, but we haven't confirmed if it *is* our meddling that has induced that. Currently, no change has manifested in the present brothers, nor has the timeline of events seemed to have significantly changed.
Whether or not present Lucifer becoming more "angelic" in season 2, in lieu of past angel Lucifer's growing doubt, will be a significant plot point. The parallels are getting stronger, though. (This is elaborated on further down)
It feels like 50/50? I’ll probably keep a list like this going for future analysis/prediction posts just so I can keep track of how right/mistaken I am throughout the playthrough. Might help me make less mistakes in my analysis!
As a general rule I try not to meander too far off into symbolism or out-of-game lore because what I write begins to sound like this:
And this is an otome game that is light on writing and plot. Nine times out of ten, it’s not going to be that deep. So I work with the details given and the plot points shown and try to draw connections within the framework of the story, in an attempt to try to deduce where the devs are taking the plot. Unfortunately for me, the devs like red herrings, and red herrings are designed to mislead you. With me, they are quite successful! I’d like to get better at spotting them.
The book was consequential -- it’s used to imprison Satan later -- but that’s the end of it’s meaning. Maybe the Bible verse had something to do with it, too -- those were some weird ass numbers to just throw in the title -- but maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.
But enough of that, onwards! We have a lot of points to go over that may be interesting to note, right or not.
Satan the Memory Thief
Back in 50-B we learn that it was Michael who taught the brothers the stories behind the human world constellations.
When we’re tossed back in time-dreamland (?) again, it is Satan who takes the opportunity to teach the brothers the human world constellations. The room had just been remodeled: Michael hasn’t had the opportunity to give them tours yet. Lucifer mosied into the room so he and the brothers can get the first glimpse.
Sooo if in a future lesson we ask them about where they learned the constellations in the present timeline and they say “oh a guy named Sully, who suspiciously looked just like Satan, taught us!” then we know our meddling is having significant consequences.
It IS worth noting that unlike the prior dream sequence, Satan and Simeon remember what they just went through. This particular time-dream could very well just be an illusion meant to give Satan/Simeon some kind of emotional resolution and nothing else. This is kind of why I hate that they’re bring time travel back into the story: it makes stuff like this confusing and borderline inconsistent. Some sequences may have effects and others may not.
The chat between Lucifer and Simeon could also be consequential.
“Do you *really* mean that?”
There is a parallel at play here!
After you wake up after dozing off, you go off to find Lucifer and Simeon conversing in a forest clearing, evidently unaware that you’re eavesdropping on them. Simeon says although he knows it is just an illusion, that he was glad to see angel Lucy once more. Angel Lucy is predictably confused, and reassures Simeon that they’ll remain like this forever.
Simeon, of course, knows better. He tells Lucifer that he knows he’s been meeting with Diavolo and he’s having doubts about his place in the Celestial Realm -- and if things really will remain the same. Lucy is caught off guard, and starts to explain with some clear hesitation... and of course we pass out before we could hear his answer.
There’s creepy loud heartbeats when it fades out. Normally I associate them with tense, pivotal decisions -- but it could also just be related to us waking up and returning to reality.
If Simeon ends up being wrong -- and there will be real world consequences to this conversation -- they could be very significant consequences. We’re not sure if the conversation continues for a bit longer after we pass out, but Simeon already woke up before we come to.
Obviously the brothers still fell (they’re still demons in the present), but I wouldn’t underestimate the potential of a butterfly effect changing the circumstances of the Great Celestial War. I kind of hope they don’t do that, though, because they haven’t even begun to explain the present details of that event. We know only the broad strokes. Suddenly changing them to make the resolution between the demons and angels more smooth will feel really forced.
And that parallel I mentioned: Diavolo expresses similar worries and doubt in Lucifer’s conviction in season 2.
I have no doubt Lucifer actually means what he says to Diavolo, unlike his dialogue with Simeon, but Diavolo is aware of just how far Lucifer will go for the sake of his family -- and he’s probably #2 on the priority list, when push comes to shove. Lucifer forsaking the Celestial Realm for Lilith was the thing that brought him to Diavolo in the first place.
Of course, this lesson has Simeon suggesting that Diavolo’s influence on Lucifer was significant prior to all that unfolding, and it may have eventually happened regardless. It was only a matter of when, not how.
Still, Lucifer be writing checks he may not be able to cash. We also get this foreboding warning from Barbatos in Season 2:
As I’ve said before, the inevitable conflict the story was hinting to at this point doesn’t happen in Season 2. Lucifer isn’t forced to make a choice like this. The Night Dagger didn’t demand it.
I’ve also expressed my belief that Season 2 and Season 3 were likely written back-to-back due to the small window of time between their releases, so I believe details overlooked in Season 2 may suddenly become more relevant in Season 3.
It’s worth remembering Diavolo’s growing feelings for MC -- and Lucifer’s inner conflict about it -- were hinted at early in Season 2, as well. It doesn’t really get going until the conclusion of Season 2, leading into Season 3.
Do I have any clue of what this is actually leading up to? Not at all! If it mirrors Season 2′s format, though, it’ll suddenly come to a head in the last 3-5 lessons. I remember feeling equally clueless then, and Season 2 had a lot more foreshadowing...
... a lot of which actually didn’t pan out! But it might now.
Guardian Angels
Another smaller, but interesting detail. Guardian Angels are indeed a thing.
I think they’re gonna become a thing soon. The devs very sneakily changed a small detail in Season 2, suggesting they might have realized that it may interfere with their plans for later seasons.
Old version.
New version.
I’m thinking they may have decided giving Michael guardianship of an entire swath of the population was cheating, and they may be individualizing the role of Guardian Angels.
Which leads me to who I think Michael’s chosen human squeeze is:
My man has been scoping him out long before we came around.
It makes sense, too. We know Michael gave his Ring of Wisdom to Solomon, which seems to have kickstarted his career as a demon-pacting sorcerer (though he clearly was a sorcerer before this).
This is a very powerful item, described as the Ring of Light’s counterpart, that would be very useful for a high-ranking angel to possess. I don’t think Michael would fork it over to just anyone, particularly when we remember how he felt compelled to interrogate us via dream hi-jack before the Ring of Light fully came into our possession.
Solomon also makes Michael angst in a way a well-meaning but misbehaving child would make their parent angst:
Solomon also really doesn’t seem to regard Michael like some distant, all-powerful alien being who could smite him out of existence.
Contrast this with how he responds when he’s forced to hang out with Diavolo for a day (he gets more comfortable, but he initially wants to punt the responsibility back to Lucifer ASAP).
And he knows a surprising amount of small details about the guy:
I think Solomon is a significant part of Michael’s long-term plans, but he may not even be fully aware of how. Or he is, and they’re in some kind of mutually beneficial agreement -- possibly related to cross-realm peace -- that we simply haven’t been made aware of yet.
Personally, I think Simeon should be made MC’s ‘official’ Guardian Angel if they’re gonna be a thing with official mechanics behind them. I know Michael is supposed to be the Big Cheese and ridiculously hot, so it may make sense to have him linked to the MC of an otome game because they’re super special too, but Michael may already have Solomon. He shouldn’t get to hog everything. It’s not like assigning Simeon to do job would really inconvenience him, either: MC is Solomon’s apprentice. He can easily work with the arrangement.
Luke may feel left out but he’s a kid so...
Seven Brothers Constellation
We learn there’s a constellation representing the brothers in the Celestial Realm. Everyone there knows the legend, but Luke doesn’t know what the three stars ‘watching over them’ represent.
He, Mammon, and Satan begin to theorize and Satan suggests they may represent the three realms. The other two like the idea, and Mammon insists the ‘human’ star represents MC.
He’s probably right, but I’m willing to take it a step further: it represents MC, Diavolo, and Michael. The three “guardians” of their respective realms, and the brothers. Season 3 has been repeatedly beating us over the head with how much Michael still cares for the brothers and his relevance to their upbringing, and likely their future.
It bears repeating: Diavolo and Michael are aiming towards the same goal, though their visions of what peace and harmony looks like may be very different.
Solomon could also qualify as a self-appointed guardian, but I think he lacks the connection to the brothers MC obviously has.
Still, he has the same resolve, and he’s not leaving the story any time soon.
Predictions
I sniff out even the smallest Michael details because he’s clearly the key to whatever is gonna blow up.
This might give us some insight on how the initial dealings with him may unfold:
It’s hard to deduce just what this actually means. Either Michael tends to overthink things that just aren’t that deep (can empathize) and that in itself leads to needless complications, or he’s apt to misread situations and as a result gives poor advice. Or a combination of both.
My initial read on him makes me think that he thinks the best of humans/angels but the worst of demons. He is very, very complimentary towards MC as soon as they start answering his questions.
Am I now? Really?
It could just be the game making characters butter up the MC to make the game more enjoyable for the player of a self-insert character, but dude we just met.
When you tell him you did what you did out of love for Lucifer:
That’s a very telling pause/ellipsis. It’s like his brain momentarily short-circuits and he needs to regain his composure before he continues, and he still doesn’t sound entirely sure of what you just said lol
He also just outright admits he initially thought you must be wicked just because the brothers liked you, and this is a guy who is still fond of them himself. I think he’s having a very hard time with it.
So the inevitable bumps in the roads ahead with him will likely be a result of this, and/or his dad being an asshole. Neither he or Diavolo are actually in charge of the realms they’re overseeing -- they’re both de facto leaders -- so maybe the parents will suddenly barge in and try to knock over their sand castles for whatever reason. It is kind of weird that the exchange program has been agreed to in the first place, particularly on the Celestial Realm’s part.
Regardless, I have no clue what the next arc will be. I know we still have three trials left, but they could combine two again to leave more room for the actual storyline to progress. The climax is going to be the last trial of our sorcerer’s exam, or something happening afterwards. Not sure which one I’m willing to bet on yet: I remember Simeon’s play and the silly Blood Moon contest in Season 2 were what kept use preoccupied for Season 2 until SUDDENLY LUCIFER GETS AMNESIA AND THE WORLD IS IN DANGER AND WE HAVE TO STAB HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE. But they did heavily foreshadow that in the very beginning lol. They just didn’t fill in the blanks until much later.
I wonder what the trial of chastity is gonna be like and how hard we’ll actually fail and the game will need to overcompensate for that
#obey me#obey me!#obey me lesson 52#obey me spoilers#obey me lucifer#obey me diavolo#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me michael#obey me barbatos#analysis#obey me lesson 53#obey me season 3
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Guardian Angel - Spencer Reid
TW: depression, post-partum depression, mentions of miscarriage, suicide attempt
A/N: So I don’t exactly know where this idea came from, but wherever it did, I’m glad it came. It’s a really long one, and really really sad. I spent almost 2 weeks on it, so I hope you guys enjoy!
He should have noticed. He shouldn’t have ignored the signs; the resentment that you held towards the small human bundled in his arms, the quietness, the reluctance to do anything that involved getting out of bed. He was a profiler for god’s sake. So how didn’t he see this coming?
“Dr. Reid, may I suggest you go home? She won’t be awake for another day at least, and you need rest.” The nurse pressured him as she checked your vitals, examining the machine that was pumping saline into your body.
“Statistically speaking, a normal person can remain awake for 24 hours before serious side effects are exhibited.” Reid mumbled back to the nurse, glancing down at the sleeping baby in his arms.
“I understand that you are a genius Dr. Reid. However, these are different circumstances, and if you were thinking logically, you would understand that your statistics are not reasonable.” Spencer sighed angrily, he knew she was right, there was nothing right about his statistics or reasoning.
“At least have someone come take care of the child. Maybe a close friend or family member? They could bring you some stuff too.” The nurse suggested, motioning towards the bundle who was slowly beginning to awaken. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on your wife, Doctor.” She exited the room swiftly, her footsteps barely audible in the quiet room. If he didn’t hear the door closing gently, he would have thought he imagined the whole thing.
The nurse was right, caring for both you and the baby was hard, and he wasn’t equipped to care for the baby in the small hospital room. Fumbling around in his jacket pocket, he withdrew his phone, that already had a picture of you and your daughter displayed. He smiled gently, almost forgetting everything that was happening around him at the expression on your face. It wasn’t always like this.
After pressing a few buttons, he held his phone to his ear, gently rocking the now fussy baby with his other arm. The dial tone seemed to last forever as he waited for the recipient to answer the phone.
“JJ,” Spencer breathed out as soon as she picked up the phone. “I need a favour,” the sound of shuffling and hushing in the background almost made him relieved.
“Spence, what is it?” JJ’s calming voice crackled over the phone; he could hear his teammates chatting in the background. The voices faded as she stepped away from the group that had gathered around, hoping to hear from Spencer.
“Can you come take Leah? Something is wrong with Y/N, and I just need someone to take care of Leah for me. You’re the person I trust most.” JJ audibly gasped. She knew it was serious, just not serious enough for Spencer to part with Leah. Glancing back at the group, she saw their worried expression, who watched carefully as she shoved stuff into her bag and left the bullpen.
“Okay, where are you?”
*****
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Spencer breathed a sigh of relief as he handed the bundle of blankets to JJ. Somewhere in which, his daughter was sleeping peacefully.
“Of course, it’s not worries Spencer. It’s serious isn’t it? I mean, Y/N is here, and you didn’t even tell Hotch you weren’t coming into work.” Spencer looked back at the door warily before nodding at JJ, who was gently rocking the baby.
“Post-partum depression. I found her yesterday after work, called the ambulance. I’ve been here since.” She sighed sadly, looking down at the baby before back at Spencer, grabbing his hand in hers.
“Don’t blame yourself for this, you did nothing wrong.” She reassured, rubbing his hand with her thumb. He nodded knowingly, he knew he did nothing wrong, but deep down he couldn’t stop blaming himself for not noticing sooner. “I’ll call Hotch for you, try to get some rest okay?” JJ smiled gently, “call me if you need anything.”
Spencer watched as JJ loaded his daughter into the baby seat in her car, thanking his previous self for remembering to grab the car seat in the rush. Minutes later, he was waving goodbye to JJ and walking back in the hospital doors, with his cardigan pulled tightly around his thin frame.
Upon returning to your room, he saw that you were still sleeping peacefully. Admittedly, this was the most peaceful he had seen you since Leah had been born, which created a painful ache in his chest.
How long had you been suffering on your own? Did you cry alone at night when he was gone on cases? What did you feel towards the small girl who grew in your stomach for 9 months? Did you love her? Hate her? Have no feelings about her?
He couldn’t blame you, how could he? He knew what post-partum depression was. It wasn’t your fault. But he also knew he didn’t help you.
Instead he was infatuated with his daughter, spending most of his hours at home with her. His excuse? He wanted to give you a break, let you rest from being a mother constantly. By doing so, he unintentionally ignored you, left you to your own mind.
It’s not anybody’s fault, the doctor’s mantra replayed in his mind. When you were first brought in, the doctor almost immediately diagnosed you, despite you being unconscious. All of the signs were there, and there was no denying it. Spencer had questioned a few things, he knew of post-partum depression, and what it was. But even he had to admit, he didn’t know everything.
Resting his head on his hand, he allowed himself to slowly drift off into a light doze.
*****
The steady beeping of a machine.
The lights that shined brightly even through your closed eyelids.
The offensive smell of sanitiser that invaded your nostrils.
Those were the first things you noticed as you began to drift towards consciousness. Everything was fuzzy, unfamiliar, your mind clouded as you began to panic from the confusion. Where are you?
You didn’t notice the beeping increase slowly, or the shadow cast from the nurse standing beside you. All you could notice was the dense fog that clouded your mind.
“Mrs. Reid,” a voice coaxed, guiding you through the fog with a bright lamp. The person holding the lamp was a little girl, that looked almost exactly like Spencer, just younger, and with longer hair. “Mrs. Reid, are you there?” You chased after the girl, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings in the dark forest. This makes no sense, you thought to yourself as you spun in a slow circle.
“Slowly becoming aware…coming out of consciousness…dreaming…Dr. Hamid.” You only caught fragments of the conversation, still confused about your location. The little girl was now gone, plunged back into darkness you noticed how cold the ground underneath your feet was, how damp the packed dirt felt.
And then the ground fell out beneath you, as you tumbled through the darkness.
*****
“Dr. Reid,” the nurse jogged up to a very exhausted Reid, who was nursing a badly-made coffee between his hands. “We have good news, Y/N has been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few hours now. She is still very drowsy, but we have managed to get some motor functions out of her, mostly eye flickering and little hand movements. But this is good, really good.” Spencer smiled widely, you were making progress, coming back to him, to Leah.
The white walls of the hospital corridor seemed a bit brighter as he followed the nurse down the hallway. If he didn’t know better, he’d call it a hopeful white – compared to the dull colour that he saw before hearing the good news. But he was a profiler, he knew better, the psychology. He was a profiler, but he missed the signs that led to this. Not a very good profiler, apparently.
Your body still laid relaxed in the bed, your dark hair and blue gown contrasting brightly against the clean white sheets. Spencer revelled in how peaceful you look, it reminded him of the first time he realised he loved you. You had spent the night at his place after a rough case, he had spent half of the night trying to sleep, but instead watching how peaceful you were when you slept. That night, before he fell asleep, he gently mumbled that he loved you, and watched as your lips called into a small smile.
“I love you,” he mumbled, hopeful to get a reaction from you. For a second, he could have sworn that he saw your lips twitch upwards, which ignited a fire in his heart. A fire of hope.
“Y/N, I know you’re there somewhere. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice anything. But I need you to pull through. Leah needs you to pull through.” He begged, holding your cold hand tightly in his own. “Please,” he whimpered.
This time when the light appeared again, you were now faced with a very dimly lit hallway, with no apparent end. The young girl stood beside you, her brown curly hair contrasting distinctly against her pale skin and white dress. She held the same lamp, which shone light onto the walls – which had small etchings for as far as you could see.
Curious, you stepped closer to the wall, trying to see what the etchings meant. But all you could see were tiny letters, which you couldn’t read.
“Come on, we need to go.” The girl grabbed your hand, her palm cold against yours. She turned, and walked down the hallway, pulling you along until you fell into step with her.
“These words… what do they mean?” You asked as you walked down the hallway, which gradually lightened in front of you with each step.
“They’re a story, your story more specifically. Don’t you recognise this place?” You shook your head, confused as to what she meant. “It’s your head, the deepest, darkest part of your mind.” She explained, pointing to all of the words on the wall. “This is your story, your memories, everything you’ve ever seen or done, whether or not you remember it. It’s you, Y/N.” Reaching out, you let your hands run over the small bumps as you walked.
“Wait, so if this is everything in my life, who are you?” You questioned, glancing down at the young girl, who looked eerily familiar.
“I’m Annalise,” your jaw dropped to the floor as your face fell. “I suppose you wouldn’t recognise me, you never got to meet me, mum.” Painful memories flooded your mind, your daughter, the one you never met, never held. The one who slipped away too quickly.
“Wha-? How?” The words tumbled out of your mouth; your lips numb as your stared at her.
“I’m your guardian angel. When I died, I became your guardian angel.” Her lips tugged upwards slightly, pulling into a small smile.
“I-I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, the tears immediately streaming from your eyes. Sobs wracked your chest painfully as you doubled over, falling to your knees.
“Don’t apologise mum,” her hand touched your cheek, igniting your skin. “It wasn’t your fault,” she reassured. “I just wasn’t meant to be,” her hand brushed back the locks that had fallen in front of your face.
“Did it hurt?” You asked, relieved as she shook her head gently.
“Not even a little bit.” You smiled through the tears; she didn’t suffer. “Come on, let’s keep going. I want to tell you some stuff.”
You pulled her into a hug, sniffling as you smelled Spencer’s shampoo on her. Grabbing her hand, you pulled yourself into a standing position, smoothing out your nightgown before following her further down the hallway once again.
“All of your family and friends wanted to say hello when they heard where you are. Especially your dad, he was once your guardian, until I came along of course. He said he is so proud of you, for everthing you have accomplished and overcome.” Tears welled in your eyes again at the thought of your father, the man who had taught you everything there was to know about life. “Grandpa trained me, he raised me to be the best guardian angel to you.”
“What is it like up there?” You questioned, pointing towards the ceiling. She smiled apologetically at you.
You hardly believed in heaven, but this, you hoped was a sign. Since childhood, you had prayed to whatever higher being, whether a person or the stars, that there was something after death. This was your sign, of a home, a place to belong after death. And not just the dark abyss of simply not existing anymore.
“It’s the most beautiful place, one big family…. But you don’t belong there, not yet.” She said, sensing your excitement, your relief.
“What do you mean?” You questioned; looking around, you noticed the words had finished, now just plain walls on either side. “Where are the words?” She pointed towards the darkness with the lamp, a door was standing at the end of the hallway.
“The story isn’t finished yet. They don’t exist, because they haven’t been written yet.” She explained, her voice thick as she spoke. “I never got to meet you mum, not properly. It was always my biggest dream to meet you, to get to know you. But this isn’t the way, nor the time.” Tears started falling from your eyes in big drops, running down your cheeks. “You need to go home, to daddy, to Leah.” Glancing at the door, you looked back at your daughter, she was a picture copy of Spencer.
“Will I get to see you again?” She nodded with a smile.
“I’m always here, whenever you need, I’ll guide you. And when it’s time, we will meet again.”
Turning to the door, you placed your hand on the cool knob, turning it before stepping into the light.
*****
Bright lights blinded you as you stared up at the white ceiling. Warmth surrounded you, sinking deep into your bones, to your heart. You closed your eyes blissfully, relishing in the warmth. The air smelled clean, almost too clean. Quiet chatter could be heard in the background. But you still relished in the warmth that surrounded you.
“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, forcing you to open your eyes. “Y/N?” He jumped up, crowding over you as he stared into your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re okay.” Pulling you into a tight hug, he shook as he cried, his tears staining your gown.
You’re okay.
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer x reader sad#spencer sad
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@the-wip-project day 35:
I don't know what today's question is but I gotta write a wall of text about what happened last night because holy shit
I was on the verge of falling asleep and, like I usually do, I decided to hunt for some spicy fanfics to read on my phone. I found one.
All my posts are long but this one is real fucking long. CW for touching on dub-con and injury mentioned in the type of context it probably shouldn't be.
It's time for me to admit that not only am I a oneshot writer, I'm also a oneshot reader. I am drawn to short fanfics. If I click on a chaptered fic, it's (usually) because it's rated E for smut and I'll go in with every intention of skimming it for the spicy bits. I'm not proud of this. I've avoided saying this for years because I don't want to disappoint people who work hard on their very long and well thought out chaptered stories. I have a short attention span, and I know what I want.
But anyway, last night I clicked on a fic with 5 chapters and some amount of words, around 30k? Long, by my standards, but I was tired and I just wanted something to read while I dozed off.
This particular fic hooked me in, though. I still skimmed it, but the writing was so unique in a way that made me writhe with writer's envy and admiration. Whoever wrote this had their own language - nothing borrowed - their own vision.
I guess I should tell the good people who read my posts (ya'll, seriously, thank you) that the fic in topic is called Fault Lines by Recidiva on AO3. I would link to it but uhhhh I may be using my work PC for "extracurricular purposes" right this moment ^^; so maybe when I get home I'll remember to add it.
I skimmed it - like I said above - for the spicy parts. It generally follows the plot of Bioware's canon. Thane begins as possessive and manipulative, likely uncomfortably close to dub-con for a lot of people. He kisses her and knows full well that his kiss will make her willing but intoxicated, and how he will use that to fulfil himself. But as the story progresses, he falls in love. Their relationship is what I'll call "edgy." Both of them are renegades. There's a scene where they get down in the shuttle after a fight and they're both still injured and it borders on downright unrealistic but fuck it, it's fanfic and I bought it. However their relationship develops a certain heart-wrenching tenderness. She asks him what Siha means over and over again, and eventually tells him she thinks "bitch" when he says it. But in that moment they have a playful banter, he knows full well she's probably already looked it up on the extranet, and they fall into bed together. The smut is mind-boggling.
By the time it gets to Shepard's arrest, he's taken up a place on Earth and visits her, breaks into her house arrest. There's a scene where they see each other for the first time in a while, she tells him how much she's missed his mouth and how it's not right how bad she wants him, and wants him bad enough to smother him with affection. She says something to the effect of "if you're looking to die, I'd volunteer to be the cause," implying that her lust is powerful enough to endanger his life. And it was at this moment I realized I fucked up.
It's established that I live in my own headcanon and I'm not burdened with considering the end of Thane's life as part of my fics. And the suspension of disbelief was such that I forgot he doesn't make it. So at this moment in the fic, chapter 4 out of 5, I realized "Oh shit this isn't going to have a happy ending." I skipped to the end right away, I wanted to confirm my fears.
In their final exchange, she asks him to lie to her - something that's repeated in other chapters of the story. I forget what he says, I was reading desperately, but he asks her in return to tell him something true. She kisses him and tells him she loves him, and he breathes his last breath with the lingering tingle of their kiss to carry him to the other side.
I was so entrenched in the depth of their relationship up to that point. The level of fathomless love the author conveyed, unlike anything I've ever managed to write before, but more realistic to my own understanding of love as I've experienced it. Not because they're renegades, but just the selflessness with which they feel, communicate, banter, and make love.
When I read that last paragraph, something inside me broke. That sounds dramatic but that's honestly how I would describe it. It felt like waking up from a night terror, when you bolt up in bed from a dream so bad you immediately get up even if it's 4am because nothing feels real and you're so terrified you have to get up and do something - literally anything to take your mind off it, to ease you back into reality. I put my phone down and stared into the darkness of my bedroom and told myself "it's just a fanfic, no need to get upset." And then I started to cry and I didn't stop for 30 minutes.
My husband was downstairs watching Bohemian Rhapsody and I went down there and wrapped myself around him so tight and cried. Bless this man, from the bottom of my heart - bless him - for his unfathomable kindness. I felt like a fucking fool because I was crying over fanfiction but he paused his movie and just listened while I tried to articulate how it wasn't exactly about the character death, or the characters at all, it was just the writing and how it wormed into my brain so convincingly. I felt the loss like it was my own loss. I am terrified of losing my husband. So many feelings coalesced and I realized one day I may be in that situation, kissing the man I love goodbye for the last time, never to hold him again. I'm at work right now and I'm tearing up because it's so hard.
I tip my hat to the author, but I genuinely wished I hadn't read that fanfic. And isn't it kind of funny after that grandstand I took yesterday about not wanting to write the pain of loss and grief, that I ended up reading it instead and probably fucking myself up just as badly, if not worse, than if I had tried to write it myself?
It gets worse, too. Because it got me thinking about my own writing, and how I could never hope to achieve what that author did. So I sat there crying out my painfeelings while simultaneously feeling like a shit writer and like nothing I put out matters. I got up from the couch, sat down at my PC and picked up where I left off in the Omega DLC in ME3 because video games are great for taking the mind off things. It didn't exactly help with the intensity I'd hoped for, but I managed to fall asleep, by 3am.
Fast forward to this morning. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed 4 hours later and drove to work. By some fucking miracle, no one is here right now except our field director. And I'm stewing in how this one fic really fucked me up bad, reconsidering everything. I feel like I've been put in my place.
So what changed?
Yesterday I posted about how I'm struggling to write a plotline. I know what happens, but I'm not interested in the little bits that tie it together. I want to write the romance. I think there's a way to write the plot and the romance at the same time, but it's damn hard.
I started doing this because I wanted to grow my skills as a writer, and I knew it might be more than I could chew. I'm at that moment now where I'm about ready to give up.
Even if I felt like a shit writer last night (and still kinda do this morning), I know that the stuff I've put out has value. We can't all write these epically tragic smut-romance-renegades-to-lovers tales, we'd all be sad all the damn time. There's a time and a place and - I would argue - even a need for lighterhearted fic out there. There are really no rules. I'm confident in what I know how to do.
But the plot. Fuck it, man. I think maybe I'm trying too hard to be something I'm not. I'm trying really hard to write like other people. I may have mentioned before that I saw a post about how many artists spend their time pining for the skills of others, thinking "wow, when I can draw like that, I'll have made it as an artist." That same post cautioned against this, basically saying you already have your own unique style, it's just harder to see through the lens of your own eyeballs. It's fine to challenge yourself but try to acknowledge what you do that sets you apart already. I feel like I have that something - maybe not to the extent that I wish, but I have something.
So what's the point of the plot? Why do I need to tell my readers how I cured Keprals? I'm asking myself important questions here. I like to think I've come up with ideas that no one else has, but as I said above, I don't read a lot of chaptered fics. I very well may have come to the same ideas as other writers and I'm not even aware of it. I don't know if my ideas are unique but I still arrived at them all by myself.
The challenge here - the thing I'm struggling so much with - is how to put them together with the same elegance of my fellow writers. I'm looking at you, shrios fam (yeah I'm calling you that, yall know who you are). I know I can write words, but it's like I have a bunch of pieces from completely different jigsaw puzzles and I'm struggling to make a new picture out of them. I struggle with the transitions between them.
The point here is I have to find my own way. And I have to stop taking myself so seriously. In fact this level of "seriousness" is one of the things that got me into so much angst over World of Warcraft over the last two years. At least I know how to recognize it.
I have to find my own way. I have my own things that are worth sharing. The author I read last night had a language all their own, and I have a language all my own too. Their wordplay was actually more choppy than I would ever write. I've talked before about how I'm scared of starting too many sentences with pronouns, how I maybe write too many run-on sentences, whatever. This author did that with reckless abandon. It worked for them. So if they can make that shit work, I can make my own shit work.
I have to find my own way.
My most current WIP is Thane and Shepard's first time. I've been working on it pretty nonchalantly because I hadn't intended to publish it until I built up to it. It takes place further into my timeline, and it would probably ruin the point of a slow burn if I put it out there now. There are some really memorably moments in this WIP, and there are other moments that need to be smoothed over as well. I never knew what I'd really imagined for their first time but I think I've mostly developed something that's unique in its own right, and I think will be fun for people to read.
I'm just so fucking torn over what to do with it. I feel guilty for working on it. I should be writing "other shit" leading up to it but I don't fucking want to. I actually wrote probably 2-3k words this weekend, which is a pretty staggering amount by my standards. Some of it was for this smutty WIP and some was for something I just threw together, Thane observing Shepard on Horizon and the emotional toll it takes on her. He's seeing her humanity. I don't know if it's worth it to continue but I wrote a lot of it and the words are more precise than usual for a draft, I don't know. I have so much fucking insecurity. Fuck dude. I want to write this longfic, but I don't want to write it. I want to skim to the spicy bits like I always do.
I am wracked with insecurity, of my own making. I know what I can do but I feel compelled to see this idea through. Somehow I have to find my own way.
TLDR I feel like if I don't publish something soon I'm going to burst and I don't even know what the fuck to work on first and fjslfjsojoiejrj
I would be really down for, like, a bunch of hugs and a bowl of ice cream shared over memes and fanservice.
#this post is EXTREMELY fucking long send help#ITT: i read something that probably changed my brain chemistry for a few hours and it's painful#zet vs 100days#i'm just glad to get this off my chest good lord#anyway if people want to send me links to their favorite shrios fluff i would welcome it
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The Same Bed - Chapter 1
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights. Can they help it dispite their reliance on each other.
Word count: 2845
Warnings: Fluff, angst, nightmares, slow burn.
A/N: Here you go peeps! Chapter one has arrived and is ready to be consumed. Read it, enjoy it and I’ll see you on the other side. There is also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to check it out. Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.
Series masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She and Dean would always watch a movie together before they would go to bed. It was something of a tradition they had. After a case, they would pick a movie and watch it in Dean's room seeing as he had the bigger T.V. More often than not Dean would fall asleep before the end of the show leaving Y/N to turn it off before heading to her own room. Given the hard work he put into hunts and the fact that he’d usually be the one to drive them all home afterward, it’s not like he hadn’t earned it. Y/N would rarely wait till the end of the show once she realized Dean had fallen asleep. She would silently turn off the T.V. and retreat to her room, but tonight was different.
She had dozed off slightly, still chiming in at the louder moments of the show or when Dean would laugh. After a while, she could hear the credits roll as Dean lifted a blanket over her shoulders. Y/N was in the state where she was aware of her surroundings but couldn’t bring herself to move or make any noise so there was no point in trying to get up. She felt Dean slide down I put his head to his pillow, the blankets rustled slowly as Dean made an effort to stay quiet as not to wake her. The movie had fished, and the lights had been turned off and now, as she trailed off once again soothed by Deans breathing, he followed closely behind her, the both of them drifting off in tandem.
The dream, or more so dreams she had, were ones she had been familiarized with. Hunter dreams, one could call them. Images of monsters and ghosts, angels and demons, blood, death, and deals. But she had a favourite. It was always the last she would have before waking up, which was fitting considering how many times he’d saved her in real life.
Dean.
Y/Ns last and favourite dream was of Dean. The dream's plot was typically different front the last, but he was consistent in his appearance. Dean was always there. Y/N hadn’t gotten that far in her dream cycle though. Not tonight.
She was awakened suddenly by a cry coming from behind her. The frightened girl spun over in her spot distinguishing Dean as he gripped the pillow, he was sleeping on in the darkness that surrounded them. It had taken her a moment to realize she had stayed in Dean's bed. He had been whimpering for minutes as she tried to shake him out of his nightmare.
“Dean — Dean! Please wake up Dean. It’s just a dream come on wake up, please Dean, please.” He finally woke, startlingly quick and flipped her over and pinning down her wrist. Growling, his face inches from her, anger in his eyes, his grip tight on her arms. She was terrified. Looking up at one of the only people she trusts, she spoke cautiously as not to startle him further, apprehensive of the situation she was in.
“Dean? It’s me...it’s Y/N” his eyes began to soften, aa his grip loosened, “It was just a bad dream Dean, you’re okay, you’re safe.” Her voice was barely over a whisper. Dean moved his hands from her wrists, that had been left red from the tight grip he had them in, too alongside her, lowering his head to her shoulder as he brought himself closer to her body. He slowly rested himself on Y/Ns body hugging her desperately. She reciprocated the embrace reaching up around to him to hug him back slowly and hesitantly. She felt him shutter. It shattered her heart into a million pieces knowing that Dean was so broken, seeing only now how well he had covered it up around everyone else.
“Shit! — I’m sorry” he sobbed still resting his head on her shoulder.
“Dean, it’s okay, hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” he nuzzled closer to her pulling her in tight. All she could do was close her eyes and hug him back, gripping tightly to his shirt. The two of them stayed there for a very long time. So long, in fact, that Y/N had pondered the possibility that he had maybe fallen back to sleep though she knew he hadn’t, she could still feel the rigidity in his body. At once, Dean lifted his head and body off of her, turning away from her instantly.
“I’m sorry — this was — I- I really shouldn’t have put that on you. I’m sorry I kept you here, you probably want to go to your own room and sleep. And I’m sorry for scaring you, really I didn’t mean to hurt you it was— I’m sorry.” He had sat up against the headboard avoiding eye contact, staring blankly at the sheets on his lap. Y/N sat up turning to face him, her shoulders leaning against the headboard. He looked exhausted.
“How long have you been having nightmares?” He didn’t say anything. “Dean?” She whispered sliding her hand over his in an instinctive gesture of reassurance. He looked up at her when she did so, making her pull away quickly in realization.
“Sorry.” He turned away again touching his own hand now where hers was just seconds ago. “I’ve always had nightmares. Ever since I was a kid.” he looked like he was holding back tears, though she didn’t mention it. Dean was the ‘Tough Guy’ who would never shed a tear, which to Y/N made her even more worried about him at that moment, though he had just cried on her shoulder an instant ago.
“Every night?” She questions. he shrugged as he reached up to drag his hand down over his face, bringing the potential tears with it.
“Most nights. That is when I manage to fall asleep.”
Y/N looked at him and all she wanted to do was hug him again, tighter, never letting go.
“I always left before they would come, wouldn’t I?” He smirked sadly and nodded still looking down. “Can I be honest with you Y/N?” He had straightened out but still hadn’t look her in the eyes.
“Always, Dean that’s what I’m here for.” He paused for a second figuring out how to piece together his thought to make a comprehendible statement.
“I pretend.” She didn’t understand what he was getting at and so she didn’t answer hoping he would elaborate. He did so, after glancing at her briefly, almost as though he was looking for someone he knew was already there, he just had to make sure.
“On our movie nights... I pretend to fall asleep. I pretend so that you would leave. That way you don’t have to witness what you did tonight. I’m sorry. And then tonight… I didn’t want to wake you. I figured maybe I’d be okay tonight. Guess I was wrong.” He was looking down at his covers again.
“Dean, that doesn’t even make sense. Why would you pretend if I’d have left after the movie anyway?” He made a ‘good point’ frown and nodded his head.
“I just- I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep before you and have this whole situation happen. I was trying to avoid this, and it worked.” He looked disappointed but Y/N could tell it was with himself.
“Dean why wouldn’t you have just said you’re too tired for our movie nights. It’s not like I would have blamed you I mean you deserve a little rest.” He looked up to her quickly with a desperate expression on his face.
“No! I don’t — I love our movie nights Y/N, they’re great I don’t wanna stop having them and —“ he sighed his look saddening again as she turned away from her. “Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t put you in that kind of situation, I’m sorry.”
“Hey! Don’t make this about me, if you like our movie night then we’ll keep ‘em going. They’re sorta the highlight of my day anyway. I don’t care that you have issues, Winchester. I can deal with that but don’t shut me out because you’re scared of what’s behind the door. We can open it together; I’m not ditching you because you have nightmares.” Y/Ns confession had done a great deal to lighten the mood. He was looking at her now and not just quick glances, he was holding eye contact. “Why don’t you go back to sleep Dean, try to get some rest, I’ll stay here, watch over you.” She shrugged rubbing Dean's shoulder in hopes of calming him and easing him into saying ‘yes’.
“No!” It didn’t work. “It’ll just happen again either you leave or I’m not going to sleep.” He looked exhausted, pleading for her not to insist or her proposition any further.
“You can’t be sure it’ll happen again Dean, who knows maybe your subconscious will be put at ease with knowing someone's there for you.” She was making a good case though he wasn’t convinced.
“Don’t you think that would have worked earlier?” Indeed, he had a point, but Y/N seemed to think otherwise.
“No, because earlier you went to sleep thinking you had to protect me, now you can go to sleep while I protect you.” Dean looked more and more convinced with every word she said but never entirely persuaded. “Dean you’re drained, you need to sleep, okay. If anything happens then I promise, I promise, I won’t push you any further. But you don’t know until you try.”
After a pause and without a word Dean lay down pulling the covers up his chest, arms resting over himself, stiff as a board. He was too caught up with scenarios running through his head to notice Y/N's triumphant smile. She didn’t move from her spot, leaning against the headboard watching Dean. His eyes had yet to close for more than the split second it took to blink, and Y/N couldn’t help but find his stubbornness endearing as annoying as it might have been.
“Sleep Dean, you’re safe, I’m here.”
“That's what I’m worried about.” He side-eyed her or more so looked up to her without moving a singled tensed muscle. Y/N, without a word, took hold of his hand interlacing his fingers with her own and leaving it in his chest.
“Sleep Dean.” Little did she know how much her hand in his relaxed him. Not that Dean had seen it coming but it was a reassuring gesture that took his mind off the occupying thoughts. Slowly but surely the burdened man that lay next to her fell into a restful sleep, Y/N not far behind. Her eyes drifted closed steadily as she lay on her side watching Dean's chest rise and fall, their fingers still interlocked.
Dean was skeptical of the idea, to begin with, but was in utter shock when he woke to Y/Ns alarm going off on her phone. To be fair, Y/N wasn’t entirely convinced of the plan either but acted as those she believed to keep Dean from reacting poorly to her staying. Dean hastily turned off the blaring noise that persisted next to his ear before turning to face Y/N, who’s hand was still lazily holding his. Dean couldn’t help but smile, admittedly well-rested or at least more so than he would have been, had she listened to him and left. She was moving around trying to conjure the will to open her eyes, which eventually she did, immediately gazing into Deans. She could identify a mild smile as they lay facing each other.
“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand which she was only now realizing was still being held. “For staying…For being here for me, protecting me.”
“That’s what I’m here for…Was that my alarm?” He nodded at her still smiling. “We should get up. I want pizza.” He chuckled at her sudden desire for Italian food.
“It’s 9 am and you want pizza?”
“It was in my dream, we were eating pizza only it was really, really big and we couldn’t finish it so we gave it to Sam who was actually a dog. It was weird, but now I want pizza.” He watched her get up and pick up her belongings as she explained.
“That sounds like an awesome dream.”
“How about you? More nightmares?”
“Actually, no. For the first time in God knows how long; no nightmares. I didn’t dream of anything as a matter of fact, which I’m considering a huge win. Y/N, really, thank you.”
“No need to thank me, Dean, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad it worked, and you managed to get a little shut-eye.”
“Shut-eye! Are you kidding me I feel like I slept a full 8 hours!”
“That's ‘cause you did. We got home around 7, ate dinner, the movie started at around 9 ish, you had your nightmare at around midnight, and it didn’t take you very long to fall back asleep once you allowed yourself to relax Dean. You were passed out by 1 at the latest and woke up to the alarm 8 hours later.”
Dean looked astonished and overjoyed that he had managed to stay asleep for 8 hours.
“That’s — wow! I slept!” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at Dean's good mood and the childish grin on his face. “What do say I get you that pizza, huh? As a way of thanking you.”
“Dean I already told — no you know what, yeah I want pizza, let’s go.” She said as she marched out of his room set on heading to her own and changing out of her PJs.
“Okay, but we’re sharing! Y/N?” He yelled out after her, smiling to himself at the magic she pulled. Dean followed Y/Ns lead in getting changed and ready for the day.
They spent the day looking for cases and, with no luck, turned to the television to spare them of their boredom. Y/N and the brothers eventually called it a day after finishing the third or was it the fourth movie together. Y/N made her way to her room, as did the boys, to put on PJs after showering. She made her way back to the bathroom to brush her teeth and waved Sam goodnight as he slid into his room. There was a knock on the door and Y/N opened it, halfway through brushing her pearly whites, revealing a shy looking Dean.
“Cah I hell ou?” Dean's expression went from shy to confused in just under a second.
“What?” Y/N took the toothbrush out of her mouth and spit out the rest.
“I said can I help you.”
“No, you didn’t you said kahlalala ooo”
“Shut up, what do you want?” They laughed in unison before Dean settled down resorting back to the shy demeanour he initially had.
“I — Well I was sorta hoping that maybe, you know if you’re cool with it, that maybe you could come to my room and possibly stay there with me again tonight — I mean —“
“Are you asking me to sleep with you?” She found her joke funny enough, unfortunately, Dean was too worried about asking her in the first place that he panicked.
“No! Well, yes, technically but that not what I meant! I was just—“
“Dean, oh my god, relax, I was just teasing. Of course, I will, in fact, I was about to head over to your room once I finished in here to see if you wanted company again tonight.”
“You were?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right, yeah, okay.”
“Are we good?’
“Yeah, yeah, super good.”
“Okey dokey then Dean-o, let’s go”
Dean made a face to express his disapproval at the nickname she had appropriated for him as they made their way to his bedroom and successively got into bed. Once under the covers, Dean spoke, voicing his natural uncertainties.
“Are you sure about this?”
“As long as you wear a condom.” Dean turned his head to face her, unamused by her joke, a frown on his face. She looked to him while doing her best to hide the smirk on her face though falling miserably.
“Hey, you asked me here Dean.”
“Y/N — what if I lose it tonight what I was just lucky last night.”
“Do you want to hold my hand?” Dean paused before answering.
“Would that be okay?” Without answering Y/N lifted her hand for Dean to take and he did.
“Sleep, Dean. You’ll be fine.”
She was right once again. Dean awoke around four in the morning still holding Y/Ns hand, his body and in turn, face mere inches from hers. He hasn’t managed to sleep in due to the 8 hours the night before and the uneventful day. He watched as she slept soundly. An hour passed before Dean decides to move, kissing her forehead after whispering a ’Thank you, sweetheart.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2
Tag List: @just-someone-difficult @mila-dans @akshi8278
Series Tags: @wellfuckmyexistence
#fanfic#spn#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#Dean x Reader#Dean x you#Dean Winchester x Reader#Dean Winchester x you#Dean#Dean Winchester#spnfamily#spfanfic#Dean fluff#fluff#the same bed series#spnfanficpond#Dean Winchester x female reader#spn fanfic series
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Summary:
AU where Ranboo goes to Sam and asks him to Lock him up in the prison to stop himself from doing what ever hes doing when hes sleep walking.
AKA
Ranboo tries to make a self destructive decision, and Sam is a Responsible Adult, and offers him support.
Also, Sam has four arms because I think thats perfect for his character, fight me.
Note: If any of the creators mentioned in this state that they are uncomfortable with this fic, or the topics in this fic being written about them, I will take it down as soon as I know. Also, this is based off the characters, and not the actual content creators.
CW:
Panic attacks
Mild injury
Mentions of prison
Manipulation(but just c!Dream being himself)
If I missed one please tell me so I can fix it!
Enjoy the fic!
Fic under cut for anyone who doesn't want to leave tumblr.
And remember, reblogs fuel the writing braincell!
The ding of someone joining a voice call echoed in Ranboos ears
"s- Sam?" The enderboys hand shook over the button that summoned the Warden to the entrance of Pandora's Vault. He was hyper aware of the buzzing purple particles that surrounded his lanky form, and the uncontrollable vwoops and crackles that came from his mouth.
"Ranboo? I told you you weren't allowed to visit the prison anymore. You need to leave. Now." Sam's voice was hard, the voice of a Warden. Ranboo felt a year streak down his face as he choked back a sob. For once his mind was silent.
"I-" Ranboo took a shaky breath. "I don't want to visit, Sam."
"Then why are you here?" Concern glinted through Sam's warden persona, his voice softening ever so slightly. "I know you said you couldn't tell me what's up with you, but I can help Ranboo. It's ok if you need help." Another vwoop mixed with a sob escaped Ranboos throat, and he sunk to the ground in front of the nether portal.
"I- I-" Ranboo couldn't continue, and just squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stop the tears that boiled his skin as they ran down his face.
"Ok, I'm coming out ok? I'll be there in a second." The boy curled up on the blackstone floor didn't say anything Sam could decipher, but the four armed man vaguely recognized that Ranboo had mumbled something in void. The sound of the nether portal geared up, and Sam walked out of the purple swirls to see the enderman hybrid curled up on the floor vibrating, his jaw slightly unhinged.
"Ranboo? Ranboo, what happened? Why are you here?" The Warden voice was gone now, and Sam could only stare down at the black and white form of a shaking child, concern furrowing his brow.
Ranboo looked up, a scared, no, terrified look etched in his face. Ranboo tried to wipe his tears away, flinching at the pain.
"I-" Ranboo could barely stay sitting up with how hard his body was violently shaking. "I ne- eed to y- you to l- lo- lock me up- p, p- please." More tears spilled out of his eyes, and Sam immediately dropped to the ground at those shaky words. Sam carefully put 2 of his arms behind the shaking figure next to him, trying to offer support. Ranboo flinched at first, not comprehending what Sam was doing. But then he fell back into the arms, letting them hold him up.
"Why would I lock you up? What ever happened with the books you signed doesn't warrant being put in the prison?" Ranboo tensed at the words, but Sam couldn't tell if it was the mention of the books, or the prison that caused Ranboos reaction. "Ranboo, seriously, what's wrong? I promise I won't be upset if something happened." Ranboo just shook his head repeatedly, and pulled his knees closer to his chest.
"You k- know how I have a r- really bad me- memo- memory?" Sam slowly nodded, and Ranboo continued. "Well, I've been hav- having these l- long periods of t- time that I don't remember anything, and and and," Ranboo paused, and took a deep breath. "And my tools have been used, and things are missing, and I don't have anything wr- written down in my memory book." Ranboo looked cautiously at Sam, how nodded gently as if to say 'go on'. Ranboo swallowed.
"A-and I'm, I- I think I've been helping D- Dr- Dream when I'm like that…'' More choked sobs mixed with enderman sounds echoed on the walls, and the vibrating particles buzzed like angry bees in Sam's ears. He could hear his heart beating louder in his chest at Ranboos fearful confession. But Sam pushed down the shock, and tried to comfortingly shush the boy.
"Shhh, Shhhh, it's gonna be ok Ranboo. You obviously didn't want to h-"
"I blew up the community house Sam." Ranboos' voice sounded resigned now, his body and brain exhausted from the panic that still coursed through the kid's body. Sam didn't know what to say, he looked stunned. Sam had been on the server for a long time, longer than most of the people who now inhabited this world. He had memories of the community house, before all the wars, all the chaos and pain and violence that plagued the Dream SMP. When he'd seen it had been blown up, he had to mourn for a bit, mourn the symbol of a more peaceful past.
"And Dream gave me one of Tommy's disks. At- At least that's what Dream told me. Or his voice. I- I don't know what's real anymore anyway." Ranboo said the last sentence in Void, too tired to even notice that he was slipping into his native tongue. Sam retracted his arms, still shocked. Ranboo noticed the loss of support and just laid his head on his knees and closed his eyes, not really caring what happened next.
"Ranboo…" Sam trailed off and they just sat in a tense silence. After a couple seconds Sam shook his head to clear it. "Ranboo, what do you mean Dream's voice?"
"I hear his voice in my head s-sometimes. He usually tells me what I did, where I hid evidence, what I'm doing wr- wrong." Ranboos body was still tense, but he was eerily still and quiet in contrast to how he was a few minutes ago. Then Sam felt Ranboos red and green gaze meet his, urgency in his eyes." Sam, you need to lock me up, I can't be allowed to do anymore harm. I'm too dangerous. Please Sam, please, you have to, it's the only way. I can't stop it on my own, I don't know how." Ranboo was crying again, his face tightening in pain. "...please…" Ranboos' voice cracked, and he hung his head again, not even reacting when Sam carefully wrapped all 4 of his arms protectively around the half enderman.
"I'm not gonna put you in the prison, Ranboo. You're a kid." Sam's voice was tight with anger at Dream, at the server that had told these children that it was somehow their fault, and that their slip ups were worse than all the adults' slip ups.
"But I can't be trusted, I'm going to hurt someone, I can't hurt anyone." Ranboo leaned against Sam anyway, yearning for comfort, even if he thought it was gonna the last time he'd get it.
"There are other ways to make sure you don't do something bad when you black out. We'll figure it out, but I'm not letting you in that prison. You're just a kid." Sam reached around Ranboo and got out his comms. "Is there anyone I can ask to watch you to make sure you don't run off until we figure out a better system? If not I can stay with you for a bit." He looked down at Ranboos split colored hair, the boy curled up in his embrace.
"I don't know, I- I don't want to bother anyone."
"Ok. But you're not bothering anyone, you're asking for help. How about this, you're staying with Techno and Phil in the snow biome right now, right?" Ranboo nodded hesitantly. "I'm going to message them telling them that you're with me, and you might need someone to watch over you for a couple days. We'll figure it out from there, ok?" Ranboo stirred slightly. a soft him of agreement came from the boy, and Sam smiled slightly as he typed out the message to Technoblade and Philza. "You're going to be ok, I'm gonna to help you. You're safe now." Slowly Ranboo dozed off in Sam's arms. After a bit Techno showed up at the prison, looking concerned, even though he still stood with the confidence of a man who could blow up nations without a second thought. The Blades face softened when he saw Ranboo sleeping peacefully in Sam's arms. Sam looked up and smiled.
"Good, you're here, my arms were going numb." Sam joked quietly, then he carefully stood up softly shook the enderboys shoulder to wake him up. Ranboo blinked as he tried to wake up, but he was still exhausted and sleepy.
"Sam? What's happening?" Sam smiled.
"Technos here to take you home, is that ok? Ranboo nodded, and stumbled over to Techno, and leaned his tall frame against the pigmans slightly shorter one.
"Keep an eye on him, ok? Things just got more complicated, and he doesn't deserve to be put through anymore then he already has." Sam looked worriedly at Ranboo, who was already falling asleep on Technos shoulder.
"Uhh, ok?" Techno looked confused, but carefully lead Ranboo away from the prison to the nether portal that's would take them home. Sam watched them go, then turned around and re-entered the prison, his face hardening as he made his way to the center of the prison. He needed to have another chat with Dream.
#ranboo#awesamdude#ranboo fanfic#awesamdude fanfic#dream smp#dsmp#angst#fluff#hurt / comfort#fanfic#ao3#my writing#fanfiction#dsmp fanfic#dream smp fanfiction#pls reblog!
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A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.
Group: ATEEZ
Pairing: Yunho/OC
Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.
Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.
T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, cussing
A/N: Sorry for taking so long in updating this, but here we go, the penultimate chapter.
Masterlist
Chapter 7
The seven of them were gathered around Yeosang in his living room, giving him looks as if prompting the vampiric-looking male to explain everything. Yunho was growing impatient, thinking of Mirae and what may have happened to her, what was happening to her at that moment. Mingi was playing with his lighter while Seonghwa was fiddling with his bow and Hongjoong had the blade from his sleeve out.
“Madame Seo has been around for years, and when I say years, I mean decades, you could say she’s almost a century old even if she looks the way she looks,” Yeosang began. “I met her at the time of the Gwangju uprising. She was an adviser to Chun Doohwan, you could say she whispered things in his ear that led to that coup that killed so many people,” He looked down as he recalled that day.
“She always believed in that kind of purge. It was her philosophy as much as it was Ose’s, the demon in hell she worships. Anyway, she came to my office to discuss investments in some businesses she planned on starting, the brothel, the fashion label, those things. She knew who I was, Ose granted her the gift of reading minds, she figured out I was a mutant, who lived much, much longer than she did,”
“She still can’t read Mirae’s mind even if she tried,” San muttered, shaking his head.
Yeosang glanced at him. “It didn’t take me long before I realized...Madame Seo was developing affections for me. Of course, she wasn’t my type. I was...shall we say, married at the time, to the woman who was the mother of my children, who turned you all into what you are right now. When my wife died, she made her moves on me, and each time I rebuffed her…”
“Smooth,” Yunho gave him a look.
“Yes, yes she was. Years later, I find out that she came between Na Youngji and Ji Myungsoo, became Myungsoo’s mistress and later on wife, and then that actress died. It was easy for me to find out because she told me. She told me Ose had granted her seven children, seven demon children, to do her bidding, so she could become his queen,”
Hongjoong raised a hand, looking puzzled. “Hang on, you’re telling me that Madame Seo, that woman we’ve been looking for, is the queen or wife or whoever of this Ose demon?” He said.
“Yes. Yes, she is. But of course she needed a human husband, enter that basketball player. Madame Seo had Youngji killed, of course, just to get to him, but when he figured out who she really was, she had her children kill him too. Fast forward to today, where she has everyone, including those in government, wrapped around her finger. Madame Seo’s ultimate plan was to get everyone to bend to the will of Ose, while she prepares for his ascent,”
“And the reason why she’s got people under her control is because of those girls she sends their way?” Wooyoung asked, and he nodded. “She’ll expose them if they rat her out,” and Yeosang nodded again.
“So, a bunch of middle-aged men going this far to get laid? They’d actually sell their souls for this?” San looked disgusted.
“Sex, power, and influence. Madame Seo can give it to them too. Protection from the media and from the press. There’s a reason why there are dating scandals getting exposed just when someone in their circle is being looked into by the authorities, ever wonder why Yang Tan gets those tips of celebrities supposedly dating each other?” Yeosang glanced at Yunho and San.
“...Mirae did say Hyuk would tell her most of those were publicity stunts,” San muttered.
“There you have it, gentlemen, I’ve explained all I need to explain.”
“What does she hold over you?” Yunho asked before Yeosang could walk off.
“She knows I killed that Park Enterprises CEO,” Yeosang replied. “Among other things.”
“Those other things are?” Yunho pressed again. “You might as well say it. If you’re going to help us, better come clean with what she’s holding over you.”
Yeosang gave him a look. “She also knows I killed the rest of the people in my bloodline, including my wife. And now, she’s also jealous of Mirae.”
“Why?” Jongho questioned.
Yeosang pursed his lips. “Why do you think she’s jealous? Think about it.”
“Because you like her,” Wooyoung figured it out, scenes flashing in his head the more he looked at the vampiric-looking male. “But she doesn’t like you the same way.”
“I am fully aware of that, but that is no one’s business but mine,” Yeosang stood up straight. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to retire for a bit,” and he walked off.
~
Yunho caught Yeosang in his study later that day. He was sitting by the window, drinking a glass of milk from a champagne flute. “For someone like you, I would’ve thought you took a liking to alcohol,” Yunho spoke as he stepped inside the room.
“I’ve been there, drank everything that was ever invented. Eventually it gets nauseating to drink even a drop of it,” Yeosang mumbled without looking at him. “But I do have a supply. Would you like some absinthe? It’s not as strong as you might think, as long as you put in some water over a cube of sugar.”
The vampiric-looking male gestured to the table nearby that had a tall, green bottle that was labeled in its name, the yellowing sign made Yunho realize that the liquor was likely older than him. “I guess I could have some,” He said.
Yeosang stood up and went over to the table, pouring some of the green liquid into a small glass. He placed a flat piece of metal over the glass, and a sugar cube. Yeosang carefully poured water over the sugar cube, letting it melt through the piece of metal until it reached the drink itself. From green, the drink became a cloudy yellow and Yeosang handed it over to him. “It’s best that way.”
“Thanks,” Yunho took a sip, his nose wrinkling at how strong the flavor was. He wasn’t a very experienced drinker even if he could hold his own.
“Has...Mirae told you about how we met?” Yeosang asked all of a sudden, gazing out the window.
“She met you when she found out you killed that CEO of Park Enterprises,” Yunho replied. “What about it?”
A smile crept up on the vampiric mutant’s face. “Nothing, I just keep thinking about that day. She came to the house of Park senior, inspected the body, argued with her brother, but if you’ll forgive me for saying, I was more entranced by her than I was with Park senior’s daughter,” He said.
Yunho raised a brow, curious as to what he meant. “And?”
“While she put up quite a front around me, I knew how she really felt,” Yeosang muttered. “Like many women before her, I could feel her shudder every time I was near, I could see her staring at my lips whenever we talked, as if she was begging me to kiss her, to ruin her like those women before her.”
Yunho stared at him, unable to speak, but Yeosang went on. “I had her cornered in my room one of those days she was doing a search for evidence. I could say I could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife. You’re probably wondering why the fuck am I telling you this,” a satisfied smile crept up on Yeosang’s lips, a giggle escaping him.
“Now you’re asking me that?” Yunho could feel his blood boil.
“I’m telling you this for the simple fact that Mirae needs someone who would take care of her. Treat her like the queen that she is. She deserves that much, you know? I can, can you?” Yeosang looked over at him. “You don’t deserve her, Jeong Yunho.”
“But you do?” Yunho put his drink down on the table with a thud.
Yeosang smirked. “You already died in Morocco, you had your chance with her. It’s over, Yunho.”
“No, no it isn’t,” Yunho got up. “She’s with me and she always will be.”
“Are you sure about that?” Yeosang chuckled. “She’s been playing you the entire time, in fact, I could still hear her moans whenever I remember her under me-” He stopped when he saw the prongs of Yunho’s sai pierce through his heart.
“You’re not picturing anything,” Yunho was glowering at him, watching the vampiric male fall to the floor, turning into a pile of dust. “Anymore.”
~
Yunho’s eyes shot open and he sat up. He had been sleeping on the large couch in Yeosang’s living room. Seonghwa and San were sleeping on the other sides of the couch, Jongho was dozing off on the lounge chair near the window, while Mingi, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung were sharing the mound of couch cushions on the floor, including the cushions from Yeosang’s study.
He couldn’t believe what he dreamt. He knew it wasn’t true. Yunho reminded himself that it was probably the dust he inhaled from those documents talking again, but he still couldn’t help but think that maybe the feelings he felt in that were genuine. Mirae had already told him, reminding him that she never felt anything for Yeosang except for the fact that she respected him.
Yunho knew he didn’t have a reason to be jealous, but those things the shorter male was taunting him in his dream struck a nerve. Maybe he had some resentment towards Yeosang, maybe he was jealous. It was making him miss Mirae and wonder what was happening to her, he couldn’t hear anything from her even at this hour.
“Good morning- or should I say, good afternoon to you,” Yeosang said quietly upon stepping in, looking a little disapprovingly at the rest of his groupmates on the floor. “Well, better here than in the guest room, I’ve got Egyptian cotton sheets that should not and will not be ruined.”
“Afternoon? What time is it?” Yunho asked.
“It’s five p.m., one hour until the television special of that idol group,” Yeosang replied.
That made Yunho almost jump out of his seat. “Then we don’t have time to waste,” He took one of the cushions to hit San and Seonghwa awake. “Get up, get up, it’s time.”
Yeosang stared at them. “By all means, move at a glacial pace, the sense of urgency is astounding,” He rolled his eyes.
“What have you been doing then?” Yunho shot him a look.
“For your information, I was attending meetings. I own this building. I have a business to run, two and two makes four,” Yeosang replied. “...And I saw Mirae.”
Yunho’s expression fell. “...And?”
“As unconscious as the last time I saw her. Madame Seo has been trying to keep the idol group from feeding on her, they already tried last time, remember?” Yeosang said. “She only showed me a video of her.”
“Okay then, we’re back to where we started. Where are they keeping her?” San asked this time.
“I-I don’t know,” Yeosang shook his head. “The background is somewhere I can’t figure out.”
Yunho raised a brow at his answer. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really,” Yeosang glanced at him.
The rest of their groupmates were already at their feet. “Did Madame Seo give you the video?” Wooyoung suddenly spoke. Yeosang shook his head. “Are you sure?” He asked, but froze as he began to see flashes of what the vampiric male was talking about.
Mirae was strapped to a metal chair unconscious, with bits of dried blood on her nose and lip. Wooyoung kept blinking as if he could see everything twice as fast. There were slabs of bodies and thick metal doors. He turned to the rest of them. “I think I know where she is,” He said.
~
The van had pulled up in front of an old hospital building that afternoon. “Alright, we’re here where Wooyoung said it was,” Yunho looked over at the back. Yeosang stood out from the rest of them with his striped suit and walking stick. “This is the place, right?”
Wooyoung looked out the window. “Yeah it is.”
“The morgue?” Hongjoong asked.
“Yep, that’s where I have a feeling they’re keeping her,” Wooyoung muttered. “I can’t be sure, but it’s worth looking.”
“Then what are we waiting for? We have to get in there,” Jongho took his nunchaku out while Mingi opened the door.
All of them got down from the van, Yeosang looking especially conscious and walking behind them as they opened the doors to enter the morgue. The cold air hit them as they stepped inside, noticing that no one was around, not even a security guard. “Strange how there isn’t anyone watching,” San said.
“It’s a morgue, I don’t think anyone would think of coming in here unless it’s to identify a body or turn in one,” Hongjoong shrugged as they scattered to look around. “Well, we’re here now, where would she be?” He turned to Wooyoung.
Wooyoung felt around the doors, partly realizing how he had quickly taken to this ability of his to sense memories and events. Yeosang observed them, the rest of them pausing when he approached the column of three doors on the left. He ran his walking stick on the side until he tapped the doors. “If I remember correctly, yes,” He turned the handle of the middle door clockwise, the entire column of doors opening to reveal a secret passage lit with torches.
The air coming from behind the doors felt damp and there was a faint whistling of the wind in the darkness that was ahead of them despite the torches illuminating part of the way. “Funny how there’s so much more to this place than we thought,” Mingi mumbled, keeping his lighter on as the eight of them approached the passage.
“This is the way?” Yunho said.
“Yes, at least from what I remember, I haven’t been here in decades, well, she invited me down here,” Yeosang replied simply, immediately taking a step inside when San pointed the arrow of his harpoon gun at him.
“Alright then,” Yunho nodded, making the rest of them follow him down the dark path. The door closed behind them. “Who is she trying to have her children summon from above?” He suddenly remembered what Yeosang told them before they had fallen asleep.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me anything about who she plans on having summoned here, other than Ose’s ascent,” Yeosang said over his shoulder. “Probably sore at me even more now,” He muttered under his breath as they walked down the slightly rocky path.
The further they walked, the more torches began to light up. They realized that they were walking down a spiral path, and as they were approaching the bottom, they found a crowd of people whose appearances and identities were obscured by the crimson red robes and hoods they were wearing. In front of them was a woman whose face was obscured with a shawl but was cloaked in the same crimson red robe.
“...It’s a good time to come up with a plan now,” Mingi muttered to them as they stepped back, hiding themselves behind the pillars.
Yunho stared at the formation of the hooded figures. “Where is Mirae?” He asked, glancing over at Wooyoung, who was watching the figures move.
“Is she not here?” Wooyoung mouthed, and Yunho shook his head, having a better view of the area. “...Oh no.”
“She’s in N Tower, damnit!” Yunho realized, frowning in frustration.
“We don’t have much time, some of you go with Yunho to N Tower, the rest of us will try and tear these guys apart,” Hongjoong suggested. “For Mirae, and the world.”
“For Mirae, and the world,” They nodded.
“Leave Madame Seo to me,” Yeosang removed the concealed dagger from his walking stick again. “You and San better go. Tell Mirae I said hello.”
The spikes were protruding from Jongho’s arms and legs again, and he stifled his cries of pain as it pierced through the fabric of his clothes.
“Ose, Ose, Ose, Ose,” The crowd began to chant as they bowed several times in front of the woman.
“Try not to kill anyone, try,” Yunho said to them.
“You and I both know that cannot be guaranteed,” Yeosang gave him a look. “Death is sometimes the answer.”
“That’s why I said try,” Yunho muttered.
“Something tells me we have visitors in our midst,” They heard Madame Seo say, stopping the bowing that was happening in front of her. “Yeosang? My love? Is that you? You seem to have brought friends with you, why don’t you come out?” She asked in a honeyed voice.
Yeosang stepped out, sheathing his knife in his walking stick again and looking calm. “I couldn’t resist coming back here, you showed me this place once before, I seem to vividly remember us having a good time here for 24 hours, was it?”
“Oh I remember that very well, you showed me how strong you’ve gotten, and the many other moves you’ve learned from where was it? The Kama Sutra?” He could tell she was grinning. Madame Seo looked over his shoulder. “Come out, come out, I love me some strapping young men with weapons. Don’t bother teleporting though, you’ll find that it can be quite useless in here,” She looked at Yunho rather pointedly.
Yunho stepped out from the shadows, making the rest of them follow suit while several suited men appeared to take each of them, bringing them to the middle of the room. “Where is Mirae?” He asked.
“Oh my, you’re- Why you’re Mirae’s love, aren’t you? I’m not surprised, a handsome young man like you and-” Madame Seo paused upon giving him a once-over. “An immortal, no less.”
“Again, where is Mirae?”
“She’s somewhere safe, depending on how you look at it,” Madame Seo chuckled. “So, at last, here in front of me we’ve got the ones who have been looking for us, after quite a few warnings not to. By now, knowing what you know, there is a place for you in our circle, Ose would be pleased to have warriors like yourselves leading the charge in what would be the biggest purge on Earth.”
Madame Seo snapped her fingers, and a few hooded figures entered carrying small bowls of the gold powder towards her. “I’m sure you know what this is, right? It can either release your inhibitions, or release your worst instincts, depending on who you are,” She felt the powder between her fingers.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Yunho was glowering at her. “Where is Mirae?”
“Impatient, are we? Well, contrary to your thinking that she may be at N Tower, she isn’t,” Madame Seo shook her head and removed her shawl.
The hooded figures bowed and the rest of them stared at her. Madame Seo’s face was feline-like. “You missed me going down on you, didn’t you?” She glanced at Yeosang, who remained calm. She clapped her hands, and the figures carrying the bowls of powder backed away. “Reveal to them the future,” She said to them, and they pulled down on a lever.
The ground underneath them began to turn, the surroundings changing into what looked like an old operating room used by doctors to perform demonstrations of procedures. There was a space at the back that was lined with several stones that had markings. Yunho felt like collapsing upon seeing Mirae.
She was strapped to a kind of chair that had needles pointing at her nape, her wrists, and her spine. Mirae was wearing the familiar electric collar, and she was beginning to regain consciousness. “Remove the collar,” Madame Seo instructed, and the two hooded figures followed, taking the collar off of Mirae’s neck with a few clicks.
A few more hooded figures began to appear, pushing a television monitor that featured the special of the idol group. “This handy dandy machine that your Mirae is strapped to, can extract the essence of who she is, her mutant essence.”
“If you plan on killing her, fat chance,” San spoke.
“Oh I know that. Mirae’s just going to go through a lot of pain, spinal injections are painful after all,” Madame Seo smiled. She took out a small vial full of murky, red liquid from her pocket. “We’ve tested out the initial extraction from her by the way,” She held it up in front of them. “Painful, very, very, painful. But unfortunately more is needed.”
Madame Seo put the vial in a compartment of another machine that resembled a laser that was pointing at the marked stones. A loud whirring sound was coming from the machine. Before they could take a step further, they were suddenly held back by the hooded figures behind them, while the rest that were watching began to chant again.
Mirae’s eyes were opening and she gaped upon seeing Yunho. “Yunho- Yunho!” She yelled, struggling to get out, only to be overpowered, feeling her strength wane even further than the first time.
“Mirae!” Yunho struggled as well but to no avail. He was soon caught in a headlock, with his hands behind his back. “Mirae!”
An evil smile played across Madame Seo’s features and she turned on the machine that Mirae was strapped to. Tears were falling down the sides of Mirae’s face as the needles began to pierce through her wrists and then her nape. Mirae let out a scream, her eyes beginning to glow red but fading just as quickly.
The television special was beginning and they could hear the music playing. The idol group had begun to perform their first two songs. “Mirae!” Yunho kept yelling, trying his hardest to break free. “Mirae!!”
“It’s so easy to get the best of people when they care about each other,” Madame Seo watched them with an amused expression on her face. “Increase the pressure,” She instructed the figures, who turned up the speed level of the needles drilling into Mirae.
She turned to San and blew the gold powder at his face. San’s eyes were turning red and he collapsed, squirming in his place at what he was beginning to see. She blew the gold powder onto the rest of their faces. Madame Seo began to chant the familiar Latin phrase they had heard. The beginning is the end is the beginning. Yunho tried to maneuver himself to break free, taking a deep breath when the gold powder was blown into the air.
“Mirae dead, Mirae dead, and it’s all my fault, all my fault,” San looked shaken, eyes still red. “Mirae dead, Mirae dead, it’s all my fault…”
“San! Mirae’s not dead!” Yunho managed to finally overpower the figure that was restraining him, only to be thrown to the other side of the room due to the figure’s strength. “San! You’ve got to help me!” He called out, trying to wrestle with the figure who had grown larger. “All of you! Help!”
Wooyoung quickly unsheathed his katanas, keeping his nose covered as he attempted to slice through the figure that restrained him, who brought in a sledgehammer. “Shit,” He collapsed, squirming as the dust had gotten to him as well.
The music played louder, and Yunho could see a beam of light coming from the background of the idol group that was dancing. Mirae’s screams were dying down, her strength declining, the more the needles penetrated her body. “Mirae!” He rushed forward only to be knocked away by Madame Seo herself.
“I think not, Yunho,” She said, getting into a stance.
“Oh I think so,” Yunho charged at her.
#kdiner#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez timestamps#ateez fluff#ateez smut#seonghwa#park seonghwa#ateez seonghwa#hongjoong#kim hongjoong#ateez hongjoong#yeosang#kang yeosang#ateez yeosang#san#choi san#ateez san#mingi#song mingi#ateez mingi#wooyoung#jung wooyoung#ateez wooyoung#jongho#choi jongho#ateez jongho
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The Best Thing About Mornings
-dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: Astarion was used to being alone. Stalking dark and empty rooms, sleeping in his own bed, waking without a worry but his own. There was never a time he considered otherwise. Not while sunlight was fatal. But now, things are different. He can not only wake with the sun... but possibly with someone next to him... as awful as it sounds.
Read here on Ao3.
Ferelith read over them for what felt like the hundredth time. Even then, she felt the chilling touch of apprehension slither down her spine. The lines were raised on his back, prominent against his pale skin from deep and persistent carving. Though it was her eyes that crossed them, she was still familiar with the way they felt when her fingertips slid down his back. She could almost recall in detail the way each symbol was curved just by the touch. Her hands had caressed him enough times during the night that she was certain she could now sketch the scars in her sleep. Perhaps she would have written them somewhere in her little black book if it were not for the regret she felt when she looked at them. There were times she considered that she did not deserve to touch them, to be the gentle trace where cruel instruments were used to curse his skin. Becoming intertwined with him was one thing, but to try and touch him when he was vulnerable in front of her, as he was now, was something she would never dare to do. He would not allow it, or so she assumed. It was likely he would even become cross at the mere suggestion of it. No, the only time she was permitted to feel them was when she was beneath him, engulfed in his embrace with her hands stretched wide across his back so that she could outline every word beneath her fingers. And as many times as she had seen them, read them, and felt them, she could never gather enough courage to tell him what they said. Studying them all the while knowing how oblivious he remained only added to her guilt. They bent between his shoulder blades as he shifted, his arms flexing as he slid his pants over his legs.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, tucking the sheet around her exposed upper body.
She admired his profile as he glanced over his shoulder. He held it there, unable to look at her. Her eyes slid down the shape of his nose to his slightly parted lips. He looked away, feeling her examining his face again. Astarion felt like part of her research as she was always intent at staring into him. She had picked up on his ques, knew when he was lying, and often made him feel slightly uncomfortable with a single glance. As flatted as he was to be known it such a way, it was also problematic.
“Yes,” he replied softly.
“It’s still early,” she said, laying her head on the pillow.
He rose onto his feet, pulling the rest of his breeches to his waste, pondering the idea that she was right. They had not waited very long into the night to seek each other out. And though they had tried to be quiet, he was certain there was a loud rattle as he had slammed her against the door to her room only an hour ago. The others surely knew he was there. But the insatiable feeling in the pit of his stomach told him if he was going to make it through another long night, he was going to need the fuel to do so. He reached over to a stool where his shirt had been thrown- or rather, torn off.
“You can always stay,” she suggested when he did not respond.
This time, he was brave enough to look at her. But the sight made him weak. She was embracing the pillow, the sheet wrapped around her, almost glowing in the moonlight that came from the window. Some of her dark hair flowed over her shoulder. And though she was beckoning him for another enticing round of nightly activities, her eyes looked tired. Then again, she always looked tired. He wanted to crawl back into bed. To entangle himself in her again. He knew if he did, he would be tempted to feed from her. And fighting that urge was difficult enough as it was. Still, the way her pale yellow eyes sparked with mischief when he looked at her… it made him pause as he reached for the buttons on his shirt.
“A fine offer,” he smirked. “But you know I can’t.”
“I meant the night,” she replied, causing him to stop all together. “Once you’ve finished your hunt, you’re more than welcome to make a return. If you wanted.”
An invitation left open for him to decline. In most circumstances, he was quick to turn down such an offer. Astarion was never the sort to watch the sunrise with another. One, because seeing the sun would have meant his death. And two, he was usually gone before he was able to do so. There had been one exception, and only one that had occurred recently. That was the night of the party with the tiefling refugees. And it was with Ferelith. Conscious chalked it up to a long night of drinking and spoiling one another, their minds far too busy to acknowledge the time. Then again, he did recall dozing off on the forest floor with her at his arm. It was nothing like sharing a bed, but more like ending a long and restless night as one would after festivities much like the ones they partook. He had never imagined sharing his sleeping space with another. He had never wanted to. Thinking about it, about being so close to someone willingly for that amount of time without any sort of sexual desire, almost disgusted him.
“I’m afraid I’ve pushed myself too close to starvation, darling,” he shook his head, looking for his doublet to avoid making eye contact. “I’ll likely be out all night.”
The sly yet knowing smile trickled across her face and she rolled onto her back with a sigh. Astarion glanced up to catch her full face in the moonlight. It wasn’t the decline of her offer that bothered her. It was the lie. Still, he didn’t see enough reason to be truthful about not wanting to stay. And he didn’t want to leave her lingering on that thought. He tossed his doublet onto the bed, placing both his hands on the mattress to lean over her. He avoided her face, kissing the side of her neck down to her shoulder.
“Patience, darling,” he purred into her ear. “We’ll get to have more fun soon enough.”
Ferelith’s frustration was well hidden as she turned her head, kissing him above the ear in response to the tender brush of his lips. She was aware she did not have to be vocal to show her emotions with him any longer. He knew her just as well. Besides, her stubborn nature made her agree that showing him that he caused her grief would only make her appear soft; a sentiment she wanted to avoid. It was bad enough he knew how to make her crumble into the palm of his hands. He did not need to know that her want to crumble was growing stronger with each night they spent together.
She nudged him away and when he was pleased with her reaction, he reached over to collect his doublet.
“I’ll try not to be so aggressive next time,” she said as he finished dressing.
“Oh, no, it’s quite alright,” he made his way over to his boots. “I rather enjoy your ravenous hands. Perhaps waiting will be a better option?”
“You tease me any longer than you already have and I cannot promise your safety.”
“Hmmm,” he hummed in thought and eyed her carefully. “Idle threats fall on tempted ears. You best be careful.”
“You best be careful,” she grumbled in a mocking tone as she rolled her eyes.
He stomped each foot into his boots, shooting a warning glance but a teasing grin in her direction. She bit her bottom lip with her finger tracing her chin as she knew the way she often mocked him was enough to start a small fire. It made him just angry enough to please her.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said sternly.
“Have a good hunt, love,” she slid her hands beneath the pillow behind her head, watching him as he reached for the door.
Turning the handle and stepping through, something didn’t sit right leaving her with those words. He looked back, her upper body sprawled out with that sheepish smirk planted on her face. He shook his head, wondering why he let her get into him. Her eyes were burned into his memory, her laugh echoed in his ears, and her smile haunted his every move. She was but a bad habit that gave him joy in misbehaving. And when she turned to catch him leaving, he gave her a small nod.
“Sleep well.”
Ferelith watched him disappear behind the door. He knew she wasn’t going to sleep well. She never did. She would rest for a few hours, only to get back out of bed to study or read. Or sometimes write. She didn’t need sleep like the others. And even if she did, there were only dark dreams awaiting her.
“Foolish man,” she murmured under her breath, still feeling the aggravation from before but chuckling at his attempt to make up for it.
She looked out the window into the sky littered with clouds. One crawled across the moon, only half full. A few more days and she would have to call on her patron. He had been patient and quiet as of late. But there was usually a reason for his submissiveness. She would learn of his concern when the time came to summon him. In the meantime, she would have to keep working and preparing. Her long nights with Astarion had distracted her and she still had much to do. She tucked the sheet around her as if it were robe and drug her nightstand closer. It would have to act as a desk for the night. And it was going to be a long one.
*************************************************
Astarion was careful to re-enter the inn. The front door to the bar was far too loud and he knew opening it would alarm the keeper. He did not want to deal with questions or judgmental eyes. Plus, he was certain he had gotten enough blood on his collar to raise concern. And avoiding that conversation, in general, was going to be troublesome if it happened to occur. Instead, he found an open window near the kitchen. His feet were nimble, but as he climbed onto the table under the window, he stumbled as he nearly caught the end of a spatula beneath his foot. He managed to balance himself in the window sill, just at the edge, and hopped down onto the floor before he caused any abrupt sounds. Getting to his room would be much easier, so he figured.
He walked into the small dining hall where the front door remained tightly shut. It was dimly lit and empty, giving it an odd eerie feeling when you looked into it. Rooms that were usually seen full of bustling folk completely drained and dark had a way of doing that. Astarion was admittedly used to this side of things while stalking the night. It was almost peaceful being alone. He circled around to the railing of the staircase, taking one last look behind him to ensure no one was awake and watching. As he was certain he would not be noticed, he took off up the stairs, the wooden planks creaking beneath the tips of his toes. He winced but quickened his pace. The sooner he found his bed, the better.
Rounding the corner on the second floor, he found the hallway lined with doors to be completely darkened. The only light came from the far end of the hall where a small window allowed the moon to shine through. He walked slowly toward it, looking back and forth trying to remember which door was his. He was certain it must be the last one on the left. He could not recall for certain since he had not yet stepped into it. He had been… occupied upon their arrival. In remembering the incident at Ferelith’s door, he paused as he reached it. Her lantern was off. She must have been tired of waiting for him. More than likely, she had not waited at all.
There wasn’t a second thought as he crept past it, looking down and trying to focus on reaching his room. But then something tapped him in the back of his mind. Like an impatient finger would on his shoulder. It felt so honestly real that he turned, looking back to Ferelith’s door. He listened for a moment… but heard not a thing. No stirring. No voices. No footsteps. It was odd, he swore something was making him stop. The poking subsided and he pivoted quietly to continue. He made it to the door, opening it and finding another dark and empty room. He leaned against the frame. The bed was neatly made. Nothing had been touched. And though he wasn’t entirely tired, he knew he needed to rest. But he did not want to.
He looked back down the hall. Her lantern was still off. He thought about her in bed. If she was awake just staring into the dark. No, she definitely wouldn’t be waiting for him. Surely if she was not resting, she was working. Perhaps she would have some ritual to prepare for. Or perhaps she had eaten something delightful and was relaxing with the night and some wine. She did not need a lantern for that. His eyes fell back onto his bed. His bed. This was his room. And his bed. Then why did it not feel like his at all? Why did he feel more compelled, more interested in her room than the peace and quiet he would have in his own? And why was that finger coming back to tap him? As if it were some kind of reminder. What did he have that was so important that just when he had forgotten it, it was there once again to remind him?
Ah… yes… loneliness.
There was a heavy sigh that came from his mouth as he became reacquainted with an old friend. And it was all her fault. She should have never placed the idea in his head that there was even a slight possibility of sharing a bed. Not just for entertaining purposes. But for the simple fact of being there next to him. It was not even an outright suggestion. It was the subtle mention that planted the seed. And now it had grown, branching into his thoughts. And poking him persistently. With the budding idea of feeling lonely… the curiosity of waking up with her… the urge to bed her in the morning. It was all there, bursting like early morning spring.
Ferelith had won. And though he closed his door like it was a heavy burden, he did not feel entirely defeated. For when he went to her door and opened it to see the back of her, something lifted from his shoulders. He quietly shut the door behind him. Slid his boots from his feet, unbuttoned his doublet, and began to unfasten his breeches. The sound of his clothes hitting the floor made her stir, but she had not turned around. He heard her sigh in her sleep, bringing a coy smile to his lips. He crawled into bed behind her, the warmth of her skin exciting him. She had not put anything on after he left. She felt the embrace of him at her waist, pulling her close to his chest and she subconsciously grabbed his arm. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the side of her face and she smiled as she blinked sleepily up at him.
“Back early?” her voice was raspy as she slowly regained herself.
“I am,” he whispered. “There was a rather large pig in the market. Someone is going to be very upset to find it dead in the morning.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Shame.”
“We can watch their despair later. It looks like there was a small bakery nearby.”
“I can get some bread,” she smiled.
“My thoughts exactly,” he kissed her shoulder affectionately. “Now, hush. I would like to get some sleep.”
Ferelith chuckled, keeping her retort to herself. She would not ask him what brought him to her that night. It was unexpected, but she would let his own reasons settle with himself. There was no doubt he was unsure why he was there. And that was alright with her. In truth, he knew the reason why he was there. And he held it tightly against him as he told those thoughts to quiet down as well. There may have been a few things he had lied about. But his need for rest was not one of them.
*************************************************
The sun had cracked just over the edge of the windowsill, bringing the room into a reddish hue. He opened his eyes, as he was still unaccustomed to feeling the sunrise at dawn. He blinked, stretching his arms out as he lay on his back. But stopped as he felt a hand on his chest. Ferelith was still next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. And there was nothing disgusting about it at all. Not like he imagined. Just her. Pressed against him. He lifted his arm gently in an attempt not to wake her. But she was used to waking at the rising sun as well, and the moment her head left his chest, she strained to open her eyes as she rolled onto her back. Astarion propped himself up on his elbows with his head against the wall, looking down to watch her awaken. She blinked several times, looking down at the foot of the bed. Something seemed strange to her as she realized he had not left like she had expected him to. She looked up at him, somewhat in disbelief. And he gave a half-shrug as if he knew. It had been too long for either of them to remember what it was like waking to someone else.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked to fill the silence.
“I did,” she replied. “And you?”
Astarion thought on it for a moment, worried about how he might respond. Surprisingly enough, he had slept fairly well. But he struggled with that fact because he had imagined he would not have been able to sleep at all. She stared as he said nothing. He looked at her, diverting his gaze away for a few seconds, then looked back. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He nodded slightly with another shrug. Ferelith, who did not seem to understand his hesitance but did not care, became utterly amused at his confusion. The grin was slow to start but her cheeks tightened with how wide it had grown. Astarion struggled to hold back his own amusement and together, they began to laugh at how foolish they seemed; two adults who hadn’t the slightest idea of how to handle the embarrassment of the situation.
“Let’s just get dressed to start,” she said, sitting up and placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s not,” he leaned over her, forcing her back into the bed.
“We’ll be late,” she looked up at him, matching his devious grin.
“I… do not care…”
After all, what was the point of waking up next to her if he could not have her the moment he woke? Perhaps… he had been wrong about sleeping next to someone. Or perhaps he had finally met someone he was willing to tolerate enough to share a bed with. Either way, the feeling of her wrapped around him made his thoughts consider that the sunrise was no longer the best thing about his mornings.
#astarion#astarion fluff#astarion fic#i'm so sorry#it's so gross#astarion x mc#astarion x pc#astarion x oc#astarion x ferelith#ferelith#ferelith moonshade#don't yell at me about it being out of character#I KNOW#it's not too far off#just a bit too fluffy#bg3#baldur's gate 3
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don’t hate me. (akaashi keiji x m!reader)
summary: you push your feelings down for akaashi for so long that you’ve forgotten every loving memory of him. until, he reminds you.
a/n: this is so bad bc i didn’t edit this at all and theres probably a lot of typo’s but (*´꒳`*) i felt like writing a self indulgent soft fic before sleeping
warnings: nothings really, fluff and anxiety(?)
status : unedited / 1.9k
You honestly didn’t know when your love for Akaashi bloomed in a romantic way. After all these years of being his close friend, you both shared moments that an average person would label as romantic, but to you both it was just friendship. From sleeping together cuddled in the same bed to gifting each other on special days to sunset picnics after practice. Either you two were oblivious or the world was too strict on defining what romance is.
But now you know, you love Akaashi. Seeing him be confronted by a girl with a love letter in her hand made your heart prick with jealousy. Your eyes couldn’t stop glaring at the girl, the thought of her having a chance with him bubbled anxiety that you pushed down and denied. You didn’t even notice that your face was strewn with furrows when Konoha slaps your back.
“Oi, y/n-chan what’s that look on you face?” He looks at your ridiculous expression before following your eyes, when he sees who they’re set on he puts two and two together.
Konoha whistles before snickering at you. Despite Akaashi’s faint body language of disinterest, you still believed in the possibility of him reciprocating the girl’s feelings.
“This is some entertaining shit, don’t tell me you like her–“ You roll your eyes at him, ignoring his teasing, he clearly lacked awareness of how much his words could have affected you.
When you turn around, trying to get away from the scene before you, Konoha follows suit and babbles on about other things. You didn’t blame her, Akaashi was growing into his features and that brought a lot of attention from shallow girls. You just didn’t like the idea of him sharing his love. In your little fumbled head, that meant you weren’t important enough for him to give all his love to.
You spend the day almost ignoring him, which was stupid of you considering if you were losing him you should be trying to win his attention again. But you needed some time to let your brain think.
The rest of your classmates file out as the day ends and you’re left with Akaashi, who’s on cleaning duty with you. Had you not been jealous of the girl due to the entire situation that morning, the atmosphere wouldn’t have been uncomfortable and awkward, at least for you.
“Hey, y/n I haven’t seen you all day, are you okay?” He speaks up when the last student leaves.
He approaches you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You had your head resting on your arms as your face was nuzzled into the inside of your elbow. When you don’t respond, he moves to the other side to place himself in your line of view. You had your eyes closed, but Akaashi had a suspicion that you were well awake.
“Alright then, I guess you’re going to leave me to do all the cleaning.” He laughs, gently patting your shoulder.
You felt guilty, letting him do all the work, but that kinda meant he’s stuck with you a little longer and you were fine with that. The sounds of his soft humming almost made you fall asleep. His voice was soothing, it almost made you cry. Your sudden yearning for his touch confused you, why were you suddenly crushing on Akaashi?
The constant thinking had actually made you fall asleep. The last thought made you fall asleep to a comforting feeling. You had thought of Akaashi and that was bound to make you get a good nap. Just as you were beginning to float to dream land, you were woken up by a hand stroking your hair.
“Y/n, we gotta go now, it’s getting late.” He smiled at you, you looked so peaceful sleeping.
It took you a second to realize you had fallen asleep, but the drowsiness soon left when you see Akaashi looking at you, his proximity a little closer than you thought.
“You owe me one for making me clean everything, luckily the room wasn’t as messy as it usually is.”
You both silently walk home together. Luckily, volleyball practice wasn’t on, so you were able to go home and drown in your sorrows. Your overthinking was broken by Akaashi’s voice slicing through the quiet.
“Hey, are you still sleeping over tonight? we’re still going to the city tomorrow right?” He asks, eyeing your fatigued expression.
“Oh shit– I completely forgot.” You say with wide eyes, realizing you should’ve packed for a sleepover.
“You dumbass, you can borrow my clothes remember? I got extra towels and a toothbrush too. Where has your head been? you seem off today.” He says in worry.
You brush it off, saying you didn’t have the best sleep because you were up too late. He was right, usually you weren’t this… awkward. All your manoeuvres were hesitant and your demeanour was not the usual chill guy he knew. You curse at yourself for not being able to mask your emotions.
But man it felt nice to be sleeping in Akaashi’s bed again. Everytime you inhaled, all you could smell was him. You could almost doze off from it alone, but you wanted to stay awake a little longer to bask in his company. He was curled facing you, one of his legs was resting above yours. You weren’t sure if he was asleep or not. You were face to face with him, noses a few inches away, you didn’t want to stare too long just in case he opened his eyes but you couldn’t.
Your eyes travel from his long lashes, to the tip of his cute little nose, before settling onto his smooth lips that were slightly pouting. You were so close you could kiss him, but that would be weird. Your thoughts fought with each other as it raced with scenarios that could happen.
What were you saying? You can’t keep thinking about this, Akaashi’s your friend and has been since you were in kindergarten. You didn’t even know if he liked guys. Right… if you were to tell him, he would probably call you a freak and a stalker.
The thoughts keep flooding and some hurt more than others. You turn to face the wall, letting a few drops of tears fall. You tried your best to not let out a sound but you couldn’t stop yourself from sniffling. Just as you were about to fall asleep, a voice erupts from behind you.
“Y/n are you jealous of Keiko?”
You freeze. Why would he be saying that? Did he see you stare? Or were you really that obvious? You didn’t know how to respond, you didn’t even want to move. The sound of your heart was beating so loud in your ears that it made you panic even more.
“If you’re wondering why I’m asking you, I’ve known you since we were 4.” His voice was quiet, only loud enough for you to hear, and it sent chills up your spine.
By now your eyes were wide, tears streaming down even more. You bite your lip to prevent your breathing shake. You really couldn’t come up with a response. He continues when you don’t reply.
“It’s been a year, you seriously think I wouldn’t notice?”
Akaashi knows when you gaze at him, but he never meets your eyes. He notices the hugs that were a little longer than usual. He notices your touches grow more and more frequent each time you meet whether it be a faint brush of your fingers when you pass him something or you placing a firm hand in his shoulder as you great him when you arrive to class in the morning.
A year? Had it really been a year. Were you really in love with him this entire time, did you forget or were you oblivious by your own feelings that you couldn’t see how you were acting around him? You wanted to turn and see the look on his face, it was probably disgust. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, his speech was affected by his tiredness.
“You don’t remember do you?”
Remember?
Akaashi did feel a tinge of disappointment when he saw your lack of response. Maybe you were mad at him because he let that girl Keiko talk to him longer than needed. Maybe you were mad at him because maybe you do remember and he wasn’t showing signs of what he swore he felt. He just wanted you to talk to him.
“I know I should stop letting these girls give me love letters, but I hoped you would’ve stepped in for me and say that I'm not interested. Is that strange?”
He sighs, you haven’t moved an inch. He was hesitant, but he moved closer to you, close enough to feel the heat radiate off your body. Maybe he shouldn’t have confronted you about this, it felt like wrong timing.
“Remember that night you stole alcohol from your parents? You were pissed drunk, maybe they weren’t true words but you said…”
You felt shame creep up to you, a frown settled on your face at your failure to remember. You knew you shouldn’t have drunk most of the bottle.
“You told me that you were in love with me.”
Oh.
Maybe you did remember. You probably shoved that memory down subconsciously to prevent yourself from being embarrassed, you remember, it was a clear small chunk of memory. You also remember the amount of girls you hooked up with to prevent yourself from falling for Akaashi even more, but it obviously didn’t work, you only wanted him even more because those girls weren’t him.
“Do you… you know what nevermind. I’m sorry if you found this weird, forget I said anything–“
“Akaashi.”
You finally turn, eyes slightly red from crying. He was so pretty under the moonlight, his upturned brows and wide worried eyes made your heart skip a beat. You would be lying if you didn’t want to suffocate him in a hug right then and there.
“Tell me what you said that night.” Your voice was stern, but you could tell that you were trying to hide a cry.
“I’m sure you remember–“
“I want to hear you say it again.”
You pull yourself closer to him, eyes never leaving his as you search for something within. You cup his cheek, inching your face closer and closer. Akaashi feels his cheek heat up. Luckily, you couldn’t see his blush under the blue tones from the night.
He hesitates, but says it clearly. The words replayed in your head over and over, you have to make sure you heard it correctly and you weren’t hallucinating. Instead of heartbreak, you felt relief. It wasn’t what you expected for him to feel.
“I love you.”
You wasted no time in pressing your lips against his. And oh how it felt so good to finally be able to do so. Every single memory of your display of affection towards him flashed in your mind. You had been practically hinting at it, but you denied your feelings and called it friendliness.
If you could have a moment you could replay on a loop when you died, it would be this one. You lay almost on top of him with your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Your leg was placed across his thighs as your arm was resting on his chest, your hand tangled in his hair.
This was the intimacy you craved, and so did he.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu imagine#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi keiji imagine#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu#akaashi keiji fluff
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Storm of the Republic
Chapter 7
AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
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Summary: When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.
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With Tup bound in a medical case, Fives and Yara escorted him into the ship, along with the medics that were sent for him. The medics were dispatched from base, and they received orders from Cinta Kaarim to pick up their patient from Ringo Vinda.
They weren’t clones, rather; they were volunteers who worked for the Republic in the beginning of the war. During the Battle of Coruscant, the medics assisted with the injured soldiers and Jedi by treating them and evacuating them off the planet.
Those who were lucky continued their services for the Republic remnants’ army. Those who did not escape Coruscant were imprisoned or killed. To the Empire, there is no in-between.
Fives gazed at Tup, who had a breathing machine beside him. His forehead felt warm as his under eyes were darker, showing his health was slowly deteriorating. He heard a groan from his brother, prompting him to hold his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be fine, I promise,” he soothed him. “They’ll fix you up real good. We’ll be having a drink in no time, eh?”
“Good soldiers follow orders,” Tup stammered. “Good soldiers follow orders.”
“You are a good soldier, Tup,” Fives said, with a bleak tone. He wasn’t sure whether he heard him, but at least he said what needed to be said.
“It’s time to go,” the volunteer informed him.
As the ship took off, he sat beside Yara, who looked at him with droopy eyebrows. “Do you think Tup will make it?”
“He’s a fighter, Yara, I know it. Tup’s been through a lot worse than this. He will make it through this one too.”
“I hope so,” Yara nodded, with a small voice. “I’ve already planned to down a mickey after this.”
Fives chuckled. “I see you already made plans for yourself, eh?”
“Well, a drink would calm you down in a situation like this. Besides, I’m sure you’ll do the same as well, am I right?”
“Touché,” he snapped his finger as he leaned against his seat, expecting the ship to jump into hyperspace. Once Tup is feeling better, Fives and Yara will share a bottle of mickey in their barracks together.
Though Captain Rex would lecture them the next day, at least the three of them will have the time of their life for the entire night. It’s not the same as 79’s, where there was music and people, but at least they can find enjoyment with little things they have.
Yara crossed her arms and legs as she rested her eyes for a while, hoping to catch up on her sleep. For odd reasons, she always finds it difficult to doze off at night, and as a result, she gets nagged at her poor sleeping habits.
She had the same problem when she was still a cadet, where the trainers would have to resort to pouring a bucket of sea water just to make her jump from her bed. Fives used to tease her for her sleeping habit, and it hasn’t died out since. Hopefully, I wake up when this ship lands at base.
“We are tracking clean,” the pilot spoke through the intercoms. “Calculating the hyperspace jump in five, four…”
Before they could continue the countdown, the radar on the panel beeped rapidly. “Wait! Wait!” their co-pilot shouted. “Scanners show incoming craft. Abort jump!”
As the pilot did what they were told, an Imperial light cruiser appeared out of nowhere, blasting towards their direction. Fives heard the commotion and grabbed the helmet, pinching Yara by the elbows. “Wake up,” he startled her. “We’ve got company!”
Yara groaned as she rubbed her eyes open, feeling her head spinning. “This better be good,” she complained. “I was having such a pleasant dream.”
“You can tell me about your dreams later,” he handed her helmet. “Right now, the Empire is trying to break in.”
She put on her helmet and took a brief glance at Tup, making the connections in her head. “Well, I think I figured out why.”
“Tell me about it,” he snarked as they both heard buzz droids crawling around the ship, giving her the chills. Yara hated buzz droids with all her passion, and she would do anything to destroy them with her bare hands.
“Mayday! Mayday!” the pilot panicked through the comms. “They must have circled around behind us. We’re being overwhelmed.”
Listening to the agonising screams, Yara flung her arms around Fives, picturing the gory torture they went through.
“Dude, they’re just droids,” he assured her, shoving her arms away. “We can take them down easily.”
“They just killed our pilot,” she reminded him. “And they also disabled our ship too, which means we’re stranded in space.”
“We’ll hold the line,” Fives ordered the medics onboard. “Stay behind us and protect our patient.”
The medic acknowledged his orders as both the ARC Troopers put on an oxygen tank and held their grip on their blasters. The anti-gravity of the ship was activated, making them float above the ground. Yara felt like throwing up, but she had to hold it in for Tup’s sake.
As the buzz droids crawled closer towards them, the duo blasted the droids into pieces, without missing a mark at all. Fives snickered to himself as he held a piece of buzz droid and showed it to his sister, leaving her annoyed.
“Okay, I get it, it was easy,” she slapped his hand. “Well done, Fives.”
Before he could think of a comeback, he saw a group of commando droids entering from the back of the ship, rendering him speechless. “Hold my blaster,” Yara bossed him, as she lunged herself towards one of the commando droids, pulling its head.
“What a show off,” Fives shook his head as he blasted them in the eye, destroying them in an instant. “You might need this though.”
Tossing back her pistols, Yara gave him a small salute as she knocked down another one with her elbows, before giving a headshot. “Yara, 2, Fives, 1,” she updated their kill counts.
“Oh, I’m not letting you win this one,” he accepted the challenge, as he blasted both the droids all at once, making her sigh. She took down two droids in front of her and another two above the ceiling, proving her worth towards her brother.
“Yara, 6, Fives, 3.”
He chortled at her bold claims as he turned around and gunned down 3 commando droids, and dismantled another one with his arms before shooting the last one on the ground. “Looks like I won this round,” smiled Fives.
“You cheated,” she pouted. “I had the upper hand first.”
“Yara, 6, Fives, 8.”
“Whatever, I was cooler. You were just lucky, that’s all.”
Some things never change, Fives reminisced about the past, where they used to compete in every game they played with Echo, before he died in the citadel. If only he was still here with us. He would have beaten the both of us with a few shots.
He stretched himself and placed his twin pistols in his holsters, when Yara hit his shoulders out of nowhere. “Fives, where’s Tup? He was here a few minutes ago.”
“Well, he was just here,” he answered, when he realised that all the medics were dead, with Tup missing from the casing. “Shit, where did he go? How did this happen?”
Yara frantically climbed the cockpit and noticed the Imperial cruiser in front of them, leading her to form a logical conclusion. “I believe our brother is over there.”
“Shit, what do we do?” Fives panicked. “If the Empire takes him, then he’s screwed. We’re all screwed.”
“If the Empire took him, then it’s clear they were behind all of this,” she said, connecting the wires from the panel. “Come on, we need to get General Skywalker and Captain Rex to help us.”
I hope they understand it isn’t our fault; he scratched the back of his head, aware that they fucked up everything.
#star wars#star wars ocs#star wars original characters#star wars fics#star wars fanfics#star wars fanfictions#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#obi wan kenobi#arc trooper fives#arc trooper yara#clone troopers#clone trooper ocs#clone ocs#commander fox#riyo chuchi#commander tori#lenora doherty#clone trooper tup#palps is dead#star wars au#star wars alternate universe#count dooku#galactic empire
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The End of the Line
AN: I’m just adding to the pain train. Don’t mind me. This is also an excuse to work out the hellish week I’ve had. Also, please forgive the mistakes, I stayed up way too late trying to finish this and edited all 4,100-something words in half an hour.
Heavy angst ahead. I’m so sorry
1. Excerpt from Nazim Hikmet’s poem “Before time runs out, my rose...”
Read it on Ao3, too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555409
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There comes a point in time when one realizes their own weight. It hits suddenly, like an unexpected wave when one is swimming in the middle of the ocean, and they realize the series of events leading to the wave are all in a perfect line. But how to stay afloat, wonders the swimmer, when your life preserver might go down with you? When you’re tired of fighting against the waves?
You’ve been floating for ages, the seas calm, but lately the waves have become choppy, and what were once clear skies are now cloud-filled. And the fog… That fog is thick and it’ll just keep getting thicker, until you can’t even see what’s in front of you. And if there is a lighthouse—which you’re certain there is, on some days—the light comes in and out of focus, a candle getting brighter and then dimmer in a breeze. The light, of course, being Jamie. Always Jamie. Your lighthouse. Your anchor. Your poor, burdened anchor, who looks as tired as you feel.
The guilt hits you when she comes home, opening the door with a long sigh, tossing her purse onto the couch. You notice the dark half-moons underneath her eyes, the result of staying up with you in the middle of the night when you’d woken from a night terror. If you close your eyes, you can still see the monochrome of it, some beautiful, long-haired woman hovering over you, face screwed up in effort, a strong, damp hand clamped over your mouth and nose.
“How’s it goin’, Poppins?” Jamie asks.
Papers are spread on the round kitchen table, accompanied by accounting books and expenses receipts. You remember, suddenly, you’d said you’d have the work done by the time Jamie got home. There’s more than half still to do, and a long pencil line disrupts the muted colors in the accounting book. You shake your head to clear the fog. “It’s uh… I’m sorry. It’s not done. I…”
“‘S all right. Shit takes time, doesn’t it?”
“Not this much.”
“There’s always tomorrow.” Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm from the early autumn sun she’d walked in. “Take a break. Help me decide what to do for dinner. My head’s empty.”
You hum. Lean your head against her forearm. Her skin is warm underneath your cheek. She smells like lilies and soil and berry hand soap. “Okay,” you murmur.
There’s a drawer in the kitchen, just below the knife holder, that bears an abysmal amount of takeout menus. Some are from tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that are no longer open that neither of you felt like tossing out. Others are from restaurants you frequent. Appetite being what it is, nothing calls loud enough for you to hear, so you pull one at random and hand it over.
“Right,” says Jamie, giving it a glance. “Chinese it is.”
You eat dinner on the parlor floor, small boxes of fried rice and noodles and various flavors of chicken spread between you, chopsticks clicking to each other. Jamie is a pro with them now. You’d had to teach her how to use them. It was at a sushi restaurant in San Francisco, a name you can’t remember, but you recall the distinctly Asian décor and Jamie’s sighs of frustration.
“I’m too fuckin’ white for this, Poppins,” she said. “Better off with a fork.”
“You’re holding it wrong,” you said, smiling. You took the top stick from her hand and set it aside, allowing her to focus only on the bottom one. “Hold this one like a pencil. Mm-hmm.” You picked up the other one. “Keep it like that. Now, let this one rest on top of those two fingers, and use your index finger to pinch it to the other one.” She did. “Just like that.” You helped her snag a salmon roll between them, but she did the work of bringing it to her mouth.
You can’t remember when it’d finally clicked for her. Only that it had.
Jamie cracks open the fortune cookies. Passes one to you.
“If it’s a bad one,” she says, “I’m burnin’ it.” She takes a bite of the cookie first. You’d told her, once again in California, that it would bring bad luck if she didn’t. Jamie reads, “Let your heart give away its biggest secret today.” She sighs. “Well shit.”
Yours says, “A very bright future is ahead of you.” You laugh. Not with amusement. Just at the irony. You flick the small piece of paper away into the shadows. It lands with a soft click. You ask softly, “Is yours wrong, too?”
“No,” Jamie says. “It’s bang on.” A mask of nervousness descends upon her face, but you notice the nuances of excitement, too. “I was thinkin’… We could get the paperwork this week. Fill it out, have someone witness the signing… I mean, it’ll take a bit for the official certificate to come in, but…” She trails off, both giddiness and nervousness dancing on her features and in her gestures.
“We’ll celebrate,” she continues, hands clasping yours. “Splurge on a fancy bottle of wine. Somethin’ vintage.”
You like her dreams. They’re big and grand, a painting waiting to be seen in a gallery.
“And we’ll call Owen. He’ll shout on the other end of the line, I’m sure.”
The image pulls a smile from your lips. “It’s wonderful.” You lean to kiss her. The Lady, blissfully, is silent, tucked into some corner or other, claws retracted, dozing. You feel Jamie’s touch on your face. The soft press of her mouth against yours. Had this been earlier, much earlier, when you were more wholly yourself, you would’ve pulled her into you until you were both sprawled on the rug and made love there, boxes be damned, until, with much effort, you rose on unsteady legs to clean up and stumble to the bedroom, where it might continue. But you are fading like ink in water, and there is no pull of desire.
“Oi,” Jamie whispers, holding your face between gentle hands, “what’s the face?”
You shake your head. “I… can’t give you what you want.”
“You think it matters?”
“It should.”
“I’ll tell you a secret, Poppins,” she says. “Sex is like dessert. Somethin’ you want and can have. Or choose not to have. There’s a reason it’s had last.” A tear falls warmly onto your cheek. She catches it with the pad of her thumb, wiping it smoothly away. “It’s the main course that’s most important.” She kisses your forehead. “Sweets come in other forms.”
Like gestures. Like little kisses she gives you in passing, or a touch that lingers.
Sleep comes easier that night, with her reminder. With her soft warmth and flannel shirt that’s gone soft from the many washes it’s had. The only dream is a string of bubbles rising to a freshly disturbed surface, obscuring two figures standing on a shore you can’t see. Like they’re floating.
—
You go into work less and less. You do what you can from home: filling out orders in the book, writing in the specific details, filing paperwork and doing accounting. It is an altogether different weight, sometimes overwhelming. And the less you go into work, the more you find yourself getting lost in your own head, thinking of water and pale hands and feeling a simmering impatience. The drifting happens in the oddest of moments—in the middle of discussing an arrangement, or going over the different types of flowers that would suit the mood for an engagement party, or in the middle of the most mundane things. Cleaning the house. Preparing an edible dinner. Plucking the drain in the bath.
No, you think, but the thought dissolves. You feel her stirring. Waking again to find herself still trapped. You barely hear the front door open, the thunk of Jamie’s purse as it lands on the loveseat, the clop, clop of her boots, the closing of your bedroom door so she can change into house clothes.
The Lady’s reflection appears in the faucet.
You stare at each other.
Sounds from the bedroom float to your ear. The squeaking of the bedframe as Jamie’s weight settles on it. A few seconds of silence followed by a sigh, and another, heavier one.
Once, moons ago now, on a day you had felt the Lady’s weight more prominently than you had since leaving Bly, Jamie came home while you worked on the books, diligently adding up the expenses by hand with paper and pencil. Your mind drifted until there was a strange, silent bubble surrounding you. You were barely aware of the bedroom door closing, of the sounds that happened shortly afterwards. At least until telling sighs reached your ears and told you she was not, in fact, changing out of her work clothes.
The bubble gone, you sat and listened, everything sharp, a familiar knot tying itself in the pit of your stomach. It was quiet, what she was doing, but not quiet enough; you stood just as you heard her breathing pause.
You opened the bedroom door. She was a silhouette in the late evening light, trembling on the heels of a first, intense orgasm, gasping from both it and surprise. It took you three strides to stand over her.
“Dani,” Jamie breathed, “I’m sorry—”
You cut her off with a kiss. The interruption was a pleasant surprise, and the mood that filled you was one you were glad for. You felt like yourself, in moments like these; you could just be Dani and Jamie, not Dani with the Lady crawling under your skin and pulling you back into the fog.
She wrapped you in her arms, even as you worked her already unbuttoned jeans from her hips, even when you slid down to follow your hands with your mouth, keeping the pace slow so as not to overwhelm her. Still, she didn’t last long, already taut from the wake of the first, your name tumbling from her mouth in an ecstasy-filled whisper, the sounds thereafter muted inside her hand. You cursed the thin walls of the apartment and people’s irritating nosiness.
“Christ,” Jamie sighed when you came back up to kiss her.
“Hmm,” you said, smiling a little now. “Thank you for the interruption.”
“Workin’ out some frustrations?”
“You could say that.” You brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Our business isn’t cheap.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She kissed you softly, cupped your face tenderly between her hands. “Want anything?” she murmured.
“Just you,” you said, helping her fumble with the button on your jeans so she could slip her hand between its sides.
You do not go to her.
You hear her come, a string of stilted curses and harsh, stuttering breaths, but it is far away, on some shore you cannot reach. There is only the empty tub and the silver faucet, in whose face is the Lady. All stringy, wet hair and pristine white dress. Faceless.
Jamie will wash her hands at the kitchen sink. Pat her damp face and neck dry with the dish towel from the stove. Attempt to make dinner, thinking you’re still freshening up, only coming in when she realizes you’re taking an awfully long time, or when she needs your rescue.
However much you want to, you find you cannot move. Even though you’re cold. You stay as if glued to the spot, knees pulled against your chest, chin resting on them, staring at the woman who is not you.
If I reach out, you wonder, tilting your head to the side, will I feel you? Will you feel like metal or will you feel like mud…?
“Dani?”
You gasp. Your hand falls back to your knee.
“Hey.” She wraps a fresh towel around your shoulders. “Been here a while, huh?”
The Lady isn’t in the silver face. You see you, damp hair falling around your shoulders, expression that of someone washing up on shore and surprised to find they haven’t drowned. “A little while,” you say. “Is dinner…?”
“I’ve got it started, at least. Haven’t had pasta primavera in a bit.”
“Last time you made it, it was a wreck.”
Jamie smiles. “It was, wasn’t it?” She adjusts the towel, dabs at a few lingering water spots on your cheek. “Let’s get you outta here, cold girl.”
Warm dinner smells fill the apartment. Bell peppers and squash and zucchini, all tossed in a skillet with bowtie pasta. Wine accompanies the dish, a red you’d gotten from Owen when you’d gone to Paris to announce your engagement. Jamie lights a plain white candle and sets it in the middle of the table.
“Thank you,” you tell her. “It’s good.”
“Didn’t set off the smoke alarm this time,” Jamie says. “It’s an improvement.”
Despite how good it is, you can only stand a few bites and a few sips of wine. You pass your plate to Jamie, who clears it, bringing back a memory of the warm kitchen at Bly, Hannah and Owen at the sink, Jamie picking over what Flora and Miles left on their plates.
“Our human Hoover strikes again,” Hannah said. “Less work for us.”
“Not just good at gardenin’,” Jamie said. “I’m always happy to make less work for you.”
Later, you dry the dishes, keeping your back to the sink, averting your eyes from the plates’ shiny faces.
“I uh…” Jamie begins after a minute. “I could use your help with somethin’ tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”
“Hmm?”
“Just an arrangement. I need your expert eyes.”
The phrase brings a faint smile to your lips. Your eyes haven’t felt expert for a while. And what joy there was in assisting with arrangements feels almost forced. The emotion itself is muted, along with everything else. Yet you ask, “What flowers?”
“Roses. Simple enough.”
Jamie brings home Starbucks in the morning. Blonde roasts, with cream and sugar. Old habits, she says, as she hands your cup over. You think of the greenhouse after your first kiss. The warmth of the autumn sunlight filtering through the windows.
“You ready?” Jamie says.
“Yeah.”
The walk to The Leafling is only a few blocks. There’s a light breeze. It rustles the leaves on the oak trees, whispering through the branches. The sunlight is warm. The weather is a perfect mix of summer and autumn, but you think it isn’t you who is wholly absorbing it. The tempest of the Lady seems soothed by it, and when you walk by the market displaying the morning’s freshly picked apples, you see a field of green and a girl in a white dress sauntering after a man in clothes long out of fashion. The image disappears as soon as it had come, as brief as the scent of apples.
The shop opens at nine. There’s a little over an hour until then. Jamie uses it to go over the arrangement, wondering which flowers should be used to compliment the roses, whose color is as crimson as blood. She says the woman whom it’s for doesn’t want a stereotypical banquet of roses—stereotypical, in this case, meaning roses paired with baby’s breath, despite the combination being a classic—and Jamie rolls her eyes as she says it. “But in America, the customer’s always right,” she continues, “as much of a pain in my arse as it is.”
“Well…” You think for a moment. Baby’s breath is white. White and crimson are aesthetically pleasing when paired together. “What kind of tone does she want to set?”
“Somethin’ original. I know,” Jamie says, throwing up her hands at your puzzled look, “not very helpful. Please don’t shoot the messenger.”
You think for a minute. “We could try something smaller and… white. Daisies, maybe.”
Jamie nods. “All right.”
You hold the roses in a plastic sheet, telling Jamie where to place the daises so it’ll look the best. Two between the roses in front, and two between the three roses in the back. She’s careful not to touch either flower’s petals. She steps back to admire it from afar. This close to you, the roses are overly sweet, the smell cloying, reminding you of clothes stashed away, of how the petals were once used to mask the scent of death. Jamie’s mouth moves in the shape of Y’know, I think that is the least stereotypical thing we’ve made. Her smile is small, but proud and bright. You see it. All you can think of is a deathbed.
“You all right?” Jamie says. “Does it look wrong?”
You shake your head no.
Gently, she takes the banquet from you, setting the bunch carefully in an empty glass vase. “What’re you thinkin’, Dani?” she asks.
The words are soft when they leave you. “They smell like death.”
The mask of worry becomes darker on Jamie’s features, and you wonder, after you’ve told her, if she’ll think every flower in the shop reminds you of death. You hate the feeling coursing through your chest—worry that she won’t want you here, in the place you’d dreamed and built together, that she’ll want to hide the flowers for the sake of keeping you comfortable.
“That’s a new one,” she says quietly, and you nod in agreement. She sighs, gives the arrangement a quick once-over. “We can go with the daisies, then. It looks pretty. Romance and new beginnings.”
The banquet that had been the two of you once gets picked up later that morning by a man in his mid-thirties planning on proposing to his girlfriend. He’d looked happy, you think, sinking into darker thoughts, love making him punch-drunk. Their future stretched like a highway before them, time not a question on their minds but something infinite.
—
On a Sunday, when The Leafling is closed, you accompany Jamie to pick up the paperwork. Nervousness travels between you like electrodes. You feel it on the walk to the county clerk’s office (?), and inside it. You’re joined by other couples, all with the same goal in mind. It all feels odd. Not in a bad way, but in a surreal way. Time, it seems, has been as kind as it can, letting you get this far. But the cruelty lies in the unknown, in that dark space that asks, How much longer?
Your handwriting is not what it used to be. Neat cursive has turned into half-legible chicken scratch; next to Jamie’s curling print, it embarrasses you. Such a silly thing turns your cheeks into burning coals.
“Oi,” Jamie whispers, sensing as she always does, taking your hand in hers. “Least it’s not Russian cursive, yeah? Completely illegible.”
It gets a laugh. A soft one, but a laugh nonetheless.
“There we are,” Jamie says.
You get home and Jamie pulls a bottle of white wine from the liquor cabinet. A Gewürztraminer. The bottle is green, the label white.
“Where’d you get that one?” you ask.
Jamie pauses in pouring the first glass. “Napa Valley.”
“When…?”
“Three years ago.” She turns to the fridge and plucks a postcard down. Classic lettering, with NAPA VALLEY spread across the bottom. The picture is of acres of grapevines, with a large white building in the background.
“Livin’ here wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Jamie said. A pale arm hung out the rented Land Rover’s window, whose view was of the rolling hills and the sharp bunches of grapevines. “We could get pricey wine whenever we wanted.”
“And wine drunk every night,” you said, leaning to kiss her cheek.
“Sure, Poppins, if you want a hellish hangover the next day.”
“God,” you say, this time covering your face with both your hands. “Ninety-seven. I…” The water’s coming in fast. Too fast.
Hands find your shoulders. “Dani,” Jamie says, her tone serious but soft, “it’s all right. It’s okay to forget things. Memory’s fallible.”
Fallible. It is. And everything else, too, if one wanted to get philosophical about it.
“Come on,” she says, leading you to the couch. “Let’s give the religious nuts a reason to complain further about us disturbin’ the Sabbath with our agenda.”
Jamie fetches a book from the small shelf in the room and carries her wineglass over. She propels you down until your head is lying in her lap, one hand tracing lines over the soft hair just above your ear. Exhaustion pulls at you. Your eyes drift closed as she flips through pages. Darkness fills them when she reads from a page.
Before time runs out, my rose,
before Paris is burned and destroyed,
before time runs out, my rose,
and my heart is still on its branch,
in this night of May on the quay we must sit
on the red barrels in front of the warehouses.
The canal across fades into darkness.
A barge is passing,
my rose, let’s say hello,
let’s say hello to the barge with the yellow cabin.
Is she on her way to Belgium or to Holland?
In the cabin door a woman with a white apron
is smiling sweetly.
Before time runs out, my rose,
before Paris is burned down and destroyed,
before the time runs out, my rose…
People of Paris, people of Paris,
You mustn’t let Paris be burned and destroyed…1
—
The call comes on a Tuesday. Jamie, detaching herself from the last of the dishes that need drying, turns business-like, posture stiffer, voice more professional.
“Clayton residence,” she says.
“Flora residence,” Flora said, attempting to sound adult but failing. “Hello?”
A pause.
“Speaking.”
Another.
“Oh.” Her tone is lighter. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“What was it?” you say once she’s hung up.
There’s a large smile on Jamie’s face. “It’s the certificate.”
You smile, too, as much as you can. She captures it between her hands, pressing her forehead to yours. She says, “I’ll go. You stay. Find us something to celebrate with.”
“Oh…” You trail off. There’s plenty of wine in the liquor cabinet. And candles on a little iron shelf in the bathroom. An idea forms. “Sure you can trust me with that?” you ask.
“Definitely.”
She changes into something more appropriate while you light the candles. Pauses next to you to tell you she’ll be back. Kisses your hair. Says, “Keep those burnin’, yeah? And make room for two.”
Time slows while she’s gone. And despite the better day, the fog rolls in, filling your head while the tub fills with water, until you’re leaning, and the Lady is your shadow. You are dead to the world until Jamie, home again, shakes you away. The tub has overflown. Water pools on the tile, travelling over it and to the wood of the hallway. You didn’t realize, you say apologetically, to which she says water’s easy to clean up.
You ask if she sees her.
She says, “I only see you.”
You nearly collapse into the steadying arm she holds against your back. “I’m so tired, Jamie,” you tell her. And you are. You’ve been treading water too long. There is no anchor, except the one you cannot cling to anymore. No lighthouse. No life preserver. Jamie declines your words, firmly, fighting back tears. Shaking her head as if the very action will change the course of everything.
“No one’s going anywhere.”
But I’m sinking, you want to say. I’ve been sinking since I invited her in. I’ve been clinging to everything I could, and it still isn’t enough. You shake your head, too. “What if I’m here,” you whisper, “sitting next to you… but I’m just really her?”
“One day at a time,” Jamie answers. The age-old mantra.
—
There comes a point when one realizes their own weight. It isn’t so sudden anymore. You’ve become used to it. One day at a time. Treading water, still. Looking for the lighthouse. For the life preserver, finding her living, too, in shadows she won’t talk about. And still you go to her. You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Her familiar smell fills your nose. You want to confess everything into the soft skin of her neck, adding more to what you’d told her the night she’d come home announcing your union was civil, but it would be too much, right now. Too much weight for your Atlas to bear. You hold her as tightly as you dare, and you whisper, “I love you.”
She squeezes your hand. I know, it says. I always have.
You fall asleep with her beside you, your arm thrown over her, lightly gripping her favorite flannel shirt.
The Lady, awake again, brings you claws and teeth.
A dream of water. Jamie standing over it. An arm, clearly yours, breaking the surface and grabbing her, pulling her to the depths.
You wake with your hand reaching out for her neck.
You relax it. Knowing, now, it was high time to let the life preserver go.
#the haunting of bly manor#dani x jamie#now i'm gonna really go to bed but i just wanted to post this here for the tumblr crowd#it's on my ao3 too
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A Year to Eternity? - Chapter 5
Elena dozed in her hospital bed, bathed in a shaft of sunlight, and appeared dead to the world. He would have chosen another word to describe her current state of consciousness, but Freya had chosen ‘dozed’.
He gave a soft tap on the door frame, startling Caroline from her light doze.
Her hand curled tighter around the edge of the bassinet as she jerked out of dreams into awareness, straightening up and acknowledging his presence with a short nod.
“How is she?” His eyes traced the sharp angles of Elena’s face. Without meaning to he stepped forward, hardly recognizing his own actions until his fingers skimmed the prominent curve of her cheek and the feathered lines around her eyes, smoothed in sleep.
Lines that hadn’t been present when he left her in the hands of her friends.
“Exhausted,” Caroline stretched. Her voice softened, lifting an octave. “Little baby no-name decided she was coming into the world feet first.”
Elijah glanced over, finding her cooing into the open-top of the bassinet.
“They say children born feet first will have healing abilities,” he offered a half smile.
“Don’t they also say that babies born at night will never sleep at night?”
“I’ve known that one to be true,” his smile widened. “Kol was born at night and would cry at all hours, only going to sleep when it was time for the rest of us to begin chores. I forgot what true rest felt like for the first three years of his life.”
His fingers absently stroked Elena’s hair from her face.
Caroline glanced at his hand, but he had eyes only for Elena.
“Aside from exhausted how is she?”
“I would imagine sore,” she tilted her head in an attempt to block out the beep of the heart monitor. “She was still in a lot of pain with the epidural and needed to have stitches.”
He nodded, eyes darting to a second visitor’s chair, empty save for a sweater. “And Miss Bennett?”
“She started feeling the spell so I sent her home to sleep; she must have forgotten her jacket,” her fingers reached for the dark grey wool. “She saw the baby and held her. We cooed, we awed, and two of the grown-ups crashed. One with the aid of heavy painkillers,” she gestured to the bed.
His eyes rose to the bassinet. His feet itched, wanting to circle the hospital bed so he could peer into the tiny face he couldn’t see.
Would Elena dominate the infant’s features? Would there be a hint of the potential predator who altered her memory?
Would there be some information for him to utilize in a quest for answers?
Would there be a starting point, or would he be captivated by her tiny features as he was by her mother?
A different captivation to be sure, but captivation nonetheless.
“Hope wasn’t born in the hospital,” he twisted a lock of brown hair around his finger, “it is common practice to keep newborns in the same room as their mother?”
“No,” Caroline shook her head. “After the labour and delivery she was a little dazed, but insisted the baby stay. She got really worked up about it. I was scared she would pop her stitches so I agreed to stay after compelling the staff.”
“Worked up?” His frown etched into the lines around his mouth. “Why?”
“She seemed to think that if the baby was away from her then she would disappear.” She busied her hands folding the wool neatly. “Bonnie and I tried to tell her it wasn’t gonna happen, but she had that ‘I’m gonna sacrifice myself to a sadistic hybrid’ stubborn look, so this was just easier; I fully believe she would have tried to walk to the nursery.”
Elena shifted in her sleep, leaning into his touch as she had all those years ago in the gazebo. With emotions the movement accompanied a soft hum.
“If you need to get back to work I don’t mind staying,” he touched her jaw. Elena turned, fitting her cheek into the palm of his hand.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Caroline smirked. “I do have a few things to do at work.”
She schooled her features into indifference when he looked up sharply, but couldn’t keep her eyebrow from raising slightly.
He withdrew his hand.
Elena’s brow wrinkled, twisting her nose.
“I…”
Caroline held up a hand, waving away the halfhearted explanation.
It took Elena four hundred thirty-two days after waking up to mention the letter, one hundred ten to bring up his sign off, and a further three days to talk about what occurred in Willoughby before Idiot One and Idiot Two dragged her home.
On top of that, she had seen every look as they rose from tolerance to a grudging respect, admiration and finally adoration. She knew that for once the captivation didn’t begin and end with her friend’s face.
Elijah may not have been as vocal about his affection. There had never been a sweeping declaration of ‘your last love’, or promises to see the world, but ‘Always and Forever’ had a quieter ring to it.
The vow would echo through the ages.
It already had.
“I’m not blind,” she said simply. “I’m gonna go, but I’ll come back later with afternoon with a car seat.”
“Will they release them so soon?” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“Today or tomorrow, and if not today then I’ll leave the car seat for whoever ends up taking them home.”
He nodded as she took one last look in the bassinet and left. He managed to wait a few minutes, a true testament to his thousand years of patience, before he moved a human speed around the bed.
Between a pink hat and striped hospital blanket peeked a tiny face. She had the makings of her mother’s nose and jaw. He thought he might get away without being taken in, but then her large eyes opened: unfocused and deepest blue.
With a grunt she worked a tiny fist free and waved it at him.
He glanced towards a soundly sleeping Elena and then back to the baby.
Her mouth opened, ready to bawl.
He scooped her up before she could cry and swayed, cradling her in the crook of his arm as her stomach gurgled.
“You’re hungry,” he cooed; something he would deny if either of his brothers asked. “Your mommy is sleeping, though. Do you think you can be patient? Hmm?”
He reached for the call button, pressing it while the infant studied his face.
“Can you hold on for the nurse?”
She puckered her lips, searching for food he didn’t have.
“Is it feeding time already?” A man’s head poked in the room, kind eyes crinkling in a smile.
“Am I going to have to wake her?” He nodded to Elena.
“We’ve got formula on hand, and she had a hard delivery. I’ll get it.”
Elijah nodded, rationalizing that he had to be one of the compelled staff to not mention the baby and strange man in the room; he returned before she could fuss.
Elijah settled into the visitor’s chair.
Her nose crinkled familiarly and she suckled. A little formula dribbled from her mouth into the roll of her neck. He gently wiped it away when she was done.
“That’s better, isn’t it sweetheart?” He placed her on his shoulder, rubbing her back until she released a small burp.
“‘Lijah?” Elena’s sleepy voice rose from the bed.
Bleary eyes struggled to focus on him.
“Elena,” he shifted the baby back to his arms. She blinked up at him with more focus than her mother, but Elena managed a lazy version of her half smile. “I’m right here. I’m watching her. You can rest.”
“I wa’ ho’,” she frowned, bringing a deeper pucker between her brows. The age had taken her overnight; it was jarring but no less beautiful. She opened her mouth and tried again.
“I want to hold her.”
“I thought it was something like that.” He stood, arranging her neatly in the curve of Elena’s arm that remained wire free.
She lacked the physical strength and energy to lift the infant so he slayed her on the mattress with Elena’s arm acting as a bumper.
Her fingers carefully traced the arm outside the blanket.
“Hi,” she breathed.
The tiny fist jerked, bumping her arm.
“I’ve been interpreting that as hello,” he chuckled. “I’m certain it will seem less violent when she can uncurl her fingers.”
Elena managed a half smile, different then ‘his smile’, and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.
“How are you feeling?” He helped her tuck the child’s arm back under the blanket.
“Tired,” she mumbled, lashes fluttering against her cheek.
“Then sleep, Elena,” he settled into a chair, “I’ll be right here.”
“For how long?” She mumbled.
“As long as you need,” he watched mother and child drift off, “until you say go.”
He stayed there until they were both asleep and on the path to recovering from the trauma of birth. Then he stood and moved the baby back to the bassinet.
By the time Elena woke up again he had shed his jacket, tie and rolled up his sleeves; her baby wiggled in his arms.
She remained awake long enough to question Caroline and Bonnie’s absence.
The third time she tried to sit up, so he moved and raised the bed into a sitting position.
“Still tired?” His watch read 12:43.
“A little,” she shifted with a wince and a hiss.
“Are you okay?” He filled a cup with water.
She sipped while blinking the sleep from her eyes.
“I had stitches,” she pursed her lips and bit her cheek. The line between her brows deepened. “Was Kol here?”
“Not to my knowledge,” he eyed her pale features, drawn tight in pain. “Would you like some help in healing? I hate to see you hurt.”
“That’s sweet,” she leaned against the pillows, situating her hips in the most comfortable position she could manage, “but vampire blood lost all effect on me when I took the cure. You might want to warn Rebekah about that in case she gets any ideas about going skiing or something and breaks a leg.”
“Speaking from experience?” He untangled the wires, gently brushing her hand.
“I’ve never broken a leg skiing, but I did break my arm after a fall down the stairs,” her eyes glazed over, lost in memory, “a couple of ribs too.”
“Carrying too many things?” Elijah guessed.
“Ex-boyfriend,” her fingers twitched, reaching for the ghost of a wound. She saw him stiffen from the corner of her eye; redhot fury flashed across his features. She enunciated each word carefully so he would be sure to hear and calm down.
“It was the first and last time he hit me; I think Caroline made a midnight snack of him, but six years later I still don’t have verbal confirmation. He disappeared after that and the only thing Caroline would say was that she took care of it and that nobody would find him since the spot had been chosen by Klaus years earlier.”
“Good,” some of the tension left his shoulders, but his jaw remained locked. “Niklaus is proficient in covering his missteps.”
“Why do I get the feeling if he were still alive his fate would be a lot more… grisly?” She tilted her head, not thinking before reaching for his hand.
He looked down, watching her cool fingers curl around his palm. His gaze strayed to her arm, sharp eyes picking up the faint lines of an old surgery. He hadn’t given much through to the punishments of old in a long time, but he would not have been opposed to enacting a little Viking Justine on her behalf. In his opinion any man who would beat a woman, or a child, deserved a violent death.
Had he not lacked the courage he would have stricken Mikael down the first time he raised a hand to Niklaus. He should have done so, but he had been a boy of nine.
Still.
There would be hell to pay when he found the bastard(s) responsible for her memory loss and subsequent pregnancy. He knew of several fitting punishments for rapists should that prove the case.
“Grisly…” he began, tracing the veins in her hand, “… feels too mild a term.” His muscles twitched with the desire to raise her hand to his lips and smooth the furrow between her brows with a soft kiss.
He settled for rubbing circles into her palm with his thumb. “I’m sorry that happened to you, and I apologize for making you relive it now.”
“Forgiveness is kind of our thing, so I suppose I can let it go,” her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled.
“Isn’t betrayal out thing too?” He chuckled.
“And trust,” she added, shrugging, “we go round and round. The carousel never stops.”
“I think I saw an emergency break,” he teased.
“Oh, good,” she sank into her pillows. “I’m starting to get a little dizzy.”
“That will be the after effects of your painkillers.”
“What did they give me?” She struggled to sit and immediately regretted it.
Elijah passed her the chart hung over the foot of the bed, flipping it open. She took it after pulling off the heart monitor clip.
A long beep filled the silence as she read. He half expected a nurse to race in their direction, but before one could the cord pulled itself from the wall.
“It was annoying,” she whispered into the silence.
“What else can you do?” He eyed the blank monitor.
“Mostly fire and moving things with magic,” she licked her dry lips. “I don’t practice a lot so I’m not very good, but I wouldn’t have minded the telekinesis as a kid.”
“Kol used it for all kinds of mischief as a child.”
“No trouble,” she smiled, “I just wanted the good cookies off the top shelf.”
“I’m sure you still found a way to get them.”
“I climbed,” she nodded, shoulders rising in a silent laugh. “I fell. I cried?” She tilted her head. “My mom thought my wrist was broken, but dad wrapped it up, gave me some just and one of the cookies; I was fine a few minutes later.”
“So your mother over-reacted.”
“It’s possible,” she licked her bottom lip, “but dad was also experimenting with vampire blood for the town council, so…”
“The paediatric ward would probably frown on that.” His smile softened when a gentle gurgle reached his ears. “Are you certain blood has no effect on you? The cure is gone, and has left you, presumably, human.”
She laid the chart on her legs, watching as he refilled her glass from the sink.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Would you like to try?” He shut off the tap. “The worst that can happen is nothing.”
“Isn’t the worst that can happen having it work, and then something unexpected comes along and I wake in transition?” She countered.
“Elena, I give you my word that I will not let that happen unless it’s your choice.”
That was what it truly came down to with Elena after all. The only thing she truly wanted for herself was the freedom to make her own decisions.
He waited patiently for her choice.
The gurgle acquired accompaniment from a waking heart and a tiny hitch in breathing. The same kind Elena made when she was surprised. He suspected waking outside the warmth and safety of the womb must have come as quite the shock.
Elena nodded once.
He bit into his wrist and a let a small stream of blood dribble into the cup. A turn of the plastic diluted most of it.
She drank with a grimace as he cleaned his wrist, tipping her head back and downing the water like a shot.
He lifted her wriggling baby into his arms and cradled her close to his chest.
Elena’s face twisted up. After a decade she had thought she forgot, but the feeling of skin knitting together appeared to be stuck in her body.
She yanked the IV from her hand as it began, starting as always with a tickle. Then the tickle exploded into a full-blown itch between her legs and up into her abdomen.
The moment it began to feel unbearable it stopped, leaving her with a niggling discomfort caused by the remnants of her stitches.
Showering was bound to be fun.
“It worked,” he nodded to her hand. “Was it enough?”
Elena took stock of her body while he transferred the baby into her arms. The deep ache and tearing were gone; she could tell that by feel. The only physical reminders of her pregnancy seemed to be the extra layer of softness around her belly, the heaviness in her breasts and the newborn in her arms.
“I think so,” she murmured. Her eyes dropped, catching the deepest blue. She had lacked awareness before and was only half-convinced she had held her baby, but now, free of painkillers and somewhat rested she knew what was happening.
Her heart swelled, accepting what her mind had pushed back for months.
Mine, she thought, precious and mine. A tear fell on the blanket.
“Elena?” He didn’t try to stop himself from gently tucking her hair behind her ear as he perched on the bed by her thighs.
“Hi,” she breathed, allowing her finger to trace a pudgy cheek. “Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy,” her eyes shimmered as she choked on a sob. “I’ll try not to screw up, I promise.”
“You won’t.”
Blue eyes swivelled. He leaned a little closer so she could focus on his face.
“Elijah,” she glanced up, “thank you for helping me last night, and for being here.”
“You’re welcome,” he lifted his gaze from the baby. “I meant to return, but your darling daughter made her appearance first. I still don’t know her name.”
“Neither do I,” she huffed a small laugh. “I thought I’d have a little more time, plus, as you know, I was putting everything baby related off.”
“I do know,” he nodded, lifting a finger to smooth out the blanket.
“What about now? Do you have any ideas? She’ll need a name before she goes home.”
“No pressure,” Elena sighed. Her daughter wiggled and grunted, looking towards Elijah with a pucker in her lips.
“I think she’s hungry.”
“How can you tell?” Her brows lowered.
“I’ve been diligent in keeping her satisfied so you might rest,” he pointed to his ear.
“Oh,” a faint flush stained her cheeks, “right. Um…” she turned her head, eyeing the snap of the hospital gown. “Could you hold her a second?”
“Of course,” he nodded, taking her.
He spoke softly in a language Elena didn’t know, cooing to distract while she pulled on the buttons.
Before that moment she would have called anyone who labelled Elijah Mikaelson as soft a complete and utter moron with an obvious death wish, but his entire continence changed. She had seen kind eyes and gentle smiles, felt tender touches and heard sweet words, from him directed at her, but this was different. The way he cradled and spoke to the baby suggested he would slaughter anyone who wished her harm; much as Elena had felt when she looked into her baby’s eyes.
“Okay,” she blushed, baring one breast, “I’m ready.” She wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased when he placed the baby back in her arms without looking at her chest.
Her tiny mouth rooted, searching. Elena guided her nipped into the hunting mouth. It took her a few tries to latch, but then she felt the tingling trickle. She hardly glanced up as Elijah placed a blanket over her front to preserve her modesty, draping it so she could still see the baby’s face.
“This feels weird,” she admitted on a breath of air. She also felt closer with the skin on skin contact. Her heart felt ready to burst.
Was it safe to feel the amount of love she did?
She needed a distraction before she broke down in tears.
“Can I ask you something?” She lifted her head in time to see him nod. “What did you mean last night when you said you forgot? How was that possible?”
“I was compelled by the joint efforts of Marcel and a witch,” he spoke after a beat. “We had just divided the Hollow, and I feared my devotion to Niklaus would cause everything to unravel. He compelled away ‘always and forever’, and my memory went with it since without it I’m nothing. I did eventually learn who and what I was, but without my memory the knowledge of my family meant nothing, so I fought against remembering.”
She gaped, feeling different tears threaten. “I’m…”
“Not the distraction you were hoping for,” he gave a wry smile.
“I’m so sorry that happened.” She swallowed, spotting the guilt in his eyes. He had done something, or neglected to do something, and someone must have been hurt.
“I’m sorry for whatever you’re blaming yourself for,” she adjusted the baby over her shoulder and reached for his hand before burping her, “but I feel pretty confident in saying it wasn’t your fault.”
“Perhaps not, but I’ll likely blame myself for a while yet.” He raised his hand to the baby’s back. “Names?”
“Is that the answer to ‘what’s the first thing I can screw up as a mother’?” She cupped the baby’s head, smiling when she released a tiny burp under Elijah’s ministrations. She cradled her in both arms, lowering her head to press a tender kiss on the downy cheek. “I should probably come up with something before Caroline comes back with the big book of children’s names.”
“You don’t think that would help?”
“I think Care would try to help, but the sheer volume of names will be overwhelming,” she peered down into the littlest face he had seen since Hope. “You wanna tell mommy your name, baby girl? Huh?”
She looked up, tilting her head in thought. The last cry she had heard came after the first gulp of air, and she knew that was down to Elijah’s care.
“I don’t think she’s going to be any help,” the corner of her mouth quirked up.
“They don’t talk much during the first year,” he nodded, “after that they never stop. Did you consider any names at all?”
“A few,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to bright eyes. “I liked Brooke and Harper and Ava, but I don’t think they fit. I liked Lily too.”
“For Lillian or Lilith?” He tilted his head.
“I wasn’t about to name my baby after a demon,” she rolled her eyes.
“That all depends on interpretation,” he smiled, motioning with one hand. “Lilith was Adam’s first wife, made from the same clay, but she refused to be subservient so she left the garden of Eden. So she has been interpreted as a dangerous demon, but she also represents female empowerment, autonomy and individuality.”
“All good things,” she agreed with a nod, “but the first thought is demon, and the next thing you know my sweet little girl is growing into a hellion and turning my hair grey.”
“That would be quite the change from the serene child in your arms,” he smiled, meeting the blue eyes.
“She is very serene,” one tiny arm got free. “If I call you Serena are you going to immediately rebel and act like a Lilith?”
She blinked up, slow and tranquil, watching her mother. Her fist waved as Elena said the name again.
“I think she likes it,” her hand closed around the fist.
“She likes you,” he nodded, “and your voice. And I think the name suits…” He looked over his shoulder, finding the source of the knock that interrupted him.
Bonnie leaned in the open door.
He stood up.
“Hey,” she greeted, “auntie Bonnie’s here; should she come back later?”
“Of course not,” Elena smiled, “get in here.”
“I didn’t know you had company,” Bonnie stood at the side of the bed. “I was hoping to cuddle a cute little baby.”
“That can be arranged,” she moved, carefully transferring the girl.
“Hello, sweetie,” Bonnie cooed, “do you have a name yet?”
“Serena,” Elena snapped her gown closed.
“That’s beautiful.” Her eyes lifted to Elijah questioningly.
“Are you recovered from the spell?” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“I’m better,” she nodded. “I was hoping to talk to Elena… alone.”
“Then I shall take my leave for the time being,” he reached for his jacket. “I’ll see you soon Elena.”
He moved towards the door, pausing at the sound of her voice.
“Elijah…” he caught a slight flush on her cheeks. She chewed her bottom lip for a second and exhaled. “You could probably get away with it again.”
His heart fluttered as he turned giving her a hint of a smile and showing Bonnie the start of his own flush.
He left them in the room and moved towards the elevator with no intention to eavesdrop but their voices carried before he made the conscious decision to ignore them.
“Get away with what?”
“Murder,” came Elena’s dry reply. He chuckled. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Last night’s spell.”
Elijah froze with his finger over the button.
“It’s not a permanent solution, but with your help we can make it one.”
The doors glided open.
@elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @naughtynecromancer @ethanjwillis @cry-btch@geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling@bellemorte180@iw1shiknew@blndbandt@petrova-banz @bulldozed88 @njeancastro316
#Elena gilbert#Elijah mikaelson#elejah#Caroline forbes#bonnie bennett#the vampire diaries#the originals#legacies
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Her Majesty. || 7
If You’re A Bird, I’m a Bird.
♔♔♔
I’ve been in and out of sleep for a few hours, my mind is unable to cease thinking about what my mother has said, and I’m still under the weather. I thought I was doing fine but this summer cold is proving to be a pain in my ass.
I feel Anna’s body move between the sheets and I feel her begin to move with more energy.
“Anna?” My voice is hoarse while I cock my head to the side to gaze at her.
She’s still asleep.
I watch her settle in her sleep and I adjust the sheet over her shoulders before I get comfortable and fall back to dozing in and out of sleep.
It’s an unexpected gasp, and shift in the bed that alerts me immediately. I open my eyes and notice Anna breathing heavily with her hand gripping the covers. “Hey,” I softly whisper, moving closer as she sits up. “Bad dream?” I question the only logical explanation for her sudden lack of breath and sudden jolts.
Anastasia nods her head. I caress my hand to her back and rub soothing circles. I’m not quite sure what to do. I’ve never been with her when she has had any sort of bad dream. Whenever I have a bad dream, I usually roll back over and go to sleep, but I can see that she’s quite startled by her dream. “Harry…” Anna begins with a heavy breath, “Where’s Henry?”
“I don’t know… Would you like me to get you some water?”
“No… I want you to find Henry.”
”I can’t, I’m a bodyguard, not a detective. Matthew is handling it. Has he gotten you all worked up again? He won’t find you. He’s harmless.”
Anastasia shakes her head, “I don’t know about that.” Anastasia grimaces while she sits up a little further and takes in a deep breath.
I lean over and turn my lamp on, the dim glow illuminating the room immediately and causing Anastasia to groan. “Here we go,” Anna mutters unhappily. I know this isn’t going to end pleasantly. She hates when I do this, but I can’t help it… I can’t act like I don’t care.
“You’re in pain.”
“And you’re under the weather. We are both avoiding the obvious.”
“Christ sake,” I shake my head, tired and irritated with her.
I know she hates when people fret over her, but it’s my job to do so, literally. Her life is in my hands at the moment, whether she likes it or not, I can’t just turn a blind eye. And as her boyfriend, I can’t go back to sleep knowing that she’s worried over a piece of shit Prince and hurting because she fell off a horse and doesn’t want to have doctors up her ass. “It’s either you tell me or I have to call your doctor. You parents were strict on this rule, and right now, I don’t want to piss the King off. He’s already pissed, and I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Why is he pissed with you?” Anastasia questions, somewhat shifting the subject.
The king is pissed off with everybody, he is taking his frustration out on all the staff, right now, he’s having his best go at the security team. Right now, Matthew and I are on the firing line. The king wants Henry’s location, but I’m here; I can’t do much. Matthew can only do so much in a few hours while also being in charge of other security staff. The king is taking his wrath out on everybody— yesterday it was the maids and housekeepers— today it is myself and Matthew— tomorrow it’ll probably be Anastasia again.
I contemplate telling Anna the truth, I have to draw a line between work and our relationship.
There are some things I keep from her for her own sanity. “Your Dad is mad at the world, I’m trying to defuse situations. So, what’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry… This whole Henry thing was my fault. It’s all escalating and snowballing.”
“Anna, stop deflecting.”
“My side hurts, nothing new.”
“Can I take a look?” I softly challenge, wanting her permission.
I know she despises when I have to do this, but right now I’m attempting to be her boyfriend. I genuinely care. It’s just a plus that my job has me trained for taking care of her. Anastasia rolls her eyes and lifts her pyjama top up, revealing the side of her body when she took the hardest hit.
“Doctor wasn’t joking when she said you’d have bruising. Looks like you definitely have bruised ribs. Why must you be so stubborn?”
“Same reason why you keep trying to cover the fact you’re unwell and still more worried about me. Please, don’t make a big deal of this.”
“Anna—“ I begin but I stop myself, “Okay,” I sigh, “But if it gets worse, you’ll tell me?”
“This isn’t a life or death situation. Let’s go back to sleep.”
“If you insist.”
“Can you really not find Henry? I feel uneasy about him.”
“It’s not my field of work. Matthew is working on it. I know a PI and I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Aren’t they expensive?” Anna questions and I can’t help but chuckle to myself.
The woman who literally has no reason to worry about money or the cost of things is concerned a PI expensive but doesn’t seem to take into consideration that half the jewellery in her possession is worth thousands of dollars.
“I’ll handle it and pay for it, stop worrying about things you don’t need to fret over. It’s my job to worry.” I respond.
I kiss her cheek and move away from her, dismissing the conversation and settling back down into the bed. Anna doesn’t hesitate, instead, she shuffles closer and rests her hand on my chest as she gets comfortable. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to her breaths while I allow my mind to wander.
I won’t hesitate to find everything I can about Henry. We should have done an intense search on him when he first came into the picture, but the King was adamant that he knew better and knew the family. Sometimes, the king isn’t always right. I should have listened to my gut instinct. Now, all I can do is keep an eye on Henry and keep Anastasia safe and sound. I don’t want her to worry about anything, and as much as I hate to admit things, Henry makes me uneasy as well. I don’t like how he seems to have gone off the deep end over something as small as losing a bet on a horse. It’s almost as though losing a bet and money triggered him to lose the plot. Perhaps, I’m overthinking things, but from the way Anastasia is acting and reacting, I think she feels the same way.
For now, it’s my job to worry, not hers. I won’t hesitate to take her worries and pain, and I’ll do everything to keep her settled through chaotic storms. I can’t help but feel like the storm is just starting to brew and it’s about to get worse.
♔♔♔
I find Anastasia relaxing in my mother’s garden, enclosed by the summer flowers that flaunt their beautiful colours even in the moonlight.
I wander closer to her sitting figure, offering her a modest smile when she stares up at me. Unfortunately, she doesn’t give me her usual grin, instead, she offers me a fake smile that indicates she’s hiding something.
“Been looking for you for a minute,” I begin, wanting her absolute attention.
“Sorry,” Anastasia gazes away from my gaze, “Jus’ needed a minute.”
“What’s wrong?”
Anastasia grows withdrawn for a moment and I grasp the silence as a time to step closer and sit beside her. I caress a kiss to her cheek before I arrange my arm around her, “You know, whatever has you down won’t last forever. Things will be okay.” I decide to go with words of encouragement, mainly because I know that she is more than likely stressed over more things than I’m even aware of. I know she was working on a few royal duties this afternoon while it rained, I assumed she was responding to letters or keeping up to date on public, political, and cultural affairs. Her job never truly stops.
Anastasia heavily laments before resting her head on my shoulder, “My father is losing the plot, Harry.”
“How so?” I challenge.
I have to admit, I’m not wholly surprised. He seems to have been on a steady decline since last year when word got around that he needed to pass down the crown.
I have yet to figure out why he is determined to pass the crown down to Anastasia this year or early next year, nobody has heard of a thorough reason. The house staff have their own conspiracy theories, one being that he wants to leave the crown to Anna so that he doesn’t have to handle royal duties anymore. I don’t think that’s the case. I believe there would have to be a solid foundation for what he’s doing. After all, only one British monarch has ever willingly abdicated the throne, and the King wouldn’t make the second unless it were for a better reason than simply not wanting to do royal engagements. He won’t abdicate. He will likely give Anna the title of Princess Regent, putting her in charge of his official duties while he’d get to keep his title as His Majesty the King— of course, that’s if he wants his title.
“My Dad is being a prick.”
I chuckle modestly, “Sweetheart, that’s because he’s the King.”
“That’s no excuse. Are you saying he has always been a prick?”
I become withdrawn for a minute, debating my answer. “Well… kind of…” I nod my head, “It depends on the day. There’s a reason why the Palace staff don’t enjoy being on his service.”
“Is that why you’re never on his service?”
I don’t know how to answer Anna. It isn’t that I’m never on his service because he’s a prick, it’s more that I just don’t savour being on his service. He can be a very arduous man to keep a watch over. He tends to go against the books and plans on purpose. He doesn’t desire any of the staff listening to too many conversations and will deliberately strive to throw me off his whereabouts. I wouldn’t necessarily say he has secrets, but he definitely likes his privacy and isn’t a fan of me doing my job. “Matthew and I just agree not to have me with your Dad unless he requests me, which is rare.”
“So, the staff don’t like him?”
“I don’t think we should discuss this. He does have a say in my wage.”
“I’ll ask my lady’s maid then,” Anastasia mumbles, “That’s of course if I haven’t been abolished from the monarchy by the time I get home.”
“What? What happened?” I immediately challenge, uncertain of how she can be abolished from the monarchy. Although, it could work in our favour if it occurred.
“The King has threatened to take away my title and to make sure I don’t become Queen.”
As much as I desire to relish in the thought of Anastasia being stripped of her title and not under the thumb of the royal family and monarch, I know that she’s probably upset to hear her father threaten such things.
“And I know I shouldn’t care and that I don’t really want to go through all this but at the same time… He is being an outright prick for no reason. This Henry situation isn’t my fault.”
“First of all, sweetheart, the King has no legal authority to alter the succession to the throne. That would require an Act of Parliament,” I inform Anastasia, reminding her of what she already knows.
“I told him that, he responded with ‘we will see about that.’” … “Henry seems to have my father in a rage.”
“Is he threatening this because you won’t date Henry or just because he can’t fire palace staff?” I curiously ask, unaware of whether he’s serious or just taking his anger out on Anna since there’s nobody else. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew but I’m also somewhat off the clock, so Matthew won’t bother me unless it’s urgent.
“I don’t know.”
“And unless there’s a secret love child, you’re the only one who is eligible for the crown. He can’t do anything,” I continue to explain.
As bitter as it is, no matter what, Anastasia has no choice but to take the crown. There’s no other heir, she’s the only child of the King and Queen.
Even if she did want to abdicate for us to be together, where would that leave the monarchy?
In the hands of a distant cousin or relative?
Almost every living English citizen is somehow a descendant of an early monarch.
“I don’t know, Harry. I think Parliament would decide to whom to offer the crown. But surely there has to be someone else in line, I don’t think I can do this. This is becoming a mind game, it’s driving my father insane and it’s stressing me out.” … “I wanted a nice weekend away from it all and it followed me. Are you sure you don’t want to run away together?” Anastasia asks me and for a brief moment, my mind wanders to the ring in my pocket that wants to make an appearance, but a proposal right now isn’t the right time.
How can I ask her to marry me when she’s gradually going down the rabbit hole of self-destruction because of a monarch who relies on her when she isn’t even Queen.
“Where would we run off to, my dear?”
Anastasia lifts her head off my shoulder and stares at me with glossy eyes, “I’d go anywhere with you. Just say the word.”
She is on the verge of tears and it breaks my heart.
“Well, you said after this Henry charade is over you wanted to come forward with the relationship…”
“I’d rather run away. We could go to Greece?” Anastasia continues to look at me, wanting an answer. I can’t tell if she’s half-serious or not. “Let’s go to Skopelos.”
“Anna, I don’t even know where that is.”
“The small Greek island of Skopelos. Nobody would find us.”
“You just want to run away without even being married? What would I do for a job? What will you do? The monarch won’t pay for us.” I’m trying to logically process what she’s saying. There’s a small part of me that wants to bring that ring out and propose but logically how could we pull this off?
We can’t just run off together and fall off the grid. Her father would have everyone looking for her and would presumably kill me with his bare hands.
“I’m sure there’s a small church somewhere. We could make it all work.”
“We’d need residency permits and a Greek tax-file number, running off to Greece is going to be just as hard.” I think my girlfriend has lost her marbles.
Anastasia shakes her head, “Never mind,” Anna whispers, a tear managing to fall down her cheek.
“Hey,” I breathe out, pressing the pad of my thumb to the warmth of her cheek, “Don’t cry, we will work it out, I promise.”
“How can you promise me that?”
If only she knew about the damn ring. Things would be different.
“I just can,” I respond. Every part of me wants to propose right here, right now. But she deserves something better than a proposal while she is upset. She deserves something nicer than this. “I promise that things will be okay. You and I will work it out.”
“What about the monarchy?”
“All due respects, but fuck the monarchy. Right now, you are my priority, not everyone else. Darling, I will make things right, have faith in me.” I wipe a few more tears away from her cheeks and she grants me a small smile. “How about we go inside? Play some Scrabble? Watch a movie? Something?” I offer, gesturing towards the house.
Anastasia nods, standing to her feet, waiting for me. I stand up and I take her hand before I gently lead her inside the house.
It’s when I step inside my mother’s house and let go of Anna’s hand so she can make her way towards my mother, that I realise, there is a chance Anastaisa and I may not get the chance to have a small, ordinary house together. If we get married and she is the Queen, we would be living the high lifestyle, living in the Palaces. There would be no ordinary home that could use with some fixing up. We wouldn’t do mundane things. Life would be different, that’s for sure.
Would we manage to live life together by the rules of the monarch?
Would she manage to have the best of both worlds and balance a sense of normalcy?
♔♔♔
Anastasia’s POV.
The cool breeze from the ceiling fan taps against my skin and I nestle further into the delicate covers of the bed. I leisurely open my eyes, a dull ray of sunshine peeking through the curtains. I tilt my head to the side, Harry’s still fast asleep. It’s rare that I’m ever awake before him. He’s usually out of my bed by five in the morning when we are at the Palace, for obvious reasons. And even when he has no reason to hurry away, he still tends to be the first one awake.
I know he’s exhausted, dealing with the palace isn’t the easiest of tasks and having to look after myself and anyone else isn’t easy. He’s constantly working without much of a break. He’s still under the weather, as much as he hates to admit it. It’s nothing major, but it is still enough for him to need the extra sleep. I’m not quite sure what time he came to bed last night. After a quick game of scrabble, we started a movie, unfortunately, after twenty minutes, his phone went off with a call and he excused himself. I can only assume Matthew was the one calling. Matthew has a knack for calling at the most inconvenient of times. I tried to wait up for him but by the time he got off the phone, I was already in bed. I’m not sure what happened after his quick kiss goodnight.
The man that lies beside me, peacefully sleeping, is wholeheartedly the best thing to have walked into my life. I’m not sure where I went right to deserve him. To be honest, sometimes I don’t think I deserve him. Somehow, he never takes the easy way out, he stays. He has seen me at my best, he has seen me at my worst, and has yet to run for the hills. Most men by now would have thrown in the towel and found someone else. By the grace of God, Harry stays.
I spend the early morning helping Harry’s Mum with the animals, giving them their morning feeds and making sure everybody has water before the day gets too hot. I don’t assume I was much help, but I did try.
I wander into the bedroom just as Harry is placing the last pillow on the bed, he turns to glance at me and raises a brow, “What happened to you?” He gestures up and down, taking note of my mud-covered jeans and grass-stained t-shirt. “Please tell me you didn’t take a fall.”
I shake my head, “Did you know horses like to nibble on clothes? I didn’t…. Also, the goats… uh… they’re not charming at their morning feeds.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just a bit of mud. The princess is fine, relax.” I inform him, with a nod. I understand he just cares, but he needs to relax, a little mud never hurt anyone. “I was wondering if we could leave the house? See where you’re from?”
“I assume my mother put you up to this?”
“She may have mentioned some nice places.”
“Hmmmm, I don’t know, Anna.” Harry responds with uncertainty to his voice, “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“We are in the middle of nowhere; what could possibly happen?”
I am aware that anything could quite literally happen, it is me we are talking about, I do not have the best of luck with things. It would be my luck something out of the blue happens and pushes me into some sort of lockdown.
Harry rubs his temples and looks at me before dropping his hands to his side, “Let me have my coffee first and then we can figure something out, okay?”
“You said we could be normal.” I remind him of the fact he specifically said I could be normal out here. I had it in my mind that we would be able to be more free, we could walk in and out of stores, go to parks, the beach or really anything.
Harry nods his head, “I know, let me have coffee and then we can decide on where to go, okay?” Harry presses a kiss to my forehead, “I love you.”
“Do I get a say in this or are we still doing the whole Princess act thing?” I question with furrowed brows, irritated that the normal weekend I have been promised is consisting of my father pulling strings from the palace and Harry acting as though he’s still on duty and my bodyguard.
Harry sighs. “Darling, please, just let me get some coffee… I promise we will leave the property today.” … “I am not trying to be a prick, I am not trying to be your security guard. I just… I just need coffee.” Harry continues to emphasize his need for coffee.
I nod my head, dropping the subject as I turn on my heel and walk out of his bedroom. I decide to get a head start on getting him his coffee, it is the least I can do for him. I know he was up for most of the night working, and I know it probably isn’t easy being all the way up here while his security team is back home. I know there are a lot of things that could happen that probably runs through his head. I also know I am not always easy to deal with.
I stand in front of his mother’s coffee machine, bewildered on how the contraption works. I tilt my head to the side, suddenly feeling like a privileged idiot; I have never had to make my own coffee before, nor do I even know how to. It is always poured for me or made for me. I place a cup under where I assume the coffee pours from and I hold my breath as I press one of the button in hopes that it brews coffee. I am out of my element.
I hear chuckles from behind me and I turn around to see Harry smirking as he sits upon the stool at the counter. “Don’t mind me, just sitting, love,” Harry informs me, trying to hold back his chuckles.
I bite my lip and heavily sigh, watching as the brewed coffee fills the coffee cup, but I don’t think he wants straight coffee.
“At the risk of sounding like a privileged princess, Harry, I have never made coffee,” I begin with a soft voice, embarrassed as I look at him.
He holds back his chuckles and nods his head, promptly removing himself from his position at the counter and walking around to me. “Sweetheart,” Harry begins, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “What are you trying to make?”
“You a coffee… I just… Where does the milk go? What do all these buttons do? What happened to just having tea? Do people not just make a pot of coffee?”
“Some of us need a little kick of caffeine in the morning. Some, not all. Here, to make a cappuccino you froth the milk like this,” Harry takes the stainless steel container holding the milk, showing me how to froth the milk like they do in coffee stores.
“Why is this contraption a thing? Is this a normal thing?”
Harry laughs, “For some, it is normal. The palace has one, your mother loves it. Convinced me to buy this one for my Mum.” Harry gestures towards the expresso machine as Harry works his magic. “Glad that you still live in the old times of no expresso machines.”
“I thought they were only in coffee shops.”
“You need to leave the palace more,” Harry comments, placing the stainless-steel container on the counter. “Here, you can pour the milk into the cop. Gonna have to teach you how I like my coffee,” Harry winks playfully, “Or, perhaps, we will leave it to me to make morning coffees,” Harry gently pokes fun at me.
I roll my eyes at him and I pour the milk into his cup, quite proud of myself for not managing to make a mess of things.
♔♔♔
The warm breeze whistles through my hair and the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore becomes music to my ears. It has been a while since I have had the opportunity to stand on the beach without a care in the world, and without having to look over my shoulder to make sure nobody is taking pictures. For the first time in quite a long time, I have a sense of being normal. The sand nestles between my toes, I take a deep breath of the salty air as I tilt my head to the side and glance over at Harry.
A smile spreads across his pink lips and he stares at me with awe in his eyes. Lord, I’m one lucky girl to get to stare back at the man I’m entirely in love with. We may have our ups and downs, we might not have a conventional relationship, but there’s no other man I’d want to be with, there’s nobody else I’d want to be standing on a beach with.
Harry takes my hand and we wander closer to the water’s edge until the tip of my toes finally hit the tepid water. I let out a heavy breath, more so relieved and belatedly, happy. “I’d give anything to be able to feel like this more.”
“Feel like what?” Harry questions, guiding us to stroll along the water's edge.
I grin to myself, taking note of the birds soaring high over the ocean, “Like a bird,” I chuckle to myself, well aware my description is not ordinary, then again, I’m not ordinary either, “Free and happy,” I respond. “There’s no restraints, no duties, no photographers, I could run into the ocean with my clothes on and nobody would give a damn,” I gladly smile.
Harry smirks and lets go of my hand, “Well, go on.” Harry gestures towards the water, “By all means, darling, enter the water with your clothes on, be a bird.”
I shake my head and gesture for him to join me as I step into the water, loving the way it feels to have the sand move under my feet and the water dance around my calves, “Harry, join me.”
Harry shakes his head, “Not a chance in hell, love.” Harry chuckles, his hands in his pockets as he stands at the edge, the water barely missing his toes.
“Do you think I could've been a bird?”
“Oh, god. No. Don’t—“
“Say it! Say I'm a bird,” I insist, well aware of what I’m doing.
Harry brings his bottom lip between his teeth and he glances around.
“Anastasia, you, my darling, are bonkers.”
“Say I’m a bird!”
“That would mean admitting I’ve watched a romantic movie.” Harry shakes his head, watching me as I shrug my shoulders and walk further to the sandbar the tide has exposed.
I spin around, allowing my dress to dance around me. I glance over my shoulder and see Harry shuffling closer, his hands still in his pockets.
My feet dance at the edge of the sand bar, thoroughly relishing the freedom, “Tell me.”
“Tell you, what?” Harry questions, stepping closer to me.
“Quote my favourite movie.”
Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “I’d never do such thing.”
I gasp, stepping away from him with a laugh escaping my lips, “Darling,” Harry laughs, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my wrist, causing me to laugh louder as I playfully attempt to pull away from him. Harry tenderly tugs on me and forces me to face him, “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” Harry recites the line and I draw my hair away from my face, still giggling like a schoolgirl. I beam at Harry and he smiles back at me, his eyes bright and full of more love than I could ever imagine. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird. Anastasia, I’ll be anything you need me to be, and I’ll go anywhere I need to go. I’d walk to the end of the earth if it meant being with you; I’ll do everything that it takes, I’ll fight any battle thrown at me, I’ll fight for you and for us. I’ll protect you, at all costs. Darling, I love you, and I honestly couldn’t imagine this life without you.” Harry’s sweet words take me by surprise.
Harry clears his throat and bites his lip as he gets down on one knee.
I stare at him, stunned. Is this— is this happening?
“It won’t be easy, but I promise to love you through everything. Princess Anastasia Annette Leanor, Duchess of Edinburgh, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
As the man I’m madly in love with opens the ring box, I can’t help but think about the fact that it would be MY honour to marry him. He is my knight in shining armour, in more ways than one. He’s everything to me. Perhaps, I haven’t always been gracious to him, nor have I always made things easy. The monarch doesn’t make things easy, but this isn’t the monarch's decision. This is mine. For the first time in a long time, I feel free, and for the first time in a long time, I’m going against all traditions and rules; I’m going against the monarch.
“Yes… Of course. Yes. Harry.” I can’t contain my excitement; how could I ever say no to a proper proposal?
Harry slides the ring on my finger and for the first time in forever, everything is perfectly right in the world. Before I can blink, I’m wrapped in his arms and he’s spinning me around, “I love you,” he whispers, bringing me to a stop and placing me down.
“I love you,” I whisper, gazing at him like he has hung the stars in the sky and moved all the oceans just for me. I lean up and kiss him, slowly and sweetly— nothing else in the world matters.
#harry styles imagines#imagine harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurbs#harry styles prompts#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles fic#harry styles one shots#harry styles preferences#1d imagine#imagine 1d#imagine one direction#harry styles fanfics#fanfic one direction#one direction fanfiction#one direction fan fiction#one direction blurbs#harry styles blurb
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Arthur Fleck/ Arkham Joker x reader: Unwelcome Visitor
Summary: You’re in the hospital recovering from injuries you received on the night the Joker attacked you. During your last night at the hospital, you receive a visit from a man you don’t recognize...at first.
A/N: Hey guys. This is the follow up to my one shot, Interrogation. I was originally just going to write about what happened to the reader on the night the Joker attacked her, and then have it end when he leaves her at the hospital. But I thought you might like more of a follow up type of story. So instead, this will pick up with the reader at the hospital. She reflects on what happened to her that night. During the night before she leaves to go home, she receives a visit from the Joker. She doesn’t recognize him at first because he just escaped from Arkham. Warnings: There will be mentions of stabbing and sexual assault. The reader will be assaulted again. There are threats of violence and victim blaming. This is not dub con, it’s real sexual assault. In his sick mind, Arthur/Joker thinks the reader will fall in love with him. He thinks she appreciated what he did that night, so he does it again, but at the same time, he knows what he’s doing is wrong. I know this will be dark and triggering for some of you, and it’s okay if you don’t want to read it. Things like this happen everyday. It is not romantic, nor is it meant to romanticize acts of violence and sexual assault. Since some of you like my darker stories, I thought I would write about something featuring dark subject matter. Please remember this is only a story. As it says in the title, I’m basing Arthur’s/Joker’s personality at the end of the movie. The look in his eyes is pure evil, and if he was unstable enough, he might actually do something like this. The man we see at the end of the movie is not the same man we had come to know in the rest of it, He’s not Arthur. This story does not show him in a positive light. You have been warned. With that being said, I hope you like it. As always, please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings.
It had been a week since the Joker attacked you. Your recovery had been coming along nicely. Thankfully no major organs were damaged, but you still lost a lot of blood from the injuries. Thanks to the staff that was on call that night, they were able to stop the bleeding, and patch you up. They wanted to keep you in the hospital for a few days to give you time to heal and manage your pain. You remembered bits and pieces of the attack. You couldn’t remember everything that happened after he stabbed you, but you remembered most of it. You were on your way home from work. You were working a late night shift. You knew how dangerous Gotham could be, especially at night, but you had no other options. You weren’t expecting out of all the people who could’ve hurt you to be the Joker.
He had came out of nowhere. He grabbed you and you had just enough time to see who it was and screamed. He had began stabbing you. He had stabbed you four times, at least that was the amount of times you counted. He had stabbed different places on your upper body. You were confused and terrified. Why would the Joker come after you? He usually dealt with mobsters. You weren’t anyone special. Then again, it was the Joker. He probably didn’t always know why he did what he did sometimes. You began to feel lightheaded. You expected him to keep stabbing you, but he stopped. The look on his face softened. You couldn’t tell if he felt sadness or remorse. He looked around frantically, like he didn’t know what to do. You briefly remember him pulling at your pants, but you blacked out for a little bit. It was probably best you didn’t remember the assault. You knew you had been assaulted because while your jeans were pulled back up, you were sore between your legs. “Can you move at all?” You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to. You wondered if it would upset him and if he would decide to kill you. He sighed, and you were lifted from the ground. He was carrying you, but to where and why? You were blinded by the lights of the entrance to the ER. You realized you had been brought to the hospital. He carefully placed you in front of the entrance. He crouched down to you and kissed you. “Don’t feel bad about yourself.” You wondered why he would say something so strange. You smiled, relieved that it was finally over, and he left. It wasn’t long before a nurse found you. As she left to notify the emergency staff, you grabbed her arm. Through labored breaths, you told her the Joker had done everything to you before you finally passed out from the shock.
When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. Your wounds were bandaged. You felt extremely tired and you were in pain, but you were alive. The detectives came to question you about what happened. They wanted to confirm everything you told the nurse. They told you when you were being cared for by the staff, one of the nurses noticed bruising and semen on your genitals, which was an indication of sexual assault. The detectives asked you if you thought you were sexually assaulted and you said yes because you felt sore between your legs. You told them the Joker did it and they looked at you sympathetically. They told you they caught him, and you didn’t need to worry since he would be locked away in Arkham for a very long time. They gave you a social worker’s contact information so you could contact her and receive counseling when you leave the hospital. You thanked them and they left. You couldn’t really do much aside from stay in bed and rest.
It was your last night at the hospital, and you were looking forward to going home and sleeping in your own bed. You also wanted to see your friends again. Aside from the nurses coming in to check on you and redress your wounds, you didn’t have many visitors. That was probably a good thing since the pain medication made you drowsy. You got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It was decent enough. You decided to look into the small cabinet to see what was inside. There were small plastic tubs, washcloths, and soaps for sponge baths. Sometimes it was easier to have those things nearby in case the nurses needed them. When the nurses would come to check on you, patients would have accidents, and it was much easier to have the things needed to clean them. That explains why you would see them leaving with bathing materials. Thankfully, you weren’t in that category. You went back to bed and dozed off for a bit.
It wasn’t very long before you woke up to the sound of your door being opened. Visiting hours were over, and you obviously hadn’t asked for a nurse. You closed your eyes and turned over, thinking you weren’t entirely awake. Or maybe you were hallucinating. You felt a hand touch your shoulder as if the person was trying to wake you. You saw a man you didn’t recognize. He had dark hair and stubble on his face. Something about him made you uneasy. You noticed he was wearing white scrubs. The only nurses who had been to your room were women. Maybe he was a male nurse making rounds? “I wanted to see you, I had to.” You had no idea what he was talking about. “Who are you?” You felt groggy from the medication, but you were aware of everything. You knew you weren’t dreaming or hallucinating when you could smell his scent. He smelled like cigarettes and aftershave. It was a familiar scent. “I know you told them about what happened.” That was when you knew who he was. You saw it in his eyes.
You immediately panicked and reached for the call button, but he took it out of your hand. “No, you don’t need that. We wouldn’t anyone to get hurt, now would we?” You knew you had no choice. You had to cooperate or you would risk getting yourself and someone else hurt or worse. “Good girl.” He got on top of you. “I missed you, Y/N. There’s something about you. You’re a lot like her. You’re a nice person like her, so soft and easy to take advantage of. You’re easier to take advantage of than she would’ve been. You shouldn’t have been out so late at night. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” He sounded like a concerned father scolding his daughter. You were so confused. You didn’t know who he was talking about. He shook his head. “But it’s okay. I showed you how dangerous it is. I can keep you safe and make you happy. I saw the way you looked at me before I left. You were smiling at me, happy about what I did.” You heard nurses talking in the hallway. You tried to get up, but he had you pinned, and put his hand over your mouth and shushed you. “Don’t make me hurt you. I already warned you about what would happen. If you or someone else gets hurt, it’ll be your fault.” You stopped trying to fight him off.
You felt extremely vulnerable in your surroundings. You couldn’t do much to fight him even though you wanted to. He didn’t touch your upper body. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about him messing up the bandages and you could leave your gown on. He pulled at the waistband of your hospital pants. You were exhausted and weakly protested, but he didn’t listen. You looked at the ceiling and closed your eyes. You just wanted to sleep through what was happening. He thrusted into you. “So sweet,” he murmured. You winced. He kept going, but didn’t say anything else. “I love you,” he groaned before pulling out. You were repulsed by him. He was a very sick man, but it didn’t excuse what he did. He got off the bed and went inside the bathroom. He came back out with a small tub of water, a wash cloth, soap, and a towel. He didn’t say anything as he cleaned between your legs. ‘Get your disgusting hands away from me! Do not fucking touch me!’ you screamed in your head. You wanted to scream at him so badly. You were so angry, you wanted to claw his eyes out. He dried you off and helped you put your pants back on. “You know, you really should’ve asked for a cop to guard your door. It was way too easy to get in here.” Even in a hospital, a place that’s supposed to be safe, couldn’t protect you from him. “I’ll find you once I get everything squared away. I miss you already.” And with that, he left. All you could do was hope he didn’t know where you lived, and hope that the police would catch him before he had the chance to find you again.
@shaw-2000
#joker arthur fleck#arthur fleck#arthur fleck x reader#joker fandom#joker imagine#joker x reader#joaquin phoenix joker#joker 2019
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